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#almost destroyed new york
thepavementsings · 4 months
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My grandfather is one of those types of white people who does yearly Christmas newsletters an my dad coming to me to proofread our section today made me laugh so hard
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thisonecassie · 10 months
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I know i know I know, seeing affects in person make things happening far away seem more real…. but I’m still pissed the fuck off off that it took NYC getting covered in smoke for Americans to care about Canada….
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fatehbaz · 3 months
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The Slavery Abolition Act didn’t apply to India or Ceylon, and though it technically liberated over 800,000 British slaves in the Caribbean and Africa, all of them (excepting only small children) were forced to continue to labor as unpaid “apprentices” for a further six years, on pain of punishment. Under the terms of the act, they were protected against overwork and direct violence from employers, but remained their “transferable property,” subject to punishment for  “indolence,” “insolence,” or “insubordination.” So many black West Indians were jailed for resisting these outrageous terms that full   emancipation was eventually brought forward to August 1, 1838. [...] A century on, the independence of most Caribbean colonies in the 1960s was followed by decades of racist British immigration policies that not only sought to prevent black West Indians from coming to the UK but eventually, under the Conservative governments of the past decade, ended up deliberately destroying the lives of thousands of lifelong legal residents by treating them as “illegal migrants.” In the meantime, for almost two hundred years, British taxpayers funded the largest slavery-related reparations ever paid out. Under the provisions of the 1833 act, the government borrowed and then disbursed the staggering sum of £20 million (equal to 40 percent of its annual  budget -- the equivalent of £300 billion in today’s value). Not until 2015 that debt finally paid off. This unprecedented compensation for injustice went not to those whose lives had been spent in slavery, nor even to those descended from the millions who had died in captivity. It was all given to British slaveowners, as restitution for the loss of their human property. 
Text by: Fara Dabhoiwala. “Speech and Slavery in the West Indies.” The New York Review of Books. 20 August 2020. [Published online at: nybooks.com/articles/2020/08/20/speech-slavery-west-indies/]
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star-sim · 1 month
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boy's night ☆ riki nishimura
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☆ summary: riki had no game, no rizz, which was why he employed the help of his six friends to text you. warning: having seven boys on the phone trying to text a girl does not give good results! ☆ genre: fluff, all enhypen members make an appearance, boys being boys, very stupid, it's getting rizzy in here but clearly i have negative game ☆ warning(s)? no just silliness :3 ☆ word count: 1.7k words
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"Oh my god, she texted me!" was the sentence that completely destroyed Jake Sim's house.
Tonight, Riki was having a sleepover at Jake's house. It was supposed to be a chill night, a night in which Riki could bask in his friends' presence before they went off to college again.
There were many perks to being the youngest in his friend group. It seemed like Heeseung, Jay, and Jake forever saw him as their baby, after all, when they all met as children, Riki was a snotty little four year-old, constantly tattling on the older boys. Regardless, it was nearly impossible for them to not fuss over him, constantly asking if he ate yet or if he needed help. Sunghoon teased the ever-living shit out of Riki, sure, but the older boy never hesitated to take Riki's side whenever there was an argument. Sunoo and Jungwon were closest to Riki in age, but that didn't stop them from watching over him closely, like mother cats stalking their cubs.
Though, there was one thing that Riki had to admit that he hated about being the youngest: he was the most inexperienced.
Whenever his friends got their 'firsts,' he was always too young to care. It seemed like all his friends got to experience their first crushes and heartbreaks almost simultaneously, only for them to not be there when Riki had his.
Even when he was now a senior in high school, he had absolutely no idea how to talk to girls.
He'd heard all the stories about Heeseung and his antics at college, all the flirting tips that Jake liked to give out to Sunghoon and Jay, and all the crazed texts that Sunoo and Jungwon sent as they went through relationships.
Even so, Riki had never experienced teenage love for himself.
Enter: You.
You were the cute girl that sat in front of him in his Macroeconomics class. If it wasn't for the fact that Riki absolutely hated Macro, he would blame the fact that you were just so pretty that he couldn't bring himself to focus on the lecture about the New York Stock Exchange.
Initially, Riki had no intention of pursuing you.
You were cute, obviously, but hearing you talk to your partner in class was enough for him. Plus, it wasn't like Riki had any experience— even if he wanted to talk to you, he had no idea how to!
Except, thanks to his nosy friends, your name had been discussed what felt like a million times by the end of the week.
"So... [Name], eh?" was the first thing Sunghoon said as Riki's camera turned on during their weekly weekend FaceTime calls.
"This is so exciting, Riki," Heeseung said as he joined the call.
"Wait, how do you know her again?" Sunoo's voice cut in. "Sorry, my Wi-Fi is bad. You said you know her from Macro?"
With a little more prying, his friends managed to get a middle-school level confession out of Riki.
"I-I just think she's really pretty, and like, she's really smart," Riki huffed, "I don't think she likes me like that— I've never even spoken to her! Like, I can't talk to women, I straight up am a mess and the other day—oh my god— she looked at me and I think I almost passed out. What do I do? I actually cannot do thi—
".... But you think she's pretty, right?"
And that's how Riki managed to get your phone number. With the help of his friends (that felt more like them feeding into his delusions), he worked up the courage to stutter out a simple question.
And when you smiled, nodding enthusiastically as you typed your contact into his phone, Riki felt his soul leave his body.
So, it wasn’t hard to imagine the havoc that engulfed Jake Sim's house (the place of the sleepover) as Riki's phone pinged, your contact name showing up.
It was already late at night, so the boys were raiding Jake's pantry to get midnight snacks. 
The moment that Riki announced that you had just, in fact, texted him first, everyone stopped in their tracks.
"Oh shit!" Jay shouted as he jumped over Jake's sofa, bowl of cereal still in hand.
The sound of crashing as Heeseung knocked over the ramen cups, as well as cutlery dropping abruptly and cabinets slamming filled the house.
"Oi, don't mess up my kitchen!" Jake yelled as his feet pounded against his stairs, scrambling so fast that he practically glided downstairs. After Jungwon spilled milk on his shirt, he was half-way through putting on a new shirt as he clambered down.
"What did she—" Sunoo pushed Jay out of the way, knocking the older boy over as he plopped down next to Riki on the living room carpet and peeked over his shoulder— "What did she say?!"
Within seconds, all six of his friends were huddled around Riki, pushing each other out of the way to catch a glimpse of what you said.
"Move your fatass head!"
"I can't see!"
As his friends argued, Riki stared at his phone, chewing on his bottom lip. His heart was pounding in his chest. He only saw the notification, and didn't see what you said yet.
What if you said something crazy, like "I just found out about that one time in first grade when you peed yourself at the playground" even though Riki and all his friends agreed to never speak of that incident again?! Or, what if you confessed your everlasting love for him in a long paragraph?
His head was spinning.
"Wait, did you open the message yet?!" Jungwon abruptly yelled into Riki's ear.
"No..." Riki answered slowly, watching the way all of his friends' once tense faces soften with relief.
"Oh my god," Jake sighed in relief.
"Phhhhheeewww!" Heeseung said dramatically.
"Why?" Riki frowned. "What's wrong with opening the message?"
"[Name] can see if you read her message if you open it," Sunghoon said matter-of-factly. 
"Why is that a bad thing?"
All of his friends groaned.
They taught him a trick: swipe just enough so that he could see the message, but not enough that the system marks it as read.
Hey, was all you said, much to Riki's relief.
"What do I say?" Riki asked, clutching his phone. His eyes flickered to his friends as he sucked his bottom lip under his teeth pensively. "How do I respond to this?"
"Just say 'hey' back!" Jay blurted.
"No!" Heeseung shook his head profusely. "Anything but that!"
"Why not? You want him to say haiiii instead?" Sunghoon nudged the older boy.
"No, no, no!" Jungwon reached across to smack Sunghoon's knee. "All of you are wrong."
Jungwon turned to Riki. "Just respond with an emoji."
They all groaned loudly.
"Okay, anything but a goddamn emoji!"
Riki ended up typing out a simple hey in response. He had to make Sunoo press send for him, squeezing his eyes shut. Riki immediately shut his phone off, placing it face down.
"I don't want to see if she responds or not!" Riki moaned. 
Within a minute or two, his phone pinged again.
"She responded!"
Even though you only asked, How was your day?, the entire house was once again invigorated. The boys shrieked, whooping and hitting Riki's shoulder, so loud that the house probably shook.
"Oh my god, it's happening!"
"Ouuuuu, she wants you, Riki!"
"Everyone shut the fuck up, it's time to lock in, oh my god it's actually happening—"
And just as everyone settled back down, ready to give Riki their mind-blowing advice, his phone dinged again.
[Attachment: 1 photo]. It was a silly picture of you, one of those cute ones that showed your eyes, clearly taken on the spot. 
"OHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Shewantsyousobadohmygo—"
According to Jake, if a girl sends you a picture of herself, no matter how silly or cute it is, she is head over heels for you.
"One message at a time!" Jay yelled over Jake's shoulder as they tried to figure out how to respond. "You need to answer her question first and then respond to the picture!"
"No! Don't respond to the picture!" Sunghoon, who was all the way in the guest bathroom, yelled from behind the bathroom door, his voice both booming and muffled. "She'll think you're weird!"
"I agree," Sunoo said.
"I agree," Jungwon mocked him in a nasally voice, earning a slap to the shoulder. "Just heart the picture!"
But their arguing fell upon deaf ears.
"Riki, what are you doing?!"
Riki was on his own, his heart beating at the tip of his fingers.
I hung out with my friends today and it was fun, how was yours? was his first response. Pressing on the picture, he responded, You look cute.
When Riki glanced over at his friends, they were sprawled across the floor, crying aloud dramatically.
"It's over."
"You're insane."
"Fumbled."
Riki threw a pillow at them. "I didn't fumble— Oh shoot, she's typing!"
The house was once again filled with screaming and crashing as they scampered to Riki's side.
You typed for a few moments. Everyone was at the edge of their seat, simply begging to see how you'd respond. But then, you stopped.
"Good game, guys."
"100% over."
Riki chewed on his thumb, his eyes glued to his phone screen. Did he creep you out? Was it weird for him to say that you looked cute? Did he fuck up?
But then you finally replied.
My day was just filled with homework, very boring, you replied. Maybe if I spent it with you it would have been more fun.
Oh.
My.
God.
Riki's hands shook as he typed back another response, completely ignoring the complete and utter disaster around him. He didn't know what came over him. He wouldn't say any of the things that he typed out loud, let alone to your face. It was like he was possessed by some spirit that gave him the courage to type. Without even noticing it, his heart was palpitating in his chest, his entire face, neck, and ears covered in a red shade.
I'm free tomorrow, he typed. 
"RIKI WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU—"
Okay, you simply responded. 12PM. The Block. Let's have fun.
"D-Did she just ask you out?"
Riki glanced at this phone, then at his friends, who stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and their jaws dropped to the floor, then back at his phone. He blinked. "Yeah."
"Yes?!"
Riki blinked again. "Yeah."
.
.
.
And then it hit him.
"Oh my god, [Name] asked me out...!"
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moniquill · 11 months
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https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/706010/to-shape-a-dragons-breath-by-moniquill-blackgoose/
ABOUT TO SHAPE A DRAGON’S BREATH
A young Indigenous woman enters a colonizer-run dragon academy—and quickly finds herself at odds with the “approved” way of doing things—in the first book of this brilliant new fantasy series. The remote island of Masquapaug has not seen a dragon in many generations—until fifteen-year-old Anequs finds a dragon’s egg and bonds with its hatchling. Her people are delighted, for all remember the tales of the days when dragons lived among them and danced away the storms of autumn, enabling the people to thrive. To them, Anequs is revered as Nampeshiweisit—a person in a unique relationship with a dragon. Unfortunately for Anequs, the Anglish conquerors of her land have different opinions. They have a very specific idea of how a dragon should be raised, and who should be doing the raising—and Anequs does not meet any of their requirements. Only with great reluctance do they allow Anequs to enroll in a proper Anglish dragon school on the mainland. If she cannot succeed there, her dragon will be killed. For a girl with no formal schooling, a non-Anglish upbringing, and a very different understanding of the history of her land, challenges abound—both socially and academically. But Anequs is smart, determined, and resolved to learn what she needs to help her dragon, even if it means teaching herself. The one thing she refuses to do, however, is become the meek Anglish miss that everyone expects. Anequs and her dragon may be coming of age, but they’re also coming to power, and that brings an important realization: the world needs changing—and they might just be the ones to do it.
PRAISE
“A thorough delight . . . To Shape a Dragon’s Breath reveals a world that is complex and political through deft, thoughtfully drawn characters who, like their world, are complicated and believable. I love Anequs!”—K. Eason, author of How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse “Imagine a world full of dragons where a newborn chooses you to be its caregiver. Imagine you have to go to a special school to learn how to train it. Imagine that almost no one at the school wants you there. This is how the well-written, compelling tale of To Shape a Dragon’s Breath begins, and once underway it doesn’t let you go.”—New York Times bestselling author Terry Brooks
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"The gerrymandering alone undermines Wisconsin’s status as a democracy. If a majority of the people cannot, under any realistic circumstances, elect a legislative majority of their choosing, then it’s hard to say whether they actually govern themselves."
--Jamelle Bouie, Opinion Columnist, The New York Times
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Jamelle Bouie points out the disturbing way that Republicans in Wisconsin have basically destroyed democratic representative government on all levels by:
Creating an unbreakable gerrymander to ensure a Republican legislative majority, even if more people vote for Democrats.
Weakening the power of a Democratic governor,.
Targeting a liberal Wisconsin supreme court justice for removal or suspension so that the state SC won't have the power to rule against gerrymandered districting maps, and won't be able to prevent a 19th century ban on abortion from becoming law.
This is chilling. Below are some excerpts from the column:
For more than a decade, dating back to the Republican triumph in the 2010 midterm elections, Wisconsin Republicans have held their State Legislature in an iron lock, forged by a gerrymander so stark that nothing short of a supermajority of the voting public could break it. [...] In 2018, this gerrymander proved strong enough to allow Wisconsin Republicans to win a supermajority of seats in the Assembly despite losing the vote for every statewide office and the statewide legislative vote by 8 percentage points, 54 to 46. No matter how much Wisconsin voters might want to elect a Democratic Legislature, the Republican gerrymander won’t allow them to. [...] Using their gerrymandered majority, Wisconsin Republicans have done everything in their power to undermine, subvert or even nullify the public’s attempt to chart a course away from the Republican Party. In 2018, for example, Wisconsin voters put Tony Evers, a Democrat, in the governor’s mansion, sweeping the incumbent, Scott Walker, out of office. immediately, Wisconsin Republicans introduced legislation to weaken the state’s executive branch, curbing the authority that Walker had exercised as governor. Earlier this year, Wisconsin voters took another step toward ending a decade of Republican minority rule in the Legislature by electing Janet Protasiewicz, a liberal Milwaukee county judge, to the State Supreme Court, in one of the most high-profile and expensive judicial elections in American history. [...] “Republicans in Wisconsin are coalescing around the prospect of impeaching a newly seated liberal justice on the state’s Supreme Court,” my newsroom colleague Reid J. Epstein reports. “The push, just five weeks after Justice Janet Protasiewicz joined the court and before she has heard a single case, serves as a last-ditch effort to stop the new 4-to-3 liberal majority from throwing out Republican-drawn state legislative maps and legalizing abortion in Wisconsin.” Republicans have more than enough votes in the Wisconsin State Assembly to impeach Justice Protasiewicz and just enough votes in the State Senate — a two-thirds majority — to remove her. But removal would allow Governor Evers to appoint another liberal jurist, which is why Republicans don’t plan to convict and remove Protasiewicz. If, instead, the Republican-led State Senate chooses not to act on impeachment, Justice Protasiewicz is suspended but not removed. The court would then revert to a 3-3 deadlock, very likely preserving the Republican gerrymander and keeping a 19th-century abortion law, which bans the procedure, on the books. If successful, Wisconsin Republicans will have created, in effect, an unbreakable hold on state government. With their gerrymander in place, they have an almost permanent grip on the State Legislature, with supermajorities in both chambers. With these majorities, they can limit the reach and power of any Democrat elected to statewide office and remove — or neutralize — any justice who might rule against the gerrymander. [color/emphasis added[
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"It’s that breathtaking contempt for the people of Wisconsin — who have voted, since 2018, for a more liberal State Legislature and a more liberal State Supreme Court and a more liberal governor, with the full powers of his office available to him — that makes the Wisconsin Republican Party the most openly authoritarian in the country."
--Jamelle Bouie, Opinion Columnist, The New York Times
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dandylovesturtles · 5 months
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Sidelined AU Info Post
Alright, I guess we're doing this
CWs: mentions of internalized ableism, struggles with mental health
Timeline:
all of S1 is the same as in canon up until End Game
however, after Splinter turns over the helmet to Draxum, Draxum does not put on the armor, but chooses to put Leo inside instead, realizing that whoever goes in will probably have something horrible happen to them. that's detailed in this fic
unlike Draxum, who gets spit out of the armor immediately, Leo ends up trapped inside. from Leo's perspective, he is only vaguely aware of what's happening outside (it's a bit sunken place-ish, with him seeing snatches of events like through a grainy television), and he has only small amounts of influence over what the armor does
once Feral Shredder is on the loose, he pretty immediately starts destroying the Hidden City. Draxum realizes that he has inadvertently released a great evil on his people, the exact opposite of what he wanted, and he turns to the Hamatos to help him stop it. obviously they don't want to work with Draxum, but they have to get Leo back so they take the help
it takes them two days, during which the Shredder moves up to start terrorizing New York as well, but eventually they get him subdued. I'm not 100% on what goes down yet or whether Big Mama gets involved (I'm leaning toward not), but Leo fighting from the inside is a big help
Leo is removed from the armor and is in really bad physical shape; meanwhile the Shredder is subdued for now. in the immediate aftermath, the Foot Clan manages to get ahold of the Shredder and take off with him
he's too weak to do anything immediately but he is very much a Looming Threat the family is aware of
Draxum leaves for awhile at this point because none of them want him around and seeing Leo in the aftermath did wake him up to "oh yeah that's just a kid and I did that to him," also he's feeling real bad about that whole "accidentally almost destroying the yokai and also maybe the world" thing
meanwhile, Leo is severely weakened, but there's not anything that the family can do to hasten his recovery. they can only get him hooked up to an IV for fluids and nutrients and wait
it takes Leo a few days to become fully lucid again; during that time he tries to fight anyone around him off or sometimes pushes his family away to "protect" them
eventually Leo does regain lucidity, he tells everyone he's fine but he's Super Depressed. he's also lost his mystic powers completely.
