Summary: Everyone has a soulmate mark, so when (Y/N)’s was written in runes she completely gave up on the idea of love. That was until a man with the name written upon her skin attacked in New York.
Pairing: Loki x reader
A/N: This is only lightly based around the events that happened in the Avengers, Enjoy :)
GIF NOT MINE!
That word used to sound so angelic in my head. I would often sit awake at night as a teenager imagining what my soulmate was like. Was he tall? Was he handsome? Was he even a he? I thought up so many scenarios of what meeting them would be like I think I exhausted every possible idea. I spent all of my childhood watching my parents madly in love. They were what I based my idea of love on, they were so madly in love that you could just feel the love radiating off of them just by being in the same room. I was so in love with the idea of love thanks to them. So that's why it broke my heart every single time one of my friends would meet their soulmate and I didn't.
Everyone has the name of of their soulmate written somewhere on their body. It slowly develops from the day you are born and with every passing day grows darker until its clear as day. It usually takes around 18 years for the mark to fully appear. I know that very well as 18 was the age I stopped believing in love entirely. Every night spent dreaming about the person who was supposed to love me unconditionally became a tragic memory burned into my mind just as much as my soulmate mark was burned into my skin forever. As my friends got names like Dave, Amanda, Jessica and Sam, I got a bunch of symbols. Of course, my parents were very concerned and tried taking me to every soulmate specialist within reach but no one had any answers. That was until we started seeing collage professors who were experts in teaching the history around soulmates and came across one who also happened to be very into the occult. She explained that my soulmate's name was written in runes and that the name written on my neck was Loki. The God of mischief. A fucking God. That was the day I completely gave up any hope of love.
I was completely done after that. I went home that day and threw out all of my books that even mentioned anything to do with romance, distanced myself from all my friends and eventually my family. It hurt too much to watch everyone around me get the one thing I had always dreamed about so I figured it would be better to not have to be around that at all. Of course people were finding their soulmates every damn where so it was hard to complete avoid it, especially when I started my job in a café. It really sucked watching people call out a name and someone else looking up and them realising they were soulmates. At this point it made me sick. But I loved my job. So I stayed.
The small café on a quite street in New York was the place I realised I was utterly fucked in the soulmate category. I awoke in my studio apartment to the sun streaming in through the small crack in my curtains as usual and groaned as I pulled my still half asleep body from the comfort of my warm bed. The rest of the morning was a blur as I made one of my many cups of tea in a day and then got dressed and left for work. The day went by fairly quick as I served, cleaned, scrubbed and made drinks.
It was around 3pm when all of a sudden there was the loud bang coming from outside, causing the whole shop to shake.
"Fuck, was that an earthquake?" I asked my co-worker. She sighed as she looked up from the mess of coffee all over her top and shrugged.
All of a sudden my boss, James, rushed though the back doors of the café and clicked the remote of the small TV in the corner of the room. "Guys, you all need to look at the news right now!"
We all watched as the news blared though the small speakers and a woman with a mic was on the screen with what looked like a burning building behind her. "I am standing in front of what seems to be the result of some sort of attack. A man dressed almost in a green suit with a cape and gold horns seems to e the leader of this attack. Please stay in your homes and off the streets of New York." The woman pulled one of her hands away from her mic and up to her ear and started to speak again "I've just got reports of video footage of said man, please take a look and be weary of him, he is extremely dangerous" The TV then cut to a very shaky video of the man she described and then suddenly my vision went blurred from pain as my neck felt like it had just been electrocuted . My legs buckled underneath me and I fell to the floor. James ran to my side and helped me back to my feet before anyone could see what had happed.
"Are you okay?" He asked while putting his hand to my forehead. Before I could even think of responding, my hand flew to my neck where the pain came from. James' eyes widened as he realised what had happened to me.
"Izzy, stay here and keep an eye on everyone" He said as he pulled me into the backroom. "(Y/N) what's happening?" he asked while sitting me down on a chair and pulling out his phone.
"I don't know, but there's no way this can be happening right now" I said as I tried to catch my breath. I rubbed my face and tried to keep the panic at bay. James has pulled the news up on his phone for us to listen to.
"Hey, there's not need to panic, it might be nothing. It doesn't mean anything until you hear a his name" he reassured
"Yeah. Yeah. Your right. This is probably nothing. I just had a really intense neck spasm" I tried so hard to convince myself that this was nothing. That was until another new reporter popped back on the screen.
"Live from the studio, we are now just getting further information about this man from videos being sent in from the viewers at home" The report cut to another video of the man, but his time he was standing tall on top of a fallen building talking into a crowd.
"My name is Loki....." was all I heard until my brain completely shut down. The next thing I knew, James was shaking me by the shoulders.
"(Y/N) I know how crazy this is but you need to not panic"
"Not panic. Not panic!! There is a crazy fucking man out there hurting people and he just happens to be my soulmate. Who also happens to be a God. Oh God" I left my head fall to my hands as I could feel my breathe growing shorter
"Okay, your spiralling. Which is understandable but you need to listen to me-" He kneeled down so his face was level with mine and said "- you need to hide. We don't know the reason why he's here and he may or many not know you exist but you need to stay as far away from his as possible."
I looked up from my hands and nodded.
"Lets go down to the cellar okay?" He stood up and reached his hand towards me. I took it and allowed him to lead me to safety.
The rest of the week was such a blur. After the Avengers captured Loki, The city was trying really hard to rebuild itself. Of course only a few selected amount of people knew about my soulmate mark so when I was finally home and safe, I was bombarded with phone calls from my parents. I just told them it was a coincidence and that I was fine. I felt nothing. When in reality, I was overwhelmed with emotions. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I actually had a soulmate. I wasn't unlovable. But I was so overwhelmed by guilt that I actually threw up the first chance I had alone. He hurt so many innocent people. I couldn't stand it. The rest of me felt angry. Angry that the universe had deemed such a vile person to be my soulmate. Angry that he was such a horrible person. I think the thing I was most angry about though, was the fact that part of me actually felt sorry for him. I tried so hard not to because I knew he didn't deserve it but everything in me was telling me that he wasn't a bad person. My soulmate mark throbbed and it sent waves of sadness through my body. I just felt it deep down, that he wasn't this horrible person. That there was actually more to him. But I would never ever let myself even think about loving him for one second. Or so I thought....
So...what if they kill Mobius off in some horrible way, and Loki is holding him while he dies, and he enchants his mind to show Mobius a beach and/or jet ski, so that he gets to experience it as he drifts off?
Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader, a few orginal characters coming in
Warnings: mentions of guns, car crashes, mild violence
Y/N felt someone grab her shoulders, dragging her out of the car, her eyes opened, just enough to see that Tom wasn’t in the frontseat, and that the windscreen of the car was fully shattered.
“Don’t you dare touch her.” Tom warned, taking support of the car to get up and the Y/N was out of it, her head had taken another hit.
Her body fell forwards, crashing into something, “Y/N, I’ve got you, yeah, come on—upright here we go,”
“Yes, I’m right here, listen, we –, we need to walk can you walk?” Tom tried checking for any damage to her limbs but the situation didn’t help much for an assessment.
“I, think so?” She said slowly, her head spinning lightly as she raised it. “Okay good. One step at a time, right, left, good, good right again, you’re doing well.” Tom helped her navigate but was relieved she was being more independent with each step.
“Get the girl!” Someone screamed from not far behind.
“Why is she important?” Another called out, his voice drowned out by the ringing in Y/N’s ears.
Tom’s grip on her waist tightened slightly. Y/N froze, someone knew what she actually did.
“So, we used a made-up career?” Tom asked voice low, they were hiding behind a few trees upon Tom’s suggestion and they needed a breather. Desperately.
It was nightfall so no one would venture too much into the forest. Hopefully, Tom thought.
“I am a writer.” Y/N pressed on. Thankfully the ringing in her ears had died down. The view was still spinning at the edges.
“I think we are beyond the realm of lying.” Tom sounded frustrated.
Y/N looked up at him, not really getting a good visual, “I’m the kind of writer who writes out a future for you when you want to get rid of your past really good.”
“So, an identity maker?” Tom asked.
“Of sorts, I’d reckon but yeah, in essence.” Y/N tried brushing it off.
“Have you pissed someone off?” Tom’s voice seemed borderline worried.
“You and I both know when we do our work someone gets pissed off by default.” Her last words were followed by a hiss sound, her headache was growing.
Tom stroked the back of her hand, though she appreciated where the intent of the gesture was from, she politely moved her hand away. Tom, took the moment to push himself away and peek out for scanning.
"Are we in the clear?" Y/N asked.
“Just a while more, now.” Tom replied.
“I do not think you have whiles to spare.” A voice added, directed from the front of where they were.
“Now, I suggest you come toward me willingly, or have yourselves filled with bullets.”
A flashlight clicked on lighting up their torsos.
Tom and Y/N looked towards each other, swallowing down this inconvenient situation still unsure of what to do.
“I don’t have time but I do have bullets.” The man sounded happy almost gleeful.
“Any ideas?” Y/N asked in a whisper.
“None really.” Tom answered honestly.
“Oh quit your blabbering!” The man stepped towards them, there was an echo of a crack, and a loud thud followed the sound. The flashlight rolled to the side facing towards the owner who was now under a heavy tree branch.
“Should we help? Is he-is he dead?” Y/N sounded almost compassionate towards the man. Tom picked up the flashlight, shutting it off, putting it down in his bag. He could hear her panic though.
“I would not like to know the answer of that.”
“Lead the way out then.” Y/N prompted stepping further away, losing a little of her footing.
Tom decided it was better to go a little further into the forest and circle that way incase they were followed further.
They walked for about a few kilometres more, feet aching, thirst increasing. “What about your car?” Y/N asked after a while as Tom paused for them to rest against the trees, he kept doing this at regular intervals to make sure she wasn’t losing consciousness, or for better words as Y/N said on the fourth stop, 'not dead yet, Tom.'
He did hear the humour in her tone but he wasn’t impressed.
“I have someone handling it.” He didn’t, he still did not trust her.
“Okay.” Y/N looked towards Tom, they hadn’t yet seen each other still, she didn’t think of it much, if this was a normal scenario she’d have swooned at his accent.
She pondered for the next few steps she took, what even is normal for her?
Oh right, being chased by goons.
It was quiet between them again they finally reached a clearing close to the roads that the area was illuminated by street lamps. Tom let out a breath, this was one step of the plan done, get back towards the road.
Tom’s white shirt reflected the orange light, he was holding his bag crossbody now, hands resting on his waist, he was still facing away from her. Y/N felt it was slightly better this way, she looked down at her clothes, dark spots and mud covered her shirt and jeans.
“Well there is a sign saying a rest area is nearby we might get first aid?” Tom had finally decided to show his face, and Y/N wished life were normal cause this man was handsome. Slightly feeling horrible for ogling at him and not saying anything she nodded in agreement.
“Are you alright?” Tom asked once again, this time coming closer and inspecting her head wound again, and her staring was broken by light being directly hit into her eyes.
She groaned, “too bright geez, warn me next time, even doctors do that.” She moved his hand away.
“My pupils are fine, adjusted all through this.” She informed him, moving more towards the road’s edge.
Tom looked toward her deciding maybe to keep his distance a little more, he mused a story of losing their belongings to people robbing them in the camping area made sense as a cover story, they looked the part.
“I think the story should be first time campers, get robbed.” Y/N looked at him.
He smiled, “I suppose I should take your story-teller job.”
“Oh is that so? Had a similar idea?” Y/N challenged.
“The very same.”
“So did you consider where we came from, the spot camped at, how many robbers were there, why we look roughed up, why are you in formals despite on a camping trip?” She enquired.
He swallowed, looking taken aback.
“The very same.” Y/N said in a mocking mimic of him though she butchered the accent.
He shook his head, a small smile on his lips. They walked along the edge not moving too close to the road, they made it to the petrol station.
“Oh dearies, are you two alright?” the older woman behind the counter asked.
“No ma’am,” they both spoke at the same time.
