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loki-cees-all · 12 days ago

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Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters.

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

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

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet.

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel.

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer.

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth.

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence.

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now.

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes.

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image.

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary.

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest.

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out.

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache.

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki.

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween?

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him.

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night.

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one.

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone.

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki.

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long.

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki.

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day.

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door.

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you.

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had.

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment.

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward.

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door.

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment.

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door.

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration.

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness.

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal.

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected.

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red.

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction.

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind.

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose.

They were David fucking Bowie’s.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone.

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how?

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down.

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth.

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been.

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there.

And the stars look very different today…

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence?

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here?

For here, am I sitting in a tin can?

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room.

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again.

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?”

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke.

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you.

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant.

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission.

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…”

“As you wish, darling.”

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor.

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been.

“As you wish, darling.”

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice.

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over.

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly.

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?”

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously.

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?”

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest.

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…”

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair.

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…”

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…”

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest.

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him.

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…”

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress.

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party.

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours.

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion.

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since.

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?”

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself.

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place.

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours.

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust.

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it.

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth.

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily.

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you.

You fucking loved it when he did that.

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second.

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them.

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went.

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him.

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction.

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space.

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….”

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand.

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him.

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs.

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you.

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him.

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?”

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack.

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?”

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway.

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine.

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back.

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple.

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday.

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…”

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?”

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes.

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?”

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…”

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted.

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare.

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics.

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast.

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him.

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next?

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him.

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake?

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home.

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…”

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest.

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.”

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…”

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.”

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment.

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…”

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity.

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?”

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat.

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.”

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room.

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway.

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door.

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality.

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up.

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him.

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling.

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party.

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled.

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?”

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you.

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…”

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?”

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…”

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?”

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it.

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…”

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…”

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were.

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself.

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?”

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?”

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek.

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!”

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?”

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed.

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?”

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…”

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.”

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work.

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense.

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering.

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…”

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ”

“Sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…”

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat.

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were.

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.”

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection.

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice.

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too.

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…”

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…”

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…”

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!”

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?”

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance.

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here.

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there.

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…”

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…”

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate.

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises.

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay.

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?”

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously.

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

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

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mystic-writings · 1 year ago

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sneak out | jess mariano

PAIRING — jess mariano x fem!gilmore!reader SUMMARY — minutes into your mother’s dinner party, jess suggests you sneak out through your bedroom window - and you can’t help but agree WARNINGS — fluff, jess and reader being ‘troubled’ teens, a bit of angst, reader venting WORD COUNT — 2,322 NOTES — the idea of lorelai having a teen that was just like her is so appealing to me idk why - also would you believe me if i told you i listened to yung gravy while writing the majority of this fic

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You weren’t sure which was worse - the dinner your mother was hosting, or the idea that you now had to put up with a whole night of Luke’s strange nephew, whom you’d never met before.

Of course, you loved your family to pieces, and you loved Sookie and Jackson; hell, sometimes you looked at Luke as more of a father than you did your actual dad, but having everyone together for what you knew would be at least a three course meal, under one roof, with Luke’s mysterious nephew from New York, just felt draining.

So, to preserve what little social battery you had left for the day, you decided to spend the time between school and dinner in your room upstairs with a good book and a cd playing from the player that sat on your dresser at a low volume. You had to change the cd twice, first from one of your mothers Bangles cds to a Smiths one, but just as you were enjoying the beginning of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album (and nearly finishing up your book), did you hear the clanging of pots and pans from downstairs, as well as Sookie and Jackson’s lighthearted bickering.

You managed to bury yourself back into your book, one leg crossed loosely over the other outstretched one as you half-sat, half-laid on your bed, being mindful of your shoes so as to not get any dirt on your covers.

From downstairs, Jess was wandering around the Gilmore home as everyone else did whatever they were doing in the kitchen, internally monologuing and half-mocking their decor. He’d met Rory already, and she seemed like a nice enough girl. Enjoyed books. But he had yet to meet the third and final Gilmore girl, who so far had only been mentioned. However, as Jess scanned the various photographs on the mantle, he could hear the faint guitar of Suffragette City emanating from somewhere upstairs.

After peeking down the hallway to make sure no one was watching, Jess smirked and snuck up the stairs, into what was surely off-limits territory for someone like him. Still, he took the stairs two at a time and stealthily, managing to avoid all the places that would creak in a house like this one, despite never stepping foot inside beforehand. He followed the music down the hall, past some more paintings and pictures, to another bedroom. The door was open, and he was able to take a look inside. Posters covered most of the wall, leaving little space to show off the paint beneath them. Bookshelves occupied the wall right beside the door, and similarly to Rory’s room, they looked stuffed to the brim with books.

On the bed, facing him, was the person he assumed to be the final Gilmore girl - Rory’s twin sister. He watched intently, scanning every feature of your focused face as you scanned the final pages of the book you were reading. How your brow furrowed, eyes locked on the ink before you. The way the foot that hung off the edge of the bed was moving to the beat of the song.

Once Jess had decided that he’d been watching you long enough to constitute stalking, and how that was probably extremely creepy, he nudged the door open with a creak and stepped inside, clearing his throat and pulling his lips into a slight smirk. “Hey there, Ziggy.”

At first, you thought that your mother was finally calling you down to dinner, until you heard the unusually male - and entirely unfamiliar - voice come from the body in your doorway. Tucking a receipt into your book to mark your place, you glared over at the boy standing in your room with his hands behind his back, smugness rolling off of him in waves as he admired your room.

“You’re Jess, aren’t you.” Your flat tone seemed to amuse him.

“How nice, you already know my name. I’m flattered.”

You watched him as he walked around your room, over to the window where your desk was, trying to figure him out as he peeled back your curtains. “It’s impossible to not know someone’s name in this town, even someone who’s only been here for 28 hours.”

He chuckled. “Nice one, Ziggy. Now tell me, why aren’t you downstairs with the rest of the freakshow? I mean, they are your family, after all, aren’t they?”

You pretended to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Sorry to break it to you, Mariano, but I’ve been banned from the freakshow. Apparently having apathy toward any sort of Gilmore humour is forbidden, and they’ve locked me away forever.”

“Aw, so sorry to hear that.” Jess mocked, placing a hand over his heart with an exaggerated pout. “I can’t believe they shunned such a ray of sunshine.” He smirked at your rolled eyes. “No, really, you must be a real treat at parties.”

“Quit it, Mariano. Is there a reason you came up here or did you just want to cause enough trouble to get kicked out of our beloved Stars Hollow? Because if so, you came to the right girl.”

Jess’ brow quirked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, slipping off your bed to walk over to Jess. “But it’s like… 9pm on a Wednesday. In Stars Hollow. Even if I wanted to cause trouble, and I don’t, because I did enough of that at school today, there’s nothing to do. Everyone’s asleep, and I’m pretty sure our 24-hour mini-mart closed like, half an hour ago.”

Now it was Jess’ turn to roll his eyes. “Your sister said that already. Is there seriously nothing to do here?”

“Nope.” You shrugged, just as a thought came to mind. “Well… there is one thing…” Jess’ eyebrows raised at the prospect of having something fun to do, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not anything revolutionary, you know.”

“Still, give me something, anything, to get us out of here, Ziggy. I’m begging you. I’m being suffocated by the stale air of suburban life.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers on your thigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you gotta do one thing for me.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“Stop calling me Ziggy.” You said. “It’s a stupid nickname, and although I admire the fact that you listen to David Bowie enough to come up with a nickname like that one, I hate it. Call me by my actual name.”