Splinter also retreats a bit at this point, because he feels guilt for handing the helmet over to Draxum instead of trying to find a different way to rescue his boys, which isn't a great thing for him to do but his mental health is also not doing very well (someone get these guys some therapy)
in the meantime the bros and April manage the best they can, they all have different approaches but I'll go into detail about that in the next section
there's no treatment for Leo's condition outside the most boring one: time, exercise, and diet. unsurprisingly he hates this
Healing Bad Times abound, as shown in this fic
eventually the boys have to go out on a mission again. Leo, feeling useless, listens in on the comms from the lair, and ends up catching something the other boys' missed, meaning he's able to save them from a trap or something idk exactly what the point is he makes himself useful
this opens up a new path for Leo, one his brothers very heavily encourage
with a new goal in mind, Leo starts taking a lot better care of himself, actually following his physical therapy routine, spending time gaining new skills, and accepting help in the form of mobility aids. his physical and mental health both start making big improvements
this also helps his dad's mental health, everyone is doing better even if things aren't perfect
Donnie builds Leo a command center modeled after the bridge of Jupiter Jim's ship, he absolutely loves it. whenever the boys+April are on missions, Leo is in his command center helping from the background
eventually Leo has gotten to the point where he has enough strength for day to day life most of the time, he still isn't fighting baddies on rooftops but he can get to a store and back without collapsing on a good day and that's pretty good!
the Foot Clan has been a much bigger threat in this version of S2 and it's clear they're up to something big
of course right when Leo is starting to feel stable and happy again, that's when they launch their final attack
a lot of the finale events go down similarly to how they do in canon, minus Battle Nexus New York. they get Karai back but then she dies, Shredder destroys their home (including Leo's command center :c ), everything is Bad
Leo gets his mystic powers back the same way his brothers do, though he needs a little bit of an extra helping nudge from April/Karai, since he didn't think that was a thing he could still do
everyone getting their mystic powers is emotional but it's especially emotional for Leo. he didn't even know what ninpo was before today, but he knew after the Shredder it was like some part of his soul got locked away, and now that he can feel it again he finally feels whole
it gives him a burst of adrenaline so he can participate in the fight, though he doesn't do much of the actual battling, instead getting his bros where they need to be for the big hits (I mean this is basically what he does anyway haha)
it takes Donnie exactly .02 seconds to figure out how to use his own mystic powers to support Leo physically so that helps
after this, Leo becomes a more constant part of the team in the field, though he still primarily works as support and only gets into direct fights when he feels like he has to
instead of being made leader like in canon, Leo and Raph become co-leaders. Leo's own leadership abilities have improved massively, but Raph has more experience in the field, so having the two of them working together means they cover each other's blind spots, and the division of labor is less stressful for both of them
since Leo's already been through his character development and this tension is gone the movie events play out totally differently but I haven't gotten that far yet lol. I'm sure the apocalypse still happens somehow, though, I'd hate to lose Casey Jr
happy ending whooo
Relationships
Raph
Raph feels a lot of guilt about what happened to Leo; he was supposed to protect his little brothers and he didn't, and now one of them has permanent physical disabilities as a result. add to that it was Raph's idea to be heroes in the first place and yeah... he's not doing great
because of this guilt, Raph's instinct is to essentially baby Leo - he wants to take care of his every need as soon as it arises. this makes Leo feel stifled and infantilized, and drives a wedge in their relationship (the same one Raph is driving between himself and Mikey, in fact)
his and Donnie's distinctly different approaches to the situation also mean that they get into arguments often and can't really deal with being around each other, leaving Raph feeling isolated at the start (and thus pouring more attention and effort into Leo, which compounds the problem)
Raph dealing with his own guilt and trying to find the balance between helping Leo while also respecting his need for independence, boundaries, and dignity is a big part of his journey in the AU, and it also improves his relationship with Mikey and Donnie as he gets better at those skills
Donnie
Donnie is not dealing well with the fact that there's nothing to fix. they can only be patient and work incrementally to improve Leo's condition
he distracts himself by putting all his energy into making the lair accessible for Leo, building him mobility aids and doing everything he can to help
he also has a hard time understanding why Leo won't do the things that will help him (at first), because doesn't he just want things to go back to normal? doesn't he want to help himself? why won't he just do what he obviously has to do, Donnie does not understand
Leo is deep in denial at first, and he feels like he breaks down and starts doing physical therapy and using mobility aids and doing basically any of the things that will help him, that means it's not going to magically get better, it's going to take time and effort and it will probably never be fixed, just improved, and he hates that so much he's choosing to treat this like a temporary cold or flu that will blow over any day now
Donnie doesn't understand that so he takes Leo's refusal as a rejection and animosity abounds!
breakdowns and admissions of feelings will eventually happen
Donnie and Leo together come to grips with the idea that there is no fixing this and there is no return to how things were before but they can work toward a new normal that's just as good
Mikey
this one is a little bit too big for Dr. Delicate Touch and Dr. Feelings
Mikey tries, but he is just a kid, and with their dad emotionally retreating too there's just too many feelings for him to deal with on his own
he's gonna play family therapist until he breaks
he's frustrated because he can see what each of his brothers need to do to feel better but they just! won't! they won't do it, and he doesn't know how to make them
he's really stressed
it's Mikey that realizes that Leo needs goals to work toward to get himself motivated to take care of himself, and it's Mikey who pushes the hardest for Leo's new role in the team
sometimes Mikey will challenge Leo to something silly, like who can make the most throws of a paper ball into a trash can, just to push Leo into exercising
he finds other little ways to help the others too, but he still can't solve the big problems on his own
meltdown ensues
Mikey has to learn to take care of himself, too, while the others have to learn they can't lean so hard on him for all their emotional problems
April
the only one holding on around here. it helps that she doesn't actually have to live in the powderkeg
takes a rationally minded approach to all these problems, kind of functioning like family therapist along with Mikey but in a healthier and more controlled way
helps get them resources from above ground
Leo opens up the most about his feelings about his physical condition to her first, because she strikes the best balance between being a sympathetic ear without coddling him
she's also stressed, but she has an outside support network so she's handling it better
Splinter
fully blames himself for what happened to Leo and has a hard time getting over it
depression in full swing
it means he can't easily get out of bed to help his kids, but then he feels bad because he isn't helping them, which worsens the depression, which makes it hard to get out of bed... a vicious cycle
when Leo starts working on his condition he gets a pact out of his dad that they will both work on being healthier together
maybe they manage to find an actual therapist eventually idk lol
either way, Splinter and Leo grumpily sitting over their plate of broccoli and then Leo says "bet I can eat more pieces than you" and it's on son
he's trying his best
Leo's Condition
Leo came out of the armor severely dehydrated and malnourished, even more so than any person should realistically be after two days; just keeping him from dying of the dehydration was the most immediate struggle
the main issue is that Leo's life force, mystic abilities included, were basically sucked out, leaving his body catastrophically physically weak
his muscle mass can come back with time and diet
the bigger problems are the bone density and chronic fatigue. while Leo can improve these, they'll never be back to where they were before the Dark Armor
his reduced bone density means he has to be careful doing anything physical because the chance he can break a bone is much higher than average, and he stands to suffer more from that break than the average person
he'll eventually get to where he can go through his day-to-day life just fine most days, and can even do some of the physical things he enjoyed before, he just has to be careful and know his limits. he'll never be pulling the 1440 off the halfpipe again, but he can still skateboard as long as he's careful.
even when recovered (as much as he can be), he has bad days and days when the fatigue is really strong. how Leo feels on a bad day is up in the air; sometimes he's at peace with it and generally cheerful, happy to be around his family even if he spends most of the time in his chair or on the couch dozing in and out. other days the depression rears its ugly head and he can get a bit nasty and bitter again. his family is much more patient with him on days like that than he is with himself.
in the beginning Leo also has brain fog and sensitivity to light and sound. these clear up over time, especially once Leo starts making more effort to exercise his brain. he starts reading a lot more and doing puzzles, especially things like sudoku and word puzzles, which helps a lot. thankfully these changes aren't permanent
his inner ears were also damaged a bit, this also heals up largely on its own, sometimes he still has difficulties hearing his brothers if they're whispering or far away but it's not so bad he needs assistance
Leo's Devices
Wheelchair
this is obviously the one Donnie had the most fun building and it shows. this baby is tricked out. Leo also likes to suggest improvements often, some for actual functionality but many just because he thinks it would be cool (like neon lights on the spokes)
it is blue obviously. do you even need me to tell you that?
it's fully electronic but Leo can also wheel it around freely if he wishes. Leo likes to wheel himself when he has the energy because it's good exercise he doesn't have to go out of his way for and he just likes feeling like he's moving himself under his own power. but when he's not feeling up to it he just drives it with the electronic controls instead
it has handles that extend and retract. being allowed to touch the handles is a major sign of Leo's trust and initially it's only for his bros + April + Splinter. Leo hates being moved when he doesn't actually ask to be moved, and he also hates being tipped backwards so his fam knows not to do it even as a joke (and it's so heavy that tipping him is kind of hard, anyway). someone touching the handles or messing around with them without permission gets you immediate backlash from protective siblings
that said Leo has them extended often so he can hang things off them, even though Donnie constantly gripes that that is not their intended purpose!
Sr Hueso is another person who gets handle-touching-privileges pretty fast, and he's also the one Leo asks to move him most often because he thinks it's really funny. he hams it up every time. Hueso is exasperated but does it anyway
(if Hueso adds a few extra wheelchair-accessible tables to Run of the Mill no one has to know)
the chair can also be moved by S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. this is mostly just for emergency situations, or times when the chair is somewhere Leo is not. Shelldon is a very good boy who does not move the chair without Leo's permission.
it has a billion storage spaces and little hidey holes and it can sync with Leo's phone to play music and it also has a charge port for his phone and yeah basically anything Leo and Donnie can come up with goes into this thing. it's a behemoth
Donnie also made Leo a lighter-weight chair with fewer features that he most often uses when he's good using his walker/cane/braces but wants to clear a larger distance first, and eventually Donnie makes him an athletic wheelchair so he can play games like wheelchair basketball
Walker
the walker is also blue but there's nothing particularly special about it
Leo hates using it because it feels like an old person thing. even if realistically he knows there are plenty of reasons people use them, including his own situation, culture is culture and it makes him feel bad no matter what rationality states
so basically once he doesn't have to use it he doesn't
as they all get more comfortable with Leo's situation and he starts openly using humor to cope, jokes about Leo's chair and cane become pretty commonplace in the fam (all good-natured of course). they know the walker is too much of a sore spot though, and poking fun at it is the fastest way to get Leo to do something stupid, so no one does. it's better to just pretend it's not there
Crutches/Canes
he eventually ends up with a variety of these, with different levels of support depending on what he's needing on a given day.
some of the canes are more fashionable than others. this is important to him.
Leo pretty much always has one of these on hand just in case, even on days where he feels alright to walk on his own
he is not afraid to bonk a brother with a cane or crutch but he does so knowing they are free to retaliate
Leg Braces
Leo doesn't need these every day but they're a pretty standard part of his wardrobe at this point
they start out plain but get increasingly elaborately decorated as time goes on because he, Donnie, and Mikey can't help themselves
like the walker, the braces are in the "don't make fun of" zone, though Leo is happy to get positive comments about them and doesn't really need their presence ignored
Other Mobility Aids
Leo has a variety of things to help with his loss of grip strength, difficulties bending over, tremors, etc. all of them are either made by Donnie or ethically "acquired" by April
he drives everyone crazy by leaving them in random places and then forgetting where they are. Donnie starts installing locator tags on everything they give Leo
jokes about these are fine, Leo makes them often himself and has silly names for all of them (this also drives Donnie crazy)
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It’s SO funny to me when I see movie fans writing alex as this daddy dom, himbo guy because Alex is so!!!
If you scream at him a little too loudly he’ll probably cry, just not in front of you. He falls in love really hard and deeply but it takes him so long to accept that he can also be loved hard and deeply! He has the highest grades ever 1) because he’s smart and 2) because he bases his self worth on making others proud, on being useful. He overworks himself, he runs to clear his head until his feet bleed, his coffee is bitter but so are his thoughts. He’s a softie, who writes his bf love letters and who probably giggles and kicks his feet while reading what henry writes back to him. He can absolutely destroy you in a debate, don’t even try to argue with him he’ll win each time. He talks a lot but he has never been listened to. His rivalry with Henry started with a bad meeting and also with constant comparison, because everyone compared them both, and it was just a constant reminder than Alex will never be enough. Henry was born on the spotlight, Alex wasn’t. Henry was white, Alex wasn’t. Henry had everyone’s support, Alex didn’t. *He is a jester and a devoted knight. He knows hundreds of fun facts and will tell you. He loves Texas despite the bad memories of his childhood and teen years it brings. He feels guilty for making his sister worry so much. He loves his mother despite everything, and she loves him too, but they have an unusual, almost unhealthy relationship. He needs to prove himself every minute of the day. He works as a distraction. He puts on a façade around everyone, golden boy, America’s heartthrob, no one sees his house key, his glasses, the hundreds of papers hidden under the windowsill, the pills stolen from Liam. Someone teach this man healthy coping mechanisms. He is a child of divorce, and this affects him more than he lets on. He is actually a huge nerd. He grew up poor. He was in denial about his sexuality for years. He definitely has abandonment issues. He might be impulsive sometimes (storming Kensington palace after being ghosted by Henry) but he usually thinks things through, and is very reasonable. He makes lists, tons of them. He has undiagnosed adhd and this has shaped him as a person in a way I can’t even describe. Before Henry, bea, and Pez, he didn’t have any friends aside from Nora and his sister. He grew up catholic. He is a romantic. And a dork. He is just as passionate about history as Henry is. But Nora makes friends, and Alex ends up with acquaintances who think they know him because they’ve read his profile in New York Magazine, and perfectly fine people with perfectly fine bodies who want to take him home from the bar. None of it is satisfying—it never has been, not really, but it never mattered as much as it does now that there’s the sharp counterpoint of Henry, who knows him. Henry who’s seen him in glasses and tolerates him at his most annoying and still kissed him like he wanted him, singularly, not the idea of him.
Always the talker, never the heard. Always good, never enough. Always ogled, never seen. Always the first son, never Alex.
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wntrs0ldier · 9 months
Text
An Offer · part 11
pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), smut?
series masterlist
series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.
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“Hey, Y/N.” A soft whisper brushed your ear and wrapped itself around your waking mind. “Hey, hey…” A gentle touch slid across your cheek, pulling out of sleep the remnants of consciousness fighting for further rest. Your lungs involuntarily filled with a bigger load of air; you opened your eyes, and they immediately found Bucky sitting beside you. He gave you a tender smile, his thumb relentlessly stroking your cheek.
“What?” you asked without much thought. Bucky seemed calm, so you saw no reason to panic either. His touch, this time instead of helping you stay awake, was pushing you towards falling asleep again. Your eyelids drooped, and you had little control over it – it was entirely his fault.
“Hey, stay with me,” Bucky ordered right away, his voice still soft, as if, contrary to the words spoken, he didn't want to disturb you at all. 
“But it's so warm and comfortable here…” 
His hand, which until then had been resting on your face, slipped under the covers. It touched your thigh, and though your eyes remained closed, the rest of your body was awakened by an explosion; a memory of the previous night. Bucky's hand moved higher and turned unexpectedly, his fingers unceremoniously pinching your cheek. You moaned, more in surprise than pain, then looked at Bucky with innocent reproach – he'd used something against you that you definitely liked, and you knew he wouldn't do anything about it. He had aroused not only your mind, but especially your body, and would leave you aching and craving again. But there was also something on his face that might indicate a different turn of events; the same rawness that you had observed the first time he appeared in your house that day had returned. It was as if your innocence and exposure were driving him into some kind of wild, nevertheless controlled madness.
Bucky pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. He swallowed hard at the lust you had also raised in him, and took his hands away. He got up from the bed and it was only then that you noticed he had already his clothes on. “Get dressed,” he grunted. “We have to get back to New York.”
You sat up on the mattress and glanced at the window – it was still dark outside. You grabbed your phone; it was almost three in the morning. You returned your gaze to Bucky, giving him a questioning, confused look, but he paid no more attention to you, too busy gathering up his stuff. “...Is something wrong?” 
“Timothy called,” he replied, and when he did, you already knew you had lost him. You'd lost smiley, relaxed Bucky; when you got to Vegas, he'd come back to life amongst the warmth, sunshine and all the softness you had for each other. And then all it took was one, probably cold and spiteful phone call from his uncle to destroy it; to kill that side of him. 
“Alright…” You nodded slowly. “And he wanted you to come back?”
“He said he needs me. Got a job for me.” He threw his sweats and t-shirt on the bed. “Put this on. Please,” he urged, thereby letting you know that he didn't have time for the rest of your questions. And you weren't quite sure what you should actually feel, but you weren't hurt. You were probably prepared for this; for life alongside a gangster. Bucky was now your husband, and although you had married on your own terms, your society had established a pattern that was imprinted in the two of you as well - however good you intended to be to each other; however much Bucky wanted to make you his equal, he was your husband – a specific, meaningful figure in your world – so you had to follow him, do everything he demanded and expected of you. And you weren't going to fight back, because you trusted him. Maybe not entirely – you still needed time – but you kept believing in his whole “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”
It wasn't hard to guess that time played a key role, but you were only confirmed in this belief by the fact that you were returning to New York by plane, sent by Timothy. You still didn't know what he wanted from Bucky, but the matter seemed serious if he was taking such measures. And probably for the first time you realized what your mother really meant when she repeated to you like a mantra: Never marry a gangster. 
Because you were worried. You were worried about your husband, and you weren't sure how to deal with that feeling. It was so... unexpected. Or rather, the fact that it involved Bucky; tied to you in this untrue, loveless marriage. It turned out that you had a softer heart than you thought.
When you landed, a car was waiting for you. The driver, on Bucky's instructions, took you to an address you didn't know – one of New York's apartment complexes. You felt more and more lost, because you had the impression that instead of receiving information that would help your mind to function undisturbed by stress, you knew far too little. You could have asked – you could have asked anything, but you didn't want to throw Bucky off balance. You could see he was irritated enough and was doing his best not to unload on you. You weren't going to make it difficult for him.
Still, there were questions you couldn't keep quiet about. “Where exactly are we..?” You furrowed, watching Bucky turn the keys in the lock. 
He opened the door and let you through. “At my place,” he answered, closing the wooden lid behind him. He put your luggage on the floor, because although this time you managed to declare to him that you could handle your bag, he turned a deaf ear to it.
“Right…” You looked around hesitantly. For some reason, you didn't think he had his own place; mostly you'd find him at his family house, moreover, he had never mentioned having his own place before. Admittedly, he didn't mention owning a casino either. He didn't actually talk about anything until it came to the surface by itself. 
“Look…” Bucky murmured, checking something on his phone. Shortly afterwards, he turned it off and lifted his gaze to you. “I gotta see my uncle. Can you wait here for me?”
“Sure.” You smiled slightly. Apart from the fact that you didn't really have anywhere else to go, you wanted to stay here; to get to know better the space that belonged to Bucky. 
And he managed the same pained rise of the corners of his mouth. He only nodded, and after a moment he left the apartment. You didn't resent him for this at all – you knew there were priorities in your world, besides, in reality you and Bucky didn't function as a typical married couple, but more like co-workers. So, in theory, you didn't need to know; it should have been enough for you that your deal has been working; that it has been protecting you and your father's business. However, you couldn't help but feel that in all this you were also looking out for Bucky's wellbeing. Or maybe you cared mostly about that. And some part of you wanted to know everything; including how he felt.
Despite your suspicion that caffeine would fuel your anxiety, you decided to make yourself a coffee. You hadn't slept a wink on the plane, and now you didn't feel like sleeping either; the tension accompanying you, while draining you additionally, didn't allow you to rest. 
When the boiling coffee machine announced it was finished, you wrapped your hands around the cup, slurped a sip of the hot drink, the smell of which had already spread throughout the kitchen, and went for your rounds. You didn't particularly care if your behavior entered the territory of being nosy; the place belonged to your husband; the same one who had left you alone in it. So you gave yourself every right to search any corner if you wished.
Just as with the car, the apartment reflected the owner in some way; once you crossed its door, every choice seemed perfectly understandable. First of all, dark colors that were pleasantly soothing to the senses – deep shades of gray on the walls; anthracite or graphite, sometimes black, like the tiles in the kitchen; solid wooden panels in a cool shade of chocolate on the floors; mainly black furniture, silver, gray or dark blue accessories. The spaces were brightened only by large windows looking out largely onto other, equally tall buildings.
You finished your coffee, glancing around the interior of the living room, and thoughts were racing through your head – unanswered questions to yourself about whether this was where you would be living from now on, mixed with concerns about Bucky; was he safe? He was supposed to be with his uncle, but you didn't trust Timothy. What did he want from Bucky? Is he going to contact you or will he do what Timothy asks him to do without a word of warning? How long is it going to take? Is it really something serious? Dangerous?
Never marry a gangster.
You shake your head, as if that's going to help you clear up the chaos; as if that shake was going to sort out the whole mess. Back in the kitchen, you put the cup in the dishwasher, then headed to the bathroom. 
You felt a little better, washing off the hours spent on the plane; as streams of warm water ran down your sore, tired body. You reached up to a stone shelf, and came across more bottles than you thought you would; in addition to shower gel and shampoo, you found a hair conditioner.
You wrapped yourself in a fresh towel found in one of the cabinets, then left the bathroom with the intention of finding something to put on. However, you didn't manage to get to your bag; the door to the apartment opened and Bucky burst in. You didn't know if he had noticed you; he didn't even look in your direction, just grabbed his baggage from the floor, and without stopping, went to the bedroom. At first you stood there speechless – Bucky's abruptness caught you off guard; you also weren't sure if he had ignored you on purpose. But maybe it was better that way; you preferred not to get in his way. Nevertheless, after a moment, you followed him. 
Bucky walked from the bed to the wardrobe and back again, repacking his bag.
“What are you doing?” you spoke, but your voice sounded so weak and quiet that you weren't even sure if those words had actually left your mouth. Especially as he still wasn't paying attention to you. “Bucky?” you asked a little more firmly, and he glanced at you over his shoulder. “What’s going on? What are you-”
“I have to leave.”
Your lungs suddenly ran out of air, your eyes widened.
“Timothy wants me to monitor business in Italy,” he answered, nervously shoving some folded clothes into his bag. “Somehow, strangely enough, he suddenly stopped trusting our men there.” He almost snorted. 
Your lips parted involuntarily as you stared at his back. You barely consciously moved from your spot and approached Bucky. “For how long?”
“Few weeks, few months. I don't know. When he'll be satisfied enough with my work.”
You sat on the edge of the bed and stuck your eyes into the floor. “And you can’t say no.”
Bucky pressed his lips together. “I still owe him a debt. Besides, debt or not, my uncle is the head of the Family. And I crossed the line by marrying you behind his back.”
Your gaze tentatively returned to him. “He's punishing you for it..?”
He said nothing at first. He zipped up the bag, and for a brief moment you had the feeling that he was about to slam it against one of the walls.
“He'll make me break every promise I made to you,” Bucky claimed. He looked at you with what you could call fear if you knew the reason for it. One thing you were sure of – the tearing pain in his eyes. He regretted something; probably the fact that he had dragged you into this. “But I need you, Y/N.” Having stood between your legs, he dropped to his knees, his hands on your hips. “I fucking need you on my side.”
“Jamie-” You instinctively tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear in a soothing gesture. “I am on your side.”
“I don't know when I'll be back,” he repeated. “What if you'll have enough time to hate me?” His mouth twitched in a sad smile.
“I won't hate you,” you protested. “It's not your fault that you have to go. Our world is just built that way. And I get it.”
