Playing: [ Vicious Delicious - luvcat ] ‎ 1:12━━●━━━3:18 ♪ ♬ “I don't wanna be your baby, wouldn't even if you paid me / you're so cruel, and you're so vicious, but my goodness you're so delicious"

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It happened during a mission that was never supposed to involve him.

You were supposed to retrieve an artifact hidden in a crumbling Titan shrine. He was supposed to stay on the opposite side of the war. The universe was supposed to keep you far, far away from each other.

But the storm that night ignored all of that.

The temple collapsed. The monsters swarmed. And the two of you—back-to-back, breathless, stubborn—fought until the adrenaline blurred the lines between hate and something hotter.

It was fast. It was reckless. It was never supposed to happen again.

You left before sunrise.

You thought that was the end.

Weeks later, you’re assigned to investigate strange disturbances in the wilds near the old Titan stronghold.

Your friends insisted on coming. You insisted you didn’t need backup. They insisted you were “not acting like yourself.”

And then you find him.

Luke stands in the courtyard of the abandoned fortress, hood down, hair tousled by the wind, eyes sharp with something he doesn’t want to admit.

He sees you.

You see him.

Everything you tried to bury claws right back to the surface.

Your friends mutter about how dangerous he is. How cruel, how unpredictable, how vicious.

Luke hears it. Of course he does.

His jaw flexes, but he says nothing.

Not until your friends split off—leaving you and him in the echoing hollow of the old courtyard.

Then he finally speaks.

“I thought we agreed to forget that night.”

A hard exhale.

“But here you are. Again.”

Luke doesn’t get closer—but something in him leans toward you anyway.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration rippling through every muscle.

“You know what drives me insane?” He laughs, bitter and breathless. “You look at me like I’m still the villain in your head.”

He turns away, pacing.

“I’m trying—gods, I’m trying—to fix something of the mess I made.” “But you? You still see the worst version of me.”

Thunder cracks overhead.

He finally faces you, eyes storm-bright.

“And what pisses me off the most?” A beat. “…You act like that night meant nothing.”

His voice drops to a low, breaking edge.

“It wasn’t supposed to be anything. But it was.”

He steps closer now. Just one step—but it’s enough to make the air between you charged.

“I don’t want to be the villain in your story anymore.”

Another step.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

His voice cracks—just once.

“I just… don’t want that night to be the only true thing I ever gave you.”

Rain starts to fall again—gentle at first, then harder. Lightning illuminates him in flashes, like a broken halo.

He looks wounded. Hopeful. Angry at himself for hoping.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” “Tell me you didn’t feel something too.”

His chest rises, falls. Like he’s bracing for impact.