#tom hiddleston forgive me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lindsey-laufeyson · 11 months ago

Text

Distractions- Chapter 9

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

It was the morning after you had discovered the drunk texts from Tom and you were exhausted. Though you had tried to sleep, your anger kept you awake until the wee hours of the night, and when you finally fell asleep, you dreamt that Tom was saying the exact things he said in those messages, but in person. He was spitting them at you like a cobra spits venom, over and over until you woke up in a cold sweat. You dragged your feet getting ready for work, dreading the day ahead of you, and you had to put extra effort into covering up all of the marks Tom left on your neck the previous night. Unfortunately, that meant you didn’t have time to get yourself a latte on your way to work, and you hated drinking the shitty coffee from craft service.

When you arrived at work, you were glad to be setting up alone. You and Kaitlyn had taken to alternating days where one of you would prep in the morning and one of you would close up at the end of the day. By now, you’d considered Kaitlyn to be a friend, but you hadn’t forgotten the fact that she’d told Tom about Trevor. Eventually, you would have to confront her about it, but for the time being, you would simply enjoy your peace and quiet.

Half an hour later, Tom and Kaitlyn arrived at the same time, Kaitlyn greeting you with her usual, much too chipper “good morning,” and Tom with an apologetic look in his eyes and two coffees in hand. You merely gave them a half-hearted “morning” before turning back to your station.

“I thought you might like a latte,” Tom said meekly, putting the coffee cup from your favorite café on the counter in front of you.

“I’d like to get started right away, if that’s alright with the two of you,” you stated, refusing to look at Tom and ignoring the latte you so desperately needed.

“You alright?” Kaitlyn asked.

You shrugged. “Tired. Didn’t sleep well.” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Tom look at you with concern, but just like the latte, you ignored it.

The minutes dragged on at an agonizing pace as you listened to Tom and Kaitlyn make idle chit chat while you worked in silence. Whenever they attempted to bring you into the conversation, you gave them one word answers without looking up once. You could tell they were both uncomfortable with the palpable tension emanating from you, but you didn’t care.

By the time Tom’s hair and makeup was almost finished, you’d decided that you were desperate to leave the awkward silence you’d created and even more desperate for caffeine. “Kaitlyn, you finish up,” you told her. “I’m going to go get some coffee from craft service. I’ll meet you on set.”

“But–” she began, confusion in her voice as she pointed to the now cold latte sitting on the counter. She was cut off by the sound of the trailer door shutting behind you.

…

When you arrived on set, you decided you’d rather stand in the back rather than sit in your chair next to Kaitlyn. It wasn’t just that you were angry with her for telling Tom about Trevor, but you also knew that she would want to know why you were ignoring Tom and try to pry it out of you as soon as she had the opportunity. Mostly though, you just wanted to be left alone for a while.

Of course, your job wasn’t that forgiving. You couldn’t keep putting your assistant on Tom, and you were nothing if not professional. Well, you had been before he came along. So, when duty called, you did what needed to be done with the intention that you would simply treat Tom as if he was a client you’d just met and keep things as professional as possible. Of course, Tom had other plans.

“Y/n,” Tom began as you touched up his makeup.

Without looking at him, you stopped him immediately. “If what you’re about to say isn’t strictly work related, I’m going to have to ask you to shut it.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just hear me out.”

“I think you’ve said plenty in those texts you sent me.”

“I don’t think you’re being entirely fair…”

You finally looked him in the eyes, your eyebrows raised. “I’m not being fair? You basically called me a slut, Tom.”

His brow furrowed. “You know I would never call you or any woman a slut!”

“You may as well have.”

“I was pissed out of my mind!”

“So was I! But I didn’t send you any nasty messages, did I?”

“No, you just slept with Trevor.”

You shook your head as your eyelids narrowed. “Oh, fuck you, Tom. Don’t you dare throw that in my face. Last I checked, we’re allowed to sleep with other people.”

He stood his ground. “But you wouldn’t have slept with him had you been sober, just as I wouldn’t have said those awful things had I been sober.”

“That’s not the bloody point,” you shot back before you spun around and stormed back to where you had been standing before, eager to regain your solitude. You spent the rest of the morning there, and anytime Tom needed hair and makeup from that point on, he was wise enough not to push you any further and just let you work in silence.

Kaitlyn, however, couldn’t stand your cold shoulder any longer, and just as you suspected she might, she eventually came to confront you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you or do I have to force it out of you?” Kaitlyn demanded.

You sighed and then looked at her with irritation. “Do you remember yesterday when I told you never to mention the whole Trevor fiasco ever again?”

“Yeah…” she replied with nervous hesitation.

“Well, for future reference, when I say that, I mean never to mention it to anyone.”

She scrunched her face in guilt. “Tom told you I told him?”

“He told me you told him.”

“But you didn’t tell me not to tell him!”

“Unless I tell you to tell someone, don’t tell anyone!”

“Wait, I’m starting to get confused.”

You let out an exasperated groan. “Why did you tell Tom about Trevor?”

“It was an accident, okay? He was so quiet yesterday, so I was trying to fill the silence when at some point it just sort of slipped out. I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. You guys are such close friends that I figured you were going to tell him anyway. I mean, you told Warren of all people.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “The point is, it’s my business and I should be able to decide who is privy to it and who isn’t.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.”

After a beat, she spoke up again. “So now I know why you’re mad at me, but what did Tom do? I mean, it was pretty cold to blatantly reject his latte like that, and you haven’t exactly hidden the fact that you hate the coffee here.”

“I don’t hate it,” you defended. However, in your attempt to prove her wrong, you took a sip of your coffee and couldn’t fight back the grimace that appeared on your face.

“You were saying?”

“Alright, without giving too much detail, he said some things to me that a real friend would never say.”

“What?” She looked surprised. “That doesn’t sound like Tom at all. What did he say?”

“Do you really think I’d tell you after you opened your big mouth yesterday?”

“It just seems very unlikely that he would say anything untoward to anyone, let alone you.”

You shrugged. “It turns out people can surprise you. And what do you mean by ‘let alone me?’”

“Please. Are we going to pretend like you two don’t instantly light up every time you see each other? At least before yesterday you did. I can’t say whether it’s just your friendship or something more, but the two of you are like flint and steel. Together you create a fire that warms the entire room. The last two days, however, it’s been cold and dreary on set, and everyone can feel it, whether they realize why or not.”

You thought about what Kaitlyn said. While the sentiment was nice enough, you weren’t sure you believed her; or for some fucked up reason, you didn’t want to believe her. “I think you’re imagining things, Kait.”

“Deny it all you want, but it’s true. I don’t know what he said, but I think it might be worth it to forgive him. Not many people have the kind of infectious chemistry that you two have.” And with that, she left to go back to her chair.

You folded your arms and leaned back against the wall behind you. You were somehow more angry now because you knew Kaitlyn had a point. Was it really worth it to keep punishing Tom if it meant stewing in your own anger all day? But then Tom’s messages appeared in your head again, and the image from your dream of him yelling them at you. No. You weren’t ready to forgive him. As much as you wanted to, you just couldn’t. Not yet anyway.

…

By the time lunch was called, Tom felt utterly defeated. He knew he’d royally fucked up, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Typically he found that his words were his strongest asset in expressing himself, but he couldn’t begin to find the words to express how sorry he was, and even if he did, you refused to listen to anything he had to say. Not that he blamed you.

While everyone else swarmed craft service or went off the lot to get their lunch, Tom found that he wasn’t hungry. This was the second day in a row that you had affected his appetite and it was maddening. He resolved to go back to his trailer, and on his way he heard your name come from behind one of the other trailers in the lot. He paused to listen.

“…but Max here was too bloody chicken to bag that bird!” exclaimed the voice of a man Tom didn’t recognize.

Then came a voice he could only assume belonged to Max. “I wasn’t chicken. She was just a fucking tease.”

A third man chimed in. “It’s a shame, really. Can you imagine what a spitfire like her is like in the sack?”

Max laughed. “The best part would’ve been getting to say that I fucked Hiddleston’s whore!”

Filled with blinding rage, Tom couldn’t listen to any more. He rounded the corner and met Max with a right hook to the jaw. The brawny man immediately retaliated with an equally devastating punch to his assailant, only to realize seconds later whose million dollar face he’d just marred.

“Shit,” Max cursed, his eyes wide with fearful regret. “Mr. Hiddleston, I—“

“If you ever want to work in this industry again,” Tom interrupted with a low growl. “I suggest you leave this studio in the next ten seconds and reevaluate how you’d like to treat women from now on.”

Without a word, Max nodded his head and sped off, his two friends following close behind him.

“Fuck,” Tom hissed in pain as soon as they were gone. He held his right hand in his left, flexing it open and shut a few times while he examined it. The skin over his knuckles had split open from the force of his punch to Max’s hard jaw bone. He then carefully brought his fingers up to his throbbing left cheekbone, the sharp pain causing him to instantly retract them.

It was a stupid thing to do. Tom was fully aware of that. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d thrown a punch that wasn’t choreographed. He was never an aggressive person by any means, and he had certainly never abused his power like that, but he couldn’t stand men that were so blatantly disrespectful to women, let alone you. He began to shake with anger again just thinking about what Max had said about you, what he’d called you.

…

For your lunch break you wanted nothing more than to hide away in your trailer, away from Kaitlyn’s infuriatingly insightful observations and, most of all, away from Tom’s stupid face. But you should have figured out by then that luck was not your friend as of late, because who should you run into on your way to your trailer but the exact stupid face you were trying to avoid. All anger was momentarily forgotten, however, when you saw he was hurt.

“Oh my god, Tom, what the hell happened to you?” you asked in a panic as you rushed to him and grabbed his injured hand.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” You brought your hand up to his cheek to examine his face. “You’re bleeding! You need to see the medic.”

He shook his head. “Nevermind, it’s fine. I have a first aid kit in my trailer, so I can just patch myself up.”

“If you won’t see the medic, at least let me do it. I have some liquid plaster in my kit.”

“You don’t have to,” he urged you in a low, gentle tone. “Really.”

“Tom, it’s fine.”

He tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

You sighed. Damn him for being so considerate. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

Tom’s trailer was small but rather nice, with a kitchenette, a table and two chairs, a sofa, a bathroom, and even a small bed in the back. Tom fetched the first aid kit out of one of the cupboards.

“I’ll take that, you sit down.” You gestured to one of the chairs. He raised his eyebrows at you. “Sit.” You commanded once more. He obliged. After getting some ice from the freezer and putting it in a bag, you handed it to him “Hold this on your face.” Then you washed your hands, found a clean washcloth, and wet it with warm water. The whole time Tom simply watched you, looking up with those puppy dog eyes that always made you weak, but you were determined to focus on the task at hand. You sat down in the other chair and pulled it close to him so that you were sitting between his wide-spread knees. Letting out a quiet sigh, you took his injured hand and began gently cleaning it with the washcloth. “So, tough guy, who was it?”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be daft, Thomas. I know fist fight injuries when I see them, so out with it.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid you’ll be angry with me.”

“Well I’m already angry with you,” you told him as you took the liquid plaster out of your kit and applied it to the cuts on his knuckles. “So what have you got to lose?”

“It was Max.”

“What? Why would Max punch you?” you asked with a small chuckle at the ludicrous idea.

“Because I sort of punched him first.”

Your head shot up to look at him. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He was saying awful things about you,” Tom defended. “And don’t ask me to repeat them because I won’t.”

“Oh well now you have to,” you told him, your curiosity piqued.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“I’m a big girl, Tommy. I can handle it.”

He sighed heavily and you could see the anger seep into his features as he thought back to what happened. “He called you a ‘fucking tease,’ and he said that he would’ve liked to have been able to say that he fucked ‘Hiddleston’s whore.’ And then, I don’t know, my anger just took over, I guess. I punched him and then he punched me back before he realized it was me. Once he did he ran off.”

“‘Hiddleston’s whore?’ Do you think he knows we’re fucking?”

“That’s your takeaway from this??”

“What do you want me to say? As flattered as I am that you would punch someone to defend my honor, it was still an incredibly stupid thing to do.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking.”

You finished his knuckles and moved the bag of ice from his face to his hand, so you could begin to clean his cheek. “I’m just glad this is the extent of your injuries. He could have given you a concussion.”

“Do my ears deceive me, or are you worrying over me?” he carefully prodded.

“Don’t make a big deal about it,” you warned. “I’m still cross with you.”

“I know. You have every right to be. But I need you to know that I didn’t mean those things I said.

You kept your eyes on his cheekbone while you mended it with plaster. “Whether you meant them or not, they still hurt.”

“And I hate myself for that. You’re the last person on earth I’d want to hurt.”

You looked at him skeptically. “What about your mum?”

“Okay, you’re the second to last person on earth I’d want to hurt,” he corrected.

“What about your sisters?”

“Are you kidding? We tortured each other growing up. You’re still second.” He smiled at you and though you tried your hardest not to, your lips still curled into a small smirk while you rolled your eyes at him.

Once the plaster was set, you took out some foundation and a blending sponge to cover up his injuries as best you could.

“Ow,” he winced and pulled away when you began tapping the foundation into his bruised cheekbone.

“Oh hush, you big baby,” you told him, cradling the side of his face and neck to keep him from moving. The two of you were quiet for a moment as you continued to blend the foundation on his face. You kept your eyes on your blending sponge, but his eyes stayed on you. His gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, his eyebrows slanted upward and inward ever so slightly. You’d seen that expression many times before. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Making that face.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Yes you are. It’s the face you make whenever you want to kiss me.”

“I do want to kiss you.”

You paused, looking at him briefly before bringing your attention back to your sponge. “It’s not that easy, Casanova.”

“Very well,” he said, his grin never faltering. Suddenly the speakers in his trailer came alive with the sound of an electric guitar strumming in an upbeat rhythm, making you jump. You looked down to find Tom’s phone in his hand, having just pressed play on the song “If I Could Turn Back Time.” When you looked back up at Tom, he was swaying his shoulders to the beat and singing along with Cher.