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head with clear disappointment; towards himself and the whole situation. He shifted slightly, then rested his head against your stomach, snuggling into your body. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You slid your fingers into his hair and brushed it tenderly. “It’s okay, Bucky. Really,” you whispered. He pulled back just enough to look at you. As your fingers rubbed his scalp with affection, his thumbs stroked your hips. “What if you’ll have enough time to find someone else?” you asked after a moment of silence.
“Y/N-” Bucky sighed with resignation.
“You know we are not with each other because of love,” you reminded, trying to talk some sense into him. “You want to be a good husband, and that's really great, but-” You gasped. “I don't want to get in your way. I don't want to stop you from finding what would really make you happy.”
Bucky's forehead furrowed, giving his face an offended expression. “So what? You're giving me permission to go there and cheat on you left and right?” His hands left your body and slipped on the mattress. 
“That's not what I said,” you objected right away. “And you told me practically the same thing. In your uncle’s garden.”
Bucky stared at you without even blinking. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip and shook his head, looking away for a moment. Shortly afterwards he gazed at you again. “Okay. Have it your way,” he replied. “You will be the first to know. But now I'm only yours. And you are mine as long as I am here.” He raised his hand to your cheek. Soon, however, he moved it to the back of your head to draw you closer; he pressed his lips to yours with a longing you already recognised; he kissed you for the first time since last night. And you weren't even taken aback; the gesture seemed so natural, so familiar and right.
Bucky rose from his knees, and as if by instinct you climbed onto the bed to make space for him. The mattress bent under his weight as he took the spot right in front of you. He laid another, this time a more tender kiss on your lips, then took off his sweatshirt; he didn't need to do that – the sudden desire was strong enough that you might as well satisfy it instantly, without unnecessary delay. But you were wearing only a towel, which was about to fall; Bucky craved to feel your naked skin against his own; to keep you company in total exposure.
You kissed him – slowly and sloppily – meanwhile reaching for his belt and managing to unbuckle it, wanting to assure him that you needed it too; that you were completely comfortable with the closeness he was initiating. 
Bucky pulled down his trousers and kicked them on the floor, and as his body pushed against yours, his lips traced a chaotic wet path on your neck. At one point, you even felt him grab a piece of your skin between his teeth; he sucked on it hard enough that you let out an involuntary whimper, and then irritated the sore spot with the tip of his tongue.
He sized you up with his eyes; your body stripped of its covering. You didn't feel as insecure as before – you weren't used to Bucky like that yet, but you were too absorbed in putting out your burning needs. “Fuck what I said earlier,” he rasped. “I'm not sharing you with anyone. And if that anyone happens, I'll fuck them out of your pretty little head.” He stretched his lips in a smirk, then leaned down and nuzzled your nose with his. “I can't get enough of you, baby,” he added, sinking into you without any warning. You both parted your lips; Bucky's breath stilled in his throat, and your back arched as you felt his whole cock inside you. 
His heated, heavy body brushed against yours; slowly at first, lazily even, so that he could watch your face, drinking in every little expression. And you looked at him – a little helplessly against the control he had over you, and with a hope, perhaps even a silent request, that he would be the one to fulfill this hunger he himself had aroused in you. And you knew; you could see it on his face, feel it in his every movement, that he had set himself just such a mission.
Soon his hips began pounding fast enough that your clashing, naked, sweaty bodies made that characteristic, heavenly sound – it filled the whole room, mixing with your moans and Bucky's panting. If at all possible, the combination was turning you on even more, intensifying the sensations his dick was giving you, sliding in and out in that rapid rhythm, his wet, hot lips wandering on your skin. You felt his hand suddenly clench on your hair, his teeth hooking lightly on the edge of your jaw; if he could, Bucky would absorb every bit of your body.
You didn't even know at what exact moment you wrapped your hand around Bucky's biceps; you realized this when you painfully dug your nails into it – painful for both of you, but also somehow releasing the sensations that had been building up inside you. They were piling up, and you weren't going to fight them this time either. As that seemingly familiar but actually new feeling exploded in the pit of your stomach, you tightly hugged Bucky and pulled him closer. You uncontrollably sank your teeth into his shoulder, and pure pleasure spread across his face.
With his head on your chest, Bucky was slowly climbing down from his high. You stroked his arm carefully with your knuckles, then brushed your fingertips over the mark of your teeth. 
“You’re a biter,” he murmured, feeling your touch in that spot. From the tone of his voice, you figured he was smiling while saying it. 
“Apparently,” you admitted with a little amusement. “How much time have you got?”
“Why? You want to get rid of me already?”
“I don't want to give Timothy any reason to punish us more than he already did.”
Bucky sighed heavily. He supported himself on his elbows, pulling his head away from your chest, and looked at you. You'd started the topic of Timothy again, and expected worry; that unsettling nervousness. Instead, Bucky stared at you with a gentle smile. “I wouldn't be myself if I didn't fuck with him at least a little,” he stated. “Besides…” He shrugged. “I'm saying goodbye to my wife, aren't I? And judging by his desire to have an heir, my uncle strongly respects family values.” He squinted, smiling insincerely.
You laughed, biting your bottom lip, then lifted your hands to his face. “And that's what you're going to tell him? That you were late because you were working on an heir?”
“Maybe,” Bucky said casually. Watching him with a tender grin, you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, then carefully moved your finger down his nose; from bridge to tip. The expression on Bucky's face firmly softened – to some extent he even seemed surprised that someone had treated him with such gentleness. “Say it,” he whispered. 
“What?” This time, your thumb caressed his chin.
“That I'm yours. I need to hear it. I need to know that when I come back, I'll come back to you. To my girl.”
There was something painfully shattering about seeing him embraced by such helplessness, uncertainty about his own worth; about how you perceived him.
“I don't want to lose you,” he continued. “The thought of you, of you being there for me, is the only thing that will keep me sane, I-”
“It's okay. It's okay.” You smiled reassuringly, your hands returned to his cheeks. “You are mine, and I'm not going to look for anyone else, I promise. I'll wait for you as long as it takes, okay? I am not leaving you, Jamie.”
Bucky nodded. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips, immediately followed by another, much more filled with fear, insecurity, vulnerability. 
“I'll miss you,” you muttered into his mouth.
“And I will miss you. Very much.” He trailed his pecks down to your chin, your neck. One of his hands found its way between your thighs, parting them; without protest you spread your legs wider and he settled between them again. You felt his hardened cock rubbing against the inside of your thigh. You never imagined that you would affect someone so much, and knowing that you actually did put Bucky in a slightly different light; it created a new connection between you, based on intimacy and desire for each other. 
His length thrust into you again, and you whimpered as your eyes rolled back in your skull.
You got out of the car – a little sore and tired. Bucky grabbed his bag from the back seats, then reached for your hand, locking your fingers together. He didn't let it show, but you could sense that he was nervous.
A plane was already waiting on the large, empty lot; the property of the Barnes Family. Timothy was standing not far from the heavy machine, talking to the pilot; Steve was also there, but as soon as he spotted the two of you, he walked towards you.
“Y/N.” He nodded to you; you waved at him in response, plastering a slight smile on your face. 
To greet Steve, Bucky chose to drop his bag rather than let go of your hand. He put his free arm around Steve and patted him on the back. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”
“I will.”
Bucky released your hand, but only to move his arm down your back and pull you closer. You bumped against his body, resting your hands on his chest. “It'll be fine. Hmm?”
You wanted to believe it, but couldn't. That's why all you were able to do was smile sadly and press a tender kiss on his lips. Bucky rested his forehead against yours.
“I'll be waiting for you,” you said quietly, making him smile as well.
“I know.” He kissed your forehead, leaving his mouth there for a little longer than necessary. When he pulled away, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, then handed you the keys to the Mustang. “Here. Take care of it, alright?” 
“Alright,” you replied almost silently, lowering your gaze to the keys in your hand. As you lifted your eyes back to Bucky, you caught his stare. He looked at you with a soft smirk. You didn't say anything. Soon, however, he once again joined your lips.
“I gotta go.” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand, having brought it to his mouth, then pulled away and headed toward the plane. You pressed your trembling lips together, watching him. And again you felt that unpleasant coldness of being left alone.
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a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰
taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter
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spicyspiders · 4 months
Text
A buried and a burning flame
Johnny Storm x male reader smut.
2k words.
I recently rewatch both of the old Fantastic Four movies and it reminded me of how down bad I was for Johnny Storm. Warning for smut and unprotected sex.
You had met Johnny a few years before he became the Human Torch. He was already a busy man– always on the go and usually surrounded by a group of onlookers, but it all seemed to ramp up once he gained his powers.
After you had met, Johnny always recognized you and greeted you with a warm smile and a hug, a fact that always made you hope to run into him at events around New York.
“There he is!” Johnny says when he sees you walk outside. He pulls you into a quick hug, his blue eyes crinkled at the edges when he pulls away with a smile on his face.
“Hey, Johnny,” you respond, sending him a matching smile.
You were almost hesitant to go to Sue and Reed’s wedding again. It turns out that trying to tell the place you rented your tux from that the jacket had been destroyed when a silver man on a silver board would only leave you with a pissed off employee angrily holding out his hand for your card to charge you for the destroyed jacket.
“What was this place called?” Johnny asks.
“I don’t remember,” you did remember, but really, you just wanted to forget all about the situation. You’re surprised there isn’t some type of insurance for people who are friends with superheroes to replace damaged items just from being in their vicinity.
“If you remember,” Johnny presses his finger into your chest, “you let me know. No one messes with my friend,” his tone and expression are serious until it melts away as his facade breaks into a smile.
“It’s fine, Johnny,” you reassure, “it’s just a jacket,” you say with a laugh. “But if you sister asks why I didn’t bring them a gift, tell her that’s what I had to spend it on.”
Johnny’s head tips back as he lets out a loud laugh. He stays close for the rest of the day keeping you at arms length. During the moment Sue tosses her bouquet into the air, his arm wraps around your waist as you watch the display. When you look back over at Johnny after clapping for the women who caught it, he already looking at you, a warm look in his eye.
That was the closest you thought you would get, but by the time the reception was dying down and you left after saying your goodbyes and congratulations to the happy couple, you found yourself even closer to the other man.
With how close he was to you throughout the day, you almost thought it would be crazy to leave without kissing him, but luckily, Johnny had the same idea in mind as he crowds you up against the door to your hotel room. Even under the expensive tux he wore, Johnny felt like a wall of hot, hard muscle as you pulled him closer as your back met the door.
You let out a soft noise from your chest when Johnny’s tongue moves into your mouth. His mouth feels even hotter than his skin, making your cock twitch at the thought of where else his mouth would end up through the night.
You’re panting when the kiss ends, only to be pulled back into another kiss as you stumble to the bed. Johnny lets out a grunt when his legs meet the edge of the bed and he falls back, he laughs up at you as the kiss abruptly ends.
You chuckle down at the man before you pull off your blazer, “hey! Easy!” Johnny says after you toss the blazer into one of the corners of the room, “I know you’re eager,” he says and you let out a laugh before he continues, “we don’t want to pay for another blazer, do we?”
You roll your eyes at the man as you continue pulling your clothes off, trying your best to keep going while also trying to watch as Johnny begins taking his off. He sends you a smirk each time he catches you looking, his eyes full of mischief.
Once you’re both down to your underwear, Johnny gathers you into his lap. You moan into his mouth when you grind against his clothed cock, his tongue running wetly along yours. Much like how he kept you throughout the day, Johnny’s arms wrapped tightly around your body to keep you close. His hands start at your body and trace down your skin, but then they’re grabbing handfuls of the globes of your ass to grind your cocks together.
“Johnny,” you moan when his hands go beneath the waistband of your underwear to make skin-on-skin contact. His hands are hot, and the feel of his fingers holding handfuls of your ass tightly only causes you to moan louder. You gasp when one of his fingers dips into the crack of your ass and runs along your hole, and you push back into the contact.
“Do you have-”
“Yes,” you respond quickly.
“You don’t even know what I was about to ask,” Johnny says back with a laugh.
The smile falls from his face when you pull yourself from his arms, and you’re tempted to immediately get back into the spot you left and kiss away his frown. You’re quick to grab the lube and condoms you brought and toss them down beside Johnny’s leg.
“Did you expect this?” Johnny asks as he pulls you back down into his lap.
“I always come prepared,” you respond against his mouth before your lips are against his.
While your lips are locked together, you hear the sound of the cap to the lube opening. You let out a light noise into Johnny’s mouth when you feel one of Johnny’s lubed up fingers at your hole.
You exchange kiss after kiss as Johnny gets you ready. Your tongue runs against his as one finger becomes two, and when a third joins the others, a string of spit is connecting your mouths when Johnny pulls away.
Johnny pants against your mouth when you reach a hand down between your bodies to wrap your fingers around both of your cocks. When his three fingers brush your prostate, your hand jerks, pulling a groan from Johnny’s throat.
“Won’t be able to fuck you if you keep going,” Johnny says, his hips jerking towards your hand to get more.
You pull your hand away slowly and bring it up to your mouth. The salty taste of Johnny’s precome hits your tongue when you lick over your fingers, and when you’re done, Johnny pulls you into a wet kiss. You both groan at the exchange of the taste, and the kiss ends when the taste is nearly gone down your throats.
“Taste good?” Johnny asks, his hand goes to your throat to trace his fingers along your Adam's apple as you swallow.
You nod quickly as you grab for the condom. Johnny watches you with dark eyes as you get the condom out and rolled down his cock.
Once you’ve lifted yourself up, Johnny holds your asscheeks apart, making you feel open and exposed. You gasp when the head of his cock breaches your hole, then it’s all left to gravity.
“Holy fuck,” Johnny moans, “so fucking tight and hot. And come from me,” he groans as you clench down on his cock, “that’s saying something.”
If it was anything like the hot line of Johnny’s cock inside your hole, you believed him. The burning line of his cock almost made it feel like there was no condom, like it was just skin-on-skin and nothing in between.
Johnny’s hands move into the same position that they were before you sank down on his cock to aid you as you lifted yourself. You placed your hands on his hairy chest for balance as you went back down.
When your pace quickened, Johnny fell back onto the bed, his hands at your hips. Your head fell back and your eyes closed when Johnny shifted his hips and on each downward motion, his cock hit your prostate.
“You’ve got it,” you hear Johnny say to himself, and then the pressure of his hands are gone, and you’re left to lift yourself up and bring yourself down. You open your eyes to look down at Johnny, taking in a fucked out appearance.
With his arms behind his head, his hair messy, and his eyes dark and half-lidded, Johnny laid there and let you do all the work. Thankfully, his sturdy chest made it easy to lift yourself up and then fuck yourself down onto his cock.
“Gonna make me do all the work?” You ask down at Johnny.
Johnny sends you a smirk, “it seems like you got it. Sure feels like you do, too,” he responds.
You let out a breathy laugh, “that’s fine,” you say before slowing down. Your pace slows into a slow grind. You wrap your fingers around your cock as you circle your hips slowly. Your eyes close once more as you pull at your aching cock.
Johnny’s skin goes hotter under your fingers as he growls. You let out a yelp in return, and your eyes fly open as Johnny pulls you off his cock and flips you onto your back onto the bed.
“Little fucking shit,” Johnny says, his voice low. He lifts your legs to his shoulders, and nearly bends your body in half before he thrusts back inside. With the angle feeling deeper than before, you both let out moans as he gets back inside.
“This what you need?” Johnny questions after he sets up a brutal pace. The slap of your skin coming together rings throughout the hotel room, sending a thrill through your body as it gets louder. You hope no one is in the rooms surrounding yours, knowing that the sounds of what you’re doing can be clearly heard through the walls. You can’t decide what would be more mortifying: getting a call from the front desk to quiet down, or them trying to call, and not being able to hear it from how loud you’re being.
You nod eagerly, unable to use your words as your mouth is too busy letting out moans and groans. The closest that you get to words is mixes of curses and Johnny’s name.
“Gonna burn this condom off and-”
“Take it off,” you whine after finding your voice.
“Want me to come inside you? Fill you up?” Johnny growls, his hips coming to a halt against your ass.
Yeah, you did, but also you were pretty sure condoms were highly flammable. You didn’t know how in control Johnny was of his powers, but you didn’t want to risk it. Really, you probably shouldn’t have been a condom the entire time. It’s too bad you were currently too turned on to stress over it.
After Johnny pulls out, the condom sails over the side of the bed and lands on the floor, and you hoped it landed far away from your blazer. A second later, the worry leaves your mind as Johnny thrusts back inside.
“So fucking hot, baby,” Johnny moans after he bottoms out. His mouth meets yours in a wet, sloppy kiss as he resumes his brutal pace.
Your nails dig into his back as his cock nails your prostate over and over again. It only takes a handful of thrusts for your cock to be spurting messy white ropes up your chest as your orgasm rocks your body.
Johnny answers your loud moan with one of his own after his thrusts stutter off and then still as his orgasm hits. Like he had done before pulling off the condom, his hips still against your ass, coming as deep as he can inside your willing body.
“Holy fuck,” you moan, much like how Johnny had earlier. His come was so hot that you could actually feel it shooting inside you. That’s new.
“Should’ve warned you,” Johnny slurred out in post-orgasmic bliss. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he pulls your legs from his shoulders and lays himself onto your chest, “sorry,” he says after pressing another kiss to your lips.
“It’s okay,” you say softly against his mouth.
Johnny rolls you over so you can lay against his sweaty chest. “Can you ever forgive me?” Johnny says into your hair as his hand runs down your back.
“For burning my insides? I guess I can, just this once,” you say into his chest as you run your fingers through his sweaty chest hair.
“Just once?” Johnny asks, his hands move to your ass, and you can barely contain your shiver when Johnny’s fingers run through the mess leaking from your hole.
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ginnsbaker · 11 months
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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (1/?)
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Summary: Sequel to In Flames I Sleep Soundly; After the divorce, Wanda refuses to give you up. 
Chapter word count: 5k+
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Chapter Warnings: Angst, Masturbation
Author’s Note: So... this AU wouldn’t leave me. For my new readers, you don’t have to read the first installment . This can be read as a standalone. Title is based on lyrics of “This Love” by Taylor Swift
AO3 | Masterlist
Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta​
Next Chapter: Two
One
It’s not a god damn funeral, Wanda thinks as she stares at her black outfit.
With a huff, she makes the quick decision to reach for the zipper near the curve of where her spine becomes her head, and then pulls it down so hastily it gets out of track and refuses to budge further than her waist.
Shit, Wanda curses under her breath, wiggling her arms from its sleeves, which isn’t exactly difficult given her recent weight loss. At first she tries to shimmy her body out of the dress, but she only succeeds in getting stuck further and sweating under her pits. Unfortunately the weight loss didn’t happen around her middle, and she also couldn’t get it to move upwards and over her head. The options are to either fix the zipper or destroy the dress. Wanda picks the latter.
Grabbing a pair of scissors, she starts to frantically cut through the silky material. Her heart races as she terrorizes the dress with fervor–grunting Sokovian words she’s surprised she still remembers–until the dress pools at her feet in tatters. Wanda feels her energy depleted after, and she crawls on the bed to lie face down, on her stomach. 
To some degree, her recent outbursts are gradually becoming a concern, especially since she’s back in her old Manhattan neighborhood. The smallest, most insignificant things tick her off, and a densely populated city like New York is filled with them.
Like last week, when she was shopping at Trader Joe’s, and someone kept hitting her backside with their cart while waiting at the counter. 
“I swear to god, if you don’t lay the fuck off–” Wanda’s ears burned when she looked over her shoulder and saw a frail, old woman who looked like she didn't have many years left in her. 
“I’m sorry.” Wanda croaked out and then pressed her lips in a straight hard line. 
“Oh, it’s alright. We all have bad days. But sweetheart,” The old woman warmly smiled at her and then leaned closer as if to share a secret. “You need to get laid.” She added like she’s giving some age-old, archaic advice. 
Wanda’s smile in return was pasty, and she hurried to remove almost half of the stuff(not without receiving a dirty look from an employee who had to put them all back) in her basket so she could leave the counter as soon as possible. 
The mysterious universe had a dark sense of humor. It was sex that brought her to this manic-depressive, freak-out-at-a-grocery-store behavior, and to be told by a stranger that she needed more of it was just the icing on top of this tremendous fuckery of a year she’s had. 
Wanda turns on her back and closes her eyes for a minute. She doesn’t even know why she’s wasted an hour of choosing what to wear for the day she gets legally separated from you. And yet she couldn’t help but give an extra effort to look good for you. All she knows is the days she gets to see you are rare. She can count on one hand the times you’ve met since that fateful lunch at the diner back in Westview. She needs to look her best in these opportunities. 
She needs to look her best, and hopes you’d notice.
Glancing back at her wide-open wardrobe, that’s when she spots it. Hiding in the furthermost end of her rack, is a decade-old sundress she’s kept all this time. 
The memory rises unbidden to her mind, before she could stop it. 
It was the dress she wore on her first date with you. She recalls picking it specifically because it’s green. She wanted it to match her eyes–your favorite part of her body. It made you gape. It made you go almost stupid with want, forgetting the way to the restaurant where you made reservations because you wouldn’t stop staring at her. 
By the end of that night though, the dress was lost somewhere along the trip from the door to the bedroom.
“Aren’t we moving too fast?” You whispered against her swollen lips, breaking the kiss while your hands roamed all over her shaking frame. Wanda merely moaned and put her lips to your neck, kissing every inch of available skin to her. 
