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hgfictionwriter · 6 months ago

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Maybe This Time - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you finally get some 1:1 time together (thanks Janine!). You work to build new memories together, but hurt from the past needs to be addressed.

Warnings: None. Temporary, very light angst, but mostly sweet fluff.

A/N: Part two and one.

"What do you think? Should I go for it?"

Jessie smirked as she saw the screenshot you sent her of her jersey in the Thorns' site shopping cart.

"I don't know. I thought you said that was too big a commitment."

"I did. But I was rather impressed at the last game. And we went for drinks after, I finally got to meet Janine – so you know, points for that. And if I think about it, I'm like an OG fan. But if you think I should get a different jersey..."

Jessie laughed under her breath, her smirk now a full blown smile as she read your message while she ate lunch. The conversation she'd been on the periphery of carried on as she ate another bite before typing out a reply.

"Oh yeah? Post-game drinks were a hit, huh? And you know, my stats are only getting better with each game 😉 And let's be honest, I'd be pretty offended if you got someone else's jersey. Except Sinc's. Because, you know, GOAT."

"Oh, well, say no more. You had me at 'stats' lol. Done. I'll pick it up before next game."

"Lol I figured. My plan all along – I know how much you love stats."

"You know me so well. I have to say, I'm kind of tempted to modify the jersey. Add some sort of patch or stitching, 'Yay sports!'"

Jessie laughed out loud, less discrete than before.

"Don't you dare lol. I've taught you better than that. But hey, if you ask nicely, I could actually sign it for you 😎"

"I'm sure I have an old group paper kicking around with your signature on it. I need to be able to wash this thing lol. What else can you offer though?"

Jessie swallowed her food hard, the bite getting caught temporarily in her throat with a wince. Okay, no signature – how humbling. However, there was an opening.

She stared at her phone temporarily before a loud clearing of someone's throat caught her attention. She lifted her gaze with a curious frown on her face to see Janine staring expectantly at her. Jessie instinctively tilted the phone inwards towards her body.

"I don't even have to spy to know who you're texting," the blonde said rather self-satisfied. Jessie looked around, heat building in her face already as she hoped Janine was the only one focused on her.

"Yeah?" Jessie retorted, attempting to appear as unfazed as possible. "You should be pleased. You keep pushing me to text her." She cracked a smirk. "Now that you don't think she's the devil incarnate for 'stringing me along' in university."

"Oh I don't think you need to be pushed," Janine teased with a wicked grin. "And I never said she was the devil incarnate." She lifted a hand to her chest in exaggeration. "I merely questioned things. But you're right," she relented, "she's quite lovely. And she gives you butterflies, and she makes you blush - more than usual - and you try to act all nonchalant and it's just too adorable for words."

"Uh huh," Jessie muttered with a flat look. Janine leaned in excitedly.

"And I have to say, I got the sense that she and I could riff off of each other and just tease the heck out of you, so that really sealed the deal for me."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need in my life." She'd never admit that it actually excited her that her best friend and you could get along so well. If – and it was a huge 'if' - anything evolved between you two, it was key that you got along with her friends and family.

She started thinking about how well you got on with her parents and sister – you'd met before during your days at UCLA and they loved you. She also remembered how disappointed they'd seemed when she eventually told them that you two didn't speak anymore.

"Well, since you're so invested," Jessie went on, rolling her eyes facetiously once more as she opened her phone again and turned it to Janine, "what should I say?"

Janine squinted as she leaned in to read and it only took a moment for her expression to light up. Before Janine could say anything, Jessie snatched the phone back and placed it on her lap with a frown.

"I don't want to hear it," she pre-empted the girl.

"What?" Janine said innocently with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I am totally supportive of the flirtation between you two." She ignored Jessie's look of complaint and cut off her protest. "Her shutting down your autograph is pretty hilarious, by the way," she said with a marginally apologetic look. "Not smooth on your part – you know she's not impressed by your elite football skills. Don't lean on your Jessie the Footballer identity."

"I wasn't," Jessie nearly hissed, trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention. "I was joking. Half joking."

"You were flirting, or at least attempting to. She left you an opening here though. So, you should ask her out."

"I'm not asking her out," Jessie pouted, her shoulders rounding as she scooched closer to the table. She huffed upon seeing the scrutinizing look her friend gave her. "We're still getting to know each other again."

"Fine. Don't define it as a date, then," Janine dismissed with a wave. She leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "Ask her to go for dinner."

"Basic," Jessie remarked as she sat up and crossed her arms in disapproval. She frowned. "Plus that's too date-like."

"Fine," Janine said curtly. "How about a hike?"

Jessie hummed and hawed, unconvinced. "Maybe someday. Doesn't seem right at this point though." Janine rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Well, what did you two used to do back at UCLA?"

Jessie shrugged. She saw the frustration Janine was telegraphing at how unhelpful she was being and jumped in. "We went to drop-in art classes sometimes."

Janine held a hand up to the sky. "Thank you. Finally – something I can work with. Okay! Let's find a drop-in class for you two to go to then." She pulled out her phone and started browsing before shooting a look at Jessie as an aside. "Oh, and dinner's too date-llke, but an art class isn't? Okay."

Jessie grunted and pulled out her phone as well to look.

"Here," Jessie announced after a couple of minutes. "This'll work. She enjoyed painting."

Without further consultation, Jessie began to type out a message to you. She bit back a laugh at how Janine's head was bobbing around periodically trying to peek at the message from across the table.

"Don't send it yet! I want to see it," Janine pouted.

"You are not writing my messages for me," Jessie told her pointedly, but gave a heavy sigh as she turned her phone for the blonde to see. An affronted look crossed Jessie face as Janine let out a guffaw and snatched the phone out of her hand.

"No," Janine simply said with a wag of her finger before she started typing. Jessie reached out for the phone, but Janine turned her body away. Jessie clamored more, but stopped as soon as she noted some of their teammates glancing their way. She shrunk back into her seat, a hand rubbing the side of her face as she spoke in a harsh whisper. "What are you doing."

"Jeff. Relax. I would never lead you astray," Janine assured her. "And this is so very satisfying for me since I never got to help you with any of this during uni. Cause let me tell you, if I had been involved, you two definitely would've been living happily ever after."

Jessie breathed in exasperation. "Please. Give me my phone back."

"Okay, okay. Here," Janine said, all humour from her tone gone as she now offered Jessie a sincere smile. "Read it over, but I think this is good."

Jessie gave her a lingering stare as she took back her phone and let out another withering sigh before reading.

"Funny you should ask. I was thinking about how much I missed art classes together. How about I take you to one of the drop-in painting classes across town when I'm back from Houston?"

Jessie lifted her gaze to meet Janine's and she studied the blonde for a few moments before relenting with an inaudible sigh. It was better than her original "I don't know. Paint class?" reply. She hit send and released another heavy breath as she tucked the phone away once more.

"You're welcome," Janine said with a saccharine smile. Jessie gave her a fake smile in return, pulling a laugh out of the girl. "Hey, let's remember which one of us is engaged and which one of us is perpetually single."

"Ouch," Jessie said with a light laugh.

"I'm just teasing," Janine went on. "I genuinely hope this turns into something for you. Considering you've only come back into each other's lives, what, like a couple months ago? You two seem pretty solid already. And you seem happier."

Jessie wanted to give a dry retort of some kind, but Janine was right. You two talked every day now and the chemistry you had in university was still very much present. And the depth you once had in your friendship was something that was quite easily and naturally being broached again. Even if you'd both grown and changed, the cores of who you were still aligned well and fit together. Too well.

She'd more or less dismissed the spark of emotions that came up during your initial interactions as some sort of emotional muscle memory, but the feelings were proving to not be fleeting or diminishing.

If anything, her feelings for you were growing. And this time they felt different, too. Heavier, deeper in some way. She was a more realized person now, as were you, and it made the connection between you more substantial. Less juvenile.

Her phone buzzed. She opened her lock screen.

"That sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it."

————

By the time your paint date night came around, Jessie was nearly buzzing with anticipation. It wasn’t an official date, of course, but she hadn’t seen you since that night after the game, and truthfully, it felt like it had been too long.

She was early - as usual - but as she rounded the corner to the building, she bit back a smile upon seeing you waiting. You were always early too, which she appreciated.

“Hey.” Jessie greeted as she approached. Again, she had to tamp her smile when you beamed back at her.

“Hey, good to see you,” you said as you stepped in for a hug, which Jessie reciprocated. “I love your shirt,” you continued when you stepped back.

“Oh,” Jessie said with a slight frown and a mild laugh as she looked down at herself in question. “Thanks,” she said as she gave a shrug and fought off a blush. She looked you up and down, not entirely discretely. “I like your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and gave her a look. “You don’t need to reciprocate my compliment. But thank you.”

“I legitimately like your outfit,” Jessie retorted, her pitch rising and pulling a laugh out of you as you both walked towards the building. Jessie took a few quick steps and grabbed the door, holding it open. “After you.”

“Such service. Thank you,” you said, both teasing and appreciative. Jessie didn’t wink, but she did give a teasing lift of her eyebrows as you passed.

As the instructor gave their directions for the lesson, Jessie found herself distracted, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The whole lesson carried on like that, really. Jessie had to make a point to not fall behind as she’d uncharacteristically lose concentration. The worst, well, best, moments being when she'd lean over feigning critical assessment of your work when really she just wanted to be close.

By the end, she was decently satisfied with the forest landscape she’d painted. However, she felt it paled in comparison to the ocean sunset you’d crafted.

“I love your colours. And the little cabin you added is great,” you told her as you were both leaving, canvases in hand.

“Well good,” she said as she got to a clearing on the sidewalk and stopped to turn to you. “Consider it my gift to you,” she went on as she held it out to you.

“Jessie,” you said sweetly with a smile as you took it and looked it over more thoroughly. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. It’s beautiful. And bonus - I get my Jessie Fleming signature, but on a far rarer painting as opposed to a jersey,” you laughed. “And what a coincidence. I painted this for you.”

Jessie looked at you for a moment before a smile broke out across her face as she belatedly took the painting you held out.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she studied the image. She frowned in realization as she lifted her eyes to you. “Is this the same beach from our photo?”

You nodded. “It is. Nice eye.”

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Jessie teased.

“Apparently not you,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, but gave a small laugh. “Come on. It’s been a while, but you know me better than that.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment as she took you in. She eventually nodded. “I know.”

A small lull fell over you both before you asked. “So, what now? Do you have to leave?”

“No.” Jessie spoke quickly with a shake of her head. “I don’t have anywhere to be. How about you?”

You shook your head in return. “Same. Well, it’s beautiful out tonight. Want to just go for a walk? We can drop these off at my car first,” you proposed as you held up the painting.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

After a short detour, you both began your stroll along the quiet, tree-lined street.

“Thanks for suggesting that class,” you said. “I don’t really get to paint or pursue creative hobbies as much anymore. It was nice to make a point of it. I can’t imagine you have much of an opportunity to focus on things like that anymore, hm?”

Jessie sighed quietly in contemplation and gave a shrug.

“Not extensively, no. But we do lots of team building, so sometimes we’ll do artsy things. And I can do hobbies and such in my down time, whether during the week or between seasons.”

She looked over to see you giving her a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing really. Just kind of crazy how everything turned out. You’ve achieved so much and your life is so impressive.”

Jessie was about to interject with a compliment for you, but you carried on.

“Are you happy with how things turned out?” You asked with a slight cock of your head.

“I-um, yeah.” Jessie stammered slightly, caught off guard by your question. “I mean, yeah it’s been incredible. More amazing than I could’ve ever pictured. And I know I’m very lucky.”

“You’re not lucky, Jess. You’ve worked exceptionally hard.”

She huffed lightly. “Yes, but luck is involved too. Lots of people work hard and still don’t get half the opportunities I’ve had.”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But you’ve made the most of those opportunities and haven’t taken them for granted.”

“That’s true. But look at you. You’ve worked so hard. And I know what you’ve been up against, but you’ve risen above and built a great life for yourself,” Jessie emphasized.

“Thank you,” you accepted with a half smile. Jessie knew the ins and outs of your family dynamics - something few people truly knew. You smiled more fully at her. “And look at us now. We both left LA and then found ourselves in the same city again and got to reconnect,” you finished with a laugh. "It sounds strange, but it really feels like in some ways like no time has passed. Not really, anyway. Like you and I were able to pick up where we left off."

You let out a quick sigh, giving a deep shrug as you did so. Your eyes remained trained on the ground as you two walked. "I mean, we talked the other week about my family and it just felt so different. Like, I've told recent friends or girlfriends my history and everything, and they listen and they 'get it', but it's not the same. That conversation with you – via text, no less – had more depth and weight than any comparable conversation with my exes or current friends. You were there. You know it – and me, I guess - inside and out. And even if I retell things, it's just not the same."

Jessie nodded, watching you. It did feel like yesterday when she was sitting next to you on your bed, sobs wracking your body after one confrontation too many with your family. Normally, Jessie was so analytical and tentative about her physical contact with you, but the second you started crying she put her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned in, resting your head on your shoulder as she held you. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.

Looking back on it, maybe your girlfriends did have good reason to dislike her.

"I know what you mean," she told you. "It's different. I mean, it's the same with you in a lot of ways. You were there for me during some critical points – big decisions in my life and you understood who I was and who I wanted to be."

You smiled at her fondly. You looked ready to say something and Jessie waited. A moment passed and you exhaled, saying, "It really meant a lot – having you in my life and the support you gave me back then. I hope you know that."

