#tom hiddleston is the reason i read shakespeare | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Virtual Strangers {Part 2}

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: 2/10

Words: 6.3k

Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?

~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~

A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.

Find Part 1 here! All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

______________________________

When you woke up to the blaring sound of your alarm, you couldn't help inwardly cursing yourself for always staying up so bloody late. When you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to turn the annoying sound off however, your barely open eyes fell upon the little icon telling you that you had received a new message, and your mind finally caught up again with the reason for your staying up late. The texts exchanged with T, the discussion about Shakespeare… The best conversation you'd had in forever. Blinking, you felt more awake in an instant as you sat up in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes before you finally opened the messaging app with a smile on your face.

T: 'I am very glad to have made your bad day a little bit better; that might just be my only true accomplishment of the day. Or the only one that matters, at least. Believe it or not, I was also not having the best night before I happened upon you, and I would be a fool to deny that our conversation has thoroughly turned my week around. I am very inclined to keep on talking, or rather writing to you, Y/n. After all, we haven't even started on the Sonnets yet ;) But for now, indeed, let that be goodnight.'

Your smile turned just a tad brighter while you read the message a second time, just to make sure your sleep fogged brain hadn't misinterpreted anything. But no, the meaning was still the same: T had enjoyed your conversation quite as much as you had, and he wasn't opposed to keeping on texting about sundry and the world. Well, about Shakespeare and literature. But that was what you had connected over after all, and the prospect of actually having someone to share your thoughts on the matter with was exciting enough to keep the smile on your face even as you crawled out of the comfort of your bed to get ready for the day.

It was only when you stuffed your laptop back into your work bag and put on your coat and shoes that the smile was slowly replaced by a frown. Would you come off as a creep if you texted back right away? As desperate or annoyingly clingy perhaps? Should you wait until tonight, or even worse, until another day before sending another message? Gods, those were questions people would usually ask themselves when it came to dating, not casual intellectual encounters with virtual strangers. But you couldn't help feeling torn about what to do, and that didn't change even in the slightest during your hasty commute to work. Hadn't T said he wasn't much of a texting person anyway? Just because he wanted to keep talking to you didn't automatically mean he would want to keep constantly talking to you, like you had done last night. But you really didn't want to wait half a week to say the exact same things you would much rather just say right away. So it was either suppressing the surprisingly strong impulse to talk to him now to be safe in terms of social standards, or to go for it and possibly upset him. Ugh… You didn't know what to do. Only five minutes prior to your seminar, you finally got a grip on yourself and decided to test the waters of the new day with something short and innocuous.

Y: 'I'm glad to hear that I made your evening a bit better as well! I hope you've still managed to reach out to the guy you originally meant to text nonetheless, by now. I'll just assume he didn't want to talk Sonnets with you then, seeing as that honour's been left to me ;) have a nice day!'

That was inconspicuous, yet prompting enough to allow a conversation to start into either direction, should T fancy to pick it up from here. This would have to do, for now. Right? Or should you make it clearer that you would enjoy his virtual company even on a more… constant basis? Geez, you were just being too much again. Like always. But you still felt somewhat proud of yourself for being clingy with your new acquaintance without sounding clingy, and in the contentment of that knowledge you slipped your phone into your bag for the time being and finally started your class.

… … …

Tom woke up to the seemingly incessant sound of his phone vibrating on his wooden nightstand, ringing harshly in his ears like a chainsaw in the process of demolishing his entire bedroom. A low growl started somewhere deep in his chest long before he was able to phrase any actual words of vain protest, and when thought became a possibility at last, he wondered who on earth would wake him up this bloody early. He usually was an early riser by nature, so if something or someone woke him up before his time, it logically had to be at a crazy hour still. Only that he'd made those calculations under the premise that he went to bed at a reasonable hour, and since last night had been anything but reasonable, the glimpse at the time he got when he unlocked his phone all but woke him up the remaining bit. Ten o'clock and counting… well, fuck.

With a groan he dropped his phone onto his bed and removed himself from the very piece of furniture simultaneously, hurrying first to the bathroom, then the wardrobe and finally down the stairs into the open hallway where Bobby was already waiting by the door with a reproachful glance up at his master.

"I know I know, I'm sorry!" Tom sighed defeatedly while he tried to somehow put on his shoes and clasp the leather leash onto his impatient companion's collar at once. Half a minute later they were out the door and on their way to the park, all as ever, only a good two hours later than was usual for off-work days. What a great start to the day… Tom scoffed quietly and shook his head to himself. At least Bobby seemed to have forgiven him for the delay as soon as they'd been outside, but his own mind was still on edge nevertheless. Did he have any meetings or tasks scheduled for today? No, nothing that he knew of. That was something, at least. He would have to check his phone that was still buried deeply somewhere under his sheets once he returned home nonetheless, in case Luke had called, but otherwise he would have the day off.

Speaking of his phone… now that he had the time to think about it, he wondered whether you had sent him a new message already, or if perhaps you weren't that kind of person at all. The kind who grew instantly and overly attached to the few select people who had managed to catch your interest, to the point of wanting to give them an infinite amount of attention and hoping for much the same in return. The kind he knew himself to be. Would you be like that as well? Or were you someone who texted casually with some dozen people at once, replying to some messages and to others not, always a couple of days in between? Tom found himself hoping for the former, but feared that it would rather end up being the latter.

Oh well… At least he wasn't so far gone in the haze of fame that he expected everyone and anyone to reply to him immediately all the time just because he supposedly was someone. No, he knew enough people who acted like that, and he never ceased to be repelled by such behaviour. For him, it was more of a deeply rooted wish to be thought of, to not be forgotten. To mean something to someone, not to be someone to others. So if you hadn't replied by the time he got home, he would force himself to accept that and adapt to your pace of conversation instead. He didn't know a thing about texting, after all… Perhaps it would be a good thing to let you take the lead.

That in return gave him all the more reason to smile when he finally did check his phone upon his arrival at home, to find not one, but two new messages from you. (And he also found the inevitable text from Dave that there was no news on the script yet, but in the light of hearing from you again, Tom found himself almost alright with the lack of progress at the work front for once.) Thus smiling to himself, he now made his way into the kitchen for some much needed tea and breakfast, and finally opened the messaging app.

Tom let out a huff in amusement at the thought of talking Shakespeare with Dave… what a crazy idea. But he found it remarkable that you even cared about whether or not he had still gotten a hold of the right person after all. That, much like your first few replies last night, spoke of at least some kind of interest in his person beyond just his opinion on old tomes, right? Tom found himself oddly excited by that possibility, as if it was some kind of admirable achievement to be of interest to someone just by being his own silly self, not because he was who he was in public. He shook the thought out of his head for now and made himself go on to read the second message you had sent. That one was only from half an hour ago, and he instantly felt guilty for failing to reply to your first message sooner than that.

Y: 'I mean, we don't have to talk about Sonnets, if you'd rather not… Even though you suggested it yourself, so why wouldn't you want to talk about them, right…? Gah, I'm sorry, I'm just awkward when I'm not sure what to do. I really want to talk to you more, but I also really don't want to annoy you by sending you random messages like this one right here without being asked to or having any reason other than simply wanting to. You'd think someone close to a PhD would know how to handle that, but I realize that I just sound absolutely stupid at the moment, so I'll just shut up now. Sorry.'

While your text made Tom chuckle in amusement, he also couldn't deny that he'd had some of the very same thoughts on his walk with Bobby just before, and that hearing these concerns from you now was oddly relieving in return. Perhaps you were just like him after all… the kind of person who poured themselves into their choices way too quickly, and way too thoroughly. For common standards, at least. Before overthinking things again, he quickly went to type a reply at long last.

T: 'Good morning, Y/n. Or rather, almost good noon! I apologise for not replying any sooner, my morning turned out to be unexpectedly stressful. I really didn't mean to give you the impression that you were annoying me, not at all. On the contrary, I was having very much the same concerns about possibly bothering you if I just texted you out of every whim or fancy I have as you apparently did. People have been telling me for ages that I tend to be too much when I'm not careful to hold back, that intensity and depth of character aren't socially acceptable, that my interest and attention are perceived as exhausting and overwhelming. Perhaps some of the same things have been said to you before as well? I wouldn't know, and you certainly don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But perhaps we can settle this uncertainty on either end by saying that neither will annoy the other by being intense, or random, or truthfully ourselves. Isn't that why we ended up talking quite so deeply and passionately about literature last night in the first place, because neither of us can be like that elsewhere, with anyone else? Perhaps we can allow ourselves to be like that with each other. Would that be alright?'

When Tom read over his message another time before sending it, he realized that it had gotten both quite a bit longer and quite a bit more personal than intended. But it still felt just right like that, ridiculously right even to be himself and forward with his own thoughts for once, and changing anything about the message would only defy the meaning and purpose of everything he had just typed out in the first place. Being truthful without precautions. So he got over his insecurity and hit send in the same determination he had reasoned himself into last night already; with you, he would be himself. He would be T, and the prospect of that alone made him smile to himself yet again. This whole thing was only difficult if he made it to be. And for once, he wouldn't. In that knowledge he dropped his phone on the counter, and finally went to prepare an early lunch instead of breakfast. After all, he could have his tea with that as well.

… … …

You had just talked yourself out of your repeated pattern of reminding yourself that you had made a complete tart out of yourself with your messages to T, when finally your phone's noisy ping made both you and the professor whose office you shared jump out of your seats. The elderly man shot you a mean glare from across the room before returning to his work, while you however just released a low breath and set your phone on mute as quickly as possible. Thank the gods that your colleague had already condemned you anyway, right from the moment he'd been told you would be sharing his office, but that way you at least didn't have to worry about keeping up a reputation with him now.

Your train of thoughts came to a sudden halt when you finally opened the messaging app to read the message T had just sent, and with every word you took in your smile broadened and your day brightened in return. How could coincidences be crazy like that, to let you meet someone who was saying exactly what you were thinking? What were the odds that you would encounter the first and only person to have no problem with your truthful self at all, through a wrong bloody phone number?! It didn't matter… You just felt relieved, and excited about the prospect of being able to speak (or write) your mind whenever you felt like it now. Somehow, you had an inkling that you wouldn't just be talking about Shakespeare after all… Not when you obviously had quite a bit more in common than just your interest for literature. With the lingering smile on your face, you went to reply.

Y: 'That would be more than just alright, T. I'm very happy about this, you should see my stupidly excited face! I've never met someone who also has been told these things, to stop being passionate about matters and instead sit down quietly like a good girl (or boy, I guess). It's both relieving and sad to know that you have gone through that as well. We shouldn't have to hide like that… But I guess we can just let it all out on each other now ;) That sounds great, to be honest. And as far as a stressful morning goes, I do absolutely understand and I'm very much with you on that. I've had an hour-long debate with the printer and the WiFi, and then the bloody coffee maker died on me just out of solidarity with them. By now I believe technology has declared war on me today.'

This time around, it only took him roughly five minutes to answer you, and you had your phone on hand again in an instant.

T: 'I've heard numerous stories of both good people and good printers losing their fight to the unconquerable entity of the mighty WiFi. And your coffee maker sounds like an arse just for betraying you; perhaps try with tea next time, it is said to be a rather loyal companion in dark times.'

You let out an unintentional snort, unable to keep from grinning to yourself even as you felt a fair of eyes mustering you in annoyance from the other end of the room. Shaking your head to yourself, you let work be work and focused on texting back for now instead.

Y: 'You sound terribly British even for a Brit (which I will just assume you are), you know that? I bet you're having your baked beans and eggs on toast with your Earl Grey as a proper early luncheon right now. Probably reading the morning paper all the while?'

T: 'How did you know that? Am I that predictable to you already? ;)'

With the text, he had sent a picture of a wooden table set with precisely the foods and items you had previously described, all neatly arranged to make a rather pretty ensemble. Your lips parted in amusement, and you let out half of a laugh while you replied right away.

Y: 'I believe you’ve just made my day yet again, T… That's actually hilarious, impeccable timing, beautifully set and all. Should I better get used to odd coincidences when it comes to you?'

T: 'Actually, my life is usually rather void of unpredictable circumstances and thus severely lacking any coincidences. Must be entirely your doing, my dear.'

Y: 'There's always more than one party involved in coincidences, and that in return makes for the unpredictable circumstances ;) Haven't you learned about models of communication in whatever degree it is you have quite obviously studied?!'

T: 'I have a degree in classics, actually. Hardly any communication involved in that ;)'

Y: '...A classics degree literally is the study of old languages and cultures, T! I know that as well as you obviously do, seeing as I can spot your sarcasm from miles away right now, and probably also because I sit across the hall from the guys in our own classics department every day.'

T: 'You do?'

Y: 'Yes, well… Classics and English Lit are basically hallmates here at uni. I work for the literature department at one of the colleges while writing my dissertation. Gotta pay for the bloody thing after all, and somehow also stay on top of the bills. You'll already know that, but London really isn't the cheapest place to be living. At least I'm almost done with my doctorate.'

T: 'So that's why you have such an extensive knowledge about literature! I had a vague idea after last night that you might actually be an expert in the field after all ;) I assume you teach as well then, besides doing your research?'

Y: 'Yep… Just undergrad level classes though, which honestly aren't the greatest joy to go through. Usually, there are subzero chances to have a proper discussion about anything other than people's grades.'

T: 'Well, I will do my utmost to be an acceptable surrogate for that vacancy then :) I haven't studied literature in such a scientific regard for too long myself, but I believe we made do with my own, different perspective just fine yesterday.'

Y: 'You aren't just any surrogate, T! If I wanted to hear a scientific opinion I could go two doors down the hall from where I sit and bore myself to death with my colleagues who have read roughly the same texts I have. It would be clinical and technical and without any passion, and more about the work for work's sake than about the subject for its own value. I believe you know what I mean. So you will also have to believe me that I appreciate your specific take and perception way more than any other, scientific or not. On my end we're equals: either both experts, or both idiots. That's your choice ;)'

T: 'I think we have sufficiently proven by now that we can be both at once, and that is something I find rather brilliant. It's a quality I see far too rarely in people. Being an adult these days means being expected to be intelligent, competent and polite in a variety of settings, but for a great deal of people that translates to being restrained, shallow and passionless, or straight out boring in all regards of life. There's nothing wrong with being silly sometimes, or with taking chances just because they might end up being worth it.'

Y: 'Chances like replying to a stray text from a stranger out of an impulse, only to end up finding out that you have more in common with them than with any of your other acquaintances?'

