First, Last, and Always

@vesallkyn​ (from More) 

🌓 – Managarmr stared at their grandparent, they didn’t trust him enough to take their eyes off of him. “Come again?” they asked, unsure if they understood well their grandparent’s words. 

Loki’s weight shifts - one foot back, ready to turn and run - and he raises his hands. Palms out, fingers spread, ‘look I’m not holding a weapon.’ Not that most people are reassured by that. Just because his hands are empty now doesn’t mean they can’t be holding a blade in the blink of an eye. 

“I am not your grandfather,” he repeats slowly. “Not as you know him, anyway. See there was this whole mess with Ragnarok, and reincarnation, and rebirth,-“ The more he speaks, the faster he goes, one raised hand twirling absently in the air. 

“And burning, so much burning. New life. Regrets. The undoing of old plans. Visiting my father - HA!” He barks a laugh, but at the same time his hands clench. That memory is not a pleasant one. The pain of that half-existence lingers, especially now when he’s faced with yet more family aiming for much the same thing. 

“Which is all to say, that man doesn’t exist any more. Well, he does, but not here. Not me. Me, but not this me. I’m me. This me. And this me thinks that these you can do more than what this story wants from us.”

If you’re interested in young More, Loki fucking with the timeline because “I don’t really want to listen to Asgard and I want to try things a different way” might be fun. Going back/into a different timeline to give playing at raising his grandkid a try.

Changing Loki’s timeline up a little (or just inserting the God of Stories in a little early, there have been times there have been two Lokis running around) and having More freed in time to go after the newly reborn God of Stories. Confused and having to deal with a very angry grandkid sounds like fun.

She didn't even cry the night she put the breaks between them other than a little gleam to her eyes, sending away the one person she'd ever wanted, choking down the truth about her futurepast and their warning. (Stay out of the war. Stay out, you ignorant bitch. This isn't for you.) She didn't cry about--any of it. Not in front of him.

'You let me think you were dead. YOU LET ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD. G-DDAMN YOU, LOKI. G-DDAMN YOU G-DDAMN YOU G-DDAMN YOU.'

Five minutes later, he had her straddling his leg on the one chair left in her apartment, grinding against his thigh and gripping his big shoulders for leverage. "Fuck you, Loki--" His fingers squeezed her hips; his knee jutted against bare, swollen flesh. "Ffffuck you, L--Loki--"

The sensation curls tighter, hotter. She buried her head in his neck, breathing in the smell of him. Fuck y--" He pulls her down hard against his leg and she cried out, wriggling and squirming against him to get what she needed-- "Ffffffuck--"

Loki had let the entire world think he was dead, but he can’t blame Tess for taking it personally. He had put her through far too much and yet another false death could only hurt what was already broken between them. What had broken somewhere along the line while he wasn’t looking. 

He still didn’t fully understand what had happened that had caused her to want that distance from him. Of course he had an idea - had noticed a strange familiarity about the situation and had plucked and pulled at story threads until he found something that made the change in her make sense - but he still doesn’t understand it all. 

Do I have to know?

No. Not here, not now, not with her within arms reach. There are far more important things in this moment than the why of their paths diverging. Things like the way her biceps tense beneath his fingers when he grabs her. Like the resistance as he pulls, taking a moment longer to scream her fury at him. He’s earned it, this much he knows, and so he doesn’t pull any harder. Just an insistent pressure to guide her close to his chest. 

“Fuck me,” he agrees, and at first that’s all it is. An agreement that this is what he deserves for all that he has done. But it changes as he repeats it. An invitation as his lips brush over her hair. Needy insistence as his his arms wrap around her. A plea as he guides her back towards the first stable surface. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” 

‘I’ve missed you,’ callused hands fill in as they slip below her shirt, thumbs stroking over bared skin as palms rest on her hips. 

‘I love you,’ is written across her throat in rushed kisses and the scrape of teeth. 

NO MORE EGO GAMES.   NO MORE JEALOUSY GAMES      AND REVENGE GAMES AND         “MAKE ME KING” GAMES.

I DON’T NEED ALL OF ASGARD TO LOVE ME --

private, selective & low activity God of Stories inspired by Loki: Agent of Asgard written by Elsa sideblog of xtrainee