goblingirlsarah

[goblingirlsarah]

cherry on top (loki x f. reader)

Loki's messed up. you're mad, and he knows it. so what does a demigod who is learning to be in a functioning relationship decide to do? make you cupcakes. and then fuck the shit out of you.

who doesn't love romantic possessive groveling Loki? come on now.

Word Count: 3300 Warnings: 18+ heavy smut.

Relationships with a god are a weird thing. Particularly one that was still trying to unlearn his sociopathic tendencies.

You thought about this as you angrily washed the dishes, suds flying onto your sweatshirt as you slammed pots into the soapy water. The dirty dishes were just another thing rubbing you the wrong way. It was totally his turn.

First, Loki was gone for two weeks. Something urgent on Asgard. As if you could verify that. He hadn’t given you any details, just suddenly appeared in the doorway one morning with his gold breastplate on, telling you he’d be back as soon as he could.

When was he going to start inviting me? you thought, angrily scrubbing some two-day old pasta sauce from a bowl. You’d think six months would be enough.

Six months of waking him up from his night terrors, the kind that left him drenched in sweat and disoriented. Holding him until he believed that Thor was still alive, or he wasn’t under the Tesseract’s control, or Odin wasn’t here to lock him up. Six months of discovering the Loki he showed to no one else.

Anxiety took over in his absence, convincing you that Loki had returned to his realm permanently, without you. Your heart had leapt when you heard the familiar roar on your balcony, but he hadn’t seemed excited to see you at all when the Bifrost spit him out. He just swept in, looking distracted and worried, a quick peck on your cheek instead of his warm embrace. So you’d decided to withdraw.

And now, despite your anger, you missed him. Even though he was in the same house as you, he felt unreachable.

“Loki, I’m going for a walk,” you called through the closed door of his office. No answer. You scoffed in frustration as you laced up your tennis shoes, the hurt landing like a dull thump in your chest.

____________________

As soon as Loki heard the door click shut, he emerged from his office, getting to work right away. He didn’t know how long you’d walk, but it was usually an hour. Considering how cold you’d been toward him, he felt like you might be gone at least two.

Loki knew it was his fault. He saw the way you shut down after he’d returned from Asgard, and it broke his heart. But he couldn’t tell you why he’d gone. He had no reason for this mental block that was keeping him from you, besides fear. Tonight, he hoped, would be different.

He grimaced as he saw the heaping pile of freshly washed plates and bowls that you’d just finished. He didn’t have an excuse for those.

The dark-haired man sent a green flash over the dishes, drying them instantly. He whisked them away with a flick of his wrist and took a deep breath.

Loki set to work, filling your tiny apartment countertop with flour, eggs, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, mixing bowls and spoons. He raced back to his office where he’d so carefully printed out a recipe and taped it to the cabinet above the stove.

All right Laufeyson, absolutely no magic for this, he told himself, tying an apron around his waist.

For the next hour, Loki succeeded in covering himself in flour, cracking an egg on the ground, and spilling the vanilla. To his own delight, the twelve lopsided cupcakes that emerged from the oven looked perfectly edible. He pried each one out of their tin with the dexterity of a surgeon, wanting every detail to be perfect for you.

He whipped the frosting until he was sweating, then carefully spread it with a knife on top of each cupcake. Finally, breathless but utterly proud of his hard labor, he placed the twelve cupcakes on a plate and stepped back, anxiously waiting for your return.

_______________

You returned to your front door, flushed but refreshed from your long walk. You sniffed the air in the hallway, confused. It smelled…good for a change.

You turned the key in the lock and jumped. There was Loki, sitting expectantly on one of the kitchen stools. Your eyes landed on the piles of dirty dishes in the sink, the eggshells lying on the counter.

“Did you…fucking…bake?” you asked incredulously to the grinning man in front of you.

Loki’s cheeks were flushed. Flour coated his apron and had landed in his black curls, tinting the ends of them gray. He looked so proud of himself, you couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

“All by myself,” Loki said. “No seidr.”

“Wow…” you said, closing the door behind you and moving closer to inspect his work. They were…charming. The frosting sagged a little, and the tops of them were a little singed.

“They’re for you,” Loki said, his voice timid.

“For me?” you said, taking one. His eyes widened as you took a thoughtful bite.

“Oh, fuck, are they disgusting?” he said after you didn’t answer.

You chewed a little longer, relishing the suspense you were giving him.

“I’m very impressed,” you responded, finally, unable to suppress your smile even with your mouth full. His eyes lit up, his cheeks creasing with that smile you loved so much. He looked almost bashful, something you didn’t know he was capable of until very recently.

After a few moments, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been awful lately.”

You licked the frosting off your fingers as you considered him.

“Continue…” you said slowly.

“I’ve neglected you, darling, for no good reason except my own anxieties.”

“…so this was a peace offering?” you asked reproachfully, motioning to the cupcakes.

“Yes…,” he drawled. “I know it doesn’t make up for anything, but, I-” his voice trailed off and he looked at his hands.

“It certainly didn’t hurt,” you smiled. His face brightened a little.

“I thought you weren’t coming back this time,” you said after a long pause. “From Asgard.”

He looked at you, his concerned eyes searching your face.

“I thought you were done with me. And then you got back and it’s like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me,” you finished. Your voice was quiet, hints of anger still audible. “What’s with that?” you asked, meeting his blue eyes. “I thought we were a team.”

Loki reached for you and stroked a tentative thumb over your chin.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he said, raising your face to look at him. “I hate that I made you feel like I’d abandoned you. I would have come back sooner I just-”

“Just what?” you prompted, feeling your frustration at him returning.

Loki sighed, grabbing one of your hands and holding it between his.

“I was putting things in order so you could come to Asgard.”

Your mouth fell open.

“And I didn’t know if it was going to be possible at all, and so I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry for that, I just didn’t want to get false hopes. And….” Loki trailed off, looking ashamed. “Then once I got back I somehow convinced myself that you wouldn’t want to come at all. And so I…shut down. And that made you hate me. And now here we are. Cupcakes.” Loki chuckled ruefully, gazing up at you again.

“Oh, Loki,” you sighed, your anger dissolving instantly. “You want me to…”

“You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.” Loki said, quickly. “I don’t want to put pressure on you. I think I was…afraid. To ask you.”

You were so proud of him. The Loki you knew six months ago was unrecognizable to the man before you. Feeling real emotions, talking about them, not shoving them down.

“Did…did you talk to Odin?” you said incredulously, sinking to rest on his lap.

“Unfortunately,” Loki grimaced. “There was no getting around it.”

You held his face in your hands, your love for him spilling over unbearably.

“I’m so proud of you,” you said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “That must have been so hard.”

“It was,” he replied, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “But you made me feel like I could.”

Your chest felt like it was on fire. It was such a good feeling after so many days of longing hurt, feeling like the end was in sight. Now, it seemed like this was just the beginning.

You held his face tighter, looking him dead in the eye. His unwavering gaze stared back at you, his eyes full of relief.

“Look at you,” you grinned, playing with a flour-dusted curl. “Prince Loki, absolutely whipped for a Midgardian girl.”

His gaze grazed over your lips, then flicked back up to your face. You saw desire pooling in his eyes, and knew you were done for.

“Guilty as charged,” he whispered, drawing you closer to him.