“Oh no look at you your clothes and your forehead, and your arm!” The lady went on noticing random things hysterically.
Y/N looked down towards Tom’s arm, a handkerchief, tied around it, tinged in an ombre of red.
“Oh those bloody thieves roaming the campsites!” The lady came towards them with he first aid kit.
“Here start cleaning off, I’ll grab some waters.” And she went off towards one of the aisles.
“Looks like your story came true.” Tom whispered, undoing the cap on the disinfectant.
“All of them do..” Y/N trailed off, making small pads out of the cotton balls and preparing the gauze.
A knowing silence fell over them, both realising this wasn’t the first time they had to clean themselves up. The older lady gave them her supplies letting them patch up before she would badger them with questions.
“I’ll help you, tying the one around your arm.” Y/N offered, taking the roll from Tom’s struggling left arm.
“Thank you,” Tom mumbled out as she tied it up, he could observe her now, eyes having circles under them, her jumper a size too big on her, he looked towards her hands, she was almost done, he turned his gaze towards the bandaging Y/N did to her head wound. He wouldn’t be returning the patching up gesture.
Y/N looked up, as Tom wiped the grime off of his face, she’d observed him as she was patching herself up, small lines around his eyes, his shoulders no longer standing tall, but slouched slightly, a moment of rest from his facade she mused.
“Ready to face the High Inquisitor?” Tom asked,
Y/N looked at him eyes wide. Tom smiled knowing he had recovered from the Rush Hour thing slightly.
“She can’t be worse than Umbridge can she?”
Tom shrugged, “We shall find out.”
“We mustn’t tell lies.”
“Well. that will be difficult for us.”
The smiled at each other as they walked back to the register.
The conversation with Mrs. Dolores, her name made both Tom and Y/N look in surprise at each other.
Speaking to her was easy, they didn’t have to say much, she described the apparent thieves to them, which countless others before them had recounted to her. She enquired about Tom’s bag if they had anything not too valuable in it.
“Oh no, this it’s empty,” he proceeded to open and show the vacant bag. Y/N narrowed her eyes, if it was empty why take it from the car?
“It had our snacking items and my wallet.” Y/N added with a sigh, if she kept too quiet it could raise suspicions upon them even though it could be dismissed as shock.
“Oh dearie, you can use the phone to call for a taxi or a friend?” Mrs. Dolores pointed towards the phone on her counter, Tom nodded moving towards it, Y/N looked back at the store, the aisle with crisps called out to her and so did the coffee machine but she stayed put. They couldn’t pay her. Her eyes trailed over Tom’s back as he spoke into the phone, maybe he had some cash she thought. She saw his shoulders relax.
She used the time to remember what happened to her after she bought her coffee that morning. Thinking back, it was a blur to the point of her walking back to her car that is when things got foggy. Replaying it over in her mind trying to remember if something felt off to her but nothing came to her.
Y/N was stuck in a loop of her last memories, not noticing Tom had come back next to her.
“Are you okay? Atleast we didn't have to thik to much for the story" This was the third time he asked.
“Yeah, just a little fuzzy around the details...” she trailed off in thought again.
Tom decided not to press on in-case Y/N would not like that, after all she wasn’t digging into his life and thought process. Tom had made arrangements to get back on course he believed they had thrown off the chasers. He would have to speak to his employer.
Y/N tapped his uninjured arm, he looked towards her.
“Sorry I just was pondering over how I landed into your car.”
Tom’s expression softened, “Any luck?”
She shook her head; Tom’s pursed his lips nodding.
A pair of headlights flickered on and off in a rhythmic pattern through the store’s glass front. “That will be our ride.” Tom informed Y/N in a clipped voice then turned towards Mrs. Dolores as she was tending to another patron.
“Thank you so much for your help.” He said to her, as Y/N, joined at his side.
Smiling at the helpful lady, she said, “Yes, I wish we’d met in better circumstances, but this is how it was meant to be.”
Tom silently agreed. They made their way down to the car, a woman leaning against the door.
“Is she someone you know?” Y/N asked her rationality kicking in a little and realisation that she should keep her guard up.
“Yes, she is a friend.” Tom answered, placing his hands in his pockets and they got closer to the car. As the got closer Y/N noticed in the light of Ms. Dolores’ store that Tom’s friend had short dark hair, and was making a bubble with her chewing gum.
Popping it as they came within speaking range.
“How does a person mess up-brand new Jaguar?” She looked at Tom in disbelief. “Long story.” Tom answered.
Y/N would say he sounded unnerved.
“I’ve got time.” The woman quipped back.
“Let it go.” Tom pressed on.
“For now.” She agreed. Tom nodded, and looked towards Y/N, she was looking at her shoes.
“Um, this is,” Y/N looked up as Tom started for an introduction,
“Hello, your friend, he has been of immense help. Thank you for coming out to further assist us.” Y/N extended her hand forward towards the short-haired woman, but she just held Tom’s gaze instead with an eyebrow raised.
hope you enjoyed this chapter!
a special thank you to: @arcticclouds @fire-in-her-veinz @confused-clary @pimpcesscity you made me so happy with your positive feedback, thank you so much! ❤️
- AND OH MY GOD TODAYS LOKI EPISODE IM SO HAPPY WITH THAT ONE SCENE I WAS SCREAMING -
summary: you and tom are engaged to be married and are having a wedding in india. the both of you fly to india to start your three-day wedding celebrations.
warnings: google translations?
word count: 734
a/n: i come from a west indian ethnic background with indian ancestry. i personally do not practice hinduism but my family does. i am not against anyone who is hindu or comes from any other religion. if i made a mistake in this series i apologize. that is not my intention. this series is for entertainment purposes only. i don’t see much indian readers oneshots or stories so i decided to make one for myself. i hope you all enjoy.
my big fat indian wedding masterlist
part one: haldi
November 11, 2016
Elderly ladies sang traditional mehndi songs with dholaks and other musical instruments while family and friends danced on the Sunken Lawn.
You were wearing a jade blue lehenga with floral hand-embroidered motifs.
You were sitting down on a decorated couch under a lavish tent as you were getting mehndi done on your hands and feet.
One of the most important pre-wedding ceremonies in Indian weddings was the mehndi. The beautiful bride-to-be adorned her hands and feet with striking designs made out of henna.
The entire ceremony was a fun-filled event with every family member and close friends of the bride and the groom being a part of it. But, apart from being a fun pre-wedding ritual, the mehndi ceremony also has a deep-rooted cultural significance.
The most significant is the darkness of the mehndi color on a bride's hand, representing the would-be couple's deep love.
It is also said that the darker the color of the mehndi, the more love the bride will receive from her in-laws.
A customary practice of hiding the groom's name or initials within the design on the bride's hands was actually a game to be played on the wedding night between the couple.
If the groom, before the wedding night is over, can find his name or name/initials within the intricate henna patterns, it is said that he will be the dominant one in the marriage. If he fails, the bride then will be the boss in turn.
You had requested Tom's initials to be designed on the inside of your left ring finger.
All of the females were getting their mehndi done. Even Diana, Emma, and Sarah were sitting down, getting their hands done.
As you were getting mehndi done, you looked over and saw Tom entering the ceremony wearing a royal blue and gold silk bandi jacket over a light blue kurta and tailored white trousers and sunglasses.
He surveyed the outside looking for you until you two both locked eyes and smiled at one another.
Tom had greeted everyone before walking over to you and kissed you before sitting down next to you.
"How was it taking off all of the Haldi?" You smirked, knowing that Tom had a difficult time scrubbing off all of that paste of his skin.
With a mischievous smile on his face, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, which made you quiver.
"It was brutal. However, all I could think about what I would do to you if you had joined me."
You looked at Tom with a pout on your face.
"Please, don't tease me." Tom laughed before laying another kiss on your lips.
"One more day." Tom had the last word before the woman who was doing your mehndi politely interrupted your conversation.
"क्या आपका दूल्हा भी मेहंदी लगवा रहा है? (Is your groom getting his mehndi done as well?)" Before you could reply to the woman, Tom had spoken.
"हाँ मैं। यदि संभव हो तो मैं चाहूंगा कि मेरी दुल्हन का नाम मेरे बाएं हाथ पर बना हो। (Yes, I am. If possible I would like my bride's name designed on my left hand.)" Tom smiled before looking over to you.
"It is tradition, isn't it?" You smiled before giving Tom a kiss.
The woman smiled as she started applying mehndi to Tom's left hand. The woman had made a quick design. Your name was inside a mandala design with a little heart under your name.
After a while, Tom's mehndi dried and temporarily stained his hand. Finally, you were finished, but your mehndi had to stay on longer for the darkness.
You started to get hungry and had kindly asked your sister to get you something to eat.
Your sister had fixed you a plate of food and walked back over to you. Your sister was going to feed you until Tom had politely taken the plate from her and began to feed you.
Tom feeding you food amused you along with both of your families and friends.
Both the photographer and videographer had captured the sweet moment on film.
After the both of you ate, you both sat down and watched as family members and friends sang and danced.
The two of you were enjoying as everyone was having a good time celebrating the both of you.
The both of you couldn't wait for the next ceremony tonight... the Sangeet.
Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?
~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~
A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.
Find Part 1 here! All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!
When you woke up to the blaring sound of your alarm, you couldn't help inwardly cursing yourself for always staying up so bloody late. When you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to turn the annoying sound off however, your barely open eyes fell upon the little icon telling you that you had received a new message, and your mind finally caught up again with the reason for your staying up late. The texts exchanged with T, the discussion about Shakespeare… The best conversation you'd had in forever. Blinking, you felt more awake in an instant as you sat up in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes before you finally opened the messaging app with a smile on your face.
T: 'I am very glad to have made your bad day a little bit better; that might just be my only true accomplishment of the day. Or the only one that matters, at least. Believe it or not, I was also not having the best night before I happened upon you, and I would be a fool to deny that our conversation has thoroughly turned my week around. I am very inclined to keep on talking, or rather writing to you, Y/n. After all, we haven't even started on the Sonnets yet ;) But for now, indeed, let that be goodnight.'
Your smile turned just a tad brighter while you read the message a second time, just to make sure your sleep fogged brain hadn't misinterpreted anything. But no, the meaning was still the same: T had enjoyed your conversation quite as much as you had, and he wasn't opposed to keeping on texting about sundry and the world. Well, about Shakespeare and literature. But that was what you had connected over after all, and the prospect of actually having someone to share your thoughts on the matter with was exciting enough to keep the smile on your face even as you crawled out of the comfort of your bed to get ready for the day.
It was only when you stuffed your laptop back into your work bag and put on your coat and shoes that the smile was slowly replaced by a frown. Would you come off as a creep if you texted back right away? As desperate or annoyingly clingy perhaps? Should you wait until tonight, or even worse, until another day before sending another message? Gods, those were questions people would usually ask themselves when it came to dating, not casual intellectual encounters with virtual strangers. But you couldn't help feeling torn about what to do, and that didn't change even in the slightest during your hasty commute to work. Hadn't T said he wasn't much of a texting person anyway? Just because he wanted to keep talking to you didn't automatically mean he would want to keep constantly talking to you, like you had done last night. But you really didn't want to wait half a week to say the exact same things you would much rather just say right away. So it was either suppressing the surprisingly strong impulse to talk to him now to be safe in terms of social standards, or to go for it and possibly upset him. Ugh… You didn't know what to do. Only five minutes prior to your seminar, you finally got a grip on yourself and decided to test the waters of the new day with something short and innocuous.
Y: 'I'm glad to hear that I made your evening a bit better as well! I hope you've still managed to reach out to the guy you originally meant to text nonetheless, by now. I'll just assume he didn't want to talk Sonnets with you then, seeing as that honour's been left to me ;) have a nice day!'
That was inconspicuous, yet prompting enough to allow a conversation to start into either direction, should T fancy to pick it up from here. This would have to do, for now. Right? Or should you make it clearer that you would enjoy his virtual company even on a more… constant basis? Geez, you were just being too much again. Like always. But you still felt somewhat proud of yourself for being clingy with your new acquaintance without sounding clingy, and in the contentment of that knowledge you slipped your phone into your bag for the time being and finally started your class.
