#trying to do some carpet deep cleaning and i'm realizing i may not be the best person to determine if the carpet smells or not

[writterings]

yknow long covid is some bullshit. you're telling me i can't smell shit unless it's directly under my nose all because of a virus i had in 2019??? bullshit

#trying to do some carpet deep cleaning and i'm realizing i may not be the best person to determine if the carpet smells or not #im also the only one in my family who got it because i got it at college right before winter break #and then just kinda quarantined in my room because i felt awful and that's the story of the time i had covid #also goddddd i have trouble tasting sometime too #but yeah i hardly smell stuff and that's made me like. sensitive to scents??? #kinda like i don't experience them enough that if i smell #something bad then it REALLY is bad then

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Eden

TW: kidnapping, captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, pet whumpee, referenced drugging, referenced stalking, emotional manipulation, referenced depression

As he roused from a deep sleep, Ezra found himself curled up on the sofa in his living room.

He racked his brain as his senses slowly reaserted themselves, but found no recollection of where he had been the previous night, or how he had gotten home.

The cloying smell of lavender perfume overwhelmed him. Ezra didn't wear perfume.

As more sensations flooded his body, he realized his head way laying on someone's lap.

Someone who was running their fingers through his hair.

None of his friends were this affectionate. They all knew him to be severely touch averse. They wouldn't try something like this.

Trying to sit up, he found his arms to be bound behind him with soft, but tight strips of fabric.

This finally spiraled Ezra into panic. He thrashed, struggling to get away from whoever was with him, putting his full strength into breaking his bindings.

Despite his best efforts, his sluggish body couldn't move enough to fall off the stranger's lap, let alone escape.

The stranger had no problem pushing Ezra down by the shoulders and holding him in place.

"No," they said in a deep voice, firm but gentle. "Stay still."

Ezra scanned the room. The clean beige carpet, new looking brown sofa, and sea scape paintings certainly weren't his.

"Where am I?"

Ezra's heart raced, fuelled with fear and andrenaline, pounding against his ribcage in a mockery of a ceremonial drum.

"I didn't give you permission to speak," his captor said.

Ezra stayed silent. The humiliation of being treated like a lap dog wasn't enough to render him stupid.

His captor could have a gun or some other sort of weapon. Fighting back simply wasn't worth the risk.

Ezra needed answers before he could decide what to do. There wasn't any point in getting himself killed.

Music played softly in the backround, the melody much too pleasant for such an occasion. A woman sang softly from the spinning record, but was not loudly enough for Ezra to make out her words.

Turning his head slightly, Ezra got a look at his captor. He looked to be in his thirties, fair skinned with mousy brown hair, wearing wire framed glasses and a small smile.

He tucked a lock of hair behind his captive's ear, before leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

Ezra flinched and tried to pull away.

"Tsk tsk," his captor said. "That is no way to treat your master. I'm just being friendly."

Ezra opened his mouth to retort, but swallowed his complaint before it could escape his lips.

"You're being such a good pet," his captor continued, petting Ezra's curly hair. "Now, if you had something you wanted to ask me, you may. So long as you're respectful about it."

"Where am I?"

"Call me sir."

"No way in-" he broke off, remembering his position. "Yes, sir."

He tried his best to sound vaguely ticked off, but still compliant. Judging by the look on his supposed master's face, he succeeded in only the second part.

"You may ask that again."

"Where am I, sir?"

"My home. You are still in the United States, but I took you over state lines."

None of this was helpful in the slightest, but Ezra figured it was the best he was going to get.

He lived near enough to the borders of Idaho, Oregon, and even Montana that he could have easily been taken to any of them.

"Why am I here, sir?"

"Because I thought you would make a good pet."

Ezra's stomach dropped.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It isn't anything horrid. I'm not going to hurt you, unless you harm me or attempt escape. You should be grateful, really. I'm a lot kinder than most of the masters you could have gotten stuck with."

The term human trafficking sprung to Ezra's mind. He had never thought to worry about such a thing happening to him. It always seemed so removed from his normal suburban life.

"Can you tell me what happened, sir?"

Sir. How he loathed that word. It was meant to refer to a person he respected, and his captor sure as hell didn't qualify.

