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rosewaterandivy · 6 months

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petrichor

a continuation of sugar & mint

summary: a summer friday feat. long lie-ins, a doting husband, and something unexpected

pairing: dad!steve x mom!reader

W.C.: 2390 K

warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smoking, cursing, pregnancy mention, my usual brand of filth (unprotected p-i-v, oral - m & f receiving, come eating)

a/n: disclaimer, i'm not a mom (unless you count my two pets)!! i am but a simple god mom to some feral babies, whom i adore. if pregnancy or mom!reader is not your vibe, i completely get it - i just couldn't get the thought of these two out of my head 🥹

🎵🎵 Oh, woe-oh-woah is me, the first time that you touched me 🎵🎵

pet·ri·chor /ˈpetrīˌkôr/ (noun)

definition: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

Waking to the sound of rain falling steadily on the roof, you blearily pry an eye open to check the time. The sheets beside you on the bed are cool, Steve having made good on his promise to let you sleep in. The clock informs you of the late hour, 1 PM, as your stomach begs for sustenance.

Scrubbing a hand across your face, you roll over and rummage around for a shirt to cover throw on before trotting downstairs. Bub is off with her aunts for one final summer weekend, and there’s a slight chill in the air. Enough to warrant slipping on your husband’s discarded gray sweatshirt.

Aside from the rain against the eaves and windows, the house is silent. Grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet, you busy yourself making a cup of coffee before you see the post-it stuck to the fridge.

Hope you got to sleep in, your majesty. Grabbing groceries in town, see you soon. xxx - Steve

Grabbing a cinnamon bagel and your coffee you settle in the window seat of the breakfast nook to watch the rain, free of distractions and responsibilities. It’s rare that you get a moment like this, no pressing deadlines, drop-off or pick-up lanes, hosting dinners for friends, or attending a birthday party.

Eyes following the drag of raindrops on the windowpane, your hand falls to the nearly imperceptible swell of your stomach. Early days yet, but you knew the signs: nausea, exhaustion, all the usual suspects. Finishing your coffee, you trekked upstairs in search of a rogue pregnancy test— would it have expired by now?

After checking the date and deeming it worthy, you took the test and checked the time. Deciding it best to go back downstairs to ease your anxiety, you settled back in the window seat with a second cup of coffee.

“Couldn’t find a shirt?”

He laughs, shaking off the water droplets like a dog in the foyer. “It wasn’t raining when I left,” Steve says, as if that’s explanation enough. Not that you’re necessarily complaining, his hair and skin damp, tank top doing fuck all being as soaked as it is. “And I couldn’t find my—”

Catching sight of his sweatshirt grazing the tops of your thighs he smiles. “Nevermind, looks better on you anyway.” He kicks the door closed, shoes squelching against the floor as he makes his way into the kitchen.

“Baaaabe,” you whine, catching a whiff of tobacco on him, “Please tell me you didn’t smoke in my car.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, sunglasses resting against the visor of his ball cap as he sets the tote bags on the counter. “Trader Joe’s was insane,” he says setting the keys on the counter, “It was an emergency cigarette, I swear.”

A roll of your eyes as you begin to put away the groceries. “If you bothered to wake me, I could’ve told you Trader Joes on a Friday was a bad idea.”

Steve quirks a brow in interest, grabbing a few items to shove in the freezer.

“Flower delivery is Friday, brings all the Lululemon moms to the yard.”

“Huh,” he grunts, “Explains all the spandex and lycra then.” Damp fingers trail against your thigh before wrapping an arm around your hip to draw you close. “Besides,” he breathes against your neck, “If I remember correctly, you requested to be left to sleep in.”

Failing to stifle a yawn, you eek out, “Because I’m fuckin’ exhausted, Harrington.” Setting your mug in the sink, you turn in his grasp and drape an arm across his shoulders. “Raising your daughter and dealing with your sorry ass.”

“Oh,” he pulls you closer, hips flush against one another, “So she’s my daughter now?”

“When she’s having sleep regression, yes.”

