blake kathryn
Doug Jones
occasionally subtle
ellievsbear
Show & Tell
One Nice Bug Per Day
Sweet Seals For You, Always
official daine visual archive
Noah Kahan
★
d e v o n
$LAYYYTER
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON
𓃗
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Kiana Khansmith
EXPECTATIONS
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
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seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
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@loz-3
ASKS ARE OPEN
MASTERLIST
Luminous - New AU Season One Complete
An Unwilling Operative Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Other works:
Drowned Hearts (newest work)
The Huntress The Huntress : summer fun
Participation Not Required - 2 part drabble Part 1 - Part 2
Secret Santa 2023 submission Kitchen Distraction
Shorts Alone in Paris Miss Congeniality 3 Pickup Lines
(un)fortunate trap
Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader
Summary: All you wanted was to reach your room in time before a blackout would hit the elevators in the Avengers tower - but unfortunately you're not the only one with this mission...
Warnings: a blackout, forced proximity, reader has a crush, getting stuck in an elevator, curse words, teasing, Loki being Loki? suggestive smut, smug Loki
Word Count: 1,6k
Cocktail: GIN - Loki Laufeyson + COCOA SHAVINGS - "Are you wearing my shirt?" + LIMONCELLO LIQUEUR - forced proximity + BAILEYS LIQUEUR - teasing
a/n: Yep... Felt good to write for my other fictional husband again. 🤭 Thank you for the request, @fictive-sl0th ! 🫶🏻
💠The Blue Arrow bar💠
°☆• discover more... •☆°
A quick workout - that was all you had intended to do on this evening, followed by binge-watching this new series together with the girls.
Unfortunately, had fate a twisted sense of humor. Namely, getting you in precarious situations...
Blindly, you reached for the next best piece of clothing you could find - not caring in that moment if it was yours or one of the others. All you cared about was getting up to your floor ASAP. Once you were dressed in nothing but a green t-shirt, grey shorts and fluffy socks, you threw the other shit in your gym bag, switched on your phone flashlight and raced for the door and elevator. Still working, you realised in sheer relief and pressed the button. It took a long second before the elevator arrived and the steel doors slid open. Not even caring to give the insides a proper look, you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button of your floor. As the steel doors slid shut again and the engines rumbled to life, you sighed in relief. But then...
You had just finished showering in the gym's small locker room in the Avengers tower as the power went suddenly off, followed by a blaring alarm noise which caused you to almost jump out of your skin.
"Power off. Restarting program started," announced Jarvis. "Oh no, for real now?!" You exclaimed and hopped out of the stall; already wrapped in your fluffy towel.
Quickly drying yourself off, you knew that this was a race against the time now. Due to Tony's installed security system, every time when there was a blackout, Jarvis restarted the whole system - which was according to Tony important. The problem about it? The process shut down several devices inside the compound such as TV's, light, Thor's beloved toaster... and most times even the elevators. That's why you really had to hurry up. Unless you'd have to most likely spend the night at the gym - and you rather preferred your bed, honestly.
"Making a run for your floor as well, huh?"
The sudden voice coming from behind you managed to startle you once again. Whipping around, you found none other than Loki leaning casually against the elevator wall; hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants and a small smirk on his lips.
Ugh.
You swallowed. Why did it had to be Loki? You asked yourself. Since the God was deemed to be redeemed on earth and to pay the price of his actions, you harboured a crush on Thor's little brother. How could you not? The black-haired trickster was beyond handsome.
"Well... Yes, obviously," you said; adding a small, nervous laugh. "Just like you, I reckon." "Positive, darling."
"I-I, uh, I-" You stammered while the God just kept smiling mischievously at you. You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; getting yourself together again. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to. I-I was at the gym and showered when the blackout suddenly happened. I just... reached for the first thing I could find and-" You cut off your own sentence once more. This time because the elevator suddenly stuttered; light flickering above you.
His oceanic blue eyes roamed your figure, before another smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "May I ask why are you wearing my t-shirt?"
You blinked at his words. His t-shirt? "Your t-shirt? I don't-" Then you noticed it. The too big fabric hugging your upper body. The colour. Emerald green. The faint smell of his signature cologne. His smell. Fuck. You were wearing his t-shirt...
Oh.Uh.
The sudden movement 'caused you to lose your balance and of course stumble right into Loki - who caught you easily with his strong arms. "Careful, little Midgardian," he said while still steadying you as the elevator came entirely to an halt; sealing your fate.
You were stuck.
In an elevator.
With Loki.
Your crush.
Wearing his t-shirt.
Fuck.
Yeah, great... The emergency light..., you thought. That wasn't helping you in this situation. You were still stuck in a very tight space with the man you had the hots for. Great.
You took a few steps back again - even though a part inside you wanted nothing more to stay in his embrace.
"Well... Looks like we are going to spent the next few hours together in here," Loki stated and casually pressed the emergency button; signalling Tony that someone was stuck. Not the first time. "At least the emergency light is still on."
"How, uh, long do you think this is going to take?" "I am afraid I do not have an answer to that question, darling. These..." Loki gestured around. "... Midgardian steel boxes are not my expertise. It appears to me that all we can do is wait until either Jarvis gets the systems running once again or for Mr. Know-it-all to get us out of here." You nodded; taking a deep, shaky breath.
The problem? Lying to Loki? The trickster God? Bad idea.
Tight spaces usually weren't a problem for you - but with Loki it was as you discovered.
"Are you alright, little Midgardian? Claustrophobia?" You shook your head; trying to keep your cool around him - as you usually tried to. "No, I'm okay." The God raised an confused eyebrow. "No? What is it then, darling? Forgive me for my boldness but you do not quite seem to be alright." "Nothing. I am alright," you stated; not just lying to Loki but also to yourself.
Deep oceanic blues flickered over your entire frame; noticing the way your body language seemed to be all shy and flustered around him - and Loki being Loki, he could look right through you.
"Understandable, darling..." He spoke in a raspy voice; so close now that you could feel his breath on your skin; inhale his cologne with every breath you took and feel the warmth radiating off his skin - and it was intoxicating. You felt like you were drowning in Loki. His smell. His presence. His eyes.
A mischievous, boyish smile tugged at the corner of his lip.
"Oh, I see." You blinked. "S-See... what?" "It is because of me, isn't it?" He asked; voice deeper than before - and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Is my presence intimidating you?" The God continued; and took slow, almost dangerous steps closer - causing you to instinctively back up. Not very far, though. Tight space. You hit the steel wall of the elevator within two steps. Shit.
"Face to face with the God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard and rightful heir to the throne of Jotunheim." Loki placed both his hands strategically above your head against the steel wall. "It is quite a lot," he whispered with a wink. 'Smug idiot' - that was what you wanted to say, but instead all you did was exhale a shaky breath which unfortunately sounded distinctively like a moan.
Oops.
The little sound you made caused another mischievous smirk to dart across the God's face. "Ohhh," he breathed - and it was probably the hottest thing you had ever heard. So hot and intimidating that your knees almost buckled and gave in underneath you. "You like it, do you, darling?"
Who were you to lie to him? It was obvious to Loki anyway. He could look right through you.
You nodded; another shaky breath paving its way past your lips. "Well..." Loki started; eyes flickering from your eyes to your mouth and back. "That makes two of us, little Midgardian."
Oh my gosh. You could've sworn you were close to combusting.
That was it. The moment you gave in. To this situation. To him. The adrenaline sent a rush of courage through your body - otherwise you had probably never dared to do what you did next. You stood on your tiptoes and just... kissed him. Hot, heavy, open-mouthed. Nothing innocent about the kiss you shared - and the God happily reciprocated. Teeth clacking, lips colliding.
With laboured breathing, the God pulled back to lick his lips and smirk at you. Skilled, elegant hands now tugged gently at the hem of your - his - t-shirt. "I should take back what belongs to me," he spoke in a raspy voice.
"Y-You should," you answered without thinking. Loki smirked once more. But just as his delicate fingers wanted to work his piece of clothing off your body, the steel doors of the elevator suddenly opened. A little slow and wistful, but nevertheless. Within seconds, Loki's hands were miles away from you and the bubble of tension bursted.
Tony stood in the doorway in full Iron Man armour - except the helmet. Funnily enough, it appeared that you had stopped right at a floor. The man's eyes wandered from you to Loki. "Did I... interrupt something?" Unlike you, the God had quickly regained composure again and was once more casually leaning against the wall. "Nothing but conversation," he started and elegantly pushed himself off the wall. "You should've waited longer to rescue us in order to interrupt something." He winked at you. "I hope we get to finish what we started, darling," Loki whispered into your ear then and just strutted past you and Tony to leave the elevator.
Tony blinked in confusion and shook his head, while you were still shaken up. "You okay, Y/N/N? Quite creepy to get trapped in an elevator with Reindeer Games if you ask me..." You nodded and straightened Loki's t-shirt; trying to get yourself together again. "Mhm... Creepy..." You said rather absentmindedly; staring after the God with his words still echoing in your mind.
Tags: @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @gruftiela @jiyascepter @alexakeyloveloki @chennqingg @glitchquake @mochie85 @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @lokidbadguy @asgards-princess-of-mischief @kikster606 @huntedmusicgardenn @km-ffluv @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @vbecker10 @aagn360
Sooo...I got another idea for a fic. I initially wanted it to be just a one-shot, but with the progression, it might have to be a series or mini-series. It is...enemies to lovers with Loki.
It's with Reader. You and Loki are from different realms. Asgard believes it has the right to take over your realm, Vanaheim. After you agree to go as an ambassador to Asgard...you and Loki immediately dislike each other. This dislike takes place in certain battles- physical and verbal. But when circumstances push your realm to the limits, it seems the only person you can turn to for help is the one person you despise most of all. The trickster god.
Would anyone be interested? I'm currently revising and working through one project- The Witcher fic on Archive of Our Own- but I'll have to narrow down what to focus on. Got too many ideas microwaving in the noggin at once. Ahhh! I also want to finish up Court of Mischief and Purpose and The Baronet Seeks a Wife. Still, I also want to continue writing one-shots with Booktok tropes, continue the Frost Giant series, my project that I won't name on Tumblr, and my other abandoned Disney story.
Too many ideas! What's a fic writer to do?
Alright guys...I am planning out the next one-shot I should write with a Tom Hiddleston character so....pick a BookTok Trope
Which trope should I write?
Mutual Pining
Touch them and you die
Who did this to you?
Brother's Best Friend
Childhood Friends to Lovers
Bodygaurd Romance
Fake Dating
Academic Rivals to Lovers
Forced Proximity
Hurt/Comfort
Second Chance Romance
Frost Giant Chapter One (A Frost Giant! Loki x fem! Reader miniseries)
Summary: Inspired by the upcoming film Wicker. Circumstances force you to take a husband. When you enter the altar to get married, in comes your groom. A Frost Giant named Loki.
Word Count: 2326
Chapter Warnings: Men being gross, fear of being murdered, hard adulting stuff. Lack of Loki (he's coming! I promise!)
A/N: Hiiiii! At this point of publication, I know the premise of Wicker and have seen the trailers. But I don't know the exact plot of the film. And the short story can't cover a full miniseries of a fic. So, I have to guess and make a three-act story from this premise. I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
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
Frost Giant Taglist: @mischiefmaker615 @hiddle-hoe @eleniblue @princessdragon23 @loz-3 @mischief2sarawr @wolfsmom1 @giona45-5
A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad// Help Me Pay My Rent
“Marry me,” said Conaloch.
You stood at your doorstep, blinking at him. It was still early in the morning. The sun shone from your apartment window. You wanted to spend the morning as you usually did- curled up on the couch with a romance book. This one was getting right to the very first kiss. You could feel it coming any minute. It took ages for the couple in the story to get to that point. Right as they were about to, you got a knock on your door with a marriage proposal.
The birds sang their morning songs outside, and you felt the warmth of the sun creep on your back. In the distance, you heard the neighbors' footsteps as they got up for their morning routines. You could still taste the eggs you had at breakfast leftover in your mouth. Did your breath smell? Maybe if you breathed on him hard enough, he’d go away.
You looked at Conaloch. He left his house, made his way to your apartment complex, and knocked on your door to propose. He was old enough to be your father, with every unattractive feature you could think of. You felt yourself go dry as a bone listening to his grating voice.
“I need to get to my book,” you said. Trying to remain as polite as possible.
You closed the door, but he put his hand on it and stopped you.
“I want an answer: marry me. Yes or no.”
“Er, give me a day to think about it, and then I’ll give you an answer,” you replied.
“I want an answer now,” Conaloch demanded. “I need a wife. Someone to cook and clean for me. Warm my bed at night and rub my feet in the morning and give me eight sons.”
“Eight! Is adoption an option?” you asked.
“As long as they’re sons,” he said.
“Well-er-thanks for the offer, but no,” you said.
“What do you mean, no?”
Gripping the doorknob tighter, you pulled it towards you to close the door further. “I gave you my answer; it is no. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my book.”
“I got money; I can provide you with a good life,” he argued.
“I already have a job, thank you,” you said.
“I know, I’ve been watching you. You’re awfully pretty when you cut up all those fish.”
“Stop creeping on me when I’m at work. And my answer is still no.”
He looked you over.
“Look at you, you’re practically an old maid!” he said.
That comment made you wince. The fact you were at your current age and not married…in Asgard, you had reached an era of spinsterdom.
“How is it you call me pretty and then call me an old maid a second later? And I’m quite content, thank you.”
“You don’t want to end up alone?”
“I’d rather be alone and happy than stuck with someone and miserable,” you retorted.
“Your womb will quiver.” He let go of his hold on the door and curled his hands into fists by his side.
“Right now, I can’t afford a child.”
“I could give you the money for one.”
You began to close the door. “No, thank you.”
“But you’ll never get another offer of marriage-” he cried.
You slammed the door in his face. He pounded his fists a few times, then gave up and walked away. Letting out a deep breath, you went to your couch and sank on it. You picked up the book, but the proposal left a sour taste in your mouth, distracting your thoughts.
He could murder you for this; murder was an option for men. But…but you couldn’t give in. This man was nothing like your romance books. He was the villain waiting for the heroine to fall into his clutches. Or the fiancé or husband at the beginning before the heroine gets abducted by a pirate or something.
Getting out of the couch, you checked the mail left on the table. Two letters sat waiting for you. The first came from the theater of Asgard.
“Miss Y/N, we regret to inform you that we had a record-breaking number of candidates who auditioned. Unfortunately, you were not selected for casting.”
You didn’t read the rest. Something about it stung. You worked hard to prepare for this. Spent a lot of time and money on a new outfit for this audition. To go through that to have them refuse you. They always say to not take these things personally. But this was your fifth rejection letter from a theater this month. At this point, you were going to have to scrapbook them.
You opened up the next letter. It was from the landlord. Palms already sweaty, you read the text.
“RENT DUE!” read big red letters. And the deadline was today at sunset.
You almost had it- today was payday. Once you got your money, you would have enough to cover it. The coins in your current bag were scarce. You had to spend the rest of your money on an emergency trip to a healer when you fell sick. So this paycheck today had to cover rent.
There were no theater opportunities back in your hometown. They cast the same people over and over. It became a game you could never win. So you went to the city for a fresh start and more theaters. More opportunities. Your mother kept saying you were welcome at home. She even insisted you move back. But you didn’t want to leave the city- you wanted to stay here where opportunity waited for you.
Too bad auditioning didn’t pay the bills. Else you would be rich by now.
Stifling a sigh, you went to your room, got dressed, and then headed out for work. Stepping out of the door, you locked it, put the key in the pocket of your dress, and headed off. You couldn’t be late. They’d give you a warning, then fire you. You worried the conversation earlier would cause a delay. But if you increased your pace, you’d have five minutes to spare before opening. And like they say in theater, five minutes early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.
Walking outside, the streets were busy with people walking back and forth. Gooses and chickens clucked. The smell of bacon from restaurants made your stomach grumble. Your breakfast consisted of some bread and eggs. The cheapest stuff and enough to keep you full. Business owners went to the front doors, sweeping out dust on the roads. People chatted in droves as street performers played their music and danced. Not that you had a coin to spare to throw to any of these struggling artists.
Just one more push of bad luck, and I’ll be joining them, you thought, with a curl in your stomach.
The castle of King Odin loomed over your heads. Tall and spiky, it punched into the sky. Lifting your chin, you looked at the top. What was it like to live in such finery as the king and his family? You heard of Queen Frigga. Of Prince Thor. What a life they must have led! To not have to worry about how much potatoes would cost at the market or the timing of your next paycheck.
Then again, princes and kings always had arranged marriages. You wouldn’t have a choice in your spouse, and they could prove monstrous. Abusive. Unfaithful. Or lazy, stupid, stingy, selfish, childish, bad-tempered, arrogant, cruel, stinky, unattractive. Anything.
Maybe it is better to be a peasant, you thought.
Passing through the road to work, a few Frost Giants appeared your way. They were fresh out of Jotunheim. Humongous, with blue skin, dark hair, and red eyes, they stood a quarter of a mile away at a fruit stand. Examining mangoes. Even the mango seller looked stiff, staring at them unblinking.
Look down, don’t give them eye contact. They may eat you alive, you thought.
Keeping your head down, you stuck to the other side of the street and hurried forward. The less time spent in their presence, the better.
The destination was in sight. “FENEMIR FAMILY FISH,” a fish-shaped sign plopped onto the ground boasted. Right in front of a wooden building with windows full of their wares on sale. You walked around the building and entered through the back door. Your co-worker, Freya. A beautiful woman with large blue eyes and long, wavy blonde hair greeted you as you walked in.
“Hey Y/N, how did that audition turn out?” she asked.
“Well, I thought I did okay. They thought otherwise. Got my rejection letter this morning,” you explained.
You walked through to the main record of employees, a book kept on a table in the corner. You checked the clock on the wall and wrote down what time you arrived- three minutes before your shift. Hopefully no one would notice. And next time, you’d go faster.
“Aw, that’s too bad! You’ll get it next time!” she sighed.
“I hope so! At this point, I’ll take anything!” you said.
Freya went to a chest. She got out two aprons from a drawer and handed one to you. She tied hers around her slender waist.
“Oh! I should tell you- Venemir has a little incentive for us. He says we get a bonus for every fish we sell today. So smile nice and use your best manners!” she reminded you.
“I’ll try,” you replied.
Freya grinned. “I bet I could beat you selling flounders and cods.”
“Bring it.”
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Freya did beat you selling flounders and cods. The woman could sell ice in Jotunheim. She always smiled and thought of ways to charm the customers. You used your manners and blanked on what to say. Besides, the customers kept staring at the ceiling of the fish dangling from above. They didn’t care for conversation. Or they came in parties and were too busy chatting with each other to notice you.
You didn’t sell any extra fish that day. As hard as you tried. The customers were not interested.
At the end of the day, the stink of fish infiltrated your nostrils. The job was still new, and you had yet to get used to the stench. Freya, you, and the two other employees went in line before Venemir to collect your pay in the backrooms. Venemir was a tall, gangly family man with a brown beard. He sat at a table and handed out bags of money to each employee.
“Freya, here you are…oh, and Y/N, here you go,” he voiced out, handing out bag after bag.
You took the bag of coins. Opening it, you counted it out onto your hand.
Just enough to cover your rent.
“Thank you!” you said to Venemir.
Hurrying out of the shop, you strode out and past the various stores and businesses. Making your way back to your apartment complex.
A few steps more; it isn’t sunset yet! The sun isn’t dipping in the sky, you thought.
You increased your pace, your breath huffing out, your speed close to a jog. The stones on the ground scraped against your slippers. Looking down, you saw you still wore your apron from work. You let out a curse under your breath. But you chose to ignore it for now- you could return it tomorrow. You were out of time to turn it back- your priority had to be your rent.
Finally, you reached your apartment complex. A building with hundreds of windows gathered together in a big, tall rectangle. You walked to the parlor on the first floor. It was modest- wooden floors with a fireplace and candelabras and patchy furniture. A window to the landlord’s office was on the wall. You walked up to it, knocking on the glass.
There sat your landlord, Rian. He was an older man with a pot belly and a balding head. He sat at the table, counting gold coins on his desk. He peeked up at you and paused, a smile on his face. He then stood up and opened the window.
“Ah, brought in the rent, I see- pay up,” he ordered, reaching out his hand.
You opened the bag of coins and dumped them into his hands. They landed with a clink against his palm. Rian retrieved his hand and began counting them.
“That’ll do. Oh…and Y/N, we have news for you. For all the women who live here,” he began. A devious smirk plastered on his face.
“What do you mean?” you asked, stuffing the empty coin bag in your pocket.
Was he going to complain about cleanliness? If so, were they barging into your room at random times to look around and inspect it without giving you a warning?
“If it’s messy, I’m sorry; I have been busy due to my new job. I promise, I’ll clean it,” you said.
“Oh, no…you see…there’s going to be a new tax. Enforced by Odin.”
“Tax?” you repeated.
“Yes. A tax on all single, unmarried women. It’ll go into effect by next month’s rent. You see…all unmarried women must pay an extra tax of fifty gold coins added onto their rent.”
He may as well have punched you in the gut.
“Fifty gold coins?” you repeated.
“Fifty.”
It was more than your pay mustered. It took away from your grocery money.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me- the office is now closing, and I’d like to have some wine before I eat my dinner- have a good evening. Make sure you pay the tax,” Rian said.
He began to close the window, but you put your hands on it to stop him on impulse.
“But…but it’s more than I can afford right now!” you blurted.
“Well then I’m afraid we’ll have to evict you if you can’t pay. Now good evening, Miss Y/N,” Rian said.
Corruption
Pairing: President Loki x F. Reader x Congressman Bucky Barnes
Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Misuse of power. I know this isn’t how the government works, how laws are passed, etc. Dub Con ish. Shadow Play. Bucky is often referred to as Mr. Barnes because he’s your boss.
See My Masterlist Here
Tensions were high. President Loki is visiting Brooklyn today to meet with your boss, Congressman Bucky Barnes. Mr. Barnes has been working to get a new law passed. All his hard work has culminated in this moment. President Loki was finally here and ready to listen. As Mr. Barnes’s assistant, you had been instructed to be in the room during the meeting. You were to refill water and coffee cups, throw away any trash that accumulated during the meeting. You step inside, your nerves getting the best of you. President Loki wasn’t known for being a kind man. He had a bad reputation.
You spot him instantly, his green suit clinging to his broad back. His long black curls reaching his shoulders. President Loki turns to see who walked in the room. His bright blue eyes on you as he smirks. You smile politely as you refill everyone’s coffee cups. Mr. Barnes nods his approval as you do what was expected. You linger in the back of the room during the meeting, collecting the occasional empty cup or crumbled sheet of paper. When it’s finally over, Mr. Barnes calls you over. His grey suit fits so snuggly, you’re not sure how he doesn’t rip through the material with his muscular form. His long, dark hair is messy now from him running his fingers through it nervously during the meeting.
“Sir, you wanted to see me?” You ask cautiously as everyone leaves the room except for your boss and the president. Mr. Barnes nods. “This is President Loki. He expressed interest in meeting you. Said you could help him consider my idea for the new law.” Mr. Barnes gives you a look that tells you to just go along with it. You step closer and introduce yourself to the intimidating man who is now standing in front of you. “My, she is a pretty little thing.” President Loki observes, placing a finger under your chin making you meet his blue gaze. “You want to help your boss, correct?” He asks, his eyes darkening as he looks at you like he could devour you. You manage a nod, looking over at Mr. Barnes who is watching you expectantly. “Of course, I’d love to help.” You smile, still unsure where this is going. You weren’t lying though. Your boss has been working so hard. His ideas were great. He really did want what’s best for the people. You would do anything to help him.
President Loki grins. He’s a man who is used to always getting his way. The door to the conference room slams shut and locks with a flick of President Loki’s wrist. “Excellent. Prepare her for me, Barnes.” He commands in a low tone that sends shivers up your spine. Your boss steps forward. “Sorry about this, sweetheart.” Mr. Barnes steps forward, his metal arm grabbing the front of your dress and ripping it right down the middle. You stand looking between these two powerful men as your dress hits the floor. You’re left in your bra and panties feeling vulnerable. “Don’t just stand there, Barnes. I want her soaking wet for me.” Your boss searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he sees is surprise and lust.
He picks you up, placing you on the conference table. Papers scattering over the table top and falling to the floor in his haste. Mr. Barnes kisses your neck gently, making his way down to your collarbone, then to the tops of your breasts. He reaches behind you, unhooking your bra and slinging it to the floor. His lips tug at a peaked nipple while his cold metal fingers roll its twin between them. Your back arches off the table, fingers gripping his broad shoulders as he kisses his way down your stomach. He’s taking his time, pressing gentle kisses into your skin. He slowly peels your panties down your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. He leans in kissing the inside of your thigh.
President Loki steps forward. “For fuck’s sake! I don’t want you to make love to her. I want you to get her ready for me, Barnes.” He growls, folding his large arms over his chest impatiently. Suddenly, two shadow figures shaped like President Loki come forward out of the wall. They come over to you, each holding one of your wrists above your head with one of their hands. President Loki rolls his eyes. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” He says as he grabs the back of Mr. Barnes’s head. His long fingers tangling in your boss’s hair as he guides Bucky’s face between your legs. Mr. Barnes licks through your sticky arousal up to your clit. You whimper, moving your wrists to see how strong the shadow Loki’s hold is. They keep a firm grip on you holding your arms steady above your head.
President Loki presses your boss’s face into you even harder. His nose rubbing against the most sensitive part of you while his tongue dips inside, collecting your sweetness on his tongue. “Use your fingers.” President Loki instructs. Two cool metal fingers push inside you at the command, twisting at the same time your boss’s lips close around your clit sucking hard. You’re gushing on his fingers, wiggling around when the two Loki shadows use their free hands to play with your nipples. Your legs shake around Mr. Barnes’s head as President Loki continues to guide his head against you. Bucky is eating you like his political career depends on it, and it does. “Let me have a taste.” President Loki says, watching expectantly as Bucky removes his fingers from you and holds them up. Your slick juices coat his metal fingers, glistening under the bright lights in the conference room. President Loki keeps a steady hold on your boss’s head, as he leans down, taking the metal fingers in his mouth. You watch in awe as Loki’s tongue pokes out, lapping you off Mr. Barnes’s fingers. He hums his approval as he takes the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth, sucking your sweetness off them.
You’re dripping all over the table on whatever papers didn’t get moved in time from watching that alone. Bucky picks up his pace, licking and sucking at you until the band in your belly finally snaps. You struggle against your shadow Loki restraints as you come undone with a cry. President Loki lifts Bucky up by the collar of his suit and brings him in for a filthy kiss. His tongue swipes inside Bucky’s mouth, licking your remaining arousal from his mouth, sucking his tongue to get every last drop. He releases Mr. Barnes as his shadow selves drop your wrists. President Loki grabs you off the table, turning you around so your front is pressed against the table. He pushes inside you with a brutal thrust. The front of his suit rubs against your back as he rolls his hips, making each thrust count. You look over at your boss. One of the Shadow Loki’s is on his knees with your boss’s dick in his mouth. Mr. Barnes’s head is thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure.
The other Shadow Loki is watching from the corner. You clench around President Loki while watching your boss. President Loki’s grip on your hips tighten as his thrusts become more punishing. His strokes are brutal, hitting deep inside you while he chases his release. Suddenly the Shadow Loki that was watching is beside you. His thumb rubs tight circles against your clit while President Loki snaps his hips against you. You hear Mr. Barnes moan and look back over at him just in time for him to come down the throat of the Shadow Loki. You drip down your thighs as President Loki drives into you from behind, Shadow Loki’s thumb moving against your clit. It’s too much. Your body trembles as you come on President Loki’s cock, sending him over the edge with you. He spills inside you, then pulls out abruptly. The Shadow Loki’s are gone just as quickly as they appeared. Your boss catches his breath in the corner while President Loki tucks himself back into his pants. “Well Barnes, congratulations on getting your law passed.” His smile is cocky as he saunters out of the conference room leaving you and your boss wrecked.
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a moment's notice
Masterlist » one look & they'll know collection
Placement: parents era; Wimbledon 2026
Summary: An "SOS" text from your husband reaches you in the middle of an assignment
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader
Word Count: 5.1k
Warning/s: 18+ | smut at the end (not a full smut scene but still minors & pearl clutchers DNI); unprotected p in v (honestly when did these two ever use protection); Reader as Evangeline (yes, she's a warning when she gets like this); mention of kidnapping; mention of pedophilia if you squint; assassination by sniper rifle; wannabe homewrecker; language [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: some steamy married blorbos in love moments ahead; a pretty good amount of soft moments (because i needed to balance out the Evangeline bits)
Dick-tionary: smut-adjacent bits start at "He was already making quick work of the zipper" and ends at the Author's Note 😈
"I have to leave for the Polo broadcast. Keep my seat for me, Mum." Tom handed his phone over to his mother before standing from his seat.
"Not a problem, my boy. Shall I keep the next one over as well for Y/N?" Diana was already pulling out a pamphlet from her purse as a placeholder.
"Not quite sure yet. She has to attend to something on location for another project. Said she doesn't know if she'll be finished before the day's over."
"Aww the poor dear, you must encourage her not to work herself too much. She'll run herself to the ground. And you as well."
He let out a small chuckle, holding his mother's hands in his for a moment and giving it a light squeeze. "We'll do our best," he promised. He did truly mean it; he would make an effort to turn down projects more often than not, but he also was well aware of his tendency to be compelled to say yes when the character or the plot moved him enough.
And you…you had your motivations for accepting assignments like today's as quickly as you did.