You’ve known each other for years. It didn’t feel like you were moving too fast. Rather, it was a culmination of sorts–seemingly platonic hugs that lasted just a tad longer than they should, the way your eyes always found each other in a crowded room, kisses on the cheek that came too close to the mouth. And not to mention, the other people you’ve both dated in those times of being more than friends but less than lovers. 
The pace was actually agonizingly slow. A slow burn that had put all other slow burns to shame.
You directed Wanda back to your mouth and the kiss that ignited again is its own kind of sex. God, she never really understood the fuzz about making out because her sexual experiences in the past didn’t really pay much attention to foreplay. For a while, she was simply content with the sliding of lips and tongues. But then you dropped to the floor and began pulling down her soaked thong, while your dilated eyes never left hers.
Wanda’s breath hitched at seeing you fall to your knees and gaze at her with incomparable reverence. How could you worship her when you yourself were so achingly beautiful?
She needed you to touch her soon or she’d go crazy. “Please.”
Her panties only made it past one ankle before you dove in to taste her for the first time. 
Wanda of the present comes at the ghost sensation of your tongue against her throbbing clit. In truth, it’s just her fingers that brought her to climax while she kneels at the center of her bed, her ruined underwear down past her thighs. She bucks her hips a couple of more times before falling back to the mattress, spent. 
That old lady was right. An orgasm does help.
-
The divorce is final. 
Today, she signed away any legal right she has as your partner. As for everyone else in the meeting room, it’s just another ordinary day to dissolve a marriage.
Wanda’s wearing the sundress that sort of accidentally gave her release this morning. You keep looking at her, no wonder trying to figure out why the dress looks so familiar. And Wanda can’t look at you straight in the eye without blushing. 
You came in with your ever reliable back-up: Natasha. Now that you’re no longer married to her, Wanda’s insecurities about the true nature of your relationship with Natasha has come up to the surface. The way Natasha would pat your back and ask you if you’re alright. The way she’d ask you if you’d like something to drink. The way she also knows you take your coffee black with three teaspoons of brown sugar.
The way she’s just always there. 
It annoys her enough that you said Natasha was your person, because then what was she to you? The title of soulmate triumphs over wife, and Wanda wants to be both. She wants all the titles. 
Well, maybe not all. She definitely doesn’t want to be called your ex-wife. But she’ll accept the reality for your sake. She wasn’t lying when she’d said she’ll give you everything you want, even if it puts her on the sidelines.
“Hey, do you want to get coffee?” Wanda breaks the spell of silence that lasted some five minutes when your lawyers and Natasha left the room to give you two a moment. 
She immediately wants to take back her words when you look at her  incredulously like she had grown another head on her lithe, sagged shoulders. 
“Seriously?” you say, and spitefully chuckle. 
Wanda says nothing, just resorts to quietly admiring you in a skirt suit she’s never seen you wear before. In the short time you’ve both been separated, she’s noticed little changes of yours that makes her homesick for you. You will wear new clothes and shoes, get a new haircut, try a new hobby, walk a certain way, and then all these changes will pile up until you become this inconceivable stranger. Still beautiful–but a stranger nonetheless. She knows the consequences of her actions are harder on you, but maybe, just maybe, it’s equally hard for her too. 
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” you sigh, despondent. “Maybe for you it’s not, but today is the worst day of my life, Wanda. Or second. Or third. I don’t know. There’s so many of them recently, but this is definitely in the top three. I just want to be alone.” 
Wanda will never get used to the way you’re now just either angry or tired of dealing with her. She’s afraid to reassess the odds of getting you back and finding out it’s worse than zero. 
“Right,” Wanda says, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
You hum in response.
“It is, you know?” Wanda says.
You shoot her a quizzical look. 
“It’s hard for me too,” Wanda clarifies. “I spent all morning picking out what to wear and getting all dolled-up, in desperate hopes you’d–you’d change your mind at the last minute.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel bad, or–”
“No,” Wanda cuts in in panic. Somehow she keeps saying the wrong things. “It’s hard for me. Because it’s the end for our marriage when all I want is to be with you right now.”
You avert your gaze and nod solemnly at her as if you understood. 
Do you?
Do you, perhaps, feel the same way? Or is she the only one still in love?
“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” you say, eyes downcast still refusing to meet her eyes. “I know it’s unfair for me to act like I’m the only one who’s hurting. I just–I’m tired of being angry and sad and lost all the time. And it doesn’t exactly help when you’re around. For once, I want to feel something else and I need to be alone to figure it out.”
I want to move on from you, is what Wanda thinks you really want to say and her eyes well up. This time, she prays you don’t glance her way. She might just break down right in front of you if you do. She’s never known this kind of desolation. And she only has herself to blame. 
For once, she’s thankful for Natasha’s presence when she interrupts the moment, asking if you’re ready to leave.
“I am.” you tell Natasha. You get up and round the long table to approach Wanda. She could no longer stop the tears from falling when she felt you place your hand softly on her shoulder. The touch is so featherlight, it may as well just be her imagination. 
“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life. Goodbye, Wanda.”
The pain that racks her entire body causes her to visibly shake. She has no idea how she’s still alive at this point. Not for the first time, she desperately wishes for a do-over. But the clock only moves forward, and it’s still moving to take you away. 
Maybe time will also be the one to bring you back someday.
-
Two Months Later
Wanda hasn’t seen you since the divorce. Not once. Nor has she heard from you at all. While you didn’t downright reject her when she had told you that she’d try to get you back, her unanswered texts and unreturned calls should be more than enough to tell her otherwise. 
Her only consolation is that you haven’t blocked her number yet. A few days after she last saw you, she texted to remind you to pick up the last of your things she has in possession. Natasha showed up at her door the very next morning, which confirms you still get her texts. The items are inconsequential in nature, but Wanda had the hardest time putting them in a box. 
She spent an unnecessary amount of time arranging your hardbound books alphabetically (“It’s just not the same, but a Kindle user would never understand.” you’d explain to her whenever you’d shop for more) and cleaning each protector of your small collection of Funko toys (“A dozen more of those and you won’t have space left in your side of the cabinet. What does that leave you with?” Wanda would reprimand you after seeing a shopping bag full of them in the trunk of the car. “Happiness.” you’d reply with a sheepish grin).
She smiled contritely after she had sealed the package; how ironic that she terribly missed the things about you she’s the least fond of. It’s as if the grieving doesn’t have an end. And if she had known you’d send Natasha to retrieve them, she wouldn’t have given them away. She wanted to keep them–wants to keep more of you as much as possible. Wanda wouldn’t call herself a masochist though. Not really. 
Because it’s not over yet. It will take as long as it needs to, and it won’t matter. Patience is her utmost virtue. 
And Wanda believes you feel the same, because there are midnights where her phone would ring from an unknown number. She’d answer and listen to shaky, shallow breaths for a minute before the person on the other line ends the call. It couldn’t be anyone else but you, could it? These moments are always hazy, however, muddled by wine and prescription pills. But Wanda swears they happen. 
The days aren’t so bleak when she pretends she’s still your wife, and you’re just in some faraway place–like a soldier that has gone to war, she’s left to count the days until she’s in your arms again. She goes about her routine as she’s always done when the two of you were still together; go for a run in the mornings, have eggs and toast for breakfast, and then walk Sparky in the afternoon. Her evenings, excruciating and long, are the loneliest hours. Sleep won’t come easy to her, if it comes at all. Her heart mostly breaks as well for Sparky, who still waits by the door around the time you used to arrive home from work. He’d patiently wait there until Wanda would call for him, or fall asleep in the exact same spot. And it’s not like she can talk to him and explain why you won’t come home. All Wanda can do is wait for Sparky to forget this learned behavior or forget you.
So, for the past two months, she’s been taking it one day at a time. It’s now the only way she knows how to survive. It’s working so far, she muses, as she stands before the proof of it while carrying Sparky under her arm, right in the middle of a quiet street in Queens. 
Wanda had loaned the capital for the business right after the divorce papers were signed, and when she got the alimony from it, it was more than enough to pay back the loan in full and still for some change.
She wanted to create something out of what she had destroyed. 
And that’s how the borough’s first Sokovian café came to be. Or at least will come to be when the renovations are finally completed. She can’t see much through the scaffolding that is still in place, but she can make out what it would look like once it’s officially open to the public.
Her contractor and fellow Sokovian migrant, Mr. Jacobs spots her from where he is installing the signage. “Ms. Maximoff!”
Wanda smiles up at him, brushing her bangs away from her sight. The haircut is recent and she kind of regrets it. “Is everything okay around here?”
“I believe so. There’s still some electrical stuff to finish, but I’m confident we’ll be done before your opening.” he tells Wanda.
Sparky starts squirming against Wanda’s hold. “Is it okay to come inside or should I come back another day?” Wanda asks.
“Of course. I had my boys clear out the area and install the A/C last night, so you should be comfortable.”
Perfect. She’s yet to test out the oven she ordered, and there are some new recipes she’d like to try. 
“And Ms. Maximoff?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry, this place is going to do great. They’re gonna love you and our culture.”
A feeling of warmth spreads through Wanda’s chest. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.” He gives her a salute before going back to work.
Wanda’s not ready for the emotion that consumes her when she steps inside her new café. She puts Sparky down on the hardwood flooring, and his nose immediately gets to work, sniffing every corner of the room he could find–which isn’t all that long to cover for a regular-sized Jack Russell Terrier like him. The rented space is relatively small, so Wanda had to be smart with its interior design; a long bench stretches from the open kitchen and counter to about two feet from the entrance, spanning two round dining tables that could sit two people at a time; by the window wall facing the street, is a high top table with two chairs. At most, three staff(including her) could fit in the open kitchen, along with a single espresso machine and a wall oven. All in all, the café can accommodate about six customers dining in at a time, which is why she’s hoping she’d do better with take-outs. 
Wanda did all the decorations herself, top to bottom. The floral ceilings are a combination of autumn colors–your favorite season–and pendant lights subtly drop from them to emit a faint, yellow glow. The polished concrete wall of the dining area gives it an industrial vibe, while red brick tiles clad the panels of the kitchen area. For the finishing touches, Wanda decided to place a variety of potted plants in every corner of the room. 
Standing at the center of it all, Wanda feels a sense of pride and fulfillment–something that seemed implausible to her just a few months before.
"Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a café business." You’d joke sometimes whenever she makes you coffee in the morning.
A shadow passes over her eyes as she looks out the window. Needless to say, there’s only one thing missing in it. The person she wants next to her when all her dreams come true.
You.
Pietro finishes a whole batch of white chocolate macadamia cookies by himself. Wanda’s twin brother flew in last weekend, a rare occurrence since she only sees him once a year at most. He’d be home in the holidays for dinner, and be gone the following day. He lives with a suitcase, and never stays in a city for longer than two weeks. Wanda wasn’t expecting he’d visit her after she broke the news of her divorce, knowing he had gone through the same ordeal twice already without fuss. Apparently, it’s a run-of-the-mill life event for her brother, and it almost did not make it to their bimonthly check-in calls. 
“You’re gonna have to pay me for those.” Wanda tells him. She’s crouched on the floor, feeding Sparky strips of dried meat as she takes a break between baking and practicing her Youtube-acquired skill of Latte Art.
“I thought it’s a welcome home gift.” Pietro says, licking off the crumbs from his fingers. With the bleach in his hair extending to his medium stubbles, their resemblance is close to nonexistent. 
“You earn ten times more than I do in a year.”
“So? What is family for if not free food?”
“It’s $52 dollars.” Wanda says.
Pietro hands her a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
Wanda smirks at him, pocketing the money in her apron. “I intended to.” She passes him a napkin, and gestures at his chin. He waves her off in a pompous manner, and instead, goes to the back of the shop to clean himself up. She didn’t think it’s possible to both know and not know someone at the same time. To look at them and see who they are versus who you think they’re supposed to be. In terms of money and status, he is miles ahead of Wanda, but perhaps at the cost of being unable to find the brother she shared her childhood with in Sokovia. Wanda’s not sure if he still exists beneath the layers of branded suits and expensive perfumes, she just knows she misses him terribly. 
“Second Chances,” Pietro proclaims as he returns a minute later, waving his hands wildly with an imitation of a fanfare. “A little corny if you ask me.”
“Well, I’m not asking you,” Wanda contends and then proceeds to scrub the empty tray that Pietro left in the wake of his cookie binge. “It’s a good name. People can interpret it however they want.”
“And you? What was on your mind when you came up with it?”
Wanda doesn’t answer that. 
“So,” Pietro jumps into a sitting position on the counter and lets his legs dangle from its edge. 
“How’s the quarter-life crisis, sis?”
Wanda cocks an eyebrow and gives him a once over. “Better than yours. All things considered.” 
Sparky comes up to him and stands on his hind legs to snuffle at his shiny loafers. 
“Touché,” Pietro laughs good-naturedly and crosses his legs to avoid the dog’s attention. “It’s weird though, seeing you get into this kind of thing.”
“What do you mean?” Wanda asks.
“You’re not a salesperson, Wands. Remember your girl scout days? Dad would buy all your cookies because you can’t sell for shit.”
Wanda snorts noisily through her nose. “Mom can’t bake for shit.” She notices the smile fall from his lips at the offhand jab at her brother’s favored parent. 
Wanda sighs. When she does get glimpses of the old Pietro, it’s mostly through negative triggers. 
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” Wanda starts to apologize but Pietro quickly changes the subject without a preamble.
“You’re really not going to talk about it?” 
“About what?”
“Playing dumb isn’t a good look on you.”
Wanda suddenly drops the tray on the sink, the violent sound of metal hitting metal giving both of them a minor headache. She pauses to think, and then says, “How about you just ask me straight instead of skirting around the topic of she-who-must-not-be-named?”
“Okay,” Pietro says in an annoyingly placid tone. “What were you thinking, cheating on Y/N?”
Wanda swallows dryly. She did ask him to be blunt.
“I wasn’t. There’s… I don’t know how to explain it. There’s this missing gap, and I acted to fill that gap.” 
“Was it something that’s missing in your relationship?” Pietro asks and props his cheek on his palm. The question is so familiar to her because she’s asked it herself countless times, the day she kissed Vision for the first time. There wasn’t an epiphany nor were there pieces falling into place when she had slept with him. And when she thought she loved him, it wasn’t because she thought she loved you any less. She came to the conclusion, not too long ago, that perhaps there’s just something rotten inside of her that she simply wasn’t aware of. 
Wanda shakes her head, weary at making sense of herself and her decision to risk everything she’s built with you for something as cheap as a fling. “None of this was her fault. Her only mistake was falling for someone who’s way beneath her.”
“I always thought she’s too good for you, no offense.”
Wanda’s smile is brittle as she recalls how Pietro’s toast at the wedding started with that exact sentence, word-for-word. You had squeezed Wanda’s clammy hand as you listened to Pietro rant about Wanda, and jokingly express his regret that you married the lesser twin. Wanda apologized for his tactlessness, and you responded with a kiss to her cheek, telling her how wrong he was, how you were only good and she made you better. 
“I’m sorry, Wands,” Pietro tells her earnestly. “I can’t say I’ve been through the same thing even with two divorces under my belt. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with someone the way you both were with each other–or at least, the way she was in love with you.”
“Thanks, but that's not necessary. I’m going to fix it.” she says. 
It stings–the implication that Wanda was incapable of matching your love for her. But it only stings because it’s the truth. You deserve to be happy and she failed.  And yet, she also can’t survive the thought of you getting the happiness you deserve from someone else. After all this time, her selfishness hasn’t been tamed. 
Which is why Pietro’s next words hit her right in the gut. “Divorce can’t be fixed. Hell, it’s the only resolution for a terminal relationship. And hasn’t it crossed your mind that perhaps, she’s already met someone else?”
Wanda gives up on her search for the rolling pin. She cracks some eggs in a bowl and starts to furiously whisk by hand.
Maybe she’s an awful person for assuming you won’t be able to move on from her that easily. 
But that’s just how she sees it. 
“No.” she says.
“What makes you so sure?”
“I know her, Piet.”
Pietro starts clapping in slow, steady beats. “She divorces you and you’re still so smug about how she’s so crazy about you.” he says. 
“If you’ve ever felt loved by someone like her, you’d understand.”
Pietro ignores his sister’s underhanded attempt to hurt him back. He came to terms with the reality ages ago, that he’s probably not one of the lucky ones who will get to experience the kind love that Wanda boasts about with you. Maybe he had it once, not necessarily in a romantic sense. But when he thinks of love–real love–he thinks of no one but their estranged mother. 
“Or maybe,” He jumps off the counter to retrieve his coat hanging from one of the dining chairs.  “Love goes away eventually.”
“Not ours.”
Pietro couldn’t help the maniac laughter that escapes his throat. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Do you know how pathetic you sound?”
Wanda purses her lips, continues whisking. 
“Okay, how about this. If you really love her, then you’d at least want her to be happy, even if it’s not with you.” Pietro tries to reason. 
“Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert on the topic.”
“I’m a dick, not an asshole. And yes, there’s a difference.”
Wanda keeps working the whisk like a madwoman. Large amounts of bubbles are forming in the emulsion, and overbeating the egg mixture is definitely not in the recipe.
Pietro continues, “Yeah, I’m a cheater, same as you are–”
“Don’t you dare–” Wanda suddenly tosses the whisk on the worktop, a glint of something dangerous in her green eyes. 
“Let me finish,” Pietro appeases lightly. “I’m a cheater. I cheated on my ex-wives. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself as some anti-hero who has the potential to be an actual hero and become the person they deserve to be with. Because I’ll never be that guy.”
“We’re not the same. We share a birthday, but that’s where the similarities end.”
“We share the same DNA, Wanda,” Pietro smiles through his frustration. Excessive stubbornness–another quality innate to Maximoffs. “But that’s not the point. You know she’d be better off without you. As cliché as it sounds, the only way you can actually show her you love her is by letting her go–completely.”
The shuddering sigh that escapes her is immediately followed by erratic sobs that go out of control fast. Pietro is right there in an instant, an arm thrown over her shoulder as her whole body jerks, rasping for air. 
“Shit, I’m sorry.” he murmurs into her crown. “You’ll be okay, Wands. I promise…you’ll be okay.”
“Will you be okay if I leave you here? I have to meet someone in a few.” 
Wanda heard you say in earnest. She lost herself for a while, stunned by the kindest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The day flew by so quickly in your company, she hadn’t realized it was time to go. And to think that she almost skipped freshman orientation because going to New York University wasn’t exactly the plan. Columbia was–where her boyfriend was a junior. 
Her boyfriend, who she forgot texted her an hour ago asking if she was ready to go, and hadn’t heard back from her.
“Y-Yeah, my boyfriend is on the way to pick me up.” she mumbled, distracted by the glow of the sunset forming a halo around your head. You were beautiful in a way that was not entirely evident at first. Wanda was curious if anybody else had made the same discovery.
“It was nice meeting you, Wanda.”
“Likewise, Y/N.” she smiled like she’d been doing all day with you, and so frequently, that the muscles on her face were beginning to hurt a little. 
The smile you returned her way was glorious, but in a flash you were already walking away. Wanda couldn’t describe the way she fervently despised watching you go, especially without your number on her phone and no means to contact you in the future.  
“Y/N?” Wanda called out. Her heart seemed to swell and swing against her rib cage. 
“Yes?”
“Do you, maybe, want to hang out sometime?”
And the kindest eyes that ever looked at her gave the answer. 
Pietro leaves shortly after the tremors subside and her breathing returns to normal. The panic attacks aren’t that frequent, but she does get them now from time-to-time. They started right after the night you gave Wanda your wedding ring. 
With her brother gone, Wanda is left to wonder if you’ve met someone. She is left to wonder if you’re no longer miserable like she is, if you’ve taken considerable strides in moving on with your life. She tries calling you. Not to talk, but just to check if you still haven’t blocked her number. After several rings, you don’t pick up as expected. Not a setback. Not a progress either. She pretends you’re asleep or in the shower. She pretends you mean to call her back, but forgets to. 
And if a confirmation of not being blocked is all she gets, she’ll take it.
She’ll take what you can give even if it’s nothing.
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drnikolatesla · 2 months
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The Lifestyle of Nikola Tesla
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Nikola Tesla was a very tall and skinny man, standing over six feet and weighing around one hundred and forty pounds. He had light blue-gray eyes, which was considered odd because he was of Serbian descent who were typically known to have darker eyes. Tesla, probably joking, said to a reporter that his eyes used to be dark, but using his mind so much had made them many shades lighter. The inventor was known to be very elegant, stylish, meticulous in his grooming, clothing, and regimented in his daily activities.
Tesla never married and remained a celibate and a bachelor his entire life. Tesla was solely committed to the principles of science above all else, and for this reason, he denied the love and companionship of a female counterpart. He chose to lead a solitary life, hoping only that this sacrifice to work would make his name live on through many centuries still to come.
One of his few hobbies other than work was feeding birds. Tesla’s respect for birds began when he was a child growing up in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. He and his local friends made a sport out of catching live birds, and when Tesla himself caught a couple of keepers, he and his friend found themselves getting attacked by a murder of crows. The revolt forced the boys to release the birds and take cover. In America, he made it a specialty of his to treat sick pigeons, which seems odd because he was quite the germaphobe. He would feed them every day on his daily walks and would also take in wounded pigeons and nurse them back to health at his hotel in New York. He seemed to have had a better connection with birds than with most people. In 1917, he was awarded the Edison Medal, and upon receiving the award, the inventor could not be found. He was later found feeding pigeons near a local library and was persuaded back to the ceremony to give his speech.