"I know," Jessie accepted with a smile of her own. "And likewise."

Her mind drifted. She should probably just leave things be, but not speaking her mind is what held her back all those years before. She needed to share her thoughts and feelings if things were going to be different this time. She took a breath.

"You know, I was really shocked when we saw each other here." She paused briefly. "I don't know. We hadn't talked in so long. I think I'd relegated myself to assuming we'd never see each other or ever talk again. Despite how important we were to one another at some point."

Her statement seemed to give you pause, the mild surprise evident on your face. You eventually glanced down at the street as you two continued to walk.

"Yeah. That's true, I guess," you conceded, your voice soft.

Jessie studied you, unsatisfied with the response you gave. She pushed.

"I knew we wouldn't be able to stay as close as we were. That was inevitable with us living so far away from one another, but I don't think I expected contact to fall apart as quickly as it did." You didn't reply right away and she went on with an ironic laugh. "We went from talking all day every day, to a few times a week with a video call scattered in there, to the odd message every couple of weeks, then just texts on birthdays and at Christmas, to nothing at all."

She wasn't sure what she was anticipating, but she didn't expect you to turn to her with a perplexed frown.

"Yeah. It did taper off pretty quickly."

Despite the time that'd passed, Jessie still knew when you were telling half-truths. She gave a bit of an empty chuckle. "What else are you thinking?"

You returned her laugh with a mild look. "I don’t know. I'm just kind of confused, I suppose." Jessie frowned.

"About what?" She questioned. Faint alarm bells went off in her head when you stopped walking. She stilled her movements as well and you turned to one another on the sidewalk.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. You spoke with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I know it was me who stopped replying right away to messages – I don't deny that – but you weren't exactly giving me a lot to work with." You took a breath, dropping your shoulders before you spoke further. "Honestly? It was kind of feeling one-sided. Yeah, you replied, but a lot of your replies were brief and noncommittal. And when I asked if everything was okay you just told me you were busy. Which," you let out a slightly rueful laugh, "is absolutely fair. You were building this brand new, big life. Which is exactly what you were supposed to do. I don't begrudge you at all. I don’t know." You shrugged and averted your gaze momentarily. "I guess things just started to feel off."

Jessie exhaled quietly as she processed your reply. What you were saying wasn't false. It had been so long it was easy for Jessie to just recall the end result – that you'd stopped replying altogether. That you'd given up on her; on the connection you'd both built for years.

Standing here now though, if she was honest with herself, it was true that Jessie grew distant in her messages - purposefully so - knowing it would drive you away. What was she supposed to do? You two were never going to be together. And being friends was so incredibly hard sometimes because it was never just friendship for her. There was always this bittersweet feeling to everything and now that you were on completely different paths, there was an inevitable conclusion. Yet, she struggled to cut herself off cold. So instead, she took the coward's way out.

Jessie scratched the back of her head. "I was busy," she repeated. She contemplated doubling down, but thought better of it. "And I guess I was finding it hard. We were building two very different lives."

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't. What would be the point? Her chest panged when you gave her a sad smile.

"I know," you accepted with a sadness in your eyes. "And I really wanted that for you. I just - it was hard to not feel like a nuisance. Like some obligation. So I just stopped writing."

Jessie's frown deepened. She knew all those years ago that she had to be hurting you, but she could lie to herself about it and focus selfishly on herself. Seeing you talk about it in front of her wasn't something she'd anticipated.

"I didn't mean for that," Jessie said. "And I never stopped caring about you," she compromised.

"Yeah. I never stopped caring about you, either," you reciprocated in a subdued manner. Despite her role in everything, Jessie was still harbouring hurt from all those years prior and she felt compelled to push on. Sure, she'd pushed you away, but you'd let her. She erased you from her life little by little, day by day and you allowed it.

"Funny how quickly things change sometimes," Jessie went on. She didn't mean to scoff, but she did. "You didn't even tell me when you and [y/ex] broke up. You didn't even tell me you were having problems."

In years past, Jessie was your sounding board for all your girl troubles. She remembered it well – it was painful. Having to hear you either swoon or – more often – complain about your girlfriends. Hearing how they disappointed or frustrated you when Jessie knew she could love you better. Just thinking back to it stoked a fire in Jessie's chest again. While she had genuinely loved you and cared about your well-being, she'd vowed to never get stuck in that dynamic again.

You cracked a smirk. "It just seemed frivolous to bother you with something like that at that point."

Another pang in Jessie's chest. "Well," she kicked idly at the concrete beneath her, "I would've been there for you if you ever needed me. I hope you knew that."

You sighed and gave a hollow laugh as you pushed your hair back, causing Jessie to get momentarily distracted by the way the rays from the street light hit your face.

"I know," you said quietly before meeting her gaze. "And I hope you knew the same about me. I know you're surrounded by people who love you, but," you shrugged listlessly, "I'd be there for you, too."

Before Jessie could respond you gave her another smirk.

"Besides. Though you never said anything explicit, I know you didn't like her. And by the end I could see why, too. No point wasting any of our limited conversation talking about her."

Jessie bit back a smirk, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "Well, I guess that's poetic. Your girlfriends never liked me and I never liked them."

Despite the mounting tension in your conversation, you laughed and gave her a nod. Jessie didn't return your laugh though. She gave you a solemn look.

"You always deserved better than them. I know some of them were just fine, some of them even good, but they didn't seem earnest enough and they didn't love you enough."

You were taken aback by her sudden proclamation. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.

Jessie never understood how they didn't worship the ground you walked on. She practically did, even if she didn't show it. While those girls showed they cared through superficial acts like a generic bouquet of flowers, Jessie listened. In many ways. It was obvious to Jessie that they didn't really get you – not the way she did. And if they were so in tune with you, then why was it her you came to when things were hard or you were scared or even hopeful. If she'd been your girlfriend, she would've given you everything you needed and more. They clearly didn't.

You eventually gave a soft huff and offered Jessie a quiet smile.

"You've always been very observant. And very thoughtful. I get it now. There's a reason I'm single now. I don't want to settle anymore," you told her.

Jessie was quiet before giving a nod of acceptance.

"I'm glad to hear that."

You both started walking again, though neither of you spoke right away. There was still a heaviness in the air, but it felt different now; hopeful.

"I'm sorry for how things ended," you said as she glanced over at Jessie as you two strolled through the quiet street. "You've always been really important to me – regardless of whether we were in contact or not. I don't want to say that I wish things had been different, because I really don't see the point in regretting anything, but I will say I'm very grateful that we've had this chance to reconnect and rebuild." You paused. "I've really missed you. I didn't realize how much."

"I'm really sorry, too," Jessie said, a smile spreading across her face. "And I agree – we can't change the past, but I also appreciate the chance to be friends again. I've missed you, too."

She swallowed as she contemplated whether to add more. The lull that naturally formed told her to forge ahead.

"And you were never a nuisance or an obligation. I'm really sorry it came across that way."

"Awww, Jessie," you said in a teasing voice, lifting your conversation up again. You paused your steps and Jessie stopped and turned to you in question. "Come on," you beckoned as you waved her over and brought out your phone. "We need a new photo together."

Jessie didn't fight it. Instead, she smiled at you and walked over to stand next to you. You leaned into her and Jessie found her hand naturally gravitated to your waist. It rest there before Jessie could even realize it, but before she could fret, you looked back at her with a smile before facing forward again.

You took the photo and immediately opened up your messages with Jessie to send it to her. Jessie belatedly realized her hand was still on you and she pulled it back, holding her hands behind her.

"There," you announced. "Now we can start rebuilding our collection. Portland memories – not just UCLA anymore."

Jessie laughed and held up her phone, pointing the camera at you.

"No, come on," you whined immediately and she laughed further.

"Hey, this is part of the deal," she countered. You huffed, but eventually smiled for her. "Just remember. This goes both ways. I get new photos of you, too."

She found herself giving you a wink. "I'll allow it."

A/N: Part Four is available here.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #portland thorns

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oneforthemunny · 7 months ago

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YAY MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS GAME!!!

Rockstar!eddie, rehab, angst (because I have been think of this concept all day)

starting the day off strong with some angst! tw bc it does mention drug abuse and some darker kinda themes.

"Eddie Munson," Eddie looked up from the guitar he'd been strumming towards the nurse- no, the holistic helper at the door. They didn't use words like that here, not at this rehab.

"You have a visitor here." She nodded, giving a soft smile.

Eddie set the guitar down, tucking the pick back between the strings, following the woman down the long hallway of the center. The music room was where he spent most of his time these days. He'd tried hiking and the spa once he'd finished detox, but always came back there- his own oasis in his own personal hell.

"We're going to go back to your room for this meeting, if that's alright with you, Eddie." The nurse smiled gently.

"Fine with me." Eddie grumbled, his shoulders feeling heavier and heavier with each passing step.

Ninety days, it's what he agreed to. He felt better after twenty, but he'd finish it out- for you, for your girls, his family that he'd fucked selfishly. His stomach turned at the thought.

"And, there's no limit on this visit today." The nurse stopped before she opened the door. "So no need to feel pressured to rush."

Eddie's brows furrowed. It was Gareth, maybe Jeff, he knew it was. They were the only ones who came to visit him anyways. Still, he grumbled in response, turning the knob to his room. It was nice, a private suite that felt more like a hotel room than the prison cell it'd become.

"Hey, man, didn't know you were coming by today. I've been working on some stuf-" Eddie's breath hitched, falling flat in the air when he turned.

It felt nearly like a mirage, like he might have been dreaming, hallucinating that you were here. Here, on his bed, sitting too rigidly to be comfortable, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Working on stuff?" You hummed, eyes barely meeting his and he didn't miss the way you swallowed. "What kind of stuff?"

"Y-You're here?" Eddie croaked, shutting the door with a harsh snap. "Wha-What are you doin' here, baby?" Every bit of his being screamed to hug you, hands tingling and twitching- itching to feel you, to hold you.

You shifted uncomfortably, finger running over your ring finger out of habit. Eddie nearly threw up when he saw you'd gone without your ring, he wondered how long ago you'd stopped wearing it.

"Um, Gareth came by the other day to see the girls." Your eyes cut to Eddie at the mention of them, how his face nearly crumbled at the thought. "He told me you'd been doing much better. Told me you were scared straight."

"Yeah." Eddie nodded. He was frozen, unable to move, so he stood in the doorway. "I am. I-I..." There was a million things Eddie wanted to say. He wanted to drop to his knees, beg for your forgiveness, for mercy, for anything.

"He," Your voice cracked, turning your head politely to the side to compose yourself. So prim and proper, Eddie's heart leapt at the action- he'd missed it so fucking much.

"He also brought me your letter." Your lip wobbled at the mention, pressing them tightly together to keep yourself from bursting into tears. Ten pages, front to back, with scribbling, tear soaked, inked ramblings about his feelings- poured his heart out onto those pages. Everything he'd ever wanted to say in his entire life, there on those pages, his whole bleeding heart.

"He did." Eddie sounded relieved, shoulders slumping, rounding with the weight of everything he'd kept in for so long.

You nodded slowly, watching him carefully from your own perch. "The girls made you some things." Your voice shook with your hands when you reached in your bag, piles of drawing and scribbles they'd made for Eddie.

Eddie looked at the colorful papers, just a glimpse in your hand, choking on a sob that was tearing mercilessly through his chest. "I, um, I didn't bring them today." You barely met Eddie's eyes, hand smoothing over the construction paper. "I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this."

"No," Eddie shook his head, tears falling down his stubbled cheeks. "No, I-I don't. Thank you."

The air was thick between the two of you, an unsure uncomfortable feeling that left you both on ease. Eddie finally sobbed when your hand brushed his, passing the drawings to him.

"I'm-I'm so sorry." Eddie broke, teeth gritted, trying to swallow back his own cries, hand holding yours tightly. "I don't-I don't know why I-I fucking did that. Why I did it to you, a-and to the girls, and fuck- I don't know why-" Eddie's sobs choked his words.

You knew you shouldn't have, that you should have stood strong, colder and meaner. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but you couldn't- not when your own heart was shattering all over again. So you held him, arms wrapped around his torso, body moving towards his in that familiar way. Your puzzle piece, you two fit so well. His arms hugging you tightly, nearly crushing you into his chest like he wanted you to fuse to him. Eddie's face pressed to your head, wetting your scalp with his tears, nose rubbing into your skin babbling apologies over and over again, promises that he would keep, that you hoped he would.

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sweetteainthesummerx · 6 months ago

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THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (12)

In which the Ferrari gang tackles Austria

series masterlist

Note: YAY their relationship is finally starting to develop more teehee. Let me know if you have feedback or if you want to be added to the taglist. Warning: mentions of an erection, mildly sexual

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang sound of music type beat

liked by dior.n.goodjohn, alexandrasaintmleux and 100,753

dior.n.goodjohn OMG THE COWS ARE SO CUTE

-- aubreyyang ikr I got to pet them I can die happy

user1 MOTHERS they're so pretty ughhh

-- user2 oh to be traveling with f1 drivers over europe

charles_leclerc pic creds for first slide and also THATS MY GF

-- aubreyyang not with that attitude

-- user3 BAHAH they're so funny bye

walker.scobell oh look its you on the third slide

-- aubreyyang I bought you a t shirt im throwing it out the window

-- walker.scobell NOOO I TAKE IT BACK

-- pjo.fandom.08 aww shes so older sibling

MESSAGES

alex 🖼️

hey cherie! I think Charles and I are going to stay in for today the hiking yesterday knocked us out

aubrey 🎬

aww okayy

we'll have dinner or lunch today tho?

alex 🖼️

bien sur!!

