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smolvenger · 3 months

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The Child Called Sharpe (Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Blurb)

Summary: You and Thomas Sharpe welcome your first baby and his second, as Thomas himself faces his own demons regarding his past.

Word Count: 1K (er...blurb or short oneshot, whatever)

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy and childbirth, but nothing graphic. In this version, though I try to have a more nuanced take on Lucille, In this fic I choose to portray the Lucille/Thomas relationship as nonconsensual, pedophilic, and abusive so if you don't like that don't read this, so mentions of sexual abuse, death, illness, blood with some of the canon events of Crimson Peak. But it becomes a lot of tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: I can't please everyone with Crimson Peak on the is Lucille good or bad vrs. is Thomas good or bad discourse, so why bother trying anymore. I just wanna write my stuff. From @holdmytesseract's request!

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

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

Love for him meant creation. It brought out Thomas’s gift of invention tenfold- for love itself was creation. For the first time in his life, an act of love brought out the child’s creation. So it was natural for Thomas to spend hours inventing more for this little child on their way.

That is, his second child. For he had a child, once, and lost that child, once.

Yes, it was a child conceived from control rather than consent…but it was still a child in need of care. A hungry baby- a human life crying for milk, and burning with fever. A child “born wrong.” A child Enola swore to fight to keep alive.

And a child that despite everything died anyway. As did Enola.

Despite Lucille’s cruelty, he did pity her grief for that child- For it was his grief as well.

Lucille caught ill and died not long after. He at least made sure she died comfortably. Warm beneath blankets on a soft bed. Assured her she was loved and kissed her cheek as she took her last breath.

It was complicated, his feelings about his late sister. He never could decide one thing about her. For everything was true- there was both in her. Lucille, both cruel and misunderstood, powerful and pitiful, villain and victim.

Though he never once forced himself on anyone or took advantage of a child as she did to him…

And yet…

He was still guilty of scheming, of blood, of darkness as she was. Of the invention that he wanted to be funded, that he bought at the price of three women’s lives…

But… assaulting him when he was little? Using his innocence until when he was grown he knew no other but her? You would tell him that even if the murders were understandable, she did cross a line in that regard.

He still didn’t know if the woman who at once was his partner, his equal, his sister as well as his jailer, his predator, his molester was deserving of it.

Or not.

Or both.

Yet, all of that darkness and blood was now in the past. Here you were his current wife. A wife who would never take advantage of him. A wife who listened and respected when he said “no.” A wife who wouldn’t push him. Wouldn’t manipulate him. Wouldn’t control him. A wife who forgave him and saw he was now trying to do right with his life, and his choices and would be there to support him.

Your pregnancy was poignant. A reminder that he had a new life now- and a life that was about to expand as your stomach did each month. A new life was about to come forth literally and figuratively for him.

In the corner of his workshop in a special box were toys he made once. Toys were made for the first child who died.

He never prayed, but he did now to whoever listened. For once, those toys would know being loved, being played, and for a baby’s laughter and delight and adoration. They wouldn’t rust from age, but with use. To be worn not with dust, but with love.

He brought out the box one morning and set it in the nursery of his new house. A simpler house compared to Allerdale Hall’s Majesty. Smaller and brighter, made of cherrywood and over earth rather than clay. But cheerful, the warmth bursting in every room.

The toys were cleaned and set ready in that nursery corner. You squeezed his hand after he did so.

When making sure you were comfortable, or when you slept or napped, away he would be in his workshop. He had a special toy shop now next to the house. So in his downtime, he would be found creating little toys that a child of any sex would love. A little teddy bear that twirled on top of a drum. A little cat that lifted to lick its little paw next to a puppy that wagged its tail.

But…what else would a baby need!? His mind was reeling. It had been too long…

Of course! A place to sleep! You had insisted the old wooden rocker would work…but he still had that itching, the gears in his mind whirring faster than any clay mine.

He took a few weeks to study the designs and then set right to work. He stayed up late, rolling up his sleeves. Working on one where if you pressed a small pedal, it would rock gently, oh so gently, as to not stir a baby to more wailing, but only to sleep.

So when he discovered that Lady Sharpe’s water broke, he insisted on staying by you.

“Thomas! But…husbands don’t..don’t usually stay!” you cried. You clutched his hand as he led you to the bed.

Lucille would urge him to leave when it was time to put a cleaver into one of the wives.

For once, he would look at the blood and the bodily innards spilling from his wife and not turn away.

He shook his head, though his hand was still in yours.

“No- My dear, all of my life, I closed my eyes and ran away. I didn’t look when things happened. Not this time- after I get the midwife, I am staying with you. I will not run away for once. I’m going to stay with my wife and keep my eyes open, no matter what I see. I love you- and for once, I am not leaving.” I will not leave you alone to deal with it now.

You grabbed him and kissed his cheek. Then he ran and fetched the midwife. He held to his word and stayed.

Labor is always long. Labor is always primal. But he waited there. Squeezing your hand, cooling your head for every painful cry and push.

Then, after the long hours, though he was a man used to blood he turned pale… Then at last there was a cry.

The midwives smiled, bringing out a little baby in their blaket. Declaring, “It’s a girl!”

You let out a smile and then a laugh of relief. Thomas kissed your hand, then looked at her. His blue eyes brimmed with tears, but for once in his life they were happy ones.

The little girl was brought out in her blanket, needing her mother’s touch- being so new to this cold world and wanting the soft embrace of knowing she was loved now that she was here.

“Look at her…look at her- our baby! Our daughter! Oh!” you cried, a mess of crying, swear, and relief—the pain of the last several hours was forgotten for the tiny baby.

“I never could imagine it,” he agreed, he pecked her tiny forehead.

Once she had settled down, you handed her over to Thomas. The warm, living bundle in his arms. Yes, her cry was loud and bright…but it only signaled that she was alive.. He had never known such joy without confinement, without limits.

The midwives and nurses were paid and thanked. They left, but though it was a long day his Daedelian mind was eager to share his gift.

As you sat in the bed after a while, Thomas got up.

“I have a gift now. For her,” he announced.

Setting you in the wheelchair for rest, he led you to the nursery. The little girl in your arms. Inside the little pastel room there was something in the middle that was tall beneath a blanket.

Thomas walked forward and slipped the blanket off. You let out a gasp.

Beneath was the cradle Thomas made. It was stunningly beautiful- a little pedal that when he stepped on it, would make it rock. Over the bed was a music box on the side that trinkled a lullabye. Stars and a crescent moon dangled were placed to spin over the babies head where she would be placed.

You gasped, seeing how ornate it was. Every bit made with love. As you got up and placed her inside, she opened her little eyes and cooed. You made a little gasp as she took in the sight- her parents and her special gift. Music, rocking, and the stars and moon to dance above her.

To think, after all he had seen, experienced, and done…that he would come to know this moment. Here it was…and he didn’t feel worthy of it.

What when she was older? His own father was a monster. And for a while, fatherhood was linked to such things…

“I only hope I shall be a good father for that little girl…” Thomas wondered..

“You already are,” you assured him. You wrapped an arm around him and kissed him on the cheek.

That night, you were set to sleep after the exhaustion of delivery and elation of the baby. Thomas offered to be there in the nursery. For she was crying through that night, as any baby. Not that she was hungry, as he found out, she just needed warmth.

He got her out of the lovely cradle and went to the rocking chair. He wanted to hold her, feel her close. Her warmth and beating heart and life.

His most precious creation of all…and the one that would survive. He knew she would.

“I promise you, my little love…” Thomas told the baby. “You will not know of attics. Of cold and punishments. Of plotting and murders. Of blood and cruelty…”

He kissed the top of her head.

“No- you will be Protected. Wanted…and loved.”

He would do everything so that his daughter would never have to suffer as he did.

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jokeringcutio · 6 months

Note

I see you have Crimson Peak listed for fics 👀

Picture this: Sir Thomas Sharpe doesn't have a sister and was never abused, therefore never got into the black widower routine. He's just a struggling inventor in London to wrangle investors for his machine because he's the last of his crumbling family line.

Reader is an heiress who rarely gets out because she's anxious and prone to panic attacks. Quite a sweet and pretty girl, but her parents are ashamed of her and hide her away.

Anyway there's a Halloween masquerade being held in town and both reader and Thomas attend (whether they sneak in or not is up to you) and they meet. They both feel more at home with each other than anyone else in the city, and start seeing each other secretly and fall in love.

Up to you if he asks permission to marry her or they elope and the parents pay to cover it up, but they get married and use her money to fund his inventions and fix up crimson peak. And have kid(s) to continue the family line.

A happy romantic story for two sweet and ignored people 🥰 (smut scene if you wanna, but it should be romantic)

-🐀

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader – Halloween (Sweet AU) Fandom: Crimson Peak Pairing: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader Rating: Teen Summary: AU in which Sir Thomas Sharpe never had his sister corrupt him and meets Reader at a Halloween masquerade.

Warnings: None Really. Romance. Talk about marriage and kids. Drama. Tiny bit of Angst? Sorry it was written in a rush. Possible Cameo for Albert Shaw.

Charity

In the comfort of your tower chamber, you stood, gazing out of the circle-top window at the people who passed in the streets below. You didn’t feel the need to be among them, content to be up here by yourself in a room full of comfort and little knick-knacks. You had your peace and quiet and you were content with it.

The wealth you had been born in, and the hefty salary that your parents paid you each month, was enough to ensure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the entirety of your life. Rich, others would call you. But if they could see your bedroom they might doubt that you were.

You didn’t feel the need for all the lavishness that money could grant you. You hardly spent a dime other than the usual necessities. Material possessions had little interest for you. Instead, you found solace in spending your money on charity, giving away some of your income to charities on a steady base.

It was almost fitting, then, that your heart would be captured by a man who was once a charity case himself.

You met him during one of the few occasions where you were allowed to venture out of your tower where your parents usually kept you locked away… like a secret. They were ashamed because you were still a spinster in your twenties. And you could not blame them. People looked at you oddly and whispered behind your back in the streets. And so you didn’t want to go out and be among them any longer, hiding yourself much to your parents’ relief.

But there were such occasions where you would go out. Usually small balls or events with family and close friends. Sometimes, to bigger events where you knew that people would not be able to recognize you.

You feared their reactions if they saw you, feared what they would say or do.

The yearly Halloween Masquerade was an event you dreaded. The stuffy ballroom, the leering gazes, the suffocating press of bodies all around - it threatened to bring forth the panic attacks that plagued your life. Yet tonight, as you stood at the edge of the dance floor, your eyes took in the beautiful sight of the latest fashion dresses and suits. Beautiful women and men danced together, their masks hiding their faces, yet they grew intimate in their dance. You wondered how it felt, had done so for a while, but at the same time weren’t keen to experience it yourself.

You tried to hide away, to not be noticed, despite the dress you wore; the silken emerald fabric hugged your curves and cascaded down to the floor, shimmering with each movement. The intricate golden mask on your face only partially concealed your identity, but it was enough to give you a fleeting sense of anonymity. People still stopped to ask you for a dance. Men still stopped.

You disliked their leering gazes, the way their eyes seemed to undress you from behind the masks. And so you tried your best to avoid dancing with them. Their intentions were clear, and you were not interested in any of them. Your heart raced, anxiety clawing its way up your throat. If only this evening could come to an end.

And then, a familiar face appeared among the crowd. Your savior. Giselle, one of the few friends you had, came rushing towards you in a gown matching your own. Her wide smile a beacon of relief.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind her mask. Finally, you were rescued.

Gratitude surged through you, and a genuine smile bloomed on your face. "I'd love to."

As you danced with Giselle, the familiar pressure in your chest began to dissipate. Her laughter, light and carefree, seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to your heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of being alive. And you laughed; a pure, wholehearted smile.

Your joy was noted.

As you and Giselle danced, you felt the burning gaze of someone on your form. You carefully started to glance around.

“What are you doing?” Giselle asked, having noticed how your eyes traced the room.

“Someone’s watching me,” you mumbled, just loud enough for your voice to be carried over the tones of the music.

Giselle chuckled as she spun you around gracefully. “Of course, people are watching us,” she said, a sneer appeared on her face. “The Duke of Sparington has been trying to get my attention all evening. I’m so glad to get away. The guy’s in his forties and already has two kids and a tummy like a barrel. If I were to marry him he’d kill me in his sleep just by rolling over and ending on top of me.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh again, even though Giselle seemed to be grimacing at your reaction. It was obvious that she was repulsed by the man who had decided to chase her.

“Tell me, for the love of God,” you started, “That your parents won’t allow the match.”

But Giselle sighed deeply. “They’re much like yours,” she muttered, squeezing your hand a little too tightly as you continued the dance. “Eager to have me wed, even though they said to have given up on me already.”

Your eyes turned wide. “Well, you must convince them to hand you to another. If not younger, then at least thinner so you won’t be suffocated during your night’s rest.”

Giselle grinned at this, appreciating the joke. But you knew her situation was slightly different than yours. Albeit having been born in money pretty much like you had, Giselle’s dowry wasn’t nearly as large as yours. And her parents could not hide her away like yours had with you. The day for her to marry seemed to be closing in with each passing year.

You dreaded the thought.

If only we could marry for love, you thought solemnly. You held Giselle’s hand in your own as you spun around the room. And as the music swelled, your eyes drifted across the ballroom, settling on a figure who stood in stark contrast to the colorful array of masks and costumes. He was tall, slender yet muscular, clad in black as though he were an ethereal shadow amidst the sea of gaiety. His piercing blue eyes seemed to draw you in, ensnaring you with their intensity.

You couldn't look away. It was as if an invisible thread connected you both, pulling tighter with each passing second. Desire coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you locked in this magnetic dance of longing.

This was the man who had been watching you. This was the gaze you had felt all along.

"Your turn," Giselle whispered, releasing your hand. It was then that the dark stranger approached, his movements fluid and graceful as he closed the distance between you.

"May I have this dance?" His voice was soft, yet carried an undertone of command.

"Of course," you breathed, entranced by the mysterious man before you. As he took your hand, electricity sparked between you, igniting a fire deep within your soul.

"Thomas Sharpe," he introduced himself as the two of you began to sway to the music. His low voice sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony as if you'd danced together countless times before. He was good, you noticed. Kept his rhythm well and moved fluently, despite his tall height and rather stiff appearance. This mysterious man took you by surprise completely.

You whispered your name and gazed up at the masked stranger. His blue eyes seemed warm as they lay upon you, peering through the holes of the black and blue mask. The silver lines only emphasized the blue of his eyes, making him seem more like a spirit than a man. Could he be real?

“I haven’t seen you here before,” you murmured, weakly, as you tried to focus on the steps you took with your feet. Focusing was hard, because Thomas’s scent and warmth distracted you, and brought your mind to places your mother would describe as the gutter.

How did this man manage to bring about such wicked thoughts, you wondered? Especially now that you could not even see his full face?

“Ah, yes. That is because I am not from around here,” Thomas replied, and that would explain it all. During your years living here, you’d become familiar with most faces of the high society. And many of them you wished you’d never seen. “I’m only visiting shortly in an attempt to raise sponsors willing to support my cause.”

“And what cause is that?” you asked, eyes meeting his as the two of you swayed gently from side to side.

Something in Thomas’s eyes lit up, like the subject you allowed him to talk about brought him real joy. Joy, and something else. Hope, you wondered?

"I'm working on a machine to mine red clay from the earth surrounding my family's estate," Thomas explained, his eyes burning with passion. "I believe it has the potential to bring great wealth, but I'm in desperate need of funding."

Red bells went off inside your mind. Another gold digger, you thought. You’d seen them before, met them before, although they never had such a great impact as Thomas had.

"Red clay?" You frowned, intrigued by the man and his ambitions. Was he not just another suitor seeking your fortune, but someone fueled by dreams and desires much like your own?

"Indeed, it's a valuable resource with numerous applications," he continued, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "But my family's fortune has dwindled, and our estate is crumbling,” here he paused, giving you time to think. “I'm determined to restore it to its former glory."

"Tell me more," you urged, your heart pounding as power and desire mingled within you. He was a man of ambition, and you felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As the music played on and the dance floor spun around you, Thomas spoke of his dreams, his lips brushing against your ear with each whispered word. The world outside ceased to exist - it was just you and Thomas, bound together by shared passions and undeniable attraction.

"Thomas," you breathed, feeling as if you were on the brink of something dangerous, yet incredibly thrilling. Your fingers intertwined, creating a bond that seemed unbreakable.

"Time seems to stand still with you," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

And in that moment, you knew that your life would never be the same.

Perhaps the decision you took was rash. But you had thought about it, had done so for years before this moment had come. You had refused every man who had come to your door simply because you hadn’t felt that spark. You even had started to think you were incapable of feeling such feelings at all. But then Thomas came onto the scene, and he rose feelings inside of you that you had never felt before.

Love. Lust.

Both feelings combined made you feel powerful and strong. If you could feel this for a man, then surely, you would have to chase the chance to be with him. If he wouldn’t want to have you, then so be it, but you at least had to try. You had always been honest about your feelings and had always listened to your heart when you made decisions.

Your heart raced as you pulled Thomas closer, your fingers entwined like tendrils of ivy. The music swelled around you, a wild torrent that threatened to drown out everything else.

"Thomas," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that could shatter at any moment. He looked both elated and afraid, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable. What an odd reaction, you thought, alarmed by the fear you saw in his eyes. Did he not want you? You knew it was only one meeting that you had, a few dances that you shared, but there was that spark. That moment when the two of you had gazed into each other’s eyes and had forgotten the world.

Surely, that must have meant something to him, right?

"Truly?" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. But then his grip on you faltered and you whimpered sadly when his arms fell away. A rejection, you thought upset.

"Sweet girl of mine,” Thomas whispered, the affection making you flinch because it felt so right – but you feared that in a moment he would be gone.

“I can’t give you what you need,” Thomas continued, voice laced with pain. As if admitting this hurt him more than you could possibly imagine. His hand reached for yours again, gently holding it.