Because much as he didn't outright lie to his mother, he didn't completely tell her the truth, either. You were on assignment for another project. But not as Y/N Hiddleston.
Today you had to work as Evangeline.
Worry still ate away at him whenever he had to watch you walk out of the door, knowing full well right now that any assignment that required you to be on site was that of the infamous dark web vigilante. You'd drawn a hard boundary with your day job when Eloise was born that for the foreseeable future, you would only be working remotely, coordinating your efforts with your trusted team of Brian, Denise, and most recently a painter named Jamie.
But if any assignments from your other network had popped up in the area, you would make yourself available.
And earlier this morning you received a call from Grey, the man you called your "blood brother", telling you he was in town on assignment and he'd greatly appreciate your assistance. A mother completely beside herself reached out into your network's help line, pleading for help to retrieve her baby.
Considering the position that you and Tom found yourselves in a mere few months ago, he more than understood why you sprung into action.
Doing the livestream gave him a pretty good distraction from wondering what injuries you'd come home with, if any. Tom even answered a counter question about you, grinning ear to ear as he talked about how despite your relative indifference to most sports, you would still enthusiastically cheer alongside him.
'Ohh that's adorable, we love a supportive wife in this household,' some of the comments on stream read. Most of the others were various comments on where viewers were watching from followed by sending him and his family their love.
To his relief, there wasn't much vitriol pointed your way.
Before he knew it, the hour was up, and his duties at the Ralph Lauren suite were over. He could come back up there later in the day for some tea if he wished. He hoped that by that time, you would have finished your assignment and he'd get to share the table with both his mother and his wife.
Tom made his way back to his seat, silently sending up a prayer that perhaps by some miracle, when he got there you were seated by his Mum, unscathed and waiting for him.
That hope deflated when he got to his row, finding that the seat next to his was occupied. Just not by you.
And the rather forward pop diva from New York was looking up at him with a smirk that quickly had him growing anxious.
You watched from behind the scope of your sniper rifle as Grey's team made quick work of the lower ranking members of the child trafficking syndicate you were tasked with taking down today. From your vantage point, you had easily found the child that was taken from your client Margaret.
Only thing was you also found more. Much more.
Grey's team were also securing those children as they found them.
"Your guys are good," you commented to Grey, your eyes trained at the man in the cheap suit at the top floor. The head of the small time syndicate. The one that had Margaret's child in his bedroom. "Make sure they find his client list, too."
"Way ahead of you, G." He got a few status calls from his guys. "Second floor's secure, sis." His tone got a bit softer as he said his next words. "How's Lulu?"
You tried to fight back the tears as your mind immediately flashed back to a couple of months ago. When you and Grey engaged in a similar operation. Only this time much much more personal. Guilt still sat heavy in your heart that it forced your husband's hand and now he had the other type of body count as well.
"She's good. We're good," you told him. "We're never getting another fucking babysitter, that's for sure."
"So who's looking after her today? Since both of you got things in the city?"
Your mouth stretched in a fond smile. "She's with one of his sisters, spending time with her cousins. They love that they get to dote and fawn over a little baby so they're always jumping at the opportunity. This morning they literally just said yes bring her over the second they answered the phone."
"That's amazing," Grey said. You could hear the smile from his tone alone. "So that's the batting order now? His sisters then his parents?"
"Yup," you answered him. "And then if we happen to be in the same town? Taylor. And if she's not available, which let's face it chances are she's not…Rob and Suki."
"Huh…sparkly vamp, huh? That's a friendship I didn't see coming."
"Yeah, it wasn't exactly on my bingo card, either but…turns out you gotta watch out, Grey. Now I have two brothers." The sound of your phone buzzing somewhere next to him tried to steal away your attention from the other end of your scope. "Whoever the fuck is texting me, something better be on fire--"
"Contact's name is 'Diana'?"
You fought the urge to turn your head and grab the phone yourself. "That's my mother in law. She's with my husband right now. Read the text to me, please."
"Uhm…okay, so she said 'Heads up, dear. There's a tall, tan, and busty blonde that took your seat. I tried to tell her it's your seat, but it fell on deaf ears. She just told me "Well I don't see her"'."
"The fuck," you muttered. "Great I gotta bust a bitch's head in at Wimbledon. Again."
Before you could say anything else, Cheap Suit abruptly got up to his feet, every part of him alert as he heard his men fall to the ground just outside his bedroom. Your finger poised at the trigger of your rifle, and as soon as you heard through the comms that Grey's team had secured the outside of the bedroom, you took a breath and pulled. It didn't take long for the bullet to travel and fly through the base of his skull.
"Like a hot knife through butter," Grey said with a low whistle, quoting your words from a decade ago. On that last assignment you worked with him while you were in Brisbane. Your phone buzzed again while you were dismantling your rifle. "It's your husband this time. 'Sweetheart, I'm so sorry if this is going to catch you at a bad time but…SOS'."
That had you dropping everything and marching over to the other side of the empty floor. "Brother Mine, I'm gonna need you take over on the egress of this all." You took your phone from him and quickly perused through the pictures already being released from the court. "Looks like I'm gonna have to book it all the way across town and rescue my husband from fuck ass Jenny from the Block."
"Don't worry about it, sis. I've got this covered." You briefly shook his hand and he pulled you into a quick hug. "Go get your man."
You ran over to where you parked your car, a couple of blocks away from the building where you and Grey had set up your sniper's nest, and opened your trunk to find the garment bag that Tom had placed there this morning next to a pair of shoes. He even stuck a little note on top that nearly melted you on the spot.
Leaving this here in case you get to make it to the courts. So you don't need to go home and change there. Keep safe, my love. Take care of my heart.
You opened the bag, smiling to yourself once you saw the dark floral pattern of the dress he picked out. You made quick work to change into the outfit, double checking that none of your equipment as Evangeline was still on your person, and then booked it to Centre Court.
"So I noticed your wife couldn't make it here today."
Tom tried to keep his composure as he got flashbacks of a similar interaction a few years back. When another pop star made him flat out uncomfortable with the forward remarks she was throwing his way. Only this one might just be just a bit worse.
He was convinced that had it not been for the presence of his mother, she would have tried to take his hand and shove it under her much too tight dress.
Three years ago the interaction ended when you returned to your seat, so casually threatening violence if the woman ever so much as looked at him sideways again. And he silently prayed that somehow today's run in would end in a similar way. That perhaps you were able to get his "SOS" and you were on your way now.
"Yes erm…well she had a prior commitment for another project in town." He tried to keep his tone casual, but distant.
"Hmm…lucky me, then," she said, choosing to speak in a notably more sultry tone. "I mean I really don't know about everyone out there, but I'm honestly the type to make sure that on a day that matters so much to my husband, I make an effort to be there."
Andrew threw him a look from the row in front of him, as if to say 'Is this lady for real?', and he could only reply with a subtle half-shrug to wordlessly answer 'Sadly it seems like she is'.
And then a shadow loomed over them all. The smug smile on Jennifer's face faltered for a split second. Andrew comically reached for his popcorn with a face-splitting grin. And his mother let out a little sound of utter glee.
"I couldn't agree more," you spoke up, standing over the occupied seat, looking like an absolute vision in one of his favorite dresses to see you wear. There was an all-knowing enigmatic smile on your face that had you looking like a dark celestial being, ready to smite down anyone that dared offend you.
"Ohh wow, Y/N, looks like you made it after all." The tone of the pop diva's voice was overly saccharine, a failed attempt at sounding polite. "But sadly it looks like all the seats here are already taken. And you should already know how things work in these courts. Finders keepers and…hmph, well you know how the rest of that saying goes."
Tom had to place his hand over his mother's to stop her from intervening, giving her a look to say 'She doesn't need our help. My wife is a master at this craft.'
"Of course I do," you told her, your tone deceptively calm. "You didn't think I was going to grab you by the hair and haul your ass out of my seat, now did you? God no I don't wanna make a scene." And then as if on cue, a shrill ringtone perked up from her tiny purse. "I did however call your husband."
The saccharine tone was gone. "You what?"
"Or is it ex with benefits? You know I can never keep up with you these days." Andrew visibly choked on his popcorn, failing to hold in his laughter. "But anyways, I called your husband. And told him you were flirting with mine." You tilted your head to address Tom and his mother. "I only just got here, but I imagine I'm not wrong?" They simply nodded at you, identical smiles on the faces of mother and son.
Jennifer stood up from the seat, subtly squaring her shoulders as she stepped up to you. Her hushed tone was notably more confrontational now. "You little bitch, you have the nerve to mess with my life?"
"Well you have the nerve to mess with mine," you answered her simply. "Flirting with my husband? I mean I know that age can really fuck up our visual acuity, but…you really didn't see the ring on his finger?" You shifted your stance into something that Tom realized was you preparing for a more physical confrontation as you kept going. "I once threatened Glinda herself that I would rip her vocal chords out her throat with my bare hands if she so much as looked at my husband sideways again. And I like her a hell of a lot more than I do you, so don't even think for a second that I would hesitate to fuck you up. Siccing your partner on you was a mercy." The shrill ringtone ended, only to pick up once again, making the taller woman flinch. "I really think you should pick that up. Sounds important."
She turned around and finally walked away from the seat that was rightfully yours, and Tom reached for your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
And just before you sat down next to him, you called out one more time. "Oh, it was so nice to meet you! Such a shame you have to go so early." Jennifer looked back at you one last time, squinting her eyes in your direction like she wanted to cast a curse on you.
"A hundred percent less physical contact and yet somehow…a thousand times more entertaining than the Oscars," Andrew commented, holding out his hand for you to shake. "I've been praying to anyone out there that would listen that you'd pop in and save us all from her gnarly attempts at flirting. And then like magic, there you are."
"Well if I knew you wanted a bit of magic, I would have gone into my stash and made something go poof so I could have some smoke on my entrance," you shot back with a playful jovial grin brightening up your features. "It's good to see you again, buddy." And then you looked past your husband, a fondness in your voice as you addressed his mother. "Hi, Diana."
"Oh come on darling, none of that," his mother told you, reaching over him to grab on to your free hand. "You're family, luv. Call me Mum."
"Okay…" Your voice became audibly heavier, as if you were fighting back emotions as you tried again. "Hi, Mom." Tears began to well in your eyes as you said the words and you immediately became apologetic. "I'm sorry it's just…it's been decades since I called someone that and--I don't know it feels so foreign to me now."
She squeezed your hand tighter, reassuring you. "Well you can call me that for as long and as often as you like, luv." She motioned toward your outfit. "And you look stunning by the way. Positively radiant, that dress looks tailor made for you."
"Thank you," you said, beaming at her. "Tom picked it out for me. Left it in my car in case I was able to get out of my other project ahead of schedule." And then you turned your attention to him. "Hi, sweetie."
He tucked his free hand under your chin, softly pressing his lips between your brows. "Hello, goddess." He swiped his thumb at the corner of your eye, wiping away any remainder of your tears. "It truly is unfair how beautiful you are when you cry."
"Like husband, like wife, I guess," you shot back, scrunching your nose at him.
"So darling, tell me all about your project. I love hearing about what my children are working on," Diana told you, sitting across from you and Tom while you all enjoyed some afternoon tea at the Ralph Lauren suite.
You saw how Tom's eyes widened for a second in a bit of panic, seeing as today's "project" had nothing to do with any form of media, but you came ready. "Well it's about this mother whose child was abducted in broad daylight, and she reaches out on this help line, like in Equalizer? And then those mercenaries, vigilantes, whatever you wanna call them, they go out on a rescue mission."
"Ohh, how daunting! And it all works out in the end, yeah? Babe's reunited with their mum?"
Tears prickled at the backs of your eyes again, pride swelling in your chest as you answered her. "Yeah. They get to recover the kid. Mom's over the moon."
Tea went by rather quickly, with your husband looking adorably tense whenever you crossed your legs and the skin peeked out through your dress's high slit. It was clear he didn't completely think the decision through, giving you one of the dresses that he loved seeing you wear, but having to control himself not just in polite company, but with his mother sitting at the table with you.
When the sun had begun to set, you all stood from your table; you and Tom made the rounds one last time, bidding everyone farewell and making sure to thank the management for hosting the event. You had a few passing conversations with some casting directors who wanted to see if you were open to doing some projects with them, considering that they enjoyed watching your performance as Charli Greer on the recent season of The Night Manager, but you told them all the same thing.
You weren't open to any acting roles unless you were doing it alongside your husband.
Once he found his way back to you, Tom took his phone out, starting to give his team instructions to pick up his mother and drive her back to her home, but you stopped him, offering that you two could drive her back instead. And then pick up Eloise on your way back to your estate.
Just as you were about to make your way to the exit, your husband pulled you aside, backing you into a secluded corner. He placed his hands on your sides, pressing his forehead against yours as he stroked along your ribcage with his thumbs.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Your breathing grew heavy as he started pressing kisses to your forehead, and then to your temple, and then down the side of your face.
"I just need a minute," he whispered into your skin, kissing the corner of your jaw. "Just need to feel you." He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his, and he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, taking a breath.
Your heart ached the moment you realized what he was doing.
He needed the moment to just be relieved. Relieved that this assignment didn't turn out to be your last. Relieved that you were here.
You crossed your arms behind his neck, turning your head to press your lips to his temple. "I'm here," you said shakily. "I'm alive and unharmed." You moved to hold his head delicately between your hands. "I'm home," you reassured him. "I came home to you." The tension in his body faded away at your words, and he pressed his lips to yours in a fevered kiss, pressing your back against the wall again as his hands roamed your sides.
You had to stifle a moan when he reached the slit of your dress and his large hand wrapped around the back of your knee, slowly lifting your leg to hook around his own. "I know we don't have time," he groaned against your lips, the reluctant acceptance clear in his tone. "I just need another minute."
When he tilted his head to kiss and nip at the crook between your neck and shoulder, you had to clamp your hand over your mouth so you wouldn't make a sound that would draw attention to where you two had snuck off to. The soft thud of your head hitting the wall had your husband chuckling against your skin, the sound reverberating through your body and making you completely delirious for him.
"We should get going, sweetheart," he rasped as he pulled away, kissing your cheek as he set your leg back down. "The sooner I have you all to myself, the better." He took a step back, giving you some room to breathe as he smoothed his hands down the fabric of your dress before taking your hands in his. "You really are a vision in this dress."
"Thank you for choosing it, husband," you shot back playfully. "You have impeccable taste."
Before you could make a motion to move back to the main area of the suite, he tugged you back in his direction, whispering one last naughty sentiment in your ear. "Though I imagine it would look much better in a heap on our bedroom floor."
"Oh absolutely it would," you told him, tilting your head to lightly ghost your lips along the shell of his ear. "Right next to your suit."
It was well after dark when you and Tom got back to your estate with Eloise in tow, and you already had your day planned out for tomorrow after promising Diana that you would visit so she could spend the day with her youngest grandchild. And then by the time you'd entered your house, your daughter woke up, her cries telling you that she was hungry.
While you were feeding her, the sound of your husband's film camera's shutter caught your attention, and you looked up from the months old baby in your arms to find him staring fondly at the scene before him. The picture of contentment. Happiness, even. Like he was exactly where he wanted to be at that moment.
"I want to remember every possible moment," he said, pointing the camera at you again as you blew a kiss at him. "Fill as many albums as we can. One day when we're old and grey, we'll be glad that we did."
"You really think I'm gonna make it to old and grey?" The words came out of you before you had the chance to filter it. And the worry worked away at his face again, his brows furrowing together as his eyes welled up with tears. You pursed your lips as he made his way toward you, wrapping both you and Lulu in his arms. "I'm sorry, it's just…that type of attitude just kind of comes with the territory. When you do what I do."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead before tucking his hand below your chin, tilting your head up so he could kiss your lips. "I know you'll make it, sweetheart. We both will."
The sound of Lulu's baby bottle popping out of her little mouth drew your attention back to her, and your hearts just melted at the sight of her tired little features scrunching up as she yawned. "Looks like our little baby penguin's ready for bed." Your husband took her out of your arms and you felt some instant relief in your shoulders. Before he started to go upstairs, you tucked a sterilized washcloth between your daughter and the fabric of his suit. "I have cleaned blood off of damn near every surface imaginable, even fucking suede. But baby spit up might be the thing that defeats me. And I quite like that suit."
You quickly rinsed out Lulu's baby bottle as Tom carried her to the nursery. Right as you were locking down the ground floor for the night, you received an encrypted text from Grey with a final status update for the night. Relief flooded your system as you read the words.
All good here, G. Margaret's got her kid again and she's giving us a coin each. She insists. We're coordinating with authorities to find the families of the other kids we saved from the compound, too. I'll let you know if we need you on board with this. Have a good one, sis.
You typed off a quick reply before making your way upstairs. Thanks, Wolf. Just gimme a call if you need a hand, I'll make the time. Send my love to your family, Brother Mine.
You locked your phone away in the console table outside your bedroom suite, situating it right next to Tom's, and kicked off your heels before padding your way to the nursery. The sound of piano keys softly tinkling from the room had your mouth quickly forming into a wide grin. And the sound of your husband singing damn near brought you to the ground.
"Then there was music, and wonderful roses," he sang. You could hear the smile on his face as your daughter cooed at her father's voice.
"They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows, of dawn and dew," you joined in, your voice blending seamlessly with his.
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours as the softest smile graced his handsome face. He subtly bowed his head in your direction, and you finished off the rest of Eloise's lullaby together.
"There was love all around, but I never heard it singing. No I never heard it at all, 'til there was you. 'Til there was you."You walked over to your daughter's crib, and she was already sound asleep, her little chest rising and falling in even breaths.
"Sweet dreams, little angel," you said softly, pressing your lips to your fingertips before placing it on the top of her head. "We love you more than words could ever say."
Tom walked up behind you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders and kissing your temple before wrapping his hand around yours and leading you to your bedroom. It didn't slip past you that he was deftly loosening his tie with his free hand, and that when he opened the door to your bedroom suite for you, he let you enter first so he could position himself behind you.
He was already making quick work of the zipper at the back of your dress, pushing the straps off your shoulders and down your arms. He let out a low groan as he watched the dress fall into a heap of fabric at your feet, leaving you in your bra and panties. He held your hand as he circled around you, holding you steady as you stepped out of the pooled fabric.
"Exquisite," he breathed out, taking both your hands now and placing them on his chest. You closed the distance between you, holding his gaze in the faint light as you pressed a kiss to his wedding band.
As you worked at the buttons of his dress shirt, he completely undid his tie and shrugged off his suit jacket, letting the fabric join your dress on the floor. You pressed your lips to his exposed chest as your one hand deftly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, your other already moving lower and working on unbuckling his belt. You could feel how his breaths shuddered as you pressed kisses to his skin, an almost impatient feel to him as he unhooked your bra and flicked it over to the growing pile of clothes and then moved his hands to the lacy panties that he also left for you in the garment bag.
"Just rip it," you groaned against him, feeling your hunger for him grow with every passing second, your sharp exhale ruffling the light dusting of hair on his chest. You let out a little squeal when you heard more than felt the fabric tear and give way from the effortless flick of his hands. Once his shirt was completely undone, you pushed the fabric off his shoulders and threw it in the general direction of the rest of your clothes, and he shuffled his suit trousers down his legs.
Under much less horny circumstances, you might have broken into a small fit of laughter seeing that once again, today your husband chose to be sans underwear.
Tom pulled you to him with a gentle tug, pressing your bodies together. He weaved his fingers through your hair and wrapped his other arm around you, lifting you up and prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to your bed. He sat down on the edge, placing your knees on either side of him before pulling you into another kiss, groaning into your mouth when your tongues tangled together. His hands greedily roamed your body, and he broke the kiss to lightly run his fingertips along the side of your stomach.
Right at the spot where, just a little over a year ago, you were injured to the point you had to literally stitch yourself back up. Now the skin was smooth, nary an indicator that such a wound even dared to exist there. He kissed the fully healed spot, tracing a path of exactly where that cut used to be, and it nearly took all the air out of your lungs. Like it always did.
He'd made a point to kiss you there every time you came home from an assignment as Evangeline.
"You are the love of my life," he whispered into your skin, kissing his way up your chest. He paused at the base of your throat. "You are the last woman I will ever love. The last I would ever want to share my body with." He kissed his way up to your lips. "As for my heart?" You both took a shuddering breath as he reached between you, running the tip of his length along your slit before lining himself up at your entrance, and then he guided your body to sink down. Inch by inch. "I gave my heart away a decade ago. It's yours, goddess. I'll never want it back."
A/N: I swear any semblance of control I have gets away from me when I'm writing these two…specifically when Reader's in "Evangeline mode". Pretty sure I'm gonna have to apologize in advance when I finally write the chapters where she goes and tells Tom and some other characters in this series about her "other side" 😳👀 Also if y'all can't tell yet, I really don't like JLo 😂
Anyways…I wanted to set aside some time to make sure I had this up by today as a bit of an "obligatory" birthday post. Ya gorl is officially thirty…plus two 🤣 And I'm fully intending on spending the day just getting caught up with some of my hobbies and nomming on whatever food my heart desires. And also cake…lots and lots of cake
A "debrief" on this chapter is coming, since I've got a whole bunch of stuff in here that are references to either previously uploaded chapters…or stuff that hasn't happened been written yet. I'll make a list on which is which, and what to expect. If I remember that I said I'd do it, idk y'all I'm getting old--
'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @november-rayne @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @huntedmusicgardenn @steaa90-blog
A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter 24 (Loki x fem! Reader Crossover Series)
Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters.
Chapter Summary: Robert makes a recovery. And an unexpected development sends you and Loki back to the prophet.
Chapter Warnings: Violence, fear of sexual assault, death.
Word Count: >4K
Series Masterlist
A/N: Court is back, y'all! Enjoy!
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
Robert was taking days to recover. Slow days. Quiet days. Sif spent it training Stella and you. Thomas went to collect various pieces of metal to put together. Jonathan had to practice his punches with Hal. Through this, Loki was everyone’s main go-between. When you weren’t training, you spent hours pacing back and forth. This time, you paced in the library. You kept picking up books, hoping they would distract you. Only for the ruminations to begin again.
Your husband then arrived through the door. You ran up to Loki to ask, “How is he?”
“He’s getting better” would be Loki’s response every time. “He’s finally starting to sound like himself. The medicines they give him, they’re quite good.”
He would then kiss your forehead.
Outside Robert’s quarters, you thought you would hear screams of madness. And hear tales of violence from Loki. But no- only servants carried around buckets of paint to his room. As well as his meals and a few books.
As you sat down to breakfast one morning, Loki entered the chamber, a smile on his face.
“I have good news, Robert is at the point where he can see visitors. And wouldn’t you like to see him, speak to him?” he asked.
“Yes!” you cried.
After eating your food, you hurried next to Loki to Robert’s rooms. Loki got a key and unlocked the door.
You stepped into the room that smelled bitter and stinging. All over the walls were long slabs of dripping, grey paint. In one corner was his bed, and against the wall, a window spilled out morning sunshine. Several books lie open on the floor. Robert himself had his sleeves rolled up. He dipped his brush into the paint bucket and stroked it over a lower part of the wall.
“Hello? Robert?” you called out.
Robert turned around. He wore a white shirt and dark grey pants. Though flecks of grey paint were over his clothes. A few dried streaks in his hair.
“Y/N, is it you?”
“Yes, it’s me!” you replied.
He got up, setting down his brush in the bucket. He then froze.
“I don’t want to ruin your gown,” he said.
“Oh, it’ll wash off!”
He went to you and embraced you. Rocking you a little side to side. Enjoying the feeling of warmth in his arms.
“How are you?” you asked.
“As well as I can. Only bored- it gets very boring in here. And cold,” Robert said.
He gestured to his bed, which had only one green blanket. It was crumpled up and around. When you looked around the room, you noticed the lights on the top of the ceiling. And the window showed the gardens outside. It was on low ground. If Robert went mad, there would be no way he could harm himself.
“I look forward to my baths, Y/N, because then I have some heat.”
“Tell me, Robert, what do you do here?”
“Well, I spend my time painting. Walls need a new coat. Sometimes they’ll bring a book from the library, and there will be nothing to do but read. And take my medicines, of course.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you replied.
“But next time, tell them to warm up my food. I had cold, blobby porridge for breakfast! And I sure do miss coffee. The first thing I’ll do when I get out is get a big cup of it.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll make sure you have warm food,” you assured him.
He then lowered his eyes.
“Y/N…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got scared. And I’m so sorry you had to see me like that. If you see me as a monster, then I-I won’t blame you.”
You shook your head. You walked over and took his large, soft, cold hand.
“Robert, you are anything but a monster. You’re an intelligent, brave doctor who has s been through so much.”
“Will they…they still accept me? You don’t know how scared I am. To regress. For it to appear again…”
“If it does, we’ll be even more ready. And you might go mad, but you won’t go mad alone.”
He smiled at you.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
You both then took the time to go over and paint some. Finding little corners and nooks where it didn’t cover up the walls. You reached up as high as you could go. Soon, a servant arrived. He announced it was time for you to leave.
“Y/N…” Robert said. “Could you…Could you bring Sif here? I…I’d like her to visit me.”
You smiled at him, nodding your head.
“Yes, I’ll send her here.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Soon, Robert was fit for release. You could have popped out the champagne in celebration when you heard. When you walked into the council room for the meeting, lo and behold, there was Robert. His hair was a little wet, and he smelled sweet. His shirt was clean with a shiny new tie. And before him was a large cup of coffee. You smiled at him.
“Welcome back, dear Robert. How good to see you and another one of my handsome faces before me,” Loki greeted.
Everyone now had their place. Stella sat in her corner and embroidered. Sif put her feet on the table. Jonathan sat upright. Hal leaned forward and drummed his fingers. Thor folded his hands.
Loki and you took your places at the head of the table. The lights from the torches, as well as the sunlight from the windows above, beamed over your head.
“Now, everyone, it is a new day. And we must discover the rest of the lovely trove, hm? Y/N Darling had found the first one. And thanks to Sif, we now have our hands on the second one.”
Thor reached over and pulled out a cloth from beneath the table. He uncovered it to reveal the ring and the crown.
“That leaves the sword and the mask,” you said.
“My wife is right, so to retrieve one, we go to the timeline of-”
The doors burst open, and in ran Frigga. Her skirts and train billowed behind her. As well as guards running about behind her. They each went to different corners of the room. Eyeing everyone at the table.
“Where is everyone? Is everyone safe?!” she cried.
Heads turned around to her. Stella’s gentle smile when she sewed drooped to a frown. Frigga’s face was pale.
“Mother, what is it? What’s going on?” Loki asked.
Frigga reached forward and revealed that in her fist was a piece of parchment.
“It’s Grendel- he knows everything, he has the other items…and he will soon arrive at Asgard. He has declared war on us. We have to prepare for battle.”
Everyone was quiet for only a split second. Then everyone stood at attention. Robert chugged his coffee. Stella was still, then she jolted up and clutched her embroidery.
“He found us out!” Thomas cried.
“God’s blood, we must hurry! We must fetch our weapons!” Hal said.
“It was just a matter of time,” Jonathan said.
You held your hands out.
“Everyone, let’s wait a minute. Let us pause.”
Everyone did. Eyes turned to look at you. Sif already had one hand on the hilt of her sword. Stella was shaking like a leaf.
“We need to know where he’s keeping them…wait, the Prophet! He ought to know!” you said.
“Well, we must take advantage of what we can,” Thomas said.
Loki stepped forward. He clutched your hand in his, and he raised it to kiss it with his soft lips. And then he let it go.
“Well, if the Princess of Asgard insists…prepare for battle. Or shelter. I must go and take my wife to meet an old friend.”
—-----------
Soon, you were among the tundra of Jotunheim. Loki summoned two great cloaks for you. Reaching your senses out, you and Loki ran out to where the Prophet’s cavern lay. Snow fell from the dark clouds above. Mountains scattered the skyline. The snow on the ground had not piled up, but you had to step with care. You didn’t know how much ice was beneath you. As you moved, the bag across your arm hit your body in a rhythm. The smell of roast chicken coming from it making you a little hungry.
But to your horror, you sensed something nearby the cavern. You put a hand up to Loki- there was a presence before it. A presence of many men. Many armed men.
“Grendel’s men. They’re there! They reached the cavern! They’re guarding it!
Soon enough, you noticed the smoke from fires swirling up to the sky. You saw dots of tents from a distance. Loki grabbed you and hid you behind a large rock. You peeked out over. From what you could tell, the men were not fighting. They were sitting around a fire in fur cloaks. They drank from tin cups and were talking. Red-cheeked and guffawing at something lewd.
“Well, today is your lucky day, my dear. You do know your mischievous husband is capable of very powerful magic. I am more than capable of distracting them. You scurry along and find what the prophet has to say,” Loki said.
You leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Brilliant!” you cheered.
Loki then conjured an image of a bunch of women. All clad wearing fur cloaks with buxom figures, long, luxurious hair, and luscious lips. They strutted their way to the camp. He then made himself one of them and followed.
The men all perked up. They began to approach them and talk to each one. They shared their cups and even began to curl strands of the women’s hair around their fingers.
Using the distraction, you ran to the other side of the hill. You climbed up until you saw the familiar path- a line in the snow that was black. You followed it up, your thighs aching from the climbing. You reached the cavern.
Fortunately, no one stood guard at the mouth of the cave. You walked in. You took a chicken leg out of your bag and waved it around.
“Hello! Hello- are you there! I have to talk!” you cried out. The darkness swallowed you whole. You then curled up your other hand. You lit up some fire to light your way.
Soon enough, little blue will-o'-the-wisps arrived from beyond. They danced around the air, going in circles. Then they stopped at each of the cavern walls.