T: 'Yes, that makes for a perfect example ;) And just out of curiosity, do you have many acquaintances to keep up with? I need to know how much of your time I may monopolise, after all ;)'

Y: 'Very funny, T… And no, I don't, actually. I have a few colleagues I sometimes (rarely) tag along with when invited, but otherwise I am best acquainted with my work. It's a vicious circle, really… I work too much because I don't have any friends, and I have no friends because I work too much. So do feel free to monopolise as much of my time as you fancy, it will be most appreciated. How about you?'

T: 'Much the same for me, I'm afraid. I usually am rather busy with work, there's no telling around it… But I do tend to push it to the limits as well, simply because I have little else to do. My acquaintances are usually colleagues in one way or another, and even though I do have a couple hundred of those, I would consider very few of them my friends.'

Before you could reply that you knew the feeling, or wonder how someone could have a couple hundred acquaintances, he sent a second message right after to follow up the first.

T: 'There is someone very special in my life though; my darling and best friend, the reason I get up in the morning and the cause of my delight and despair at once. Someone you will inevitably have to share me with, because he tries incessantly and as hard as he can to monopolise my time indeed.'

You frowned to yourself at the text, feeling both confused and desperately curious just by the way he had phrased that statement. But most of all you found yourself surprised by the fact that you hadn't even considered if T was in a relationship or not. Perhaps even married, with a kid or two! Who knew, after all… And obviously, that special someone in his life was a he as well. Not that you minded in the least, but you still felt like you had missed a crucial detail to see the whole picture, because somehow it didn't make sense. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you decided to just go for it and ask.

Y: 'So… you're gay? Or you have a flatmate you're very fond of? Living with a brother, or a son, perhaps?'

T: 'No, yes, and not quite ;)'

With that text and before you could further wonder about its crypticism, he sent you a picture of a dark brown Cocker Spaniel who looked up into the camera with curious eyes while lolling around the leg of the same wooden table you'd seen in the picture before. You instantly started smiling down at your phone with heart eyes, and couldn't help the 'aww' on your lips even though you still weren't alone in the office. You didn't even care as you kept on smiling at the picture; what a cutie!

T: 'This is him, the best friend I have ;) But I think he wouldn't be opposed to some competition from you when it comes to monopolising my time.'

You let out a snort, then shook your head to yourself. So T had a dog… and he wasn't gay. You could work with that information; it fit the puzzle a whole lot better than the other options you had briefly considered.

Y: 'Aahh he is adorable! I have a great fondness for dogs, if they are friendly to me as well :) What's his name? Or can you not tell me that either?'

T: 'Well, if I'm T, then he's B. Can you live with that without being too disappointed by my continuing secrecy?'

Y: 'It's alright… He's adorable after all, so I'll let it slip for his sake ;) Tell B my sincerest thanks, then, for allowing me to steal some of your time from him.'

T: 'Will do. His preferred method of payment is either doggy treats or belly rubs, both to be supplied in sufficient amounts of course. I will compensate him in your stead, if you fancy.'

Y: 'Very much so, I would hate for your best friend to be cross with me after all. And I'm used to having to pay for attention and affection, so that is quite alright.'

The moment you hit send, you realized how terribly wrong what you had written might sound to some minds, and you quickly sent a second message with a roll of your eyes directed at yourself, while the inevitable heat crept up your neck in an instant.

Y: 'Obviously I didn't mean LITERALLY paying for affection, in the way some certain people do, in some certain places… That all came out so wrong, oh god. Aaaaand I'm positively mortified.'

T: 'Please don't be, dear. I didn't believe you were implying anything like that, don't worry ;) But what exactly are you trying to say?'

Y: 'Well, I just meant that it isn't news to me that I have to compensate people somehow for the attention and kindness they show me. Like… When an acquaintance sits with me during lunch, I do some of their work for them later. When they have a longer chat with me at the pub, I pay for their drinks. When they invite me along to go out, I watch over their stuff while they dance. Things like that. You know, the usual. But I was just joking when applying it to B just now, I trust him not to make me pay for you being nice to me.'

T: 'Hold on, I'm confused… Do you really do all these things, and do you do them because you want to be kind, or because you think they are expected of you?'

Y: 'What an odd question… in an interesting way, I mean. Yes, I really do those things for the few acquaintances I have. But let's start with the first part: Of course I want to be kind, and I try to be whenever I can. I think it is important to repay kindness with kindness, because you want to preserve it. Like watering a plant instead of plucking its flowers. Now for the second part: I know for a fact that these things are expected of me. Whenever an acquaintance of mine spends some time with me outside of the mandatory work talk, I will find some of their work to be done on my desk later, or they will hand me the bill at the end of the evening, or I'm told to watch over their things because I don't dance anyway (even though I do dance… They just never asked me to.) So really, kindness has nothing much to do with it, it's just a simple trade. Don't you do that with your acquaintances as well?'

T: 'Working from the bottom up: No, I don't. Usually I know even the most rudimentary acquaintanceships to work based on kindness and mutual interest or respect for each other rather than paid trading. I'm terribly sorry that you had to go through such trades to get someone to spend time with you; I can only hope to assure you that it had nothing to do with you as a person. You are absolutely lovely just as you are, and I can indeed say that because as little as I might yet know about you, I still am getting a pretty good idea of WHO YOU ARE just by having talked to you for a few hours now. And I think they make you pay for their time and attention, simply because you let them. You are kind, and willing to be kind to them to a degree they clearly don't deserve. I'm admittedly not a fan of Freud and his theories (should you be familiar, which I am very sure you are, you will know why), but I think he might've been onto something when he said that the average person will take advantage of their neighbours if given the chance to justify it to themselves. And your willingness to trade kindness for their time and attention obviously was a good enough justification for them to make it a trade. I assume that this isn't what you originally meant when you said to repay kindness with kindness though, is it?'

Y: 'Not really, no. But I do think you're right about my acquaintances, and why they do what they do… They likely don't deserve my kindness, and I certainly shouldn't trade it for their attention. It has just become a habit by now, one I was only vaguely aware of until I just put it into words for you. I guess I better shall try to break with it, if you can already spot it after a few minutes of hearing me babble. But then again, I also think that being kind to someone who doesn't deserve or warrant your kindness at all is the greatest act of strength a person can deliver. Though I have to admit that while sometimes I'm strong by that definition, other times I'm clearly not. In that sense I both admire and pity those poor people who live a public life, like politicians, celebrities, athletes and so on. They have no choice but to either be incessantly kind to everyone all the time, or to be shunned by the world for being human like the rest of us.'

T: 'You would be surprised by how many famous people are kind simply and only because it is expected of them, and only while they are standing in front of the cameras and audiences. But even those who seem honestly kind and caring by nature reach a point where it's all nothing more than smoke and mirrors, no matter how much they would want to be sincere in it. In a way, they also pay for attention with kindness, now that I think about it. A habit as well. It's kind of disappointing, isn't it? To be disillusioned like that.'

Y: 'Why would it be? Not even the kindest person on earth could possibly be kind to everyone all the time, and they shouldn't be either.'

T: 'What makes you think that?'

Y: 'If you are trying to always be kind to everyone, you ultimately forget to be kind to the most important person of them all, namely yourself. Being kind means giving, and even if occasionally you are given a little kindness in return, you can only keep on giving for so long without running empty. Sometimes the best thing you can do is to be kind to yourself, and to protect yourself by not giving all you have. To not let yourself run empty.'

T: 'But what if you gain more from the act of giving than what you lost through it in the first place?'

Y: 'But is it still kindness then that makes you give, or isn't it much rather love?'

T: 'That… is an incredibly fascinating thought. So much so that I don't quite know what to say. I agree, I assume… I know I do, for I know that I want to. Perhaps kindness IS a way of loving, in the end, or at least they come together in their selflessness.'

Y: 'In Blake's words, your argument stands… ›Love seeketh not itself to please, / Nor for itself hath any care, / But for another gives its ease, / And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.‹ … and in Blake's words, your argument falls. ›Love seeketh only self to please, / To bind another to its delight, / Joys in another's loss of ease, / And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.‹'

T: 'Yet, isn't that quite the ambivalence we have been talking about this entire time? An impossible balance of two sides that are still of the one same essence. The same thing, changed to opposites by disposition… One is bred of innocence, one of experience; both important themes for Blake, as you probably know. He applies it to love right here, but we might just say the same thing for kindness. Innocence, to be taken as selflessness, is which makes of kindness the act of strength; its goal only to be found in itself. Experience, therefore to be taken as selfishness, makes of kindness a tool to achieve one's end through bargain or deceit. The difference lies not in the outcome for the other, but in the strength it takes to stay innocent in the self.'

Y: 'Now YOU are the one who renders me speechless, T… That is an incredibly clever line of argumentation! And you even backed up my previous argument with it, so thank you for that ;)'

T: '...I did? How so?'

Y: 'Hehe… You thought it disappointing and disillusioning that people (regardless of who they are) eventually cease to be kind out of sincerity, and go over to pretense. But your entire line of argument just proved that it's a deeply human flaw, and one of circumstance rather than of character: if your strength runs out, you lose your innocence, and you thereby lose the sincerity in your kindness. And if you scroll back up a bit, you will find my elaboration on running empty eventually if you give too much of your kindness to others without getting enough back. Equal up kindness and strength, and you have just proven my argument ;)'

T: 'Oh dear… I didn't even notice I had come around to your side. You are too clever for me, Y/n.'

Y: '...says the guy who used Blake's thematic categories to build a flawless line of argumentation while I merely stated my opinion…'

T: 'You started with Blake.'

Y: 'I only quoted Blake, you started with the interpretation of his themes. Now stop talking yourself out of this and accept that you are really quite brilliant, T! You can't hide that from me, you know ;)'

T: 'Ehehe… Coming from you, I will take that as a sincere compliment. Thank you.'

Y: 'Of course it's a sincere compliment, you nut! I'm not spilling my life's flaws in detail to you only to then lie to you in empty phrases. Besides, I could be way more creative than that if I intended to be insincere.'

T: 'I have no doubt about that. And I have no doubt about your sincerity either, which is a most welcome change for me. It's never that easy, especially not with the job I do. Speaking of work, I'm not keeping you from yours, right? I am having a rare day off for once, as you might have guessed from the luncheon, and that has rather led me to forget that you actually might still have to attend to your work nonetheless.'

Y: 'It's perfectly fine, I'm in no hurry to be doing anything specific today, I'm weeks ahead of what I ought to do… That's the advantage of doing little besides working all day, every day. You get quite far ahead. Besides, even if I end up being busy at times, feel free to talk to me nonetheless if you feel like it. I'll reply when I can ;)'

T: 'I will remember that and most likely make use of it before I can help myself :) Please, feel free and welcome to do the same. (Just don't be surprised, I am sometimes kept busy and without a cellphone for many hours on end. It comes with the job, which can be both a curse and blessing.) Do you have classes to give today?'

Y: 'Yeah, I had one at eight and will have another at two.'

T: 'Two in the afternoon? Today…?'

Y: 'Yes?'

T: 'I don't mean to impose, but that's in five minutes. Have you lost track of time? (I really can't blame you; I can't quite believe that it's already gotten so late myself.)'

Y: 'Ahh fuck, no no no… Alright, I got to go. Run, actually. I'll talk to you later! Go give B some attention ;)'

T: 'Will do. He will be delighted to go for another stroll in the rain, I'm sure. You enjoy your class, and if I don't drown in the meantime, I will talk to you later indeed.'

______________________________

Tags:

@cosmicsoulsandstardust @lucywrites02 @karushinekomiya @hockeysweaterweather @felicityofbakerstreet @sergeantbuckybarnes @ravennight41 @eprilin @livvpl107 @mirrorelm2944 @aestheticallyholland @elaisa-greens

General Tags:

@wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @leahs-reading-nook @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @lemonmochitea @thelittlepug @beenthroughalot

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x y/n #loki #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel actors #virtual strangers #tom hiddleston fandom #marvel

396 notes · View notes

yup-thats-me · 2 years

Text

Christmas Carols - Tom Hiddleston X Reader

a/n: Merry Christmas!!! Enjoy :)

pairing: Tom Hiddleston X sensitive!reader

summary: Tom sings carols to see a smile on your lips

warnings: Christmas carols, sensitive reader, crying, kissing, and fluff!

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Anyway, lets start”, Tom said to himself as he stood in front of the full-length mirror.

It was at least a month before Christmas. You weren’t home at the moment. You’d been out for a couple of hours with your best friend and a couple of others to simply hang out. Giving Tom the opportunity to start working on his carols.

Let’s face it, Tom was never the type to sing Christmas carols. Sure, he loves Christmases especially if they’re spent with you cuddling close to his chest or, having a cup of hot chocolate at hands, or even slow dancing to old Christmas songs. Whatsoever the way it might be. He waited the whole year for that very moment, to spend it with you.

“Silent night, holy night” the words fell from his mouth in a much-stiffed tone than he had originally intended to.

What was he doing? He was practicing Christmas carols. He knew how much you cherished Christmas carols. For you, you had spent your entire childhood, with your siblings, with a bunch of other kids, singing Christmas carols.

It meant a lot to you. Whenever you would hear Christmas carols, even in the faintest form, it was bound to bring tears to your eyes. You had no idea why. The carols were so close to your heart, and you didn’t even know why. The only reasonable cause you can give is that you’re sensitive. Very sensitive for that matter, what else? It really touched your heart.

So, this year, Tom decided to give you an extra gift just to make you a touch happier on the occasion. He was planning to wake you up midnight of the 24th, take you to the roof of your house and sing you the carol.

He made sure that every night for the following week, he’d be up before you and go to the farthest room from where you’ll be asleep and practice there, in order not to wake or even disturb you. He’d been planning this for the last month. He’d hate if you found out beforehand.

~on 24th of December~

The clock was 20 minutes away from striking 12 o’clock, marking the day of Christmas. Tom and you were up. He was nestled in your lap, reading you one of Shakespeare’s play. Was it Romeo and Juliet? Much ado About Nothing? You weren’t sure. You were so captivated by his angelic voice; it didn’t matter to you which or what he was reading even. All that mattered to you was, he was by your side, with you in his strong arms and you were caressing his hair. This was your whole world, and you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the whole world.

You both had finished up decorating for the party that was about to take place the next day, with all of his friends and some of yours, along with both of your parents and siblings. All that was left to be done, was to relax so that you’ll wake up with the much-needed energy. And what better way to relax than Tom reading out to you.