“If I could turn back time,” he sang, his eyes locked on yours..

Your wary gaze followed him as he stood up. “What are you doing?”

“If I could find a way,”

“Thomas…”

“I’d take back those words that have hurt you, and you’d stay.”

Listening to the lyrics, his intentions dawned on you. “Oh, you think you’re clever now, don’t you?”

In lieu of an answer, Tom simply winked at you as he serenaded you through the first verse. You glared at him while you bit your lip to stop from smiling. “I don't know why I did the things I did, I don't know why I said the things I said, pride's like a knife, it can cut deep inside, words are like weapons, they wound sometimes.” You almost broke during the pre-chorus when he fell to his knees in front of you and made like he was begging for your forgiveness while he sang, “I didn't really mean to hurt you, I didn't wanna see you go, I know I made you cry, but baby, if I could turn back time…” As he went back into the chorus, he stood back up and reached his hand out to you as an invitation to dance with him.

You shook your head. “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

Still singing, he ignored your objection, grabbing your hand and pulling you up out of your seat.

“No no no no no,” you protested in rapid fire succession as you were lifted onto your feet.

He wrapped one arm around your waist and with the other he took your hand in his. After rocking with you back and forth to the rhythm, he spun you around and dipped you, an impressive feat in his small trailer. By that point you couldn’t hold back your smile any longer. In fact, you found yourself giggling uncontrollably. “If I could reach the stars, I’d give ‘em all to you, then you’d love me, love me, like you used to do.” The two of you danced and sang and giggled through the entire remainder of the song, each of you trying out your best Cher impressions and laughing even harder in turn. It was silly, and uninhibited, and by far the most fun you’d ever had. It made you realize how lucky you were that you had the privilege of seeing this side of him, away from cameras, and press, and fans, where he could completely and totally be himself. You didn’t understand why, of all people, he felt comfortable enough to share that part of himself with you, but you did know without a doubt that you felt just as comfortable with him.

As the music began to fade, Tom spun you out one last time and then spun you back into his arms and held you close, your heaving chests flush against each other while your lips were mere centimeters apart.

“You make it incredibly difficult to stay angry with you, you know that?” you told him breathlessly.

He let out a small chuckle, and then looked down at your mouth like it was water and he was dying of thirst. Slowly, cautiously, he brought his lips to yours. He kissed you with a softness you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender yet deliberate. You reciprocated with the same gentle affection, savoring it for as long as you could until you were startled by a knock on the door, causing you both to pull away abruptly.

“Mr. Hiddleston?” came Trevor’s voice from outside.

Fucking Trevor, you thought.

“Yeah,” Tom called, looking and sounding as if he’d just woken up from a dream.

“They’re waiting for you on set, mate.” Trevor said.

Tom sighed. “Be right there!” You looked at each other with cheeky grins on your faces until you were sure Trevor had gone, at which point you both burst out giggling again. When you settled down, he put a hand on your waist. “Thank you for patching me up.”

“Nevermind. Just promise me you won’t go round punching anyone else for me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t make that promise.”

“Well, try. You’ve made my job hard enough as it is now I’ve got these cuts and bruises to cover up for the next week.”

“I’ll do my best,” he replied with a chuckle. He kissed your forehead and headed for the door, turning back to you once he’d reached it. “See you out there, yeah?”

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” you teased him.

“And maybe you can come over after?” he suggested hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck, stud,” you replied, but there was no hiding the uncontrollable grin on your face.

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @the-princess-of-loki, @princess-ofthe-pages, @darcylikesloki, @kikster606, @foxherder

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #original content #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston multichapter series #distractions fic #Spotify

75 notes · View notes

gloriousburden · 1 year ago

Text

Debunking the “thanos brainwashed loki” theory (kind of)

DISCLAIMER: i don’t really have any problems with people taking this theory more lighthearted/just as an headcanon/au sort of thing, my issue is when it is accepted as fully canon, and words, meanings, and statements in interviews are completely twisted. people too often use it to mischaracterize loki, and disregard any of his motives, acts, and issues.

when i first got into the mcu and started interacting with the fandom, i too believed this theory when i first heard about it. until i thought about it a little more, and learned more about loki.

i’m aware that this is a little controversial to say since a lot of people truly take the theory as canon and have basically forever now… but in all honesty i REALLY don’t think it’s true. but let me just state that yes, loki definitely was persuaded/coerced into doing the things he did in avengers by thanos and his goons in order to retrieve the tesseract, that’s very canon as we can see in the scene of loki interacting with the other. loki fears thanos for a reason. thanos is a piece of shit and is shown to be a piece of shit to others including nebula and gamora, who were supposed to be his “daughters”. if he would torture his own “children”, why wouldn’t he torture and subject a stranger that he wanted to use to get the tesseract? so loki definitely was tortured.

i know there’s these two interviews, one with tom hiddleston (here) and the other with joss whedon that confirm loki went through a lot of horrible things between the ending of thor 1 and the beginning of avengers. they don’t necessarily give any specifics, just that it was really bad for him. please forgive me as i cannot find the joss whedon one right now, but i believe it was a video. the article with tom hiddleston which i’ve linked, is him saying “I think somewhere between the end of Thor and the beginning of The Avengers, Loki has been to the Marvel equivalent of the 7th circle of hell. At the end of Thor you see him let go. He lets go of the spear, he lets go of Asgard, and he lets go of the need of his brother and father’s affection and approval. He has bigger plans now.” and joss whedon pretty much said the same (in regards to loki going through horrible things between thor and avengers) from what i remember.

(but even with that being said, i’m going to focus more on canon rather than interviews.)

i’m not here to disprove that loki was tortured, i fully believe that he was and it makes sense considering thanos’ character, but i’m here to prove that he wasn’t FULLY brainwashed into doing what he did.

also trust me, i know that most of the movies loki has been in disregard a lot of the shit he’s been through, but i do feel that if he was truly forced into it, it would’ve been elaborated on. which i will elaborate on in this post.

…………………………………………………………………………….

if anyone was brainwashed into committing the acts loki committed in avengers, they would be very distraught and traumatized when they eventually gained full consciousness and realized that they did those things. examples of this in the mcu being clint (who is literally in the same movie), as well as bucky who really was brainwashed by hydra into being an assassin, and is shown as being deeply traumatized when the brainwashing is undone. even if he didn’t commit those acts intentionally, and in his own will.

we can see in the dark world that loki was not really shown to be regretful about what he did. and honestly, i don’t think that was just them choosing not to show loki as being vulnerable, or them disregarding loki’s issues (per usual) because we actually get to see some of his true feelings, as well as him having a breakdown in the movie. he is willingly vulnerable. “now you see me, brother.”

he is shown to be deeply troubled, and vengeful about the possibility of him unintentionally leading algrim/kurse to frigga, the fact he was locked up and unable to be of any sort of help, as well as obviously frigga’s death in general. it was something that was truly done unintentionally by loki.

if loki had really unintentionally, and unconsciously committed the acts he did, he would be shown to be very distraught about it in the dark world, and it would’ve been elaborated on.

the approach the writers, as well as tom hiddleston wanted to take for loki’s character in the dark world was one that showed us as the audience, and as fans of loki more about him, as well as to see him at his most vulnerable, so why would they leave out his supposed trauma from brainwashing? because that’s not really how it happened.

they would have shown him be vulnerable about being brainwashed, and doing something unintentionally if it were something that really happened. since loki’s writing in the dark world was meant to “humanize” him. we’ve seen him at his most villainous in the last movie, so now let’s see him at his lowest in the one after that.

a major point of mine that disproves the theory is that although loki is shown to fear thanos, he’s not necessarily doing this whole thing JUST for him. he is also focused on ruling over earth, rather than just retrieving the tesseract.

if he was brainwashed, however, he would’ve got the tesseract to thanos without anything in return. thanos wouldn’t have had to bargain with loki, or offer earth/an army to him. he would have just mind controlled him with the scepter, the same way loki did with clint, and called it a day.

another point that disproves the theory is that if loki truly was mind controlled by the scepter, he would act almost robotic, and would be quite still, only doing things when told/motioned to the same way clint was when the scepter was first used on him in the beginning of the movie. (i’ve linked this scene further down in this post when i talk about the misconceptions of loki’s eyes being the same blue as the character’s who were mind controlled.) loki clearly says, and does whatever he wants in the movie. this would not really be the case if he were being mind controlled.

(also another example of loki realizing he had partially caused something unintentionally was thor’s banishment. he is shown to be quite nervous about the fact that thor got banished, although it did end up working in his favor later on in the movie.)

loki has shown many times, even before avengers when he is undeniably a villain, that he has no issues with hurting people to get what he wants. people who use the theory and accept it as canon often (i kind of hate this word, so forgive me for the lack of better words) infantilize and mischaracterize loki as being this character who is completely innocent, and helpless. and that he only became “bad” in avengers. meanwhile loki has always (always meaning since after/during the events of thor 1) been shown as a manipulative character with dark thoughts and violent tendencies. in thor 1, he committed genocide against the frost giants BEFORE he was under the influence of thanos or the scepter.

(let me state that i’m not saying loki is a bad person or a psychopath who just goes off hurting people left and right merely for the fun of it. i’ve elaborated on this, as well as loki’s motives in this post. but basically i’m saying that loki does everything he does with reason, and purpose. he is conniving, and calculated with his decisions. he doesn’t get satisfaction in hurting people, he gets satisfaction in getting closer to his goals.)

loki is already a “tragic victim” type character. you don’t need to erase that he’s capable of and willing to do wrong, and imply that those things were very out of character for him to prove that. characters can simultaneously do bad things out of their own will, while having a shitty past. not all victimized characters are completely innocent, and without flaws.

loki is never shown to have any love for midgard, or midgardians in general. he genuinely wanted to rule over them. in thor 1, loki says “i never wanted the throne, i only ever wanted to be your equal.” in thor 1. but in avengers, he says “i’ve grown, odinson, in my exile.” showing that he, and his motives have changed since then. he’s not the same person he was in thor 1, begging for his father’s love and recognition. not wanting a throne isn’t the case for him anymore. if he wasn’t able to prove himself to his own father, then midgardians were the next option.

in the dark world, loki no longer cares for odin’s approval. “he’s not my father!” “i didn’t do it for him.” as well as banishing/exiling him, and taking his throne. his focus shifting from odin’s approval as his own son in thor 1, to the approval of midgard as their king in avengers, to the approval of asgard as their king in the dark world, shows how loki’s character and his motives developed and changed with each movie. he realized that odin will never approve of him as his own son, let alone as king of asgard. thor 1 was just the start.

the reason this is relevant to disproving the theory, as well as the points i’m trying to make are:

1. the motives were already there. the will to do bad things, was already there before thanos and even the scepter’s influence/interference.

2. loki has changed between thor 1 and avengers, and he didn’t need to be brainwashed for this change to happen. he didn’t change and become “evil” because of what thanos put him through.

3. some people who take the theory as canon, believe that loki is fully good and would have never willingly hurt others to get what he wants, or to prove a point. which could not be further from the truth.

i know most of this won’t really make sense to people who already know these things, but my words (and this post in general) are more directed to/are about those who use this theory to try and make loki seem like he’s a character who only started doing bad things, due to being brainwashed. that he’s a character who would never do anything wrong against his own will. meanwhile, he’s exhibited “bad” behaviors willingly since the first movie he was in.

he’s a character with manipulative tendencies, and deep rooted resentment and jealousy towards those put above him. he is insecure, and is willing to do anything to prove himself worthy.

also a lot of the things and points that the people who believe this theory as canon use as proof are things that have been debunked. a point that they often use is that marvel has confirmed that loki was influenced by the scepter. but the only thing they confirm is that it heightened his anger and negative feelings. a big issue is that people hear “influenced” and misunderstand, taking it as a confirmation that loki was mind controlled, and not that the scepter was just amplifying his negative emotions that were already there, and have been since thor 1.

(link to the whole page.)

nowhere does it say that he was brainwashed, or mind controlled. influenced? yes, that’s what the scepter does.

another thing is people talking about his eyes supposedly being the same blue as clint’s, and erik selvig’s when they were under the influence of the scepter. when in reality… their proof of this is just lighting, edited photos, or them mistaking loki’s eyes as being green when they’re actually blue. tom hiddleston has blue eyes, and loki in avengers has the same blue eyes that he did in thor 1, before he even met thanos. his eyes aren’t green, and have never been. (also if loki was MIND CONTROLLED by the scepter, his eyes would be EXTREMELY blue, considering his natural eye color is blue.)

examples:

he has the same beautiful big blue eyes eye color. not the insanely bright blue that clint, or erik selvig had when they were mind controlled by the scepter.

more examples:

guys, if loki was being controlled by the scepter… his eyes would be the same color as theirs since the cgi was purposely used to make their eyes very unrealistically blue so that everyone would know they were being controlled. these two characters both have blue eyes. these pictures show them before being mind controlled/brainwashed, versus afterwards. also… his eyes would be that same blue throughout the movie. which they’re not… clint’s eyes remained that bright blue until the mind controlling was undone by natasha.

it won’t let me add any more pictures so forgive me, but trust me… it’s not the same blue. loki’s eyes do look a little brighter here so maybe i understand the misconception a little bit, but that’s due many factors that can be explained. one being the makeup put on tom hiddleston in this scene to make his skin lighter as well to make him appear exhausted. another factor being the lighting!! as someone with blue eyes, i know that basically anything can make them appear a different shade. but that even goes for other eye colors. that’s just how it works. another thing to mention is that tom hiddleston is naturally blonde and has warmer skin than this. the contrast of the darker hair and the makeup (ESPECIALLY the makeup used to make his under-eye area look dark, which is only used like that in this scene btw) will make his eyes look really bright especially when he already has bright blue eyes. here’s the scene.

another example of his eye color being this post of mine right here. he literally has the same eyes

we can see that the avengers, specifically the hulk, were influenced by the scepter as well. but their eyes weren’t bright blue, because they weren’t being brainwashed by it and instead their negative emotions that were already there were being heightened. this caused cap and tony to argue even more, bruce banner to become angry and emotional about being the hulk, everyone else to become more hostile, etc… these were pre existing issues. loki’s resentment towards thor as well as his need for approval were pre existing.