“I haven't much to offer. My family's fortune is nearly gone, our estate in ruins...You’d be cold and far away from your family, living with a man who is hardly more than a bagger, trying to scrape back his family’s fortune and bringing back some lost glory to the Sharpe’s name."

"None of that matters to me," you assured him, feeling a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. It was as if you were free-falling, the ground rushing towards you at breakneck speed. “I would like to explore the possibilities of there being an us. Of you being with me.”

But before he could respond, the music screeched to a halt, leaving you breathless and off-balance. Thomas' grip on your hand loosened, and he looked away, his eyes flicking towards the shadows that lingered at the edge of the ballroom.

"Please excuse me," he muttered, slipping away from you like water through your fingers. You watched him go, feeling bereft and adrift in the suddenly too-large room.

"Who was that?" Giselle asked, appearing at your side with a concerned frown. "You look... shaken."

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured, still searching for him among the swirling throng of dancers. "He just... left."

"Perhaps it's for the best," she suggested, her gaze following yours. "Forget about him, darling. Dance the night away with me instead."

The next day, you found yourself holed up in your tower chamber, the memory of your dance with Thomas haunting your every waking moment. You had inquired after him, researched him, desperate for any scrap of information that might help you understand the man who had so thoroughly captivated you. Luckily, your parents and their servants could provide you with all the information you might need.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," you whispered to yourself, tracing the letters on the page with your fingertips. "Baronet and engineer."

You learned that his family line was dwindling. He was the last alive, with no heir to carry on the name. His house, once grand and imposing, now lay in ruins - a testament to the passage of time and the ravages of decay. But despite it all, Thomas still dreamed of resurrecting his family's fortune with his ambitious red clay mining project.

And you thought he might be onto something.

With renewed vigor, you set about drawing up plans for his machine, inspired by the conversation you'd shared while dancing. The hours slipped away as you sketched and calculated, determined to lend your own talents to his cause.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you spread the blueprints across the table, studying them with a critical eye. This was something real, something tangible that could bring you closer to the man who had stolen your heart in one dizzying waltz.

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured again, feeling the name curl around your tongue like a secret. "I'll find you... I promise."

A new day dawned, and you found yourself summoned to the drawing room. The request, although not unusual, surprised you, because your mother demanded you’d be presentable. Fear gripped your heart at that because it could only mean one thing.

A suitor.

And how you dreaded to come face to face with a man whose visage or demeanor repulsed you. Especially now that your mind was set on only one man in the entire universe.

The door creaked open to reveal Thomas standing there in front of your parents, hat in hand, his black coat clinging to his slender frame. His gaze met yours, a piercing blue that sent a shiver down your spine and weakened your knees. This was the first time you properly saw his face and oh-my! He was handsome. More so than you had envisaged him to be in your dreams. It felt as if your heart stopped beating entirely and as if the world froze in a blizzard of roses and butterflies. This man.

But wait, had he come looking for you?

"Miss," he began, his voice soft as silk, "I must confess that ever since our encounter at the masquerade, I have been unable to forget you." There was something gritty about his voice that betrayed the truth of his words. As if he had tried his best to put you out of his mind and had failed.

You liked that, though. You liked the thought of him being unable to forget you. It meant he was as much on your mind as you were on his. Your heart raced at his admission, but you fought to maintain your composure.

Your parents, who had been watching the exchange with keen interest, seemed to light up at the whole display. Your father spoke with enthusiasm, "Sir Thomas Sharpe here asked for your hand in marriage,” he said to you. “I think it would be a wonderful match.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother turned to Thomas with a smile. “Sir Thomas, we would be honored to welcome you into our family."

Thomas stood rigidly, and you could have missed the relief that flooded his eyes entirely had you not been looking at them. There was a sudden warmth to his gaze that told you that this was what he had come for.

But at the same time, you felt doubt cling to your heart. You wanted him, but… he stood so rigid, so unmoving. Like a true gentleman, you thought. But were your parents aware of his misfortune, you wondered? Or had he tricked them into making a match? The rich spinster whose parents feel embarrassed, eager to marry her off to a man with a pretty title who seems to have captured their daughter’s heart. The first to have achieved this.

"Mother," you whispered, pulling her aside, and out of the drawing room where you would have a bit of privacy and the men couldn’t hear. "I don't understand. He is poor, why are you encouraging this?"

"Darling," she replied in a hushed tone, her breath warm against your ear, "you have the funds, he has the need. It's your duty to marry and secure our family's future.”

“His house is in shambles, you told me yourself,” you whispered. “Aren’t you afraid he will usurp all of my resources? Have you considered he might only want to marry me because of my wealth?”

But your mother shook her head and smiled. “Listen, dear, Thomas seems to behave like a true gentleman. You could do worse. Besides,” here she paused and you waited full of anticipation to hear what argument she was going to use next, “even if he is poor, he needs an heir. And it is your duty as a woman to continue the line of our family. And quite frankly, I haven’t seen you as interested in a man in all of my life. Just take this opportunity and don’t ruin it. You’re going to be a good mom, give birth to a son to ensure a safe future for yourself and our family, and I will finally have the grandchildren I so desire."

Anger bubbled within you, hot and fierce. You wanted to marry for love, not obligation. And you decided to tell your mother as much.

“I won’t marry just to be a breeding mare,” you hissed. “If I marry it’ll be out of love. Not out of obligation.”

The creaking of the floorboards made you look up in shock to meet deep blue eyes of Thomas as he rounded the corner. How much had he heard? There was a sadness in his eyes that quickly melted into a fierce determination. Oh no, your heart raced as your mind clouded with disastrous scenarios. His face was pale - paler than before - and his eyes widened in shock.

"Thomas," you tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.

"Forgive me, Miss. Coming here was a mistake. I must take my leave," he said, his voice barely a whisper. And without another word, he left the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind racing.

“Sir Thomas!” Your mother called out, running after him as fast as her skirts would allow. You knew you’d be in trouble now.

Don’t ruin it, your mother had said, only milliseconds before you’d done just that.

You watched Thomas go, a flurry of black coat and wounded pride. The memory of his touch, his scent, and his voice haunted you, taunting you with the promise of what could have been. But as the door closed behind him, a cold, hard truth settled in your bones. You had lost him, and it was unlikely you would ever find him again.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Thomas, and the ache in your chest grew stronger. The walls of your chamber felt suffocating, so you defied your parents' wishes and ventured outside into the bustling streets. Your reappearance caused whispers to spread like wildfire; some marveled at your beauty and kindness despite your reclusive nature, while others gossiped about your unmarried status.

Returning home, cheeks flushed from the cool air, your heart sank as you found a man you had known all of your life as Uncle Al - one of your neighbors – speaking to your father in hushed tones. It was apparent he was asking for your hand in marriage.

"Please, sir," the man said, desperation lacing his voice, "I can provide for her."

"Give me away?" You scoffed, anger boiling inside you. "To him?"

The man had known you from when you were a little child and was older than you by far. You had been shocked by the amount of men at your parents’ door recently, but to see him. The neighbor who had always been so kind to you… It was unsettling.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, uncaring if it hurt the man’s feelings. “He’s nearly as old as you!”

Your father's eyes narrowed, clearly displeased by your outburst. “Nearly as old, perhaps,” he said, voice low like a warning. “But he is a good friend of our family and he deserves a bit of happiness.”

Your neighbor stood up a little straighter, a lustful gleam in his eye as his gaze fell upon you. You felt a shiver run down your spine. No, you thought. No way you’d give him the heirs your mother so wanted. Your heart already belonged to another and you had made up your mind a little while ago.

“And a bit more respect as well, don’t you agree?” The hiss made it clear that your father was not to be argued with, and so you directed your gaze down at the ground and muttered a brief apology.

Al seemed to accept it, for a smile took possession of his lips and he turned back to your father again. “Such an endearing creature,” you heard him say, voice like silk. “Whyever have you kept her away from us for so long?”

Because of this, you thought, sadly. Your parents might have feared this. And with a start, you realized how you had set your own demise into motion. That they hadn’t as much locked you away out of shame as well as to protect you from all the unwanted gazes and proposals of men twice your age or more. They knew you hadn’t wanted to marry and had given you the space. But now, society demands them to hand you over to someone. And who better than a family friend they had known all of their lives?

“It is settled then,” you heard Al say and lifted your gaze to see him shake your father’s hand. Your father forced a smile, though you recognized by now that it did not reach his eyes.

A measurement out of necessity. A must. You thought with a shock. Unable to look at the two men any longer, you turned on your heels and ran away. Your bedroom felt safe, for now, high up in your tower, as you threw yourself upon the bed and clutched your pillows tight.

“Not him,” you breathed through tears. “Not Al.” No matter how kind your neighbor had been when you were smaller, he was old and started to grey. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Thomas and didn’t have the same voice or scent.

And there he was again. Thomas never seemed to leave your mind.

After you calmed down enough, you pushed yourself off the bed. Your chest heaved with fury as you went to stare out the window, your breath fogging the cold glass.

You weren’t looking at anything in particular when your gaze fell upon the familiar figure of Thomas across the street. You’d been occupied with your own thoughts, and it took you a few seconds before you realized that your gazes had crossed. All this time you had been searching for him. You knew he was still in the area, knew he had made visits to unsuccessfully gain sponsors to fund his work. But you’d never been able to catch sight of him. And here he was, underneath your window, staring at you from across the street with silent admiration.

How long had he been there?

Your heart leaped. Not wasting another second, you rushed down the stairs and outside, the door slamming behind you.

"Thomas!" You called, seeing how he had turned and was walking away from you. Despite the street being busy this time of the day, you followed his tall shape, running past people and making your way zigzagging through the crowd. The top hat he wore indicated where he went. “Thomas, wait!”

But he kept walking. And just when you started to get out of breath, you saw him come to a standstill. Relieved, you caught your breath and ran towards him. It was as if he waited for you, standing tall and proud, his back still turned towards you. Then he slowly turned around to face you, a sad expression marred his features. His blue eyes were full of turmoil.

"Dear girl,” he murmured, his blue eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. "I know you must think me a monster, standing underneath your window like I have…”

You shook your head fiercely. “No, not at all,” you breathed.

“I must confess, I have been watching you more frequently these days. I tried to forget, but… I felt drawn to your window more and more, just to catch a glimpse of you,” Thomas admitted, silently. He hung his head in shame. But his blue eyes were kept firmly upon you. “My heart still beats for you."

His admission sent shivers down your spine, your desire for him growing stronger like a moth drawn to a flame.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Surprise was visible on his face, but only for a moment. Then, he carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace.

“When I said I would not marry out of obligation, I also said I wanted to marry out of love,” you whispered, aware that Thomas could hear. “It is you I have always been waiting for. I want no other.”

Thomas pulled away from the embrace and looked deep into your eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He found none.

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, his hands gently caressing your face. The kiss was soft and tender but quickly intensified. As you pulled away, the hunger in your eyes was evident. Without saying a word, you grabbed Thomas's hand, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you.

You led Thomas back to your home. “You must talk to my father again,” you said, still holding his hand in your own. You could feel his eyes upon you, burning with desire. “He just gave me away to another.”

“Another?” Thomas sounded as if he hardly could believe his ears, and you felt how his grip on your hand inadvertently intensified. Once he noticed his bodily reaction, he looked ashamed at your joined hands and relieved some of the pressure, holding your hand gently again.

“I said I wouldn’t, but,” you hesitated, chewing your lip pensively as the both of you stood in front of your parents’ home, glancing up at the tower that you slept in. “Since I have been going out, people have started to notice me.”

You turned to Thomas, eyes locking, and found a look of wonder in his. “A spinster,” you clarified, gently squeezing his hand. “Society has been building up pressure until my father had to relent. I need to be married for the honor of the family name.”

“Then lead me inside,” Thomas said, voice hoarse, almost as if there was a hidden second layer to his words. Inside, it purred inside your mind. Yes, that was where you wanted him. In you, around you, part of you. And so, you led him inside, determined to make your parents see reason. As you entered the parlor, their disapproving eyes bore into you.

"Father, Mother, look who I have brought home," you said, their heads turning to look at the two of you in wonder. There you stood, hand in hand with the man of your dreams. Thomas’s eyes were glinting, a tremble to his smile. Hope, that was the right word. He radiated hope.

"Thomas?" Your father sounded surprised. "The struggling inventor?"

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” Thomas said firmly, taking you and your parents by surprise. “I might lack the funds for the comfort your daughter deserves, but I have an abundance of love for her. I asked you before and I beg you to consider me again. Annul the agreement with the other suitor to her hand. Your daughter and I are in love. And I will pledge to keep her safe and care for your daughter and our children, if we are blessed to have any, until the end of my days.”

The speech was long, heart-warming, and rendered you speechless. As you watched Thomas he seemed to transform into something else, something ethereal. A glowing creature, full of power and passion. It only confirmed the choice you had made.

Your parents stood there, silently, But you could tell by their faces that they were deep in thought.

"His heart is true, and he loves me," you insisted, gripping Thomas's hand even tighter. "Do you not wish for my happiness?"

A tense silence filled the room until your mother finally spoke, her voice barely audible. "Very well, we shall accept his proposal."

Relief washed over Thomas's face, his eyes brimming with gratitude and love. The weight of your decision hung in the air, heavy but necessary. And that night you had your first meal together. The next morning was spent walking and chatting, getting to know each other a little better.

And as the days passed by, you had no regrets.

Months later, with your dowry spent on tools and materials, you watched as Thomas began to build his machines according to a combination of your designs and his own. His hands, once soft and delicate, grew calloused as he toiled away in his workshop. You watched from the shadows, pride swelling in your chest as his dreams slowly came to life.

Life in your new home wasn't easy; the roof leaked, the walls were damp, and the cold seeped through every crack. But together, you made it work. When you discovered you were pregnant, the hardships only intensified. You were sick quite often and with no servants to tend to your needs, you had to do everything around the house yourself. You fell ill during pregnancy, running a fever that made Thomas fear for both your life as well as that of your unborn child. But you survived and got better. And despite the challenges, love kept you warm. Your shared passion was like an inferno against the bitterness of the world.

By the time your child arrived, a fragile, wailing bundle, Thomas's business had begun to flourish. You supported him unwaveringly, standing by his side as he navigated the treacherous waters of entrepreneurship.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured one night as you lay entwined beneath threadbare blankets, your child nestled between you. "Without you, none of this would be possible."

"Thank you," you whispered back, tears glistening in the moonlight. "For giving me a life worth living."

Slowly but surely, Thomas's business continued to grow, allowing you to repair your home and provide for your growing family. Life was still tough, but it was a life filled with love, laughter, and the knowledge that you had chosen the right path.

And so, with your children surrounding you, you lived out your days as a happy family, bound together by the unyielding force of love, triumphing against all odds.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#sir thomas sharpe #Sir thomas sharpe x you #reader x thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe x reader #crimson peak fanfiction #enjoy the romance #sweet fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 3 months

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Last Updated: 2024-03-05

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Sir Thomas Sharpe stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✑ Wedded￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by yespolkadotkitty • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: You and Thomas spend your wedding night exploring each other in every way possible.

✑ Child Named Sharpe, the by smolvenger • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "You and Thomas Sharpe welcome your first baby and his second, as Thomas himself faces his own demons regarding his past."

✑ Corsets and Courtship by babybluebex • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Your father's business partner comes to your home in hopes of discussing the future, and you both get more than you bargained for."

✑ Fill You by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Now that you and Thomas have married, he is determined to have you with child come hell or high water."

✑ It's Something Special by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Even though you had been married to the Baronet for three months now, you hadn't been touched by him. Until today..."

✑ My Sweet Baronet by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Being married to Sir Thomas Sharpe had some... inconvenient setbacks but you are sure to worth through them with your husband."

✑ Ocean Eyes by andsheloved • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When your own mind seems shattered, you're reminded of who will always be there to pick up the pieces."

✑ Please Forgive Me by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "After nearly being killed by Lucille and discovering Thomas'... role in the whole affair, the two of you [move] to Paris [for] a fresh start... unsure if you [can] forgive [him]..., you agree to attend the Paris Exposition with Thomas [to begin] moving forward."

✑ Secret Affair by sserpente • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine [Sir Thomas Sharpe falling in love with you, a maid]. He invites you to live at Allerdale Hall, to serve him and his sister Lucille... All you have to do is keep the affair a secret from her."

✑ To Escape by lady-rose-moon • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "After [discovering] the dark truth about Allerdale Hall, you confront Thomas. [Over] time, you [and your husband plan your escape]."

✑ A Definite Answer by laufeyamp • 〔F〕 •

✑ A Favour by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔F〕 •

✑ Are You Sure? by tomhiddleston-is-mischief • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Buried by colorsunimaginable • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Desperate by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Family by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ His Happiness by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Indulge Me by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 •

✑ Kiss Me by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Memories by tomhiddleston-is-mischief • 〔F᜶A〕 •

✑ No. by ladyfluff • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Not Stopoing by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Reading While He Works by foxgloveprincess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Reading with Sir Sharpe by wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Trapped by ladyfluff • 〔A〕 •

✑ Straight Through the Heart by the--blackdahlia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sweet Tooth by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 •

✑ Within the Strongbox of My Heart by frostbitten-written • 〔A〕 • ♡ •

See Also: Navigation || Thomas Sharpe Master Index

Authors: @andsheloved || @babybluebex || @colorsunimaginable || @foxgloveprincess || @frostbitten-written || @just-the-hiddles || @lady-rose-moon || @ladyfluff || @laufeyamp || @smolvenger || @sserpente || @the--blackdahlia || @tomhiddleston-is-mischief || @wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s || @yespolkadotkitty ||

#Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader #Thomas Sharpe x Y/N #Thomas Sharpe x You #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Y/N #Sir Thomas Sharpe x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #Crimson Peak Fanfiction #Crimson Peak Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston Fanfic

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mochie85 · 1 year

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Congratulations!!🎉🎈🍾

Could you please do fluff prompt 48 You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” with Tom and shorter reader?

