#some minor language but it's practically harmless

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | three.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 7.4k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora's a smart lil gal who luvs her uncles v much, she does open up a lil bit about her mom, mentions of death, yunho goes out for dinner, making out, one-sided [rushed] feelings tho oof - one of those things where you think it'd play out fine then it doesn't 🤐, a lil glimpse into yunho and his thoughts/how he feels about things, some seora x uncle hwa content, a bit of oc x parents too!

"Hey." Yunho slips on his seatbelt as the call pulls up through the car's bluetooth, on his way out of the staff garage. "Were you able to leave a bit early to get to Seora?"

"Yes, I already told you I'd find a way. I'm pulling up to the lot right now." Yunho lets out a breath of relief, heading over to Ara's loft since she had the day off today. Tonight was the night they'd go out for dinner, something Yunho thought would be fun and harmless. He went into this thinking he'd put himself out there and give it a chance, even though deep down, he's not entirely sure where he lies about this— about her. 

Maybe tonight would help him decide, but he wasn't gonna force it and just let things go with the flow. 

"Looks like I made it just in time. Practice just got out."

"Good." 

"So, what exactly did you tell Seora?"

"That I was heading out to a team dinner."

"Atta boy."

"Shut up."

"Uncle Hwa!" Yunho hears Seora's voice in the background, causing him to smile to himself. "Sup!"

"What's up, little one?" Seonghwa playfully ruffles her hair before pulling her into a hug. "Ready to go? Anything you want before we head home?"

"Hm, that's a good question." She points to the phone. "Wait, are you on the phone with my dad?"

"Sure am." He faces the phone towards her before she grabs it.

"Dad."

"Hey babygirl. I'll be home later, okay? Have fun with Uncle Hwa. Run his wallet dry, he won't mind." She laughs.

"Okay, I will. But, what time will you be home?"

"I don't know, not too late. It could run a little long, though."

"Hm." She hums. "Are you really going to a team dinner?" Seonghwa purses his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

"Yes." Yunho says, feeling a bit bad to lie to his own daughter. "I'll get home as soon as I can."

"Okay." 

"I love you, ace. Make your uncle useful."

"Okay, okay." She chuckles. "I love you, too." She passes the phone back to Seonghwa before sliding her things into the backseat and settling into the passenger's side.

"Have fun at your team dinner." Seonghwa teases, making Yunho rolls his eyes.

"Not one word, Park Seonghwa."

"Uh huh." He hangs up the phone and slips into the driver's seat, settling in just before turning on the car and looking over at Seora. "So, did you figure out what you want, ace?" She tugs on her hoodie strings as she scrolls through her phone. 

"I kinda want a good ol' burger."

"Burgers and fries sound good right now, actually. Any place in particular?"

"Burger Almighty?" Seonghwa smiles. 

"Nice choice. Do you wanna eat there, or take it back home?"

"Take it back home, please. I need to get out of my practice clothes." Seonghwa nods, pulling up the website in order to place an order for pickup. "Ou, actually, wait. Uncle Hwa?"

"Yup?"

"Can we also stop by for ice cream?"

"Of course." He hands her the phone. "Here, pick whatever you want." She smiles and slouches in the front seat, going through the menu options. She goes back and forth for awhile, but Seonghwa patiently waits. He hears his phone ding and doesn't think much about it until Seora pops in once more, finally selecting her options and adding it to the cart. "Someone named Yoori texted you."

"Oh." Seonghwa looks at her. "I'll get to it later."

"She's asking if you wanna come over tonight." Seora smirks before letting out a small laugh. "Dad mentioned you were kinda seeing someone. Is that her?"

"Dad just airing out my business, huh?" Seonghwa laughs before grabbing his phone. "Is that all?"

"Mhm. Besides the ice cream. Thank you, Uncle Hwa." 

"Course." Hwa quickly texts back that he might stop by before he gets home tonight, but he'll let her know. 

"So, are you seeing her? Kinda seeing her, whatever that means? What does it mean to be kinda seeing someone?" Her questions are coming back to back and Seonghwa can't help but chuckle dryly as he drives out of the lot and towards their first destination.

"We're.. figuring things out."

"What's there to figure out, Uncle Hwa? You either like each other or you don't, right?"

"Things can get complicated, ace. Especially when you get older and your wants and needs in a partner become more solidified. Specific."

"Like..?"

"We're both just not sure if we're ready to take that next step. Or, I guess, it's mainly me."

"Then, do you really like her if you question it?"

"I do. I just haven't been in a relationship in awhile, and I was kinda enjoying my freedom." Seora nods, still unsure about this whole idea of relationship complexities and what not. "You get older and you realize you don't wanna waste anyone's time and effort and vice versa."

"I see." Seora looks at him. "If she likes you a lot too, I don't see what the harm is."

"I don't wanna hurt anyone on accident."

"You wouldn't hurt anyone, Uncle Hwa." He smiles.

"Thanks, ace. But your uncle makes mistakes cause I'm human. As with anyone."

"Dad hasn't really dated anyone, either." Seonghwa shrugs, knowing Yunho has tried and has dabbled in it, but it always never went far. Not far enough that Yunho felt comfortable enough introducing them to Seora and opening that door.

"Mmyeah, cause he doesn't feel the need to when he has you." Seora giggles.

"I like it, though. Just us two."

"Would you be mad if your dad started dating again?" 

"Um, I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess it depends? If I like the person or not."

"Of course he'd make sure you're happy and that you'd get along well with the person."

"Mmyeah. It'd be an adjustment, though. I'm used to it being just us two."

"I know, and your dad is, too. But, he does deserve to be happy, right?"

"What else can make him happier than me, Uncle Hwa?" He laughs and shakes his head. 

"You're right. He is happy." Seonghwa pauses. "Seora, promise me one thing?"

"I can try?"

"You'll keep your mind open to it? You know.. your dad dating and possibly opening the door for another person to step in."

"Mm, sure." She says before there's a brief pause in the conversation. "Sometimes, I wonder what it'd be like to have a mom. I barely got time with mine." She says softly, her voice tapering off at the end of the statement.

"And it was unfair to you." Seonghwa lets out a breath as he navigates the tricky streets of the city, almost nearing their endpoint. 

"Right? Like.. I wonder how it feels to hang out with your mom, or to go on dates with her. Talk to her about girly stuff. Do our hair and makeup together. Nails. Go shopping." Seonghwa turns to her as he stops at a red light, watching as her eyes continue to focus on the surroundings outside. "Dad tries his best. He always tries to do things with me so I don't have to wonder too much, but sometimes I can't help it."

"That's okay, Seora. He knows. He does try his best always, but he knows that question will always be there." She's silent again for a moment, and Seonghwa isn't sure if she's missing her mom or trying to replay the memories that she has left of her. It breaks his heart because he knows Seora is missing a part of her— she just manages to mask it well. 

"Yeah." Is all she responds with me. "I dunno, maybe one day I'll remember what it's like." She says softly. "I have dad for now though, and he's enough."

"One day." Seonghwa repeats after her, not wanting to plunge deeper into the conversation and turn Seora's mood inside out tonight. "Well." He pulls into a spot across the street from the burger place. "There's a convenience store I can run into for your ice cream. What are you craving for?"

"Strawberry, please!"

"That's a good one." He unbuckles his seatbelt before turning to her. "I'll grab our stuff and be back." She gives him a toothless smile and nods, eyes glued onto him as he slams the door shut and locks the car; leaving Seora to her own while she waits patiently in her seat.

Yunho pulls up to Ara's building, parking in the lot after getting through security at the gate. He unbuckles his seat belt and lets out a sigh, dusting himself down before slipping out and heading inside. He presses the front code at the lobby door before stepping inside and heading up to the 3rd floor. When he finally gets to her door, he knocks a few times before stepping back and digging his hands into his pockets.

"Yunho." She says, a smile on her face. She's in a cute baby blue sweater and jeans, white chucks on her feet. It's more of a casual thing, nothing too serious or too fancy. It makes Yunho a little more comfortable that way. Less pressure. "Hey."

"Hey. You look nice." Yunho smiles at her. "Ready?" She nods. "Hope you're down for some ramen?"

"I can always go for some good ramen." She smiles and makes sure her door is shut and locked before following him back down.

"How was your day off?"

"It was good! I spent the day grabbing groceries and deep cleaning my space. But otherwise, it was nice and relaxing. Just what I needed." Yunho looks at her with a small smile.

"That's good. I'm glad you got to relax for the most part. You definitely need it with how hard you work."

"Thanks." She giggles. "How was work today?" He shrugs, her eyes ogling his figure as they step into the elevator. He's in a white longsleeve and a puffer vest, dark denim and chucks.

"Kinda busy. Things are really ramping up with that new department. I feel like our team is constantly getting pulled into things left and right now."

"Aren't you guys hiring another person?" He nods.

"Hopefully, yeah. I have a few more interviews this upcoming week, but should be wrapping up after that. There's two people that the team and I like so far."

"That's good. More help is on the way. A step closer to shedding off some of your workload." Yunho chuckles a bit.

"Yeah, that's the hope. Taehyun has been a lot of help, though. It hasn't been entirely bad."

"That's good to hear." Yunho swings the door open to the passenger's seat, giving Ara the opportunity to slip in and get herself comfortable before he shuts the door and hops in. 

"Heat okay? Too hot?" He asks as he starts up the car and pulls up the directions to a popular ramen shop that just opened last month. The wait is outrageous, but luckily, Yunho threw them onto the waitlist as soon as they opened for dinner. They'll get there just in time for their table to be ready. 

"No, it's perfect."

"Cool." He says, pulling off to begin their journey deep into the city. Ara watches as he drives off flawlessly with one hand, leaning onto the middle console. It's no lie that Ara has always had a crush on Yunho, and she's always thought he was incredibly attractive. She kept her distance though, supporting him as a friend and being careful not to be in too, too deep with her feelings because she didn't wanna scare him off or make him uncomfortable. When he finally asked her out to a casual dinner , she was excited. Butterflies swarming her tummy at full speed— she feels like her patience is paying off.

Maybe this will blossom into something; the one thing she had hoped for with him.

"How's Miss Seora doing?" 

"She's good. Still getting good grades and playing basketball. She's hanging out with her Uncle Seonghwa right now." Ara smiles.

"That's cute. It's really sweet how you guys are close."

"Yeah, he's helped me alot with Seora. She loves having her uncles around. Gives her something new to deal with besides her own father." She laughs.

"I'm sure that girl loves and appreciates you more than anything, Yunho. You're a great dad."

"I try to be." He shrugs. "Although, she used to hate when I tried to do her hair and dress her up. She said I mixed and matched clothes way too much and her ponytails were always lopsided."

"You did your best." Ara laughs a little louder. "Doing hair and dressing up a baby girl is not for the faint of heart."

"Truly isn't." He laughs, while Ara points at his pinky nail. 

"I see she painted your nails?" Yunho briefly looks down at his two pinkies, painted with black nail polish. 

"Sure did. She kept it minimal, though. For work, she says. Just a lil touch." Ara giggles.

"You two are cute."

"Mm, we try to be." Yunho jokes. The conversation continues on as Yunho drives the last 10 minutes to the ramen shop, finding parking right around the corner despite the busy streets and the long line that's forming right outside of the restaurant. He helps Ara out of the car before locking it up, walking alongside of her until it gets too tight to do so. He guides her by the small of her back, pushing her towards the front of the restaurant where the host is. As guessed, they arrive right when their table is ready, the host immediately showing them to their table in the back corner.

She settles into the chair across from him before thanking the host and taking the menu from her hands. They instantly skim their options, with Yunho already deciding on what he wants. He marks it off on the sheet, along with any modifications he wants [extra spicy, extra green onions], while Ara does the same. When they're ready to submit their orders, Yunho calls over the server, handing them their order papers before clasping his hands together—elbow resting on the table as he looks over at her. She's trying her hardest not to blush while sipping on her water, eyes avoiding eye contact cause Yunho makes her feel a certain way.

He just doesn't know if he can reciprocate the feeling. 

Truthfully, if he's being all the way honest— he went into this thinking it'd be chill. Harmless in a sense. Putting himself out there since he didn't have much to lose. He knew Ara's had feelings; even if she never said it out loud, it's pretty obvious. And not to say she isn't a great girl, no. She's great. She's been a good friend to Yunho, and she's incredibly sweet. He couldn't really tell you why he didn't see her in that light, though. Perhaps, he still wasn't ready for a relationship. Or, maybe he was and he already had a feeling that she wouldn't be the right one.

Maybe he's being too critical.

But all he knows, is that in this moment, Ara is giving him heart eyes and she's blushing over everything he does. It makes him feel good, but the other half of him feels bad because when he looks at her, he just sees a friend. Good company.

The night is still early.

Yunho is trying to remind himself.

When the food arrives, they get to eating right away. In between, Yunho dives a little deeper into his dynamic with Seora, touching up on the fact that he doesn't really get a long with his parents but will bear with them solely because of her. Even though they don't do much for their granddaughter, she still wonders about them and how they're doing. She always talks about seeing them soon even though Yunho can never promise that she will. He doesn't talk about Eunha, though. Kinda leaves the conversation at that. He feels like he needs to build a better connection with someone in order to open up about that part of his past. Not only is it too painful, but it's a subject that makes Yunho incredibly vulnerable.

The good thing with Ara is that she doesn't budge nor does she push. She ends up talking a lot about her childhood and growing up with her parents in exchange. She has lived a pretty good life; her parents supporting both her and her sister throughout all their endeavors. Her sister works abroad in the fashion industry, while Ara decided to take the healthcare route. Her parents were supportive nonetheless, pushing them to strive for their dreams and supporting them through every opportunity that came their way. Yunho thinks it's nice that they have that sort of relationship— it speaks volumes to the way Ara carries herself and how sweet she is. She makes a great nurse, a great daughter and sister; and it almost makes her a little too perfect.

Which, isn't bad.

But, also isn't great for Yunho. Because all he is made of is flaws and all; he's got a lot of things he lacks in, he feels. He hasn't been in a serious relationship since Eunha passed and he isn't even sure he knows what the word love is anymore. What it's like to love and be loved. He doesn't focus on himself a majority of the time because that time and attention goes to this daughter. He wouldn't have it any other way, let's get that straight.

However, it's clear Ara has this 'perfect' image of him in her head when he is far from that. He is merely getting by; things hurt the fuck outta him and he stresses over every little thing. He gets overwhelmed easily, anxious, can barely let go of the past trauma.

He doesn't wanna disappoint her. Anyone, as a matter of fact.

The conversation continues until they've both slurped up the last bits of their ramen, and Yunho genuinely enjoyed it once they've stopped talking so deeply. Conversations come easy with Ara and he does like that. He doesn't have to try too hard to think about what to talk about next or how to carry the conversation. Brief pauses in between don't feel awkward.

It's nice.

After dinner, he pays for their meal and turns down Ara's efforts to pay for her half. They joke and tease on the way back to the car, with Yunho turning up the music a tad bit louder this time around so it helps fill the empty space in the car. He feels himself getting a little exhausted, but when Ara looks at him with those eyes and asks if he wants to come up for a bit, he finds himself confused; he should be saying no, but he ends up with:

"Sure." Yunho gives her a tiny, toothless smile as she leads the way back up to her loft. Yunho feels bad for even thinking about going back on his decision because it feels pretty intimate to be coming into someone's space after dinner. He doesn't wanna be rude, though. And, he did enjoy their talk over dinner.

So, he continues despite the inner turmoil that's starting to form.

Back upstairs, Ara kicks off her shoes first before Yunho does. He stands awkwardly near the door while she sets her things down, following her into the living room area once she starts padding over. He plops onto the couch and settles into it; leaning back to rest, arm positioned on the back edge of the couch. Ara gives him a glass of water before sitting down next to him, and Yunho feels himself tense up a bit when he feels her leg brush against his. She's got some kind of psychological thriller show on, and Yunho's trying his best to get invested as it continues to play. Ara gives him a little bit more context to the show, describing it with such big eyes and an excited tone that Yunho finds it pretty cute. 

Then, at some point, she has somehow shifted in her position and is now sitting right against him. He still has his arm on the back of the couch, and she has slotted herself in that opening— sitting criss-crossed as she continues to watch her show. He feels her warmth against his, and he's not sure how to act.

She probably feels how stiff and rigid he is.

"You okay?" She asks and he gives her a smile.

"Yeah, why?"

"I dunno. You got quiet."

"I'm trying to keep up with your show." She laughs.

"It's a lot." 

"All good. It's interesting." He looks down at her. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes are glazing over his features. He watches as she scans his face, down to his lips, and he feels himself swallow thickly because he knows where this is going. She's the first to pull up— suddenly pressing her lips against his in that brief moment they shared and Yunho indulges in it. They hold the kiss there for a second longer before Yunho [mistakenly] deepens the kiss and pulls her onto his lap. The kiss heightens quickly, the show in the background long forgotten. He lets out a shaky exhale in between kisses, with Ara gently pressing herself down against him. She takes Yunho's hand and guides it up her stomach, to her chest— landing on her breast. His eyes widen a bit, the shock causing him to slightly pull back from the kiss to try and read her. She nods though, subtly biting her lip as she leans forward to kiss him again; a soft moan releasing from her lips when he squeezes the flesh in the palm of his hand while she starts to pepper kisses along his jaw, neck.

And as much as he can easily fall into this, say fuck it and just go with it— that's not who he is.

"Wait." Yunho pries his lips off of hers, his hand retracting from her body. "Wait." He repeats.

"What's wrong?" She asks, eyes still full of desire, lust. He can see the way she looks at him and it's even more of a reason to push off. Reality hits tough, and Yunho thinks this is a prime example of when it's both a blessing and a curse.

"Ara, I'm sorry. I'm—" He looks at her with his big, brown, sad eyes. Because it's not her at all, it's him. He's just not into this and he doesn't really know how else to tell her. "I can't." She sinks into her seat and Yunho feels so, so bad. "I don't wanna do that to you." He sighs and scoots back a bit. "You're great, you really are. But, you deserve someone who is sure of you. I'm sorry I can't be that person. I just— I just think we're good as friends." He sighs. "I'm sorry if I had lead you on or gave you any mixed signals, that wasn't my intention." He says softly, and Ara can't even be livid at him because of how genuinely sweet and apologetic he's being. "I shouldn't have come up here—"

"Yunho, it's okay." She says with a forced, reassuring smile, hopping off his lap because damn, this is awkward. Not only does the rejection hit her hard, but she must look desperate and way too needy for him now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to move so quickly, I thought—"

"You don't have to apologize." Yunho stands and gathers himself. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just.."

"We're better off as friends." She finishes the statement and he can't help but shrug. He doesn't know how to explain it, but he doesn't want her to think she did anything wrong.

She didn't.

"I hope you believe me when I say it isn't you. You are amazing and anyone would be lucky to have you. I—I haven't done this in a long time and quite frankly, I don't think I'm ready."

"Or maybe, it's just not me you want. And that's okay, Yunho. You're probably right— maybe we are just better off as friends."

"I'm sorry." He says weakly. "I really hope I didn't mess this up because I'd still like for us to be the same as we were before."

"No, of course not." She says even though it's obvious she's got tears welling in her eyes and she's hurt. Yunho feels his heart drop, but at the same time, he knew he had to stop it before it could get too deep—

Before he could make a terrible mistake; do the unthinkable to someone he cared about as a friend first and foremost.

"Ara."

"I promise it's all okay." She nods. "I agree with you, and we shouldn't force this if it's not meant to happen." She gives him another forced smile.

"I'll head out and give you some space. I'm sorry." Is all he can respond with. He walks over to her door and slips back into his shoes before looking back at her. She purses her lips and doesn't say much, and it makes Yunho feel like he's already ruined this.

Damn, Yunho.

"I'll see you on Monday, yeah?" She nods quietly again while opening the door for him.

"Thanks again for dinner. It was great. I can send you my half—"

"No, no need. Dinner was on me, remember? It's totally fine." He gives her a tiny, toothless smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She answers, allowing him to walk further down the hall before shutting the door and getting back to her own peace. She's hurt, not gonna lie. She truly felt like there was hope, especially with the texts exchanged and the way he was good to her tonight. But, looking back at it, it could have been her fault for completely assuming and jumping the gun— it was Yunho just being Yunho.

Oh well.

Maybe things will be better in the future, and the timing would align. She understands he has different priorities right now, and that's okay. Who is she to determine that for him?

Yunho gets back into his car and lets out a hefty sigh, sitting there for a second before grumbling a low 'fuck' to himself. He feels really bad and he knew he should've dropped her off and left it at that.

But, no. 

He had to go and be stupid about it.

At least he can say he tried, right? That should count for something.

"Wanna put up another movie? Your dad's date—" Seonghwa pauses and looks at Seora as she furrows her brows at him. They had put on a movie after Seora freshened up for the evening. She didn't have too much homework, so she finished up the last bits with the first movie on before they had indulged in dinner. Now, her and her Uncle Hwa were eating ice cream, looking at more movie options to throw on until her father would get home. "Your dad's team dinner should be done by now."

"Date?"

"I didn't say that."

"Uncle Hwa." 

"What?" Seora gives him one last look before pinching him on the bicep, causing him to let out a yelp. "Swear! I don't know where you heard that from." He cocks a brow up playfully. "It's a team dinner."

"Oooookay." She playfully cuts her eyes at him before going through the movie options. "You can just say so."

"Ou, look." Seonghwa diverts her attention to the TV and points at a movie to put on. "Let's watch Rogue One, I haven't seen that one in a minute."

"Or, we can watch Degrassi or—"

"You definitely don't need to poison your brain watching that mess."

"You sound more like my dad than my dad." Seonghwa scoffs as he takes the remote and puts on Rogue One.

"You need to watch more educational things. Like Rogue One. Stepping into your powers and using them for good."

"They're a group of rebels, Uncle Hwa."

"A group of rebels preventing mass destruction!" Seora sighs as she sits back and finishes the rest of her ice cream, knowing her uncle is very much into Star Wars and lets him have it. It's quiet for a moment before she pops in again, asking about his plans for tonight.

"Have you decided?"

"On what? How I'd use my powers for good?" His eyes are trained on the tv.

"No, silly. If you're meeting Yoori." He looks at her before returning his attention back to the TV.

"Why does it matter if I do or not?"

"Uncle Hwa, you can do whatever you want. Just don't mess up because you're too afraid to admit your feelings."

"Hey!" He looks at her with a brow cocked up. "How do you even know about things like that?"

"I'm about to be 12."

"Yeah, you were born yesterday." She playfully rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You shouldn't be knowing things like that."

"Please. I am right, aren't I?"

"I don't know if I'm going to go yet because I have work tomorrow."

"I hear excuses." He gasps.

"Jeong Seora—"

"Yo!" Yunho walks in right at that moment, causing Seora to shift her attention to the door; tormenting her uncle now a long lost thought in her head.

 "Dad!" Seora squeals and runs over to her dad, koala'ing him and causing him to laugh when she hangs onto him like tomorrow will never come. "You're home!"

"I am." 

"How was your team dinner?" Seonghwa looks at him, wiggling his eyebrows while Seora is still preoccupied with grabbing her dad's attention.

"Date, you mean."

"What?" Yunho looks down at her.

"Uh, Uncle Hwa said you went out on a date." Yunho knits his brows at Seonghwa and all he can do is shrug.

"No, I never said that." Hwa cuts in to lie again. "I said team dinner. Anything else you heard was created by your own mind." Yunho glares at him.

"Did you?" Seora looks up at her dad, chin pressed against his chest while she keeps her arms around him.

"It was just a team dinner, is all."

"Sure." Seora sarcastically says before unwrapping herself from him and walking off to the bathroom. "It's fine or whatever, you know!" She shuts the bathroom door.

"See you've managed to talk to Seora about a lot."

"Sorry, it kinda slipped out." Seonghwa chuckles and Yunho mocks him. "Besides, she was just grilling me about Yoori."

"How did that happen?"

"Yoori texted me earlier asking if I wanted to come over while ace was putting in her order. She was scolding me right before you walked in. That girl is way ahead of her time."

"Been knew that." Yunho chuckles.

"How'd it go? Did you and Ara do anything?"

"Anything as in dinner, yes?" Yunho is confused, even though he knows exactly what Seonghwa is picking at.

"Okay.. and?" Yunho sighs and shakes his head.

"Kissed her but didn't go very far." He mumbles lowly.

"Why not?"

"I just wasn't feeling it, honest to god. I didn't wanna do that to her." At this point, Seora swings the door back open, causing both Seonghwa and Yunho to turn their attention down the hall before looking at each other. 

"We'll talk about this later." Hwa chuckles a bit. "Should've gone all the way." He says barely above a whisper.

"No." Yunho almost scoffs while he grabs his things and prepares to head out. "Get out." Unbelievable.

"On my way, boss." Seonghwa laughs. "Let me go say bye to ace." He walks down the hallway, giving Seora another big, tight hug before heading out. Yunho gives him one last final goodbye before shutting the door and locking up for the night, heading in to catch up with Seora and hang out with her before the night ends.

"So, really dad. How did your team dinner go?" She smirks as she comes back outside and plops on the couch. Yunho chuckles a bit before shrugging.

"The usual. It was.. good bonding time."

"Hm." She hums. "That's good. What did you guys get to eat?"

"Ramen."

"A fine choice for this cold evening." He laughs.

"Wanna continue a few episodes before we call it a night? I'm just gonna change."

"Sure. Do you want me to grab you a bowl of ice cream? I made Uncle Hwa buy me some strawberry ice cream after picking up our burgers. Ice cream is the best when it's cold out."

"That sounds good, ace. Thank you." She smiles while getting up to grab a bowl of ice cream for her dad, excited to finally spend the rest of the evening with him all to herself.

"Dad! My friends are waiting." She pouts a bit, staring at her father as she stands near the passenger door, watching as he slips into his shoes.

"Seora, I promise you I'm coming." Yunho pats his jeans down before doing one final check around the house to make sure everything has been shut off post-breakfast. Meanwhile, you've parked your car near your parents' front gate, grabbing your bag from the front seat before looking at the house and letting out a sigh. You'd give your parents some time today, accompanying them to buy groceries and while running other errands. You knew it'd be a long day, but you did owe it to them.

You needed to do better, you reminded yourself.

Just as you're about to make your way towards the gate, a familiar face comes popping out of the next door house— causing you to pause in your motions and furrow your brows in pure, utter confusion.

Yunho?

"Hi?" You look at Yunho [clearly confused] as he hurries along to the driver's seat. He does a quick double take before pausing briefly, also giving you the same look you gave him a few seconds ago.

"Hey?" He says. "You're—"

"Yeah. My parents."

"Dad, please—" Seora swings the door open. "Oh my god— we're gonna be so late." He lets out a small sigh as he checks the time and realizes they won't be late— his daughter is just eager to get to her friends per usual.

"Seora." He calls her name once more. "You're not gonna be late, okay? Relax." He turns to you with a small smile. "Sorry. Gotta run. I'll talk to you later? Say hi to your parents for me." You give him a small nod before he slips in. You watch him talk to his daughter while slipping on his seatbelt, wasting no time to pull away and drive off shortly afterwards.

"Hey you!" Your mom says, coming down to unlatch the gate.

"Hey. Yunho is your neighbor?" Your eyes are still on the road.

"Yeah, you've met him before at work? I didn't think you two ever crossed paths at the hospitals."

"We don't, but we're working on a big project together now." Your mom smiles from ear to ear.

"He's a good man. Seora, she's growing up to be such a lovely young lady. They're sweet. Such peaceful neighbors. Cutest duo I know." She drags you inside. "Go say hi to your dad, he's in the sunroom watering his plants. Tell him we should eat so we can go." She starts prepping the servings. "Where's Wonwoo?"

"Busy." Your mom gives you a look. "But, we're coming back next weekend. He just made plans already and can't flake."

"I'm sure his friends would've understood if he told them he was visiting his parents."

"Mom. We're coming back next weekend, okay? Please let him be" Your mom gives you a look before setting the food down for a late breakfast while you greet your dad and give him a big hug. 

"So, sounds like you met Yunho?" Your dad asks as you both walk back inside to finally before heading out to run errands.

"I did. Well, during a work meeting. Then, I just ran into him not too long ago. Looks like him and his daughter were in a rush to leave somewhere."

"He's taking her and her friends out shopping." 

"And how do you know that, Miss Ma'am?" You look at your mom while she places a bowl of rice down in front of you.

"I pop in to check on them from time to time. I dropped off some of this food earlier so they could eat it later."

"Do you always bring them food?"

"Most of the time."

"Your mom cooks with them in mind." Your dad adds.

"Oh, hush. I feel bad for the two sometimes. Yunho's been doing it all by himself." Your mom clicks her teeth, mainly out of guilt and worry. The three of you continue to eat away at the food your mom prepared, getting some fuel in to save money on food. "His wife passed away when Seora was just 4 years old."

"Honey." Your dad says. "Can you not tell his whole life story?"

"Why not? I wanna know."