……………………………………………………………………………

anyway i will probably update this in the future if there’s anything i left out/to correct mistakes.

moral of the story is, loki was canonically tortured, subjected, and manipulated by thanos. but even with that being said, he was not necessarily brainwashed and he was definitely not brainwashed by the scepter. there is no canon proof of that. the scepter only heightened his negative emotions that were already there.

if loki really was brainwashed, don’t you think he would’ve just retrieved the tesseract for thanos without wanting to rule over earth? it would’ve been that simple. but since that isn’t true and loki was consciously and intentionally doing these things, he wanted something in return. neither clint, nor erik selvig wanted anything in return. they did whatever loki needed them to, unconsciously.

people tend to take the proof of his torture, and mistake it as proof of him being brainwashed for some reason. loki is not an innocent character who only started exhibiting “bad” behaviors in avengers. just because he’s done bad things doesn’t mean that you cannot love him, sympathize with him, or see him as the true victim in the story. he is the god of mischief. he is manipulative, and has deep rooted issues that causes him to do bad things in order to prove himself. you don’t need to dumb down his character, and motives in order to like him.

sorry if none of this makes any sense. i’m really bad at explaining my own thoughts and putting them into words, and i’m sure this could’ve been worded better. i just made this to clear things up as well as give my own take on the theory. don’t take it too seriously but also feel more than welcome to correct me on anything, as well as add your own take or anything else onto this.

thank you for reading!!

100 notes · View notes

stupidthoughtsinwriting · 2 years ago

Text

T. Hiddleston and Co. Collection

Basically the fic log of our dear mister Hiddleston and his characters

Tom Hiddleston

Series

One shots

Loki

Series and Collections

Try again -She left years ago for the sake of their child and herself but when he needs her, she comes in a heartbeat. The only problem is could he forgive her for leaving and could they try again?

His Home (Collection) -Set after the blip, here is a series of fics on what's happened in Loki's home...

Oneshots and Short stuffs

Don't leave me... I'll stay -After an argument causes a rift between Loki and Y/N, the day is spent ignoring the other until Y/N decides to spend the night away from Loki.

Late night

It's not your fault

141 notes · View notes

likeadevils · 6 months ago

Note

How do we know that ttpd song was written few days after being ghosted? Forgive me if I missed this convo in the past, I’m honestly curious because I would’ve said that she wrote it right after getting together in early may

we don’t Know— i’m planning to mark it inferring on the timeline— but the two photos taylor posted labeled ttpd and tortured poets department seem to have been taken on the same day.

AND they seem to match her outfit on may 31 when she was photographed walking into electric lady.

and in the taylor/matty timeline may 31 is a week since they were last photographed together, four days since matty started touring in europe, and 6 days before it’s announced they’ve broken up (ime taylor tends wait about two weeks after the breakup to announce it— taylor lautner, jake gyllenhaal, calvin harris, and tom hiddleston all had about a two week gap since the last time they were seen together/the moment we knew they broke up -> when it was announced. obviously that gets a little weirder with matty but the basic pattern holds true).

#asks*#timeline*

14 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 1 year ago

Text

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter Seventeen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Miniseries)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: You have returned to Aldwinter. And begin to set plans for your revenge on Will.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Some spicy stuff but no actual smut (please forgive me, the chapters in this fic are long enough), mentions of cheating and portraying Will's cheating as bad I am very blatantly against the Will/Cora pairing in The Essex Serpent and it shows so if you like either character or the pairing, you have been warned. Mentions of sex and religion and violence and abandonment. Supporting Women's Wrongs.

A/N: Thanks to @muddyorbsblr for the brilliant ideas about how Reader could get her long due revenge and the great suggestions!

Also,

Happy New Years Eve! Instead of going to clubs and drinking and partying or being invited to a party, I'm spending it editing fanfiction. So this is to all of you out there who too feel a little lonely like me and like you should be out there doing partying and "normal" things...you aren't the only one, and I'm sending you a hug.

I hope you enjoy the start of the "next" season of Court after that cliffhanger! Leave a comment or reblog or send me an ask or dm if you especially liked it! Happy 2024!

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You could still recall your wedding with Loki.

It was night. The moons shone above. Stars sprinkled across the sky as people laughed and went out to restaurants and taverns. They weren’t the ones about to find a cauldron. They could go on in ignorance and always in safety.

But your own pulse was picking up as you held Loki’s hand. Excitement and nervousness.

You both walked into a temple, a building with a garland of roses over the door. For even gods still needed worshippers. Inside, there were two priests going about. An old man and a younger man in fine golden robes swept the floors. The younger one turned and gasped, tugging the sleeve of his sage.

They recognized Loki and both bowed.

“Ah, great prince and god of mischief, what brings you here?” the older one asked.

“I want you to marry us!” Loki announced.

Their jaws dropped, and the brown eyes of the old man grew large.

“Without the…the consent of the AllFather?” the older priest asked.

“No- I do not need it. I am not a child anymore. I am a man grown and this is the woman I want to marry.” Loki said, gesturing to you.

You walked over and placed a hand on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

“This is one order I give you, both as god and prince- Perform a marriage between me and Y/N. The Jotun Prophet says she is my True Love- always shall be. Don’t break the True Love Bond. Perform a marriage ceremony. I’ll reward you handsomely if you do.”

They relented. The Older Priest led you both to the large altar in the next room. It had a tall statue of Frigga smiling with outstretched hands from her gown’s sleeves. Firewood was brought to make a nice kindling blaze in the fireplace from the younger priest to the fireplace in the room.

The older priest gestured you both to You walked around it to the wooden table placed right before the statue. It was covered in runes in its tan wood. There was a small dagger, a cornucopia, and a tall, white candle that the elder priest lit with fire from the fireplace. The younger priest stood to bear witness, as well as holding a spare marriage contract for you both.

“The AllMother might feel a slight twinge in the air tomorrow, for marriage is part of her realm. But yet…if you are certain, then you are certain. Any last things you would like before we begin?” asked the older priest.

“It feels a little more like a lamb is about to be sacrificed than a wedding,” you shyly commented, for the Christian weddings of home were more what you were used to.

“The AllMother doesn’t like offerings of lamb!!” laughed the older priest.

“Here- let me make it more decorated, then,” Loki offered.

With a flick of his hand, there were flowers everywhere. Soft roses in bloom, their perfume a gentle caress in the air. They decorated the statue and the altar. Flower crowns were placed on the two priests, much to their amusement.

“Should I go back home and get that lacy bustle dress then? I know it’s your favorite” you teased Loki.

He gave you a small laugh, then lifted his hand and flicked it in the air.

Golden light came down from over your heads, he gave himself rich green robes with gold armor plates over his shoulders Both a prince and a groom.

You looked as the magic went over you and your clothes transformed on your body. You were given a long dress that was a soft blush pink to compliment his green. It shimmered when light touched it. It showed your shoulders but the sleeves were so long they draped to the floor, the way that a few of the queen’s dresses did. For that was what a woman of royalty wore. The bodice made a heart shape over your chest. On your head was a long veil that went down your back and onto the floor of sheer material, forming a beautiful train melting into a lacelike pattern. It made you look like you floated.

You smiled up at him.

“It’s beautiful, thank you!” you gasped.

Loki smiled, then nodded at the priest for him to begin.

You clasped hands. There was a prayer and some milk poured into a bowl and placed at the feet of the statue as an offering to Frigga..Loki conjured daggers for you both to trade, symbolizing how you would protect each other.

“Now, make your vows to each other,” signaled the Priest.

Loki held your hands. Though the priest whispered the words in his ear, he repeated it with sincerity.

"I, Loki, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, take you to be my wife, my friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until only death do us part. I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. I shall choose to respect you and choose to love you. In my bed and on my table. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. Day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

You took his hands and repeated what the priest whispered into your ear.

“I, Y/N, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, to take you to be my husband, My friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until death do us part. I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. I shall choose to respect you and choose to love you. In my bed and on my table. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. Day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

Then Loki’s magic brought up the ring- the very one you won from the Weaver’s cottage.

“That was why the Weaver thought I earned it…even she knew…” you wondered.

“She’s a matchmaker then, who knew,” Loki teased.

Loki placed it gently around your finger. He conjured a ring that you slipped through his finger.

There was a final prayer and chant. The younger priest brought forth the document which you both signed.

“Now seal it with a kiss- and all the nine realms shall consider you husband and wife,” announced The Older Priest.

You did, happily. Embracing each other and locking lips. They both smiled and applauded. Loki paid them generously with a conjured bag of coin.

You both were still holding hands as you hurried home. Your wedding gown and his shoulder plates glowing in the moonlight.

With the crowds around Asgard, you could slip by unnoticed. But you were smiling. He was red-cheeked, almost running and pulling you with him until you picked up your skirt and met his pace. You ran together back home at an equal speed. The thrill of being married at last soaring in your hearts.

You got home in your finery, clutching hands happily. At the entrance, no one came to meet you. The guards simply allowed you through, never asking questions.

“Husband…” you teased, tasting the word. Placing a hand on his warm chest. His eyes went big.

“In the older times, a marriage isn’t considered legal until it is consummated. Is Asgard…like that?” you asked with a slight giggle in your voice.

Loki took his hands around your waist.

“Better safe than sorry, then,” he agreed.

He scooped you easily into his arms and carried you right into his chambers. Taking you onto his green bed and laying you down.

He crawled on top of you and kissed you. Desire burned between your legs as he let in some of his tongue and touched your face, pulling you close. Hands greedily running down your body. Giggling you rolled over so he laid down and you were on top. The veil shimmered as it fell from your head into a melted, sparkly puddle on the floor. He let out a small gasp of surprise but laughed it off, his ivory face below you, his beautiful black curls splayed across the bed.

‘Now that we are wed, I’m going to make my wife scream with pleasure on our wedding night. And every night after that.”

His hands went to your hips, gripping the flesh beneath the cloth. You set yours on his broad shoulders.

“First I’ll have to spare your stallion and ride you instead!” you whispered.

“I love you, my wife… and princess,” he voiced.

“I love you too- prince and husband,” you said.

You began to grind him as he undid his own leather trousers. Then you pulled up your long skirts and began to sink onto his-

“O God, whose blessed Son was manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil and make us the children of God and heirs of eternal life:...”

The vicar’s voice broke you out of your memories.

That was just the past. And here you were in a familiar scene. The memory is still warm in your body though you were back in that sterile church.

“Grant us, we beseech thee, that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves even as he is pure…’ Will continued to intone, signaling the beginning of the service.

You were sitting dutifully on the front row next to your parents. Just as you did for a long time. You were back home in Aldwinter, but you did not feel like the same lovesick girl counting down the days to her wedding and smiling up at the vicar with love and even restrained lust.

No, you kept your eyes down to the checkered floor, hands positioned to pray. You wore a dark-colored dress, but you were not in mourning. You would paint the picture of piety and repentance here. Still aware of the eyes still on you. Of the gossip.

“She left our respectable rector for that god. Yet she’s back here and - bless him, he loves her! He’s going to marry Y/N anyway despite all of that! Despite her being ruined. Despite her betrayal,” was what they were whispering in their pews and parlors.

‘They got it wrong as to who ultimately betrayed who. Twice.’ you thought. But you held back that part of you in your head. It was rather talkative lately, but you knew better than to utter a word of your true thoughts.

You looked about. There was the old chandelier that hung up with unlit candles. You wondered how they stayed on. What would happen if one were to fall? Would it hit someone?

To your amusement, you realized one hung over where Will was standing. You wished you could make a candle fall to hit him on the curly auburn head. It would have been funny, even the congregation would laugh. But you didn’t.

It deserved to be a knife aimed at his skull instead.

Everyone kept their heads down, though sometimes a pair of eyes would meet yours.

You were back. You told them- your family, old friends, and neighbors- little of what happened. As far as they knew, you were enchanted. But the spell was broken. Yhat you were returned safely- to pray, repent, and process all that happened with Loki…

And sometimes you did. The things you never imagined you would see or do when you went to Asgard. You thought you would live a plain little life in a plain little town and that you were content to do so. Did they know that you learned how to wield swords and daggers? That you were blessed with magic? Of the people you met from other worlds and timelines and planets? Stole belongings or helped in their stealing? Escaped death multiple times? Fought? Even killed? That you found new friendships with queens, princes, and warrior women? Seen aliens? Been to a ball? Met gods and learned to love one and was even married to him?

Now- here you were. In your old clothes and old church. Did those grand adventures even happen at all?

You knew they did.

There were a few extra faces in the pews. For some in town were surprised by an influx of men who built small houses and stayed nearby. Some women were thrilled for a bunch of new bachelors and hoped for marriage with one of them. They all said they were part of a construction company and factory that was nearby…when really they were of Grendel’s army. Bullies and monsters, all of them. And it was none other than Will who agreed with Grendel to let them stay in the town…if Grendel got you back here to him.

Will’s sermon continued as normal. He seemed happy as he began to discuss Paul’s book of Romans. Once you would have sat up in rapt attention. But you could hardly pay attention to it anymore. He seemed like a ghost in his long white robes. He wore a long blue sash draping down his shoulders trimmed with gold with symbols on the ends. He smiled brightly as he stood before the congregation, folding his hands so they disappeared from his robe’s sleeves.

You heard the voice of your husband through the bond.

'I’m going to kill him,' Loki said clearly in your head.

'Not yet,' you replied.

'I’m going to get out my dagger, and stab him right where he is.'

'Loki, please, don't'

'Then I’m ripping a portal to this church, slinging you over my shoulder, and carrying my wife out of this place. Right. Now.'

'Loki, I wish you could- but consider: they're watching. The whole town is watching and not just now! Everyone is obsessed and looking for you. My parents keep the doors to the house locked except for when I go on my daily walk. Everyone has purchased a weapon. They’re searching like madmen for you in Aldwinter. It’s not safe for you to just barge in.'