“Well I would, if I knew it.”

“My mother never told you my name?” You asked with a raised brow. “She never shuts up about me and Rory, I’m surprised you never caught it.”

“Apparently, I didn’t. It seems she likes talking about Rory more.” Jess shrugged. “At least, around me she does.” He barely caught the slight sag of your shoulders, the drop in your demeanour, before you picked it back up and smiled.

“Well, Jess. I’m Y/n. Y/n Gilmore.” After a pause, you looked around and snagged a sweater from the chair in the corner of your room. “Now, if you’ll follow me, let’s go have as much fun as we’re able to in Stars Hollow at night.”

Jess waited impatiently behind you as you unlatched the window by your desk and pushed it up, slipping through and holding it open for him. As he clamoured out, you grabbed the rock underneath the window and placed it on the windowsill, lowering the window so you’d still be able to get back in later.

You could still hear the tail end of the album playing as Jess looked around.

“How are we supposed to get down?”

“The trellis, obviously.” You said, carefully making your way across the porch’s roof to the trellis right next to the kitchen window. “Just don’t make much noise, this thing is right next to the kitchen’s window and if we get caught we’re screwed. Follow my lead, and run when you hit the ground, got it?”

“Got it.”

Scaling down the trellis was basically second nature to you, but you made sure to look up every once in a while to make sure Jess was doing okay. He seemed to be, which comforted you somehow. You waited at the bottom for him, making sure to stay out of view of the window to the kitchen and the edge of the porch, which were on either side of the trellis, and could possibly get both you and Jess grounded.

When he landed, he looked at you, and a dish clattered in the kitchen. You both snapped to the window, then back to each other. On instinct, you took his hand and ran toward the woods.

“Where the hell are we going?!” Jess whisper-shouted.

“Relax!” You whisper-shouted back, slowing to a stop as soon as you were hidden in the tree line. “We’re not going into the woods, dumbass. What do you think would’ve happened if we waltzed out in the open in front of the living room window?”

Jess only sighed and nodded, letting go of your hand. He let you lead him through the trees, keeping the light of the house close to you, walking around the garage and past all the cars, waiting until Babette’s house was out of sight until you stepped back onto the road.

The walk was calm and quiet, crickets and the breeze occupying you instead of chatter. After a while, when you were beginning to reach the town centre, Jess spoke up. “So, what now?”

You shrugged. “Not sure. Usually I head to the lake, bring a book, or a cd player and some headphones. I don’t normally bring people with me, you know?”

Jess nodded, lips slightly pursed. The walk continued through the town, passing by shop after shop, all of them closed for the night. You had to admit, you weren’t used to taking walks like these, out in the open. Normally you’d find whichever path kept you out of the possible sight of the townspeople, a habit you developed after Taylor snitched on you to your mother after he caught you walking to the lake by the Inn when you were 12. Still, it was nice, and even if you were caught, you somehow didn’t seem to mind it.

As the buildings were fading again and you knew you were approaching the lake, you checked your watch. 9:27pm. You sighed, and Jess looked at you. Dropping your arm, you shook your head. “Almost 9:30. They definitely have to know something’s up at home. Probably sending out a search party by now.” You told him, before shrugging. “Or, you know, miraculously, they forgot we existed and are eating Sookie’s delicious no-allergen, fourteen course meal as we speak.”

Jess scoffed. “Yeah, right. Luke might not care that much, but Lorelai? She seems like the world’s most protective parent.”

“She is.” You confirmed, sitting on your usual bench, eyes following Jess as he sat next to you. “Trust me, I love her to death, but it gets annoying sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least you have a protective mom.” Jess’ hands gripped the edge of the bench, his body hunched forward, making him look small, ready to run at a moment’s notice. “Mine decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Shipped me off to this… circus show without so much as a ‘sayonara, kid.’ You’re lucky.”

You frowned. Everyone knew within the hour of him arriving in Stars Hollow that Jess was a troubled kid, but even troubled kids deserved parents that cared. He was right, though, you were lucky. It just didn’t feel like it.

“I know I’m lucky, Jess, but it’s not all rainbows for me, you know.”

“Oh yeah? How?” He scoffed. “You have the perfect life, Y/n. A mom that cares, a great twin sister - hell, even Luke sings your praises.”

“Luke sings?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s not like that all the time, Jess.” You sighed. “My ‘great’ twin sister is, apparently, so great that she has all eyes on her at all times. My grandparents are always so proud of her for being so smart and planning this amazing, expensive, studious future - they’re planning on funding it, too, from the sounds of things. I just want to live, you know?” You kicked a rock with your shoe, avoiding Jess’ concerned gaze.

“And my mother seems more concerned about her wellbeing than mine, closer to her than to me. But somehow she wonders why I’m the troubled one. I mean, I act out, I barely go to that stupid prep school because it’s so suffocating, and I got an eyebrow piercing without permission instead of taking a calculus test last month, which I’m just getting out of that punishment. Everyone’s so focused on Rory and how seemingly great she is, I don’t even remember the last time I was appreciated for anything. And don’t even get me started on my dad.”

“Sounds like these freaks don’t know a good person when they see one.” Jess told you. “You seem chill. Adventurous, too. But just because you aren’t appreciated doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You too, Jess.” The world quieted around you for a moment, stars shining off the rippling waters of the lake. “But we don’t need to be good enough for them. Just good enough for us.”

He smiled, nodding once at you. Again, you appreciated the silence with him, watching the water or the sky. It wouldn’t be long until Luke and your mother found you both, you with your head on his shoulder and one knee bent to your chest, laughing quietly at a joke he told as you continued to get to know one another. But that was later. For now, you simply sat and watched the water, wishing the moment could last for the rest of your lives.

permanent taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

jess mariano taglist: open!

taglist form is in my navigation!

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano fluff #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls x reader

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msmoony7 · 7 months ago

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New Beginnings

Summary: Y/N transfers to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny and finds herself intrigued by the quiet, sandy haired boy Remus Lupin.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader, reader not in a specific house

Word Count: 1.4 K

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

masterlist

You wake up in your bed to the sun shining and the birds chirping through your opened windows. You arrived late last night to Hogwarts and slept in a little later than you had liked; It was nearly lunch time. Classes are starting tomorrow, so you are planning to explore the castle a little before then to get used to your new surroundings. Transferring schools in your 5th year was difficult, so you were hoping to make the adjustment as easy as possible for yourself.

Since there are no classes today, you’re free to dress however you like. You opt for a pair of light blue jeans, black converse, and a blue sweater with some vertical stripes over your chest. You sit at your desk and do your usual makeup and hair routines before unpacking the rest of your things. First you unpack your records and record player. You put on your favorite album - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars by David Bowie - while you finish unpacking. You got lucky and your dorm has a big bay window with a built-in seat with cushions and large bookshelves built into the wall around it, which is great for you due to your love of reading and insane collection of books. Your bed is in the middle of the room with a huge bed frame and blue curtains draping from the top. After you are all unpacked, you decide to make your way down to the Great Hall for lunch.

You only have to stop and ask 6 kids along the way if you were going in the right direction. The ever-changing staircases made for a confusing walk there. But finally, you make it down the last set of steps and can see the Great Hall in the near distance. You’re about to turn into the hall when you stop in your tracks as you hear a great boom in the hall followed by smoke and yelling. You see a guy with long jet-black hair run past you first with a glasses wearing brunette on his trail, followed by a shorter boy with blonde hair.