"Then ask him." Your dad says, suddenly getting protective of Yunho. "I know you feel bad, but you should let him tell his story if he wants to."

"Your dad is such a grump."

"Okay, no. He's kinda right." You agree before getting way too ahead of yourself. It is a sensitive subject, and it shouldn't be told by anyone else other than Yunho himself.

"He's a really good guy, though. You should get to know him. Wonwoo, too. Maybe you two will learn a bit more about discipline and spending time with your loved ones before it's too late." You roll your eyes even though there is truth to the statement. 

"Anyway, enough about that. Where are we going today?"

"Well, we have a bunch of groceries to grab. I also need to stop by the pharmacy to pick up my medicine."

"We need to stop by the furniture store too. We've been planning to replace the couch in the living room because of the wear and tear. I think it's time." Your dad reminds your mom.

"Do you guys know what couch you want already or are we gonna shop there?"

"Gonna shop there."

"I do need to find a new shelf for my room."

"See, spending time with your parents can be beneficial."

"Dad, can you please tell her to stop?"

"Honey. She's here, okay? Your son is coming next weekend. All is well."

you: she's doing it again

wonwoo: sorry dude 😖  i'll be there next weekend to take it all

wonwoo: where are you guys going?

you: groceries, pharmacy, furniture shopping

wonwoo: actually sounds kinda fun

you: yeah? then why aren't you here, dumbo

wonwoo: i'm currently in a cabin near the south end 😎 living in peace

you: bye

While you've managed to peacefully eat the rest of your meal with your parents before heading out, Yunho and Mingi are walking around the department store while the girls go from floor to floor, section to section. They managed to snag some coffee before heading in, Yunho already exhausted from picking up Seora's friends to fighting over parking in the already-full mall garage. He's glad he finally gets a moment to chill out for a second, despite the girls squealing and being loud about how cute certain clothes or items are. He's already bought some of her stationary needs, along with a new color-way of Nike dunks she had been eyeing since release.

His wallet will be crying even more in due time, but it's all worth it if Seora goes home happy and content.

"Seora." She turns to look at her dad. "Not too far, okay?"

"Okay, we're just going over there to the juniors section!" Yunho and Mingi watch them speed off to the other corner before browsing the mens section nearby, Mingi already eyeing a jacket near the front racks.

"So."

"Just ask, Mingi." Yunho spits, making Mingi laugh.

"I see your date with Ara didn't go too well?"

"It wasn't even a date. I just went out to dinner with her and it was fine. We had a good time then, it was what happened after that didn't go well."

"Okay, so? What happened after?" Mingi sips his iced americano while the two of them continue to walk around the store, keeping the girls in eye view ahead. 

"We went back to her place, she invited me in." Yunho shrugs. "We were watching stuff on her TV and things kinda escalated. Started kissing her then she tried pushing it further."

"And you said no?"

"Mingi." Yunho looks at him. "You know I'm not like that. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do it to her. I just can't if I'm not emotionally tied to someone." Mingi nods.

"Nah, that's fair. And probably the right thing to do."

"Probably? It is the right thing to do."

"Right." Mingi responds, a bit distracted by the fine women passing by as they continue to walk around the store. "No, you're right. Sorry." He brings his attention back to his bestfriend. "Assuming Seora didn't know you went out with a lady friend?"

"I don't know, Hwa might've let it slip and I think she believed it but doesn't wanna ask. Or maybe, she doesn't even care." Yunho chuckles.

"I think she'd be fine with you going out on dates, you know? Maybe you don't have to lie to her about it. At some point, she'll need to know especially if you get serious with someone again."

"I'll open up to her about it when I get there. I'm in no rush, though."

"Fair."

"Randomly speaking, I finally saw one of Auntie Love and Uncle Po's kids today."

"Oh, really?"

"She works with me at the hospital. She's at the pediatric unit, though."

"Is she hot?" Yunho clicks his teeth and looks at him.

"Do you ever think about anything else?"

"I'm genuinely asking." Mingi smiles.

"She's pretty."

"What's her name?"

"No."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you don't even know her."

"You want her for yourself, huh?" Yunho just pauses to look at his bestfriend, causing Mingi to smirk while continuing to project. "Selfish son of a bitch."

"I'll deck you—"

"Dad." Yunho and Mingi turn their attention to Seora and her friends, who each have a few clothing items hanging on their arms. "We're gonna go try these on." She points to the dressing room in the far corner behind the juniors section.

"Okay. Uncle Mingi and I will head over in a bit." He subtly elbows Mingi near the rib, causing him to let out a small 'ow.'

"Good, cause I wanna show you how it looks so hurry." She says, turning on her heel to rush over to the dressing room with her friends without batting an eye at her dad and uncle's antics. 

"The fuck was that for? Seriously, do you have your eyes on Auntie Love and Uncle Po's daughter?" Yunho glares at Mingi again as they slowly head over to the dressing room.

"I don't know, okay? I barely know her." Yunho sips on his coffee. "We're gonna be working together quite a bit from now on though because of that new department."

"Interesting."

"Interesting?" Mingi gives him a look. "Why are you giving me that look? It was both you and Hwa who told me to put myself out there."

"Yeah, I'm very aware. And that's great! I just wanted to know if she was cute or not." Mingi laughs. "So, what's her name?" He asks again, making Yunho rolls his eyes and let out a sigh.

"Y/N."

"Pretty."

"That's all I'm telling you."

"Mhhhm." Mingi hums and laughs. "Hope it works out."

"Whatever happens, happens."

"Speaking of things happening— are you and Ara still friends?"

"I think so. We didn't end the night entirely on a bad note. At least, I don't think so. I felt bad and kept apologizing, but she said she understood and it was fine."

"You know it's never just that."

"Well, I'm aware I hurt her to an extent. I'm not gonna lie and try to brush that off."

"You think she'll talk to you if you run into her on Monday?"

"Maybe. I hope so. I really do want us to keep being friends."

"Of course." 

"And who knows, maybe now just isn't the right time. It could work out later."

"Yeah, maybe. But also, if I can be frank, you really don't seem all that into her. I feel like that dinner would've gone way differently if you were set on her." Yunho shrugs.

"It's not her fault. She didn't do anything wrong."

"I mean, it's fine. You probably can already tell you aren't compatible, plus I know you're thinking about how Seora would get along with her, too."

"Mmyeah. I think she woud've liked Ara, but I think you're right. I don't think we'd be compatible."

"Isn't it kinda early to say that, though?"

"Dunno. You tell me. I'm just going off of my gut feeling. I can't force myself to feel a certain way."

"Touché." Mingi sighs. "It's alright, my guy. We still have time. You'll find someone. Maybe it's Y/N."

"Shut up." Mingi laughs before sipping on his coffee, distractedly heading back to the menswear to grab the jacket he had been eyeing this entire time. While he tries it on and pays for his item, Yunho sits near the dressing room while scrolling through his phone. He finds your Instagram page being recommended to him, which he finds to be somewhat uncanny now that he's been talking about you and running into you [despite being assigned to the same project at work]. He can't help but be nosey, clicking onto your page to scroll through your pictures. 

You are pretty.

"Dad." Yunho shifts his attention from his phone to Seora, who is standing in front of him in beige cargo pants and an oversized baseball jacket that looks just like the one he's wearing at the moment. "What do you think about the jacket and pants?" Yunho smiles and nods.

"That looks good, ace."

"I really like that jacket of yours." She points and he nods.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would've bought one for you at the time." She shrugs.

"I didn't think too much about it before. Now I want it." He laughs.

"It looks good."

"Okay, I'm gonna try on this one other shirt and sweater and I think I'll be good. Can I buy them?" 

"If you promise me you'll wear it more than once." 

"I promise!"

"Swear? I better not find it in your donation pile in the next few weeks."

"Dad, I pinky promise. For real."

"Okay then." 

"Yay!" She turns her attention to her friends who are also coming out to show each other what they've been trying on. "Oh my god, that's so cute—" She says, heading back into the fitting room and leaving Yunho alone to your instagram page. He continues scrolling through slowly, peeking at your pics from your travels.

You and your friends that he recognizes from the hospital.

Your selfies where the natural light hits you perfectly.

Your candid photos where your smile is genuine and contagious.

You and your brother, your parents that he and Seora adore.

You really are pretty, and there's something about you that is enticing. Intriguing. A 'lil magnetic and alluring. 

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to work alongside of you on this project.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster

[honey-flustered]

Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)

MDNI +18 Only!!

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader

Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)

A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.

Older!Eddie photo edit by: @/eddiemunsons-missingnipple

CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants

You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.

“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.

“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”

You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.

“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.

“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”

“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”

“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.

“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”

“I’m in!” Essie beams.

“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.

“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”

“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”

You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”

——————

The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.

With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”

“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”

“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.

“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”

Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”

Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”

“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”

“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.

“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.

“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.

“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.

“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.

You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.

Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.

A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.

“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”

You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.

“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”

“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.

You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.

Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.

“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.

“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.

————-

“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.

“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.

“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”

“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to

Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.

“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.

“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”

“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.

“Exactly.” Your father confirms.

You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”

You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”

You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.

————

Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.

Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”

“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”

“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.

“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”

“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”

“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.

“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”

—————

Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.

“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!

“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”

He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”

You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.

He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.

“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”

“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.

“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.

“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”

You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.

“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.

——————

You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.

“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”

“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”

“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.

“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.

“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such a primadonna.”

“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.

“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”

“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.

He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.

But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.

————

The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.

Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Wilbur. His name’s—”

“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”

The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.

It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.

Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.

You raise the paper to your eyes and read:

If I Were A Hobbit

If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free

I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees

With furry feet and a merry heart

From adventure’s call, I’d never depart

With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.

In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme

I’d wander the fields beneath the sun

I’d travel the world cause it’s all in good fun

If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid

But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid

You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.

“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”

You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”

“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”

“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”

He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.

“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.

You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.

“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”

“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”

He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.

It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.

“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.

“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They’re like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”

Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.

His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.

You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.

He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.

Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.

————————-

Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.

You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”

“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”

“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from your grasp and into his arms. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.

“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”

“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”

“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.

You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”

“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”

“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.

Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.

You sit on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returns with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.

He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You wish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.

Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?

You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.

“I-I sh-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”

You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.

“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.

“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”

“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”

He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”

—————

You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.

“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.

“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

“You know D’N’D?”

“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.

“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”

“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”

“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”

“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.

“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”

“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”

“Yeah right. You seemed like the bad boy type who fell for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”

He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.

“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”

“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.

“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.

“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”

Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.

“What do you want?”

“You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—”

“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.

“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit, made me feel stupid, and acted as if I needed him because he created me. Back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. But boy did it feel good to give him a piece of my mind. Wish I could have said more.”

“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.

“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.

“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson—”

“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”

“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”

“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”

“I could. Considering I am one.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”

“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.

“We’re friends?”

“Us, geeks, stick together?”

“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”

He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.

“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”

“And what about my car?”

“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.

If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.

————

Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.

“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.

Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.

You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”

“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”

“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”

“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped dick.”

“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She sings-songs the last statement.

“I can’t. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble, I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”

“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.

Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.

Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.

“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.

“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”

“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”

“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.

“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.

“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.

“Payback’s a bitch, love.”

—————

“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.

“Tana!”

“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.

“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”

“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”

“I’m not!” You insist.

“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.

“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”

“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her or anyone. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”

“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.

An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.

You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.

“What the hell is this?” You sneer.

“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.

“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.

“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.

“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.

“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.

Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”

With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.

“If I could just explain...” You begin.

“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should I anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”

You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.

“I was just having fun.”

“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”

“Well, I’m not that person anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.

Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”

You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”

Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.

“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”

Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.

————

You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.

A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.

“What do you want, twerp?” You say.

“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.

“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”

“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”

“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak in coherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.

“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.

————

The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.

The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.

However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thoughtful letter long abandoned to the ground.

His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”

He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”

“Understand?” You ask.

“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”

“Accept?”

“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.

“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”

“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”

“Now we could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.

“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.

For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.

“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll be all smug about it.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”

You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”

“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.

You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”

Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ear. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”

“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.

“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”

“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”

“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”

“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.

He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”

“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”

“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”

“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”

“You wanted it badly so I’ll let you take it first.”

“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.

“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”

He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.

“You jerk, I just picked all that out of my hair.”

“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.”

He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it, letting out a puff of smoke into the air then looking back down at you. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.

Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fully by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.

The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often mewls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.

“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.

“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.

And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.

He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.

Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”

And again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.

[philosophicalconservatism]

Response To Post On Transphobia

the-psudo

"By 'transphobes' they don't mean someone who feels malice toward a particular set of people. They mean people who perceive some harm arising from ostensibly harmless conduct. If they're not picking your pocket or breaking your leg or similar, what justifies your getting involved in their business?"

philosophicalconservatism

I'll say this again. Cross dressing, drag shows, hormone therapy/sex reassignment surgery for adults, all of this has existed for ages and most of us never cared a bit about it. We do not care about how any adult chooses to live their life, or how they choose to perceive themselves; that is what liberty means. What we care about is the attempt to forcefully impose those same perceptions onto the rest of us; that is the opposite of liberty. The current ideological movement in question here involves an attempt by certain parties on the Left to shape our conduct and our beliefs; and therefore it is an attempt to intrude into our business. Laws have been passed in states like New York and California, and in nations like Canada which literally dictate how people are to speak concerning sex/gender (employers, landlords, educators etc.)

An endeavor to positively dictate how people speak (to determine what concepts they must employ and how) is an endeavor to dictate public belief. At the same time, we are all collectively informed that to willfully refuse to use this language is to exhibit "hate". The political Left has a peculiar practice of attempting to forcefully dictate public belief (which is by definition intruding into people’s private lives) and then, when they are called out for doing so, complaining that their critics are somehow the ones intruding into people's lives by objecting to those policies.

Requiring private businesses to adopt a certain eccentric ideological perspective concerning sex/gender, and demanding that they alter their policies accordingly is also more than merely allowing people to “live their own lives”. It is the imposition of one subjective, highly questionable worldview onto all of society. Meanwhile, certain other unfortunate parties are left to suffer the practical consequences of this world view: young girls and female athletes lose access to valuable life opportunities, and in other instances (high contact sports) are physically brutalized by biological males. Female inmates are housed with and raped by male prisoners who don't "identify as men", and all under a system which intimidates these girls and women into silence and compliance, making them the offenders if they complain about the unfairness.

Finally, when we speak of the citizen's sovereignty over himself, it is implicitly understood that we are referring to adults. Children/minors do not possess the same rights as adults. They are overseen both by their parents and by the state (due to the potential for parental neglect and abuse). Furthermore, there are certain things that children cannot do even with a parent's consent because we believe they are not things that a child can elect to do. For example, in many states children are not allowed to possess alcohol even with a parent's consent. Children are not allowed to work certain jobs, to work certain hours, or in any other manner not consistent with child labor laws. Therefore, I don't believe that life altering and permanent decisions such as those in question in the gender ideology debate should be made by minors. When they are adults, they may do as they will. They are adults.

I have never taken the position that a person with Gender Dysphoria merely living their own life and making their own decisions was harmful to anything. What is harmful is imposition upon others.

[hannahhook7744]

Ghost, What's Your Name?;

Summary: Ghost Hannah Hook starts causing mischief at Auradon Prep. Giving Auradon a hard wake up call. Trigger warnings: past child abuse and child death, allergic reactions, fainting, murder, minor violence, swearing, etc. LMK if I need to add to the list.

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

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Major Character Death

Categories:

F/M

Gen

Fandoms:

Descendants (Disney Movies)

The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz

Relationships:

Minor Doug/Evie (Disney: Descendants) - Relationship

Minor Ben/Mal (Disney: Descendants) - Relationship

Past Ben/Audrey Rose (Disney: Descendants) - Relationship

Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters:

Jenkins (Disney: Descendants)

Tourney Team (Disney: Descendants)

Auradon Prep Staff (Disney: Descendants)

Original Children of James Hook

Additional Tags:

Ghosts

Alternate Universe - Ghosts

pirate kids

Major Original Character(s)

Past Child Abuse

Past Child Death

Haunting

Pranks and Practical Jokes

Child Ghosts

Isle of the Lost is a Terrible Place (Disney)

United States of Auradon is Not Perfect (Disney)

Auradon Prep (Disney)

Swearing

Vandalism

Judge Claude Frollo Being Terrible (Disney)

Language: English. Series: ← Previous Work Part 3 of Ghost Hannah Hook.

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

The Dragon Cannon went off. 

Which was weird, because Taylor (Tarzan’s son and their Dragoneer) wasn't anywhere near it. Nor was Herkie (Meg and Hercules's son), who was the reserve Dragoneer. In fact, none of the players were near the thing because the team was having a water and snack break. 

Coach Jenkins squinted at the Cannon. “Did someone set that off?”

“It shouldn't be on.” Genie—who, along with Li Shang Jr, was one of the assistant coaches—frowned. “Nobody's near it… unless Taylor forgot to turn it off.”

“I didn’t!” Taylor insisted. “I turned it off, I swear!”

“Did any of you go near it?” Lil’ Shang asked, crossing his arms—trying not to grin or laugh, even though he was sorely tempted. 

There was a chorus of no coach from the group..

Suddenly, a large cold gust of wind hit them—which was more than a little unusual considering that it was nearly 80°F out—and an eerie childish giggle rang out from around them. 

“ Nope.” Emir (Aladdin and Jasmine's younger son) dropped his stick and started to walk off the field with his brother, Aziz.

Miguel (Isabella Madrigal and Bubo Marquez's son) just looked amused. “Is some little kid playing a prank on us?”

Jay groaned and stood up. Cupping his hands over his mouth. “HOOK! KNOCK IT OFF!”

William Darling (Wendy and Edward's middle child) whirled around. “Hook? Hook who?”

The eerie giggle turned into a full on gleeful laugh—a laugh that sounded like it belonged to a child far too young to be anywhere near Auradon Prep.

“Yeah, I’m with Emir and Z. Fuck this shit, I’m out!” Tyrone (Naveen and Tiana's son) held up his hands in surrender, walking off the field after Emir and Aziz.

“I'm out too!” Brendan (Charlotte La Bouff and Lars Westergaard's son) yelped, quickly running after his god brother.

Carlos sighed. “Guys, don't worry. Hannah's harmless—”

“I SAID, HOOK WHOMST?!” William yelped, swearing he felt someone tap his shoulder.

Jay roller his eyes, using his stick to pock at the space behind William. “Back, Hook! Go bother Evie.”

Carlos, on the other hand, just decided to take pity on their teammates and coaches. “Hannah Hook. Captain Hook’s youngest daughter.” 

William paled. “Shit, shit, shit. NOT TODAY SATAN!”

“Dude calm down, she's seven.” Jay rolled his eyes. “She's just bored. She's not gonna hurt anyone.”

Coach Jenkins, who had been watching the whole encounter amusedly, now decided to step in. “Jay, Carlos. I appreciate your good humor, but you’re clearly scaring your teammates. Let’s turn the noises off, now.”

The boys just gave him blank looks—neither looking amused with the situation. Just bored and, dare he even say, annoyed. 

It hit him then that they weren't joking.

“Oh, so I was right. It is just some kid.” Miguel mused, completely unphased.

“So…more Hooks escaped the Isle, then?” Jenkins rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Nope.” Jay said, popping the ‘p’ before plopping back down on the bench. 

“You guys aren't making any sense.” Herkie groaned, head in hands. 

“She's a ghost , Herkie. She's been with us in Auradon since we came here.” Carlos rolled his eyes, starting to get frustrated.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” Aiko (son of Tomiko) scowled.

“Tell that to my mama!” Tyrone yelled from beyond the field.

Suddenly, one of the bottles of water lifted into the air and was emptied on Aiko.  The laughter turning into full on cackling.

Jay swatted at the air where the bottle stood, causing it to be thrown at him. Along with the rest of it's contents. He glared at the spot where the ‘ghost’ was. “ Was that really necessary?” 

Aiko glared at Jay, whipping water from his eyes. “How did you do that, VK? Magic?”

“Jay doesn't have magic.” Carlos reminded, exasperated. 

All while Hannah kept laughing. 

The wind picking up. 

Coach Jenkins looked around, fully believing that the Hook child was hidden away in a tree somewhere. “Now, listen! I’m all for fun and games, but this prank has gone on far enough, young lady!”

The laughter stopped. 

And the eerie giggled turned into an eerie, small voice. “Sorry….”

William screamed, running off of the field while flailing his arms.

“Look at him go!” Miguel shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.

Jenkins was about to ask the Fairy Godmother for a raise. “Can we go back to practice now, or are you all too scared of a second grader to play the damn game?”

The team all muttered except for Carlos and Jay who just said “finally!”

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

Hannah wandered through the class rooms, staying invisible to the naked eye. 

Once again bored.

Eventually deciding to mess around in the chemistry lab. 

Juggling vials and giggling.

Evie walked in, wanting to be early for class, and groaned. “ Hannah! Don’t you have anything better to do?!”

Hannah jumped, nearly dropping the vials. And, instead of just talking directly to the princess, she decided to write ‘NO’ on the chalkboard. Just as other students and Mr. Deley walked in. 

Mr. Deley, who already had Evie on his shit list, saw the ‘no’ written on the chalkboard, and a red-faced Evie, and connected the two dots. “Miss. Evie. Care to explain this?”

Hannah giggled. 

Mr. Deley didn’t seem to hear the giggle, but Doug did. His face furrowed in confusion as he looked around.

Hannah lit up as she noticed him and appeared next to him. Beaming at him. “Are yous Evie’s boyfriend ?”

Doug shrieked, almost slamming into the person behind him. 

He wasn't the only kid to scream and jump at the sudden appearance of the little GLITCHING girl.

Poor Tyrone, who happened to be in that class, ran out of the room, screaming “The Other Side!!!!”

Hannah giggling, biting her thumb. “Don't worry! I don't have cooties or scurvy!”

Mr. Deley squinted at Hannah. Then his eyes went wide. “Great Scott…” He collapsed, smacking his face on the floor.

Hannah's laughter could be heard echoing throughout the school.

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

Lonnie had developed somewhat of a night baking habit.

Ever since she caught the VKs making love spell cookies in the middle of the night, she’d realized how nice and quiet the kitchens were at night.

So she’d started sneaking in to make her cookies. Sue her.

….it also made her feel less homesick, too, if she was being honest.

She’d just finished a batch, and left them on the counter to cool off while she grabbed a glass of milk.

When she turned around, three of her chocolate chip-green tea cookies were gone. She's only been away from them for an actual minute, if even that!

“What the fuck.” She said aloud to the empty room.

A loud creepy giggle echoed around the room. 

“...ancestors?” She couldn’t help but ask. Though, why her ancestors would c hoose to show themselves while she was sneak baking cookies in the middle of the night, she didn’t know.

“What's an a-an-cest-er?”

“Gah!” Lonnie jumped, holding up her hands in a defensive position. “Who– what are you?”

“...Hannah.” The voice replied, sounding confused.

Lonnie cocked her head. “Hannah who? Why are you invisible?”

“Hannah Hook! And cause I’s dead! Who are you?”

“...I’m Li Lan-Lei. But you can call me Lonnie.” Was she actually talking to a ghost?

“That's a pretty name!” Hannah complimented, giggling—probably at whatever funny looking expression was currently on Lonnie's face. 

“Thanks?” Lonnie cleared her throat. “Uh, how did you, you know…die, anyway?” Wasn’t that what you were supposed to ask ghosts?

“Frollo!” The lights flickered at her raised voice. “Anyway how old are you?”

Lonnie blanched. Frollo, as in, Judge Claude Frollo, who terrorized Quincy, Emile, and Zephyr’s parents? “Um…I’m sixteen. How old are you?”

“I'm seven!”

“You died at seven?” Oh, joy. Lonnie was gonna cry in front of a ghost. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”

“It's okay! I saveded my friend and his sissy!”

“From Frollo?” She managed to compose herself enough to ask.

“Uh huh!” Hannah replied, sounding like she was chewing on something. Probably one of her missing cookies.

“Do you, uh…like the cookies?”

“Uh huh! I likes chocolate!”

“Me too!” Despite the fact that this whole situation was completely insane, Lonnie was starting to get along well with the ghost of Hannah Hook.

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

“Help! Help!”

Doug heard the calls for help and went running towards the sound. “Hello? Who’s calling?!”

“Over here! Help!”

He kept running, following the oddly child-like voice.

“Here! Here!”

Doug rounded a corner, and saw Chad on the ground, writhing. 

“Oh, shit!” Dough cussed as he ran over. He felt around Chad’s clothes, looking for the epipen he always carried around. “Come on, come on, come on! Where is that damn thing?!”

“His backpack!”

Not bothering to look where the random ass child voice was coming from, Doug dove for Chad’s bag, and snagged the epipen. He uncapped it with his teeth, and jammed the end down into Chad’s thigh as hard as he possibly could.

Chad went lax, choking ever so slowly turning to wheezing and mild coughing. But thanks to his uncle, Doug knew that he needed to still get him to the nurse and call an ambulance.

He dialed Doc’s son quick, making sure that Chad’s head didn’t loll too much. “Raph, it’s me! Medical emergency in the south side of the school! Get the nurse and call A113, asap!” 

He tapped Chad’s cheek. “Dude, what did you eat?!”

“He ate that thingy on the table!”

Now that Chad was out of immediate danger and help was on the way, Doug looked around for the source of the child voice. But found no one and nothing.“Who said that?!”

“I did!” The voice said, beside him this time—right as he was poked with something. A crinkle of a wrapper could be heard. 

Doug jumped back. “Wait–are you that ghost from the chemistry lab?”

“...maybe?”

“What do you mean maybe?!” 

“If I'm in trouble, then no. If I'm not, yes. Is he dead?”

“No, he’s not dead!” He sputtered. “And—how are you a ghost?!”

“Frollo. Also he ates this!” The ghost poked him with—a candy bar?

“Wha–?” Doug took the candy bar and skimmed the ingredients. “Dude!” He looked at Chad, who wasn’t super conscious. “The first ingredient in this thing is honey!”

Which, along with feathers, Chad was extremely allergic to. 

The blonde just squinted at him, trying and failing to say something but being unable to do to the swelling of his lips and his inability to form/get the words out at the moment. 

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

Ben had been spelled. 

Ben had been spelled. 

Ben had been spelled. 

And now everyone knew, but no one , including BEN cared. 

No but Audrey, who'd been humiliated in front of two whole schools when her boyfriend had sung a love song to another girl . The girl who'd spelled him and wasn't getting any consequences and who was even telling jokes about it. 

Which was why she found herself sobbing her heart out in the girl’s locker room, while all her fellow cheerleaders were at practice. Her fellow cheerleaders who'd smiled and clapped and laughed while her boyfriend sung to another girl, like everyone else had.  

Something brushed against her cheek. 

Her eyes shot open. 

“H-hello?” Her voice was throaty, and she coughed a few times to clear her throat.

Something poked her cheek again. Something… soft. 

It was a crumpled (but thankfully clean ) tissue. Floating. In midair.

Audrey yelped, scrambling away from the floating object.

“I’m sorry. I didn't means to scares you.”

“Who–what—why–” Audrey stammered, freaked out, sure, but mostly embarrassed that she hadn’t been crying alone after all.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you–are you invisible?” She waved her hand around in the air, trying to find whoever was doing this. “This isn’t funny! You’ll–you’ll be in trouble for pranking me like this!”

“I'm not prankin’ you!” The lights flickered slightly. “I just… you soundeds so sads.”

The lights stopped flickering. “But… I'll go aways if ya wants me to.”

“Wait!” Audrey hadn’t the slightest idea why she called out to this…entity. Maybe it was because this was the first time in a while she didn’t feel so heart-breakenly alone . “Don’t go.”

“I'm sorry about what happened.”

She sniffed. “How do you even know what happened?”

“I heard people talkin’ about it. And I saw what happened.” The voice was becoming clearer—and the more it spoke, the more apparent it became that the voice was a child. “I'm sorry. If I'd known what Mal was gonna do I'd have stopped it. You didn't deserves that.”

At that, Audrey promptly burst into tears again. “Y-y-you’re the only person who’s said that to me! Everybody is on Mal’s s-side, even though she spelled Ben!”

“Do you want a hug? You look like you could use one.”

Audrey had no idea who this weird invisible child was, but honestly? She didn’t really care. “Yeah, sure.” She held out her arms kind of awkwardly, not being able to see her. But she could still feel it. 

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

Merryweather was grading her students' papers, rather angrily. Her class, Life Skills Without Magic, was a required course for all magical pupils, which meant that she had a lot of…unwilling participants in her midst. The papers got worse and worse as she graded.

Screeeeeeeeeech. 

She lifted her head up sharply. Someone was writing on her chalkboard. She pushed her seat out, and angrily stomped out of her office. “WHO, I say, WHO IS IN THERE?!”

A piece of red chalk was floating by the chalkboard—which now read ‘Say sorry to Audrey, Maleficent Bertha Fae-Athanasiou II!’

Merryweather paused. Because, well…she agreed with the writing. Audrey was her niece, after all.

But still. Using magic? On the Life Skills Without Magic teacher? Too far.

