lost in a world made out of words & daydreams ☁️🪶

“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.

"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--

"Shit," you muttered under your breath at the confirmation of your suspicion. You had helped Lori to cook over the campfire when you noticed it... The unpleasant, slick and sticky feeling between your legs. You excused yourself immediately - under the pretext that you needed to relieve your bladder.

And now you were looking at the bloody mess inside your panties.

With the gears turning in your head, yoy made your way back to camp. "Everything okay?" Lori's voice ripped you quite a bit out of your feverish thoughts. You nodded. "Yeah, uh, sure, I just... I've got a bit of a headache. I'm gonna go, lie down, okay? Sorry." She shook her head and gave you a compassionate smile. "Don't be, it's okay. You go lie down." You gave her another thankful nod, made your way over to your tent, zipped it shut and laid down.

Of course, you knew deep down that it was actually a good thing. It was good, healthy and unfortunately necessary to go through this but... It wasn't really a good timing. The world had just ended a few weeks ago after all...

"You for real? Now?" You groaned in annoyance; talking to yourself. "This ain't a good timing, you know? Where am I supposed to get pads from?" You sighed; thinking feverishly to solve this 'problem'. For now, though, you stuffed quite a few tissues you found in the pocket of your trousers into your panties and hoped for the best. It certainly wouldn't be enough. That much was clear. Only a temporary solution.

You sighed and groaned in frustration; knowing you had to get help for this. Male help. The first man that crossed your mind was Daryl. No wonder - especially since the tough redneck was mostly on your mind these days. He was... special. Something about him lured you in; drew you to him - like a magnetic pull. And your gut told you that the feeling was quite mutual. The man with the crossbow spent a lot of time with you; was always around you. Close but with a respectful distance. He looked out for you and made sure to keep you safe.

Biting your lip, you thought through the possibilities. Asking one of the fellow women was the first thing that came to your mind. But then you remembered that everyone of them had 'problems' themselves... Lori had a pregnancy to deal with. Carol had her still missing daughter. Andrea was Andrea, and Maggie... You barely knew her. You didn't know if you'd feel comfortable and 'brave enough' to just randomly walk up to her and ask for the required feminine hygiene products...

You could look through the RV; searching if you could find some pads or tampons there. But honestly? You doubted it - and what were you supposed to tell Dale if he 'walked in on you'? Nope, not an option either.

A smile darted across your face at the thought of Daryl. He had changed since you left the quarry. Since he lost his brother. It almost felt like he got cut loose of imaginary chains.

But as soon as the smile stretched over your lips, as soon was it gone again. You couldn't ask Daryl to go on a run and scavenge pads for you. He was still hurt. Recovering, but nevertheless hurt. Sure, you could ask anyway; knowing that he'd most likely go for you anyway - but you didn't want that. You wanted him to get better. Not probably worse...

You sighed again. Who else could you ask for help? You thought this over again, and were on the verge of just going yourself, when you heard a voice outside your tent - or well, your saving grace. Glenn. He was one of the friendliest, kindest and sweetest guys you ever met. He knew how to do runs. He was a pro in this. Plus, he had been to town with Maggie before. It doesn't hurt to ask, right?

So, you more or less heaved yourself up from your makeshift bed; feeling a cramp hit you - followed by the unpleasant feeling of trickling blood between your legs. Ugh. You definitely had to check on this again soon. And you definitely needed pads soon. It got worse and tissues wouldn't just cut it any longer. Gritting your teeth, you tried to ignore the pain in your lower abdomen and left your tent.

Luckily was Glenn still around the camp. You saw him talking to Dale. Probably something about the RV, since they stood in front of its 'hood'. You hated to interrupt, but you unfortunately had to.

Glenn's face softened immediately. "I'm sorry about that. I'm helping you, okay? I'm heading to town immediately. I'll just have to find Maggie and ask her to saddle a horse for me." A relieved smile came up your face. "Really? Oh thank you. This means a lot." Your hormonal self instantly acted and leaned in to hug him. Glenn, awkwardly but kindly reciprocated the hug. "Uh, of course. Sure thing, Y/N." A wave of slight embarrassment washed over you as you realized your eagerness. "S-Sorry," you apologised with a soft blush on your cheeks. The Korean instantly shook his head. "Don't be. It's fine." He smiled and turned to leave, but stopped again. "Uh, do you, um, need any specific pads, o-or...?"