“Are you already sleepy, my Darling?” Tom asked with a smile. You softly shook your head, “No. Babe. Why? Do you want me to make something to eat, Tommy?” you spoke to him.

He slowly got up from your lap, closing the book. He took your hand and kissed it gently. “Come with me”, he stated in a hushed tone. You nodded and got up as well. “Are we going outside? Do I need to wear something very warm?” you questioned him. In reply, he gave you one of his oversized-sweater that smelled just like him. You quicky threw it over your head, Tom also wearing a sweatshirt that seems warm enough.

After you both were done changing into something warm, he again and made his way through the room. He stopped in one of the rooms where your Bluetooth speaker was settled. He took both the devices and, once more went on with his way to who knows where.

By the time you both were in front of the staircase, you figured maybe he was taking you to the terrace, but why it was yet to be discovered.

Stepping into the cold and empty roof, he switched on the lights, luminatting the whole area. He placed both the Bluetooth devices on a coffee table, that was settled at a corner.

He turned them on and connected to his phone. You were still looking confused as to what he was doing.

He then glanced at you with a hearty smile, his eyes shinning with adoration. Then, the familiar melody of the carol caught your attention, adding to your confusion.

“Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright”

He began to sing. Tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, blurring the beautiful vision of him singing to you, just for you.

“Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child

Holy infant so tender and mild”

His accent perfectly matching the music. Coming forward to him, you placed your own arms on his shoulders, his coming to rest at your waist.

As the carol played, you joined him. Both joining in to create perfect harmony.

” Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace

Glories stream from heaven afar

Heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah”

You both sang, your back pressed against his chest, chin resting at your shoulder.

“Christ the Savior is born

Christ the Savior is born”,

The carol ended. By now, you were absolutely crying your heart out. The carols as always, didn’t failed to make you cry, but the addition that Tom, YOUR TOM, was singing for you, made your heart swell.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n, my Love”, he announced in a whisper, not wanting to break the most graceful atmosphere.

“Merry Christmas, my Dear” you exclaimed, turning around to kiss him deeply.

Now This, was a perfect Christmas for you.

#tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #merry christmas

51 notes · View notes

geekwritersworld · 3 years

Text

Just a girl

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader (requested)

Warnings: none

summary:(stated in the request below)

Request: wonder if you could write a Tom Hiddleston x reader. She was content with her life. Her job was fine, even if the pay wasnt the best-she liked it! Second hand shopping was her thing anyway. The apartment was small, but enough. Reader never felt the need to change - until now...A twist of fate had hooked her up with no other than Tom Hiddleston! A famous superstar with top style, high personal ambitions and a sky rocketing career! Why ? What could a man like that ever see in someone so plain?..

a/n: @scorpionchild81 i really really hope you liked it, do let me know what you think ❤❤

Maybe it was the serenity that came with living such a normal life or maybe it was the gratitude , either ways , whatever It was, I was highly content.

I lived a good life, I worked at a bookstore in London, and the pay wasn’t the greatest, but it was enough. The life I led was enough.

i spent most of my time in my apartment, which was just perfect, small, but perfect. I loved every aspect of my life, and never once did i feel the need to change anything. Not once.

I was a morning person, something about the cold London air, and the quiet was just so peaceful and calming.

I held my cup of hot coffee and stood by the window and watched the cars drive past my window.

i got ready for the day shortly after placing my empty cup in the sink.

*****

Making my to my bookstore, i opened up the doors and started placing things where they needed to be before the customers started rolling in.

i took my place behind the counter and sat down, my book in my hand, i didn’t expect today to go any different than the others.

A numerous amount of people made their way in and out and as the sun started to set, and the skies outside started to darken, I decided to go get myself another cup of coffee.

Joe, who i worked with at the bookstore, kept looking at his watch every few seconds. I knew he was growing more and more impatient by the minute to get off his shift and go home.

“Hey” I called out to him “ 10 minutes, that's it, watch the store for 10minutes while i get my coffee and I’ll let you off early”

Needless to say , this had him awake and paying attention as soon as the words left my mouth.

I walked to the closest café; getting in , the smell of coffee hit my nose, I let out a sigh, making my way to the counter.

“Hey, Tyler, the usual , latte please” I knew Tyler from the very day I started working at the bookstore . He and I became quick acquaintances considering the number of times I’d gone in for coffee.

10 minutes later, I walked back into the bookstore with my cup of coffee.

“Jo- Holy shit” Good thing I’d placed my cup on the counter before looking for joe, because in place i saw myself staring right at Tom Hiddleston.

I’d staggered back into the counter , slightly dazed and finding it difficult to believe that tom fucking Hiddleston was in my store.

‘I-I'm so sorry , I'm y/n ,ugh is-is there anything I can help you with?” I stumbled around , trying to act normal and not fangirl.

he extended his hand , smiling “I'm Tom , Tom Hiddleston”

shaking his hand, I couldn’t help but notice how soft they were "well Mr. Tom- I mean Mr. Hiddleston, have you found what you were looking for’ I mentally cursed , and blushed.

His laugh, the signature laugh, that anyone could recognize anywhere , lightened up the dimming day.

“ I did actually , thank you sweetheart. “ his blue eyes , took in my facial features.

I’d never been timid or shy under anyone's stare, especially a man’s, but his stare , though it could hardly be called that, made me want to run and hide behind a counter and squeal.

“hey can I fucking leave n-” Joe came in, looking at his watch, but stopped when he looked up and saw Tom Hiddleston.

“Aren’t you Tom Hiddleston, like Loki?”

“I am” he chuckled, extending his hand , in the polite manner that he did with me.

“um” I cleared my throat ‘ joe, your shift is over, if you want to leave, that is” I smiled, looking down and making my way behind the cashier. I looked at the title of the book, the movie star before me seemed interested in .

“Shakespeare’ I whispered and smiled, as i bagged it, and told him how much he owed me.

“do you read Shakespeare?” he inquired , smiling and looking at me curiously while he placed his wallet in his back pocket.

“i do, one of my favorites .”

“me too” He took his book and stepped out, a cold gust of wind blowing past me as he opened and closed the door.

Joe and I stood there, trying to take in what had just happened.

“im-im going to leave now” Joe whispered, still clearly shocked.

I looked down at my phone, breathing out and trying to let it sink in that Tom Hiddleston just walked into my store.

The wind chimes rung, as the door opened up once again.” yes joe? “I said ,not looking up.

“You keep expecting joe, should i take that as a sign?”

My head shot up , my eyes landing on a grinning Tom .

“I- sorry, wait what?” I looked at him confused .

‘i actually came in to ask you if i could get to know you better over a cup of coffee?”

I looked at him , well stared ,actually, with my mouth hanging open

“im sorry , was that inappropriate ?” he asked, a look of concern taking over his features.

‘no-why do you-why me?” I had a thousand questions rushing through my head, why would a man like him, someone with a sky rocketing career and just overall someone so out of my league even want to get to know me at all?

“well, to be honest, i noticed you at the coffee shop earlier , and I’ve seen you there before, and I truly just wanted to get to know you better” he smiled.

*******

I’d seen Tom on and off since that evening 2 months ago, and i fell for him big time, and could you really blame me ? He was the most kind hearted and gentle souls, I’d ever come across.

he was pretty much the only reason i even bothered having faith in the male population. But it never made sense to me why he’d wanted to get to know me at all.

Tom’s pov

I’d noticed her quite often , grabbing a cup of coffee at roughly the same hour each day.

There was something in the gentle tone of her voice when she ordered her usual cup pf coffee and the glint in her eyes, that made me want to form a bond with her.

Over the months since I’d finally managed to ask her if I could get to know her better, I’d found out quite a bit about her. She lived a life completely normal and quiet, compared to what mine was.

She was content with the little things in life, she didn’t get upset easily and just enjoyed and took life in a stride. Of course she had her moments when she was down ,.

But it was inevitable that I one day found myself falling for her, and I realized this whilst i watched her put away a stack of books.

‘Why me?’ she asked me quite suddenly , to the say the least.

Y/n’s pov

It just sort of slipped out of my mouth.

“I'm sorry?” he looked taken aback.

“how does someone like you, someone just so....ambitious and who’s making it far in life , want to get to know someone like me, someone who prefers second hand shopping not just because its cheaper but because she’s got to?”

He put down his cup of coffee and walked closer to me, his scent hitting my nose.

“i think its the way you appreciate the little things in life, or perhaps the way you furrow your eyebrows while reading , or maybe its the way you're so passionate and gentle while handling a book, or its the way you feed the cat outside your apartment, even though it isn’t even your responsibility. Sometimes I think it’s the way you close your eyes and breathe in the morning air and the way you crinkle your nose if your coffee’s too bitter. I truly can’t place my finger on what has me falling for you love, but i know I'm far too smitten to go back” He looked at me , i was finding it hard to breathe.

His husky , yet soft English accent lingering in my head. His face was quite close to mine now and I could feel his warm breath.

“Can i kiss you , love?”

#tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom Hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston request #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston one shot

189 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Balisong.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Roommate AU

Requested: by @tom-hlover

Tom Hiddleston x (roommate) reader where reader is harboring a secret crush on Tom, but she thinks that Tom only sees her as a friend, she loves to sing when she's alone, and sends Tom letters through the mailbox making it seem from another place,but in reality the return address is from her friend's address whom is out of the country and lets reader use the address for now, as she is serving as the house's caretaker as well 😅😅 until Tom finds out and also turns out hears reader's singing? And I was thinking of the song "Bali Song" by Rivermaya for that one particularly 😅😅😊😊

Summary: Y/N, who is roommates with Tom Hiddleston (omg they were roommates) has a crush on him and instead of confessing her love like a normal person, she writes him love-letters using a fake identity and address. What happens when Tom finds out, though?

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Hey guys! Special shoutout to @tom-hlover for the prompt, finished writing it under an hour so you have to excuse me if it's crappy. Enjoy!

---

Y/N POV:

"Oh, look, another letter from the secret admirer. I wonder what she wrote this time."

I looked up from where I was tending to the houseplants and gave Tom a quick grin. "Endearing words, as always. She does like you a lot," I professed with a slight chuckle, giving him a small smile and looking away when I felt a blush creeping up on my cheeks.

Tom sat down on the couch and opened the letter. "Dear Tom…" I stopped listening after that, I knew the whole thing to heart anyway. Wondering how? Well, I was the one who wrote it, simple! Let me explain. I'm Y/N Y/L/N and the person I was speaking to? Tom Hiddleston, my roomie.

Yeah we lived together; we had been friends for a long time and I needed a place so Tom offered to keep me at his home until I found another home. Nearly 5 years had passed since that incident and now we sort of just lived together, fallen into a nice, daily routine. I also happened to have a huge, huge, huge crush on him. Knowing how many other people, much better than myself, adored him, I kept my feelings to myself.

Oh and by the way, I paid my share of the rent so don't come at me! "She's so sweet with these, I might just pay her a visit! What is the address?" I looked up, wide-eyed as Tom took the envelope in his hand. "Do you really need to?" I blurted out, turning red when he squinted his eyes at me. "Do you know this person?" he blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I don't," I muttered, "You know what? Fine, go meet this person. I just hope they're not, you know, a psychopath." Yes, I knew I was talking about myself but was I wrong, though? Instead of confessing my feelings like a normal person, I was sending letters to my crush like I lived in the Victorian Era, using my best friend's address while she was out living somewhere else.

"I'm sure she's not. Anyway, what are your plans for later?" He let out a yawn, slouching on the couch. "Nothing much, I finish some work and then bam, dinner time." Tom laughed. "I have an interview early tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep early tonight. What do you want for dinner?" I shrugged. "Anything's fine, thanks!" He ruffled my hair and got up, going to the kitchen.

Okay, I see a lot of you are staring in confusion, let me clear things up yet again. I liked Tom for nearly 3 years now, but had no idea how to proceed with my feelings. Did he even like me back? Would he even like me back? That's when my best friend gave me a brilliant idea.

She said she was moving elsewhere and that her previous house was going to be empty but she was still going to be the owner. "Hey, Y/N, maybe you can go live there if you want!" she suggested. And I told her, "Hm, I'll think about it." Ever since then, I was the caretaker of the house, visiting it once a week to see if everything was okay with it.

One day when I was there, looking out the balcony into the garden, I came across the said brilliant idea. Why don't I just send letters to Tom from this address confessing my love?! He didn't know about it, and I technically won't be telling him anything in person. A great way to get the feelings off my chest while not getting the feelings off my chest!

Ever since then, I had started writing letters to him, once a week. Most of them were small, one paragraph long, along the lines of "hey how are you I love you thanks" while in some, I included lovesick quotes from famous authors like William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen or Anaïs Nin. Tom was a fanatic of classical literature, it only made sense.

With a sigh, I got up and went to my room, getting started with my work only to end up spending all my time on social media until Tom called me over for dinner.

---

Tom POV:

"Ah, yes, this is the address," I said to myself, stopping outside a beautiful estate surrounded by pretty gardens. I parked the car and stepped out, heading to the door. As I was about to knock, I noticed that the door was locked. "Huh?" I whispered, maybe she wasn't home at the time? "Excuse me, sir? I saw your car parked outside…" I turned to see an old man blinking at me.

"Where's the woman who lives here?" I asked him. "Woman? This house has been empty for years, son, the last woman that lived here moved to the colonies 3 years ago." My eyes widened. So all this time, I was getting letters from… a ghost? Or was someone using a false address?

"Are you sure no one comes by, or anything?"

"Well, a fair young lady does stop by every week. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N, very polite and kind, she's like a daughter to me. She looks after the house; she's looking to move in, I guess but I'm not sure. Nice meeting you, young man! If you do want to meet up with the pseudo-owner, Y/N, she will stop by next Sunday at 11 am."

"Oh, I wouldn't need to do that," I muttered, bade him farewell and got back into the car. Well well well, things just got… interesting. I smiled widely as I drove back home. I had no idea Y/N felt the same way! All this time, the one-sided pining was actually mutual pining… it all ends today. Now that I knew she liked me back and my love wasn't in vain, there was nothing that could stop me from confessing.

Upon reaching home, I quietly opened the door only to see that Y/N was in the kitchen, singing a song unknown to me as she cooked. Like a thief, I tiptoed in and quietly closed the door behind me. I walked up to the kitchen, stopping when I heard the lyrics.