Also, it was a little disturbing that whoever was doing this knew when exactly Mal would be having her class. 

“Very funny, you little miscreant!” She snapped. “I won’t be reporting this to Fairy Godmother, just because you’re friends with Audrey. But if you pull a stunt like this again, I won’t hesitate, witch!”

The chalk dropped to the floor and the sound of tiny feet running could be heard as the door to her classroom flung open and then shut again. 

What was a child doing at Auradon Prep and how did they know enough magic to turn themselves invisible?

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

“Tinkerbell flew into a wall, 

Tinkerbell had a great fall!”

The fairy in question heard this nursery rhyme, coming from nowhere, and turned bright red in anger. “Who is that?! How dare you?!”

The singing stopped briefly as the singer took a break to giggle. Before it started up again. 

“Tinkerbell got caught in a trap, 

Tinkerbell is full of crap!”

“Stop that!” Tink demanded and stood up from her desk. “Who is doing that?! I will send you to the headmistress’s office and have you expelled!”

The singer snickered and a loud thud rang out across the room. As if someone was jumping up and down. 

“Tinkerbell can't sing,

Tinkerbell’s lost her wing’s!

Tinkerbell got hooked, 

Tinkerbell's cooked!”

In a rage, Tink stamped her foot. “Who’s spawn are you, huh?! I’ll make sure your parents know about this!”

The only response was a loud, almost never ending laugh.

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

The pink curtains in the Acapella Music Classroom had been swapped with blue ones. 

Flora tried to breathe in through her nose. Calm, happy thoughts. “Merryweather…”

Before the fairy could say anything else, her pink chair turned blue. 

She whirled around. “Merryweather! I thought you were done with all this magic nonsense!”

The desks turned blue. 

“MERRYWEATHER!”

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

Hannah went on to annoy every single staff member she came across. 

Mostly out of boredom, rather than malice. Mostly.

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

The class’s eyes widened, staring at something behind her as Fauna droned on about Zarina—the subject of this Bad Fairies lesson. 

“What are you children looking at?” Fauna put her hands on her hips, not liking the idea that her students weren’t paying attention to her.

One of them pointed at the whiteboard, mouth agape. Looking white as a sheet. 

Fauna whirled around and screamed.

The word ‘bollocks’ was written on the white board in big, blocky, bubble letters. In uppercase. 

She spun to face her students. “Who did this?”

No one claimed responsibility.

Figures.

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

Mrs. Potts was busy making macaroni salad for the students' lunches.

As head cook, she was insistent that the kids in her care got the four major food groups.

Buuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. 

Pop. 

At that noise, Mrs. Potts whirls around to look behind her.

Only to be met with a floating bag of pepperonis that was about knee length in the air. 

“What on earth!” Mrs. Potts shrieked and stepped back.

The bag jumped before falling to the ground and a child glitched into view before scurrying away. 

Mrs. Potts had seen her fair share of wild things. Hell, she’d spent ten years as a teapot. 

But random glitching children stealing her pepperoni? 

Yeah, that was too much.

She dropped her ladle and ran out of the kitchen, screaming.

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

Hannah rifled through the cabinets of a classroom, looking for something to do. Glitching in and out of view as she struggled to stay visible.

“You looking for something, sweetheart?” A woman’s voice said, right next to her.

She spun around, trying not to look too guilty. “I ain't stealing.”

“I never said you were.” Honeymaren raised an eyebrow. “I just asked if you were looking for something.”

“... I don't know. I'm bored.”

“Well, I’d imagine so. Being a spirit must be awfully tiring.”

Hannah nodded. “There's nothing to do.” 

“My friend Gale, he’s a spirit too. He likes to make people fly.” Honeymaren made a whooshing motion with her hand.

The young spirit’s eyes lit up. “Like a fairy?” 

“Very similar.” A smile played on her lips. “If you want, after I’m done with my classes for today, I can teach you.”

Hannah danced in place, excitedly. “Yes please!”

Honeymaren couldn't help but be reminded of how her own daughter, Nora, was at that age. 

“Alright. Just…try and stay out of trouble until then.”

“Okay!”

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

Homework was stupid.

Chad really didn’t understand the concept of it.

He already had to do work at school, why did he have to bring it home?!

The math problems were swimming around the page, and he’d only completed three…out of thirty.

Suddenly, a ball of paper hit him in the back of the head. 

He whirled around, looking for the culprit. 

There was no one there.

Wondering if he was actually going insane, he cautiously returned to his problems, now double unable to focus.

Only to find the equations to the homework. The ones he's forgotten ages ago.

He glanced up at the sky. “God?!”

A small giggle rang out. “No.”

“Gah!” Chad hit the deck, as if expecting an explosion. “Who are you?!” He asked from the floor.

“Hannah from tourney!”

He blinked. “...You’re the one who shot the canon and made William pee his pants?”

The ghost (?) giggled amused. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay…it was funny.” Chad wanted to smack himself. Why was he talking to a ghost-maybe-not-a-ghost?

“I hope the math helps! I don't likes math either.”

“Yeah. Math sucks.” Chad agreed. “How did you find these things?” He gestured to the previously missing equation notes.

“I don't have anything betters to do than to writes stuff down.” He could almost see her shrugging. 

“I guess that’s fair enough.” He hadn’t really considered what it would be like to be a ghost—and yes, he was acknowledging that she was a ghost now.

It must have been boring. 

And lonely.

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

Belle couldn't find her book and her book club was set to start in ten minutes.

She’d looked everywhere she normally left her books, then started looking in places she would never leave them. Like the refrigerator.

Where she found one.

“What the–” Belle blinked. Was she going senile? There was no way she could have put this in there!

Ben peaked his head into the room. “Mom? Are you ready for book club?” 

The queen said nothing.

“Mom? Are you alright?”

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

His statue was missing it's head.

Former King Beast had walked around campus for a solid hour trying to either find the head, or the culprit.

When all the VK’s had solid alibis, he checked with Ben's close friends but found they had alibis as well: Fay had been furious he'd accused Jane at all, Grumpy had been even angrier and had cursed him out for accusing Doug, Coach Jenkins had cleared Lonnie, and Chad and Audrey weren't even on campus. 

He did find it, eventually.

In the downstairs girl’s bathroom. Upside down. In a bidet. With the word ‘BITCH’ painted on it. 

After doing a good amount of angry yelling at nothing, Beast stormed out of the bathrooms, not bothering to touch the statue head. He’d get a janitor to clean it later.

But he would be getting to the bottom of whoever did this, and punish them severely.

Only when he passed his portrait did he realize that his statue wasn't the only thing vandalized.

A crude mustache and glasses were painted on his face, as well as the words ‘scurvy ridden, scabby sea bass’. The words were punctuated by a picture of a sea bass smacking his portrait self in the face.

Beast roared.

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

The whole school was in chaos. 

FG and Ben were trying to get to the bottom of what was going on. 

But Mal already seemed to have an idea. “HANNAH ARTEMIS HOOK, KNOCK IT OFF!”

“Who’s Hannah Artemis Hook?” Ben asked his girlfriend, looking around cautiously.

Mal allowed some of her anger to drain out of her as she gave him a small smile. “Ghost kid from the isle. Don't worry about it. She won't actually hurt anybody.”

FG gave a condescending laugh. “Ghosts aren’t real. I’m sure this is just an intense prank. Remember how Calista Jane Hook was? I’m sure this is just the same.”

“That'd be news to me if she managed to fake her death that well at only seven.” Mal tried not to roll her eyes or come off as too sarcastic, simply for Ben's sake. “And not be exposed before now.”

Ben inhaled, regretting his life choices. “So let me get this straight: There’s the seven year old ghost of CJ Hook’s sister haunting Auradon?”

“No, she's just following us. She'll probably leave when she realizes we're safe enough here.” Mal waved him off. Before turning to look down the hall “But until then SHE NEEDS TO BEHAVE !”

The locker closest to Mal (coincidentally her own) slammed open. 

Ben jumped and let out a swear. FG jumped as well, but let out a “fiddlesticks!” instead of a normal swear.

“Is that her?” Ben asked, unsure of what exactly proper etiquette was for meeting a ghost.

“Yes. But again she won't hurt her…. Well, as long as you don't hurt any of the isle kids.”

FG huffed, but Ben looked at where he thought the ghost must be. “Uh, hi, Hannah! I’m King Ben. Welcome to Auradon!”

“Hi!” An echoey, eerie voice replied. 

Ben tried not to jump again. Was that disrespectful? “How’re you liking Auradon so far?”

“I likes da books. They ain't missin’ no pages!” The voice replied. “And nobody's died here yets!”

“Yaaaay?” Ben’s voice went flat. 

FG at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Are yous Mally’s boyfriend?”

Mal hid her face in her hands, fully aware of how red that comment was going to make her.

He grinned widely. “Why, yes I am.” To prove his point, he kissed Mal on the cheek.

Hannah giggled loudly. “Oooo waits till her siblings find out!”

“Siblings?” Ben looked at his girlfriend in surprise. “I thought you just had the one. Treycor, right?”

“Ya! Treycor! But she has more!”

Mal nodded, embarrassed. “From our dad’s side…”

“Dad?” It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t heard much about the other parents of the VKs.

Hannah giggled. 

“Will you knock it off?” The purple haired teen snapped at the space where the little girl was supposedly standing. 

“Buuuuuuutttttrt Malllllllly I'm boooooooooooored! BORED, BORED, BORED!”

“You know, Carlos and Jay have video games in their room. You like video games?” Ben tried to placate her (and to get her to stop yelling.)

“...yes!”

“Maybe you can watch them play?” Ben was glad he was getting somewhere. “In fact, I can take you there now. I just have to ask you one question, if that’s okay?”

“...okay.”

Ben hesitated. He wasn’t sure how this would go. But there was a seven year old dead girl. He had to know. “Can I ask how you…became a ghost, Hannah?”

The lights flashed, all of the lockers flung open, and a water fountain turned on. “Judge Frollo!”

FG screamed, and used her clipboard as a shield against the chaos. “Claude Frollo turned you into a ghost?!”

Mal winced. 

Ben had wrapped his arms around Mal to shield her from the lockers, but after FG said that, he glared at the woman with all his might. “She means that Judge Claude Frollo killed her, Fairy Godmother.”

FG gasped. “Oh.”

“She uh… was trying to protect his last two living children.” Mal added, hesitant for once. “Her mom and Grandma didn't make it in time to help.”

One of the lights exploded as the lockers slammed shut—silence quickly filling the hallway, sans the trickling water of the fountain. 

“Oh my gods.” Ben whispered, breaking the silence.

“Can we play now?” Hannah cut in, ‘breathing’ heavily before the water fountain turned off. 

Ben was not in the mood for playing, but he forced a smile anyway. “You betcha.”

“Yay!”

The lights flickered once more before stopping. 

“Race you ta Jay-Jay and ‘los’s room!”

[manic-n-panic-rp]

Master Post

Hello!! Here I roleplay as Manic and Panic from the animation pilot Manic N Panic by Dawko. If you want to see me drawing Dawktrap and making my own fanmade Youtuber egos then you can follow my main blog here! @the-matpat-ever or if you want to see my Natemare ask blog @natemares-weird-ask-blog

Boundaries~ I am a minor, talking about or role-playing nsfw like smut are off limits. The only thing I'm comfortable with is gore or eldrich horror type deals. If you wanna roleplay with me you can dm me or give me an ask(I have anxiety reaching out to people first so be aware, being very clear with what you want to rp or talk about helps a lot). Any shipping is fine as long as they're legal. You can ship them both together if ya want

Here's some stuff about them!!

Manic

Nicknames/Aliases~ Dawktrap, Glitchtrap, Dawko

Pronouns~ He/It

Gender~ Masc Presenting, genderless

Age~ 28

Sexuality~ Omnisexual

Height~ 5'8

Other~ Manic loves to antagonize and frightening Panic, even going as far as trying to kill him(It doesnt wanna kill him, not really). Since its soul is a combination between Dawko & Glitchtrap's, their traits have passed onto him. He can be quite psychotic but he's not all bad or evil. He's protective of his friends and people he loves. His love language is violence. Likes to cause chaos and start fights. He can turn into a plush. Manic follows Panic everywhere so when Panic transfered to a new Freddy's location he followed with.

Personality~ Sly, manipulative, manic, flamboyant, confident, loud, has a soft spot for Panic

Panic

Nicknames/aliases~ Night,

Pronouns~ He/Him

Gender~ Trans masc

Age~ 28

Sexuality~ Bisexual, Demiromantic

Height~ 6'2

Other~ He's a nightguard that works at Freddy's. Manic and Panic are like yin and yang. He's absolutely terrified of the animatronics that try to kill him. He's also terrified of Manic but they're kinda like frenemies? A nail biter and his hands shake constantly. Panic recently transfered to a new Freddy's location and is intimidated by his new boss(Madpat). Because of how the hostile animatronics from the last location he worked at, he's very jumpy and scared shitless of the harmless little guys. Terrified of being in moving cars as well unless he's driving.

Personality~ Awkward, practically the embodiment of anxiety, screams a lot, people pleaser and mediator, emotional, defensive

[impaaktmagazine]

Breaking Bias: Addressing Microaggressions in the Modern Workplace

In today's evolving professional landscape, the emphasis on diversity equity and inclusion (DEI) is more than a trend—it's a necessity. As workplaces become increasingly diverse, there's a growing need to foster environments where every individual feels valued, respected, and heard. One of the most overlooked yet damaging threats to inclusivity is the presence of microaggressions.

Understanding Microaggressions in the Workplace

Microaggressions are subtle, often unintentional, verbal or behavioral slights that convey bias or discrimination toward marginalized groups. Phrases like “You’re so articulate” or “Where are you really from?” might seem harmless to some but can deeply affect those on the receiving end. These comments reinforce stereotypes and perpetuate exclusion, even when uttered without malice.

In the context of diversity and inclusion in the workplace, addressing microaggressions is critical. These seemingly minor acts can snowball into a culture of exclusion, affecting morale, productivity, and employee retention.

The Business Case for Addressing Microaggressions

Companies that prioritize diversity equity and inclusion not only create safer, more engaging environments but also reap measurable business benefits. Studies show that inclusive workplaces experience higher employee satisfaction, greater innovation, and better financial performance. However, achieving this begins with identifying and mitigating microaggressions.

When left unchecked, microaggressions disrupt team dynamics, hinder collaboration, and breed distrust. Addressing them head-on is a core component of any effective DEI strategy.

Diversity Equity and Inclusion: A Strategic Imperative

To fully integrate diversity equity and inclusion into workplace culture, organizations must take intentional steps. This includes revisiting policies, training staff, and creating accountability systems. More importantly, it requires open dialogue about experiences with microaggressions and a shared commitment to change.

Leadership plays a crucial role here. When executives model inclusive behavior and respond constructively to concerns, it sets a powerful example. Investing in DEI training, particularly on unconscious bias and microaggressions, is a practical step forward.

Promoting Diversity and Inclusion in the Workplace

Promoting diversity and inclusion in the workplace requires more than hiring diverse talent. It’s about building a culture where all voices are welcomed and differences are celebrated. Acknowledging the existence of microaggressions—and actively working to eliminate them—is a sign of a mature, forward-thinking organization.

Create employee resource groups (ERGs), implement anonymous feedback channels, and ensure equitable access to opportunities. These actions reinforce the idea that every employee belongs.

Responding to Microaggressions: Empowerment Through Education

Education is a powerful tool in addressing microaggressions. Workshops, role-playing exercises, and storytelling sessions can increase awareness and build empathy. When employees understand the impact of their words and actions, they're more likely to behave inclusively.

A vital part of this process is teaching employees how to respond when they witness or experience a microaggression. Encouraging allyship and fostering a "speak-up" culture can prevent these incidents from becoming normalized.

Embedding Diversity Equity and Inclusion in Leadership

A workplace driven by diversity equity and inclusion values requires inclusive leadership. Leaders must be equipped to navigate complex interpersonal dynamics and demonstrate cultural competence. This includes recognizing their own biases and being open to feedback.

Regular DEI audits, inclusive language guidelines, and leadership development programs centered on equity can ensure that these principles are not just aspirational but operational.

Measuring Progress in Addressing Microaggressions

It's not enough to launch DEI initiatives; organizations must measure their effectiveness. Employee engagement surveys, turnover rates among underrepresented groups, and incident reporting trends are valuable metrics.

Transparency in sharing results—both successes and areas for improvement—builds trust and demonstrates a genuine commitment to diversity equity and inclusion.

Conclusion: Creating a Culture of Respect

Addressing microaggressions in the workplace is essential for building a culture rooted in respect and belonging. Companies that embed diversity equity and inclusion into their DNA don’t just talk the talk—they walk it, day after day.

Creating inclusive environments is not a one-time fix but an ongoing journey that demands intention, education, and accountability.

Want to be part of the change? Read more on IMPAAKT, a top business magazine shaping sustainable business insights.

[jiangzaijian]

我与春风皆过客 ...

✦・Ning・It/none/he/ae・Plural system・21+・Aroace && genderfluid・✦

⸺ 　𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃・𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓・𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊・𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐕𝟐 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

⸺ 　𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓.

Pleiades ／ Sen ／ Ning・Mixed Asian & White・Intersex・Aroace-spec・Gaybian・Genderfluid・Disabled & chronically ill・Aldernic・Alterhuman・同担拒否 夢男子 (non-sharing yumedanshi)・Not USAmerican

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒. Bungo Stray Dogs, Fate series, Genshin Impact, Sanrio, Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint, Omnyoji, Mo Dao Zu Shi, Qiang Jin Jiu, Honkai Star Rail, painting, drawing, history, philosophy, chemistry, biology, astronomy, metafiction, horror media, competitive & casual chess, languages, birds, eels, yōkai, piano, listening to new music.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒. Strong winds, the heat, too-sweet drinks or food, people who are too into discourse, arguing for the sake of arguing, virtue-signalling, strong smells.

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆...

We're a polyfragmented DID system. Spiritual in functioning, soulbonders, gateway, subsystem-heavy. Collectively, we use it/its pronouns, although we prefer you use the current fronters' names & pronouns when applicable. Refer to us as introversals, intrpios, or soulbonds rather than fictives. We fully support endogenic, created, etc. systems.

Currently a full-time university student. We have limited energy and may not respond fast or at all some days. Our disorders affect how we think, speak, behave, etc. as well as our memory and energy. We have very low empathy and sympathy, and very limited emotional responses / experiences. Don't make your inability to understand the way we exist our problem.

Collectively aroace-spectrum (specifically orchidpluric & ficto & greyromantic), gaybian and genderfluid, generally indifferent or averse to romance and sex.

Do not treat our introversals as 1:1 of their source or the version of them you knew.

We are yumedanshi (self-shippers), and our F/Os are generally partners of common fronters or members of the system. Our relationships are as real and important as any relationship with external people. This is not a hobby or coping mechanism for us. We are not comfortable seeing "doubles" unless we know you personally.

We're spiritual and practice pop culture spirit work, among other things. If you're interested, shoot us an ask and we'll give you the blog url.

We're the coiners of pluralpunk and a few other terms we may share here.

⸺ 　𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆.

Keep in mind that we are adults. Minors can interact, just please don't be weird.

No discourse, bigotry, fakeclaiming, attempts to start shit, etc. here. We will simply block you if you send us anything inflammatory or argumentative, or if you just annoy us. If you're rude to us, we will be rude back.

We are peacefic and do not care about shipping discourse as long as nobody IRL is being directly harmed. Do not send asks about this.

We align ourselves with incluspunk. (Why?)

We are pro-persecutor, pro-paraphilia/kink, dark (fan)fiction enjoyers, anti-censorship, and anti-harassment. We believe in "block and move on" and the three laws of fandom.

We do not believe in thought crimes or the inherent evilness of "problematic" or violent thoughts/urges. The only things that matter are your actions towards others.

If we follow you, it's safe to assume we're fine with you interacting unless you're on our DNI.

We don't really care about harmless transIDs. We are not radqueer. I can't stop you, I just ask that you don't follow if you're radqueer or identify with & are "transitioning" to transrace, transabled, transage, etc.

If you send us donation asks, we will likely delete them. We donate to longtime friends and established organizations & lists, not random people in our asks who can claim to be whoever and wherever they want.

⸺ 　𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

Bigots, exclusionists, and other unsavory people (TERFs, pro-Israel, queerphobes, anti-informed self diagnosis, anti-good faith labels, pro/com-contact for non-consensual paraphilias included.)

Militant anti-shippers/anti-fiction. (You are actively unsafe for us to be around and would have problems with the existence of our system mains.)

Against endogenic systems, tulpamancy/willogenic/created systems, spiritual systems, soulbonders, etc.

Radqueers, xenosatanists, pro-MAP.

We follow archive/hoard blogs regardless of our own DNI.

2025.06.26 by Chen Ling.

[angelremnants]

Between Strength & Style l L. Laufeyson

PART TWO.⠀...AND LIFTING MEETS DESIRE..

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

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, sexual tension & innuendos (lots of it), extremely suggestive content, some graphic fantasies, flirting & teasing, emotional conflict, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 20.2k

author's notes : It always seems that whenever I set out to write a two-shot, a third one always ends up peaking its head. However, I promise that the next and final part will focus on a long, graphic, and unapologetically sinful smut. Truth be told, its scenario is already planned; I just need to put it all together on paper.

In the meantime, here's the continuation of Loki and his darling, who are both complete, sexually frustrated idiots and can’t resist taunting each other as their form of aggressive flirting.

NEW ! — Find the continuation here. (18+)

(ao3 version)

⠀

The Friday gym reunions had undeniably spiraled into something far beyond their original purpose. What should have been a straightforward workout session had evolved into a full-blown theater of absurdity—a weekly unscheduled spectacle of clashing egos and sharper-than-steel wits. And at the center of it all stood Loki. Naturally.

The gym was buzzing, its usual hum of machinery and clatter of weights eclipsed by the palpable tension in the air. The room itself, sterile with its fluorescent lights and dull grey walls, was wholly unworthy of the drama that unfolded within it, yet it served as the perfect stage.

And the spectacle? Oh, it wasn’t just between the two of you anymore. No, your little rivalry had become something of a legend around the installation. What had started as harmless banter and subtle challenges had escalated into something so magnetic that it drew an audience every week. From agents to staff, everyone whispered about it. About the mischief-maker and the defiant contender, locking horns like some modern-day myth.

The Avengers themselves had taken notice, watching from the sidelines with varying degrees of amusement. Rumor had it that bets were now circulating—some on who would break first, others on who would escalate the stakes further. Tony Stark, naturally, spearheaded the betting pool, gleefully collecting wagers and throwing in his cheeky commentary. 

“So, who do you think’s gonna crack first?” The self-made genius leaned against the wall with a practiced nonchalance, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the scene with a smirk. His eyes glinted with merriment, as if he were enjoying a private show. “I’ve got ten bucks on Rock of Ages. The guy’s a walking disaster zone. You know he can’t help himself—whether it’s stirring the pot or keeping it in his pants.”

Sam Wilson, ever the provocateur, grinned as he adjusted the Velcro on his gloves. “Nah, you’re on, Stark. I’m betting on [Y/N]. I mean, seriously, have you seen the way she looks at him? It’s like watching a countdown to an explosion. She’ll snap before Loki even knows what hit him.”

Tony smirked, shifting his weight against the wall. “Nah, Tweety, you’ve got it backward. My money’s still on him. He’s like a walking ego trip—he won’t stop until he’s the center of her universe. And let’s be honest, he’s not exactly subtle about it.”

Bucky snorted, adjusting the weights on his barbell. “You guys seriously underestimate her. She’s got more self-control than all of us combined. If anyone’s gonna break first, it’s Loki. Trust me on this one, Loki’s the one walking the edge.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Oh, really? And what’s your bet, then? That she’s gonna keep her cool while he spirals into one of his melodramatic fits?”

Bucky shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Something like that. She’s too level-headed to let him get under her skin—at least not in the way he’s hoping. Loki’s gonna be the one who can’t handle it when the tables turn.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, man. Have you seen the way she looks at him when he’s pulling one of his stunts? It’s like she’s deciding whether to throttle him or kiss him. My money says throttle.”

The billionaire wasn’t having it. “Come on, Barnes. You’ve seen her. Whenever he pulls that whole ‘smooth criminal’ act, you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she fights not to roll her eyes. It’s like watching someone wrestle a hurricane.”

Sam chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against a nearby column. “I’m sticking to my call—she’s gonna fold first. She’s already hanging by a thread. Loki thrives on the chaos, and let’s face it—she’s the perfect fuel for his fire. I mean, come on, she’s probably the only one getting off on telling him to shut up.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing the barbell and settling onto the bench. “You guys are ridiculous. This isn’t some rom-com. She’s not gonna fall for his games, and he’s not gonna win whatever twisted competition he thinks they’re having.”

Sam grinned, nudging Tony with his elbow. “We’ll see, man. We’ll see.”

The gym door swung open suddenly, and the chatter died instantly as the god of mischief sauntered in with his signature swagger. It was as if the very air shifted to accommodate him, growing heavier with an almost theatrical tension. He didn’t just walk into the room; he commanded it, his dark leather boots clicking softly against the polished floor with the precision of an orchestra’s opening note.

“Gentlemen,” he drawled, his voice a rich, velvety purr that seemed to coat every syllable with smug satisfaction. He leaned against the doorframe, one ankle crossed casually over the other, and surveyed the room like a monarch appraising his court. “I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation. How terribly entertaining it is to know you spend so much time obsessing over me. Tell me—what would you all do without my dazzling presence?”

Tony, unimpressed, barely looked up from where he was fiddling with his smartwatch. “Probably get some peace and quiet for once,” he quipped, his tone dry but playful. “But hey, where’s the fun in that?”

Loki’s grin widened, shark-like and infuriatingly self-assured. “Ah, but peace is so dreadfully dull, isn’t it?” he countered smoothly, pushing off the doorframe and strolling further into the room. His presence seemed to expand as he moved, drawing the attention of everyone present without effort. 

“No excitement, no discord, no… amusement,” he added, letting his eyes flicker over each of them before landing on Sam, his grin turning predatory. “And as for your little gossip regarding my dear [Y/N]… rest assured, she’s already under my spell. It’s only a matter of time before she succumbs to her undeniable attraction to me.”

Bucky scoffed at the declaration. “Man, you’re cocky. You really think she’s just gonna roll over and swoon?”

Loki’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, I don’t think—I know. The lady simply needs time to come to terms with the inevitable. Resistance, after all, is futile.”

Sam let out a bark of laughter, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who still thinks capes are sexy.”

Loki arched a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow, the picture of aloof elegance. “Capes are timeless,” he replied, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “And as for confidence… I simply speak the truth. She will come to see it soon enough.”

Bucky muttered under his breath as he pushed the barbell up. “You’re delusional.”

Loki’s sharp gaze flicked toward him, but his smirk remained firmly in place. “Indeed, Barnes, I stand here—utterly delusional, and yet, undeniably irresistible.”

Sam slapped his thigh, grinning wide. “This is gonna be good. Can't wait to rub that win in your faces.”

Before the conversation could escalate further, the heavy creak of the door sounded again. All heads turned as Steve Rogers entered, his upright posture and steely gaze cutting through the buzzing tension like a knife. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the doorway, and the room shifted, the previously lighthearted atmosphere thickening with a hint of unease. Steve’s sharp blue eyes swept across the group, taking in the smirks, folded arms, and barely stifled grins, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“What is this?” Steve demanded, his deep voice laced with disapproval. “You’re betting on who’s going to crack first? Really? What are you, a bunch of high schoolers?”

Tony, as usual, remained completely unfazed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that bordered on outright defiance. “Come on, Cap. It’s harmless. We’re just having a little fun. You know, team bonding and all that jazz.” He gestured vaguely to the others, clearly trying to pass off the situation as innocent.

Steve’s eyes narrowed as they landed on Loki, who had strategically moved to the edge of the room, leaning against the wall in a pose that screamed insufferable smugness. The faintest trace of a smirk curled on Loki’s lips, his entire demeanor practically daring Steve to confront him. “Laufeyson,” Steve said, his voice low and heavy with warning. “I can’t say I expected better from you, but you’re supposed to be focusing on your probation. Not... whatever this is.”

Loki didn’t miss a beat, straightening slightly as he pushed off the wall with an almost feline grace. “Ah, Rogers, always the paragon of virtue,” he said smoothly, his voice as sweet as poisoned honey. “But I assure you, this is all in good fun. After all, what is life without a little… competition?” His sharp green eyes sparkled mischievously, and for a moment, it looked as though he might outright laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Steve let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face. His sense of righteousness was clearly battling with his growing exasperation—and the faintest hint of amusement he seemed determined to suppress. “It’s not about participating in this childish behavior,” he said firmly, though the weariness in his tone betrayed him. “I’m trying to make a point.”