“Come on, Moony, we’re gonna get caught!” you hear the first boy yell. You’re about to turn around to walk into the Hall and see what’s going on but before you could do so, you hear an “oh, shit” and as you turn fully around, are knocked to the floor by someone running full speed out of the hall. You hit the ground and lock eyes with a sandy haired boy who's laying fully on top of you. You’re staring at each other for a solid five seconds before the blonde boy yells at him.

“Moony, hurry up! Snape’s coming!”

Moony, who you gather to be the boy currently laying on you, quickly helps you up, mutters a quick “sorry” and runs up the stairs to follow the other three boys. You can hear them muttering and making fun of him for falling onto you as they’re running away, and you see “Moony” trip again before all four boys disappear up the steps. Just as they disappear, a raven-haired boy with smoke and powder all over him storms out of the hall and up the steps. You make out that he must be Snape and that the explosion was definitely caused by those boys.

You finally gather yourself and you see three girls standing by the doorway who must’ve watched everything go down.

“Quite a tumble you took there. That’s Moony, he’s a klutz,” says a girl with dark, curly hair and a darker complexion, “My name’s Mary. Are you new here?”

“Yeah, my name’s Y/N, I just got here last night.

“Ahhh you’re American! I’m Marlene,” the second girl speaks up. She has blonde hair and a really cool vibe to her.

“You can come eat with us, if you’d like. I’m Lily, by the way,” says the final red headed girl.

The four of you walk into the hall and you cannot contain your amazement at what you’re met with. The ceiling is the highest ceiling you’ve ever seen, and it’s enchanted to look like the sky. Unlike your old school, which had tables divided by the houses, this hall had numerous smaller rectangular tables so that you could sit with whomever you liked. The four of you grab a table and start eating your meal.

“Those boys are the biggest troublemakers in the school,” Mary says, “Always pulling pranks.”

“Yeah, we still love them though,” Lily replies.

“You more than others,” Marlene says to her as she nudges and winks at her.

Lily blushes in response, “James, the one wearing glasses, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. A real sweetheart. Unless you’re Severus, of course.”

“I take it that’s the boy that had all the smoke on him?”

“Yep, you’d be correct. The boys tend to overreact, but he really isn't a nice person. Steer clear of him,” Mary says.

“Noted. So, that guy, Moony, what’s up with him?”

“Ooooo, Y/N’s got a crush already?” Marlene snickers towards you, making you blush.

“Not a crush, but from our five second interaction, I think he’s pretty cute.”

“You should go for it,” Marlene says, “In all our years at Hogwarts, I don’t think I’ve seen him talk to girls that weren’t us for more than a minute. I’d say you have high odds.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. I’m too shy,” you contest.

“Well, that’s perfect! He’s pretty shy himself. What do you do in your free time?” Lily asks.

You list some of your hobbies for the girls, including reading, writing, and music.

“Well, aren’t you the perfect girl for him. He loves all those things. Tell me you like Bowie,” Mary says. You say nothing in response, shocked that they can read you so well, which causes the girls to yell. “You ARE the perfect girl for him. Come we’ll show you around the castle and then we’re sending you off to him.”

Before you can fight them on this, they’re pulling you around the castle showing you every nook and cranny. You’re grateful for this; You wouldn’t have been able to find your way around otherwise. They show you all the classrooms, take you on a tour of the grounds outside, up all the towers, and finally, you end the tour at the library.

“This is the library,” Lily says, “Since you like to read, I’m sure you’ll spend so much time here. Lucky for you, this is Moony’s favorite place! And if my calculations are correct, he should be in there right now. C’mon, let’s go find him!”

Lily is dragging you inside, and she’s a lot stronger than she looks. They drag you to the far back corner of the library in a hidden nook, revealing the sandy haired boy from before sitting on a couch, nose deep in a book. He doesn’t hear you guys approaching at first and once you guys are a few feet away from him, he pulls his head out of his book and looks up. He immediately locks eyes with you, causing both of you to blush.

“Gotta go, bye!” Marlene says as she pulls Lily and Mary away from you, leaving you alone with the boy. The two of you still staring at each other, not knowing what to say.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

“Hi,” he says back.

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cinnaleaf · 18 days ago

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ESSENCE OF US - CH 11: I COULD BE FOREVER**

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 10 | MASTERLIST | READ CH 12

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: ANGST, SMUT (makeup sex w pillowtalk), fluff, language, mentions of anxiety, smau wc: ~8.8k 💌: best smut scene i've written imo..nothing but pure love. share thoughts in inbox! tysm ♡

On your way back to the suite, the scent of essential oils from your aromatherapy massage clung to your skin. Things were still tense with Trent and you found yourself wishing you were still submerged in the comfort of the thermal bath back at the spa. After spending half the day receiving spa treatments, you should’ve felt stress free, but you were far from it. There was no amount of luxuriousness from the spa that could ease the incessant nagging feeling in your mind. When you opened the door, Trent glanced up from packing his luggage and smiled softly at you, but you could see the uneasiness in his eyes.

“Feeling better?” he asked in a gentle voice, as if the hours spent away at the spa erased the strain between the two of you. You smiled, shrugging slightly. “The spa helped a little...thank you.” You took a deep breath, your gaze drifting to your unpacked luggage. “I still feel so overwhelmed honestly.” Trent walked over to you, grazing his hand over the small of your back.

“Come back with me? We can talk about it on the plane.” he asked quietly. “I gotta leave soon…”

You hesitated for a second, almost like you were contemplating it, but you had already made a decision back at the spa after seeing the comments about your brother on social media. “I..I’m gonna head back with Camille and the twins,” you mumbled, not being able to look him directly in the eye. “I need to go to my parents house for a bit.” Just hearing those words come out of your mouth made you feel sick, you didn’t really want to go back there, but you had to. Your body tensed the minute it came out of your mouth and Trent noticed immediately. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You don’t have to go there if you don’t want to,” he murmured as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You want me to go with you? We can go to–”

“Trent, no.” you sighed, leaning your head into his shoulder. “I need to go alone. You being there probably isn’t the best idea...they’re intense,” you whispered in a shaky breath.

You didn’t tell Trent the entire history you had with your parents, but he knew enough to know you hated being around them. They wanted you to carry your family name a certain way, and with Rêveur and Ziggy in the mix, they would definitely be in full control mode, ready to critique and advise like they were being helpful; in reality, they were just adding to the insurmountable pressure. They liked Trent, but not for the right reasons. It was all about status to them, and you couldn’t handle that right now. Their idea of love was conditional, only presenting when you met their expectations of playing the role of the perfect eldest daughter.

“They like you Trent..” you started, your eyes filling with tears. “But they love the status your name gives them when it’s next to mine more. I don’t want you to experience that.”

Trent’s hold on you tightened, silently giving you the space to let you talk. “I don’t get why they’re like that.” You started sobbing as you continued, “They’ll never see you the way I see you…”

Trent could’ve been anyone that day on the train and you would’ve loved him just the same. It didn’t matter that he was Trent Alexander-Arnold. He pulled you in from the start, with just a hoodie and his sunnies on. You thought about those serendipitous moments with Trent often – it always felt like a bend of truth so striking that time itself slowed down just to take in the curve. The universe made sure you would find him, no matter where you were in the world.

But your parents would never see the beauty of love or fate, they only saw what his double-barreled name next to yours meant for their own pursuit of excellence and perfection. It was part of the reason you always freaked out any time Trent made a joke about marriage. He was serious underneath all the teasing, so you knew the question would eventually come the longer you stayed together, but you also knew your parents would latch onto your relationship like it was a milestone in their own success – which left you feeling chilled to the bone.

Trent nodded with an intense expression, like he wanted to shield you from all of it. “I understand,” he said softly.