But he needed information. And he needed a plan. Faked respect was his best bet, and he would use it to its fullest extent.

"Well, let me see..." His captor considered for a moment how best to explain. "I saw you at that shopping mall. Do you remember?"

Of course he remembered. Ezra hung out in that concrete, capitalistic place of congregation every week.

It had always seemed so...pleasant.

Graphic t-shirts, warm pretzels, loose change jangling in pockets, luke warm carbonated drinks, bad hair dye, and casual socialization.

Sure, it was only a way to cope with the dreaded outside world. Spend five bucks on a drink to pretend you aren't in credit card debt, buy a fun piece of clothing to make yourself feel better, avoid becoming an alcoholic by gorging on salty pretzels that only ever seemed to make you hungrier.

The mall was routine. It seemed safe.

What he didn't remember was being kidnapped.

"I don't remember you," he said. "I mean sir," he hastily added. "The last thing I remember was feeling ill from a bit of food poisoning in the food court and walking out to the parking lot."

"It wasn't food poisoning. I drugged you. It was so easy too. You kept leaving your drink unattended. I noticed that habit in you for weeks."

This remark set off a phantom cascade of crushed ice falling under Ezra's shirt collar and sliding down his back.

"You always seemed like such a sweet thing. Tipping cashiers and complimenting every other person. Such a sunny disposition too. I am very surprised that I was the first person to sink my teeth into you, so to speak."

Was that it then? He had seemed "sweet," so some stranger decided to drug and kidnap him? Had every good deed only brought him closer to this insane fate?

No. This was not going to be his fate. He was going to cooperate, and then, when his captor finally trusted him enough to let his gaurd down, he would make his escape.

There was no point in rushing, not if his captor wasn't going to hurt him. He just had to bide his time.

"And you're so pretty too," his captor continued. "I know a few men who would wear your face as a mask sooner than saying hello. No, no, you're much better off with me. I'll take care of that pretty face of yours."

He trailed his fingers down his captive's cheek.

"I've admired your smile from afar for much too long. Waiting for my golden opportunity was simply torturous."

Ezra wasn't smiling.

"I was so paranoid that someone else would find you. I considered taking you from your bed, of course. But I didn't want to leave any evidence. So many people go to the mall, a few of my stray hairs won't mean anything to an investigation. And I didn't take you until you were already in the parking lot. No security footage. I checked."

Hot tears pricked the corners of Ezra's eyes. Despite all his pragmatic reasoning, he still found himself overwhelmed by the enormity of his situation.

He didn't know where he was. There wasn't any evidence of kidnapping. He had ghosted his friends all too often, mostly out of depression. They wouldn't be concerned by him not responding to their messages.

In short, he was completely screwed over by a demented stalker and his own poor social skills.

"Oh, don't cry." His kidnapper pulled Ezra's head up, so that it was resting on his chest.

Despite Ezra's best efforts, hot tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He hated not being able to move his hands and wipe them away.

"Angel," his captor whispered. "I should have realized that this would be too much for you. Oh, I tried so very hard to be kind. To make waking up as easy for you as I could. These first few days are going to be rough. I know that. But you'll learn to be happy with me, just give it time."

Ezra sobbed and melted into his captor's warm embrace, allowing his lavender perfume to smother him.

Despite its obvious falseness, the comfort was pure bliss. He wanted to ignore his troubles for a few hours and cry himself asleep in his captor's arms.

His captor began undoing the knot holding Ezra's arms behind him, pull the strips of fabric off, and drop them on the living room floor.

To his relief, Ezra's sore muscles were finally allowed to move. He fought the urge to run, knowing that it would only cause him more suffering.

Instead, he hugged his captor, still an uncontrollable sobbing mess.

A familar, detached sense of pain overcame him. This all was a dream. It had to be.

But still he wept, unable to bring himself to do anything else.

His captor held him close.

"I love you," he whispered soothingly. "I want you to know that. You will be happy here. I'll keep you clothed, clean, and fed. You won't have to worry about anything. No twenty-four hour news cycle. No war, famine, and disease. No abuse and neglect. I will treat you with all the kindness, affection, and care you have always deserved. And I'm only sorry that I didn't give you the chance to come willingly. I was so afraid of scaring you off."