Now people discussed the Trickster god who kidnapped and ravished women more than the Serpent that was just a dead whale. They searched everywhere. Children played games and whispered about him. One thought they saw him in the woods. Another thought they saw him in the marshes. People kept close eyes on their daughters- he took first you, then Stella twice, and who knew which lady would be next?

One day, there was a rowboat on the river in town. It nearly ran into another rowboat. And no fishing nets were inside.

“What are you out here for?” one rowman asked.

“Lookin’ for the Trickster god! He was sighted here, wasn’t he?” answered the other boat’s first rowman.

“Blast it, not if I find and shoot him first!” said another rowman from the other boat.

‘But, my dear pet-’ Loki continued to sigh.

‘No- I don’t want you to. Besides, even if you could quickly get me out, I don’t want to leave yet…not without seeing to it that Will is punished’ you sent to him.

'You do deserve revenge, Loki agreed “So I should turn into a cat again, trot up to him purring, and then jump out and stab him.'

'Loki, it is a habit of men to avenge women they love who were wronged. It is in many stories- it is always the woman who suffers and dies horribly because of a villain’s sins and it is not her, but the man who is allowed to live to avenge her. Those writers don’t understand we ladies are perfectly capable of exacting our own revenges. I would like to do it. I am the person Reverend Ransome has wronged most of all. If anyone should do the stabbing, it should be me.'

'Then get a knife and throw it towards him in church!' Loki suggested.

'No! He will duck and it shall be me who goes into jail and shall be killed, not him. I can’t just murder him willy-nilly and with no certain escape or sanctuary. I must be careful with this if I am to get away with it.'

Part of you was impressed by him. Making a deal for your safe return at least, done by a man whose heart couldn’t be settled on one woman. You were keeping your simmering rage at bay. You took a look at the church, you noticed the walls that seemed blue-green in the overcast sky when they were really white. The light brown pews and the table with a tall wooden cross on it with two candles between. The three chandeliers. The two windows that overlooked everyone were like eyes.

When you burned Aldwinter to the ground, the church would be first.

No, no you couldn’t. Why should so many innocent people suffer because of one man’s decisions? You had to figure out how to exact revenge on the reverend Will Ransome, in a way that would affect him and only him. And in a way that no one would suspect it was you.

The service continued on as normal. Though you were always in a half-sleepy, silent daze now instead of at attention, doing every repetition of prayers and singing each hymn and crossing yourself soberly.

Sunday evening, as always, a nice dinner was made for Will, your fiancee and guest. It was as if the letter you wrote to him ending things was never sent.

It was the same picture. Everyone sitting down in your house. Napkins draped across laps as forks and knives clinked with plates. The smell of the meal wafting- your mother’s roast with salad and bread and potatoes. Laughter and chatter.

You would make a smile appear on your face, eating politely and quietly.

Then your father made one clap and rubbed his hands, looking at you and Will.

“Now- let us discuss the wedding! Do you have a date selected, my dears?” he asked.

“We have discussed about the wedding a little more…” Will began.

‘But I’m already married,’ you thought, glancing down at the emerald ring always on your finger.

Then again, Will wasn’t known for respecting the boundaries of marriage.

The Lusty Vicar placed a hand over yours and held it.

“We will reschedule the wedding for next month,” Will suggested. His blue eyes shined to you. “Then, my angel, I shall finally call you my wife.”

‘I would rather the Serpent become real and devour me,’ you thought.

“It shall be lovely,” you replied with a small smile.

“We shall have a wedding- free of interruptions and no sickness and no spells. It shall be simpler, mind you- we all know how much the first one cost,” your mother added.

“A big wedding doesn’t matter as long as it’s with a good man who truly loves you,” you commented.

Will again looked at you softly. He spoke with a smoothness, almost a seductive tone, like when he proposed to you. Not caring the others were there. In fact, they enjoyed it.

“It was God who told me you were to be my bride, Y/N.”

‘But God didn’t tell me.’ you thought. You only looked up at him and smiled.

“And we shall spend our lives fulfilling His word together,” he continued.

‘Did God also tell you to stick your fingers up Cora’s-’

“Oh, how beautiful! To see you finally married off to this godly, lovely man!” your mother sighed out loud.

“I am the happiest woman in Essex, ” you replied.

He kissed your hands and left back home.

“Y/N, now that you are a parsonage bride, be sure to attend to your duties at the church tomorrow. You must become used to them,” your mother reminded you.

One idea hit you. A small step.

Revenge you realized, was similar to cooking or baking. When one has a recipe, there are all sorts of small ingredients to gather, steps to take, and things to measure and mix. Small steps. They don’t seem like much at first, but bit by bit, they became something bigger, grander.

“Yes, mother. I shall,” you replied dutifully.

The next afternoon, the church was empty. Only Will and a few others planning out events in the meeting room. You had to help keep it tidy and check plans for Sunday School, for you were now going to join as another volunteer teacher for the children. As you looked over the lesson plans with the other teachers, you reached out your powers through your gifts. Searching. Would they be where they were last…

They reached his office. To what was under his desk.

No box. And no personal mail.

The letters from Cora were not in his office, you realized. That would take some searching.

But another thing was near his office- the church treasury kept in a safe in the next room.

Another step to your revenge.

One of the benefits of being a vicar was that while a clergyman received some of the tithes, a vicar got all of them.

Of course, some of it went to support his own church and ministry as well as put bread on the table. Will was probably discussing the budget with them from the Sunday tithes.

Finishing the Sunday School lesson planning was done.

Your senses told you the room with the safe was empty.

The old woman who taught the children’s Sunday school chattered on. Usually, women could teach children and other women. It was rare for a woman to teach a Sunday School class that included men. You got up. Saying you were going to get a glass of water and to wait for the Reverend, excuse me.

No one was in the hall. You quickly hurried in, your steps soft. To not click on the floors. Your powers unlocked the door and you stepped in. The plain brown room with a plain grey safe.

Quickly, your senses managed to unlock it. Opening up to numerous checks and huge wads of cash and coins in baskets.

You got out a few things of cash. Taking off your shoe, you slipped it beneath your foot and then retied it on. You then locked it back. Quickly walking away. You went over to the church kitchens to get your glass of water and sip on it in one of the parlors, your eyes down in innocence.

When you got home, you sat down in your chair, claiming you were tired and needed to rest. You looked at the blue gloves you had been knitting recently. Your eyes focused, your powers embracing it. You let it rip open and then reattach, sewn back together easily.

You removed your shoes and got out the cash.

You took the money and placed it in a blank envelope. Oh, how you wished you could recreate handwriting! Then you would forge Will signing it! But you could not, as much as you practiced. That would have given you away.

So at night, when no one was around, no one walking the streets, you briefly slipped the letter under your door. Then you went back to continue to knit more gloves as your parents read.

'Move' you commanded the letter silently.

And it did- it began to drift through the dirt road. You sensed where Mrs. Seaborne resided and directed the letter there as it floated through the ground as if a breeze moved it.

'Go to her house, slip it under the door,' you commanded it.

Quietly as a firefly. It located the house of a certain widow and slipped it under the door.

Your parents then said you would have to read the Bible more, to prepare for your marriage, and gave you a new copy they had bought. You turned to the Old Testament book of Judges and silently read some as they continued their own post-dinner activities by candlelight.

You poured over one story in that book. There was once a tyrant named Sisera who had long oppressed the Hebrew people. After his army lost a decisive battle with the Hebrew forces, he fled like a coward. He discovered a tent where who should be there, but only an ordinary housewife named Jael. She knew what he had done. She let Sisera have her food and sleep there as a guest, promising him that he was safe. Then as he slept, she got out a tent peg and killed him by hammering it through his skull.

You wondered why there weren’t more sermons discussing Jael. Why many never even spoke of her. Or perhaps even knew of her.

So every day you sat, sewed, obeyed your parents and fiancee, and prayed and bided your time. You had to seem like Jael- an innocent, dutiful, pleasant woman who would only do what was asked of her. Then, when the time was right, you would drive the peg through the skull of your Sisera.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── Will loved to take long walks in the mornings. Especially through the fields, the forests, and by the sea. You realized each day you sensed him. They were like clockwork-mid morning after breakfast. Then he would go out for at least an hour. If not two.

That would be the perfect time to find the letters.

The next morning, you said you were out to walk and take care of some errands. Your parents thought nothing of it but wished you well. You walked out.

You walked into the town and through. Careful that none were watching you. You knew where it was. You had been there one night before.

There it was- the tall white house, the vicarage. There was a large, plain backyard save for the little house made of sticks for the dog to sometimes rest in.

The dog was already outside, leased to the house for safety as his keeper was out. The sweet, brown terrier. He went up to you, wagging his tail, for he knew you. You got him little treats of bread from your pocket that you fed to him, so he would be happy and not bark up a storm. No more than what would alert any passerbyes. After petting him for some time, you got back up to go to the vicarage.

Your powers unlocked the door and you went inside. Now you weren’t as clouded with emotion, you could look about the place.

It was light tan wood on the inside. There was a kitchen with an empty table and vase. A little fireplace. A parlor by the windows with cushions where one could watch the outside.

It was a large house. The right size for a man who was expected to start a family.

You turned past one door, peeking inside, and you saw a bedroom. A large blue bed, neatly made.

To think, that was where the wedding night that never happened would have taken place…

Then you continued, you felt odd. Nostalgic for something you never experienced…a life you never lived, had wanted to live, and in a way, still wanted to live.

There was his study. The wallpaper on it was green, full of vines, leaves, flowers, and even birds all over. Beautiful and elaborate. There was a window where sunlight poured through the window over his desk sat. Looking out to the countryside outside. There was an oil lamp where one just turned and there it was. So many papers and journals on his desk, yet in neat piles. But most impressive in his room were the bookshelves. His study was almost a library in itself- tall bookshelves. Full of books, more than you could name. It was likely they all were books of theology or even history or anything having to do with his ministry and studies.

You looked about, pausing and smelling the musk of the place. The beautiful wallpaper. The impressive collection of books.

You could almost feel it like wearing an old shirt- the life you once had. A life that was also within your grasp again. A life where you would live in this house as Mrs. Ransome.

To sit in that bed knitting next to him as he read. To sleep beside him and with him. To fulfill your marital duties at night with quiet passion. A life where you planned the activities the children would do in Sunday school on your kitchen table. Sew up white angel costumes for the Christmas pageant every year. To go and stand by his side helping to bring out alms on a day of charity.

Sweeping and scrubbing all day instead of intense physical training. No worries about Grendel, but of making sure the dinner would be warm when he got home.

One where you would gather flowers from your garden to plop into that vase, making them look nice. A life where you would fix tea and lemon biscuits, and deliver them on a tray to him in his study as he wrote his next sermon. To give it to him and he would smile up from his papers. A life where you would sit by the fire sewing, discussing whatever sermon was coming up next with him as he made notes. Plan recipes for the newest church dinner or picnic coming up and talk to him about who was making what. Picking pastel wallpaper for a certain special room in the future for both of you. Holding hands in the middle of services.

No quests, adventures, or fighting. A quiet life, a domestic, peaceful life. A life you could no longer have. A life no longer accessible -and a life you knew you could no longer let yourself want.

Your powers reached and you found you were correct in your suspicions.

The second desk drawer on the left side. The locked one.

Your powers unlocked it and it jiggled open. There inside were letters. The love letters from Cora to the Lusty Vicar.

Because he wasn’t known as the Faithful Vicar.

Though it made your heart race and your stomach turn, you picked up the letters and began to skim through some of them. You couldn’t take all of them or he would be immediately suspicious. You had to select only a limited number of them- so they had to be the most damning ones.

You turned past one discussing the Serpent to a piece of paper with Will’s handwriting on it. A draft of a letter to respond to her.

“I apologize for not writing, there was too much to say. I cannot think straight around you. I love you, Cora.”

Love- Love! He was sure it was love! You noticed the rest of it was full of scribbled-out words.

Then you found the next one from Cora. Two words in it stood out to you and nearly made you drop the paper.

“Come quickly.”

She was asking Will to leave you for her! The shock made the letter tremble in your hands and your vision went dizzy at the edges.

“Come quickly.”

Your mind then raced, imagined, as minds do… spiraling further in its self-destructive cycle of imagination. Will told you he wouldn’t leave you…he also said he loved you. Said that he still loved you…

“Come quickly.”

What if you already married Will…and he ran off with Cora?

You imagined the scene.

You could see it already in this house. You would be doing your daily duties humming a cheerful song. Refreshing the vase in the kitchen with flowers. Planning ingredients for dinner.

The day turned to evening…and realizing he was taking longer with his church duties than normal. Wondering if something happened. Already missing him as you dusted off the countertops. Full of happy memories of him in your earlier days of marriage. The light brown kitchen where he’d lay a gentle hand on your shoulder in fondness as you stirred the soup. The doorways you teased that he was too tall for. Looking through the dinner you were going to make that night.

Panic bubbled lightly as the sun dipped down and the day became night.

You would finally wander into his study. The light shining orange from his lamp…. There, on the table was a letter addressed to you from him. You would reach for it and read it.

“My dear wife, I am in love with Cora Seaborne. I cannot think straight around her…with her, there is too much to say. I am going with her. I ask for your blessing. I will make sure you are taken care of. Thank you, for your dear blessing on us and for our love.” Will.”

And enclosed were several bills of cash money.

For he knew a married woman could not submit a check at the bank, then the money would go to her husband.

And now, your husband was gone.

The utter shock. Rereading it to make sure it was real, that this nightmare was real. The rage. The tears. The brokenness washing over you. How you would shake. Holding onto his desk for support. Until your legs gave out- how you would collapse, sobbing. Those three little words that would feel like a kick over and over: “for our love.”

Then, you would wander into another room—the pastel one. For by now, there would likely be an occupant.

A little baby in a cradle.