Before he could say more, Tony pushed a crisp five-dollar bill toward him with a wide, knowing grin. “Come on, Star-Spangled Man,” he coaxed, his tone both teasing and strangely persuasive. “You can’t resist. You’re curious now, aren’t you? Just throw a little something down. I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

Steve hesitated, his sharp gaze darting between the group and the smirking god of mischief still lounging nearby. His lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled heavily, reaching into his pocket. A crumpled ten-dollar bill emerged, and with what could only be described as reluctant resignation, he tossed it onto the table. “This is nonsense,” he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with reluctant mirth. “I’m doing these sessions for the team. Not for this nonsense.” His piercing gaze landed on Loki, the unspoken warning in his expression clear.

Loki’s smirk widened, his entire demeanor dripping with unbothered confidence. He stepped closer, his long coat swishing slightly as he leaned toward Steve. “Oh, how very noble of you, Rogers,” he mocked lightly, his voice laced with exaggerated politeness. “You’re not participating for the thrill of it, of course. No, no—you’re simply maintaining the moral high ground. How very... heroic. Rest assured, your wagers are well-placed when they rest upon my incomparable charm.” His smirk deepened, practically daring Steve to react.

Steve’s incredulous expression spoke volumes. “Charm?” he repeated, his voice laden with skepticism. “You’re not charming anyone, buddy. This is ridiculous.”

Sam, leaning back in his seat with an arm casually draped over the chair, grinned widely. “Oh, I don’t know, Cap. The guy lives for drama, and let’s face it—we do too.”

The room suddenly seemed to shift again as heavy, purposeful footsteps echoed from the hallway. The doorway darkened as Thor entered, his large frame and imposing presence commanding attention. His storm-blue eyes scanned the room, landing squarely on his brother with a mixture of irritation and faint amusement. “Loki,” Thor boomed, his deep voice reverberating through the room. “What is this nonsense? Are you planning to court Lady [Y/N], or are you simply making a fool of yourself again?”

The room went silent, the air thick with anticipation. All eyes turned to Loki, whose smirk faltered for the briefest of moments before he recovered, his expression once again unreadable. Straightening his posture, he turned to Thor with an air of mock innocence. “Ah, brother,” he began, his voice as smooth as silk, “you misunderstand me entirely. I’m not courting her—I’m merely ensuring she is... aware of my presence.”

Sam burst out laughing, earning a sharp glance from Loki. “Oh yeah? That’s what you’re calling it?” Sam teased, his grin practically splitting his face. “You might wanna rethink your ‘not-courting’ strategy, dude.”

Bucky, who had been quietly observing the exchange, leaned back in his seat with a smirk of his own. “If I were the damsel,” he remarked dryly, “I’d be looking for someone with a little less flair for the dramatic.”

Thor crossed his arms, his biceps bulging slightly as he stared down at his younger brother. “If this is your idea of a competition,” he said with a sigh, his tone laced with both disapproval and faint beguilement, “you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning sharp. “Oh, it’s not a competition, dear brother,” he replied smoothly, his tone bordering on smug. “Merely a game. A harmless game. But rest assured, as always—I intend to win.” His piercing green gaze locked with Thor’s, the unspoken challenge hanging heavy in the air.

His piercing green eyes locked with Thor’s stormy blue gaze, the intensity of his stare unyielding. It wasn’t just a challenge; it was a declaration. The air between them seemed to spark, charged with the weight of unspoken words communicated by the likes of subconscious telepathy. Loki stood poised, his lithe frame radiating confidence, as though he were a predator savoring the anticipation of the hunt.

Thor, towering and broad-shouldered, tilted his head slightly, his eyebrow lifting in skeptical defiance. “A game?” he repeated, his deep voice tinged with incredulity as it rose slightly, the rich timbre of it filling the room. “And what, pray tell, are you battling for this time?”

Loki’s smirk deepened, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a grin that could only be described as devilish. His gaze flickered, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes, but he offered no further explanation. “Pride, Thor,” he said finally, his tone light yet deliberate, the words laden with layers of meaning. “Simple pride.”

As if on cue, the door swung open with a soft, deliberate creak, and you stepped inside alongside Natasha and Wanda, the three of you commanding the room with an understated, magnetic presence. The atmosphere in the gym, already thick with tension and rivalry, shifted immediately, as though the air itself bent to accommodate your arrival. The rhythmic thud of weights hitting the ground and low murmurs of conversation faltered, replaced by a heavy silence that seemed to hold the collective gaze of every man in the room.

Each of you exuded an air of effortless elegance and undeniable strength, your outfits blending athleticism and allure in a way that was impossible to ignore. You, dressed in a sleek cropped top that revealed just enough of your toned midriff to hint at the dedication beneath it, paired it with high-cut athletic shorts that elongated your legs. The addition of thigh-high compression socks accentuated your form, lending both practicality and a touch of bold style. Your hair was swept into a perfectly imperfect messy bun, with a few stray strands framing your face like an artist's final, deliberate strokes on a masterpiece. The faint sheen of your skin from the heat outside caught the light just right, and the subtle tint of lip balm made your lips seem more vivid, though still natural—an unintentional yet undeniable invitation to stare.

Natasha and Wanda complemented your presence perfectly. Natasha, in her sleek black leggings and a fitted low-cut tank top, moved with feline grace, her crimson hair pulled into a high ponytail that swayed slightly with each step. Wanda’s outfit, a rich maroon set that clung to her like a second skin, paired with a lightweight jacket tied casually around her waist, hinted at her unique balance of grounded power and mysticism. The three of you looked like a coordinated, unstoppable force, every movement synchronized in unintentional harmony.

The men in the room couldn’t help but take notice. Tony’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, his usual wit temporarily stolen. Steve, ever the gentleman, tried to avert his gaze but couldn’t help a second glance. Sam and Bucky exchanged a quick look that was equal parts appreciation and amusement, while Thor simply let out a low, approving hum, his broad grin spreading as his eyes lingered for just a second too long.

But Loki—Loki’s reaction was immediate, as though his attention was magnetically drawn to you the moment you came in. His sharp green eyes flickered over you, briefly narrowing with a subtle appraisal that didn’t escape your notice. His smirk faltered for the briefest moment before returning with even more fervor, like a predator calculating its next move.

The tight-fitting athletic wear revealed just enough to catch his interest, and he looked at you with an intensity that felt as if it could set the entire room ablaze. It wasn’t the kind of gaze that lingered on your face or the space between you, but on the curve of your hips and the long, toned length of your legs. He traced the lines of your body with a hunger in his eyes, though momentarily distracted by your planned indifference.

When he met your gaze, the mischievous glint in his expression only deepened. It was clear he hadn’t missed your deliberate lack of acknowledgment, but that didn’t deter him. No, instead, it seemed to fuel the game he was already playing, and he grinned, as though the challenge had only just begun.

“What's up, guys?" you asked lightly, your tone casual, almost dismissive, as you moved past the group. The words hung in the air like a carefully thrown dart, drawing their attention further without giving too much away. You radiated a confident ease, as though utterly unaware—or uncaring—of the disruption your presence had caused.

Loki, of course, wasn’t so easily dismissed. He subtly shifted in your direction, his posture as relaxed as ever, but there was a deliberate intent in the way he angled himself slightly toward you. His smirk was slow and deliberate, his lips curving upward like the promise of a secret only he knew. When you didn’t immediately look his way, he leaned forward just enough for his presence to nudge into your space, his emerald eyes gleaming with mischief.

Natasha raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement, while Wanda shot him a cool, disinterested glance before heading toward the chosen workout area. They didn’t need words; the look they exchanged was enough to say it all.

You stayed focused, making your way to join them with an effortless stride, your movements as fluid as they were intentional. The men couldn’t help themselves, their gazes trailing after you like moths to a flame, though each tried, with varying degrees of success, to pretend they weren’t watching. Tony cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly as if trying to appear nonchalant. Steve adjusted his stance, looking determined to redirect his attention to anything else but failing miserably. Sam gave a low whistle under his breath, earning an elbow from Bucky, who chuckled and muttered something about "respecting professionalism." Thor crossed his arms, his grin unabashed and entirely unapologetic as he observed the dynamic shift in the room.

“Did you feel that?” Natasha murmured quietly to you, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she gestured toward the group with a subtle tilt of her head. “The collective brain cell they’re trying to share just short-circuited.”

You smirked but kept your eyes forward, not giving Loki or the others the satisfaction of knowing you noticed. “Barely,” you replied, your voice low enough for only Natasha and Wanda to hear.

Loki’s grin widened at your apparent indifference, but beneath the mask of arrogance, there was the usual flicker of frustration at the lack of attention from your end. At this point, he thrived on it, and your refusal to grant it to him, even for a moment, was an offense he didn’t want to tolerate anymore. 

Wanda gave you a knowing look, her smirk growing as she took note of the subtle shift in his posture. “Here we go,” she murmured with a quiet laugh, her voice carrying the hint of something much more entertaining to come. Natasha, not missing a beat, threw the dark prince another pointed glance, her amusement evident in the way she silently challenged him.

Still, you gave no reaction, letting him stew in his theatrics for just a little longer. You had a special workout to get to, after all.

You took a deep breath before turning back to face the group of men, fully aware of the apprehension in the room and how everyone’s attention was on you. The air was thick with anticipation, and you played it up, pretending the Asgardian didn’t exist for the moment. 

"Alright, so," you began, your voice light but with an edge of authority. "The girls and I decided to work on agility today. We’re going to try something different for this session." You allowed a small, deliberate pause, letting the words sink in as you watched their faces shift from confusion to curiosity.

They were all listening intently, waiting for more. "You know," you continued, flashing a casual smile, "Yoga. Thought we’d give it a go today." The words came out with just enough playful confidence to keep them guessing.

Tony, still lurking behind a set of dumbbells, couldn't hide the curiosity that piqued his interest. "Yoga?" he said, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You sure you’re not just trying to get out of lifting some actual weight for once, Glamazon?" 

You grinned back, unfazed. "No, actually, I’m curious to see how my core holds up," you said, your voice playful yet sharp with determination, a reminder of the underlying strength you carried in everything you did. "But don’t worry about us," you added with a carefree shrug. "You’ll get your gym session, and we’ll get ours."

Sam, ever the instigator, leaned forward with that cocky grin of his. "I didn’t think you were into that," he said with a raised eyebrow, clearly enjoying the energy shift. "You always seem like you’d rather be running circles around us."

You shrugged nonchalantly, a glimmer of an unknown sentiment flickering in your eyes. "Variety's good, right?" You glanced at Natasha and Wanda, both of whom were already giving off an air of superiority. "It’s about challenging the body in different ways, not just about strength."

Wanda, who had been eyeing the group of men with a gleam in her eye, finally spoke up. "Plus, it’s a great way to get some real flexibility, not just the physical kind." Her voice was light, but you knew the deeper meaning in her words, especially with the way she shot a conspiratory glance at Sam.

You couldn’t help but throw her a grin. "Exactly. Yoga isn’t just about strength. It’s about balance, coordination, and mental focus." You paused, eyes narrowing with intent. "Thought I’d try to perfect my inner zen."

Thor, who had been watching you intently, folded his arms over his chest, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "What is this... some kind of sorcery?" he asked, clearly puzzled by the shift in atmosphere.

You laughed softly, casting a quick glance toward the men before letting your gaze land on Loki. His eyes were still on you, though his earlier smirk had dimmed. You tilted your head slightly, feigning innocence. "It’s just a workout routine, Loki. Nothing to be concerned about." You let your words hang in the air, a subtle challenge of your own.

Loki leaned in, his voice laced with mock seriousness, but his tone hinted at something deeper, something more intrigued than he'd care to admit. "Oh, I’m not concerned. Not at all," he said smoothly, though the faintest glimmer of doubt danced in his eyes. "But do be careful, pet. We wouldn't want you to overextend yourself... You might strain more than just your flexibility."

You could feel his words crawling under your skin, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, you kept your posture relaxed, almost too casual. "We’ll be fine," you answered politely but with a hint of finality. "It’s just a change of pace." You smiled sweetly at him, then turned away, making a conscious effort to ignore his attempt to rile you up.

As you and the girls began setting up the yoga mats, the entertained demeanor of Tony caught your eye, his grin widening into something that could only be described as smug. "If you need help stretching... I’m more than qualified," he winked. "I think you’re gonna need it."

You shot back a playful glance. "You think so?" you retorted teasingly. "If you want to join us, there’s plenty of space." 

Bucky, who had been watching your every move, let out a quiet chuckle. "You’re gonna make us look bad if we do, aren’t you?" he said, a knowing look passing between you both.

You flashed him a mischievous grin. "Wouldn’t dream of it," you replied with a wink before returning your focus to the task at hand. You were used to their attention by now, and you certainly weren’t about to give them the satisfaction of getting flustered.

You took your place and knelt down to adjust your mat, and you could definitely feel the unmistakable heat of Loki’s glare on your body. But you were determined to remain unaffected. You glanced at Natasha and Wanda, giving them a playful, almost wicked grin. This was about to get fun.

"So," you began, turning casually back to the group of men, your voice smooth but laced with underlying devilry, "the thing about yoga is that it really works your flexibility. And you’ve got to have good control over your body, or things can get a little too loose." You allowed a slight pause, watching the flicker of understanding and interest cross their faces.

You could see Loki’s eyebrow quirked up slightly, the tiniest twitch at the corner of his lips betraying his struggle to maintain composure. "Of course," you continued innocently, "flexibility is key, especially when you’re trying to get into some of those deep stretches."

You made a show of adjusting your position on the mat, arching your back just enough to catch their attention, a calculated move that made Sam’s eyes widen just a little, a grin tugging at his lips.

"You're really showing off with this, huh?" Sam teased, a smirk tugging at his lips as he casually leaned against the wall. His gaze briefly flickered to you on the mat before he added, "All that flexibility and focus… if it were me, I’d probably pull something just from the distraction."

You threw him a discreet wink before turning your attention back to your girls, who were already preparing for the first pose. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Bird Boy," you teased. "Honestly, it's just a matter of knowing your limits and knowing how far you can bend... without breaking," you added with a sly, deliberate emphasis.

Steve spoke up, his voice cutting through the tension with an almost casual air. "Alright, alright, calm down there, you two," he said with a bemused chuckle, clearly enjoying the interplay but not wanting things to escalate too much. "Let’s not get too carried away. It’s yoga, not... whatever this is turning into." His gaze flicked between you and Loki, though there was an unspoken understanding behind his words, he was well aware of the subtle play unfolding.

You didn’t break your stride. "Aye aye Captain," you voiced airily, glancing at him over your shoulder. "I’m just giving the guys here a taste of what it takes to stay flexible in more ways than one." You shot a playful grin in his direction, making sure to keep the mood light.

Loki’s eyes flicked from you to Steve, his expression momentarily darkening, as if something behind his sharp gaze shifted. He gave a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, his voice smooth yet carrying an undertone of challenge. "Rogers," Loki began, his tone laced with mock curiosity, "if you truly believe this is all just... stretching and bending, I’m afraid you’ve missed the point entirely." His eyes returned to you, a quiet tension building between his words.

You suppressed a laugh, knowing exactly what he was alluding to, but you kept your focus. You turned toward the men, who were now all clearly intrigued, some with more open curiosity than others.

Tony, still clearly entertained by the dynamic between you, leaned back in his seat. “And what exactly are we supposed to take from all this... stretching and flexing?" His words carried a hint of inviting defiance, as though daring you to continue this little game.

Bucky, still hovering near his weights, gave a soft chuckle, his eyes flicking between you and the green god. "I’m just here for the show," he added, his usual deadpan expression betraying the amusement he clearly found in the whole thing.

You smiled, pleased by the attention, but kept your composure. "Don’t worry, guys," you said with a wink. "You’ll get your workout. But maybe you’ll learn something about balance, focus... subordination. We all could use a little more of that, don't you think?"

"Subordination," Steve echoed, shaking his head. "We’re talking yoga here, right? Or did I miss something?"

"You didn’t miss anything, Captain," Loki’s voice chimed in smoothly, though his eyes never left you. "But you might want to be careful—some people don’t handle that kind of 'subordination' as well as others." His smirk was back, albeit with a more pointed edge now, his voice low with an almost voracious quality as if he was intently mulling over his next move.

"Well, it’s about more than just physical control," you replied, your tone just as smooth as his. "It’s about mental clarity. Knowing your limits... and knowing when to push past them." You threw a subtle glance in his direction, not missing the way his gaze flickered, and guessing that his mind was already working over your words, perhaps taking them in ways you hadn’t fully intended.

"And knowing how to play your cards, I suppose?" Loki's voice was a touch more serious now, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

You couldn’t help but throw his own words back at him again, leaning into the challenge. "Exactly," you said with a sweet grin. "You’ve got it."

You stretched your legs out in front of you, positioning your body in a slow and deliberate stretch, purposefully showing off the control you had over every movement. "You have to go slow with these," you said in a sweet, yet teasing voice. "Otherwise, you might end up straining something... and we wouldn’t want that, would we?" You took a peek at Loki, knowing full well that your words were likely to provoke him.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t respond right away. Thor, clearly catching on to the subtle game you were playing, nudged his brother. "You know, brother, if you’d just give it a try, you might find yoga quite revealing," he suggested with an amused grin, his eyes flipping between the two of you.

Loki sighed, though it seemed more out of the need to regain his composure than out of actual frustration. "Oh, I’m quite content watching, thank you," he said smoothly, though you could tell he was still too engaged in the situation to fully hide his interest.

You saw the opening and took it. "Well," you articulated, your tone dripping with mock sweetness, "the sidelines are reserved for those who prefer to watch, after all. But if you ever want to get in on the action, you know where to find me."

There was a brief, stunned silence in the room as everyone processed your words. You took the opportunity to focus back on your session, bending into another deep stretch, deliberately pushing your body further to make sure the attention stayed on you.

The words hung in the air for a brief moment, and Loki’s sharp green eyes flicked toward you, a flicker of realization crossing his face. His smirk faltered, just for a split second, before returning with an edge of something darker. "Oh," he uttered, his voice low, "you’ve got a good memory, don’t you?"

You knew exactly what you were doing. And you loved every second of it.

Natasha shot you a look, her eyes glinting with amusement, a sly smirk tugging at her lips as she caught the subtext of your words and movements. "You’re having a little too much fun with this," she called you out. Clearly, she was enjoying the bubbling disarray you were effortlessly stirring up.

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to appear unaffected by the stir you were causing. "Hey," you countered, your tone playful, "if they’re going to stand around and gawk, I might as well entertain them." Your eyes flickered briefly to the dark prince, where his subtle shift in focus didn’t escape your notice as you turned back to the red-headed assassin.

Sam, always ready to poke fun, leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees as he flashed you an exaggerated grin. "You’re definitely keeping it interesting, that’s for sure," he quipped, clearly caught between amusement and an underlying curiosity.

With a light chuckle, you peered at him provocatively. "I’m just here to make sure everyone’s stretched in the right way," you quipped back, a hint of challenge in your voice as you met his eyes.

Steve, sensing the playful banter was starting to spin out of control, clapped his hands together, his presence bringing a subtle shift in the room. The tension that had been hanging in the air from the teasing remained, but now it was time to bring things back to business. “Alright, fellas,” he said, his voice cutting through the chaos, authoritative and sharp as always. “Back to the weights. Time to get serious.”

The guys groaned in unison, a collective reluctance that seemed to ripple through the group, but despite the grumbling, they picked up their dumbbells and returned to their stations. The sounds of weights clinking and the low murmurs of the guys refocusing filled the room, but one person remained distinctly out of sync with the rest.

From his spot by the bench, Loki’s composure was slipping more visibly with each passing second. His long fingers tightened and relaxed around the barbell, his muscles flexing involuntarily as if trying to regain control of his body. But his gaze kept flickering back to where you and the other women had gathered, setting up for the next set of stretches. He tried his best to feign indifference—leaning casually against the bench, appearing utterly unbothered—but it was clear to anyone paying attention that it was a losing battle.

When you bent forward into a slow, deliberate stretch, sliding effortlessly into a forward fold, Loki's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. The graceful curve of your back, the way your body seemed to flow with ease into the pose, was almost hypnotic. He could feel his pulse quicken, and despite his best efforts to maintain poise, his mind spiraled into dangerous thoughts. 

He imagined his hands trailing down your spine, the heat of your skin under his fingertips, the way you'd arch into his touch. He’d trace the elegant curve of your spine downwards, his hand dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts to explore the supple globes of your ass, gripping and kneading the firm flesh. He would hook his fingers in the waistband and slowly tug them and your underwear down, revealing your most intimate places to his hungry gaze, inch by tortuous inch. 

Then, he’d slip his hand inside your soaking panties, and groan at the slick evidence of your arousal coating his fingers. Notch two fingers at your entrance, pumping them in a shallow thrust, crooking them to find that special spot inside, and piston it repeatedly simply to watch as you lose your mind and your whole body quivers again and again. 

The sheer audacity of the images playing out in his head made his jaw tighten, a flush creeping up his neck as his fortitude continued to unravel. 

He tried to drag his gaze away, his grip tightening on the barbell as though the weight could somehow ground him in reality. But even as he focused on the solid steel in his hands, it felt almost insubstantial compared to the magnetic pull of your presence. He swallowed thickly, a futile attempt to regain control, but it didn’t work.

When his gaze flicked back—just for a split second, just to check on your progress—you were transitioning into a lunge, every line of your body accentuated by the stretch. The faint sheen of sweat caught the light, making your skin glow as though you were carved from something impossibly radiant. It wasn’t just the stretch that rendered him mad; it was you. You knew exactly how to push his buttons, how to pull him into your orbit without a single word, like some irresistible gravitational force he had no hope of escaping.

When had it escalated to this? What was supposed to be a simple, harmless game of one-upmanship—his initial goal to snatch that little fame of yours around the gym, to make you scowl, cower, and surrender—had somehow veered wildly off course. Now, instead of basking in smug satisfaction at seeing you flustered, he found himself consumed by something far more primal, far more dangerous. He no longer simply wanted to knock you off your pedestal; he wanted to know everything about you. The sharpness of your mind, the quick wit that matched his quip for quip, the fire in your gaze that never backed down. He lusted after you, mind and body, with a hunger that rattled him to his core.

The predator had become the prey in a sense, tangled in a chase he’d started but could no longer direct. And judging by the way your smile curved just a little more, you knew it too.

A low growl rumbled deep in Loki’s chest, barely audible over the clanging weights and murmured conversations. He gripped the barbell tighter, the metal biting into his palms, but it wasn’t enough to stem the tide of thoughts flooding his mind. His imagination ran wild—thoughts of you pressed against him, your flexibility taking on a much more intimate meaning, your laughter ringing in his ear as you teased him mercilessly. It was awash in a flood of filthy fantasies, with you pressed against him and those long legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper. The heat of you, the slickness, your breathy pleas, taunting him to take you harder, faster. 

He gripped the barbell so hard the metal cut into his palms, desperately trying to ground himself and regain his rapidly eroding self-control. But it was no use, he was too lost in the haze of lust. He wanted to map every inch of your body with his hands and mouth, mark you as his, and let everyone here know you belonged to him. He wanted to bend you over the nearest surface and take you until you were a mewling, quivering wreck. He desperately fought the urge to storm over there and throw you down at his mercy, consequences be damned. It took every ounce of his willpower to simply turn away, adjusting himself discreetly as he tried to will his throbbing erection away. His composure was disintegrating, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying to regain his focus. 

If he wasn’t careful enough, you were going to be the death of him.

Across the room, you, Natasha, and Wanda exchanged a series of knowing glances, clearly reveling in the chaos you had orchestrated. Loki’s predicament wasn’t subtle, and it was hard to miss the way his sharp eyes darted toward you whenever he thought no one was watching.

"You think he’s going to be able to concentrate now?" you murmured to them, raising your arms in an effortless stretch that made your shirt ride up just enough to catch Loki’s attention once again. Your tone was low, almost conspiratorial, but you knew he could hear if he tried hard enough.

Natasha rolled her shoulders, dropping into a plank with casual ease. “Not a chance. He’s too proud to admit it, but I’d bet good money he’s losing his mind over there.”

Wanda, sitting cross-legged on the mat, tilted her head, her insidious grin widening. "Look at him. He’s not even pretending anymore. Poor guy’s completely spiraling. But honestly, can you blame him? You’re practically putting on a show."

You shrugged nonchalantly, your face the picture of innocence, though the playful gleam in your eyes betrayed your enjoyment of the situation. “Hey, it’s not my fault if he gets distracted. I’m just minding my own business.”

The black widow snorted, shaking her head as she transitioned into another move. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you admitted with a grin, fully aware of the effect you were having on Loki. “After that little stunt he pulled last week? He deserves this.”

On the far side of the gym, said god’s serenity was unraveling with every passing second. His grip on the barbell had tightened to the point where his knuckles had turned bone-white, the strain of his internal battle evident in the shallow, uneven breaths escaping him. The telltale tremor in his hands betrayed how close he was to losing his carefully maintained facade of indifference. When the weight slipped slightly, the metallic clang that followed shattered the gym’s ambient noise, drawing the attention of everyone present. The room seemed to pause, a dozen sets of eyes turning toward the god of mischief.

Thor, stationed just a few paces away, leaned lazily against the wall, his massive frame radiating ease and confidence. His arms crossed over his broad chest, and a knowing grin tugged at his lips, threatening to break into outright laughter. The scene before him was, in his eyes, nothing short of perfection. Loki—his ever-composed, perpetually aloof brother—was undone, and Thor was reveling in it. 

The god of thunder had been fully on board with your plan when you’d approached him earlier, offering the chance to "tease Loki into humility." With a booming laugh, he’d agreed without hesitation, ready to knock his prideful brother down a peg. After all, he had earned it with his antics the week prior.

As the barbell clattered to the floor, his grin widened, the gleam in his blue eyes betraying just how much he was enjoying the spectacle. He caught your eye from across the room, his expression practically shouting, "This is even better than I imagined." The sharp clang of the weight hitting the floor had drawn murmurs and stifled chuckles, and Thor, always the instigator, seized the moment.

“Loki,” Thor called, his voice a booming mix of authority and mirth that cut clean through the chatter. “What’s this? Barely lifting a thing, are we? Losing your strength—or are you too busy... gawking?”

Loki’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing as his scowl deepened. “I am not gawking,” he hissed, his tone venomous and defensive. But his flushed cheeks and the way his eyes flashed guiltily toward you told a very different story.

Thor let out a hearty chuckle, unfolding his arms to gesture toward you and the others stretching nearby. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re far more interested in their yoga session than the weights in front of you.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, Bucky and Sam exchanging grins before jumping in to add to Loki’s torment. Sam, ever the opportunist, leaned back on his bench with a wide grin. “Man, it’s fine. Yoga’s... distracting. No shame in it.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added, his tone dripping with mock seriousness as he set his dumbbells down, “but maybe at least pretend you’re working out. The weights won’t lift themselves, Loki.”

The teasing drew another chorus of chuckles from the room, but Loki was far from amused. His jaw tightened, and a faint, dangerous green glow began to flicker at his fingertips, signaling the return of his seiðr. He fixed Thor with a glare so sharp it could have sliced through steel. “You,” Loki growled, his voice low and menacing, “should start praying. You’ll need the gods’ mercy if you even dream of reaching Valhalla once I’m thorough with you.”

Thor only laughed louder, his broad shoulders shaking with amusement. “Oh, come now, brother. You’re just proving you’re as mortal as the rest of us. But next time, maybe focus on lifting the weights instead of letting your eyes wander.”

Loki’s searing gaze flickered toward you once more, but this time, it lingered longer than he intended. You had slid effortlessly into another pose, a deep stretch that accentuated every elegant line of your body. A knowing smirk played on your lips as your eyes met his, an unspoken provocation communicated through your behavior. It was maddening, and Loki knew you were doing it on purpose.

The sharp sting of Thor’s taunts, paired with your relentless teasing, finally pushed him over the edge. He stood abruptly, the barbell crashing to the floor with a deafening clang. Muttering something dark under his breath, he turned away, his steps brisk and his posture tense. Yet, despite his best efforts to leave the scene with whatever dignity he had left, his gaze betrayed him once again. He glanced over his shoulder, unable to resist one final look at the source of his torment—you, his greatest distraction.

The crackling energy in the room was practically tangible, and Natasha was at the center of it, her sharp eyes sparkling with unspoken delight as she shifted effortlessly into another stretch. Her movements were carefully concocted, the embodiment of feline grace as she dropped into a side plank, the smirk on her lips a clear indication that she was thoroughly enjoying the unraveling chaos on the other side of the gym.

Wanda, seated lazily with her weight balanced on her palms, seemed to radiate amusement, her wide grin lighting up her face as she flicked her gaze toward the god of mischief. His composure—or lack thereof—was the primary source of her entertainment, and she did not attempt to hide it. Loki looked as if the tension building inside him was about to boil over, his jaw tight and his emerald eyes practically glowing with restrained power. 

She stifled a laugh, her chest trembling with suppressed mirth. “Careful,” she murmured, tilting her chin in his direction. “I think he’s about to snap.”