That sounded like hell and heaven all rolled into one. It reminded Ezra of the best promises weaved by fascism, while it went about ignoring its bloody history.

His captor didn't love him. He couldn't delude himself on that point. All his captor had was obsession and mental health problems. What he needed was serious help, not a human pet.

But it was tempting to stay like this forever. Warm and comfortable. Letting his captor keep his promises. Not having debt and the constant risk of homelessness. Living somewhere his toxic friendships and familial connections could never bother him again.

Ezra felt truly pathetic. Had his depression and anxiety really gotten bad enough that he was considering becoming a pet to his kidnapper? And for what, cuddling and empty promises?

He took control of his breathing and was, at long last, able to wipe the tears from his face with his long sleeve.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"Please what?" his captor asked, his voice drenched with sympathy.

"Please let me go...sir. I know that you mean well. But I can't stay here. I have to leave."

Another sob choked him, and sent him collapsing into his captor's open arms. The act betrayed a nonexistant lie.

"Oh, darling. I'm afraid not." He squeezed his new pet in another suffocating embrace. "I can't lose you. Not after everything I've been through to get this far. You're far too perfect to be damaged and discarded by the outside world. I'm not doing this out of cruelty. I'm doing this because I love you. Just give me time. That's all I want."

"Well, I want to go home."

Ezra's body didn't match his words, clinging desperately to his captor, seeking any semblance of comfort from this torment.

God, maybe he would make a good pet, needy and compliant. Sitting on his master's lap, cradled in his arms.

No. He wasn't going to give up. It would be absolute insanity. He had to stay strong internally, even if he showed his captor every sign of weakness.

"I'll give you everything you need," his captor promised. "Our own little Eden."

Ezra's mind felt like it was stuffed with barbed wire, every wicked point concealed by a cotton ball.

His friends would report him missing eventually, even if it took them a few months to realize he wasn't intentionally ghosting them.

Patience, he simply needed patience.

@elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @devourerofcheesecake

If you want to be added to or removed from the taglist, ask me.

#Whump #Whumpee #Whumper #Creative writing #Pet whump #Pet whumpee #Intimate whumper #Creepy whumper #Kidnapping whump #Captivity whump #Stalking whump #Modern whump #Pathetic whumpee #Compliant whumpee #Fearful whumpee #Manipulative whumper

[biiedwin8]

Maladaptive Daydreaming: Why Can’t You Stop Your Addiction To Daydreaming?

Today, I'll be answering this question of why you can't stop your addiction to the dream. You're really trying to stop it. You've now accepted, you've now gotten to this point of accepting that this thing has a negative effect on your life. You're looking at the time you're spending. You might be spending three to, actually, on average, most must spend 3 to 7 hours in the imaginary world of their waking days, not sleep working days.

So you may now realize that actually, this thing is taking your friendships, taking your relationships, and it's just making your life miserable. But now you want to stop it. Why is it that you can't just stop it? Like you can just say, "I'm stopping it tomorrow, and then I'm starting a new life." Actually, the main reason you can't stop it is the addiction or the maladaptive reading is there to keep you safe. It's there to protect you, of course, in a twisted kind of way.

A coping mechanism is something which protects you from seeing something which may be overwhelming for you to process or which is painful for you. So because you've used this thing as a temporary relief, you've used it to escape loneliness, to escape boredom, to escape the feeling of being overwhelmed with real life, or depression, or to escape emotional neglect, or to escape some sort of trauma.

So because you've been using this habit as a way to escape, the mind becomes accustomed to this habit as the best place for you. So when you pick something as a coping mechanism, the mind sees that thing as something which you can't live without and you are better with it, not without it.

So the conscious you wants to stop it because you are seeing the negative effect and you are seeing that the behavior is robbing you of your life. But now in the unconscious part of your mind, which are the things you've buried for a very long time, it really sees this habit as something which is keeping you safe. And something about the subconscious part of the mind is it is more powerful than the conscious part of the mind and it works with habits. So if something is habitual, you can't just break it by just saying, "I'm stopping it." No, you really need to do conscious work. It's more like going to the subconscious part of your mind and then now freeing yourself.