MESSAGES

aubrey

morning!

ollie

good morning :)

aubrey

charl and lex aren't coming to explore the city are you still up for it?

ollie

yeah ill come pick you up at ur room

Ollie silently thanked Charles and his old age: a whole morning alone with Aubrey.

“Hey.” Ollie smiled down at Aubrey when she cracked open her door at his knock.

“Morning! You wanna come in for a second? I need to put my shoes on before we go.” She pushed her earring backing on, turning as he let himself in.

She was wearing a tiny top with no straps the colour of a ripe peach and a white skirt. The heat was unbearable, so her hair was pushed from her face in a long, pretty tail. He wondered how she would react if he smoothed his fingers along her soft, tanned skin or if he ran his tugged at her dark hair.

Friends, he reminded himself. But she was so…

He thumped onto her bed face down, earning a giggle from Aubrey. He flipped back up goofily, a little taken a back by the strong smell of her shampoo and perfume while she puttered around the room, retrieving knick knacks and dropping them into her little handbag.

He pretended for one moment that she was his, and that he didn’t have to take her presence in like a drowning man gasping for air. He wouldn’t mind drowning in her, if this was the sight he would be greeted by everyday.

“Dude. Stop staring at me like that.” She scrunched her nose.

“Sorry.” He murmured, not sounding sorry at all.

She tugged her sambas on, falling onto the bed next to him. He sighed, closing his eyes when she ran one hand through his hair, fingernails catching pleasantly on his scalp.

He bit back a noise that would surely embarrass himself.

“Tired? We can stay back today if you want.” The morning light glowed yellow beyond his eyelids, and her soft, accented voice was husky. His chest ached for her, and she was barely a foot away.

“No, s’alright.” His eyes fluttered open. He realized with a start that while he was flat on his back, Aubrey had propped herself up on one elbow on her side next to him. He tried his best not to look at the slender expanse of her neck and chest. He failed miserably.

“Hmm. Some shopping, some food and then we’ll head back and take a nap?” She asked, standing and reaching a small hand out to help him. Who was he to refuse? He let her drag him up, laughing when she had to put her whole body weight behind it.

They spent the rest of the morning perusing shops after the subway ride, not really buying anything but looking and talking. He loved having her near, loved making her smile and laugh and hit his chest when his jokes were inappropriate and childish.

Every time she turned to tell him something - that usually made him laugh - his hand twitched to reach out to touch her. Her hand, her bare face, the small of her back.

When they realized that they’d missed breakfast and lunch (Ollie’s stomach was starting to growl, he was still growing, thank you very much) they decided to head back and see if Charles and Alex wanted a late lunch together.

They made their way to the subway, and Ollie grabbed her hand and slid it into the crook of his elbow with the excuse of not wanting to lose her in the crowd. He threw in a short joke with it, hoping that his need to touch her was not so obvious.

Ever since she told him that she turned her brain off when she was with him in public, he made sure to show her that this trust she held for him was very much safe and sound.

She hummed some pop tune as he guided her onto the train, settling them both onto seats. She was showing him Formula memes when someone beside her jostled, tossing her across his lap.

He glared at the careless man, and hauled her easily onto his lap by her waist without thinking. She went very still, and he was about to apologize profusely or dig a hole and bury himself in it (or both) but she wiggled into a comfortable position. Even sitting on his lap, he could see past her head. As she leaned back against his chest, he carefully pulled her hair up so it was resting against his shoulder and not crushed between them.

“Let me know if I’m too heavy, I can stand-“

He kissed his teeth with his tongue, “You weigh like 5 kilos, love.”

She let out a contented hum, turning her face into his neck. Her warm breath, her scent and the tip of her nose against his jaw was too much.

He was a man, after all. And Aubrey was objectively one of the most beautiful, kind and decent people he’d ever met. So with her moving around on his lap and her mouth dangerously close to his neck…

“Is your phone in your pocket?” She asked, reaching behind her. Panicked, he caught her wrist.

“That’s not-“ his ears felt hot, and she stiffened.

“Oh.”

Great, now she thought he was a pervert who-

She was laughing. At him, because they were on a subway in Vienna with her on his lap while he had a hard on.

She was laughing, that bright, clear sound that made him melt like wax on a candle.

He poked her side, whining, “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little bit-“ she moved to stand, but he locked his forearm around her waist.

“Give me a second.” He muttered, and much to his chagrin she was giggling again.

"You know, you had me worried. I thought you weren't..." she started, shrugging, face flushed prettily, "sorry, this is weird, isn't it? You're...you're my best friend."

"You're more than my best friend. You know that." he murmured and he felt her cheek tense into a smile, "What were you going to say?"

"I thought you didn't find me attractive." she bit out, mortified.

"I'm sorry? Have you seen yourself? Of course I'm attracted to you, love. I just didn't want to scare you off."

Finally, it was their station, and they walked back to the hotel, hand in hand.

She made fun of him all the way there, and he found that he really didn’t mind, especially if she kept smiling that wide, rosy smile.

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: bit of shopping

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: collecting mirror selfies in bathrooms with my girl

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

"Good to head back?"

"Oui." Alex smoothed her hair one more time, and they returned to their boys at the small restaurant in Vienna they were eating dinner at.

When they returned to the table from the bathroom - she was seriously collecting mirror selfies from bathrooms - and sat, Ollie wrapped one large hand around the leg of her chair ( and if she had wished that it had been her calf, that was nobody’s business) and tugged her closer to himself. He slung his arm around the back of her chair, fingers grazing her shoulder.

“Hi.” He grinned, proud of himself. Across the table, Charles made a gagging sound. Alex rolled her eyes while smiling at her boyfriend, passing Aubrey the plate of fruit.

“Okay, so tonight we leave for France and we stay there for two days, n’est-ce pas?”

“Oui, and then do we have plans?” Charles asked as Ollie swiped a piece of orange off of Aubrey’s plate.

“Le Tour Eiffel, obviously. Louvre, maybe some shopping?” Aubrey suggested, and the boys groaned.

“It will be fun.” She protested, and Alex smiled sweetly.

“Sure, Aubs.” His finger traced down her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to shiver. Ollie was getting brave. Ever since their day together exploring the city, he seemed to be getting more affectionate and clingy - which she didn’t not mind one bit.

Before the Vienna Train Incident, as Alex and Aubrey dubbed it, he had been so sweet. The perfect gentleman, always respectful and kind. She had actually wondered if he’d found her attractive at all.

But when he had whispered low and panicked in her ear that the hardness nudging into her thigh was indeed not his phone, it was almost like a confirmation for her. In fact, she started to notice the little things: his ears would turn red when she traced the veins on his forearms while they waited for Alex and Charles to come down to the lobby, his eyes seemed to be magnetic against her back whenever she wore a sundress (floral usually. He really liked pale yellow. Not that she was taking note) and his hands almost always drifted to her like he wasn’t thinking.

She was gaining confidence; that little voice in her head that kept telling her she would be so happy and safe with him if she would just her herself try…

He could make her so happy. If being friends with him was that great, being his girlfriend would be a dream. She just wanted to make sure.

An idea came to her head, and she looked down. Ollie liked to manspread, so his knee was knocking into her crossed legs. Aha. The shoes she’d chosen for tonight were nice white heels with pointed toes. Very slowly and deliberately, she hooked the point of the shoe under his pant leg and dragged it up his skin. He choked on his water, coughing. And, bingo. His ears were turning that endearing Ferrari colour.

“You alright, mate?” Charles asked. Aubrey saw through her peripheral that the tall man beside her was most definitely looking at her accusingly. Cute.

“Yeah, sorry. Choked. So-“ he cleared his throat. “Shopping probably the second day, yeah? Maybe a nice dinner and then we leave for the south?”

“Mm. I think you are right, Ollie,” Alex brushed a crumb off of Charles’s shirt, “the Louvre will take a while. I want pictures.”

“Sounds good.” A very large, warm calloused hand just landed on her knee, sliding slowly up to her thigh. His pinky finger - probably as long as her pointer - slipped under her skirt. Her breath caught, but no choking occurred.

“Let’s head out then?” Charles asked, waving for the check.

Disappointed, Aubrey felt Ollie’s hand leave her skin, feeling suddenly cold. But then he draped a heavy arm around her shoulder when they stood, waiting for the other couple to join them in their trek back to the hotel.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin

#f1 drivers #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x female reader #actress!reader #director!reader #slow burn #friends to lovers #ferrari

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rekino2114 · 5 months ago

Note

can you do fem denji x male reader

Fem. Denji getting jealous

A/n:normally for a genderbent post I'd change the name to a feminine version of it but I can't think of anything for denji so it stays like that, also credit to x.zora.k on Instagram for the art.

"Look at that bitch, shamelessly flirting with my man"

"You can't even hear what they're saying"

You and denji were on a date (aki came along to make sure she behaved) when a girl she didn't recognized approached you and started talking to you, apparently you knew her so you two started walking away and talking with each other, which made your girlfriend very very angry.

"I don't need to, look at how she's acting, she's definitely flirting with him"

"I think she's just being friendly"

"As if, I know flirting when I see it"

"Like I said, you can't even hear it"

Denji ignored aki's words and started glaring even deeper at the girl

"What is it?"

".......my bobbs are bigger than hers right?"

"............I'm leaving"

"IT WAS A GENUINE QUESTION, I can't let her take y/n from me"

"And that's what you care about?"

"Obviously"

"*sighs* I need a cigarette"

"You can go get one if you want I'll just-.....*gasp* OK THAT'S ENOUGH"

The chainsaw hybrid was one step away from pulling the string on her chest before being stopped by aki.

"Stop. What happened?"

"DIDN'T YOU SEE THAT? SHE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND, THAT'S WAY TOO FAR"

"That's still no reason to try and kill her"

"B-but what if she's a devil trying to gain his trust to kill him"

"I find it highly unlikely, but go ahead if you want just know that I won't object to any punishment miss makima decides to give you"

"Ugh- fiiiine"

The blonde girl couldn't do anything but groan while waiting that you finished your conversation (while aki went away to not deal with whatever was about to happen)

"Hey babe, sorry if I took too long, we can continue our date now"

"You expect me to act as if nothing happened? You ditch me just to go hang out with some flat chested slut?"

".......she's my sister"

"And I'm not finished yet if you-........wait what?"

"Yeah, she came to Japan without telling me, it's been over two years that I don't see her so I just got so excited, I'm really sorry for what I did though, I should have prioritized you"

"N-no it's fine I should have been more trusting of you"

"Oh were you jealous?"

"Heck yeah I was, she was holds your hand, I should be the only girl allowed to do that.....I-I mean except family members I guess"

You giggled and approached your girlfriend then held both her hands in yours

"Is this better?"

"Yeah thanks"

"I think I know one way to make you realize you're the only girl I love"

You kissed her deeply and after a moment of surprise denji melted into the kiss not letting your mouth go for a while.

"Shit, that felt good, alright you're forgiven"

"I'm glad, how about a cuddle session to make it up to you even more"

"Yay cuddles!"

You held her hand and you started walking together, denji put her head on your shoulder to admire you with a bit of guilt in her eyes.

"Hey, sorry for earlier again, I wanted a boyfriend for so long, so when I got you, I guess I was scared of losing you"

"It's fine, jealousy is totally normal...... just don't insult my sister again"

"Yeah, dont worry......My bobbs really are bigger, though."

"*chuckle* you never change, but I guess that's one of the reasons why I love you"

Denji nuzzled into your shoulder and closed her eyes feeling the warmth of your words seep into pochita

"I love you too"

#chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #female denji #female denji x reader #fem denji #fem denji x reader #genderbent denji #genderbent denji x reader #rule 63 #denji #csm denji #denji x reader #x male reader

113 notes · View notes

loki-cees-all · 22 days ago

Text

Ch. 5 - Turn Against {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : Loki attempts to sneak out of your flat before you awaken.

W/c : 8.8k words

Content / Warnings : Fluff, angst, and a touch of smut.

Author's Note : Apologies this chapter took me so long to finish! After 6 months of working on it, it blew up to a length of 14k words and I ended up having to divide it into two chapters just to make the editing process more manageable. So congrats, this fic is now a grand total of 20 chapters! Yay!

Also, just fyi - I basically wrote the whole thing (so, Chapters 5 and 6 together) while watching Infinity War and Endgame on repeat, if that gives you any insight as to my mental state, or the amount of angst these chapters have. So, uh…good luck!! <3

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

A pair of ethereal beings slumbered peacefully in your bed.

Twisted among the silken sheets, your angelic form was snuggled against the chest of Loki’s duplicate - a leg hooked around one of his, an arm draped across his torso. Your fingers twitched in your sleep, your lungs slowly inhaled and exhaled in sync with that of his seidr. The only thing you had on was a quiet, serene expression - one that meant you were blissfully unaware of the trickery that had already befallen you, or of the cruel disappearing act that was yet to come.

The true Loki approached your bed with incredible precision, moving cautiously so as to not disturb the exquisite goddess or her beauty sleep. His gaze roamed lazily over your every curve, your every spasm and pulse, every inch of skin peeking out from beneath the sheets. The polish on your toes was cherry-red, the freckles on your back replicated the stars of the night sky, and the air from your lungs was sweet, intoxicating, mellifluous.