Tesla suffered from an obsessive compulsive disorder, and because of this, he developed some very strange idiosyncrasies and phobias, such as having a strong dislike against earrings, pearls, peaches, and touching other people's hair. He counted the steps in his walks and calculated the cubical contents of soup plates, coffee cups, and pieces of food. All repeated acts or operations he performed had to be divisible by three.
While living in New York, Tesla kept his laboratories absolutely clean and pure, refused to touch other people, would wear gloves while shaking hands, and insisted upon personally cleaning his own plates and silverware at restaurants with his requested 18 napkins. This cleanliness was all intentional because, as a child, he almost died from cholera, which raged in the region of his hometown Lika due to contaminated water. Many found Tesla’s actions strange, but to him, it was a very important measure to protect his health.
In another way to keep his body clean and pure, Tesla invented an electrical apparatus that could give the human body a dry bath by passing millions of volts of electricity through it (similar to his demonstrations in the early 1890s where he passed electricity through his own body). His oscillator was a small, drum-like object about two feet long by one foot wide and could apply half a million volts of electricity through his body. The large amount of electricity would affect the germs without destroying the cells of the tissues of the body. Though his oscillator seemed like a fountain of youth, Tesla maintained his conventional ideas of health. He bathed daily, believed in plenty of exercise, and would walk eight or ten miles every day. He said that he never would take a cab or other conveyance and relied on his leg power for transportation.
His diet was a crucial part of his daily routine to remain healthy and to prolong the length of his life. He was very fussy and particular about his food: he ate very little, but what he did eat had to be the very best. He wasn’t a complete vegetarian; he ate meat, just not very occasionally (perhaps once or twice a year). He did believe though that humankind should move towards a vegetarian diet, not just because eating meat the way we do is “barbarous,” as he said, but because he believed the vegetarian diet is more beneficial to the human body.
In his later years, he never smoked, drank tea, coffee, alcoholic beverages, or consumed any other stimulant. Since he saw life through the lens of his mechanistic theory of life, he took great care of his body as if it were a machine properly maintaining its best efficiency.
As for sleep, Tesla reported that he was a poor sleeper and had very unusual resting patterns. He claimed to only sleep a few hours each day and would oftentimes practice polyphasic sleep where he would take short naps for restoration instead of sleeping for a long period of time.
Unfortunately for Tesla and his clean and healthy lifestyle, in 1937, at the age of 81, he was hit by a taxicab during one of his regular walks. It is likely he was jaywalking because he admittedly was known to do so. He broke three ribs and seriously injured his back. Tesla would be bedridden for months while refusing to see a doctor, and on top of this would catch pneumonia, which would plague his health for the last 5 years of his life. I believe this accident and sickness would play a major role in the rapid decline of his health, both mentally and physically, and his goal of living past a century would never be realized.
Nikola Tesla had a unique and eccentric lifestyle and was known for his intense work habits, often spending long hours in his laboratory. So much so that his friends would seriously worry about his health. Financial difficulties were a recurring theme in his life, and he died in relative obscurity. Despite these challenges, Tesla's legacy is marked by his groundbreaking contributions to the field of electrical engineering.
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Kids Of The Future
FastForward!Turtles x reader
A/N: Been having this idea for a while now, so decided it was time to write it down💙❤️💜🧡
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Arriving in the future and meeting Cody Jones, the great-grandson of Casey Jones and April O’Neil isn’t the only family surprise you and your turtle boyfriend stumble upon.
Warnings: I’m not sure what warnings apply to you meeting your own future great-grandchildren.
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Leonardo:
After the whole ordeal of finding Mikey somewhere in futuristic New York City in the year 2105, it was a relief to be back in Cody’s penthouse. Watching Raph and Mikey fight over the TV remote was oddly familiar and comforting. Master Splinter was right; adjusting wouldn’t be a problem.
“Well”, Leo said, turning to you with a small smile. “I guess date nights are going to be quite different for the time being”.
You snorted at his comment, wrapping your arms around his torso. “You think so?”
Leo nodded before placing a peck on your lips, causing his brothers to let out noises of disgust. But then someone came through the front door of Cody Jones’ penthouse.
“Hey, Cody!”, a voice sounded in the hallway, causing the turtles to stiffen, looking in the direction of the noise. Even Cody stiffened a bit, his eyes widening as if he had forgotten something.
You held on to Leo’s arm, watching as a young man walked in. His skin was green, and on his back he carried what looked like a small shell. His four fingers on his right hand, carried something that reminded you of a phone, reading from a hologram projected by the said phone. “Have you heard the news? Absolute chaos downtown. Undocumented aliens causing chaos with the peacekeepers and destroying a gravity level 3 road. It’s a mess! They even have pictures, and they kind of look like…”
Once he saw you and the turtles, he halted, before quickly pulling for the blaster on his left side. Cody told him no, as Leo moved a hand over to protect you, he and his brothers ready to jump at a moment’s notice.
“No, Kai!”, Cody yelled. “It is okay! They are with me!”
The so-called Kai looked from the fight ready turtles to Cody at his side. He hesitated for a moment, before he left his blaster alone in his belt with an audible sigh.
“We have talked about this Cody”, he said, looking like a tired older brother. You fought a chuckle. He kind of reminded you of Leo. “You have to tell me when you have people visiting. Remember last time? Where I almost shot up your and Darius’ business meeting, thinking those investors were there to kidnap you?”
“I’m sorry Kai, but it was kind of a spontaneous visit”, Cody said, rubbing his neck.
“Cody”, Leo said, drawing the young Jones' attention back to the turtle, rat and human, still ready for any attack. “Who is this?”
“I could ask the same thing”, Kai said. You were surprised at how well he matched Leo’s tone.
Cody started scratching his cheek, seeming a bit nervous, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them. “Uhm… Kai, this is Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, Master Splinter and…” You saw Kai’s eyes widen, as if he was realizing something. His gaze moved straight to you and Leo. “This is Leonardo and (Y/N). Leonardo and (Y/N), this is Kai. My personal bodyguard and uhm… your great-grandson”.
Silence fell in the room. The stare down that happened between you and Leonardo and the shocked Kai had taken up every sound.
Great-grandson. You and Leo had a great-grandson. That meant you and Leo would have children. You and Leo would have children! The thought rocked your head, and from the expression on Leo’s face, he was just as shocked as you were.
“Personal bodyguard?”, Raph asked, crossing his arms with a disapproving look. “What kind of personal bodyguard isn’t home when their boss brings strangers home?”
“It’s my day off, okay!”, Kai exclaimed.
“Bad excuse”, Mikey teased, bringing a hand up, causing Kai to scowl at him.
“Bad excuse or not”, Donnie said, staring at Kai. “There’s no doubt that he’s a lot like Leo”.
“Would it surprise you to hear that my grandpa used to say the same thing?”, Kai asked.
The conversation that unfolded between Kai and Leonardo’s brothers was wild to say the least. You and Leo stood staring at them, not truly sure what to say or do with your future great-grandson in the room. Yet you still turned to Leo, not being able to hold your thoughts back.
“Whatever date nights you got planned while we’re here, I think it’s fair to say they’ll be successful”.
Leo nodded in agreement.
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Raphael:
Still shaken by the incident on the road, you, your boyfriend Raph, Donnie, Leo and Splinter followed the “walking pile of scrap metal” - as Raph had called the robot - into the big penthouse apartment. Your boyfriend was still fuming, angry at the fact that all of you were in a nice penthouse while Mikey was out on the street somewhere.
Leo thanked the robot for his help, and mentioned how they needed to find their missing brother, but the robot continued talking about how his Master had ordered him to bring them there as fast as possible. You could feel the anger radiate off of Raphael whenever this Master was mentioned.
But then you met this so-called Master, and your world got turned upside down. A 15 year old boy named Cody. Cody Jones. The great-grandson of Casey Jones and April O’Neil. To say you were shocked was an understatement. But you were soon about to learn some more shocking news.
As Cody was explaining where he had gotten his collection from - his ninja turtles collection that is - Raphael noticed something that almost made him smile. His beloved sais, being on display just as proudly as his mask had been. Oh how he had missed them!
So as Cody, and his ginormous robot named Serling, continued to explain, Raph went over to the display, his fingers tingling as he got closer to the weapons.
He chuckled as he reached out for them. “I have missed ya!”, he said, a smile growing on his face. “Come to papa- Ow!”
Before Raph had been able to grab his sai, someone had slapped him over the fingers, causing him to retract his hand in pain. He turned to that someone, expecting it to be that Serling robot, only to be met by a turtle like humanoid, with flesh toned skin and an anger burning in her eyes.
She pushed Raph away, stepping between him and his sais.
“Hey!”, Raph yelled, immediately bouncing back. “I was in the middle of something, spoil sport!”
“Do not touch them!”, she yelled, blocking Raphael’s way.
“You don’t tell me what to do!”, Raphael yelled. “Now move! I want my sai!”
“You’re sai!? They are not you’re sai, you thick shell head! They are the sai of my great-grandfather! He used them to fight the Shredder, and used them while saving the world, several times! So if you think you’re worthy enough to call them yours, you’re not just mistaken! You’re dumb!”, she yelled in Raph’s face, the two of them locked in a growling match.
“Rogue”, Cody said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That is your great-grandfather, Raphael”.
You saw as the realization hit both Raphael and Rogue the same time with the same exact expression. You blinked, taking in the scene in front of you, feeling as if a rock sank to the bottom of your stomach. It was like watching twins, except one was green and the other and a human skin like complexion.
“No way”, you heard Donatello whisper right behind you.
“You’re kidding, right?”, Rogue finally asked Cody, side eyeing Raphael harder than Raph had ever side eyed any one. Even you could tell they were related, and it was almost frightening.
“I am not kidding”, Cody answered, stepping between the two of them. “Rogue, this is Raphael, and as you know, your great-grandfather. And that-”. He gestured towards you. “-Is (Y/N), your great-grandmother”.
Rogue stared at you for a moment, before turning her gaze back towards Raphael. “Really, grandma? You look that good and you chose this”, she said, gesturing towards Raph.
“Yup”, Leo mumbled. “That’s Raph junior, alright”. You couldn’t help but agree.
“(Y/N)”, Raph called out, arms crossed and gaze firmly fixed on Rogue in a new staring contest. “Remind me to teach our children some manners, ‘coz this one obviously has none!”
“Great”, you breathed out, rolling your eyes. “This is going to be fun”.
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Donatello:
“So, let me get this straight”, you said, standing from the spinning chair and walked closer to your boyfriend, Donatello, and Cody as they continued working on the Time Window. You haven’t even been here for a full two days, and the two of them were already looking for a way to get you back. You didn’t blame them for wanting to work fast. You and the turtles’ presents in 2105 could prove dangerous in more ways than one, and could only get worse the longer you stayed there. “You live in this big cool penthouse all alone, just you and Serling?”
“Yeah, mostly”, Cody said, helping your boyfriend connect two wires too small for his own three fingered hands.
“What do you mean by mostly?”, you asked, your brows frowning.
“Well, I have a family that comes and visits every once in a while”.
“Family?”, Donnie asked with a pleasant smile, watching as the wires got connected. “Does that mean there are more Jones’ out there?”
“No, not really”, Cody said, chewing his cheeks with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “They’re not really family, but I see them as such”.
“I know what you mean”, you smiled, before mindlessly letting one of your fingers trace the edge of Donnie’s shell. “I have the same feeling about a group of people I know”. Donnie smiled at that comment, taking your hand to give it a small kiss.
“They have been friends of my family for quite some time”, Cody said, just as thoughtful as before. “I’ve pretty much grown up with them”.
“Will we ever meet them?”, Donnie asked.
“Yeah, maybe”, Cody said, getting slightly nervous. “They usually show up uninvited - not that anything is wrong with it!”, he quickly added, seeming almost panicked. “It’s just the norm. Their parents are busy, you know. With all that quality control at O'Neil tech and paperwork and…”
“Quality control?”, you asked. “Do their parents work for you?”
“No”, Cody smiled a little sheepishly. “Their parents own part of the company, just like their parents did and… their parents…”
“Their parents?...”, Donnie repeated, confused.
You and Donnie wanted to ask what he was talking about, when a pair of young sounding laughters erupted from just outside the lab. Cody sat up, panic in his eyes as he looked towards the door. Suddenly two green young humanoids came into the lab, laughing at something one of them had said. You were shocked to see the small shell-like outlines on their backs, and their shortened number of digits on each hand and foot.
They saw you and Donnie and stopped dead in their tracks. “No way”, they mumbled as they enthusiastically poked you and Donatello, eyes wide and smiles big on their faces.
“Nova, Orion, be nice”, Cody sighed, sounding like an exhausted parent.
“But Cody, it is them!”, Nova exclaimed before jumping on you, her arms wrapping around you in a hug.
“This is amazing!”, Orion said, jumping up and down in front of Donatello. “I have so many questions! Mom and dad literally have a picture framed of you and grandma in their office! There’s so much I want to know, grandpa!”
“Grandpa?”, Donnie asked in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I think you got the wrong person. I’m only 18, and very much childless”.
“Yeah, obviously”, Nova said, still hugging you tightly. “You and grandma don’t have your first kid before 29”.
“Okay, that’s enough”, Cody said, pulling the two young terrapin-like creatures off of you. “Great-grandchildren, what can you do?”, Cody smiled, hoping to relieve you and Donnie from your shocked expressions, as he started pulling the young hyperactive twins out of the lab.
You and Donnie sat and stared after them for some time, before finally turning to one another.
“They have that from you”, he said, before turning back towards the wires.
“With the way you and your brothers act, I’ll have to disagree. That’s definitely from your side”, you said, leaning on his shoulder and watched as he worked.
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Michelangelo:
In the short time you had been in the year 2105, you had actually liked it way more than you thought you would. The food was good and the air was fresher than you had expected. But even better was the entertainment. The movies were amazing, especially on Cody’s brand new TV, that would allow the viewer to enter the movie, watching it while standing and moving around the scene as it pleased them. You and your fun loving boyfriend, Mikey, had already made great use of that feature, often bringing junk food along with you, snacking loudly during even the quietest scenes. Never had you thought that you would be able to wave your fries in the face of the villain of a horror movie.
But if there was one thing better than the food and movies of the future, it was the video games. Both you and Mikey agreed; the video games of 2105 was absolutely amazing! The storylines, the dialog, the graphics! Oh! How you wished you could get to see something like that in your own lifetime! Especially something like Helix.
As soon as you and Mikey learned about the existence of Helix, no one could get you or him to stop playing it. It took merely a few days before you had finished and played it through half a dozen times. So when the two of you learned about the upcoming sale of Helix 2, you and Mikey were over the Moon Station, begging Cody to take you to the mall to get it. And much to your happiness, he did, although with a sigh as you can Mikey started running circles around him.
Once at the mall, your enthusiasm didn’t diminish in the least. With big eyes you took in your surroundings. Aliens of all sorts mingled among each other, talking and buying everything from clothes and normal day to day articles, to high end luxuries from big name brands, that you had not yet heard of.
As you walked through the mall in search of the game store, hand in hand with Mikey, followed by his brothers and Cody, you came by the open space that went several floors up and several floors down. A viewing spot, where you could see people on escalators and elevators, along with the restaurants down on the ground floor. That was when you noticed the advertisement on the big screens that hung around on the floors. It was for the new Helix 2 game along with a strangely familiar guy, who stood with his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips, posing over the neon green title of Helix 2.
Mikey noticed how your attention was drawn off to the side, and followed your gaze to the advertisement. He stopped dead in his tracks, causing the rest to stop in confusion.
“Who the shell is that?”, Mikey asked, pointing to the terrapin-like person on the holographic poster, where the title shone and the guy winked at the people watching him. “Awfully handsome fellow though”.
“Oh, I feared this day would come”, Cody sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Michelangelo, that is Dash. Dash Hamato. Five times winner of the Intergalactic Gaming Championships, and a pretty good friend of mine”.
“Wait, Hamato?”, Leo asked, hands in the air. “As in, Hamato Yoshi?”
“Yup”, Cody said with a nod. “Hamato as in Michelangelo and (Y/N) Hamato. The great-grandfather and great-grandmother of Dash Hamato”.
Your mouth fell open. You looked from Cody to the advertisement of Dash, who once again winked to the people walking through the mall. That was your great-grandson?!
“Oh no”, Raph mumbled, facepalming as he realized what was coming.
“Hell yeah sonnie!”, Mikey yelled, fist in the air as he turned back towards the poster of Dash as Raph growled in frustration. “Champion, just like his great-grandpa! I can see that the Battle Nexus Champion gene is running strong in the family!”
“Not this again!”, Raph said, shaking his head in his hands, causing Leo to put a supporting hand on his shoulder.
“He made a deal with Helix after his third win, and is now their official spokesperson”, Cody explained, watching as Mikey jumped in happiness.
“I have to meet this guy!”, Mikey said, before turning to you. “(Y/N)! Our great-grandson is Helix spokesperson! We have to meet him!”
“I don’t know, Mikey”, Cody said, scratching his neck. “Dash is a busy guy. He takes his gaming very seriously and is often hard to get a hold of. He lives on the Moon Base because the darker atmosphere makes it easier for him to practice his gaming”.
“That sounds like a descendant of Mikey”, Donnie chuckled.
“No great-grandson of mine can leave his great-grandparents hanging like that!”, Mikey said, wrapping an arm around you. “First we get Helix 2, and then we get a hold of Dash! Time to teach him some family gaming tricks!”, he said and started marching the two of you towards the gaming store.
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callmeby-mylastname · 3 months
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A Christmas fight
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summary- a wholesome holiday with your wholesome girlfriend<3
warnings-none this is just pure fluff honestly, a little drabble, isn’t too long but i hope you enjoy nonetheless.
A/N- working on some other longer fics rn but i thought i’d put this out due to the ppl wanting more nat fics so enjoy and merry christmas🫶
New york in the winter is one of the most beautiful things in your eyes(along with your girlfriend)
The christmas lights, the snow the feeling of joy and people laughing it all added it up and you wouldn’t trade it for the world because your girlfriend came with it.
You moved to new york a couple years back and that’s when you met the love of your life, the girl that would destroy the world for you and you’d very much do the same for her.
And now you’re in your kitchen making gingerbread houses with the worlds deadliest assassin, expect she’s not so scary when she’s covered in icing desperately trying to keep the walls of her house up.
You break your trance and look back towards your own gingerbread house to see it well, crumbling.
“Damn it, it looked so good too” you frowned, and almost immediately nat was there to kiss it away.
“I think it looks amazing. Unique if you will” she smiled at you, cupping your cheeks.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better, and quite frankly i think i see something needing fixed”you said swiftly moving towards her house
“Fixed?” she glanced towards you a confused expression painting her features, and with that you picked up the gingery roof and took a bite from it.
Looking back towards the redhead you see the shocked expression quickly turn to mischievous one as she grabs the icing and smears it on your cheek.
“You did not” you gasped sipping away the icing immediately reaching for another piping bag.
“Oh i did” she replied a cocky smile gracing her beautiful face
And with that a whole icing war broke out between you two, giggles and soft laughter filled your apartment.
After you won the icing battle, natasha definitely won but she let you brag because you’re cute.
You two cleaned up the kitchen and took a quick shower changing into a matching christmas pj set you had bought for the two of you.
The rest of the night ended with you two snuggled up on the couch with a blanket and snacks watching various christmas movies.
You loved natasha, you were IN love with her and she was helplessly in love with you, and you both couldn’t wait to spend ever christmas and holiday together until the end.
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lokischambermaid · 3 months
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Transgressions:
Chapter 10
*finale*
Words: 10,900 | Chapter List
Everything to say.
And yet nothing.
All at once.
You could have asked so many questions.
But there would be time for that.
Later.
There was no need to talk as you held his hand in yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sat in the back of the car, the starched black collar of the driver visible beneath the large leather headrest of his seat. You both maintained your warm silence for around ten minutes until it was broken by your favourite chatty man.
“You know, it is an awfully long round-trip from New York. Meeting me here was completely unnecessary. But….” he turned to you with a smile “incredibly sweet.”
“Sweet?” An eyebrow quirked in playful challenge.
“Mmm. Yes. Thoughtful.” He turned your hand in his, gently circling his thumb in your palm. Expectant eyelids opened to reveal soulful hazel eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And hey, I took three days off and sat by the pool. Never gonna hear me complain about the sun in Phoenix.” You jerked your head towards the window, the heat blazing on in the depths of November.
“It’s freezing in New York, isn’t it.” A chill ran down his spine. The private car’s air conditioning ran cooler than the rehab center, his home for the past three months. He rubbed his bare forearm, hair bristling underneath. “I packed my coat in my suitcase. What an idi – ” He stopped himself, inhaling, long fingers grazing his chin as his eyes searched the leather upholstery in front of him. “W-what I mean to say is, it seems I’ve forgot. Which would stand to reason, given I’ve been away for such a long time. I’m certain I’ll find a solution.”
Group therapy was paying dividends.
“And I must say. It seems almost…. poetic…. to arrive in a different season.”
“It does, doesn’t it,” you uttered huskily, your tone smooth as double chocolate ice cream and filled with adoration.