The Prophet then stepped forward.
“Oh! Y/N! There you are!” he greeted.
You threw him the chicken leg. He devoured it in three bites and then tossed the bone aside.
“Would you mind if I change forms? Grendel’s men are waiting for me to come out. I’m in great danger coming to you like this,” he explained. Gesturing to his body.
“Of course not. Go ahead,” you said.
He snapped his fingers. A bright light of blue magic swirled over him. Changing how he looked. When it reached the bottom of his feet and vanished, you took in his new form. He looked like Loki. But with longer black hair that fell over his face. He appeared to wear nothing but red and black striped robes and a small necklace.
“Who is this?” you asked.
“Another of Loki’s variants,” the Prophet explained. His voice like Loki’s, but lower and more gravelly. His teeth pointed.
You put the empty bag over your shoulder.
“Please tell me- Grendel is about to attack. How do we defeat him? Where is the trove?” you asked.
The Prophet uncurled his hand. A swirl of blue magic turned into a violin in one of his hands. Another swirl of magic on his free hand became a bow. He tucked the violin beneath his chin. He set the bow to the strings and began playing.
“Oh, Grendel- he won’t stop. He won’t until he destroys everything and captures the survivors. But Grendel is not without his weaknesses. First…the woman named for the stars. Your friend with golden hair and a soft voice.”
“Stella!” you cried.
“Until she gives herself to Grendel, he will live.”
He continued to play the music. You shook your head. Wanting to run over and grab the instrument from his hand.
“Prophet, no! Not Stella! Don’t you know the things he’ll let himself or his men do to her?”
“Oh, he now desires her for himself and himself alone,” the Prophet added.
“It can’t be!”
“Yes, but it is the only way.”
“But…what about the trove? Where is he keeping it?”
He stopped the violin playing.
“His trove, he is keeping it in his innermost tent. Right at the center of where he’ll camp for battle. His sacred place. There is a great cauldron in his tents, too. Grendel always keeps the cauldron close. Destroy the trove all within the cauldron, and Grendel will have his weakness.”
He then put the bow back on the violin. He finished with a flourish. He then set it down and used magic to get rid of it. He put his hands in his pockets.
You smiled.
“Oh, thank y-”
WHOOSH!
Something whipped in the air past your cheek. It sliced it open in a thin line. You ducked out of the way on instinct. Putting a hand on your cheek to stop the bleeding. The Prophet let out a grunt of pain. When you looked over, an arrow had struck him in the chest.
As you turned around, there were three of Grendel's men with bows and arrows.
“We got him! Take him down!” they cried.
Running forward, you summoned your fire. You blasted away at them, sending a swirl through the air right to their faces.
“Stay back! Or I’ll burn all of you!” you cried.
Why, oh, why didn’t you use your senses to detect them? Regret only drove your fire even more. You sent out one blaze and then another.
The three men were dodging the flames. One put an arrow into his bow. Before you could stop him, he aimed and pulled.
You tried to burn the arrow as it flew in the air, but it was too late. The arrow struck The Prophet in another part of his chest as he tried to flee.
There was cruel laughter from the men. You unleashed your flames and sent them hurling towards them. They tried to run, but you dashed after them. Blasting away with fury.
All three of them caught on fire. It drenched over their bodies, burning as they ran. Their screams pierced sharply through the air. They ran out, hoping the snow would save them. But they fell to their knees. Flames engulfed them. Then they fell - completely burned.
You ran over to The Prophet. He had fallen. Two at his heart. Even if you pulled them out, it would not stop the bleeding.
“No-oh no, please no!” you cried.
Blue light flashed around the Prophet. He changed back to his original form.
“There…it is better…that when I die, I remain myself.”
You had no idea how to comfort a dying person. You remembered when you yourself were dying and tried to recall what you would have wanted.
“I’m right here, Prophet. You’re not alone. I won’t leave you,” you promised.
“I’m…I’m glad…thank you…thank you for your friendship…”
He placed a hand over yours.
“Princess…I have…one more message…that I’d like you to relay…”
“What is it?” you asked.
“Hal…he appears to be the only one of his party who hasn’t met his True Love yet. Jonathan has, Robert has, Thomas has, but not Hal. Tell him…his true love is in France….her name is Catherine.”
“Yes, yes, I will. I’ll tell him.”
Wrapping his hand in yours, you pressed your forehead to his.
“You’ve made so many people happy. You’ve helped so much. I hope you know that. We care for you. We’ll miss you,” you said.
“I’ll miss you too…but will I…will I see Vallhalla?” he asked.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Of course. You’re a hero. Valhalla is waiting for you,” you answered.
You held him out. Gentle as you could. Soon, he took a shallow breath. He gave a weak smile. Then the light in his eyes faded, and he was still. Tears welled up in your eyes.
Footsteps hurried behind you. Turning your head, you saw Loki running in.
“Oh, oh norns…no-”
You wiped away tears.
“He died honorably, Loki. And he told us how to defeat Grendel. We…we should give him a hero's send off.”
Loki used his magic to summon a wooden altar. Wide enough to hold the Prophet. You both put the body onto it, though it was heavy.
“Farewell, my friend, you did well,” you said.
Summoning a flame on your hand, you touched the altar. The fire began in one corner, and soon reached around and then touched the body of the Prophet. You took Loki’s hand.
“Who the hell is up here!?” cried masculine voices.
Before you had any time to react, five more of Grendel’s men appeared at the mouth of the cavern. You bit back the urge to scream at them.
But then an idea came to you as they drew their swords from their sheaths.
“Loki, summon a portal!”
“To where!?”
“The cabin where we got the ring! The weaver-there!”
Loki wriggled his fingers and summoned a portal.
“Get them!” cried one of Grendel’s men.
Your hand still in your husband's, you ran through the portal.
The inside of the portal changed from purple to green. The men charged after you both. Green swirls and fog swirled all around you. Your legs felt light. You were falling through- then your steps began to pedal forward
You then landed right back in the woods. Your cloak felt heavy, and heat drenched its weight onto you. Birds sang, and the sun shone as if no one had passed. As if all was well.
“Leave the portal open, don’t close it!” you ordered Loki.
You ran forward to the cabin. Up the steps onto the wooden porch. You opened the door.
Sure enough, the five of Grendel’s men each appeared from out the portal.
“Where is that bitch? Get her!” they yelled.
You ran inside, hearing Grendel’s men after you.
You saw a familiar figure with long dark hair and beautiful pale skin, spinning at her wheel and singing her song again. The Weaver had taken Lucille’s form. You immediately backed yourself against the wall on the left. Hiding yourself from the entrance.
The men all hurried forward. They didn’t see you at first. But they froze in their steps, seeing the Weaver at her spinning wheel.
She paused and then got up. A greedy smile stretched on her face.
“Ah…dinner is here,” she said.
You ran outside and slammed the door shut. Using your weight, you leaned against it.
“Loki, lock it!” you ordered.
Loki’s magic sealed the door shut.
There was more yelling. More curses. Fists pounded on the door from the inside. They tried to break it open. You then heard a roar like that of a monster. You walked away right as you heard claws piercing flesh and the screams of damned men.
Loki followed right behind you. When you looked behind, he smirked, and there was a strut to his step.
“My wife, what a creature of mischief you’ve become!”
But there was no time to lose- you had to return to Asgard. To the scene of the battle. And deliver the hope that Grendel could face defeat.
hop, bunny, hop
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You want to lose your innocence to Daryl - but not the romantic way...
Warnings: MDNI! 18+! SMUT (prey x hunter - it's a agreed-upon agreement and entirely consensual, virginity loss, breeding kink, Reader is a virgin but certainly not a saint, Reader getting handcuffed and blindfolded, slight manhandling, Daryl calling Reader bunny, oral (f) - Daryl is a munch, teasing, dirty talk, handjob, unprotected sex (don't do that), missionary and mating press, no pulling out, slightly rough-ish), established relationship, Daryl being a cutie patootie, mentions of weapons and walkers, thirst? talks of pregnancy, fluff
Set around Season 6!
Word Count: 5k
Cocktail: WHISKEY - Daryl Dixon + SWEET VERMOUTH - virginity loss + LILLET BLANC - prey x hunter + COINTREAU LIQUEUR - "We created that." (baby) + CREAM - breeding kink
a/n: Welp... I guess that request just lifted my smut writing skills to a whole new level... Pls be gentle. 🙈 The amount of reaearch I had to do for this... All worth it, I'd say. It was very challenging, but I gave it my all. I truly hope it is to your liking @clussysposts ! 🫶🏻
Huge shout-out goes to @levislolita for supporting me as I wrote this - and for kinda beta-reading it. She was the smut demon sitting on my shoulder, hehe. Thank you, babes! 🫶🏻
💠The Blue Arrow bar💠
°☆• discover more... •☆°
MDNI Divider by @jiyascepter <3
"Ya wanna do wha'?" Daryl asked you already the second time - still blinking and still in disbelief. "You heard me, Dar." The archer blinked, then shook his head. "Yer sum'thin' else woman. Swear 't god."
This hadn't been the first time you had come to your boyfriend with a new 'idea' or crazy suggestion. Whenever it was a run, an escape plan, pastime at home in Alexandria or even home decoration - it was never boring with you. But this... This put everything on a whole new level and admittedly changed the way Daryl saw you - at least a little. He thought he knew you well after almost six months of being your significant other, but the archer had to admit that he was wrong about this.
"'Kay..." He started, "Lemme process this real quick, sunshine..." and took a breath to sort his thoughts. "Jus' 't make sure I get this right... Ya want me 't... hunt ya down like a fuckin' deer, drag ya in a cabin or sum'thin' and..." He had to pause in order to form the right words with a blush already creeping up his face. "Take yer... yer virginity."
You nodded with a big smile and clapped your hands - like a toddler who just solved a puzzle on their own. "Exactly, babe."
Daryl just stared at you for a solid minute and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. But then...
"Nah," he said; shaking his head. "Why not?" You sighed; already pouting. "Dun wanna hurt ya or sum'thin'. Ya never... a-and I... Nah."
You were still a virgin, yes. That much was true. It took you quite a while to come around and 'confess' to your partner since the archer was your first proper boyfriend - and sex wasn't a topic you both were super confident to talk about. Daryl, though, took it with the utmost respect and gentleness. He never forced you into anything - and never would. You promised to give him your virginity - but he never anticipated that you'd go along and ask him to take it like this.
"You're not gonna hurt me, babe. I promise. We're gonna chose a safe word and all. It's gonna be fine. And hot. And thrilling! Just imagine it!" He scoffed; still not quite convinced. "Told ya I wanted 't do this right... Proper bed 'n all. Romantic shit." "And I told you I don't want romantic shit and not lose it the normal, boring way." Daryl scoffed again. He really wanted to 'do it right' - but if that was what you preferred...
The archer sighed and nodded. "'Kay." You let out an excited squeal and tugged at his biceps; rocking up and down on your heels. "But if somethin' ain't right we're gonna stop right away." You nodded again. "Promise," you smiled and pulled him down for a kiss; saying 'Thank you'.
"Ya really sure ya wanna do it? Yer ready 'n comfortable enough?" Your partner checked in on you once more; wanting to be truly on the safe side. "Yes, babe. One hundred percent sure."
A few days later, a 'plan' was made and a safe word determined, before Daryl would go 'hunting'. The weather was nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Nothing on both your schedules. Daryl gave you a head start, of course. He was a little nervous about this all - but also excited. He couldn't deny that. You were right about this whole scenario. It was kinda hot.
An hour after you left Alexandria, Daryl followed. "Going on a hunt?" Eugene asked the man since he was on guard duty. Daryl adjusted the knives on his belt. No crossbow today, but prepared and armed nevertheless. He gave his friend something close to a nod, "Sum'thin' like that, yeah." stepped out of the gates and left a confused Eugene behind.
Once outside the safety of the walls, the archer scanned his surroundings - and instantly started to track you down.
Let the game begin.
And for Daryl, this game was very easy. He was an excellent tracker. Sure, you didn't really cover your tracks, but still. It wasn't much of a challenge for him. Within about an hour, he had almost caught up to you - and once he did, the fun really began.
You tried to hide from him, of course. Naturally. Your goal was to run from him as long as possible - and the thought was thrilling.
You were hiding behind a thick tree; trying to stay as quiet as possible with your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. Adrenaline. Excitement. Anticipation - of what was to happen.
And Daryl? Daryl was locked in. You had asked for this - and he'd make sure you got what you wanted. He could've sworn he had already smelled you from a few miles away. The sweet scent of your shampoo in combination with the detergent you used. He was like a shark in the ocean... He had smelled blood - and now he was going to bite.
Daryl wetted his lips and once more scanned his surroundings; standing absolutely still and listening to every sound that urged to his ears. The different songs of birds. Bees and gnats humming. Crickets chirping. Luckily no sounds of the undead which roamed the earth.
His senses were sharpened to the brim; waiting for you to make that one mistake. Daryl knew you were close - or well, that he was close. All he needed was a last hint - and in your 'recklessness', you freely gave it to him. Since the woods around you had started to get suspiciously quiet - too quiet, you dared to risk a gaze from behind the safety of the tree which hid you - a mistake. You knew you had fucked up the very moment your eyes met the blue ones of your hunter from a distance.
So you started to run; hoping to be faster than him and able to escape.
And Daryl started to run as well; now truly hunting you down.
You were good. Quick on your feet - but not as fast as Daryl. He picked up his pace; caught up to you within seconds - and before you could even try or react, a strong, thick arm wrapped itself around your waist from behind. "Gotcha, sunshine," Daryl panted in your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't fight him, of course. Why should you? The hunter had caught his prey successfully.
Exhausted from all the running, your body slumped down - causing the archer's biceps around your body to bulge in order to hold you and let you down gently.
Sure, he helped you live out your sexual fantasy, but that didn't mean he was going to hurt you or let you hurt yourself.
As you laid on the cool forest ground; still catching your breath, Daryl towered over you - and it was without a doubt one of the hottest views you ever had of him - of a man in general. The sun shone from above him; brightening his dark brown curls and creating a halo around his silhouette. Sweat glistened on his biceps and arms. The black shirt with the torn off sleeves tightened around his upper body with each heaving breath he took; making the worn buttons fight for their life. His rugged jeans with the patches was slightly covered in dirt and resin from the hunt; hanging lower on his hips than usual from the running. Piercing blues gazing down at you.
You had always considered Daryl to be nothing but gorgeous and attractive - but this... This was a whole new dimension of sexiness - and the man didn't even try.
You swallowed hard; feeling another wave of arousel strike your core. It was nothing new, but exciting for sure.
"A'right," Daryl started and reached in the back pocket of his jeans to get the small rope he packed. "Time 't take home wha's mine. Caught ya fair 'n square," he stated with the tiniest smirk and crouched down to tie your wrists together with the rope. Work-worn, skilled hands went to work, while you just watched and stared. Fuck.
It got even worse (in the best way) when he also blindfolded you with the red rug he always carried around. Your breath hitched.
"Where are you going to take me?" It was a question fitting for your 'role', but one you truly didn't know the answer to. Finding a fitting place to do those sinful things you both had in mind had been Daryl's task. He knew the woods better than anyone, so... You left it up to him.
"Ya'll see." His deep, gruff voice announced, before he swiftly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A small queak of surprise left your lips as Daryl manhandled you easily to carry you through the woods to his chosen destination.
Despite the fact that all your senses were sharpened, you trusted Daryl with your life - literally. Blindfolded, handcuffed - easy prey for the dead and the living.
It didn't take Daryl that long to reach his destination - a hidden cabin he had found already months ago and often used as a sleeping accommodation when he was out on a run or hunting. The cabin was secluded and safe - the perfect place outside Alexandria for what Daryl was about to do to you.
Opening the wooden door, he carried you inside, made sure the safety measures applied again - he wouldn't want a walker to stumble in on you, and gently tossed you on the new King-sized mattress the archer had scavenged for the bed inside said cabin. The old one was ratty and quite frankly disgusting. He always preferred to sleep on the floor instead. But not today. Today, Daryl was prepared. He even spread out a freshly washed blanket from home over the bed. Sure, you said you didn't want to lose your virginity the 'romantic' way, but he wouldn't be Daryl if he didn't make sure that you were at least comfortable.
Then he went to untie the rope around your wrists again and take the blindfold off your eyes. You looked around; taking in your environment. You couldn't help it. Since the end of the world, your senses were sharpenend - always checking first if everything was safe. As if being able to read your thoughts, Daryl said: "Dun worry, bunny. Yer safe here. Gonna make sure 'a tha'." He shed all his knives and his angel-winged vest. "Now lemme unwrap my prey, eh?"
That sentence was - again, enough to sent a tingle down your spine.
Completely at his mercy, you let him get rid of all the unnecessary garments hiding your body - except your panties. No beating about the bush. His eyes screamed hunger, but they also held something soft; always making sure you were okay and comfortable.
Your partner admired your body; kissed your lips and every square inch he could reach, before he backed up to unbutton his black shirt and threw it aside. Daryl wasn't comfortable being shirtless around many people. You and Carol were the exception.
You were so entranced by the beauty of the man in front of you - scars and all, that you didn't even notice him stepping closer once more.
Until strong hands wrapped around your thighs - and swiftly pulled you to the edge of the bed with a little squeak leaving your lips.
"D-Dar? What are you up to?" The man looked up at you - darkness and hunger swallowing the blue in his eyes. "Caught 'm prey - only fair 't get a taste of wha's mine," he stated in a husky voice; gently pushing your legs open and keeping his palms splayed on your thighs to keep them open for him. Then he knelt down and bent over to bring his face on eye-level with your already electrified core. "Gonna devour tha' innocent lil' pussy," Daryl whispered in that deep timbre and flicked his tongue over the damp cotton of your panties; inhaling your scent - and you could've sworn that your brain crashed.
Error 404.
His words, that single gesture - it was enough to get your head spinning. A man was about to go down on you for the first time in your life. Daryl was about to go down on you for the first time ever. You'd experience things you never experienced before - and it was thrilling. The anticipation, excitement and arousal was a dangerous cocktail which flooded your veins.
"P-Please," was everything you were able to stammer out.
A little smirk tugged at the archer's lips before he licked over the fabric once again; softly suckling on the cotton - testing, teasing. You bit your lip; eyes not leaving him for even a second. Hell, you weren't even blinking; not wanting to miss a thing.
"Look atcha..." He whispered; gently tugging at your panties, "Barely even touched ya 'n yer already so ready fer me." and nibbling on them. He kept on teasing you for another moment which felt like an eternity and caused your hips to push further into him. "Dar, please..." You whined again - finally wanting to feel more; finally wanting to feel his mouth on you.
"Patience, bunny. Ya waited years fer the right man 't take yer innocence - now ya can wait five minutes longer." His words were firm but also sinful and made you whine again. Fuck. Of course, you were at his mercy and so he kept on teasing you. Biting, nibbling, mouthing at the piece of cotton underwear; driving you crazier with every passing minute.
Lucky for you, Daryl's patience wasn't eternal as well, so at one point his resolve broke as well; the arousal pumping through his veins begging him to finally eat you up like a piece of candy.
Thumbs hooked underneath the fabric and swiftly pulled them over your legs; carelessly throwing the garment aside. Without wasting another second, and before you were even able to comprehend what was going on now, he dove in.
"O-Oh my god," you squeaked out and gripped the blanket beneath you; legs quivering the moment you felt his hot, wet lips and tongue on you - and it was like an entire new world opened up to you. A feeling so intense, you never felt before. Daryl gave you one broad, lingering lick before he pulled away to ask: "Tha' good, bunny?"
A disbelieving, airy laugh slipped past your lips. "A-Are you kidding? D-Dar, it's something I've never felt before!" The archer smiled, "Good." and slightly adjusted his position. "Gonna make it even better for ya. Promise."
And he did keep that promise.
He lapped at you messily like you truly were his last meal; taking every drop of the sweet arousal you gave him. Not even five minutes in, he was nose-deep buried in your heat with your hand in his chestnut brown locks - a gesture that spurred him on even more as you discovered. Daryl growled against you and flicked his tongue faster, before he dipped the muscle inside you - switching between gently tongue-fucking you and suckling on that little sensitive nub.
And that was exactly what catapulted you quickly over the edge. "Fuck, Dar!" You literally cried out; fingers in his curls tightening before your whole body went numb against the bed as searing hot pleasure flooded you. Pleasure so intense you had never felt in your life. Daryl physically had to hold your hips down.
Of course, you had gotten yourself off before. You were a virgin - not a saint, but this... This was an entire new level. Mindblowing. Heart-stopping. You feared for a second that you were going to pass out from the intensity of it all. Daryl had positively catapulted you into another stratosphere - just with his mouth.
The man between your legs was very satisfied with his work and gently guided you through your high before pulling away. You needed a moment to recover; brain rebooting. "Ya good, sunshine?" Daryl's voice got through to you. You gave him a nod. "Ya still wanna keep goin'?" The archer broke his 'role' for a moment; checking in on you. Once again you nodded and added a hoarse, whispered: "Please." "A'right," Daryl said and adjusted his position once again; standing up.
Then you finally focused on your partner again - and his vision sent another delicious tingle straight downtown again. He was a mess. Drool and your sweet release everywhere. On his lips, chin, goatee - and even some on his nose. It almost looked like he had enjoyed this more than you had. Perhaps he did. Who knew?
Daryl's hands on your hips ripped you out of your thoughts again. He was gently pushing you further up the bed again to give him space to kneel on the mattress as well. Then he kissed up your pubic mound, navel and stomach until he reached your chest; shoving his still clothed thighs underneath yours. "Ya gonna lemme fuck ya now, bunny?" He mumbled against your skin and straightened up; watching you nod once again. "Yeah?" Daryl asked once more - to make sure, while letting his hand wander to the bulging front of his jeans. "Y-Yes. Please, Dar." He gave you a nod as well and watched how your gaze got stuck on the hand which rubbed himself over the fabric of his jeans.
Another smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Nah," he announced then; remembering that you had never seen a man's most intimate parts before - in a sexual way. "Gonna let ya feel me first. Ya want tha', bunny?" You absentmindedly licked your lips. The thought alone of feeling him - touching him caused your head to spin. "Y-Yes. Want that." "'Kay," the archer said and unzipped his jeans; making some room. "Gimme yer hand."
You sat up and did what he asked; gave him your hand. Daryl gently took your hand and guided it; slipped it inside his pants to let you feel and rub his hardness. An audible gasp left your lips at the new feeling against your hand. Firm, hot, pulsing flesh - and all just for you. "Feel tha'?" Of course, you could. "'S all for ya, bunny. Got me rock hard since I fuckin' left Alexandria." "Oh yeah?" You whispered and bit your lip while your hand kept on rubbing him. Daryl nodded; hips slightly bucking into your touch. "C-Can I... touch?"
A smile flickered over the archer's face. "'Course, ya can," he stated and instantly shifted to get rid of his pants and boxers. You watched him unpack his package with big, hungry eyes. Of course, you knew how a man's private parts were supposed to look - but you had never seen them in a sexual way. Until now.
And it caused you to gulp.
Daryl was a big boy - everything about him was, and so was his manhood as well. Thick, hot and pulsing; standing tall and proud between his legs. After shedding the rest of his clothes, he returned to his previous position between your legs; of course noticing your gaze on him.
"Whatcha sayin', bunny? All shy now or do ya still wanna touch?" "S-Still wanna touch," you answered right away; totally intrigued and more than excited. "'Kay. Gimme your hand again." You did what he asked and laid your hand in his.
Once again, Daryl guided your palm - but this time, he did something you hadn't seen coming. Something filthy - in the hottest way possible. He let some spit drool on your palm - for lubrication, and wrapped it around his length. You gasped at the feeling. He gently moved your closed fingers then up and down; letting you feel and explore. Once more you bit your lip; feeling him hot and heavy in your palm. You kept up the movements - even when Daryl's hand had already slackened around yours and fallen to your thigh. "Ya like tha', bunny? Rubbin' tha' dick? Givin' me a handjob?" You nodded; licking your lips.
"D-Do you like it? Am I doing this right?" Daryl softly squeezed the flesh of your thigh in return. "Yer doin' perfect. 'S real good." You smiled; satisfied and proud of yourself. After a long moment - when you gained a little more confidence, you increased the pace and even squeezed him gently from time to time, which caused the man's eyes to slip shut and a deep growl to fall from his lips.
Then your hand stopped - and Daryl reopened his eyes again to meet your gaze. "Do you... want to teach me how to... go down on you?" Daryl groaned again at your words. The mere thought of your mouth on him... Jesus Christ. But then again...
The archer shook his head, "Nah." and gently pried your hand away from his dick. "'M gonna show ya another time. This is 'bout ya. Not me," Daryl stated firmly and adjusted his position again; lining his hips up with yours.
Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him against you. Oh my gosh... This was real - and it was about to happen. "O-Okay," you stammered; anticipation but also slight nervousness flooding your veins. You trusted Daryl. Fully. But you couldn't help but feel your nevers a little.
The man nodded, "'N now relax." and trapped his cock between your folds. "Jus' feel." He pressed it down and moved his hips to let it glide through your slit; repeatedly bumping your little bundle of nerves. Daryl wanted to just let you adjust to the feeling and also lube himself up - making things easier. You moaned; legs twitching. Yet another sensation you hadn't felt before in your life.
The archer grinned as he felt you instinctively move your hips with his; wanting and creating more friction. "Feelin' good, bunny? Yer pussy likin' this dick, eh?" You nodded vehemently; eyes closed. He smirked again, then pulled back a little further to nudge the tip against your entrance. You gasped and literally froze; hand reaching out to grip his forearm. "D-Dar..." "Ya ready, bunny?" You nodded. "Y-Yes. Just go slow, p-please."
For a moment, Daryl's entire body language and expression shifted. "'O course, sunshine. I got ya," he said in a gentle voice - slipping from his 'role' once more. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead and steady himself properly. Then he lined himself up and slowly, carefully slipped inside you - inch after inch.
You would've lied if you said it didn't feel uncomfortable at first or even hurt a little, 'cause it was. Weird, strange - again, a whole new feeling. Once more, your breath hitched in your throat as a burning sensation spread from between your legs throughout your core. "D-Dar..." "I know, I know, 'm almost in. Doin' so good fer me, bunny," your partner whispered in a raspy voice; soothing and praising you simultaneously. "'K-Kay..."
While you clearly struggled a little to take him, Daryl had a very hard time holding himself back. He would, of course, because he didn't want to hurt you - but it took all his willpower to hold his primal instincts back. You were so tight and wet and warm - absolutely unfair. And watching you trying to swallow him whole wasn't helping as well.
With a last shift of his hips, he was buried inside you; giving you a moment to adjust and himself the opportunity to get his act together again. "'M in, bunny. Ya good?" He breathed; wanting to check in on you.
"Y-Yes, just feels... strange a-and... full." Daryl felt himself twitch at the word 'full'. Yeah, that was the point, right? "Yer gonna get used 't it. Promise. Gonna take real good 'a ya - 'n this pussy. She's mine now, after all. Claimed 'er fair 'n square." "A-All yours," you confirmed; taking deep, shaky breaths.
Another small smirk darted across his face at your words. "Tha's right. All mine," he whispered darkly and gave you an experimental thrust; slowly returning into his 'predator role'. You squeaked up - more in surprise than discomfort, but still; eyes fluttering at the sudden friction. After testing the waters, Daryl picked up a proper rhythm - slow but deep; starting out with missionary. The archer figured that this was probably the best position for your introduction into the world of sex.
Daryl's eyes were stuck on you; watching you intensely as he fucked you slow. "Feels good, bunny?" You nodded; biting your lip and fisting the blanket beneath you. "Uh.Huh. S-So good." Daryl's chest swelled with pride and he picked up the pace a little before he adjusted his hands; no longer pressing them against the mattress beneath him but rather gripping your hips. He straightened up a little to be more upright and get a better look at the delicious view of where your bodies were connected.
"Look atcha, bunny," he almost growled; watching his dick repeatedly slip in and out of you. "Pussy takin' me so good. Was made fer me." You moaned at the praise - borderline obscene, which got Daryl smiling boyish in return again; satisfied and happy that he was apparently doing his job right.
"Tha's how ya imagined this, bunny?" Daryl asked after quite a few thrusts; slightly out of breath. "Y-Yes, but..." You stammered out with a whine. It was hard to concentrate on words when your boyfriend did such sinful things to you.
"But what, bunny, huh? Use yer words. C'mon," he whispered and delivered a particular deep thrust which shortly knocked the air out of your lungs and totally threw you off track for a moment.
"M-More," you mumbled then; brain foggy with pleasure. "W-Want... more." Your words caused the archer to stop dead in his movements. He blinked and looked down at you through hazy eyes. "More? Ya want more?" You nodded; biting your lip.
And that was the moment Daryl entirely lost his composure. He had tried to hold back and keep things gentle for you and here you were now, telling him to give you more. His eyes darkened, "Ya want more?" as he adjusted his position between your legs. "Fine. 'M givin' ya more."
Daryl roughly lifted your legs up and pushed them back against your shoulders; gaining more leverage and switching into the mating press position. "Gonna give ya everything, bunny. More than ya can take," he growled lowly and started to thrust again. Hard, deep, quick; literally fucking you into the mattress. "O-Oh my god," you sobbed in pleasure; gripping his sweaty biceps tightly - nails digging into the muscular skin with your mouth hanging open in pleasure.
Nothing could be heard except your airy moans, skin slapping obscenely against skin and the occasional creaking of the bed beneath you.
"Tha' better, bunny, eh?" "F-Fuck, yes!" You cried out; holding onto him for dear life. "W-Want all of you, D-Dar!"