Falling Star

1K Masterlist One-shot Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: It's Hollywood's biggest night and Tom is hoping to win more than just an Oscar. A/N: Part of my 1k Celebration and @the-slumberparty week 3 writing challenge: Something New. I've never written short-reader trope before. Thank you to @lokisgoodgirl for being my BETA reader and @michelleleewise for some great ideas. I don't know how I could continue to write without your ladies' endless support 😘😘😘. And thank you to @huntress-artemiss for the request. Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Fluff Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Tom looked into the mirror as he rinsed the suds off his hands. Shaking off the excess water, he reached for a towel and dried them. He looked straight into his eyes, trying to keep the nervousness at bay.

It’s a big night for you. You’re going to do fine. You’re probably not going to win anyway, Tom sighed. Just focus on one thing and the rest of the night will go smoothly.

He ran his hands through his hair and pinched his bow tie one last time before he made his way out into the lobby. Focus on one thing, he repeated in his head.

These award shows always leave him a nervous wreck. He never expects to win. When he does, of course, it’s great, but then it brings on a whole new emotion of excitement and anxiety.

When he doesn’t win, it tends to be worse. He has to find that right balance of remorse and humbleness so that the media doesn’t portray him in an evil lie.

Oh, he could read the tabloids now, “And the Oscar goes to…, not Tom Hiddleston.” Or “Hiddles angry that he didn’t win his Oscar. Pictures and commentary on page 3.” He laughed about it internally, a smile on his face as he fixed his cufflinks.

“Come on man. Took you long enough,” Chris exclaimed patting his back. “I think they stuck most of us in the same row.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. It’d be nice to see some familiar faces again.” Tom recounted the last time he saw anyone from The Avengers movie. The movie that brought together and cemented the friendship of seven individuals.

“I think Scarlet wants you to sit next to her.”

“Oh no. Does she?” Tom fretted.

“What?” Chris wondered.

“She’s been trying to set me up with one of her acquaintances,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“She can be quite persistent,” Hemsworth laughed.

Tom sighed as he accompanied Chris across the massive lobby. The plush red carpet matched the dramatic drapes hung from the ceiling. At the end of the hall was a grand staircase leading upstairs to the auditorium's main entrance.

The two friends stood in line waiting to ascend the stairs as photographers and reporters lined the banisters calling out their names, hoping to get an interview. Tom tried to drown out the noise. He tried to focus on one thing before he went crazy, and his anxiety took over. Tom took a deep breath. Just focus on one thing, he chanted in his head.

He opened his eyes and focused on the first thing he saw, an intricate design of beadwork and crystal that was in front of him. Tiny gold stars were scattered on a black sateen gown. They clustered at the top hem of the dress and sporadically fell towards the bottom. The back of the gown was secured by a beaded pin of a crescent moon, gracing your bare lower back. The whole gown looked like star fall plummeting in the night sky.

“Chris,” Tom whispered. “Is this whom I think it is?” Tom stared hard at your graceful figure. Not once taking his eyes off you. Chris gazed hard at you trying to see whom Tom was talking about.

“Ayee...yup. Yes, that’s her.”

“Didn’t she win the Oscar last year for…”

“Yes. I believe she did.” Chris mused.

“Is she up for anything tonight?”

“I think she’s presenting, actually.”

You gathered your dress, preparing to walk up the imposing staircase. Looking around you making sure you were not going to trip on your own outfit, you held your left hand out to steady yourself as you took that first step.

Tom, sensing you needed help, took your outstretched hand. “May I escort you up the stairs?”

The sudden voice and unexpected contact must have shocked you. You looked up at him with a startled expression and a blush on your face. A small smile graced his lips as he noted the sparkle in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as photographers flashed their cameras at your interaction. Tom held your hand firmly as you gathered the rest of your dress in your other hand. Focused on making each step, Tom held on to you tightly, becoming the anchor you needed in such a cumbersome gown. “They must have altered this dress three times already just for me. But they can’t seem to get the length right. Even with me in heels,” you admitted shyly.

Tom laughed, finally noticing the height difference between you two. He was so used to towering over everyone, he never really gave it much thought. “Well, it looks lovely on you. You look beautiful tonight.” You looked up suddenly at his compliment. Heat radiating down your skin. Your eyes arrested his thoughts and hitched his breathing, making him at a loss for words.

“The…uh…the dress. The dress is quite beautiful. Oh, not to say that you’re not beautiful. You are! You’re beautiful. In the dress. Oh, God. Please tell me I haven’t botched this up completely?” He stuttered, hiding his face in his palm. You laughed and squeezed his hand.

You almost fumbled at the top step, if it weren’t for him holding on to you so securely. “Thank you,” you said once again, and he reluctantly let go of you. “Good luck tonight. I hope you win,” you said, cheering him on.

“Thank you. You, too. Me too. I-I mean I hope so,” Tom stumbled on his words. You smiled at him once again, heading inside, leaving him to stare after you.

“Smooth,” Chris said, clapping Tom on his shoulder. “Real smooth.”

“Ugh, I’m a complete knob!”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think she noticed,” Chris said laughing.

Inside, the auditorium was stuffy and pompous. Two hours of everyone with their forged smiles and mock interests. Scarlet did manage to get Tom to sit next to her. She mentioned a friend of a friend who’s a writer for a late-night talk show in Los Angeles. Tom tried his best to be courteous but not commit to anything serious.

Minutes. Hours. They seem to drag by as the night continued up until it was time to announce Best Female Performance in a Leading Role. Tom knew you weren’t nominated for anything tonight, but that didn’t stop him from wondering where you were.

Were you sitting somewhere in the audience with other nominees? Or perhaps you were backstage mingling with some of tonight’s winners. It wouldn’t be long now till they got to the category he was nominated for, which made him nervous.

The heat in the room suddenly increased tenfold and the noise of the audience started to echo in his mind. Their clapping died down as the winner was announced and accepted her award. Focus on one thing. Focus on one thing. He closed his eyes as he took a lungful of air in. Breathing slowly.

Exhaling, Tom opened his eyes and suddenly everything else disappeared. Every sound went silent. Every light dimmed, focusing on a central spotlight on stage. And all he could see was you.

You walked out, unaccompanied, to the soundtrack of your award-winning movie. Tom watched you carefully, knowing full well that you were anxious about your dress and stumbling. With a cool look and a smile on your face, you hid your anxiety about tripping. You demonstrated exactly why you were worthy of that Oscar last year. Carefully taking a calculated step toward the podium and ignoring your long, imposing gown.

“Last year, I was very fortunate to stand up on this very stage and accept the award for Best Female Performance in a Leading Role…”

Tom tried to focus on you, instead of the nagging anxiety that was wracking his brain. Your gown had taken on a different hue under the bright spotlights. It had turned to a rich navy blue. The sequences on the stars shone brighter, glittering to gather everyone’s attention.

“This evening will be another night of firsts for me as I present the award for Best Male Performance in a Leading Role.” Tom was awestruck as he watched you on stage. Your smile was charming, and your laughter was contagious.

Tom heard you say his name twice that night. Once when you were reading the nominees. And the next, when you announced that he won. Chris and Scarlett patted him on the back and tried to wake him from his stupor.

“Mate, you better get up there,” Chris whispered, hugging him on his way. Tom was mesmerized. He couldn’t believe that he won. His nervousness threatened to eat him up whole as he stood up and made his way onstage. He remained focused on you instead, clapping for him as he made his way up more stairs. You handed him his statue along with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

All at once, he faced the audience and didn’t know what to say. “I- uh…” Tom held on to the statue tightly and looked back at you. You gave him a reassuring smile and he found that your calming presence helped alleviate his anxiety. “I wasn’t expecting to win tonight. Forgive me, I had no speech prepared,” Tom continued as the audience laughed.

He concluded his speech with thanks to the Academy, other nominees, and his friends and family for all their support.

After a rousing applause, he made his way to follow you off the stage. He’d hoped to escort you like earlier and have another intimate moment with you. As you turned, your foot caught on the front of the dress causing you to fall forward.

In a heroic move, Tom sprinted to your side and caught you. His arms wrapped around your waist as you turned right-side up. He lunged forward before you fell to the floor, cradling your head.

There was a collective gasp from the audience as they watched the scene unfold. A heated blush spread throughout your body.

“Are you all right?” he asked, alarmed.

“Oh, my God. Yes! Thank you,” you stuttered, holding onto his lapels tightly.

“Of course, darling,” he said as he helped you stand back up.

“You seemed to be saving me a great deal tonight,” you gave him an apologetic look as you ran your hands over your dress. Tom offered his arm, and you gladly took it, hoping you wouldn’t trip again. “Oh, God. I’m so embarrassed. I must’ve looked like an idiot out there.”

“Nonsense, you look magnificent,” Tom replied, kissing your hand.

Tom sat in the dining area of the hotel room. Bright morning light shone through the windows as he read the newspapers and magazines sent to the room, along with the room service. It seemed that all anyone talked about was your tumble from last night and how he caught you. Rumors began to spread as everyone gave their opinions on the matter.

“Did Hiddleston win more than just an Oscar last night?” “Secret Relationship: How long have they been together?” “Was it staged?” These were not the headlines he was expecting to read this morning. A small smile crept on his face seeing all the pictures from different angles.

A soft moan stole his attention as you wrapped your arms around from behind him. “Come back to bed.” You gently kissed his neck, and he could still smell the lingering perfume in your hair.

“I ordered breakfast for us, darling,” he said with a soft whimper.

“How very thoughtful of you,” you teased. Tom grabbed your arm and pulled you around to sit on his lap. He noted that you were wearing nothing but his dress shirt from last night. The sleeves were rolled up and the tails sat just at your knees. You were swimming in his shirt, a look that he was starting to like more and more. Your tousled morning hair reminded him of the carnal way you both took each other last night.

“…Unnhh…” you moaned as he hoisted you against the wall. “Take this infernal dress off me. Please.” “With pleasure,” he snarled.

You sat with your legs over the handrest of the chair as you picked up the papers and read them. A scowl formed on your face the more you read. “I’m sorry, Tom. All this over me falling. I didn’t mean to take away from your big night.”

“That’s quite all right darling. As far as I’m concerned they can keep reporting it all they want.”

You looked at him through your lashes. His tall frame and long arms surround you, cherishing you.

“Why?” you asked coyly.

“Because in every picture, I get to see that mesmerizing look on your face.”

“What look?” you provoked.

“The same look I had on my face when I caught you.”

“And what was that?” you giggled.

“Like you were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

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k-writer17 · 1 year

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Tom is in Greece 🇬🇷

New photo of Tom at a restaurant in Greece 💙

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five-miles-over · 1 year

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Little Darling

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Living with the God of Mischief in London comes with finding many surprises, and one of those surprises happens to be a four-year-old named Tom Hiddleston.

Word Count: 4,092

Warnings: a few swearing instances, established roommate relationship, but mostly fluff

No one had ever said that living with the God of Mischief would be easy, let alone boring. Sometimes, you'd come home to your shared two-bedroom flat in London and find the entire living room filled with stray cats, one of whom wore a name tag that said 'Hel'. One time, you woke up to hear neighing in the bedroom only to hear your Asgardian flatmate staunchly deny the existence of a horse within the premises. There was also the time when you found your Tupperware lids changed from red to green; that was one of the most tame incidents since you started living with Loki. Then there was the time when you found Loki sitting inside the kitchen shoveling spoonfuls of strawberry cheesecake Ben and Jerry's into his mouth while the radio played Elton John's version of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". The morning after that, you found the flat perfectly immaculate - the floors sparkling clean, the sink clear of all dirty dishes, the carpet free of coffee stains, and a bouquet of freshly-cut flowers on the kitchen table. You swore he used some of his powers to do the job, but still thanked your flatmate while he smirked like he held the world in the palm of his hand.

And in today's case, you woke up to find the strawberry jam completely empty after you had just bought a new jar two days ago. If it hadn't been for your roommate giving you the silent treatment until you agreed, you wouldn't bothered to set foot inside a Waitrose on a Thursday evening. It had already been a long day, too demanding. All you wanted to do was come home, eat some ice cream before Loki can finish it all, and then binge-watch one of your favorite shows.

You placed your bags of groceries in front of your apartment, reaching for your keys. When you opened the door, the flat was completely silent even though the lights were on. "Loki?" You called his name a few more times, locking the door behind you. Maybe he was out with his brother, or indulging in some mischief that may or may not end with him being punished by the local magistrate or worse, Asgardian justice. With a sigh, you wandered towards a new book cast on the coffee table.

'Norse Mythology' by Neil Gaiman…what could Loki possibly be doing with this book? Fact-checking himself?You wouldn't have given it a second thought, but there was a black leather wallet next to the book. It couldn't have been Loki's because well, Loki's wallet would've been enchanted with some spell that caused it to self-destruct whenever you or anyone other than Loki himself picked it up. You knew it was wrong to snoop, but assuming that this was a stolen wallet, you figured that you might as well open it anyways. If you knew whom it belonged to, you could call them and return it.

Inside the wallet were a few debit and credit cards, a twenty-pound note, something small related to UNICEF, a supermarket membership, and…a business card with the telephone number of a London talent agency. You raised your eyebrow only to drop your jaw when a small photograph came between your fingers. It was a photograph of a familiar man with sky blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and short curls that were a mixture of ginger and Golden Retriever blond. He was sitting next to an elderly woman with white hair and a genuine smile - his mother perhaps? Never mind that, Loki really messed up this time.

You slammed the wallet onto the table and anxiously looked around the rest of the living room. The cushions were ripped into shreds, the sofa covered in feathers and cotton pieces. In the center of the carpet, there were strands of what could only be pet hair and a small pair of grey boots that Loki would never be caught dead wearing. "Loki? What the fu-"

"Mister Loki's not here!" The voice of a little boy could be heard from the kitchen.

You turned your head almost immediately. There's a child inside the house? Did Loki have a son you didn't know about or something? Is that child even Loki's? Tightly gripping the bags from Waitrose in one hand, you made your way into the kitchen.

At the center of the small, round dining table sat a small boy with blonde tufts of hair parted in the middle, almost giving a small curtain-like effect on his forehead. He wore a navy blue jumper and pinstripe pants, swinging his legs underneath the table. Lost in his own little world, the little boy played with a stuffed brown dog.

"Hello…" You greeted the child and slowly opened the refrigerator door.

He looked up. "Hello!"

The first of the groceries that needed to be put away was the ice cream. Along with the jam that Loki asked for, you bought two pints of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, some French cheese, a loaf of bread, and a stash of Cadbury bars in various flavors.

"Who're you, miss?" The boy chirped, still holding the stuffed dog.

You told him your name while putting the rest of the groceries in their proper place. "I live here." As proof, you reached into your pocket and showed him your key. "What's your name?"

"I'm Tom," he brightly introduced himself.

"It's very nice to meet you, Tom." You pointed to toy in his hands. "And who is that? Is that your little doggie?"

"Yeah, his name is Bobby!" Tom places the stuffed animal on the table. "You can pet him."

"Does he like to be petted?" Sitting across from him at the table with one of the Cadbury bars while Tom enthusiastically nodded, you gently stroked the dog's tiny head. You bit the inside of your cheek before asking your next question. You just had to know, your gut instinct was telling you to.

"Tom…" You folded your hands and leaned slightly forward. "What's your last name? You know, most people have a first name and a last name. Tom is your first name. What's your last name? Tom…"

"Tom Hiddleston."

You gulped, slowly unwrapping the Cadbury bar. Okay, now there might be a bigger problem than the stolen wallet. The real Tom Hiddleston had to be in his thirties or something, at least according to your knowledge. How did this kid have the same name? More importantly, how did he end up in yours and Loki's apartment and what is he doing here?

"Tom Hiddleston," you repeated to yourself before breaking a piece of the Cadbury bar and putting it inside your mouth. Then, you offered the bar to the boy. Letting the chocolate melt inside your mouth, you watched as he broke off a piece for himself and ate it. "Do you like chocolate?"

"Yeah!"

"I love chocolate. Do you know who Mister Loki is?" You broke off another piece of the Cadbury bar.

Tom nodded, "He's a god."

"Yes, what kind of god?"

"He's a funny god!" Tom giggles, "He likes playing pranks!"

You couldn't help but laugh too. "Yes, he does like to play pranks. What about you, do you like pranks, Tom?"

"They're funny."

"Yeah, I think so too." Only sometimes, you thought to yourself. Just then, your phone vibrated and you excused yourself to go answer it.

Loki's voice came through the other end. "Ah, it's you. Are you home, pet?"

Your smile disappeared in an instant. "Loki, you have a lot of explaining to do," you snapped, furrowing your eyebrows. "There is a four-year-old sitting in our kitchen, and he says his name is Tom Hiddleston. Also, why the hell did you steal someone's wallet?!"

"Is he cute?"

"Loki, I swear to -"

"You adore him," Loki teased.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair. "Yes, but Loki… Look, I'm going to call the police as soon as this phone call is over, so they can return this wallet to the rightful owner."

"Or you could just give it to the boy. He won't know about half the things inside it."

"Loki!"

"It's his wallet anyway."

"What?" You winced, needing to take another breath. "Loki, you're crazy."

"He deserved it," Loki nonchalantly retorted.

Slumping onto the sofa, which was still covered in pillow feathers, you held the mobile phone to your ear. "Explain," you demanded. From the corner of your eye, you could see little Tom feeding himself another piece of chocolate.

"I was having a morning stroll in the park after you'd left for the day, and I came across this man named Tom while he walking his dog. He asked over and over again if I was the God of Mischief, and kept asking all these questions, including if I was familiar with some company called "Marvel"," Loki explained in an exasperated tone. "Then, his dog jumped on my leg and barked incessantly."

"And then?"

