Kiki

You had been worshipped for thousands of years. Men had started wars for you. Written poetry for you. Built temples with bleeding hands and aching backs just for the chance to feel noticed by you for half a second.

You were Aphrodite. Desire followed you like perfume. Hearts bent around you without effort. Mortals stared when you walked by because they physically could not help themselves.

Usually, visiting Earth was entertaining for about a week before it became exhausting again.

The attention.

The devotion.

The desperation.

Predictable.

You liked humans well enough, but most of them looked at you like something untouchable. Something to possess or worship instead of know.

Then you met him.

It happened in Manchester, in a cramped pub that smelled like beer, fried chips, and rain soaked coats.

You had gone because it amused you to appear somewhere loud and ordinary. No gowns. No gold jewellery crafted by divine hands. Just a tiny black dress, leather jacket, glossy lips, and enough beauty to stop half the room mid conversation when you walked in.

Which they did.

Conversations faltered.

Pool cues paused mid shot.

Several men outright turned in their seats.

You felt it instantly. That familiar rush of infatuation sweeping through the room.

Except from one person.

At the bar stood Morgan Burtwistle, laughing at something his mate had said, completely unaffected.

You noticed him immediately because of it.

Bright ginger hair under the dim lights. Broad shoulders in a grey hoodie. Big hands wrapped around a glass. Comfortable in himself in a way most famous men weren’t.

And he did not stare.

You slid onto the stool beside him deliberately.

Nothing.

Not even a double take.

You ordered a drink and watched him from the corner of your eye.

Still nothing.

You were fascinated.

Finally he glanced over casually.

“You alright?”

His voice was rough, warm. Entirely normal.

You blinked at him once, caught off guard by the complete lack of awe in his expression.

“You’re not very observant, are you?” you asked lightly.

He frowned a little, amused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t looked at me properly once since I sat down”

That finally earned you a laugh.

“Sorry, should I?”

“Most men do.”

“Well, most men are weird”

You stared at him for a moment before smiling despite yourself.

The bartender slid your drink over. Morgan pointed at it with his chin.

“You’re American?”

“Greek.”

“Ah. Fair enough”

That should not have made your stomach flutter the way it did.

You spent the next hour talking to him despite yourself.

He told you stupid stories about streaming. About his mates. About football. About getting recognised in Tesco while buying toilet paper.

And the entire time he treated you like a normal woman.

Not a goddess.

Not a fantasy.

Just you.

When you finally returned to Olympus that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Which was ridiculous.

You had loved mortals before, centuries ago, but this was different. There was no manipulation in him. No greed. No desperate hunger.

He looked at you directly when you spoke, like he actually cared about your answers.

You found yourself replaying his laugh in your head for days.

Then weeks.

Until eventually you returned to Earth.

Just once, you told yourself.

You found him again easily enough.

This time he grinned when he saw you.

“Greek girl”

You rolled your eyes. “That is not my name”

“Didn’t get your name last time.”

You hesitated.

No one had spoken your true name aloud in centuries without reverence attached to it.

The lie felt too easy as you gave him a fake name.

He accepted it instantly.

After that, you visited constantly.

At first every few months.

Then every few weeks.

Then every few days.

You started learning human habits just because it meant spending more time with him.

You learned how to sit in greasy takeaway shops at two in the morning while he rambled with his mates.

You learned football chants.

You learned how to laugh so hard your stomach hurt.

And slowly, horrifyingly, you fell in love with him.

Aphrodite.

The goddess who made others fall.

You loved how he never performed around you.

How he teased you when you acted dramatic.

How he always walked closest to the road without thinking about it.

How he touched your lower back gently in crowded places.

He liked you too. That part became painfully obvious.

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your mouth.

The way he got quieter when you sat too close.

The way his hands flexed whenever you touched him.

But unlike every other man you’d known, he held himself back.

Which only made you want him more.

-

Morgan had started looking for you before you even walked into rooms.

You noticed it immediately.

The way his head lifted whenever a door opened.

The way his eyes scanned crowds unconsciously.

The split second of disappointment when it wasn’t you.

It thrilled you far more than it should have.

Because men always wanted you.

But Morgan yearned for you.

There was a painful sort of restraint to it. Like he genuinely liked you enough to be careful with it.

You had spent centuries around desire. You could recognise lust instantly. It was easy. Shallow. Predictable.

This was different.

This was the way his voice softened when he said your fake name.

The way he remembered every tiny thing you told him.

The way he sat slightly closer every time you saw him, like he couldn’t help himself anymore.

You’d never had someone crave your attention instead of your beauty.

And Gods, you were addicted to it.

The worst part was that he had absolutely no defence against you physically.

You knew he wanted you.

You saw it every single time you wore something tight around him. Every time your hand brushed his arm. Every time you leaned close enough for him to smell your perfume.

His pupils would blow wide.

His jaw would tighten.

His hands would flex like he needed to physically stop himself from touching you.

But he still tried to behave normally.

Which only made you more obsessed with him.

One evening you found him outside a pub laughing with a few friends. The second he saw you approaching, his entire face changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Like his body relaxed without permission.

“There she is” one of his mates teased immediately.