The corners of your mouth curled into a sly grin as you caught her meaning, a spark of playful defiance glimmering in your eyes. If Loki was close to breaking, you weren’t about to let up. Sliding fluidly into a forward fold, you allowed your movements to slow, savoring the stretch as your hands grazed the mat. Your voice, carrying just enough volume to taunt him, was laced with a playful edge. “Do you think he’s ready to admit defeat yet?” you asked, your tone light but tinged with recognizable deviousness.

Natasha puffed softly, her voice dripping with amusement as she adjusted into a flawless plank. “Oh, he’s definitely rethinking a few life choices right now.”

Still, you didn’t falter. You shifted deeper into the stretch, your body moving with a controlled elegance that only added fuel to the fire. The sway of your hips was deliberate, lingering just long enough to ensure that if Loki wasn’t paying attention before, he certainly was now. “What?” you feigned mock innocence that didn’t fool anyone, your grin growing wider. “I’m just stretching. Nothing wrong with being flexible, is there?”

You didn’t miss the glances being exchanged between your companions, nor the faint glimmer of alert flashing brightly as she added, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. He looks like he’s plotting something.”

You snickered softly, your fingers grazing the mat before you shifted into a slightly more provocative stretch. “Poor thing,” you mused, your voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Must be exhausting, trying to pretend he’s unbothered when he’s that obsessed.”

Wanda giggled at the remark, her laughter bubbling up as she adjusted into a side plank. “Obsessed doesn’t even cover it. He’s one step away from declaring war.”

You hummed thoughtfully, casting a look over your shoulder toward Loki, whose sharp gaze hadn’t left you for a second. His jaw was tight, the tension radiating off him palpable, and the corner of your mouth tugged upward into a sly grin. “It’s not my fault if he can’t handle a little competition.”

“Competition?” Natasha echoed, her tone incredulous as she shot you a look. “Babe, I don’t think that’s the word for what you’re doing.”

Wanda nodded in agreement, a hint of warning in her expression. “Yeah, it’s more like... poking the bear.”

You shrugged as you transitioned into a Downward Dog position, your movements slow and deliberate. “Poking the bear? Please. He’s more of a spoiled housecat than a bear.” Your grin turned downright wicked. “Adorable when he’s angry, though.”

Wanda bit down on her lip, her laughter barely contained. Natasha, however, froze mid-motion, her playful demeanor replaced with something far more serious. Her gaze flicked past you, her lips silently forming a word you couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, the urgency in her expression sent a shiver of apprehension through you.

Before you could turn to see what had caught her attention, you felt it—an almost tangible shift in the air behind you. Heavy, electric, and laced with an unmistakably familiar feeling that never failed to prickle along your spine. Your nails slightly sank in the mat, bracing yourself as the atmosphere thickened. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was; the weight of his presence was undeniable, his scrutiny burning into your back with such intensity it made your skin flush.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task in front of you, though the attempt at nonchalance was futile. The sound of his voice cut through your resolve like a blade through silk.

“Darling.”

The single word was low and deliberate, laced with authority and intent. It wasn’t a greeting; it was a summon—a reminder of who held the upper hand. The rich timbre of his voice sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and before you could fully process it, he was closer. The warmth of his body lightly pressed against your back, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before you finally managed, “What’s the matter, Trickster?” You kept your voice steady, though the hitch in your breath betrayed you as you let your lips curl into a teasing smirk. “Feeling tense? Maybe you should... stretch it out.”

The silence that followed was thick, the kind that demanded submission. Then, without warning, his hands settled on your hips, and in a firm and unyielding force, brought you back up from your lowered position. The gasp that escaped you was involuntary and sharp, and his low, rumbling chuckle made your stomach twist in a confusing mix of defiance and desire.

“Stretch?” His voice was a breath against your ear, smooth and wicked. “Oh, pet, I don’t think you’re in any position to give advice.”

His grip tightened as he pulled you back, flush against him. The unmistakable hardness pressing into you sent a wave of heat crashing through your body, your teasing confidence unraveling in an instant. Loki leaned in, his chest brushing against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear with maddening precision.

“You’ve been playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a sinful rasp. “Bending over so sweetly, flaunting yourself like that. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Notice what?” you countered, the breathiness in your voice betraying your feigned indifference. You shifted slightly, trying to create space, but the movement only served to press you closer to him. His hands tightened, holding you firmly in place.

“Don’t play coy,” he warned, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin just below your ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers racing down your spine. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Teasing me. Provoking me. But tell me, darling…” His fingers trailed slowly up your sides, his touch light but deliberate, leaving a burning trail in its wake. “Is this what you wanted?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hands slid higher, one resting at your waist while the other teased the bare skin just beneath your shirt. His fingers danced with an infuriating gentleness, and your knees threatened to buckle.

“Well?” he pressed, his voice soft yet commanding, a dark promise woven into every syllable. His teeth grazed the jointure between your ears and your neck, and you couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that escaped you. Loki chuckled, the melodious directly reaching your eardrums. “Answer me. Is this what you wanted?”

“Uh-uh,” you breathed out, the words barely escaping your parted lips, as if you were caught in a hypnotic daze.

Loki’s voice dropped an octave, more insistent now. “Words, darling.”

“Yes,” you finally admitted, the word escaping in a whisper. Your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as a smug smile curved his lips against your skin.

“Good girl,” he purred, his voice molten as his hands slid lower. One dipped beneath the contoured waistband of your shorts, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin there, and your breath faltered. He laughed, the sound dark and indulgent. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else. Wanda’s muffled giggles barely registered as Loki leaned closer, his lips brushing the curve of your ear.

“Because now,” he continued, his voice a sinful rasp, “you’ve made it my turn.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze over your shoulder, your smirk trembling at the edges. “Oh? Should I be scared?”

Loki’s answering smile was sharp, predatory. His hand slid back to your hip, his grip firm and possessive. “Terrified,” he hummed, his voice as smooth as it was dangerous. “But I suspect you enjoy provoking me too much to care.”

“Maybe I do,” you shot back, your voice wavering just enough to reveal your nerves. “Or maybe you’re just easy to rile up.”

His laughter was low and mocking, the sound vibrating against you. “Easy?” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You think resisting the urge to put you in your place is easy for me?” His fingers ghosted along your side, their proximity sending heat pooling deep within you. “Do you know what I’ve been imagining, darling?”

Your breath hitched audibly as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear once more. “How delectable you’d look bent over for an entirely different reason,” he murmured, his voice dark and heavy with intent. “How sweet you’d sound begging me to stop teasing and give you exactly what you need.”

The vivid imagery his words conjured made your knees wobble as much as it made your cunt clench down, and Loki’s knowing smirk deepened as he noticed. It was the firm grip of his hand on your jaw that truly held you in place, forcing your gaze to meet his. The pressure of his fingers was gentle yet commanding, keeping you exactly where he wanted—right in his control, unable to look away.

“Keep this up,” he growled, his tone a low, velvety threat, “and I’ll ruin you right here, where everyone can see.”

Your breath hitched again, your pulse racing as his fingers pressed firmly against your hip, their touch a silent warning. “You wouldn’t dare,” you challenged, though your voice betrayed just how uncertain you were.

Loki’s dark chuckle sent shivers through you, and he leaned in until his lips were nearly brushing yours. “Wouldn’t I?”

And just like that, he pulled away, leaving you trembling and breathless. You turned instinctively, your wide eyes following him as he sauntered back to the bench with a self-satisfied smirk. He didn’t look back, but the deliberate sway in his step said everything: he’d won—and he knew it.

Before you could fully recover, Steve's voice rang out from across the gym, stern and authoritative. "Loki!" he called sharply, cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. "Stop slacking and get back to work! And leave the girls alone while you're at it."

Loki paused mid-stride, his smirk widening as he turned his head slightly, just enough for you to catch the glint of mischief in his eyes. With an exaggerated sigh, he straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders as though Steve's reprimand was an inconvenience he barely tolerated.

"Of course, Captain," Loki drawled, his tone dripping with mock obedience. "Far be it from me to dare disturb anyone."

He threw you one last lingering glance, his emerald eyes gleaming with unspoken promises, before striding toward the bench with a grace that made it impossible not to watch. He casually picked up a barbell and restarted his reps, the smug curve of his lips never quite fading. The deliberate slowness of his movements and the occasional glance in your direction made it clear: while he might have been called back to order, in his mind, the game was far from over.

Natasha and Wanda didn’t even bother hiding their laughter. Natasha let out a low blow, mouthing a silent “Oh my god” while Wanda, ever the dramatist, fanned herself as if she’d just witnessed a scandal too hot to handle. Their shared amusement was palpable, bubbling over in giggles that only served to deepen the heat already pooling in your cheeks.

Meanwhile, you were left rooted to the spot, your breath uneven, as your mind stubbornly replayed his words on an endless, maddening loop. Every rasp of his voice, every deliberate touch, every wicked glint in his eyes seemed etched into your memory, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it.

The two women exchanged knowing glances, their expressions practically screaming victory on Loki’s behalf. Natasha arched a perfectly shaped brow, her smirk twisting into something teasing yet smug. “Well,” she drawled with mirth in her voice, “that escalated quickly.”

Wanda, ever one to pile on, folded her arms and tilted her head, her grin impossibly wide. “I think we just witnessed the undisputed champion of this little game of yours.” Her voice was light, but her tone carried that infuriating edge of truth, a verdict impossible to deny.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your flaming face in an attempt to block out their reactions. “Don’t,” you muttered, your voice muffled behind your fingers. But it was no use; their laughter was too infectious, bubbling up in waves that only made your embarrassment worse.

What worsened your condition was the fact that Loki didn’t spare a single glance in your direction since your little altercation, but his presence remained large and looming, as though he’d marked the room with his triumph. The discreet tilt of his head, the faintest upward curve of his lips, said everything—he knew exactly that he’d caught your full attention, and he was basking in it like a cat stretching in a patch of sunlight.

You bit down on your lip, torn between indignation and something far more dangerous—desire. He’d turned the tables with disarming ease, leaving you caught in a web of delicious uncertainty. Should you feel frustration at being outmaneuvered so effortlessly? Or should you savor the intoxicating tension he’d created, the way every nerve in your body seemed to buzz with anticipation?

Natasha nudged you with her elbow, her smirk softening into something more playful. “Careful, you might be burning up,” she teased.

Wanda giggled, leaning closer with an exaggerated whisper. “Or maybe it’s just the heat radiating off you from whatever that was.”

You swatted at them half-heartedly, but the truth was, you weren’t entirely sure if their teasing was wrong. Because even as their laughter echoed around you, your thoughts were still wholly consumed by him. Loki had won this round, and judging by the way your pulse refused to settle, you weren’t entirely sure you minded.

⠀

⠀

The events that had transpired in the last session had left a deeper mark on you than you'd ever imagined. Every night since, it felt like you couldn’t escape the relentless replay of it all—his touch, the tension, the heat between you two. It was etched so deeply into your memory that it was impossible to shake, each passing moment branded into your mind with an intensity that nothing could dull. No matter how many distractions you tried, how many of your usual tricks you employed to quiet the gnawing ache, nothing seemed to work. The itch lingered, a constant reminder of everything that had transpired, and you couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. The thrill and fear, both intertwined, kept you buzzing, feeding into the need that had taken root in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Ironically enough, today was Friday the 13th, and it felt almost fitting. A date known for either being your lucky day or your worst nightmare. And it seemed you were, without a doubt, leaning toward the latter. Every second felt like a cruel reminder that you were spiraling, unable to shake the intensity of the encounter in the gym. The pressure was building, and it felt like the world was closing in on you. Part of you was afraid of what would happen next, but another part of you… part of you couldn’t wait to find out. You were on the edge, dangerously close to breaking, and it made you feel as if you were dancing on the razor-thin line between desire and desperation.

Despite your mind screaming at you to stay away, there was this undeniable force that kept you gravitating back toward him. Every part of you told you to leave it alone, but the rest of you was already ensnared, tangled in his web of toying, unsure of where the line between torment and pleasure even lay anymore. You’d tried to hold yourself back, to distance yourself, but the urge to confront him, to give in completely, was getting stronger every day. It was frustrating, exhilarating, terrifying.

But you’d had enough. You were done pretending, done playing by rules you didn’t even understand. If Loki wanted to play games, then you’d meet him on the battlefield. You were betting everything on this session—you’d either go big, or go home. You would do everything to win this round, and if this didn’t play out in your favor, then you’d end it once and for all.

You rummaged through your wardrobe, searching for something that screamed confidence, something that would tilt the scales in your favor. And then you found it. The shortest pair of cotton gym shorts you owned, along with the tightest gym bra in your collection. To top it off, you pulled on high socks that accentuated the length of your legs. For dignity purposes—or so you told yourself—you zipped up a fitted jacket over everything. You decided that the jacket was just for show. You’d wait for the right moment to make your move.

As you made your way to the gym bar, trying to shake the heated flush creeping up your neck and across your cheeks, the memory of what had happened—Loki’s touch, the sting of his voice, and the wild potency of that encounter—was still alive on your skin. You couldn’t soothe the heat, no matter how hard you tried. You settled on a barstool dragging a hand through your hair and stared down at your newly made protein drink, swirling the liquid absently like you were trying to quell the disorder in your mind.

"I can't take it anymore," you grunted in exasperation. The words felt like they had been lodged in your throat for too long, finally spilling out in a rushed confession. "Seriously. I’m so fucking over him I could scream." You took a long, deep gulp from your drink, the coldness of the shake hitting your throat, but it didn’t settle the fire inside you. Nothing seemed to help.

You let out a sharp breath, exhaling as if releasing some of the tension that had coiled itself so tightly inside you. "I should’ve known better. This is humiliating. I can’t stop thinking about what happened, and I can’t focus on anything else. He’s in my head, and I don’t even know if I want him out." The words felt like they were spilling out uncontrollably, as if the dam had broken and now there was no turning back.

Wanda, ever the observer and perpetually ready to tease, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful grin. She leaned closer, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "You’ve been at this for days now," she noted, her voice dripping with amusement. "What exactly is it that you can’t take? His attitude? The flirting? Or... something else?"

You groaned, the frustration bubbling up inside you. You leaned forward, pressing your palms against the cold surface of the bar, your posture slumped as you let out a long exhale. "Everything, Wanda! Everything about him is like this damn temptation that keeps haunting me. And don’t even get me started on the gym. That moment keeps replaying in my head over and over again." 

You took another sip, but it did nothing to quell the growing ache. "I can't even sleep without thinking about it!" You slumped further, the disbelief creeping into your voice, the realization of how completely out of control you were making its way through you. "I swear, he’s driving me insane." The weight of your confession hung in the air as you let your head fall into your hands for a moment, your fingers pressed against your temples. It was all too much.

Natasha’s gaze shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she saw right through you, reading you like an open book. There was no escaping her sharp perception. "And yet, here you are, complaining instead of doing something about it," she said, her voice laced with a teasing bite. "Maybe you’re a masochist in disguise and like the torture."

The sting of her words hit a little too close to home. You shot her a glare, though you couldn’t quite muster the energy to truly protest. Natasha was always quick to find the underlying truth of a situation, and as much as you hated to admit it, she had a point. You were still here, still willingly participating in the mind games Loki had been playing with you, even knowing what it might cost you in the end. 

The irony of it wasn’t lost on you. Every time you promised yourself you would pull away, the next moment would pull you back in. His voice, his touch, his presence—it was all too much. And the worst bit was, there was a part of you that craved it. 

"Shut up," you muttered, trying to push away the feeling of being so exposed, even though you knew Natasha was right. "It’s not like that." But even as the words left your mouth, you knew they were a lie. You were lying to her, but most importantly to yourself, and you hated it.

Clint and Bruce had returned from their mission, and the moment they walked in, they could tell something was off. They didn’t need to ask—they could see it in your face. 

"So, what’s this I hear?" he asked, leaning casually against the bar with a half-raised eyebrow. "You’ve got a thing for the god of mischief?" His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. "I’ve got to say, you’re not the only one who’s had a run-in with Loki. But something tells me yours is... a little more intense."

Bruce rolled his eyes, but even he couldn’t suppress the small, amused twitch at the corner of his mouth. His voice was laced with that familiar, fatherly concern as he leaned in, his tone carrying that blend of criticism and curiosity. "You’re digging yourself into a hole," he shook his head in disapproval. "I can't believe you’re letting him get under your skin like this."

You buried your face in your hands in frustration, your head pounding as you tried to make sense of everything that was happening. "You guys don’t get it!" you groaned, lifting your head to meet their eyes. The frustration and helplessness were clear in your gaze. "It’s not like that. It’s... it’s like he’s playing some game, and I don’t even know the rules." 

You sighed, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to express the mess in your head. "I’m so close to just breaking and telling him I can’t handle it anymore, but he makes me—" You paused, the words catching in your throat as you tried to articulate the emotions that were swirling inside you. "He makes me feel things I can’t even explain."

Clint leaned in closer, his grin widening as if he was thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. "Sounds like someone’s having a little too much fun with this," he voiced in dripping sarcasm. "You’re just afraid of what happens next. Don’t worry, we’ve all been there."

"You think it’s fun?" You snapped, your voice sharp as you narrowed your eyes at him. "You try being in my shoes. Or better yet, try being in his presence when he talks in that damn tone and looks at you like he’s going to devour you." The thought of it made your heart race, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck as the memory of his eyes on you, intense and predatory, surged back into your mind. "I don’t think I can even look at him without feeling like I’m going to combust."

Wanda, the ever-present instigator, smirked and took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink. She watched you with a knowing look in her eyes, as though she could see right through all your defenses. "You might be in trouble," she told you, "but part of you likes it. I can see it in your eyes."

You glared at her, but the look she gave you—the look that could see right through your attempts at deflection—made you feel like you were standing naked in front of them, exposed in a way you weren’t ready for. You didn’t have to say it out loud; she could see the truth in your eyes. "Maybe I do," you muttered under your breath, swirling the drink in your hand as if it could somehow distract you from the truth. "But that doesn’t make it any less torturous."

Clint raised his glass in a mock celebration, being far too pleased for your liking. "To the madman deity and the woman who’s too stubborn for her own good. May the shenanigans never stop."

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but let out a small, reluctant laugh. You didn’t want to admit it, not out loud at least, but maybe there was a part of you that was too intrigued, too drawn into Loki’s chaotic energy to resist it.

The hum of camaraderie filled the space as the Avengers trickled in one by one, each voice weaving into the fabric of the team’s unique dynamic. The smell of sweat and faintly lingering disinfectant clung to the air, a backdrop to the rhythmic sound of weights clanging and treadmills whirring faintly in the distance. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the polished floor, giving the room an almost warm glow despite the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Tony was, unsurprisingly, the loudest, his voice carrying effortlessly above the din. "Come on, Solid Snake, lighten up! You can’t be a broody old man all the time," he teased, leaning lazily against a bench press machine. His smirk was as sharp as ever, and his target—a decidedly unamused Bucky—rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation.

"If you’d shut up for five minutes, Stark, maybe I could," Bucky shot back, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if fighting a smirk.

Steve, ever the reluctant peacekeeper, sighed as he adjusted his sweatshirt, clearly already over the banter. "Let’s just get through this without any more distractions, alright?" he muttered, his tone bordering on fatherly but tinged with resignation.

Sam, however, wasn’t about to let the moment pass. "Steve, you’re one to talk," he quipped, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the bar counter next to Clint. "Don’t think we didn’t see you googling ‘Gen Z slang’ last night."

Steve groaned, his cheeks flushing a faint pink, while the others erupted into laughter. Even Bruce chuckled softly from his corner, shaking his head in amusement. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to sink into the lighthearted chaos, letting their teasing and jokes wash over you like a comforting balm. But no matter how hard you tried to blend into the easy rhythm of the group, the weight in your chest refused to lift.

It was painfully obvious that everyone was in unusually high spirits, and you weren’t naive enough to think it was just post-mission relief. The knowing glances, the smirks passed between them, and the barely-contained chuckles—everything pointed to one thing. They were waiting. Watching. Eager to see how the latest chapter in your ongoing rivalry with Loki would unfold. The anticipation in the room was almost tangible, a crackling undercurrent beneath the surface of their cheerful chatter.

And the fateful moment finally arrived.

The double doors swung open with a dramatic flourish, the sound reverberating across the gym like a herald of chaos. Thor entered first, his stride impossibly cheerful, his booming laugh filling every corner of the room. "Friends! What a glorious day it is to bask in the company of heroes!" he declared, his golden hair practically glowing in the sunlight as he beamed at everyone around him. He clapped Clint on the back with enough force to make him stumble, earning a playful glare in return. Thor’s enthusiasm was suspicious, his overly bright grin and exuberance almost too pointed, as if he knew something no one else did—or rather, as if he was trying far too hard not to let it slip.

Almost as if to build suspense, the dark prince finally stepped forward, emerging from the corners of the entrance like a phantom materializing from the depths.

He didn’t stride so much as glide, his movements unnervingly smooth, like he was above the very act of walking itself—each step seemingly effortless, almost as if the ground beneath him didn’t quite deserve to bear his presence. There was something unsettling in the grace with which he moved, a quiet dominance in every motion. His form was poised, elegant in a way that seemed deliberate, controlled. His presence alone demanded attention, yet he didn’t exert any force to command it; it simply was.

The contrast between him and his brother was impossible to ignore. Where Thor radiated boisterous energy, a whirlwind of warmth and noise, Loki was the calm in the storm, his composure sharp, cool, and infinitely measured. While the thunder god’s exuberance filled the room with a palpable force, his stillness seemed to draw all the focus to him without uttering a word. It was a stark foil to his brother’s exuberance, and it only heightened the tension in the room.

His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, as though to further emphasize the careful restraint in his every movement. There was no rushed energy in him, no urgency—only the chilling poise of someone who knew the full weight of their presence. His emerald eyes swept across the room with a cold, calculating precision, like a predator carefully assessing its surroundings. 

Today, Loki was surprisingly dressed simply, yet nothing short of devastating. A fitted black long-sleeve shirt clung to his lean frame, the fabric so well-tailored that it seemed effortlessly perfect, while still accentuating every line of muscle beneath it. Black compression shorts revealed the chiseled definition of his legs, the ensemble completed by sleek athletic socks and understated sneakers that looked both functional and undeniably stylish. His dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, stray strands framing his face, giving him an air of ruggedness that was almost ethereal.

He looked unfairly good—like he’d walked straight out of a high-fashion magazine editorial, the kind dedicated to showcasing "dangerously attractive male specimens" in their most refined form. Every detail of his gym wear spoke of someone who had mastered the art of simplicity, yet exuded an undeniable, almost unattainable, charisma.

And just your luck, he’d somehow managed to nearly match your outfit.

A flicker of amusement danced in Loki’s emerald eyes, and his lips curled into a sly, knowing smirk as he began his slow, deliberate approach toward you. His movements were smooth, almost languid, as though each step was a calculated part of some grand performance. His gaze never once wavered from you, cutting through the room with an intensity that seemed to render everyone else irrelevant, invisible in his presence. The chatter of the room grew distant, muffled, as though someone had turned the volume down on reality itself.

He drew closer, his gaze locked onto yours with an almost predatory intensity, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Every fiber of your being seemed to react to him, pulling you into his orbit. There was no escaping the pull of Loki, and the world outside the bubble of his gaze became irrelevant.

"Darling," he greeted smoothly, the word rolling off his tongue with a velvety mockery, every syllable dripping with heat. His eyes swept over you with a quick, almost dismissive glance, taking in every detail of your outfit—the jacket, the high socks, the way your clothes hugged your form with a purpose. There was something in his look, something knowing, as if he understood exactly why you had chosen each piece, and the knowledge of that made his smirk deepen. He loved this game.

"Trickster," you replied, your voice cool and composed, but there was a sharpness beneath the surface, a challenge that he would undoubtedly recognize. You met his gaze head-on, your body subconsciously crossing your arms and legs as if to shield yourself from the heat of his stare. But even as you tried to put up a defense, it felt as though the world around you had narrowed down to just the two of you. The space between you crackled with energy, the tension palpable, leaving you breathless and aware of nothing except him.

The silence stretched, thick and taut, before Sam, ever the provocateur, leaned toward Clint with an exaggerated whisper, his voice loud enough for those around him to hear. "You could cut the tension with a knife. I’d sell tickets to this."

"Is is their foreplay or just regular banter?" The archerer quipped, his dry humor drawing a few stifled laughs from the others.

Thor, completely oblivious to the subtle dynamics of the situation, clapped his hands together with a booming laugh, his voice carrying through the room with his usual enthusiasm. "Ah, what an entertaining rivalry! If only you knew, my friends, how much—"

"Thor," Loki interrupted sharply, his voice low, carrying a dangerous edge that made everyone pause. His eyes narrowed in a way that promised retribution if his brother pushed any further. The god faltered, suddenly aware of the tension that had shifted the moment Loki’s voice had cut through the air, glancing between you and Loki with an almost childlike look of guilt.

"What? It’s nothing, brother," The blonde said quickly, his grin still wide, trying to cover up his mistake with a weak deflection. "I was merely going to say how much you—"

"Thor," He repeated, this time his voice sharper, more commanding, and his jaw visibly clenched. The room seemed to hold its collective breath, the atmosphere shifting from lighthearted to electric, as everyone waited for the next move.

You raised an eyebrow with a nonchalant air that betrayed your growing interest. "How much he what?" you asked, your tone pretending to be uninterested, but the rapid beat of your heart told a different story. You were more than ready to hear what he had almost spilled, if only to use it as a sword of Damocles.

Thor hesitated, caught in the web of his brother’s gaze. After a moment, Thor cleared his throat, trying to recover. "Ah, well," he stammered, his voice faltering. "How much Loki... enjoys these little exchanges, of course!"

The lie was smooth, but not quite convincing. The nervousness he showcased in the way he tried to avoid his brother’s burning stare betrayed the lack of truth in his words. You narrowed your eyes, glancing between them, but it was Loki’s carefully schooled expression that caught your attention. His face had transformed into one of cold indifference, but you could see the subtle twitch of his jaw and the faint pink tint creeping up the back of his neck.

The others exchanged amused looks, clearly enjoying the subtle spectacle unfolding before them. Natasha, ever the picture of composure, took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving the scene. “Well, this just got interesting,” she noted, her tone dripping with amusement and approval as she surveyed the building tension.

It was obvious now: whatever simmered between you two wasn’t about to end any time soon. It was a game, yes—but one far from finished. And for better or worse, everyone in the room was eager to see how it would unfold.

The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in focus—locked in this silent standoff. Every sound, every movement beyond the two of you felt distant, muted, as if the room had shrunk to nothing more than the space between you and Loki. The others, sensing the growing charge between you, watched with bated breath. This wasn’t just an ordinary exchange—it was something far more intense, something that announced the rivalry to be nearing the breaking point.

His presence loomed over you, suffocating in its intensity. His smirk never wavered, but his eyes seemed to penetrate yours with a force that made your pulse quicken. Neither of you was willing to back down; the silent battle of words and glances was a carefully orchestrated dance, each of you striving to hold the reigns.

Leaning against the bar, you let a teasing smirk curl at the corners of your lips as your gaze locked onto him. “Nice dramatic entrance,” you quipped, your tone light but cutting. “Almost makes me think you’re trying to overcompensate for something else.” Your eyes flicked over him with a deliberate, slow scan, letting the implication settle in the air between you.

Loki’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smirk, his movements deliberate as he closed the gap between you. He was drawing you in, pulling you into his orbit with each calculated step. Before long, he was towering over you, his broad form casting a shadow over you.

“Such crude language you wield with that tongue of yours,” he tutted in a honeyed whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. His words slid from his lips with measured slowness, each one curling around you like silk, wrapping you tighter with every syllable. “I’d be more than happy to correct you… if you’d allow me.”

You stood straighter, your body thrumming from the weight of his words, refusing to let him dominate the exchange this time. You crossed your arms and met his gaze head-on. “You think you can correct me?” you shot back, your voice cool, but the challenge clear in your eyes. Leaning in slightly, you dared him. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Ah, but the art of manipulating words are such a delight,” Loki purred, his voice thick with velvet, drawing you in with every syllable. His gaze never wavered from yours. “And I’m particularly skilled with them.”

The world seemed to hush, the room quieting until the only thing you could hear was his voice, each word dripping with an intoxicating weight. The tension grew thicker, and he let the silence stretch between you, just long enough to make the air feel too heavy to breathe.

“I recall you had a first taste of it, last session,” he added, his words striking you like a spark, igniting memories of the last time his voice had tangled with yours in a way you hadn’t expected.

You swallowed the rush of heat that rose in your cheeks, forcing your gaze to remain steady. “Last session was nothing,” you sharply replied, narrowing your eyes as if to dare him to push further. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to get to me, Trickster.”

The others were practically buzzing with excitement, leaning in slightly as if they were watching a thrilling game unfold. Sam, always one to stir the pot, leaned toward Natasha with a smirk that could rival Loki’s. “I’ve witnessed some trash talk in my time,” he said, shaking his head with amusement, “but this? This is on another level.”