“Uh uh,” you put a finger up to his tempting lips, a barrier preventing him from enveloping you in a kiss. “Despite your bribe, Laufeyson, I’m not doing the fucking dishes again,” you whispered into his ear, tickling the sensitive skin on his neck with your breath. You took his chin in your hand, turning his entire head so he stared at the pile of sticky dishes in the sink instead of your lips.

His greedy hands grabbed the curve of your ass harder, undeterred. He grinned, a hint of the wickedness that once consumed him making itself visible again. It didn’t scare you anymore. It just meant you might not be able to walk tomorrow.

His eyes snapped back to yours, so cocky in his magic that he didn’t even have to look at what he was doing. One careless flick of his two fingers dissolved the residue on the dishes and the crumbs on the counter. They stacked themselves in the drain, shining and dry.

He raised one eyebrow at you as the last dish flew into its place.

“Satisfied, my lady?” Loki teased, letting his hands trail higher up your thighs.

“Not yet,” you told him, biting your lip as you reached down to untie his apron.

“Mmm… good answer…” Loki said, sly seduction in his voice. He gripped you tighter, and in one smooth movement, he rose from the stool, lifting you to straddle him as if you weighed nothing. Your body responded before you could register what happened, your legs wrapping around him and your hands instinctively pulling his lips to yours. He moaned appreciatively into your mouth, your kiss sending shockwaves of heat between his legs. God, he’d missed you so much.

Your tongues collided over and over again, each kiss getting sloppier than the last. Your bodies were on autopilot now, falling into each other as if no time had passed. Loki wasted no time striding into your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He kneeled on the bed, still holding you at his waist as he lay you down, refusing to let an inch of air between the two of you. He rolled his hips on top of you, his hungry mouth devouring your lips with such ferocity you thought he’d never let you up for air. You loved it.

His rock-hard cock made its presence known on your stomach as he pressed his body into you. You felt it twitch with every sweet noise you made into his mouth. He wanted you so badly.

“Mmm…babygirl…” Loki breathed into your neck after your lips broke apart. “Did you think of me?”

Your back arched against him, remembering all the nights he was gone and how your body ached for him, an unbearably deep craving. How despite your best efforts, your own fingers could produce only a fleeting climax that temporarily dulled the ache.

“Tell me…how you touched yourself to the thought of me…” he groaned, licking a hot stripe up your abdomen with his wicked tongue.

“I did, Loki…I did…” you gasped, knowing just how to stroke his ego. “So many times. Every night. I craved you and only you.”

“That’s right, darling,” he crooned, tugging the edge of your panties down your hips a little with his teeth. “Only I can make you scream…”

“I couldn’t bear it…” you gasped, three weeks of aching for him much too long. “You drive me crazy…”

“Let me make it up to you…” Loki replied, making your panties disappear in a glimmer of green light, baring yourself to him. The kisses he lay on your inner thighs burned white-hot, your skin on fire from his touch.

“Please…” you begged him. You spread your legs wider, to his delight, desperation evident in your dripping cunt.

At the first toe-curling contact of his tongue against your clit, your back arched and your mouth fell open, curses of anguished pleasure tumbling off your lips.

His teasing flicks soon became deep strokes as your moans encouraged him, his tongue consuming you with such vigor, it was like he thought you were going to dissolve at any moment.

“Fuck…baby…” Loki moaned against your skin, attacking your clit with more of those addicting swirls of the tip of his tongue. “You unravel me…” he said in a lusty voice, sucking the juices that flowed onto his fingers when they teased your entrance. He looked at you when he did this, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes blazed, showing you how much he loved to destroy you.

His head dipped again, this time his tongue darting in and out of you with incomprehensible speed. You were going to come, so much faster than you wanted to.

“Loki…oh” your voice hitching on another wave of pleasure that ricocheted from his tongue.

“Loki…” you called again, fumbling for his curls. Reluctantly, he emerged from between your legs.

“Mhmm?” he groaned, lapping your juices with a long, slow lick up the length of your slit. God, it was so hard to make him stop. “Darling, what is it?”

“Please…” you felt your pleasure start to deflate with the denial you put yourself through. But you needed something else from him.

“I want…” you whimpered, writhing your hips under him, urging him forward. “I want to come on your cock…” He understood instantly, his hands flying to his belt to rip it off. Your greedy hands reached for him, tearing his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His cock strained in his boxers, the sight of it sending fresh floods to your cunt. You were desperate to be filled by every inch of him, and you told him so.

In an instant, he was on top of you, pressing his delicious weight into you as he kissed you fervently. The taste of your cunt still lingered on his tongue, a reminder of how he possessed you.

“Augh…” Loki moaned your name as you swiped the head of his cock with your thumb, taking a drop of his precome with it. You raised it to your lips and sucked it off, your eyes locked on his as you did so.

“You taste so fucking good, my prince…” you said with a breathy moan, his salt dancing on your tongue.

Loki looked at you with a primal intensity, his chest heaving as he watched you. More slick leaked out of his tip onto your chest. It slid down your breasts, an image that made his cock impossibly harder, twitching with want as he panted into your mouth, both your juices mingling between your tongues.

“Gods…you’re exquisite…” panted Loki, swiping his dripping tip up and down your entrance. “You know that?” His velvet voice and your aching core were too much.

“Show me, then.” Your voice wasn’t harsh, but commanding nonetheless. Loki understood, his urgent movements slowing to look you in the eye. He’d let you down when he left, and he knew that he couldn’t in good conscience let you sleep tonight until you collapsed on top of him, utterly spent.

“For you, my darling, anything,” he groaned, gathering some of your juices in his palm to stroke himself with. He positioned himself between your hips, rubbing your clit with a lazy thumb as he began to press into you. You opened nearly instantly, your body so desperate to feel him inside you that he slid in nearly to the hilt.

“Ohh…Loki…oh my god…” you gasped at his fullness, your fingers digging into his back as you beckoned him closer, deeper, further inside of you.

“Mmfffuck…” Loki groaned as he sank himself into you, lips locked on yours. His tongue in your mouth and his cock splitting you open made you feel utterly full, complete in his arms. Your body quivered with pleasure as his hips rolled gracefully, beginning to fuck you in the most sensual way a man could.

“Oh.hh..hh,” you cried as you felt the ridges of his head beginning to ram that sweet spot inside of you.

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” Loki growled. “Look at you, taking my cock so well…Fuck.”

He captured your lips in another deep kiss, but this time, his strong arms wrapped around your waist and rolled you on top of him, his cock still deep inside you. You yelped in surprise, but cried out as soon as you felt his hands on your waist again, pushing you deeper into his length. You moved your hips side to side, enjoying how Loki’s face contorted in pleasure as your walls clenched around him.

“Fuck me, sweet girl, that’s it,” he moaned, his fingers bruising on the small of your waist. “Use my cock…ohhhhmmmfuck…that’s a good girl.”

Your entire body began to feel tense, the denied pleasure from before returning with double its previous strength. Wetness flowed down your thighs as he stretched you open, fueled by the mewling noises he was making as you rode him. Your legs shook as you raised yourself up and down his shaft, rolling your hips onto him faster and faster, your pulses becoming more urgent as you approached your peak.

You grabbed his hands desperately as you fucked onto his cock, guiding them in a slow, sensual trail down your body. First your breasts, then the soft skin of your abdomen, the fullness of your thighs. You loved feeling his hands on you, and you knew it was guaranteed to drive him over the edge. Loki quivered, his breath coming in desperate gasps, his release growing dangerously close as he was enraptured by your body.