Or it's now like telling the mind, it's a bit of a negotiation with the mind and telling the mind, "Hey, now I'm okay. Now I want to process these things. I want to let go of the pain because I'm feeling safe now." That's basically what healing is. Healing is in the pain or in dealing with the pain which this coping mechanism is stopping you from feeling. That's as simple as that. Not even looking for a lot of techniques.

But that's the unconscious work and that's now the work you need to do with a therapist. Yes, you can do it by yourself, but because of self-bias, because you tend to be biased or because your mind will always try to keep you where you are because it's keeping you safe, you will really find yourself even when you try to do it by yourself. You'll find yourself in the same place because something about the mind is something about something you've gotten accustomed to or something about how you perceive yourself in the present moment is it will always seek self-preservation.

It will always seek to be comfortable with where you are because that's the pattern you've gotten used to even if it's painful. You know it's painful, but because it's the pattern you've gotten used to, the mind will keep you there because to the mind, familiar equals safety. But to the conscious you now, you understand that it is taking your life. That's why you cannot stop it by just saying, "I stop it." No, you have to do the unconscious work, which is bringing all those aspects you've buried deep within you or bringing all those things under the carpet, just cleaning those things.

Once you clean those things, of course, you realize that actually you don't need this coping mechanism or the mind will realize that actually you now don't need coping mechanisms. And if any kind of negative emotions arise in your real life, you just process and move on. But you can move on without really cleaning the things you buried.

Hope that makes sense. You cannot just stop it consciously stop it because it is an unconscious habit. It's a habit which is keeping you safe. So by really going deeper and working on the things you've been running away from, you achieve another level of safety which is safety on a deeper level, which is being safe within yourself.

Note from the Author

If you’re ready and you’d like my help with overcoming and managing your maladaptive daydreaming without spending years in therapy, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

#daydreaming #intrusive daydreaming #maladaptive daydreaming #immersive daydreaming #maladapting daydreaming disorder #actually madd #obsessive daydreaming #actually maladaptive #madd #imaginary friend

[fightwing]

@webheadedhero / continued

" no, i--- " he feels tongue-tied with all he wants to say. starting with 'are you okay!?!?' and ending with 'what the hell happened???' but he's trained to operate in high stakes scenarios, and PRIORITIZATION was key. first things first: safety. seeing peter's face was refreshing --- ALIVE, most importantly, ALIVE, but frantic and slick with haggard sweat. " pete--- " dick moves forward quickly, hands extended like he could brace a fall that's already happened, and ends up placing a reassuring palm on his friend's shoulder. ALIVE. they can work with that. he moves when peter shifts to show him the splotch of red tainting the suit. dick's stomach hollows out. all of his worst-case scenarios screaming and begging for attention. HOW DID HE NOT SEE THAT? he'd hoped, maybe beyond reason that this had all gone down without a scratch to his physical being. that the day surely couldn't get any worse. WAS IT HEALING? he couldn't tell with the suit, and regardless they'd need to shed any proof of spider-man for a while if they were going to gain their footing once again. " do you feel like fainting at all? nausea, lightheadedness, confusion? " he'd shifted into mentally filing through his extensive in-field medical training rather than an actual answer. meta-healing could be a bit tricky and considering peter was assumedly running FROM THE LAW it's not like dick could send the medical batsignal into the air. dick would need to grab his first aid kit from the bathroom, but the idea was cut only through the realization that meant he'd have to let go of the guy he was still having trouble believing was alive. 'MURDER SCENE LOOKED PRETTY CONVINCING.' so spidey had been there. dick's frown was small, and the pinch between his eyebrows was worried. poor peter. he put so much of himself into spider-man. into the good he did and was for his community and a loss, even of someone who was assumedly trying to hurt him, was a deep cut that never healed. only scarred. when he meets peter's eyeline he sees the sincerity, and dick finds it easy to return it. " i know you didn't. " dick's hand on the costumed shoulder tightens. only slightly as he's still unsure the full severity of peter's cuts, but heavy with reassurance. and peter may already know that, dick hopes he does at least, but everybody needs a little reassurance sometimes. and well, with peter's blood painting dick's ugly gifted carpet at the moment and his alter-ego plastered on every rag magazine in the city, he thinks nows as good a time as any. " you didn't rope me into anything. we're in this, ALL OF THIS, together, okay? we're gonna fix this. " maybe he shouldn't be giving commands right now but the question of dick's helping hand shouldn't even be circulating peter's brain at the moment. they need to focus on what's NEXT. " i'm gonna help you up to the bathroom, okay? i'll grab some extra clothes, you clean off, and then i can take a look at that cut. "