A nursery decorated with the theme of Noah’s Ark. A painting of the wooden boat and of doves with twigs in their beaks on the wall. Full of little animal toys going two by two. Specially decorated for this child’s arrival.

To look down at the little infant in its cradle. So lovingly swaddled safe and warm. A child who was half you and half Will.

On one hand, perhaps it would be worse if he took the child with him. A child you would never know if you would see again, for a husband could deny his wife access to their children. The law saw the child as Will’s, not yours.

And he already found a new replacement, a new wife for him, and a new mother to this child.

It was as if you never mattered in the first place.

But now, the child would be babbling and looking around. Then it would burst into tears, for it missed the cradling arms of its father. You would shush it and try to rock it. Call their name, sing a lullaby in a broken, crying voice, and kiss their forehead- the last reminder of Will you’d always have by you.

To think, once this child was old enough, you would have to look them in the eye and explain why Papa wasn’t around like the other Papas were with their children, even if Papa was a priest. That Papa loved Mama…but he wasn’t in love with Mama.

How you would cradle that child to your chest, walking through the rain, the letter in your pocket. Trudging to your parents home in the middle of a rainstorm in the night. Knocking on the door. They’d open. Seeing a sobbing baby and a sobbing mother.

To tell them what happened. You couldn’t imagine what they would say, would do. They wouldn’t have the heart to even turn you down. But perhaps people would talk.

Maybe you didn’t cook as well. Maybe you were mad and had to be sent to an asylum. Maybe you weren’t as pretty as Cora. Or as interesting or clever. Maybe you didn’t pleasure Will enough in his bed and the Lusty Vicar had to be satiated somehow.

You would not be able to file a divorce. A husband who had an affair and now abandoned you was not the legal grounds for a wife to divorce a husband.

In the eyes of both God and the Law, you were still William Ransome’s wife.

Now…you had to stay married to him until only Death did you part or he decided to initiate a divorce. Even though you were the upright, godly, proper vicar’s wife…the law would not be on your side. Not as a woman.

To wait. For envelopes that had letters- and especially money. To live at the mercy of those envelopes. Hoping the cash would be enough. For food, for warm clothes for your child- no his child, for by the law, the child belonged to the father, not the mother. The humiliation, the pain, the loneliness.

All because Will and Cora were in love.

And all because a stupid whale carcass was what brought them together in the first place!

You wanted to take that lamp that sat at his desk and throw it at the wall until it shattered into a million pieces. You wanted to tear at that letter. Topple the bookshelves and rip apart every last book that belonged to Father William Ransome. Do every violent thing to destroy that room in a rage. To run to Cora’s house armed with a cane like what men and old people used to walk with. For it was she who wrote that letter in the first place. Ready to beat the tar out of her until she-

But no…that wasn’t real. That didn’t happen. This was real, you reminded yourself. You were just sitting in his office with shaking hands.

‘I am not the Unwanted Wife of Aldwinter…I am the Princess of Asgard. Loki loves me, he says I’m beautiful, that I am enough for him- that I am great and awe-inspiring…he is who matters now. I am. Beautiful, powerful, and dangerous. I have the Aesir people, the servants of the palace, the warriors, and the army and legion of Asgard at my disposal- and I shall strike into Will and Cora until they plead for the mercy I will never give them,’ you reminded yourself.

Your senses reached out again and you found old documents from when Will was granted the vicarage and position. You memorized the names of those who appointed him. You searched thoroughly until you found papers with the address of the seminary that appointed him. Taking a scrap piece of paper on the desk and his pen, you wrote their names, as well name of their building and its address. You wrote it down and then hid it in your stocking.

And you had to hurry- what if he decided to return soon? Your senses told you he was still walking outside…but you would not tempt fate.

Taking in a shaky breath, you returned the draft of his letter- you could take it. But if it was missing, he would suspect something was afoot. You set the draft down.

You planned to take two to damn Will. Instead, you took three love letters- including the “come quickly” letter. For she was going to be punished already as harshly as he.

You stuffed them into the pockets of your skirt.

You promptly left the vicarage back to town, taking a path that made it less suspicious you came directly from there.

You did a little grocery shopping, and returned, saying you had to walk to clear your head- you had a nightmare last night. About Loki. You poured a few tears and they fixed you some tea in consolation, telling you that your enchantment and the dreadful act of warming his bed was all over.

Then, once you were alone in your room, You took out the letters from your clothes and hid them your copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which you kept firmly in your personal bookshelf.

They were ingredients left to simmer until boiling. You had the evidence and the first address to send one to. You now had to figure out where to send the other two to bring them down.

59 notes · View notes

lokidokieokie · 2 years ago

Text

Loki / Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

LOKI

SERIES

Mischief & Trickery (ON HOLD)

Medea Daegandottir, the Goddess of Trickery, loves spicing things up in the Asgardian palace. Adding her best friend Loki into the mix could only bring more chaos. What could possibly go wrong? The answer, many things.

MINI-SERIES

Into the MCU (COMPLETE)

As an inventor, you try to create a device that allows you to shift realities. What happens when you land into the MCU?

The Price of Deception (ON HOLD)

After discovering Loki’s failed attempt at taking over Earth, his family confronts him and he must earn their forgiveness.

The Seduction Game (ON HOLD)

As two deadly assassins, you and Loki are hired to kill each other. However, when you meet, you can’t resist using your seductive tactics on each other, leading to a dangerous game of desire and deception.

Tangled Lies (ON HOLD)

Loki and Y/n were some of the most formidable criminals of the gang The Avengers. On a heist, the one thing they didn’t plan for happened: they got caught. And what’s the best way to ensure they can’t testify against each other? They pretend to be married. Only one problem…they pretty much hate each other.

A Tango in Time (ON HOLD)

While on your walk through the marketplace, a strange man appears in weird clothing; bidding bad tidings. He sweeps you into his arms, and all of a sudden...you're not in Pompeii anymore. Part of my 500 Follower Celebration

ONESHOTS

Three Words; Fifteen Letters; One Expletive

You're Stuck With Me Now

Drunken Words

You Tell Her, or I Will

Accidental Confessions

Close Quarters

His Protector

Heat Wave

The Space Between

Love's Debut

Fortune Favours the Mischievous

Love on the Line

Shattered Dreams | part 2

When Silence Speaks

Little Princess

DRABBLES

By Your Side

Avengers Assemble...to Deal With Lokitty

Drunk and in Love

Captive Hearts

Healing the Enemy

TOM HIDDLESTON

SERIES

Daffodils (ONGOING)

World-famous actor Tom Hiddleston and distinguished journalist Y/n Svoboda were inseparable…well inseparable until an enormous misunderstanding destroyed any trust they both had in each other. Fast forward five years and the two still haven't spoken. Their friendship seemingly forgotten.

ONESHOTS

Fanfiction

Almost too Late

I've Got You

Ever the Gentlemen

Friend with the Green-Eyed Monster

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston masterlist #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston rpf #rpf #loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki x fem!reader #loki laufeyson x fem!reader #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

120 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 2 years ago

Note

I have a question, I ain't thirsty I'm ace so lol but what voices do you headcannon for the gondolin elves or the big 7 (Mae, maglor, celegorm so on) I can't spell for shit I'm dyslexic forgive me

I actually don't have any headcanons for any character voices 🙈. I never went that far with my physical traits for them, so this is homework you're giving me. But I'll try my best with how I headcanon them (I suck at describing voices)

Maedhros — Tom Hiddleston or Benedict Cumberbatch; that's the best comparison I got. It's sultry. How else do you think he gets people to be captivated by him?

Maglor — he sounds like he's speaking cursive lol. It's melodic because he hypothesizes you as he speaks. The best I got is Ben Barnes.

Celegorm — in my head, he sounds like a mixture of Geralt from The Witcher and Thor (Chris Hemsworth)

Caranthir — his voice is raspy and a bit deeper than Maedhros. Probably Tom Ellis

Curufin — I got nothing for him :) like I can't pinpoint his voice...Sam Claflin.

Amrod & Amras — Fred and George from HP (a bit too obvious ain't it?)

Glorfindel — a Jamie Campbell Bower and a Chad Michael Murray mixture going on there.

Ecthelion — I wanna say Henry Cavill, but I have him as a reference for Fingolfin, so I'll use Nikolaj Coster–Waldau

Galdor — Maybe Andrew Garfield. His voice is so light and full of energy.

Rog — Adam Driver, nuff said. It's deep enough for a big beefy man.

Egalmoth — Hmm, hard choice but I went with Avan Jogia/Ian Somerhalder

Maeglin — Taron Egerton maybe a mix of that an Richard Madden (the tones). I picture his voice raspy.

#maedhros #maglor #celegorm #caranthir #curufin #amrod #amras #glorfinel #ecthelion #rog #galdor #egalmoth #maeglin #house of feanor #lords of gondolin #notes ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

72 notes · View notes

veeenix · 2 years ago

Text

i have to rant about this or i might cease to exist.

lokius...

for one, i love queer ships (canon or not) but i also like to stay true to the show i’m watching, and i personally don’t have a big problem with sylki (just a little underwhelmed with it if i’m being honest). but the more i look at loki and mobius’ relationship, the clues and that damn song, the more it feels actually plausible that this could turn into something real.

i’m going to somewhat rank these from 1 downward, 1 being its probably coincidental, down to this is too spot on to be nothing. all while i sip leisurely at my tea.

1. “i’ve studied almost every moment of your life..”

it kind of speaks for itself. its a pretty simple bit of dialogue, and most likely doesn’t mean all that much, but what is mobius’ fascination with loki variants? this is higher on the list mainly because mobius has been assigned this case, he's a detective and its his job to dig deep, he's consumed by his work, therefore it isn't strange for him to know so much about loki's life on the sacred timeline.

2. the tie adjustment scene

trust me, i'd love to put this lower on the list, but theres one thing that makes me believe this is-- albeit disappointingly-- a coincidence. it was improv. maybe that, for some people, is more of an indicator of canon lokius, that tom hiddleston felt that that scene was being led in such a flirtatious direction, however, this scene was more his following along owen's playful presence on set, which just makes it kind of sweet. but this is one of my favourites scenes, regardless of the intention behind it. loki will always be a flirt, after all.

3. loki's bisexuality

as much as i would have loved to see more on loki's sexuality-- perhaps slightly more explicitly given his status as the god of mischief-- i'm not going to hate on sylvie and loki, because that would simply erase the existence of bisexuality, hetero-presenting relationships exist and to deny so would again, erase the meaning of bisexuality. however, the ending of season 1 does raise some questions. loki and sylvie's separation sets up the future of marvel, it needed to happen, so this might not mean much at all and we now know that season 2 will focus on loki searching for sylvie through timelines. but how purely queer would it be for loki to realise some stronger feelings toward one agent mobius, and perhaps loki and sylvie's relationship was something that was meant to stay platonic, who knows? this is considerably more fanon than my other theories, but i had to include it, given that to me, its a reasonable arguement. lgbtq+ characters need to be introduced and this was kate herron's goal from the beginning. she also said that she hoped marvel went further with this new information and explored more thoroughly. forgive me for this more outlandish inclusion, but it has been on mind for awhile now.

4. the presence of the dagger / "love is a dagger..."

we all know this one, we've all screamed over it and we all hope it means something more than just a coincidence. with marvel's history of in-depth attention to detail (comic references, foreshadowing years prior to a movie's release), it feels a little too purposeful, doesn't it? again, i'm trying to keep rank these into something somewhat believable with viable evidence, so something i will mention is that loki has lacked any close friendships his whole life. gaining a relationship like this would hold deep value to him, and parting ways would likely pull forth some deep bittersweet emotions. platonic love is arguably more important than romantic, the need to be understood without judgement and that is what both mobius and loki have given each other. the tears in loki's eyes during this scene is a clear indicator of their care for each other, but whether that goes deeper is unclear.

my thoughts fluctuate on this one. for one, its simply so beautiful and meaningful to loki's development (and mobius') that whether its meant platonic or with an underlying romance, feels like it hardly matters, because it holds as much meaning either way. "love is a dagger", it appears in so many forms throughout the series: mobius giving loki his daggers, only for them to be taken away by B-15 a second later, this hug scene and loki and sylvie's fight in the citadel. its so prominent in this scene, its hard to dismiss, yet marvel fluctuates so much with their details that its hard to tell if this was intended the way i'm seeing. regardless, its beautiful and definitely a worthy inclusion.

5. the lokius song / mobius' apparent jealousy

lets get one thing straight, natalie holt is an amazing composer and i will back that to no end with my spotify wrapped this year, trust me on this. so when i first started listening through the second album, like a true neurodivergent kid, i was memorising every song name and i have to say, i lost it a little when i saw the name of this song. natalie confirmed that sif and loki had a 'thing' during the point that the time loop scene was set, so one cannot dismiss the possibility that she could know a little more about the prior scenes than we realise. i was skeptical when i first saw people's impressions of these scenes, after all, they had all reunited after loki technically betrayed mobius, so it was understandable that mobius wouldn't exactly be pleased with the circumstances that they're meeting again. but something about the way he looks at loki and sylvie when he's leading them down the hall, he just looks kind of heartbroken and disappointed. again, this could have been the result of loki's betrayal, if the way he calls him a bad friend is anything to go by, but the substance of this scene holds so much in it. and his little rant about loki and sylvie's "twisted romantic relationship" breaking his reality, hits a little hard. maybe this wouldn't have meant much if it hadn't been with that bloody song, because tell how just an angry, hurt mobius = lokius? it can be jealousy regardless of romantic feelings, friendships feel it too, but this feel a little more substantial.

worthy inclusions:

sylvie's "he cares about you" comment in the void, and loki's near dismissal of it.

loki falling asleep in the archives, he trusts mobius.

am i the only one that finds it cute how loki hangs out at mobius' desk while mobius is off doing other work?

conclusion:

look, i'm going to be honest here, i grow sceptical of my own arguments at times. these are very minor things, and i didn't even realise they were pushing loki and sylvie in the direction they were until they kiss (in other words, i'm a little oblivious), so i want you all to take this with a grain of salt. i like to stay true to the actual characters and their makers, i don't have unrealistic expectations and i am no director, actor or screenwriter. i am not saying how i think the next season should go, i just wish it could go to in this direction to some degree. i have my doubts, but my hopes too. regardless, i'm just happy to see these characters at all!

this is what so many seem to forget. there may be restrictions (cough cough disney), but everyone working on these shows and movies have put their hearts into it and i want to appreciate that for what it is! this doesn't mean you aren't entitled to your own opinion, of course you are! but just remember the show/characters you've fallen in love with and if you didn't have them at all. i'm overjoyed to see loki with a close friendship after so many years of watching him being proverbially kicked while he was down. ultimately, loki and mobius' friendship (and possible romance) is what technically saved loki and that's something beautiful in and of itself.