… … …
Tom woke up to the seemingly incessant sound of his phone vibrating on his wooden nightstand, ringing harshly in his ears like a chainsaw in the process of demolishing his entire bedroom. A low growl started somewhere deep in his chest long before he was able to phrase any actual words of vain protest, and when thought became a possibility at last, he wondered who on earth would wake him up this bloody early. He usually was an early riser by nature, so if something or someone woke him up before his time, it logically had to be at a crazy hour still. Only that he'd made those calculations under the premise that he went to bed at a reasonable hour, and since last night had been anything but reasonable, the glimpse at the time he got when he unlocked his phone all but woke him up the remaining bit. Ten o'clock and counting… well, fuck.
With a groan he dropped his phone onto his bed and removed himself from the very piece of furniture simultaneously, hurrying first to the bathroom, then the wardrobe and finally down the stairs into the open hallway where Bobby was already waiting by the door with a reproachful glance up at his master.
"I know I know, I'm sorry!" Tom sighed defeatedly while he tried to somehow put on his shoes and clasp the leather leash onto his impatient companion's collar at once. Half a minute later they were out the door and on their way to the park, all as ever, only a good two hours later than was usual for off-work days. What a great start to the day… Tom scoffed quietly and shook his head to himself. At least Bobby seemed to have forgiven him for the delay as soon as they'd been outside, but his own mind was still on edge nevertheless. Did he have any meetings or tasks scheduled for today? No, nothing that he knew of. That was something, at least. He would have to check his phone that was still buried deeply somewhere under his sheets once he returned home nonetheless, in case Luke had called, but otherwise he would have the day off.
Speaking of his phone… now that he had the time to think about it, he wondered whether you had sent him a new message already, or if perhaps you weren't that kind of person at all. The kind who grew instantly and overly attached to the few select people who had managed to catch your interest, to the point of wanting to give them an infinite amount of attention and hoping for much the same in return. The kind he knew himself to be. Would you be like that as well? Or were you someone who texted casually with some dozen people at once, replying to some messages and to others not, always a couple of days in between? Tom found himself hoping for the former, but feared that it would rather end up being the latter.
Oh well… At least he wasn't so far gone in the haze of fame that he expected everyone and anyone to reply to him immediately all the time just because he supposedly was someone. No, he knew enough people who acted like that, and he never ceased to be repelled by such behaviour. For him, it was more of a deeply rooted wish to be thought of, to not be forgotten. To mean something to someone, not to be someone to others. So if you hadn't replied by the time he got home, he would force himself to accept that and adapt to your pace of conversation instead. He didn't know a thing about texting, after all… Perhaps it would be a good thing to let you take the lead.
That in return gave him all the more reason to smile when he finally did check his phone upon his arrival at home, to find not one, but two new messages from you. (And he also found the inevitable text from Dave that there was no news on the script yet, but in the light of hearing from you again, Tom found himself almost alright with the lack of progress at the work front for once.) Thus smiling to himself, he now made his way into the kitchen for some much needed tea and breakfast, and finally opened the messaging app.
Y: 'I'm glad to hear that I made your evening a bit better as well! I hope you've still managed to reach out to the guy you originally meant to text nonetheless, by now. I'll just assume he didn't want to talk Sonnets with you then, seeing as that honour's been left to me ;) have a nice day!'
Tom let out a huff in amusement at the thought of talking Shakespeare with Dave… what a crazy idea. But he found it remarkable that you even cared about whether or not he had still gotten a hold of the right person after all. That, much like your first few replies last night, spoke of at least some kind of interest in his person beyond just his opinion on old tomes, right? Tom found himself oddly excited by that possibility, as if it was some kind of admirable achievement to be of interest to someone just by being his own silly self, not because he was who he was in public. He shook the thought out of his head for now and made himself go on to read the second message you had sent. That one was only from half an hour ago, and he instantly felt guilty for failing to reply to your first message sooner than that.
Y: 'I mean, we don't have to talk about Sonnets, if you'd rather not… Even though you suggested it yourself, so why wouldn't you want to talk about them, right…? Gah, I'm sorry, I'm just awkward when I'm not sure what to do. I really want to talk to you more, but I also really don't want to annoy you by sending you random messages like this one right here without being asked to or having any reason other than simply wanting to. You'd think someone close to a PhD would know how to handle that, but I realize that I just sound absolutely stupid at the moment, so I'll just shut up now. Sorry.'
While your text made Tom chuckle in amusement, he also couldn't deny that he'd had some of the very same thoughts on his walk with Bobby just before, and that hearing these concerns from you now was oddly relieving in return. Perhaps you were just like him after all… the kind of person who poured themselves into their choices way too quickly, and way too thoroughly. For common standards, at least. Before overthinking things again, he quickly went to type a reply at long last.
T: 'Good morning, Y/n. Or rather, almost good noon! I apologise for not replying any sooner, my morning turned out to be unexpectedly stressful. I really didn't mean to give you the impression that you were annoying me, not at all. On the contrary, I was having very much the same concerns about possibly bothering you if I just texted you out of every whim or fancy I have as you apparently did. People have been telling me for ages that I tend to be too much when I'm not careful to hold back, that intensity and depth of character aren't socially acceptable, that my interest and attention are perceived as exhausting and overwhelming. Perhaps some of the same things have been said to you before as well? I wouldn't know, and you certainly don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But perhaps we can settle this uncertainty on either end by saying that neither will annoy the other by being intense, or random, or truthfully ourselves. Isn't that why we ended up talking quite so deeply and passionately about literature last night in the first place, because neither of us can be like that elsewhere, with anyone else? Perhaps we can allow ourselves to be like that with each other. Would that be alright?'
When Tom read over his message another time before sending it, he realized that it had gotten both quite a bit longer and quite a bit more personal than intended. But it still felt just right like that, ridiculously right even to be himself and forward with his own thoughts for once, and changing anything about the message would only defy the meaning and purpose of everything he had just typed out in the first place. Being truthful without precautions. So he got over his insecurity and hit send in the same determination he had reasoned himself into last night already; with you, he would be himself. He would be T, and the prospect of that alone made him smile to himself yet again. This whole thing was only difficult if he made it to be. And for once, he wouldn't. In that knowledge he dropped his phone on the counter, and finally went to prepare an early lunch instead of breakfast. After all, he could have his tea with that as well.
… … …
You had just talked yourself out of your repeated pattern of reminding yourself that you had made a complete tart out of yourself with your messages to T, when finally your phone's noisy ping made both you and the professor whose office you shared jump out of your seats. The elderly man shot you a mean glare from across the room before returning to his work, while you however just released a low breath and set your phone on mute as quickly as possible. Thank the gods that your colleague had already condemned you anyway, right from the moment he'd been told you would be sharing his office, but that way you at least didn't have to worry about keeping up a reputation with him now.
Your train of thoughts came to a sudden halt when you finally opened the messaging app to read the message T had just sent, and with every word you took in your smile broadened and your day brightened in return. How could coincidences be crazy like that, to let you meet someone who was saying exactly what you were thinking? What were the odds that you would encounter the first and only person to have no problem with your truthful self at all, through a wrong bloody phone number?! It didn't matter… You just felt relieved, and excited about the prospect of being able to speak (or write) your mind whenever you felt like it now. Somehow, you had an inkling that you wouldn't just be talking about Shakespeare after all… Not when you obviously had quite a bit more in common than just your interest for literature. With the lingering smile on your face, you went to reply.
Y: 'That would be more than just alright, T. I'm very happy about this, you should see my stupidly excited face! I've never met someone who also has been told these things, to stop being passionate about matters and instead sit down quietly like a good girl (or boy, I guess). It's both relieving and sad to know that you have gone through that as well. We shouldn't have to hide like that… But I guess we can just let it all out on each other now ;) That sounds great, to be honest. And as far as a stressful morning goes, I do absolutely understand and I'm very much with you on that. I've had an hour-long debate with the printer and the WiFi, and then the bloody coffee maker died on me just out of solidarity with them. By now I believe technology has declared war on me today.'
This time around, it only took him roughly five minutes to answer you, and you had your phone on hand again in an instant.
T: 'I've heard numerous stories of both good people and good printers losing their fight to the unconquerable entity of the mighty WiFi. And your coffee maker sounds like an arse just for betraying you; perhaps try with tea next time, it is said to be a rather loyal companion in dark times.'
You let out an unintentional snort, unable to keep from grinning to yourself even as you felt a fair of eyes mustering you in annoyance from the other end of the room. Shaking your head to yourself, you let work be work and focused on texting back for now instead.
Y: 'You sound terribly British even for a Brit (which I will just assume you are), you know that? I bet you're having your baked beans and eggs on toast with your Earl Grey as a proper early luncheon right now. Probably reading the morning paper all the while?'
T: 'How did you know that? Am I that predictable to you already? ;)'
With the text, he had sent a picture of a wooden table set with precisely the foods and items you had previously described, all neatly arranged to make a rather pretty ensemble. Your lips parted in amusement, and you let out half of a laugh while you replied right away.
Y: 'I believe you’ve just made my day yet again, T… That's actually hilarious, impeccable timing, beautifully set and all. Should I better get used to odd coincidences when it comes to you?'
T: 'Actually, my life is usually rather void of unpredictable circumstances and thus severely lacking any coincidences. Must be entirely your doing, my dear.'
Y: 'There's always more than one party involved in coincidences, and that in return makes for the unpredictable circumstances ;) Haven't you learned about models of communication in whatever degree it is you have quite obviously studied?!'
T: 'I have a degree in classics, actually. Hardly any communication involved in that ;)'
Y: '...A classics degree literally is the study of old languages and cultures, T! I know that as well as you obviously do, seeing as I can spot your sarcasm from miles away right now, and probably also because I sit across the hall from the guys in our own classics department every day.'
T: 'You do?'
Y: 'Yes, well… Classics and English Lit are basically hallmates here at uni. I work for the literature department at one of the colleges while writing my dissertation. Gotta pay for the bloody thing after all, and somehow also stay on top of the bills. You'll already know that, but London really isn't the cheapest place to be living. At least I'm almost done with my doctorate.'
T: 'So that's why you have such an extensive knowledge about literature! I had a vague idea after last night that you might actually be an expert in the field after all ;) I assume you teach as well then, besides doing your research?'
Y: 'Yep… Just undergrad level classes though, which honestly aren't the greatest joy to go through. Usually, there are subzero chances to have a proper discussion about anything other than people's grades.'
T: 'Well, I will do my utmost to be an acceptable surrogate for that vacancy then :) I haven't studied literature in such a scientific regard for too long myself, but I believe we made do with my own, different perspective just fine yesterday.'
Y: 'You aren't just any surrogate, T! If I wanted to hear a scientific opinion I could go two doors down the hall from where I sit and bore myself to death with my colleagues who have read roughly the same texts I have. It would be clinical and technical and without any passion, and more about the work for work's sake than about the subject for its own value. I believe you know what I mean. So you will also have to believe me that I appreciate your specific take and perception way more than any other, scientific or not. On my end we're equals: either both experts, or both idiots. That's your choice ;)'
T: 'I think we have sufficiently proven by now that we can be both at once, and that is something I find rather brilliant. It's a quality I see far too rarely in people. Being an adult these days means being expected to be intelligent, competent and polite in a variety of settings, but for a great deal of people that translates to being restrained, shallow and passionless, or straight out boring in all regards of life. There's nothing wrong with being silly sometimes, or with taking chances just because they might end up being worth it.'
Y: 'Chances like replying to a stray text from a stranger out of an impulse, only to end up finding out that you have more in common with them than with any of your other acquaintances?'
T: 'Yes, that makes for a perfect example ;) And just out of curiosity, do you have many acquaintances to keep up with? I need to know how much of your time I may monopolise, after all ;)'
Y: 'Very funny, T… And no, I don't, actually. I have a few colleagues I sometimes (rarely) tag along with when invited, but otherwise I am best acquainted with my work. It's a vicious circle, really… I work too much because I don't have any friends, and I have no friends because I work too much. So do feel free to monopolise as much of my time as you fancy, it will be most appreciated. How about you?'