"Hey, Glenn?" You called out - and the Korean's head snapped into your direction. "Yeah?" "Could you come over here for a second, please?" He looked back at Dale - who gave him a nod, smile and slight pad on his shoulder. Then he made his way over to you.

"Everything okay, Y/N?" Glenn asked instantly. You bit your lip and looked around to make sure nobody was in earshot. You didn't want the whole group knowing you were bleeding like a waterfall. "I-I, uh... Could you do me a favour and make a run to town again? To that small pharmacy?" Glenn looked at you for a moment. You knew that he was actually tired of being the 'errand boy', but you needed a friend's help now. "Please? L-Look, I... I started my period and I don't have any pads. I thought about asking the girls but everyone has their own things to deal with at the moment. You know that. S-So, I'm asking you because I trust you. You're my friend. Please. I-I'd go myself but it's a real bitch this time."

Now Glenn was the one blushing.

"Oh, uh, no. I'm not picky. Can't be. It's the fucking apocalypse, so... Any will do." "O-Okay. I'll try to be back as fast as I can." You gave him another smile. "Thanks."

Glenn handed you a paper bag then. "I brought you different ones, so that you can choose. Besides, you might not be the only one who needs this, so... I hope it's okay." You smiled, grabbed the bag and took a quick look inside. "It's perfect, Glenn. Thank you so much. You're my hero." Then you leaned in for another hug; showing him your gratitude. The Korean gave you a smile in return. "Don't mention it. Can't leave a friend hanging like that." You smiled at him once more, before you felt another unpleasant tug in your lower abdomen again, which reminded you of the problem at hand. You truly would've wanted to continue the conversation with Glenn but your body demanded attention.

Glenn kept his word. He was back within barely two hours.

"Y/N?" You heard his voice from outside your tent. "You in there?" You sat up from your 'bed', "Yeah, hang on a second." and crawled out of the safety of your sleeping bag. You unzipped the tent and stepped outside in the noticeably cooler Georgia air. Fall was probably closer than expected - and with that winter as well.

"I-I, uh, should make use of this," you more or less stammered and gestured at the paper bag. Glenn squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, sure, of course. I didn't mean to... hold you back." You shook your head. "You didn't! I just... I don't want to ruin another pair of jeans." He swallowed; feeling visibly a little shy and helpless in this conversation. "Sure, understandable." You gave your friend yet another smile, "Thanks. Again." then turned to leave to take care of business.

You felt beyond relieved and borderline happy as a pad was finally inside your underwear instead of piles and piles of tissues and fabrics you had alienated. But the next 'trouble' wasn't long incoming...

You already kinda felt it brewing through dinner as everyone of the group was sitting around the campfire and ate together. Daryl. He was outside the farmhouse for the first time again tonight after getting impaled by his arrow and almost shot by Andrea.

Ouch.

His eyes were on you. Almost the entire time. The archer was literally piercing you with his blue orbs. But not in a good way - like your feeling told you. It felt... Cool. Unpleasant and... judgemental. Reproachful. As if he was mad at you. The problem was that you didn't know why. You hadn't even a clue. Either that or he was in a bad mood in general.

Despite the throbbing pain in your nether regions, you were eager to find out what was wrong; ignoring your body's raging demand to just lie down and hide away for the next three days. So, after dinner - after everyone was either in their tents, in the house or somewhere scattered around the Greene farm, you went to search for Daryl. He just disappeared after he had barely eaten anything. You found him at the edge of the fields; binoculars in one hand and clutching his side with the other. He was in pain. You could tell.

"Daryl," you said his name as you approached him. He didn't even flinch. "You... You should lay down. Your body needs rest. It's still recovering." He scoffed. "Ain't need ya to tell me wha' to do. Ain't need no damn babysitter. Stop babyin' me."

Daryl finally turned to face you with his jaw clenched - probably in pain, and a hard, cold look on his face. "Saw the both 'a ya earlier. Ya been very close 'n exchangin' secret presents - or whatever the fuck it was ya were doin'. I ain't stupid, woman."