Clint, watching the exchange with a growing interest, chuckled and shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to be impressed at the comebacks or horrified,” he remarked in disbelief. “It’s like they’re playing some weird, kinky version of fencing.”

Natasha leaned back, her wry smile never faltering, watching with approval. “This is getting good,” she muttered under her breath, her tone almost purring with amusement. She sipped her drink slowly, savoring the tension. “I’d pay to see where this goes.”

Sam shot Natasha a quick, conspiratorial glance before looking back at the two of you. “Hey, don’t get too comfortable,” he warned, his voice laced with mischief. “They’re about to start swinging—metaphorically speaking, of course.” He made a grand, exaggerated fencing motion with his hands, drawing chuckles from the group. “You know, like that,” he added with a grin. “Except this time, the moves are… let’s just say they’re a little more pointed.” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and even Bruce couldn’t contain a smile.

Tony, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back against his stool, an amused smirk plastered across his face. He watched the tension between you and Loki with a gleeful satisfaction. “Think they’ll kiss and make up?” he asked with a low chuckle, loud enough for everyone to hear. He raised an eyebrow at Steve, whose silent observation had not gone unnoticed.

He cleared his throat, the sharp sound cutting through the growing murmur of the group. The room fell into a sudden, almost uncomfortable silence, as his voice commanded attention. “Alright, alright,” Steve said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He clapped his hands once, the sharp sound cutting through the air. “We’re here to train, not watch a soap opera,” he added, his voice steady and no-nonsense.

His blue eyes scanned the room, locking on you and Loki for a moment, his gaze narrowing just slightly. It was a silent reminder that there were more pressing matters at hand than your verbal sparring. “So, let’s get focused,” he continued, his tone taking on a more commanding edge. “No more distractions, people.” 

A collective groan of both relief and disappointment spread through the group. The tension between you and Loki had finally been cut, but there was an undeniable sense of disappointment that the banter had been interrupted. The room shifted again, the playful mood dissipating into a more subdued, professional atmosphere. Though, the memory of what had just transpired would no doubt linger long after the session ended.

“Now, let’s move it,” Steve said, gesturing toward the training area with a firm nod. “You’ve all got work to do, and I expect everyone to keep it professional.” His eyes lingered on you and Loki for a moment, as if to remind you both that, despite what was simmering between you, the training was the priority now.

Loki's lips curved into a smile, one that was more like a prelude to something yet to come. His eyes glinted with smug satisfaction, as if he were already savoring the next move in whatever game he was playing. “Until next time, darling,” he saluted, his tone thick with the promise of nearing disaster.

You gave him a half-smile, one that in turned promised that the rivalry wasn’t over and turned to follow the rest of the group to the training area, already feeling the bubbling energy of the upcoming round.

⠀

⠀

The gym session began with an unexpected tranquility, an eerie contrast to the usual chaos of training it had recently taken shape. It was chest and back day, and each Avenger had settled into their familiar routines, the rhythm of their movements blending with the constant clinking of weights and soft murmurs of conversation. For once, everything felt almost ordinary—just another training day, rather than an intense workout of body and mind alike.

You were working alongside Wanda, offering her a bit of encouragement as she powered through her chest exercises. It was nice to have someone to talk to, a welcome distraction from the growing knots of nervousness tangling in your stomach. You both exchanged light banter, chatting about everything outside the gym, while you kept an eye on your own sets. But all the while, your thoughts kept returning to Loki. He was oddly quiet today, no mischievous glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but wonder if he, too, was waiting for the right moment to stir things up.

The session had already taken a lively turn with the Asgardian brothers, but things soon spiraled into a loud mess. As the competition between Thor and Loki grew fiercer, their playful jabs and escalating challenges only served to ramp up the tension in the room. Loki's gaze swept across the space until it finally landed on you. His smirk softened just slightly, replaced by an expression that felt more deliberate, almost as if he were daring you to witness the next act of his show.

Thor, not to be outdone, continued to push the limits. His booming voice filled the gym as he egged his brother on. "You think you’ve got the strength to match my strength? Let’s see if you can keep up with the god of thunder!"

Loki’s smirk was a clear challenge as he lifted the same weight Thor had almost just juggled with, effortlessly matching him. Each press was smooth and controlled, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by the way his back arched with each lift, muscles rippling in perfect harmony. It was a display of strength and grace, one that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

However, in their playful contest of wills, they had unknowingly started to draw attention. Bruce, who had been quietly focusing on his own workout in a far corner of the gym, was caught off guard by the sheer noise and energy the brothers were creating. The weights clanking, the competitive banter, and the occasional loud challenge from Thor began to disrupt Bruce’s routine. As much as he tried to focus on his sets, the vibrations of the room were enough to throw off his concentration.

At one point, their effortless lifts seemed to reverberate repeatedly through the gym, causing the ground beneath Bruce to tremble slightly. The sound of weights crashing back onto the rack sent a sharp jolt through the air, causing Bruce to flinch each time. He rubbed his temples in frustration, his irritation barely masked behind his calm exterior.

"Can you guys keep it down a bit?" Bruce muttered to himself, trying to block out the noise, but it was no use. The brothers' rivalry only grew louder, their playful insults and laughter ringing through the space like a storm cloud threatening to burst.

At the next brutal noise, the scientist had had enough. He grumbled under his breath, packing up his things. "I swear, those testosterone-filled aliens and their dick-measuring contests," he muttered, shooting a quick glance at the Asgardians, who were too caught up in their contest to notice.

Without a word, he retreated to the quieter back section of the gym, moving toward the machines where he could work in peace. The machines were further away from the weights area, but at least they offered some reprieve from the chaos. As he walked toward the back, his footsteps were steady but filled with a sense of relief. He could already feel his growing anxiety lifting as he left the noise behind.

Meanwhile, the brothers' competition raged on, with Thor’s grin widening as he added more weight and Loki effortlessly lifted the new load, his body gliding through the motions with ease. The display of absurd power continued, the brothers pushing each other to new heights, oblivious to the disruption they were causing.

Every movement Loki made, every lift of the weights, was a hypnotic display of strength. His back muscles rippled with precision, the tension in his frame apparent with every press, every stretch of his body. Each flex seemed almost choreographed, as if he was aware of the effect it had, and your eyes couldn’t look away. His body moved with fluidity, an effortless grace that made every lift seem almost effortless, but you knew better. It was controlled power, and the sheer magnetism of it made your heart race faster with each passing second.

No matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn't help but be drawn back to watching him. You could feel your pulse quickening, the attraction growing stronger with every passing moment. Your mind tried to resist, tried to focus elsewhere, but his form—his body, mostly—kept pulling you back. You shook your head, hoping to clear the fog clouding your thoughts, but it only lingered, his image burned into your retinas.

It was maddening—the pull to keep watching, to continue visually feasting on him as he pushed the weights higher, his muscles flexing and straining with each rep. But you knew you had to focus, force yourself back into your own workout. You took a deep breath, forcing your attention back to your set, trying to push the images of him out of your mind. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, every time Loki added more weight, every time his body moved with such effortlessness, your mind betrayed you. It was impossible not to be drawn back to him.

"Don’t get distracted," Wanda teased, her voice slicing through your turbulent thoughts with a playful yet knowing tone. She had caught the subtle shift in your gaze. "He’s lifting weights, not you in your head."

You chuckled nervously, warmth creeping up your neck as you struggled to mask the growing tension inside. "Can’t help it if he makes a spectacle out of it," you muttered, uncomfortable under Wanda’s sharp, knowing stare.

Her eyes flicked over to Loki, who was now adding more weight to the barbell with an almost casual precision. His movements were effortless, each shift in his posture drawing attention to the taut muscles of his back as he pushed the weight up. The strain in his arms only emphasized the strength beneath his skin, the tension in his frame stretching the muscles of his back, making them stand out in a tantalizing display of raw force. 

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a sly smile curling her lips as she took in the scene. "There’s a lot of tension between you two today," she observed lightly, though there was a subtle intrigue laced in her voice.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth flooding your face betrayed the truth. "It’s nothing. Just… your usual bantering."

Wanda’s smile only widened, her voice dropping to a hushed, conspiratorial whisper as she leaned closer. "‘Usual bantering,’ huh? If it’s nothing like you say it is, then why do I feel the electricity between you two from across the room?"

Before you could even formulate a response, Loki did something you should’ve anticipated but somehow hadn’t—after all, he always had a knack for surprising you. 

With a smooth flick of his wrist, he got rid of his shirt, revealing his sculpted back in all its glory. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though each stretch was calculated to highlight the fluid grace of his body, ensuring that every muscle was on display. He wasn’t simply lifting weights; he was performing, putting on a show, a carefully crafted performance meant to captivate and tease. The muscles in his back rippled as he shifted, tightening with every adjustment.

You bit your lip, hard, forcing yourself to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape at the sinful image in your mind. What is wrong with you? Your rival, your competition wasn't someone you should be thinking of in that way. And yet, watching him lift, so confident, so composed, made everything else fade away and your mind turn to mush. All rational thoughts were overwhelmed by the flood of desire, the need that burned like a fire within you, fierce and untamed. 

A wild thought flickered through your mind, one you couldn’t quite push away: the idea of running your fingers along the ridges of his spine, feeling each muscle shift and contract beneath his skin, the subtle texture of his back smooth yet firm under your touch. The thought of raking your nails down his back due to being lost in the thralls of pleasure, feeling him tense and arch under your touch, was a dangerous temptation that you could hardly control.

You wished, in vain, that you could just reach out and trace the ridges of his back, feel the rippling muscles shift and contract beneath your fingers, but you had to stop yourself. You couldn’t let him win this round—not like this.

Thor, who had been lifting beside him, wasn’t even trying to hide the smug grin that spread across his face. He shot a quick glance in your direction then proceeded to turn to him and spoke in hushed tones, and it was then that the realization hit you: this little game between you and Loki had morphed into a twisted battle of alliances. Thor had just completely betrayed you on behalf of his brother. That bitch.

Loki’s smirk deepened as he caught your lingering gaze. He didn’t say a word, but the playful challenge in the air was undeniable. You could feel the weight of it pressing on you, the urge to stay focused slipping away. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was baiting you—and it was working.

Wanda, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your expression instantly. Her lips curled into a sly smile, her voice dropping lower, thick with amusement. "Oh, this is going to be good," she whispered, clearly enjoying every second of the tension building between you two.

You shot her a look, your face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "This isn’t fair," you muttered, your gaze still fixed on the god, who continued to lift the weights with effortless precision, the muscles of his back shifting smoothly with each movement. "How am I supposed to focus when he looks like a damn sculpture?"

You sighed, trying to rein in your runaway thoughts, but the fantasies lingered, unwanted. "I’m going to jump him in the next ten seconds if he keeps this up," you continued, your voice thick with frustration. "And I don’t mean it in a ‘beat him down’ way… well, maybe I do, but only down there."

Wanda stifled a laugh and nudged you playfully, her tone still light, but now edged with a sense of seriousness. "You’ve got to hold it together," she teased. "You’re not falling for this, right? You’re stronger than that."

You looked at her, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as you came to a bitter revelation. Loki was trying to get under your skin, and you couldn’t let him. "You’re right," you declared, rolling your eyes. "I can’t let him mess with me like this. He’s just baiting me, and I’m not gonna fall for it."

Wanda gave a satisfied nod, pleased with your change in attitude. "That’s the spirit. Don’t let him steal your focus. You’ve got this."

With newfound determination, you straightened your back. "Alright, enough of this," you muttered under your breath. "Let’s see how he handles a little competition."

Your eyes narrowed, chest tightening with resolve. The game was on, and this time, you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand.

You politely excused yourself from Wanda’s company and made your way toward the quieter back section of the gym. The hustle and bustle of the weight area faded behind you, the rhythmic clinking of metal and the low murmurs of conversation becoming a distant hum. You hoped the isolation would offer the clarity you were searching for—some peace to collect your thoughts.

In a secluded corner, you found Bruce, focused intently on a pull-up bar. His brow furrowed in concentration, but the strain was evident, his grip tight on the bar as he attempted yet again to pull himself up. His frustration was written clearly across his face, though he masked it with determined silence.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to interrupt his focused effort. But when you saw the way his muscles tensed in vain, unable to lift himself even a few inches, you couldn’t help but step in. “Need some help?” you asked softly, your voice calm, yet laced with curiosity.

He let out a deep sigh, a touch of frustration creeping into his words. “I’m trying the pull-up bar exercise,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “But I can’t seem to get up there.”

Tilting your head slightly, you studied his form for a moment, then took a step closer. “Show me,” you encouraged gently, offering a supportive tone.

Bruce gave a small, resigned nod before trying once more. With a quiet grunt, he pulled himself up again, but only for a brief second before his arms gave out, and he dropped back down, his exhale sharp and frustrated. “See?” he said, clearly disappointed. “I just can’t do it.”

You smiled reassuringly, your eyes warm with understanding. “Maybe start with something a bit different,” you suggested kindly. “Have you ever tried the ‘Dead Hang’ exercise?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your suggestion. “What’s that?”

Before you could explain, a loud clatter suddenly echoed through the gym—the unmistakable crash of a heavy weight hitting the floor. The sound reverberated across the room, and instinctively, your eyes shifted toward the source.

Nearby, a small crowd had gathered, applauding and praising Loki, who had just completed an impressive lift. “Nice job, Loki! Impressive as always!” one voice called out with admiration.

An impulsive thought flashed through your mind—daring, bold, something designed to enhance your stakes.

Turning back to Bruce, you flashed a sly grin, a hint of mischief curling at the corners of your lips. “I’ll show you,” you said, but your words carried a weight to them, an undercurrent of something more, in a tone that made your friend blink in confusion.

Slowly, you began to unzip your jacket, making sure each movement was drawn out. This wasn’t just about showing him the exercise; it was about showing someone else, too. The sudden sound of the zipper seemed to almost echo through the gym, a quiet invitation to anyone who might be watching. Finally, you revealed what you had carefully chosen to wear, an outfit designed to put the odds on your side. The effect was immediate.

You could feel Loki’s eyes immediately zeroing on you, and every detail seemed to draw him in like a magnet. The fabric of your outfit clung to your skin with a delicate stretch, outlining every curve and muscle as you moved. The shorts, the tight-fitting gym bra, the length of your legs accentuated by high socks—they all played their part. As you turned slightly, the fabric shifted and clung to your form, showcasing the subtle curve of your back, the way your muscles rippled with the slightest movement. Every inch of you was on display, and Norns did he noticed every part of it.

A loud thud echoed across the gym, followed by a sharp curse. “Damn it.” Loki’s voice rang out, laced with frustration, and you couldn’t help but smile inwardly. He had lost focus—your presence had distracted him so thoroughly that he’d accidentally dropped the weight he’d been holding. The sound of the barbell hitting the floor seemed to reverberate through the space, drawing everyone’s attention for a split second.

You couldn’t help but fight the smirk that threatened to tug at your lips. “I’ll show you what it’s like,” you said, your voice low, but full of intent as you took another deliberate step closer to Bruce. Those words were certainly meant for someone else, too.

You approached the pull-up bar with careful intent, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal. The exercise you were about to perform required complete focus and control. With a deep breath, you gripped the bar firmly, allowing your body to hang freely below it. As you did so, you consciously relaxed every muscle, letting your body fall into the natural stretch of the position. It was a simple exercise, but one that emphasized both strength and the fluidity of the body. Yours curved slightly as the weight of your form stretched out from the bar, loosening up your spine as the contours of your waist and hips became more pronounced with each passing second.

Loki’s gaze flickered toward you once again, his breath hitching at the sight. Every shift in your body, every movement of your muscles, sent a pulse of heat through him. He grit his teeth, the dirty thoughts that had been simmering beneath the surface rushing back to the forefront of his mind. The way your body stretched, your back curving just the right way—it was almost too much to bear. He tried to focus, to ground himself in the task at hand, but his attention kept being pulled back to you.

You let out a breath, your body still hanging for a moment longer before you spoke to Bruce, your voice cool but with a slight edge of confidence. "Relax your entire body," you instructed, your tone a touch haughty. "The point of this exercise is to let the weight of your body do the work. It helps open up your shoulders, stretch your spine, and build the necessary strength for proper pull-ups. Start by hanging for ten seconds at a time and gradually increase the duration. With practice, you'll be able to pull yourself up."

You paused for a moment, letting your body hang freely before pulling yourself up from the bar with smooth, controlled strength. As you reached the top of the movement, you held yourself there for just a second longer than necessary, your muscles tightening, flexing in the process. The motion was fluid, almost sensual, and the way your body moved with purpose sent a provocative ripple through the air. Loki couldn’t look away as he watched you, every shift in your body feeling like a challenge, an invitation. A low pained groan slipped from his throat, the sound nearly imperceptible, but the heat of his gaze on you was undeniable.

Thor, who had been observing his brother, glanced over in confusion as Loki seemed to stiffen, his eyes darkening in a way that made the tension between the two of them palpable. "Are you alright, Loki?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

The god didn’t answer immediately, his gaze still locked onto you as you effortlessly performed the pull-up, your muscles tightening and flexing with each motion. It was an almost agonizingly slow showcase of strength, one that seemed to taunt him, and he could feel every inch of his body reacting to it.

Oh, how he longed to run his hands over the smooth expanse of your back, savoring the lean strength evident beneath. The curve of your waist and flare of your hips beckoned like a siren's call, making his fingers twitch with the desire to explore, to map out every dip and swell. He could almost feel the heat of your body, like the flames of Muspelheim against his palms as he imagined gripping your hips and guiding you down, down, down until you were sheathed tight around his hardness. 

Another groan threatened to spill out at the vision, his shorts growing a little too tight for his liking. Gods, the things he wanted to do to you, with you, if only you would finally admit defeat. To run his tongue along the elegant curve of your throat, down to flick against your pulse point as he spread you out before him like a feast. To sink his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, marking you, branding you as his. To work you open on his fingers and tongue until you are dripping and ready, then push into your tight, wet heat inch by delicious inch. He'd rock into you slow and deep, savoring every gasp and moan, building the pleasure higher and higher until you were keening, lost to everything but the feel of him moving inside you.

Without a word, he spun on his hee and strode off toward another station, leaving Thor, in his wake who scratched his head, visibly puzzled. “Brother? What are you—” But Loki paid him no mind, his sharp steps echoing as he distanced himself.

You caught sight of Bruce still grappling with the pull-up bar, his arms trembling as he strained to lift himself even an inch. His frustration was evident in the tight set of his jaw and the way he grumbled to himself under his breath. The pull-up bar clearly wasn’t yielding any victories for him today.

Walking over with purpose, you kept your voice calm but firm. “Bruce, let’s try something different for now. We’ll come back to this once you’ve built up the strength for it.”

The scientist sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck with a self-conscious shrug. “I don’t know... I’m not great with this stuff. Maybe I should just stick to what I know.”

You smiled gently, tilting your head slightly to meet his hesitant gaze. “Come on, Bruce. Trust me on this. Baby steps, right? Let’s just take one in a different direction for now.”

He hesitated, his lips pressed into a thin line, before finally exhaling in defeat. “Fine. Lead the way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if this goes south.”

With a reassuring nod, you led him to the chest fly machine, your voice calm and encouraging as you adjusted the seat and weights for him. You were focused on making sure everything was just right for Bruce, but what you hadn’t fully accounted for was the proximity of this particular station to Loki, who was seated at the lat pulldown machine just a few feet away. His back was turned, but the tension in his posture was impossible to miss. Like a storm cloud, it hung over the room—dark and ominous, an undeniable sense of impending eruption lingering in the air.

For a moment, you found yourself distracted, your eyes unconsciously drawn to the muscles in his back as they shifted with every movement, the strength in his form almost hypnotic. The well-defined lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed under his skin, it was hard to look away. But you quickly shook yourself out of the moment, snapping back to the task at hand. Focus, you reminded yourself, silently chastising your wandering thoughts.

“That’s it, Bruce. Slow, steady movements. Just like that, don’t rush it. You’ve got this,” you said, your tone supportive as he began his exercise. But even as you spoke, you couldn’t help noticing how Loki’s head tilted slightly in your direction, his sharp ears catching every word.

The creak of the lat pulldown cables drew your attention. Loki’s hands gripped the bar with unnecessary force, his movements precise yet edged with irritation. The sound of metal straining filled the air as he finally broke his silence. “Do you mind?” His voice cut through the room like a blade, low and seething with disdain.

You turned to face him, your brow furrowing. “What do you want?” you retaliated, a mix of confusion and irritation lacing your tone.

Loki swiveled his head slowly, emerald eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. “Your incessant commentary,” he drawled, each word dripping with contempt. “It’s... distracting.”

You scoffed, planting your hands on your hips as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Are you serious right now? I’m helping Bruce. Maybe focus on your own workout instead of eavesdropping.”

Loki chuckled—low, humorless, and maddeningly smug. Leaning back slightly, he released the bar, letting it rise with a deliberate clang. “Oh, I’m focused,” he said, his smirk deepening. “But don’t insult my intelligence by pretending this isn’t calculated. Using Banner as a pawn? Transparent. And frankly, beneath you.”

Bruce, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally frowned and glanced between the two of you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice quiet but tinged with irritation.

Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you turned to Loki. “Oh, here we go again. Not everything is about you, Loki! Believe it or not, I’m just trying to help.”

Loki raised a brow, his smug expression unwavering. “Help?” he repeated, his tone mocking. “Is that what you call it? Dressing like that, speaking like that? Admit it——you’re dabbling in something you don’t even understand.”

“Wha—Excuse me? This is rich, coming from the guy who prances around half-naked! You—”

Bruce abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. His voice cut through your escalating argument with an uncharacteristic edge of authority. “Stop!”

Both you and Loki turned to him, startled. The doctor rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it was a sign that things had gone too far.

He took a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. “What is this?” he demanded, looking between the two of you. “You’re bickering like kids on a playground, and I’m just—what? A prop in your ridiculous feud?”

Your chest tightened as you started to explain. “Bruce, no, I swear it’s not like that—”

“Don’t,” Bruce cut in, his tone sharp and trembling with barely contained anger. “Don’t try to sugarcoat it. I may not be as quick as some people, but I’m not blind. I see what’s happening here.”

Bruce turned his glare to Loki, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “And you—you think you’re clever, don’t you? Always playing games. Well, newsflash—I’m not interested in being part of them.”

His breathing became heavier, his body trembling—not from nervousness, but from something darker, angrier.

Your heart sank as you realized what was happening. “Bruce, just take a breath, okay? Let’s calm down—”

But it was already too late. His muscles bulged, his skin darkened into a familiar green, and the roar of the Hulk filled the gym.

Loki’s posture stiffened, the usual cocky swagger evaporating as the Hulk’s colossal frame shifted toward him. For a split second, a flash of pure terror flickered across his sharp features, a haunting echo from the Battle of New York when the Hulk had sent him crashing into the ground like a discarded rag. The fear was brief, almost imperceptible, but enough to betray him.

Before he could react to the imminent danger, Loki’s hand shot out with a swift, panicked motion, gripping your arm. “Hold still,” he snapped, panic creeping into the edges of his words. You barely had a chance to process his command before a surge of green magic enveloped you both, and the world blurred.

When the world came back into focus, you found yourself near the shake bar, the sounds of destruction still reverberating in the air. Almost immediately, the deafening crash of the green giant’s fist pounding into the floor where Loki had just been standing shook the entire gym. The floor shattered under the impact, sending tiles and twisted metal flying in all directions, and the mutant’s fury seemed to crack the very foundation of the gym.

The Hulk roared, his rage transforming the once serene space into a battleground. He flung gym equipment effortlessly, sending heavy machines soaring through the air as if they were paperweights. Chaos erupted, and everyone nearby scrambled to find shelter, the panic rippling through the room.

“Loki!” you shouted, snapping out of your dazed confusion, yanking your arm free from his grasp. “What did you just do?” Your frustration was raw, even as the remnants of Loki’s spell still crackled in the air around you.

Loki's gaze darted over the chaos, his eyes momentarily filled with the same terror from earlier. “I saved your life, you ungrateful—” he began, but his words were interrupted by another piece of equipment flying past, narrowly missing you both.

In the midst of the madness, Steve Rogers appeared, cutting through the mayhem with his usual calm but commanding presence. His shield was already raised to deflect debris, and his eyes locked onto you both, burning with frustration. “What did you two do?” His voice was sharp, his anger evident as he assessed the destruction around him.

Before either of you could answer, Steve held up a hand to silence you. “No. You know what, I don’t even want to hear it. Whatever this is, it ends now.” The sheer force of his frustration was palpable in the air.

Without skipping a beat, he turned to Natasha, who had approached cautiously, her demeanor calm but alert. “Nat’, calm him down. Now.”

The red head nodded, turning her voice soft and steady as she made her way toward the Hulk. Her presence seemed to cause a momentary hesitation in him, but it was clear that the damage had already been done. The gym was a wreck.

Steve shifted his attention back to you and Loki, his voice cold and authoritative. “This session is officially postponed until tomorrow. And you two—” he gestured between you and the god with a firm, pointed finger, “—will clean up every inch of this gym before dawn. No excuses.”

With that, he turned, muttering under his breath about “grown adults acting like children,” his steps echoing as he left.

As the dust settled and the rumble of destruction faded, you whipped around to face the one responsible for the mess. “See, this is your fault!” you accused, your voice rising with frustration. “If you hadn’t been so focused on antagonizing me—”

His eyes narrowed sharply, his lips twisting into a thin line as he interrupted you. “My fault?” he hissed, his tone low and dripping with venom. “If you hadn’t been playing the role of coach, none of this would’ve happened.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Oh, please. You were the one who couldn’t keep your jealousy in check! You’re so petty, it’s unbelievable.” 

“Petty?” Loki sneered, stepping closer, his voice dripping with indignation. “I am not petty. I simply refuse to be ignored.” 

The two of you kept throwing accusations, a fierce back-and-forth of words filling the already charged air. You stepped forward, jabbing your finger toward his chest, your anger boiling over. “Fine!” you snapped, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “Tomorrow, when we fix this mess, we’ll figure out who’s really at fault.”

Loki’s smirk returned, dark and calculating, his gaze shifting with a mischievous glint. He slammed his hands onto the nearby counter, leaning in until his presence was overwhelming, the space between you growing impossibly small. His voice dropped, laced with something far more dangerous. “Gladly,” he purred, his smirk widening. “But don’t expect to come out of this unscathed, darling. When I settle things, I make sure it’s unforgettable.”

Your breath caught in your chest as his gaze lingered, heavy with meaning. His words held a promise—one that left the air thick with anticipation. Then, without another word, he straightened and turned away, his smirk still in place as he strode out of the ruined gym. You stood there, caught between the remnants of a shattered gym and a body that pounded in more than one place. 

Tomorrow, everything would finally be settled, and the weight of it all seemed to hang in the air like a promise of more to come.

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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.

[supacutiepie]

Shance Fluff Week: Seas/Stars

*Shrugs* IDK either i missed yesterday and threw this one together?

It’s cute though! A little off point but still good! 

Lance and Shiro had been dancing around each other for years, and Lance has one more chance before summer ends and Shiro slips away from him.

The end of summer was rolling in on bondi blue waves and crisp breaks against the sand.

For a whole two months, everyone was able to get together and enjoy spending a scorching summer together while getting away and finally being able to do this whole “vacation” thing right.

Veradero was gorgeous, and the Fuente family had been more than willing to accommodate all four of Lance’s best friends (“in the whole big wide world, no! the universe!” so claimed Lance when he begged his parents to let everyone stay). Lance had a big family as is, but with the four new additions everything was even more excited and hectic and it was wonderful.

It was the last chance to give them one more summer before the real world kicked them in the tail- also a flimsy excuse for Lance to spend an entire summer with his biggest crush.

Ever since he was a freshman he’d had a crush on Shiro., the charming and handsome adopted brother to his arch nemesis (they dropped the rivalry around sophomore year after…certain…incidents and revelations). This year Shiro was a senior when the rest were Juniors- except Pidge who has only partly a Junior due to duel grade enrollments. Smart little gremlin.

After this summer, Shiro was moving miles and miles away to go to an aeronautics school. It was Lance’s last chance to spend time with him for good- and he would be damned before he wasted an opportunity. An opportunity that went on for weeks as they danced around each other all goofy smiles and blushing cheeks. To everyone else, Lance’s family included, it was obvious who was oblivious- BOTH.

But no matter how each day felt endless and it seemed they had all the time in the world- the air was getting cooler and the sun started setting sooner.

Opportunity was calling, and Lance was damned to ignore it.

He had a plan that had no consequences planned. Whatever comes he was Not chickening out. He had spent an hour staring into his mirror telling himself over and over that he was not a chicken, he was a charming and suave gentleman with a romantic heart and amazing idea

This was totally an amazing idea…

“Uhm…no offense Lance but this doesn’t seem like a good idea?”

Shiro was whispering and hyper aware of the sounds in the full house as Lance shushed him and waved his hand about wildly.