T: 'Much the same for me, I'm afraid. I usually am rather busy with work, there's no telling around it… But I do tend to push it to the limits as well, simply because I have little else to do. My acquaintances are usually colleagues in one way or another, and even though I do have a couple hundred of those, I would consider very few of them my friends.'
Before you could reply that you knew the feeling, or wonder how someone could have a couple hundred acquaintances, he sent a second message right after to follow up the first.
T: 'There is someone very special in my life though; my darling and best friend, the reason I get up in the morning and the cause of my delight and despair at once. Someone you will inevitably have to share me with, because he tries incessantly and as hard as he can to monopolise my time indeed.'
You frowned to yourself at the text, feeling both confused and desperately curious just by the way he had phrased that statement. But most of all you found yourself surprised by the fact that you hadn't even considered if T was in a relationship or not. Perhaps even married, with a kid or two! Who knew, after all… And obviously, that special someone in his life was a he as well. Not that you minded in the least, but you still felt like you had missed a crucial detail to see the whole picture, because somehow it didn't make sense. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you decided to just go for it and ask.
Y: 'So… you're gay? Or you have a flatmate you're very fond of? Living with a brother, or a son, perhaps?'
T: 'No, yes, and not quite ;)'
With that text and before you could further wonder about its crypticism, he sent you a picture of a dark brown Cocker Spaniel who looked up into the camera with curious eyes while lolling around the leg of the same wooden table you'd seen in the picture before. You instantly started smiling down at your phone with heart eyes, and couldn't help the 'aww' on your lips even though you still weren't alone in the office. You didn't even care as you kept on smiling at the picture; what a cutie!
T: 'This is him, the best friend I have ;) But I think he wouldn't be opposed to some competition from you when it comes to monopolising my time.'
You let out a snort, then shook your head to yourself. So T had a dog… and he wasn't gay. You could work with that information; it fit the puzzle a whole lot better than the other options you had briefly considered.
Y: 'Aahh he is adorable! I have a great fondness for dogs, if they are friendly to me as well :) What's his name? Or can you not tell me that either?'
T: 'Well, if I'm T, then he's B. Can you live with that without being too disappointed by my continuing secrecy?'
Y: 'It's alright… He's adorable after all, so I'll let it slip for his sake ;) Tell B my sincerest thanks, then, for allowing me to steal some of your time from him.'
T: 'Will do. His preferred method of payment is either doggy treats or belly rubs, both to be supplied in sufficient amounts of course. I will compensate him in your stead, if you fancy.'
Y: 'Very much so, I would hate for your best friend to be cross with me after all. And I'm used to having to pay for attention and affection, so that is quite alright.'
The moment you hit send, you realized how terribly wrong what you had written might sound to some minds, and you quickly sent a second message with a roll of your eyes directed at yourself, while the inevitable heat crept up your neck in an instant.
Y: 'Obviously I didn't mean LITERALLY paying for affection, in the way some certain people do, in some certain places… That all came out so wrong, oh god. Aaaaand I'm positively mortified.'
T: 'Please don't be, dear. I didn't believe you were implying anything like that, don't worry ;) But what exactly are you trying to say?'
Y: 'Well, I just meant that it isn't news to me that I have to compensate people somehow for the attention and kindness they show me. Like… When an acquaintance sits with me during lunch, I do some of their work for them later. When they have a longer chat with me at the pub, I pay for their drinks. When they invite me along to go out, I watch over their stuff while they dance. Things like that. You know, the usual. But I was just joking when applying it to B just now, I trust him not to make me pay for you being nice to me.'
T: 'Hold on, I'm confused… Do you really do all these things, and do you do them because you want to be kind, or because you think they are expected of you?'
Y: 'What an odd question… in an interesting way, I mean. Yes, I really do those things for the few acquaintances I have. But let's start with the first part: Of course I want to be kind, and I try to be whenever I can. I think it is important to repay kindness with kindness, because you want to preserve it. Like watering a plant instead of plucking its flowers. Now for the second part: I know for a fact that these things are expected of me. Whenever an acquaintance of mine spends some time with me outside of the mandatory work talk, I will find some of their work to be done on my desk later, or they will hand me the bill at the end of the evening, or I'm told to watch over their things because I don't dance anyway (even though I do dance… They just never asked me to.) So really, kindness has nothing much to do with it, it's just a simple trade. Don't you do that with your acquaintances as well?'
T: 'Working from the bottom up: No, I don't. Usually I know even the most rudimentary acquaintanceships to work based on kindness and mutual interest or respect for each other rather than paid trading. I'm terribly sorry that you had to go through such trades to get someone to spend time with you; I can only hope to assure you that it had nothing to do with you as a person. You are absolutely lovely just as you are, and I can indeed say that because as little as I might yet know about you, I still am getting a pretty good idea of WHO YOU ARE just by having talked to you for a few hours now. And I think they make you pay for their time and attention, simply because you let them. You are kind, and willing to be kind to them to a degree they clearly don't deserve. I'm admittedly not a fan of Freud and his theories (should you be familiar, which I am very sure you are, you will know why), but I think he might've been onto something when he said that the average person will take advantage of their neighbours if given the chance to justify it to themselves. And your willingness to trade kindness for their time and attention obviously was a good enough justification for them to make it a trade. I assume that this isn't what you originally meant when you said to repay kindness with kindness though, is it?'
Y: 'Not really, no. But I do think you're right about my acquaintances, and why they do what they do… They likely don't deserve my kindness, and I certainly shouldn't trade it for their attention. It has just become a habit by now, one I was only vaguely aware of until I just put it into words for you. I guess I better shall try to break with it, if you can already spot it after a few minutes of hearing me babble. But then again, I also think that being kind to someone who doesn't deserve or warrant your kindness at all is the greatest act of strength a person can deliver. Though I have to admit that while sometimes I'm strong by that definition, other times I'm clearly not. In that sense I both admire and pity those poor people who live a public life, like politicians, celebrities, athletes and so on. They have no choice but to either be incessantly kind to everyone all the time, or to be shunned by the world for being human like the rest of us.'
T: 'You would be surprised by how many famous people are kind simply and only because it is expected of them, and only while they are standing in front of the cameras and audiences. But even those who seem honestly kind and caring by nature reach a point where it's all nothing more than smoke and mirrors, no matter how much they would want to be sincere in it. In a way, they also pay for attention with kindness, now that I think about it. A habit as well. It's kind of disappointing, isn't it? To be disillusioned like that.'
Y: 'Why would it be? Not even the kindest person on earth could possibly be kind to everyone all the time, and they shouldn't be either.'
T: 'What makes you think that?'
Y: 'If you are trying to always be kind to everyone, you ultimately forget to be kind to the most important person of them all, namely yourself. Being kind means giving, and even if occasionally you are given a little kindness in return, you can only keep on giving for so long without running empty. Sometimes the best thing you can do is to be kind to yourself, and to protect yourself by not giving all you have. To not let yourself run empty.'
T: 'But what if you gain more from the act of giving than what you lost through it in the first place?'
Y: 'But is it still kindness then that makes you give, or isn't it much rather love?'
T: 'That… is an incredibly fascinating thought. So much so that I don't quite know what to say. I agree, I assume… I know I do, for I know that I want to. Perhaps kindness IS a way of loving, in the end, or at least they come together in their selflessness.'
Y: 'In Blake's words, your argument stands… ›Love seeketh not itself to please, / Nor for itself hath any care, / But for another gives its ease, / And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.‹ … and in Blake's words, your argument falls. ›Love seeketh only self to please, / To bind another to its delight, / Joys in another's loss of ease, / And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.‹'
T: 'Yet, isn't that quite the ambivalence we have been talking about this entire time? An impossible balance of two sides that are still of the one same essence. The same thing, changed to opposites by disposition… One is bred of innocence, one of experience; both important themes for Blake, as you probably know. He applies it to love right here, but we might just say the same thing for kindness. Innocence, to be taken as selflessness, is which makes of kindness the act of strength; its goal only to be found in itself. Experience, therefore to be taken as selfishness, makes of kindness a tool to achieve one's end through bargain or deceit. The difference lies not in the outcome for the other, but in the strength it takes to stay innocent in the self.'
Y: 'Now YOU are the one who renders me speechless, T… That is an incredibly clever line of argumentation! And you even backed up my previous argument with it, so thank you for that ;)'
T: '...I did? How so?'
Y: 'Hehe… You thought it disappointing and disillusioning that people (regardless of who they are) eventually cease to be kind out of sincerity, and go over to pretense. But your entire line of argument just proved that it's a deeply human flaw, and one of circumstance rather than of character: if your strength runs out, you lose your innocence, and you thereby lose the sincerity in your kindness. And if you scroll back up a bit, you will find my elaboration on running empty eventually if you give too much of your kindness to others without getting enough back. Equal up kindness and strength, and you have just proven my argument ;)'
T: 'Oh dear… I didn't even notice I had come around to your side. You are too clever for me, Y/n.'
Y: '...says the guy who used Blake's thematic categories to build a flawless line of argumentation while I merely stated my opinion…'
T: 'You started with Blake.'
Y: 'I only quoted Blake, you started with the interpretation of his themes. Now stop talking yourself out of this and accept that you are really quite brilliant, T! You can't hide that from me, you know ;)'
T: 'Ehehe… Coming from you, I will take that as a sincere compliment. Thank you.'
Y: 'Of course it's a sincere compliment, you nut! I'm not spilling my life's flaws in detail to you only to then lie to you in empty phrases. Besides, I could be way more creative than that if I intended to be insincere.'
T: 'I have no doubt about that. And I have no doubt about your sincerity either, which is a most welcome change for me. It's never that easy, especially not with the job I do. Speaking of work, I'm not keeping you from yours, right? I am having a rare day off for once, as you might have guessed from the luncheon, and that has rather led me to forget that you actually might still have to attend to your work nonetheless.'
Y: 'It's perfectly fine, I'm in no hurry to be doing anything specific today, I'm weeks ahead of what I ought to do… That's the advantage of doing little besides working all day, every day. You get quite far ahead. Besides, even if I end up being busy at times, feel free to talk to me nonetheless if you feel like it. I'll reply when I can ;)'
T: 'I will remember that and most likely make use of it before I can help myself :) Please, feel free and welcome to do the same. (Just don't be surprised, I am sometimes kept busy and without a cellphone for many hours on end. It comes with the job, which can be both a curse and blessing.) Do you have classes to give today?'
Y: 'Yeah, I had one at eight and will have another at two.'
T: 'Two in the afternoon? Today…?'
T: 'I don't mean to impose, but that's in five minutes. Have you lost track of time? (I really can't blame you; I can't quite believe that it's already gotten so late myself.)'
Y: 'Ahh fuck, no no no… Alright, I got to go. Run, actually. I'll talk to you later! Go give B some attention ;)'
T: 'Will do. He will be delighted to go for another stroll in the rain, I'm sure. You enjoy your class, and if I don't drown in the meantime, I will talk to you later indeed.'
After meeting Tom Hiddleston you both have to fly back to your own countries. Once you read the inside of your signed book, you decide to text him. Thinks take an unexpected turn.
Click here to read chapter 1. But this chapter can be read seperatly.
The weekend that you spend with Tom and your friends was amazing. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. You were back in your own country and Tom in his. Even though you had exchanged numbers, you were too afraid to text, afraid he wouldn’t reply. You unpacked your suitcase and came across the book you had Tom signed. You realized that you never opened the book, too wrapped up in his company. You took the book from your suitcase and sat down on the bed. You slowly opened the first page to see in eloquent handwriting:
I will certainly conquer your world,
if that means I will have you kneeling before me 😉
You felt yourself heat up and took a deep breath. Images about the first night, and the others were rushing back to you. You involuntarily squeezed your thighs together to relief some of the tension. Then you realized that this was a good excuse to text him. At least if he didn’t text back, you could try and move on. Hoping to fool yourself to think that would ever be an option. You were thinking about different replies, actually writing them down on paper. It had happened far too often that you were in the middle of rearranging the words of a text, only for you to hit send and come off as a complete idiot. It took a while but eventually you send:
I read your message in the book, you can certainly try but the last time I checked Loki wasn’t really that good at conquering worlds.