“Darling…augh..fuck..” he panted, his cock tightening within you. “I’m gonna come, darling, please, come with me, come on my cock…” he rambled, his voice hoarse with lust.

You took this as an opportunity to fuck him harder. You raised yourself nearly to his tip, slamming down into him until you swore his head hit your cervix. His head fell back with a strained moan of your name, his eyes forced shut as he tried to restrain his release. Your tight cunt squeezed his cock in rythmmic pulses as you fucked down on him again and again, the both of you hurtling towards ecstasy.

You knew you were coming undone when your vision began to blur, the muscles in your core pulsing around Loki’s cock tighter than they ever had before.

“Please…come with me, darling,” Loki’s strangled voice begged you one more time, and you could hold back no longer. You sank down onto him one final time, your head falling back in pure pleasure as you came, throbbing around Loki.

“Holy…fuck…” Your climax sent your prince over the edge. When your walls clenched around him, Loki saw stars as he exploded inside of you. You felt his warm liquid flowing down your walls as you rode out your pleasure together, sweaty and panting as you came back to Earth.

You melted into his chest, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. He was still wedged inside you, his release beginning to drip out of you onto the bed sheets. You kissed his damp collarbones, feeling him twitch and shudder inside you with the overstimulation.

“Gods, woman,” he hissed as he reluctantly slipped himself out of you. He held you tighter to his chest, his breath still unsteady thanks to you. “Remind me to bake more often.”

----------------

thanks for reading :) reblogs and comments (!!) are always appreciated smooches

[goblingirlsarah]

empty baskets

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few weeks after 'the warmest bed i've ever known'

Summary: Tom makes a concerning discovery on laundry day

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning/s: steamy moments at the end; insecure Reader; mentions of previous cheating from exes; mentions of former toxic relationships [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: cinnamon roll bf Tomathy hours

The sound of the front door to his house closing alerted Tom of your return, a smile stretching across his face when you called out his name.

"In the laundry room, sweetheart. I'll be with you in a minute," he answered.

"Remember to separate your lights and darks." He could practically hear the amused smile on your face as you said the words.

His heart swelled at the comfortable humorous tone that you'd taken, at the familiarity that had woven its way into your exchanges, no matter how minuscule they might have been to anyone who would have been listening. After the scare of nearly losing you just under a month ago, he knew better than to take any moment with you for granted.

Tom dropped a final black running shirt into the load and was just about to start it, when he finally noticed what had felt off about this particular chore. What he had been feeling off about the past few weeks.

None of the clothes in the wash were yours. Not a single garment.

I must have missed them, he thought to himself, going through the other basket, brows furrowing together when he found it was just as empty as the one in his hand.

You'd been staying with him for the last two weeks, and he knew that you changed clothes. That was, at least during the times when the two of you were clothed in the house.

And yet despite that, he couldn't find a single item of your clothing in this room. Which led him to believe that you were keeping them in a laundry bag. Probably where you stashed your suitcase, in the entry way coat closet.

Only thing was that your laundry bag was nowhere to be found, and your suitcase was suspiciously heavier than it was yesterday morning. "Y/N?" he called out to you, unable to help the smile on his face when you peeked your head out from the study.

"What's up?"

"Anything you need to put in the wash, sweetheart?"

The confusion worsened when you shook your head. "Nope, I'm all good." And then you gave him a smile that was so strained it filled him with a sense of dread. The same kind of dread that he felt when he came home not two weeks ago to find you curled up in a chair, mumbling words that threatened to turn his world asunder had he not stopped you.

What were you hiding?

He made his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, heart thundering in his chest when he saw the avoidant look in your eyes. Like you were desperately trying to scour your mind for a way out.

Just like you were that night he showed up at your doorstep. When you blurted out how you felt about him and promptly tried to take it back, denying you said anything at all. "You don't need to hide anything from me, goddess," he said carefully, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I want you to know that."

"My dirty clothes are in the Four Seasons, I have a room booked there to keep my things," you blurted out, the words rushing out of you with a sheepish look on your face. "That's where I went this morning, to grab a new set of clothes and…anything else I might need."

Tom took in a deep breath, unaware that he'd been holding it while awaiting your answer. A weight was somewhat lifted from his chest, though there was still the lingering fear that somehow part of this secret was in the form of another person.

It had happened before, with previous relationships. And while he felt that fear significantly less when you were around, it still lingered…and festered into something that had the potential to be crippling if it ever turned out to be true.

Even if it was fairly early on in the relationship, he knew in the depths of his soul that this would be his last. You would be the one he spent the rest of his life loving, the one he would build his future with. And whether that future entailed marriage and children, it no longer mattered to him.

What mattered, all that mattered, was that future would have you.

"Why?" he asked, silently pleading that the answer wouldn't involve his worst fears. He couldn't take that. Not from you.

"It's for…just in case," you said, barely audible. Your eyes began to mist over as you started trembling in his hold. "For if…and when…you get tired of having me around. Then I wouldn't have to scramble for a place to stay. Because it's already there prepped and waiting for me."

Your words completely stole the air from his lungs, quite possibly even stopped his heart. Tired of you? You did this because you were bracing yourself for the day he would tire of you?

"It happened before," you spoke again, choking the words out as you visibly fought against what he had no doubt were haunting memories from relationships past. "Long before, but still…it sucked. Not having anywhere to stay for a few hours, calling friends who suddenly pretended I was nobody to them because they took my ex's side. Calling hotels that were fully booked. I just wanted to be sure."

Suddenly your actions around his home filled him with a heartbreaking clarity. It wasn't just your clothes.

Not a single item on the bathroom counter was yours. You even kept your toothbrush in a little bag. 

The meticulous way you'd place back every item in his study and pack away all your work in your tote before putting it in the entry way closet with your suitcase. He simply thought you were being tidy.

But it wasn't that simple.

Other than your very presence in his arms now, there wasn't a single trace of you to be found in this house. Everything you had here wasn't just easy to pack up in five minutes to have you out the door.

You wouldn't even need five seconds.

He couldn't think of what else to do at that moment other than pull you into a desperate kiss, weaving his fingers into your hair and holding you tight against him with his free arm. The tension that held on to his heart with a vice grip lessened somewhat when he felt your lips moving with his, your own hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt to bring him in even closer.

How could you not know that this was precisely where he wanted you? Always?

"I could never tire of you, goddess," he sighed against your lips when he broke the kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you answered him with the faintest sniffle. "I need you to know that none of this is on you. You did nothing to make me feel this was what I should do, this is just…leftover self preservation. I don't know how to be any other way."

Tom took your hands in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Perhaps we can find a new way together," he proposed, placing one last kiss on your ring finger. The one he wished to place a ring upon one day.

It didn't matter when.

He motioned towards the bedroom, threading his fingers between yours to lead the way. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

There was a slight guilt that pinched away at his heart, realizing that you never even so much as peeked into the closet or the dressers. Because if you had, you would have seen it sooner.

You would have seen that he'd set aside half the dresser storage, and half the closet.

He was so overtaken with the joy of finally having you with him, he failed to see the signs that you hadn't been moving as if you lived with him. You moved like a scrupulously careful guest in his home, making sure everything was exactly as it was before you arrived.

Always ready to leave at a drop of a hat.