Only a few minutes ago he was peacefully reading on his phone while he waited to get tired- when Lance interrupted and claimed, “dude there’s something really cool happening but everyone else is asleep and it’s kinda lame but you should come see if you want…”

Normally, Shiro was averse to the idea of sneaking out in the middle of the night for unknown surprises, but one look at those big hopeful eyes and he melted. He was a weak man. So here he was sneaking out a window with the boy he was hopelessly smitten for grinning like an idiot because 1. Shiro agreed to go wherever it was they were going and 2. He was dumb enough to go out the window to avoid the creaky door (“Oh my god I can’t believe you just fell on your ass haha” “Lance!” “I’m serious! we totally could have gone through the door oh my gooood”) 

And here he is now, following behind Lance as they wind their way through town towards the rockier parts of the coast. It was a pretty night though, with a calm wind and the humidity enough to keep any chill away. Somewhere he could hear music but for the life of him he couldn’t place it. Lance obviously knew the way too, taking turns that got them to what looked like a semi-abandoned house. It was dark and had some partly dismantled lights hanging off the side…

‘Lance? Are we supposed to be here?” Shiro peeked around the corner while Lance barreled ahead into the backyard.

“Uhm? Probably not but it’s cool. This is my Tio’s place but he’s always here and there for work and stuff. We mostly just drop by when we want to get away from the house or need some extra space. Besides were just using his beach so it’s fine. Come ooon!” Lance started pulling on Shiro’s wrist and practically dragged him through the sloping yard that dipped into a low rock shelf and sand beyond that.

If Shiro was frowning or had anything to say otherwise, it vanished when Lance grabbed his hand. Stupid feelings and stupid face for getting all warm and he knew he had a dopey smile but that’s just what Lance did to him.

Oh god what that smile did to Lance. It had to be criminal to be so cute and good looking all at once. Lance knew this path inside and out, but with Shiro following he was a fumbling mess and his butterflies were threatening to spill out his mouth already.

Oh sooner or later…just give me a little more time.

Lance lead them past the rocks and onto a very small beach that was his uncle’s own private property. The family used it all the time for cook outs since it was right on the water and had a dock that lead straight out into the open sea. He’d been coming out her since was ten, it meant a lot to bring Shiro here.

“Anyways! Here we are! Kind of at least.” He stopped on the shore and looked out at the wide open ocean that glittered under a half moon. It was otherwise pitch black out and he couldn’t gauge how Shiro would react…

Apparently it was good because Shiro had linked their hands and come to a stop beside him. His palms were just as clammy as Lances…

“It’s kinda dark…what are we looking at?”

Well I for one could stare at you all day soooo

“Not yet! You have to get in the boat,” Lance started to pull them towards the old dock. “You’ll see just wait!”

Shiro followed behind obediently, slightly mesmerized by the way Lance’s hand fit into his own so easily. It was a quick decision and his heart had almost leapt out of his throat when he clasped their hands together. But Lance hadn’t pulled away! He’d even tightened the hold!

He was still a little dazed when he realized what Lance had said, ”Whoa wait…we’re getting on a boat?” He stepped up onto the creaking wood and Lance turned his head to look at the taller man.

“uhm, yeah? Is that okay? I promise it’s safe! And technically we aren’t actually gonna be out on the water since its tied to the dock…” he was sounded less sure with each word and Shiro rushed to put him at ease.

“Oh! No no it’s fine! I’ve just you know…” he rubbed his neck and shuffled, “I’ve never been on the water at night. So you know…”

Lance seemed to perk up immediately, “Great! Come on then, just gotta take it slow and trust me…”

Take it slow and trust me? What the hell Lance that’s so lame… 

While he was internally dogging himself, Lance helped Shiro get into the small wooden rowboat that his family always kept tied up. It was practically ancient, with peeling blue and white paint and chipped edges. But it was precious to him…

“Ok so, I’m just gonna put a little more line out and we’ll be good to go!” he made himself as chipper as he could while Shiro sat on the otherwise of the boat and watched. “I’ve been coming out here since I was a kid. First my sister brought me, but when she moved I just started bringing myself. And well, “he knotted the rope tight and sat back on his side with a shy smile, “You like the stars, right?”

Shiro nodded, a little lost for what he was supposed to do. The fact that this was something so special to lance was rattling his brain around. “Yeah, uhm, yeah. Been looking up since I was little too.”

Lance giggled at that before pointing a finger up and grinning ear to ear until his eyes crinkled, “Well then you should probably look up now?”

So Shiro did, and all at once he forgot what was going on.

Above him were hundreds, no, millions of stars.

The boat was rocking gently on the waves, and Lance was watching Shiro with a love-struck expression- because Shiro was gaping at the sky like a kid on Christmas. “Pfft, there it is. You nerd.” Lance shuffled until his laying in the bottom of the boat with his feet prodding at Shiro’s legs. “Come on man it’s easier to look when you do this.”

Shiro shook himself and nodded, “Right right..sure…” it took some rearranging and the boat canted a little too far right for his liking but lance was laughing and that made everything alright.

They were shoulder and shoulder in a cramped boat watching the stars and listening to the waves and it was more than either could wish for. So they laid there and thought in silence for what felt like forever.

Eventually though he had to ask, “Hey Lance, this is amazing. I’m glad you brought me with this time…but how come?”

Lance quirked his mouth before twisting to face Shiro on his side. “Oh, right yeah of course,” he flashed his signature grin but it melted into something more shy and genuine, “And uh..well…you know? I just thought it would be nice and uhm…well I just thought it would, wait no uhm..actually..’ he was fumbling over what he wanted to say now that he had the chance. Years he’d been pining, and he thought that NOW he would just magically be able to say something? He was an idiot…

“Lance- take a breath.” Shiro laughed and reached out to poke the others shoulder before settling back and waiting.

Lance nodded and took a few breaths before barreling on,” Look Shiro...you’re gonna be leaving soon- and I’d hate myself forever if I didn’t at last try to show you…show you uh..” he huffed and sat up suddenly. Pulling his knees to his chest and looking out at the dark water as he frowned and second guessed himself.

Shiro followed suit though, sitting up and worriedly trying to see Lance’s face- did he do something wrong? Maybe he misread whatever this was? Or…maybe not? “Lance?”

“I think you’re pretty great you know?” Lance didn’t look at him but he made his voice loud, making himself wince. “Like…you’re so You! And you’re gonna be gone and holy crow I’m..I’m gonna miss you a lot.” He hated that that made his start getting misty eyed but it was the truth. He was going to miss Shiro, no matter what they were to each other…or weren’t or whatever.

“Oh…Lance hey..” Shiro slung an arm around smaller shoulders and hugged Lance, “I’m gonna miss you to Lance. I know I’ll be a ways away but we can still talk!”

Lance rolled his eyes and leaned into his arm chest,” Yeah but…you’re gonna have a lot of people to talk to… and I’m just little old me…” he gestured with his arm at the sea and stars, “That’s why. I wanted to show you this, give you something to remember me for? Other than being your brothers friend who always got to close…” he pouted at the boat floor and let his hand drop. “I wanted to impress you. And this place meant a lot to me and you..mean..a lot to me too.”

Shiro’s eyebrows had hit his hairline long ago, and they’d crashed landed a few times too.

He tightened his hug and reached out for Lance’s hand again- his heart threatening a reappearance that finally he was going to allow.” Lance. Look at me for a minute.” Those blue eyes were watery and he felt his stomach roll, desperate to make Lance happy again.

“Lance. You are one of the most important people to me. No matter how far I go I will Never be any less amazed by you. This This is amazing! And it’s me you showed it to and it’s my favorite place in the whole world because it’s yours and it’s beautiful and…you are too.” Shiro pulled their joined hands up so he could wipe away a single tear with his thumb.

Lance was seconds away from a blubbering mess. Beautiful? “Shiro?”

Shiro shook his head and smiled with as much feeling as he could, “We’ve been tip-toeing around each other for years. I hope I’m not wrong but- Lance am I wrong? Is there something here?”

The waves rocked and Lance shook his head as fast he could before a happy snort of laughter left him, “Tip-toeing, more like waltzing…and yeah. I think there is?” He tightened his grip and leaned further against Shiro.

Shiro exhaled with obvious relief before pulling his hand away so he could cup Lance’s cheek as softly as humanly possible. “okay…good” he laughed, ‘That’s good. Does that mean it’s okay if I kiss you? Because you look like you wanna cry again and I don’t-“

Lance laughed and nodded even more enthusiastically, “I swear to god Shiro you better!”

They both laughed before Shiro pressed the sweetest, probably most chaste kiss to Lance’s lips but it didn’t matter because Lance was over the moon with it.

They kissed and giggled for another hour or two, letting the waves cradle them safely tucked away from the rest of the world. They didn’t have much time right now, but they were okay, so long as they were together here with the sea and stars to watch over them.

[all-about-kyu]

Hi~ can I request one from the second smut prompt list, number 69 with Nct dream Jaemin? A lot of smut but A little fluff can be added also if possible! A frenemies to lovers kind of.. hehe thank you beforehand

Pairing: Jaemin x fem!reader

Genre: smut, dash of fluff

Rating: R 18+ MINORS DNI MATURE CONTENT AHEAD

Warnings: parties, mentions of alcohol/ alcohol consumption Jaemin takes two sips of a drink but he’s not drunk, language

Smut Warnings: dry humping, hickeys, unprotected sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, body worshipping

Word Count: 3.5k

Note: here you go lovey!! I decided to theme it lightly around New Year’s since I just finished writing it and it’s late on New Year’s Eve here

Your dynamic with Jaemin has always been an odd one, when you were in a group with mutual friends you guys joked and talked as if you were best friends, but the moment you two were alone in the same space you were ready to fight each other for no reason at all. No one could explain your dynamic, not even yourself, no matter how hard they tried. Now was a prime example of this, you were both sitting at the table of Jeno’s apartment happily chatting with your friends at his New Year’s Eve party. You didn’t mean to sit next to him, you really didn’t want to in the first place but it just happened to play out that way. You had made the executive decision to not drink tonight, especially when you had an early shift at work the next morning.

Jaemin on the other hand was nursing the same drink he had been drinking all night. It was clear that the two of you were the only ones still in their right minds, at least of your friend group. Jeno had just run off with some girl, he probably won’t remember anything in the morning. Donghyuck was in the process of trying to seduce Renjun, who was clearly trying to get his best friend off of him. Mark on the other hand was trying his best to flirt with you through his tipsy state and you just laughed it off. You can practically feel Jaemin burning holes into your head, you aren’t sure why you were on the receiving end this time but you are far from surprised. You haven’t exactly been enjoying yourself all that much at the party, having Jaemin glaring at you while you tried to help Renjun escape a very drunk and flirty Donghyuck was not exactly ideal. Having Mark flirt with you only made matters slightly more uncomfortable, he was more of a brother to you than anything and having him flirt with you made things a bit awkward. Just to have some harmless fun though you decided to lay in on his flirting, never letting it get anywhere though.

“You’re really pretty y/n.” Mark slurs slightly.

“You’ve said that like ten times Mark, I do appreciate it though.” you giggle at him.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks.

“No Mark,” you sigh, “we’ve been friends for years, if I had a boyfriend you would’ve known about him already.”

“Does that mean I have a chance?” he hopes.

“I don’t know about that, you won’t even remember this interaction in the morning.” you laugh at him.

Before he can utter another word someone sweeps by and grabs your wrist taking you with them. When you look up you see broad shoulders covered by a black leather jacket and bright orange hair. There was only one person you knew that had that hair, and those broad shoulders. Na Jaemin. He didn’t look back at you once, he just continued to take you where he wanted to. You tried to get him to talk to you and all you got in return was a scoff as he continued walking. You got about half way through the house when you had enough of his games. You pulled your wrist from his grip, that finally got his attention. He turned around and gave you a look that made you feel incredibly small under his gaze.

“What the fuck do you want Na?” you bite.

“I hated seeing you flirt with Mark, don’t you get it by now?” he bites back.

“You have no idea how insufferable you are Jaemin, I was having some harmless fun with Mark and you had to go and ruin my mood yet again. He won’t remember it in the morning and I know he wasn’t going to get anywhere with me. You’re just a pretentious asshole who feels the need to be in charge at all times.” you rant.

You reach your hand up to slap him away from you but he catches it and holds it against the wall behind you. Your eyes go wide with slight panic as he looks at you with dark eyes. Next thing you know his lips are on yours in an extremely heated kiss. You’re not sure what to do at first but then you melt into his touch and reach your free hand up into his hair pulling him closer. His hold on your arm loosens and you let it fly to the back of his head as well. His hands find purchase on your hips, holding you tightly to his body making sure you don’t move anywhere. Jaemin nips at your lower lip causing you to gasp and let his tongue invade your mouth making your kiss even more messy than it already was. One of his hands slides down your body ultimately gripping your thigh and pulling it up to rest against his hip. He squeezes the muscle every so often making you whine against his lips. You honestly couldn’t care less that you were making out in the middle of Jeno’s hallway, it wouldn’t be the first time someone did it and it certainly won’t be the last time either. Just as you go to move your hand down his arm you realize what you were doing. You bite down on his lip harder than you had this entire time causing him to wince and pull away.

“What the fuck y/n?!” he complains.

“You really thought making out with me would make me not be mad at you?” you scoff.

“Sweetheart,” he bites, “we both know we don’t actually hate each other. We just need to take care of this tension between us and it’ll all be fine.” he patronizes.

“You are not taking me to bed. Ever. That’s a promise Na Jaemin.” you seeth.

“Oh but, y/n, who said it had to be on the bed?” he smirks.

You try to stay angry at him but your facial expression speaks louder than your words. You may be saying you truly do hate him but your pupils are blown wide, and you’re nibbling on your lower lip. There was no denying you were attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be though, he was absolutely stunning, and when you weren’t at each other’s throats he was a genuinely funny and nice person. There was absolutely no point in denying your attraction when he was just so perfect. The internal debate you were having was completely useless, you know you want him, you just need to admit it.

“And where would you rather it be?” you flirt.

“Oh? Was it that easy that I just needed to ask?” he laughs cockily, “How about against the wall? Maybe the floor, in front of that lovely closet mirror I have.” his voice drops lower, “Wouldn’t that be a lovely time pretty?”

That was the final straw, you throw yourself forward and kiss him again. He makes a surprised noise but quickly reciprocates your advance. His hands return to their place on your hips picking up the kiss where you left off, aggressive and messy. Your hands tangle into his hair again further crushing your lips against each other. His hands travel south again and grab your ass causing you to whimper. This time you let your hands wander and wrap around his waist effectively pressing his hardening length against your core. He lifts you up and holds you against the wall as he began to grind his hips into yours. You let out little whimpers and moans at the friction you so desperately needed. You still didn’t have the mind to care about doing such acts in the hallway, that is until you hear someone wolf whistle at you both effectively breaking you both from your daze of lust.

“Thanks Taro,” Jaemin chuckles when you attach your lips to his throat, “it’s not like we're busy or anything.” the other simply winks and walks away leaving you two alone again, “Pretty, we should go to my room at least, I don’t think Jeno would appreciate me fucking you right here in our hallway.” he teases.

You whine and start leaving marks on his skin wherever you kiss. He chuckles at you and grabs your chin to get your attention on his words. If you thought you looked a mess before, now you were worse. Your eyes completely clouded with lust, your lips bright red bruised from kissing, your hair completely a mess and frizzed. He smirks at you before repeating his statement. You nod at him and break away from his hold on your chin diving back to leave marks on his neck. His large hands hold your ass as he carries you down the hall further to room. The moment he has the door closed he has you pinned against the door, this time he attacks your neck leaving matching hickeys across the blank canvas of your skin.

“Jaemin,” you whine, “aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“That desperate already? Do you want me to fuck you against the door? Let everyone know exactly what I’m doing to you. Or would you want me to fuck you in front of that mirror over there, watch how good I fuck you. See what you’ve been missing out on.” he groans as he grinds against you again.

“T-the mirror.” you whine.

He carefully places you on your feet again before guiding you to sit in front of the mirror between his legs. His hands push your hair off your shoulder before letting his hands ghost over your body. He places soft kisses onto your exposed neck and whispers dirty words into your ear once in a while. You whine when his hands stay in one place for a moment longer than he had in other places. His hands end up staying over your breasts cupping them as he continues kissing your neck.

“Look at you baby,” he rasps, “you look so pretty in my lap. Maybe you should be here more often.” you whimper at his comment, “Should I take these clothes off of you angel?”

“Please, Jaem I need it.” you practically moan.

He smirks at you before gently lifting the edge of your shirt up, he takes his time taking it off of you taking every chance he gets to tell you something completely filthy or praise you. By the time you top half was undressed you know your underwear is completely drenched with want for him. He lets his hands graze over the bare skin now, you let out small noises as his fingers make contact with your nipples. His hand eventually finds the waistband of your jeans and flick the button open. You’re practically squirming at this point trying to get any attention you can from him.

“Jaemin, please, I can’t take it anymore. Do something, anything, just want to feel you.” you beg when he takes too long to get the rest of your clothes off.

“Oh? You don’t want me to take my time?” he fakes surprise, “Very well pretty, I can move faster for you.”

His touches become completely different now, he’s rougher with you, he practically rips the rest of your clothes off and forces your thighs apart. He hums as he assesses and sees how you look impossibly more desperate. You turn your head and lean it back against his shoulder. He looks down at you and makes eye contact, his eyes are dark and hard contrasting your begging desperate ones. You reach down and tug at his sleeve, you watch a smirk grow on his lips knowing exactly what you wanted.

“Do you want me to undress too, pretty?” he asks condescendingly, “I’ll take off my jacket and shirt but that’s all for now.” he tells you.

He leans your forward slightly as he shrugged his jacket off and lifted his plain white t-shirt over his head. You focus on his body through the mirror seeing how his arm muscles flexed as he moved his shirt, the moment you got a glimpse of his muscular torso you can practically feel yourself getting wetter. His arm wraps across your front pulling you back against his bare chest. Having skin to skin contact only made you more desperate, his other hand begins running up and down on your thigh making you squirm under his grasp. He moves his hand to rest on the inner part of your thigh pressing it down to fully expose you to him. His fingers slide to graze over your soaked core making you moan finally getting contact where you wanted it.

“My, my, pretty,” he muses, “look how fucking soaked you are. And all for me.”

“Just for you Jaem, please just do something.” you nearly cry out.

He lets his fingers run through your folds, not giving you as much as you really want. He toys with your clit before moving to run his fingers up and down the wet skin again. You buck your hips up into his hand as a silent plea to get more contact. He smirks against your hair and finally plunges two fingers into you. You let out a loud moan, finally feeling him inside you somehow. He doesn’t let you adjust to his ministrations, he sets a fast pace drilling his fingers into you. His other hand busies itself tugging and rolling your nipple only making you feel even more needy. You let out moans shamelessly the more he continues, you can’t have a single cohesive thought with how he’s treating you. The only thing on your mind was Jaemin Jaemin Jaemin.

“Pretty,” he breathes against your shoulder, “look at that,” he muses, “look how fucking wet you are for me, taking my fingers so good. I can’t wait to see how you look on my cock.”

“Please, let me.” you moan, reaching behind you to palm him through his pants.

He grabs your wrist for the third time tonight and pushes you forward so your chest is against the carpet. He takes both his hands and grabs you ass, you try to stop yourself from making any more noises. He pushes his fingers back into you, setting the same brutal pace he had before. You look up slightly into the mirror and see him behind you shuffling, all you can do is hope he’s taking off the rest of his clothes as he makes you fall apart on his fingers. You reach back and press your own fingers against your clit rubbing it in small circles matching the pace that Jaemin set with his own. Your high was so close and you could practically taste it. That’s when he pulls his fingers out of you. He laughs when you whine at him.

“Come here pretty, sit on my cock like a good girl.” he smirks at you as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror.

You couldn’t trust your voice to be stable enough to respond. You lean your body back and quickly hover your body over his waiting member. He presses small kisses into your shoulder before guiding you down onto him. You let out a broken whimper when he was fully inside you. Looking at the sight in the mirror you look like an absolute wreck, your makeup was smeared across your face and your neck was completely covered in marks thanks to the man behind you. You give an experimental bounce on him making you both moan at the feeling, you knew you wouldn’t be able to support yourself for very long though. You lean your body back against his chest and he takes your waist in his hands helping you bounce on him. He groans as he sets a rather quick pace. You clench around him as more moans fly from your lips. One of his hands snake down to find your clit again rubbing it as you continue your motions. He looks at the mirror seeing how absolutely wrecked you look.

“Fuck, look at that pretty. You’re taking my cock so well, knew you were made for me.” he breathes out.

“Jaem, I want more.” you moan, “Please.”

He moves his hand off your waist and turns your head towards his face. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your hair fell in both your faces as you kissed but you couldn’t care less, he was making you feel better than anyone else ever has and you did not care how much of a mess you looked. Your high began to build up again, your belly filling with a heat that could only be satisfied by him. His thrusts became uneven and more aggressive as his high approached as well. Your lips never separate from each other, you gasp and moan against each other but never pull away for more than a half second. Opening your eyes for a moment, you glance at the mirror and the sight you see has to be the most arousing thing you’ve ever seen. The way Jaemin drills into you, you swear you see stars. You had no idea why you pretended to hate him for so long when this chemistry was laying right below the surface.

“Jaem, I’m gonna cum.” you whine out, against his lips “God, you make me feel so fucking good.” you moan again.

“Go on pretty, make a mess on my cock. You have no idea how beautiful you look on me.”

You let your orgasm explode from you leaving you shaking in Jaemin’s lap. Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan as he continues his thrusts helping you ride out your orgasm. You grab onto his hair with one hand while the other grips his arm trying to keep your sanity. He lets out quiet raspy moans as your walls flutter around him. His high came right after yours, he pulled out and released ropes of cum across your belly. He bit down on your shoulder leaving another mark behind trying to keep himself from moaning too loud. You both stay there for a moment catching your breath after the intensity that was your orgasms. He reached over at one point grabbing a random t-shirt to wipe the cum from your belly. You protested saying you really needed a shower.

“Pretty, do you really expect the bathroom to be open during a party? Someone’s probably in there getting their dick wet right now.” he chuckles lightly, “Sleep over, we can shower in the morning.”

You turn around in his lap and hug him, you bury your face in his shoulder. He smiles and wraps his arms around your middle hugging you back. Your breathing began to even out as he held you, he knew you were going to be falling asleep soon. Lifting you up he placed you on his bed before heading to his closet. You watch him quietly and happily as he throws a pair of grey sweats on (which you were very happy about) and turns to you again holding a larger t-shirt. Soon enough he was standing in front of you and helping you put the shirt on. As he does so you hear people counting down the last ten seconds of the year. The moment you hear the people in his living room shout ‘happy new year’ you gently push yourself forward and kiss him softly.

“Happy New Year Jaemin.” you smile sleepily.

“Happy New Year pretty.” he smiles back, “I’m happy I can go into the new year having you as my girlfriend rather than whatever stupid fake hatred we had before.”

“And I’m happy to have you as my boyfriend.” you yawn.

“Sleep, pretty, we can talk more in the morning.” he tells you, getting you both comfy in his bed.

Little Bonus Scene:

“Jaemin,” you hear someone whining, effectively waking you up.

You don’t dare move though, you stay in the comforting warmth of your boyfriend’s arms. Jaemin is still passed out as he holds you, he is completely unaware of someone calling him. You begin to fall back to sleep when you hear the person whine for Jaemin again. Not even a moment later his bedroom door swings open and loudly hits against his wall. You hear Jaemin groan and wrap his arms around you tighter.

“Jaemin!” you finally register it’s Jeno, “Oh fuck, never mind I can make my own hangover soup.” he quickly starts to back out, “Good job though, it’s about time you two sorted out those emotions.”

“Just get the fuck out Jeno.” Jaemin groans, throwing a pillow at him in the process.

You laugh and stretch up a bit to kiss him, “Good morning you.”

“Good morning, pretty. We’re staying in bed for a while still though. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

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[ao3feed-rebelcaptain2]

Amas Veritas

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/by4u5sH

by wintersend

Jyn's a young witch who's just trying to keep her head down. But when Orson Krennic returns to town years after he allegedly killed her father, she can't help feeling like this is her chance to get some payback.

What's supposed to be a harmless hex quickly turns deadly, and Jyn must now make sure no one ever finds out what she did or risk going to prison. But the pull she feels towards Cassian Andor, the private investigator the Krennics have hired complicates matters, and it doesn't help that she's sworn off love years ago due to a nasty love curse that sits upon her family. On top of it all, Krennic's ghost might be haunting her...

This Halloween is shaping up to be the worst one Jyn's ever had.

Words: 629, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Bodhi Rook, Orson Krennic

Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Magic, Witches, witch Jyn, Private Investigator Cassian, Ghosts, Practical Magic AU, but no knowledge of it is necessary, Implied/Referenced Suicide, (very minor), Accidental Murder, but Krennic deserves it, Curses, Love Potion/Spell, but acknowledging the ethical implications of it, Happy Halloween!!

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/by4u5sH

[amorevolousfaith]

Chapter 4: Little Sun

Paring: Marcus Moreno X Reader

Rating: +18 (NO MINORS)

Word Count: 1.1K

Warning: adult language, consumption of alcohol, minor character deaths, hella angst, lots of self-doubt, strangulation, smut, betrayal, death threats.

Summary: Being a single mom is hard, being a single mom to your sister’s kid is hard, being a single mom to your sister’s super powered kid is harder, and being a single mom to your sister’s super powered kid while working as a villain is hardest. It doesn’t help that your kids want to be a superhero, it also doesn’t help that all those super heroes really hate your guts. But, you're making it work.

Note: I really took this kid’s show out of proportion guys...

I smooth down my black dress, Meria bouncing excitedly in her sunshine yellow dress. “I’m so glad you're going.” she gushes as she pulls me along to the car, perhaps in a small fear that I’ll change my mind. “I can’t let those heroes think I’m some sort of coward.” I grin over to her as I climb into the car, Meria beams brightly as she fastens her seat belt. I turn the car on and the smile only grows at the sound.  

Driving to HQ was mostly Meria bouncing in her seat, it’s when I park the car and she practically throws herself out when I start to worry. She meets me at my own door before I can even get out before taking my hand and pulling me along. I shuffle onto the trolly and smile at her weakly. “You're gonna do great sunshine, I feel it in my bones.” I mumble squeezing her hand in mine, “I know auntie, you just worry too much.” She giggles. I let out a huff and roll my eyes, even if she is right.

Our smiles drop some when we see Mr. Moreno and two guards at the door, he hands a small pamphlet to Blinding fast and his wife. Meira and I’s pace slows down until the couple are inside the building before approaching Mr. Moreno. I clear my throat and nod as two guards step up with cuffs in hand, only for Mr. Morano to hold his arm out to stop them. “She’s fine, have a nice evening miss (y/l/n).” Mr. Morano nods as he hands me a pamphlet.

I push down the shock and take the paper before following my niece inside. Who gushes so hard her skin glows with the radiant light of her powers. Meria finally lets go of me to rush backstage for her performance, a few kids go before her, most of them doing small tricks with their powers. It was amazing, but a small part of me was sad for them, kids who are going to grow up thinking all that makes them who they are is their powers. The grim thoughts quickly vanish when I hear Meria being called out to the stage. The little theater going quiet as she walks onto stage, her sunshine yellow dress making her look harmless but the spear in her hand makes one second guess her intentions.

I grin when the traditional drum music starts, Meira takes first form and swings her spear. I watch as she swirls and stabs it through the air, making the spear look as if it’s an extension of her arm, just like I trained her. The combination of the movements, music, and her dress make her looks as if she’s performing some kind of dance, and to me she was. She’s far from mastering her spear, but she’s turning her skill into a work of art, an art as deadly as her powers. The peak of the song starts to approach and her skin lights up in the un-naturally glow of her powers, a sign that she is enjoying herself as she performs.

At the peak of the song she lets go of a big burst of light, the burst scatters into the air in little balls, creating the illusion of falling stars until they fade. The crowd gasps as Meria starts to close her performance. At the final beat of the drum Meira stops her spear in hard lock, not moving an inch from the position she stopped it in. She then relaxes and takes a bow before exiting the stage, the theater quiet as they registered what they just witnessed.

There were two more acts after Meria, but I think we all knew no one before or after her could measure up. It was proved true when Meria was awarded first place, a big shiny trophy to put up in our living room for all to see. When the talent show came to a close all parents waited for their kids outside the theater, the parents around me avoided me like always. This time I think it’s more out of wounded pride that the kid of a villain stole the show rather than their own kid.

“I thought you said you had to choose between martial arts and spear lessons?” A voice muses, I turn and meet the brown eyes of Mr. Moreno. “When I enrolled her in school, they can’t control what I choose to teach her outside of school.” I correct with a small smirk. “You taught her all that?” He awes, “Mmhm, she’s still gotta lot to learn, but she did good today. I’m proud of her.” I hum smiling softly, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Before the man could add on a wave of kids came running out of the backstage door, one of those kids being Meria, spear in one hand and trophy in the other.