To speak or not to, where to begin

A great dilemma I'm finding myself in

For all I know you only see me as a friend

I try to tell myself, "Wake up, fool

This fairytale has got to end"

I leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, finding it strange that she still hadn't taken notice of me. You only see me as a friend? Nonsense, I definitely liked her more than that. For some reason, the lyrics seemed familiar— Oh yes, the song Y/N apparently liked to sing all the time! What was the name, uh…

Never in my life have I been more sure

So come on up to me and close the door

Nobody's made me feel this way before

You're everything I wanted…

When she (amazingly) sang those lines, I decided to make my move. I walked forward and put my arms around her from behind, laughing when she screamed. "Tom! Oh my God, when did you come home?!" I spun her around, trapping her between the kitchen counter and myself. "A few minutes ago. You sing wonderfully, love," I smirked. She visibly gulped. "Uh, what are you—"

"Don't play dumb now. Aren't you the one who writes those letters? Don't lie to me." Her eyes went wide. "How did you find out? I'm sorry, I—" I cut off her trail of words by leaning down, capturing her lips with mine in a magical kiss. She, thankfully, didn't push away, instead wrapping her arms around me.

"I didn't think you'd like me back," she mumbled when we pulled away to breathe. "All that matters is that we're together now." She chuckled and snuggled into my arms. With a content sigh, I pulled her close, running my fingers through her hair as I held her close. "I love you," I said simply, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too, think that's quite obvious."

We laughed. "How did you find out, though? What gave it away?" She got out of my arms and turned back to her cooking. I leaned against the counter next to her, crossing my arms. "I just visited the address on the letter. The door was locked, then I met an old man who said the person who lived there moved to the USA 3 years ago."

"My best friend, Y/F/N."

"He told me your name, saying how you went there every Sunday to look after the house. How come I didn't know?"

"Oh, Bertram. I always lied about going out on Sundays. I guess we sort of owe our relationship to Bert, don't we?"

I laughed and kissed her on the temple. "For sure, we do. What is that song you sing all the time, you were singing it just now?" She snorted and took out her phone, opening Spotify. She put on the song and turned to me, holding her hand out. "Balisong by Rivermaya. Care for a dance?"

"Don't mind if I do."

---

A/N: Oooh two fics in a row?? leave a like if you enjoyed lol thanks for reading!

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston characters #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #disney #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr #mcu

148 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

A Brief Interlude | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: You are a huge fan of Shakespeare so you don’t miss the chance to come on the field trip to the local theater. Surprise! Tom is there as a special guest and he gives you the most stimulating performance.

Warnings: Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Door Sex, Couch Sex, Semi-Public Sex, improper use of Shakespeare

“Everyone single file!” you yelled across the lobby.

The group of middle schoolers ignored you. You rolled your eyes. You expected this kind of behavior on a field trip. Especially one to the theater. To see Shakespeare.

You came along not as an official chaperone on this trip, but you volunteered because loved the theater. You loved Shakespeare. As a former theater geek, the thrill of the stage never left you. You took any opportunity to catch a show when you could afford to do so on your teacher’s salary. You jumped at the chance to come watch a collection of Shakespeare scenes with the school. Even if it meant wrangling disinterested 13-year-olds all day.

“My you have quite the task on your hands.” a smooth voice cut through the din of the children’s chatter.

You spun on your heels to spy a tall man with a trimmed beard and long curls standing behind you. He wasn’t a teacher; you knew all the faculty. And his tailored suit was too expensive to be an actor with the company. He was a stranger indeed.

“Yes, I do…” you raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled and extended his hand.

“My apologies. Thomas, but call me Tom.” He flashed you a smile and your stomach flipped.

“Y/N. They are good kids. But you know how kids are… Shakespeare doesn’t compete with YouTube.”

Tom smiled.

“True.” He leaned in close to whisper, “I think Shakespeare is best appreciated in a more stimulating environment.”

You suppressed a moan. His voice did things to your body that should be illegal. As you opened your mouth to respond, he disappeared into the crowd of kids.

You craned your neck but somehow he was nowhere in view. You frowned, hoping the handsome stranger named Tom would stick around.

After much effort, all the kids and chaperones were seated in the auditorium. The director of the company stood on the bare stage.

“Welcome everyone! And thank you for coming to our special presentation of Shakespeare: Condensed.“ the director bellowed into the audience. “We hope everyone enjoys the show. And as a special treat, we have an Olivier Award-Winning Actor to speak about the Bard afterwards. Allow me to introduce Tom Hiddleston!”

Your mouth dropped open as your mystery man strode onto the stage.

“I know. What a man!” your fellow teacher whispered to you.

You nodded not bothering to your head.

“Thank you for the warm welcome.” Tom caught your eyes and focused. “I hope it is a stimulating experience.”

You swallowed and shifted in your seat. A small smile grew on Tom’s face. As the house lights dimmed, you shifted to find yourself a more comfortable position. The play started but you found yourself unable to concentrate. Your mind distracted by thoughts of Tom and what you wanted to do with that perfect suit.

A swish of fabric brushed your leg as someone walked past you. You looked to see Tom walk out of the auditorium without so much as a glance towards you. Your head dropped, and you noticed a piece of paper by your shoe. You unfolded it and read the note.

Meet me in the lobby. Wait 5 minutes.

Your heart fluttered as you tucked the note in your purse. Your legs bounced as you counted down the seconds and your friend kept staring at you.

“Are you okay?” they asked.

“I’m not feeling so good..” you grabbed your stomach. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Your friend nodded, and you hustled out the back doors. The lobby was empty. No sign of Tom. You walked down a bit and felt an arm pull you into a small room. Tom slammed the door shut and pushed you into the door.

“So you like the Bard?” he whispered into your ear, breath hot on your neck.

You nodded.

“Yes.” you squeaked.

“Let’s see how well you answer when you are…” Tom nipped your earlobe eliciting a groan before taking a step back.

“We’ll start simple… Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo.”

You smirked as you pulled him in by his collar.

“Romeo and Juliet.” you crashed your lips into his, “Don’t patronize me.”

Tom pulled you tight against him. His tongue demanding entry to your mouth, which you gave without hesitation. You moaned against his lips as he ground his hips against yours, his erection prominent. Tom parted and pushed you into the small couch in the room. You hit with a bounce. Tom looked at you with a hungry look.

“Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.” Tom recited as he walked towards you.

You gulped and searched your mind for the answer. While you did so, Tom undid the buttons of your blouse. He massaged your breasts through your bra and you arched your back.

“Umm…. Venus and Adonis!” you growled as Tom pinched your nipples into hard pebbles.

Tom grinned.

“Very good. Let’s see if you recognize this one. That’s a fair thought, to lie between maids’ legs.”

Tom sunk to his knees and pushed your skirt up to your waist. His long fingers teased your folds through your panties. You bucked your hips, desperate for more friction but Tom’s arm held you down tight, bicep flexing.

“Do you know, darling? Get it right and I shall reward you.” Tom licked his lips.

Your brain was foggy and focusing on college literature was not at the forefront of your mind. You searched for a wisp of an idea. Your eyes widened in recognition.

“Hamlet!”

Tom smiled as his hands ran across the waist of your panties and he pulled them down.

“Now, for your reward.”

His head disappeared between your legs and he licked a long stripe across your slit. You moaned.

“Careful, darling, they might hear us and I would hate to be interrupted.” Tom said before returned to sucking on your clit.

You felt your arousal grow with every stroke of Tom’s tongue. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from screaming. Tom teased your folds with his finger before plunging deep into your pussy. You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the screams.

“So wet for me, love.” Tom picked up the pace, and you sensed your release approaching.

“Please…” you begged in hush tones.

“Shh..” Tom hushed, “One more.”

Your head fell back in frustration as Tom removed his tongue and fingers. You were a mess.

“Flesh stays no further reason But rising at thy name doth point out thee.”

As Tom waited for you to answer, he undid his belt and unzipped his pants. They fell to the floor and pooled at his feet. His underwear soon followed. His cock was at full attention. He pumped it a few times.

“I’m waiting.”

You couldn’t think of a play with that line in it. Tom’s smile grew as he saw the panic cross your face. In a moment of clarity and need, you shouted an answer.

“The Sonnets?”

Tom’s face fell in shock before his smile returning as he laid you down on the couch.

“You are the clever one.”

In one swift motion, Tom thrusted into you and you grunted. Your walls gripped his cock and he rolled his hips with each thrust.

“You are so needy for me. Do you want release?”

“Yes!”

Tom’s pace was frantic, his hips bruising against yours, his pubic bone grazing your clit.

“Cum for me!”

His command was all it took as you orgasmed, clenching Tom as he continued to thrust through your orgasm. His pace faltered, and you realized he was close. Soon he spilled into you with his own release.

“Oh God!” he cried as he stilled.

After a few moments, he pulled himself out. He lowered himself to place a tender kiss on your lips.

“You are delightful.”

You smiled back. Tom began to collect his clothes when he glanced at his watch.

“I need to go clean up and you..” he handed your panties as he kissed you again “… need to make sure they don’t notice your absence.”

You nodded in a daze. A few moments later, you stepped out into the empty lobby. You snuck back to your seat.

“Are you feeling better?” your friend asked as you slid down. “You look flushed.”

“Hmm?” you looked at them. “Yeah, just a stomach bug. I’m fine.”

The performance ended a few moments later and Tom walked onto stage looking just as put together as he did before your tryst, save a bit of flush on his cheeks. You hung on his every word and it disappointed you when the talk ended and everyone began to shuffle out.

You searched the lobby for Tom but there was no sight of him. As you reached the exit, an arm snaked around your waist.

“If you are up for more, here’s my number.” He pressed a piece of paper into the palm of your hand.

You smiled and entered it into your phone. The rest of the day you spent brushing up on your Shakespeare. You wanted to be prepared.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston smut

134 notes · View notes

lowkeyorloki · 4 years

Text

Library Card

An AU in which you’re a librarian, and Loki’s fingertips brushing against yours as you take his card makes you blush

(shoutout to @the-emo-asgardian and @is-it-madness for helping me decide to narrate this fic from loki’s point of view! you guys rock!!)

also, as a tom hiddleston fan, “ehehehe” was bound to make an appearance in one of my fics sooner or later. let’s just hope i used it well

Loki watched as the crowd of people you just helped filed out the door, shoving receipts printed with due dates into the spine of their books. He thinks about them, men and women going home to their families with a novel they won’t have the time to even begin, let alone finish. Eight years now, Loki had spent living on Midgard and he still couldn’t understand it. Why would they risk the embarrassment of coming back to the library every week, knowing full well they didn’t do anything with what the building provided them?

Well... probably because the only employee would never say something about it.

You were at the circulation desk now, sighing deeply as you pinch the bridge of your nose. You always did that, Loki had noticed, after you helped large groups. Like any extended period of social interaction made you tired. Loki couldn’t judge you for that. While he was perfectly capable of being charming and outgoing when he needed to be, he didn’t particularly enjoy it.

So he gives you a few minutes, and once you’ve had a sip of water and typed a few words into your computer, he steps towards the desk.

“Hi.” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki nods.

“Hello.” he greets you back.

That was always the extent of your conversations. You would look at Loki with your wide eyes- they really were beautiful, unlike any others he had seen on Midgard. You looked at Loki with such a kindness about you, like you wouldn’t second guess giving him a hug if he started crying right then and there.

Thor would take offense to this. Loki can almost hear his brother’s voice in his head, telling him that it’s better for someone to only look at one person that way.

But the fact you treated all your patrons with a good disposition didn’t make Loki feel like he wasn’t special, or whatever else Thor meant when he was saying things like that. Loki liked knowing there were people like you, who were nice to everyone because there was no reason not to be. It was a type of person Loki had never been around growing up. It was... comforting, to see now.

And besides, you had a sense of humor as well. Loki never confirmed this himself, but you often sent people away from the counter laughing. And there was a face you’d make, one Loki could never look away from. You’d scrunch your nose, then let out a genuine laugh. In a quiet library, you took up all the space.

Your words tear Loki from his thoughts.

“You know...” you hold up one of his books. Othello. “You can buy this book. Or at least renew it, instead of returning it and then checking it out again every week.” your eyes twinkle. Loki finds himself momentarily at a loss for words.

“I could.” he agrees. You lean forward, seemingly eager to hear Loki’s answer. Loki’s eyes scan the small building. You’re alone. He smirks. “But I would hate to bar anyone else from a classic.” he says. You suck in a breath.

“I hate to say it, but no one in this town is going to read Shakespeare. I would know, because I manage the holds list.” you scan the book, the machine next to you making a beeping noise. Loki hums.

“Well.” Loki begins. Your eyebrows raise at the god, an action he often finds himself doing. It’s interesting to see someone else do it. “In that case, I could easily buy the play, yes. But I wouldn’t ever be able to bring myself to. I enjoy the older books. Loose pages, broken spines. They have a certain charm to them.”

You blink, staring at Loki in wonder.

“Yes.” you say, with emphasis. “Oh my gosh, exactly. And, okay please don’t think I’m weird, but the-”

“Smell?” Loki finishes for you. Your smile is contagious, Loki finds the corners of his mouth drifting up, too.

“Yeah! It doesn’t come with new books.” you exclaim. You shrink back. “Sorry.” you say, self consciously. “I don’t know many people who like books the way I do.” Loki watches you pack your excitement away, and for some reason, it weighs on him deep in his chest.

“Don’t apologize.” he tells you. “And now you do. One person who shares your interest is better than none.”

You look at Loki with a sense of amazement, almost like you can’t believe he’s standing in front of you. “Yeah.” you say, your voice sounding lighter than it was before. “It is.”

You shake your head, like you’re breaking yourself out of a daze. “Um, I’ll need your card. To check you out. To check your books out! Not you, I wouldn’t do that.” you knit your eyebrows together in frustration. “Not that I wouldn’t because you’re unattractive or anything- you’re handsome, it’s just that-”

“Here.” Loki’s biting back a laugh now, handing you his library card to put you out of your misery. You seem thankful when he does.

Loki’s fingertips brush your own when you take the piece of plastic from him, and it sends jolts of electricity through his hand. It takes him by surprise, his body reacting so strongly to such a simple touch.

You feel it too: Your breath hitches, barely. It’s nothing another human would be able to detect, but in Loki’s godlike stature, you may as well have gasped out loud.

You retract your hand at what must be a record speed, scanning the card and laying it on the counter so there’s no chance of contact again. You push the books towards Loki.

“Thanks for coming in.” you say. “And for that chat. It was fun.”

“Yes.” Loki says tentatively. He takes the books. “It was.”