“You don’t though” you replied, voice trembling. “There’s so much going on. This trip was supposed to be fun and it’s all fucked up now.”

“Baby..” Trent said in a pleading voice, his hands steady on your waist. “Tell me what you need. I hate seeing you like this.” He scanned your face, taking in the glow from the spa treatments that didn’t match the tired, watery look in your eyes. Your breath hitched as anxiety started clawing at your thoughts.

“People think I’m only with you because of my brother. They think I’m using you to help him with football.”

“Y/N” Trent interjected firmly with conviction. “I don’t give a fuck about any of that. They don’t know you like I do.” You shook your head, taking a step back to put more space between you. “It’s not just that” you snapped, your voice strained. “Camille had to bail me out again with the launch mess up. I shouldn’t even have to rely on her like that. I’m so stressed.”

Trent reached out to you, but you stepped back again with tears blurring your vision.

“And then you..” Your voice broke as emotion thickened in your throat. “I love you T..but I don’t feel like I’m strong enough for any of this. Sometimes I just want to run away from everything. Why is everything so fucking hard?” Your body flipped into fight-or-flight mode, skin growing hot and vision tunnelling. Trent took one look at you and immediately closed the gap between you in seconds, guiding you to sit down while he knelt down beside you.

“Look at me.” he started, voice commanding but calm. “None of this is permanent. People will get their orders eventually, there’ll be a new story in the next hour..and we’ll figure everything out. It’s just temporary, baby.” You nodded weakly, as he took your hands in his, massaging your pressure points in calming circles. You felt yourself coming back down to earth, slowly being pulled back to reality. His love was constant and unfaltering, even when everything else felt clouded in your universe.

“Where did you learn that?” you whispered, your breaths finally slowing down.

“Learned it from you. At the park.”

You scrunched your face, confused at his statement. “What?”

You shook your head. “We’ve never been to a park together, Trent. Wrong girlfriend.” you scoffed playfully, but you were somewhat serious at the same time, because who the hell did he have you confused with?

Trent cleared his throat, trying to suppress a laugh. “Nah, baby it was you. It wasn’t recent..but when you were younger, you used to sit in the grass with Ezzie doing this exact thing.”

Suddenly a memory washed over you like a developing polaroid picture:

You were sitting in the grass, carefully crafting the perfect daisy flower crown for Ezzie. She was sitting right next to you, talking nonstop about some Peppa Pig episode where Peppa didn’t know how to whistle. You were barely paying attention to her yapping, focusing solely on making the flower crown perfect as you meticulously weaved the stems so it wouldn’t fall apart. Your sister beamed when you put the crown on her head – making her look like a little flower princess. It made you smile too, despite your anxious thoughts.

Trent looked at your face as you tried to piece things together and pulled out his phone, scrolling through old pictures until he stopped on one and handed it to you, making your eyes widen in shock.

The picture’s quality wasn’t as crystal clear like today’s photos, but it was clear enough to make your boyfriend’s statement make more sense. Trent was in the middle, holding your brother in his arms. Ziggy’s cheeks were round like little apples, with two deep dimples on each side of his face; he beamed up at Trent as if he was the most important person in the world. Their smiles mirrored each other’s, shining a perfect reflection for the camera to capture. Your brother clung to him with so much trust, his tiny arms around Trent’s neck like he never wanted to let go. Both of them looked so overjoyed, looking like they spent the majority of the day having a kickabout while laughing in the sun. Your brother was always the littlest one joining the older boys, but they welcomed him with open arms each time, especially Trent. In the background, you were sitting off to the side with your sister, not aware of the camera at all as you placed the daisy crown on Ezzie’s head. You saw yourself smiling, entirely focused on your sister. Ezzie was mid giggle, probably still talking about how Peppa hung up on Suzy sheep after learning she could whistle; her little hands clutched the sides of the flower crown you made. Your heart skipped a beat when you remembered the older boy who ran up with your brother in his arms shortly after. He looked at you funny while you sat in the grass, rubbing the skin between your index finger and thumb. It was a way to self soothe yourself when you were feeling anxious, but you didn’t know how to explain whatever you were feeling at the time, you were just a teenager.

Trent stood there awkwardly after setting your brother down. “Uh..what….what are you doing?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to tease you or just walk away. Neither of you knew each other back then; he only knew that you were the little boy’s older sister who always sat in the grass doing weird things with her hands like making flower crowns and picking at grass. His question made you feel flustered, you didn’t know how to explain the real reason for your self soothing so you panicked and made something up.

“Umm. I’m..uhh..practising sign language..?” though your statement sounded more like a question than a definitive answer.

The second the words left your mouth you wanted to die right there. You couldn’t meet his eyes, and instead your fingers fidgeted with the flowers on Ezzie’s head. Trent gave you the weirdest look but he looked slightly amused as well.

“Err..okay. See ya.” he replied before turning away to jog back toward his friends.

“He’s funny!” Ziggy chirped with excitement as he watched Trent leave. You glanced down at your brother, trying to mask your embarrassment. “What’s his name?” you asked casually, though your heart was beating a little faster.

Ziggy shrugged, skipping around as you started to walk to the exit of the park. “Dunno.”

Of course he didn’t know. How convenient.

As the three of you made your way home from the park, the twins exchanged a look – the one twins do when they can speak to each other without saying anything out loud. Suddenly, they burst into giggles, unable to keep whatever secret they shared telepathically.

“You like him!!” Ezzie spoke in an animated voice. Before you could react, your brother facepalmed dramatically. “Agh, NOOO! I found him first!” he exclaimed, like him and Trent had some unspoken bond that you were threatening. You were extremely mortified by how loud they were yelling about it.

So what? Maybe he was a little cute, but he also annoyed you for some reason.

“NO! I don’t like him!” you blurted out in a defensive tone. “He stinks. And I already have a boyfriend anyway!” The boyfriend in question? He didn’t exist at all, but you couldn’t have your younger siblings pressing you like this. The twins weren’t phased at all – they insisted on giggling and making smooching sounds all the way home to tease you.

In the present day, you stared at the photo, realizing Trent was the boy who always kept your brother entertained when your thoughts were miles away.

“That was you?!” you asked in disbelief. “Why are you just now saying something??”

Trent shrugged, his lips tugging into a soft smile. “I didn’t know either until your brother told me! Just saw him at the gym with my old boots.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck because he was a little hesitant to dive into the full conversation he had with your brother – the one about where he really belongs. Trent glanced at his phone and checked the time, sighing. “I gotta head out soon..” he said, looking back at you with uncertainty as he stood up. “Uh..are we good? Are we okay?? I'm sorry for the way I reacted.”

Your gaze softened as you took a deep breath. “Yeah Trent, we’re okay. I forgive you but..”

You stumbled over your words for a second, trying to gather your thoughts. “I don’t like it when you get jealous like that. I’d never even think about entertaining someone else when I’m with you.”

He nodded with regret evident in his brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I messed up..and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

You smiled, getting up and wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a tight hug. “Go catch your flight before you miss it, baby,” you murmured while pressing soft kisses against his full lips. Trent didn’t respond back, and instead deepened the kiss while his hands settled on your waist – he began walking you backward, slowly guiding you toward the door.

“Call me when you make it back?” you whispered between kisses, your breath catching from his touch.

“Mm yeah I will. I love you.” he replied softly, his voice full of affection as he pressed you up against the door. He didn’t want to leave you, but he sure was cutting it close to missing that plane.