You words sparked something deep inside him. Something primal, dark and hidden. He was already lost in you. In the feeling of you wrapped around him, but this... This cut the last cord he had been holding on to. It brought him dangerously close to his high.
"Gonna give ya all 'a me, bunny," he growled again. "Gonna get my load." Thrust. "Gonna cum so deep inside ya." Thrust. "Ain't gonna pull out." Thrust. "Dun care if I get ya pregnant." Thrust. "Gonna look good carryin' my baby- Christ!" One more powerful thrust was enough to tip Daryl over the edge. "Hng," he stilled; feeling himself twitch and contract - breath stuttering.
And like he promised, he didn't pull out.
Then he collapsed beside you - careful not to crash you; totally spent, just like you.
Once the haze had cleared a little from his brain, he swiftly turned to face you again. "Ya okay, sunshine?" Daryl asked gently, while gently rubbing your upper arm. Predator mode entirely forgotten.
All you could do was nod; staring at the ceiling. "Wow... That... That was... wow." You couldn't find the words. What you just experienced had absolutely blown your mind - in the best way possible.
A little, proud and cute smile tugged at your partner's lips. "Tha' how ya wanted yer first time 't go? Did I, uh, do it right?" You giggled and turned to face him as well before snuggling against his bare chest. "More than right, Dar. It was perfect." The archer embraced you and reached for the second blanket he had brought here to cover the both of you up.
"Ya, uh, ya think I really got ya pregnant now?" Daryl whispered after a long moment of silence. "Nah," you said; shaking your head. "Think we're good, babe. One time won't hurt."
Well...
Turned out it did.
Exactly fourteen months later, Daryl found himself sitting on the porch of your little house in Alexandria - with a small baby girl sleeping snugly on his arm; tiny cheek squashed against his biceps. Yeah. One 'slip-up' had truly been enough. Your first time with Daryl - and it instantly managed to create a little miracle.
With literal heart eyes, the archer watched his daughter sleep and drool over the muscular skin. "There are you two," you said in a gentle voice and joined your family on the porch with a smile. Daryl's eyes lifted to meet yours. "Should've told ya we'd be out here," he answered; shifting a little to make room for you. You instantly shook your head, "No, no, it's okay. I'm just glad she's asleep now." and sat down beside your partner. The archer gave you a small nod and picked up the tasked at hand again - watching over his daughter.
"We created that..." He whispered then after a long beat of silence; voice slightly strained. Your mind travelled back in time at his words - to the very day you lost your innocence to Daryl. The day you literally became entirely his. "Yeah...," you whispered back; smiling and running a finger through the tiny dark-ish curls of fuzz on the baby's head. "We did. And I don't regret anything."
Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @levislolita @angelicarlert @bigbaldheadname @loz-3 @vngelisse @smuttfuelled @urdeaddixon @clussysposts @fictive-sl0th @berriesandcreampie @btsgangleader @tuesday469 @whsschuu @baseballbitch116 @twd-bee3 @darylandbethfanforever9 @dixonsstinkysock @dixondisease @walkingtalkingsomething
A Better Helpmeet (Tom Hiddleston x fem! Reader Oneshot)
Summary: Tom goes away to film and premiere The Essex Serpent. But when you find out what it's about, it causes your doubts and insecurities to overwhelm you...
Word Count: 5807 (you will need breaks for food, water, and to use the bathroom.)
Warnings: Not liking the Essex Serpent (or Queen Charlotte) and taking that out in writing. Portrayal of suicidal feelings. There is a suicide attempt in the fic but I will never show the actual scene. It will just cut to the person getting help. Mentions of sexual assault and the fear of cheating. Pregnancy. Cyber bullying.
A/N: So this is a request I got from @steaa90-blog to do a fanficiton about Reader being pregnant when Tom is involved in The Essex Serpent until she finds out what it's about and confronts him. She wanted it to be 5K pages. I got up to 3K...but then I realized where this fic needed to go. This will get darker and I will open up about what happened to me last year. In short, last year I became manic and had a suicide attempt, but obviously survived and got help. I am doing better now, but writing this was a way to reflect on what happened and use my pain for art in some way, and to heal from what happened. I may not have had a Tom, but I had my family and a couple friends. My DM's are open if you ever want to talk. But if you have suicidal feelings, please drop everything and contact emergency services. These feelings go away and they end, I promise you. But anways, please share a comment if you liked it!
When the little plus sign arrived on the test, you knew your life had changed forever. Still, you had to be sure, so you got another test. And then another. And another.
Plus sign. Plus sign. Plus sign.
It was one thing to suspect. To have that inkling. That suspicion. Tom and you satisfied each craving, each want. And you wanted to have a family. But it was different to have the dreaming and seeking. It was another thing to have the evidence right in front of you. Something wonderful was happening. It had happened, and it was about to happen. It was more wonderful than you could ever imagine. It was flourishing in you. Although right now, the child inside you was so small. The size of a pea. But it would grow. A child who was already so loved and so wanted.
Still, you had to have things ready for your husband. When he arrived home, you were immediately at the front door as he stepped in. You threw your hands around his shoulders. Tom, dear Tom. He was everything. Your lover. Your best friend. And now the father of your child.
“Tom…” you began.
He paused, his jacket still over his shoulders.
“What is it, my dear?” he asked.
You pulled out the three pregnancy tests from your pocket.
“We’re having a baby!” you cried.
He picked you up and spun you around, landing a kiss right on your lips. You kissed him again.
“I’ve never loved you more. You’re going to be a wonderful mother- I love our little one already,” he said, placing a warm hand on your belly.
You already had an announcement set up for Instagram. You put out a blanket with a whiteboard and set flowers around it.
“Welcome Baby Hiddleston-Coming Soon.”
The responses brought love and care. There were a few “OMG! Congrats!”
And “WOW! Tom Hiddleston is a DILF,” which made you laugh. And you did agree. Fatherhood was going to make him even more attractive to you. There was something about a hot dad. A man who cared and took care of his family.
As well as “this is going to be a beautiful baby. The mom is hot, the dad is hot, combined? Come on!” and “Tom is too fine not to reproduce.”
But then…there were other comments.
They were little. At first like the faint buzzing of a bee flying past you. You saw “really, with her?” As well as “she must be puking out her guts now- LOL!” and “Just wait until she gains all that baby weight, he won’t want her then.”
They were at first a few. But they were a vocal few. You tried to ignore them.
But still, they bothered you. They made you uncomfortable. And your phone kept buzzing. There was new information on there. It was as if your phone was alerting you to every last little thing that was going on. Blasting a comment at your face. And taking a gamble as to what this person would say.
The dam did not confine itself to Instagram. X had featured memes of you with your face on animals that had thousands of likes. Threads had people listing every wrong thing you were doing in public. Tumblr posts were sharing very unflattering images of you. You were self-conscious when you went out. And when you were out, how much paparazzi followed you? How many photos did they take? You made sure you wore nice clothes and put on makeup before you stepped out of the house, from then on. It seemed there was a little of it when you were first with Tom. But now it seemed it was more persistent.
“They’re…they’re jealous, don’t take it personally,” you reminded yourself. It carried you through.
The first trimester had its trials. You were waking up in the morning. Your stomach souring. You ran over, lifted the lid to the toilet, and threw up. You liked to start the day by drinking water. Usually, you drank one whole bottle before you had your coffee (only now, you had to switch to decaf). It was only a few sips, and soon it felt like you had to go pee or you would die. So you would burst into the bathroom and pee out until every last drop squeezed out of you.
It was then that Tom left to film a certain project. A miniseries from Apple TV. You had no idea what it was. Tom gave you some background on it. It was a television adaptation of a novel, The Essex Serpent. The book had won awards. A producer picked it up to adapt it to the screen. Tom signed a contract with Apple TV. So he had to do as they commanded. You looked up a summary on the IMDB page for the yet-to-be-made series: a widowed woman finds refuge looking for a serpent.
Funny. The main character is a woman. That's odd, with such a big name like Tom, you would assume it would be about him. He had long earned his share of leading man roles. How could he not?
You talked with Tom over the phone one night. Right over your dinner of chicken and baked potatoes.
“Who do you play?” you asked.
“I play William Ransome, he’s the vicar of this small town,” he explained.
You smiled. “Oh…so you’re going to be a hot priest?”
“A what?”
“The term came from this show, Fleabag. Name says it all. There’s a character who’s named Hot Priest. He falls for the main girl. It gets really sexy, and then really sad. Everyone wanted him and loved him,” you explained.
A small laugh came out of Tom. His eyes sparkled.
“Ah, thank you,” said Tom.
It was fun, having the house to yourself. All the streaming platforms for marathons of your favorite shows and movies. Going to the toilet with the door open. You even enjoyed getting a whole tub of ice cream with no husband to share it with.
But then there was silence.
Nothing. Only the cars crossing the road outside. The rain pattering on the window. And the pregnancy. You were putting on weight. Cue all the comments on Instagram predicting you would look like a cow. And with the way your breasts were starting to heave with milk, you already felt like one.
But there was a point where it was pure boredom. No show seemed good enough to watch. No book seemed interesting enough to read. And you were off from work. There with your growing belly and your swelling feet and heavy breasts.
Your calls to Tom became longer. He didn’t talk much about hte shoot. Only about it being cold and missing hot, warm tea and dinners. It was both a comfort and a torture to see the pictures people have taken on set. Tom in priest attire in the middle of fields or with sexy open white shirts. Your hormones were raging. You wanted to grab him and ride him into the sunset. Get on your knees and suck him dry. Thank the lord for vibrators. It would then only leave you feeling empty once the device was turned off. It wasn’t like having him actually there. You missed him.
But soon he was back. You embraced and kissed him. Having things to watch now would be more interesting with his commentary. His presence, his footsteps, his scent.
Though time passed. Editing was now complete. Soon, the show was about to premiere. There would be a red carpet, heels, gowns, and champagne. Followed by a screening where everyone sat and tasted the first three episodes.
“I don’t know if you should go,” Tom said.
He was scrolling on his phone when the announcement came. A call for all involved to be there for the premiere. You looked down at your growing belly. You were now starting to waddle around the house like a penguin.
“I agree,” you said. “Go ahead, I don’t have to be there.”
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was always good to have a life outside of your marriage, outside of your home, so you met with your friend Jackie. It was a typical meeting of hers- a trip to see the different shopping locations followed by a meal. She plopped her bags down beneath the table. She got tons of new clothes versus your one modest bag. At once, she was ordering a drink, an appetizer, and rib-eye. She looked at you and beamed, her face full of makeup and looking as upright as ever in her stylish dress.
“Where has Tom been?” she asked.
“He got back from filming, and now he’s gone for the premiere,” you answered.
The server arrived with your mozzarella sticks. Jackie took one and dipped it in marinara sauce.
“What’s premiering?”
“It’s a period drama.”
“Period drama? Y/N, I hardly watch those. Love Island’s been taking up my time.”
“The Essex Serpent. It’s based on a book. He’s playing a hot priest, and the internet is going to explode when he does. If it hasn’t already.”
Jackie blinked. The mozzarella stick in her hand froze in mid-air. She set it down. It’s hot, fried, cheesy goodness all forgotten.
“The Essex Serpent?” she asked.
“Yeah!”
Your drinks arrived. The server placed Jackie’s margherita to her left. She then put your virgin drink to your right.
“Do you know what it’s about?” Jackie asked.
“Yeah. It’s the 19th century. This woman’s abusive husband dies. She’s going to look for this giant serpent in a small town,” you took a sip of your drink. It was fruity and sweet.
“But…do you know what the priest has to do with it?” Jackied asked.
She put her mozzarella stick on her plate. She leaned forward and folded her hands.
“Tom’s the love interest.”
“Y/N, he’s married,” Jackie said.
“He marries the main woman?”
“No…he’s already married. With kids. I read the book, Y/N. It’s about an affair.”
You paused. Something in you froze. She might as well have slapped you.
“I’m sorry…what? Could you say that again? I want to make sure I’m not crazy, Jackie.”
“It’s an adultery story,” she said.
A heaviness that had nothing to do with the baby settled in your stomach. Jackie continued.
“He cheats on his wife as she’s dying from tuberculosis.”
Now you knew you weren’t hungry. You picked at your food when it arrived, and had to take the rest back in a box. But your mind was whirling.
It disrupted your sleep. You tossed and turned. You got out your phone, intending to call Tom, but you couldn’t. You knew he was busy.
Who was she? This fictional woman. This fictional wife?
Part of you hoped the wife was mean. Or abusive. That made it an easier pill to swallow. Adultery was easier to understand when one partner was a demon from hell. When you were a kid, you found this soap opera in your aunt’s DVD collection and watched some of it. It took place in the older days. There was this beautiful heroine who fell in love, but her father forced her to marry a much older man. The older husband sexually assaulted her on their wedding night. He beat her, killed her maid, and even locked her up in her room. The heroine ended up having an affair in the midst of this.
You remembered when you went to your mother as a pre-teen, and asked: “Mama, is adultery okay if one of the partners is abusive?” You couldn’t recall her answer.
When you stalked online, some people agreed with you. But it set off all sorts of responses from other people.
.
“Fiction isn’t supposed to be moral; stop being the Hays Code.”
“Fiction shouldn’t have to appeal to morality, bad stuff doesn’t have to be punished, are you a puritan?”
“But remember, your trigger warnings are your responsibility.”
But you couldn’t help but ask yourself, “Do your friends' mouths come with trigger warnings?”
Yes, Y/N, why didn’t you check the trigger warnings? Why weren’t you careful? Why did you act like that? Why did you dress like that? Why did you go to that place? Why did you have that drink? Why did you talk to that man? It’s all your fault. You should have been more careful. It. Was. All. Your. Fault.
You didn’t plan to read the book at all. You ended up wandering into a bookstore. Noting which section marked P for Perry, as in Sarah Perry, the author. You would lower your eyes and walk away. Or flip it off. That made you feel better. A little.
But then came one comment. It completely changed your perspective.
This one woman online. How odd, you never met her and she never met you, but yet you respected her opinion- was talking about book reviews. She began to note that there were people who left reviews who never actually read the book. That it was wrong. Rude. Unfair.
You paused. Could you say you hated the Essex Serpent if you never experienced it? How could you be mentally critiquing it…and all while knowing nothing about it?
There was only one way to settle that. One way to justify your hatred of the book. To gain the right to say or feel anything bad about it.
You went to the library and got a copy.
You sat down to read. But found yourself invested in it. Reading on breaks. Reading before dinner and delaying dinner further to read more. Yes, the writing was pretty. Sarah Perry is more of a poet than a storyteller.
But this wife…her name was Stella. Stella for star. And her husband did call her a star of the sea. (“Liar!” you thought, wanting to throw the book across the room).
She handed people flowers. Befriended everyone. Saw beauty and meaning in such ordinary things. Her mother said sex was only endured for the sake of children, but she had a wonderful sex life with her husband. In fact, she was always pregnant early in their marriage. She had borne five children and buried two. You were already dealing with bearing one child, but having five! That was quite a lot! And you couldn’t imagine losing the one you had. When you read that part, you put a protective hand over your belly as if to shield your baby from any harm.
Yes, Stella got sick. Yes, she wanted her husband to be happy. Yes, that involved saying she was too tired to dance. That her husband should dance with Cora, the main female character. Instead.
But…Neither Cora nor Will seemed to know that Stella approved of the affair. They didn’t know her thoughts and feelings. Didn’t consider it.
And they didn’t seem to care.
Nowhere in the text did they ever stop and think about how this would affect Stella.
Will was too happy masturbating (while “howling like a dog”) over the marshes to Cora. Cora was busy picking out postcards to send to Will.
And as Stella got sick, she would write in her journal. Though, of course, she didn’t allow Will to see her journal. So how on earth could he ever know she actually approved of the affair! She could not want it for all he knew!
Stella called Cora Will’s “better helpmeet.”
That meant his better wife.
Despite everything Stella did. Having sex with her husband. Giving him children. Being a dutiful vicar’s wife. Leaving him alone on Saturdays to work. Being religious and feminine. Having no ambitions outside of marriage and motherhood. Being loyal to him. Loving only him.
She wasn’t enough.
She never was. And she never would be.
You tried not to think about it. To distract yourself. To find things that preoccupy your mind. You turned on Netflix to binge-watch the Queen Charlotte spinoff. Only to find out with horror that, betrayal of marital vows did in fact exist in that world. The kind that was celebrated. Violet’s father had an affair with Lady Danbury. And by then Lady Danbury was a widow.
It was like The Essex Serpent. And his kid knew and approved… because of love? And it implied the wife deserved it because she was mean and…racist. (She! A wealthy white woman in 18th-century England was racist! That never happened!)
The wife’s actions and behaviors didn’t matter. A wife betrayed is a wife betrayed.
You wanted to throw your remote across the room. You wanted to punch the television. You ended up sobbing, downing two soda cans, and not sleeping.
How often had this happened? Why did people have that fantasy? You knew the answer. It was the fantasy of being desired, of being chosen, of being wanted that badly that someone with enough want would cross that line for you. Isn’t that what all women wanted, after all? To be wanted.
It then struck you…why did Tom say yes to this role? Why did he seem so eager to do it?
Why didn’t he tell you about the affair?
Had he read the book before? What did he think? What did he feel? Did he not consider Stella? Stella, the lesser helpmeet?
To think when you married him, you thought him better, nobler, higher? Was Tom really just a man?
All that love, all that work…and there was nothing. Nothing at all. Was he…betraying you? Wouldn’t he…would he? He probably already did. The role of Will Ransome stirred excitement in Tom.
One morning, you woke up, and you couldn’t get yourself out of bed. You felt spent. Empty. Nothing.
You couldn’t text Tom. He was too busy with the premiere. And maybe a woman who was a better wife than you.
And how alone you were. They would all say you were crazy. Getting this upset over a fictional narrative? You should have checked the trigger warnings.
I’m stupid, you thought, stupid, and I hate myself.
You wanted to yell, to scream. You typed out a text to Tom that was in all caps, but you deleted it.
You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, and sobbed.
You then got up. But your body felt heavy. You could barely eat breakfast. You had several tabs open on your phone of various stores online. You put items in your cart as “treat yourself” shopping days, and you purchased a lot. Money was flying from your bank account. You maxed out your credit card. But no matter how much you bought, there was that rush, that thrill…and then it went away. It didn’t stop the bad feeling. Only numbed it for a short while.
You weren’t good enough for him. And he didn’t keep to his vows.
You felt nothing but pain. There was truly nothing but pain around you. And you wanted the pain to stop. Anything to make it stop.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next thing you knew, you were in a hospital. The white, fluorescent light blaring in your face. The tall, white walls bleaching out the world around you. It smelled acidic, like hand sanitizer. You wore a blue hospital gown over your shirt and pants. Red socks with little white dots all over them were on your feet. You looked around, and there were nurses and doctors all around you.
The shame felt hard. You didn’t know if it was shame or relief. You felt embarrassed. You felt weak. You couldn’t lift your arms or move your legs. You didn’t know what to think. But you were also scared. Open and vulnerable. Dragged to your lowest point. At your ugliest, rawest self…and what would you find? You felt groggy. You felt frightened. You shook. You were something cracked and open. Raw and bleeding.
There was a doctor who was on the phone, talking to someone. You couldn’t tell who.
“Yes…suicide attempt…she survived, she’s with us. Called us in time. We have to watch her.”
You turned your head to her. As you spoke, your voice felt hoarse.
“Is…is the baby okay?”
The medical worker turned her dark head over to you. She put a hand over the phone.
“Yes. The baby is still there. You both are gonna be okay.”
They wheeled you over from the emergency room to a hospital room. It was yellow with a wide window showing a street. It was already night, and there were no stars in the sky from the fluorescent glow of the hospital’s lights. Attached wires around your body to measure your pulse and vital organs. Though you had to peel them off to use the bathroom on shaky legs. They assigned one person to watch over you, sitting in a chair next to you as they stared at their phone all day. Noticing a small black remote, you pushed the red button to turn on the television.
You were changing the channel to a movie when Tom burst in. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair unbrushed. Scruff was all over his chin. He ran over to you and took your hand.
“Darling, darling- how are you? Oh God, thank God-I canceled everything- I had to go over- they told me everything- tell me, how are you now?” he went over and cupped your face.
“I’m…I’m alright…”
He kissed the top of your forehead and pulled you in for a hug. It was the longest, tightest hug you had ever received from him. He smelled of sweat. It had struck you-he was your emergency contact. And he dropped everything he had to go to you.
“What happened? Please tell me!” he said.
“Tom, I…I…I thought you didn’t love me. And…I was all alone. I thought the pain would never end. I thought all I did for you. All that happened…was for nothing…and I felt…felt nothing…nothing but sadness…and I wanted it to go away.”
“You are enough for me, my angel. What brought you to think there was no way out? Well, I’m here. And I’m staying. I’m staying until the sadness goes away. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together,” he promised.
He stayed in that room all day. The TV screen played a movie from your childhood that you both watched together. Tom was there to hold your hand. He spoke to the nurses and made sure you got your meals delivered. He was there for checkups. He even sat on the bed and let you curl up next to him.
Once enough time had passed, the hospital declared you to be stable. They brought you to a crisis center to recover. They took your phone and placed it in a bag, putting it in a closet where you couldn’t access it. The days felt like a boarding school. You changed into a large grey sweatshirt that covered your belly and long pants with green socks. It was so cold in the building. You requested having an extra blanket that always had to stay in your room. They made sure you had the right medications that would not harm your baby. And you spent your days coloring, doing word searches. Walking the halls for exercise, staring out the window. Watching television and waiting for your next meal. God, it was boring. People in movies and media always made psych wards way scarier than they actually were. The other people in there didn’t threaten you. They usually slept all day. Taking all the comfortable couches, so all you had left were hard chairs to watch the current movie with.
You looked forward to the hour when they allowed you to call Tom. Guests and visitors weren’t permitted. But you could call. So you scrawled up his number on a piece of paper you always had with you. Then lay the scrap next to your bed as you slept. Dreaming of seeing him, touching him, being with him in every way a wife could. You would call and talk to him. He would discuss doing various chores around the house. Cleaning his office or a new recipe he tried, and he wanted to hear about all that you were doing.
He even commented, “You’re already improving, my love. Keep at it. You’re starting to sound like yourself again.”
Then one morning, you walked into the main room before breakfast. A sitcom came on. On the show, a husband and wife were debating an issue. But then the wife proved her point with several quips. In the style of the sitcom, some words on the screen pointed to her and said: “Just got him.” Then the words pointed to the defeated husband and said: “hates being got.”
It made you laugh. Yes, laugh. It came out small, but then it poured out of you like singing, like a water fountain, like the stretch of a rainbow. Laughter. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed.
From then on, you made sure to make the most of your time. You talked with the social worker. You took your meds. You used the back pages of the word searches and coloring pages to journal with crayons. You made sure to watch every tv show and movie and take note of it to tell Tom all about it. Meals regained their taste. Everything was…interesting. You even made lists of everything you were going to do once you were out.
You were going to go to the park and walk for thirty minutes every day. You were going to reread all your favorite books. You were going to go eat ice cream. You were going to watch all these movies.
Soon enough, they put you in the room and announced that you would be heading home in two days.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That morning, the crisis center gave you your phone back and a bag. On it was a 90-day supply of your medications. There were cards reminding you of your first therapy and doctor's appointment. You gave them the address, and they put you in a car and drove you over. It was parked before your place. You got out, still in the grey sweatshirt and pants. Feeling like the final girl crawling out of the horror movie. Now that the horror was over…now what would happen?
Once you arrived at your home, Tom immediately ran to the door. He embraced you and kissed you.
“My dear, we need to celebrate. What would you like to do? Anything you want to eat?”
“You know what I’m craving? Buttered popcorn. The kind from the movies,” you said.
After you changed out of your grey shirt and sweatpants, you and Tom saw a matinee at the local theatre. Damn the press, he was going to be out with his wife. You both saw something you’ve been curious about. Something you could handle. You munched on popcorn and let the butter get beneath your fingernails. As you walked out, you had to squint because the light of the day was shining right in your face. Your belly was so full you felt as if popcorn could spill out of it. Tom held your hand and walked you over to the car. He drove home, as you both discussed the movie. Tom went on about the acting. You pointed out what you liked and what you didn’t like.
But the time had come to finally bring up the subject. Now that you have privacy. It was easier while driving. Tom was looking at the road and getting close to parking the car at home.
“Tom, I know that the Essex Serpent is a cheating story. And your character cheats on his wife.”
He frowned. He turned a corner to the right.
“You know I’m not my characters.”
“Why did you agree to do it?” you asked.
“Let me park first.”
He pulled the car up to the spot where he always parked. He then put it in park and turned it off. He looked over at you.
“I don’t think cheating is an okay thing. And the book is beautiful. And I want to play complex characters. I want challenges. I love Loki, I always will, but I want to try to challenge myself.”
You folded your hands in your lap. You looked down over your swelling belly. Tears began to well up, and your face felt hot.
“But Tom…has there…has there been anyone…with you being so enthusiastic about this role, I…I…”
A tear rolled down your cheek despite yourself.
“Because you wanted to cheat on me!”
The sobbing began. Uncontrollable. A dam built up now broken. He held you and rocked you back and forth.
“Oh, my poor dear, oh sweet angel, darling Y/N…shhh, shhhh…” he said.
He then held your face, looking into your eyes. Wiping your tears with his thumb.
“No. There was no one. Not during filming. Not during the premiere. And there will be no one. There hasn’t been anyone since we met. I saw you, spoke to you…and when I realized I loved you, there was no one else for me. I wanted you for my wife, or I wouldn’t have one at all. I made you a promise-until death do us part. And I intend on keeping it.”
You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. He held you for a while. Outside, you heard birds chirping. The cool air from outside seeped in through the windows. But you had your husband to keep you warm.
“I-I read it, and I hated it. You may have gotten something out of it, but I…I respect you as an actor, but that story and Will make me so angry! You should have told me what it was about?” you asked.
“I…I didn’t want to spoil it for you!”
“I’d prefer to know what happens when you take something! I can handle spoilers.”
“Darling, I…I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
He released the hug. You sniffed back a few tears. A smile broke on you despite yourself. There was something inside of you bursting. But instead of feeling hopelessness, there was something else. Something growing- something pure.
“Tom…I know you’re not your characters. I don’t want your characters. I want you…But it’s been tough, the things- the things people online have said about me!”
“What do they say?” he asked.
You told him. His face turned red, and there was a flare in his blue eyes.
He took your hands in his own. They were large, soft, and warm, completely covering your own.
“And I promise, from now on, I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby…I will be right here. And…if you ever want to speak. About anything. Anything at all…I promise you, I will not judge you. I am here, and I am listening.”
You both hugged each other. You felt a tear slide down from your eyes. He then gave you a little kiss on your forehead, and you smiled.
That night, he made a special chicken dinner. He put his hand on your thigh and smiled at you. He would whisper things to your ear. And you felt desire bloom in you like a flower. You both went to bed. And enjoyed each other’s bodies until it was very late, and you were crying his name aloud from pleasure.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For the next week, he was attentive. He made sure to cook all your meals, he let you rest, and you watched movies and television together. Even doing each other's tasks on the computer in each other’s presence. You never left each other alone.
On a Thursday, Tom got out the ring light. He adjusted the brightness and then got his phone out. He pressed a button, and soon the live video camera was on.
“Hello, this is Tom, and I have a message for you fans…”
You stood by, away from the camera. Tom didn’t believe in social media. He thought it was too much of a distraction. But yet here he was- going live on Instagram. His message was that important.
“I have heard some of you disrespecting and insulting my wife. Mocking her, being cruel to her- and this I cannot tolerate. I must ask that this stop now.”
You knew it might not be a perfect response. There will still be some comments that got to you, but you were going to practice as Tom did. Spending less time on social media. Setting your accounts to private. Spending more time in the real world, enjoying real things. Things like ice cream, books, movies, and warm drinks. You still had nightmares sometimes about what happened. Surviving a suicide attempt meant that now everything was a threat. You went to your ultimate low. And it struck you that you could go there again.
Yet again, it only meant you saw your life as precious again. You were taking your medications at the same time every day. And you were getting therapy. With someone who wouldn’t cry, “Why didn’t you check the trigger warnings!” when you explained what happened. You continued to watch Tom.
“From now on, we’re going to take regular sabbaths from social media. But comments that dare to harm my wife, I will block and report.”
Tom then finished his message and signed off. Wishing love and a good day to all watching who would still support and love you both. It was wonderful- Tom couldn't help but be Tom. Even if he was angry, the rare times he was, it was full of love.
He turned off the ringlight and set his phone down. He then smiled at you.
“Have you heard of the Ariadne Project?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t,” you said as you walked closer to him. Putting a hand on your belly to steady yourself.
“It’s a charity. For women whose husbands or families have abandoned them. Give them food, water, things they need.”
“Oh, they sound lovely.”
“My dear, I took the rest of my check from the Essex Serpent…and I’ve donated it to this charity,” he said.
Your jaw dropped. You walked up to him, grabbing his hand.
“Tom, are you sure?” you asked.
“Of course I’m sure…”
You leaned your head against him in a hug.
“Let’s never discuss that show again, Tom.”
“Alright. Only if you prompt it,” he said.
“Tom, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He put a hand on your belly. And you felt a kick. Letting out a gasp, you grabbed Tom’s hand and put it on your belly. A smile burst on him as he felt the baby kicking.
“Why, hello!” he said.
He leaned down, talking to the child inside as he placed both hands on your stomach.
“Your mother is the bravest person I’ve ever met. I can’t wait for you to meet her, little one.”