And now came the part that you hated. You had to wait for him to reply. And while you were waiting you ran every worst-case-scenario in your head. From him not texting back, to him finding it weird, to him being disgusted. You were mentally slapping yourself all day for sending a text like that. But he liked the challenge the first time you questioned Loki’s method, maybe he would like your text? Or maybe you should have started with something more mundane, like how his day was going? You had checked your phone 10 times in the last 5 minutes. You knew it was ridiculous to expect someone to reply that fast, still, you felt like you had blown it.
The day went by agonizing slow, you tried to distract yourself but nothing worked. You didn’t know what was wrong with you, you barely had crushes on guys. The fact that you had sex with Tom and he spend a few days with you and your friends was amazing. You figured it would be out of your system by the end, but no. Now that you had a taste, you needed more. Much more! You were ripped from your thoughts when you heard your phone ringing. Looking at the screen you saw the person calling low key. That was Tom, he had asked you would not put his real name in your phone in case you ever lost it and someone would find it. Your stomach tied in knots and you felt like you were going to be sick. After a few seconds you realized you had to answer, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
‘Hey darling, hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time?’ he asked. The way the word ‘darling’ rolled of his tongue in his British accent had you lightheaded.
‘N- no of course not’ you stammered.
‘Great, I just wanted to ask how your day was going’ he said.
You told them about his day and after that you asked him about his. When he was telling you, you started to wonder if he even read your text. After some chit chatting you were convinced that he hadn’t, maybe he never received it?
‘Oh, by the way, good new! I will be shooting a movie near by you. I will be there for a few months next week. I was hoping we could meet up’ he said.
‘Yes, of course! That would be great’ you replied eagerly.
‘Great, I have to go now, but I just wanted to let you know that I accept your challenge’ he said.
‘Challenge? What challenge?’ you asked confused.
‘The text you send me. I will conquer your world and have you kneeling by the end of the first day’ he replied in a low dark voice. Before you could reply he hung up. It took a moment before you realized what he meant. You swallowed hard and had to admit you were turned on by those words alone. You wondered what Tom had planned to complete the challenge. It was a challenge you for sure were going to lose, which felt like a win.
Over the next week Tom had texted some dubious things that got you worked up. He had sent some pictures of himself, after he was done working out, swimming or just ‘lounging in bed’. Most of them shirtless and his pants were so low you could see the V-shape by his hips. The pictures of him in bed were especially hot. He showed of his abs, his large hands near his crotch which was visibly hard. With the picture he had send a recording wherein he whispered in a dark voice al the filthy things he wanted to do once he was with you. You couldn’t help but touch yourself, the picture with the voice was too much. Tom clearly knew what kind of effect he had on you, because he called you a few minutes after he send it. You reluctantly answered the call, still extremely horny and wet.
‘By your panting I can only assume that you are doing what I think you are doing’ he smirked over the phone.
When you embarrassingly admitted it, Tom started to talk dirty over the phone. He was instructing you what to do and encouraging you to lose yourself in your pleasure. Which you did. After you came he said ‘that’s my good girl’ and hang up. The words did something to you, you were a bit surprised by it. You didn’t know if it was the praise, or the fact he called you his. Tom was a wicked man, a wicked man indeed. The next day he let you know that he would fly that day to your city. He asked for you address, since he had a lot of time that day. Thankfully, it was weekend, so you were also free. You didn’t which time he would come, he didn’t answer you after he got your address. Until you got a text that late afternoon that said:
Wear something that can easily be removed
Deciding to indulge him further you choose a short dress. You were staring at your lingerie and decided to tease him, you were going commando. Right before you were about the cook yourself dinner you heard a knock on your door. You squealed a little from excitement and rushed to the door. When you opened it, you saw Tom smiling brightly at you with his arms wide open. You immediately hugged him, he pulled you up and spun you around.
‘I missed you, darling. This week was torture’ he said.
You laughed a little ‘You surely tortured me the entire week’.
You let him in and to your surprise he still had his suitcase with him. But you couldn’t care less, right now the only thing you wanted to do was kiss him. Tom must have had the same idea, because once he closed the door behind him, he grabbed you and pulled you close to him. His lips were on yours in a second. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed you, it was passionately, desperate. Like he had been starved and finally the thing he craved for. His hands started to explore your body and you were already helping his out of his jacket. You felt him smile against your lips.
‘Naughty girl, no panties. What happened to the good girl I met a week ago?’ he whispered against your lips.
‘Hmm, you corrupted her slightly’ you answered.
He just chuckled ‘Good, because I’m not done yet’
Once his jacket was off he helped you with the buttons of his shirt and stood half naked before you. He had kicked his shoes of and you were now undoing his belt and pants. A second later he was completely naked and you marvelled at the sight of him. Tom just smirked and helped you out of your dress. You wanted to kiss him again but he grabbed your wrists and hold you in your place.
‘Kneel’ he whispered in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. You wanted to kneel, but you were curious to see this side of him. So, you shook your head ‘make me’ you challenged him. A wide smile appeared on his face, and you briefly wondered if this was a good choice, a bad one, or both. Tom walked to the couch, while still holing your wrists together. He sat down, his erect cock standing proudly between his legs. When he pulled you down you instinctively tried to get his cock inside of you, but he would let you. With his hands he pulled your wrists to your back and held them together with only one hand. You were facing him, your clit close to his cock which was begging for attention. His other hand slowly stroked your hips. You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but couldn’t. Your legs were around his, spreading you as he had spread his as wide as he could. Your clit was exposed and you were completely immobile. His stroking hand soon found you clit and you moaned loudly when he started to circle it with his fingers.
‘Tsk, darling. Already so wet, and I’ve barely begun’ he teased you. You only moaned his name in response.
‘I’ve been thinking about you all week, how it felt to have that pussy of yours clench around my cock, milking it like your life depends on it’ he said while stroking your clit faster.
You felt your orgasm build up and were craving your release. Right before it hit you, he stopped. Instead, his hand found your breasts and started to massage one. He ignored your whining and pleading for him to continue. You struggled against the hand that were holding your wrists, but he didn’t budge. He took your other breasts in his mouth and started to circle and bite your nipple. After that he left multiple bite marks on your breasts, he leaned back and looked proudly at his work. Then he grabbed his cock and he started to tease your clit with the tip of it. You felt your muscles tense up again and you threw your head back.
‘You’re so beautiful’ he whispered to you.
‘Before you send that text I was going to be a gentleman. Now, I want to fuck you every chance I get while I’m here’ he continued.
‘Maybe I will take you to set, stuff that pretty mouth of yours with my cock between takes’
‘Or make you wear a remote-controlled vibrator the entire day, while I play with the buttons’
You were close, so close. But right before you came, he stopped again.
‘Tom, please’ you panted. You didn’t know you could take more of his teasing.
‘Tell me, what are you begging for’ he mused.
‘Take me, please’ you begged.
‘Is that the best you can do?’ he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
‘Please, please, I want you so bad’ you said.
He leaned further back and released your arms ‘then kneel’ he said.
You didn’t have to be told thrice. You quickly got off him and kneeled between his legs. Before he could say anything you took his cock entirely in your mouth and hurt him groan and curse. You eagerly started to suck him, while swirling the tongue around his tip. You flattened your tongue and put more pressure on it when you slide it against his entire shaft. Tom’s hands flew to your hair and he pulled a little. When he noticed you started to suck him more enthusiastically, he pulled harder.
‘That’s it. My good girl’
‘You’re a fucking goddess’ he praised you.
You felt his muscles tense and he moaned loudly. You knew he was close, but you didn’t stop. Tom grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you off his cock. You looked questioningly at him.
‘I want to cum inside of you’ he said darkly. He pulled you on his lap and didn’t waste any time to plunge his cock balls deep inside of you. You eagerly started to ride him while he was guiding your motions with his hands on your ass. His gaze was locked at your bouncing breasts. When you felt your orgasm build up, you threw your head back. He seized that opportunity to bite your neck, surely leaving a mark. But you couldn’t care less. When his fingers found your clit, he circled it a few time, and you came immediately. Your walls clenched around him and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. After a few more thrusts you rest your head against his forehead, and both of you tried to control your breathing. His cock was still inside of you and his possessive hands on your hips held you there.
‘That was..’ you started, Tom hummed in agreement.
‘Love, you have no idea what you are doing to me’ he whispered.
You laughed and wanted to move off him, but he tightened his grip and held you there. ‘Not yet’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t you check into the hotel tough? Usually, they don’t let you check in after dinner, which is almost’ you asked him.
He kissed you deeply. ‘I have till 10 pm to check in’ he answered. ‘When I’m here I would be busy and the hotel is like half an hour away from your place. And the set even more than an hour. So, I was wondering what you would think about me staying at your place?’ he asked.
You tried to think it over, but Tom started rambling ‘I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. I just, wanted to spend most of my time with you. But if you are not comfortable I will take the hotel. I didn’t mean.. It was maybe stupid too..’ You kissed him to shut him up and tried not to giggle at his change in personality. You liked how he could go from the dominant sex god to the sweet rambling idiot, just like that.
‘You can stay here’ you smiled brightly at him. Tom looked very relieved to hear you say that. You felt his cock harden again.
‘I- I should however start to cook, for dinner’ you said while trying to get off him.
Tom held you in place and kissed you deeper. To your surprise he stood up and held you impaled on his cock. ‘Bedroom?’ he asked. You pointed him towards the door behind the two of you. He started to walk there while kissing you. He laid you gently on the bed and slowly started to thrust. Your hands caressed his back and your legs wrapped around his waist. Tom left open mouth kisses on your lips, cheeks, and your neck. ‘I will help you cook, once I have you more intimately. Deal?’ he whispered.
warnings: smut, oral sex f receiving, fingering, semi-public sex, bit of a time jump at the very end
word count: 2.2k
a/n: you wanna hear a small horror story? i was about halfway through writing the smut portion of this when i noticed it was nearly 2am, so i exited out of the document bc i still wanted to catch some sleep. the next morning, i woke up…AND THE SMUT HADN’T SAVED. after i spent about an hour sobbing in agony, hating myself, (over-exaggerating lmao) i rewrote the bit. it’s not rushed as i spent all day on it and it’s still hot imo, but i stg if the original smut had saved…well, anon, i hope you enjoy anyway. tysm for requesting!
One of the things you hated most about quantum mechanics was its interpretations. For nearly a decade now, you and Tony had had conflicting theories on how quantum mechanics corresponded to reality— all because you interpreted the physics differently.
Or maybe you just hated being wrong, because it was Tony’s theory that led you here in 2012 New York disguised as a security guard and acting as backup for the Time Heist, not yours. When you thought about it, the circumstances for how you got here still didn’t make perfect sense, but whatever, there were more pressing things at stake right now.
Like, the fact that 2012 Tony was currently having a heart attack. Or, according to present Tony, mild cardiac dysrhythmia.
“He’s convulsing, give him air!” someone shouted, and you couldn’t help it, you tensed a little.
“Tones, you sure this’ll work?” you hissed through clenched teeth.
“Relax, I’m not dying,” replied 2023 Tony, scarily nonchalant about it all. He was standing a little closer to the conflict, also disguised as a security guard.
“Yet,” you mumbled under your breath.
“Medic!” you suddenly hollered over your shoulder, motioning to the scene playing out in front of you now, “Medic!”
“Give these guys some help!” 2023 Tony joined in.
Meanwhile, 2012 Thor was sweating bullets. “Speak to me Stark, is it - is it your chest machine? Breathe!”
2012 Tony was gasping hard on the floor as people surrounded him, and then, you barely saw it in the commotion, but the tiniest dot emerged from out of nowhere and forced the briefcase in 2023 Tony’s direction.
Scott. Time to make your getaway.