With that, Loki turns towards the exit, fully prepared to leave and continue his day as planned.

And yet...

Loki looked back at you as he was halfway through the door. Your hands were busy, scanning papers and moving pencils in a way that made Loki think you were trying to look occupied as opposed to actually being so.

“I... Pardon me.” Loki steps back towards the counter. You look up at him with wide eyes, a red tint still flushing your cheeks. Loki does his best not to focus on it.

“Returning Othello already?” you ask. “That was fast, even for you.” Loki scoffs.

“No, not quite yet. Listen, I assure you, I am not usually not this forward, but...” Loki’s grip on his stack of books tightens. “Would you like to grab a drink sometime?”

“Hmmm.” you’re holding a pen in your hand, click-click-clicking it as you talk. “You do remember I’m a librarian, right?” your words sound like a rejection, but you’re beaming as you bite your lip.

Loki finds himself smiling back- you’re playing a game. Teasing.

“Ehehehe.” he laughs. “You’re right, how silly of me. Coffee, then?”

Your smile lights up the room as you reach forward, taking Loki’s hand and flattening it out. He feels the dull point of your ballpoint pen as you write your number, as well as your warm breath on his arm. Loki suppresses a shudder- a good kind, from anticipation more than anything else.

“Call me, mister...” your eyes drift to the receipt you had printed just moments before. “Laufeyson.”

“I will.” Loki tells you. He holds up his hand with your writing. “Don’t sweat it.” One of the only Midgardian phrases Loki has picked up on. He hopes it worked, and thinks it does when you roll your eyes.

“Oh my god, you’re jokester. A Trickster, even.” Loki grins. You have no idea. he thinks to himself.

He pushes the glass door open and walks away, his spirits higher than they’d been in, well...

The last eight years.

323 notes · View notes

devilbat · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Online

A/N: sorry I have been MIA for months now. A lot has going on in my life and Depression sucks, making it hard to write, so forgive me.

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Just fluff

Summery: dating is hard it's even harder when a Pandemic happens..

The picture you stared at only showed a well-toned lean body in a well-tailored suit. Most of the photographs showed the same, never his face. His name was Tom 39 years old, living in London. Though he dose travels a lot for work. Shakespeare fanatic, runner, enjoys cooking, long walks with his dog when he's not running and lots and lots of dancing. Six foot one, six foot two on a good day. Who was testing the waters out there, but will be the perfect gentleman and very respectful.

His profile stated as you looked through it. He had messaged you right as you thought about giving up once again. Everyone on these dating apps only wanted one of two things. Nudes or sex nothing more. No connection, no relationship, not even a friendship. Sure, you were offered friends with benefits.

That was something you were not looking for. Did it not state in your profile that you weren't going to do any of that. Do men even read?

The few dates you have gone on all ended up a bust. Then the quarantine happened right as you were getting yourself out there. So it was conversations via text. But soon you were ghosted far too many times because you wouldn't send nude.

You were all about to shut down your account when this man named Thomas H. sent you a message. You weren't even sure why you click on the email from this man without a face. Here you were reading what he had to say.

Y/n,

My name is Thomas, but naturally, I go by Tom. I'm sure you might not even respond to this as there is no face to this profile. With my job and for my privacy would be one of many reasons why. But I thought I might give it a shot. And I have to say I'm quite mesmerized by your beauty. You are quite lovely, and I'm sure you get that a lot. But I genuinely mean it. I was a bit fascinated by your profile as I read it, might have had chucked at a few bits of it. I would like to know more about you.

Like what type of nerd are you? Marvel or DC?

Star Wars or Star Trek? And of course, I'll answer any questions you might have for me. As well I would not ask for any pictures of you clothed or nude as I would like to get to know you as I'm hoping you wouldn't mind getting to know me without the nudes as you put it. Ehehe.

I genuinely hope to hear from you. But understand if I don't.

Sincerely, Tom.

Ps, I do hope this quarantine hasn't made you gone completely bonkers.

Usually, you wouldn't have responded, but something about him told you not to pass this up. What was the worst that could happen that already hasn't happened on an online dating app? Well, there was always the fact he could be a serial killer.

Hello Tom,

You may have messaged me in time I was about to give up on this site and return to my habit. Marvel all the way. I would hope you would agree or we can't continue talking. Though, I can't deny that DC needs to just stop with Batman movies. The should have stopped before George Clooney. Though I will give Christian Bale props, he did a better job than Clooney.

As for Star Wars and Star Trek? That is a tough one, so I'm just going to say both are good. But let's face it. Captain Kirk is the better star fleet Captain. Sure Picard is excellent as well. But anyone after them just doesn't do it for me. Ha ha..

And it's all about Baby Yoda. If you are not a baby Yoda fan, you're just wrong. Yes, I'm one of "those" girls.

Coffee or Energy drinks? I would say I dabbled in both. Pancakes or waffles? Yes, there is a difference. I'm a waffle girl myself. Well, that is all I can think of right now.

Y/n.

You hit send before setting your phone down on the table next to you as you yawned. Maybe it was an early bedtime, not like you had anything better to do. You puddled around your usual routine before bed. A loud ding brought you back to your phone.

"That was quick." Recognizing the chim of the app all too well. Grebing your phone, forgetting your face cream as you were curious about what he had to say—settling into bed, getting comfortable before you opened your phone.

Y/n,

I'm delighted to hear from you. If I'm quite bold, and for starters, its tea for me. With two sugars and a splash of cream. As for waffles or pancakes, I'm French toast kind of man, duh. Lol. Though you can't beat a good old fashion English Breakfast and a side of Earl gray. Eheh.

I'm quite a fan of marvel though it is a rather vast universe. What movies/comics praytell do you prefer?

Sorry love to disappoint, but I'm going to say Doctor Who I am British. The tenth and the eleventh doctor. I do hope you've seen the show. I used to watch the reruns of the original with my father when I was a young wide eye lad. I am a fan of both Star Wars and Star Trek. And there is nothing wrong with liking a baby Yoda. He is exceedingly loveable.

It says your new to England, where are you from originally? How long have you've been here? Seen any of the sights England has to offer?

That's all for now.

Sincerely, Tom.

Emails went on for weeks talking back and forth first on the dating app than via text. You were the one to leap by giving him your number. After hitting send your phone vibrated with a text.

Unknown number: Hello love, this is Tom. I'm delighted to receive your text.

More weeks had passed. Still, you had yet to see his face though he did send you photos of random things during the day. You did the same as your toes sticking out from the bubble bath. Then you got a text of his toes sticking out from under the blankets. The two of you would watch a movie together. The quarantine was still in effect. Each of you would pick a film out every other weekend and sit back and watch it—text throughout the movie.

Y/n: Omg did she just run up the stairs like a dumb big boobed bimbo!!! She makes the rest of us look bad.

Tom: Eheh, you said it darling, not me. Though I think she might survive this.

Y/n: Wanna make a beat? I think she will die within the next few minutes.

Tom: Oh, it's on. Now, what do I get if I win?

Y/n: Whatever it is you want cause mister you are going to lose.

You both patiently wanted to see what happens next. The movie ended, and you waited in annoyance for Tom to respond to gloat about being right. And to see what he desired for his spoils of war.

Tom: Well, Love, it looks like I have won this round.

Y/n: It seems you have butthead. What is it that the winner wishes for?

Tom: Did you just call me a butthead? Eheh. Hmm, let's see. How about a Skype date? I figured it was about time to reveal myself.

Y/n: Tom, I just meet you. I'm not sure I'm ready to see your eggplant. Haha.

Tom: I probably should have rephrased that better. My face love, my face. Eheh. Tomorrow at 7 pm?

Nervous was an understatement. You had cleaned your whole flat even if you were going to stay on the couch, laptop resting on a large pillow setting on your coffee table. You sat playing with your hair, unsure if you wanted it up or down. A chim from your computer startled you from straightening out your dress you finally had settled on. Soon a well-tailored suited chest came on screen.

"Hold on, darling, trying to adjust this blood screen." The deep British, very attractive yet somehow familiar voice rang through the computer speakers. You only assumed it belongs to Tom.

You watched the man attempting to fiddle with the view, cursing ever so quietly. Making you giggle relaxing a little bit more. Your laughing came to an abrupt halt when Tom's face came into Focus. Your jaw dropped. And now the unmistakable "ehehe" came in to play as you stared at none other the most eligible bachelor in England none other than loki himself Tom Hiddleston.

"Darling, I think your drooling." Tom teased point to the side of his clean, shaved face. Tom fidgeted with his now raven-colored hair.

"Oh, I-I," You stammered out, trying to compose yourself.

"Didn't see this coming did you?" Tom smiled, wetting his lips with that blasted tongue of his.

"Well, no. I wasn't expecting Tom

Hiddleston."

"Is that a bad thing?" Tom spoke up.

"Oh, no, no. I would be an idiot to say it was. Hey, wait a minute. I've told you that, that, that. Shit." You muttered.

"That I was your hall pass if given a chance. Eheh. Well, it looks like you'll have had wasted your hall pass privileges. You only get one and can't use it on someone if you are already seeing them."

"You know, sir, you are still a butthead." You stuck out your tongue at the man.

"You do like calling me that. Why are you calling me a butthead this time?" Tom grinned.

Your time with Tom was extraordinary, the two of you talked throughout most of the night. He told you things you never knew about the actor every woman pined over. Here you were, the one woman out of a billion he seems to fancy.

"Well, love." Tom cooed as he watched you try not to nod off to sleep. "I should let you sleep."

"I'm sorry." You muttered sleepily.

"Do not apologize, my dear. I should be the one to apologize I've kept you up most of the night.” Tom smiled softly. He watched as you rub your eyes, a shy smile softly graced your lips. Making Tom’s heart flutter.

”Perhaps, my dear, would you like to meet for coffee at the cafe that opened back up?” Tom hummed in high hopes.

”Hmm, I don't know.” You smiled, trying hard to look like you were contemplating though you were going to say yes. To hell with this virus, it was Tom Hiddleston asking you to coffee.

”I mean, I'll wear a mask and stay six feet if needed.” Tom added quickly.

”No, no, there is no need for that. I don't mind unless you feel like it's needed.” You pipped up—Tom grind like a fool shaking his head no.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston one shot #fluff #quarantine online

292 notes · View notes

stabbedinthenameofscience · 3 years

Text

Tom Hiddleston's lanky nature, long legs, long fingers, are some of the physical features that have drawn me.

Some stories to bring about why:

A moment in time- Albion, MI, where I lived before here. I'm tutoring in a GED program. One of the other tutors notices my hands. I have long fingers. The joints are a little angular, thanks to the hypermobility and the arthritis that has already started to damage them (I am in my early 20s at this time). He tells me he's never seen hands like mine. Fingers like mine. Lanky. I've never thought of them as pretty, though at one time I considered they might be elegant. I could do pretty things with rings, especially in tiers, some floating above my second knuckles.

But this person...he tells me of this syndrome he's read about, how these hands are irregular, different, something that's a sign of a hidden something worse. Something I should (or shouldn't look up). And it did two things. 1) It sent me down a reading rabbit hole that scared me for a while, before I realized this was an unrealistic fear. 2) It made me incredibly self-conscious about my hands and planted that seed of self-doubt that I no longer saw them as something neutral, or simply hands, but something odd, awkward, abnormal. That lasted for years. I've gotten more neutral about them over the years, especially as I start wondering when their function is just going to impede the things I love to do, including writing. They aren't just hands. They are a part of me this degenerative disorder may some day claim and that scares the living fuck out of me. They are something I need to use as much as I can now, strengthen, and enjoy what they can do for me, what I can do with them, regardless of how they look. I can take pride in the strength of these hands (when I have it), with the fact they can type, on a good day, upwards of 70 words in a minute (often with surprising accuracy). I can take pride in their aptitude with tools, with the way my long fingers can reach things others can't, or I can steady them to the point where, when they don't shake, can paint a beautiful line, courtesy of my training in scene painting. They can make, and they can make beautiful things. I'm making my own wedding dress, which, while not traditional by any stretch, is something that is still a feat I can take incredible pride in.

These hands have held children, built a life, and repaired things I've been told were irreparable or only worth the rubbish bin.

And yet, thanks to one person's fascination with them so many years ago (going on twelve at this point), the damage was done and I still look at them in some moments of self-doubt and insecurity and think they're ugly, they're "old person hands" (I turn 37 this year and aging so early is another insecurity of mine), they're spider-like, they're too "thin" (in that my tendons and veins are clearly visible under the skin's surface on the back of my hands) and my knuckles are a little too imperfect, made all the more visible by how slender they are. And that they swell in the humidity, that the arthritis makes me unable to some days wear my engagement ring and the little copper key ring that both are dear to me...these things make me resent them at times. There's something "wrong" with them (which I know is utter bullshit- they're just hands, they are a part of my body, and they will serve me well until they won't).

I've also dealt with a life-long insecurity about my long legs. Dancer legs (14 years of ballet, many of tumbing, many of tap, and a few of jazz). Legs with strength and grace, but also lanky legs. I'm all leg. Legs that won't quit. Unwanted attention from a cluster of frat boys while I was walking in a short dress with my mother on the campus of Michigan State University and was still in high school. I stopped wearing shorts. I stopped wearing skirts above my knees. Because my knees are too angular (like the rest of me), knobby, and damaged thanks to scars from a surgery in the attempt to save the right one from the arthritis that started with it and has crept into other areas of my body. Again, attention in a moment I definitely didn't want it cracked and broke the self-esteem that has, for some reason, always been fragile. For years, I've been sensitive about my legs, initially because of the scars, small and faded as they are. But the trauma that one knee left me with, that my arthritis continually brings back, continually reminds me exists, gifted me with deep insecurities about my knees, compounded with the dipshit comments of adult men to a teenage child.

I've never seen these things as valuable. At their best, they are body-neutral. At their lowest, they are things that bring shame, doubt, embarrassment, unwanted attention and gaping.

And so, when I am a young adult a decade ago, just turning 27, pregnant with my first child, my body a mess from the pregnancy (from swelling, the awfulness of weight gain is to arthritic knees, the looseness of my hips that shift in ways I know aren't normal, the intense lower back pain, and the nausea that never abates), I see Thor. And there on screen is a young man only a few years older than myself with lanky legs and long, elegant fingers. In that moment, I'm drawn to how theses features don't put me off in the way they do in myself. I seem something of a commonality with this rising star in a movie that is essentially space Shakespeare that stars one of my favourite heavyweight actors (Sir Anthony Hopkins) and is directed by an artist I have admired for years at that point. The entire movie stands out to me and thrills me, calling to me as theatre on the silver screen, the Shakespearean and classical acting evident and threaded throughout the entire thing.