Tag list: @eleniblue @loz-3 @zonenozen @muddyorbsblr @five-miles-over @holdmytesseract @lelliefant @jeconomos @twotablelamps @saggitternolunaspace @amanamente @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85
domestic life
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: A day in the life of Daryl Dixon as a father of his five-month-old daughter.
Set in Season 11!
Warnings: dad!Daryl, so much FLUFF, babies/baby things, slight humour, established relationship
Word Count: 3,7k
a/n: Did someone say dad!Daryl? 👀
°☆• discover more... •☆°
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist
Daryl was still not entirely trusting this place. He would've lied if he said otherwise. But nevertheless had it been the right decision to move here temporarily. Without a doubt. It was better for Jude and RJ. Above all, though, it had been what was best for you. Alexandria wasn't the safest place at the moment. Especially not for birthing a baby and raising a newborn. The archer would've never forgiven himself if something happened to you or his baby girl. So, the decision had been quite an easy one to make.
Now, almost five months and a birth luckily without any complications later, Daryl was able to hold his four-month-old daughter in his arms. It was a rare day off of work for him - and he was eager to spend every spare minute of it with her, you, the other kids and Dog, of course. Family.
He actually hated that he had to be most of the times present and ready to serve as a Commonwealth soldier, but simultaneously he knew that he practically had no other choice. Daryl had to make sure to keep the food on the table for the six of you while you were on 'maternity leave' - as batshit crazy as it sounded. He had to provide, and that's what he'd do.
A small whimper redirected his attention; eyes dropping on the baby girl tucked in the crook of his arm. She was so tiny compared to him. He could easily hold her with just one hand. As if she weighed nothing. Ruby was so precious. So soft. Innocent. Pure. A miracle.
And she was his.
The archer smiled; marvelling at the even tinier fingers which clenched and unclenched to fists as she slightly wiggled around in her dad's hold. Her face scrunched up - about to let out a cry, but Daryl was on the scene; immediately tried his best to soothe her.
It was one of those nights and now days where Ruby had a rough time to sleep. She woke often; unsettled, restless. "Hey, baby girl. Wha's wrong, huh?" He spoke quietly - not wanting to risk waking you up. You had drifted off into a much needed, peaceful sleep while reading in bed two hours ago and Daryl was adamant to let it stay that way.
He gently started to rock Ruby; walking a few steps through the living room of the quiet apartment. The kids were at school and Dog with you asleep in bed. "Jus' can't seem 't find sleep, righ'?" A soft whimper left her pouty lips, before she put her fist to her mouth; starting to suckle.
By now, Daryl was kinda used to his new role as a father. Jude and RJ had helped him grow into this as well. He knew what his little girl tried to tell him. Not always, but mostly. "Ya hungry, sweetheart? Yeah?" Equally blue eyes looked up at him; filled with yet unshed tears. The archer smiled down at his baby and dipped his head to press a soft kiss on her fuzz covered head. "C'mon. Let's getcha sum'thin' 't eat. Hopefully yer mama has some milk in the fridge. Dun wanna wake 'er..." He mumbled the last few sentences more to himself while making his way over to the kitchen counter. His free hand reached for the fridge to open it; checking if you stored some breast milk there.
Luckily, you did. Daryl took one bottle out and put it into the baby bottle warmer Carol got you two. Sum real fancy shit, the archer thought when he had first seen and used it. Hell, he didn't even know something like that existed. Why should he?
It didn't take the little... device long to work its magic - which was a good thing since the baby on his arm got antsier and antsier with every minute that passed. "Jus' another minute, lil' princess. Almost there." Daryl tried his best to reassure Ruby. When the bottle was done, he squeezed a drop of milk on his wrist in order to test the temperature.
Safety first.
It was just right, so he adjusted Ruby in his arm and brought the tip of the bottle to her mouth; offering. She understood the assignment, of course, and instantly latched on. "There ya go." The archer smiled, threw a burp cloth - an item you had practically stowed away in every room somewhere in the apartment - over his shoulder for later and slowly made his way back over to the sofa where he sat down with Ruby.
He watched her suckle on the bottle; making the most adorable noises he had ever heard in his whole life. Another soft smile darted across his face; heart sloshing over with love for this miniature human. But then he noticed how fast and greedy Ruby ate. So greedy that a few droplets of milk didn't make it inside her mouth but dribbled down her chin. "Slow down, baby girl," Daryl spoke in a gentle, deep voice and pulled the rubber tip of the bottle back a little. "I know yer hungry, but ya jus' gonna choke on the milk. Tha' ain't good." He 'explained' quietly; trying to prevent this to happen. His 'tactic' worked but the archer had to repeat it a few times.
Once the bottle was empty and Ruby fed and satisfied, Daryl placed the bottle on the small coffee table in front of him. Then he took the burp cloth from his shoulder, carefully dabbing her mouth, chin and even neck to wipe away the milk she spilled. When that was done, he placed the white cloth back over his shoulder and adjusted the newborn. Wrapping both his big palms cautiously but securely around her slim torso - right underneath her little arms, he lifed her up to rest her head against his shoulder; one hand moving to cradle her bum. "A'right," he mumbled - again more to himself.
Of course, Daryl had done this a dozen times by now - but he was still highly focused on doing it right. He wanted to be everything his father never was. This precious girl deserved only the best - and hell, he'd give her the world and more.
A small burp ripped him out of his thoughts - and he smiled. Mission accomplished. "There we go. Good girl," Daryl praised the baby and lifted her off his shoulder again. But instead of laying her back down in the crook of his arm, he lifted her up higher - so that his arms where stretched. She was looking down at her dad now; arms and legs dangling freely in the air. The archer didn't know why, but Ruby loved this. Whenever he held her like that, she was the happiest little girl. It never failed to make her smile. This time either...
"Hey, baby girl," Daryl said; locking eyes with her. As soon as she realised what was going on, a big smile stretched over her face and she giggled. By god, if the laugh of his daughter wasn't one of the best things he ever heard. Music to his ears. He'd never get tired of hearing it. The archer couldn't help but smile as well. "Yer a happy little princess now, aintcha? Yeah, ya are." Ruby continued to smile, giggle and gurgle happily; little legs dangling and tiny hands trying to reach for him.
Daryl kept on smiling and lowered her a little; biceps bulging in the black sweater he wore. Ruby's little hands were instantly on his face. He let her 'explore', of course; having to squeeze an eye shut from time to time. But then she found his goatee - and was fascinated. Eyes wide; tiny fingers feeling the soft, coarse greyish hair underneath her small palms. "Been waitin' on this day, ya know. When ya gonna start findin' yer daddy's beard interestin'," he said; chuckling softly. "Da da da," the little girl babbled back. The archer nodded, "Tha's right, sweetheart. 'M yer daddy." and smiled, then lowered her further to pepper her cute chubby cheek with kisses.
It caused Ruby to giggle even more.
Daryl smiled and stood up to lay the baby on a soft blanket on the floor; giving her a toy to play with while he cleaned up the bottle and burp cloth. It was a plush rattle in the shape of a caterpillar.
Cleaning up didn't take the archer long - five minutes at the most, but when his blue eyes landed back on his daughter, she had switched positions. The four-month-old had rolled over and was now laying on her tummy. Much to his surprise. Sure, she had often tried to do that - to roll her body over but until now, Ruby had never made it. The bowman was impressed and proud of course. His lips curved yet into another soft smile as he watched her for a long moment. She's growin', he thought; getting reminded how fast time suddenly flew by.
After Daryl had cleaned up, he decided to take Ruby on a little walk. She enjoyed walks and they mostly helped lulling her to sleep. Given the situation and circumstances they were in today - a rough day for her to get sleep, this seemed like the best idea. Plus the weather was not that bad for a late morning in early March. Spring was definitely approaching, but slowly. It was cloudy and cool but not raining like yesterday. So, the decision was quickly made.
Daryl snuck quietly down the short hallway to Ruby's small nursery; passing by yours and his shared bedroom. He got some warmer clothes for her, then returned to his child. Instead of picking her up off the blanket, he knelt down on the floor and rolled the cooing, babbling baby over on her back again. Another smile darted across the tiny girl's face when she recognised her father - which in turn made Daryl's heart skip a beat.
He would've never seen it coming but hell, he loved this. He loved being a father.
"Ya gonna go with daddy on a walk, little princess?" A sweet gurgle left her tiny lips. "Yeah? Thought so," he chuckled quietly; big hands working to get the antsy infant in some warmer clothes. It took the archer a hot moment, but with a little patience, he managed to put her in the warm, white fleece overall. Now she looked like a polar bear cub. Literally. The overall had two ears attached on top. Daryl would've lied if he said it wasn't one of his favourite outfits for her.
"A'right. 'M gonna slip inside my jacket real quick, look after yer mama 'n then we get goin'." Said and done. The archer slipped inside his chosen piece of clothing - a black-ish jeans jacket, which would keep him warm outside and, of course, threw his signature angel-winged vest on as well. Then he snuck down the hallway again, but this time entering your shared bedroom - quietly, of course. He checked on you; noticing that you were still peacefully asleep. Your partner smiled and watched you for a moment, before he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear which had fallen into your face. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your temple.
Unlike you, Dog was awake but still laying on the bed beside you; taking in Daryl's side of the bed. He watched his master with perked ears. "Ya gonna join me, boy?" Daryl addressed his animal best friend then; whispering. "Walkies?" The Malinois was definitely less excited than he was. Dog huffed and rested his head back down on the blanket. "Nah?" The canine had made his choice; choosing you this time. The bowman shrugged his shoulders, "'Kay. 'M goin' alone with Ruby then." and quietly left the bedroom again.
Of course, the man didn't leave the house without writing you a note where he and Ruby went. He didn't want you to worry in case you woke up before he returned.
Daryl slipped in his boots, picked his baby girl up and quietly left the apartment; making his way downstairs where the stroller was parked. With one hand he got the 'vehicle' ready and carefully laid Ruby in the baby crib. "Almost ready, little princess," he kept talking to her while tucking her in; making sure the warm blanket was snugly wrapped around her. Not the easiest task, since this little lady was really wriggly today. But eventually, he made it.
No five minutes later, Daryl was casually walking down the street; pushing the stroller. Again, he had never thought that he would be the man he was today. Especially not after the world went to shit - which was actually the wrong term. For everybody else did the world end, but for him... It actually started. A new beginning. A new life. It healed him. It brought him all the close friends he called family and would've never crossed paths with if all that shit didn't happen. He would've never met you. Never got Dog, and certainly never became a father.
Daryl had found the most precious thing in the ruins of the world... Love - in several different variations. Self-love. Friendship. Brotherly love. Actual romantic love. And fatherly love.
Now he was here, and hell, he would lie if he said he didn't enjoy the domesticity of it all. For once, it was quiet. No unstable walls or missing food to worry about. No threats - be it walkers or humans. No wars. No blood shedding. Just peace.
Sure, his senses were still sharp. He was still a fighter and survivor after all, but... In this very moment? All he cared about was that miniature human inside that stroller.
"Daryl, hey!" A voice suddenly urged to his ears. A very familiar voice. He stopped, and looked around - finding himself standing opposite the little bakery his best friend worked in. He smiled as he spotted Carol; jutted his head at her in greeting and made his way across the 'street'. "Yer up for a lil' detour, sweetheart? Wanna see aunt Carol?" Ruby cooed and looked up at her dad with big eyes; still not asleep. Well, admittedly, he was only about five or ten minutes on the way, so...
Carol stepped out of the little shop and awaited him with a smile. "Hey," they said in union; greeting each other and leaning in for a short hug. "Ya good?" The woman nodded. "Work's a little busier but not bad. And you?" Her eyes landed on the stroller, which Daryl was softly pushing back and fro; trying to keep it in motion to help Ruby fall asleep. "Taking a walk with Ruby?" He nodded. "Yah. She ain't really sleepin' today. Thought the weather ain't bad 'n decided to give it a try." "I'd say put her in a car and drive for a while - it always helped Sophia, but I guess that's a difficult thing to do here." The archer huffed. "Kinda. Stroller has 't be enough."
A particularly loud coo from inside the stroller interrupted the two. Carol smiled and bent down a little to peak inside and look directly at her best friend's daughter. "Hello, Ruby. Are you complaining? Right of you to do so. Your dad and auntie Carol just speaking about your sleep schedule and not asking you. That's truly rude." Daryl scoffed with a smile, while the four-month-old continued to babble at the woman - as if she was talking to her. Carol played along, of course; nodding, "Mhm, I see, yeah." and kept talking to her.
"She ain't ever gonna sleep if ya keep entertainin' 'er," Daryl teased his best friend; trying to 'peel' her away from the infant. But Carol was Carol and he actually knew better. An answer came promptly. She straightened up again and looked at the archer. "Ruby complains about your snoring every time she naps on your chest."
Tit-for-tat.
Daryl scoffed again and shook his head. "Ain't snorin'." "Yes, you do. Sometimes at least. Ruby knows it, I know it- Shall we ask Y/N?" "Shuddup." The woman smiled and giggled; placing a hand on his arm - as if in apology. "I should get going again. My break is over in less than two minutes." Daryl nodded. "'Kay, yeah. See ya?" Carol nodded as well, "Of course." then looked at her niece again. "Bye, Ruby." She waved at the baby and got a smile in return.
The archer continued on his walk; mission still the same. Ten minutes later, Ruby's mood shifted again. She turned from a happy baby into a discontent baby. Whining, whimpering and close to crying. Daryl sighed; stopping for a moment to adjust the blanket over her. She was wriggling around constantly. "C'mon, baby girl. Get some sleep. I know yer tired. Can tell." He placed one big palm on her tummy - or well, front upper body and moved it in small slow circles; trying to somehow calm her down. This tactic wasn't quite a success either, but Daryl had one more ace up his sleeve... A pacifier.
His hand vanished in the changing bag attached to the stroller - searching and finding the object of his desire. He got the pacifier and offered it his daughter. Ruby was a bit hesitant at first, but then accepted the item; suckling on it. And this time, the archer's plan worked. The pacifier in combination with the constant movement of the stroller managed to finally lull the baby to sleep. Something Daryl was utterly glad and relieved about.
He decided to walk a few yards more - just to be on the safe side. Another ten minutes later, he turned around to walk back home.
On his way, he encountered another very familiar face - although dressed in Commonwealth soldier armor... Rosita. "Hey," she greeted him; helmet dangling from her hand. The archer stopped and greeted her back, of course. The co-worker she was with faded into the background; Daryl not giving him more than a short nod. "What brings you out here? It's not exactly great weather for a walk," Rosita remarked and he looked up; seeing the sky darkening with grey clouds. "Wasn't tha' bad half an hour ago... Had to take the little princess out. She ain't sleepin' today. Thought a walk might help." Realisation and clarity could be visibly seen on the woman's face. "Yeah, I know that problem," she said - referring to Coco, of course. Then she rounded the stroller and looked inside; smiling up at Daryl. "Looks like it worked, though." Daryl nodded with a grunt. "Yah, but jus' 'cause 'a tha' pacifier. Ain't been workin' without it. Took 'er longer than usually 't fall asleep. Dunno wha's off today."
Rosita shrugged her shoulders. "It just is sometimes. Coco's sleep schedule is all over the place sometimes, too. Despite Eugene's mathematical efforts." Daryl wanted to answer as Jacobs - the colleague of them suddenly jumped in and spoke up. "We gotta go, Rosita. Mercer waits." "Yeah I know," she answered; quickly turning to face the man before she redirected her attention again. "You'll get the hang of this all eventually." With a smile at her friend, Rosita walked on. "Let's go. Before you get your panties in a twist." Jacobs scoffed, "See you around." and jogged off to match Rosita's pace. Daryl walked on as well; not hearing what the other man said to Rosita. "Dixon's a father?" His voice was tinged in disbelief. "Obviously, yes. Why?" Jacobs shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. Just didn't think he'd be the type to have a family. Always seemed to me like a lone wolf." Rosita gave the man a crooked smile. "You don't know shit about him."
Another fifteen minutes later, the archer parked the stroller in the main entrance hallway of the apartment building he and his family lived in. Carefully and with utmost caution, he lifted Ruby out of the stroller and carried her upstairs; praying to every force above that she wouldn't wake up and actually got a few hours of desperately needed sleep. So it was no wonder that Daryl was utterly relieved when he had her safely tucked in her baby bed; still sleeping peacefully. He switched on the baby monitor and shoved the other half in the back pocket of his jeans; quietly closing the door to her cosy, little room behind him. That was the moment he heard some muffled noises alongside the distinct sound of a flushing toilet, coming undoubtedly from the bathroom. He smiled. Looked like you woke up from your nap. The archer's feet let him automatically into direction bathroom - just in time for you to leave said room. When you saw him, a sleepy smile started to stretch over your face. "Hey." Your self-declared husband couldn't help but return the smile.
"Mornin'," he spoke in that deep, raspy voice as he bridged the distance between the both of you; hands instantly coming to rest on your hips. "Woke up, sleepin' beauty?" You scoffed; a little laugh leaving your lips as well. "Sleeping beauty?" You shook your head. "Certainly not, babe. More like vampire or Frankenstein's monster - or something else. Won't say zombie gone back to life. That's... No. Not a fitting saying anymore..." Now Daryl shook his head. "Nah. None of tha'. Sleepin' beauty. Definitely." You scoffed once again but smiled, then took another step closer to wrap your arms around his middle. You snuggled against him; head on his chest. A chuckle rumbled through his upper body, and he pressed a lingering kiss against the top of your head.
"Baby asleep?" You mumbled into his sweater. "Baby asleep, yah." A relieved sigh left your lips. "Thank God. Finally." Daryl hummed in agreement. "What did you do to get her to sleep? Took a walk?" "Mhm. Walk 'n pacifier." You pulled back just enough to be able to look up into his eyes. "You're the best dad I could've wished for Ruby." Your husband shrugged his shoulders - almost nonchalantly. "Nah. 'M jus' tryin' 't do the right thing." "Stop downplaying this, Dar. You're an amazing dad, babe," you stated again and squeezed his waist. "Really."
He smiled bashfully; blushing softly. "'Kay. If ya say so." "Know so." You smiled as well, "Kiss?" and puckered your lips. Daryl huffed, but of course dipped his head to grant your wish. "Yer something else, woman." You giggled, "Pot kettle." and stood on your tiptoes to kiss Daryl again.
Tags: @angelicarlert @angelwings-crossbowstrings @levislolita @bigbaldheadname @loz-3 @twd-bee3 @urdeaddixon @baseballbitch116 @vngelisse @whsschuu @smuttfuelled @erebus-et-eigengrau @yas-yas-mimi @darylandbethfanforever9 @dixonsstinkysock @walkingtalkingsomething @berriesandcreampie @btsgangleader @tuesday469
sprinkler splashes & fireplace ashes pt2
See my full list of works here!
Part 1 || Part 3 (coming soon…ish)
Part of The Midnights Collection
Summary: As the party officially inducting you as an Avenger approaches, more names from your past come out of the woodworks. Among them one of your former professors that once mocked you for your ambitions || I search the party of better bodies just to learn that my dreams aren't rare
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Warning/s: first half has a toxic professor; language (look away, Rogers); bullying; insecure Reader hours [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: first half takes place a year after the events of Avengers; idiots in yearning (really more Loki in yearning and Reader running away from his love & affection); playful cinnamon roll Loki hours
Twelve years ago…
"Honestly babe it's insane that you're already like two sems away from graduating. Like the three of us just got here," Sydney said as you took your seats at Professor LaTorre's class. You signed up for his Business Laws & Documentation class purely as an elective so you could at least still have a class with your friend.
The same went for an introductory C++ Programming course so you could spend time with Shane and Isaac.
"Don't worry babe I'm drawing it out," you said casually. "I'll be damned if I can't manage to actually graduate with you guys this time around, especially since I have control over how many classes I take in a semester. Besides…might be fun to have a lighter class load. I signed up for the cleaup initiative that Stark Industries is leading after the big alien invasion last year."
"Ooh! Maybe you'll meet an Avenger! The god with the hammer and the lightning is smoking hot," she gushed. "If you do, best believe I'll sign up that same day. I'll cut class if I have to."
"You know what, I'm gonna fully support you there. Even if Mr. Asgardian Barbie doesn't really do it for me."
"Oh, and what pray tell is doing it for you? The Captain? The Archer?" Then she gasped, her eyes lighting up as she teased, "The redhead? It's the redhead, isn't it? 'Cause like I get it she's hot."
"Not exactly…" You took a moment to brace yourself before answering. "More like…the other god? Thor's brother?"
"Girl, what?!"
You covered your face with your hands. "I know," you groaned. "I'm starting to get why our classmates thought I was a freak now. Like how fucked do I have to be that I see a hot guy in armor towering over a town square in Germany wielding a glowy magic staff and scaring everyone into kneeling submission and my first thought was Damn wish I was there?!"
"Okay you're not a freak for that, we all have a bad boy phase. It's just that this specific bad boy?Babe he destroyed like half the city."
"No," you argued, bringing your hands down and looking at your friend dead on. "Those ugly looking aliens destroyed the city. He destroyed like what, maybe two letters out of the sign on Stark Tower?"
"Okay fair, but he was leading those aliens destroying the city. He was in charge."
"Uhh…no. He wasn't. You saw how his mind controlled minions in Stuttgart had these creepy glowy blue eyes?" She took a moment before nodding. "He had them too. He's not the one in charge. He was the one put in front by the guy who was actually in charge. He was the fall guy."
"Okay maybe I can see where you're coming from…but still babe, really? Him?"
"What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess," you told her with a shrug. "And anyway even if I do end up meeting Thor during my volunteer work, it's not like I'll ever get anywhere. Like what, I meet him and go Tell your brother I think he's cute?" The mere thought had you both breaking out into laughter.
Just then, the door swung open and Professor LaTorre walked into the classroom, taking his place on the dais and standing on top of his little soapbox. "Ladies, if you could stop with your giggling about…what is it this time? Vampires? One Direction?" He took a moment to let the jab marinate, a self safisfied smirk pulling at his mouth as some members of the class laughed. "Regardless, that's enough of that. Settle now, class."
He set down his briefcase, pulling out a stack of yellow legal size pad papers and waving it around. Like he was taunting you all.
"Here are your latest quiz papers. I looked over them all and I have to say, most of your ambitions are…respectable. Admirable, even. Working in local government, internships at local shops. You know…reasonable. Some of you though…" he trailed off, making an awkward expression before doing a pseudo-dance. "I don't like using inflammatory words but…little bit delusional."
"Respectfully, Sir…delusional how?" you spoke up, challenging him.
He ended his pseudo-dance, straightening his stance before answering you. "Well some of you apparently have your sights on working for Anna Wintour and organizing for the MET Gala. Another one said they want to manage an NBA team. Ohh and get this." He took a moment to let out a ridiculing laugh. "One of you even said they want to collaborate with Tony Stark."
You dug your nail into your palm to keep yourself from reacting. He was talking about you.
"Not work for Stark Industries, not intern at one of their child companies. But collaborate." He laughed some more before putting on a mocking voice. On a whim, you whipped out your phone and sneakily started recording him. "I would like to collaborate with Tony Stark on his efforts to create sustainable energy. Maybe even on research and development for the Iron Man suit."
The class broke out into laughter. Well, almost the whole class. Neither you nor Sydney found anything funny about how he was behaving.
"I mean, I understand that you all had big shiny reputations in your respective high schools. You had guidance counselors who held your hand and tell you you can be anything, and parents who bottle fed you and told you to shoot for the stars. But you guys are in college now; we're trying to prepare you for the real world.
"Keep your goals proportionate to your potential. Chances are, maybe a handful of all the students in your graduating class will make it big. If that. So no, you're not going to work for Vogue or probably even steam clean the carpet for the MET Gala. No, you're not going to be the next NBA superstar. And no, you're not going to be an Avenger. Stop shooting for the stars and wondering why you keep falling on your asses. Aim low. That way you can still celebrate even your tiny victories."
You stopped recording him, and made another split second decision, emailing the recording to the Dean.
A message from Syd came in. Where the fuck does this dude get off?
He told the class to approach his desk and retrieve your papers, telling you to look for your student number seeing as he was making a show of making his treatment seem impartial.
"I think he wants to keep us small so he doesn't feel too bad that when he hit every single branch of the Ugly Tree when the stork dropped him on his head as a baby, it took his height, too. And his hair," you said in a low voice, making your friend grab on to your arm for dear life as she tried to control her laughter.
When it came your turn, you and Sydney looked at the remarks he left on your papers. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes as you read his comments in red ink.
Wow! So ambitious! right there next to your grade of 90. And he put the same thing on Syd's paper next to her paragraph about wanting to be involved with Vogue.
"What a mega cunt," you grumbled in unison, already shoving the papers in your bags.
After the last of the students grabbed their paper from his desk, Professor LaTorre dismissed you all for the day. The second the words left his mouth, you and Sydney were already on your feet, making your way to the door.
"Uh oh, we know that look," Isaac said as he and Shane waved you over to their little gondola at the student square. "What's the sitch?"
"The sitch?" you shot back, and the boyfriends gave you a carefree shrug. "Well, Kimberly Ann, we just got our quizzes back from LaTerror." You both slapped your papers down on the table, letting them peruse your answers for a minute.
"This 'so ambitious' sounds passive aggressive," Shane observed, squinting his eyes at the red ink like he was waiting for it to confess.
"Oh no, he was just aggressive aggressive," you shot back. "Before he had us get our papers from him, he made sure to launch into a whole tirade that had both of us catching strays. Basically telling us to 'keep our dreams tiny'."
"Yeah well fuck that," Syd screeched, her voice going a bit 'gremlin mode" towards the end. "Not only are you going to collaborate with Tony Stark, babe. You're gonna be a fucking Avenger. I can see it now."
"Jury's out on the whole Avenger bit, but I'll happily take the support on working with Iron Man," you told her, taking her hands and speaking your vision for her out into the universe. Manifesting it, really. "And you, girlie…not only are you going to the MET Gala, you're gonna design a gown that'll be worn to the fucking MET Gala. You're gonna make it and make it big."
"The only time we're aiming low is if we're aiming a dodgeball at LaTerror's family jewels," she said with a cackle.
Today
"Ohh good God, Shane nooooo," you groaned the second you opened the garment bag he brought you, catching the quickest glimpse of the gorgeous dark emerald silk inside. "I remember telling you to put in the order for the black one."
"And I told you that much as you slay in black, this is your color, babe," he countered, pushing the garment bag back into your arms. "What is it exactly that's keeping you from wearing a dress that's gonna have you looking like a million bucks at your party?"
"I told you, there are certain colors these days where you need…permission."
"To what? Wear a color?!"
You simply nodded at him, the scientist's eyes widening from how absurd he found the concept. You took it upon yourself to try and explain. "You notice how people in the building try to avoid wearing like dark red?"
"Yuh huh…"
"Well that's because dark shades of red are Thor's color. The only exception he makes is for Stark's suits. And that's just because the Iron Man suit leans more stoplight than maroon, you know?"
He nodded, trying to follow along. "Okay I'm really trying here, babe, I promise. But last I checked, nobody owns a whole color. We're not in Riverdale and we're not dealing with Cheryl Blossom."
"Sure, but things were…different back in Asgard. There, when you wear a royal's colors it's like you're declaring yourself to the whole kingdom, you know?" You motioned toward the dress he brought you again. "So this dress…gorgeous as it is, isn't something I can just throw on. Because dark shades of green? That's Loki's color."
"What about my color, darling?"
Your heart started skipping at the sound of Loki's voice filling the dining area.
"Uhm…well, last weekend Shane and his husband took me dress shopping and we found something. But I don't know, I think the store made a mistake and gave me this instead of black." You opened the garment bag to let him glimpse the dress.
The god couldn't help the way his breath hitched as he saw the light hit the silken fabric, perfectly set in his color. From the image that was placed upon the garment bag, he could tell that the dress itself was something not far from what women would wear at a ball back in Asgard.
A stray thought even hit him that there were wedding gowns in their realm that were cut in a similar way, and he had to shoo away the image in his mind before he became tempted to lose himself in the fantasy. Picturing you in the same dress and walking toward him, only this time in the Royal Hall. Adorned with a gold that matched his armor. To swear yourselves to the Norns.
He took a step toward you, reaching out to lightly touch the fabric. "Well darling, if you truly wish to change it to black, you only need ask."
A sputtering sound came out of you as you looked upon him with visible disbelief. "What? Like you'll use your magic to--"
"Precisely. If that is what you wish." He took the garment from your hands, gently placing it down on the table before taking another step toward you. Just barely enough to be within your personal space. Close enough he could see the quickening rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He lightly touched his fingers to your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. "But if it is my assent that is hindering you from wearing this dress, then you have it."
A frantic look entered your eyes and he could feel a slight tremble in you under his touch. "Hang on, you've thrown an absolute fit before just because some junior agent wore a green sweatshirt."
"There are always exceptions to the rule, little mortal." He moved his hand to wrap around yours, running his thumb across your knuckles. "The choice is entirely yours." The god brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles as he held your gaze. "You would make the most captivating sight either way."
Had another moment passed precisely like this, Loki might have been moved to relinquish his self control and press his lips to yours. The moment seemed so perfectly quiet, and far too many images of what a life together with you would look like were bombarding his mind. However, he also knew far too well that doing so would most definitely cause you to put as much distance between you and him as you could manage.
So perhaps it was a quiet blessing from the Norns that at that precise moment, Stark had walked into the sitting area, the tinkerer's grating voice doing the work of breaking the tension that was quickly thickening between you two.
"Jellybean, I had someone reach out to your professors and some of them are coming to your party," his voice filled the room.