Despite the fact that you knew that you shouldn't take the things Daryl said personally, because he mostly didn't mean it, you did this time. You couldn't help yourself. Not today. Not while you were stuck in that hormonal mess.

You crossed your arms over your chest and scoffed. "Sorry I'm looking out for you, Daryl. Sorry that you mean something to me and I don't want you to get hurt even more." Now Daryl scoffed and huffed out an humorless laugh. "But I ain't as important as Glenn is, huh?" The redneck spat; a dangerous mix of annoyance, anger and... jealousy? swinging in his voice.

You frowned in genuine confusion. "Glenn? What does Glenn have to do with all of of this?"

Well, shit. He had obviously seen how Glenn handed you the bag of pads - and the hug, and took the situation wrongly. He clearly misunderstood this.

"Daryl..." You started; shaking your head. "It's not like that! Not at all! Glenn and I - no, that's.... no. We're friends. He likes Maggie, not me!" You feverishly tried to explain the situation. "All he did was going on a small run for me." This didn't quite mollified Daryl. "A run? Ya fuckin' with me? Why'd he do tha' for, huh?" You groaned in frustration at his stubbornness and very short temper; feeling tears well up in your eyes. You already felt like shit - and Daryl just made it worse.

"I'm not! He went to town for me because I am fucking bleeding out of my lady bits like a slaughtered animal and I can't just hop inside my car and buy some pads because the damn world went to shit and the pain my uterus blessed me with barely lets me stand upright!" You exploded; tears streaming down your face.

You could see a slight shift in the archerxs expression through your blurry eyes. He didn't like seeing you cry - but he'd never admit that out loud.

You looked at him with teary, reddish eyes in almost sheer disbelief. He couldn't be serious now...

"Yer on yer period or sum'thin'?" He asked in a quieter but nevertheless still cooler voice than usual. You sniveled. "Yes..." A moment of silence passed, in which you tried to calm down and Daryl already found the next thing to be mad about.

"'N why the fuck would ya ask Glenn? 'N not me? Ya rather trustin' him than me, or wha'?"

"W-What? No! Goddamnit, Daryl! Stop making things up!" Another wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. "Y-You were the first person on my mind - like always for the past weeks! I wanted to ask you, but then I remembered that you're f-fucking hurt! Y-You can barely walk! I didn't want to make things worse and be a burden!" You shook your head, "Fucked things up nevertheless..." and walked away; figuratively leaving Daryl out in the cold. You didn't even give him the chance to answer; not wanting to hear more.

"Fine! Piss off then! Dun need ya anyway, woman!" The redneck called after you - another remark you definitely didn't need to hear.

While you tried to desperately hide your tears and get to your tent unnoticed, Daryl stayed exactly where he was; trying to calm his raging nerves. "Dun need anyone of this damn group," he grumbled under his breath; still grumpy and utterly pissed. "Let alone a woman..."

It took the hot-headed archer quite a moment to cool off. To process what had happened. Your words were echoing through his head over and over again - and then it clicked. His brain received the message instead of just brushing it off. He understood why you did what you did and instantly regretted the words he had thrown at you.

You were one of the few good things on this God forsaken earth - and he didn't mean to push you away.

His anger gave way for things he hadn't felt often in his life before... Compassion, the urge to reassure you - to make you smile again, and something he couldn't pinpoint.

"Damn it," he cursed, "Yer such a pussy, Dixon." and started to hobble back to camp. His destination was clear... Your tent.

It took him a hot minute to get there, given the fact that his injured side still hurt and he wasn't that quick on his feet yet. Now, though, he was barely a few steps away from your tent.

Man up and go in there, his inner voice told him as he was nibbling on the inside of his lip and still hesitating. He wasn't good with people... Let alone women - and certainly not menstruating women. This was all brand new, uncharted territory for him.

But yer a tracker. Uncharted territory shouldn't be a problem for ya, spoke one inner voice.

Ya tryna fuckin' with me or sum'thin'? What kinda stupid comparison is tha'? This ain't the mountains of Georgia. This is a woman, argued the other voice.

Prolly. But it ain't changin' a damn thing... Ya know nothin' 'bout this.

Daryl found you curled up in a ball on your bed; clutching your thin blanket tight around you. A moment of silence passed in which he just watched you. Regret flooded his whole system.