I don't think its impossible! but i keep an open mind for both directions their stories could take.

#lokius #wowki #mcu loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #mobius m mobius #loki series #loki x mobius #shipping #lgbtqia #character analysis

103 notes · View notes

livingthewritelife-things · 2 years ago

Text

Season 2 of Loki has not made me completely forgive the MCU but I will say that Tom Hiddleston is so good, it has reminded me how much I love Loki

#Loki #marvel #mcu

21 notes · View notes

lindsey-laufeyson · 1 year ago

Text

Texts from Tom Hiddleston

Masterlist

36. Yours

Warnings: Smut, FLUFF A/N: It is with both pride and sadness that I say this is the concluding chapter to this series, (though I may write an epilogue). I hope you enjoyed it!

“Darling, we’re going to be late for our dinner reservation,” Tom’s voice called from your foyer.

“Just a minute,” you responded from your bedroom while you put on your earrings. You looked yourself over in the mirror one last time before meeting your boyfriend, waiting (mostly) patiently by the front door, looking dashing as ever. “Hey, handsome.”

His face lit up when he saw you. “Hello, beautiful,” he purred as he pulled you in for a kiss. He tried to keep it chaste but you couldn’t help but slip your tongue between his lips while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in as close as possible. When the kiss ended, he opened his eyes slowly, looking dazed.

“Just a gentle reminder that we don’t need to go out,” you said sweetly. “We’ve waited long enough.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, darling, but I’m going to do this right.”

“When have we ever done things ‘right?’” you asked, chuckling.

“That’s exactly my point! I’ve never actually taken you out on a date!”

“You are more than welcome to take me out on a date after we’ve had sex,” you suggested, bringing your hands up to play with the open collar of his shirt.

He put his hands on your wrists and stroked his thumbs across your knuckles. “Will you please let me do this? I promise you it will be worth it.” He looked down at you with pleading eyes, the kind that made your chest ache a bit, and you realized he wasn’t just doing this out of chivalry. He was trying to make up for the last time the two of you had had sex, months ago, despite numerous attempts on your part to make him realize that you were both at fault for that night. If this is what it would take for him to forgive himself, then you would happily oblige.

“Okay, darling,” you replied, cupping his face in your hand and softly stroking his cheek.

He kissed the inside of your wrist. “Thank you, love.” And with that, the two of you left for the restaurant.

—————————————————

Ever since you started dating Tom, even though you were fully aware that he was a celebrity, it never really felt like you were dating a celebrity. That is until your date that night. He had parked in a secluded spot behind the restaurant and the owner let the pair of you in the back entrance through the kitchen. You expected to be led to some sort of secluded dining room, away from the other customers. Instead, you stepped out into the main dining room, but there were no other customers. It was empty and the curtains were closed on large front windows to obscure the view of any paparazzi or other passers by. In the middle of the room there was a table donned with a white table cloth, candles, rose petals, and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice.

Tom pulled out your chair for you to sit and then sat down across from you. You looked at him with wide eyes. “Tom, this is…” you paused, looking around the room. “…amazing! Did you buy out the whole bloody restaurant?”

He chuckled lightly. “You deserve it, princess. Besides, I like to keep my private life private. At least as much as I possibly can.”

“I think we’re fairly well rehearsed at that by now,” you joked, winking playfully at him.

“Be that as it may,” he replied with a smile before turning a bit more serious. “I won’t always be able to protect you from the paparazzi and fans, though I will try my hardest.” He reached across the table and took your hand in his. He looked apprehensive. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“I am,” you responded without hesitation. You had actually thought about this a lot since you first started dating Tom. Back then it was a fairly significant source of anxiety for you, fearing that your boss or a parent of one of your students would find out about your relationship via a pap photo in some trashy tabloid magazine. But now that your relationship was no longer taboo, fans and media prying into your relationship seemed a bit more tolerable. More than that, it was a sacrifice you were more than willing to make to be with the man you loved.

“And while I would love to have you on my arm for every public event I attend, I’m not going to pressure you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fantasized about walking the red carpet with you,” you confessed bashfully. “Though I’m not nearly as photogenic as you.”

Tom smiled and shook his head. “Are you joking? Darling, you should know by now how gorgeous you are. Your smile alone would have everyone enamored with you in an instant!”

You bit your lip in an attempt to hide your smile as you looked down at your menu, but he used his index finger to lift your chin back up to look at him and his voice dropped to a low timbre. “And don’t get me started on how wild it drives me when you bite your lip like that.”

Your breath hitched and you immediately felt a gush of arousal between your legs. You squeezed your thighs together as you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, Tom’s tongue darting out to wet his lips. You wanted to fuck him right there on the table and you were sure he wanted it too, but then he snapped himself out of it, clearing his throat and releasing your chin as he leaned back in his chair and smiled warmly at you. You smiled back, but you couldn't help but look a bit flustered as you adjusted yourself in your seat and the two of you began perusing the menu.

———————————————

Your dinner was possibly the best food you’d ever had, but it still didn’t quite take your mind off of other things. While you ate, your eyes wandered over his every feature: his jaw, down his neck, across his collar bone, and down to the little bit of chest hair peeking out from his open collar, imagining the trail of kisses you’d leave along that exact same path, and then lower and lower…

Tom’s voice saying your name pulled you from your trance. Your eyes snapped back up to his soft blue gaze. “I was going to ask if you wanted dessert, but I think you just answered my question,” he said with a grin. He signaled for the waiter and promptly paid the check before the two of you hastily made your way to the car.

Tom opened the passenger side door for you to get in, and then proceeded around the car to get in the driver’s seat. As soon as he shut the door behind him, you grabbed him and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. The two of you immediately lost yourselves in it. With your lips firmly locked with his, you climbed over the center console to straddle his lap. Your hands in his hair, his hands roaming your curves, the two of you were panting and whimpering until you reached down to undo his belt.

“Not here,” Tom said, reluctantly pulling his lips away from yours and moving your hand away from his bulging groin.

“Babyyyyyy,” you whined, grinding your hips against his.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Princess, will you please buckle up so I can take you home?” he asked sweetly.

You let out a conceding sigh. “Only if you show me how fast your jag can go,” you teased. You kissed him on the cheek and then climbed back into the passenger seat, giving him a smirk as you fastened your seatbelt.

He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” And with that, he revved the engine and took off towards his house.

The car ride was filled with light touches and sultry giggles, and when you arrived at Tom’s place, he lifted you up as soon as the front door closed behind the two of you, hitching your legs over his hips and carrying you to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed with you in his arms and kissed you feverishly while you unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor. Then you stood up in front of him and slowly peeled off your dress to reveal the red lace lingerie you had picked out for the occasion.

He stared up at you in awe, his eyes roaming over your figure. When his gaze met yours again, it was so intense that you felt your heart begin to pound in your chest. You bit your lip and looked down at the floor. He stood up slowly in front of you, putting one hand on your waist and the other lifted your chin, encouraging you to look at him again. Leaning in close, he brought his lips to yours, caressing them tenderly. You closed your eyes and felt a warmth wash over your body from both love and lust as you kissed him softly.

When your lips eventually parted, Tom swallowed hard as he slowly opened his eyes. “Lie down for me?” he requested quietly, lightly stroking his thumb across your chin.

You nodded as you flashed him a coy smile, and then you laid down on your back on the bed. As you did so, he watched you intently while he took off his trousers and boxers. As soon as he was free of his clothes, he crawled on top of you, hovering over you possessively and kissing you deeply. You spread your legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close to you. When you felt his cock glide against your clit, you moaned softly into the kiss, but he pulled away slightly to look at you.

“Not yet,” he told you in a low, soft tone. “We’re going to take this nice and slow tonight. Okay, sweetheart?” With a feather-light touch, he rubbed his nose against yours.

You simply nodded again, entranced by his intense affection. With his index finger he lightly traced the patterns in the lace that covered your breasts and stomach.

“You look so sexy in this, darling,” he told you sweetly. “But I haven’t seen you naked in months.”

Hooking his fingers under the straps, he began pulling your lingerie off of you while you wiggled out of it. After discarding it on the floor, he knelt on the bed in front of you, taking in the sight before him. He licked his lips as you parted your legs. Then he leaned down and captured your lips in another passionate kiss, his hand finding your breast and kneading it tenderly, occasionally brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Eventually his lips left yours to place a kiss to the corner of your jaw, and then another one just behind your ear. A soft sigh escaped your lungs as you brought your hand up to gently caress the nape of his neck.

His kisses continued downward, leaving a trail of tingling electricity in their wake: your neck, your collar bone, your chest. When he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples you gasped softly, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

As he continued his descent down your body, worshiping every inch of you, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter in anticipation, until you finally felt his soft lips kiss your pussy. You let out a sigh of relief, as if he was putting aloe vera on a sunburn. You had forgotten just how good his mouth felt between your legs. Clearly he felt similarly because he moaned in unison with you when he licked up the length of your slit.

“Fuck, I missed the way you taste,” he mused, his breath fanning your soaked cunt before he continued exploring it with his tongue. He lapped at your inner walls while his nose gently nudged your clit, driving you wild in the process.

With both hands in his hair, you tugged on his locks. “Please, baby,” you begged. You didn’t have to say any more than that. He knew what you wanted. He dragged his tongue up to your clit and slowly drew circles around it as he inserted one, and then two fingers into your channel, causing you to arch your back and moan. Then he wrapped his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked while his fingers curled inside of you, and that’s when you came tumbling over the edge. “Oh yes! Don’t stop! Fuck!”

He continued his actions until he felt you begin to relax, at which point he removed his mouth and fingers from your throbbing cunt and crawled back up to you, smiling down at you with his lips and chin glistening from your arousal.

“How was that?” he asked, looking down at you earnestly as he stroked your hair. “Any pain?”

“None whatsoever,” you replied, smiling up at him. “It felt so fucking good.”

A huge smile spread across his face. “Good,” he said as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

As you kissed him back, you reached down between your bodies and wrapped your hand around his thick shaft, giving it a couple of pumps before gliding the tip through your slick folds. He let out little whimpers and huffs against your lips until finally he pulled away to look at you.

“Are you sure you’re ready, sweetheart?” he asked softly, concern in his voice.

“Yes,” you whined, bucking your hips. “I need you inside me so bad!”

He rested his forehead against yours, looking intensely into your eyes. “Tell me if anything feels even the slightest bit uncomfortable, okay?”

You cupped his face in your hands. “I’ll be fine, baby. I promise.”

He rolled his hips slowly, gently pushing his length inside you until he was completely engulfed in you. You both groaned at the wonderful feeling. Then he stilled there for a moment and began giving you the softest little kisses. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “So much.” More kisses. “More than I can possibly express.”

“I love you too,” you replied softly, grinning widely against his lips while they caressed yours over and over in kisses sweeter than honey.

You slowly began to move your hips, signaling to him you were ready for him to move, and he did just that. Slowly, he pulled back, and then carefully pushed forward again. You thought it was so sweet how gentle he was being with you. He repeated this over and over, all the while his lips lingered longer and longer on yours. A mix between a sigh and a moan escaped from your lungs and tangled with his own soft groans of pleasure as you were finally able to feel him move inside you again. You both kept that sensually slow pace for a while, reveling in the intense love coursing between your connected bodies, and then the tempo began to gradually increase. His breathing became more labored and his kisses sloppier. He moved his mouth to your neck, sucking almost desperately as he began to thrust into you. A breathy whimper escaped you with each snap of his hips, and you could feel the tension building in you, ready to release at any moment.

“Tom,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to meet his at an even faster pace.

“Y/n,” he breathed needily in your ear.

You raked your nails across his back. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Please, come with me!”

With a grunt, he lifted his head to look at you as he increased the speed and force of his thrusts. You met his gaze as you felt a warmth spread through your entire body once again. You felt your muscles tense and the coil in your belly tighten until it suddenly snapped. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his cock in what you were certain was the most intense orgasm of your life, but you kept your eyes on him as you watched him come undone at the same time. You cried out each other's names while you rode out your collective high.

When you began to come down, you smiled brightly up at Tom, who beamed back at you, and you felt your eyes well up with tears. They fell down across your temples, through your hair, and onto the pillow. You knew this might have concerned Tom, had he not had tears in his own eyes as well, which fell onto your cheeks as he placed another deep kiss to your lips.

When your lips finally parted, he rolled onto his back, bringing you with him so that you were laying on top of him. You rested your chin on his chest as you gazed lovingly at each other and he gently stroked your hair. Neither of you said anything for a long while, until Tom spoke seemingly out of nowhere.

“Marry me,” he said, barely above a whisper.

It took a moment to process what he had said. You searched his face for any sign that he was joking. When you found none, you thought perhaps you heard him wrong. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeated with a soft smile.

You smiled broadly and chuckled. “You’re mad,” you replied casually, though surely he could feel your heart beating fast against his stomach.

“I might be,” he replied, his smile never faltering. “Does that mean your answer is ‘no?’”

“I don’t remember hearing a question,” you retorted as you moved to lay on your side next to him, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking down at him.

He chuckled, tracing your curves with the tips of his fingers. “Are linguistics your only concern here?”