When the light turned on in the walk-in closet, Tom could hear the air leave your lungs the moment you that half of the racks were empty. He held your hand as he opened the drawers on the empty side, showing you that they, too, had nothing inside.

"You're not a guest in my home, Y/N. I--I know that it might be too early for us, but I want more than anything for you to see this as our home. I can understand if you're not quite ready yet, but I want you to know that there's space here for you. I don't want you to have to throw away money for a hotel room that isn't even slept in."

"Money isn't an issue," you mumbled, your eyes still fixed on the space he'd freed up for you. When you eventually tore your gaze away, he could see the tears that were welling up. "It's just…I've taken care of myself for so long. It's all I know. No one I was with ever cared--"

"I care, sweetheart." He pulled you into his arms, sighing into your hair when he felt you return his embrace. "And I understand you wish to take care of yourself, but perhaps I could care for you, too?"

Your only response was to nuzzle your face against his chest, before nodding against him. "Maybe we can take care of each other."

He kissed the top of your head, leading you out the closet and reaching for his phone, already placing a call to his assistant. "I'll send for someone to retrieve your belongings from the Four Seasons and settle the bill. You don't have to unpack everything if you're not ready, but at least they'll all be here. And I know you mentioned that money isn't an issue for you, but it doesn't sit right with me knowing you're spending so much on an unused room."

A soft smile finally graced your features, and you visibly looked more relaxed as you agreed to his proposal. "Fine. But next time we stay at a hotel I'm paying."

"It's a date," he said, bringing your joint hands up to kiss the back of your hand.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you sat on the floor of the closet, your carry-on splayed open beside you as you carefully placed your clothes in the open drawers that Tom freed up for you. Our home, his words replayed in your mind. The mere thought threatened to overwhelm you.

He really is trying to ruin me for everyone else but him, you thought to yourself, your mind wandering back to that note you buried deep in the vaults of your phone. You were seldom one to let your guard down anywhere other than your home, where every security measure had triple the redundancies just to make sure that vulnerabilities were minimized, if not eradicated completely.

In your line of work, the one starkly outside the path that brought you to the man you love, it wasn't just a "nice to have" to have multiple measures of security. The alternative was to be in a constant state of alertness. To always be ready to fight your way out.

You never knew there could be another way. A way where there were no backups, or backups for your backups. A way that no longer involved having a place ready for you in case you got kicked to the curb because your boyfriend decided to finally take up the offer of the office succubus.

Before you knew it, the carry-on was empty, other than your run of the mill weapons of choice for self-defense. But you decided against placing that anywhere within reach, instead zipping the compartment closed before closing and locking the luggage.

There was no need for it here.

The door to the closet opened, the sight of your boyfriend walking in wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants making you smile and bite your lip. "Well hey there," you greeted him, placing your hand in his and letting out a little giggle when he helped you to your feet before pulling you into a kiss.

"Just need a few more pieces to put in the wash, darling," he murmured against your lips. "Four, to be exact."

He worked his hands under your shirt and pulled it over your head, proceeding to work his way under the waistband of your joggers.

"Three…" You held on to his shoulders to keep upright, a teasing smirk on his face as he hooked his fingers underneath your panties. "Two…" In one smooth motion, he tugged them downwards, both garments falling to your feet, your boyfriend letting out a sinful guttural sound when you were bared to him.

Then your feet left the ground, him lifting you by the backs of your thighs and coaxing you to wrap your legs around him as he brought you back into the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, lustful darkened blue eyes raking over your body before he reached for the waistband of his own sweats.

"One…"

A/N: Where can I order one of these cinnamon roll Tomathy-shaped boyfriends? Asking for myself--

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[goblingirlsarah]

Fight, Thomas! Fight for your wife!

the final Lady Sharpe part 7: the air of finality

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: The time has come for you to head back into the city and finish the plan you'd agreed on with Thomas your first night at Allerdale Hall

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: married idiots in love angst; steamy (?) makeout session; mentions of Lucille; mentions of divorce [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Thomas & Reader are married (for now)

This is nice, Thomas mused, smiling to himself as he opened his eyes to the bedroom awash with the morning light and seeing you still sleeping peacefully in his arms. He lightly ran his fingers through your hair, the motion causing your sleeping form to stir and hold him a bit tighter, a sigh escaping your lips as you positioned your head to rest on his chest.

This was the picture of tranquility as far as he was concerned. All he needed moving forward was knowing that your face would be the first thing he sees in the morning, and the last before he sleeps in the night.

But what put his heart at a state of unease was the knowledge that this tranquility would not last forever. Your wounds from your altercation with Lucille during her arrest were all but fully healed, mercifully none of them quite as severe as to lead to a scar.

I want you to stay, the words defiantly tried to fight out from the back of his throat, weighing his tongue down like lead. What use is this freedom if I don't get to spend it with the woman I love?

He couldn't help but to place a tender kiss to the crown of your head, his fingers grasping at the fabric of your nightgown desperately. The motion caused you to stir again, this time a grumble slipping through your lips. "Good morning," you mumbled, almost incoherently.

"Good morning, wife," he said softly, reverently. Savoring the word on his tongue for fear it may be his last chance to call you that.

"l think I'll be going into town today," you said, moving out of his embrace and stretching your arms out. "I've finished with penning Edith's novel some days ago, and her spirit passed on when I swore to her I'd have the book published. That shall be my task for today. Along with some…other errands."

You forced a smile on your face as you reached for his hand. Had you not been so focused on masking your own emotions, if you listened closely you might have heard the sound of the baronet's heart splintering at your words.

No, it's too soon, the words danced on the tip of his tongue. Instead the words that escaped him were, "Let me make you some breakfast then, darling." He could barely say the next words aloud. "Before you go."

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought that Thomas was trying to stall you from leaving the manor and going into the city. Starting with the more elaborate than usual breakfast he'd prepared of breakfast sausage and scrambled eggs and even jam on toast, and then suggesting that you two have your tea in the library.

That was where you two were now, seated together on a chaise as your husband held you close to him, hand skimming aimlessly up and down your arm while he read aloud the lines of Shakespeare's sixty-fifth sonnet. And while it was all too tempting to allow yourself to succumb into the comfort of his embrace, and the familiarity of his company, the somber truth was that this comfort and familiarity was simply not yours to keep.

"O, none, unless this miracle have might,

That in black ink my love may still shine bright," he finished softly, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before turning the page.

A quick look out the window had a pit of dread sinking into your stomach once again. If you were being truthful with yourself, it hadn't left since woke earlier this morning. But now, on this uncharacteristically and almost offensively sunny day, you could see that the sun was steadily reaching its highest point.

"That really was lovely, Thomas." You forced yourself to give him a small smile as you finished off your tea. "I should get going…if I want to catch the printing press before the day ends."

The smile that illuminated his beautiful face dropped at your words, and you wanted nothing more than to take them back. To know what the right words were to get him to smile at you and brighten the room once more. Power through this, Y/N, you told yourself. He will smile again soon enough, and that should be worth all this heartache. Even if you will not be the one to see it after today.

"Very well," he said, his voice suddenly strained before he cleared his throat. He offered his hand to you, helping you stand. "I shall see you to the door." His face was stone cold as he walked you to the massive double doors of the manor.

Despite your effort to think of quite literally anything else, your mind ruefully wandered to your first night here in Allerdale Hall just barely over a month ago. When he lifted you into his arms to bring you across the threshold. At no point in your entire endeavor did you think that this part would cause such a heavy ache in your heart. That you would have to dig deep into your soul to find the strength to walk away from the man that you wanted nothing more than to call your husband.