#webheadedhero #v. tbt. #'this thread is two years old' shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #im gonna sound like charlie day with the police board behind me but i was looking through our tags #to see what i owed and then i kept scrolling like omg i remember these omg i loved that #until i saw this and realized i never replied and that is a TRAGEDY because i love how ready they are to run away together at any moment #dick shoving a pre-packed go-bag in peters arms: dont ask #u can absolutely ignore this i just 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 they make me sick (affectionate)

[winterfrostlovetriangle]

Hi, I'm sorry, right now I'm very angry and sad because I haven't slept for like 26 hours and I can't sleep for the next 4 hours sooooo May I request a loki or tom x reader where she is VERY pissed off because of lack of sleep and they end up fighting but then Loki/Tom understands that she only needs cuddles and some good sleep? (sorry if there are some grammatical errors but, plz understand me,, English is not my native lenguage + I really need to sleep)

Hi! First of all, I hope you have been able to get some sleep! As one who also struggles to sleep, please take care of yourself. Secondly, I am SO sorry this is late. I have been super busy. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Masterlist

Cuddles

Tom was sitting on his bed reading a book, enjoying his night. He would be happier if his girlfriend, Y/N, was with him but you were working late again. The hospital was very demanding recently, and you hadn’t been home for almost three days straight. He sighed, put his book aside, and scrubbed his hands over his face. It was late and you should have been home two hours ago. He missed you terribly! He didn’t like your spot being empty. Yawning, he stood up and walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Tom heard the door open and smiled, but frowned quickly when he heard it shut. 

SLAM!

“Oh dear,” he mutters. He cringes as he hears things being banged about in the living room and kitchen. Tom rushes out of the bedroom to find out what is wrong and comfort you if necessary. 

“Y/N,” he called. Tom’s voice is drowned out by more banging. What is she looking for?

“Y/N! Love, what are you doing?” he asked louder making his way over to the kitchen.

“Think you could be of some use?” you huffed. Tom raised his eyebrows.

“As soon as you tell what you are looking for, yes.”

You glared at him and rolled your eyes, continuing your search. You opened every cupboard in the kitchen only to slam it shut a few seconds later. Glancing at Tom, you saw shock and concern written all over his face. You narrowed your eyes and moved on to the next cabinet.

“You already looked in that one.” Tom’s voice drifted over to you.

“And your point is?”

Tom yanked you to face him. “Stop, just tell me what you are looking for and I will get it.” He kissed the top of your head before pulling back to look you in the face.

All you saw in his eyes was pity and concern. You felt a little guilty, but you were far too upset to stop now.

“Why? You don’t think I can do it on my own? That I am some lowly damsel in distress?” you snapped.

Tom took a breath, “No, because your behavior is concerning. I want to know what is bothering you, Y/N.”

“Nothing, I’m fine. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Try me,” Tom said.

“I just want food. I need a pan.”

“Y/N, I told you there would be food in the fridge for you so you wouldn’t have to cook.” Tom stood in front of you trying to calm you down. 

Comfort was the last thing you wanted right now, you were too worked up. You turned away and started cleaning the kitchen, you needed to keep your hands busy. You sighed heavily, frustrated. You felt Tom watching you again.

“You know, it would be nice if you helped out every once in a while,” you grumbled. “You’re always away galavanting at parties and ceremonies, only to lay around all day and contribute nothing to this household. I work my butt off for days at a time, and then I have to come home and take care of you and your mess. And I’m sick of it!” You were boiling and didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t keep your emotions in check and took them out on the first person you saw.

Tom had an unreadable expression on his face. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize I was such a burden.”

“Ugh!” Stop apologizing,” you yelled. Would you stop being such a bloody gentleman for one minute?”  “You’re always so nice and it is so annoying!” 