“Poor thing.”

“Yes,” you huff, “Me, I’m the poor thing because she insisted on crawling into our bed and kept kicking me in the ribs all night.”

“Hmm,” he hums, resting his chin against your head, “Explains the post-it stuck to my face this morning. ‘Help me Steve Harrington, you’re my only hope! Can you get Bub off to Aunt Nancy & Robin’s and please (for the love of god) let me sleep in? xxx —the love of your life & bearer of your child.”

“Hey,” you grouse into his chest, “I am clever and cute and you love me.”

Steve pulls back to get a better look at you— sleep mused, hair askew, barely dressed in a sweatshirt that had seen better days, and bare feet. He reaches down to link his fingers through yours. It feels so good, and warm, and you sigh almost contentedly.

“Course I do.” He takes a breath, “How could I not?”

“Steve Harrington,” you whisper against his lips, “You sweet talkin’ me?”

And with that, you crash your lips over his, sliding your tongue—sweet and heavy with promise into the space of his mouth.

He tastes like a stolen cigarette and coffee, cinnamon dancing on his tongue from the Big Red he’d swiped from the car. Kisses you slow and deep, easing you back against the counter. Chest pressed flush to yours, you let out an involuntary hiss.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

A shake of your head as your pepper his cheeks with kisses, bristles of five o’clock shadow catching against your lips.

“My tits just really hurt.”

“Huh,” he tuts, leaning back to look you over. “That’s uh… new.”

Quirking your brow, you level him with a look. “And how would you know?”

Steve’s lips curl in a slow smile, “I notice things.”

Glancing to the green numbers illuminated on the microwave, you grab his hand and make for the staircase. “Sure you do, big guy,” you toss over your shoulder playfully.

Settling him on the bed, you trot back into the en suite and return with the white plastic test in your hand. Handing it to him without fanfare, you watch as his face turns from one of mild curiosity to that of astonishment. Shock.

There was a cautious longing in your eyes and your face was measured. The air was weighted in silence, desire crystallizing as he leaned towards you, a pull he allowed himself to fall toward, closing the space between, choosing not to think, blocking out any hesitation and he was kissing you.

You were trying not to rush this, trying to savor this, slowly, carefully, tormented with the scent of his skin, all warm and washed linen, comfort laced in a simmering heat that he kept tempered somewhere deep within his soul.

Your face was cradled in his hands, pulling you closer, skin hot against palms, lips hotter still against his own when he realised the rain had stopped.

You crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath is punched out of his lungs in awe of your beauty. You undress him with deft fingers, yanking his clothes, hissing when he pulls away to peel the shirt off— as if not touching him pains you. The sweatshirt comes off— thrown carelessly landing somewhere on the floor— Steve revels in the exposure your chest—soft, heaving with love and agony.

Steve. Stevie. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

Desperate, again.

You tug his hair, grip his chest and back, kiss him until his head spins. The bed creaks softly, as if it doesn’t want to interrupt the sounds that your bodies create together.

His kisses were deliberate towards one destination as his hands moved toward another, caressing you soft on the skin of your hips, slowly, sweetly up your sides and arching your back where you perched, a way to kiss you harder, reach you further to rediscover all his favorite parts of you.

The moan started low in your throat as he eased himself into you, sinking all the way to the hilt, delicious and easy, because he couldn’t wait and neither could you. You in all your love and splendor, always ready, always open for him, legs widening and gripping him as he began to move, slowly and agonizingly sweet.

Steve was trying to restrain himself, slow it down, revel in the feel of you, warm and wet and wonderful around him. He wanted to make it go slow, try not to lose himself through your soft sounds, the little breaths that told him the how, the when, the yes, please, right there, yes as you dissolved into moans that had him aching.

It was less deliberate now, more messy, a stuttered rhythm that had his legs feeling shaky, chasing his release, the push and pull of desire tightening, closer, hotter, tighter, and then an instant hardness that had him seeing stars, mouth tucked into the curve of your neck, your fingers threaded, gripping his locks, spilling feeling from his cock through your cunt.