You cupped his face in your hand as your expression turned earnest. “I’m just worried you haven’t thought this through, that maybe you’re just caught up in the moment.”

Tom bit back a smile, as if thinking of some private joke only he was in on.

“What?” you asked with a giggle.

“Close your eyes.”

You gave him a questioning look, but did as he said anyway. As soon as your eyes were closed, you felt the bed shift, and then heard the sound of his bedside table drawer open and shut. The bed shifted again as Tom laid back down next to you.

“Open,” he said.

You opened your eyes and the first thing you saw was Tom smiling back at you. He was lying on his side facing you, propped up on his elbow just as you were. The second thing you saw was the small black velvet box he was holding up in front of you. You looked at him wide-eyed.

“I bought this the day after we got back together,” he explained a bit sheepishly, looking down at the box. Then he looked back up at you. “So no, I’m not just caught up in the moment, but looking at you lying in my arms, looking more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen, I realised that I couldn’t wait any longer; I had to ask you now. But if this is too fast, I am more than willing to wait until you’re ready.”

“You still haven’t asked me anything yet,” you teased him, giggling through the tears in your eyes.

He laughed and shook his head at your adorable stubbornness that he loved so much. “Y/n,” he began affectionately. “I am more in love with you than I ever thought possible, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” As he asked you this, he opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen.

For a moment you were speechless. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you grinned like an idiot until you remembered how to breathe. “Yes,” you choked out.

Tom looked at you in awe. “Really?”

This made you laugh. “Of course, you silly sod!”

You kissed him hard on the lips, throwing yourself on top of him and knocking the ring, which was still in the box, out of his hand in the process.

“Darling,” Tom mumbled against your lips after a few moments of shameless snogging. You pulled away only slightly to look at him. “I can return the ring if you don’t like it.”

“Oh shit!” You quickly scrambled off of your new fiancé and looked frantically around for the little black box. As soon as you found it, you took the ring out and admired it fondly. “Sorry, baby, I got so excited! I really do love it though.” You were sitting on your knees facing away from Tom, and about to put the ring on, when you felt his chest press against your back

“May I?” he asked softly in your ear. He took the ring from your grasp and delicately slipped it onto your left ring finger before wrapping both arms snug around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Chelsea and Emma are going to freak out,” you thought out loud with a giggle. “Whether it will be in a good way or a bad way, I’m not sure.”

Tom chuckled in your ear. “Emma actually helped me pick out the ring.”

You turned your head to look at him. “She knew you were going to propose??”

“And I’m willing to wager she told Chelsea too.”

“Those sneaky bitches!” You exclaimed jokingly.

“It turns out they can keep a secret after all.”

He placed a light kiss to your shoulder and then he tickled your sides, causing you to squeal and giggle while you tried to squirm out of his grasp. Your reaction only spurred him on however, so he continued tickling you.

“Thomas William!” You attempted to scold him through your laughter. “Cut it out!”

Eventually you were able to wiggle yourself free, crawling towards your pillow in an attempt to escape, but Tom quickly pinned you down and resumed tickling you while he laughed into the crook of your neck.

You shrieked and giggled until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay! Okay! Jötunheim!”

He stopped and lifted his head, looking at you amused. “Did you just use our old safe word?” he asked with a chuckle.

You smirked and giggled. “Maybe… it worked, didn’t it?”

He laughed and released your hands from his grasp. “Touché, my darling,” he conceded as he moved to lay on his side.

You turned to face him, tangling your legs with his and laying your head on the same pillow, your nose almost touching his.

“Do you remember what we originally used that word for?” Tom asked as he began running his fingertips up and down your arm.

“Of course I do,” you replied with a chuckle. “We tried so hard just to be friends.”

A smirk spread across his face. “Well, you did at least.”

You gasped and swatted him playfully on the chest. “You didn’t try at all?”

“I tried a little!” he said in defense. “But what was I meant to do? I was madly in love with you!”

“You were not,” you argued, rolling your eyes despite the huge smile on your face.

“Oh believe me, I was. Excruciatingly so.” Tom inched his face closer to yours, lowering his voice as if he was telling you a secret. “From the moment I met you, I was done for.”

You giggled at his dramaticism. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“At the time, it was,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was doomed to love a woman who couldn’t love me back.” There wasn’t a hint of sadness or pain in his voice, but a pang of guilt resonated in your chest all the same, causing your smile to fade. Noticing this, he brought his hand up to gently caress your face, lightly stroking his thumb back and forth across your cheek. “Little did I know,” he continued, “that I would one day convince that very same woman to agree to be my wife.”

Your smile returned, a warm glow replacing the pain in your chest. “You didn’t ‘convince’ me of anything.” You softly rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “I promise you, Tommy. I am yours. I’ve been yours. Even when we were apart, I was yours, and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives.”

Tom looked deep into your eyes, his lips just barely touching yours. “And I’m yours. No matter what. Forever and always.”

TFTH tag list: @darkacademicfrom2021 @lokiprompts @blackwidownat2814 @immersed-in-mischief @anonymousfiction211 @naniky @stars-and-moondust7 @d1a2n389 @maevetriesart @ice-queen-of-music @donttouchmylaevateinn @likeitloveitblogit @tiredmamamac @owldwagitoutofyou @vampire7595 @1marvelnerd3000 @fromasgardandback @pescadoavocado @nadderlover1 @asgardianprincess1050 @apine7 @elenaysusneuras @sleepdeprevedswede @mochie85 @slpnbty2001 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @caleighhiddleston @sleutherclaw @geekwritersworld @violethaze @sweetberry47 @huntress-artemiss @thedistractedagglomeration @kbakery @dryyoursaltyoceantears @hayden429 @the-princess-of-loki @rubievans-rogers @unofficialxmarvelfreak

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fanfiction #texts from tom hiddleston #tfth #tom hiddleston texts #original content #romance #Spotify

129 notes · View notes

mischiefandmedicine · 1 year ago

Text

Very Full - Chapter 4: Very Full

Summary: Loki follows Melara to a speakeasy where they have an intimate conversation over drinks. Melara opens up and Loki offers her comfort.

Word Count: 4,525 words.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, mention of domestic violence

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Music Inspiration:

Very Full sung by Tom Hiddleston

By Your Side by Sade

Very Full MASTERLIST

As they walked through the busy streets of her town, Melara’s grip tightened on Loki’s hand as if to signal that he should stay close behind her, a sense of urgency in her movements as she navigated. Loki followed her swift pace as they wove between the crowded throngs of people. He marveled at how this mortal woman continued to, rather inexplicably, hold his curiosity.

Glancing back at Loki once again as they neared their destination, Melara’s eyes betrayed a mix of nerves and determination. Her footsteps echoed lightly on the cobblestone street as she led Loki down an alley. Loki continued just behind her curious about the unexpected turn that they had taken, until he noticed a flickering neon sign above an inconspicuous door near the dead end. The sign flashed the words, “The Speakeasy”, igniting a smirk to pull at the corners of his lips.

Descending a flight of creaky wooden stairs, they entered a cozy bar, a much more intimate setting compared to the karaoke bar of their initial encounter. Ordering their drinks – a brandy old-fashioned for Melara and a Guinness beer for Loki – the harried-looking woman fixed her deep brown eyes on Loki’s with a sigh as they sat down in a booth.

They sat in silence for a moment before Loki dared to broach the subject. “So…the genius…who is he to you?” he inquired with raised eyebrows, his gaze fixed on Melara.

Melara sputtered with a laugh, nearly choking on her drink. “David? He’s…uh…my ex-something or other. I don’t even know what we were. Things didn’t quite work out how I thought they would.”

“Ah,” Loki acknowledged, leaning in slightly, a silent invitation for her to continue.

Taking another sip, Melara’s expression shifted, a hint of sorrow clouding her eyes, “I guess you could say that I was just a step on his way to meeting Stephanie,” she admitted, her gaze dropping into her glass, and she emptied it into her mouth in one swift motion.

Loki observed her carefully, noticing the reluctance behind her words. As she finished her drink, he mirrored her actions, downing his beverage nearly as quickly as she had. He tossed his glass at their feet, heartily calling out “Another!” pointing at the pair of them in the direction of the bartender who watched in horror.

Wide-eyed, Melara sputtered out a giggle, “What the hell was that?!”

“What?” Loki asked with a smirk. “This Guinness drink, I’ll have another one of those. I rather enjoyed it.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, Melara glared at Loki with a heavy sigh, her eyes narrowed. “Oh my g-, ok, we are not on Asgard. You just ask for more when the waiter comes to the table. Got it?”

Loki chuckled softly, his eyes dancing in the soft orange light of the bar as he met Melara’s narrowed gaze. “Ah, the joys of mortal customs. How delightfully peculiar,” he teased, feigning innocence. “You must forgive me; it seems I am still adjusting to the nuances of this realm’s etiquette. But fear not, I shall heed your instructions when the server returns.”

“You really are the god of mischief, aren’t you? And you say you’ve changed,” Melara said in a tone that Loki could not quite read.

In the dimly lit confines of their booth, Loki sat across from Melara, a faint smile etched on his lips, concealing the layers of contemplation that churned within his depths. His emerald gaze shimmered with a flicker of the past and the sacrifices he had made to keep the timelines alive. Timelines that included this one. He could have ignored her call and returned to check up on Mobius or even rekindled attempts at love with Sylvie, but here he was, in a bar with a woman he barely knew. The woman from which he could not tear himself away.

Once their drinks had been replaced and Melara had assured the bartender that Loki, in fact, would not be shattering any more drinkware in the quiet atmosphere created by the speakeasy, he sipped his beverage much more slowly. Behind the façade of his usual charm lay a mind preoccupied, harboring the weight of responsibilities woven into the very fabric of her existence. He even wondered how much longer he would be able to project himself into this timeline before cosmic consequences ensued.

“The god of mischief never sheds all of his tricks,” Loki remarked, answering Melara’s implied question. His voice was soft, an underlying seriousness nestled within the jest. His gaze drifted, contemplating depths unknown to the mortal gaze, a silent nod to the costs made in the name of preserving temporal harmony.

“What does that even mean, Loki?” Melara asked, tone both annoyed and amused.

“Change is a curious thing, isn’t it?” he mused, words laden with a gravity that hinted at a deeper truth that he could not share. “Some transformations…they come with sacrifices. Happiness bartered against a greater purpose.”

Melara raised an eyebrow, “Glorious purpose?”

A stifled laugh exited Loki’s mouth. Melara’s eyes lingered on Loki, observing the subtle shifts in his demeanor, sensing echoes of a weighty burden borne by the cosmic trickster. Yet, his words, cryptic and measured, betrayed fragments of the truth, shrouding the entirety of his story in a veil of mystery.

Loki leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper laced with solemnity. “Responsibilities transcend the boundaries of comprehension. They are threads that tether me to realms far beyond mortal understanding.”

He paused, considering her, as if weighing her capacity to grasp the weight of his cryptic utterances. “And yet, here I am. Your voice, it beckons.”

Melara, a picture of both curiosity and reservation, met Loki’s steady gaze, her expression a silent invitation for him to continue unraveling the tapestry of their conversation. “Are you saying that I summoned you, somehow?”

“That,” Loki said, shifting in his seat, “is precisely what I am trying to determine. Might I ask you something? Did you feel threatened by his presence?” Loki asked, his face holding a trace of concern behind it.

“David?” Melara gulped.

Loki nodded silently. “I’m just trying to understand,” he added, extending a hand as if to offer it as comfort, but Melara retracted her own before their fingers could touch.

Leaning back in her seat, Melara took a long, calculated sip of her drink. She did not know if she wanted to share such intimate details of her life. Her face clouded with memories, a fleeting shadow eclipsing her features. “David…he wasn’t the man I knew anymore,” she confessed, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “Things grew…complicated at the end.”

She withheld the details, her words dancing on the periphery of deeper revelations, hinting at a tale fraught with sorrow and obscured anguish.

Loki’s expression softened, an understanding glinting in his eyes, his façade of playful banter now bore traces of empathy, a silent kinship forged through unspoken sentiments. It was his fallen face that allowed Melara to spill over the edge, eyes welling with tears before she dropped her head and began sobbing silently in her seat.

As he watched her, Loki attempted once again to extend his hand towards Melara, but noticed the subtle retraction of her hands, a silent reinforcement of the boundaries she had set. Respectful of her unspoken request, he withdrew his hand, allowing it to fall gracefully back to his side, a symbol of his knowledge and compliance. As his hand retreated, a tender sincerity painted across his features, Loki leaned back into his seat, affording her the space she so clearly needed.

A fleeting moment passed before Loki’s voice, gentle and reassuring, whispered softly across the small space between them. “Not without your permission,” he murmured, his tone sincere and laced with delicate understanding, remembering the slap she had given him during their first encounter. It was a subtle reassurance that he would not encroach upon her personal space without her explicit consent.

Melara, her eyes moist with unshed tears, looked up from the veil of her tangled emotions. His whispered words pierced their weighty silence, causing a brief pause in the tempest of her thoughts. She glanced at Loki, registering the earnestness in his gaze and the genuine care behind his voice. Her heart, heavy with past wounds, fluttered slightly at Loki’s respectful gesture. It seemed there was a poignant vulnerability in his demeanor, a marked contrast to the audacious trickster she had first met. His careful regard for her boundaries was a revelation that resonated with her.

The somber atmosphere softened as she felt a faint stir of appreciation for his understanding and respect, especially given that she was a mere mortal in his godly presence. Loki held her gaze with a quiet intensity, conveying a silent reassurance that he was there for her, comforting her with his presence alone as she processed her feelings.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a soft giggle resonated in the quiet confines of the speakeasy, breaking the weighty silence between them. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess. I suppose we all have our own baggage,” Melara remarked, her voice light and airy as she wiped her eyes.

Loki eyed her carefully, sensing a slight lift in her mood before he allowed a cautious smile to curl his lips once again. “It seems we do,” he concurred, a hint of warmth and understanding woven into his words.