The entire scene was breathtaking, but that wasn’t what was suffocating him.

As he paused by your side, you stirred a little in your sleep - muscles tensing, breath hitching. Your face twitched lightly, brushing your cheek against the duplicate’s skin, and he responded in kind by holding you closer, squeezing you tighter, soothing and comforting you under the true Loki’s direction. And it worked; you relaxed in that false embrace, reassured by the solace of his presence enough to resume the slow, deep breathes in, and then back out.

This time, it was Loki’s turn for his breath to hitch. How was this possible? Why did you find serenity with him? What did you see in him that he could never see himself?

His eyes flicked to the mimic in bed with you. It matched his appearance in every single way, from the dark curls spread across the pillow to the tips of his fingers now tracing light circles along your arm. Its scent was the same, its voice would have been identical if you had needed to hear it. He could have switched places with it in less than a second, just to have you in his own arms once more, and you never would have known the difference.

Because the duplicate was him: a literal, physical manifestation of his deceit, cradling you tenderly while you slept. While the real one searched your apartment for the evidence of an addiction you clearly hadn’t developed yet. While he neglected his responsibilities back at the TVA, because he was too preoccupied with a future problem that he might cause to fully focus on the massive problem he’d definitely helped to cause at the end of time.

As usual, his attentions were divided. Lately it seemed as though any attempt to solve a problem would just create two more in its place. And forever the masochist, Loki was drifting hopelessly between the past, present, and future; stuck between a rock and a hard place, while being unable to fully focus on either.

He was trapped inside a personal Hel of his very own making.

It wasn’t fair that he hadn’t found you until after he’d broken the timelines. Without judgment or sound reason, you gazed upon him like the sun looked down at the clouds, parting the storms of his heart and warming the oceans of his mind, stilling the thoughts that swirled in nervous energy, and regret, and prayers that he could somehow be different for the both of you. That he didn’t have to choose between you or the TVA.

That he could somehow be with you, without being Loki.

He couldn’t help but wonder: if you’d been born on Asgard, would you still feel the same way about him? If you had grown up together, if you knew all of his secrets and heartbreaks and betrayals, would you have still slept this peacefully in his arms? Would you still look at him like he was somehow everything you’d ever wanted?

Perhaps in another timeline you did, and if he could manage to save the TVA after all, then maybe afterwards he should go searching for it.

Outside your flat, the sun was just starting to crest over the horizon. Its rays drifted in through the bay windows of your bedroom to bring on a beautiful, new day. But Loki needed to leave before you woke up. Actually saying goodbye wasn’t an option - because he couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth either, and he certainly couldn’t predict the future.

In fact, no one knew what was going to happen now that the timelines were free, but he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that somehow this would only end with his self-sacrifice; dying was the only sure way Loki knew how to redeem himself, and even if you never knew about it, he would have happily done it for you.

But even in the off chance that their efforts with the Loom were successful and he didn’t have to sacrifice himself - the next problem on the TVA’s To Do List was to deal with the variants of He Who Remains and their potential for waging multiversal war. And after that, there would inevitably be a thousand other problems for him to deal with, each one with more dire consequences than the last, and Loki would never be able to stop.

He’d never be able to take a moment to breathe, to exist, to just love you.

Loki wasn’t sure if he was in love with you now, but the appeal of letting himself feel something good was too much to ignore; in truth, he was only safe to feel it because he knew it was going to obliterate him later on, and it was why he couldn’t deny himself one last touch.

Kneeling beside the bed, the arm of his duplicate lifted slowly from your body. And as if it had been rehearsed, the true Loki brought his fingertips to brush through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. As if he were doing it mindlessly in his sleep, instead of doing it fully conscious while his heart shattered into a million pieces.

And he didn’t know if he was even capable of loving you. Loki had spent centuries hurting and longing for what he couldn’t have, bitter and resentful to what he had too much of, and disillusioned over everything else in between. At no point in his long life had his experiences ever been what anyone might call normal, especially not to a mere and simple human, and he’d long since forgotten what it was like to just be, let alone to have something he actually wanted to hold on to.

When Loki was younger, he believed love to be a calculated decision that required delicate measurement of the pros and cons. Which option would benefit Asgard the most as the spouse of its disinclined and least favorite prince? Who would be the most trustworthy to safeguard an outcast’s heart?

Back then, the obvious choice would have been whomever could simply tolerate him while maintaining an innocuous distance. It never would have been real, just like this couldn’t ever be.

As his fingers began another pass through your hair, he wondered what sort of tragedy had happened in your younger years to make you cling so tightly to such a broken thing like him. Had you loved, and then lost? Had you failed someone in the way he was about to fail you? Had you repeatedly cracked open your soul, only to have no one even notice?

Whatever it was, whatever atrocity had made you look at him like that, Loki both cherished and cursed it. He wanted to fix it, he wanted to make it worse. He wanted to see it, he wanted to taste it. To nurture it, to smother it, to let it rise and then push it back down. He wanted to be the cause of it, and then to be its cure.

His eyes filled with tears - big, wet, silent, pathetic ones. The tears of a child no longer allowed to keep the only thing that had ever brought him any kind of solace. His chest tightened, and he could feel the tears bleeding down his cheeks, painting sharp lines of misery and staining his skin red for anyone who dared to look closely enough.

This was so absurd, his reactions and feelings were so unbelievably foolish, because you were just a human. You didn’t really know him, and he didn’t really know you. Your perspective, by design, was so much more limited than his. What could you possibly ever have in common with him? Or him with you?

Whatever was waiting in your future - perhaps he was just overthinking it. Maybe the addiction had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe he was just projecting, maybe your feelings for him were nothing but casual ones, maybe you’d be able to completely forget about him as soon as he walked out the door. You’d be better off without him anyway.

That thought brought him some comfort, while quietly slitting his throat.

He swallowed hard, and tried to get a grip on himself. What was it that he was supposed to say on Svartalfheim, about Thor falling in love with the mortal Jane Foster?

It’s nothing. It’s a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready.

Loki’s biggest problem had always been never knowing when to walk away - and if he didn’t do it now, then it might someday be completely out of his control. Your path might lead you down a branched timeline, one that another rogue TVA agent could destroy. The Loom’s explosion could take out everyone and everything. Loki himself could accidentally get you killed, or worse - you could finally see him for what he really was, and decide to walk away from him instead.

The only woman whose love you’ve prized will be snatched from you.

Letting out a restrained breath, he dragged his hand across his face to wipe away the tears, while the other’s gentle touch remained in your hair. This was going to be tricky; once he left your bedroom, Loki was going to have to carefully withdraw the duplicate from your bed - slowly, cruelly, and without waking you up. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone one last time, and just as he was debating on whether to kiss you goodbye, you startled yourself awake with a sharp gasp.

Loki panicked, and quickly switched places with the duplicate. His kneeling form beside the bed disappeared before you could fully open your eyes. His muscles tightened, and with a gasp of his own, and he pretended to just be waking up alongside you.

“Are you alright, darling?” he murmured breathlessly, nudging your temple with his nose and praying that you couldn’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“Huh? Oh…” Your eyelids fluttered quickly, attempting to blink away the sleep from your eyes. When you finally recognized him next to you, only then did your breathing slow. “No, I’m fine…”

He struggled to not let out a massive sigh of relief at that. Your grogginess had mercifully prevented notice of the two Lokis that had momentarily been in your presence, and he shuddered to think of what your reaction may have been had you seen it.

“Bad dream?” he asked softly, his fingers resuming their bittersweet caresses against your scalp.

Again, you had found solace within his touch. Your muscles relaxed as you sank back into his embrace, and his followed suit, finding just as much consolation in giving it as you did in receiving it. He couldn’t believe how little effort it took to bring you comfort, and in contrast, he could believe how little it took for him to offer it.

“Do you ever dream you’re falling so hard that your body thinks it’s actually falling…?”

Of course, his consultation was different. Unable to slip out quietly like he’d planned, he was now staring at the daunting task of actually saying goodbye - and possibly lying to your beautiful face in the process. Once again, hesitation had cost him dearly, and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to make a timely decision ever again.

“Of course. All the time, really…”

But truthfully, a part of him was extremely grateful for the chance to be in bed with you again. He adored the sensation of your warm skin against his, just as alluring and soft as it had been the night before. Stirring up all the same desires, making him ache for an encore performance. As his fingers drifted through your hair, the scent of gardenias stimulated the memories of his first kiss between the rows of Midgardian flora his mother had grown in her garden.

During the few times he’d had lovers in the past, mornings were always his favorite; the lazy kisses, bodies moving on autopilot but not without purpose or reason. It meant that the night before wasn’t a mistake. It was intentional, it was deliberate, it was worth repeating. He was actually wanted, and the idea of bringing on the new, terrible day with a subdued brisance of ecstasy was -

Loki scolded himself for letting his mind wander from this devastating predicament. His fingers drifted through your hair once more, brushing and massaging in the hope of keeping you from noticing the confliction on his face. Should he just promise to come back, even though he didn’t know if it was possible? Should he tell you it was goodbye forever instead, and then never return even on the off chance that he could?

You let out a peaceful hum as his fingers trailed down to your neck, pressing gently into the muscles and tendons to relieve any knots they found. Every part of you practically melted underneath his touch, and you snuggled into him deeper, unable to get enough. Your leg wrapped around his again, your lips brushed against the bare skin of his chest, and your gentle fingertips trailed along the lines of his abdomen.

“I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I woke up…”

His lips curved into a sad smile. Every murmured word was like another chain of iron locked around his ankles. Loki was used to ruining everything, and he knew he still might, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger just yet. Being of genuine use was a pleasure he was rarely afforded any more, even though it was all he really wanted.

When he had purpose, he had a place to belong.

“I’m still here, darling…” Loki had to stop himself from continuing, from promising to never leave, from cursing the TVA and all that was waiting for him back there. He was never one to subscribe to the ideology of “what will be, will be” before, but that option was looking better and better with each passing moment.

You shifted on the bed, working your lips up his chest, kissing over his heart and up to his collarbone. “And I am so very grateful that you are…” you hummed against his neck.

Unable to resist the effects of desire as it flooded his veins, Loki let out a deep groan. He tilted his head back to allow you better access to his flesh, your lips soft and warm as you tasted his skin. Why couldn’t he just stay here forever? Where pleasure was given and received so freely, and without expectation?

Once you were properly kissing his neck, his hands acted of their own accord, latching on to your ass and pulling you up to straddle him completely. You must have enjoyed that, because you gasped softly and eagerly pressed your hips to his, rolling and dragging yourself against his quickly hardening cock.

Your tongue swiped at his skin while you kissed and sucked on his neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair. The exhales from his nose were heavy, his moans were urgent, shameless. His muscles tightened and stretched underneath you, and he started to forget he’d ever heard of the Time Variance Authority before. Loki gripped your ass harder, encouraging your every movement.

“Are you sure you’ve got no other place to be?” you murmured breathlessly, grinding yourself just a little harder against him, clearly wanting this just as much as he did.

His cock twitched hungrily, his fingers dug their need into your skin. Loki would gladly trade the next millennia or two in happy exchange to keep such a beautifully eager woman writhing against him. He groaned out a sound reminiscent of the word “no” before cupping your jaw and angling your mouth to his.

Deeply passionate kisses consumed you both, and your arms locked around his neck. You passed heated moans back and forth, and Loki could feel how much you wanted this as you coated his cock in arousal. He began adjusting your hips to allow him entry when you murmured one last question against his lips.

“So you’re not married? No wife or kids to get back home to?”

Loki froze, and then burst into laughter. His entire body shook as his head tilted back with eyes closed, eyebrows raised, completely flabbergasted by the idea. Married? With children?! Who could be foolish enough to do such a thing with him?

When he managed to compose himself enough to open his eyes, the forlorn expression on your face sobered him completely. Concern had pulled your eyebrows to the heavens, and your lips had parted with childlike embarrassment to both your question, and his unexpected reaction to it. He forced himself to stop laughing, to position his brow into sincerity as he caressed your cheeks with both hands.

“Darling, darling, darling…what could have possibly possessed you to ask such a thing?” he murmured cautiously, dragging his thumbs along your cheekbones. His eyes desperately searched yours, trying to see what it was that troubled you.

“Well, it’s just that…You know, I just don’t - ” you sighed, then paused to chew on the inside of your cheek.

Loki’s heart ached as you stammered along while carefully avoiding his gaze. It would have been adorable, if it hadn’t been so heartbreaking.

Of course, Loki had a sinking feeling about what you were really after, but he didn’t know how to explain himself. The only other experience he could possibly derive guidance from had happened to his brother, but even that wasn’t the same; Jane Foster had always understood Thor to be a mythological being of the cosmos from the very beginning.

As usual, his brother hadn’t needed to lie about who he was or where he was from; Thor had never once needed to endure the humiliation of trying to explain himself. And as usual, Loki found himself envious of the blind confidence that flashed like lightning through every fiber of Thor’s being. It wasn’t fair that he’d never had to prepare for situations like this.

Situations like this, where Loki definitely should have known better.

Because it wasn’t like their father had ever provided instructions on how to break the news of their otherworldly existences to their mortal lovers; in fact, Odin had explicitly forbidden the idea altogether. And as he watched the gears whirling in your mind, as they tried to put the right words in the correct order, or maybe they were trying to spool up enough energy to just blurt it out - Loki wished that he had listened to his father.