He suppressed a groan. Both inner voices weren't of help right now. So, he just pushed them away, checked the area to make sure nobody was around and quietly called out your name. "Y/N? Ya in there?"

You couldn't deny that you were quite a bit surprised to hear his voice. "Y-Yeah..." You called back - and heard how the flap of the tent got opened and zipped shut again a few moments later.

"Ya ain't a burden, Y/N. Never. Not ta me," he spoke up in a quiet voice then after what felt like an eternity. His words went from your ears straight to your heart; causing it to beat faster. Tears welled up in your eyes. You slowly shifted and turned to face him. "T-Truly?" The look you gave Daryl. The tears in your eyes. The knowledge you were hurting. It softened the oh so rough redneck even further.

Daryl didn't really know what was happening to him - and he honestly wouldn't want to stop it.

He nibbled on the inside of his bottom lip - a nervous habit, with his head slightly lowered - as if in shame, and gave you a nod. "Yeah. 'M sorry 'bout earlier." The man's blue eyes were directed on you. Nervously. Uncertain. Analyzing. Waiting for your next words or move. Hoping for forgiveness.

A soft, sweet smile spread over your whole face. "It's okay, Dar. I know you didn't mean it. It's just... I'm way more emotional right now because I'm a hormonal mess, so it really hit me - but I'm not mad at you. I... I never could. I'm just glad you're here now."

"Y-Ya sure?" You nodded; already getting comfortable again. "You need rest, I need rest. Why not rest together?" Daryl swallowed hard but couldn't help himself but to accept this offer. His body acted on its own as his legs carried him over to your literal fortress of scavenged blankets and pillows. The man lied down beside you - slowly, given his injury, and took a moment to get comfortable. It was very awkward at first. Daryl laid there in silence; not moving a muscle - stiff like a wooden board. He didn't know what to do or say; very insecure about this whole situation.

Your words were like balm for the archer's soul. One corner of his mouth twitched up in the tiniest smile. It was one of the cutest things you had ever seen. Still smiling, you patted the space beside you on the 'bed'. "C'mere."

Daryl could swear his heart skipped a beat at your invitation. This was the first time you asked him to join you in bed. The first time you let him in this close. He needed a second to truly process this. To make sure his ears did not trick him.

And then it happened. You couldn't suppress your body's yearning. The need for proximity and warmth. So, you just made a move; boldly cuddling against him. Luckily you didn't face his injured side. You snuggled against his side with your head on his chest A satisfied sigh slipped past your lips. And Daryl? Daryl stiffened even further. Every single muscle going rigid at your sudden closeness. He almost didn't dare to breathe; overwhelmed and not knowing how to handle this situation.

The archer still didn't dare to move. He needed quite a moment to adjust to this whole new situation. But then started awkwardness to morph into a strange, unknown feeling of comfort. The weight of your body suddenly felt good against him. Right. As if it belonged there. He swallowed hard. What was happening to him?

The archer swallowed hard. His head screamed at him to go into defence mode - to push you away from him. But his heart? That held a different opinion - one he didn't intend to listen to.

"Wha' the hell are ya doin', woman?" He asked into the darkish, quietness of the tent. Daryl meant to sound gruff - as if to rebuke you, but instead his voice came out on the verge of cracking. Uncertain. Insecure, even. Soft.

"'M cold," you mumbled; half asleep already - neatly tucked against his side. His warmth and scent had quickly managed to lull you to sleep. "Cold 'n cuddly." The man wanted to argue; wanted to be mad at you - but he quickly found out that he couldn't. All that came out of his mouth in return was a low huff and a muttered 'Damnit'. You drifted off into a peaceful sleep; bathing in the warmth of Daryl's natural body heat and the thin blanket you had curled around you.

Looking around to check if somebody was watching - almost afraid that Merle would rip open the flap of the tent any second and laugh at him; tell him what a pussy he had become, Daryl saw nothing but peaceful darkness and the rays of moonlight. He took a deep breath. Nobody was around. Nobody seeing or judging him for this 'moment of weakness' he was about to grant himself.

His eyes settled back on you. Throwing caution to the wind, he finally gave into this strange need. The redneck shifted slightly; carefully - not to hurt his wound - so that your body molded perfectly against his chest and wrapped an arm around you to keep you safely tucked against him. Protectively.