“I love you so much..” you affirmed as the intensity between you built. “I’m sorry for being such a mess–”

“Don’t care. Love all of you.” he whispered, grazing his lips on the sensitive skin on your neck. You tilted your head as he moved down to kiss your collarbone. “Wish you would come with me. I know we’re always together, but it never feels like enough time. Ever since I met you..I'm always wishing for more time with you.” Trent’s voice was filled with longing, like he was yearning and begging for you to come with him. You laughed softly, raking your fingers between his curls to massage his scalp. “You’ll be fine Trent. I’ll be back soon.”

“Good,” he muttered, suddenly sounding a lot more seductive with his tone. He pressed you harder against the door, slipping his leg between yours to send warmth cascading through your body. “Need to show you how sorry I am…” His lips brushed against your ear, his voice titillating. “Next time I see you, I want you sitting on my face.”

You whimpered, feeling your body reacting instinctively to his words. “Why are you doing this to meee?” you groaned, biting your lip – the frustration of knowing you wouldn’t see him for some days had you wanting to sit on his face right now, but he had a plane to catch.

He laughed against your skin, moving back to your neck to kiss you again, just enough to make you gasp. “Just reminding you that your apology is waiting for you when you come back home.”

With one final kiss, he pulled away to grab his luggage before heading out the door. You peeked out the door as he walked down the hallway. “Love you, dreamer boy!” you called out, blowing him kisses. Trent was grinning from ear to ear, walking backwards as he jumped in the air, pretending to catch your kisses which made you laugh. He smiled back at you, happy he managed to get a couple of smiles out of you before he left despite the whirlwind of bullshit that occurred the past 24 hours.

Love takes on countless forms but at its core, it involves the art of forgiveness. It’s an unspoken reminder that we’re all inherently flawed and destined to make mistakes. Yet, despite those imperfections, love endures all when we allow grace. It thrives in those moments of mercy when we choose to forgive rather than walk away. Forgiving someone when they falter means knowing it’s not perfection that sustains love, but the willingness to embrace it through an inevitable misstep. With Trent, this was more apparent than ever. He wasn’t perfect, and neither were you despite your attempts. The way he stayed close, still giving you space in your moments of doubt while he asked for forgiveness, reminded you love isn’t always easy. It wasn’t always about laughter, sometimes there were going to be storms that involved torrential downpour. But offering forgiveness and receiving it allowed the two of you to deepen the connection and love even harder than before.

Later on the plane, Trent found himself scrolling through his phone – he was staring at the photo of him holding Ziggy again, but this time he was zoomed in on the background, where you sat with Ezzie, placing the flower crown on her head. Then he switched over to Instagram, the most recent post on his feed was one of yours he already liked, but he didn’t really look at it until now. The first picture was of you and Ezzie glammed up for the gala, both of you smiling into the camera. Ezzie was leaning into you, looking exactly like the type of little sister who treasured and adored her older sister. When he swiped over, the next photo showed Ezzie with her back turned toward the camera while she snapped a mirror picture of you gently fixing her hair and smiling – very reminiscent of how you were in the background of the older photo. It wasn’t a flower crown this time, but he did realize something else. You were always making sure things were right for the people you loved the most, even if it meant sacrificing your own peace. You weren’t just living for yourself, you were making sure your siblings had everything they needed to live their dreams just like you; it made sense to him why you said you needed to focus now.

Trent kept staring at the older picture and the newer pictures, flipping back and forth as a thought orbited around his mind.

There’s no way I’m not marrying this girl.

A couple of days passed since your return to England with your siblings. When you arrived at your parents house, the home looked just like you remembered the last time you visited, almost two years ago. Its red bricks were painfully perfect, not a scratch on the paint in sight on the sage colored front door. Inside, it was spotless – it looked more like a showroom than a home that a family of four lived in.

Your parents moved to this house after you left home, trading in the warmth of your lived-in childhood home for this sterile suburban clusterfuck of a neighbourhood. The guest room was just as cold and void of any personality as the rest of the home. The bed was neatly made with crisp white linens, but it looked more like it was for decoration than comfort. You couldn’t tell if they actually liked living like this or if it was just another box for them to check off in their quest for perfection. They loved attention.

Ziggy started gaining more attention after the gala, and it made your skin crawl thinking about how it could turn out with your parents around. You didn’t want him getting a huge ego over it, you knew better than anyone else what it could do to his life and how it could distort reality. He was still your little brother and you didn’t want that for him. You also didn’t want anyone making any decisions for him. Ezzie was also more quiet than usual, like she was battling something internally, so you needed to keep an eye on her too. Based on your previous experience, wasn’t something your parents would ever notice.

During dinner, you stared at your mother’s knife as she shuffled it back and forth over her chicken.

For someone so ‘perfect’, you sure do make a dry ass chicken.

The conversation at the dinner table was filled with awkward pauses between bites. You could feel the interrogation incoming before they even opened their mouths – it didn’t take long.

“So, Y/N” your mother began, voice tight. “How’s Trent? Haven’t met him yet.”

And thank god for that. You’re never meeting him as long as I have anything to do with it.

You forced a smile, sitting up straighter out of instinct. The last thing you wanted them to do was meet Trent. That would be a disaster.

“He’s great.” you replied very casually. “We’re just taking things slow.”

That was a lie. Nothing about your relationship was slow at all, you were already with him for months by this point. You were fully in it, but telling them that would only fuel their curiosity and you wanted them to back off. Your dad cleared his throat and shifted his focus to your brother. “Talk to that scout yet, Isaac?” he asked, eyeing your brother like this was a corporate business meeting and not a family dinner. Ziggy shrugged, pushing food around his plate. “Uh, yeah..I talked to a few people at the gala.”

A frown creased your face remembering the flood of comments after the event that thrusted your brother into a spotlight you didn't think he was ready for. You were hardly ready for it yourself. Your dad on the other hand, seemed pleased with Ziggy’s answer and nodded with an approved look. Ziggy’s face relaxed, like he was relieved his quick answer was enough to stop your dad from interrogating him further.

Your mum turned her gaze toward Ezzie, eyes narrowing as she surveyed your sister’s posture. “Esme.” she began in a sharp voice. “Beauty doesn’t last forever..you need to be realistic. Modelling is a phase not a career. You’ll have to start thinking more like your sister.”

Though you couldn’t tell if she was referring to owning a business, or getting in a relationship with someone very successful.

Ezzie’s face fell, the light in her eyes dimming while she absorbed your mum’s comment. Your fists clenched under the table, trying to resist the urge to snap. She was trying to make Ezzie feel like her dreams weren’t valid, the same way she did to you at first..until you made something of it.

“Mum,” you said firmly. “She’s fine. Modelling is a real job.”

Another awkward silence followed after your statement. Ezzie was picking at her food, meanwhile your father chewed his chicken like there was nothing wrong with it..or the atmosphere your mother just created. Your sister shifted around uncomfortably, stealing a glance at you for reassurance. You gave her a comforting smile, although you were pissed off your mum had the nerve to say that without thinking twice about what that type of comment could do to a teenager’s brain.

After dinner, you went to check on your brother to make sure the sudden public attention wasn’t going to his head. He was on his gaming setup, chatting with his friends while streaming on Twitch. You stood in the doorway, listening in for a second away from his webcam’s view.

“Bro this camera angle is extra close. I feel insecure as fuck right now. There's 4,000 viewers in here. Who are these people?” one of his friends said, making Ziggy laugh.

“Mate, just tilt it up” Ziggy responded in a casual tone, completely immersed in the gaming world. “E set mine up. It’s perfect now.” You smiled at the mention of your sister, but then you noticed how fast the chat on his stream was moving. Ziggy’s expression hardened when he saw a rude comment mentioning you. “Mods ban that guy.” he snapped, annoyance on his face. “I’m just here to game with the lads. Leave my sister out of it.” You smiled, feeling pride surge through you. He was still your little brother, but he was learning how to handle things in the spotlight – better than you were handling things, honestly.