He wished that none of this had ever happened. He wished that he’d never been kidnapped by the TVA, he wished that he’d never met Brad Wolfe. He wished that he’d never decided to get back at him by seducing his date to the movie premiere. He wished the duplicate Tony Stark had never dropped the Tesseract, and he wished that he’d never picked it up at all.

Loki wished he could wake up tomorrow in the dungeons of Asgard. He wished he could experience, first-hand, the deaths of his mother, and then his father. He wished he could personally hammer that final nail into the coffin of his brother’s trust. He wished it could be his neck that Thanos had snapped.

Because even if everything worked out perfectly - even if you somehow accepted his truth, something no one else had ever managed to do, even if he managed to save the TVA and all the timelines, even if he was able to stop HWR and prevent multiversal war - in 50 years time, you would still be gone.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to watch your hair fade to gray. He would be able to count the smile lines as they grew along your cheeks, and he’d be there for every single frown, every single moment of joy. Every spot of luck, every inconvenience, every tragedy, every victory. But then he’d also have to watch it all turn to ash, and he’d have to continue on alone after you were gone.

Seeing the ones he loved come and go, watching them pass him by while he was powerless to stop it, was a burden he was simply unwilling to bear.

Loki’s attention was drawn to your lips as they started moving. The sound of your voice was muffled in his ears, and your eyes darted back and forth between staring off into the distance and making brief, heartbreaking contact with his. He could tell you were stammering and struggling to make sense of your thoughts, but he was too busy picturing your casket to even really listen.

“I just - I just don’t know anything about you, Loki!”

The exclamation was made out in defiance of yourself. It was only then that your gaze became totally affixed to his - watching, waiting, hoping for some kind of answer from the stranger in your bed.

Loki matched your anticipatedly heartsick expression with one of his own. His brows slanted upwards while his eyes grew immense with regret and remorse; for someone whose many monikers included the God of Lies, he was truthfully finding himself completely out of his depth with you. His throat tightened, sealing off his lungs from the air in your bedroom, but he somehow managed a meager smile.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to know about me, darling,” Loki replied, hoping to assuage some imaginary guilt you may have been harboring. He prayed this was all you really needed to hear, anyway. “But I can assure you, wholeheartedly, that I do not have a spouse, nor any children, that I’m hiding from you…”

You stared at him closely while he spoke, as if you were looking for any twitch or vellication that might have betrayed his answer. Once none could be found, your eyes narrowed in careful dissection of what appeared to be the truth. Loki’s heart fluttered with twinges of nervous energy and pure admiration for the only mortal he’d ever felt drawn to; he just hoped you were aware of how intelligent you were, and how much it both terrified, and impressed, him.

After another moment or two, your demeanor shifted once more, altering your calculating gaze into something much more friendly and open-minded. You smiled sweetly while bending your elbow against a pillow and propping your head against your palm. The fingertips of your other hand moved to trace light, swirling patterns against his bare chest, and Loki was sure that this time you could feel his breath hitch inside his lungs.

“Can you tell me what you do for a living then?” you murmured softly, clearly attempting a different tactic to pull his precious details out into the open.

But Loki could still see right through your methods. He was, unfortunately, quite used to being interrogated for both the things he had and had not actually done; when you’re known to the Nine Realms as the God of Mischief, everyone practically falls over themselves trying to be the one to finally catch you in the act of malfeasance, just to prove to everyone else how clever and ingenuitive they were.

And as much as it hurt to constantly be on the receiving end of such distrust and misfortune, it had also fortified and strengthened Loki’s adaptability and perseverance. But the one thing he hadn’t ever counted on was that someday he’d find himself in the bed of the most beautiful and extraordinary lover he’d ever known, who was asking him for the kind of truth he simply had no way to provide.

“It’s…complicated,” Loki answered with a patient sigh. He brought his fingertips to caress the back of your hand as it traced over his skin. The contact was so very soothing to him, and he hoped it would, at the very least, be a distraction for you.

But it didn’t work. Instead, your gaze burned hotter into his. “If there’s not much to know about you, then how complicated could it really be?”

Loki chuckled as he dragged his knuckles up the length of your forearm. “Oh, you’d be surprised…”

“Well, thankfully I love those. So I’m all ears.” You shifted closer on the bed, hooking one of your bare legs around his, flexing your foot to brush slowly along the inside of his calf. The smile on your lips was patiently, and infuriatingly, insistent.

Loki’s breath hitched yet again. His blood chilled underneath the weight of someone paying such close and affectionate attention to him; he simply didn’t know what to do with it. He never had.

Almost with a mind of their own, his eyes shifted down to his fingertips as they resumed tracing up the length of your arm. Despite everything, Loki couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you, even though he knew it was just further trapping him within a time loop of lingering and longing.

And you didn’t recoil when he touched you; that would never, ever cease to surprise, or alarm, him. Thus, a game of tug of war ensued deep within his heart - a hand of cold, gnarled fingers pulling it towards outright vitriol, and a kind, loving hand attempting to guide it towards acceptance. But both destinations were terrifying in their own ways, and neither hand was able to make any significant progress.

Loki cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours while you waited for his reply. His thoughts raced by at a trillion miles an hour. They collided and smashed together behind his signature furrowed brow and measured persona, fracturing and blending into an unrecognizable mess - one that was completely uncharacteristic, uncomfortable and unforgivable to the God of Mischief. Selecting a single and coherent idea was going to be next to impossible, and he absolutely loathed feeling this out of control over his own mind.

“Why do you need to know so badly?”

It was the only thing he could manage to say, and he immediately regretted it. The way your face fell rivaled the destruction of many great civilizations the Nine Realms had known and lost over the past millennia. Your eyes widened like the Bifrost’s beam as it opened upon the cold, barren wasteland of Jotunheim.

Your breath hitched like the innocent citizens of New York when the Chitauri Army descended from the Heavens. Your formerly warm skin turned colder than Thor’s expression when the last flames of hope that Loki might still turn things around died on his features.

But Loki knew that to be an impossible endeavor, if your anguish was to be any sort of indication. He’d never be able to turn things around, not really. He was very well accustomed to judgment, and of condemnation - to conviction without trial, and to criticism without consideration. They were the necessary bedfellows that came with his title.

And they were comfortable, familiar. They allowed him to stand defiant in the face of total and complete reckoning, and they also saved him from the problem of trying, and inevitably failing, to be better than anyone could ever hope for him to be.

But the look on your face right now was something else entirely. Your eyebrows arched upwards, recreating the highest precipice of the Asgardian palace - a home that wasn’t ever really his, one that was built with shimmering gold and the most rubious of blood. Along with the emerald of your sheets, those were the only colors he really knew how to paint with.

It was honestly shocking how much your expression truly rattled him; he felt like a child again, cowering behind his mother’s skirts because he hadn’t yet figured out how to talk his way out of whatever trouble he’d found himself in. Except this time, there was no Frigga to do the talking for him. There were no skirts, or titles, or utter defiance for him to hide behind - it was just you, and him, laid bare and mute underneath the silk sheets of your bed.

Loki was sure that he’d ruined everything…again. What he didn’t know, however, was why your reaction was one of hurt. He had seen the spark dim in your eyes and he could feel you recoiling even as your mouth opened and closed, in slow-motion and without sound, as you attempted to answer his slightly cruel, albeit fair, question.

Why did you need to know so badly? Why was he starting to fear that this may be more than a passing dalliance to you? Why did that warm his heart with feelings of worthiness, while simultaneously cracking it under the weight of all that responsibility?

So maybe it would be better to let that question fester into an open wound of resentment, instead of trying to reassure, or deflect, or explain. Despite being all too aware of his own shortcomings, Loki had no idea how to broach the subject himself; that was something that was always done for him. He’d never had to suffer the drought of no one to remind him of his repeated failings before, and thus, never really learned how to bring them up on his own. Where would he even start explaining?

Not to mention, this might make leaving easier. He could just stand up and get dressed, taking the time to actually button and buckle and fasten the Midgardian ensemble he’d conjured just for you, while he repeated the question and made you feel like a fool for wanting to know him better. Didn’t you know he was just using you? That this wasn’t ever going to be serious and that it was just for the game, for the chase, for the sex?

Loki knew how to be cruel. It was the only thing he was better at than being a massive, colossal force of chaos and destruction - and he’d learned it from the very best. Callosity was like breathing to him; he didn’t feel alive unless he was driving a dagger into someone else’s heart. And then afterwards mocking them so they couldn’t see that he was bleeding even more than they were.

That was easy. It was familiar, it was safe.

It was home. It was his home.

Finally accepting the inevitable, Loki let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t carry on with this imposture any longer, it was too risky. You could find out what he really was, or you could simply not believe his explanation at all.

Loki raked a nervous hand through his dark and tangled curls as he straightened his back away from your headboard. He swallowed hard, steeling his expression into something far more neutral than how he felt, and then he forced himself to finally use his favorite dagger of betrayal once more.

“Listen, darling…I - ”

A sharp, piercing ring suddenly echoed across the flat, and behind it, followed a penetrative silence. Its air was tense, suffocating the rest of his sentence and making it perish on his tongue. The sound of metal striking metal in that brief and frenzied rhythm was unexpected, but the Asgardian still was able to recognize the source of the noise as an innocent and harmless doorbell. He remained unreactive, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.

Your response, however, was different; you’d practically jumped out of your skin, clearly not expecting your own doorbell to ring at such an imperative moment. Your heart beat a rapid cadence inside your chest, and there was just a tiny bit of air lodged in your throat.

But other than a vigorous heartbeat and your lungs heaving for more oxygen, you didn’t move. You said nothing, you did nothing - you just stared at him like it was his fault the doorbell had rung.

Sensing your need for a push, Loki reached forward, gently brushing his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “Darling, were you expecting additional visitors?”

Your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice, and your eyelids blinked once, twice, three times as you processed his latest question. Your brow raised and then furrowed as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand, your eyes desperately trying to decipher the lines and numbers and what they meant when illuminated together.

Loki wasn’t sure if you were still exhausted from the very late night you’d spent with him, or if his first question had rattled you that much. But the look on your face was honestly so adorable that he almost forgot that he’d been only seconds away from saying goodbye forever.

“Darling?” he murmured again just before the doorbell rang again, this time in a short series of three bursts to indicate the visitor’s urgency.

And this time, it suddenly clicked in your mind that it was your responsibility to actually answer the door. You quickly mumbled excuses as you popped upright, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and practically gliding across the bedroom to throw something on.

Once again, desire roared to life in his veins, and he was unable to stop himself from admiring your naked form as you moved. As your muscles and tendons and ligaments all stretched and contracted with such supernal purpose, as your delicate hands reached for the silken, phthalo green fabric draped across the bench at the foot of your bed. Practiced fingers worked quickly to push both arms through the robe’s sleeves and situate the collar around your neck as you continued heading for the door.

Each movement was stunning and comforting, and Loki watched as though he were in the presence of a divinity so healing it could easily cure him of everything that had ever aggrieved, bruised or lacerated him. Watching you quite literally took his breath away; never before had the God of Mischief been so entranced, so mesmerized, so captivated by the simple act of getting dressed.

He didn’t even mind when you pulled the panels closed around your waist, obfuscating the curves and swells of your thighs and hips and torso. Because he’d already memorized your form; it was etched so profoundly into his mind that he wasn’t sure how deep it actually went.

And without even trying to, you answered every question he’d ever had. It made him want to ask even more questions, like why was the sky blue? How many stars could you count before you finally lost track? Would you object to ignoring the doorbell and having breakfast in bed with him instead?

Loki barely registered another triplicate of harsh doorbell rings, but he was aware of you disappearing through the door frame with an exasperated shout to the mystery caller.

“Yes, yes! I’m coming, I’m coming…”

Your bedroom was noticeably colder after you left; your bed, freezing. Loki swallowed hard, his lonely gaze falling upon the heap of his wrinkled suit, pulled off in a hurry the evening before and discarded carelessly on the floor. Somewhere in the pockets of his trousers lay the TemPad, ready to transport him back to the TVA and all its problems - both the ones he’d already caused, and the future problems still waiting to be revealed.

Loki pulled the sheets away and swung his legs over the edge of your bed. His head hung low, shoulders dropped and tendrils of the darkest night hanging in his eyes, blending into his perception of what you’d left behind. Down the hallway, he could hear you speaking to the visitor through the flat’s intercommunication system, blissfully unaware of the plight distressing the God you’d just spent the night with.

How did his life turn into this? All he’d wanted was a chance to breathe, to let his muscles finally relax. To possibly let his body finally heal after all the horrors he’d endured so far. But instead, he found himself locked in the sham of a fascist organization, and the only way to escape it was to dismantle it from the inside. That, in turn, somehow and inexplicably, had led him to all of this. It had brought him right here to you.

This room, and him inside of it, was now a barren, withering moon; a lifeless satellite, drifting aimlessly in the dark without its shining star to tether itself to. His sun was so far away now, unlocking the front door to her universe and happily greeting her unexpected visitor. He could feel the warmth of your light by the smile in your voice, in the way you laughed in excitement from whatever the visitor had to say. The sound was so alluring, beckoning him closer like the call of the most tempting siren.

Weary muscles groaned as Loki pushed himself up to standing. He desperately didn’t want to go, but time was running out; any moment now you’d return to the bedroom, and he’d have to say goodbye face-to-face. That was a scene he knew he did not have the strength to withstand, not after everything else he’d already lost. He’d much rather just run away again.