“Auntie! You saw right! You saw!” she gushes, skin glowing to bright it almost blinds me. “Yeah, sunshine, I saw. Take it down a notch, we don't want to blind your instructor.” I muse tilting me to the side. Meria takes a deep breath and her skin slowly sinks down to her nature shade. “We gotta take a picture auntie!” She demands, “I can do it.” Mr. Moreno offers with a small smile. My mouth falls open and before I can say a word Meria is ripping my phone from my pocket and handing it over to the man. I watch Mr. Moreno turn it on only to stare down at the lock screen, it was a picture of Meria and her parents when she was born. “Mr. Moreno.” I call a little more coldly than I intended but he snapped out of his haze before swiping over to the camera.

I take Meria’s spear into my hand so she can wrap herself around me and still hold her trophy. I smile at the camera as Meria full on beams, I can’t help but notice the small smile on Mr. Moreno’s face when he takes the picture. I didn’t speak on it though, only quietly thanked the man as I took my phone back. “Thank you Mr. Moreno!” Meria grins, “Sure thing little sun.” He chuckles. I felt my brain short circuit at the name, my eyes instantly snap over to him and I have to force down the pulses I feel charging up in my body. “Come Meria, I promised you dinner after the show, we don’t want to get home too late.” I mumble, Meira’s little face lights up at the sound of food and brings a small smile to my lips. “Mr. Moreno.” I mumble brushing past him as we make our exit.  

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[rotworld]

The Youkai of Ritsuka's Pictures

a kind anon, unaware of the floodgates they would open, asked:

So in Ritsuka’s Pictures, you introduce quite a few youkai and I love them all! But tbh I’m kinda new to Japanese mythology— Teshigahara is a fox demon, Yuu is a crow demon, and Funaki is a cat one? How about the little unnamed ones that make appearances in the other world? If possible, could you explain a little about each one, like origins, lifestyle, and/or practices? And how did you start learning about it yourself? Thank you :)

i'm going to do my very best to not make this the longest post you've ever read in your life, but still explain in detail lol. i was a japanese minor in college and my focus was literature (at the time, i was looking into a career in teaching/translation), so i had access to a lot of material about japanese history, culture and folklore. when i write youkai characters, i take a good amount of creative license to suit the story's themes while still trying to fit within a recognizable framework. you don't need to have an exhaustive knowledge of how youkai work in japanese folklore to enjoy something like ritsuka's pictures, but i think it could add a bit to the enjoyment lol so i'll do my best to give an overview of the important bits.

1: kitsune (this is the longest section, i swear the others are shorter)

when i worked as a japanese tutor for younger students, i included a "culture" section after the language lesson, which occasionally meant looking at youkai. in all that time, i only touched on fox spirits in the context of specific stories, because i just didn't have time to talk about them more than that. kitsune are complicated. if you've seen one in an anime or a game, it might've been a monster, or a familiar, or a divine spirit, because they can be any of those things and more.

it's generally understood that they're talented shapeshifters who can take human form, and that they can be helpful or harmful, or somewhere between or otherwise. like many animal spirits in japanese folklore, they become more powerful as they get older. for foxes, this can manifest physically with the appearance of additional tails. the popular image of kitsune is that they're tricksters who play pranks on humans. some do this strictly for fun, and some do it only when they've been wronged. some pranks are harmless, and some are disastrous for the human on the receiving-end. there's a story about a fox whose leg gets hurt accidentally when someone tries to scare it off, so the fox comes back and sets a house in fire in retaliation.

on one end of the spectrum, there are kitsune who are seen as divine in nature and benevolent towards humans. foxes are associated with the kami inari and fox statues can be found at shrines dedicated to this deity. depending on the situation, the fox can be seen as a inari's messenger, or as a manifestation of inari. one of my favorite stories is told in the noh play kokaji ("the swordsmith") where inari appears in the form of a fox to help make a sword.

here is a wonderful video showing highlights of this play and exploring the story's background, as well as a bit about noh in general. inari is portrayed as a deity who has the silhouette of a fox on top of their head. i love this so much lol what does the swordsmith see when inari appears before him? a deity beyond comprehension? a fox-like human? a literal fox, helping him make the sword? it's fun to think about things like that. inari is also a complicated deity who is interpreted in many different ways. i'm not sure if there's reason to believe this has any impact or relationship with the shapeshifting of kitsune, but i think it's interesting that both the deity and their associated animal have this nature.

left half of kogyo tsukioka's painting of kokaji, depicting inari.

on the other end of the spectrum are malicious foxes who actively try to deceive and harm humans. among these, the nine-tailed fox is portrayed as especially dangerous. fox spirits, and the nine-tailed fox specifically, are folklore concepts that aren't unique to japan, and this cross-pollination of ideas is especially apparent with characters like tamamo-no-mae. her story as it's known today is a combination of stories from china and india, generally about the corruption of rulers by a beautiful woman, and blames all of these incidents on one very old and very powerful kitsune.

even when foxes are minding their own business, they still have an air of mystique and danger. there's a common folklore motif of "the fox's wedding" that's said to occur during sunshowers (you can see it depicted in this scene of the akira kurosawa film dreams). the popular image is of someone going about their day when they come across a traditional wedding procession. it happens suddenly and in a strange place, and there's an understanding that something unearthly is happening, even if the people you see look ordinary. if you followed the procession, you might find yourself hopelessly lost in the wilderness. i feel like the fox's wedding encapsulates the idea of these youkai. there's something entrancing and appealing about them, despite the danger.

my concept for foxes in ritsuka's pictures is more like the malicious ones. they're so good at tricking people that they even trick themselves--taking human form means becoming the human they're mimicking so completely they can temporarily forget that they're a fox. they're not necessarily evil, but what they find acceptable might seem cruel to humans. izumi in particular behaves according to his whims and instincts. what matters most to him is being with the person he loves, and human life that is lost along the way is irrelevent. here's a post i did on kitsune courtship that goes a little more into the ritsuka's pictures mythos.

2: tengu

tengu are another "can be helpful, can be evil" sort of youkai, but they also have a clear evolution over time due to their religious associations. popularly depicted as humanoid with bird features, tengu are believed to live in the mountains and be vaguely mischievous or threatening. at the same time, they could also be considered powerful warriors or a type of kami. a common legend claims that historical figure minamoto no yoshitsune encountered a tengu in the mountains as a child who taught him the warrior skills he'd use later in life.

however, tengu were also considered to be enemies of buddhism. the more malevolent and fearsome aspects of their reputation stem from stories of them kidnapping or attacking monks and burning down temples. one interpretation of tengu was that they were the form fallen monks take after death, and could be considered a kind of demon. emperor sutoku was exiled after a failed coup, and legend states that a powerful grudge caused him to return as a tengu, intent on destroying the country. natural disasters and other misfortunes have historically been blamed on him, which led to memorial ceremonies and monuments being built to appease his spirit.

over time, tengu came to be viewed as more benevolent youkai, though they retained the association with the remote woods and mountains they're said to live in and are seen as potentially, though not necessarily, dangerous. within buddhism, they now enjoy a place as protectors rather than attackers. there are tengu enshrined and featured at many places, such as furumine shrine and kurama temple. you'll often see them depicted in the clothes of shugendo practitioners, since this is a human form they're said to take.

there's a particular type of tengu known as the karasu-tengu ("crow tengu") that's the basis for yuu. i took the most creative liberties here and invented a lot of mythology for him and tengu in general. they're born from wind, generally auspicious winds that pass through certain places or experience certain things, and spend some time in the care of an older tengu who serves as a mentor before going off on their own. they act as protective or guiding deities who are each responsible for a "domain," a type of human they look after (like one may have a domain that's "the lonely" and another might have "the sick." it's a bit vague, and how that tengu chooses to interpret what their domain means depends on their personality.) what i kept from established folklore was the changing image of tengu over time and the association with buddhism. it's mostly just hinted at in ritsuka's pictures but i like yuu a lot so he's going to get his own story later that'll focus on all of this lol. the kitsune post i linked above also has a section on tengu that touches on some of it.

3: nekomata

there are a lot of cat youkai in japanese folklore. like foxes, cats were traditionally believed to have supernatural powers, as minor as seeing ghosts and as major as raising the dead. the older they got, the more powerful they were thought to become. unlike foxes, the nekomata is almost always depicted as malevolent and interested in killing and eating people. some nekomata are just extremely large, vicious cats. others are small but have two tails (or one tail that's split partway through). they have a malicious streak and don't just hunt humans like an animal would, but go out of their way to menace and deceive them. there's a very famous story about one that eats an old woman and then takes her form just to mess with her son.

although there are much nicer cats in folklore, i'm really attached to this one lol so a nekomata was used as a basis for funaki. i have an ongoing cat youkai mythology that blends other cat folklore, but there's not much noteworthy about it. nekomata like funaki are generally from remote, insular communities while other cat youkai can also be from the city or born from domestic cats. there's a piece i wrote about another couple cat youkai characters that has a bit of it.

as for everything else, if i remember right, i think i used a sazae-oni and kejoro as background characters or just cameos. sazae-oni are snails who gain magical powers after they've lived long enough, and can shapeshift. kejoro are a type of youkai that deceive you at a glance. you approach someone from behind thinking they're normal, but they turn around and you see something shocking. kejoro appear to be prostitutes with extremely long hair. they would be approached at a yoshiwara brothel by a prospective customer, but when they turn around, all you see is more hair and no face.

[drabbles-mc]

Stay Put

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Combining 2 Anonymous requests for this: Juice x female reader, where they are in Belfast - and when the barn explodes, reader was one of the ones inside, and got hit a bit in the explosion outside - getting flung a bit, and Juice comes running back because it's her. And she's fighting to get up despite her injury to check he's alright; and there's this small cute moment, before her adrenaline wears off and her injuries prevent her from standing. Maybe a, "well, that was cute", from Happy in his deadpan way & Juice x femreader, possibly a Teller, where, mother like daughter, she insisted going to Belfast with the sons. But, in her case, instead of staying at Ashby's with the girls, she snags a ride to the barn with the boys. She acquires a minor injury in the explosion (maybe pulling Paddy ((Chib's nephew)) of the truck to try and save some folks, and Juice get's really panicky - and it is revealed they're in a relationship

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of blood/injuries

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I didn’t explicitly made the reader a Teller because I didn’t really feel like it would’ve added to the plot of this fic. But pretty much all of this other stuff is in here. Hope you enjoy! xo

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You’d spent most of the morning going tit-for-tat with the guys. It was a minor miracle that you had gotten to Belfast in the first place. It was all a blur at this point—between the chaos and the jetlag everything was starting to blur together. They hadn’t been happy about you managing to come along with them, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

However, insisting to come along with them on their run that day was pushing it, and you were meeting resistance at every turn. Things had already gotten heated between you and Jax and you really weren’t looking to get into another blowout if you could help it. However, none of the guys wanted to disagree with Jax at this point, and truthfully, they all wanted you safe back at the house with everyone else.

You stormed into the room that you were temporarily sharing with Juice, slamming the door behind you as you did. A few moments later you heard the quiet creaking of it slowly opening again. You stopped your pacing, turning to see who it was even though you already had a pretty good idea.

“Hey,” Juice softly shut the door behind him and walked towards you. He wanted to reach out and wrap you in a hug, but he stopped himself, “I’m sorry.”

“Why is it so different?” you shook your head, “You guys could all use the extra fucking backup, to be honest.”

Juice paused for a moment as he tried to carefully construct his answer. He didn’t want to upset you more, but he couldn’t deny that he’d rather have you out of harm’s way, “It’s club business. We…we don’t want you getting hurt in the middle of all this shit.”

“I’m already here, Juan!” you threw your hands up, “It’s a little late for that argument, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” he was so good at keeping his voice soft and gentle, especially with you, “I hear you, alright? I do,” he rested one hand on each of your arms, “But you gotta look at this from the other side of it. We don’t…we don’t trust them. We can’t take you with us when we don’t know how things are gonna go down.”

You shook your head, “I don’t need to be protected,” you waited for Juice to meet your eyes, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

You didn’t say it with the intention of hurting him, but you knew that it did. He tried so hard to keep you safe and happy. And normally he did that with no issue, which was impressive since the two of you were keeping things under wraps. You were surprised that the two of you got roomed together, but you figured that was because they assumed that Juice was the most harmless out of all the guys. In a lot of ways they were right. You saw it in his eyes that he hated the entire situation that you were in.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I didn’t…I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

He pulled you against his chest, “I know.”

You let yourself lean into him a little bit as you took a deep breath, “I know you don’t want me there, but—”

“It’s not that I don’t want—”

“Hear me out,” you ran your hands up and down his back, “I know you don’t want me there, but I can’t just sit back here and feel useless. There’s gotta be something I can do.”

He pressed a kiss to the edge of your forehead, “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

You chuckled, “Does that sound like me at all?”

His chest vibrated with laughter but neither of you said anything else. You could feel him soaking up the contact with you, his hands carefully tracing along your sides and back like he was trying to memorize everything that he could. You reveled in his body heat, wishing that those moments didn’t have to be stolen.

You weren’t sure what exactly Juice said to the guys, but whatever it was must’ve been convincing because next thing you knew, you were going on the run with them. The two of you exchanged a brief look as you all got ready to head out. You mouthed a silent thank you and he nodded in response, but you could tell that he was conflicted about what he had done. There would be another conversation about it later, you were sure of it.

When you got to the barn, you could tell that things felt off. And if you could tell that things felt off, it must’ve been pretty obvious. You could feel the tension radiating off of Jax and the other guys in the MC. No one was saying anything, but they didn’t have to. The longer that you were all standing around waiting, the thicker the tension got.

You saw Juice get assigned to keep an eye on O’Neill and your stomach twisted into a knot. Everything felt wrong but there wasn’t anything that you could do about it at this point. Before you could think about it too much, you heard Juice’s voice cut through the air, “Hap,” he turned to you, “Y/N,” he nodded for the two of you to follow him.

You walked with the two of them, waiting for some kind of instruction as to what to do next. Juice leaned in close to you so no one else could hear, “Keep an eye on SAMBEL, alright? Anything seems off come and get me.”

You nodded and separated yourself from Juice and Happy. You laid low but kept yourself close enough to everyone outside to be able to hear what was being said for the most part. Every now and then you would look around, making sure that you could always see Juice and Happy regardless of where any of you were.

Within what felt like a split second, absolute chaos broke out. The barn doors were slammed shut and locked, guys taking off in every direction. Juice grabbed you roughly by the arm and pulled you along with him and Happy, desperate to make sure that the three of you stuck together. He let you go as he pulled out his gun, shooting at the lock on the door.

Over the sounds of everyone screaming, you heard the truck start inside the barn. Happy grabbed both you and Juice and yanked you to the side, out of the main line of fire when the truck came barreling through the side of the barn. You stumbled but managed to catch yourself just in time before completely wiping out.

As everyone was running and shouting and scrambling, all you could think of was when Chibs nearly got blown to pieces at T-M. Fear shot through you as you realized what was going on. You started shouting, telling everyone to get off and away from the truck. Everyone who heard knew exactly what you were thinking and like a hivemind everyone started to book it.

You didn’t know if it was bravery or a complete lapse in judgment, but you ran towards the truck, desperate to save anyone that you could. “Get off the fucking truck,” you jumped and tackled Chibs’ nephew to the ground. In no time at all you were back on your feet, practically dragging him by his kutte to get him as far away from the mess as you could.

You were fast, but not quite fast enough. The explosion was deafening and it propelled both you and Paddy forward, throwing you to the ground. Your head smacked into the ground and all your body could register was the ringing in your ears—you couldn’t even force your eyes open for a moment.

Adrenaline kicked in and you were able to open your eyes and push yourself up slightly, looking around to try and take in the damage. It was too much to process all at once, though. There was blood and bodies everywhere. You looked to your left and saw Paddy sprawled out in much the same position that you were. You reached over, slapping his back aggressively and were rewarded with a grunt. He was alive and that was all that you cared about.

“Y/N,” Juice was running over to you as you stood up, “Jesus fucking Christ.” You stumbled a few steps, eventually having to lean onto Juice for support. You winced and Juice looked you over, eyes getting wide when he saw the shrapnel sticking out of your calf, “Shit, your leg.”

You looked down and groaned, “Fuck me,” you peeled yourself off of him, determined to stand on your own, “It’s not an artery, I’ll be fine. Are our guys alright?”

“Y/N, fucking sit down, please,” Juice never spoke to you like that but you could feel the worry emanating from him.

“Juan,” you never called him that in front of everyone else, it felt too intimate to do in front of the club, “I’m fine. I promise.”

You went to take another step when both of your legs turned to complete jello underneath you. Juice quickly stepped in and caught you, keeping you from smacking your head off the ground a second time. Without thinking better of it he pressed a kiss to the side of your head as he helped you slowly sit down on the ground, being extra mindful of your leg.

“You’ve scared me enough today, alright? Just please do this one thing for me.”

You wanted to argue but you didn’t have the energy. Before you could come up with a half-assed attempt, you heard Happy let out a chuckle. Both you and Juice turned and looked at him, and despite the laugh that had come out of him only moments before, his face was as neutral as it ever was.

His eyes darted back and forth between the two of you, “Cute.”

That was all he said before walking away and continuing triage on the entire situation. Despite the pain, and the exhaustion, and the fear, you let out a laugh, “They blew up the barn and you blew our fucking cover, huh?”

Juice looked at you and shook his head, “Now is not the time for your commentary.”

“It’s always time for my commentary. I just saved that kid’s ass I get to have that much.”

He could see the dazed look in your eyes and he knew that you could be more than content to keep debating the point with him. He let it drop, just wanting you to sit still and not injure yourself further. Despite the fact that your brain felt scrambled, you could see it in his face that he was torn between staying with you, and going to help the rest of the guys.

“Go. I’ll stay put,” you patted his leg, “Promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shook his head.

Before the discussion could turn into an argument, Jax interrupted, “Get her to the van, Loverboy. Don’t break her other leg.”

“It’s not broken!” you shouted after him as Juice scooped you up off the ground.

“Why are you trying to start fights right now?” he mumbled as he carried you towards the car.

“She’s gotta balance out the good deeds,” Chibs chimed in with a laugh as he helped his nephew limp away from the wreckage, “We should bring her more often, lad.”

“Absolutely fucking no—”

“Yes!” you patted Juice’s chest, “Yes.”

He shook his head as he climbed into the back of the van with you, “You’re going to be the death of me if we make it back to Charming.”

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen” Tips on Writing Jewish Characters / Some  Jewish Identity Stuff Explained

So you want to write a Jewish character, but don’t want to write a caricature? Or are worried they won’t register as Jewish to readers, or something will be off or wrong? Well I, friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional, am here to help! 

Note: The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. 

Let’s start with the word “Jew.” It’s not inherently a slur, but can absolutely be used as one. I am a Jew. You can call me a Jew, just not a Jew. Like most minority groups, there are slurs against us, but Jew is the proper demonym. It can be used disrespectfully as a noun, but isn’t inherently disrespectful. Think “Chava is a Jew” versus “You’re being such a Jew.” 1a. Any use of Jew as a verb by gentiles (non-Jews) is not okay. Your Jewish characters should be horrified by someone telling them they “Jewed down the price.” 1b. Any use of Jewess by gentiles is not okay and your Jewish character should not be cool with it.  1c. Many Jews would actively prefer to be called such because that’s what we are and “Jewish person” is stepping away from our Jewishness. But I get that not everybody is going to be comfortable calling us Jews. That’s okay, and “Jewish person/people” or “X is Jewish” is TOTALLY ACCEPTABLE.  1d. With that said, Jewish people refers to ourselves as Jews. If Sarah is Jewish but is squicked about referring to herself as a Jew, your Jewish readers will immediately know she’s written by a gentile.  1e. Actual slurs against Jews is a post for another time (did you know K*ke literally means circle?). 

Your Jewish-American character likely does not speak Hebrew, Yiddish, Ladino, or any other Judeo-Language (languages that are a mix of Hebrew and at least one other language, typically written in the Hebrew abjad). Three notes on this, however: 2a. If your character is an immigrant or the child of an immigrant, they might speak the Judeo-language of the old country. The most common will be Israeli-Americans speaking Hebrew, but families still speaking Yiddish, Ladino, Judeo-Arabic, and other families do still exist. The children of Jewish immigrants might also speak another language that isn’t a Jewish one, like Russian or Spanish.  2b. If they are in a VERY religious Ashkenazi community, they might speak Yiddish at home and in the community.  2c. Odds are decent, however, that your American Jew can read but not understand Hebrew. If your character went to Jewish Day School or Yeshiva, they definitely read Hebrew, and will have some understanding of it (but likely not fluency). 

Despite what I just said above, your Jewish-American character likely drops a lot of Yiddish words and phrases into their day-to-day speech. Which words/phrases in probably a list for another time, but the most common will be foods, family names (i.e. “Zayde” instead of Grandpa), and sassy expressions. They may incorporate some Hebrew to a lesser extent. 

There’s not just one version of kosher. There’s kosher, kosher-style, Halav Yisrael, glatt kosher, etc. Depending on your character’s level of kosher, they’ve need a hecksher (kosher mark) on any given item or only eat at kosher restaurants, although not all Jews keep kosher and many keep “kosher-style” (i.e. only eat theoretically kosher things).

Your Jewish character should be a whole character, both in general and in relation to their Jewishness. This means, among other things, that they aren’t obsessed with Israel and I/P discourse one way or the other and that while writing you remember that not all Israelis are Jews and not all Jews are Israelis. Your Jewish character is not constantly agonizing over the I/P situation, has a life outside of their Jewishness, and shouldn’t be a cardboard stand-in for your desire to discuss the middle east. 

The Jewish experience varies dramatically with geography. Jews living in Omaha, Richmond, Philly, Kansas City, Boca Raton, and New York City are all American Jews. They will have drastically different Jewish experiences. I strongly recommend doing research on the Jews in the specific place your story takes places, but generally:  6a. The closer you are to the northeast coast and NYC (except south Florida) the better and more varied your Jewish resources.  6b. NYC has the highest Jewish population of any city on the planet. Big cities like Boston, Chicago, and L.A., as well as just outside of NYC in NJ and NYS, and suburban/exburb south Florida will have lots of Jewish resources: day schools (Jewish + secular education mix), maybe Yeshivas (Jewish focus), multiple synagogues, a Jewish Community Center, Jewish dating services, social stuff, Jewish charities, and youth activities. Your character will have other Jewish friends and their gentile friends will likely know other Jews. Antisemitism is still a problem and usually takes the form of excluding Jews from activism, thinly-veiled stereotyping or excusing antisemitism from people from other oppressed groups, but it’s usually not as overt as elsewhere. Almost always safe to disclose Jewishness.  6c. Small and mid-size cities Denver, Virginia Beach, Charleston, and Harrisburg will have a JCC or Jewish federation, multiple synagogues, and maybe a Jewish day school. Your character is not the only Jew their gentile peers have met, but the bagels are meh. They will have other Jews to bond and commiserate with. Antisemitism here is mostly like that in big cities with occasional burst of overt incidents and attacks. It is generally physically safe for them to disclose Jewishness.  6d. Big towns and small cities in the south or mid-west will have maybe one synagogue - probably reform or Chabad. Your character will have to seek out Jewish spaces, but they will be easy to find. They will not be everybody’s First Jew, but it will be unusual. Antisemitism here is mostly overt - most of the antisemites your character deals with will be very obvious and many will be violent. Jews in such situations will not hide their Jewishness per se, but will be more selective in choosing to disclose it.  6e. Rural areas and small-small towns will not have a synagogue. Your character and their family may be the only Jews or there might be a small group that meets on occasion or carpools to the nearest synagogue. They will have to actively seek out the others Jews and they will be difficult to find. Disclosing their Jewishness is a serious consideration and not always safe. Odds are they are many people’s First Jew, which gets really weird real fast. Beyond the harmless ignorant-but-trying-to-learn-from-their-first-Jew types your character will interact with, there’s also violent and overt antisemitism here.  6f. If your character is in college, they will likely have a Chabad and/or a Hillel on campus if they are at a large school or a school with a significant Jewish population. 

Related: when Jews meet each other for the first time, a game of “Jewish geography” ensues as they try and trace people they know in the other person’s state/city/community. 

Jews come in all shapes, colors, sizes, genders, sexualities, politics, and religious beliefs. There are all sorts of Jewish people with tons of different intersecting identities. Don’t box yourself in to writing one kind of Jew. Just research a ton on the particular subsection of the Jewish community your character is a part of - a Mizrachi-Jewish Persian-American bisexual woman is going to have a different experience than a straight Ethiopian-American Jewish man who is going to have different experience from a queer Ashkenazi-Jewish-American girl with non-Jewish family.  8a. Jews with Ashkenazi (eastern/northern European) ancestry and customs are the biggest group in the U.S., but by no means the only group or representative of every Jew. Sephardi (Spanish/southern European/north Africa), and Mizrachi (north Africa and the middle east) are the next biggest groups. It would not be unusual for your character to have Polish-Jewish, Iraqi-Jewish, Moroccan-Jewish, or Russian Jewish ancestry or a mix.  8b. Each of these groups have their own customs, Judeo-languages, local holidays, and local historic tragedies. Generally, historic Sephardi communities were linked between themselves, historic Ashkenazi communities were linked between themselves, and historic Mizarchi communities were linked between themselves. The three had some, but limited contact. Additionally, all three major groups have subdivisions within them.  8c. There are also smaller groups that don’t fall within the three traditional categories, like the Ethiopian Jews, the Cochin Jews (India), Chinese Jews, Gruzim (Georgian), and more. Most of these smaller groups were not in contact with the wider Jewish world.  8d. All Jewish groups start from the same base texts (the written Torah), and the majority include the oral Torah as well. Local interpretations and traditions develop, these are referred to as minhag(im) (customs). For example, the biblical commandment is to not boil a baby goat in its mother’s milk. Some communities extend this to mean no chicken and milk, others reason that chickens don’t produce milk so the mixture is acceptable. Both are equally valid interpretations rooted in tradition, but they are different.  8e. Marrying between Jewish subgroups in the U.S. is super common and outside of extreme or really intense groups is not frowned upon. Traditionally, the father’s minhagim are followed, i.e. a Syrian-Jewish father and a Spanish-Jewish mother would follow the Syrian-Jewish minhagim with their children. Many modern couples choose the mother’s traditions or mix them up, but that’s the traditional route. 

Unless they are VERY religious, your character’s family is unlikely to be particularly wound up about them being LGBTQ the way a comparably Christian family might, at least not because they’re Jewish. Samuel’s Jewish mother is likely unconcerned he likes boys and is much more empathetic than he must marry a Jewish boy and raise any kids Jewish. 

There are so many Jewish holidays, and they are not all celebrated the same or with the same intensity. Probably enough material for its own post, but the ones most likely celebrated by your character: 10a. Shabbat and/or Havdalah. Shabbat starts Friday nights with candles, wine/grape juice and challah bread, Havdalah ends Shabbat with a braided candle, wine, and aromatic spices. Shabbat dinner is usually a meat meal and it is common to invite guests or eat with friends and family (in normal times).  10b. The “High Holidays” - Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Jewish students often skip school for these. Yom Kippur is a 25 hour fast with services all day, Rosh HaShanah has services in the evening and morning.  10c. Passover - arguably the most important holiday. Celebrated with two sometimes agonizingly long Seders (ritual meals), family gatherings, and abstaining from leavened bread for 7/8 days.  10d. Hanukkah - Not actually that spiritually important, but culturally important for American Jews. Typically celebrated with candle lighting, presents, visits to family members, and greasy food. 

There’s a lot of wine involved in Jewish ritual, so it’s unlikely your character’s Jewish family are teetotalers. 

Jewish families tend to be very intense, loud, opinioned, caring, and involved, compared to many other assimilated American families. Shabbat dinner is not quiet. Dissent is a Jewish value - differing opinions are allowed (and expected in many circles), as is the ability to argue/defend competently. 

Jewishness can mean ethnic identity, cultural identity, and/or religion. There are several major denominations religiously, although that needs to be its own post in detail. The noteworthy movements at this point are Orthodox (further subdivided into Ultraorthodox and Modern Orthodox), Conservative (middle of the road, no relation to conservative politics), Reform, and Reconstructionist (both very “choose your own/your community’s adventure).

Probably will write more parts in the future, but this is heinously long already! Hope this is helpful!

[ao3feed-matchablossom]

and it's wrong, wrong, wrong, but we'll do it anyway 'cause we love a bit of trouble

by JuneOokami

In which Kaoru and Kojiro play a teeny, tiny, harmless little prank.

for sk8tember day 24: prank

Words: 3232, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom, Nanjo Kojiro | Joe, Original Characters

Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom

Additional Tags: Pranks and Practical Jokes, Nanjo Kojiro | Joe and Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom Bickering, DK Era, High School, Fluff and Humor, Tiny bit of suspense, some minor crimes too, Inspired by Real Events, Feels, POV Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom, Not Beta Read, lmk if i forgot any tags, Mutual Pining

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41912430