“It’s alarmingly generous of Stark to loan his jet for our trip home.”
“It’s the fucking least he can do. Anyway, he doesn’t look that closely at his accounts. He’ll never know.”
Your dark-haired lover scoffed a laugh. “And here I was presuming that if he hadn’t offered, you had at least asked permission.”
“I’d rather ask for forgiveness than – oh!”
A strong hand cupped your jawline, pressing his lips to yours. “Thank you, my love. Not only for the jet, but for, well…”
Everything.
For everything.
His eyes settled on different parts of your face. Your hair. Your lips. Your cute little nose. His tummy began fluttering with nerves. He was no longer in the safe bubble of his group in Phoenix. His mentor, a sober aging rock star, was only a phone call away. But his new friend Josh, a former child actor exploited by the industry and his own family, remained in treatment for another month.
It was time for Loki to embark on a new venture. To rebuild. Running away from his problems was no longer an option. He was past hiding inside a caricature he referred to in treatment as Tabloid Loki. The shiny exterior had crumbled. The hands of the Norns reached into his reality and destroyed all that wasn’t real. He couldn’t hide behind branding deals and flashy commercials. The armour was removed. He stood naked. Vulerable. Exposed.
As his mind wandered, his right hand, the one regrettably not holding yours, squeezed itself inside the pocket of his black jeans, fondling the inside. He would have felt more at ease if he had it with him, no matter how many times Steve assured him the item was stowed away safe in the top drawer of his nightstand.
“It was awesome seeing Thor,” the soldier had recanted when Loki granted him a sliver of time during one of his rare telephone breaks during treatment. “It’s too bad you missed him. They all talk about you on Asgard. Fondly, he said. Yeah I know your life’s here and all, but…. I promised Thor I’d pass on the message.”
Asgard. His people were currently in the lengthy process of rebuilding homes and palaces alike, buildings which stood long before his Great Grandfather’s reign. The rebuild began five years ago. They had broken ground and set in the foundations for the palaces and ceremonial buildings. Some of the smaller buildings had basic structures, mere skeletons of what they would become. Towns began to take shape once more, his people living in temporary homes crafted using what the mortals dubbed ‘bush craft,’ remarkably sturdy buildings crafted by hand using the land and basic tools mixed with advanced expertise. The frames no more than narrow branches of ash, secured together with natural twine and bound with a primitive mixture of mud, hay, and warmed river water. The elders were delighted. Teaching the younger Asgardians the ways of old. Their homes resembled something from a middle earth fairytale. They would stand for decades, and with tender loving upkeep they would last much longer.
Asgard would begin to thrive once more. They would all have a hand in rebuilding the palaces, and a shared space within to visit, if they chose it. It would take centuries until the new golden turrets would shine under the Asgardian sun once more. Centuries.
But, Loki thought, anything worth building takes time.
***
Flames licked up the sides of the latticed pit, fire dancing skyward in a flirtation with the stars. You felt a shiver scuttle over your arms. In a heartbeat, his tailored winter coat, fresh from his suitcase, found its home around your shoulders.
“Won’t you be cold, though?”
“You seem to forget I’m part Frost Giant.”
“I still don’t really know what that means. It’s one of your little secrets.”
“I’m hoping we’ll have less of those as time progresses.” The flicker of fire illuminated his features, alight with mischief. He gripped a small white box in his hand.
“We’re burning them all, then? You sure?”
“Well…. yes. We ought to. You don’t agree?”
Tongue lapping the corner of your lip impishly, a freshly manicured hand reached out, thumb and index finger finding one rogue cardstock poking out from the pack like a Queen of Hearts in front of a magician. “I’d like to keep this one,” you held it aloft begin two deft digits, “if that’s okay.”
“The last card,” he purred, warm hands curling inside of his tailored wool coat and around your waist, the backs of his hands grazing the silk lining. “I did not have you marked as a sentimentalist.”
You felt his lips pepper light kisses on your forehead, your cheekbones, the corners of your lips. All you could do was smile, the apples of your cheeks beginning to ache, words once again not needed, and escaping you even if they did.
“Tell you what.” He shuffled the cards, halving them, large hands around one chunk, handing them to you. “You burn one half. I’ll burn another.” He slipped the final one into his coat pocket, the thick fabric enveloping you like a bath after a long winter hike.
He tossed his half of the cards into the fire pit, flames licking up skyward as they devoured the fuel. Strong hands pulled you back from the heat. You reached forward, placing in your section. Loki held you, your back resting against his chest. The cool evening chill of November whipped around your legs and caused you to shiver.
“Let’s go inside, petal. You’re freezing.”
“No, this is important. If you’ve got a blanket or something….”
“Easily done.” A mere flick of his wrist and a fluffy green blanket manifested itself around you. You sat back on the outdoor seating, reserved in warmer months for a bevy of super soldiers and trained killers enjoying a summertime soiree at Stark’s expense. You rested against Loki as he reached into another box of his old ‘business cards,’ tossing another handful on the fire. You sat in the warmth of his old self burning in front of you.
“How many more boxes, baby?”
“Just two more.”
You both watched as flames licked around his logo, enveloping the serpent and his initials, the self-assured ‘With Compliments’ erased by fire. He reached into the final box of one hundred cards, glancing at the umpteen empty boxes strewn around him, also destined for cremation.
A sensation bubbled up within him. A familiar feeling. One he recognised instantly as shame. Once he released it, another emotion replaced it. One he was not nearly as closely acquainted with.
Hope.
***
“Is it strange being back here, baby?” Your hand drew lazy circles around his thigh, your backs pressed against pillows resting between your bodies and the headboard.
He shook his head. “If anything, it feels like home.” His hands intertwined with yours, fingers losing themselves to you.
The memory of burning the cards last night fresh in his mind, he had requested to spend the day in his quarters with you. Eerily reminiscent of his summertime Stark-imposed lockdown, he found a comfort in its familiarity. And more importantly. He wasn’t ready to face the world until he had laid to rest the old parts of him.
And there was still something to take care of.
Loki was quiet. Contemplative. Melancholy would be too strong of a descriptor. But he was certainly subdued. And with Loki, that meant one thing. He was thinking.
“I have an idea for disposing of the bracelets.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm. What if I were to run a contest of some kind on one of my platforms? I’d like them to understand how much I appreciate their support. Would there be a way to weight it in favour of those who spoke up about me from the beginning?”
“Well…. it might be a bit illegal to rig a competition.”
“Oh.”
His crestfallen tone made your stomach twist.
“No no no, it’s a great idea, I just don’t want you going back in the slammer. Besides, if you dropped the soap you’d be absolutely screwed.” You elbowed him softly and he coughed out a light chuckle, the delicate skin around his eyes creasing. It blew your mind to think over how many years those lines were formed. He was old. Much older than you. You tried not to think about it. “How about this. I’ll run analytics on the accounts that interacted with you most during a specific timeframe, weight it to positive sentiment. And get a list of 20 accounts who supported you from the very start. We can get one of my staff to contact them individually.”
“Yes. Yes, please.” His soft smile and glassy eyes reminded you of your favourite emoji. This alleged Frost Giant was melting your heart.
“What about the rest of the gift bag stuff?”
He shrugged. “Distribute it around the tower, I suppose. Place it in the staff kitchens, perhaps. The foodstuffs, at least.”
You smirked. “You know what I’m going to ask, don’t you.”
His lips curled up despite his better judgement. “The ointment, yes.”
“Who’s the lucky soul who gets the Anusol?”
“Let’s place it in Rogers’ bathroom. He does seem rather constipated.”
Your head raised to the ceiling, a cackle erupting, certain to disturb a flock of crows from their perch had a tree been present.
***
Loki spent the remainder of the week in self-imposed lockdown. Truly, the only person he wanted to be with was you. The only person he felt safe with was you. There would be time for the others. But he remained feeling naked and exposed, his armour discarded back in Phoenix, the tenderness of healing his trauma fresh and raw like a wound. He had covered it up for so long. And now, it was exposed for the world to see.
He wasn’t ready for the world to see it.
Not yet.
He spent his time writing. It was strange to see a quiet Loki. But there was a contentedness you hadn’t witnessed in him before. A softness, almost. A reflective, wise side of him you grew to accept and respect. Playful Loki was still in there, you were sure of it. He simply needed time to let this wise side of him anchor in and become a solidified part of who he is and how he navigates the world.
So you allowed him space. It didn’t feel hard. It felt natural. Peaceful. Ease-filled.
Towards the end of the week, he read sections of his words to you. “It’s rather like handing you a blueprint of my soul, only more exposing” he said in jest, whilst blushing and looking down towards his hands in his lap. His writing was beautiful. His words, truthful.
People would love it. If he chose to share it.
He suggested a group dinner on Saturday night. Initially flirting with the idea of a private section of the bar, and although it was technically located in his home, he later reneged. It was too public. More than most, he knew of the bevvy of Manhattan’s elite littered around his former haunt and pick-up spot, some sprawling their lithe frame across the bar in the crosshairs of the paparazzi, others stalking the perimeter and the prowl for their next conquest, while the remainder observed the pack from booths in silence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lesser-spotted meal ticket.
He wanted no part in it. They were staying in.
Steve offered to cook. Natasha insisted her culinary skills, like her marksmanship, were superior. “Pot luck?” the solider offered as a compromise, his hands on his hips in Loki’s kitchen. You all agreed, not before you and Loki compared notes about why your North American compadres insisted on such a phrase.
“We just call it Bring Your Own,” you shrugged.
“We don’t even have such a pastime on Asgard. At least not in the palace.”
“Yeah and why pot luck? Like it’s a gamble or something.”
Loki lowered his chin and whispered conspiratorially. “Because it’s pot luck whether or not one contracts food poisoning.”
You both sensed two sets of eyes staring at you. Arms crossed. Nudging each other. Grinning.
“What??” you said in union.
“Nothin’,” Natasha purred.
Steve gestured an open palm towards you, bicep flexing, his hand resting on his jawline, smirking. “I just wondered how long you guys have been married, is all.”
“Hilarious, Rogers,” Loki drawled.
You threw a dry teabag at the blond.
“Hey! Steve protested. “Uncalled for.”
“I’ve seen you peppered with bullets by Hydra soldiers, Steven. I hardly believe that harmed you.” Loki playfully sneered at his friend.
“Yeah, well. If there’s second-helpings of spam and eggs tomorrow, you ain’t gettin’ any.”
Loki pulled an incredulous expression which involved his hands raising in mock offence.
“His eggs are really good.” The Russian narrowed her eyes in challenge at the God, flirtatious eyes casting a gaze towards the 1940’s chef, an unconscious glance everyone seemed to notice but her.
“And pray tell me, for how long has your matrimonial affair developed?”
“We’re just friends, Loki,” Steve assured, blushing.
“Right, Rogers.”
***
“I’m telling you, he’s in love with Nat!”
“For the last time,” he leaned down to push his lips into your jawline, eliciting a squeal from you as the elevator doors opened. “The captain is far too dull for the Russian.” He held you firmly from behind. A strong, protective chest pressed into your back, creasing an otherwise crisp, tailored white shirt. His hips pressed into you, pushing you forwards and onto his floor.
“No but hear me out.” You turned to face him, reaching for his hand and pulling him into the kitchen. “Maybe that’s why it would work. Because they’re so different, they actually compliment each other.”
“Forgive my insistence, but allow me to ensure I understand your logic. You are basing this hypothesis on the cliché of….” He lowered his gaze condescendingly, pushing you against the fridge, one arm resting up near your head in a playful attempt to pin you down. He growled into your ear. “….opposites attract.”
“Yep-p!” You ducked under his arm and scurried into the lounge, jumping onto the sofa. You kneeled, readying yourself for his next barb.
“How…. groundbreaking.” He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, rolled up many hours prior during your dinner with the aforementioned soldier and assassin. Steve had hosted the gathering on his floor, cooking the promised canned ham and eggs, which were delicious, much to Loki’s chagrin and your amusement. The God’s bounty from his favourite Italian deli replicated Asgardian fayre, he told you, accompanied by numerous dressings, sauces and gratuitous explanations of how everything was bigger and more luxurious in his ancient holy land.
You watched as he adjusted his other sleeve and stared you down. You smirked. “Fun fact. Did you know the sluttiest thing a man can do is roll his sleeves up?”
“Oh, petal….” He stalked forwards. His shadow engulfed you. “I hardly think that’s the most impressive act in my vast repertoire.” He straddled you, knees pressing into the sofa either side of your hips, dark denim stretching over his thighs. Your eyes closed as he cupped your face firmly, lips peppering yours with light kisses. His lips moved to your neck, the heady scent of his cologne taking control of your senses. You tingled. A glimmer of sensation rippled from the base of your neck and down your shoulders, moving like ink through blotting paper. His hand found the back of your hair and caressed it, his fingertips creating more tingles. You felt his hips digging into you, his crotch pressing against your jeans. A moan escaped from his lips like the smoke from an extinguished candle.
“Gods, love.” He moved back to your lips. Your hands rested over his shoulders, exploring the toned muscle. A rogue hand strayed down his back. It began reaching into the back of his jeans. You squeezed. You didn’t regret it. You began to untuck his shirt from his waistband. He unbuttoned the front.
“Are we doing this?” you whispered.
“Only if you want to.”
“I want to.”
“We do not have to.” He kissed your neck again, chest exposed, his shirt hanging open. “W-we can s-stay like this. I can re-restrain myself.” He didn’t know it, but he was riding you like a mechanical bull, hands gripping the sofa behind your shoulders.
“Loki if you tease me, I swear to God I will kill you.”
He chuckled. His unconscious clumsy rutting ceased. He held your chin lightly between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t wish to tease. Not unless there’s a satisfactory ending to the delay.” He kissed the tip of your nose. Then your cheek. Followed by a light peck on your forehead. He held you close to him. “You know, love. Of all the skills I mastered during rehabilitation. One of them was sexual mastery.”
“You fucking what.”
“We were not permitted to engage in sexual acts.” He cupped your face with one hand, turning it, exposing your jawline to his lips.
“It’s, umm….” You groaned at the nibbles in the sharp edge of your jaw below your ear. “It was sex rehab. So, you know, no sex is sort of essential.”
“Oh I know,” he practically purred. “Even touching oneself is forbidden.”
Jesus fucking christ…..
“Which of course, makes it all the more alluring.”
“And did you?” Your voice trembled. “T-touch yourself?” As if you were melting, you slid down into a horizontal position on the sofa, a dark-haired lover towering above you.
“Oh yes. Twice. And I had to tell the group about it. Incredibly embarrassing. Confessing my thoughts. My ministrations…..”
“But the rest of the time….?”
“I was a very good boy.” He lowered himself, his forearms resting either side of your shoulders.
“Were you really though?”
He whispered his response, so close to your face you could feel his breath on your skin. “Oh yes. So much so, that for the first couple of weeks, I was walking around the center visibly erect.”
You gulped. He removed his shirt as he continued his erotic anecdote. “I recall one particular moment at breakfast. I was pouring myself a fresh coffee, one of the few psychoactive substances permitted during rehabilitation. And one of my fellow inmates looked at me rather strangely.”
“Why?”
“Because….” He stroked your hair and whispered the remaining words in your ear, “he could clearly see I was hard.”
“And…. umm…..  w-what did you say?”
“I told him, As you can see, I’m taking this very seriously.”
A laugh burst from your lips. Loki’s digits began nibbling at your sides, tickling you, raising the volume on your mirth. You pushed him from your torso, sitting upright to remove your t-shirt. He was rendered silent for a moment, lips quivering as if to speak. No words came. His eyes rested on the bare skin of your chest. Your stomach. Your……
You lay back down on the sofa. A light tug on his belt pulled him on top of you. You whispered. “Tell me more…..”
“Well, I….”
You began to unbuckle his belt. The tan Hermes leather was soon discarded on the tiled carpet of the common area.
“I…. Gods, love…. my mind was filled with you. Thoughts of you…..” He allowed his lips to caress your décolletage, moaning on impact. “I couldn’t stop thinking of what I would do to you….” His voice trailed off in a whisper. Your hips raised up to meet him, feeling the firmness of his arousal press into you.
“It was…. infuriating….” Light hands held your torso in place as his lips explored the softness of your stomach. “Until…. I learned to master it. Through the breath. Mastering the art of….” Trembling hands unbuttoned your jeans. “….feeling aroused. And not acting. Choosing not to act.” His slid your jeans from you, leaving you exposed to him in your lingerie. You should have felt exposed. But you had never felt more free. More adored. More worshipped.
Careful lips met your inner thigh, a skilled hand holding it in place, angling your leg just so. He closed his eyes in reverence as though he had sipped the finest wine in all of Asgard. He moaned, gravel in his tone laced with want and need.
Desire.
He looked up at you from between your legs, pupils blown wide yet hopeful. “M-may I?” He spoke so gently. You nodded.
He slipped your knickers from you, inhaling the scent of you. A whine slipped from the depths of his throat. You removed your own bra, grateful for a task to distract you from the intensity with which he looked at you.
At all of you.
A skillful finger touched you, sliding up through the slickness of your heat. You gasped.
“I…. I’ve learned to master it.” He assured you, drawing circles around your clit unfairly slowly. You swallowed. The last thing you saw was green eyes looking up at you before his mouth delved between your legs. You closed your eyes. You saw nothing. You only felt.
You felt the swirl of his tongue. The firmness of fingertips pressing into your hips and he held you in place. Deft digits working the most sensitive part of you, causing the heat of pleasure to roll through your body like waves crashing over sand. The sound of your moans. The sound of his moans. The feeling of your head pressing back into the sofa, body writhing, as he rhythmically worked his fingers inside of you, coaxing pleasure from your body expertly, patiently, lovingly. Eyes remaining closed, you would never see how his body moved back and forth as though he was inside of you, his own eyelids fluttering shut, losing himself completely, coming back only when a cry of pleasure tore from your throat as your climax hit you, exploding within every cell of your body. Releasing you. Freeing you.
You felt your heart pounding hard in your chest, hearing it in your ears and feeling it reverberate in your throat. Your eyes opened. You saw his face. Smiling at you, eyes glassy. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb ghosting over the line of your jaw. “Are you alright, my petal?” His voice barely registered as a whisper. You nodded dumbly. He waited until your panting ceased and your breath became steady, helping you up and reaching for your hand.
“Come.”
“I just did.” You smirked as you stood, following his lead, step by step.
“Minx.” You heard the beep of the security pad beside his door as he swiped his watch over it, a symbol of his freedom. You would never tire of seeing him move freely around the tower. Never again would you roll your eyes if you saw him in the bar. Or the meeting room. The gym.
He was free. He deserved to be.
His independence pushed the door open. The second it closed, he pushed you against it, you unbuttoning his jeans with trembling fingers as he kissed you fervently. Ragged breaths and whimpers approached a crescendo as you made your way towards the nearest bed. The backs of his legs touched the mattress. He felt silk sheets on bare skin. “Not here,” he breathed, dissatisfied with his former sex room. He grasped your hand and led you through the wood paneling into his quarters, placing you down on top of the soft shite duvet, the thread count so high the Egyptian cotton felt like silk. You writhed under him as he kissed you, naked skin caressed by soft fabric. His hardened cock pressed into your inner thigh, painfully straining against his black boxer briefs. In half a heartbeat, you pulled his underwear from him. He sat up. And there he was.
If you hadn’t known he was a God, you could reasonably have guessed.
Strong, broad shoulders. A wide expanse of his muscular chest. And abdominals embellishing not only the front of his torso, but also the sides, as though sculpted from marble by the Gods themselves. And a long, thick hard cock standing proud above strong thighs that flexed as he kneeled over you.
Fucking hell.
He’s so….. perfect.
Hang on….
You sat up and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. You whispered. “No more illusions.”
“What do you mean?”
“The scars.”
“O-oh…”
You pulled back and watched as green light shimmered down his naked form and revealed his true self. He cleared his throat and looked down at the bed, picking at his nails. He felt a pounding in his chest. He had taken his clothes off in front of thousands of lovers. But he had never felt this naked.
A small gasp left his lips as he felt your mouth in the dip of his neck. You kissed him tenderly, lips planting sweet caresses over the scars on his chest as loving hands stroked his back. He barely noticed you laying him down on the bed, leaning over him, hands on his chest as you positioned yourself above him.
“You are so beautiful, Loki,” you assured softly as you lowered yourself down and allowed him inside of you, both of you sighing in unison. You rode him languidly, savouring the sensation within you and the sight in front of you. He was art. He was majestic. He was physically perfect. And despite his trepidation at revealing the marks of his past, he allowed his eyes to close.
Relaxing.
Enjoying.
Receiving.
You continued rolling your hips over him, regarding him with adoration, heart fluttering when he opened his eyes and held his gaze with yours, biting his lip in approval at your quickened pace. Your breath came in uneven pants, heartbeat reverberating throughout your body, feeling heat rise up from the base of your legs up to your face. His hands flexed, thick veins in the backs of his hands bulging under the force of holding back. He breathed in deeply and exhaled fully, controlling his own pleasure. You came hard, crying out his name as your head fell back in bliss. You leaned over him, head on his chest, his hands in your hair.
“That was…. incredible.”
“It was.” He tucked a stray hair behind your eye and smiled softly. “Though I dare say we’re not done yet, petal.”
You turned to look at him. He was smirking.
He hadn’t come yet.