"Aaaaand pop goes the bubble," your friend Shane muttered. "Damn it."
Your eyes blinked rapidly, as if you were coming out of a stupor, and something sunk in the god's chest when you stepped out of his hold with an apologetic look in your eyes. "Sorry," you murmured, the ache worsening for him as he begun to ask himself why in the Nine were you apologizing when he had been the one to approach you.
His brother had relayed to him a story your scientist friend told him about a callow, short-sighted boy named Justin. About how he had taken advantage of your kind nature, and how he was now more than likely the reason behind the walls you'd built around yourself. Why you chose to put so much distance not just from him, but from everyone in the Compound, with the exception of Stark's daughter.
Thor told him he needed to ready himself for the possibility that he would be chasing after you for a long time, given how horrendous prior situations turned out for you. That every sliver of affection might be met with more distance, and if he truly cared for you then he would have to put in even more effort just to close the distance. That if he truly thought you were worth it, then pursuing you would require a different approach from what he'd normally done back on Asgard.
No games, no illusions, no mischief. Just his heart, laid bare. For you to either take or spurn.
And you were more than worth that risk.
You smoothed your hands over your shirt before facing Stark, and Loki took that as his cue to subtly sidle closer to you once more, in an attempt to at least close the physical distance you put between you. "Which professors?"
"Right now I've got your thesis advisor, Louis Doherty?"
"Ohh, I remember him. Pretty cool guy, but I'm willing to bet he RSVP'd more so that he could see Natasha in the flesh," you said with a strained laugh. "Who else?"
"Ethan Sy? Said he was your academic advisor."
"Yeah he was. Strict dude, but fair. And he never gave off any creeper vibes, so he's good people. It'd be nice to see those two again."
"And then there's another one. Boy this one loves to talk. Sent over a long performative ass-kissing note along with this RSVP. Pulcifer LaTorre?"
That name brought out a rather visceral reaction from you, your face contorting into a rage that was simmering just beneath the surface. "LaTerror?!"
"Ohh Boss I can tell you right now, anything he said in that note was a thousand percent performative as all fuck. He was a bitter tyrant of a prof," Shane spoke up, moving towards the pantry to open a small bag of candy popcorn, as if he knew what was coming next.
You took a deep breath, once again side stepping away from the god as you started off with a raised tone, "That fucking shiny bald headed miniscule manchild had the audacity to make a mockery of me and Sydney because he didn't like our answers in one of his stupid generic motherhood statement quizzes. Called us delusional, even."
"What was his question?" Stark asked you, clearly engrossed in where this story was going.
"What are your long term career aspirations?" you quoted, shifting your voice in a way that Loki surmised was to mock your former instructor. "I said, and I quote, I would like to collaborate with Tony Stark on research and development for the Iron Man suit."
"And collaborate you did, Jellybean," he affirmed, raising a glass in your direction. "And not just that, you're family. Maguna loves her princess godmother Auntie Y/N."
"You have to tell her one of these days that I'm not a fucking princess, Stark. But anyway, he quoted my answer word for goddamn word and then proceeded to tell us all that high school was the time for guidance counselors to lie to us and tell us that we can be whatever we wanted, but we're in college now. And fuckers like him are here to prepare us for 'the real world'."
It was at that moment that Thor walked into the common area, hearing only a portion of your story. "And pray tell, my friend, what exactly does your instructor think is this 'real world'?"
"Beats me, Barbie, but he went into a whole spiel about how not a single student in his class will end up organizing for the MET Gala, or playing for the NBA, or become an Avenger. Told us to 'aim low', so we can still celebrate the tiny victories in life."
You'd gotten so animated that your face began to go red from how flushed your cheeks were. It took the god a considerable bit of effort to stop his thoughts from wandering into a fantasy of seeing you in a similar state again. Only in a more private setting. And under more pleasurable circumstances.
"He was a halfwit," Loki told you, stepping toward you once more.
"More like a none-wit," Stark quipped. "Makes his whole message about I'm so proud of Miss Y/L/N, I always knew she was destined to be great a steaming pile of bullshit. Jellybean, you better have something ready for your speech that puts this abysmal excuse for a professor in his place."
"Nah, Tony, I couldn't possibly. I don't wanna make a scene." You'd retreated back into your quieter, more reserved demeanor, picking at the skin of your fingernails.
"Babe, listen to me, if there's ever any time to make a scene, it's at the party that's being thrown to celebrate you," Shane said, a knowing smile pulling at his mouth as he kept going. "Sometimes you gotta make like your old college self and…choose the chaotic path?" For a fleeting moment your friend's gaze flickered in Loki's direction before going back to you.
"Shane? Don't." You kept your voice low, hesitant even. As if you were pleading for him to stop talking rather than tellinghim.
"I concur, Lady Y/N," Thor spoke up, grabbing his own snack from the pantry. "If this past instructor made a mockery of you in your youth, then it seems only right that gets to learn how bitter that form of ridicule tastes."
"Look, just--can we drop this?" you addressed the room, a dismissive, almost defeated tone to your voice. "Just because I'm a veteran at receiving it doesn't make me an expert at dishing it out. Besides, I remember reading somewhere that 'living well should be the best revenge', so I'm just gonna do exactly that." Then you turned toward the blond Asgardian, addressing him directly. "Ohh by the way, my plus one? Sydney? She's got a thing for you. Had it bad for over a decade. She'd be over the moon if you took a few minutes to, I don't know maybe talk to her? She's smart, she's gorgeous, she's creative, and it's not gonna be a dull conversation, I promise."
He simply nodded at you, accepting your request, and you took that as your cue to leave the room.
Before you could reach for the garment bag that held your gown for the gala, it disappeared with a flash of green magic, and you turned back to see Loki with his gaze trained on you, a playful smirk gracing his features. "Give it back, please." You couldn't help but smile back as he shook his head at you.
"Only once I have escorted you back to your chambers, darling." He closed the distance between you, gently taking your hand in his as he led you toward the apartment complex.
Once you were both out of earshot, Tony got to work, firing up a tablet and instructing for FRIDAY to put together everything she could find on that awful excuse of a professor of yours. "What're you doing there, Boss?"
"Well, Jellybean might not be well versed in dishing out a hefty serving of humble pie, but lucky for her, I wrote the book," he answered Shane, creating a new file in his system simply named LaTerror.
Thor walked over to where Stark had begun his work, peering over his shoulder to see what exactly he had in mind. "How can we help?"
A/N: Whatever Tony's up to, I fully support it. Also once again, yes…I can confirm that LaTerror is based off of an actual professor I had in college, and he really did mock one of my answers in his quizzes in front of the class. Like bro, how was I supposed to know you had a limit for what you wanted to read as an "ambition"? Fuck all the way out of here.
Anyways, I'm working on part 3…and I'm planning on putting a mango ride in there somewhere. I'm also working on phase 3 planning for RTC Season 2 and a whole bunch of other stuff that are kind of refusing to get to the top of my head despite (or maybe because of) the energy drinks I've already slammed…we'll see how this goes…
'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @november-rayne @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @huntedmusicgardenn @steaa90-blog
cowboy like us
Diego Sheen x fem!Reader
Summary: That boy is definitely his father's son - and it shows..
Warnings: mention of friends with benefits, fluff, a snake? dad!Diego
Word Count: 1,1k
Cocktail: TEQUILA - Diego Sheen + COINTREAU LIQUEUR - "We created that." (baby)
a/n: This is the first request I got - and it made me so happy. Thank you, nonny, for sending this! Diego definitely deserves more stories. I hope you like this cute lil' story. 🤗
💠request a cocktail!💠
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It had been casual fun. No strings attached - until it wasn't. Catching feelings was never a part of the 'deal' - of this 'friends with benefits' situation, but as clichè as it sounded, it happened. At least for you. Diego, though, he needed a long moment to come around. Almost a month, to be precise. He pushed you away. Said he wasn't the type for a relationship - or so he thought.
Eventually, he came around - and now, almost five years later, it was astonishing what this fuck-buddy turned romantic relationship had brought the both your way.
Love, like you never experienced before. Trust, so deeply rooted like the roots of a thousand year old tree - and a child. An unplanned miracle...
"No, buddy, look again. You have to do it like that." Diego's voice was the first thing you heard as you shut the door to your car; coming home from an early shift at the little diner you worked in in town. The soft breeze rustled your dress as your eyes searched for your long-term partner in crime - for your favourite cowboy. It wasn't super hot today - luckily. Rather pleasantly warm.
It didn't take you long to find Diego and your now four-year-old son. They were standing across the yard; throwing stones at empty cans which Diego had placed on the wooden fence lining the 'garden'. Both your men were wearing a cowboy hat - naturally. Like father like son, or so they say. While your partner was sporting his ranger gear, your son wore a t-shirt and shorts.
"Look," the man said again and tossed a stone at a can - hitting it perfectly and causing it to fall from the fence. Frankie was next. The boy picked up a stone as well and tried to mimic his dad and threw the stone - missing by a few inches. "Good. That was closer. You're getting better, buddy."
You crossed your arms over your chest and watched them for a moment with a smile on your face. You called it shooting practice without a gun - yet, since the boy was definitely way too young for that. Diego called it can knockdown - a term he would never hear the end of it from you because the both of you knew exactly that it was shooting practice in disguise.
"Can knockdown again, huh?" You finally spoke up; successfully drawing both your men's attention.
"Mommy!" Frankie smiled that cute smile you loved so much and ran over to you - arms open. You crouched down and opened your arms for the little boy as well; embracing him in a big hug. "Kept your daddy on his feet, huh, young man?" He nodded and took a step back - still smiling, but now rather boyish. You giggled and slightly adjusted the cowboy hat on his head; tucking a loose strand of brownish hair out of his face. "Can I play outside some more, mommy - or do I have to go inside?" Frankie asked then – clearly being a little adventurer and definitely with ants in his pants. "Of course," you nodded. "As long as it doesn't get too hot outside." Your son nodded and stormed off.
Diego had watched the both of you; leaning against the fence with his hands shoven in the pockets of his pants. Now that Frankie was 'out of his reach', he lit himself a cigarette. You shifted your attention from your son to your partner. Walking over with a smile, you wanted to greet him properly as well.
"Hey, cowboy," you called him by the nickname he held since day one. Since you saw him all those years ago in that bar, wearing the same cowboy hat he was wearing today. Placing both your hands on his chest, you leaned into him. Diego blew smoke out of his mouth before he turned his face to kiss you; one hand still in his pocket while the other held his cigarette. "Hey, starlight." The scruff on his chin and cheeks slightly scratched your skin as his lips found yours a second time.
"Good day at work?" You nodded; watching Frankie out of the corner of your eyes. "Not much going on. Weather's too warm, I guess." "Mhm," Diego huffed out and took another drag of his cigarette. "Not gonna count for me. Got always something to do." Your expression shifted into sympathy. "I know, handsome, I-"
"Mommy, daddy, look! I found a friend for Bob!" Frankie interrupted you excitedly and caused you to turn around - and what you saw left you a little shocked. You would've lied if you said it wasn't shocking. It wasn't another Iguana like Bob is Frankie was holding, no... Your son held a snake in his hands.
A fucking snake.
"Frankie," you started - still a little overwhelmed and honestly also quite a bit scraed, 'cause it was a snake after all. Yes, it wasn't the first snake you encountered in your life. Especially since you lived with Diego, but snakes could be dangerous after all - and you were anything but a snake expert.
"That's a... freaking snake!"
Your son smiled triumphantly. "I know! Cool, right?!"
You blinked and looked appalled - seeking help and gazed behind you at Diego, who had a hard time to stop himself from laughing. "It's a California kingsnake. Harmless," he mouthed at you with a suppressed smile.
"Can we keep him, mommy? I'm going to name him... Bill! Bobby and Billy!" You sighed and inhaled deeply and slowly moved forward to crouch down again to be on Frankie's eye-level.
"Baby... I don't think Bob would like a snake as a buddy, to be honest. I think you should rather find another Bob for him." Frankie looked at you a little disappointed, but then shrugged his small shoulders, "Oh, 'kay, mommy." and gave in easier than you anticipated. He swiftly turned to bring the California kingsnake back to where he found it.
You turned back around to look at your partner again; still kinda shocked. And Diego? He just grinned. "Bob wouldn't like to have a snake as a friend, or you, starlight?" Diego teased you. Your answer was throwing him a death glare. The ranger just cracked a small laugh - and quickly reeled you in his arms once more.
"We created that," you said with a smile; shaking your head and vaguely gestured at Frankie across the yard with the hand that wasn't resting on his shoulders.
Diego huffed out another laugh. "Yeah, we did."
Tagging peeps who are probably interested in this... @angelwings-crossbowstrings @levislolita @angelicarlert @bigbaldheadname @needusreedus @dixondisease @boondockreedus @twd-bee3 @olive-gardens @luvnormie @smuttfuelled @urdeaddixon
Quiet Love 2.0
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You and Daryl get closer - which is a thorn in Shane's side. So he decides to put a foot in the door...
Warnings: Trigger warning! Shane is again a huge warning, Shane's a pervert and threatens Reader, Shane gets physical - again, swear words, harassment, stalking - kind of, angst and drama, mention of Daryl's abusive past, protective!Daryl, a fight, Daryl is a cutie, fluff
Set in Season 2!
Word Count: 3,8k
a/n: A lot of you guys wished for a second part - and here it is! I hope it can live up to the expectations of part one. ☺️
Huge shout-out to @chuuyas-world and @firefirefeline for giving me the ideas and inspiration!
Quiet Love (part 1)
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You wouldn't say life was perfect on the Greene farm, but it was... good. Well, as good as it could be within the middle of a freaking apocalypse - and Shane. Personally, you honestly preferred the geeks over Shane. At this rate, you probably preferred almost anyone and anything over Shane.
Yes, it got better since the 'incident', where Daryl was luckily in the right place at the right time, but... There was something in the wind. You didn't trust Shane an inch and kept your distance.
Whereas the distance between you and the former cop grew, did you and Daryl on the other hand get closer. Slowly, though. Step after step.
First, it was just his arm around your shoulder. Occasionally, he let you hold his hand; feeling his workworn but warm and comforting skin against yours.
Neither you nor Daryl could deny that there was something between you two. Something good. Something blooming. Something romantic - and something entirely yours.
Then there was the cuddling. Whenever you'd choose to spent the night in his tent, Daryl silently offered you to sleep close to him. Bedroll against bedroll, with you inching closer and closer every night. It properly started when you decided to use his arm as your pillow. His thick bicep was perfect for that. Then a hand on his chest. Then a shy hand on your waist. Just timid, sweet and innocent touches.
Until one night after a thunderstorm where it had noticeably cooled down - a break, or probably the first sign of the end from/of the Georgia summer heat. You laid beside the archer; the coolness sending chills up and down your spine. A tent wasn't a house, after all... Daryl noticed. Of course, he did. The man was more than attentive. Always. There wasn't many words. There never was. Just a warm hand on yours; gently tugging - beckoning you to come closer and the tiny sentence: "C'mere."
That was how the cuddling began.
Your first kiss, though, that was something yet to happen. You had given him small pecks on the cheeks before - a gesture that never failed to make him flustered. Blushing and averting his gaze; chewing nervously on the inside of his bottom lip. It was cute. So Daryl-like, and always caused your heart to skip a beat. You wouldn't force him into a kiss, of course. You never would. It happened when it happened. You wanted to give Daryl the time he needed - and that was more than okay. If you had something to give, it was time. Nowhere you had to be but in the here and now. No job. No obligations. No appointments. Unfortunately no friends or family. Just this. Just here with this group of survivors - and Daryl Dixon.
And you would not lie. The archer slowly but surely became the reason why you wanted to survive and beat this world.
He already couldn't have Lori - and now another man tried to take away another woman he wanted. His eyes were on you as he watched you and Daryl crossing a field - returning from a hunt. A string of squirrels was thrown over the archer's shoulder. He held onto the rope with his one hand. The other however brushed against yours as you walked side by side. Repeatedly.
The fact that you and the closed-off 'redneck' got closer by each passing day didn't stay unnoticed. Not by everyone. A blessing and a curse simultaneously. Carol, for example, was a blessing. It made her happy to see her - yeah, probably closest friend by now, allow himself to feel proper love. Most likely for the first time in his life.
Shane, however, was a curse. He had the eyes and mind of a police man. Of course, he noticed small things. Tiny gestures. Like the small smiles you sent Daryl's way whenever he was at the group's camp as well. Or the seemingly innocent brush of your hands. The way he was looking at you. To Shane, it was obvious - and he hated it.
Shane's eyes darkened. He put the axe away, took off his cap and ran a hand over his sweaty face and bald head; feeling those feelings bubble up within him again... The same ones he felt when looking at Lori's and Rick's picture-perfect relationship. The man narrowed his eyes. He couldn't lose. Not again. He wouldn't let that happen. Daryl was not going to take you out of reach for him.
One evening, he watched you enter the farmhouse; towel, fresh clothes and a small bottle in your hands. You were obviously going to take a shower. The moment Shane had been waiting for. You were alone, inside the house and far away from the redneck. Time for a little chat.
He was watching. Constantly. Something you didn't notice; too engrossed in your blooming relationship with the archer.
He was watching. Analysing. Trying to find the perfect moment - and it came...
Shane didn't even attempt to sneak inside the house. Heavy boots stomped up the stairs to the Greene bathroom - a route his feet knew well. It was quiet, except for the running water of the shower. Maggie was out with Glenn. Hershel was working in the garden with Patricia and Beth. Jimmy was at the stables. The other's were outside at the camp.
Yes, Shane came prepared. It was just you and him - as it should be in his eyes.
His dark brown eyes were on you - and it was enough to make you feel uncomfortable.
When he reached the bathroom; hand on the doorknob, he stopped. Listening. The water had stopped running inside the shower. A dark smile darted over his lips. Taking a step back, Shane bent forward with his hands on either side of the door frame, squeezed one eye shut - and peeped through the keyhole; watching you step out of the shower and dry your naked body off.
The former cop was still smiling darkly and licked his lips; feeling his beige cargo pants already getting tighter. Only a door separating him from what he wanted so badly...
But when you covered your body in the big, fluffy towel you brought along, Shane's mind snapped back to reality. Talking first.
Without turning a hair, Shane opened the door and marched inside; slamming it shut again behind him. You flinched, of course; almost jumping out of your skin. "Shane! Fucking hell! You scared me to death!" You exclaimed; instinctively clutching the towel covering your body closer and taking a respectable step back. "What are you even doing here? I-I'm taking a shower."
Then, a smile darted across his face. "Talk. I'm here to talk." You frowned; not trusting him at all. Something fishy was going on. Your gut feeling told you.
"Talk? And you couldn't have waited until I'm finished and outside the house again?" "Nah. 'Cause in here, we're alone."
His words sent a shiver down your spine - not one of the good kind. Oh no. This was bad. Alone with Shane was bad. You were in this situation before - barely a few weeks ago. Without Daryl stepping in and saving you, you didn't know what would've happened. What you knew was, that Shane was capable of anything - and this time, Daryl wasn't at the right place in the right time. Far from it - and it scared you.
Nevertheless, you at least tried to keep your cool. "O-kay, and, uh, what do you want to talk about?" "Us." You sighed in frustration. Not again... "Shane... I told you a trillion times before. There is no us." "There should be." You shook your head. "No. I'm not interested. This isn't a mutual thing. Please, just... understand it already."
Shane held your gaze and took a step closer. "No, Y/N. You jus' don't see it yet - or you don't want to see it, I don't know." He took another step closer - while you backed up; shaking your head. "No, Shane, no," you more or less whispered.
Within two big strides, the former police man stood directly in front of you. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your skin - and you didn't like it at all; heart pumping fear and adrenaline through your veins.
Then Shane lifted a hand to run it over your cheek. You grimaced; not wanting his touch. It felt wrong. Cold.
"You could do so much better, girl," he started in a hushed voice. "But you rather choose a reckless, aggressive redneck."
You flinched at his words; eyes going wide. "W-What?" The man's eyes darkened. "You heard me." You swallowed hard - and Shane's lips twisted again into a dark smile. Got you. He backed up to walk up and down the room - like a predator watching its prey, and ran a hand over his bald shaven head. A habit of his you knew too well.
"You think I'm really that stupid, huh? You thought I wouldn't notice, huh? You and Dixon getting closer?"
You swallowed again - but instead of defending yourself, you decided to stand up for Daryl and the blooming relationship between you two.
"So? This is none of your business, Walsh," you spat back at him - a mistake. You just realised it too late. You poked the sleeping bear. And that bear had a very short fuse.
Fuck.
Shane took a deep breath; feeling the anger raise within him again. This was not going like he wanted. This was not going his way. Time to bring his point across a little more clearer.
Before you could even say something or react, Shane was on you. Back hitting the wall behind you with a thud, 'causing a painful little groan to leave your lips. He took your wrists and pinned them to the wall as well - leaving you no chance or room to escape.
"You stay away from that asshole - or..." He let one of your wrists go to tuck almost playfully at the towel where it was snugly wrapped across your chest. "...I'm gonna take what is mine. What is supposed to be mine. One way or another."
You were at his mercy. Again.
"It damn well is my business," he growled; grip around your wrists so tight it made you whimper slightly in pain. "Rick already took Lori and Carl away from me again. I'm not lettin' Daryl take you away from me as well." You turned your head away from him in fear; breathing hard and laboured. You had nothing to say anymore. You just listened and hoped that he wasn't going to take this any further.
Shane's whispered threat hung in the air. Even after he had already disappeared from the bathroom to leave you in shambles.
The encounter with Shane left its mark on you. Everything seemed to be even more complicated now. You didn't know how to cope. All you knew was you had to bent after Shane's will - or there would be consequences. Consequences you weren't ready to face and deal with. Therefore, you avoided Daryl. Avoided his gaze. His small, kind gestures - like the food he often placed in front of your tent. Avoided his touch. No matter how much it actually hurt. Your fear for Shane was stronger.
But you didn't get quite far with that strategy. Two days, to be precise. Did you really think Daryl wouldn't notice? He did - and the archer didn't waste any time in confronting you about it. He didn't understand, but he wanted to. Was it his fault? Did he do anything to fuck things up? The archer's thoughts were racing - and they got him angry. Angry at himself mostly.
"Yer finally havin' enough 'a me or wha'?"
His words cut through the pleasantly warm and quiet Georgia air like a knife - and they hurt. Stung like a rose thorn. You swiftly turned to face him; abandoning your task at hand - namely feeding the horses.
There he stood, blue eyes troubled and gaze as sharp as a blade.
You swallowed hard; knowing of course instantly what he was referring to. Guilt struck your heart.
You swallowed hard.
"D-Daryl, I... No, no, I'm not. It's not like that, I swear." "It ain't?" You shook your head. "No." "How's it then, huh?" He spat; hurt, confused, not knowing how to handle such a situation. "Sometimes, I... I just need time to myself."
Daryl blinked. "'N tha' ain't something ya jus' can tell me? Ya think I wouldn't understand?" "N-No, I-" You sighed; nervously fumbling with your hands - trying to hide the still dark bruise on your wrist. Kudos to Shane. It was something that didn't escape the archer's eyes as well.
"Wha's with the hand?"
He saw the bruise. Where it darkened your skin - and he knew. He wasn't stupid. With an abusive dad at home, he knew exactly how such bruises came to be. His gaze shifted to your face - and you could see the pure anger in his eyes. No words left his lips. He just eyed you for a moment; saw the tears gathering in your eyes - and then stalked away, direction camp. Determined.
"N-Nothing." Poor attempt at lying.
Within three big steps, Daryl stood in front of you with his hand reaching for yours. You tried to pull away and hide it - somehow saving the situation, but in vain. Daryl captured your hand gently in his and inspected the limb.
You watched him walk on; exhaling shakily. "Fuck," you cursed and quickly followed him again; bracing yourself for the inevitable collision.
You weren't stupid either. You knew what he was about to do. So, you quickly set your feet into motion as well. "Daryl, stop! Wait!" You called after him and tried to keep up. "This is going to make things worse!" You spoke in a shaky voice; stepping in front of him and trying to hold him back - you felt like taming a wild mustang.
"Nah, it ain't. Not gonna let this pass, Y/N. He touched ya! That asshole dared 't lay a fuckin' hand on ya - again!" Daryl almost shouted and brushed past you. Unstoppable. "You don't even know what happened!" "Ain't gotta know. Saw 'nough."
Shane didn't see it coming. How could he? Daryl was like a hurricane; sweeping through the camp - and attacking the former police man without batting an eyelash. Big, strong hands reached for Shane's shoulders; dragging him to the ground beside the campfire he stood in front of. The momentum was clearly on the archer's side; Shane too surprised to react.
Only when the man was suddenly on top of him did the realisation set in. Shane instantly fought back of course; fists flying.
"Oh my god," you breathed; standing rather shocked at the sidelines and watched them bandied blows.
It didn't take the other group members to intervene, though. Barely a few seconds. Nevertheless did it feel like an eternity. Rick, Dale and T-Dog instantly dragged Daryl away from Shane - much to the archer's dismay. "Let go 'a me! He ain't get ta touch 'er 'n not facing the consequences!" Daryl trashed and kicked, but it was no use. Three against one.
"You entirely lost your mind, Dixon?!" Shane spat; heaving his now aching body off the grassy ground again and rubbing his knuckles. Daryl scoffed; still holden back by the other three man. "Ya know exactly wha' this is about, ya sonofa-" "Enough!" Rick's voice cut through the air. Again. It felt like a déjà-vu.
Rick eyed the both men again. "Enough..." He repeated - nonetheless firm. "Can someone finally tell me what's really goin' on here? No more lies. I want the truth." "Ya want the truth? Fine," Daryl instantly replied; causing Rick to give Dale and T-Dog a nod - silently telling them to let the archer go. They did, but Rick stood between him and Shane with both arms and hands reached out - just in case...
"Tha' asshole's been harassin' Y/N fer weeks now! He ain't understanding wha' the word 'No' means. Told 'im 't stay away from my girl but now it got even worse! He truly got physical this time!" Daryl figuratively exploded - understandably. The archer was so in rage that he didn't notice his own slip up. My girl... In case the others did, they just kept their mouths shut and pretended they didn't hear it. This wasn't the time or place.
However, there was one person who heard it loud and clear... You. And it caused your heart to skip a beat; the butterflies in your stomach going crazy.
Shane scoffed; a sarcastic smile on his lips. "I have no idea what that is, man. Not my business what kinky shit Y/N and that stray dog get into when they're up there in his tent."
"Y/N, show 'em," Daryl's words ripped you out of that little daydream you had walked into. Blinking, you looked over at the man. "Yer wrist. Show 'em." You swallowed hard but nodded and rather shyly showed the group - or well, especially your leader the bruised limb.
Rick inspected it thoroughly for a moment; eyes narrowing and darkening. Shane saw it as well, of course; now cursing himself internally for letting this happen. Not that he let it show. He should've been more careful.
One sentence... That one sentence was already enough again to get Daryl to lose his composure. He growled under his breath and wanted to lunge again - but Rick's firm hand on his chest held him back. "Daryl, stop! Back up!" Rick shoved the archer backwards - who tried it again. Same result. "I said back up!" The second time, he listened with an angry huff; pacing up and down like a caged animal.
You wanted to reach for him; calming him - but you were unsure if he'd want that. Showing affection when the whole group was watching... You doubted it.
"We're gonna handle this like civilised people," your leader said; once again eyeing both men. "We're gonna talk and then decide what to do," he 'explained' further and shifted his attention to you. "Y/N. You wanna say something? This is about you, after all."
Once again, you swallowed hard. Of course you were still afraid that if you were going to say something now that it'd make things even worse - but you had to. You couldn't keep your mouth shut. Not now. Not again. Not after all that happened.
"H-He... He hit on me. Repeatedly. I-I never wanted it but Shane didn't listen, so I told Daryl about it. He talked to him - at least three times, but... Shane never stopped. Then the barn happened. A-And a few days ago, this." You gestured to your wrist again.
"How?"
"I was inside the house; taking a s-shower. He just... barged in, cornered me again a-and pinned my wrists against the wall. He said I s-should keep my distance from Daryl o-or he was going to take what he wanted. O-One way or another," you answered Rick's question in a slightly shaky voice; still getting goosebumps at the memory of it.
All eyes were suddenly on Shane - including Lori, who gave him a look close to a death glare. You didn't know what it was, but you could tell there hung some unspoken words in the air. Something was on Lori's mind.
Rick's gaze however, was filled with nothing but disappointment and accusation. Something Shane felt and noticed.
He scoffed; shaking his head and ran a hand over his face. "C'mon, man. You don't really believe that I'd do somethin' like that, do ya? She's exaggeratin'. I-" "You should stop right there, Shane. Save your breath," Rick cut him off and took a kind of threatening step closer to his best friend. "Stay away from Y/N. Keep your distance - or there will have to be consequences."
"Consequences, huh?" Shane repeatedly sarcastically; laughing. "You think that's funny?" "Honestly? Yeah. Weren't you the one who told me there ain't no rules anymore? Telling me we're lost?"
Back at Daryl's little camp, you watched him work quietly. He made a fire to keep you warm and for cooking. The silence wasn't unpleasant, no. Quite the opposite. It was a pleasant silence, but some unsaid words hung nevertheless in the air. At least for you. So gathering all your courage to speak your thoughts out loud, you subtly slid closer to him as you both waited for the possum stew to be done.
Rick inhaled deeply. "Yes, but not when it comes to livin' with each other. We're civilised people - or so, I thought."