"Then he introduced himself to me, gave me a suffocating hug, apologized for the hug, and asked so many questions about where I was living and what I was doing in London. It was like talking to an exuberant child."

Your eyes widened like saucers. "So you turned him into one?!"

"More or less."

"And that was his wallet and his book on the table? Loki…" You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Change him back. Please."

"Oh, how I love it when you beg, my pet," Loki snickered before sarcastically replying, "I'm totally convinced."

"Ugh! Could you at least give me Doctor Strange's number or something?!" You inquired, knowing the breaking news that would flood the internet if anyone found out that an internationally-renowned actor was transformed into an innocent four-year-old. "He needs to be changed back into an adult."

On the other side, Loki merely laughed. "No need - I assure you Doctor Strange has the appearance and the behavior of an adult."

"Fuck you!"

"Careful," Loki playfully reminded you. "No bad language in front of the children."

"You're taking care of dinner for three tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear."

As soon as Loki ended the call, you put your phone aside and returned to the kitchen.

The little one looked so sweet, playing with the dog and singing to himself. Forgetting about the police and the wallet, you sat across from him and took a piece of chocolate.

"Tom?" You gently called, getting his attention. "Tom, Mister Loki will be coming home soon, alright? In the mean time…perhaps we can talk. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure." Tom nodded, looking up at you with a sweet smile. "You're really pretty."

"Thank you, Tom. You're very sweet." You tilted your head to the side ever-so-slightly. Since it was just the two of you in the kitchen, perhaps you could find a way to while away the time until Loki showed up. "Do you like to listen to music?"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can turn on the radio and we can listen to some music. Would you like that?"

"Okay." Tom climbed out of the chair, following you as you approached the radio sitting on the kitchen counter. You flicked a switch and turned a knob as it adjusted to a station playing 80's pop. Perhaps your darling little guest might know one of those tunes.

"She's been living in her uptown world.," the voice of Billy Joel emanated from the little radio. "I bet she's never had a back-street guy. I bet her momma never told her why.

I'm gonna try for an uptown girl…"

"Oh! This is one of my favorites!" You gushed, shimmying your shoulders in time with the music and smiling.

"She's been living in her white-bred world

as long as anyone with hot blood can.

And now she's looking for a downtown man.

That's what I am."

Tom called your name and tapped your wrist. Turning around, you found the little boy standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Watch this," Tom said before doing a pirouette, just like the dancer Wayne Sleep did when he performed this song with Princess Diana in December of 1985. The little boy spun around on one foot a second time before finishing with a dramatic bow.

You laughed with appreciation and clapped. "Bravo!"

"Come dance with me, Miss. Please?" Tom looked up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"I would be delighted." Taking Tom's little hands in yours, you couldn't stop smiling as the two of you danced in the kitchen to the rest of the song, moving your shoulders and hips. Meanwhile, Tom couldn't stop giggling, looking up at you as if you were the only lady in the world and dancing with you was a dream come true. At one point, you lifted your arm up and twirled the little boy as gracefully as possible, causing him to blush.

"My uptown girl.

You know I'm in love

With an uptown girl"

"What's going on here?" Loki smirked, amused by finding the two of you dancing as the song came to an end. He placed six boxes of Chinese takeaway onto the dining table before helping himself to the Cadbury bar laying around. "Have you been missing me?"

"Mister Loki, you're here!" Tom promptly rushed to hug him, throwing his arms around Loki's legs.

"Oh, get off, you exuberant little-" Loki was about to push the child away before he caught a glimpse of you giving him a little scowl. The God of mischief relented, patting the little boy on the back with a small smile. "Let's eat?"

You nodded. "Tom, wash your hands please?" You directed him to the bathroom, and watched him dawdle. The radio was now playing "What's Love Got to Do With It" by Tina Turner, a song you hadn't heard in years.

"You adore him," Loki teased you again while the two of you set the table with plates, forks, and cups.

You shook your head, warming the food in the microwave. "He's fun to be around, I'll admit it. By the way, thank you for choosing the fried rice and not getting the plain vegetables."

He winked at you. "I also remembered to bring two extra fortune cookies, just in case you don't like the fortune inside the one you eat first."

"Thank you."

"I believe now would be a perfect time for you to apologize for telling me to…what was it, my pet?" Loki goaded you. "Fuck me?"

"Huh?!" Right on cue, Tom pranced into the kitchen and sat down at the table. You snickered at Loki, and ruffled the little boy's hair. You and Loki sat on either side of Tom, and began to help yourselves to the egg rolls, fried rice, pan-fried broccoli with oyster sauce, and a kung pao dish.

You pointed out each dish to Tom, and invited him to try some. "Thank you, Mister Loki." Tom said in a sing-song voice before putting his fork into a piece of sauce-covered broccoli.

"You're very welcome, Tom." Loki almost beamed, unable to deny the joy he felt at the little boy's words. The two of you exchanged a smile while all of you continued eating.

"Mister Loki?" Tom piped up after some time. "Do you dance?"

"Tom, I'm a god," he reminded the boy. "I don't indulge in such trivial things."

Tom proudly told Loki about how the two of you danced in the kitchen, how he showed off his ability to pirouette, and how he held your hands. "You should dance too, Mister Loki!"

"Do you like her?" Loki mischievously asked the boy about you.

"Yeah!"

Loki and you chuckled. "So do I," he told the boy.

Tom cheekily grinned, holding an egg roll in his fingers. "You fancy her?"

The God of Mischief sharply denied, fighting the warmth flooding his cheeks. "Hang on just a second -"

It was Tom's turn to laugh, his blue eyes sparkling with joy. His laughter rang through the kitchen, like a bird singing for all to hear.

"Tom," you ate a spoonful of fried rice, "what should a person do if they fancy someone? Let's say a man fancies a lady, what should he do?"

Tom shifted in his seat for a moment. "Uh…" He took a bite of his egg roll, chewed, and swallowed. "Uh…he should say 'you're…you're," Tom slowly answers, trying to find the right word, "you're beautiful, and…I fancy you."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

You turned to Loki and smiled before looking at Tom. "That's a very good answer, Tom. Good job."

"And do you fancy Mister Loki?"

Loki grinned mischievously as he waited for your answer.

You took a deep breath. "Well…I do like Mister Loki very much. He is funny…he is a smart god, as you probably know."

"And is he handsome?" Loki interjects.

Shaking your head, you scrunched your nose for a moment. "He can be, when he isn't being such a pain."

Tom laughed some more. "You fancy Mister Loki!"

"Tom, eat your food. Don't forget about the veggies."

"Don't forget about veggies," Tom mimicked you, earning a laugh from Loki.

Once the three of you had finished eating, Tom asked if he could help you with the dishes. "Of course, Tom." You brought a chair close to the sink for the boy to use as a step stool. Nodding his head along with the music from the radio, Tom rinsed the soap from the dishes after you scrubbed the leftover food and grime off of them.

"You've been very helpful, Tom. Thank you." You ruffled his hair again when he put the last plate in the drying rack. "Would you like some ice cream as a reward?"

"Yes, please!"

You retrieved one of the pints from the freezer, and put three scoops into bowl for Tom. He gleefully thanked you with the same sing-song voice and strolled into the living room while eating.

Following Tom into the living room, you were surprised to find the living room in perfect condition. The feathers from earlier today were gone, the carpet was free of hair, and the grey boots - presumably Tom's - were neatly tucked into a corner.

Loki walked into the living room, carrying a stack of folded bedsheets. He knelt before the sofa and began to arrange them into a makeshift bed. "He can sleep on the couch tonight," the God of Mischief commented, placing Tom's stuffed dog Bobby onto the blankets.

"Thank you, Mister Loki!" For the second time that night, Tom hugged Loki. But this time, Loki hugged him back, holding the boy in his arms for at least a minute.

"You're welcome. Now go with her and get ready for sleep."

Giving Loki a "thank you", you led Tom away and gave him a spare toothbrush to use for the night. You stood next to him in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth while he brushed his. He even gargled a tiny cup of mouthwash and promptly spit it into the sink.

Loki watched from a distance, unbeknownst to both of you. He admired the way you interacted with Tom, making the little boy feel welcome the same way that you made him feel welcome when he was assigned by Stark Industries to live with you for the first time.

He reminisced about the first month that he was living with you. Loki thought about the way you helped him use the shower head, teaching him which way to turn the faucet for hot water versus hot water. He remembered how patient you were when he fumbled with the stove and nearly burned his fingers while boiling a kettle of water. Then there was the time when he tried to warm an aluminum packet of Pop-Tarts in the microwave…You were not pleased by the smell in the kitchen, but nevertheless silenced the smoke alarm before the landlord found out. And then, you showed him how to remove the wrappers and warm the Pop Tarts properly, not-so-gently chastising him all the while.

Loki snickered to himself. He really did deserve that, and the fact that you were willing to call him out when necessary was one of the reasons he liked living with you. Perhaps…perhaps Tom was right. He did fancy you, maybe even more than what he imagined.

You wiped your mouth after brushing your teeth and walked with Tom into the living room. The four-year-old boy climbed onto the couch and snuggled underneath the blankets.

"Good night," Tom looked up at you and Loki.

Kneeling before the boy, you gently kissed his hair. "Good night, Tom." Loki turned off the lights in the living room, and you left to change into your pajamas.

After an hour, you meandered into the hallway to check on your little guest. While Tom peacefully slept and held his stuffed dog to his chest, you felt a pair of arms around your torso.

"You are very beautiful…and I fancy you," Loki whispered into your ear.

"Stop it," you giggled under your breath.

Loki held you closer. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"You need to change him back in the morning." You turned around and pointed a finger at him. "The paparazzi will find out about this."

"I've got everything under control," Loki assured you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "And when this is all over…maybe I'll bring another little one home?"

"Loki!"

"Fine, I'll just make one."

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner and turned around. "Good night, Loki."

"Wait!" Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms for a moment. Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. You melted into the kiss almost immediately, clasping his arms as he held you close. "I don't think I thanked you properly for today." He smirked.

"I think you already have…" You looked up at Loki, not sure if he was being genuine or just making a joke.

Loki tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I really fancy you," he confessed, murmuring your name with affection. "You're the kindest, most beautiful person that I've ever met on Midgard. You welcomed me into your life, you live with me even while knowing all of my history. Everyday you talk to me, indulge me in my games, and bring life into this place. Without you…living on Midgard would be like a prison. But with you, it feels close to paradise.

I know I don't make things easy for you, and sometimes I don't even know how you stand me. What I do know is…there's absolutely no one like you. And I fancy you more than anyone else. Do you…do you feel the same?"

"Loki…"

"Tell me," he softly insisted. All of the smugness from earlier had melted away, leaving nothing but a god who simply wanted to know if his affections were one-sided or not. "If you don't, then I'll forget everything I just told you, and we'll move on like nothing happened."

"And if I do?" You swallowed, your eyes meeting his. "What if I do fancy you, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard and Jotunheim?"

A warm smile spreads across Loki's face and he chuckles. "Do you…do you really?"

You replied matter-of-factly. "Sometimes that happens when you live with someone for six months, and catch them eating ice cream while crying to love songs."

"You tease," he snickered before kissing your lips again. Loki pressed his forehead against yours and held you, enjoying the moment to the fullest.

After what felt like several moments, you stroked Loki's cheekbone. "We should probably head to bed. It's late…and Tom might wake up."

Loki sighed, releasing you from his embrace. The two of you exchanged a "good night" filled with mutual affection and moved towards your separate bedrooms.

BONUS SCENE

A few hours later, you were awoken by fits of giggles and loud screaming. What could possibly be going on now? Climbing out of bed, you turned on the lights and sauntered into the living room.

"Thomas!" You chided, standing at the doorway while Loki and the little boy threw fistfuls of feathers at each other, surrounded by newly-destroyed pillows. "Thomas, for heaven's sake, it's the middle of the night! Will you go to bed?"

Tagging: @smolvenger @lokiismineforever @lokischambermaid @lokiprompts21 @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @lady-rose-moon @holdmytesseract , @icytrickster17 , @thatdummy-girl , @cakesandtom , @turniptitaness , @winterfrostlovetriangle , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisninerealms , @muddyorbsblr , @123forgottherest

#tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston #thomas hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #loki #loki god of mischief #marvel loki #loki odinson #loki x reader fluff #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki x y/n #mcu loki

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lokidbadguy · 11 months

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HE'S INSANE FOR THIS [I WANNA RIDE]

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lokidokieokie · 1 month

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Daffodils Masterlist

A Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader

World-famous actor Tom Hiddleston and distinguished journalist Y/n L/n were inseparable...well inseparable until an enormous misunderstanding destroyed any trust they both had in each other.

Fast forward five years and the two still haven't spoken. Their friendship seemingly forgotten.

Chapter 1 - A New Feature

Chapter 2 - Blast From the Past

Chapter 3 - Meetings and...Greetings?

Chapter 4 - Bitter Reminiscence

Chapter 5 - (coming soon)

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #british rpf #rpf #hiddleston #hiddlestoner #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston fanfiction #twh #thomas william hiddleston

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ladycamillewrites · 1 year

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Against the odds

Chapter 4 - Mister Kray

Word count: 4,5k

a/n: Chat Style - description of the movie plot and characters they play

warnings: 18+ filming of sex scene, language, toxic ex - gaslighting

masterlist

“Damn! Mister Hiddleston!” You hollered grinning. A playful appreciation of Tom's look as he emerged from the little studio where all your make-up artists and costume designers were swirling around like busy bees.

The first two weeks of filming were already over still leaving you with tons of unshooted material left. It was amazing to work with Tom and Jef Goldbloom who played your father, the third and last of the bigger roles.

The first week was mainly a 'getting to know each other' when the group clicked immediately. Tom and you had quickly revived the ever simmering embers of your friendship while he and Jeff recently had worked together in Ragnarok. He was incredibly sympathetic and so was the female director Anne.

You were happy these days. Acting, especially working with such sunshine people was a blissful distraction.

Tom's sharp features were highlighted by a pinch of make-up while his athletic form was slipped into a dark brown suit, visibly tailor made and clinging to his limbs like mysterious snake skin. Damnit, how were you even supposed to remain professional and not drool over your co-star who looked like a storybook villain?

So that’s how you ended up with a few funny remarks and quips to distract your clouded brain from unholy thoughts about Hiddlecharm as you began to call him. It was Chris’ idea but admittedly one of his better ones.

Tom's low chuckle rumbled through his chest, the dark timbre resonating against your eardrums. Whoever exactly picked him, thank you, you thought marinating in the soothing pitch.

He had slipped into his role already, a piece of cake for the incredibly talented actor as you realized while watching him shoot his first scenes. It seemed like he was Mr Kray, radiating exactly what you would expect when reading the script. No, even more. Even more intense.

“Or should I say, mister Kray, sir?” you purred, theatrically descending the few chairs you had sat on waiting for him to shoot your very first scene together. Not gonna lie, you were anxious as hell although everyone had told you how you were doing a great job. The executive producer even called you a perfect match for Victoria after your first scenes in the snobby law office with Jeff.

But the alluring thought of shooting with Tom, the man you were supposed to fall for at first sight and lose your grace along the ride was something utterly different. Something that could actually bring you uncomfortably close to your boundaries.

“You look gorgeous, y/n” the handsome Brit snickered as you joined him on his way to the set; a scenery on the huge property of the London film company. A street, wet from this afternoon’s rain and slightly darkened due to the late hour was the perfect background for Alexander and Victoria's first encounter...

Victoria Desmond, a young, ambitious lawyer, living up to the expectations of joining her well-known father's law firm. The best in whole London, especially when it came to criminal defence. Victoria didn’t have a clue whether her dad John was involved in some shady business ventures but she didn’t and shouldn’t care about his ways anyway. The young woman was awfully intelligent, a shooting star in her métier not to mention the sex appeal she should radiate throughout the film by wearing tight pencil skirts and not fully buttoned up blouses. She was the perfect innocent temptress who would drown in the underworld, mercilessly pulled by Alexander Kray and his criminal charm.

Coming to Kray - a ruthless criminal dominating the UK's filthy underworld under the pretense of a fake company selling luxurious jewelry. The company wasn’t fake at all yet small and exclusive but still making a remarkable amount of money. Enough to launder bloody money and to present Kray in a white vest. After a mole had done some damage the prosecutor’s office got ahold of some sensitive documents. Kray seeked help at the countries most prestigious law firm; Victoria's dad's. Of course, the case ended up on her desk making her defend a criminal who had told her everything about his dirty business as if it was nothing and slowly pulled her mind under a numbing spell of devotion. Eventually, she turned her back on the dream of becoming London's chief prosecutor and defended Mr Kray she had been stumbling in a steamy affair with.

God, it had been a lot to take in after you first read the whole script in one night, four cups of coffee had fallen victim to your binge-session. The piece was dramatic, captivating to the last sentence and most of all; fucking steamy. You had no idea about how the hell you would manage three, THREE sex scenes while the first was already nearing but more like in the frightening speed of a sprint instead of a marathon.

It was a heavy challenge without any equal. Especially since you were completely inexperienced in the field of acting, ergo also in faking literal sex.

You had watched every single one of Tom’s films in the last week. Admittedly, you must’ve had watched them at least more than ten times now but of course that was and should remain your little secret. He was a marvel, an absolutely gifted actor nailing everything single role he had played so far. The way he conveyed all the feelings in romantic scenes was dreamy and the intimate parts were… nerve wrecking.

No wonder the Hiddlestoners were very numerous and ambitious.

Thomas Sharpe? Fucking hot. Robert Laing? God above. Jonathan Pine? Yes please.

He made it look so natural, so real that it was terrifying once your brain snapped back in your own reality. The times you could manage to actually focus on the acting behind the tantalizing scenes, what was unfortunately pretty rare, you were utterly amazed. It was a double-edged sword; on the one side it was relieving to have an experienced friend guiding you through all that but on the other side you were afraid of the close contact, the act you had to display whereas 'act' was meant in the full sense of the word.