“Watch my six,” 2023 Tony muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he darted forward to take the briefcase. It wasn’t exactly his six, but you watched as Loki’s eyes followed the sliding case— he knew something was up.
“Good job, meet me in the alley, I’m gonna grab a quick slice,” 2023 Tony breathed as he started for the elevator with the case in hand; 2012 Tony was still convulsing.
Everyone in the lobby flinched as Hulk smashed his way into the room, and 2023 Tony went flying— shit, the Tesseract.
“NO STAIRS!” the Hulk roared.
Fuck it: you broke all cover and shot towards the Space Stone, but not before the glowing cube had slid straight at Loki’s feet. In a flash, you saw him glance down, saw the glimmer reappear in his eyes, and in that moment, all of your worst nightmares became true: he grabbed it and disappeared into nothingness.
“No!” you shrieked, tearing off your helmet despite yourself, really breaking cover now as all eyes in the lobby found you, “Loki! He - he got away!”
2012 Tony heaved in a breath, 2012 Thor turned to look over his shoulder with his hammer pressed on the Arc Reactor, and then out of nowhere, someone opened a rectangular, near-transparent portal.
“I hereby arrest you for crimes against the timeline,” someone ordered, pointing a rifle at you.
“Y/N?” 2012 Tony called from the floor, still out of breath, though seemingly over his little dysrhythmia. “I thought you were helping Cap coordinate search and rescue?”
“We’re one unit away from the red line!” someone exclaimed, a someone apart of that same armoured squad that had just appeared out of nowhere, and your breath hitched.
“Seize her!” cried yet another someone.
Before you could fight it, two of these new soldiers grabbed your arm and forced you down, and with a sharp blow to your head, your consciousness spiralled into darkness.
The office you’d ended up in seemed permanently stuck in the 70s: everything was orange or a horrible, horrible brown, but occasionally there were spatters of green. Honestly, it all reminded you of puke, which in turn made bile rise in your throat. It had been one wild day: you’d gone from 2023 to 2012 to a mysterious place where time didn’t exist at all.
You were waiting for an agent called Mobius, someone told you. As far as you knew you’d done everything right: not necessarily chronologically, you’d collected a ticket, stood before a judge and admitted that you’d blown the Time Heist (putting it that way sounded like you’d done something horrible when you really hadn’t) confirmed you were not a robot to your knowledge, signed the enormous pad of paper that was apparently everything you’d ever said, and let yourself be put into this stupid prison jumpsuit without a fight. Now what?
The clock above you was interesting, so you focused on that. It had thirteen hands and it was the same ugly orange colour as everything in this office. God, you never realized you could hate a single colour this much.
“Hi,” someone said, making you whip around. A middle aged man with greying hair and a moustache had just entered, and with a soft snap, the door swung shut behind him.
“You’re Mobius?” you asked flatly.
“That I am. You would be Y/N, correct?”
You narrowed your eyes just the tiniest bit. “Yeah.”
“Great. So,” he started, striding forward and seating himself at what was now obviously his desk, “I’m sure you know why you were brought into the TVA. You screwed with the Sacred Timeline, intentionally or unintentionally, I’ve read your file, the incident looks to be a kinda heat of the moment thing, so-“
“What am I doing here?” you interjected, rather rudely you thought, but after the day you’d had you really didn’t care. “The judge told me I was guilty, said I’d be reset back to my timeline. That was, by my understanding of time, an hour ago. I’m still here.”
Mobius looked vaguely uncomfortable at that. “Yes - you see, because of the way you diverged off of the Sacred Timeline, we’ve decided to keep you here longer, you might be useful to us. You know what’s interesting? You weren’t the only Variant apprehended in 2012.”
You chewed on your lip, unimpressed, hoping the conversation wouldn’t go the way you thought it was going. “And who would that Variant be?”
Mobius gave you a sympathetic look. “I think you already know. It’s Loki Laufeyson.”
You stood up despite yourself. “Absolutely not.”
You started for the door, but all of a sudden you were sitting in your chair again.
Mobius grimaced at you. “You still got your Time Collar on, so you’re not going anywhere.”
“How could I possibly be of use to you?” you shot back. “And if it involves putting me in the vicinity of that - that monster, if he’s here at the Time Vacationing Authority or whatever-“
“Then no, I’m out,” you yelled over him, slamming your hands onto the mahogany table, “Send me back to my own timeline and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
“What happened between you guys? Why are you so disgusted?” he asked, standing up with you but still very obviously brandishing the remote of your Time Collar.
This had you spluttering for words. “It’s just - he’s a migraine. Always has been.”
He tutted. “Well, you’re not wrong.”
He motioned to the chair. “Sit down and I’ll explain to you the full situation.”
Three hours later— at least, according to your understanding of time— you were searching for Loki in a labyrinth of mute orange hallways.
You couldn’t believe you were doing this. This was madness.
I’m gonna need to trust you don’t rip his head off, Mobius had told you. I need to find Ravonna again, I’ll explain to her our agreement. In the meantime, bring him to this office and I’ll give you guys your first textbooks.
Fucking textbooks! Like you were in school again! You promised yourself when you strode across the stage to receive your Master’s degree that you wouldn’t go through that onslaught of sleepless nights and general discomfort again. You barely pulled yourself through it that time. And now you were here, against your will—
You rounded the corner, still lost in your thoughts, twisted the knob of a door, and nearly jumped out of your jumpsuit when you came face to face with Loki.
Well, not face to face, exactly, he was sitting down with his gaze boring into his thumbs and you were staring at him from the doorway, but that counted as face to face to you. You were pretty sure this was the closest you’d be able to get to him without the urge to tear his head off.
“Hi,” you said cautiously. “You met Mobius, right?”
Loki looked up from his thumbs, spotted you, and flat-out ignored what you’d just said.
“Have you met Mobius?” you repeated irritably. “He wants you back. I’m supposed to take you.”
“What are you doing here?” Loki demanded, ignoring you again.
“The same reason you’re here,” you responded tiredly, already giving up on asking him things. “You stole the Tesseract and fucked over my timeline, so we both ended up here, hurray.”
Loki surveyed you, and when he spoke, you could’ve sworn his voice got lower. “Hurray indeed.”
It made a confusing rush of heat swell up in your chest. Oh no.
“Have you seen your life play out too?” he asked, pointing at the screen to his left, and it was then you realized it was a projector screen, not a weird-patterned wall.
“No,” you said cautiously.
“Odd,” he replied, and then he didn’t do anything to follow up with his sentence, just sat there in his silence, so you stood there awkwardly.
“Yes, yes, coming.”
Mobius’ office, waiting for Mobius himself to come back, but you were pressed against the cold mahogany wood of his desk with Loki on top of you. Worst of all? Over the weeks that had passed since you’d both wound up at the TVA, this wasn’t the first time you’d ended up like this. Sure, you might have still considered him a monster, but you’d realized long ago that nothing was that bad if it felt good.
“And here I thought I would have to get you ready for me,” Loki murmured as he rubbed your half-clothed clit with his thumb, “How long have you been this wet, my darling?”
That was the first time he had ever called you darling, but you took it in stride.
“All day,” you replied breathlessly.
“Of course,” he groaned, finally pulling your panties out of the way to expose your glistening pussy, “Fuck, I imagine there’s not much here to do in the TVA, is there?”
“Just files and files and occasionally Miss Minutes,” you mumbled back with a grin in your voice as the thumb on your sweet spot became faster.
Loki drew back to spit on your clit, and you sighed without meaning to. “Fuck…”
“Could you imagine if they caught us in here?” he started, his voice deathly low, “How would Mobius react if he came rushing back in and saw you splayed out like this? All over his desk for me?”
The sigh turned into a high-pitched, breathy moan as Loki sunk a finger inside of you: when he leaned forward to lick a stripe up your pussy, it was almost overkill, you could feel him smirking on your skin.
“Make it quick, Laufeyson,” you forced yourself to snap.
He let out a noise that sounded like a murmured chuckle, and then all of a sudden you were pushed right into the goddamn desk— the finger crooked inside of you was perfectly stimulating your g-spot and he was rubbing your clit at the exact same time, this was some seriously advanced shit.
You couldn’t help but buck against the stimulation and grope for one of Mobius’ possessions to hold onto: you found a glowing green paperweight and squeezed it so hard you weren’t sure how it didn’t snap in half. You could feel the pressure building against your core, you were due to burst at any second.
Loki was panting in rhythm with you, and if you bothered to look down, you would’ve seen his soaked fingers delving in and out of you at a quick pace. He was getting off from this just as much as you were, you realized.
“Shit,” you gasped, clenching around his fingers, “Shit - Loki, I’m gonna-“
At that moment, you heard footsteps echo down the hall and Loki automatically jumped off you. “Get down!”
You weren’t sure if it was terror alone, the fact your blood had ran so cold it seemed to cease flowing through you altogether, or the fact that Loki had actually dragged you off of Mobius’ desk— sending the paperweight tumbling to the floor— that got you back in your seat before you even registered moving. Your core was still pulsing against your panties, you were still on the precipice of orgasm…
“Found the file,” Mobius announced proudly as he sidled his way into the room: Loki was trying to slide a folder back onto the desk as naturally as possible.
“Right,” you bit out, folding your hands rigidly on your lap, “Where were we? Branch timelines?”
Summary: chapter 1 of a fanfic loosely based on the transporter movie series and inspired by the advert tom did for jaguar.
Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of guns, car crashes, mild violence
The silver car purrs, the deadly silence broken, Tom has a smirk on his face as he catches the reflection of the man, he just took the payment from reaching for the gun tucked away in the back of his trousers.
“I think you will find it rather unwise on your part to attempt to put a bullet through me.” Tom warned walking the distance to the boot of the car and placing the duffle bag inside it.
None the less the cocking of the gun was heard, Tom looked up and tsked, unimpressed.
“You want part of the money?” Sometimes minions wish for a cut from their own boss’ payments, Tom mused.
“I’d like you dead at my feet, the parcel you just received would be a nice addition.” The man’s accent thick, a sick smile on his face.
Tom pressed the little button that automatically shut the boot, stepping cautiously toward the man.
“Stay there don’t move.” The man warned.
“Alright, here I remain, two feet away near the car.” Tom raised his hands in feign surrender,
“Now explain why me being dead is beneficial to you?”
“Simply put, revenge.” The man moved closer, fingers not even trembling around the gun.
Things never look great in this line of work.
“I really should change my career, any temp job openings you know of?” Tom enquired, buying time to form a plan.
“Oh, shut up, your mouth runs too fast and it got my boyfriend in trouble with our boss.” The man explained.
“I’ve dealt with a lot of your boss’ employees, you’re going to have to enlighten me more than that.” Even though his own mind would reach to the connections quicker than the buffoon who had the gun safety off.
“Tall guy, beard, skull tattoo – ”
“Skull tattoo on his right bicep, last time I saw him was eight months ago.” Tom completed,
he remembered, but it wasn’t his fault, the man tried to run off after taking the package from Tom and their boss was there watching.
It was a lucrative deal.
“You do realise your boyfriend was the one who tried to run and your boss caught him.” Tom reasoned, staying close to his car.
“I know what he tried to do but I also happen to know the people you’ve pissed off in your line of work.”
The words had just ended and headlights of six cars came on, Tom was glad he had decided to skip lunch. This was going to involve a lot of lane change driving.
“You look a little pale there.” The man commented.
“Oh, well see now your boss has to arrange some more payment for me, always part of the contract when you have loose cannons on the team. Seen many in my line of work.” Tom held the man’s attention; eight cars were inside here to ambush him.
Tom slid his hand above the tail light it dropped down to reveal a small gun, he held it up smiling at his friend’s expression of disbelieve on the size of the gun compared to his, such egotistical people.
Tom shot three bullets at the ground, the bullets quickly bursting and releasing a thick brown liquid.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have a plane to catch.” Tom put the gun back, swiftly moving to the driver’s side of the car as the bullets started flying from across the lake of brown liquid.
Getting in, he changed gears, reversing then climbing the turn filled road that led to the parking entrance.