"This shouldn't take too long, hopefully I'll be back before to--" Your words were cut short, dying with a faint squeak when Thomas pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours in a fevered kiss.

You allowed yourself this last indulgence, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his lips moving against yours. Of him wrapping his arm around you to pull you in closer, hold you tighter. Of the way your entire body weakened when he licked into your mouth and his tongue tangled with yours, your muffled moans the only sound that filled the vast emptiness of the manor.

"Hurry back, wife," he said shakily when he pulled away, pressing a final soft kiss to your lips before he loosened his hold on you. He didn't take his eyes off you until the carriage began to move, offering you a somber smile and a wave before walked back into the house, closing the door behind him.

Only when Allerdale Hall was so far from  your view did you allow the tears to roll down your face, crying into your sleeve knowing that you'd shared your final kiss with your husband. And by the day's end you would no longer be Y/N Sharpe.

Had you given in to the urge to turn back around and return to the manor, you would have found the baronet in a similar state, sat on the floor and crying his heart out, pleading with any god that would listen that there had to be another way.

"All you have to do now is sign this affidavit that according to your findings from your investigation independent of Scotland Yard's, the evidence you found that could incriminate Thomas Sharpe was circumstantial and negligible," Jeffries told you, handing you over a thin bundle of papers that summarized the nearly four weeks that you spent in Allerdale Hall. It almost felt surreal seeing that time condensed into such impersonal words.

He handed you a pen, one of the secretaries at the station walking over and giving him another stack of papers. A lump formed in your throat at the sight. You knew exactly what those papers held. And once you'd signed your affidavit, that stack was slid over the desk in your direction.

"And the dissolution of marriage documents," he said, visibly pausing when he made a motion to place a hand on your shoulder. "Are you sure about this, Y/N? That this is something that you both want? He seemed rather--"

"It's what's best, Jeffries," you cut him off. "I didn't help him get out of one prison just to keep him in another."

Before you could even second guess yourself, you took the papers from the detective and scribbled your signature on the last page. You wouldn't be able to sign it in front of Thomas; you knew yourself far too well.

"So that's that then," you said a touch too loudly, forcing a smile onto your face as you tied the papers together with a long string of twine before shoving them back in the envelope. You smoothed your hands over your dress as you stood before holding your hand out to Jeffries. "Thank you. I should be available again for any new cases that may arise sometime next week."

"Sharpe--I mean, Y/L/N," he corrected himself. "I say this as a friend, you faced off against a woman who I can only refer to as one of the most horrifying, hedonistic, and sadistic criminals that any one of us would have ever had the displeasure of knowing. And you evaded her poisons and her cleaver for the better part of a month while you put together and executed a plan that can now put her away for the rest of your natural life. You deserve some time off. Allow yourself to unwind before jumping back into the thick of it with the rest of us."

You knew that he meant well, but something that he would likely never understand was the simple yet somber truth that you needed to get back into the overwhelming load from taking on a new case. Otherwise you would be left alone in your apartment in the city, with nothing but the memories of the nights with Thomas to keep you company.

Especially your memories of your night together at the post office.

"I'll think about it," you told him, shaking the detective's hand before heading out of the station.

The officers that were taking down the case files for Edith and Enola and the rest of Lucille's victims stopped when you drew closer, offering you pats on the back and their congratulations for closing the cases. And for finally being able to give the families that mourned them the closure that they surely needed to move forward.

Your next stop was fairly straightforward. The bank. To deposit a token of gratitude extended to you by the family of your most recent solve from before you married Thomas. With the amount being added to your account, you briefly contemplated taking that time off that Jeffries had mentioned, but brushing off the idea just as quickly.

Afterward you purchased two bouquets of tulips and headed to the cemetery. It took a while to find them, but eventually you landed at the graves of Edith Cushing and Enola Sciotti.

"I've come to give you my thanks," you said, hoping that wherever their souls had gone since leaving Allerdale Hall, they could still somehow hear you. "If it weren't for your help, I'd probably be a ghost, too. And we'd all be stuck in that manor.

"Wherever you've found yourselves, I hope it's someplace breathtakingly beautiful and we can all see each other again one day. Just…maybe not so soon. Who knows? Maybe there's life left for me to live. Somewhere else…with someone else."

You choked on those last words, the pit in your stomach worsening knowing that in just a few short hours you'd have to stand and watch as Thomas signed his name on those forsaken papers. And you'd have to hold back every impulsive thought to stop him.

"I suppose since it's only us here, I can allow myself the indulgence of a touch of honesty," you spoke into the foggy London air, letting the tears roll down your cheeks with no thought of wiping them away. "I don't want to leave him, and I know that's selfish because that just means I'm keeping him hostage in my own twisted way. But I love him, and that's why I want to keep him. But it's also because I love him that I can't--No, I shouldn't be selfish."

Your heart ached as you finally confessed, saying the words you'd been protecting so fiercely for weeks now.

"But he deserves to have his life back," you said with a sniffle, standing up and resting your hand on Edith's tombstone. "And you deserve peace, my friend. I'll be seeing you…someday."

You righted yourself back up to your feet, smoothing your hands over your dress again before you called for a carriage back to your apartment in the city. There would be much tidying up to do considering how long you'd been away, and it was best to get to that before you returned there again with a shattered heart.

The divorce documents weighed heavily in both your satchel and your heart. Would you even be able to watch as Thomas signed his name next to yours? Could you bear to see the smile of relief on his heartbreakingly handsome features once he regained his freedom?

Ultimately you knew that you couldn't, but that you must. And you must do it without a word of protest, and with a smile on your face. This was to be a day for celebration for the baronet. You refused to be the one to put a dampener on the mood.

Walking down the familiar halls of your old apartment building nearly felt as if the gods were taunting you. Tutting and tsk'ing away as they watched you return to where you began, seeing the adventure you'd found yourself on and foolishly falling in love with the very man you had to bid farewell to in a few short hours.

This place that had once been a safe haven, somewhere for you to rest and recuperate and put your blades away, now reminded you of your twisted failure in life. Finally finding what you'd thought to be love only to be brought into the path of that wretched Lucille. And then for the events to unfold the way they had, leading to what may very well be the biggest arrest of your career.

You'd put away what both you and your colleagues at Scotland Yard could objectively classify as a serial killer. Put an end to the maniacal Sharpe's ways for the rest of her natural life. Brought closure to four grieving families.

In truth, you should be celebrating this win as well. And all you could think about was your impending goodbye.

An unfamiliar shape by your door caught your attention, finally looking up and nearly dropping your keys from the complete shock to your entire body once you'd gotten close enough to realize who was at your door.

"Thomas?"

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! Gonna kick off the year with hopefully a good productivity kick that'll set the scene for the rest of 2025 because goddammit there's so much I wanna write, there's like 4 more things in my current writing queue (including something from RTC, something from OLTK, the start of 'back to you' FINALLY, and the smutty conclusion to 'feels like mine')…and then there's even more after that ��

Also back in 2022 when I planned out the story points for this series, I really did intend to leave this chapter at that cliffhanger and I fully intended to deliver…and hopefully the final (?) chapter will find its way into my noggin soon 🫠

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[goblingirlsarah]

Younger writers. Please, just know that you could not skip to different songs on a cassette tape, that’s CDs. With tapes you pressed fast forward or rewind and prayed.