“I’m out.” you announced. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, sure” Ziggy replied, barely looking away from the screen as he shouted gamer terms you didn’t really understand. You shook your head laughing, leaving him to whatever game he was playing while you made your way to Ezzie’s bedroom.

She was standing in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection as he traced over her body, mentally picking herself apart.

“Hey” you spoke softly. “You’re sooo beautiful you know that, right?”

She didn’t immediately answer, but then whispered. “But when am I going to look like you? You have the perfect body.” You sighed, pressing your cheek against her shoulder. “I definitely do not have the perfect body, trust. Plus, you’re wearing 15 better than me girl. I looked awkward as hell back then..but growing up takes time.”

“But Mum said-”

“Don’t listen to Mum and Dad,” you cut in. “They chat a lot of shit for people who don’t know how to live life realistically. Nearly choked on that chicken earlier.” Your sister giggled, but you could tell she was still a bit upset. “I get why you barely come back,” she muttered. “I don’t think I’ll come back either.” Her words made you sad, but you couldn’t disagree with her. You didn’t want your siblings spending any more time than necessary under these circumstances. You wanted them to be free to chase their dreams without feeling suffocated by your parents.

That night, you spent time in your sister’s room scrolling through Instagram until you noticed a DM from Miu Miu. They wanted to send you something after seeing the ‘Tea with T’ video. You smiled, but then your thoughts drifted to Ezzie. You typed out your response quickly, pitching an idea for them to send something for your sister as well. You mentioned her interest in modelling and subtly suggested she could market for a younger audience. The message was professional, but simple enough for them to get the hint.

Later, after your sister fell asleep, Trent video called you. You got up to walk back to the guest room before answering. The room made it feel like you were thousands of miles away from the comfort of his home, where you really wanted to be. His smiling face filled the screen, making you feel giddy inside.

“Hi baby,” you spoke softly.

Except, he didn’t greet you and was eager to start yapping once he saw your face. “When are you coming home? I miss you.”

“Not sure yet.” you replied, keeping your voice light. You were planning on surprising him for the match coming up. “You keep calling your house ‘home’..but I have my own place, remember?”

He scoffed dramatically, shifting the phone to show the empty space next to him in bed. “It’s your home too. This is where you belong.”

You laughed, giggling at his dramatics. “T, I don’t even sleep on that side. You’re laying on my side, baby.”

“Oh, I am?” His voice dropped to a playful tone. “Come home so I don’t forget which side is yours then.”

The camera shifted as Trent removed his shirt, his chest and abs highlighted by the dim lighting from the bedroom. He positioned the camera so you could see everything, including the bulge outlined on his boxers.

“Trent..” you muttered, biting your lip. “You’re being so cruel right now.”

He laughed but eventually switched the conversation back to something more innocent. After the usual exchange of “I love you’s”, you went back to Ezzie’s room and slipped into bed beside her.

You spent the next few days at your parents house, shuffling between going back and forth from Les Notes d’Amour and back home to make sure your siblings were okay. The night before the match, you felt like everything settled down enough for you to go back home to Trent. You arrived at Trent’s house a little later than you originally planned, spending most of the day swamped with work. By the time you got there, it was nearly midnight. You took your shoes off by the front door and quietly padded up to the bedroom. Trent was already in bed asleep, so you stood in the doorway for a second to admire how handsome he looked. You were careful not to wake him as you got ready for bed and crawled beside him, naturally fitting your body in the space next to his. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and snuggled in closer, draping your arm over his neck. His body heat seeped into your skin, the comfort allowing you to drift off to sleep easily.

Trent woke up before you the next morning, shifting his body around as he blinked and saw your face just barely peeking through beneath the blankets. He was surprised at first, but then he propped himself up to watch you sleep, debating on whether he wanted to wake you up just to hear your voice – but for now, he let you sleep. Eventually, you stirred in your sleep, groggy and disoriented as you felt warmth hovering extremely close to your face. You opened your eyes slowly, seeing Trent staring back at you with a wide grin.

“Oh my god! What the fuck?!” you yelped, jumping back slightly as your heart rate increased. Trent started laughing and he pulled you on top of him with ease. “Damn it’s like that?..good morning to you too.”

“Trent, that’s so creepy!” you said jokingly, stroking the facial hair on his chin. “Why were you watching me sleep??”

He casually ran his hands up and down your back as you shifted your position to lay on his chest while on top of him. “Because I like looking at you.” he replied, his voice deep and raspy from the morning. “Best view in the world. In the universe, actually.” You smiled, enjoying the feeling of an early lazy morning while you laid against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart under your ear, but eventually you had to get up.

“I have to pee,” you whispered apologetically, wriggling out of his grip.

Trent groaned dramatically, “Come back to bed after.”

“Noo.” you giggled. “You need to get ready.”

Trent’s eyes were on you the entire time as you walked to head to the bathroom, you closed the door while he still lay in bed. “Trent, seriously. Get up.. we can be lazy tomorrow.” you yelled from the bathroom, your instinct picking up that he hadn’t moved from the bed just yet.

When you opened the door, Trent was sitting up, yawning and stretching lazily. You rolled your eyes but the view was very, very nice. He was still a little groggy and the morning light casted a soft glow on his toned, muscled skin. You snapped yourself out of it and went to the sink to start your morning routine, Trent following closely behind. You were trying to brush your teeth, but the moment he saw you, he pressed you up against the countertop from behind.

“You’re like..stage five clinger status right now babe,” you mumbled through the foam, though you enjoyed the feeling a little too much. Trent grabbed his toothbrush, one hand draped across your chest to lock you in while he brushed his teeth, the other hand staying glued to your hips. The smallest touch was driving you insane. You caught yourself eyeing the veins in his hands, nearly moaning at the sight.

Oh my god..what is wrong with me? I want to climb him right now.

You rinsed your mouth, mostly to stop yourself from fawning over the reflection of him in the mirror because it was all too much. His toned arms flexed as he continued brushing, the veins running up and down his forearms.

After finishing up your morning routine, you pulled away to get dressed and he tilted his head back sighing, like you were punishing him. “Y/N..come on..” he pleaded, reaching out as you sifted through the clothes in your shared walk-in wardrobe.

“The match? Anfield? Liverpool’s vice-captain? Any of those words sound familiar to you??” you joked, shoving a tracksuit in his hands. “You’re acting like I was away for months..we’ve gone longer before. Save that energy for the game baby.”

“Yeah.. and I didn’t like it when you were away then either. You should just move in,” he declared as he got dressed in his matchday tracksuit. You rolled your eyes, handing him his wash bag with a sweet smile.

“I’ll think about it...just go.” you teased, pushing his chest lightly. “I’ll come find you after the match. Do your best for me, yeah? Don’t embarrass me.”

He kissed his teeth, acting like he was annoyed by your comment. “Nah. See this?” he toyed with the ‘T’ necklace around your neck. “You’re my good luck charm. If you’re watching, I’m winning.”

As corny as his statement was, it almost made you fold immediately. You felt your skin heat up so you took a deep breath to try and gain some composure. “Go to work Trent! Get out!” you laughed, shoving him out the door before you changed your mind.

When you made it to Anfield, you sat in the box with Trent’s family. Today wasn’t like the first time you went to one of his matches – back when the pressure of being seen made it hard to focus on anything. You were more comfortable today, feeling the warmth you missed when you were away at your parent’s house. Trent’s family had already welcomed you into their world a few months ago, and you never felt out of place.

