#tarrysmith | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storylover92 · 8 years

Text

The Exiled Wife -ch 1

TITLE: The Exiled Wife CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: 1 AUTHOR: storylover92 WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: no idea…. CHAPTER SUMMARY: When a desired asset has gone into hiding on Earth when her help is needed, she’s tracked down by the avengers themselves RATING: M (probably) Warnings/notes: ***************** Sigrid had just laid her youngest boy down for their afternoon naps and went out to the garden to cut some herbs for supper. Her oldest was outside playing with the chickens. A noise caught her attention, it was several black SUVs pulling into her driveway. When they had parked and a rather formidable looking man knocked on her door. She came around her porch. “Can I help you, Sir?” “Well, I’d like to think so. I’m looking for a healer, by the name of Sigyn.” “Well, I hate to disappoint but there’s no one here by that name. And who are you?” “I’m Nick Furry. A friend of your neighbor down the road.” “Oh, Clint? How’s he been I haven’t seen him much lately.” Sigrid climbed the stairs onto the porch of the 1940s-era house. “He’s fine.” “Forgive my manors Mr. Fury, did you want something to drink? Iced tea? Lemonade?” “No, that’s alright.”

“Is that her?” Natasha sat beside Thor in one of the other SUVs. “I think so. I’ve never seen her with her hair short or out of clothes that would be suitable for either the healing rooms or court.” “Alright, let’s go.” Thor and the rest of the Avengers, the Warriors Three and Sif climbed out of the vans in plain clothes. “However, they might want something.” Fury nodded toward the group behind Sigrid. “Hello, Sigyn.” Thor stepped forward. Her eyes went wide and she straightened herself. “Thor,” she nodded her head. “I have some news for you…” Thor was cut off by Sigyn’s hand signaling him to stop. “Let me guess, Loki?” “Yes.” “Am I to plan another funeral?” “Not exactly.” Thor looked over at the SUV that Fury got out of, a small team of people were pulling out a stretcher, on it Loki was tied down and unconscious. Sigyn took one look at him. “Put him on the dining table.” Thor raised an eyebrow at her unusual request. “I can turn it into a soul-forge if needed.” The Avengers followed her into the kitchen. She opened his eyelids and smelled his breath. She recognized a distinctive smell that came from sleeping potions, but there was something else to the smell that was familiar but she couldn’t place it. She walked over to her counter and poured herself a bowl of cereal then sat down at her table and propped her feet up so her heels were squarely on Loki’s breastplate. Steve leaned forward. “So, you mean to tell me that you’re Asgardian?” “Yep. Well, actually I’m only half Aesir. My mother was from Alfheim.” Sigyn took another bite. “You don’t seem like the other Asgardians I’ve met.” Sigyn chuckled and nodded. “Because I’m wearing leggings instead of armor and have my hair in a lob?” Sigyn took and finished another bite. “Well, I’m a single mother, and single mothers tend to wear what’s comfortable.” “You’re a mother? So, aren’t you at all concerned for Loki, I mean he is your husband, right?” “Yes, I am and yes he is. But he just took a sleeping potion so, no I’m not that concerned.” “Well,” Thor began. Sigyn looked at him, he was shifting his feet and looking uneasy. Sigyn’s chewing automatically slowed. “Ok, what is it you didn’t tell me? There’s always something you don’t tell me, what is it you didn’t tell me?” Sigyn threw the rest of her cereal away, she knew that when this happened it changed everything and would require immediate action. “I had heard that Loki was imitating Father on the throne under an illusion and the only way I knew to break the illusion was to strike him with Mjolnir’s lightning.” Thor paused, with a helpless look on his face. “He’s been asleep for three days.” “And you’re only now choosing to bring him to me?” Sigyn gave them all a withering stare. “Eir didn’t know what to do, she tried to wake him up but couldn’t.” “That’s because she doesn’t know how to treat a Jotun.” Sigyn was already on her way into her bedroom to grab her equipment. She set up the soul forge pillars and began scanning his head, nervous system, and blood. “Everything looks alright. He took a nightweave potion that was very strong on pain killers and sleeping aids. But everything else looks…hmmm. That scar never used to be there.” She flipped him onto his stomach and waved the clothes on his upper body away. “None of these scars were here last I saw him. These look like a combination of blades, whips, and very severe burns.” Sigyn began reconstructing Loki’s muscles, starting with the most atrophied first. She then began rebuilding his skin from the base dermis on up, the skin that was mostly scar tissue and keloids. Doctor Banner and Tony were the most interested in her methods for healing someone so quickly. After she was satisfied with her work she waved his clothes back on then laid him on his back again. “Was that why he was taking pain meds?” Sif looked around at the group. “Most likely, decaying muscles are painful,” she paused and narrowed her eyes. “I’m curious why it’s just now coming to light that his back was that much of a mess. Wasn’t there an exam of some sort when he was held by SHIELD? Or when he was put into the dungeons?” Most everyone shook their heads. Sigyn, sighed. She grabbed a glass of iced tea, an onion, and some cloves of garlic. Thor gave her a puzzled look. “What are those for?” “Odin has his form of punishment, I have mine.” Sigyn took a bite of the onion and tossed a garlic clove in her mouth, then repeated. When Sigyn was done, she opened Loki’s eyelids again, he was still out cold. She gently slapped him across his face, only succeeding in moving his head side-to-side. She shook his shoulder, when that didn’t yield results she poured her glass of iced tea on his face. Loki suddenly sat up and sputtered. Clint and Natasha smirked. “Welcome back to the land of the living Darling.” “Where am I?” Loki was still gasping. “Midgard,” Sigyn said leaning against the table. Loki smiled, it was nearly genuine, it had been a long time since he smiled like that. He reached to kiss her. “You ate raw onion, didn’t you?” Their foreheads were nearly touching. “Yep.” “That was cruel.” “I tend to be that way when my husband abandons me by falling off the broken bifrost when I was only a couple months away from giving birth to our second son. Leaving me in the palace with one in-law that was tepid at best, who exiled me the second he could. Which caused me to live here as a single mother of two boys. Your boys. Complete with magical abilities. You deserve onion breath, Sweetheart.”