Also, VHS tapes did not have menu screens. Your only options were play, fast forward, rewind, pause, stop, or eject.

Y’all are making me feel like the crypt keeper here, I’m begging you 😭

[goblingirlsarah]

[goblingirlsarah]

I dreamt that there was a new meme that went, “If I dids it, I dids it. If I didsn’t, I didsn’t.” There was a third line, but I forgot what it was.

[goblingirlsarah]

*Cackles* Aww, but why? I think he'd get a good laugh over our collective shenanigans!

New!Tom Hiddleston will be on the Graham Norton show in January!!

[goblingirlsarah]

[goblingirlsarah]

Pole dancing 💚🧡

[goblingirlsarah]

He’s my sweet cheese, my good time ✨boi✨

[goblingirlsarah]

Hoping mine will be the court throwing out our landlady's eviction case for the absolute lies she wrote on the Notice to quit/summons as reason for eviction, what we agreed to pay for rent, and when the agreement for this apartment was made.🙏🏻

[goblingirlsarah]

Loki cries, motherfucker.

[goblingirlsarah]

You will never see her again

Society6 Shop :)

[goblingirlsarah]

Good lord, he could try to one arm carry me... but i doubt he'd get too far as Conrad! I'm Hefty.😅

Tom Hiddleston lifting Ladies not so gently with only one arm

[goblingirlsarah]

In the Bleak Midwinter [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: On a mandatory Christmas Avengers Getaway, resident Scrooge Loki discovers there is warmth to be found. (w/c 3.4k) Warnings: None, really. Fluff. Bit of angst. Brief reference to erotic fantasy. Loki in his Christmas feels. A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays & Season's Greetings my loves❤️ I hope all your days are merry & bright. 🎄

Loki’s hands dug deeper in his pockets with every methodical crunch of his boots into the snow.

The outline of the church was visible; the kind reproduced on a hundred greetings cards which had landed in Loki’s fanmail these past weeks. The cards, at least, he could ignore. Tony Stark’s ‘Olde Christmastime getaway’, it seemed, he could not.

The small church had a thick, proud steeple; old uneven walls arranged on either side in a way he was sure his brother would imminently compare to a cock and balls.

"Brother," Thor chittered madly beside him. "Doesn’t the dwelling yonder resemble—?"

Loki yanked a hand from his pocket and brushed it along a low wall running adjacent to the path. He lobbed a clutch of snow into Thor’s ruddy face and kept walking. He was in no mood for japes.

His eyes stung from the sharp, needling cold. The night was clear, and only his breath fogged the view of this place the gaggle of Avengers who insisted on ‘involving’ him hadn’t stopped wittering on about for months. Soon, they would realise he only spoiled the occasion. A perennially cracked door sending a draught through their warm surroundings.

A carol concert, he mused bitterly, shaking his head for the third time since leaving the toasted seclusion of his armchair at the lodge. Of all things he did not wish to partake in this weekend, the carol concert occupied prime position on Loki’s list of grievances.

I will go, he’d decided as Thor had forcibly manoeuvred Loki’s coat onto his body. But I shall not make merry. Loki of Asgard would not be caught dead engaging publicly in festive frivolities of any kind. Of that, he was resolved.

A soft, amber glow pulsed at the criss-crossed windows of the church. With a swell of hope, he wondered if the building was, in fact, unsalvageably ablaze. Perhaps, there would be no carol concert after all.

A vision of the cup of spiced wine he’d been rudely separated from flashed through his mind. Perhaps, it would still be steaming on his imminent return. Thor yanked his arm roughly towards the wooden doors with one thick mitten emblazoned with crudely stitched glazed hams.

"Un-hand me. This is Armani, you cretin."

"We’re already late, and I don’t want to miss a second. Besides, there are candles. You love candles."

Loki sighed. It didn’t surprise him that Thor had fallen for this seasonal, mortal farce. The fact that they were once worshipped and celebrated thus in their own realm had escaped Thor in a way it had not escaped Loki. It was to be expected, but still, as his cheeks pinched against the cold, it grated.

Behind wood and stone, an organ groaned to life and a low chorus of unsure voices rose.

“Once in Royal David’s City, Stood a lowly cattle shed…”

Thor yanked harder and Loki felt his feet unroot from the crushed ice. The voices were stronger now, coming together as one, melodious snake slithering against his iced eardrums.

Thor paused with one mitten on an iron knob, the other fastened to Loki’s Armani. Snot dangled from his nose. “Try and be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” His brother’s eyes narrowed and he relented. “Courteous, at least.”

Thor’s lips pinched. “You know what I mean…Festive.” Loki would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t sure they were frozen. He released a snort of fogged air from his nose instead. “Open the door lest we both expire in this winterous wasteland,” he said, and Thor’s face brightened.

“That’s more like it.”

The church was warmer than he’d expected. He stood at the threshold and brushed a dusting of snow from his cuffs as Thor lumbered down the aisle and made a cartoonish, indelicate attempt to sidle his bulk into a row; a boisterous whispering of apologies clashing with the turn of the organ.

“When, like stars, His children crowned All in white, shall wait around…”

Loki flinched as the voices tapered and the organist released a crescendo of bone-shuddering notes. And then, he stumbled.

“Norns,” he growled, a little too loudly in the incense-heavy silence.

He regained his balance and looked down at the small child looking up at him with wide, shining eyes. They were holding out a booklet with curled, yellowed edges. Shoddy workmanship, Loki thought as he took it with a curt nod and turned it over.

St Barnabas Church Carol Concert, it read, accompanied by a garish cartoon holly faded to a light beige. The years below it, beginning at 2002, had been scored out until whomever was in charge gave up in 2014. He sniffed, observing the child with suspicion. "I don't have any coin, if that is what you seek.”

The child’s hand was touching his hand; her small fingers like matchsticks curled around his own. She wore a sheepskin jacket that was a size too big. Not tailored, clearly, and the collar hid her mouth—yet he could tell she was smiling. He glanced to the side, noticing for the first time that every member of the audience was staring.

Natasha hung out of a row halfway down, a black fur hat low on her brow, and beckoned to the little girl. “He’s with us,” she hissed. The organ burst to life with some other musical hokum in defiance of the interruption.

Loki looked back to the little mortal. She said nothing, just led him at a glacial, imperious pace down the aisle and stopped at the correct row. Her auburn curls shimmered in the low light, bouncing.

“Oh, guess there’s no room at the inn…” Natasha winked. “Go behind.”

Loki met his brother’s smug grin one row back. He knew that smile: the plotting smile.

The small pocket of warmth that had been growing in his belly extinguished. And then, he noticed who stood beside him at the end of the row. Loki swallowed.

Thor had all but climbed over you in order to ensure it would be he, Loki of Asgard, standing beside you like a stiff, tuneless, merryless fool. His eyes slid back to his brother, sucking in his cheeks, wondering if punching out a sibling’s teeth was considered ‘festive’.

“There’s room, don’t worry…” you whispered, shuffling your gloves further along the scratched, wooden pew. The smile playing on your lips made Loki want to carve out his own heart in longing.

He edged gingerly into place, staring at the booklet in his hands. And then, your fingers were touching his, moving the pages, your woody perfume thick in his nostrils. He closed his eyes, willing the stir in his groin to cease. His brother would perish for this.

