Paint the World Red with Me (Tord x Reader) (REWRITE)

Chapter 8: New Schedule

(Slight Tord fanservice towards the end <3) 

My door slammed open, making me yelp. My back hit the floor and I groaned. Tord loomed over me, scowling.

"Get off the ground. Now."

I sat up and rubbed my head, smoothing my hair back.

"You know, there's this thing called knocking. Fucking try it next time."

He glared and shoved some clothes into my hands when I stood.

"I've been banging on your door for the past two minutes. You're just a lazy piece of shit."

He left me to change into the new outfit. It was breathable and good for exercise, though it left a lot of my stomach exposed. I followed him through the hallways, stopping at a training room. It was huge and filled with exercise machines. Treadmills, ellipticals, etc. A rack on the wall had weights of every size. On the other side of the room was a boxing ring. A vending machine near it dispensed water and electrolyte drinks, and beside that was a shelf of fresh towels.

Tord tugged off his shirt, leaving him in a pair of sweatpants. He must have visited the medics after I went to sleep, because he now had a mechanical arm surgically attached to him. It moved and flexed as if it were real. I had to admit, he was built. Damn him for being sexy, that asshole.

—

A punch to my face knocked me down to the ground. My body hit the soft cushion of the boxing ring. Pain throbbed through my sore muscles, and I knew there were going to be bruises in the morning. A coppery taste filled my mouth from where I bit my lip on impact. I was lucky that he struck me with his natural arm and not the new metal one.

"Tsk. I told you to dodge. That didn't mean block it with your face."

I spit some blood out and struggled to my feet.

"Well I agreed to spar with you. That didn't mean beat the shit out of me."

A sweep to my feet sent me back to the ground.

"Attitude. If you were a better fighter, you'd be able to actually get a hit in."

Once again I stood up. He scoffed.

"If you're not even going to try, then why do you keep getting back up?"

I grinned and cracked my stiff neck as I got into a fighting stance.

"Gray always said my strongest trait was the ability to annoy everyone."

A look that I couldn't quite read crossed his face. It was gone within an instance. But it was present in his attacks, in how his hits landed a little harder than before.

Tord launched a punch at my head, but redirected it to my stomach. I side stepped, causing him to stumble forward. Getting behind him, I went to kick him. He quickly whipped out of the way. This went on for a few more seconds. Suddenly I saw an opening and faked left. He moved to block it, giving me the opportunity to land a punch on his jaw.

He staggered back, but didn't fall. Holding his jaw, he stared at the ground. I froze. Did I make a wrong move? Was he about to lash out? Instead, he began to laugh.

"Alright, that's enough for today. That was a good hit."

Sliding out of the ring, I grabbed a towel and a drink. Tord pulled on his shirt and grabbed a drink as well. We were silent as we walked back to the office. Only one or two soldiers passed by, saluting as they caught sight of Tord. I felt great, like I had released a lot of built up frustration. That last compliment from him didn't hurt, either.