#wrong number tom hiddleston

[chantsdemarins]

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston fan fic #foot lover #meet cute

[five-miles-over]

Little Darling

Pairing: Loki x Reader

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

Word Count: 4,092

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked up. "Hello!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tom Hiddleston."

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

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

"Yeah!" 

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

Tom nodded, "He's a god."

"Yes, what kind of god?"

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

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

"They're funny."

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

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

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

"Is he cute?"

"Loki, I swear to -"

"You adore him," Loki teased.

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

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

"Loki!" 

"It's his wallet anyway."

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

"He deserved it," Loki nonchalantly retorted.

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

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

"And then?"

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

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

"More or less."

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

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

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

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

"Fuck you!"

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

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

"Crystal clear."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah!"

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

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

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

I'm gonna try for an uptown girl…"

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

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

as long as anyone with hot blood can. 

And now she's looking for a downtown man. 

That's what I am."

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

You laughed with appreciation and clapped. "Bravo!"

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

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

"My uptown girl.

You know I'm in love

With an uptown girl"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's it?"

"That's it."

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

"And do you fancy Mister Loki?"

Loki grinned mischievously as he waited for your answer.

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

"And is he handsome?" Loki interjects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, please!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop it," you giggled under your breath. 

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

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

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

"Loki!" 

"Fine, I'll just make one."

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

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

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

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

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

"Loki…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BONUS SCENE

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

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

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

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

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 17

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: E Chapter warnings: Flashback- is it getting hot in here or is it just me? Let's be real folks, I've been lowkey blueballing you on the smut for months, it's just getting worse this week. The flashback is sexy but hardly crossing to rated M. AN: Ladies, gents, spoons, sporks and forks- Sunflower is here! Let's see how Mia's anxiety can fuck shit up *this week* **shuuuuhhhh I totally didn't get the chapter number wrong for a min***

Masterlist Kofi

~~~~~<3

It felt weird to have Tom in the apartment again. The same bags he had left with were stacked neatly by the wall as he set to work helping her make breakfast. Tom was humming as he peeled potatoes, not many but more than Mia had initially planned to make for her and Sally. 

He said he missed her. She hadn’t had a chance to say it back though, the words stuck in her paralyzed throat. Instead she found herself trapped in his eyes and then he was kissing her like it would give him life. She had kissed him back. 

What did that mean? What did it all mean?

If she asked him, he would tell her it meant they were married and just doing what married people did or some variation of it, she was sure. But it had to have some deeper meaning. Was it true?

She wanted to tell him she had missed him too but the moment was gone. It would be weird now to say it, wouldn’t it? They had moved on from kissing to breakfast. 

The moment was gone. 

~~~~~<3

“Tom!” Sally’s voice came from the hall, sleep replaced by excitement as soon as her eyes hit him. 

“Sally!” Tom matched her enthusiasm, putting down the bowl of potato shreds. 

He took a second to rinse his hands, sending shredded potatoes down the drain and didn’t bother drying them. He rushed around the counter as Sally ran to him. Her small frame was enveloped in his arms as he lifted her up. Giggles filled the apartment as he spun her around, letting the small girl’s momentum drive the dance.

Mia’s heart couldn’t help but open to him just a little bit more. What if she could have this for more than a year? What if this could be her forever? What if this could be Sally’s forever?

Shaking her head, Mia tried to banish the thoughts. Their relationship needed to crawl before it could walk, let alone run. It was too soon to be thinking of forever. 

“I missed you.” Sally said so easily what Mia had been trying to figure out how to say herself for the last hour. 

“I missed you too.” Tom squeezed the little girl in one last hug before setting her back down. “Why don’t you go get dressed while we finish making breakfast?”

Sally ran off to do just that. She was young but a dutiful child. It didn’t take a lot to set her on the right path for the morning, something Mia had always been truely thankful for. 

~~~~~<3

"Did Tom bring us flowers?” Sally asked, sitting at the counter while she ate. 

Tom and Mia sat at the table but Sally couldn’t be convinced to join them. The counter was by far the neatest place to eat her meals, as far as Sally was concerned. It wasn’t a battle Mia thought was worth fighting, so she didn’t. 

“I got them for your Mom.” Tom said and quickly added when Sally’s face began to fall, “I got you something else.” 

“What? What!” Sally was on cloud nine having her funny talking friend back. 

“After breakfast!” Mia interjected. The last thing she needed was whatever Tom brought getting covered in pancake syrup.

“You heard her, after breakfast.” Mia appreciated how easily Tom seemed to fall into the step parent role. 

Was that what he was doing? Would he accept such a title? Would she be alright giving him that title? Did it matter at this point, anyway? 

~~~~~<3

When dishes were safely in the sink and sticky hands and faces washed, Tom finally went to his suitcase. Carefully, he pulled a gift bag out and presented it to Sally.

“Can I open it?” She asked, fingers picking ever so carefully at the tissue paper.

“Of course.” Tom smiled at Sally, kneeling on the ground next to her. 