His feet shuffled forward, and Loki reluctantly retrieved his trousers from the floor. They were heavier than they should have been, what with the tremendous weight of the multiverse conveniently stored inside the compact and portable device hidden in his pocket. It was too much responsibility; how much easier this would all be if he could just forsake it and stay here instead.

Stalling, Loki chose to ignore the option of spellwork to get dressed. He thought about intentionally smashing the TemPad to destroy it entirely, and take away the option of leaving altogether - but instead he slipped one foot through the trouser leg.

Out in the kitchen, you were saying farewell to your visitor. Loki was dying to know who it was, and why they dropped by. He wondered if he could ever manage to blend into your life; could he charm your friends? Your parents? Could he actually handle having a job, and paying taxes, and pretending to go to the doctor once a year for a check-up?

It couldn’t be worse than spending his youth trying to prove himself a worthy son to a father who would never see him as such. But could he stand manually getting dressed every morning? Could he really go that long without his seidr?

Loki slipped the other foot through its trouser leg. He thought about X-5, and how eager he was to return to this timeline, to this life. Was it a life with you he wanted, or did he just want to be loved after spending so much time in a place that had never once valued the individual experience?

The front door to your flat was closed, and then locked. His trousers now buttoned and zipped, Loki picked up his white shirt and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He thought about Mobius and his incredible self-restraint, how he was somehow easily managing to ignore the potentials of his own timeline.

What if it’s something good? Do you think I wanna have that rattling around in here?

It was as admirable as much as it was infuriating. If Mobius ever knew what he was considering, if Mobius ever discovered that Loki wasn’t giving his complete and undivided attention to the more pressing issue of the Temporal Loom, then he would be so impressively furious. He’d be so disappointed, he’d call Loki expedient and selfish and narcissistic.

But didn’t Loki deserve something good for a change? He’d once had just about anything one could hope for, even with a disdainful shadow hanging over his shoulder. How much more would he have to lose before his selfishness was to be labeled justified, understandable, warranted?

A long life of clinging to discarded scraps had made him selfish. But it wasn’t sickness, it was necessity.

Of course he’d rather stay with you. Here, he was valued and appreciated. He was allowed to feel good, and dare he say it - wanted, even. Something he’d never once experienced in over a thousand years of tortured existence. Who wouldn’t be clinging to a liferaft while drowning in a vast ocean of nothingness?

In the kitchen, the faucet was running, and the sound of cabinets opening and then closing echoed down the hallway. You were starting your day with or without him, it seemed. But that was to be expected, thanks to his earlier, thoughtless question, and it was a feeling he should have become used to by now. As Loki caught his reflection in the mirror above your bureau, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Only a few weeks had passed since he’d escaped from the clutches of Thanos and the Black Order, and this was the first time he’d gazed upon himself since the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. He was slimmer than he remembered. But instead of that gauntness sharpening his features as one would expect, Loki saw himself fading away within the hunger of yearning. His Godly features were dulling before his very own eyes, seeming to drift away into abstraction while he got dressed in a mortal suit and tie.

Yet again, Loki was pretending to be something he wasn’t. That was all he’d ever done, instead of determining what it was that he wanted or forging his own path forward. He’d either do his best at what was expected of him, or he’d intentionally do the complete opposite of it, just to punish them for never asking what he wanted for himself.

The irony was he’d never be able to answer that question. He simply didn’t know what he wanted. Even now, the TVA and all its people were both on the verge of total annihilation, and here he was wishing he could just crawl back into bed with a human. No matter which option he chose, the guilt of not picking the other might very well eat him away from the inside.

But what if he didn’t have to choose between those two paths at all?

For the first time in his life, Loki could truly create his own destiny. There was no one pulling the strings anymore, no pre-fabricated tragedy for him to obediently succumb to. He could button up his shirt as fast or as slowly as he wanted, he could snake his feet into his socks and shoes, or forgo them entirely. He could join you in the kitchen, slip his arms around your waist, and he could promise to return soon.

He could mean that promise, and it was possible that he could fulfill it too.

Moving hastily, Loki finished getting dressed. He tucked the dress shirt into his trousers and he retrieved his tie from the floor, slipping its middle into his pocket and leaving the ends to dangle down the length of his thigh. He picked up his jacket from the floor, folded it neatly over his arm, and then he began his approach into the hallway with his chin held higher than it’d been in a very long time.

He could do this, he could make this work. He could have his Key Lime pie, and he could eat it too.

Successfully ignoring the horned candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf, he instead admired your displayed photographs as he moved down the hallway. Your smile was so joyous and bright in all of them, but especially in the ones where you made goofy faces with your friends. When you dressed up for holidays with your family. While standing in front of that treasured crepe myrtle in the backyard of your childhood home, the one that clearly meant so very much to you.

There was nothing in your past that indicated a miserable future, only the deep-seated roots of pleasant memories. Loki hoped that would be enough to keep you safe until he fixed the Loom, but he felt optimistic about his chances as he approached the kitchen; he was going to keep you from falling into the clutches of addiction, and he was going to save the Temporal Loom at the same time. There was no one around to decide that he wasn’t allowed to any longer.

If there was only one true thing in the entirety of the multiverse, it was that he despised being told that he couldn’t do something.

And afterwards, he would go to the Æsir to request a spell. If necessary, he’d return to Asgard to search their libraries, and he’d go to New York and interrogate the so-called Sorcerer Supreme. He’d tear apart the entirety of the Nine Realms if he had to - all in search of a way to allow you to live as long as he would, just so he’d never have to figure out how to say goodbye.

After rounding the hallway’s corner, he found you were standing in front of the kitchen stove, carefully measuring out spoonfuls of dark brown granules and methodically pouring them into a tall, silver pot. Your eyes were bleary, your movements sluggish but not without purpose. But in that early morning light, while wearing nothing but a silk robe, Loki found you entirely and completely magnificent.

“Would you like some coffee before you go?”

Your question was soft and polite. There was an air of distance to it that Loki simply couldn’t blame you for, but it also wasn't anything he couldn’t fix. He flashed his best, most impeccable smile as he laid his suit jacket over a barstool and seated himself on the other.

“Yes, that would be lovely, my dear, thank you.”

On the other side of the counter, you tried to hide the shy smile that crept across your lips, but it was impossible for him to miss. He grinned in return, thinking how lucky he might be to someday get to see that smile every morning.

Shifting his attention, Loki watched closely as you quietly assembled the rest of the contraption before placing it on the range. He may have been slightly out of touch when it came to Midgardian habits, but he did understand coffee to be of great and immeasurable importance to humans. He’d even grown fond of it himself, after several expeditions in his youth to visit each of the Nine Realms.

And he could tell this intricate procedure of yours was dutifully performed every single morning, regardless of how late you’d been up the night before. That it granted you comfort, and just the smallest bit of control amidst the rampant chaos of the world. So he watched carefully, intending to memorize the steps so that someday he could be able to perform this task for you instead.

“Who was at the door earlier?” he asked softly, eager to avoid a return to the previous, more unpleasant conversation you’d almost had before. The one that no longer mattered. “Was it another gentleman caller hoping to have coffee with you?”

You laughed and shook your head while removing a match from the cardboard box. “No. It was just the doorman, if you must know…”

“Doormen still drink coffee, do they not?” Loki teased, his eyes sparkling and his shoulders shrugging innocently.

You struck the match along the textured side of the matchbox. The tip ignited flawlessly, momentarily erupting into a wild, bulbous flame before settling into a controlled burn.

“I mean, if I was your doorman, I’d certainly be up here to have coffee with you every morning…”

“Oh, would you now?” you murmured with a smile, shifting over to the stovetop and carefully adjusting the burner’s dial. You brought the lit match just close enough to ignite the burner, and then blew it out. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be a very good doorman if you were only focused on opening and closing my door…”

This time it was Loki’s turn to laugh. He shifted on the barstool, his long legs splayed wild and leaning closer to you with his elbows on the counter. “Yes, I suppose I’d probably be dismissed pretty quickly, wouldn’t I?”

“Mmhmm. And then you’d have to go to doorman remedial classes to restore your honor,” you grinned playfully while turning on the faucet to run cool water over the extinguished match, just to be certain that it was out completely. “That would be so humiliating, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, and we can’t have that, can we?” Loki replied, tilting his head curiously. He found your behaviors to be quite intriguing; every action had a specific purpose, a unique rhythm to them. Every item had a designated place, a proper condition that it needed to exist as. You were clearly a meticulously neat person, and he thought it was terribly endearing.

After tossing the thoroughly drenched match into the trash bin, you then pulled a folded cloth out of an overhead cupboard, let it soak under the running water, and then shut the faucet off.

“So, tell me. What is it that exemplary doormen do while they’re on the job? Perhaps I just need a lesson or two…”

Your arm swung in wide circles over the countertop, collecting any spilled coffee grounds with the damp cloth and guiding them into the sink.

“Oh, he was just bringing up the script that was dropped off while I was out last night.” You nodded towards a neat stack of correspondence beside him on the counter. At the very bottom was a large, cream-colored packet with the words “PERSONAL and CONFIDENTIAL” stamped in red ink at each corner.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of him.”

You nodded in agreement. “Apparently he was very excited when he arrived at work this morning and saw it. He just couldn’t wait to bring it up here.”

“I see. And this doorman - is he a strapping young lad?” Loki grinned. It was hard to say if he just wanted to make you smile again, or if he was actually trying to suss out any potential competition for your affections. “A dashing gentleman, eager to impress a beautiful woman such as yourself?”

The countertops now wiped clean, you made an amused and befuddled face as you began to rinse out the washcloth in the sink. “Oh, my God, no! He’s my father’s age, I’ve known him since I was a child.”

Loki’s smile shifted into warmth, his heart full with the reassurance that there were so many people out there who loved and cared about you. He wondered if you knew how lucky you were, and what his life might have looked like if he had been afforded the same luxury.

But as it was, everything seemed to be like it should. The vessel on the range was steadily heating up, thanks to the light blue flames licking up its sides from underneath. Your kitchen was spotless, he had a beautiful companion at his side, and for once, Loki wasn’t being hunted by an enemy hellbent on either killing him or ruining his life again.

“I went to school with his daughter, and she’s still my best friend. So he thinks of me as like a second daughter,” you continued, wringing out the excess water from the cloth and draping it neatly over the faucet’s neck.

“And what about this script made your second father so excited?” Loki asked, trying not to think about the fact that he’d once had two fathers himself, until he’d murdered his biological one. “Is it for a role you hope to get, or for a role you already have?”

You shifted to open another cupboard behind you. Inside, neat and organized stacks of matching dishware of the crispest white awaited your selection. You pulled out two sets of mugs and a saucer for each before turning back towards him. “Oh, it’s for - ”

An unexpected, and loud, electronic chirp interrupted your answer.

You both froze in place, but for very different reasons - your eyebrows raised, and your eyes darted around the flat as though you weren’t sure that you had actually heard the startling noise or not. You certainly had no idea what had caused it, and it showed in your expression.

Loki froze because he knew the sound had come from the TemPad hidden inside his pocket.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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thewriterg · 1 year ago

Text

why do i cry?

A/n; more headcanons because yay… ermmm plz don’t think that just bc Simon is white this isn’t poc reader friendly coming from a black reader and writer —angstober day;19—

warning(s); dad!simon x daughter!reader, description of self harm, scars, mention of family issues, and language

dad simon! who rushes you into his flat when he looks at your form standing in front of him taking his hand from the waistband of his sweatpants that secured his hand gun to his hip pulling you into chest worrying over your unscathed body as far as the eye reacted questions falling from his tongue quicker than he could catch “what you doing ‘ere sweet girl” he muttered the plain balaclava that rested on his face now gone

dad simon! who’s dead cold heart beats a little quicker when he sees you trying to stop tears from slipping down and flooding your face before he takes your bag sitting it against the arm of his older than age couch before lifting your form into his experienced arms walking you to his bedroom that was almost empty except for essentials like most of the place

dad simon! who cuddles you his body acting as a space heater to regulate your cooling temps rubbing a hand up and down you back his ears perking up when you whispered barley audible to him but he heard nonetheless “can I live with you?” the blonde squeezed his eyes shut in response before resting a kiss to your forehead “your alright you can stay”

dad simon! Who watches you sleep from his door frame curled up while his duvets swallowed you whole shutting the door with a gentle ‘click’ pulling his phone from his pocket scrolling through his contact until he got to your mothers number typing on it as you leaned against is island counter rubbing a hand through his hair the usual cool and collected demeanor he carried no longer around when it came to you, when it came to his world.

dad simon! Who watches you wither away the next days your with him he could see the battle of depression you were in he’d been there himself too many times to count and hated that you had to experience it the little no appetite, no energy to take care of yourself which he had no problem doing for you, when you wake up on time but lay in bed until your late.