“Your hands are cold,” you whispered, giving his knuckle a brief rub with one, elegant finger. Like my heart. Loki swallowed again, observing the attendees and trying to ignore the unmistakeable correlation of your hot breath skating his neck to the twitch beneath his trousers.

The church was packed. Families, lovers, white-haired humans swaying and their creaking voices tumbling with the rest; the booklets resting unopened. They knew every word.

He fixated on the stone altar, the golden casket behind it glittering in the light. It reminded him of the Tesseract, and with that memory came a familiar twinge of guilt like the slip of a knife between his ribs.

“Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie... "

He moved his lips out of time, faintly recognising the music. As much as he’d tried to avoid it this year and last, the songs playing from your room in the Tower come December 1 were hard to ignore. And perhaps, if he were honest, he hadn’t tried very hard.

You always sang along to them when your mind wandered. It was the only part of Christmas he’d come to favour. And the candles: those too.

“Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by…”

Your finger traced along the lines of the book you shared as if he were a child. He should be insulted; and yet there was something about the tender movement, and your shoulder pressed to his that made him want to nest in this moment and never leave. Your voice was different here. It had a meeker cadence, as though you were stifling the volume and its capabilities to as not to embarrass the quality of those around you.

I’ve heard how she really sounds, he thought smugly as he cast a quick glance at his brother. Perhaps I’m the only one who has.

Thor held the booklet at arm’s length, a millimetre from the back of Stark's head, the baritone of his singing rivalling the organ. His neck swivelled slowly towards Loki. He winked.

“Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light…” Loki inhaled sharply, before fitting the words into the repetitive notes with a whisper. “The hopes and fears of all the years,” he sang quietly, voice hoarse. “Are met in thee tonight.”

You squeezed his bicep, the heel of your palm resting on his forearm. Loki stiffened, missing the start of the following verse. He turned fractionally, meeting your eyes glittering in the light of a hundred candles flickering. Gods, you were so beautiful.

He tore away.

Stop it, he chided, letting his eyes focus and refocus on a thick, white candle dripping rivulets near the altar.

He couldn’t afford the weakness that sentiment brought. One had to be wary of sentiment at this Christmastime of theirs. It was too easy to be tricked by the lure of cinnamon and the twinkle of lights like stars; drunk on new beginnings and the gluttony of temporary happiness. Loki knew what came of such things for him. He didn’t intend to make the same mistakes. Not here.

The carols began, and ended. And with each one, Loki felt the itch of sweat grow beneath his armpits, seeping into the fine cotton shirt. Five carols ago, the god had to ban himself from touching his hair like a senseless virgin. It was intolerable; to have you so close, to smell the linger of spiced gingerbread latte on your breath as your tongue shaped across each lyric, and do nothing. And what would you do? Kiss her? Force yourself upon her like an animal? He stilled the fidget of the hand hanging at his side.

You were kind, that was all. Pleasantries. Courtesies. You wanted him no more than he wanted to be at this godsforsaken carol concert.

The hand balancing the booklet began to tremble as intrusive thoughts formed in his mind of you and he curled under a blanket, barely watching those Muppet creatures he’d seen in passing, your soft whimpers as he sank inside you and rocked your curves gently against him. If the spiced wine grew cold then, he would not mind so much, perhaps.

His grip tightened on the booklet. “O’ Come, all ye faithful…” “I can’t do this,” he whispered, his brow scrunched. Your grip on his arm loosened. “Joyful and triumphant…” “Are you okay?” The journey of his gaze to your face seemed to take an age. Half of your skin was bathed in a soft, orange glow; the other shadowed as the chorus of voices grew louder; happier. A line had formed across your forehead. Concern? Maybe. Fear? Most likely.

Most of your hair was tucked under a hat, and yet he knew every strand beneath it. He’d envisioned the texture beneath his fingers more times than he had admitted to anyone. Even his Judas of a ham-fisted, scheming brother.

“I have to go." The flap of his overcoat hit the pew in a swirl and his boots were clicked on the bare stone floor towards the doorway. Eyes followed him, but he paid them no heed. They were better off without him. Within the small vestibule at the exit, a stout old man arranged a tray of mince pies. He turned just as Loki thundered past. “Oi,” the man hissed in a broad, Yorkshire accent. “Don’t forget yer pie.”

A foil-bedded pastry was thrust up towards Loki’s face as he fumbled with the door.

Loki paused, looked at it, and then the man. He had ragged, grey hair and a face carved with a thousand frowns. A worthy adversary.

Loki briefly considered making the pastry explode in a shrapnel of raisons, sighed, and thought better of it. As though they were not his own, his fingers plucked the small comestible from the old man’s hand.

“Wife made ‘em,” he said proudly, searching Loki’s face before his lips stretched in a smile over crooked, tombstone teeth. “Merry Christmas.” Loki mumbled something, twisted the knocker and fell out into the cold, crisp air. The god’s pulse pounded in his throat as he crunched down the path towards the crumbling gateposts; wind playing at the sides of his coat with delicate hands. At the boundary, he stopped. Loki steadied on a gatepost, head drooping. Hair fell around his face, fluttering against his flushed skin. “Are you going to eat that?”

He jumped, twisting around. There you stood, resplendent in moonlight from above and the glow of fresh fallen snow below. Your jaw worked; half a mince pie clutched in the hand not buried in your pocket. “They’re really good actually,” you said, pastry scattering from your lips before covering your mouth with a shy eye roll.

Loki’s lips tweaked. “Clearly. I wasn’t going to but now…I’m not so sure. It seems a valuable boon after all.”

At that, you nodded, crunching closer as you popped the remainder of the mince pie into your mouth. He spun around, gazing up to the sky, rolling his lips. She loves Christmas. Do not destroy it for her.

And then, you were at his shoulder. “So, about that mince pie…” There was a slyness in your voice that made him want to pin you against the gatepost and kiss you until you felt faint; until you couldn’t remember your own name, only his. He cupped a hand protectively over the pie, looking at you beneath his lashes.

“And what if I won’t part with it?” You shrugged. “Then perhaps I’ll rethink my gift.” His heart sank, ill-gotten confidence fading. Loki had made it very clear last Christmas that he would not partake in the Avengers gifting foolishness. Had you forgotten? His stomach joined his heart somewhere around his boots.

“I…was not expecting a gift,” he said, curling a wedge of hair behind his ear. As he did so, the pie lost balance and fell with a pathetic plop to the snow. The two of you stared at it. “Norns,” Loki said, bereft. You burst out laughing as he began rooting in the hole. “I thought gods were supposed to be nimble, suave—all that stuff.” “Have you met my brother?” “I thought you were different.” The strange slyness was back in your voice. “I thought you were a bit more…”  Loki looked up, breath evaporating from his lungs as moonlight bounced off the fake jewels woven into your hat. She deserves every jewel in the nine realms. And then, you shrugged.

In a move he was sure he would later haunt him as he failed to fall asleep, Loki held the small, snow-laden mince pie aloft. An offering of contrition. Your lips flickered, and to his surprise, you took it. “My sincere apologies,” he mumbled. “It’s just a mince pie, Lokes.” “Not for that…” He sighed. “Were you speaking true about a gift? Because I…” You flapped a hand. “Everyone knows you don’t do gifts, you don’t like Christmas, yadda-yadda. But that’s not the point of gifts. I just…it belonged to you. For when you’re ready. Just…promise you won’t make it explode.”