Checking his mirrors, he saw the oil he had put down did the job of causing difficulties for the cars to move at a higher speed, they wouldn’t risk their time or lives slipping.
Made it easy for him to slip away. He would have laughed at the pun.
As he got out and swerved the car onto the freeway, he noticed he wasn’t alone, not yet.
He hated when it was an hour when civilian cars were also on the road.
Tom’s grip on the wheel, tightened as he saw a figure stand up from the sunroof of the car behind him, starting to shoot bullets at his bullet proof car.
“Idiots.” He brought the car into the extension lane diverging from his original route.
He did tell them he was heading to the airport.
A few ideas bounced around his head as he zig-zagged his way overtaking cars.
“I’m going to throw up, could you drive in a straight line?” A figure got up from the back seat, Tom was startled the car swerving slightly, but he knew he couldn’t hit the breaks or slow down.
This person was not part of his current plan of action.
“I can’t stay in one line it isn’t safe, for me nor you unless you’re on their side if so, I will not hesitate to throw you out.” He lifted one hand to point back at the cars behind him.
The figure looked behind and saw a normal road but when they concentrated through their hazing mind, they saw a pattern of cars different to the normal ones.
“Also, if you want to throw me out you’d have to slow down, uh, um, you may want to, you know switch lanes.” When the figure looked back ahead at the truck approaching in the same lane probably five hundred meters away.
Tom shook his head, “No.”
“So be it.” He deadpanned.
“Do you have a death wish?”
“You should have thought of that before you snuck into my car, you know people could have death wishes, not a good escape plan or whatever plan you had.” Tom mused.
“Uh, first of all I don’t have a plan, I just woke up, second if I wanted to escape, I wouldn’t sneak into a car like this.”
Tom looked at the figure through the rear-view mirror, streetlights not helping much to get a good look, female, could be tall, a little heavier build hair is all over and frizzed out –
“Stop analysing me and switch lanes for the love of god!” She exclaimed leaning over the middle console her hand pointing towards the truck.
Tom looked at her, she looked scared, who wouldn’t be? He looked ahead, concentrating on getting his timing right.
“Sit back.” Tom ordered
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She sat back into the middle.
Tom quickly turned the car into the furthest right lane when there was just in the nick of time to save themselves from the truck collision, the car that had been hot on their tail collided and three cars after that car collided into the first.
He only hoped no civilian life was in danger.
As for the figure in his car, she flew towards the left when he did the turn, forehead colliding with the window.
“Ow-fuck-damn it,” she hissed at the pain rubbing her head.
“Are you alright?” Tom asked, looking at her through the mirror.
“No. Genius.” She groaned again, as he swerved them to the left and she went to the right, she thought he did it on purpose but then she heard the crash sound from behind.
“Apologies.” Tom said, a small apologetic smile on his face, then he realised she couldn’t see him so he let the smile falter.
“Do you have any water?” She asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“You do not keep water in your car? What if you get a coughing fit? Or are dehydrated during some high-speed car chase?” She wondered.
“I usually relax after I get my job done.” Tom’s mind was in confusion, she sounded so innocent? As if she didn’t know what she was doing.
“So, you probably don’t keep snacks around either.”
“I don’t wish to throw up while I do high speed car chases.” Tom looked at her with a what the actual hell expression through the rear-view mirror he then realised he doesn’t know why she’s here.
“Then I hope you ate before –” she started but Tom cut her off,
“Who are you, what are you doing in my car, when did you get in here, what is your mission?” Tom asked.
“I am you.” She said softly, laughing after that.
Tom was silent and confused, more confused.
There aren’t many institutions close by who said a ward of theirs had escaped.
Was she a criminal then?
“Do not tell me you don’t know that movie reference.” She seemed annoyed.
He was dumbfounded. Movies why is she thinking of movies?
“Rush Hour? The movie? Action-Comedy classic? Ring a bell?” She went on trying to help him remember.
“I haven’t seen them.” He answered.
“Sad, those are nice movies. Watch them when you get time.” She suggested.
“You haven’t answered my questions.” He reminded.
“Not all questions can be answered so easily.” She spoke,
“I have no mission, because I don’t know how did I land up in your car, all I remember is getting my morning coffee at my local coffee place walking out when everything goes blank.”
“How do I know you aren’t lying?” He asked,
There was a paper crumpling sound and her hand reached forward tapping his shoulder, he looked down, it was a receipt of this morning for coffee like she said.
“That is all I have on me, my bag’s gone, I do remember being vaguely thrown into something? I don’t even know where am I.”
“Who are you?” Tom asked.
“And no more Rush Hour references.” He warned.
“You’re telling me your real name?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know how a fake name would be helpful.” Y/N shrugged.
“Can I get on the front seat? I’ll climb over?” She asked hopeful.
“No, I don’t trust you.” Tom informed.
“Uh, if you don’t trust me then like why keep me in the back seat where I can attack you and kill you?”
She made a fair point. Tom was unwilling to admit it.
“Nope, you won’t kill me.” Tom assured himself and her.
“Why?” Y/N was taken aback by this man,
“Also, what is your name?”
“Tom.” He answered, not knowing why he wanted to be truthful
“So, I give you my real name and you give me a name like Tom.”
“Hey if I was going with a fake name, I’d say something generic like Chris.”
“Also, you’re too childlike to be an assassin.”
“What if that is my whole mojo?” Y/N pressed on.
“Not really.” Tom shrugged again, smiling at Y/N’s irritation.
“Fine, I’m not an assassin but why not let me sit in front, easier to communicate.”
“I don’t trust you enough.” Tom said again.
“I’m a writer of sorts if you must know.”
“Any works I may have read?” Tom enquired; his interest piqued.
“Not that famous.” There was a tone of finality to Y/N’s voice maybe she didn’t want to share anything further.
Tom just nodded, mapping out an efficient route to a safe house.
“I’m thirsty.” Y/N said after about fifteen minutes.
“We could stop at a petrol station and you can go and get water.”
“So that you can drive off leaving me in an unknown place? I don’t think so buddy.” Y/N pat his shoulder, settling back in her seat.
“I won’t leave.” Tom assured.
“Yeah right, been there heard that.” She muttered loud enough.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tom looked back at her, turning his head.
“I say, I’d wait because I’d like some water too.” Tom added.
She didn’t say anything for a minute or two in response, Tom pursed his lips, mapping out the road.
“When did you last eat?” She asked and Tom’s stomach growled, she held a small grin she had a feeling he was hungry.
“Uh been a while.” He gave a short ha ha.
“Not awkward really.” She tried comforting him.
“So, water and crisps?”
“I was thinking fish and chips?” Tom suggested.
“I’d like that yeah; it is a favourite of mine.”
“Well good we can get it close by, just have one more car to throw of our trail.” Tom pressed down the accelerator and Y/N wore her belt before she’d lose her head.
“Good girl.” Tom praised.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“No Tom, up ahead right side the car-”
Y/N didn’t have time to complete her sentence as the person directed their aim to the tires firing gun shots, Tom swerved the to the left going across the road, tires screeching and a loud bang echoed through the car.
The last thing Y/N heard was the sound of someone stepping on broken glass growing louder and coming closer toward the car.
let me know if you like it!
i've had this fic as a wip for the longest time and i felt that it is time to share it
Plot: Loki and Bucky spend a night of passion with a woman. It was supposed to be just one night, but the three don't know yet that one night wouldn't be enough for Bucky, Loki and Y/N...
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My Beta-Reader: @fa-me
"Y/N? Are you okay?" She turned to look at the two men standing in the doorway. Y/N nodded briefly before turning her gaze back to the city below the balcony. "You disappeared quickly after the news, we were worried." Loki approached her.
"I...I just needed a moment alone. I didn't want you guys to be worried." Y/N explained softly.
"We'll always be worried about you." Bucky said, smiling slightly. He leaned against the railing and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"What now? One of you is going to be a father of twins and the other..." Y/N stopped in mid-sentence and took a deep breath. "It wouldn't be fair to force one of you to raise another man's children." Bucky and Loki raised their eyebrows and looked at each other.
"We promised you that we don't care who the father is, Y/N. We love you and our children, who the biological father is makes no difference to us." Loki explained lovingly. Y/N looked at him with a smile and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin our day." Y/N said and looked at the floor. Loki lifted her chin and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You didn't Y/N." Bucky stood behind Y/N and gently rubbed her arms. She turned to him and began kissing him. The kiss heated up quickly and Bucky slipped his tongue into her mouth.
"That's pretty unfair, you'd already have all the fun first thing this morning." Y/N broke away from the kiss and laughed. She turned to Loki and kissed him as well, her fingers running through his hair.
"How do you feel about being a little naughty in public and celebrating the good news of the twins?"
He moved her backward until her back was against the wall next to the door and stroked her cheek. His body rubbed against hers and she felt his cock harden. Y/N broke away from the kiss and looked over at Bucky. She stuck out her hand and silently asked him to come closer to them. Loki's mouth traveled down her neck and began kissing him. Bucky took her hand and placed it on his crotch. Y/N moaned as she felt his hard erection. His hand moved to her breasts and started kneading them. He rolled her nipple between his fingers.
Loki's hand pushed up her dress and his hand wandered under her dress. He let his fingers gently slide over the fabric of her panties. Y/N opened her legs a little more to allow his fingers access. Loki pushed her panties to the side and let his finger slide over her already wet pussy. Meanwhile, Bucky had unzipped his pants and let his big cock pop out. Y/N started to stroke it, but would be quickly stopped by him.
"I don't want to cum in your hand." Bucky quickly stated. Loki also opened his pants and pulled out his cock. He lifted it up by her waist with ease and Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist. Loki guided his cock to her wet pussy. Quickly and hard he filled her pussy. He thrust into her slowly, but his thrusts filled her completely. Bucky moved closer to the couple. "Turn her over." His hand grabbed her chin and turned her head toward him, and he began kissing her passionately. Suddenly, he grabbed his cock with one hand, which was pressed against her ass from behind, lifted her dress and pulled her panties away with the other. She felt the head of his cock slide between her butt cheeks. He pushed it in a little and repeated before thrusting his cock into her ass.
Y/N moaned loudly from the overwhelming feeling of both cocks inside her. Both men began to slowly move together. Loki kissed her while Bucky bit and sucked on her neck. Soon their movements sped up, she managed to move her hips to get enough friction on her clit. Finally, Y/N felt her climax overwhelm her and moaned loudly. While her body was still shaking from her orgasm, she felt the men, still pounding into her pussy, tense and spasm almost in sync, finally filling Y/N with their hot cum. The three of them gasped and tried to calm their breathing.
"That was definitely a way to party that I really like." Y/N laughed as the two cocks slid out of her and then she was back on the floor. Their cum flowed out of her while the two men zipped up their pants.
"Well, it's not every day we find out we're going to be fathers." Bucky smiled and Loki looked like he was lost in thought. "Are you all right, Loki?"
"Yeah...Y/N, I didn't just want to go to Asgard so we could go to the healing chamber. I asked Idunn for an apple."
"An apple?" Bucky and Y/N asked at the same moment.
"It gives immortality for both of you." Loki opened his hands and a golden apple appeared in each of their hands. Bucky took one of the apples Loki gave him. Y/N also took it after a moment's hesitation and examined it.
"For me too?" Bucky asked Loki in confusion.
"The three of us are family and we belong together. You're my best friend, Bucky." Loki nodded and smiled at him. It was clear that Bucky had chosen the apple, so the two men looked at Y/N questioningly.
"Why are you guys staring at me? Of course I'm going to eat the apple." Y/N smiled at Bucky and Loki. It was visible that both were relieved.
"Good, there's something else you should know now that you've made up your mind. I didn't want your decision to depend on it." Y/N furrowed her brow questioningly. "Your apple has another effect than Bucky's. I asked Idunn for a spell to combine Bucky's DNA and mine, changing the babies' DNA as well." Loki explained. "There would no longer be any question as to who the father is, both Bucky and I would be the biological father of the children."