“Do you need a moment, flower?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course.”
He pulled you tight to his chest and held you. His lips kissed the crown of your head.
He was still inside you.
He was still hard.
Mere minutes later you pushed yourself up, determined to maintain the pace of your Godly lover. You rode him hard, slowing down when he began to use his breathing techniques, a sign he was close. Repeating this sweet torture for long enough, you quickened your pace. His lips were pursed. His stomach flexed. Air puffed through gritted teeth, torment in his eyes as he flirted with the possibility of continuing to hold back. He could have. He had the strength. The skill. But he simply didn’t want to. He allowed himself over the edge, growling as he reached the summit of his climax and cried out your name.
***
“You know you’re the only one who could come back from sex rehab even better in bed.”
You weren’t sure if you had completed sex session number four. Or five. But you lay under the covers, hands tracing shapes on his chest, feeling the same type of satiation you only feel after having a hearty meal.
Asgardian meat.
You almost made yourself chuckle.
“I do seem to be lasting longer.” He held a hand up in protest, “And make no mistake, I could last quite some time previously.”
“Before rehab?”
“Mmmm.”
“So having to abstain from sex, and learning how to control it through breathing, it’s….”
“It appears it has transformed me into some type of sex God, yes.” He paused for effect before laughing at his own ridiculousness.
“You know that’s magical, and not to sound ungrateful but I will be absolutely pissed if there’s no gift bag waiting for me when I leave later.”
“Who said anything about you leaving?” A protective arm around your back pulled you in tighter. Another kiss pressed to your crown. “Besides, that would be absurd. It would be equally ludicrous….” Slowly, he slipped out of the bed, hands gently moving your head from his chest to the pillow. “…if I had thought ahead and already prepared this for you.” He kneeled on his haunches in front of his nightstand and pulled out a large, white, completely full….
Gift bag.
“No.”
“Oh yes.” Dark eyebrows wiggled on a face so full of mirth and mischief. Still naked, his scars still on display, he held out the large gift bag to you. Suspicious side eye aside, you accepted the offering and sat up, placing it between you both as he shuffled back into bed. “I hope this isn’t too much of a spoiler, petal. But it’s bespoke.”
One by one, you pulled out the items and placed them down on the duvet.
Your favourite English tea.
The Scottish shortbread biscuits you loved so much and could never find in the US.
Some loose leaf linden tea in an ornate caddy, reminiscent of the first moment you truly spent time together.
A card marked Gino’s in a charcoal embellished font. He’d opened a tab for you at your favourite deli so you can have lunch on him anytime you wanted.
The next item was brand new gym leggings and trainers. He knew you loved to workout.
A gift card for a spa weekend for you and your friends in the natural beauty of upstate New York. “You’re always taking care of others,” he affirmed. “It feels important you should take some time for yourself.”
You continued to empty the bag, delighted he had included the infamous diamond bracelet. Months later, you would take it to Loki’s jeweler and transform it into a necklace.
Finally, you removed the last item.
An enormous, gratuitous, 500ml tub of the iconic ointment.
Anusol.
A raucous laugh filled the air, your hand gripping his shoulder in uncontrollable delight. Through your laughter, he attempted to explain.
“No, no you must listen – it’s supposed to be symbolic. I actually thought it was rather romantic…. that others should receive a sample size, and you receive – ”
“A LIFETIME’S SUPPLY OF ANUSOL!” you cackled. Loki rolled his eyes, smiling. You wiped tears from your eyes, the laughter finally subsiding. “No no, I get it! It’s just fucking classic is all. Iconic.”
“I’m incredibly relieved you see the funny side,” he beamed.
Loki wasn’t quite done. He would make love to you twice more before he revealed the final gift. It was around midnight. It must have been. You couldn’t be sure in your sex haze. You vaguely recall him retrieving a small jewelry box from his nightstand. You didn’t know, but it was the one Rogers placed there weeks prior.
He opened the box. A delicate gold signet ring glinted in the soft lighting from the lamp on his nightstand.
It was two-toned. A brushed antique gold blending into a lighter metal, polished and shining. The top of the ring held an engraved logo. Doves. And your initials.
With trembling fingers, he removed the ring from its velvet green casing.
“It’s made from two metals. The first is some of the remaining gold from the old Palace, which stood for around twenty thousand years. And the second, the new material we’re using to rebuild. It symbolizes the old and the new. It felt…. fitting, somehow. And, I trust you do not object, but I took the liberty of having your crest designed. We all have them on Asgard. The…. the family.” He looked away wistfully. “What’s left of them, anyway.”
Your hand rested over his. His entire body relaxed in an instant. You began to trace the logo with the pad of your finger. “Your crest – is it the one you had on the business cards?”
He cast his head down, squeezing his eyes closed in shame. “Yes. I used my family’s name and muddied their legacy due to my addiction.”
“That’s behind us now.” You covered his hand with yours. “We can look forward.”
Tears rimmed ancient eyes. “Yes. Yes, we can.” He sniffed, and cleared his throat. “If you do not mind, I would feel honoured for you to wear it on this finger.” He gestured to the ring finger of your right hand. “I understand it is customary to wear another type of ring on your opposite hand. So this is a symbol. A promise to the future. To our future. If you will have me.”
You smiled as he hovered the ring around the end of your digit. “I will.” He slid it on.
“Well then. You’re stuck with me.”
You lay down in bed, snuggling into him. You whispered groggily as you closed your eyes, nestling your head into the soft pillow. “Tell me more about your crest.”
He looked at you adoringly, and even with your eyes closed, you could feel him looking at you. He lay on his side and wrapped his arm around your tummy, resting it there gently. “My crest is comprised of my initials, surname Laufeyson to represent my Jotun heritage. It was decided for me, my symbol would be two snakes. To symbolize trickery – the snake in – ”
“The Garden of Eden.” Your voice was soft, sleep drawing you into its grasp with invisible hands.
“Exactly, yes.” You didn’t see the way he looked at you. Eyes full of pride. Respect. Love.
He lowered his tone to a whisper, as though he was telling you a bedtime fable. Perhaps he was. “And… to have the serpents intertwining in a symbol of….” he stroked your hair, “of infinity. It represents my longevity. On earth, intertwining snakes symbolize healing. Your crest isn’t snakes, though perhaps it should be given how you helped me to heal,” he confessed quietly, a light shake in his voice. “I know the feeling to have…. to have a symbol chosen for you. So the one I chose for you is doves. A symbol of freedom.” He interlaced his hands with yours. “Which is what you offered to me.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple.
It’s the last thing you remember before you surrendered to the warm embrace of sleep.
***
Thick thighs flexed as Loki reared his hips slightly upwards, adjusting the leather of his Dior belt. A minute movement. One nobody else in the limousine even registered. Not even the professional assassin. Though, her eyes were occupied on her centenarian companion.
“You okay baby?” Your hand rested over his as you leaned over and whispered to him.
He exhaled, eyes dropping shut. Slowly, he nodded. “Mmm. Thank you.” His tone was soft as he lay his head on your shoulder, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. You leaned your head on his and caught the scent of bergamot bleeding through the air from the cologne on his neck.
You heard chuckling.
He looked up, dark eyebrows frowning. “Something comedic, Natasha?” he gruffed.
The Russian smirked sweetly, fair cheeks dimpling. “You guys are cute, that’s all.”
“Hey. We’re cute.” Steve’s eyebrow quirked cockily.
“No, Rogers.” Straight red hair shone as she flicked it to punctuate her point. “We’re sleeping together. There’s a difference.”
“Well, jeez Natasha. Talk about keepin’ a low profile.” Steve displayed his very best ‘incredulous Loki’ expression. It was like watching a dog try to meow.
Loki rolled his eyes. The Captain wouldn’t let that slide.
“Hey, you sure people’ll recognize ya out there, Loki. You’re not in uniform,” the captain smiled at his little quip, gesturing to the God’s blue suit, free from his customary black and forest green palate.
“Hilarious Steven, truly.” Though he shook his head, his cheeks dimpled into a grin.
You crossed your legs, the slit in your black dress falling to reveal smooth bare skin. His fingers ran up your shinbone, up over your knee, and trailing along your thigh, flames dancing in the wake of his touch. You turned towards him. A rogue hand found his thigh, squeezing. He hissed. You continued smoothing your hand over the fabric of his bespoke Dior trousers, alternating between your fingertips and the tips of your nails, raking them over his thigh. He bucked his hips. He actually bucked his hips. You almost groaned.
“I’ll be hard on arrival, petal.”
“You won’t, Lokes. Just breathe.”
A muscular neck exposed itself to you indecently as he pressed his head back into the leather headrest, chest rising to to the roof of the private car before he righted himself and looked at you. “I’m certain my techniques will be rendered useless tonight.”
Whether he was simply nervous or especially horny, you couldn’t be sure.
“And if you don’t stop teasing me, you little minx,” his lowered his volume further, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I shall be forced to hold you in place by force.”
“Oh god…. oh…. oh no….” You snickered at your own comedic fake shock, your hands determined and continuing to blaze a trail of fire up his thigh.
“Right!”
You squealed as he hauled you into his lap. Strong hands held you down. He bucked his hips once more, his arousal pressing into your buttocks.
God, Loki.
“Are you going to behave petal,” he brushed a swoop of hair from your neck, gentle fingertips grazing your neck. “Unless you would like to be hauled over my lap when we arrive home.”
Your private car hadn’t even pulled up outside at the Dior holiday party. And you were ready to knock on the driver’s glass, make a circular movement with your finger in the air, and give extremely clear directions to Stark Tower.
Strong arms wrapped around you, desire melting into tenderness, soft kisses dusting your neck like icing sugar. “Thank you for coming with me, love.”
The white envelope had dropped onto his kitchen table weeks earlier, his name handwritten in black ink on the front, the logo of the fashion house in rising up through thick card on the reverse.
Loki stared at it for days.
Then he opened it. And discarded it without further thought or discussion. It was you who pulled it from the chrome waste paper basket in the common area. He wasn’t going, he told you emphatically. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready. And why would he patronize them, anyway, when they had abandoned him during the crisis?
No. He wouldn’t go.
It was decided.
You offered a different perspective. It was a holiday party. A chance to have fun, spend time with friends, to go out and enjoy himself. You told him you could keep it low key. He groaned at the pun.
And here you were, sat on his lap and grinding creases into the Dior suit you photographed him in during his summertime lockdown.
“I always knew you guys would end up together.” The Russian was staring at you again.
“Really?” Her blond lover squinted. “Tell ya the truth, I thought I was gonna be with her, sure as eggs are eggs.”
You spoke up. “Well I thought I was gonna end up with her.” You pointed at Nat.
“Darling I would pay good money,” Loki drawled.
“Oh I’m sure.”
“Gonna break some hearts, Loki,” the Captain continued. “Ya know, now you’re spoken for, The Avengers are gonna need a new lothario.”
“Lothario? Really, Steven.” He was stunned into incredulity. “You will have to come up with a better name for yourself than that.”
The smug solider ceased adjusting his rolled up shirt sleeves and frowned. “You knew?”
“Please. The black shirt. The impeccably tailored – and rather snug, I may add – suit trousers. You may as well introduce yourself as Asgardian.”
“How do you even wear these things. So tight.” The soldier bucked his hips now. Natasha Romanoff bit her lip.
“You have put on a little weight, Rogers.”
“Hey.”
“It will be the spam, I suspect,” Loki retorted.
Steve smarmed, “Actually it’s Nat’s skills in the kitchen.”
“Yeah that’s what everyone loves about Agent Romanoff,” you chimed in. “That’s why everyone loves her TikTok thirst traps. Why she’s on the cover of every lads mag. Why she would absolutely kill it on Only Fans. Because of her great kitchen skills. Give you a clue Rogers, it rhymes with cooking.”
The Russian simply grinned in agreement.
“Alright alright.” He waved off a hand dismissively, theatrically nonchalant. He didn’t realise you could see him blush. He winced and grabbed a fistful of material around his crotch, pulling sharply downwards. His thighs did fill out the material, or was that his…..
“Christ, Rogers.” You weren’t sure if you spoke the words aloud.
“Your fan base will not stomach it. Mark my words. It’s quite an abrupt departure from America’s wartime sweetheart.”
The white, green and red lights outside of the blacked-out windows stole Natasha’s attention. She leaned towards the glass, starry eyed at the early December décor in Manhattan. She didn’t have many holidays. Only the ones prior to the Red Room. Since she moved to New York, the city’s holiday displays filled her with childlike wonder.
“What are you doing for Christmas?” she asked you both. Loki jerked a head towards you.
You remained in his lap, back facing him. “You just pointed at me, didn’t you.”
“Perhaps.” His muscular neck craned to view a billboard in the theatre district. Chicago. A smirk formed on mischievous pink lips. “Just think, Steven. You were only one choice away from Rogers: The Musical.”
Romanoff almost choked on air.
“Ah jeez. Here we go again. But ya know…” The soldier toyed with a rolled-up sleeve in a manner he hoped was coolly indifferent. “…it never woulda worked anyways. I’m no singer or dancer.”
You jostled in Loki’s lap as your raven-haired lover lost control of his laughter.
“Tell me you’re not serious,” Natasha drolled.
“Rogers!” Loki slapped his thigh. Or to be technical – your thigh. “They hire actors, Steven darling. ACTORS!” Steve blushed so fiercely he could have done a shift for Rudolph.
“We’re almost here!” You squeezed Loki’s knee as Steve muttered thank god under his breath. You shuffled off your partner’s thighs and smoothed down his blue tailored trousers as he straightened his shirt. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. They’re going to be happy to see you.” He felt your nose brush his ear, soft breath on his neck.
Impossibly sexy brows furrowed. “It was you I was rather more concerned about.”
“Me?” You punctuated the sentiment with an incredulous hand spread over your décolletage, shimmering with whatever body powder Natasha forced upon you earlier. “Loki I’ve done an event or two before.”
He whispered, eyes deep and sympathetic. “It’s different in front of the cameras. Trust me.” He swallowed, gaze falling indiscriminately to your lap. “I was rather used to public attention after my role on Asgard, but this…” his head turned towards the scene crawling into view outside blacked-out windows, “…is something else entirely. I used to feel rather panicked. Not to say you will. But if you do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder firmly. “I’m here.”
“Right, that’s our cue!” The solider scrambled off his leather seat, chasing Natasha as the limousine rolled to a stop. The assassin was already at the door. “Don’t leave it too long, divert the attention, remember.” Steve gave Loki one sage nod, hoping the two of you would be the main event and distract onlookers from his budding relationship with the Black Widow.
The two of you alone in the car now, Loki gazed at you adoringly, though you were too busy using your phone as a mirror, touching up the matte red lip you were sure was too much despite Nat’s insistence.
“You’re radiant, love.” Your eyes fell closed as he pressed his lips to your collarbone. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” When you swallowed, it felt like razorblades.
The last thing you were saw were the veins bulging over the backs of his hands as he pushed the door open from the inside, climbing out first and pulling you with him. The murmurs previously muffled behind glass now hit you in a tsunami of sound as lights flashed. All you saw was bright, white, blinding lights. Desperate photographers clamored, calling out his name with increasing urgency. You heard cheers, yelps, screams of excitement from a wall of Loki devotees. You hadn’t registered that the soles of your stilettos now touched the red carpet, guided forward by him. You were unaware of any sensation in your body at all. You stared straight ahead, mouth opening as though gasping for air, or words. You didn’t know it, but all he saw was you. His hand hadn’t left yours.
“Are you okay?”
You couldn’t hear him over the dull roar of the photographers calling out to you now, hundreds of shutter clicks ricocheting off the Dior vinyl backdrops, the sound mingling with the screams of his adoring fans. Your heart pounded in your throat. You couldn’t be sure who initiated the embrace, but the next thing you felt was your head against his chest. He embraced you, protecting you, shutting it out. Shutting it all out. Cameras flashed with the intensity of a nuclear bomb, long lenses frantically capturing the rare sight of Loki Laufeyson embracing a woman.
Was this the woman from the treatment center?
Who was she?
Was Lothario Loki a new man?
They asked themselves the questions as they snapped, headlines brewing like fresh coffee on a cold morning. Your eyes remained closed, yet you could see eager flickers behind closed eyelids, cameras continuing to flash like strobe lighting.
“Just breathe. Breathe for me, darling.” He held you firmly, fingertips pressing into your back hard enough to leave a mark. “Come on. Let’s go home. The car won’t have gotten far.”
“NO,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “This is your night.”
“It isn’t.”
You pulled away to see glassy green eyes boring into your soul. He brushed a strand of your hair, thick with event-strength product, behind your ear. “It doesn’t matter. I just want you to be okay.”
You smiled. Your eyes closed as his lips met your forehead. Lights flashed wildly.
Tomorrow, you would see this image on the front page of every newspaper at home and overseas.
Right now, in this moment, all you knew was him.
All you felt was him.
All you needed was him.
You squeezed his hand. You gave him one firm nod. Silently, he understood. He held your hand and didn’t let go as he led you through the bank of photographers and towards the awaiting press, ready for his interviews.
“Wait, Loki…. we should stop and let them get their shot.”
“Oh I think they have it,” he winked, squeezing your hand.
His arm tightened around your waist as you stood in front of the first reporter, pulling you into his side whilst he answered questions like a pro as though no time had passed at all. You recognised every interview technique he used so masterfully. Bridging from the question the journalist asked to the topic he actually wanted to talk about. Peppering in his key messages and teasing the release of his book by describing how he spent months in solitude, writing. A crafty call to action, hinting new information would be released about the book on his Instagram. He concluded each interview by flagging the points he wanted us remember, all while creating witty repartee and flashing a smile so perfect it would surely put dentists the world over out of business.
And you felt like a spare part.
Smiling.
Nodding.
Agreeing sweetly when Loki praised your support and credited you as the reason he’s the man he is today.
Acting coy when the interviewer pushed a little too hard in the direction of your relationship….
“Hey man! How long’s it been, like six years or what?”
You recognised the voice instantly from your phone call months earlier during the depths of your guerilla PR campaign.
“Bruce! My friend!” The sorcerer embraced the scientist, chatting briefly before turning to the camera and flattering Banner with a rare and poignant finger point, a gesture ordinarily reserved for private selfies in the tower with his friends.
Bruce made his excuses and left the interview, waving towards you unsubtly from the sidelines, accompanied by a stage whisper that turned heads. Cheeks flushed beneath foundation, and you squeezed Loki’s forearm and followed Bruce towards a quiet pocket at the end of the bank of reporters. “Nobody wants to interview the smart guy,” he shrugged. “You get pretty good at knowing where to hide. Anyway. How you been?”
You lost track of time in conversation with the affable academic, the camera clicks and red carpet cries seeming more like an ambient backing track on low volume than the overwhelming surround sound of earlier. You and Bruce watched the guests arriving and talking to their admirers, your gazes resting on Steve Rogers schmoozing with his new fan base. The soldier dropped to one knee as he signed a black-and-white photograph for an elderly lady positioned at the front of the bank of fans, a chic scarf around her neck juxtaposed by a cozy blanket over her lap.
“You think they watched the Facebook Live or what?” Bruce’s deadpan tone made you snicker, hinting at Rogers’ infamous lag in the technological advances of social media, appealing to the older demographic who also struggled to keep up.
From your vantage point fifty meters back, you could see Natasha roll her eyes at the scene, though her lips tugged into an affectionate smile. Despite her blushing, her tight black dress and red lips emitted the aura of bombshell-starlet-assassin.
“Should we tell him?” You didn’t take your eyes off the scene.
“That his fan base is the elderly?” Bruce’s cheeks dimpled with a smile. “Why ruin his fun.”
Steve knelt in front of the next salt-and-pepper haired fan, taking her hand and singing.
“Bruce, he thinks he’s gonna be the next Loki. You know, a lady’s man.”
“The ice did something to his brain.”
“Is that backed by science, Dr. Banner?”
He grinned. “Just a hunch.”
In a heartbeat, a figure came into view. Loki walked towards you, posture poised and gaze soft. A fellow dark-haired man followed him. But he didn’t share Loki’s gift of height.
He said he wouldn’t be here.
Motherf-
Whether it was extra sensory perception, one of his powers, or simply a very human gut feeling, you weren’t certain. But at that moment Loki glanced over his shoulder. And broke into a very public smile.
“Looking well, Morticia.” Tony Stark removed his sunglasses to punctuate his quip. He turned to you. “Good to see you out and about, Florence.”
You opened your mouth. Before you could respond, Tony cut in.
“You’re on the payroll now, so let’s keep it polite. And,” he opened his arms with the arrogance all wealthy men share, regardless of their looks, background or intellect – or lack thereof. “this too good to miss. The old team back together, talk about a perfect shot.” Two chunky fingers beckoned over a rogue photographer. His digits reminded you of chipolatas.
A young gangly paparazzo shuffled forwards, adjusting his large-rimmed brown glasses.
“Kid you’re about to bag the scoop of your career. Or at least tonight’s money shot.” As he talked shit, his authoritative hands commanded that you, Loki and Bruce gather around him and ready yourselves for the shot. You positioned yourself between Loki and Bruce. Poetically, the billionaire got in between you and your partner.
“C’mon kid,” Tony made an impatient circular motion with his finger. “time is money yada yada yada.”