Before Loki could think of a response, you’d produced a small box wrapped in brown paper from the depths of your jacket. His gaze lingered on it for longer than it should have before he said, “Ah.” Your eyebrows rose. “Are you going to open it?” “Should I?” He turned it over in his hands and your eyebrow rose. “It’s not a trick.” At that, his lips drew to the side. If it was a trick, he wasn’t sure if he was in the right frame of mind to deduce it. Loki’s heart pounded between his ribs, a sharp tang nestling in the back of his throat as he stared at the tightly curled ribbon hanging from the box. He wondered if you’d wrapped it here, or in the Tower, with him next door, lying in bed to the sound of your sporadic singing over Nat King Cole.

Your fingers covered his and tugged the ribbon gently. Loki’s breath hitched, eyes meeting. “Open it,” you ordered, and a hot shiver ran down Loki’s spine.

He pulled the ribbon free, then paused. “You should know…I don’t hate Christmas.” He searched your face. “It’s everything I love, you see. Or at least, I used to. Family, closeness, warmth, the feeling of hope for Spring, sprouting under the joy of light and feasting, the music…”

A lump grew in his throat, and he bit the inside of his lip to stifle it. “I find it easier to forswear, you see. It’s better for everyone that way. It seems that what I love has a habit of turning to ash.”

He didn’t realise he’d been fixated on the box under a gentle touch landed on his arm. When he looked up, you were waiting with glossy eyes, lips parted. “You don’t need to be apart from it, Loki. You deserve it…the same as any of us do.” “But—”

Your finger pressed to his lips, silencing it. “Open the box,” you said again, and the finger slid away. He did as he was bid. Inside was a Christmas bauble, polished to such a sheen he could see the sharp outline of his jaw reflected.

The base was a deep forest green, and on it, gold threads traced runes like frost clinging to spiderweb. “For when you’re ready,” you repeated, softer, as liquid heat flooded his chest. “You belong with us, Loki. I…we, love you.”

“It’s beautiful…I…” He licked his lips, making them tingle in the chill. A grin spread across your face.

“You really like it?” “I love it,” he said, not breaking eye contact. Boldness swelled inside him, lighting up the dusty corners of his frigid heart. You looked away, pulling your jacket tighter. Inside the church, the final flourish of 'O’ Come all Ye Faithful' blared.  He reached out, brushing his knuckles down your puffy bicep.

“You mean it? If you don’t, I can return it…” “I really do.” “Good, because it’s custom, and I can’t return it.” Loki laughed at the same time you did, noting the sparkle of your eyes. He drew you into his arms, memorising the way your bodies slotted together despite the layers, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I fear I must buy you a gift after all…” he said quietly. You pulled back, looking up at him with absolute sincerity. “What I want doesn’t come from a shop, Loki,” you said, breathless. Your eyes dropped to his lips as you cupped his face, the warmth of your skin sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. “I just want you to be happy, and I want…I want…”

Your words grew faint as flecks of snow began to fall. And with that, his resolve exploded.

The first kiss was tentative, skin brushing over skin as he waited for you to pull away. But your arms were thrown around his shoulders, clawing at the back of his Armani coat, pulling his mouth to yours with the ferocity of a winter sea.

Hot breath seared his throat, desire and adoration so thick it held weight bursting from the secret places he had boarded up and forgotten. All he wanted was you, and this, and Yule—wherever it was, and however it was celebrated. As long as he had you.

Eager lips slid together as one kiss broke and launched into the next. Something sharp and iron was poking into his back from the gatepost, but he didn’t care. It could rip a hole in the coat for all he cared.

As your delicate moans heightened, and your fingers knotted tighter into his hair, the applause started.

The two of you broke, twisting as one towards the band of a dozen Avengers making their way down the path. Natasha had her arms spread; eyes wide. Thor was frozen in place, mittens pressed to his cheeks with a soundless scream of glee. Scott was passing money to Sam, and then Tony, too. “It’s a Christmas…miracle,” Thor screeched.

"Sweet baby Jesus..." Stark muttered, fingers jammed in his ears as Loki drew you tighter to his chest, not caring if you felt the leap of his heart through thick wool. Your hand slipped through a gap, drinking the warmth of him, and when your eyes met; Loki couldn’t breathe. “When we return to New York, I shall need a Christmas tree to hang my gift,” he whispered, placing a kiss above your ear. You giggled into his snow dusted collar. “You can always start next year- no pressure.”

Loki cast a glance over the smiling figures bundled in bobble hats and thick scarves, to the amber-lit windows, to the snow stretching over hills and faintly glowing homes scattered across them.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured. And then, to the sound of cheers louder than the organ, he kissed you again.

Tags in comments 🎄✨

[goblingirlsarah]

Such awesome work😍

With Loki, it’s all about the ✨details✨

all costumes made by me!

[goblingirlsarah]

Oh, gods! I can't get the thought of Loki singing "I just can't wait to be King" and strutting around like a sassy lion cub out of my head, now!🤣🤣🤣

The lights in the living room are dampened; a lot of candles burning instead.

*'Circle Of Life' starts to play*

Loki: *steps into the room; only wearing a loincloth*

Loki: *gently lifts Narfi - who is also wearing just a loincloth and nappy - out of his crib*

Loki: *lays Narfi on the edge of the sofa and marks his forehead with the help of his seidr - like in the movie*

Loki: *holding baby Narfi with his palms wrapped safely around his small upper body up high in the air above his head - in time with the music*

*Suddenly, the music stops*

Y/N, entering the living room with a flashlight: Loki? *looks him up and down, then gazes confused from him to Narfi and back* What... are you doing?

Loki: What does it look like, my love? I am entertaining our daughter. *gestures to Ella, who sits criss-crossed on the sofa; trying to suppress her giggles*

Y/N: *blinks* With our newborn son?

Loki: *shrugs shoulders* I do not have another choice, darling. Stark is too slow to remedy the failure of his brilliant electricity system - and we wish to watch 'The Lion King'. So, I had to come up with a solution myself.

Y/N: *still blinking and now also frowning* Yes, I know that, but... Babe... Have you forgotten that you're a god and possess a gift called 'magic'?

Loki: *shakes head* No, I do not have forgotten about that, but this is the more entertaining and funnier way, right, princess?

Ella: Absolutely, daddy. *smiles*

Loki: *smirks* See, love? *turns to Ella* Princess, hit the music.

Ella: *presses a button on the little remote control in her hand*

*'Circle of Life' continues to play*

Loki: *resumes his role as Rafiki*

Y/N: *just standing there and shaking her head, but smiling brightly*

a/n: Here it is! The first Loki blurb/incorrect quote! And of course, it's for the Baby Fever AU, hehe. I hope you enjoy and love this as much as I do! 🥰

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @gruftiela @anukulee @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @chennqingg @muddyorbsblr @glitchquake @mandywholock1980 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @mochie85 @dryyoursaltyoceantears @chantsdemarins @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @crimson25 @icytrickster17 @lokidbadguy @hunny-beann @stupidthoughtsinwriting @midgetdemon17 @kimanne723 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokidokieokie @lovingchoices14 @valencia-rou @kikster606 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @huntedmusicgardenn @linaax @sheris532 @km-ffluv @jiyascepter @salvinaa @blackholeofcreativity @soulpiercing @lou12346789 @loonalockley @liliac-dreamer @brokenpoetliz @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 (Continuing in the comments)