dad simon! Who at one point bulldozed you out of bed a soft threat of force feeding you falling from his lips he hate it got to that point he felt like he sounded like his father… no he said it because he cared about your wellbeing not because you were ‘waisting food he put on the table’

dad simon! who calls out to you when you finally finish a decent portion of your meal stopping you in your tracks your hand resting on your his bedroom door while he motions for you to take a seat with on the couch and you do reluctantly sitting across from him your knee bouncing anxiously and reaches to set his palm on it stopping your fidgeting

dad simon! “what’s going on baby girl? You have to tell me what’s the matter so I can help” you can tell he’s trying to soften his voice even if it is still has that gruff underlying tone but he’s trying and you feel even more guilty for intruding now your throat beginning to close up before putting your hands on your face and you can hear his footsteps expecting the couch to dip under another weight but it had never happened until you felt another palm on the back of yours

dad simon! who frowns as you sob out a “don’t be mad” and even after he reassures you your still not a hundred percent making him swear and promise over everything under the sun and he balances trying not to rush you but also urging you on “I do this thing… where I hurt myself” You sniffle and Simon’s world is crashing down onto him he feels his mouth open to speak he closes it wets his lips with his tongue before opening it again and he stumbles over his words before taking a breath and continuing “what do you mean you hurt yourself? Hurt yourself how?”

dad simon! Who watches you shuffle above him meeting his eyes quickly looking away like a scared animal in the wild before you pulled out a lighter one he recognized from his night stand with a skull on the the front its jaw looked as if it was cracked agape when you opened the lid and Simon struggles not to choke

dad simon! “And I burn sometimes, I’m- I’m sorry dad, I’m so sorry” The blonde holds you into his chest and rocks you gently tears falling down his face that he tried to squeeze away the pain worse than any bullet to his chest or hunters knife to his spleen

dad simon! “It’s okay, it’s alright love, im very proud of you for telling me” he whispered into you hair kissing the crown of your head crying until the sun rises

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cyupie · 3 months ago

Text

✦ publicity stunt

pro-hero!neito monoma x pro-hero!male!reader

fluffy! yay!

word count: 1.8k

second person pov + purposeful all lowercase + not proof read

a/n: reader's quirk is known as "kickstart" and functions as follows: "user can generate bursts of kinetic energy and discharge them through their legs, allowing them to move at extreme speeds, leap high into the air, and kick with incredible force." taken from this reddit thread. reader is also kind of sassy ....

you find yourself panting as you run through the streets, chasing down a group of robbers. the only thought going through your head is how much you hate speedster quirks as you make a sharp turn and nearly fall over. a bolt of electricity rushes through you as you prepare to lunge forward - that is until you feel someone hit you over the head and launch themself in your place. “what the fuck!?” you find yourself crying out as you land roughly on the ground. obnoxious laughter fills the air as the perpetrator pursues the criminals and suddenly you’re far too aware of who it is.

phantom thief, or neito monoma.

each of the robbers are taken down with an annoying efficiency and skill as he uses your quirk and takes the all of the glory for himself. all you can do is groan as you get up and kick yourself off the ground in their direction, making sure each of them are out for the count as phantom thief stands there with this annoying grin on his face. he looks down at you; you narrow your eyes at him.

“little bunny rabbit grumpy that his thunder got stolen?” he mocks, poking your chest with a pointed finger as he looks down at you. you think you want to snap his finger as you push him away.

“i’m not a ‘bunny’ and i’m not grumpy,” you argue. “you didn’t need to hit me over the head the way you did, asshole.”

his dumb stupid face and his dumb stupid grin don’t waver as he leans back, exaggerated movements and poses that are almost as idiotic as he is. there’s not enough words to describe how utterly aggravating he can be. monoma tilts his head at you, “with a quirk like that, you might as well be a rabbit. plus, i can only raise my rank with flawless stunts like that; not like i’d expect someone like you to understand.”

the way he flips his hair and looks down at you makes you feel like you’re going to explode. you wish you could legally use your quirk on another pro-hero without repurcussions so long as they were an insufferable little prick like monoma was.

“great. so it’s not even to like.. be a good person - a good hero, you just.. care about rankings?” you end up questioning, gesturing to the now tied up criminals. your face is scrunched up in both irritation and confusion. why become a hero if you’re going to be more pre-occupied with the public’s opinion of you rather than actual hero work? it didn’t make sense.

“i’m almost offended you’d imply that,” he scoffs. “i don’t just care about the rankings. but i know if it stays up and the attention on me, i can keep doing my hero work because of it.”

that makes sense. mostly. at least you can respect him for caring about his job, but your head still feels like it’s spinning from how hard you hit the ground earlier. you point up at him, “it still doesn’t explain why you had to hit me over the head.”

“oh, that? i just wanted an excuse to hit you.”

and just like that, any respect earnt was immediately lost.

you find yourself massaging your temple as the news reporters and crowds start piling in, already shoving microphones and cameras in your faces with question after question. “phantom thief! was chasing down the criminals difficult!? did stealing h/n’s quirk take a toll on you!?” one reporter yelled as monoma put on a facade of friendliness. he smiles - the rest of his face remains flat, otherwise - as he leans into the microphone.

“it was really nothing; if anything, chasing these petty robbers down seemed more troublesome for our little h/n here,” he laughs and you’re sending a death glare his way. you hope the cameras catch it - and immediately, you regret that thought as the cameras actually begin pointing at you.

the chorus of questions start streaming in: is that true? how does it feel that phantom thief can use your quirk better than you? did phantom thief frequently copy your quirk during your time at u.a.? is there any reason you were struggling today, h/n? what’s your relationship with the phantom thief?

that last question makes you perk up. your eyes sparkle with devilish intent - monoma recognizes it all too well - as you smile at the reporters. he feels like he’s going to regret having chosen to mess with you today as you start talking. “oh, isn’t he a sweetheart?” you hum and monoma feels his face light up because that was not the direction he was expecting from you. he wants to tell you to cut it out, to shut up for both of your sakes’ - but, god, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even the tiniest bit curious what else you were going to say about him. “he’s just so worried about me all the time, i can’t even go a minute without him clinging to my side.”

okay, now it was time to stop you; he chimes in, “ha, very funny, h/n. actually-”

gasps from the reporters holding the cameras interrupt him. it was funny how he seemed to almost forget how the press operates - how rumors spread quicker than a forest fire.

“how long have you and h/n been friends?” “are you and h/n dating?” “have you two been hiding your relationship from the public?” “you’re gay!?” “is what h/n said true?” they question and question and question and it feels like he’s the one in police custody with how they’re interrogating him and analyzing every movement of his.

monoma’s trying to calm them down with one-word answers-that-aren’t-technically-answers as you watch on in amusement. you bring a hand to your face as you stifle a laugh; he’s trying so hard to maintain a cool, suave personality in front of the cameras but the way he’s stumbling over his words and flushing isn’t helping his case. “really- h/n and i aren’t dating, just really good friends,” he swears to the camera. the way he’s clasping his hands together makes it look like he’s begging for them to believe it.

they don’t.

“since our graduation from u.a. - come on, dear, don’t be so shy.” you tease and you swear he’s somehow even redder than he was before. you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or from being way too flustered or if it’s both but you’re having a grand old time as the attention now shifts to both of you. smoothly, you place your hands on his shoulders and lean into him as you answer their questions, “we try not to let it get in the way of our hero work, but he was in the area and couldn’t help but check in on me. it just so happened i was in a pursuit; he’s really such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

he splutters. he’s looking at the cameras and then at you and then the cameras - the way monoma is staring wide-eyed and flushed only seems to further prove your statement. “c’mon hun, can’t you give them a smile?” you coo and suddenly he remembers where he is and who he is.

for a moment, his mind lingers on how nice it feels for you to call him petnames like that.

monoma masks any unnecessary feelings - he’ll deal with those later - and puts that suave smile on again for all to see. “i tend to get carried away when i notice h/n could be in danger,” he feigns worry as he turns to you; monoma moves your hands off his shoulders and into his own so quickly you’re almost taken aback. “you’re okay, aren’t you, bunny?”

oh, he’s in for it now.

you pinch at his cheek - an almost loving gesture, if it weren’t for how roughly you were doing so - and try to smile with some semblance of a worried boyfriend. “aren’t you adorable?” you mock and monoma looks like he’s going to bite your hand off as you pull it away from him. “i’m perfectly fine thanks to you.”

he brings the back of your clasped hands to his lips and plants a soft kiss to them. “only for you, mon chéri,” monoma finds himself answering. even as you hear the camera shutters clicking in the crowd, you falter at how natural it feels to have monoma with you like this. he has no reason to be such a sweet-talker.

“so cute!” someone in the crowd cries out; your gaze meets monoma’s and he’s staring at you with so much love in his eyes you almost forget you were just trying to mess with him.

have you ever noticed how pretty monoma’s eyes were, before? they look so.. so…

stupid! you interrupt your own thoughts, shaking your head and pulling your hand away from the other with an overdramatic huff. it was your turn to blush as he wrapped an arm around you and continued answering questions with ease. how does he do that? this casual intimacy? you two are barely friends - much less dating - and now that you’ve decided to fuck with him, he’s the one that’s fine with it!?

he’s almost amused at how well you fit inside his arms before he’s trying to dismiss the thought entirely - you’re trying your best to calm yourself as he holds you close. monoma almost finds himself enjoying your proximity. almost.

“would you two be willing to kiss for the camera?” a voice chimes in from the crowd.

you’re still trying to process the question as you look between monoma and this small-time photographer holding up their camera with unimaginable excitement. before you can muster a no, monoma answers first with a, “sure!”

wait, what?

he’s already pulled you into a soft kiss with his hand on your chin. monoma’s touch is so gentle, it’s almost tender - loving, even. you find yourself strangely feeling like something’s missing as he pulls away. the way his lips slotted against yours or how he seemed so caring with how he did it; you’re sure he’s had practice.

you don’t push the feeling away this time.

“thank you so much,” the photographer calls back out and you’re reminded what this is for - publicity. you almost feel embarrassed as you turn away from monoma with a horribly flushed face. why did you let yourself think that this was anything more than that? publicity, publicity, publicity. that’s all monoma cares about. that kiss didn’t mean anything no matter how nice it felt!

you miss how pleased monoma looks with himself and the lop-sided, annoying smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

“well, i’ll see you later, h/n,” he hums and starts to walk away and you miss the warmth of his hand in yours nearly immediately. “stay safe, honey!”

and he’s walking away to make sure those robbers are safely in police custody, leaving you to the vultures that are the press. monoma hopes nobody notices the way his heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. he thinks he’ll see if he can get your number from kendo when he’s off-patrol.

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago

Text

Only for You (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected p in v, popping someone’s cherry, dirty language, swearing.

Word count: 3.8k worth of filth and fluff, yay

A/N: I wanna lay on his chest fr (also his fucking hands just-) I’m fucking sorry but I just realized that I have never written Steven Grant smut, holy shit. Here it is, soft, first-time sex with Steven <3

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. “Don’t laugh Steven! I'm not scared of sex, I’m just saying that there are other things that I want in a relationship too.” you pout, elbowing Steven square in the stomach.

“It's not like I know how good sex is anyway.” You grumble as Steven chuckled.

You and Steven were curled up on the couch, a forgotten movie playing softly on your laptop. Your head was settled comfortably on his chest, a fluffy blanket over the both of you. If anyone had walked into Steven’s flat then, they would see the picture of your perfect version of a couple.

Except, well, you and Steven weren’t together.

You and him had been watching a movie when a particularly sexy scene came about and you moved to bury your face into Steven’s chest in embarrassment. Part of you had just wanted to stay there, all warm and comfortable but Steven had started to laugh, and is now prodding you slightly about your abstinence from the act of fornication.

He also had been nagging you about how you ditched your Tinder date to instead come to Steven’s flat bearing gifts of wine and chocolates.

“What are the other things you’d want then?” your best friend pushed on, sitting up slightly to close the laptop and place it on the coffee table before gazing down at you.

You shrunk slightly under his gaze, suddenly feeling shy.

Despite being the sweetest human being on the planet, sometimes when he was really into a conversation, Steven would have a sparkle in his eyes that made you feel slightly intoxicated. The first time that happened, you were surprised with the way your body reacted to him, in a fluid way, as if it was totally in tune with the nature that he had presented to you.

Forget sex. You had never been in a romantic relationship. In fact, Steven’s probably the first person in this big blue world who has been this close to you. You cherished him and held him oh so close to your heart, but that made you fall so incredibly hard for him.

But Steven was older, more mature and probably had more experience than you could ever uncover. Why would he want someone as inexperienced and young as you?

Instead you choose to avoid his eyes, staring at your hands that fisted the fluffy blanket.

“You’d think it's stupid.” you mumbled.

“Now, love, I never in a million years would think that. Come on, let's hear it then.” he urged, his hand finding yours for comfort.

You hold his hand in both of yours by his fingers, his hand comically bigger than yours. The weight of his hand in yours was reassuring and safe. You found yourself tracing his life line as you stared into space.

“I’d want them to dance with me in the rain even if both of us have two left feet. I’d want to go on long walks with them and talk about the stupidest things in the world. I’d want to hold their hand and run errands. I’d want them to sing me soft, made up songs, or read me poetry. I’d want them to make me smile even during my darkest days. I’d want them to just hold me in their arms and whisper sweet fluffy things. I’d want them to be my safe place, my comfort person. I’d want someone who can heal me, Steven.” your voice breaking a little when you got to the end of your list.

The both of you sat in silence for a while. You turned your focus entirely to the beat of Steven’s heart and the way his body was pressed to yours. You continued to toy with his fingers, brushing your thumb over a small scar over and over. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want him to fulfill all that you had just said.

“Is that too much to ask for, or am I going to end up being an eternal virgin, eternally alone?” you laughed a little as you said it.

“Would you like me to try?” Steven whispered suddenly, the words spilling out of him in one breath.

At that very moment, you froze. You felt as if the world ceased to exist at the sound of his words.

Steven took a deep breath before continuing.