“How is it that you manage to stir up these emotions in me? It’s like you know me better than you should,” she said, hinting at the curious notion of fate or destiny intertwining their paths.

Loki’s gaze met Melara’s with a tender sincerity, his expression softening in response to her admission. He recognized the delicate balance between curiosity and vulnerability in her gaze, yearning for understanding lingering between them. Though still guarded, knowing that Melara was fragile in this moment, Loki responded with a wry smile, a flicker of mischief creeping back into eyes. “Am I to believe that is why you so abruptly left the night we met?” he inquired, his tone a playful tease with a trace of genuine interest, his gaze fixed on Melara, awaiting her response.

She chuckled softly once more, blush tinting her cheeks as she recalled their initial encounter. “Oh, that?” she admitted, casting a sidelong glance at Loki, both of amusement and shame. “It’s not every day that one encounters a god in a karaoke bar.”

The pair laughed.

“Really though,” Loki urged. “What happened? It reminded me of someone I once knew.”

Melara paused, studying the pained look on Loki’s face as though he were hiding his own baggage from her during this, their second intimate conversation shared in just a few days. Loki eyed her curiously until she continued, “I-, I left because…I just can’t.”

“You can’t what?” he pushed.

Eyes narrowed in Loki’s direction, Melara searched for the words. “Listen, you met the guy, and I’m sure you can gather by now that the idiot was also an abusive idiot. He nearly killed me once, and now every person I meet, friendly or otherwise, reminds me of him. I remind you of someone you once knew. Well, you…this,” she gestured between the two, “reminds me of him. How it once was when he duped me into thinking that he was this wonderful guy and then tricked me time and time again into thinking he could change into something better.”

Tears spilled from her eyes once more. As Loki wracked his brain for the right words to say, the faint sound of music began to play overhead, inciting Melara to rock side to side, calming herself instinctively. The tune sounded vaguely familiar to Loki as Melara swayed to the beat. The melody seemed to stir them both, Loki wondering what the song could be. It was much slower and subdued than he remembered. It was then that Melara opened her mouth to sing, almost serendipitously:

The trees they dance as the waterfalls stop,

When she sings, she sings, “come home”.

Oh, the trees they dance as the waterfalls stop,

When she sings, she sings, “come home”.

Loki’s mouth hung open in sheer shock at the timing as the soft lilting notes resonated, coaxing memories from the crevices of Loki’s consciousness. The haunting tune filled the space, Melara’s voice, rich and soulful, played with the melody, eyes closed, immersed in a version of the song that was not only in English but much slower than the usual song that it was.

The enigmatic songbird, perched across from Loki, sang in perfect unison with the music as it played, her voice tender yet vibrant, echoing the emotional depths of the song. Her eyes remained shut as she repeated the verse louder, eyelids clenched, lost in the music as the words flowed from her lips, carrying the unspoken narrative of longing and heartache that had mirrored Loki’s tumultuous journey.

In stormy black mountains,

I walk alone across the ice.

While in the apple orchard the maiden stands,

And sings, “When are you coming home?

With each resonant note, memories of Sylvie flooded Loki’s mind, entwined with a burgeoning sentiment that he could not quite place – feelings that had simmered, all but unspoken, and palpable between them. The emotional familiarity of the song evoked a bittersweet blend of nostalgia and confusion, tugging at the threads of his heart and mind.

Oh, the trees they dance as the waterfalls stop,

When she sings, she sings, “come home”.

Oh, the trees they dance as the waterfalls stop,

When she sings, she sings, “come home”.

Loki, spellbound by the raw emotion emanating from Melara, felt her lean into each note of the song as though she were sending a message to him. He sensed the song’s significance seeping through the atmosphere, wrapping around him like a cloak of intertwined emotions. There was a familiarity in her song, an intangible connection that reverberated within him, stirring an unexpected realization.

Melara’s performance was not just a mere echo of the song; it was a reflection of her soul, a symphony woven with her own experiences and emotions. As the final verse of the song reached its crescendo, her voice carried the essence of love and longing that mirrored the impact Sylvie had on Loki’s life.

For a fleeting moment, Loki’s gaze held Melara in a new light. A myriad of emotions danced across his features, a silent revelation stirring within him. The line between the past and the present blurred as he grappled with the flashes of Sylvie’s memory intertwined with the enchanting presence of Melara. His heart, an intricate web of conflicting emotions, pulsed with a burgeoning affection that transcended all logic and reason.

Under his breath, a whisper escaped Loki’s lips, laden with bewilderment and introspection, “What are you doing to me?” His voice, barely audible amidst the remnants of the song, carried the weight of his inner storm – a whisper meant for his ears alone, a fervent question to the enigma unraveling before him.

As the echo of Loki’s whispered query drifted into the sweet chaotic ambiance of the bar, Melara’s sudden reaction caught him off guard. Her eyes, glistening with a mix of emotions, locked onto Loki’s with an intensity that belied her seemingly oblivious demeanor moments before. It was as if she had heard the inner musings that had escaped his lips, her gaze probing into the depths of his unsettled soul.

Caught in the midst of his own turbulent thoughts, Loki was momentarily thrown off balance by Melara’s piercing stare. He had meant for those whispered words to remain veiled in secrecy, an intimate thought meant only for his own contemplation.

Yet, her abrupt shift in focus, her gaze now firmly fixed upon him, left Loki unsettled. “How are you doing this?” he asked her.

The question lingered in the air, a testament to Loki’s utter bemusement at Melara’s almost uncanny ability to unsettle the very core of his guarded composure. She could summon him from across the multiverse with just a thought, belt out a song that brought him to her side in an instant, and now, she impossibly read the thoughts of arguably the most powerful being in the multiverse.

A human. There was nothing more to her than that. She had been honest; she was merely a petite human woman who enjoyed singing in karaoke bars. And now speakeasies. But there was also the fact that her timeline appeared stronger than all the rest.

Melara, upon hearing his latest question, offered no immediate response, but a puzzled look on her face. Instead, her gaze softened marginally, a flicker of understanding in her eyes, though her lips remained sealed, withholding the words that could provide insight into Loki’s perplexity. He could not help but notice that her caramel-colored skin glowed in the candlelight of the bar, her dark hair floating in waves that framed her face.

“I’m not a witch, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said with a smirk.

Loki laughed nervously, “Then, what are you if not a witch?”

She paused to answer carefully, “Would it surprise you to know that I have been having dreams about you?”

“Oh?” he said, leaning in with intrigue.

Melara rolled her eyes with a sigh, “Not at all like that,” she giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. “The night I met you, I dreamt of you sitting on a golden throne. You were entwined in a web of green, glowing strands, but there was an emptiness about you. I felt your sadness, your pain, and your…sacrifice.”

With the last word, Melara offered her hand for Loki to take. He stared down at her palm before resting his own gently within hers. She pulled his hand to her lips, gently kissing the back of it before continuing. “That’s not where it ends. I was caught in the web when I saw the strands around me start to glow with fire. You saved me, but before you did, I watched as you extinguished those fires with a blast of ice.”

Loki sat across from Melara, speechless.

“Don’t ask me what it means. I’m no philosopher or dream whisperer. But I thought it might make a good story if I ever were a writer,” she admitted before looking down at their hands, Loki stroking the back of hers with his thumb.

Melara had all but seen the truth of his existence in a dream, but also found herself caught up, tangled in the timelines, her essence lighting them aflame. Loki’s own reaction to the dream was not just astonishment; it was an internal whirlwind of emotions. Her vivid descriptions sent a shiver down his spine, triggering an unexpected surge of recognition, aligning with his own haunting memories from the end of time.

Loki’s breath hitched, a sudden realization dawning within him. Her recounting mirrored fragments of his existence at the climax of the timelines, when he had decided to destroy the loom, ensnaring him in a duty that his corporeal body was carrying out at this very moment. She had even seen him perched atop his throne of absolute power, sensing his solitude, longing for the people he loved.

He looked at Melara, his gaze holding a mix of incredulity adding to the implications of her dream. Her words peeled back layers of his own haunting memories, unearthing the desolation and sacrifice he had endured at the precipice of all existence. For a moment, Loki was lost in his thoughts, grappling with the gravity of her vision. The imagery of fire and ice resonated deeply within him, vivid echoes of the profound choices he had faced that still weighed heavily upon his heart.

Collecting himself, Loki’s voice emerged, tinged with a subtle tremor, “That’s…, you’re…remarkable.” His words fell softly, dripping with genuine surprise and a newfound sense of intimacy threading through the air. He could feel the unsettling connection between their destinies unraveling in a way that defied rational explanation. He could have used this power to find Mobius again.

He gently squeezed Melara’s hand, a gesture of knowing, hinting at the depth of the inexplicable bond that seemed to knit their fates together. Their encounter had transcended mere chance, delving into the unfathomable realms of interconnected destinies and the enigmatic tapestry of time. The haunting parallels of it all struck a chord within him feeling the forces that brought them together leading to this moment right here in the clandestine bar she had chosen for their conversation.

In the candlelit haze of the speakeasy, the music softened to a gentle melody, a tender song that seemed to stir the air with its quiet yearning. Loki’s eyes, usually so full of cunning and mischief – and a hint of something else – held a warmth as he regarded Melara across the table. The revelations of the night hung between them like the delicate notes of the song, each word she had spoken weaving itself into the fabric of his thoughts.

He stood, the movement fluid as if drawn up by the music itself. With a grace that belied his inner turmoil, Loki extended his hand towards Melara, palm up, and invitation clear in his eyes. “Melara, would you honor me with a dance?” he asked, his voice low and resonant, echoing the vulnerability she had unveiled within him.

There was a moment’s hesitation, a flicker of surprise in Melara’s deep brown eyes that quickly gave way to a quiet acceptance. She placed her hand in his, and as he pulled her to her feet, there was a shift in the air, a sense of two worlds colliding and merging into one.

As they stood near their booth, no dance floor in sight, Loki drew her close, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, his other hand clasped hers. They began to move to the rhythm of the music, slowly turning in a dance that was less about the steps and more about the connection forged between them. Melara’s head rested lightly against Loki’s chest, her ear over his heart, and she could feel the steady beat through his button-down shirt, a reassuring drum in a world of chaos.

Loki was surprisingly gentle with her, leading with a patience that Melara had not anticipated. They moved together, and for a moment, the weight of their destinies seemed to lift, leaving nothing but the simplicity of two beings swaying in the soft glow of the room. His throne was momentarily forgotten, his title as god of stories put aside. In this moment, he was simply a man, moved by the presence of a woman who had, inexplicably, sung her way into his very being.

The music wove around them, a cocoon of sound that held them in its tender grasp. Melara’s scent, a mix of the earthy and ethereal, filled Loki’s senses, grounding him in the now. Their bodies moved together in harmony, finding a rhythm that was theirs alone. Loki gently closed his eyes, allowing himself to be present in the dance, to savor the feel of Melara in his arms, to memorize the way her hair tickled his nose, the softness of her skin under his fingertips.

As the song came to an end, they lingered, reluctant to break the spell that had encircled them. Loki’s eyes opened again, locking onto Melara’s, and he saw the universe reflected back at him – not the cold, lonely expanse of space that he ruled over, but a universe filled with the warmth of potential and the light of stars yet to be born. They stood still, still embraced, as the music faded, and the chatter of the speakeasy returned.

It was then that Loki realized that he needed to consider the level of energy it took to cast such an intricate projection of himself, one that interacted with Melara and the environment around him. His apparition was more like an avatar through which he could sense the gentle way she grasped his hand. He had to cut his time short, knowing that if he exhausted his own body enough, there would not be enough power to keep the timelines within his grasp alive. Let alone, hers.

He also considered human customs surrounding this intriguing woman and realized that a significant amount of time had passed since his arrival to the timeline. “’Lara?” he asked, in between silent glances. “Shouldn’t we be getting you home? It is awfully late.”

Melara checked her watch, seeing that it was after midnight. “Oh my goodness, it is pretty late. ‘Time flies’ as they say,” she shrugged, reluctantly shuffling her feet.

Loki watched as she gathered her things. “Might I walk you home? I would not want anything to happen to you on your way.”

A deep red flush flashed across Melara’s neck, rising to meet her cheeks. “That…that is sweet and very gentlemanly of you, but you don’t have to. I don’t live far from here.”

“I’m afraid, I insist,” Loki pried. He meant what he said, he could not have anything happen to this woman before he was able to understand what this power was that she wielded over him.

They walked the few blocks in silence from the speakeasy to her apartment. Loki saw to it that he walked her inside, through the halls of her building, and up to her door before he would even consider allowing her to take leave of him. The door to her apartment had the words, “Unit 9”, scrawled out in golden decals.

“Nine realms connected by Yggdrasil,” Loki whispered.

Melara giggled, catching Loki’s reference to the world tree. “You could not possibly know Norse mythology too,” she said with a hint of incredulity in her voice.

“You humans really got all the stories of Asgard mixed up with that rubbish,” he scoffed, scrunching his nose.

Melara erupted into full-blown laughter as she unlocked the door to her apartment. “There’s some truth to those stories?” she asked, watching the pained look on Loki’s face.

“No. Absolute rubbish. Absolute…,”

Melara stopped him, placing a finger on his lips to shush him. “Rubbish, I know,” she whispered. “Hold on a moment,” she said, ducking into her apartment, and returning with a small footstool.

“What is that for?” Loki asked, his brows furrowing into a baffled look.

“Think of it as this pint-sized Valkyrie’s noble steed,” she joked with a twinkle in her eye. Melara ceremoniously stomped her feet as she climbed atop the stool, placing her eye to eye with the god that usually towered over her. She winked playfully as she pulled him close, slowly, but firmly, connecting her lips with his. Loki crumbled under her touch, his shoulders falling as though she had conquered him completely as he returned the kiss with a fervor he had not quite experienced before. Placing a hand gently on Loki’s shoulder, Melara broke the kiss with a sheepish grin, whispering, “Goodnight, Loki” against his lips.

---

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr

#loki masterlist #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki #loki series

7 notes · View notes