The young photographer’s face disappeared behind a large black camera as he snapped the four of you. Tony’s hands rested on your shoulders. You continued to smile like a polished professional. Loki remained poised despite Tony’s proximity. He whispered something smug and vaguely menacing to your lover. You couldn’t quite hear what it was.
The tycoon clapped his hands together. “Alright, congrats, you got the money shot.” His tone was deadpan.
You all saw it at the same time. Steve and Natasha striding over to the group purposefully. Arrogance clouding his cognition, Stark would assume they were bound by duty to him, joining the throng like good little soldiers. You knew by Natasha’s steely glare that it was something different.
An intervention.
Protection.
For Loki.
For all of you.
“Kid, I swear on Bucky’s left arm, you better call your Mom to put a dollar on the Lotto. I’ve literally never seen luck like this.” He turned to you all. “Have you ever seen luck like this?”
Natasha took Tony’s hand with a honeyed smile. “Couples together, boss.” She winked at him, laying it on thicker than gravy on a dry Christmas dinner.
“Move over Banner, I’m bunking with you tonight.” He pointed at the junior photographer with mock seriousness. “That was a joke, Leibovitz.”
“God, Tony. He knew that.” Even Steve rolled his eyes. He looked at the young chap kindly. “I knew you knew that buddy.”
“Umm, Rogers.” Tony took on the tone of a teenage girl in a film from the early 2000’s. He waved his head in time with a circled finger. “The paparazzi are here.”
He looked up from his camera. “I-I’m a photojournalist.”
“Course you are. C’mon, get the shot. It’s like a nerd’s wet dream out here.”
“Stark, give the kid a break,” Natasha drawled as the flashes started.
Left to right, it would be Banner, Stark, you, Loki, Natasha and Steve. The image would reach page 6 on a handful of papers, and floated around online for a day before the image largely faded from collective consciousness. The candid image of you and your Loki, however, would remain timeless. An instant classic.
As the group broke apart, Natasha approached your new shutterbug friend and handed her card to him. She wanted some photos done, she told him. Tasteful. Classy. For a story she’d be releasing. It’d be an exclusive.
The budding photojournalist looked as though he was about to cum in his pants.
Steve stepped in. “I’ll be there. To be clear.”
“Y-yes Sir.” He cleared his throat as his voice cracked, stuffing the card into his pocket, thankful he had secured all he needed for this evening and he could leave the event that was every introvert’s worst nightmare.
“Looks like I’ve done my civic duty, first public outing and all.” He adjusted his cuffs as he awaited an answer. “No no, really, don’t all thank me at once.”
He walked away with an arrogance that made your blood boil.
“One shot, Laufeyson.” Natasha’s rich tones were like warm honey over bare skin. “One shot and he’s out. Wouldn’t even have time to put his suit on.”
“That’s very sweet, Natasha. But it will be unnecessary.” He smiled, and leaned in to whisper, “For today, at least.”
Minus Tony, or perhaps because of him, you all naturally gravitated towards the bar. “Apple juice in a wine glass, please,” you asked.
Loki’s arms snaked around you from behind. “May we make that two.” You felt hot breath on your ear. Away from the prying press and paparazzi, Loki melted into you. One step away from kissing your neck, he nuzzled into you like a cat on his favourite human.
You were Loki’s favourite human.
Of all the beings. In all the realms. You were his favourite.
Two glasses clinked on the acrylic bar, red and gold baubles fused permanently into translucent resin.
And then you heard it.
It was far away.
But it was clear as day.
As the barman swiped your card, you could hear the chants from outside.
BURN JADE WINTERS!
BURN JADE WINTERS!
BURN JADE WINTERS!
He felt your back muscles tense up. His caramel tones tickled the fine hairs inside your ears. “I’ll return shortly, darling.”
He wasn’t concerned about leaving you this time. You wouldn’t be alone. And with an assassin, a soldier and a scientist for company, there was plenty to talk about. You would have remained engaged in the conversation if it wasn’t for the glint of jewelry across the room. Its owner was walking towards you, her long blond hair flawless. Sleek black trousers set off enormous starched white sleeves, the top looking more celestial in original than your usual company.
As she approached the bar, graceful as a model and powerful as a gazelle, her wrist came into view. The sparkling jewelry was visible at this distance.
A diamond bracelet.
The diamond bracelet.
You looked up.
“It’s me, you fucking idiot!”
“Christ, Jessie!” You flung your arms around the starched fabric.
“I did say I’d be here, you plank.”
“You didn’t say you’d gone blonde! It looks amazing by the w– ”
“Yeah well, I ‘spose we can both have a dramatic entrance.” She winked warmly.
“Oh, me?”
“Yeah. You.” Jessie had been the definition of a good friend while Loki was in Phoenix. You had shared it all with her. From the tears to the misunderstandings to the deep conversations. She knew it all. The good. The bad. The Loki. “You, err…. you prepared?”
“For wh– ”
“For that image spreading faster than a tart’s legs on Deansgate.”
You almost choked on your apple juice.
Manicured hands slipped into a sleek black clutch, fishing out her phone. She found her most recent photo, holding up the screen to show the forehead kiss from her earlier vantage point. “You looked amazing. Two proper idiots in love.” She beamed.
The waft of bergamot invaded your senses, the scent of raw sexuality walking back towards you. The last time you stood at a bar with Loki in Jessie’s presence was a hot July evening back in Stark Tower. Only this time, at this bar, he wasn’t quite so repulsive to you.
He cocked a curious head. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We have, actually,” she grinned. Her diamond infinity symbol caught the light.
“Oh. I can see that.”
“Actually Loki, this is Jessie.”
“Oh! Goodness! Jessie, I must apologise unreservedly.” He held out her hand and shook it. “I must thank you for being such a wonderful friend, she truly does talk about you all the time.”
“Aw, that’s nice,” she grinned. She nodded her head towards him animatedly while mouthing, “Now, yeah?”
You nodded. You could barely contain yourself.
“Alright. Alright fine.” She whet her lips in preparation for her short monologue. “So this blonde barnet here, it’s for a new film. I’m working with Gal Gadot – ”
“She’s lovely,” You interjected with a playful smile.
“No, she really is. Anyway, when we met, I looked a bit different. Dark hair. Just finished working on WonderWoman.” Jessie raised her eyebrows for dramatic effect.
Loki squinted. “I’m not quite sure I follow.”
“Well. We met at the premier.”
“I’m not certain we did.”
“You slept with Gal that night, didn’t you.”
“She told you?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Gal.” She paused. “It was me.”
There wasn’t much that rendered him speechless. But Loki took a solid twenty seconds to formulate a response.
“You’re telling me you convinced me of this, and since then, I have–” he looked at you nervously, “may have – bragged about bedding the legendary Ms. Gadot when in actuality it was your good self.”
“Yep.” You better believe Jessie popped the P. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that Gal Gadot’s not on your hit list.”
Loki shrugged. “And she never will be.” He looked to you. “I’m sorry, that was terribly crude of me – ”
“Is the Harry Styles rumour true though?” Jessie leaned in and attempted to lower her tone. Steve still turned around. Nat smirked. Without missing a beat, you handed Loki his wine glass. He sipped purposefully, wishing it was a little stronger.
“That was a long time ago.”
You gasped.
Jessie squealed. “I fucking knew it!!!” In one swift motion, she knocked back her wine. “Is that what’s in the book, by the way? Are you kissing and telling? Like Lizzo says, are all the rumours true?” She drew in an animated breath. “Did you fuck Lizzo??”
If laughter was a possible cause of death, you would have sworn your life was in danger.
Loki groaned. “The pair of two are insufferable, you do realise.”
You both cackled in chorus.
Jessie slipped off her bracelet and handed it to you, as agreed. She whispered. “Thank you for letting me do that, hope it was okay and not too far.”
“Jessie, as always, you were absolutely iconic.”
“Hey is that a Manchester accent I hear?” Banner’s dulcet tones, already slurring after a beer, rang through the air like sleigh bells as he rounded the bar. In a heartbeat, he was talking Jessie’s ear off about his local pub “back home” in Manchester, located opposite the University of Manchester where he lectured.
“Was that you?” Your feather light touch of your fingertips tickled the back of Loki’s hand, digits grazing the cuff of his white shirt sleeve buttoned up tightly around his wrist.
“Hmm?”
“The chanting about Jade, baby. It’s stopped.”
“Oh. Yes. I, umm…. I had a word. And took a couple of photographs in return.”
“You asked them to stop chanting about Jade?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“I suppose… I guess I just want to – ”
“Understand.”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” He leaned against the bar, turning to you, holding your hand in front of him as he spoke. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over your gold signet ring. “There’s a phrase we have on Asgard. Wyrd & Orlog. It’s Old Norse, loosely translating to cause and effect. What we do, impacts what we experience. It’s similar to the earthly notion of karma.”
“So Jade will get her justice. And you trust in your Gods to deliver it.”
“More or less, yes. And in return, I must ensure I act with integrity.”
“Loki Laufeyson.” You shook your head, not quite believing how in six months, you found yourself in a completely different reality. “You, a man of integrity.”
“Well if you insist on wearing such scandalous garments in public, my newfound principles may become compromised.” A fresh wave of his scent washed over you as he placed his lips to your collarbone in full view of the Dior holiday party guests. “Now. Where was I, in the car earlier? Oh yes.” He assumed his position behind you, arm snaked around your hips, pressing his body into yours, holding you, enveloping you, dominating and protecting you all at once.
Your tummy pressed into the edge of the bar as you glanced around the room to see Natasha looking up at Steve with adoration, his rolled up sleeves back in their more wholesome position, buttoned loosely at his wrist. You noticed Jessie talking to Bruce. You turned in Loki’s arms and looked up to see him. Sensing your pensive state, he smiled softly, eyes lightly glazing over with emotion. He placed his arms around your back and you rested your head against his chest.
All you could smell was bergamot.
And all you could feel was him.
Taggos: @lokisgoodgirl @five-miles-over @gruftiela @texmexdarling @mrs-illyrian-baby @acidcasualties @muddyorbs @muddyorbsblr @liminalpebble @glitchquake @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @gigglingtiggerv2 @mochie85 @xorpsbane @skymoonandstardust @animnerd @alexakeyloveloki @loz-3 @november-rayne @nonsensicalobsessions @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @lokisprettygirl @lokisprettygirl22 @buttercupcookies-blog @fandxmslxt69 @ladymischief11 @kikster606 @superficialdomina @marygoddessofmischief @ellooo0ooo @unicorn-of-mischief @huntress-artemiss @goblingirlsarah @sheris532 @lokidokieokie @vickie5446 @chokeanddagger @morriggannlostinfandoms @kaotic-an4rchy @mayjaysthots @thegodofnotknowing @honeyrydernot @2am4me @kmc1989 @lulubelle814 @unlucky-number-13 @bitchy-bi-trash @coldnique
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fanficsformyfaves · 3 months
Text
I Can See You
Loki Laufeyson x Fem Avenger!Reader
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WARNING: SMUT 18+, Semi-Public Sex, Oral Sex (R Receiving), P in V Sex, No Protection (This is fiction, you are not, WRAP IT UP), Choking (R Receiving), Fraternizing Between Co-Worker, Mentions of Loki Being Able To Read Minds, Secret Relationship, Mentions of Hickeys, Jealous!Loki, Mentions of Masturbation (Reader), Mentions of Loki getting slapped, Mentions of Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Reader has Dark Humor
PREFACE: Loki and Reader were the newly recruited Avengers, who everyone thought just hated each other, but unbeknownst to them, they were a lot friendlier when no one was watching
A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!
Earpiece Monologue In Bold and Colored!
Loki changed after the events of Avengers 1 and gets recruited in this A/U!
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"So sweet", he groaned against my cunt,
Pounding his fingers into me, as his free arm wrapped around my leg to hold me in place. How we ended up in the janitor's closet was actually quite the story.
"Don't stop, please!", I whined,
"Oh, I don't plan on it", he grinned.
Loki and I met a few months ago, when we were both recruited into the Avengers and at the beginning, we actually didn't get along.
All I'd heard about the God of Mischief prior to meeting him was that he invaded and nearly destroyed the city of New York, so to say I wasn't his biggest fan would've been an understatement.
"Welcome to the team, kid", Steve nods,
"Thank you", I smiled,
"This is great! Now we have two extra sets of hands to help with the work load!", Thor roared,
Causing me to look back at him in confusion.
"Two?"
That's when the original six turn to each other, awkwardly.
"Well, go ahead, Captain Thunderpants, it was your idea", Tony snipped.
My eyes meet Thor's, curiously.
"Well...there may be...a new recruit"
"Really? Who?", I questioned,
"Uh...", he looks to his friends for help,
"Don't look at me", Nat refused,
"Not a chance in hell", Tony also declined,
"Steve? Banner? Barton?"
"We're good", Bruce answered on behalf of the other men.
"Oh, come on, how bad could it be?", I asked.
Just then, the door slides open, revealing the devil himself.
"Team", he greeted,
Letting himself in, before his eyes fell upon me. My head snaps back in Thor's direction, who had already taken three steps back.
"Loki?!"
"Yes?", he answered.
After letting out a deep exhale, I began walking up to him.
"I don't think we've officially met-"
Unable to control my anger, I slap him hard across the face, bringing shock to all parties in the room.
"That was for New York!"
Smirking, he turns back to me, before looking over at his brother.
"I like her", he teased,
Making me groan in disgust.
For the next following weeks, I tried my best to avoid him at all costs and my plan was going according to how it should...till that the damned mission.
I was fighting off one of the Ultron bots and failed to see one charging up at me. Just as I was about to be blasted by the ray of its laser, I was pushed out of the way and pinned to the wall, left to watch another building collapse from it's lethal impact.
I turn to see who it was and there stood Loki, holding me in place by the small of me waist.
"You alright?", he questioned.
His eyes pouring into mine with such concern. All I could focus on was how little distance there was between us. My lips barely an inch away from his.
Once I realized what was happening, I snapped out of it.
"I'm fine", I said dismissively,
Before getting back to work.
Tony: Pretty cozy lookin', you sure we didn't interrupt something?
(Y/N): Shut up, Tony
Later that night, I found myself restless and unable to fall asleep. All I could think about was him and how his body felt...right against mine. How his lips were just right at my own, almost brushing against them.
I knew it was wrong, but the more I thought about how intense that moment was and how willing he was to risk his life for mine, the less I grew to despise him.
I touched myself all night to the image, till I was all tuckered out and able to drift peacefully off to sleep.
A day later, during the blowout celebration for destroying Ultron, I decided the only way I could ever face Loki again was to drink.
Sure, one or two shots would've sufficed, but alas, I got carried away and ended up somewhere near ten. Don't ask.
"Okay, you're cut off", Steve says,
Trying to take the shot glass away from me.
"Boooo, what are you my dad?"
That's when the captain's eyes widen.
"Oh shit, he's dead", I say,
Right before bursting into laughter.
"That calls for another shot!", I sing cartoonishly,
"No-"
"I've got this", a low voice says from behind me.
I look over my shoulder and roll my eyes, groaning. This man was just always somehow at the right place, at the right time.
"You sure?"
"I am, thanks", Loki reassured,
Steve nods and walks off.
"A water, please", he asked the bartender,
"I don't need you to babysit me", I slurred,
"Well, stop acting like child and I will"
"Pffft, you're lucky you're as hot as you are. I wouldn't take this shit from anyone else", I accidentally confessed.
The moment I saw his eyes widen and his fine lips curl up into a grin, I felt the realization of what I'd just done hit me.
"Don't you dare tell anyone I said that!", I warn,
Leaning forward to point, when my elbow slips off the table. Luckily, he caught me before I met the hard floor.
"Alright, let's get you to bed", he struggled,
Before throwing me over his shoulder and using his free hand to keep my dress from rising.
If it hadn't been for the loud music and crowd of people dancing, the team would've seen us and gods knew, they'd never let me live it down.
I wake up being greeted with a splitting headache and the sun shinning impossibly bright through the gap in my curtains. I was beyond relieved to remember that it was Saturday and I could take my time recovering from this hangover.
Pulling the comforter off me, I noticed that I hadn't taken off the dress I wore the night prior. As a matter of fact, I couldn't even remember how I made it to my room.
I groan to myself, eventually getting up and heading to the kitchen, but as I did, I find Loki making himself a cup of coffee. He turns to face me and grins at my less-than-stellar state.
"Morning. Care for a cup of coffee?"
"No, thanks", I snipped,
Making him scoff to himself.
I grab a bowl and began pouring in my cereal, before adding the milk and taking a seat at the dining table.
Once Loki's was done stirring his coffee, he takes the chair, right across from me. As inappropriate as it was for me to shamelessly stare at his toned arms, I couldn't seem to stop myself.
"Enjoying the view?", he remarked sarcastically,
Snapping me out of my daze.
"Bold of you to assume I was enjoying it"
He shakes his head, smiling to himself.
Curiously, my brows knit together, as my eyes narrowed at his reaction.
"What?"
"Nothing", he coyly replied.
Something was off. His once-passing glances were now longer and focused on places I'd never seen them on before. My lips, my collarbones...my chest. I couldn't help but blush at the sudden attention.
Not wanting to delve too deeply into it, I brush it off and avert my attention back to the breakfast before me.
"So?"
I look up from my bowl of cereal.
"Are we going to talk about it?", he questioned,
"Talk about what?"
"The delicious little confession you made last night"
"What are you-"
Fuck, I thought to myself.
"Ah...so you do remember?"
"I don't know what you're talking about", I rushed,
As I got up and abandoned the bowl, trying to escape the awkward encounter.
"Oh, I think you know plenty", he challenged,
Trailing behind me.
"I was drunk, obviously what I said didn't mean anything"
"Oh, darling, try as you might, I know it to be true"
I turn to tell him off, when I was met with him being closer than I anticipated. He brushes a stray hair from my face, causing a breath to hitch in the back of my throat.
"You've thought about it. You've thought about all the dirty little things you wish I'd do to you. The only person denying it...is you"
I was at a loss for words. All I could do was focus on keeping my knees from buckling, as he spoke to the deepest parts of my longing. He leans forward, now holding the side of my face and pouring his baby blue eyes into mine.
"These walls may be soundproof, but your thoughts...they're just so loud", he brushes his fingers down my arm,
"I couldn't help myself from taking a little glimpse into that pretty head of yours...do not get in the way of your own pleasure", he whispers.
My skin was on fire and my heart was threatening to give out. Any sense of reason disappeared the moment his hands abandoned my warm cheeks and trailed down to the sides of my waist. With no reservations left in mind, I grab him by the back of his neck and crashed my lips onto him.
I was then thrown into the air and my legs instinctively wrap over his hips. My tongue darting out, meeting his in a heated exchange.
"Just this once", I pulled away.
Well...lets just say that was a blatant lie.
We met almost every night since that day and neither side had any complaints. In each other's rooms, the showers, the kitchen island and couches when no one was in.
It felt almost impossible to keep our hands off of each other. He was a god after all and he sure did fuck like one.
But not all was fair in love and war.
He always felt the need to mark his territory. For instance, the Hickey incident, when Loki left one the size of an orange on the side of my neck.
"Steve was on my ass for this today", I say,
Trying to conceal the mark with makeup.
"He could only ever dream of it"
I playfully rolled my eyes, continuing to cover it up.
So, it should've come as no surprise to me, when I was yanked into the closet, after being overheard playfully flirting with Thor by Loki. Unbeknownst to him, that was my plan all along. To get him so frustrated, that he was left with no choice but to screw me out of my mind as a lesson.
He was always so possessive. Not that I minded.
As a matter of fact, it turned me on more than anything, knowing that it drove him up the wall, seeing me receive attention from anyone, other than him. Call it evil, but I liked the power I had over the god and it seemed like he was more than okay with giving it to me. Even MORE okay with taking out his frustrations on me during our intimate moments.
After effortlessly making me come undone on his skilled tongue, I was immediately flipped onto my stomach with no chance of catching a breath. I hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his pants hitting the ground around his feet.
"You just love how riled up I get over you, don't you? Purposefully throwing yourself at my brother of all people, simply to get a reaction out of me? Not a smart move, pet", he groaned,
Before finally impaling me in one thrust. I gasp at the sudden fullness and his hand reaches from behind me, using my throat to hold me taut against his expensive white button up shirt.
"Now now, we wouldn't want anyone to find you in this compromising position, now do we? With your hair a mess, your lipstick smeared and my cock buried deep inside you?"
He pulls away slightly, only to thrust back inside me with a newfound harshness. Not that I minded, but this time felt...different.
His pace was brutal and desperate, like he had something to prove. The angle allowing him to fill me to the hilt.
I could feel the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting me right where I needed it to.
"Loki", I quietly moaned into the air,
"Such a sweet girl. Letting me ruin her right next to our co-workers", he groaned against the skin of my neck.
The coil in the pit of my stomach began to heat up and tighten. The closer I was to my next climax, the more wanton cries of pleasure began escaping my lips.
"I feel you pulsing around me, darling. Let go for me. I'm close", he grunted against my ear.
With his hips faltering and going faster and faster, I was left at the mercy of my climax overwhelming my senses and rendering me weak and limp.
Within the next few seconds, Loki paints my clenching walls with hot ropes of white, moaning into the shell of my ear.
Once I had somewhat come down from high, I caught my breath.
"They definitely heard us", I exhaled,
Causing him to chuckle tiredly.
"Good. At least now they'll know who you belong to"
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