He makes love to you, and even though he is bone tired from the hectic morning, he doesn’t feel it until you tremble in his arms and slump against his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat when he drew back to look at you, half-embarrassed, half a smile awash in his flushed face, hazel eyes full and wanting – utterly beautiful. Steve kissed your nose, your mouth, lingering sweetness on your lips, and you groaned as he picked you up, still buried inside you, his hands strong beneath your ass, fingers itching to trail the familiar paths of faded stretch marks. To praise the skin that grew to house you and your daughter, knew instinctively what to do, even if you were less than pleased with their sudden arrival.

Steve can’t help it - he loves your body for that, for keeping you and Bub safe. It’s something he won’t ever experience, but each time he happens to catch sight of you, pregnant or not, he can’t help but feel that he’s witnessing something sacred. Something holy.

The bed now, a comfort beneath your back, sheets scrambled beneath his palms as he balanced himself above you, then a stuttered breath as he slipped out, your muscles already missing the fullness of him. His pretty head moved lower now, your pretty hands still stroking through his pretty hair, sending pretty shivers through his spine.

The gasp was low in your throat when Steve pushed his fingers inside you, slow and agonizing, damp with you and him, all melded together and you almost winced when he dipped his mouth between your thighs, his tongue careful and deliberate, tasting you, tasting him, his mouth warm and licking you from core to clit.

This time, your legs were shaking, skin like fire and you were already too wound up, too high on just the feel on him, his hair brushing skin, beard soft on your thighs. Your fingers were fisted still through his hair, and god, he loved the way he knew how to drive you by the tension in your hands, the scrabbled grip through his locks as you got closer, more breathless, a groan and then an arch of toes before you were wrung out and writhing beneath him.

A clap of thunder sounded out as you collapsed, loose limbs and shivery skin as he came up to kiss you, shared joy and wonder, near awe that he could still bring you over the edge this way.

Steve's hair was something else now, wild and beautiful – definitely overdue for a trim and you were laughing now, face sparkling with glee.

“You look awful,” you told him, bringing your lips up to kiss him, all giggly with delight.

“Thank you,” he replied, nosing you close and drawing new breaths from your tongue as your hands drifted to the velvet skin beneath his thighs, working him slow and sweet.

“Oh, I will,” you answered, tempered smile in that face he adored so well, and shifted your body, drawing Steve onto his back as you dipped lower and he tried to hold the groan as you took him in your mouth.

He had to look away, some way to regather himself, the rushing blood through his skin, shooting straight to his cock, the warmth of your mouth on him, your tongue stroking him, the push and drag of your lips along that sensitive skin.

Steve focused on the feeling of you surrounding him, your warmth, your light, but even so, it was too much after a while and he had to change it, change the way you felt on him before he got too eager, too earnest. He lifted you, a giggle escaping your lips as you pulled off him with one last, deliberate drag of your mouth and this time, he couldn’t help the moan from his lips.

It was heaven, warm and sweet, when he pushed into you for the second time, your knees almost matched high at your chest, grazing your aching nipples as he found that special part of you that drew his most favorite sounds. You were keening, moving slowly together, trying not to lose control, trying to savor this for as long as you possibly could in this delicious bubble of time and space. _

Hours later and the pair of you had yet to leave the house. Rain pouring on and off throughout the afternoon and into the evening.

A tentative look at your belly, still smooth and firm. His hand finds the plane of it, fingers brushing the skin and over newly forming goosebumps. A surprising amount of excitement flutters in his own at the thought. It’d be good.

Steve insisted on throwing something together for dinner and made his way downstairs. He’s excited at the prospect of another baby, especially if they continued to take after you like Bub had. And she’d be adorable big sister, his heart swells at the thought.

He grabs the plates and heads back upstairs, the creak of the trick-step signalling his ascent. Nudging the door open with his hip, he pauses to take in the sight of you, and sets the plates on the nightstand.