The last time you truly had been intimate with someone was before you and Nate finally broke up. Needless to say it made you extra sensitive to the topic in general. A dumb, humiliating comment of your ex as soon as the movie would be on screen was practically bound to occur only making it harder to work up the nerve to film those scenes.

But Tom was undeniably good looking and you would have given your life to be intimate with him all those years ago. Those few weeks he had spent in your damn house, day and night.

God, you were so torn. It started to get on your nerves.

It was a toxic combination of verdancy in this industry, the fear of failure, malaise due to your traumatic breakup and unstoppably growing emotions for the hot Brit. A perfect mess and you were praying for someone to declutter your heart and mind.

For Tom on the contrary it was the perfect opportunity to explore his villainous talents he had developed by bringing Loki to live. Naturally, he was about to elongate his success streak. deliver the Alexander Kray everyone would be stuck thinking about even weeks after watching 'The Moralizer'.

The first time you had seen him acting and developing the incredible persona of Alexander Kray curious goosebumps spread all across your body while you had to fight gravity in order to keep your jaw in place. Otherwise it would have dropped to the floor coaxed by the sinister yet totally charming aura Tom had created…

“Take 1, scene 35a. Go!”

“My, my, my... Who would have thought I’d meet my rising star of a lawyer in such a dark, wicked alley” Tom's deep voice growled as the black Jaguar rolled up next to you, the timbre of his voice matching the V8 engine in perfect unison. You didn’t even need to act like you were battling fear and arousal as your eyes met Tom's steel blues.

“I’m afraid that is none of your business, sir” you snapped, arrogantly tugging a strand of your dyed hair behind your ear and averting your gaze from the handsome man in the flawless suit. Victoria flattered you perfectly, her characteristics just mingling with your own and creating an amazingly real person.

You truly enjoyed playing the rich, ambitious daughter. Why? Well, you needed no explanation to just relish in the magical moments.

“Call me Mister Kray, darling. Although sir sounds rather delightful coming out of your mouth” he cooed, a sly smile dancing around Tom’s sharp features, streetlights casting sinful shadows on the hollowed cheeks. He did look a bit terrifying with a sparkle of manic in his narrowed eyes.

You were about to inhale sharply, making Victoria pop out an indignant retort to how he called you. Following the script and Anne's previous annotations while it was you to make true to those lines felt incredible. Then, you let your mouth fall agape, eyes widening in the shock of realization before they narrowed again, hiding curiosity that should remain veiled to Mister Kray.

“Right, Ms Desmond. I am Alexander Kray and you will get me out of this mess” he groaned raising a critical eyebrow as he conducted his gaze to travel your body not even trying to hide the profanity. Each of your curves was hugged by the tight black dress and topped with a white blazer. You wore an expensive costume yet you felt naked under Tom's or better Alexander’s interrogating eyes.

What lead to the very first time you deviated from the script, improvising by just saying what your inner Victoria told you.

“Just because I'm forced to defend your very mindless criminal games, I won’t fuck you” it blurted out of you before you swung your hair to the side, looking fed up and started to walk in the different direction.

“Come, come! Cameras-” the producer whispered and gestures them to follow you, eager to see what those perfectly harmonizing actors had in store for him.

Tom understood immediately, his face didn’t even twitch for a mere second as he brushed the gas, slowly keeping up with your hasty steps. Effortless, the blonde summoned a satisfied smirk on his velvet lips. God, he was talented just taking what you delivered and forming something completely new.

“Well hello... I wager the notorious John Desmond isn't aware of his daughter’s bratty mouth?” he snickered eliciting an annoyed scoff from your crimson lips.

“Are you trying to blackmail me, sir?” you sneered finally and abruptly stopping your strides. A surprised, angry expression lingered on your face whilst your knuckles turned white around the grip of your expensive handbag. The camera came closer.

“Not in the slightest, miss“ he began mimicking your polite address. “May I offer the lady a ride back to her office?” Tom then asked, his hand curling around the alabaster leather of the steering wheel. Steel blue eyes were flirting with the camera, killing all the women on what seemed like amused purpose.

“CUT“

“And that’s a wrap. Scene 35a done”

“This was absolutely perfect! Y/n, we need more of your improvising, it looked so natural” the first assistant instantly remarked completely surprising you with the unexpected compliment.

Was it really that good? Couldn't be since you had the audacity to basically ignore their script.

Jeff just stood in the corner grinning broadly and showing you a solid thumbs up before Tom took your hand and made you turn around in a flash. “You were amazing, darling. Congrats on your first successful impro-scene” he smiled warmly pulling you into a hug you wished would last for eternity.

Nate had never been a man of compliments or real charm so you were even more overwhelmed by the friendly nature of the handsome Brit.

“Well, without you playing along it would have been shitty” you quipped nervously, the scent of his cologne invading your nostrils like a wildfire. Tom was the perfect charming villain who already made your inner Victoria fall for the haughty ass that was Alexander Kray. You were stumbling towards the abyss of joining her, desperately holding on to your deep friendship as a reason to repress any other feelings.

Feelings you might regret one day.

“That’s not true, y/n. Let’s get you the nice caramel macchiato with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla and oat milk, shall we?” Tom weaved past you until standing on your right, sliding his arm down from where it had rested to gently wrap around your waist before his long legs coaxed you to go with him. He remembered how you liked your coffee already? How?

A flash of rose lit up on the powdered skin of your cheeks. A beautiful warmth spread in your lower belly emitting from his big hand holding you so lovingly in a place you normally wouldn’t let anyone touch you so easily. Especially not after Nate and his ongoing 'let me touch you' discussions.

“Liam?” You asked after picking up your phone, hands still wet from taking a shower. It was a wonder the phone even recognized the press of your thumb that created a small water bubble to relax on the blacked out screen.

The youngest one of your brothers you also had a very good relationship to normally preferred to text so it must’ve been something urgent?!

“Hey, boops” his voice echoed through the speaker of your phone as you dried your body and slipped in your underwear.

Today was the day. The first sex scene shoot and the intimacy coach told you to wear a bra you feel sexy in since you were allowed to wear one of your private collection instead of having to wear what the mask and costume team picked out. A small ray of hope in the dark valley of your simmering nervousness.

“What’s up? I’m kind of in a rush, bro” you panted slipping in the black leggings and wriggling your head through the tight opening of your turtleneck. You were indeed in a rush considering that you’ve wasted twenty minutes in the hot shower fearing the moment you had to get out.

“Well, erm it’s about your ex” Liam whispered carefully but it was hard either way. Your heart dropped, fingers digging in the soft fabric of your tote bag.

“The People magazine published an interview with him in which he stated that quote 'the relationship with her was almost platonic. Nothing what would ever satisfy a guy so men, beware'. I read it and I just had to tell you” Liam’s voice explained, the pity clearly audible.

Desperate anger and familiar sadness rose in your trembling body. This was certainly the least thing you wanted nor needed today.

“Tha- thank you, Li. I’ll phone my lawyer after shooting”

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, y/n. I’ll visit you next week, alright?” He cooed trying to soothe his little sister who struggled to suppress hot tears. He knew it what only ached his own heart.

“Okay, thanks. See you, Liam” you whispered shuddering as the short beep signaled the end of the call.

You would have loved to snuggle up in the warmth of your bed, burying hot tears in the silk of your pillows and watching an episode of Friends. But it wasn’t possible. You had a job to do, and what a difficult one today so you got ahold of yourself and stumbled out of the spacious hotel room heading towards the set.

“Hey, you seem sad…did something happen? I’m sure we can reschedule the shoot if you’re unwell” Tom’s soothing voice intruded your mind as he stepped in the costume trailer where you sat in the corner, shaking.

You looked up at him, all ready in a dark red suit with a checkered tie and brown shoes. His handsomeness never failed to impress you and special parts of your body. God, you would never want him to think he was the reason for your muddled state.

“No, no it’s not that… it’s just…” you stammered biting your lower lip from the tension sitting within you. Tom came closer and sat down next to you, his gentle hand resting on your skirt clad thigh. It felt like a hug adding to the friendly, trustable gaze of his beautiful blue orbs.

“You don’t have to tell me, y/n. I can just stay here with you for a while” he whispered, smiling as your head leaned over to bump and rest against his shoulder. The Brit loved physical contact to you. Although he had a hard time restraining himself every time you wore those tight, sexy costumes. You were the most gorgeous woman to him and your character was pure gold, especially after the more or less dramatic breakup with Taylor.

To him you were a woman to cherish. Someone truly loyal and loving he wouldn’t hesitate a second to spend the rest of his life with.

But love was just an object easily buyable in the big grocery store that was the world.

“It’s Nate, Tom. He- he said in an interview that I’m not satisfying and warned all men about entering a relationship with me” you explained, keeping your voice but the words formed surprisingly easy as if your heart spoke to Tom through an invisible wire. A heavy sigh escaped the Brit's mouth, his chest falling with pure disappointment and the wish to snap that man’s neck.

“Darling, that’s horrible. I'm truly so hear that this idiot still has the audacity to put shame on your persona”.

You silently sobbed and snuggled up against his muscular arm. Shit, he was calming. Maybe even better than Chris or Liam although you’ve known him for just about three months now. The feelings you were unsure about fought their way back to the surface of your consciousness as he told you how talented and gorgeous you were and how he would be happy to have a girlfriend like you. Butterflies danced in your belly making you ready for the upcoming shoot.

Maybe it was a completely idiotic idea to enter such a situation with romantic feelings surging through your veins…

But as the set assistant announced the scene a cold shiver ran down your spine, freezing like ice crystals on the surface of a frozen lake. Fear and embarrassment flooded your body as Tom was instantly back in his role, picking up the incredible cocky and fucking alluring nature of Alexander. The previous scene was already in the box so you started at a 'cold point' what only made it harder.

But you took a deep breath, reminding yourself of Tom’s earlier encouragement and the tips he kindly gave you. Anything but Nate and his straining trouble.

“It’s gotten late. Are you sure such a gorgeous woman should go home now?“ Tom rasped approaching you and pushing you backwards until the edge of his black desk hit your back, forcing you to keep still as his strong chest lurked in front of your face. Tom’s strong pecks were clearly visible trough the white, thin fabric of his dress shirt drawing your coy eyes like a natural phenomenon.

Training to become Captain Conrad had paid off, obviously.

“Mister Kray, you- what are you doing?“ Your shaky voice asked while greedy hands wandered up to trace the button line and the muscle insertions hidden underneath. You saw Tom shudder lightly under your touch wondering if you should have left it.

Then you felt his hand pinching your chin with two fingers and coaxing your head up to make your eyes meet his. The tension was blooming, slowly allowing your senses to fade out the presence of two big cameras and about five people in the small room.

“You want this, don’t you? Just deny and I’ll leave you alone. Say yes and I’ll show you my generous side“ he growled nearing your face until you felt his hot, damp breath against your lips. Hot ripples ran down your spine at the close contact, something you accidentally dreamt of twice since filming started. Tensing up at what was to come next your left hand instinctively flew back and gripped the edge of the desk.

“No…“ you breathed letting Victoria lose herself in his narrowed eyes which radiated danger and seduction like a black sun.

A twitch shook your torso as Tom’s hand landed on your neck trailing your pulse point like a starved vampire until his fingers met the buttons of your blouse and began to open it slowly. Your mouth was still agape, goosebumps traveling the valley of your breasts as his cold digits brushed your cleavage with every unbuttoned centimeter.

It didn’t take him long to fully expose your chest and the sparkle in his steel blues hitched, evolving for a moment at the beautiful sight he longed since you had visited the set of Ragnarok. You could swear he was staring at your admittedly very alluring lace bra for longer than intended.

Was he, Tom, aroused by you? Or was it just interest? Fuck, y/n stay in the role!

“Yes“ you finally whispered tilting forward as if you craved his touch, more of his touch. The low chuckle rumbling through Tom’s chest was so unlike his usual laughter sending a hot gush of sizzles between your legs.

God, his deep voice was attractive. But suddenly, as his hands began to actually cup your breasts you nearly lost it, shivering under the many gazes fixed on your body in such an intimate situation.

“That’s what I thought, darling. Such an obedient little girl“ Tom rasped, his thumb caressing your collarbone as he lowered his head bringing his velvet lips closer to yours. Fuck, why did the script have to be like that? But you didn’t have much time to internally curse the alluring lines voiced by Tom Hiddleston because your heart began to hammer against your chest like crazy. It was as if your pulse was doing a sprint.

Tom secretly told you not to rehearse the first kiss beforehand since Victoria’s surprised reaction would look more authentic if it was real astonishment. And of course you listened to him, now facing the consequences of untamable nervousness.

It wasn’t only the kiss but also what followed after pretty quickly without giving you any time to think. The Brit saw the flickering anxiety in your eyes so he winked assuringly as the camera faced his back. A friendly try to calm you down but little did he know there were real emotions involved…

Then your lips met, your eyes fluttered shut at the overwhelming sensation of Tom’s soft lips sealing yours. A gush of emotions broke free from the gutter you had built to keep them in check. The battle was officially lost and your body began to swing the white flag, giving in to the kiss thoroughly.

At first you didn’t even realize the camera so close to your face but when your eyes met the light reflection on the lens you began to panic again.

“Shhh, you’re doing great“ Tom whispered, inaudible to the sound recorder, softening your muscles again before the kiss grew dirty, tongues flicking around each other before his hands suddenly hoisted you on top of the desk, hasty hands ripping your skirt apart.

Did he actually just rip a whole pencil skirt with his bare hands?

“That’s so wrong“ you panted under Tom’s demanding kisses which clearly helped you to let your breath appear labored. The man kept his promise to guide you through this and put the spotlight on you, making you look flawless. Those special feelings breaking free right now were only nourished by his honest and loving nature threatening to make you moan Tom instead of Alexander. A dangerous chess game you unfortunately played against your own heart.

“I’ll make it feel so right. Just let me in, Victoria“ Tom’s deep voice resonated in your ears, your signal to part your legs before Tom stepped in between. The false name gave you some strength again, helped you to to be in a meta level of control of the whole situation which slightly vanished when your task was to rip Tom’s shirt open. To expose his bare chest.

Then everything went by so fast. He unbuckled his belt as greedy appearing hands were on your breasts pressing your back flush against the desk before the real action began. The part of which you were most afraid; faking moans and whimpers and scrunching your face etc.

The whole range.

A shiver spread all across your body as Tom pulled down the panties you wore above the special skin color pad you got for exactly these kind of scenes. Your head was lost in a battle of wishing it would have been your real panties and the grand nervousness of being so exposed and vulnerable in front of strangers.

But Tom made up for it, whispering little words of encouragement whenever his kissed either your lips or your neck.

And that was how you got the boldness to dive in a little deeper, letting your little moans become louder and more unchained while his naked hips rolled against your crotch. This was a sweet little torture to the part of your brain which had craved Tom since your first encounter. His raspy, dirty lines only poured oil in the fire that spread from your belly while you decided to shut your eyes and spare you from the incredibly handsome face contorted in pleasure as if it was real.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. You feel perfect“ Tom moaned coaxing you to arch your back as his fake thrusts became stronger, shaking your body like Charlotte’s in high rise. You were utterly thankful for the tip to just close your eyes if the people’s gazes and the camera became too much hence your body could relax a bit more before the heavy task to fake an orgasm.

The intimacy coach told you to use your legs and hands to make it look more intense so there you were starting to grasp the edge of the desk and Tom’s lose tie. He was a professional without a doubt but your sweet melodies and the way you acted with your face was dangerous. It was a risk to his spotless reputation as an actor. But the Brit was skilled enough to transform and bring in his feelings into the acting. He delivered a picture perfect impression of Alexander’s sweet relief.

But deep down he would love to turn this into reality with the woman who conquered his heart.

Faking a heavy panting, your legs sinfully wrapped around Tom’s waist before the final lines of the film were spoken, your eyes opened again and your ponytail messy like it should after pure debauchery.

“Mister Kray… I should really go now“ you whispered under staggered breaths before he pulled you into another kiss. But a different one; a touch of real, unsated sentiment that nudged your heart over the edge.

You had fallen for your co-star Hiddleston. And hard.

“Call me Alex, pretty. And no, you’re staying. You gotta regret this night when the sun kisses your skin again“ Tom began, kissing your neck in between of his lines. “Let me make the remorse so awful“ he rasped, his baritone hoarse and used making your legs clench around him most involuntarily.

But you simply couldn’t help yourself at the words that escaped his mouth and the way his hollowed cheeks highlighted the godly bone structure. Not even to begin with those beautiful blue eyes fucking you with mere subtle gazes.

“Cut!“

“Your chemistry is breathtaking! Another one take“ the director yelled clapping above her head in pure enthusiasm while you were struggling to switch out of this vulnerable situation and back in an everyday-mode.

Shit, you internally cursed as you realized your legs were trembling from all the pressure which just vanished so abruptly. This was the most intense experience you’ve ever made.

“Are you alright, darling? You were amazing. Acting clearly runs in your blood“ Tom cheered as you wrapped his arms around him in a comfort seeking hug. But the handsome Brit wasn’t astonished by your actions, on the contrary he also enjoyed the last moment of intimacy after the steamy scene.

“Thank you so much, Tom. I couldn’t have done it without you“ you whispered obviously touched by him and his kindness. “Anytime, darling“ he temptingly winked at you before being called to make-up again leaving you standing there alone, only your strong feelings for him keeping you company.

However, the tall Brit with the dreamy smile saw you as a best friend… Didn’t he?