“You have already given me the opportunity to know you, in the best way possible, as your best friend. Darling, I’ll let you step on my feet while we dance in the rain. I’ll be your book of stupid facts while we walk around London aimlessly. I’ll never let go of your hand and I’ll sing you songs of my love for you and read you poetry about your pure beauty. I’ll make sure that beautiful smile doesn’t leave your face and I’m not a doctor, but I swear to you, on my life, that I’ll do my best to heal you.” He says as his free hand lightly runs up and down your arm.

“And I hate to be so frank, but I’m already holding you in my arms and I’m trying my best to whisper sweet things to you. Besides, if you didn’t feel safe, I doubt you’d still be slotted next to me holding my hand in yours.” He simply stated, as if he was proving a point.

You didn’t realize you were breathing rapidly until your eyes caught the movement of your chest. You licked your lips, attempting to say something back to Steven.

“Fuck.” was all that you managed instead.

“I could do that very well too if you like.” Steven said without missing a beat.

“YOU COCKY BASTARD!” You wriggled away from him and laughed, sitting up slightly to watch as a smile bloomed on his rosy face.

“You’d do that for me?” you whispered, the second the laughter died down.

“I’ll do anything for you, only for you.” He reassured as his eyes searched yours, bringing a hand up to cup your face. “I want to be the constant in your life, so, my darling, would you like me to try?”

“Yes, please.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, before feeling yourself pulled close to him.

Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring into dark orbs that you had constantly found yourself lost in on a daily basis.

“Can I kiss you and show you how hard I’ll try then?” Steven whispered, his eyes drowning you in his own sanctuary.

“Yes, Steven.” was the last thing you heard yourself say before you lost yourself in him.

Steven’s lips were soft and forgiving against yours as your mind scrambled to comprehend that you were having your first kiss. Your hand shook as you tried to find purchase, settling to grab Steven’s t-shirt. His nose slotted perfectly against yours and you could smell his aftershave and feel his stubble against your skin.

You could tell Steven was trying hard to take it slow but as you straddle his lap, he brought his hand to your hip to push you further into him. The friction made you gasp, allowing Steven to lick into your mouth, creating a symphony of sounds from the both of you.

The both of you stopped for air, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from him, choosing to breathe the air that he heavily breathed out.

“How was that?” Steven asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears.

“For my first? I couldn’t have asked for more.” you hissed slightly as Steven still kept an iron grip on your hip to push you against him, feeling the dynamic shift between the two of you.

You kissed Steven with all your last might and you could hear and feel a deep groan erupt from him as you pressed yourself against him, the wine you had edging you on. He kissed you back with equal fervor, as if he couldn’t get enough of you by the second. You ran your hands through his curls tugging them slightly causing him to whimper. You pressed yourself down on him, hard, realizing that you relished in the sound he made when you tugged on his hair. You could feel him, hard against you and a part of you felt absolutely victorious but the other part that was unsure slowly started to win over.

“I’ve never done this before, Steven.” you whisper as Steven moans, and you could tell that he was holding back from rutting his hips against you.

“That’s alright, love. Do you want to stop?” Steven says with a worried tone in his voice.

You gazed at Steven, at the state that you had put him in. His curls were astray and his lips were parted. Lust had blown his pupils wide open and you swear you could see a galaxy in them from your vantage point.

“No, I don’t want to stop. Not with you. Could you show me?” you plead.

“Let's take things slow,” Steven soothed you, slowly lifting you off him and laying you on your back. “I’m going to eat you out, love, but I need you to promise me that you’ll stop me if it gets too much for you.” he said while his large fingers hooked the waistband of the sweats that you stole from him.

Your face burned furiously at his words, not expecting the forwardness. You wanted to cross your legs and pull away but this was Steven. Your Steven. He would keep you safe.

“I promise.” You whispered back, your heart thumping in your chest.

Steven kissed your inner thigh, pushing your thighs apart to reveal your clothed cunt as you propped yourself onto your elbows to watch him make a mess of you. Your legs hung limp on either side of him, and you felt like a rag doll, absolutely powerless.

He started lightly marking your inner thighs, his tongue soothing out the evidence of his ministrations everytime your moans got a little too out of control. You swirl your hips, not content that your cunt wasn’t getting what it had been initially promised. Feeling a little bolder, your hands flew to his curls as you tried to direct him to what you really needed.

You felt yourself go dizzy as Steven’s fingers suddenly pushed your panties to the side, feeling your already dripping slit.

“Gods, you’re already so wet for me, darling. Such a shame that no one else will get to see how pretty this pussy is now that it's mine.” he mumbled as he trained his eyes to your core.

Blood rushed simultaneously to your face and clit, making you cry out loud at Steven’s lewd commentary.

“Steven, I-” you try saying but you choke on your words as he catches you off guard by pushing a digit into you, pumping it in and out at a slow pace, a vulgar squelching sound reaching your ears. He curls the finger without a hint of sorrow, hitting that one special spot that makes your legs turn into pure jelly, enlisting a shaky moan from you.

“You feel so soft, my love.” he says almost darkly, taking the finger out of you and inserting it into his mouth, eyes not leaving yours and your eyes widen, taking in every square inch of what you were seeing in front of you.

He lowers his head to you until his nose brushes harshly against your clit, sending a shock through your body. Your back arches back as you bring his face closer to you by his hair. Steven didn’t seem to be bothered by the way you were literally suffocating him, instead he lapped a broad stroke along your slit, tasting your juices straight from its source. Your knee jerk reaction to the pleasure you were having was to clamp your thighs together, but Steven was faster than you, holding your thighs open with light pressure, as he pushed his tongue inside you. You felt like you were drowning in a pool of delight as Steven continued to absolutely devour you.

“So much for going slow, Mr. Grant.” You thought as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You loved it. Nothing you’ve tried on yourself has felt anything like this. You could tell Steven was studying the pattern of your pleasure, choosing to change tactics when your moans were more hollow and sticking to what he was doing when you wailed and pushed yourself against him. His name rolled off your tongue like a prayer more than a plea and Steven relished the way you spoke it under the change of circumstance.

“Bloody hell, baby, keep saying my name like that. Make everyone know that I’m yours.” Steven groaned into your core as he paused for a breath.

Without meeting much resistance, he pushes two thick fingers into you, covering your clit with his mouth and starts to pump at a steady pace. You brought a hand up to your mouth to stifle your cries of pleasure, only for the hand to be pulled back down by Steven. The steady stimulation of his tongue instantly pushes you up and over your breaking point. You felt yourself clench around his fingers as his tongue runs soothing circles around your clit.

“Gods, I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You like that, angel? Trust me, you’re going to like my cock more.” he says, directing his filthy words into your cunt.

You came with his name echoing in your screams, your body convulsing uncontrollably as Steven helped you to ride out your high. After cleaning out the remnants of the first orgasm that he gave you with his tongue, Steven kissed your thighs softly as you bathed in its afterglow. Your eyes focused on his face, a shy smile encapsulating his wet lips as a soft shade of pink danced over his cheeks and nose.

“That was amazing, Steven. Thank you.” You stretched your arms out for him and he obliged, letting you grab him by the t-shirt and pull him down for a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his torso.

You pulled him further down with your legs so that his body was flush to you, only to have his clothed bulge grind into your sensitive clit making you gasp.

“Shit! Sorry, love!” Steven groaned as he tried to pull himself off you.

You were having none of it. You kept him down and grinded upwards, grinning at the look that passed his face.

“Are you sure, darling? I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed.” he breathed as you ducked your head into the crook of his neck to kiss him.

He smelled like sandalwood and papyrus, twisting your brain with a desire you never knew you had in you.

“I know you’ll be gentle, I can take it.” you said clearly, wanting him to realize that you wanted to see and feel his pleasure too.

Steven searched your eyes only to have you stare back, full of silent determination, before cradling you close to him and lifting you up as he stood from the couch, as if you weighed like a sack of potatoes. Steven’s strength never failed to surprise you. You remembered the time he helped you move into your new apartment, how he lifted several heavy boxes at once without breaking a sweat.

He settled you down on his bed softly, and you knew from that moment on that he was dead set on being gentle with you. He smoothed your hair on the pillow and kissed your forehead before sitting down beside you.

“Can I take your top off, darling?” he asked, his large palm kneading your hip as you smiled up at him.

“Yes, please, bra too.” you said as Steven raised his eyebrows at your shy demand.

He did as he was told and wasted no time in absolutely worshiping you.

“You’re fucking beautiful. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Steven groaned, letting his hands roam your bare body as his eyes sparkled like a teenage boy.

His mouth and tongue traced patterns on your skin that made you start whimpering. You could feel your arousal grow between your legs again as Steven captured one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked softly, releasing them with a pop, only to knead at your breast with his large hands.

“Need you inside me.” you breathed as he sucked soft hickeys onto your skin, hickeys that only he could have an access to.

He moaned at your words and looked at you with hooded eyes, before proceeding to take off his clothes one by one. Your eyes widened as Steven pulled his boxers off and grabbed a hold of his length. You’ve obviously watched porn before and you’ve never seen a more beautiful cock in your life. He looked absolutely perfect to you, soft trimmed curls boarding the hilt of his long and girthy length with a pink head that was leaking pre-cum.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him pump himself a few times before rolling a condom on. Kneeling in front of you, he grabbed the bottle of lube from his bedside and coated his palm before stroking himself again.

“Steven, you’re a god.” you heard yourself saying as you scanned his body that was literally sculpted to perfection.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t say that, I’m not gonna fucking last with your words.” He says as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, catching your clit and making you throw your head back against the pillow.

“In, now.” you punctuated as Steven tried to take his time with you.

With the help of the lube and your slick, Steven slid inside of you with relative ease, shocking you and himself with how fast he bottomed out. There was a sharp pain as Steven stretched you out, followed by the sweet sensation of pleasure that made you whimper with ecstasy. You had never felt this full in your life and Steven’s cock was pressing deliciously in all of the spots you had never thought you had. His hands held you down with bruising strength, allowing you to adjust to his length, and only started moving when you started to grind your hips impatiently.

He showered you with praises as he moved with slow fluid movement, his hand inching towards you for you to grab onto. Instead of lacing your fingers together with him, Steven pulled your hand towards him and pressed it gently at the lower part of your belly. You moaned at the feeling of his cock inside of you, the tip bulging through your skin. He pressed down slightly harder, getting off at the feeling of your hand massaging his cock from the outside.

“Steven, you’re too good to me. Feels so good.” you slur as he pushed on slightly harder and deeper.

Tears started to flow from your eyes as your free hand gripped at Steven’s biceps, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin as he started to speed up his thrusts. His hand on your belly leaves yours, only for his fingertips to end up on your clit, the action causing you to shake. From the extra stimulation and the way his cock speared you, your second release came faster than your first, blinding you yet again with its powerful waves.

You could feel Steven’s movements start to stutter the second you came, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chased his release. He folded his body over yours and with a few more solid thrusts to your cunt, he groaned into your neck as he spilled thick ropes of cum into the condom.

It took the both of you a few minutes of heavy breathing to gather your thoughts. Steven came to his senses first, slowly pulling himself out of you before taking off the condom and discarding it. He then slowly stroked your hair as your breathing became more labored before taking a bottle of geranium oil from his bedside and dripping it all over your spent body.

You smiled at Steven as he massaged the fragrant oil into your skin. He focused on the points of your body that were sure to be sore tomorrow and silently pressed out all of the tension you had in you. Your body felt warm and you had a buzz running through you as if you had just ran a marathon. He massaged a silent thanks into you with every squeeze of his hand and you just laid there and stared at the man before you, wondering what kind of miracle had allowed you to get to this point. You looked past him and squinted into his apartment, giggling slightly at where your underwear had ended up.

“Hmm, am I really that funny, baby?” Steven said before following your line of sight and gasping at the sight of your underwear draped ungracefully over Gus’s fish tank.

“Oops, sorry Gus, mate.” He said sheepishly, his face turning red. “It's alright, darling, he won’t remember it.”

Steven flipped you over gently and started massaging your back, pulling small hisses and moans out of you. He kneads your lower back with his knuckles, providing you with stronger precision that knocks the wind out of your lungs with pleasure as you sink further into the mattress. He skims over the globes of your ass, making you giggle again. Flipping you onto your back, Steven pulls you into his lap as he settles himself against the headboard, covering the both of you up with a blanket to provide you with some privacy. You cuddle close to him, feeling safe in the small cocoon that he had created.

“Do you always end … it with a massage?” you asked suddenly, the question creeping up into your fluffy thoughts.

“No, actually.” Steven says, sitting up a little. “This was the first. I remember how you would say that massages were your favourites and that you would get a weekly massage if you had some disposable income.”

You blink up at him, realizing that he had been listening to you all along. Your heart swelled with the awareness that you had found your perfect man way before you had even comprehended it.

“Thank you, Steven. I love you.” you say before you could stop yourself as an unknown emotion settled upon Steven’s face.

Horror pulsed through you, your cock-dumb brain still too foggy for you to think anything coherent.

“Shit, sorry, I mean we only just had sex a few minutes ago. This is so uncool-” you stutter before Steven places a finger to your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Steven says, genuinely as a chuckle reverberates through him and into your heart.

You calmed down immediately with his confession, your face blazing as you kissed him, finally feeling at ease with everything around you.

“Told you I can fuck really well.”

“FUCK OFF, STEVEN!”

Tagging: @romanarose @mintpurplemnm

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

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