It was the last thing Rick said to his best friend, before he turned away to face you and Daryl - who had been silently watching the scenes play out in front of him like a hawk. "You should go. Give everyone time to cool off." You nodded at Rick - grateful for what he did, while the archer already turned to walk away. Ignoring the others, and especially Shane, you followed the archer.
"Daryl?" You whispered his name - as if it was a forbidden thing to do. In return, you received nothing more than a grunt - nothing unusual. Swallowing, you looked at his face. "You... said 'my girl'. E-Earlier, I mean. Back at the camp. When you were arguing with Rick."
You could practically see the realisation dawn on the archer's face. He quickly looked down to the grassy ground to avert any possible kind of eye contact. His cheeks went beet red - even the tips of his ears; blushing hard. You had never seen him so flustered before. It was actually kind of cute...
For a moment you expected him to deny it and say it was just the heat of the moment, but then...
You felt the archer freeze; body going rigid beside you. His body and brain were clearly overwhelmed with what was going on. He definitely needed a moment to catch up; rebooting. But to your admittedly slight surprise didn't he pull away, no. He rather melted against the soft touch; letting it happen. You couldn't help but smile.
"Yah, I mean...," he started; shrugging a bit awkwardly his shoulders. "Yer 'm girl, aint'cha?"
The wave of pure, unbridled love and happiness hormones these words caused to crash over you was indescribably. A bright smile stretched over your face as you nodded. Yes. This... exhilaration you felt fogged up your brain a little - and suddenly, without thinking properly, you leaned in carefully and cautiously to kiss Daryl softly; lips barely touching but touching. A feather light kiss - but none less meaningful.
This was the beginning of something beautiful. You could feel it. Shane be damned. You couldn't care about him less. Not with that sweet, shy man beside you reciprocating your 'stormy' kiss so tenderly.
Tags: @angelicarlert @angelwings-crossbowstrings @levislolita @bigbaldheadname @loz-3 @twd-bee3 @urdeaddixon @baseballbitch116 @vngelisse @whsschuu @smuttfuelled @erebus-et-eigengrau @yas-yas-mimi @darylandbethfanforever9 @dixonsstinkysock @walkingtalkingsomething
fyi: @chuuyas-world @firefirefeline @clussysposts @t0xicsl33p @egos-r-life @eskalotte @philiasoul
Both Sides of the Coin
Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader x Daryl Dixon
Summary: You and your partner, Loki, are in a happy relationship - but sometimes you crave to... spice things up a little...
Warnings: MDNI 18+! SMUT (threesome, making out, grinding, oral (m+f receiving), dry humping - kinda, nudity, mention of a threesome with Natasha, heh), talks of sex, swear words, thirst, shy!Daryl - kinda, bickering, humour? established relationship, Daryl miiight be a little ooc, dunno...
...set in an alternate Universe...
Word Count: 4,1k
a/n: What can I say? I'm just a girl... 👀 And I had to write this at some point. There was no other way.
Also, I hope this is okay... I never wrote something like that before, so... Please go easy on me. I tried. Part two is in the making... Huge shout-out to @angelwings-crossbowstrings ! Murda kept encouraging me on this and tried to help wherever she could. Thank you. 🧡
PART TWO IS IN THE WORKS!
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MDNI divider by @jiyascepter <3
The door fell gently into its hinges behind you; bag hitting the floor. You had finished your work in the laboratories earlier today - leaving Banner to it. Not that he had something against it.
The reason?
You just couldn't concentrate and set your focus right. There was this... nagging thought in the back of your mind, demanding attention. And the worst of it all? It was actually ridiculous. Not even something of high importance. Just a quite... tempting one. A question demanding to get asked - and the person who could give you an answer was who you immediately looked for.
"Lokes?"
Namely, your boyfriend, Loki. Avenger, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard - and the man you chose to spend your life with.
"Outside, darling!" Came the answer back promptly. Following his deep timbre, you made your way through the living room and stepped through the French doors out on the balcony. The sight? Beautiful. And you weren't just talking about New York City to your feet of the Avengers compound, no...
Loki was enjoying this relatively warm day in late Summer on his day off sunbathing half naked - only in black speedos, sunglasses and an emerald green satin robe, on the sun bed; raven locks spread out like a halo.
Loki being Loki, you thought; biting your lip. Like mentioned before. The view was delicious. Sweaty, pristine alabaster skin and muscles.
"You're home early, my love," the God remarked; taking off his sunglasses to be able to look into your eyes properly - being the gentleman he had been raised to be.
You gave him a short nod and bent down. Getting the hint, of course, Loki met you halfway for a kiss. "Yeah... Couldn't focus - which isn't beneficial at work. Especially not when working in a laboratory." "Quite right," he said; smooth, delicate fingers reaching for yours. "Everything alright, Y/N?" You nodded once more. "Of course. I just... have something on my mind and I gotta ask you. It couldn't wait until tonight."
"Is that so?" A small, mischievous smile darted across the God's face. "You're stroking my ego, darling." You couldn't help but giggle at his words; rolling your eyes and shaking your head.
"So? What is the question? You got me all curious." "Well," you started and moved to sit down on his lap. It was a little awkward due to the surface Loki laid on, but manageable. "It's about... sexy time."
One of the God's eyebrows quirked up and a wolfish grin spread over his lips. "You have my full attention, darling. Speak your mind," your partner said; hands gripping your hips and thumbs stroking the clothed fabric in a reassuring, caring way. He clearly enjoyed your decision of sitting down on his lap. "Okay, so... You once said you are open to share me with another man - as long as it isn't your brother or an Avenger, correct?" Loki nodded in confirmation. "I did say that, yes. Who is it you have on your mind to join us in the bedroom? I'm sensing you wish to ask me for my consent of another pleasuring adventure in a threesome."
You nodded; blushing a little. "Yeah, I do." Loki raised another eyebrow. "You're stalling, my love. I can feel your uncertainty and nervousness. Who is it. Spill." "Okay, okay," you answered; biting your lip for a long moment and then...
"Daryl."
Loki blinked. Once. Twice.
"Daryl?"
You nodded; lip tucked between your teeth once more. "You know who I mean, right? Daryl Dixon - one of our mechanics. He works here at least three times a week and-" Loki held up a hand; gently interrupting you. "Yes, yes, Dixon. I know who we are talking about." You swallowed; letting a moment of silence pass.
"So? What do you say?" You questioned your boyfriend then; giving him a rather uptight smile.
See, you were quite a little nervous about his reaction, since you knew that he wasn't quite... best friend's with the mechanic. Rather the opposite. They didn't have that much to do with each other but when they did... It always led to small - admittedly ridiculous conflicts and unnecessary teasing from both sides. Their ways of seeing the world was just... different. And it had taken the God a good while to come around the fact that you and Daryl were friends. Deep down, though, you knew that they actually held a lot of respect for each other.
Loki didn't need words to signal you that he wasn't amused about this idea. The look in his eyes and on his face told you everything. "He's not an Avenger, babe..." You reminded him; trying to... sway him? "Thank the Norns, he's not," Loki stated gruffly with his arms now crossed over his chest. "But he's a wild, brutish barbarian, darling."
You inhaled deeply. This was what you had prepared for. Here we go...
"And the mere thought of those rough, calloused hands touching you - my delicate, graceful and precious queen?" Loki exclaimed - way more dramatically than necessary. Sometimes you questioned who the diva in this relationship was... "No. Darling, no. I agreed to share you with Miss Romanoff, but that filthy deer hunter? No." "Now you're being mean, baby." He shook his head; raven curls gently swinging with the motion. "I'm not being mean. I am stating facts, darling."
You inhaled deeply; sighing. "Fine. No Daryl, then. I won't force you into anything." Loki sighed as well, uncrossed his arms and instead placed his hands on your hips; again massaging gently. "What is it you find so appealing on Dixon? I want to understand." You crooked your head; smiling softly. "Seriously, Lokes? I clearly got a type. Tall, dark and handsome." Loki blinked and looked at you quite irritated and even almost a little offended.
"Are you intending that this barbarian looks like me?" You nodded confidently. "A little, yes. And it's not just the looks... I see quite a few parallels."
"You cannot be serious about that, my love."
"I am."
An offended, dramatic gasp left the God's lips. "Dixon's appearance is not even close to mine. Neither is his persona." Again you raised a eyebrow; still smiling.
Bickering like an old, married couple.
"Oh no?"
"No."
"What about the long hair then? Or the quite similar height of you two? Or the fact that you're both kind of anti-heroes? Having a difficult childhood. Fighting for acceptance, recognition and appreciation? Oh, and you both got an older brother. Like I said... Tall, dark and handsome. Sure, he's got a beard and is on the chunkier, dad bod side, whereas you are well-toned - but that's hot. Both. Both is hot and I really really want you both to rail me into oblivion at the same time."
Loki listened to your words; the muscles in his jaw working. He was thinking. Weighing your words.
"It's still your decision. Like I said, I won't force you," you added again; fingertips trailing over the taunt muscles of his stomach. "Plus, he's a friend. No stranger." Your partner didn't say a word; still contemplating. "You can think about this in quiet if you wish. We can talk about it tomorrow again, or even next we-" "Fine," Loki finally said; giving your hips a squeeze. "On one condition, darling." You nodded; eyes twinkling. "This encounter is your call - since you wished for it. However, I get to decide what Dixon is allowed to do or not to do. At the end of the day, you are my girlfriend, not his. He is just lucky enough to get a taste of paradise."
You nodded quickly; wholeheartedly agreeing to his terms. "Really, babe? You are truly okay with it?" "Yes. This one time." An excited squeak left your mouth and you leaned down to smash your lips on Loki's; kissing him. Then you straightened up again and quickly shuffled to get off of him. "I'm gonna go, ask him," you started. "Although I'm not even sure he wants this. I doubt it a little, honestly." Loki just casually shrugged his shoulders and slit the sunglasses back on his nose. "If Dixon is not agreeing to this, I am not sad." You giggled. "I reckon, babe."
"Daryl," you addressed the man who was currently changing tires on Tony's sports car. As he heard you, the mechanic turned around to face you. "Hey," he said; jutting his head at you, "What brings ya 'ere?" and wiping his grime stained hands on a red rug which had been tucked in the butt pocket of his mechanic overall. "Hey," you returned the greeting; giving him a smile. "Looking busy." You gestured at the red vehicle. "Nah. Jus' changin' tires. Ain't a big deal. 'M finished for today after that." "Well, in that case, you surely got a minute to spare for me?" "'O 'course. For ya? Always." He cleaned up his hands some more, then leaned against the hood of the car; arms crossed over his chest and looked at you - waiting for you to talk.
"I, uh... Wanted to ask you this for quite a while - and now that I finally talked to Loki about it, I can..." You started; a little unsure how to voice this rather... special request. "Ask me wha'?" You swallowed.
It was now or never, was it? Just... say it. Don't beat about the bush. Bull at a gate. Shoot.
"If you want to join Loki and me for... a threesome." Daryl's rather stoic impression wobbled for a moment as he almost lost his composure at your words. "Join ya fer a wha'?" He exclaimed; visibly thrown off guard and a little shocked. You bit your lip; looking at him. "You heard me, handsome."
You had always called him handsome - since day one. It was his nickname - even before you got together with Loki. It was nothing new to the mechanic, but in combination with your question it felt a lot different now...
Daryl needed a moment to reboot his brain and just... process this.
"Why?" He asked then. "Why would ya do tha'? 'N why would our drama queen even allow or agree to tha'? I mean, we kinda can't stand each other, right? 'N now yer tellin' me he agrees 't lettin' me fuck his girlfriend? Hell nah." "Weeeell," you started; drawing out the word. "It took me a little persuasiveness but he agreed. Truly." The man looked at you for a long moment; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip - a habit. Then he shook his head, "Nah." and turned to pick up his work where he left off.
You sighed and pouted. A little sad and a tiny bit disappointed. You knew he wouldn't agree to this 'easily'. To be so open and do something like that wasn't him. Unlike Daryl. You wouldn't push him or force him into this - but you wanted to give it one more try.
"You don't have to touch your enemy, you know," you said playfully and stepped beside him again. "This is about me - if I say so selfishly. I want you to touch and fuck me, not Loki. However, this would be hot too, can't deny that," you muttered the last sentence rather to yourself than Daryl - who looked at you with a soft blush on his cheeks. "Stop. Ain't nothin' special 'bout me." "Yes, yes, there is. I want you. My point stands - and I know the feeling is mutual." He scoffed. "Mutual? Dunno whatcha talkin' about."
You crossed your arms over your chest; smirking. "Oh yes, you do, Dixon. You really think I didn't notice how you are looking at me? With those hungry eyes? How often you check me out? Please... I've noticed for a long time." Daryl blushed even more at your words; the tips of his ears which poked out of his long bangs even turned red. He shook his head; mumbling almost ashamed: "Shouldn't do tha'. Ain't right. Yer taken. Off limits." "I am taken, yes - and that won't change. I love Loki. So yeah, I'm off limits - but not physically. You have my consent and most importantly, Loki's. All you have to say is yes." Daryl's blue eyes flickered up to meet yours again; chewing on his bottom lip.
A firm knock against the wooden door to yours and Loki's shared apartment announced his arrival - causing a rush of excitement swooping through you. It was time. Finally you'd get to quench your hunger for both, Loki and Daryl.
With a happy skip in your step, you made your way to the door, "Babe, Daryl's here!" "I know, darling. Was hard to overhear." and opened it with a giddy, excited giggle.
The mechanic stood in front of you; clad in a black shirt with the sleeves ripped off and grey sweatpants. His hands were shoven deeply in his pockets in order to stop them from fumbling and to somehow mask his nervousness. "Hey, Dar," you greeted him with a big smile on your face. The man's eyes widened slightly as he looked at you properly; taking in your appearance as well and noticing that you wore nothing but lingerie underneath an open bathrobe. He swallowed hard. "Christ... Ya get right to the point, eh? Ain't beatin' 'bout the bush, do ya?" "Nope," you said; popping the 'p'. "Straight down to business." You smiled and opened the door further. "Come in."
Daryl did as you asked him to and stepped inside. His gaze fell instantly on Loki, who was casually leaning against the wall opposite the door. The men's eyes met - nothing but looks exchanged. It felt like two alpha wolves meeting out in the wild... "Alright, let's go!" You threw in happily; clearly trying to skip this tense moment.
Loki graciously pushed himself off the wall and started to march towards the bedroom. You followed your partner and Daryl followed you.
Once inside said room, you giddily shed your bathrobe - the one Loki gifted you; made in Asgard by the best sewers. You were more than ready to dive head first into this tempting encounter. Expectantly, your eyes travelled to meet Loki and Daryl. The God jumped immediately into action and shed his green t-shirt; leaving his upper body bare, abs flexing almost provocatively - whereas the mechanic stood there a little awkwardly and like anchored to the floor beneath him.
"I cannot believe I truly agreed to..." Loki started and gave the other man a once over as he adjusted the waistband of his black sweatpants around his hips; muscles flexing again slightly. "...this." Daryl scoffed lowly and did the same; crossing his arms over his chest. "Yah, same," he spoke in a low almost threatening tone.
You noticed the tension right away - hence, you already felt it as Daryl stepped into your apartment, and knew that you had to intervene. "Guys, guys, guys..." You stepped between them. "We're all here for some fun and my sexual fantasies, remember? There's no reason for a fight or such, so please... Could you both lay your conflicts and egos aside for an hour? Please?"
Daryl eyed Loki, then you and gave a nod. "Yeah." "Babe?" You asked your partner; arms crossed over your chest. "Of course, darling," he answered and gave you a charming smile. "Thank you."
You stepped closer to both men, "Now that this is settled..." and reached for Loki to kiss him seductively; teeth and tongue. Hands roamed his bare, toned chest and stomach, while Loki's hands caressed your barely covered sides.
Daryl stood at the sidelines quite clumsy and just watched - unsure of what to do and how to interact. He never did something like that before, after all. Hence, he not even had that much sexual experience - something he wasn't ready to say out loud. At least not when Loki was around; knowing the God was the complete opposite of him - at least in that category.
Suddenly, though, he felt your hand on his and how you playfully yanked him forward and literally into you. "C'mere, Dixon," you purred. "Not doing this without you." He 'crashed' against your backside as you placed his hand on your hip, so he let the other follow a bit hesitatingly.
Daryl was a little overwhelmed - due to the lingerie you wore and the skin and curves it showed off. In comparion, this was nothing new to Loki, of course.
You kept on kissing your partner; thumbs now hooked inside his pants, whereas the God's hands had cupped your cheeks to keep your mouth locked to his. It didn't slip your notice, though, that Daryl still just stood behind you motionless. Apparently he needed another small push.
Freeing your lips with a wet pop, you turned your head to look over your shoulder, "You're allowed to touch me and be a part of this, Dar." and simultaneously pushed your ass back against him. The mechanic gasped - your aim being quite on point. You smiled; knowing your attempt was successful.
"Go for it. Trust me." Daryl swallowed hard. Feeling you pushed up against him and your words echoing in his head caused him to become a little braver; hips starting to gently rut against your ass and hands now gripping your hips a little tighter.
You bit your lip; being able to feel his growing arousal, of course. "That's it, Dar. Let me feel you, yes," you praised and motivated him. He let out a soft grunt in return and dipped his head to shyly kiss your neck.
Smiling and with sweet desire pumping through your veins, you shifted half your attention back to your boyfriend again. While you kissed Loki once more, you let one of your hands wander to his front; cupping his growing arousal as well and teasingly rubbed him over his sweatpants - which resulted in a low, muffled moan from the God against your lips.
You and the boys played that little game for another long moment before Loki took over the control for a second; grabbing you by the hips and 'yanking you free', so that he was able to hook his thumbs in the slim waistband of your lace panties. "Want that off, darling," he purred and graciously - almost teasingly for Daryl's eyes - slid the piece of fabric over your ass and letting it fall to pool on your feet. "This as well." Your boyfriend's right hand unhooked the clasp of your matching bra, while the left hand already wandered between your legs - testing, teasing.
A gasp left your lips as you felt the God's delicate, skilled fingers touch you; hands holding on to his strong shoulders and fingertips digging into the skin there. "F-Fuck, Lokes," you whispered; biting your lip and clenching your thighs together on instinct - which didn't stop Loki's hand from moving and a smirk to spread on his face. He was clearly pleased with his work and your reaction.
And Daryl? The mechanic still stood rather on the sidelines; still not exactly knowing what to do or how to join the fun. His hand was at the front of his sweatpants. Instinctively. Big palm leisurely rubbing the prominent bulge there while his eyes were stuck on you; switching between your bare chest and ass.
But then the scenery in front him changed as Loki removed his hand, grabbed you by the hips once more and playfully threw you on the bed.
The God didn't mind Daryl. Why should he? If the other man didn't decide to join in, he couldn't help. He wouldn't pick Daryl up like a stray puppy and tell him what to do. Certainly not.
"May I put my silver-tongue to use, darling?" Your boyfriend's raspy, undoubtedly sexy voice urged to your ears and sent another rush of arousal downtown. "Mhh, of course. How could I ever deny that?" The God chuckled as he crawled over you. A kiss to your lips. To your neck. To your sternum. Then his tongue traced a line down your body with a little detour - namely your breasts - and landed straight where you needed him most.
Well, almost...
Loki was a giver for sure - but he was also a tease. And that's what he did. Teasing you. Kissing your thighs and outer lips; nipping softly at the sensitive skin but never hitting the target. "Lokiiii!" You almost whined and pushed your hips against his face. The God chuckled. "Patience is a virtue, my love." You groaned but knew you had to go through this because the longer he teased you and kept you on edge, the better it was gonna feel.
Loki kept on teasing you for another while, before he situated himself between your legs; hoisting them over his shoulders. Then he dived in - and your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. A moan slipped past your lips - on which a soft grunt followed... But not from your partner.
Your eyes snapped to your right; watching Daryl stand a respectable distance from the bed with his eyes stuck on you and his hand still clued to his crotch. You didn't forget about the shy mechanic. Definitely not, but Loki was messing with your brain as he did all those pleasuring things to you.
"Dar..." You called out his name softly to grab his attention. His beautiful blues snapped up to meet yours and his hand fell almost instinctively to his side - as if he was being caught. You had to really concentrate hard on talking - which wasn't an easy task with Loki's face buried between your legs. Your gaze dropped from his slightly flushed face to the hard to miss bulge in his sweatpants. You swallowed hard and licked your lips; eyes tracing the outlines of him. "C'mere..." You prompted; reaching out your hand in emphasis.
Cautiously, the mechanic stepped closer until his knees hit the edge of the bed. "Let me help you with this, big boy," you whispered - as seductive as possible and put your hand on him; feeling him. Daryl grunted low in his throat; breath hitching. You smiled and started to slowly rub him over the fabrics; feeling his hips buck into your hand.
Now and then your fingers twitched around him - due to the pleasuring shocks Loki sent through your body. Even though you were highly distracted, you tried your best to pleasure Daryl; keeping your attention split and on both men.
"Want more of you, Dar," you panted slightly; one hand meanwhile buried in your boyfriend's raven curls. "G-Get this off, please." You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. The mechanic got the assignment, of course and swiftly pulled both pants down in one motion; leaving him just in his shirt and socks. Your eyes fell once again on the prize - now freed of its cage. Licking your lips, you sat up a bit and instantly put your mouth on him. All in. A soft whine escaped Daryl's mouth and his eyes slipped shut; fingers balling to fists at his sides. You smiled around him and sucked him off; enjoying the feel of him on your tongue.
Not for long, though.
As Loki brought you closer and closer to the edge, the harder it got to keep your mouth on Daryl. And when Loki's silver-tongue flicked perfectly over that little bundle of nerves, you were done. A moan wanted to break free - and it did. Daryl's manhood slipped out of your mouth as you arched your back; head thrown back in pleasure. Your boyfriend's oceanic blues were on you; watching you reach your high with a satisfied smirk on his lips. Daryl watched you as well; dick twitching and glistening with his arousal and your saliva.
Loki pressed a last kiss to your sensitive core before he sat back on his haunches; still smirking.
You, giving Daryl head caused the mechanic to get braver; gathering some confidence. "Lemme get a taste, too," he said; voice husky and already moving to get where the other man was previously. But a strong arm in front of his chest stopped him. "By the Norns, certainly not. Tasting her is off limits for you, Dixon. You may put your lips on her body - but that sweet nectar is only mine to taste. I'm not giving you a chance to get accidentally addicted to what's mine."
Dunno who might want to read this... Tagging a few peeps I think could be interested... @levislolita @angelicarlert @bigbaldheadname @loz-3 @erebus-et-eigengrau @smuttfuelled @twd-bee3 @urdeaddixon @vngelisse @cakesandtom
Quiet Love
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You get way too much unwanted attention from Shane. He takes it too far - but the man you harbour feelings for is here to put the former police man in his place.
Warnings: Trigger warning! Shane – he's a huge warning here, lots of swear words and cussing, angst? Shane trying to get in Reader's pants without her wanting it, harassment, Shane getting kinda physical, PROTECTIVE!DARYL, fluff, idiots in love, mentions of Daryl's abusive past, a fight, blood, mentions of walkers
Set in Season 2!
Word Count: 3,7k
a/n: Woke up one morning a few days - weeks? ago, had this idea and brain was like: Write that down. So, I did. Turns out that this is probably one of my favourite stories I ever wrote.
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"Ya been sittin' here 'n just starin' at me fer fuckin' forever. Wha' is it? Know there's sum'thin' ya wanna talk about." You blinked; eyes lifting to look at Daryl sitting across from you. Only the small campfire between the both of you. He was occupied with carving some kind of spear or more likely a spit out of a thicker branch to grill the fish he had angled in the river earlier.
Ever since the archer had shut himself off quite a little from the group - from the farm, and camped outside of the Greene property, you found yourself way more often out here than close to the others as well.
Logically.
Yes, you missed Daryl and his presence.
Yes, you enjoyed his company more than probably everyone else.
Yes, you felt safer with him than with the group.
And yes, you might've caught feelings for the 'rough and tough' redneck.
However, the main reason you spent most of the time up here was another. The one that got you staring rather absentmindedly at the man sitting across from you...
You swallowed at Daryl's words; taking a deep breath and just watched him work the branch with his knife for another moment before you finally spoke up - for the first time since you came here. "It's just... Shane..." As the name of the former cop left your lips, Daryl froze in his movements - knife stopping mid slice. His blue eyes snapped up to meet yours; darkened, dangerous and almost angry - not at you, though. "Tha' asshole say sum'thin' to ya again?" Daryl asked with a deep growl.
It was no secret that the archer didn't really like Shane. He honestly never did. The little respect he had for him flew right out of the window after his first proper search for Sophia. Shane was aggressive, acted rash and the only ones he really cared about were Carl and Lori. The others? He didn't give a shit. Just like about Otis. Daryl was almost sure he sacrificed him at that school. He would sacrifice everyone for 'his family' - even his best friend. Daryl wasn't stupid. He was good at reading people. Dale knew it as well.
"Did he touch ya?" He questioned further; voice dropping another octave. You shook your head. "N-No, no... Not... yet. He just..." "Those stupid comments 'n all tha' shit?" You nodded.
Daryl knew. You had often told him about this. Silent complaints. Seeking help. Despite Shane's quite 'obvious' undying love for Lori, he liked to hit on other women. Especially you - as it seemed. He had often attempted to try and get inside your pants. It had started 'harmless'. Little comments here and there. Flirtations. Talks. His intentions had been clear right away - and you had told him 'No' from the very start. Shane wasn't the man you craved or wanted physical touch with.
Things escalated more and more - and now that Daryl wasn't around the farm anymore to send Shane a threatening glare from time to time, it seemed like the former police man used this current situation to his 'advantage'.
"Not just comments anymore, though... He... He often tries to... corner me. Like... against a wall, o-or tree, o-or even the henhouse yesterday as I got eggs for Patricia to cook. I feel like it gets w-worse and..." You paused for a heartbeat to swallow hard; fingers fumbling nervously. "...I don't know how, uh, long I'll be able to... escape this."
Daryl got what you meant. Of course, he did. His jaw ticked; muscles tightening. "Tha' son of a bitch," he literally growled; one hand squeezing the branch tighter - before he threw the piece of wood and his knife to the grassy ground beside him. Within the blink of an eye he was on his feet. "Gonna tell tha' piece 'a shit a few words. Ask 'im if he's deaf or jus' stupid 'cause he ain't understanding what 'No' means," he grumbles; already starting to march away before you could even react or speak up. "Yer gonna stay here. Keep an eye on tha' fire."
All you could do was watch him stomp away and mumble a quiet "'Kay."; eyes following him. You didn't intend to stop him. Daryl was your safe space. The only one - besides probably Dale who had the balls to confront him. And you wanted this shit to end. Therefore, you let Daryl do his thing. You just hoped it wasn't going to escalate. Both men with a temper and not the longest fuse. Both men hot-headed.
So, you sat there - at Daryl's little campfire. A little shaken up and nervous, but kept an eye on the fire like he told you. Watching the flames dance in the warm late summer air with the slowly darkening sky above you had something utterly calming. Almost hypnotic. Yet, your mind stayed sharp. You weren't behind safe walls or fences... A geek could stumble across here anytime.
You didn't know exactly how much time passed before you saw Daryl approaching the little camp again, but it certainly wasn't that much. Your eyes scanned him from tip to toe as soon as you recognised his frame in the distance; checking if he was okay. It seemed like it.
Wordlessly, but with a signature grunt, the archer sat across from you again and picked up his task where he left off.
You blinked; eyes still on him for another quiet moment. That was is? No words, just a grunt?
"What, uh, did he say?" You asked after another beat of silence; carefully and in a quieter voice than usual. Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Ain't much. Told him 't keep his wandering hands off 'a ya. Gave 'im a last warning 'n left."
You knew exactly that Daryl was most likely describing this confrontation more friendly than it actually played out; not wanting to put you through this shit.
"Okay," you mumbled and offered him a soft smile. "Thank you."
Daryl being Daryl, said nothing in return and just gave you a nod and another grunt.
Silence spread between you two then. It wasn't uncomfortable or unpleasant, just thoughtful but actually nice. Most of the times, you didn't need words to communicate with Daryl anyway. You got his body language; could read him most of the times - even if you didn't know why. The chemistry between the both of you just seemed to click.
He handed you the spear he just carved, broke another branch over his knee and carved another spear. You watched him work; his survival skills remarkable. You didn't know him long but you did know that he was made for this world. Probably one of the few people for whom the apocalypse was a blessing.
Once he was done, he handed you one of the gutted fishes he had caught.
Dinner.
He always looked out for you. Silently. Made sure you ate enough, got weapons on you and so on. It never was a huge gesture or words. Small things. Quiet things. That's how he showed you he cared. His love language.
Together, you cooked the fishes over the fire and ate together; with the sun sinking deeper and deeper beyond the horizon.
"Daryl?" You spoke his name quietly; still watching the dying flames dance and flicker - casting shadows on his handsome features. The archer's eyes snapped up to focus on you again - a silent answer.
"Can I... sleep with you tonight?"
His blue orbs widened to the size of plates - and you realized how easy it was to misunderstand the sentence you just dropped.
"I-I mean in your tent! Here! Not alone at the camp w-with the others!" You instantly corrected; kinda backtracking.
Nevertheless, the damage was done - at least for Daryl. He stood up quickly and turned his back to you; occupying himself with anything - just so that his flustered self didn't have to look into your eyes at the moment. He was blushing. Hard.
You silently watched him move across his camp; 'cleaning' up and avoiding eye contact. Shit, you thought. I screwed it up. Your brain already came up with a trillion different apologies; wanting to repair what you had destroyed - but then...