Steve doesn’t know how someone can light up a room like you, just sitting there in his sweatshirt, doing nothing but smile. “Honey,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment but can’t help himself. He just wants to see you looking at him.

“Yeah?” You turn your head ever so slightly, peek up under flared lashes— sleepy eyes struggling to stay awake— still sparkling. “What is it?”

“Honey, I love you.” Is all he can manage. Everything else seems to fade away.

And then you smile, a slow curling of your soft lips, cupid’s bow catching a moonbeam. You smile so sweetly his heart stops in his chest. The world comes rushing back with your tired sigh and your hand linking itself with his. One beat, two beats, steadily, heavily, his blood pulses again when you kiss his cheek and murmur,

“I love you, too.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #dad! steve harrington #Spotify

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catindabag · 10 months

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TBOSAS on Crack short take (25)

*When Coryo Snow convinced Lucy Gray to sing a banned song at the Lucky Flickerman Show to piss off Billy Taupe*

*Inside one of the Mentor-Tribute rehearsal rooms*

Coryo: So anyway, as I was saying, my super rich boyfriend, Sejanus Plinth just shows up out of nowhere and kissed me in front of the crowd-

Lucy Gray: Coryo.

Coryo: And I was really caught off guard-

Lucy Gray: Coriolanus Snow, focus for a sec! The Flickerman interview is tomorrow! We need to practice and rehearse again!

Coryo: But I thought you’ve already decided to sing your original ✨Billy Taupe Breakup Single✨ for tomorrow’s show-

Lucy Gray: Yeah. . .

Coryo: Bestie?

Lucy Gray: But I kind of changed my mind.

Coryo: Why?! Your voice is perfect! Your song is perfect! I swear it will destroy your pathetic ex boyfriend’s heart!

Lucy Gray: You see, I’ve heard from Jessup that he and Lysistrata will be doing an “80s Aerobics routine” or whatever that means for tomorrow’s interview.

Coryo: So?

Lucy Gray: And well, they’ll be doing it together.🥺

Coryo: What’s the problem performing solo?

Lucy Gray: I also asked the other Tributes about what they’ll do for the show, and all of them will be performing together with their Mentors. . .

Coryo: Oh, I see! You want me to perform with you! Like a Duo!

Lucy Gray: Exactly! Let’s sing together!

Coryo: Yeah! I can envision it now! The ultimate duo that will piss off Billy Taupe and his cheating ass!😎

Lucy Gray: Yes! And we’ll definitely win the audience over-

Coryo: But I can’t sing your song though.

Lucy Gray: Why not? The Lyrics are pretty simple.

Coryo: Do I look like your little genius cousin? I can’t memorize lyrics in one night!😩

Lucy Gray: Oh, that’s sad. Well, I just wanted to try-

Coryo: But you can, right?

Lucy Gray: Can what?

Coryo: Memorize a song in one sitting. I mean, you’re ✨THEE AMAZING LUCY GRAY BAIRD✨! And I know that you can do it.😏

Lucy Gray: I believe you have a plan in mind, Mr. Snow?

Coryo: Yes, I have, Ms. Baird.

Lucy Gray: So let’s hear it! And don’t keep a lady like me waiting!

Coryo: Don’t you hesitate, but it involves us wearing animal onesies.

Lucy Gray: Animal onesies? What for, good sir?🧐

Coryo: Have you ever heard of a song called ✨We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together✨ by T.Swift from centuries back?

Lucy Gray: I thought old songs such as those were banned by the Ravinstills?!

Coryo: Well, nobody has to know about that little memo. And you could always claim that we sang it for your ex lover.

Lucy Gray: I see!😈 *evil laughs*

Coryo: But what animal onesie do you want to wear? A cat? A dog? Maybe a tiger onesie might fit you-

Lucy Gray: Do you have a bird onesie that I could wear?🥺

Coryo: I think I have a songbird costume that will fit you perfectly!

Lucy Gray: How about you? What will you wear for tomorrow’s event?

Coryo: Oh, that’s easy! I always wear my ✨albino snake onesie✨😊.