“Fine, you want me to stop being nice?” Tom asked. “Then here goes. My so-called galavanting is my livelihood. I love acting, but I hate going to parties, award shows, and being away for months at a time! I hate being the center of attention, but I do it for my fans. I talk about you all the time in interviews and said parties, but you don’t know that because you never come, you are always working too,” he growled. “So don’t you DARE lecture me on how much I’m away!  I haven’t complained about you working, have I?” His jaw clenched. “I miss you so much, but I don’t say anything because I know it would just stress you out even more. And as for not doing anything around here - I make sure the flat is spotless when you come home so that you can relax and de-stress. I clean the house on my days off, I cook, and pay the bills so we can live here.”

You gave no response, but stared at the carpet, no longer able to hold his gaze.

“You know what? This is pointless.” Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am going to stay at Ben’s tonight. I need to stop before I say something I really will regret.” Tom stood still for a moment hoping you would say something. He shook his head, raking his fingers through his ginger locks and walked to the bedroom. Leaning against the inside of the door, he closed his eyes. He felt awful for what he’d said and how he yelled. He hated yelling, especially at you. Tom knew he shouldn’t have let you get him riled up. He knew you were probably exhausted and just needed to let off some steam. Sighing, he thought about what he could do to make you feel better. He smiled as he remembered the one thing you loved to do to relax, and set to work.

After Tom slammed the bedroom door, you sank down on the couch. The realization of what just happened hit you and you felt like trash. You had never once lashed out at Tom like that before. You had your spats, but nothing close to this. You were exhausted and wanted to sleep for a week, work was terrible and today you almost quit. Lost in thought, you didn’t hear your boyfriend call you. Tom stood in front of you, taking in your appearance. You looked haggard and pale. He knelt down and placed one hand on your thigh and the other hand on your cheek. 

“Love? Please look at me.”

You shook your head, but Tom crooked a finger under your chin so he could look you in the eyes.

“I’m sorry love. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset with you. And I didn’t mean to make it seem like I do all of the housework. You do a lot,” he apologizes. Tears welling in his eyes. “I hate you being angry with me. Please forgive me?”

“Oh Tom, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you began “It was my fault. I was so angry and instead of just talking with you, I blew up in your face.”

“Y/N” 

“Please let me finish, babe,” you shushed him. He nodded and waited for you to continue. “I am SO sorry. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It wasn’t you, honest. I-I’m just so tired. Beyond exhausted, actually.“ You tried to blink back tears, but it was too late. “I…”

Tom pulled you close as you sobbed on his chest. 

“It’s alright, Y/N. Let it out. I’m right here, love,” he soothed. 

He rubbed your back soothingly and whispered sweet things in your ear. Not sure how long you sobbed, you slowly started feeling better. You put your hands around Tom’s waist and hugged him tightly, your way of a silent thanks. He smiled and kissed your temple.

You pulled away. “Will you forgive me, Tom? I acted horribly and I am so sorry.” 

He cupped your cheek and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears. “Of course, darling. But on one condition. You talk with me next time you are angry and we’ll work through it.” 

You nodded and gave him a tired smile. 

“Good,” he said before pecking the tip of your nose causing you to giggle. “I have a surprise for you. Let’s go to our room.”

You looked up at him curiously. 

Tom picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bedroom. You snuggled into him, your head on his chest. You noticed his heartbeat picked up a little. Tom stopped just inside the doorway and gently tapped your side. Opening your eyes you gasped. There were candles all over the room; you didn’t know you owned so many. The smell of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air. Tom knew you so well.

“Tom, it’s beautiful! But I don’t deserve any special treatment.”

He walked you to the bed and placed you on your side. “Ah, my little dove, that is where you are wrong,” he chuckled. “You do. You are exhausted and in need of some cuddles.” Tom kissed your cheek before climbing over you to sit down. You giggled at his antics, knowing full well he was trying to get you to laugh. 

He sat down pulled you close to him. You instantly melted into him, molding your bodies to become one. You tangled your feet in his until every part of you was touching. You were beginning to relax. The calming effect of the candles and the feeling of the man you loved wrapped around you. You were home. It wasn’t the building that made it home, it was being in Tom’s arms that made you feel safe, warm, and loved. No matter how cruel and dark the world got, Tom would always be there for you.

“Thank you, Tom. I love you.”

Tom kissed your head. “I love you too, darling,” he whispered as you finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Thank you to my editor, @lokiodinsonking!

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston angst #fluff