Tags: @crimson25 @kikster606 @huntress-artemiss @123forgottherest @lovingchoices14 @ozymdias @vbecker10 @coldnique @lokixryss @simplyholl @peaches1958 @lokibadguy @jennyggggrrr @stephenstrangeaddictions @holymultiplefandomsbatman @coldnique @gigglingtigger @mischief2sarawr @mypsychoticlove @mochie85 @muddyorbs @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @simping-for-marvel @lady-rose-moon @goblingirlsarah @kats72 @vickie5446 @buffyfan2833 @12-pm-510 @ladymischief11 @somewiseguy @woooonau @cabingrlandrandomcrap

#against the odds #collab series #fanfic writing #18+#Hiddleston x reader #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fanfic #thomas william hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #implied smut #fanfic #Holdmytesseract

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nildespirandum · 2 years

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The Master of the House returns.

18+ ONLY!! Tags found on AO3.

Reblogs are life.

“Oh, Lucille, what have you done to yourself?”

The figure in the doorway would have been tall in most company, straight and true, with a dignity of bearing that was more in line with eras long left behind. Handsome as well, famously so, due to the love and artistry of his wife, whose muse he had been, and whose adoration of his beauty she had shared with the world.

For a moment he waited there, the curl of his dark hair coiling like the smoke from the burning hall, his perfect, while linen unscorched despite the sparks and smut that clogged the air, shaking his head slowly. “Lucille,” he said again, in a voice that was filled with love and goodbye and weary, weary sadness, as if he had pulled himself out of a deep sleep to attend this piece of family business.

The mistress of Allerdale was frozen, staring at the phantom of her long-dead brother. Even the flames that were consuming and recreating her over and over stilled like they were now ice encasing her. One hand was raised, about to snatch a handful of Adam’s pretty lover’s golden hair, to burn her for the unforgivable sin of being correct, the young woman’s face certain, uptilted, though afraid.

A horrific and yet, Loki thought, poetic tableau.

The girl wisely took that still moment to take several steps backward from those fiery fingers, allowing Adam to step between them, looking furious, righteously ready to burn rather than let his lady take harm.

Of course, Loki thought, Adam had always been passionate and filled with fury about one thing or another. When he was not overtaken by his tiresome tendency to gloominess and overthinking.

Musicians, he t’sked his tongue. So moody.

“Thomas,” Lucille spoke, her voice juddering, ash flecking the air in place of spittle. “Thomas,” she swayed towards her brother - his shade or semblance, Loki wasn’t sure which - who neither moved to nor from her.

“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas.”

She made his name a song, a prayer. It was all she could say, perhaps all she would ever want to say.

When her burning fingers rested upon his still, white cheek, it left no mark, as if even she touched him, he was in some way untouchable by her.

“I knew you would come to me. That you would find your way back to our home. To Allerdale. To me. That we would be together forever and ever and ever. That we would dance one last time here, waltz as we did when we were young and then we will sleep together in the clay. Where we belong, wrapt about each other, an unbreakable knot. As you promised me.”

Her broken voice was now little more than a whisper, piping tiny bits of smoke from between her lips.

Loki slipped his hand into Laurel’s, their fingers lacing, and held tight. Monsters loved monstrously, he knew that better than most, and perhaps even Lucille Sharpe deserved a little of his pity, if for the part he had in her making if for no other reason.

Thomas took her filthy hand, all but burned down to the bone, and held it, looking at her with pity, with love, with resolution. “What new madness is this, Lucille? Even in death you will not allow yourself peace. My bones are far from here, with Alice and our children.”

“Lucy, you called me Lucy when you were little and could not say my name,” she leaned her head to his shoulder and rubbed against it, bits of her skin flaking off, as she did, ignoring the words that did not please her.

“Enough, Lucille.” Tenderly, as if not to cause her more harm, Sharpe placed a crooked finger beneath her chin and lifted her ruined face to look at him. “Enough! We were not what you wanted us to be in life, and shall not be in death. I am Alice’s and hers alone. Even now my bones ache for want of her. Even in the sleep eternal.”

Wrenching away from him, Lucille spun, shrieking, the brush of her skirts catching the old, once beautiful carpet on fire in spots. She pulled her ruined hair, hands-full coming loose in her grip, and screamed herself raw, spitting out blood and tissue along with fire from her throat, her false body dying with her house.

“YOU BELONG TO ME ! TO THIS EARTH! YOU CAME TO ME! NOT THAT CRIPPLE! NOT THAT THIEVING WHORE YOU MARRIED! NOT TO THAT FOREIGN LAND! TO ME! TO ME! TO CRIMSON PEAK AND ALLERDALE AND ALL OF THE SHARPE’S BEFORE US!”

Crimson Peak shook, and all of them had to find something to hold on to as it seemed to sink and shudder at its mistress’s distress.

Adam lifted his lover in the air, pressed close to his chest, and Laurel scooped up the still sleeping, last scion of Allerdale from the floor, placing him on a chest of drawers, while Loki stamped on the sparks, hoping that the last drama of the naughty Sharpe children would play itself out quickly. The room was growing hotter by the moment and the illusion falling into greater disrepair than the actual house. Bits of sky, which seemed to be showing false dawn, could be seen through the broken roof and true dawn would not be far behind it.

Presuming it was real time he was seeing and not the false time of Lucille’s broken mind. He had lost track and that was bad fortune for three of them.

“No, Lucille. Not for you,” Thomas Sharpe said, his weary voice as soft as his sister’s was loud. Crossing the room, ignoring or perhaps not even seeing the fire, his leather shoes leaving black prints on the rug, he looked down at his all but identical great-grandson, gently smiling. “He looks so much like Alice.”

With a shriek of rage, Lucille fell, her legs no longer able to hold her, beating the ground so the wood groaned and the sound of her cries causing the fire that was now licking at the doorway, blocked from entering while making their exit impossible, to burn hotter and hotter, the brilliant white reminiscent of the sun.

Loki felt small blisters form on his cheek, Laurel hissed with revulsion as she ducked behind the chest where Mas lay, the pain making her animalistic, and Adam spun about, his broad, leather-clad shoulders hiding his lover while his tangled mane smoldered.

Thomas, paying them no mind, started to touch the boy’s curls, and then stopped, jerking his hand back as if afraid of waking him. Or perhaps soiling him. “Would you take his life, Lucille? Do you truly hate Alice more than you love me?”

Kay, that was Adam’s lover’s name, inhaled hard, as did Lucille, the latter choking on her own bile.

“That is a cruel question, Mr. Sharpe," Kay scolded.

The fire in the doorway dimmed a bit, or perhaps Loki’s eyes had been burned and he was going blind.

“Sir Thomas,” Loki mouthed silently, as it was the wrong time to correct her, but the pedantry in him was deep and had to be expressed even if only to himself.

“I certainly don’t like your sister, at all, but that is a rotten thing to ask someone who is clearly mentally ill.” She tried to get down, but Adam would have none of it.

Only Loki saw Lucille’s head turn slightly at that moment, as if listening.

Thomas looked over his shoulder at Kay and smiled, “We are not kind people. We Sharpe’s. My father was filth, and he married a woman as bad as he was, and they were not even the worst of us. Even Alice could not make me kind, though for her sake I played the part of being a better man than I was and those that came after us are made of better stuff. Too much vicious blood and hate made us, Lucille and me, but this boy is Alice’s.”

In that overly rational tone, Kay started to object, only to be interrupted.

“No.”

The fire wasn’t as strong, Loki was sure of it. When he dared look at it, he could see it was flickering down, a dull orange now, and the space beyond the doorway was black.

Lucille’s voice was all but gone, so it was more of a sound, a rasp that hurt to hear, that clearly hurt her to use, and yet they all knew she said, “No.”

“No. I love you, Thomas. I have only ever loved you, and Allerdale. And though I loved you more, more than I hated mother, or father, or even your … than Alice.” She stopped for a moment, heaving with effort, “Yet, only Allerdale loved me back. Get the boy out of this place. He is too much of Alice for me.” The last had a bit of dismissive hauteur, the final moment of Lucille Sharpe as the lady of the house before she slumped to the ground, barely moving, her flesh of her arms nearly gone from smoke blackened bones.

Thomas spoke to Laurel as he settled himself on the floor beside Lucille. Her hair, what was left of it on her skull, he did stroke, “Will you carry Mas out of this place? I saw you were the one to look after him. I will wait with my sister a while.”

Nodding, Laurel gathered the young man up, just as Kay finally managed to escape Adam’s grasp, even if he didn’t look happy about it.

Then again, Loki thought, Adam rarely looked happy about anything.

Adam went out of the room last, watching the Sharpe’s. Within moments the last of her fire turned what remained of Lucille Sharpe into a pile of ash, shaped like a sleeping lady. As it happened, Sir Thomas began to softly sing, his voice gentle:

Let the wind blow kindly

In the sail of your dreams

And the moon light your journey

And bring you to me

We can’t live in the mountains

We can’t live out at sea

Where oh, where oh, my lover

Shall I come to thee?

Kay turned back, “What are you-”

Adam pointed into the room.

“We have to-,” Kay looked and then gripped the sleeve of his jacket hard enough that her knuckles went white.

Thomas did not look at his sister as he sang, rather he looked across the room at a pale shadow that looked like a woman leaning on a cane. Adam would have recognized Eve’s old, dear friend Alice anywhere, looking as she did in the 20s when he knew her. For a moment she looked away from her husband and inclined her head lightly towards him, as if to say his debt was paid. Then to her husband, she said, in her flat, rational midwestern way, “Thomas, will you never realize that acting as a good man makes you a good man?”

“Perhaps someday, my love.”

The force of Alice’s presence, of her voice, of the faint scent of neroli and linseed oil, and what all of that meant, jabbed through Adam’s heart and head.

Kay was right.

Ghosts were real, this he finally knew.

Lucille turned to grey soot and Thomas grew fainter and fainter, and neither of them could look away. At his last moment, Thomas reached out towards Alice’s shadow, and then they were gone.

And then they had to run as the beams holding what remained of the ceiling, real or imaginary, snapped and fell into the room.

Outside the sky was dark and clear, but Adam could feel the sun threatening to rise.

Mas Sharpe was leaning against the SUV, holding his head, looking almost as confused as he deserved to, while Laurel tried to get him to drink from a plastic bottle that had probably leached bisphenol A into the water and Loki was making a phone call.

No sooner had they all but jumped down from the vast, stone porch when at their backs there were several more loud cracks, like the roof beams had given.

The house began to collapse in on itself.

At first twin, gabled turrets sagged towards each other, creating a broken arch for a moment before toppling. The force of their fall shot broken tile, shattered wooden supports, splintered furnishings, and foul, hot air, like the breath of an old, old man, all out of the open door like the house was screaming for them to go away. To leave it to die in peace.

The force of the disgusting air pushed them backward, Adam grabbing Kay to make sure she didn’t blow away after they fell over.

Crawling, pushing her in front of him towards the relative security of the cars, Adam spat out grit, letting Loki pull both of them into the vehicle which rocked on its wheels as they watched Allerdale fall.

Four more crashes, as the rest of the roof gave out chunks, the walls wavering like they were made of paper, and beneath it all the blubbering, thick sound of the mines. Of the liquid clay sucking like a drain at the stone and brick downwards into sticky depths. Devouring what had been made from its riches, until little could be seen but the spiky peak that had once been above its entrance way and now served as its tombstone.

“I am really sorry about going into the house. Even if I was right about the hauntings. We did get Mas out, and that is what matters, right?”

Kay sounded exhausted and worried.

And elated. Of course.

Adam wasn’t mad. How could he be? As ever, it was his past that had caused the harm, and Kay being Kay and loving every minute of the dangerous chaos was not ever something he would want to be different.

He gathered her against him, kissing the top of her head over and over again, murmuring, “I am just going to have to get used to things like this happening, I suppose.”

Though he knew he wouldn’t.

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smolvenger · 23 days

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A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter 20 (Loki x fem! Reader Crossover Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: A sudden confrontation from the enemy...

Chapter Word Count: 4K

Series Masterlist

Warnings: A sex scene that isn't smut. It isn't too explicitly described and is not meant to be super titillating and is brief.

It just occurred to me that said scene, while not explicit, could have what is considered dubious consent. Even if it is in her imagination, even though Reader verbally says "yes" in the fantasy, it is bc she is doing her duty as a wife, I can see how this is considered dub-con and could make some people too uncomfortable to enjoy the chapter. So, for your safety- It scene starts at "Now, hurry and get it over with, Will," and ends at "Then, when he was done-"

Mentions of cheating (I portray the Will/Cora affair in The Essex Serpent unsympathetically so if you have an issue with that, you have been warned). Supporting Women's Wrongs. Violence and blood implied sexual harassment, and fear of sexual assault (but it DOESN'T go there), scary stuff and angsty stuff, but a happy ending. Grammar mistakes and lack of editing or extra super revision bc I just wanted to Get This Shit Done (tm).

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

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

When you found the letters on your first wedding day, you had a life already set before you. A life that would take an obtuse turn. Where all would happen…but you would not be happy. You had often wondered if the marriage to the revered went through.

You imagined the scene. One image haunted your mind once you saw the inside of your fiancee's house. Of when he was no longer your fiancee, but swore an oath before his God to be your husband. It was after the ceremony, the celebration where you could only stare blankly at the table, barely eating. And he would hold your hand as the sky got dark and lead you to the white house, ducked his head under the doorframe to go upstairs and commence the wedding night.

You lying on that blue bed. You said “yes”, because you were a dutiful wife. A motionless doll for him to play with, for there was nothing inside you to fight now. Stiff as a board on the bed. You would lift the skirt of your shift on the blue bed. Legs open and eyes open, face away and placid, consenting because it was your duty as a wife now. That was what good women did. Now, hurry and get it over with, Will.

The Lusty Vicar…well, living up to his nickname above you to put it delicately. Hearing him grunt in your ear, and feeling him over you, inside you.

Knowing who he was thinking of. Knowing who he was imagining beneath him, in him. Knowing who it was who made him lose his bearing.

And it wasn’t you.

Your face was turned away despite the position of the act, your eyes not wanting to even look at him. Feeling his sweat and how his curls brushed against you. Hoping he wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t ask questions. Focusing yourself on the far left corner of the ceiling and not him or what he felt like. Creating a mental distance between the two of you in the ultimate act of physical closeness. You would not fool yourself and let yourself feel the pleasure of the marriage bed now that you knew the truth. You wouldn’t think of how much you wanted him, much less how much you loved him. Thinking of what you’d make for breakfast, what the next sermon should be on, or the dishes that needed to be washed tomorrow. Not on Will as he was on you, in you.

Then, when he was done- after he read his Bible on his lap, quietly reading aloud the verses, making a note to skip the fifth chapter of Matthew, verses twenty-seven through thirty.

You would make yourself small. In a feral position with the covers of the marital bed over you. You were a woman now in the town- wedded and bedded. But you wanted to be a child. You wanted to run back home to your father and mother in tears, knowing that a good cry and a little chocolate and tea would make everything better. But no. You weren’t a child anymore. You were a woman wedded and bedded. You were a wife. A priest's wife. A priest's unwanted wife.

You wouldn’t be able to quiet your mind to dream. It would be repeating that question, endlessly, on your lips, knowing it would ruin everything the minute you said it- “Why am I not good enough for you?”

But you wouldn’t speak. A wife never considers herself, she only considers what makes her husband happy. You’d stare at the wall. Waiting for him to fall asleep, tears quietly streaming down your face. You would have melted over the erotic sight of his strong upper body normally- but it wasn’t yours. He wasn’t for you. Not really.

Then, when you were certain he was asleep, you would quietly get up and leave the room.

You ended up wandering to his study. You turned on his lamp by the window. Perhaps you should try to read a dull, intellectual, dense book of his on theology to make you sleepy. But your eyes would only be drawn to the walls.

The green, elaborate wallpaper with vines, branches, and leaves, both golden and emerald. A few white flowers in bloom. You would walk to see more of it.

What struck you most was the image of a white bird with its wings stretched open. It flew over the leaves of various green and yellow branches. Among white and blue flowers in bloom- of a new, exciting life, of promise. And most of all, the animal stretching its ivory wings as if ruled over all. Like it could escape the paper easily, soar over your head, and out the window.

How you wished you could turn into that bird. So you could stretch your wings and fly far away from the town. From him. And leave it all behind for a new place, a new life.

But you couldn’t.

You would go downstairs, past the kitchen, to the main room. downstairs to curl up on the cushions before the window overlooking the wild marshland, the town. And let yourself sob.

Thank the norns Loki called in his deal when he did. You didn’t know what would happen. He’d call in the deal, but by then, it would be too late.

I’m not in that house, I’m in the woods, you reminded yourself.

Giving a deep breath through the woodsy, clean air, you made a mental note. You’d have to give your husband, the one that was your actual husband, who was not a godly husband but a plain old god husband- that long-awaited thank you. You didn’t think you could bear going through the marriage or have the scarlet letter for jilting him at the altar without an escape plan.

You thought you would just stay in Asgard. Take care of the cauldron and Grendel all neat in a little bow. Then things changed.

You would not be that passive, sobbing victim anymore.

You had fought. You managed to take your revenge, completely.

It wasn’t the right thing to do. It wasn’t healthy. But gods, was it freeing.

As you walked further into the woods. A small laugh of relief even chuckled through you. The release, the ridiculousness, and the awe that you had done it- destroyed Will’s ministry, and his reputation, and brought physical harm to both him and Cora all without getting caught.

But…did they survive? That was quite a flame on her. It would be the same for him.

Pausing, touching a tree, you had to think it through. Develop a plan.

If they lived and said something, then the better for you. That would confirm the rumors of the affair, damning both in society. No person would want to associate with Cora at least after that. The visiting council would strip Will of his position with the evidence before them. The superstitious town would be convinced that God had stricken them as punishment for hurting his little Blessed lady. For none knew of your gifts. And none would think you even capable of any act of harm from your reputation as the town’s angel. Besides, none of them knew of your powers. How could even Cora, in her scientific high and mighty mind come up with the solution of why her coat burst into flames when you were far away?

If they lived and said nothing, then at least Will would get in some hot water over what happened.

If they died, then they died. It was their deserving death.