Trent’s mum greeted you with a hug as you sat down, the nostalgic scent of Enchantée wafted in the air. It was the very first scent you made that catapulted you to where you were now. You thought for a second, thinking about the butterfly effect. If he was never there that day at the park, would your brother still be interested in footie? If you never made Enchantée in uni would you have met him some other way? You wouldn’t have been on the train or at the Paris launch, after all. It was weird to think about.

You broke out of your thoughts when you saw Trent with the ball. He had the perfect opening, and he took the shot as the ball sailed into the top corner of the net. The crowd erupted in a deafening roar and you stood up, cheering with his family as he did his iconic ‘A’ celebration for his niece. But then he did something else.

He mimicked mixing something in an imaginary bowl, just like you told him you used to do as a child in your parent’s kitchen. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pretended he was spraying something in the air as a nod to your career. You giggled, feeling a sense of pride wash over you. There was no doubt about who that goal celebration was for.

“I think that one’s for you,” his mum leaned over, her smile filled with adoration for the relationship you shared with her son.

“Ew,” Marcel chimed in, shaking his head. “You turned my brother into a melt.” The smile on his face told a different story though.

The match ended with a solid win, and you walked down with his family to meet up with him. His mum mentioned something about going out for dinner; Trent had other plans that involved lots of eating..but not food. His eyes drank you in the minute he saw you, wasting no time to come up with an excuse. “Yeah about that..can we do it later this week? Got some big things booked that I gotta work on tomorrow…” he said, far from subtle because Tyler definitely didn’t have him booked for anything monumental.

You shot him a look, trying to stifle your laughter as he continued. “Think it’s best if we just head home. I..uh..need to rest for that.” Trent slipped his arm around you, pulling you in as he spoke, not realizing he was making the real reason blatantly obvious with his body language.

Tyler shook his head, laughing. “Sure, mate.” He knew he didn’t have anything big booked either, he knew what type of time his brother was on.

Once you made it back to the house, you wandered to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. “Are you hungry?” you called out. “I can make something really fast.”

You started listing off a few options, trying to stay mindful of the protein intake needed for muscle recovery after a match. He clearly gave no shits about his protein intake, and instead found his way underneath your top, ghosting over your covered nipples.

“Nah. I'm good. Wanna eat you though.”

You were folding very quickly. His voice already had you wet, and you had every intention of making a protein filled snack for him..but your hormones had other ideas. You leaned back into his chest, trying to collect yourself, but his grip tightened and he pulled you away from the fridge. “C’mere” he whispered, leading you upstairs to the bedroom. He was already peeling off both of your clothes the moment the door shut. Trent laid naked on the bed, his eyes full of love and arousal. “You remember what I said on the phone, yeah?”

His voice had you pressing your thighs together. “C’mere so I can apologize. Sit on my face and ride my tongue baby.”

You climbed on top of him, hovering just above his lips as you took the sight of him in. He looked up at you, licking his lips before gripping your thighs and pulling you down, making you gasp.

The first flick of his tongue sent a whip of pleasure surging through you. You gasped, instinctively rolling your hips against him. Trent hummed against you, the vibration making you moan even more as you grinded down on him further, desperate for more. His tongue was relentless as he worked over your folds with ultraprecision, his tongue danced against your clit just the way you liked it. Your loud moans filled the room as you gripped his head, lightly scratching his scalp. “Trent..” you gasp in a breathless voice. “You’re making me feel so good.”

He obviously couldn’t respond with words, but he definitely responded with his tongue by applying more pressure and rhythm. You were so close and your body started to tremble as the winding pleasure grew tighter and tighter in your core. You started to squirm, but his grip on your thighs tightened to hold you in place as he drove you to a powerful orgasm. Your mouth was wide open as the orgasm powered through you, it was so intense you were shaking..but he didn’t stop. He kept lapping at you, working you through until the sensation became overwhelming. The pleasure kept stretching for what felt like forever, and you could barely catch your breath.

“Oh my god..I’m still cumming,” you whimpered, writhing above him. It was too much but you couldn’t stop, nor could you move as his mouth kept you on the line of euphoria. You tilted your head back, eyes rolling and gripping his head.

“Okay..okay, baby..please” you managed to get out, still breathless and shaking. You grabbed his hands that were gripping your thighs to give him the hint you needed a break. He pulled away slowly, his lips glistening from your wet essence.

Trent gave you about ten minutes tops to recuperate before he was right back on you, pressing his body against yours. He placed your knees up to your chest, pinning you in place. His thick dick teased your entrance before sliding deep inside of you, making both of you moan in unison. Your nails dug into his jaw as you gripped his face, your breaths heavy and eyes locked on each other. Eventually, his eyes dropped down to watch himself disappear into your slick folds, the feeling of him finally being inside you made you clench around him. He groaned from the sensation, his mouth slightly falling open as he looked back up at you with his lips parted in awe. Your hands stayed firm on his face to keep him close, taking in his handsome lust filled face.

“Harder baby” you whispered, voice trembling with need.

Trent’s powerful quads flexed as he obeyed, snapping his hips harder against you in targeted thrusts. Every stroke was intense and the wet sounds of your bodies colliding with each other filled the space, echoing off the walls as his pace quickened.

“Y/N…” he gasped, feeling you tighten around him involuntarily with every thrust. “Fuck. Keep squeezing me like that.” He started thrusting into you faster at the perfect angle, hitting a spot inside of you that made your moans rise in cadence. “Right there? Is that the spot?” he rasped, already knowing from the way your body was reacting beneath him.

You nodded frantically, your thumb brushing over his lip before pulling him into a kiss to tangle your tongue with his in the heat of the moment. His hips drove into you harder, the strength in his quads powering every motion. “Need you to cum for me my love.”

The sounds of the room left love letters stamped upon your skin, every thrust an ‘X’, every moan an ‘O’. Trent’s fingers found your clit, rubbing deliberate swirling circles to bring you closer to another orgasm. You were gasping his name over and over, feeling yourself come closer to the brink.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

“Me too, baby,” he moaned, pressing his head against yours while his cock started to twitch inside of you.

The moment you both came, neither of you looked away from each other. Both of you were moaning each other’s names and whispering “I love you” over and over between ragged breaths while you pulsed around him and he spilled inside of you. Trent pulled out of you slowly, taking a deep breath. His hand slipped between your legs, gently running his fingers over your swollen folds as he pushed his cum back inside of you with a deliberate touch. He laid beside you, placing soft kisses along your neck while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. After some time, he wrapped his arms around you, draping over you protectively as you came down from the aftershocks. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, you could barely move. You broke the silence with a sleepy mumble, ready for some pillow talk yapping before going to sleep.

“You ever think about kids? Like..not right now obviously,” you added quickly in a soft voice. “But..eventually?”

He shifted slightly, pulling you in closer. “Yeah someday..but not now.” he agreed in a casual tone, but there was a smile on his face like he was almost picturing what that would look like for him. Neither of you wanted kids right now, but you weren’t really being all that careful about it either. There was a tiny voice in the back of your mind that remembered the basics of biology, but you knew your body pretty well. You weren’t going in completely blind..you knew what was up.

But still…isn’t it funny how caution can be tossed aside when you’re in a dickmatized state like the one you just had with Trent?

You laughed to yourself at the thought, but Trent peeped it.

“What’s so funny?” he asked curiously.

“Oh..it’s just…we’re not really that careful about it, T.” you replied, your voice filled with drowsiness. “I usually know when I’m ovulating though..so I think we’re good.”

“Baby..my pullout game is weak with you. Maybe we should stop pushing our luck. Kinda playing with fire innit?”