*****************

@roxanestark @mypreciousmind1 @sarabeth72 @writernotwaiting @ice-queen-of-music @loki-dotter @trufflemagnum1234 @so-easy-to-love-me @ba-dum-tish @tarrysmith @rosebudwhite @allthatandasideoftom @rainbow-cobra @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @maxwell-demon @lokilockedcougar @lokiwholockfactory @izhunny @jacquimre @marvelousmissfit @hellothereyoubeautifulcreature @emoryhemsworth @girliegirltm @calgal48 @ophelia-tagloff @lokislittlediva @almondbuttercup @inkededucatednnerdy

#The exiled wife #storylover92 #loki #loki fan fic #loki fanfiction #logyn #mcu fanfic #mcu

46 notes · View notes

lettalady · 7 years

Text

You’ve Only Just Arrived - Part 78.5

I really owe you guys so much more than a double event, but the next few chapters aren’t ready yet, even if they’ve been taunting me for the fact that they’ve been mostly written for far too long. Anyways, here’s a half chapter that will hopefully make up for the fact that I haven’t been updating with anything even remotely resembling a reliable schedule for quite some time.

Also: because it’s a double event and I’m not sure who has read what at this point... no previously in YOJA will appear in this installment. Cause, y’know, spoilers.

YOJA 78.5

FIVE!

FOUR!

T H R E E!

T W O!

O N E!

H A P P Y N E W Y E A R !!!

As you get older it really does get harder and harder to stay up partying to ring in the new year. Drinking helps in the moment but then if you’re not careful you end up regretting it in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever your body deems it decent to return to consciousness.

Doesn’t mean anybody stops dancing, or drinking. There’s usually confetti or glitter, too… something that gets stuck to the sweat that is worked up out on the dance floor and then you’re doomed to find evidence of the night for days afterward.

There’s the buzz from the jacket pocket again. Nuh-uh. All family and friends have been squared away. All well wishes have been issued. The well is used up, bone dry. Whomever it is can wait.

Yep. They can wait. For all of a minute.

Tom reaches up to swipe a damp palm through his now tangled curls, and then drag his hand down over his face. The stubble that can no longer be considered a day or two past needing a shave grates against his skin. The last thing he wants to do is push through the crowds to find somewhere he won’t be jostled and see who it is trying to get into contact.

There goes his mobile again.

“What.” His voice rattles around in his throat but hardly reaches his ears. A call would be pointless. Besides, he really has gone through the entire list of friends and family…. “What, what what?”

The few close friends that had finally talked him into a night out are visible, a dozen or so odd paces away so who… who?

He wobbles with the movements of the crowd as he tries to pry the bit of tech from his pocket.

BEN

Ignore

The screen lights up again before he has a chance to pocket it again.

BEN

“Wh…”

Four missed calls and now another? He never felt the others. Or maybe, no, maybe he had.

Benedict had issued an invite for the night, but he’d declined. The invitation had come with a warning: she was invited, too. They still haven’t spoken, not since that day at her mother’s house. What more was there to say? He’d asked a simple thing. Choose.

And she had.

He waits, counting the seconds before the designated number of rings will pass and Benedict will be forced to leave a voicemail. Five missed calls now and no messages left until this point. Curious.

No. Not curious. Is this Ben calling to check up on him? Make sure he’s not home alone? Maybe he should pick up and let good-old-Benedict hear the thrum of the music. He’s out. He’s out and having a grand time, thank you very much. Everything’s fine here.