You paused. No, how could you dismiss that? To think- you took two more lives. Not just some nameless bullies, but two people who you met, you knew their names, their histories, and one you loved and were about to marry…you were capable of that! You did something horrible! There was more blood on your hands!

You heard the sound of a branch being stepped on from the distance behind you.

What if Cora survived and ran right after you!? Likely she would. What would you do? With the fury still in your heart, perhaps take out more of her fire and toast her in a place without witnesses until her body dissolved to ash so there would be no evidence. But what if she caught you? You could see her face twisted in her ugly crying and feel her slapping and punching you.

Not that you would have to deal with her. You were headed off somewhere she could never reach. Not even by train.

Taking a deep breath, you let those thoughts of Will and Cora go away. You were done with Aldwinter forever now. Revenge had been taken and was successful. You wanted to see your friends, your in-laws, and your True Love again. You wanted your new home.

You paused in your steps. The trees growing so thick over your head it hid the sunlight and made the woods a little darker.

There was another crunch of feet on leaves. Someone was arriving. No more time for dallying.

You opened the shield. You sent the words clear in your mind.

“Loki…I’m ready to go home…Open the portal. I want to go back to Asgard now.”

You waited one minute. Then another.

But nothing happened. The birds were barely chirping and the air was cold. Shivering, you blinked as you tried not to panic.

“Loki, I am ready now. It’s done. Open the portal, take me back to Asgard.”

Nothing. You heard none of his witty replies or promises or cheekiness. And you saw no portals. Much less Loki. There was only the rustling of the trees.

Did…did he have his shield up? Why? Did something happen in Asgard? You should keep trying.

Then…you heard something- more footsteps.

It was more than one person.

But, you heard more than one footstep. Was it a party of men? In the evenings they would go to the marshes, hunting for serpents and trickster gods with torches, scanning the waters and fields. Some began setting up charms so that their daughters would be safe. Did they realize you were missing and send a search party…

You saw one man, then two, then four. No torches, they were smirking at you like wolves with a plump, injured lamb.

You felt your stomach drop. They were Gerndel’s army.

One stepped forward with short blonde hair and was overly muscular.

“Ah…looks like we’ve caught you. Right where we want to,” he said.

You felt their eyes on your nightgown. Peeking at how your body’s outline could be seen, your breasts hinted at, and feel the air of unwanted lust. And you were one woman surrounded by men.

Terrified, you held out a hand to release fire to them.

But no flames emerged from your hand.

Hurriedly, you tried again. But nothing. Your breaths came fast and shallow and you could feel yourself shaking. They snickered as they walked forward slowly. Knowing no matter what pace they set, they would win.

You retreated, realizing they were going to back you into a tree, as you tried to back into one, they would still keep a steady pace. There was nowhere to run or hide. Bile ran up in your throat. You fought back the urge to cry. You began to gasp for air, seeing their smiles, their eyes bright over you. One unsheathed his sword with a sliiiick, and the blade gleamed brightly in the dark woods. Silver and spotless and ready to be soaked with your blood.

You tried flicking a hand again, but there were no flames. You realized your senses were dulled- you couldn’t feel or hear any presence besides the four men before you and the dark, consuming woods.

“Ah, ah, ah! Someone took a little bit of our old friend’s apples.” The blonde one taunted.

“You’ve…you’ve poisoned me!?” you cried, your voice becoming shrill.

Another, a gentleman with dark brown hair, tall and lanky, shook his head with a half laugh.

“If you dropped dead right now…where would be the fun in that? Oh, not poison. Just a littke Kunigr potion. ”

You remembered the arrow that drained Loki of his magic in Jotunheim. Then you recalled the apple, the only thing you ate today. It struck you…your mother got those apples from a new grocer in town….

It all came into place. Panic made you shake, your throat and chest tight. The brown-haired man lifted his finger, beckoning you teasingly.

“Now…come with us…we can have some fun with you if you don’t struggle. You won’t get a scratch on you…for now. And won’t Grendel be thrilled when we hear who we caught?”

You steadied your breathing. You had to steady yourself- or enough that you could act, that you could fight. Hoping, praying to whatever god was out there, the Christian God, the trickster god, anyone, that your training was enough.

The brown-haired one approached you. Quick as lightning, you punched his jaw and then kicked his groin. As he backed down, his grip on his sword loosened as he groaned in pain. In one brief second, you kicked his hand. His hold loosened and the sword fell. Quickly, you grabbed the sword by the hilt and pointed forward. You were terrified, but you would not give up. Not yet.

“Ah, now, this kitty’s got claws!” the blonde one mocked mocked.

You steeled yourself, pointing the sword. Making your hold steady.

“What, haven’t you considered that you’re outnumbered?” said the third, another brunette with a scar across his face.

You stepped forward, speaking with the powerful venom you could muster.

“Do you expect me to surrender that easily? I will not. I am the Princess of Asgard, beloved wife of the God of Mischief, and third in line to the throne. I may have lost my magic, but I am not untrained in other methods of slaughtering all of you. I have killed, I just killed, and I will kill again. And I will not die here without a fight.”

They all got out their swords.

“That’s enough chatter,” replied the first blonde.

They charged. As did you.

Thrusting the sword forward, gritting your teeth, you stabbed through the gut of one. Blood erupted and he let out a cry. He wouldn’t last long, and you pulled out the sword to hasten his meeting with his maker. As the second tried to grab you, you merely dodged low, his sword through the air. His lower body was left open. You stabbed him through the groin- quickly in and out, blood bursting into gushes as he screamed in pain.

Blood dripped from your sword in its coppery scent. One attacked you and you blocked with your sword, the metal clinging as it stung the air. You swirled around. Stabbing and cutting. Dodging blows and putting up a fight. But they were advancing on you and you had to block two swords, it was harder to keep up.

There were shouts. You turned your head and saw a glimpse that almost loosened your bladder at the sight-

Five more men were coming. Five more of Grendel’s men. You heard the swords being unsheathed and saw them glimmer even in the woods.

They were now in sight and joined their two brethren.

They were right, you were outnumbered. Seven to one. And they were starting to circle you.

Though your muscles ached from the sword, and your nightgown was splattered in some blood-you couldn’t let them win easily. You fought the urge to tremble, to cry. And you held your ground, your sword pointed. You knew your death was arriving sooner with every second, every step of their feet. Your heart hammering despite your aching muscles. You had to keep going. Somehow. Someway. You gritted your teeth and held up your sword to fight until the end. That at least you would face your end with dignity.

They raised their sword to strike at you, and you raised yours, ready to fight this futile battle and-

There was a loud, metallic growl from the distance. A sound you never heard before. So loud, that it rattled the trees. Then another.

Grendel’s men stopped and turned their heads with wide eyes. You couldn’t help but pause in wonder.

It got louder and louder and louder, something was coming. The men looked among themselves. You took their distraction to start to flee, and you made it to a tree when something pierced your field of vision.

Turning back, you saw bright lights.

Their heads turned and they grew pale, holding out arms to block the lights.

One of them grabbed you, dragging you by the collar, almost hoisting you up as you faced him, his eyes glaring into you and his blade ready at you.

“I’ll-I’ll stab you twenty times through your cunt, you little bitch!” he growled.

The sword was knocked from his hand and he cried in surprise. His grip loosened.

You both looked.

There was the sound and two lights ran by with the whirring-it then revealed what it was-

It was the thing Loki told you about. A motorcycle- and a man on it with a helmet- one hand on the steering wheel and the other around a pistol pointed at him.

The man said no reply until a bullet hit him in the shoulder. He let go of you and cried in pain.

You gasped at your rescuer- adn then realized the source of the bright lights-the other thing Loki told you about.

Through the woods, bursting through like a chariot was a car. The men of Grendel all stood, staring agape. But the motorcyclist held up his gun, pointing.

Out from the car, emerged Robert.

“Y/N! Y/N! Hurry- come in!” he urged.

“Get in the car, now!” he cried.

You let out a gasp and could have cried. You hurried to them. The men gritted their teeth and raised swords-

The motorcyclist said nothing as he lifted his weapon and aimed, quickly but steadily. The gun was fired with a loud crack in the air.

One of the goons dropped dead.

Only one of your friends you knew was capable of that, and would come from an era where he knew how to do that-

“Jonathan!” you cried out.

His helmet was still focused his gun raised. His voice distorted, but you knew it was him. Not daring to take it off to give himself a target for them to hurt him.

“The Princess of Asgard with us- let her come with us. And no one gets hurt.”

“YN! Hurry!” Robert urged.

You would not look at the scene as Jonathan began to shoot more at those who attacked. You turned on your heels and ran into the car’s side door, slamming the door shut.

You followed and jumped in. A far cry from any run-of-the-mill carriage you had been! The velvet, soft seats, and big, wide windows and space. You saw the knobs and turns and levers from the front. You covered your ears as bullets rang out. When you peeked back, the men of Grendel were dead.

Jonathan turned to Robert, nodding his head.

Jonathan got out his watch and clicked it.

“Time to go to Heimdall, let’s hurry,” Robert urged.

A portal opened in the woods.

Robert stepped on a pedal, and moved the wheel- he drove through the portal. There was a flash of bright, rainbow light swirling about you.

You landed on the other side, in a golden room. With the night sky in a large window before all. Then Robert hit the brake and parked. Jonathan’s motorcycle followed after.

You noticed a man standing in the center of the room. He walked to you, and at first, you were intimidated. There was an incredibly tall, broad man with piercing yellow eyes matching the gold of his armor and his helmet.

He spoke in a deep powerful voice- he could have been the new king of Asgard and you would have accepted it.

“Well, you both made it.”

His head turned. His golden eyes easily spotted you, not squinting though you were far away. Despite his intimidating presence, his face softened. He gave you a small bow in respect.

“I am glad for our Princess’s safe return,” he said.

“We got her just in time. Can’t blame her for being shaken,” Robert confirmed.

“Yes, I saw it all. Now hurry, all of you. All of the castle is worried for her.”

Robert drove by pulling the wheel, and then the car went down the rainbow bridge. Jonathan’s motorcycle was right behind, whirring along. Looking out, you finally realized- you felt like that white bird in flight at last. Wings stretched out, the beautiful world before you. Not only safe, not only loved- but free.

The blue sky and sun shone. The gentlest summer day. The sea that formed around you in a crystal blue-green. And you almost tore at the outline of the glittering, golden city, Asgard as it got closer, until you were driving through its streets. Passing commoners with astonished faces.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to the doctor driving.

“Robert! Oh, Robert!” you cried. “You -came for me! You both did!”

Robert looked at you with a gentle smile, the speed of the car steady.

“You don’t have to be frightened, Y/N. You’re with us now- you’ll be fine,” he assured you.

You went over and kissed his cheek chastely. “Thank you!”

“Save some for Jonathan too!” he replied with a wink. He was still Robert. And Jonathan would still be Jonathan. Each of them- your friends, your friends! You were going to see them all again!

Excitement gurgled in you as Robert parked the car outside the palace. The guard's eyes flickered to the contraption, as well as the motorcycle. Jonathan parked it and then took off his helmet, his eyes serious, but his shoulder dipping in relaxation and a small smile on his face.

You ran over and gave him a big hug and he hugged you back.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

“I’m glad too,” you said.

“Now, I think it’s time you’ve reunited with your husband,” he announced.

They escorted you right into the palace through the hallways and into the throne room. You were astonished to see so many of them there, sitting and pacing about in worry. Thor and Hal were talking quietly. Thomas sitting on the steps next to Stella, doing embroidery anxiously. Queen Frigga remained as composed as she could as Sif paced around.

They all turned and there were smiles and gasps. They took in your nightgown and the blood and you- alive and breathing and seeming physically well.

At once they all gasped your name and charged into you, saying your name. Sif’s eyes flickered to Robert and then back to you.

“Did you give them hel?” she asked.

You nodded, showing her the bloodied sword still in your hand. “I gave it to all who wronged me back there, and didn’t spare Grendel’s men from it.”

She smirked. “That’s my girl.”

Stella ran forward and hugged you.

“YN! Oh, YN! You poorest thing! You gave us all a fright! I thought I would cry- I thought you would be gone forever! I missed you so much!”

You hugged her back.

“Don’t worry, I got scared-but I’ll be fine.”

Thor at once charged forward. He hugged you and lifted you so your feet didn’t touch the ground. He shook you around, hugging you like an overexcited toddler with their beloved toy.

“SISTER! My dear Sister! You are RETURNED! How victorious! My brother said he missed your signal and it FRIGHTENED him! Why, thank the NORNS!”

Hal patted at Thor and he let you down. You welcomed him with a hug.

“Well, I’m royalty as well, dear lady. You shall have no bows from me, yet the title suits you- to see you returned alive and triumphant!”

You hugged him back. “Hal, thank you!”

You then hugged Thomas as well.

“You gave Loki a scare- all of us.”

“My powers were taken away- they have to come back with time. But I’m fine- Jonathan and Robert saved me before I could get hurt,” you assured him.

Frigga even embraced you. She smiled.

“I hoped you and Loki would both realize how much you loved each other. And I thought I would never see you both happy together…I can’t even speak right now.”

She let go and cupped your face and then kissed your forehead.

“You are of Asgard now, and I welcome and bless your union and you with all of my heart,” she said.

You could have teared up.

“But, speaking of unions…where is he? Where is my husband?” you asked, looking around.

Thor folded his arms.

“He was getting the army of Asgard to go to the forest. He got scared that perhaps Jonathan and Robert wouldn’t be enough- they were preparing to search for you, but-”

You heard footsteps. And several voices.

But one stood out

Though it was a voice exactly like so many in your life, past and present, there was no denying whose name it belonged to. His voice.

“YN! YN!! All of you- stand and run firm! Destroy any who dare touch a hair on your princess’s head! Where is-”

Loki hurried forth, several guards and soldiers of Asgard behind him. His black and green robes with little gold embellishments. Typical of him, but with his black curls, ivory skin, and blue eyes, he never looked so beautiful to you before this moment. His eyes met yours and you paused. He froze, blinking. His boots almost skidded to a halt as you took each other in for a second.

Tears welling up some, you replied in a small voice. “I thought I’d never see you again, darling.”

Loki seemed to turn white, and you saw his hands shake at his sides. He frantically checked the others in the crowd. “Is this some illusion? Did mother-”

Robert clapped your back.

“We got her. This isn’t an illusion, Loki. She’s here,” he assured the god.

You cupped your mouth and he stood, breathing fast, crying tears coming out from you despite your smile. He walked again, faster, hurrying through, as if he would tear through each realm to touch you again.

You ran right into each other's arms. He picked you up and turned you again. You broke into crying again. You curled a hand behind his dark hair, kissing his lips and then his cheek and any part of him. A sound came out of you like laughter.

“Loki- Loki darling, I’m here! I’m right here!”

He broke the hug and then cupped your face.

“Are you hurt? What happened? I lost your signal! The one you promised me!”

Sniffling, you began to recount what happened.

“You were right to be worried, Loki. I was tricked into eating a Kunnigr apple. My magic was drained by the time Grendel’s men cornered me…I held them off for as long as I could. Then reinforcements came. Robert and Jonathan hurried in before I could be made prisoner or worse. They brought me here!”

There were big eyes as the others took in this information.

He hugged you again. You felt yourself shake some, crying, laughing, as if every emotion at once was washing inside you.

“How I missed you all, and…husband–my…my husband! My dear! I missed you most of all! I love you, darling! Loki- thank you! You saved me! You brought me back!”

“I would have torn Midgard to pieces to get you back- I love you, my wife,” he replied.

Your heart bursting at the fresh word, spoken from his mouth instead of in your mind, you kissed him on the lips again. Soft, but eager, demanding. Wanting to touch him, reacquaint with him. And never let go no matter what.

Hal was smiling wide and Stella was blushing pink. Jonathan looked down, trying not to laugh. Frigga merely then began to wave them off with her long sleeves. Turning away discreetly.

“Everyone…I think it’s best we let the couple have some privacy…” she suggested. Everyone gave a farewell smile, with a promise of a return.

Loki only held your hands and hurried you through the halls, the guards not behind you, right to where his chambers were.

“But…Grendel, the cauldron-what will we do?” you asked.

Loki caught you in his arms and you gasped. Carrying you, he led you to the threshold of his private room. He smiled mischievously.

“I think the Grendel matter could wait for a few minutes, don’t you agree?” your true love asked.

36 notes · View notes

thlover94 · 8 months

Text

Title: Afternoon Fantasies

Summary: Tom is at work and Rebecca finds a way to occupy herself, but doesn’t realize he gets home early finding her in a compromising position.

⚠️Warnings ⚠️: 18+, Sexual Acts/Themes,and Strong Language, Real Person Fiction

Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I just do this for fun so I know it’s not perfect. I will always accept constructive criticisms and comments!

“Good morning, babe” Tom flys into the kitchen finishing tucking in his shirt, just as I flip the last batch of pancakes.

“Good morning, I’ll have breakfast for you in a few minutes.

“Hate to do this to you, but I got to get to the set.” He says as he guzzles down his coffee like it’s his last drink on earth.

“Oh that’s fine, can I have a kiss before you go?” Puckering my lips.

“If I wasn’t in a hurry, I’d make you beg for it” He laughs as he tenderly kisses me, but as always our quick kiss turns into to a full blown make out session.

“Fuck, I got to go” he pulls away, I can tell leaving is killing him.

“I wish you didn’t have too” I pout

“Maybe later when I’m home, we can go shopping and out for dinner?” He pats my bottom, and kisses my forehead.

“Sounds great to me. Love you!”

“Love you too, see you later” he scarfs down a pancake as he heads out the door.

I decide to take the day and do some yard work, clean the house, and write in my journal. Despite keeping myself occupied, I have come to the realization that I’m super horny and I wish Tom was here to relieve me, but at this particular moment in time I need to relieve myself. Opening our closet, I pull out our box of fun and grab the massive anal dildo, vibrator, lube and head for the bathroom.