Morgan rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left you.

“You disappeared for two weeks” he said as you reached him.

You smiled slightly. “Did you miss me?”

His friends started laughing instantly because the answer was written all over his face.

Morgan shoved one of them lightly. “Shut up”

But his ears had gone pink.

You adored that about him.

A man who blushed.

A man who looked at you like you hung the stars but still argued with you over football teams and stole chips off your plate.

You stepped closer to him.

Close enough to smell smoke and aftershave.

“I missed you too” you admitted softly.

His expression shifted immediately.

Like those words genuinely affected him.

You watched him swallow.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm”

For a second he looked almost overwhelmed by you.

Not intimidated.

Not worshipful.

Just completely, helplessly gone for you.

That feeling followed the two of you everywhere after that.

It became unbearable.

He started texting you constantly.

You would feel your phone buzz while lounging in marble baths on Olympus.

u alive?

where’ve you fucked off to now

saw a girl that looked like you today and nearly crashed my car

You laughed every single time.

You began inventing excuses to come down to Earth.

Just to see him.

Just to sit beside him while he streamed.

Just to watch him laugh with his mates.

Just to feel his hand absentmindedly settle on your knee whenever you sat together.

And Morgan only fell harder.

You could tell because he stopped trying to hide it eventually.

One night you were both alone in his flat while he edited something on his computer.

You sat cross legged on his bed wearing one of his hoodies, watching him from across the room.

The sight nearly killed him.

You saw it happen in real time.

His eyes dragged up your bare legs before landing on the sleeves swallowing your hands.

He stared for so long you smiled.

“What?”

“That’s my hoodie”

“Yes”

“You look really fit in my hoodie”

Your chest warmed embarrassingly fast.

Gods, no one had ever spoken to you like this.

So casual.

So sincere.

You tilted your head. “You think I look fit?”

He barked out a laugh.

“I think you could ruin my life and I’d thank you for it”

The honesty of it hit you like lightning.

You stared at him.

And he stared right back.

The room suddenly felt too small.

Morgan leaned back in his chair slowly, eyes still fixed on yours.

“You know what the worst part is?” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I never stop thinking about you”

Your breath caught.

“You disappear all the time and every time you do, I tell myself I need to chill out because it’s pathetic”

You stood from the bed carefully.

“But then you come back” he continued, voice rougher now, “and I’m fucked again”

You walked toward him slowly.

His eyes followed every movement.

“I’ve never met anyone like you” he admitted. “You walk into rooms and everybody notices. But you don’t even seem aware of it”

If only he knew.

You stopped directly in front of him.

He looked up at you from the chair, and the tension between you felt almost violent now.

“You make me nervous” he confessed quietly.

You smiled softly.

He grabbed your wrist gently before you could move away.

The touch sent heat racing through both of you.

“I mean it” he said. “You do something to my head”

Your heart actually hurt.

You slid into his lap before you could stop yourself.

Morgan inhaled sharply.

His hands immediately settled on your waist like they belonged there.

You could feel how hard he was trying not to lose control. The restraint in him made you dizzy.

“You stare at me constantly” you murmured.

“Can you blame me?”

“No”

His thumb brushed your hip slowly beneath the hoodie.

“You’re unreal”

You leaned closer until your noses nearly touched.

“And you’re the first man who’s ever looked at me like this”

That finally broke him a little.

His forehead dropped against yours and he laughed softly, almost tortured.

“Christ, you’ve no idea what you do to me”

But you did.

You absolutely did.

-

Days later, when you ended up at that crowded bar with his mates, the tension between you had become impossible to survive.

Morgan barely let you out of his sight all night.

Every time another man looked at you, his jaw clenched.

Every time you touched him, he forgot what he was saying halfway through sentences.

You sat beside him in a tiny booth while music pounded around you.

Your hand rested on his thigh casually.

He nearly lost his mind over it.

You could feel the muscle in his leg twitch beneath your fingers.

“You’re doing this on purpose” he muttered.

“Doing what?”

“That”

You smiled innocently and squeezed slightly.

His eyes darkened instantly as he said the fake name you had provided him with tension is his voice.

The warning in his voice made heat curl low in your stomach.

You leaned toward his ear.

“I like when you want me”

He turned his head sharply then.

Your faces suddenly inches apart.

The entire table disappeared around you.

“You have no idea how much” he said quietly.

Your pulse stuttered.

Because he meant it.

Not infatuation.

Not enchantment.

Real yearning.

The kind that kept him awake at night.

The kind that made him look for you in every room.

The kind that made a mortal man stare at a goddess like she was the only thing worth worshipping.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the hallway near the bathrooms before either of you could think too hard.

The second you were alone, he backed you against the wall and kissed you like he’d been starving for months.

Desperate.

Deep.

Completely gone for you.

You gasped softly against his mouth as his hands gripped your waist.

“Fuck” he breathed between kisses, forehead dropping to yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long”

You smiled breathlessly.

“Then why didn’t you?”

His fingers tightened on your hips.

“Because I actually like you”

The words hit harder than any prayer ever had.

You kissed him again immediately, hands tangling in his hair while his body pressed against yours.