"Ya comin' or wha'?"
You blinked and looked up at Daryl again; seeing how he held back the flap of his tent for you to crawl in. A smile crossed your face and you stood up; stepping past the dying campfire and inside the tent. "Thought I crossed a border. Thought I was making you uncomfortable. Don't want that. Ever." You received a low grunt in return, followed by the sound of the zipper being shut before he turned on his knees to face you again - head ducked, chewing nervously on the pad of his thumb and shrugged his shoulder. "Didn't say tha'...," the archer retorted in a low, quiet voice.
You just gave him another soft smile; deciding to drop this 'topic' before you'd really make him feel uncomfortable. "'Kay. Thanks for letting me sleep here. I just... I don't wanna see Shane again today or cross his path." The man across you gave you an understanding nod. He got it. Of course, he did.
You slept way better that night than any night before; knowing that no geek and no Shane could harm you here. You were at the safest place on this world - with Daryl. Not yet in his arms, but that would hopefully change someday...
Barely a few days later - on another quite hot evening in late summer, Daryl made his way through the high grass of the meadow to reach the Greene farm. He wanted to check in on Carol - subtly, of course. He cared about her a lot as well - but he'd never admit that out loud.
His senses were sharpened, of course. They always were nowadays; blue eyes scanning is surroundings, one hand resting on the knife attached to his belt. No crossbow, but never unarmed.
Daryl was still a few yards from campsite when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He shifted his gaze. Two frames behind - or well, for him in front of the barn. He stopped; alerted and narrowed his eyes a bit with his hand on his forehead to shield his blues from the sinking sun. No walkers, that was certain.
But who then?
His feet picked up their task again and brought him forward. The closer he got, the clearer the shapes became - and once he recognised the people, his attention got drawn even more... He could clearly make out your frame - and a bigger one. Shaved head, no beard, tall and broad. Shane - and the archer's temper kicked in. Steps quickening.
He analyzed the scene playing out in front of his eyes and quickly realised what was happening; connecting the dots. You and Shane were clearly arguing - and he had gotten physical; hands on your wrists. He had cornered you again; shoven back against the wooden wall of the barn.
A huge wave of anger rolled over the archer. He had told Shane - warned him, and now he had enough.
His pace quickened again. By now he was running the last few yards separating him from you and the former policeman; hopping over the fences and any other obstacle in his way. Daryl was determined - and before Shane could even turn around to see what was awaiting him, he got roughly pulled back from the archer - away from you.
Your fearful eyes met Daryl's - and he could visibly see how you instantly relaxed at least a little; pure thankfulness and relief mirrored in your Y/E/C orbs.
The moment you and the archer shared, gave Shane just enough time to recover... "What the hell, man?!" He barked at Daryl - who instantly instinctively changed his position to stand in front of you like a human protective shield. "What do ya think you're doing, huh?" Shane continued; glaring. "Could ask ya the same," Daryl growled back. You stayed silent; too shaken up to speak. This time was very close... "Told ya to leave 'er alone." Shane huffed out a laugh. "You ain't her boyfriend, man."
Daryl scoffed. What a ridiculous thing to say... As if this would have to do anything at all with that. Bad attempt at talking his pathetic ass outta this, the archer thought.
"Ain't hafta be her boyfriend 't know how 't treat 'n respect a woman right and know wha' a fuckin' 'no' means."
Shane scoffed as well and ran a hand over his bald shaved head.
"No, huh? You don't see how she's lookin' at me. Playin' all coy and shy every time I make a move but I know she wants me."
Daryl shook his head; knowing exactly that this was nothing but delusion and wishful thinking. You wouldn't have come to him so many times - desperate and afraid; literally fleeing from campsite if you would really want this, too.
"She dun wanna have yer dick. She ain't Lori, asshole - or are ya delusional? Can't tell the difference anymore 'cause yer obsessed."
That was it. The moment things were going to escalate between those two hot-heads. Daryl knew it. Shane knew it. And you knew it as well.
The former police man huffed out another laugh; ran his hand over his head again - before he lunged at Daryl. The archer - a 'professional' when it came to brawls - ducked Shane's attempt and started an attack himself. His fist connected with his jaw; sending him tumbling back a few steps.
Daryl did that a lot in his past. Brawling. Fighting. Especially with a brother like Merle and an abusive father. He knew how to fight.
Shane needed a short moment to recover; blood dripping from his lip where it split due to the impact. A look that could kill darted across his face, before he lunged at Daryl again.
And you? You just watched; still frozen in place like a frightened bunny. You didn't know what to do. Intervening could end painful - and words wouldn't stop them.
The noise of the fight, though, attracted the attention of the other group members. It didn't take long for most of them to come running over to the barn as well; the men instantly working to separate Shane and Daryl.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Yelled Rick; pulling his 'best friend' together away together with T-Dog. Glenn and Dale working on Daryl. "What is going on here, huh?!" Rick asked - eyeing his friend and the archer, as they were finally apart; everyone panting hard.
Daryl ripped himself free from Glenn's and Dale's grasp to wipe his bloody hand on his shirt with the torn off sleeves; spitting out a little blood. "Warned ya. Told ya I was gonna beat yer ass into the ground if ya touchin' 'er again!" He growled at Shane; pointing at him. Rick instantly connected the dots; realising that this must be about you. His eyes found you - still a little shaken up. "Y/N?" Rick's voice grabbed your attention. "Can you tell me what's been goin' on here?"
You swallowed hard and opened your mouth to voice what - or well, who, has been bothering you since weeks - but then you felt it... The gazes of the others. All group members had their eyes on you - except Daryl, who kept on glaring at Shane. Sure, most of these gazes were sympathetic and concerned, but for you highly discomforting. You felt cornered again - in a different way.
"I-I-I..." You started; stammering and overwhelmed. Your body told you to run. To escape this situation. So, you did. "S-Sorry," was all you said before you turned your back and fled.
Daryl fought the urge to follow you - although that he knew you probably needed a moment alone. First, he had to step up for you, though. And he did - without hesitation. "Been hittin' on Y/N. Constantly cornerin' her 'n tryin' to get inside 'er pants," Daryl growled; explaining what he had been trying to protect you from. Rick turned to his best friend. "Shane? That the truth?" The accused man huffed out another laugh and shook his head. "C'mon, man. You know that I'd never do that." "Bullshit!" Daryl cut in immediately. "Ya'd take advantage 'a 'er without even thinkin' twice. Prolly already would've if it wasn't fer me!" The archer wanted to take a step closer, but got instantly held back by Glenn and Dale.
Rick's eyes wandered again from Daryl to Shane, while the others just held their breaths; shocked and probably too afraid to just cut into this conflict without having witnessed anything.
At the look the police officer threw his former colleague, he once again ran a head over his shaved head. "Really, Rick? You're gonna believe this obscure redneck more than me?" Rick clenched his jaw. "No, I didn't say that, Shane. I'm just tryin' to understand both sides and-"
Daryl had already heard enough again. This was pointless. Like he said before... This group was broken. Another reason why he had closed himself off.
"This shit's pointless," the archer cut the leader off mid-sentence and just started to stomp away; exiting the scene as well - but not without having a last few words for Shane. "Next time ya try anythin', it ain't gonna stay with jus' a fat lip." He threw another warning/threat Shane's way - hoping that he finally learned his lesson now. Especially now that the others caught wind of this as well.
The archer made his way back to his little camp; holding out for you, though. He didn't see you somewhere outside the farm - what calmed him; knowing that you were most likely out of danger and somewhere safe. The bright and shiny moon had replaced the sun by now almost entirely as Daryl zipped open the flap of his tent. With a grunt he crawled inside - only to find nobody else than you sitting on his bedroll; hugging your knees to your chest and with dried tears on your cheeks.
"Y/N." His name rolled so effortlessly over his lips; making you shiver - in a good way. "S-Sorry... I didn't know where to go, s-so I just came here..." You said; sniveling. Daryl shrugged his shoulders and turned again to zip the tent shut. "'S a'right. I dun mind." You gave him a soft smile and a thankful look. He nodded in return and just... looked at you for another moment, before he shuffled awkwardly and started to 'clean up' a little. A.k.a making space for you so you could stay the night. Daryl wasn't sure what to do. If he should ask how you were or not. If you needed something or not. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. He was very uncertain, so he rather occupied himself with something else than letting you know.
You watched the archer 'work' for a few moments in silence, until your gaze landed coincidentally on his hands. With shock you realised that he was hurt. His knuckles were stained with blood. Some dried, but still seeping a little. "Daryl..." You spoke his name, catching instantly his attention. His head snapped up to face you.
"Yah?"
You moved, inched slowly closer to him. "Y-You're bleeding..." You whispered and cautiously reached for his hurt hand to inspect the damage - but giving him enough time to pull his hand away in case he didn't want the touch. He didn't. The archer was like rooted to the ground; holding his breath as your gentle fingers brushed his skin.
Physical touch wasn't easy for him - after all the bullshit he had been through in his childhood and youth. He had learned the physical contact mostly caused pain. But this... This was different. So fucking different from what he knew.
"Y-You split your knuckles... Do you have a first aid kit or something? Anything to treat the wounds?" Daryl blinked; ripped out of his thoughts. His blues met your Y/E/C. "Yeah, over-" His voice cracked. He tried again. "Over there." You followed the jut of his hand, gently let go of his hand to gather the first aid kit, only to return a few moments later to hold his hand again. "Sit. L-Let me help you."
Wordlessy, the man sat down on the bedroll beside you and letting you treat his split knuckles. And admittedly, Daryl had a hard time coping with this situation. Coping with so much... tenderness and gentleness. It was unknown territory - but it felt... right.
"There we go..." You said; tying the bandage around his hand, then shook your head. "Didn't want you to get hurt because of me..." You added in a quiet voice; blaming Shane but also yourself.
Daryl instantly shook his head; getting his shit together again. "Ain't yer fault. Asshole had it comin'. Deserved it. This ain't nothing," he gestured at his knuckles. "Gonna heal quickly. Had worse."
You sighed, "Yes, but... I don't know. Feeling guilty anyways." and without thinking leaned your head against his shoulder; arms and thighs brushing. You and Daryl had been close - but never this close before.
The archer froze once again; brain going blank for at least a solid minute as he tried to comprehend what was going on.
His skin was warm; biceps slightly sweaty but radiating nothing but warmth and comfort. Your eyes slipped shut. This felt so right. You never wanted to leave Daryl's side. Since he didn't shove you away, you thought he felt the same - or at least similar. Nevertheless remained a quiet voice of doubt.
But then something you couldn't quite foresee happened... Slowly, quietly, the archer wrapped his arm around your shoulders; big, work worn hand resting gently on your upper arm. The 'sudden' touch sent another shiver down your spine.
"Ya okay?" His voice deep and concerned, yet soft and caring. You started to smile and nodded, before you shyly reached for his free hand to loosely intertwine your fingers. "Now I am."
Tags: @angelicarlert @angelwings-crossbowstrings @levislolita @bigbaldheadname @loz-3 @twd-bee3 @urdeaddixon @baseballbitch116 @vngelisse @whsschuu @smuttfuelled @erebus-et-eigengrau @yas-yas-mimi @darylandbethfanforever9 @dixonsstinkysock @walkingtalkingsomething
masks
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: While Daryl and the Hilltop has to deal with a possible new threat, he tries to find time for his family as well.
Set in Season 9!
Warnings: dad!Daryl, short mention of pregnancy and birth, lots of fluff, mention of a main character death, a little bit of angst, mentions of Alpha and her methods, mentions of abuse, the Whisperers, Daryl being the best dad ever, swear words
Also, I used the names Willa and Ruby for the kids. You already know them from other stories. I didn't want to use a trillion different names, so I thought I am just going to stick to those two. Hope that makes sense.
Word Count: 3,8k
a/n: Writing brain demanded dad!Daryl, so I wrote dad!Daryl.
Disclaimer: Some of the conversation between Daryl and Lydia isn't mine. I just used their quotes from the show to fit the plot.
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist °☆• masterlist
It was a quite beautiful day today. The nights were still cool but it got noticeably warmer each day. Summer was approaching - fast. With a smile and a hand on your forehead to shield your eyes from the sun, you watched your seven-year-old daughter play 'tag' with another few kids from the Hilltop. You and your little family had been here since about six months now - after living out in the woods in a little cabin ever since Rick... You couldn't finish that thought without tears blurring your eyes. It was meant to be only a few weeks. But weeks turned into months and months into years. You knew Daryl was still searching for his brother. He had never given up on this. The fact that he liked to live out there just a pretense.
The reason you finally settled in Hilltop? Your second daughter you gave birth to merely a month ago. Of course, Daryl wouldn't let you have his baby out there. He was too afraid something could go wrong - and Jesus and Tara were more than happy to take you in.
"How can you be so calm and... okay about it?" The sudden question from Henry - on which you and Daryl agreed to keep an eye on for Carol, caught you rather off-guard. You blinked and turned your head; focusing on the teenager. "Sorry, Henry? What do you mean?" You threw a question back at him while gently rocking the infant in your arms to keep her asleep. The young man nodded at the gates. "Daryl being out there so often. I mean, he's your husband, right? And a father. He should be here, with you."
You furrowed your brows into a frown and crooked your head a little. "Are you saying he shouldn't look for Eugene? He's family. We have to find him." Henry instantly shook his head. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean... All the other times. I... I heard you talking to my mom about it. How often Daryl leaves to be out there." Your expression instantly shifted into a soft smile. You patted the empty place beside the log you sat on; asking the teenager to sit. Henry obliged and sat down beside you. His eyes fell instantly on the tiny girl in your arms, then lifted to meet your eyes. "Daryl is out there because he has to. He needs to. Not just because he's still looking for Rick. If he doesn't go out, he feels trapped. Caged. It's the freedom he needs - and who would I be to take that away from him?" The young man nodded; dwelling a little on his thoughts and your words. You let him; patiently waiting for him to speak up again, but the voice of Mr. Sutton - Earl cut through your conversation. "Henry! It's time for your next lesson!" He looked at you again - almost apologetic. "I-I should-" "Sure, go." You gave him a smile and watched how he quickly walked off.
You spent a whole night and with that over a whole day without your husband, since he was still out searching for Eugene together with Jesus and Aaron. You weren't worried. You knew how strong he was; a survivor. He'd always come back to you - to his family. But it was always difficult for Willa - your eldest. She knew that her daddy was a brave man and able to defend himself, but she was just a child after all and therefore scared he wouldn't come back to her. Understandably. This afternoon, though, the door to your little trailer swung open quietly; revealing a visibly exhausted Daryl. Dog followed him and instantly ran over to greet you; tail wagging and squeaking excitedly. You giggled quietly - since you didn't want to wake Willa, who was taking a nap in yours and Daryl's bed, and scratched Dog's head. Willa did that most of the times when her father wasn't around. Sleeping in your bed any chance she got. It made her feel safe. The smell of her dad.
Daryl was by your side only seconds later. You sat on a comfortable rocking chair in the corner; currently nursing Ruby - your newest addition to the family.
"Hey, babe," you whispered and smiled as he bent down to kiss your forehead, "Hey." and then your lips. "Did you find Eugene?" You instantly asked; reaching for his hand to slip your fingers through his. Daryl nodded; "Mhm." chewing on the inside of his bottom lip - and that was when you knew. Something wasn't right. You could feel it. You knew that man by heart now after all these years. "Is he okay? Are you okay?" "He's fine. Delocated his knee is all. 'M good, too." "But?" Your husband paused for a moment; chewing on his lip again. "Jesus is dead."
Your eyes widened as a wave of shock and sadness over rolled you. "W-What? H-How?" The archer swallowed hard. "Damn new people. Dunno much 'bout 'em, 'cept that they are walkin' with the dead. Wear their faces as masks. We captured one of 'em. 'M gonna try 'n get 'er to talk." Those new and not really good news were kinda overwhelming to you; torn between grief and worry. You lifted your eyes again to look into the blue ones of your husband; instinctively clutching the tiny human being in your arms closer - something that didn't slip the bowman's notice...
"A-Are they a... threat?" He shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno yet. Hope not." and squatted down in front of you. "Me neither." "Dun worry, sunshine. I know tha' ain't easy, but... Please. This lil' gremlin 'ere needs ya more than those worries do." You nodded; knowing that he was actually right. And even if they were a threat... The Hilltop was more than capable of defending itself. You were more than capable of defending yourself. However, you had two daughters to worry about. An infant... The last thing you actually wanted was a fight.
"I know, I know, it's just..." You whispered; eyes landing on Ruby, who was more asleep than awake in your arms but still suckling on your breast from time to time. Daryl understood. Of course, he did. You two didn't need words to communicate. "Hey, darlin'..." He squeezed your hand - the one which was firmly tucked into his bigger hand, and gently cupped the baby's head with the other; running his thumb through the chestnut brown fuzz of hair. "I ain't gonna let anythin' happen to either 'a ya. You know that. 'M gonna protect you 'n our kids as long as my sorry ass walks this damn earth - no matter wha'." "I know that, baby, but... Ruby's barely a month old. A fight - or hence, a war would be-" Daryl instantly shook his head, "Nah. Dun think like tha'." and interrupted your sentence. "Lemme get some more information outta that girl first. Ain't no point in rushing into things, 'kay?" You nodded. "'Kay."
Your husband gave you one of those sweet smiles which were only reserved for you, before he pressed a lingering, sweet kiss against his newborn daughter's head. Then he straightened back up, kissed you again as well. Your lips moved lazily against his and shortly after the kiss ended, you lifted a hand to cup his bearded cheek. "You're tired, babe." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He nodded, "Fuckin' exhausted, sunshine." and slowly let go of your hand to walk over to the bed where his other child was.
Willa was still napping. Dog now, too; having trotted off during the conversation you and Daryl had to lay down on his makeshift dog beg. You watched him take off his boots and join Willa with a soft expression. "Get some sleep, Dar." "Mhm," he hummed; inching closer to the litte girl and carefully scooping her up in his arms. The archer knew how much she always missed him when he was away - and he always tried to make it up to her. Cuddles, playling together or teaching her some things - just anything to spend time with her.
"'M plannin' to," he mumbled; holding his child in a protective embrace. As if Willa subconsciously noticed that her father was back, she melted in his embrace and cuddled closer in her sleep. Daryl smiled gently with his eyes already closed shut. You watched how your husband and daughter napped together for a few long moments, before you quietly stood up with Ruby still in your arms. You put her into the baby sling Daryl found quite a while ago while being outside and left the trailer.
Your mission was clear. Find Tara and Aaron and check in on how they were doing after Jesus... You couldn't finish that thought. It was always hard to lose a member of your family. You planned to check in on Eugene and Rosita as well. They were your people, too, after all. However, you ran into someone entirely else. A person you didn't see in quite a while and haven't crossed paths with yet since she was here at the Hilltop... Michonne.
"Michonne." At the call of her name, the woman turned to face you; having just stepped outside the Barrington house. Once her brown eyes landed on you, a huge smile spread on her lips - one you couldn't help but to reciprocate. "Y/N, hey." She quickly crossed the distance separating you and gave you a careful hug - one that you reciprocated happily as well. "Hey," you greeted her back. "Long time no seen..." You felt her nod against you before she took a step back to retreat from the hug and face you again. "Way too long..." Then her eyes landed on the little bundle of joy strapped to your chest. Her smile even widened. "You and Daryl...?" You nodded. "Oh, uh, yeah. We expanded our little family. Had her barely a month ago... Her name is Ruby." "That's wonderful, Y/N. I'm happy for you two. I really am. How's Willa?" "She's great. Little whirlwind," you answered; smiling at the thought of your daughter. "How's Jude and RJ?" "Good. RJ is almost as tall as Judith by now," Michonne said, then added with the happiness visibly draining a little from her face: "Jude constantly asks for you and Daryl. Willa, too. She misses you."
You sighed; head lowering. "You could've come to Alexandria, too for Ruby's birth. We all would've been happy to see you." You nodded. "I know, Mich, I know. It's just... I think we came here because Daryl still isn't quite ready to return home. At least for a longer period of time. You get what I mean..." You didn't want to spell Rick's death out. You couldn't. Not in front of Michonne.
She nodded as well; eyes mirroring grief and sadness now. "Yes, I know. I can't blame Daryl for that. I never will. He's been out there all those years, looking for him." You reached out a hand to gently touch her arm in a sympathetic gesture. "And he still is. He won't stop looking. He can't."
"My mom walks with the dead 'cause that's what the dead do. It's their world and we have to live in it," Lydia stated firmly and tugged up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal the bruises on her arm. "And what my mom does, she does for a reason." Daryl had to suppress a scoff; hand gripping the aged steal of the cell bars the girl was caged behind. "Yer mom beats you 'cause she loves you? That's bullshit." Lydia merely shook her head; "No... It isn't." eyes trained on the archer. "When you stay soft, people die," she whispered almost threateningly and told Daryl what happened to her dad. How he died.
"You were just a little girl. It wasn't your fault." Lydia instantly shook her head at Daryl's actually reassuring words. "I was stupid. I deserved to die. But my dad was soft, and now he's the one that's dead." This time, Daryl couldn't prevent a disapproving, disbelieving huff from escaping his lips. "What was he supposed 't do? Just watch his little girl get bit?" "When you can't bend, you break. He broke." The man shook his head. "That's not true. We're makin' it better. We're building it back up. Changing it back." "Yeah?" Lydia whispered; a sarcastic tone swinging in her voice. "You don't belong with these people. Maybe you used to, but not anymore. You're hard, they're soft." Daryl leaned in closer to the bars. "You don't know shit about me," he spoke lowly - dangerously, and just when he wanted to speak up again, small steps suddenly cut through the tense air. Bare feet against stone. "Daddy?"
Daryl froze in all his movements for a moment before every parental instinct inside him took over. To get called 'daddy' by his very own flesh and blood had always been and would always be a privilege. Something he'd treasure until his last breath.
The archer gave his prisoner a warning glare before he turned to face his daughter. The hardness around his edges melted away like ice in the heat of Spring. Especially at the sight of his child.
Willa wore her blue pyjama onesie; stuffed animal her dad found for her back when she was a baby clutched tightly to her chest. Her long, slightly wavy hair - in a mix of yours and his hair color, hung rather messily over her small shoulders. One little hand rubbed her eyes - who looked suspiciously reddish and wet. The love Daryl felt rush through his body in this very moment was immeasurable.
"Willa," he spoke her name softly - tenderly, "Why are ya up, huh? 'S late. Whatcha doin' here?" and took a long stride forwards to get closer to her. Then he squatted down to be on eye-level with the small girl; facing her properly. "H-Had a nightmare," she whispered; visibly trying to suppress a sob. Daryl's heart threatened to break. If he could, he would - even in her dreams, hunt down anything and everything that only dared to threaten her to protect her. To make her feel safe. "'M sorry 'bout that, munchkin. You wanna talk about it?" To that question, the girl only shook her head; bottom lip trembling dangerously. "C'mere," the archer offered without hesitation and opened her arms for his daughter to seek comfort in. She did; short arms reaching around his neck to snuggle against him. Face buried in his shoulder. Daryl lifted her up then; arms securely wrapped around her - like a protective shield.
He just held her for a long moment; giving Willa the time to calm down again and just letting her feel that her father got her. That she was safe now with him.
Lydia watched the scenes unfold in front of her eyes rather... shocked and gobsmacked. The only side she got to know of Daryl was rough. Hard. Unforgiving. Cold. He didn't seem like a family man. "You... You're a father?" She caught herself asking; still in disbelief. The archer looked over his free shoulder to face the teenage girl again. "Told ya... You don't know anythin 'bout me," he almost growled and instantly redirected his attention back to his daughter. Lydia blinked; thoughts running wild inside her head, while Daryl pressed a lingering kiss against Willa's temple. "Where's yer mama, munchkin?" "Asleep," Willa mumbled in the leathery fabric of his signature angel-winged vest before she slightly lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him. "Didn't want to wake mama or my baby sister. You always say they need sleep."
Daryl had been sure his heart couldn't melt more - until now. His expression turned incredibly soft; a small smile gracing his chapped lips. "Tha's very thoughtful 'a ya, munchkin. 'N ya came to look fer me instead?" She nodded with a big yawn. Daryl's smile even widened. "C'mon. Let's getcha back to bed, yeah? Munchkin's need their sleep, too," he said and freed one hand to gently tickle her side - which made the seven-year-old squirm and giggle slightly. Before he rounded the corner to the stair, he turned to look at Lydia again. "We ain't done yet," the archer simply said and without another word made his way up the stone steps.
He carried his daughter back to the cosy trailer you shared as a family, stepped quietly inside - to not wake you and his newborn, and went to tuck Willa back in bed. Made sure she was warm, comfortable and safe. "'Kay... Try to sleep. 'M here now," Daryl whispered and leaned down to press a lingering kiss against the girl's forehead. He was about to leave the tiny room, when Willa held him back. "Daddy?" She whispered into the dark with a slight insecurity in her voice. "Yeah?" She shuffled underneath her blanket; trying to clutch the blanket closer. "C-Can you stay? Please?" Daryl melted all over again. How could he ever say no to her? "Sure, munchkin. I'll stay at least 'til yer asleep. Move over a lil'." The archer couldn't see the relief and happiness in his daughter's face, but he could feel it. After he had kicked off his boots and joined Willa in the actually way too small bed, she instantly cuddled against his side. He smiled as well; protectively tucking her against him. He stayed and cuddled her until he felt her relax and drift back off to sleep. After Daryl made sure that she was still properly tucked in, he grabbed his boots and quietly snuck out of the room.
His main destination was, of course, his very own bed. After yet another adventurous and kind of hard day, he was more than eager to get his very own cuddles. He loved being close to you. He needed to be close to you.
Daryl made two quick stops. The first one was Dog, who laid in his makeshift dog bed. He loved his animal best friend and squatted down to give him a well-deserved head scratch. "Hey, buddy, hey," he whispered, and the faithful canine gave an excited little squeak in return. "Did ya look out for yer ma and baby sisters while I was gone? Yeah, ya did. Good boy. Yer such a good dog." He petted the Malinois for another short while, before he straightened back up to let him get some sleep as well. Daryl's second stop - he got closer to his main destination, was the little crib which stood beside your side of the bed. Of course, he had to check in on his newborn daughter as well. Ruby was fast asleep; tiny fingers curled into fists. He just watched her for a long moment; smiling softly. Daryl fought the want to pick her up in his arms and carry her around for a while; just feeling her light weight and marvelling at how small she was compared to him. How soft and delicate. But he resisted; not wanting to wake her up.
Giving the miniature human a last loving look, he turned to finally go to bed himself. He made quick (but quiet) work taking off his boots, jeans, vest and shirt, before he slipped in bed underneath the covers beside you. His body was acting on its own will and instantly searched for physical contact; naturally. Daryl took you carefully in his arms; pressed his warm body against yours. Chest to back with one strong arm around your midsection to keep you close.
The archer's intention definitely was not to wake you up, but since you had Ruby, your sleep was lighter, and so you stirred. "'S jus' me. Sleep on, sunshine," Daryl whispered and pressed a chaste kiss to your neck; trying to save the situation. But the 'damage was done'. Your hand found his on your waist and you instinctively snuggled closer. He was warm. Always. Like a human heater. "Called it a day, babe?" You mumbled; still a little sleepy. "Mhm," he hummed behind you; hating that he woke you but also loving to talk to you. "Kinda had to. Willa looked fer me." You shifted and turned in his embrace to face him. "What?" He nodded. "Mhm. Had a nightmare 'n wanted to let you 'n Ruby sleep. So she looked for me." You huffed out a breath. "That girl is something else..." Your husband smiled - unbeknownst to you. "Well, she's ours, so..."
He wasn't wrong with that.
"Indeed, baby... But she's asleep now?" "Yah. Carried her back to bed 'n tucked her in." "Good. That's good." You paused and tucked your head underneath Daryl's chin; feeling him and enveloping yourself in his scent. Home. He didn't say a word either; fingers slowly, gently caressing the clothed skin of your smaller back.
"Any luck with Lydia?" The archer shook his head - a movement you felt. "Nah. Not really. Ain't know nothing new except the things she told Henry." he said; voice low but rough. "She'll talk eventually. Judging by all the things you told me so far, her life hadn't been easy. Her mother isn't easy. Give her some time - or just trust Henry with this." Daryl grumbled at your words and shook his head again. "Dunno if I should trust Henry with it. He's acting caring, yah, but so damn... headless 'n reckless, too. Tellin' her about our people and the Kingdom... He doesn't even know her." You couldn't suppress a small giggle. "Wha'? Ain't funny, darlin'. This group could be dangerous." "I know, I know, but...," you started and rubbed your hand over his naked shoulder blade. "Have you ever - just for a moment - considered that Henry is doing this for a reason?" He scoffed. "Which would be?" You bit your lip for a second; smiling. "Well... I think he's in love." "Love?" Your husband grumbled. "Nah."
You raised an eyebrow at him. "No? Never heard of love at first sight? 'Cause I think this is exactly what we got here. Besides, I know how a man in love looks, and..." You paused; burying your fingers in Daryl's lush curls. "... Henry positively looks like it." The archer melted into your touch; having to suppress a moan. "Yeah?" "Mhm. You should know, baby," you teased him a little. "After all, you wear that look everytime you look at me." He grunted and buried his head in your chest; mumbling something incomprehensable. You giggled softly and just held him against you; letting the man cuddle you. "Have some patience, Dar. Things will turn out just fine for us." His grip around you tightened a little. "Hope so," he whispered; trying to turn off his worrying, overthinking brain. No matter how things were going to turn out with Lydia and this new... group, his first priority was to make sure you and the kids were safe.
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