Taking my clothes off, I then lay a towel on the floor, figuring the best place to suction the dildo is the side of the tub. Getting on all fours, I begin playing with myself by gliding my fingers in between my folds, imagining it was Tom’s twirling and flicking my clit. Once I feel primed, I begin to probe my bum with the tip but of course I’m not very anal savoy and find myself struggling trying to get it in.

“Need some help?” I’m jolted from my fantasies by Tom.

“You scared me, I thought you wouldn’t be home until this evening.” I ask somewhat embarrassed.

“We got off early…but don’t let me interrupt you” He sits down on the vanity bench and gives me that mischievous Loki grin.

“I uh I don’t think I can do this” I shy away

Shifting in his seat I can tell by the look in his eyes that his dominance switched on. “You are going to fuck yourself while I watch, do you understand.”

“And if I don’t?” I quip. He leans forward, his eyes dark with rage.

“Then your punishment for being a brat is not touching me for a full week, and darling I know how much you love your morning cuddles” his callus words sting.

“You bastard, you wouldn’t dare” I pout on the verge of tears.

“Try me.” He snaps.

I’m clearly not going to win this battle, I take a deep breath I spread my cheeks and with my other hand I try to finagle the toy but I find myself struggling.

“It’s still too big, I uh think I’m too tight it won’t go in” I start to panic. Tom crouches in front of me grabbing my chin forcing me to look at him.

“Here’s the deal, I’ll get you started but you will finish. Do I make myself clear?” He orders

“Yes sir” I mumble.

Stepping over me he grabs the lube and sits on the edge of the tub, his legs on either side of me.

“Open your ass for me” he demands, and I do as I’m told spreading my cheeks. I shiver as I feel his lubricated fingers massaging my tight entrance. After a few strokes of his fingers, he inserts two of them and begins scissoring.

“Now your relaxing” he continues his movements.

He removes his fingers, then slowly guides me onto the toy.

“Ahhhh…I can’t” I squeal as the toy stretches me

“Deep breaths, it’s almost all the way in.” He continues to coach me.

“Tom, please… can’t you fuck me…” I beg in desperation.

“No! You are going to fuck yourself, and darling If you let this fall out of your ass, you know what your punishment will be.”

Carefully, I begin to move forward and backwards feeling every inch of the toy.

“Fuck I love watching you stretch open” he grunts as he pleasures himself. I pick up the pace, my ass hitting the wall of the tub. I grab the vibrator and put it against my aching bean causing a fire to ignite deep inside.

“Oh god!” Rubbing my clit harder.

“Come for me my anal whore” Tom moans.

I pump my ass a few more times as my orgasm rips through me shaking every nerve ending. Just as I finish, Tom’s rips through him and I feel his ejaculate run down my backside.

“Don’t move darling” Tom pulls the toy out of me then begins filling the bathtub.

“What are you going to do?” I nervously look behind me.

“Can’t a husband take care of his wife?” he laughs leaning over and grabbing tissues.

“Was I a good girl?” I shake my booty as he cleans up.

“You were a very good girl, I’m proud of you” he kisses my lower back as he strips naked. He holds his hands out and helps my stiff body of the floor, we slowly sink into the warm water.

“This feels nice” I lay my head on his shoulder and we both savor the moment wrapped in each others arms.

After a few moments of silence he nibbles and kisses my neck. He then intertwines our legs pinning mine against the tub walls. Now that I’m open to him, I watch as his fingers glide down my belly to my center.

“I…I uh don’t think I can take anymore” shivering at his touch.

“Oh, but I think you can” he sucks on my neck, I know he’s going to leave a mark, but as always I don’t protest as his fingers sink into me. I move my hips to match his pace but it’s not enough I need to feel him.

“I want to ride you.” I whimper

“Ride away” He releases me from his hold. I twirl around and straddle him guiding his cock deep inside, savoring every thick inch. I slowly start to ride him, I take things a step further by nuzzling into his neck kissing and sucking this immediately triggers a low, rough grunt from him.

“You like that don’t you,” I tease

“Do it again” he begs and I continue to suckle and grind deep and slow, causing the water to slosh around.

“You’re a fucking goddess” he I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. His lips warm and soft, parting just slightly allowing my tongue to slip inside.

“I’m close” he gasps squeezing his eyes shut as I ride him faster.

“Fuck, Rebecca” His back arches and his body shivers as he reaches his climax. The feeling of his cock pulsating deep within me causes my orgasm to rip through me. I collapse into his chest utterly exhausted.

“That was incredible” he sighs.

“Yes… it was” I catch my breath before getting out of the tub. We immediately help each other dry off.

“Do you still want to go to dinner?” He asks as he pats down his arms.

“I think we should stay in and you can eat me out” I wink dropping my towel. Without saying a word Tom pulls me into his arms carrying me to the bed where round three commences

#tom hiddleston #i❤️t.h.#tomhiddleston #thlover94 #tom hiddleston fan fiction #slave to love #tom hiddleston fanfic #ao3fic #thomas william hiddleston #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston ofc

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

Text

Last Updated: 2024-03-05

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Sir Thomas Sharpe stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

❆ Christmas at Allerdale Hall by sserpente • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Imagine spending Christmas with Thomas Sharpe at Allerdale Hall, while the Baronet is determined to make the holiday special for you, Lucille cannot be more cross with [you for celebrating the holidays]."

❆ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by just-the-hiddles • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your sister and children have come for the holidays to Allerdale Hall but all is not merry and bright."

❆ London Blizzard by sserpente • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine getting stuck in [London due to] a blizzard with Thomas Sharpe over Christmas."

❆ A Special Present by ladyfluff • 〔C〕 • ♡ • 𑁍 •

❆ Chilly by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❆ Darling, You Shouldn't Have by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❆ Mistletoe Kiss by sserpente • 〔F〕 •

❆ Snow Day by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Thomas Sharpe Master Index

Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @ladyfluff || @sserpente ||

#Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader #Sir Thomas Sharpe x Y/N #Sir Thomas Sharpe x You #Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Thomas Sharpe x Female Reader #Thomas Sharpe x Y/N #Thomas Sharpe x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #Crimson Peak Fanfiction #Crimson Peak Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston Fanfic

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etherealacoustic · 2 years

Text

All Of Me

Pairing - Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

Summary - On your third anniversary, Tom sings this song to you. Also depicts your and Tom's relationship.

Warnings - none!

Also I love him sm 🥺💙

Your lips mouthed the lyrics to the song that was playing on the radio, a soft romantic one. That was always your preferred choice, either love songs or sad songs. There was no in between.

Even after being married for almost three years now, one of your traits could be traced back to when you were a teen. Which was that you were a hopeless romantic.

You chuckled at the thought of your younger self daydreaming at how would you meet the love of your life. Various memories ran through your mind where you created scenarios in your head, imagined how the conversation would play out.

And speaking about getting hitched, tomorrow would be you and your husband's third marriage anniversary.

You smiled at the thought of your husband, Tom. The most caring, loving, sweet, and handsome gentleman you'd ever met.

Just as you were driving, you spotted a florist shop on the sidewalk and immediately stopped the car in front of it.

Getting out you quickly went over and greeted the old lady at the counter. There were many different kinds of flowers but you were looking for a particular one.

"This one," you said and pointed to the small purple sprig kept in a vase.

"Bougainville?" The lady seemed a little surprised at your choice as she plucked it out and handed it to you.

"My husband loves it," you chuckled and paid the amount.

"Quite an extraordinary choice," she nodded appreciatively.

"I know right," you said and shook her hand before retreating back into your car and driving home.

Finally reaching your apartment, you parked the car and walked towards the elevator to get home at last.

Tom on the other hand, was busy jamming to music and cooking dinner to hear the door open.

You grinned at hearing the all too familiar tunes being blasted and smirked at your perfect opportunity. Quietly tip-toeing towards the kitchen, you stood right behind him and yelled, "BOO!"

He jumped and turned around so fast that you were afraid he had snapped his neck. His eyes went comically wide and he clutched his chest to soothe his agitated heart. "That wasn't fair in the least".

"Sorry," you said in between laughs. "Couldn't turn down such a perfect chance now, could I?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nevertheless, his eyes visibly brightening at seeing you after a long day.

"I got something for you," you said and he noticed one of your hand was behind your back, hiding something.

"What?" He asked curiously, a childish excitement glowing on his face.

At that, you held out your hand which was holding the small bunch of Bougainville and presented it to him with extreme dramatics and unnecessary elegance.

A faint blush rose to his cheeks as he laughed and took the flower from you, a huge smile on his face. "Thank you, love".

"My pleasure, husband," you winked and went forward to wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head on his shoulders.

He sighed contently and tightened his grip around you, swaying slightly and just enjoying the closeness.

"I'll quickly go and get changed," you whispered and he nodded, kissing you deeply before letting go.

Dinner was quite peaceful compared to the time spent after. You two were watching those try not to laugh challenges on YouTube and you were failing miserably.

"You're an actor!" You exclaimed angrily after your fifth defeat. "It's not fair!"

"A good actor might I add," he retorted smugly. "Everything's fair in love and war".

You frowned and huffed, "One last time, winner takes it all".

But as predicted, you had lost. Again.

"I hate this bloody game," you groaned and face palmed at being so easily cheered.

"Only because you totally suck," he grinned and backed you against the armrest of the couch.

"I do not! It's just that you have a really unfair advantage," you said and pulled him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck.

You two were quite close, noses brushing and foreheads touching slightly. His baby blue eyes gazed into your shining irises, both pairs filled with every ounce of affection.

He leaned forward to kiss you, your eyes instantly fluttering close as you felt his slight weight on your body. Your lips moved against his in a familiar harmony, one that both of you knew all too well.

The small ding of the clock was what made Tom pull away, he glanced at the time before turning back to you.

"Happy anniversary, my love," he whispered and brought in his embrace.

"Happy anniversary, Tom," you breathed back, smiling at hearing his heart taking up it's speed.

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

It was early in the morning and you were moving around, trying to be as quiet as possible to not disturb your sleeping husband.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your hair and coat before giving a satisfying nod.

"Love?" A raspy voice was heard making you smile softly.

You walked over to his side of the bed and sat next to him, laughing as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer. "You look beautiful," he mumbled with his eyes closed.

"Morning to you too," you chuckled and ran your fingers through his blond locks.

He hummed and slowly opened his eyes, "Leaving already?"

"Yeah," you sighed. Though wanting to stay home and enjoy your anniversary together, you had an unavoidable meeting. "I promise I'll be back early.

"It's fine. Drive slowly," he murmured and smiled sleepily at you.

You nodded and kissed him one last time before leaving rather reluctantly.

Tom watched as you closed the door and smiled before falling asleep again.

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

It was late evening and the living room of your house was decorated nicely. Not too lavish but simple and beautiful, just the way you liked.

The lights were dimmed to a soft golden colour, fairy bulbs hung around, some draped over a plant and some on the wall.

Tom looked around, checking everything to make sure all was in place and smiled softly at your reaction on seeing this.

He went over to the bedroom to check himself. He adjusted his blue formal shirt, brushing off creases and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Running a hand through his hair and styling it a little, he nodded before taking the most important part of the entire surprise.

His guitar.

It was placed near the sofa, not easily visible but not completely hidden too.

The doorbell rang and he immediately perked up, a small grin on his face as he hurried over to open the door.

The door was open and you stepped in, not having the slightest clue about everything. The first thing you saw was your husband, looking extremely handsome in that shirt.

And before you could even say anything, rose petals started falling and you let out a tiny gasp, looking up and holding out your palm. Your body spun slowly without you even noticing as you were busy smiling widely.

You laughed a little and looked at Tom who had a fond look on his face. You walked closer and wrapped your arms around his neck and his went to your hips.

"Thank you so much," you said and cupped his cheek with your right hand, an excited expression adorning your face.

"My pleasure," he replied in his deep and alluring accent. He raised his hand and removed a small petal that was stuck in your hair. A warm feeling spreading through you at his touch.

He smiled, and that was all it took for you to press your lips against his.

Tom pulled away and his hands went to your shoulder to pull off the blazer, "How was the meeting?"

"Not bad," you responded and let him lead you towards the sofa. "I think we will end up making a deal".

He nodded encouragingly and made you sit down on one of the couches before seating himself in the opposite one. You gave him a quizzical look but he just smiled pleasantly and took the guitar in his hands.

"You've been playing?" You asked in surprise and delight.

"Yep," he grinned and started tuning the instrument as you sat there.

"Now," he said after he was done. "I'm gonna play a song okay? And- I- I'm gonna sing too.. All you have to do is just watch".

A smile spread across your face as you took in his words. He was going to sing and play for you. You loved this man.

"Which song?" You questioned, trying your luck though you knew it to be hopeless.

"You'll just have to wait," he smirked which then faded to a slightly anxious look.

"Go ahead," you said reassuringly after seeing his nervous state.

He nodded and cleared his throat, offering you a charming grin before beginning to strum gently.

===============================

What would I do without your smart mouth? Drawin' me in and you kickin' me out. You've got my head spinnin', no kiddin'. I can't pin you down.

Your eyes widened and you smiled at the familiar song, one that both of you loved. Another thought struck you that he was singing this for you, to you.

Tom's eyes that were previously on the guitar were now glued to your face as he sang, clearly letting you know that it was you he was dedicating this to.

===============================

What's goin' on in that beautiful mind? I'm on your magical mystery ride. And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me. But I'll be alright. My head's under water, but I'm breathin' fine. You're crazy and I'm out of my mind.

His eyes were still on you, taking in your features as his fingers moved and strummed the strings with no effort. You were looking especially beautiful tonight. Maybe it was due to the cost ambience, the golden glow of your skin, or maybe it was just your awed expression.

You were staring back at him, the love of your life, your man. Still not believing this was really happening. To someone it might seem simple, but to you it was a big deal.

===============================

'Cause all of me, loves all of you. Love your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I'll give my all to you. You're my end and my beginnin', even when I lose, I'm winnin'.

His lips held a small smile as he looked you right in the eye, as though making sure you were hearing his every word, trying to make you believe in him. His gaze scanned your body, affection fully visible in every part of his face.

Your throat tightened and you swallowed down the burning sensation. It had been just a minute and you were already getting emotional. You looked up at him to see him mouth, "You're perfect," and you chuckled, blush rising to your lips fast making him laugh.

===============================

'Cause I give you all of me. And you give me all of you. Oh-oh.

You didn't know how to respond to the way he was looking at you, like it was you who hung the stars. He was looking at you with so much love, so much care, that all you could o was offer him a teary smile, hoping your eyes showed the same, wishing you weren't looking like an absolute mess.

His smile slipped a little at seeing your eyes welling up, he hated to see you cry. But his face brightened again at seeing your smile.

===============================

How many times do I have to tell you? Even when you're crying, you're beautiful too. The world is beating you down, I'm around, through every mood.

You almost laughed out loud at the perfect timing, it was as though the universe had aligned your emotions to the lyrics. Not even a minute ago you were a tiny bit conscious and here it was, your husband reassuring you unknowingly.

He cheered internally at seeing your happy grin, knowing what you were thinking. All that was running in his mind was you, and you only. He wanted you to know that he'll always be there, no matter what.

===============================

You're my downfall, you're my muse. My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues. I can't stop singing, it's ringing. In my head for you. My head's under water but I'm breathin' fine. You're crazy and I'm out of my mind.

A smirk was seen on your lips despite your tear-filled eyes. You had multiple playful arguments, where Tom was so-called annoyed at you because according to him, you were the reason for the numerous diversions he faced when working.

He rolled his eyes at your mischievous grin, him understanding exactly what was running through your mind. Though being 'frustrated' with you for many times, you would always be his favorite distraction.

===============================

And as though it was the perfect time, the tears you were holding back slipped from your fierceness and you shut your eyes tightly, trying to stop them but to no avail. His voice was just too sincere, full of too much adoration that it became difficult for your heart to stay silent.

Tom's eyes bore a sympathetic and fond look as he gazed at you, he loved you too much and even he could feel his voice starting to shake and throat starting to burn.

===============================

'Cause I give you all of me. And you give me all of you. Oh-oh. Give me all of you, oh. Cards on the table, we're both showing hearts. Risking it all, though it's hard.

You had not even bothered to wipe your tear-stained cheeks. You just watched and listened. Your eyes flitting from his face to his hand as it strummed the guitar.

His gaze though was settled on you, taking in every tiny reaction and capturing it in his mind forever.

===============================

'Cause all of me, loves all of you. Love your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, give my all to you. You're my end and my beginnin', even when I lose, I'm winnin'. 'Cause I give you all of me. And you give me all of you. I give you all of me. And you give me all of you, oh-oh.

You eyes didn't stray away from his until his very last note, until his very last strum. You were taking everything in. From his shirt-clad body, to his glowing face, and to his glistening eyes.

And he did the same, losing himself into you as he mindlessly finished the song.

===============================

As soon as the guitar was placed down, Tom wasn't even given the chance to look up when you had jumped on him, bringing him in the tightest hug ever.

He laughed softly and raised his hands to wrap them around you. He slowly pulled away to see trails of tears down your cheeks.

"Oh, love," he sighed and wiped them away, cupping your face gently, holding you with extreme care and kissing you at last.

"You shouldn't make your wife cry on her anniversary, Thomas," you sniffed and placed your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, darling," he whispered genuinely and you could hear the huge smile.

"Well you sung a goddamn song for me. I can't even be mad," you laughed and kissed his cheek.

"You liked it?"

"Of course I did! It was amazing, thank you," you said genuinely.

"Happy anniversary once again, my love," he murmured and pulled you close, letting you rest your head on his chest.

"Happy anniversary, handsome," you sighed and snuggled closer.

Both of your hearts swelling up with unfathomable amounts of love for one another as you cuddled.

===============================

#Spotify #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #tom hiddelston loki #loki #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston x you #all of me #tom hiddleston x wife reader #tom hiddleston x wife #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction #john legend #song based fanfics #story songs

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