Fine.

Her word.

Tom swallows, pressing the button to again ignore the call and then quickly shoving the mobile back into his pocket. Fine. Fine, fine. It’s all fucking fine. After at least ten minutes of sporadic buzzing against his hipbone he gives in, waving his mobile at his friends before finding an exit.

Fourteen. Fourteen missed calls. And a few assorted texts that begin benign and proceed towards threatening. What was so important about answering his phone?

He jabs the call button and waits, the sounds of the club at his back mirroring his pulse. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn his jacket all night. This isn’t heatstroke – not even close – but damn it actually feels good to step out into the cold. Benedict answers within two seconds of Tom initiating the call, and only gives Tom enough time to inhale before speaking.

“About fucking time.”

“What?”

“What, what? You’ve been ignoring my calls!”

Damn right. Ben had his own party, his own guests to attend to. Tom huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at the pavement beneath his feet before speaking, “I’m out, mate. No need to check up on---”

Benedict cuts him off, “Is she there?”

Tom blinks, pulls his phone away to look at the screen for a moment and then hold it back to his ear again. Which of the pair of them has had more to drink tonight? “Is who where?”

“You know who. Is she there. With you?”

“What?” The cold is starting to annoy him, or he’s actually starting to feel it. He tucks his free hand up under the arm that holds the phone aloft to attempt to keep the digits warm. “No. Why?”

There’s a slight pause and then Benedict emits a curse, his words becoming muffled with movement on his end. “Shit. She’s not there.” There’s a background conversation going on. Questions regarding location, accusations that are too distant or muddied by further background noise to make out. More movement and words that are clear once more, “Have you heard from her?”

“No. You know I haven’t. Not since…” Tom takes a breath, so many different reactions to the conversation fighting for dominance. His feet have frozen into place beneath him. “What’s going on?”

Benedict is already halfway into explaining by the time Tom finishes voicing the question. “She left. She was here. But she stepped out to take a call. And after a while, when she didn’t come back in. Well, we’d hoped…”

Tom removes his hand from under his arm to pinch the bridge of his nose. It takes him a second to breathe out a single word: “No.” He drops his hand to his side, shaking his head for a moment before rolling his eyes at himself and stopping the motion. “No. I – I haven’t heard from her.”

“Alright. Alright. It was a long shot.” Benedict clears his throat. “Sorry. Ah. Happy New Year, man.”

“Yea.” He waits, almost too long, to speak again. “Hey, Ben?”

“Yea?”

“When you find her?” He bobs his head slightly, acknowledging the possibility she’s just doing exactly what he had been trying to do before answering the call – trying to pretend that the new year held something other than heartache in store for them. “When she answers her damn phone… call me.”

After Benedict responds in the affirmative and rings off Tom remains outside, even after the cold has permeated each layer of clothing. For awhile he watches everyone else out there with him, those still out partying, those already making their way home.

It’s ludicrous, but he can’t help but hope that he’ll recognize the next person to wander towards him. That it’ll be her. She’d never show up here. They’d never talked about it, so how could she know he might be there? That knowledge doesn’t stop him looking for a few minutes longer.

He lets out a long breath, not quite ready to give up even though his nose has started to run. His eyes continue to flit from partygoer to partygoer as he mutters, “Stubborn.”

In his head, she responds with a lighthearted laugh:

Pot. Kettle.

@ablondieproduction @almondbuttercups @annamegatron @antyc67@aroundourhearts @taniasamhradh @calgal48@cassandrajdenize@croftyspock90 @celtvix @cumberbabe92@damageditem @enchantedbytwh @evieplease @fanfickittycat@haeminhee @hallotom @happyhiddling @ibrakefortomhiddleston@ilovetardis @im-the-colourless-sunshine @incoherentrambler@ishoutmarcoandyoushout @its-forevermore @jessicahunnam@jhangelface0523 @jossisgod @kellarter @ldirkes @lokilockedcougar@lorrmorr @lostsoul1011 @lovehiddles4everme @lucifersnudes@lucymegker @machuchuu @mara2189 @marrtegras @marvelousmissfit@mazda098 @missviolethunter @mssissypooh @nakittr @namaik-fuyu@nuvoleincielo @ourladybinxthings @purgat-ry@renastrife @sarabeth72@shiseru @sweetsigyn @tarrysmith @thatsprobablynotahat @tiggysworld @tinchentitri @tomforachange @twhiddlestonappreciation@wolfsmom1 @zoie-bitofahermit @wreckmy-journal @ubiquitous-corvids

#imagine tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #writing addiction #wherein you get the writer started and then she'll stay up far too late cause she has no control #you've only just arrived #yoja #told you I'd probably go for a double event

34 notes · View notes