And it is beautiful to me.

And so is this man with features I'd rejected in myself, one a decade (my legs) and one only for a few years (my hands).

It probably seems odd that this moment was a branching point in the way I've handled these insecurities, but it was. I still won't wear skirts that show my legs. I still refuse to wear shorts. But these things also come from the habit of not shaving my legs, not generally because I resent they are long and lanky, just like the rest of me. Every movie I've seen with Tom Hiddleston when I feel myself smile at this lovely human (physically) who also has a public persona that is witty and soft-spoken, a nerd about theatre, who likes to explain acting process, who digs into literature with excitement...there's a moment of realization that I'm finding someone on my "tea list" (I'm mostly asexual- it's not a snog/shag list, it's a "take tea with and fall into the joy of conversation" list) that has a body with a few features like mine. And while I'm primarily smiling because seeing those performances brings me deep happiness, there's a corner of my mind that is reminded I am OK as I am, I need to just accept this is the body I have, and I can embrace it as what it is and let it do for me what I need it to, taking pride in the capabilities I have in these moments and reminding myself I am always running from time in a countdown before this auto-immune disorder steals these things from me.

So...strangely enough, Tom Hiddleston is attractive to me because his existence as he is reminds me that my physical being is alright.

There is a part of me that would really like him to know this. I don't know why. But I think it would be nice for him to know that his existence on this planet hasn't just made people happy because of his skills, but that it has reassured one person that their body can be fine, maybe even beautiful or elegant (in time), just because he is.

#tom hiddleston #self awareness #body neutrality #trauma #self consciousness #self image #body negativity #self acceptance #careless words from people who had no business saying them

7 notes · View notes

cxmetery-gates · 3 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER THREE: A GOOD SCARY STORY

SUMMARY: With teases and friendly banter, Lynn can’t help but fall under Mr. Hiddleston’s charming spell. WORD COUNT: 2.1k NOTES: Thank you to everyone reading! Dark!fics get a lot of criticism and though the story has not turned into one ((yet)), I’m very humbled by all the likes and reblogs :) WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"I'M NOT ONE FOR COMPLAINING," I pant– while simultaneously lying with a straight face– dragging my feet up another flight. "But can I ask which floor your room is on?"

Only a step ahead of my slow pace, the male teacher smirks. "Not fond of stairs?"

I shrug. "Not really fond of anything involving exercise."

"I would agree," he glances back, a grin marking his face. He makes a huff, more than likely on my same page, but perhaps better off. He appears to be fit so I'm doubting three flights of stairs is killing him like it's slaughtering me. "But, a morning run isn't the worst way to start the day."

My nose wrinkles. "So you're one of those guys? Gotta make those gains, hm?" I'm not sure where my overly confident attitude is coming from. It's not like me to make comments like these to my teachers, Mrs. Gibbons being the exception but even then I am reserved. Something about being close to Mr. Hiddleston has completely altered my professionalism around people of a higher authority. Hopefully it doesn't last long and I don't run into the principle any time soon.

Finally, after what seemed like climbing Mount Doom, we reach the last step. Pausing, Mr. Hiddleston looks down to me. "You've got quite the nerve talking to your superior like a classmate."

It's obvious he's teasing, so I go along. "My superior? What, because you're a hundred thousand dollars in debt thanks to a fancy piece of paper and you've got a couple more decades on your shoulders?"

"'A couple decades?'" He repeats, quite amused.

I shrug with sass coating my entire being. "Give or take. What are you, forty? Nearing fifty?"

His gives a chuckle. "Try thirty-three."

"Really?" I ask doing a small run down while he looks away. I don't find myself in the company of thirty-somethings all that often but I can't lie; he's looking really good, especially from the backside. Mr. Hiddleston hums, and I'm not sure if that was a positive or negative sound. "You sure? Because I could have sworn I saw some grays up there."

"Oh, ha ha, you're so clever," he mocks, voice suddenly raising just a couple octaves. It causes me to jump but I giggle, feeling a strange girly feeling arise from my stomach. All I can do is tell myself not to throw up from nerves, over and over in my head.

Feeling just as confident, I reply with a whisper. "Shh! There are classes in session! You're going to get detention!"

He shakes his head. Mr. Hiddleston attempts to be serious but there's humor and teases filled between each word. "Funny you mention that: I happen to be the teacher in change of detention this week. And don't think I won't put you there because you're helping me: any other teacher would have landed you a weeks worth just from your comment on my age."

My eyes roll. "As if. You're too nice."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive," I reply, a smirk hanging on my lips.

He looks down, given my lack of height, and I move my face towards him comically. There's a smirk playing on his thin lips, the corners desperately trying to form a smile. Eye contact remains steady, but I see it more as a funny, friendly game of domination. A moment passes before he looks away, a small sigh parting his lips. "We'll see about that," Mr. Hiddleston retorts, causing me to chuckle.

From his belt, he wears one of those mini extendable cables that can hold all sorts of keys and chains. I'm honestly not quite sure what they're called. Fumbling with the keys, Mr. Hiddleston flips through several before find the the right one and pulling it towards the door, a thin wire keeping a hold on the instrument. When I was much younger, my mother would wear one clipped to the pocket of her scrubs, but hers was smaller, only allowing another clip for her RN tag. Each night consisted of me as a toddler pulling on the name tag and watching the cord return to the circular piece of plastic, unable to see the thin cable coil within. The small piece of nostalgia sets a comforting warmth in my chest.

Despite the insignificant memory, I snicker at his device. The sight of such a young and handsome man keeping his keys together with such an instrument is dorky, and definitely cute.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he sighs, flipping the fluorescent lights on. I follow him in while getting a look around his classroom.

It's relatively simple and mundane, surprisingly enough. Not like I was expecting red velvet walls or a jacuzzi, but maybe something with a bit more personality. The walls are neatly littered with the typical English teacher posters, from "Best Shakespeare Quotes" to the differences between "to," "too," and "two." There's a blank white board in front of rows of desks and a projection screen pulled down over it. Across the room are a few book shelves consisting of dictionaries, thesauruses, and books worth reading. From the distance I can easily spot several of my own favorite books, instantly earring couple brownie points from me.

I follow Mr. Hiddleston who takes a left, as a wall with a pencil sharpener blocks the right. We walk parallel to a wall which is entirely ceiling high cabinets, all closed to the curious eye. His desk sits catty corner and is much like his classroom: mess free and boring. I consider making a comment but stop myself when I notice a few photos on the filing cabinet. One is him with a graduation cap and gown, his hands bearing a diploma. The next looks like a guys night out with Mr. Hiddleston wearing a (distractingly tight) black shirt and two other men accompanying him. And last, and the one that is set before the others, is a picture of the teacher with an older woman. I can only assume it's his mother. This causes a heart warmed smile to etch across my face. It's always lovely and precious to see older men respecting and appreciating their mothers. My own tells me "mama's boys" are the worst type of man to date because in her mind, they are still children who cling to their mothers for support, emotion and financially. I have to remind her that it's not the case for every man, just for the guy she chose to marry.

"Please, set the books wherever you like." My random tangent gets interrupted by a voice, causing me to jump six feet. Mr. Hiddleston places his stack of books on his desk. I would follow suit but looking at the small space, I decide to give his personal bubble some room and I move to the nearest student desk.

Brushing my hands over my black jeans, I turn around. While the teacher shuffled through stacks of papers, I awkwardly and silently stand close to his desk. Only a few second pass do I actually realize my situation: me with the hottest teacher, all alone. I can only imagine all the jealous teenagers clawing at this chance. However, I have a job downstairs waiting for me. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Hiddleston?"

His eyes quickly shoot up. "Oh, uh no. No, thank you." Mr. Hiddleston pauses a moment to set his papers down. "I'm sorry for keeping you. I was looking to see what hour of the day I have you, but it appears there isn't one."

My eyebrows knit together at his comment. "Well, you'd have to look for a "Carolyn" if that were the case." I pause for a moment, confusion riddling my face. "Wait, whaddya mean?" Almost instantly, I'm repulsed by my southern slang, despite myself not having any drawl to my words. My voice is basically that of an incoherent cave woman compared to his smooth, charming accent. Aside from this, I feel myself floating; he's looking for a time to see me again. I have to contain a girlish squeal just as reality sets in. He's probably just curious if he actually has me or is considering making a "see you at this time" comment. Nonetheless, my heart skips a beat or two.

"Most seniors take my course as their final English requirement. Are you not a senior?"

I feel myself dimming at his comment. Unfortunately, it would appear reality strikes again. But it was honestly quite ridiculous for me to even consider the reason why he was looking for my name was for something other than educational. However, I simultaneously feel my body lighting up. "Oh, no, I definitely am a senior. I chose the writing class for my English elective. I, uh, want to be a writer so I figured it would help in the long run."

Mr. Hiddleston seems interested in what I have to say. Most tell me writing isn't a career or I have a one in a million chance in making it big. Well, if George Lucas can write the three prequels all alone and still make bank, I think I've got a pretty good shot. "Fascinating! What is your preferred genre?"

With some hesitation, I blurt out, "Fantasy, but also some horror and thrillers. I've tried sci-fi once; didn't work out too well."

"I love a good scary story," he comments, giving me a wink. I take this as a small gesture, but my insides are literally screaming. Never has a friendly wink turned me into a flustering mess. Part of me say he knows what he can do, and if that's the case, he's quite the cocky bastard.

Playing along, I give my shoulder a shrug and coolly reply, "Perhaps I can run a rough or final draft by you."

"I wouldn't mind that at all."

How does such a small statement cause all my organs and two hundred and six bones to turn into jelly?

Brushing my long hair from my face, I peek over at the clock. It's been a bit longer than I expected, the hands informing me I have five minutes left of my first class period. "Well, I ought to get going if there isn't anything else I can do for you?" I make sure to say this in the form of a question. I wouldn't mind being late to my next class just to see a gorgeous face a while longer.

Mr. Hiddleston's lips part for a moment just before clamming shut. The look in his blue eyes tell me he wants to say something, but doesn't. I'm not sure what would constitute such a hesitation; initially, I thought he would have asked me to help shelve the twenty-or-so books. The look is intense, or appears to be, just for a flash, less than a second. My own anxieties begin to shake just as a kind smile grows along his lips. "No, but I do appreciate the offer. Thank you, Carolyn."

I visibly cringe at my legal name, this look not going by the teacher so easily. He bursts a small laugh. "Not a fan or your name, are we?"

Shaking my head, I say, "No particularly. It's a bit vintage. Well, not terribly so, but I'm not over the moon about it." I pause awkwardly, my flustered nerves getting the better of me. I croak out some sounds before finishing my tangent. "I go by Lynn, though."

"Lynn it is then," Mr. Hiddleston announces. "I'll let you get going then. The bell will ring soon and I don't want you to be late on your first day back because of me."

I smirk while crossing over to the door. "Nah, I don't mind." Instantly I want to smack the back of my head. To anyone listening it would sound like I had been flirting with a teacher. Well, to be fair it would have sounded like it not matter what time someone were to jump in at. Even so, this comment I naturally came up with put me in a case of "oh fuck." With reddened cheeks, I take a look over my shoulder so see Mr. Hiddleston unfazed by my comment, thank the holy lord, except a ever growing smile. He takes his eyes off the paper in front of him, meeting me with his pretty blues.

"I'll see you around, Lynn."

"Likewise." And with that, I part down the hall, this time invested in taking the elevator.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@khadineberry

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

11 notes · View notes

lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Note

Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

#literature #lit rec #recommendation #literature recommendation

31 notes · View notes

bluestockingbaby · 4 years

Text

St. Crispin’s Day Party- October 25th, The Hollow Crown

Since I’m out of leeks and I don’t feel like nailing things to church doors, I’m celebrating St. Crispin’s Day/Reformation Sunday by watching Henry V and eating homemade tacos. Thanks to @oldshrewsburyian for the idea of having a watch party!

I’ve seen The Hollow Crown, the Branagh version, a live version, and studied Henry V in middle school, but I’m neither a historian nor a Shakespeare scholar, and it’s been a while since I’ve read the play or watched any of the adaptations, so I fully claim my bad opinions or dumb questions in this post. Be as kind to an enthusiastic amateur audience member as you would to an enthusiastic amateur actor.

The funeral was a solid choice as a framing device.

While we’ve seen Henry V’s character progression in Henry IV and heard his reasons for acting up and appearing not to be a responsible and studious prince, in the previous play it has only been a source of tension within Henry’s friend group, his father, and the court (& Harry’s narrative foil Hotspur). However, as Harry wants to expand into France, there are some new, farther-reaching consequences of his past behavior, which gives the Dauphin an excuse/justification to mock Harry’s claim. I think this also has a part in Harry’s inner conflict as Harry makes harder and harder decisions.

I don’t know if they should have cut the Southhampton treason scene? The scene’s not as effective if you haven’t seen Henry IV, but since it’s the Hollow Crown miniseries, the audience would have seen Henry IV and known Scrope’s particular importance. I think it’s an important establishing moment that shows what kind of king Harry is going to be and adds to the tension of the play between Harry's past as prince, and his present as king, showing that Harry cannot be swayed from his kingly role by his former friends whether they’re common or not. However, I usually err on the side of wanting to cram everything from original works into adaptations, and I think the themes of the play are well shown even without the scene.

“It be like that sometimes”— Nym

I love how comfortingly Tom Hiddleston gives part of the “Once More Unto the Breach” speech to the random yeoman.

I forgot how often Harry gets the scene-ending couplets.

I’d like to see the actress who plays Catherine do some comedies! She’s pretty funny in the English-learning scene.

Even if you haven’t read or seen Henry IV and seen Harry’s interactions with the Eastcheap characters, the scene of Bardolph’s hanging is such an important and affecting scene, and this version pushes the emotional intensity to the hilt with the score and the flashback, and Harry rejecting Nym and Pistol-- as Bardolph is hanging there.

Has there ever been a better series of scenes written than the scenes before the night of Agincourt?

THE ST CRISPIN’S DAY SPEECH WILL NEVER NOT GET ME GOING.

As king, Harry united his body with England and with France, (THE most important theme of the play), and his body is the only ransom he can give to France. Don’t talk to me i’m incoherent with feelingsssss

How controversial would the focus on Harry’s Welsh heritage have been during Shakespeare’s day?