Lucy Gray: You have a snake onesie?! I want one too!!

Coryo: Yeah. My dead dad and his ex lover (Casca Highbottom) used to wear them at karaoke parties. But now, I just wear them whenever I have a sleepover with one of my friends.

Lucy Gray: That is so cute! I can’t wait to see it!☺️

Coryo: We really are officially ✨The Songbird & The Snake✨!

Lucy Gray: Perfect! That is the perfect name for our duet act!

Coryo: So should we rehearse?

Lucy Gray: Yeah, let’s rehearse.

*Finally, at the Lucky Flickerman Show*

Lucky: Thank you! Thank you for that wonderful dance(?) aerobics routine(?) performance you gave us, Ms. Vickers and Mr. Diggs!

Lysistrata: *wearing a pink & black spandex, flexatard, & lycra* It was perfect! I was perfect!

Lucky: Well, we hope you’re not too exhausted to speak to the audience, Mr. Diggs!

Jessup: *wearing an orange & black spandex, flexatard, & lycra* I can’t believe it! I did it! I was perfect! District 12 for the win!

Lucky: Um- Jessup Diggs from District 12 everybody!

Audience: *applauds like crazy*

Lucky: Now, let’s welcome Mr. Coriolanus Snow and his very talented Tribute, the Amazing Lucy Gray Baird!

Coryo: *shamelessly walks in wearing his albino snake onesie* Hello, everyone!

Lucy Gray: *confidently enters the scene while wearing a raindbow colored songbird onesie* I hope you’re ready for more Lucy Gray!🥳

Lucky: Mr. Snow and Ms. Baird, what the heck are you wearing?!

Drunk!Casca: *at the backstage lurking* Are those Crassus Xanthos Snow’s animal onesies for ✨Thursday Clubbing✨?!😱

Coryo: Oh, Lucky, don’t be like that~. It’s our costume for this night’s performance!

Lucky: What will you do?! Role play as animals?!

Lucy Gray: Oh, just sit back and relax, Weather Boy! ✨The Songbird & The Snake✨ will blow you all away!

Drunk!Casca: *aggressively runs and stands next to the cameraman* Damn you, Crassus, my love! That songbird onesie used to be mine!

Lucy Gray: This song is dedicated to a certain loser from 12! You know who you are!

Coryo: And also for a certain Dean who thinks his dead “ship” is better than ✨Snowjanus✨😘!

Drunk!Casca: You’ll pay for this, Crassus Xanthos Snow!

Lucky: How wonderful! You’ll sing us a song! Well then, the stage is yours!

*The music starts playing*

Lucy Gray: *aggressively points at the camera* 🎶I remember when we broke up the first time, Saying, “This is it, I've had enough," ‘cause like, We hadn't seen each other in a month, When you said you needed space🎶

Coryo: *grins* 🎶what?🎶

Lucy Gray: *dramatically whines* 🎶Then you come around again and say, "Baby, I miss you and I swear I'm gonna change, trust me", Remember how that lasted for a day?, I say, "I hate you," we break up, you call me, "I love you"🎶

Coryo: *smirks and points at Casca*😈 🎶Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, We called it off again last night, but, Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, This time, I'm telling you, I'm telling you🎶

Both: 🎶We are never, ever, ever getting back together, We are never, ever, ever getting back together🎶

Coryo: 🎶You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me🎶

Both: 🎶But we are never ever ever ever getting back together🎶

Lucy Gray: 🎶Like, EVER!🎶

Drunk!Casca: Damn you, Snow! We are not over! Never ever! How could you sing that?! Our ship hasn’t sunk yet, Crassus, my love!!😫

*Somewhere in District 12*

Maude Ivory: Well, someone’s in big trouble. *side eyes Billy Taupe*

Billy Taupe: That ain’t me she’s singing about!

Barb Azure: Right.🙄

Tam Amber: Who even invited Billy Taupe?😒

Clerk Carmine: Don’t look at me. I swear it ain’t me.