Y/N hugged Loki happily and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked behind her and beckoned Bucky closer. Bucky was pulled into her arms. "We were going to ask you this later, but we think now is a good time."
The two men broke away from the embrace and sank to their knees in front of her.
"Will you do us the honor..." began Bucky.
"And will become our wife?" finished Loki.
Y/N nodded excitedly. "Yes. I will be your wife." Loki and Bucky stood up and pulled her into their arms together. They shared a moment together as the two men rested their hands on her stomach and all three wondered how they’d gotten so lucky..
Taglist is open! @smoke-and-sunsets @everybitch @coco-puffses
A/N Last Chapter of the short FF, I hope you had like it💚
Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x wife!reader
Summary: You were a clueless beautiful soul roaming the streets of London, you didn't know that your best life would start with a book.
Word Count: 2.5k
Warning(s): fluff... (sorry, yes, I know I write a lot of it), mention of miscarriage.
A/N: This is my first time posting one of my Tom Hiddleston fics. I hope you guys enjoy it! Again, thank you for 100 followers. 🥰 Happy ending. (GIF is not mine). **Book recommendation in the story**
⤑ Click here for my taglist to be notified when I post my future fics.
Italics = memories, past events
Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))
You're enjoying the new book your best friend had gotten you for your birthday to read. It was indefinitely one of the best books you had read to date, especially since your best friend had made one of those DIY presents where you took a book and annotated it. She had highlighted many of her favourite quotes, essential plot points and, best of all, doodled all through the book.
Walking down the street, your headphones playing a mix of jazz and piano. Your mind and focus was sea deep within the book; it wasn't long until you had accidentally walked straight into someone's chest.
You gasp before snapping down to reach for your book that had fallen from your grasp, quickly trying to find the page number before getting back up. Finding the page you were on, you slide one of your paperclips on edge before looking back up to the person you had just bumped into.
"oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" you apologised profusely. This man you were apologising to was quite handsome, you thought. He looked down at you, giving a smile "no worries, darling", he rested a reassuring hand on the top of your shoulder. You gave a polite smile before tucking strands away from your face.
He was so enamoured by the way you clumsily fumbled with your headphones, "Sorry again," you shyly smiled at him before walking around both him and his friend. You chuckled to yourself as you dived right into the place you left off in your book.
Tom looked at his friend Benedict entirely stunned by your presence "she didn't even know who I was," he grinned. Tom continued to walk before Benedict could speak, "and she is so beautiful," he cheeses. Benedict feels the second-hand embarrassment, "not everyone knows who you are, Tom," he winks, to which Tom rolled his eyes.
"I should've asked for her number, huh?" He nudges his friend; Benedict stopped mid-walk, turning back to look in the direction you had walked in.
He squints a bit "well, I can still see her. I'd say go for it if you want". He smiled, shoving his hands into his pocket as the snow begins to fall. "I'll meet you at the restaurant?" Tom looked at his friend, who nodded. "You're a 35-year-old man; you can do what you'd like... but do not make me wait for my food", he joked. Tom patted Benedict's shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before running off in the direction you'd be walking in.
You're jamming out to the soft music that was singing through your ears when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You look up from your book to turn, seeing the same man you had bumped into minutes ago. Taking your headphones out, you looked at him curiously "uh... hi?" you kinda smiled at him.
"Hey... sorry, I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I couldn't help myself. You are beautiful," Tom smiled lightly as a blush rose on your cheeks "o-oh t-thanks," you shyly smiled back. He extended his glove covered hand. "My name is Tom", you took his hand into yours shaking it, "nice to meet you, Tom, I'm y/n", you spoke.
"I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime?" you chuckled a bit; this man is asking you on a date. You nodded lightly, grabbing your phone from the pocket of your warm trench coat. "here, add your number," you smiled to Tom, handing over your phone.
He gave you a sweet smile adding his number in before texting himself. He handed your phone back over to you, "I'll text you later tonight", he smiled. "u-uh yeah, sure". He leaned in to give a kiss to your cheek, "thank you so much, beautiful.", and with that, he was walking back the way he had come from. You stood there stunned, it was only your second week of being in London, and this was the first time you had anyone come up to you like he did. You liked it; this was definitely something that would not happen back home.
Tom smiles lightly, walking out of the restaurant, watching as you shivered, waiting for the uber you'd called to take you two home. Hands deep into your pocket, cluelessly looking around.
"Hey, my love", Tom smiled; you turned to see your tall husband walking towards you. "Hey", you grinned, walking as he stood right in front of you, pulling the hoodie of your puffy jacket over your head. It was snowing in London, and you both had just finished dining at your favourite restaurant.
He smiled, brushing your hair back into the hoodie away from your face. He pulled you in by the waist, hugging your body close to keep you warm. "Our uber is on its way," you told Tom, smiling up at him as you leaned on his chest. "Sounds good, it's pretty cold".
As you both waited for the Uber to arrive, his attention was on you; he had cupped your cheeks before planting a few soft kisses on your lips. In Tom's eyes, the height difference between the two of you was nothing but perfect, one of the things he loved about you. As you return his kiss, you snuggling into his chest as the puffiness of his jacket felt nice.
Your Uber pulled up, taking you both home. Your head rested on Tom's shoulder as you closed your eyes to rest. Tom thought the world of you when you had agreed to go out for coffee with him so long ago; Tom didn't expect that you'd still be with him for the long ride. He felt so lucky that he was the one who got to call you his wife.
"There you are; I've been looking for you everywhere, my love," Tom spoke softly as he watched you playing with the kids on the set of his latest film. It wasn't until your third date with Tom that he had told you he was an actor; you almost couldn't believe yourself that you didn't know who he was. When you told your friends about it, they couldn't believe you were dating the 'Tom Hiddleston'.
"Sorry", you smiled up at him, letting the small toddler play with his toys. He chuckled, "Don't worry, darling, shall we get going?" you nodded, waving goodbye to the small child you had been looking after. "Bye-bye", you giggled as he innocently waved back. You got up, wrapping one arm around Tom's torso as he did the same. "Where are we going, love?" you looked up to your boyfriend, who was all but smiling "you'll see".
That moment happened four years ago, and as you can guess, he proposed in the comfort of your own home. After exploring England and meeting Tom, you had opted to stay. You knew that this was where you were meant to be. Now, you had been married to this man for four years and known him for eight. The best choice you had ever made.
"Hey, we're home", Tom whispered to you, but all you could down was mumble. He chuckled at your response. Tom got out of the Uber before leaning back into the car; one arm went under your legs and the other around your back. He had lifted you out of the Uber bridal style, shutting the door with his foot after thanking the driver. Your head was rested on his shoulder softly sleeping, one ring of the doorbell, and the housekeeper had opened the door. Tom gave a nod of thanks walking the two of you inside and upstairs to your room.
Tom laid you gently on top of the bed, taking your shoes, scarf and coat off before tucking you under the sheets. He kissed your head, "goodnight" before making his way to his office for some late night work. It must've been at least 10pm when you had woken up in bed; you turned to snuggle with Tom realising he wasn't there. Sitting yourself up in your bed, you sighed sleepily, hopping out. You took a shower and changed into proper sleep clothes.
Switching on the kettle, you made both Tom and yourself a tea, grabbing a plate from the cupboard, you plated some biscuits as a late-night snack. You cursed yourself for going to sleep early; you had planned a surprise for Tom, but your fatigue beat you to it. You softly padded your way to your own office, grabbing the small gift you had wrapped days before.
You were pregnant, at least 4 months to be exact. Oddly enough, you had been keeping this secret from Tom for three of those months. He never once noticed a difference, but strangely he was more overprotective of you—more than usual. You called it paternal instinct, which always made you chuckle.
You clearly had a bump and wondered when he'd notice. You said to yourself that if he didn't figure it out by your anniversary, then you'd tell him, and of course, he did not notice. Slipping the gift onto your wrist, you carried both teas and the plate of biscuits steadily in your arms. You pushed the door open with your foot softly, smiling as you saw your husband working away on his computer.
"There you are", you whispered; Tom jumped up to help you with the teas, taking them from your hands, he set them on his desk. He embraced you in his arms, "Sorry, I fell asleep," you spoke, wrapping your arms around his torso listening to the beat of his heart.
"Don't worry about it, you were tired" you both pulled apart, taking a seat on the chair that sat on the other side of the desk. You took a sip of your tea, as did Tom. The silence was calm; it was like that with you two sometimes. You were silent, but it was a good silence. "I've got something for you, hun", you spoke up; Tom's attention was back on you.
A raised eyebrow, he observes as you set the small gift bag on in front of him. "What's this?" he curiously asked, taking the small gift into his hands. You chuckle lightly at his expression of interest. "a present that has been two years in the making.". You watched as he pulled out the wrapping tissue slowly.
You sat there crying softly to yourself in the bathroom. You had lost your baby. One both you and Tom had been trying to conceive for just over a few months. Tom held you in his arms, rocking the two of you back and forth; just as much as it hurt him, he knew it would hurt you even more. Both of you had been wanting a child for a while now, but you had trouble doing just that. When you got pregnant, both of you were over the moon.
But like all things, sometimes it never ends the way you'd like it to. You softly whimpered into the arms of your husband, telling him how sorry you were, that it was your fault, but he damn well made sure to tell you that it wasn't. That was life; it was life for many other women around the world.
You sat there for hours, both in each other's embrace. You both didn't say a word to each other because the silence, like many times before, brought you the comfort you needed.
When you found out you were pregnant again, you had a fear of telling Tom that you were pregnant. You didn't want to give him hope, it was so long since then, and now that it was happening, you feared losing the precious life you both created. You made sure to change your lifestyle in any way you could. You went to all your appointments. Made sure to watch and read everything you could on pregnancy, just so that you could tell your husband in confidence that both of you were expecting.
Leading to this very moment, the baby was healthy and growing at a stable rate. There were no problems, and your doctor assured you there weren't any. So as you watched Tom pull the small gift box out from the bag, your heart began to beat just a tad faster. He was already smiling, and he didn't know what it was you were giving him.
As he opened the box, his face fell, he saw it. The positive pregnancy test you took nearly five months ago. He began to cry, which of course, made you cry too. He looked up at you, holding the test and ultrasound in hand. You had gotten up from your seat and moved around his desk to sit in his lap; he rested his head on your chest, hugging your waist softly.
"Don't cry, my love", you spoke, wiping his tears with your PJ sleeve. He looked up at you, "a-are you serious?" he smiled happy tears. Nodding back to him, "I'm am 1000% serious. I'll be five months next week". He laughed ecstatic, resting a hand on your stomach; his thumb caressed it. "h-hold on, five months?" he spoke back tracking on your words. "I wanted to make sure that our baby was okay before I told you," you said, rubbing his cheek softly.
"I'm surprised you didn't notice... normally you're good with these things", you laughed." "I'm going to be a dad!" he spun the pair of you lightly in his chair as he hugged firmly onto you. "you are", you laughed.
You had waited for this moment to come; now that was here, there was this weird feeling that everything was going to be okay; it was Solace.
Four months later...
Here the two of you were, sitting side by side in the hospital bed. Tom holding his daughter as she slept peacefully in his arms. Your head rested against his shoulder, watching as she slept.
"She's finally here", you smiled, diverting your soft gaze up to your husband. "She is", he returned.
After you had surprised Tom that day, he was with you every step of the way. The next appointment you went to, you both found out you were having a girl. You had saved knowing the gender until he was with you.
The nurses came in with some paperwork for the pair of you to sign. You smiled as Tom had rested your daughter into her cot. Sitting back next to you he wrapped his arm around you.
You had that feeling, the same feeling you had when you were taking comfort in Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine. The book you'd been reading on your way home the day you bumped into him, without being so focused on the book's message you didn't know where you would've been.
"so." you spoke "so", he replied. You nodded, and Tom began to write down the name you both had been set on for months now. You and Tom's daughter came at the perfect time, and after the time you both had trying to get her here, you knew that she was Tom and your comfort; your home was now the three of you.
She was your Solace.
The click of the pen lulled you from your thoughts.
You both smiled as you read her official birth certificate. Perfect.