“The poor and untempering effect of my visage” hahahaha shut up Tom Hiddleston

Anton Lesser closing the play made me tear up a little.

#st. crispin's day party #my posts #aus and metafiction #the hollow crown #henry v #shakespeare #william shakespeare #shakespeare tag

6 notes · View notes

multific · 5 years

Text

Cold and Emotionless

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Mob!AU

Request: Maybe the reader gets accidently involved by getting caught up in a fight between the two mobs/gangs. They get saved and end up getting protect by Tom Hiddleston and other members from the other mob/gang

Warning: Smut, Violence

Word count: 6.7k

A/N: This turned out longer than I expected. Thank you for this request! I had a great time writing it. Also, please do not hate me for the medical stuff, I’m not a doctor, so I tried to explain why stuff happened the way they did. Hope you like it! Enjoy~

You didn’t know how you got into this situation.

Perhaps working in a night club as a bartender, wasn’t the best career choice.

You were currently trying your hardest not to move or irritate the leader that had you in his arms. That disgusting man had a strong grip on your wrist.

Everyone in the club knew that shady men often came there to settle their business and the owner didn’t mind, since they meant good money. All you wanted was to take the empty glasses. But you heard a name, and they couldn’t let you go because of that.

Hiddleston.

“Just let her go. All she heard is my name, I do not care.” if you had to be honest, he looked like a handsome reasonable man, compared to the other, even if he smelled of an expensive perfume, his arrogance was noticeable from far away.

“But I do. And she is well aware of the rules. She is not allowed down here when we are here.”

“I thought you were gone.” you said at a low voice but they all heard you. You felt the grip on your hand get tighter and then a hand landed on your cheek. You hear the noise, before you felt the sting on your face.

“How dare you talk to me, bitch?! I will make sure you won’t do that again!” he raised his hand again, you tried to fight back or move away, but his grip was strong.

“WAIT!” yelled the other man. “I will take care of her.” he still had a stoic face. No emotion, he was cold as ice.

The man let go of your hand but he didn’t fail to shove you in the direction of the table, you his your side and let out a hiss.

And now, you were beyond scared.

Sure the other man was aggressive, but this man, he looked even more dangerous. He was mysterious, cold, emotionless and he had a dark ominous aura around him. He signed for his men lo leave which they did. After the door closed, you thought about your options.

You could try and fight, and possible get shot or worse, or you could try to explain yourself and reason with him. After a few minutes, you settled on the latter.

“I-I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t hear anything. I thought everyone left that’s why I came, I just wanted the glasses.” you were shaking with fear, you weren’t ready to die.

“Oh, all you wanted is glasses and you got yourself into this mess.” his accent was thick, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What should I do to you?” he asked, but you knew, he didn’t want an answer. Yet, you gave him one.

“Please… Just let me leave. I won’t tell anyone your name sir. I can keep a secret.”

“So, you lied.” he said as he leant back. “You did hear something.”

You couldn’t respond to that. You looked down at your hand and your reddening wrist. Tears came into your eyes. You could feel blood in your mouth. You assumed you got a cut on your lip when the man hit you.

“He’s an animal. He shouldn’t have hurt you.” you didn’t look up but you did feel something touch your lips, it was a tissue.

The cold man in front of you placed it onto your lip to soak up the blood. He was now leaning towards you as his hand was out.

You noticed how long his libs were. He must be tall.

“Th-Thank you.” you said and took the tissue from him.

“I cannot leave you here, I’m afraid. He is a regular customer here, and if he sees you, he will do worse than just slap you.” he said, but it sounded more like a judge reading the sentence. “Come.” he commanded and you followed him. You had no other choice.

As soon as you took a step out of the room, you said the previous man right at the end of the corridor.

“I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t do it Hiddleston.” he said as he raised his gun at shot at you.

The next few minutes were a blur.

The man shot, Hiddleston’s men shot at him, Hiddleston pushed you back into the room. Then there was this pain. This horrible, unbearable pain in your leg. But you couldn’t stay awake as everything went black.

***

You woke up in a huge room. You saw the curtain move as the wind blew it.

When your brain was finally fully functioning, shock settled in. You weren’t in your room, not even in your home. You were in a stranger’s bed. You moved suddenly and as you did, you felt the pain in your leg. You let out a loud groan.

When you pulled the blanket, you noticed that from your knee down to your ankle, your left leg was in a cast.

Then the memories came back. The man at the end of the hall, the gun, the shooting. Hiddleston asking if you were okay, the pain, the blood.

That son of a bitch gangster shoot you… in the knee. Hiddleston wanted to take you somewhere, so he kidnapped you. At least you weren’t dead or in a dungeon. Or if this is the Britt’s idea of a dungeon, you’ll gladly stay.

The room was well lit. You could tell that it had a balcony. The room was nicely decorated, but it lacked character, so it must have been a guest room. It had a bookcase but there was about five books on it.

You thought about the situation.

Your leg was in a cast. You couldn’t walk. You couldn’t run away. So, you had to wait for your leg to heal and then you can try and escape. You said try because let’s face it. You were in a gangster’s house, security must be very high up, and there are probably as least one guard outside of your door. But on the good side of things, you weren’t dead. You thought why would Hiddleston try and save you from the man. Why did he care? Or was it just a reflex? Did he try and save himself not even you?

Then the door opened. And in came a woman. She was old, but she looked full of life.

She didn’t say anything just placed a tray down that had some food and tea on it.

“Wait! Please, where am I?” but the woman didn’t answer. You figured she wasn’t supposed to as she basically run out of the room.

It was frustrating to say the least. You were so bored.

The elderly woman came back for your dishes later, you tried to ask her to hand you a book, but she ran out once again.

You had to try and get it for yourself. As you were balancing your leg on the bed while you maneuvered to the shelf, the door opened.

The gang leader looked at you in shock, which he didn’t feel in a long time, as you finally reached a book. But when you noticed that he entered the room, you fell on the floor, you hit your leg, which gave you intense pain as tears welled up in your eyes.

You were quite shocked when he helped you back to your bed and placed three of the books onto your nightstand.

“Thank you.”

“I came to address your situation.” always straight to the point. “Initially, I wanted to let you leave. But since you were injured, I changed my mind. You will stay here while I kill the McGray and after you healed, you may leave.” his face showed no emotion as he just said that his intention was to commit murder.

“McGray?”

“The man in the club. Who shot you. But I need to make it clear for you. I’m doing this to defend my own honor, not yours. Also, Lisa, the woman who brought you food. She is not allowed to speak with you. There is a guard 24/7 in front of the door, so you cannot escape even if you tried to. I will come every day to check your health and a doctor will come every other week. That’s all.” and with that he left you. He didn’t even gave you time to ask any questions. But at least his intimidating aura left,

All you thought about was if your friends and family will look for you. What will they think? Will they think you are dead? What if they call the police?

You looked at the books beside you, all Shakespeare.

It’s not that you hated him, but he wasn’t your favourite either. But you had to get used to it, since that was the only entertainment you had besides sleeping. Which you definitely needed after all of those night shifts.

***

Thomas William Hiddleston.

You learnt his name. Since the books that you were reading had his name in them. They were old and torn books, he must have read them a lot.

The elderly lady got you every food that you needed. One time, you were brave enough and asked her for some dessert, which she gave you. You were very thankful, even if she didn’t speak to you, her eyes told you stories.

You read all the books in just two days. They your entertainment was to make up stories in your head. And the woman, about Thomas and his empire. At one time, you made up a story that you are his sick wife. And he is so in love with you that he keeps you locked away like some kind of a sick Cinderella story.

He did as he promised. Every day, sometimes in the middle of the night, he came to check on you. And you slowly got used to him. His attitude, the way he carried himself and even his coldness.

Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome.

You weren’t sure. But you soon started daydreaming about him. At first you found it disturbing and scary.

After all, he was a handsome, rich and tall man. Attractive and he looked amazing in suits.

You only saw him in suits. Never in shirts or anything other than an Armani, Gucci or Westwood suit. He was elegant.

Elegant and dangerous.

Slim but muscular. His eyes, oh does baby blue eyes. And his thin, yet amazing lips. And his voice, so deep, rich, perfect for his accent.

Yeah, definitely Stockholm syndrome.

He wasn’t a bad man, at least, to you. He wasn’t kind either. But he was always gentlemanly. Like, the way he spoke, and the words he used.

After about a week since you had been in his house he came in one night and told you that he successfully killed McGray. No emotion whatsoever. Like he just told you that he killed a rat or a bug.

You didn’t know why or when, but you started to open up to him.

But not with your words. You r body language started to change.

You found yourself smiling at him, waiting for him to arrive, so you can have some to talk to. Even if you didn’t say more than a few words. You craved for human interaction.

One day, the brilliant idea came to your mind, you wanted to leave the bed and go to the balcony, since the door was open, it should be easy.

Yeah, no.

You nearly fell, twice, and hit your leg once.

But when you finally made it out. It was all worth it.

It seemed like you were in an old castle of some sorts. You were on the very top floor. And the beautiful view. You admired it as you lent on the stone railing.

All you saw was green. Trees, bushes, colourful flowers. Not a city not even a village in sight. But you also noticed the gates, guards and the security cameras. It looked like a prison.

“What are you doing?” came a voice behind you. It scared the living hell out of you. Nearly made you fall. When you turned back you saw Thomas standing in the door, looking like he usually did, bored and uninterested.

“I-I just needed some fresh air. I have been in that bed for so long.”

“Four days. You have been in bed for four days.”

“I was never good with just sitting around. At least…can I have more books? or a TV? I will not try to escape I swear, I just…I’m so bored.”

You didn’t know what you just saw, in his eyes, it seemed like, regret? No, it must have been your imagination.

“I will get you books and a chair so you can come out here. Anything else the lady would like?” he smiled. SMILED. Even if it was a sarcastic one.

“C-can I speak with the woman? She seems like a nice lady, and I don’t really speak to others excluding you. I need to speak to someone other than myself.”

“We will see. What kind of books do you like?”

“Um-“

“Wait, I have a better idea.” you heard him open the door and he told something to the guard. In a few minutes he was back with a wheelchair.

Why does he have those lying around? Maybe he DID have a sick wife?!

You sat in the chair as he rolled you out of the room.

You saw his castle for the first time. It was breathtaking. The ceiling was so high. It had paintings and statues all around, it looked more like a museum than a home. And just like the room you were in, the whole house lacked something, but you didn’t know what.

He suddenly turned and as the two doors opened, you mouth was left open as well.

Books.

Books everywhere.

A whole library.

“From now on, you may speak to Lisa, but not for long, and you can come here. But no further. The guard in front of your room will assist you here. That’s all the freedom than I will allow. But, If you behave. Next week, you may have dinner with me, downstairs. The doctor said that you can get walking cast next week.” you were so happy.

“Thank you!”

Was he finally opening up to you?

***

Two weeks passed.

Lisa was an amazing partner to talk with. She told you a lot about Thomas. Thomas used to be a kind, energetic young man who was full of life. Lisa told you that he never had luck with women. His previous girlfriend cheated on him for money and the one before that was only with him for the gifts. You learnt that he inherited his father’s business when he and his mother were murdered for the money. Since then, he was never the same. He became cold and he just wasn’t himself anymore.

You also went to the library a lot. Not only he had books there, but you also found his hidden bottles of very very expensive whiskey. You may or may not had a little of it.

However, the doctor was wrong.

Your knee wasn’t getting better, quite the opposite.

“The damage to the bone is fatal. I thought the cast would help, but you still feel pain and that isn’t right. This x-ray clearly shows that her bone is damaged to the state where it cannot be healed.”

“Is-Is there a solution?” you asked

“Well, either you have a risky surgery where we replace the bones with artificial ones or...amputation. The fact is that you cannot stand on it like this. Even with support, if it is left like this, your knee won’t last long and the pain will only get worse. It might seem like an exaggeration but imagine this. The bullet hit your knee at it’s week spot. It shattered the important bones and veins into pieces. And I must tell you that, even if you choose the surgery, it might not be a success… So, think about it. I will come next week to hear about what you decided.”

This left you broke.

Amputation?

Or a surgery that might not even work?

In your state of misery you looked at Thomas. He looked just as shocked as you did.

“Seems like I might have caused you more trouble than I thought. It’s okay if you want to make me leave now. I mean, I cannot run. But I do not want to cause more trouble.” you said.

“No.” he simply said and left your room without a word.

What?

Why did Thomas feel like this? Like he failed you? He barely knew you for a month and a half, yet he felt something inside him. Even before, he saw you in the club even before that day.

But why?

Why did he care for you?

He was supposed to be heartless, cold. So, why?

***

You didn’t see him, for the next week.

He didn’t came every night like he used to and that made you said.

When you asked Lisa she said that he was home, in his room, but he didn’t leave it. She said that it was like when his parents died. Like he needed comfort from someone, but he didn’t let anyone in.

You wanted to meet with him. Talk to him. You needed to.

You asked the guard to go and ask Thomas to meet with you in the library. You sat in your wheelchair, whiskey in hand a little table at your side with a chair sitting opposite of you, another glass filled with whiskey, waiting for Thomas.

Surprisingly, he came. He didn’t say anything, just sat down and drank his beverage. But he looked the same. Nothing changed on the outside.

“I needed to talk to you, because the doctor comes tomorrow. I do not want you to feel obligated because of my injury. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t. What kind of fairytale world do you live in? That I would think he shot you because of me? If I remember correctly, YOU were the one to be careless, YOU were the one that walked into the room, it was YOU. So don’t give me this peep talk. Because, I KNOW that it wasn’t my fault, so let the pink fog clear away and see the world as it is, Sweetheart. I kept you here because YOU went against the rules, YOU know my name, YOU got shot and horribly injured. I don’t give a single fuck about you or your pitiful life. You are nothing but a bartender a waitress a no one.” you were shocked, and hurt, you never heard him talk like this.