“Yeah maybe,” you replied sleepily. “But would you want kids with me?”

He kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin. “Yeah, I would. I think you would make an amazing mummy. But only when we’re ready, yeah? Maybe in two or three years?” It felt like he thought about this before, he seemed very sure of his answer – down to the timeline.

You blinked, still half asleep. “Good to know.. but I’m not having your kids without a ring on my finger.” The words came out in a sleepy haze. You were kind of terrified of marriage for a number of reasons, but in your disoriented state your subconscious admitted you were somewhat open to it with him. You closed your eyes as his hands moved to stroke your arm lazily.

A few quiet seconds passed before he broke the silence, speaking in a soft tone. “So you think I could be forever for you then?”

You smiled, nodding your head as you nuzzled in closer to him, starting to drift off to sleep. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “The love of my life..forever.”

A few weeks later, you arrived at Les Notes d’Amour to handle a sample shipment of Rêveur from the manufacturer Camille helped you with. Tara and Ember were busy handling an influx of shipments and inquiries, but you were too on edge to focus on anything they were doing at the moment. Camille handed you the shipment before walking off to go set up a sample display for another fragrance of yours. You opened the box to unwrap the first bottle, spritzing it in the air to take a deep breath.

This doesn’t smell right. It’s off.

You couldn’t tell what was missing, but something about the scent wasn’t sitting well with you like it usually did. It didn’t smell like the same Rêveur you spent crafting all night for Trent after your first date. Maybe it was because it was mass produced and not created in a small batch like you originally wanted?

“Camille” you called out, voice low but sharp enough to grab her attention from across the building. She glanced up at you, giving you a confused look as she walked over.

“Smell this.” you said, handing her the bottle. “It doesn’t smell right.”

Camille took a whiff and gave you a puzzled look. “Y/N..it literally smells the exact same. Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe,” you sighed in frustration, leaning against the counter. “I’m so stressed out and exhausted. My body is so done with me too. My period is late..you know it’s bad when that happens.” Camille’s eyes widened and she glanced at your stomach. “Any nausea?” she asked playfully, but she was serious too.

You shook your head, confused at what she was trying to infer. “Umm..well..I felt sick yesterday but that’s because I barely had time to eat all day. What does that have to–”

“Girl…you’re pregnant.” Camille declared, crossing her arms. “Are we happy? Are we sad? Let me know so I can react the right way.”

Your jaw dropped at her statement. “WHAT?! Are you mad?!” you whispered sharply. “I track when I’m ovulating..hasn’t failed me yet. I’m definitely not pregnant. That’s impossible.”

You were in your 20s, having regular unprotected sex with your boyfriend, but sure… maybe it was ‘impossible’. Or maybe you were just a bit delusional? Who knows, really.

“Ah, we’re in the denial stage? Got it.” Camille teased, giving you a sly grin. “I can’t believe you’re making me an auntie already!”

“Oh, so now I’m pregnant because I felt sick one time yesterday?” you replied sarcastically, shaking your head. “I really don’t think I am..” Camille playfully reached out, placing her hand on your stomach like there was already a growing baby in there. “If you deep it..it makes sense. Maybe double check..just in case?”

You swatted her hand away with a laugh, “Stop! I’m not!!”

Internally, you were freaking out. This was not in your five year plan. To be fair, this wasn’t in any plan unless it involved a ring on your finger first. You were not the type of girl to give a man a baby without crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s..even if it was Trent. But you slowly started connecting the dots, realizing there were a couple of intense sessions where the two of you could’ve been more careful.. and everything suddenly became a lot less funny.

Vivid dreams? Check. Sensitive to touch? Yup. Moody? Always. Weird sense of smell? Maybe… You had already been yawning the entire day, so exhaustion? Double check..no brainer.

What if Camille is right? Wait..no. Absolutely the fuck not. I can’t be. That would ruin everything.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought out of your mind. You knew your body, you told yourself. This was just stress..but why were the symptoms so fucking similar? Who decided that was a good idea??

You didn’t know it, but Tara and Ember had just rounded the corner at the perfect moment and heard the words ‘So now I’m pregnant’ and nothing else. They exchanged shocked looks, frantically whispering to each other while you were completely unaware they were listening in.

“She’s pregnant?!”

Without thinking, Tara whipped her phone out to snap a sneaky picture of Camille’s hand on your stomach, her fingers flew across the screen rapidly while she texted her footie group chat:

Tara: *1 attachment sent* GUYSSSSS OMGGG

Nosy Girlie 1: 👀 GIRL WTF IS THAT?!

Nosy Girlie 2: NO WAYYYY

Nosy Girlie 3: You can’t drop something like that and disappear with no context. HELLO??

Tara: i’m like 99% sure Y/N’s pregnant. I heard her say it!!

Nosy Girlie 1: WHAAA?! TAA BABY COOKING???

Nosy Girlie 2: OMG TRENT DAD ERA COMING SOON 👶🏽

Nosy Girlie 1: It must be really early stages.. STB is gonna lose it when they find out

Nosy Girlie 3: Maybe we shouldn’t? That’s kind of invasive, no?

Tara: Agreed. They’ve been in the headlines so much..prob not a good idea. Keep it between the chat? Don’t tell anyone

Nosy Girlie 2: 🌚🌝

One Week Later:

SpillTheBeansUK: 🚨💥 EXCLUSIVE ALERT 💥🚨 Y/N PREGNANT WITH TAA’S BABY?! 👶🏽🍾 According to a very reliable source (you know we love a verified anonymous tip 👀), it looks like Y/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold might be entering their PARENT ERA! 💫 We can’t confirm specifics just yet but we’ve seen proof there’s a little scouser on the way. ALLEGEDLY!!!! 😳

Red4Life: we’ve officially entered a new era 🐐

FootieFan123: Bruh let that man live. Who cares if he’s having a kid? Focus on the next match! ⚽️

HonestlyNotMad: oh their genetics are about to pop off and create the most beautiful child we’ve ever seen.. BabyStan101:

So THAT’S why he was mixing the air during the celebration! Was he practising for baby formula? 😭😂

GirlWTF: ok hear me out... Saffron Essence Alexander-Arnold? Do we think they’re going full on weird with the name or normal?? What about Cielle or Ivy? Trenton?! TIBERIUS??

SheKnowsTheLore: Tbh I can already see the headline: ‘Baby Rêveur Spritz Thierry Alexander-Arnold dominates TikTok at 4 months old.’

FootieTroll123: Y/N is just using Trent for clout of course she trapped him with a baby

YNProtectionSquad: FootieTroll you will begin to cough in 3 days..mark my words on this day

Footie_Stan87: Y/N will keep that baby more hidden than Area 51. We’ll never see them!

YNTrentForever: Imagine the first pic we get is the baby in a tiny kit? omg 🥺

SuperSleuth99: Has anyone else noticed there’s no info about her parents anywhere? Like literally nothing. I couldn’t find a single thing online. It’s weird.

FBIAgent: SuperSleuth I clocked that too! She’s close with Camille’s family, right? Bet they had something to do with it. Probably wiped everything clean.

GirlWithSense: You lot are all mental. Beans is just losing their head over some dodgy anon DM. Probably just some uni student bored out of their mind stirring the pot! VenusianLoverGirl: Y/N and T are gonna be together forever I just know it! That celebration he did for her was filled with pure love. Wishing them the best xx 🥺

i've been waitinggg to write this plotline since ch 6 (there are some hints in ch 6-8 if you go back and look 🤭)

thank you for reading this far! pls share thoughts!!

song inspo:

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold angst #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #taa x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #fem!reader #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold imagine #Spotify

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