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juney-blues · 11 days

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my goal with tracheotomy is to make at least one person show up to a convention somwhere in a gray full body lycra suit, with some cardboard rectangles taped to their face

#juney.txt

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fksexymen · 10 months

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#fit man #gym #gray lycra #male bubble ass #blue shirt #gif #fk10

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tightguys · 7 days

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Tight gray

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

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Wanted Man ~ Chapter One

A/N: Before I stumbled into the Tolkien fandom, I wrote Marvel fanfic and while I wrote fanfic before I knew that was what it was called, this is the very first fic I'd written knowing it actually had a name/genre. This was the first of four fics in this series, and I did 3 spin off fics as well, which I may or may not post, depending on whether or not anyone has any interest in them.

Anyway, here it is... The first chapter of the first story... I hope you don't hate it. :)

Summary: A price on his head, Loki of Asgard finds himself stranded on Earth and in need of one woman's help in order to free himself from the bounty and try to reclaim what he sees as his rightful throne in Asgard.

McKenna Carlin just wanted to put a horrible day behind her. She had no idea that things would get worse before they get better…

Pairings: Loki Laufeyson x ofc McKenna Carlin

Characters: McKenna, Loki

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.5k

Tag List:@fizzyxcustard @court-jobi @guardianofrivendell

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here!

Someday, I’ll learn never to ask what else could go wrong.

All McKenna Carlin wanted was to go home, stand under the hot shower, until she forgot all about the day from hell. Maybe then, she’d stop obsessing over why she asked questions she really didn’t want to know the answers to. Maybe.

She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. Some days were bad, this one put them all to shame. If it could go wrong, it did. After that hot shower, a glass of wine was a must.

Opening her eyes again, she tried to ignore the sense of weariness creeping into her as she peered around the small apartment that she had, until only that morning, shared with Joe. Now, the pale eggshell white walls were missing pictures she’d grown accustomed to looking at, and the closet to her left would no doubt have a lot more room in it now.

It was for the best. Things had gone sour months earlier, only neither one of them had the stones to admit it. True, there were better ways to find out he’d already moved on than by seeing a text never meant for her eyes, but at least now she knew.

He had Shelley and she had outlines on the walls where photographs used to hang.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed up from the door and bracing one foot against the back of the other, kicked off her left sneaker, and then her right. She thought the run might help. Might clear her head, but it didn’t. Her thoughts were just as heavy as they had been before her run. Only now she was hot and sweaty on top of it.

She padded down the short, narrow hallway to her room, where Cinder, her chubby gray and white cat, lay curled up in his usual ball, sound asleep. His eyes didn’t open, but his motor kicked over as she stretched to scratch him under the chin. Bit by bit, his neck stretched, and then his eyes opened, amber and sleepy. He yawned. He stretched.

He promptly went back to sleep.

Her bathroom adjoined her room, and as she crossed to it, she peeled off her sweaty running clothes. Lightweight jacket. Tank top. All-important sports bra.

She had to shimmy out of the Lycra pants. And did the usual one-footed hop across to the threshold of the bathroom before she wrestled herself free. Everything lay where it fell. She’d get it on her return trip.

The tub, like the rest of the building, was old. But like the rest of the building, it had a wonderful charm that managed to offset the hassle of sometimes not having enough hot water. It was clawfooted and beautiful, and sometimes after a long day, she loved to just sit in it with a glass of wine, a good book, and enough bubbles to make every drain in the building fizz.

But tonight was a shower night, so she turned on the spray full blast and hoped for the best. As the water warmed, she smiled. No one was using their dishwasher just now. Perfect.

The shower was just the right temperature to ease the ache in her leg muscles. She hadn’t run a lot, less than two miles, but in the heat of a late June night, two miles felt like ten and she scrubbed harder than usual to get rid of the sweaty film. She shampooed twice. Conditioned once. And cursed like a sailor when she reached out toward the toilet, only to find she hadn’t taken a towel from the neatly folded pile on the organizer.