“Did it make you feel better?” you asked, fighting tears. “Did my humiliation make you feel better? I know damn well that it’s my fault! I know damn well that I am a worthless piece of shit, you don’t have to remind me! I just wanted YOU to feel better, because for some fucked up reason I care about YOU, Thomas. I get it okay? You are dangerous and a bad man, but that doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole! God damn it, if I could walk I would soo walk out and slam that door behind me, so pretend that I did!” by the time you finished tears were falling from your eyes. Thomas looked at you very shocked. No one ever talked to him like that, not even his father or mother. As the tears rolled down your cheeks, he reached out to wipe them, you tried to move away from his touch but he didn’t let you.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” this was the first time he used your name. “It was wrong of me to say those things. It’s just…I’m scared. And it’s pathetic. I’m scared of my own feelings. I never felt this was before, well that’s a lie. I did, once. And she broke me. I promised that I would never, ever fall in love again. But you. I saw you in the club. Making drinks for those dirty man. And then McGray. I was so angry, I wanted to punch him for touching you. But I promised, I won’t show any emotion.” you looked into your eyes, his words were so sincere and his eyes held so many emotions, there were tears in them too. “I barely even know you, I don’t even know anything about you, yet. I love you.” your head was spinning. It was too much to take in.

“I-let me think for a moment.” he did, he backed off, sat into his chair and downed another shot of whiskey. “I thought it was Stockholm syndrome. I’m not sure if it isn’t. But what you said, you don’t know me, I don’t know you. Well, besides what Lisa told me.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, just about your parents and that you used to be energetic, just basic things.”

“That’s still more than what I know about you.”

“That’s true…Then how about. We leave your confession for another time. Give us time to get to know each other. And if you still feel the same, confess to me again, and I will give you an answer.”

“Sounds fair.” this was the first time you saw him smile, truly and whole heartedly. Suddenly the cold man was just a far memory. “Right, how did you decide? Will you go with the surgery?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“The chances of it being successful are too low in my case.”

“So, you just. Give up your leg?”

“Yes. It was a hard decision and I read into it, well as much as I could and I did call the doctor to get some info.”

“How? I never gave you a phone!”

“There’s one here!” you said as you pointed at the machine in the library. Thomas forgot about that.

“And how did you know the number?”

“I asked Lisa to look it up for me.”

“Clever. You know, if you weren’t in that chair, you might have escaped from here.”

“I like to believe so.” you smiled proudly at him. You never told him that you did call your family and friends, and to your shock, they never noticed your absence. How disappointing. You thought they were worried, and nothing. They didn’t even care.

***

A whole month has passed.

You got your leg amputated and you were currently trying to get used to your prosthetic. Thomas was a lot of help during the process.

He hired a very good therapist to get you used to your new life. You even had a psychologist to keep your mental health straight.

And one more thing, you were dating Thomas.

As it turned out, he was one of the most feared gang leaders in the world, yes, the whole world. But the time you spent together after your surgery, and he took you on a lot of dates. He made you feel beautiful and special

You weren’t anxious about your missing limb, yet he made sure you never will. He complimented you a lot and made you feel good.

You established that with his line of work, you had to be careful and a personal guard will always be with you.

But considering that you barely left his castle, he didn’t need to worry.

And as it turned out, you assumption was half right.

You felt attraction towards your captivator because of the syndrome, but that was only half of the truth. You fell for him a little back then, you didn’t know how or when did it happen, but it did.

And now, that little something blossomed into a full romance.

You two were still in the very beginning of your relationship, yet you felt it that it was real love. After all, a man like him wouldn’t do such things to someone he doesn’t care about.

And when you asked him why did he confess you that night in the library, his answer shook you.

“You wanted to leave, and I didn’t want that to happen. And then I remembered the past. I played with the fire once and it didn’t end well for me. So, I wanted to push you away. Hurt you, so you’d beg to leave. Then it all went down when you started crying. I never felt that much pain in my life. Seeing you cry, it made me break my façade.”

You first kiss happened not long after.

At night, it was a huge storm outside. You couldn’t sleep, so you went to his bedroom. He wasn’t asleep either. You laid next to him, listening to the storm when he suddenly started talking. About everything he wanted to do the next day, he wanted to distract you. And it ended up with a sweet kiss. He slowly leant closer, you didn’t even notice it until he was placing his lips on your soft ones.

Nothing else happened that night.

But from then on, you slept in the same bed.

***

Even if he was a gang leader, he always came home in time. Even with blood on his suit. It was hard to get used to, but you somehow did. But he did promise to never come home like that again. Even if it was a few drops of blood weren’t even his.

His job scared you, but it was a part of him, a very big one. So, you had to accept it. You also thought about having a job, but Thomas dismissed the idea, saying you needed to heal and even then, it would be way to dangerous. If an enemy of his learns about you, they could use it against him.

So, you did what you could around the house. You even designed a new garden at the back. You had too much time in your hands. You started writing. Thomas gave you a laptop, and it worked out perfectly.

You wrote out all your worries, insecurities, fears and even happiness out. You started a blog where you helped the people who had the same fate as you. So, even if you didn’t have a paying day-time job, you felt useful and helpful.

As for your relationship, it was perfect. Thomas brought you on dates when he had time. He made sure that every single day he would be at home for dinner, so the two of you can eat together. But one thing bothered you.

Even if he told you every single day how beautiful you are, he never touched you. He never went further than kissing, and that made you crazy. Since he was such an attractive man, you really wanted to have sex or make love with him. You could settle with a slow and passionate love making session or a rough but very satisfying sex. Either of the two or somewhere in between.

“How was your day?” you asked once the two of you were in bed, you laid on his chest as his arm ran up and down your back.

“Hmm? You already asked me that.”

“I know. But your answer is always different when its just us.”

“It was rough. A man came and needed some money, so I gave them. You made me soft you know? Would have never loaned money otherwise. But it’s not a bad think. I just hope that rivals won’t see it as weakness.”

“I don’t know a lot about gangs. But I do know you. You do what you need to. And don’t blame me for you having a heart.”

“I always thought that I died with my parents. I’m happy that you proved me wrong, Darling.”

“I love you, Tom.”

“I love you too.”

The next morning you woke up, Tom has already left for work.

You had physical therapy scheduled but other than that, your day was free.

So, after you were done with the therapy, you thought about baking. You baked two trays of chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and even a small cake decorated with macaroons. The whole place smelled like a bakery and the guards got hungry. You offered them some. At first they didn’t want to take it, they thought their boss would be mad, but you talked them into it.

Seeing how much they enjoyed the cookies, it made you happy. Even Lisa said that they were amazing.

Tom came home early that afternoon, he wanted to surprise you. You can imagine the amazement on his face when he saw his intimidating 6’3 tall guards eating cupcakes with pink and orange frosting.

But as soon as he entered his home, he smelt it. It had faded but the sweet smell was still lingering in the house.

“Welcome home.” you said with a smile while you were sitting in the living room, reading something on your tablet.

“Darling, care to tell me while my guards are eating sweets?”

“Oh, I baked some, at first I only wanted to bake for you, but then I thought they might want some as well.”

“You and your big heart.” he said as he leant over to place a quick kiss onto your lips.

“You are home early.”

“Yes, I intended on surprising you, but it turned out the other way around.”

“I’m glad. At least I can have you with me. Want to watch a movie before dinner?”

“Sure, let me change.”

“And after dinner, we can have dessert.” you said after him. You thought about the rich chocolate cake in the fridge but Tom had something else in mind.

After dinner, and chocolate cake, you found yourself in a make out session on the couch in a tangled heap of kissing and moaning.

Maybe you should say you were about to make love to Tom for the very first time. Tom pulled back for air and that is when you as it in his eyes, the need, the lust and the love.

He held you down, grinding his hips hard into your own with unusual desperation, it was like he was waiting for this for a long time.

His usually loving and caring expression was showing a hint of rare excitement. Tented eyebrows above warm blue eyes and a mouth that never left his partner’s skin, always kissing, sucking somewhere. His body curled over your own as his lips kissed your sensitive neck.

You really enjoyed this sexy, hot side of him.

He bit and sucked till your body became eager. You yearned for more of his wet tongue, more pinching fingers across your sensitive nipples, and his hands pushing your legs further apart. Yours were clutching desperately at his shoulders, guiding him to touch and kiss you harder.

“Tom. Please, bedroom.” you told him. You were ready for him to take you, but hot there, not on the couch, not as your first time with him.

He was quick to respond as he got up and picked you up, still abusing your neck as he walked to his bedroom, kicking the door shut.

In the room, he placed you on the bed and his hand went to the direction of your prosthetic, silently asking for permission to remove it. You gave him a quick nod.

Once he removed it, you felt a sudden rush of anxiety. You were about to cover yourself when he said it.

He was currently trying to get off your panties and bra.

“You are so beautiful.” the sincerity in his voice made you want to go further. You didn’t want to stop anymore.

You moaned out softly as you arched your back off the bed as he got a nipple in his hot mouth, your smooth stomach and hips brushed against his erection. He let out a groan at that.

You wanted to moan in relish at the feeling of him.

He was hard.

You could feel the outline against his shorts, and made sure to rub it down with sensual bucks of your right thigh.

That’s when you noticed that he was still wearing his shirt and boxer. You went ahead and removed them. As his clothing hit the floor he moved to cover your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

Muffled sounds of abandon from both of you became one your tongues met in the heat of the moment. Tom was quick to realign, his mouth moving seamlessly against your lips in a hasty series of kisses. He was skilled and he definitely had experience in the past.

You gently gasped in appreciation as he kissed your stomach down to your womanhood and one hand slid from his shoulder to grasp into his hair.

This was intimate. A whole other level of love.

Just pleasure being shared between the two. As you finally melded into one.

Tom’s wet tongue explored your wetness boldly. Strong and sure he rubbed the tip of it against your sensitive clit hidden within your folds. You cried at the sensations but did not shy away from his touch. You remember him asking you wheatear or not you were ready, and you told him to take you. Since then, all of his focus was on you.

He licked up and down from opening to clit with firm pressure

“How’s that feel?” he asked lowly.

Your forehead was strained and your voice got high, breathless, and whining.

“So good!”

He stopped, too soon for your licking but he got to kiss you once again, you tasted yourself on his lips, he got you incredibly wet. You thought about returning the favour.

Immediately you reached for his erection, and relished his hiss as you rubbed at his swollen head with cautious fingers. He was warm and slick with pre-cum dripping out little beads of white at his tip.

You wiggled your hips suggestively and a little teasingly and gave him a firm tug that made him groan.

“So good.” he said as you worked your delicate fingers up and down his thick and long length.

It took only a second for Tom to pull away from your hand, he got a condom out of his bedside table and placed it on himself the next thing you knew, you could feel him nudging at your entrance. You made a small gasp out of surprise and steadied your hands around his neck while he grabbed your hips tightly. Your fingers moved up into his hair slightly tugging it.

“Tom!!” you raised your hips for him, and with one firm thrust and he was inside. You squeaked, clamping your mouth shut to stop you from moaning out too loud.

His first thrust, after so much anticipation was so wonderful. He was hot and so deliciously thick at his base, you couldn’t help yourself as you stopped breathing for a moment.

He curled over you again, one hand slipping down your back and to your ass to lift you up higher, the other braced the bed by your ribs and bare breasts. He took the sight in.

You, breathing heavily under him as he guided his length into you at a steady pace. He took a moment to nuzzle into your neck again in that spot that made you roll your head back in satisfaction. He found that spot way too easy.

The man only smiled at the noise you just made, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at every enthusiastic moan. After all, your moans were clear signs that he was doing the right thing.

So, he inched forward little by little till he was sure you had taken all that you could of his long and thick cock. He let you adjust once again, tongue working on your breasts and collar bone, before rearing back and moving back in at a slightly quicker pace.

He was so deep, so so deep, you repeated in your mind. His presence above you were so close, it doubled the feelings building up in the pit of your stomach.

“Ohhh~” he relished that feeling for a moment, his erection being squeezed by your body, and the pure heat he felt from your slickness. You sighed against his temple and murmured to him.

“You feel so good inside me, Tom.”

Tom couldn’t help but press his hips just a little bit harder, pushing you open just a tiny bit wider so you’d wrap your leg tightly around his waist. Your hand went from his hair down his back, you felt every muscle of his move and tense as he moved into you. At last your hand landed on his ass. You felt his perfectly round bottom tense with his movements.

Tom decided to grind against your clit for a moment, making you shake a little and cry out of pleasure. He inhaled and receded quickly before moving forward in a pace that had you clutching onto his shoulders and lower back.

You gasped and began your own rocking to meet his every thrust, well as much as you could with one leg, but you succeeded judging by the way he let out a loud and long groan. You tried to keep quiet, biting down on your lips than at your hand in order to try to muffle your moans, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t hold back. You let your noises out.

You couldn’t help it. How could you when his movements were perfectly timed, his strong legs letting his cock fill you up over and over again in long and powerful strokes. He was hitting that spot inside that made your belly clench while you see stars.

Tom silently thanked that his stamina was good. Otherwise he would have already came just by the erotic noises you made.

You were aware of your voice as it was getting louder, and the pace of Tom’s hips meeting your body firmly in that sexual rhythm that turned you on oh so much. Skin hitting skin, the noises could be heard as it bounced back from the walls, on top of it all Tom’s own groaning in the shell of your ear was the last thing that made you incredibly crazy.

“That’s it.” Tom grunted, rolling his hips in a special way that made you chant his name.

How can he do that? It’s too good.

You were close, you could feel yourself climbing higher and higher to your climax.

You were about to cum, and his rhythm was getting faster and more erratic.

“Tom.”

“Y/N.” when he moaned your name, which was the last straw. You reached your high as you came. You dug your nails into his back, scratching him in the process.

But he didn’t care. He met his own high when you deliciously tightened around his member.

It took the two of you in total of ten minutes to calm your hearts. After he got rid of the condom, he came back to bed and hugged you from behind, blanket over the two of you. You felt his naked sweat soaked body against yours and it was amazing. You felt truly loved.

He kissed your shoulder as his hand stroked your left tight.

“I love you.” he said in between his kisses.

“I love you too.”

That is how you fell in love with the most dangerous man in the world. That is how he saved you and you saved him.

You turned this cold and emotionless man. Well, not entirely, he was still like that towards other, but to you, he was your sweet and affectionate Tommy.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway fleursirvart v-2bucky ehsebastian crunch-time-sports pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmiler smexylemony greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd thisismysecrethappyplace sincerelyfan theoneanna aestheticsandmarvel rororo06 castellandiangelo avengers-r-us destynelseclipsa castellandiangelo spilledinkindumpster celebsimagines capsiclesdoll firstangeldragonranch

~Masterlist~

My taglist is open!

Feedback means EVERYTHING to me, so please take the time and tell me how you liked my story. Thank You~

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fan fiction #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston imagines #tom hiddleston au #gang au #mob au #mob x reader #AU fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #loki x reader

262 notes · View notes