The memory foam bathmat soaked up more water than it should’ve, and she winced at the squishiness as she stretched to grab the wayward towel. She was just wrapping it about herself when the entire building lurched and something boomed overhead.

“Thunderstorm,” she muttered, grabbing a second towel to wrap about her hair. That godawful pixie cut she’d impulsively gotten just before Christmas had finally—finally—grown out. It was to her shoulders now, and freshly highlighted to get rid of any telltale white hairs that liked to show up every now and then to remind her she wasn’t twenty-five any longer, and the towel grew damp as she wrapped it turban-style and pulled open the door.

There were no A/C vents in the bathroom, so the blast of cold air made her yelp. She shivered, almost dancing over to her dresser, where she pulled out a pair of cotton pj bottoms and a her favorite tee shirt from her pj drawer. She unwound her turban and squeezed as much water as she could from her hair, then tossed the towel in the laundry basket on her way out to the kitchen

“Weird. Thunder, but no lightning,” she muttered, the hardwood floor cool beneath her feet. She’d had the floors redone the previous summer and they’d been sanded and polished to a golden maple finish, probably more beautiful than they’d been when the building was first built.

The kitchen was halfway down the hallway, with another full bath on the left and a spare bedroom (if it could be called that. It was a bedroom only in the sense that a twin bed would fit, but would leave precious little room for any other furniture) that she’d turned into a reading room of sorts. She was halfway between bedroom and kitchen when the second crash shook the building hard enough that she lost her footing and banged up against the wall.

“What the—?” She righted herself as Cinder let out a howl and darted between her feet to disappear into the spare room. “Cinder, you—”

Whatever the cat was remained unspoken as the living room came into sight and any and all words up and died on McKenna’s lips. She still had no idea what shook the building so badly, but she was fairly sure that when she’d gone into the bathroom, a man was not lying on the area rug just inside the door, where she’d have to have stepped over him to come completely into her apartment.

She stared first at the man lying motionless on the cheerful multicolor rug she’d picked up at a craft fair years earlier. Was he wearing… leather? Black and green leather, no less. And from the looks of him, the leather made him sweat the exact same way running in this sticky summer weather made her sweat.

Cinder hopped up onto the halfway separating the kitchen from the dining area portion of the living room, puffed to twice his normal size. Considering he weighed in at nearly twenty pounds, it was an impressive sight, but one McKenna only barely glanced at as she swallowed hard at the sight of this stranger—in leather, no less—lying unconscious on her floor.

“How the hell…” The whisper died on her lips as she glanced about for something to use as a weapon. Weapon. What the hell did she have that was even remotely weapon-like? The closest thing she had was an aluminum baseball bat, and that was currently in the backseat of her car, three floors down. Fat lot of good that would do.

The man groaned and she took another, very quick, step back.

Cinder hissed, then growled low in the back of his throat.

McKenna looked from the cat to the man. From the man to the cat. Which one would move first?

The man moved.

“Where…” His voice was deep, but faint. He tried to sit up, but just as quickly sank back, both hands coming to rest on his chest. Another low groan rose, but he remained still.

McKenna cleared her throat. “Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?”

“Quiet.”

The brusqueness of his voice caught her off-guard and she stared at him, even though he stared straight up at the ceiling. “I beg your pardon?”

“You should. What realm is this?”

“Realm?” The cordless phone sat on the counter next to Cinder. Gingerly, she stepped toward it. “You’ve got about five minutes before I’ve got the town’s finest here to haul your ass out of my apartment, mister.”

“What realm is this?”

“What are you talking about?” If she stretched, she could just put her fingers on the phone. She leaned to her left.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The phone slid further out of reach, bumping up against the puffy cat, who yowled and practically flew off the counter. “What the hell—?”

This time, when the man attempted to sit, he didn’t sink back. Instead, he glared at her through eyes of the coldest pale blue she’d ever seen. “I am Loki of Asgard and what realm is this?”

#Loki #Loki Fanfic #Loki x ofc #Tom Hiddleston #Thor #Romance #Is it hot in here?#Jersey girl

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