Mia watched over them from where she leaned against the counter as Sally pulled blobs of tissue paper out. Colorful fluffs of paper fell to the floor around her as she uncovered the bear hidden inside. 

It was dark blue and held a stuffed Lady Liberty in his paws. His white shirt had the classic ‘I <3 NY’ decal on the front. The bear wore soft dark plastic sunglasses and looked terribly soft. 

“I love it.” Sally squished the stuffed animal to her chest and seemed to curl in on it in her enthusiasm. 

As soon as she uncurled from the tight hug, she launched herself at Tom again. Little arms wrapped around his neck as she knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. He caught her and returned her hug as she thanked him repeatedly.

Was this what his future would be? Bringing home trinkets and flowers for his wife and daughter when he returned from his travels? A warm greeting and appreciation waiting at home? 

This was a life he could get used to. 

That was terrifying. 

~~~~~<3

Sally sat happily coloring with her bear. In her game, the bear was telling her what colors to use where and she was being a very good listener. The page she was working on was a coloring sight word page where she was practicing color name recognition in preperation for kindergarten starting shortly. 

Mia reminded herself again that she needed to transfer Sally’s enrollment from the school she had been planing on attending in a few months to the one near their new home. 

Moving was such a hassle, she thought as she started the dish washer. It was worth it though. She couldn’t help but be happy she gave in when she looked around. 

“Can we talk?” Tom asked, leaning against the counter. “Catch up a bit?”

Mia hated it when people said things like that. Her anxiety instantly spiked and she worried. With how common anxiety even was anymore, it amazed her that people still opened conversations with ‘can we talk’.

“Sure?” Mia followed him into her bedroom as Tom carried his bags in. 

Blankets were bunched around on the bed. She hadn’t gotten around to making it yet this morning. 

Tom glanced around but didn’t mention the mess of dirty laundry tossed into the corner. She had thought she had time to clean up before he got there.

“What did you want to talk about?” She swung the door mostly closed behind her. Being alone with him, or at least mostly alone made her heart beat faster. She told herself to stop acting like a schoolgirl. 

“I’m not sure how to say this. I don’t want to intrude but also-” 

“It’s a bit late for not intruding, don’t you think?” Mia smiled and tried to laugh to soften the blow of her poor attempt at a joke. He intruded the moment he decided he was against an annulment. “That ship has sailed.”

“I suppose so.” Tom chuckled, running his fingers through his short hair. The morning sun was strong through the bedroom window, bathing him in the warm light. The bedrooms got direct morning sun and the living space was lit up perfectly with sunlight during the day. Right now, that morning sun was playing on his sharp features and highlighting the golden and auburn hues in his hair. 

He could play one of God’s most beautiful angels. Perhaps, he could play Lucifer himself. Was he a blessing or a devil?

Mia had to get her mind under control. This was getting ridiculous. 

“I want- I think it would be best if I made this my home base.” The words came carefully. “I think it would be better for us if this was my home too.” 

“Better for us?” 

“For getting to know eachother. Building our relationship.” Tom smiled at her. “I don’t think we can really give this a fair shot if we live separate.”

“What are you saying?” Mia didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Are you saying you want to move in?” 

Tom’s smile lit up his face. “Yes! I want to live with you as man and wife. What better way to get to know eachother more?”

“You don’t think this is too fast?” Mia’s head was spinning. 

“Hasn’t that ship sailed as well?” Oh he was good, she had to admit it.

“What does that even mean? Like, really mean?” Mia sat on the bed as Tom unzipped the suitcase. 

“That’s a ‘yes’ then?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, fine.” It was fast, too fast, but what was the point in arguing with him. 

He would argue until she gave up anyway. The man took their marriage seriously and if he thought they needed to live together than he would be as adamant about it as he was about even remaining married in the first place. 

“Is there space in the closet for me?” Tom asked. “I don’t have a lot of clothes but I’ll probably bring more when I come back next time.”

“Just shove stuff aside and pick a side.” She wasn’t really attached to any section of the closet, she hadn’t lived in the apartment long enough to have things like a preferred side of the closet. It wasn’t like she had enough clothes to really fill it anyway. There was more than enough room for both of them. “There’s hangers if you need- I’ve got a lot of extras.”

“Thanks.” Tom waisted no time in slipping shirts onto hangers. His suits were in zipped bags with plastic hangers just waiting to be hung up. 

“I don’t have much dresser space.” 

“We can pick up another dresser.” Tom hung his pants over the hangers and left what couldn’t be hung in his suitcase for now. “That’s not a problem.” 

“How was New York?” Mia asked, not wanting to leave him but also feeling awkward sitting on her bed and watching him put his clothes away in her closet. No, their closet. 

“It was alright. Mostly late night shows.” 

“Is it stressful?” Mia picked at the blankets. 

“It can be. There’s a good bit of pressure with everything going on,” Tom shrugged, “But I’ve got standing relationships with a few of them so it’s not as bad as it could be.”

Tom set his suitcases in the closet, the carry on nestled within the larger. 

“How long will you be here this time?” Mia cringed at how that sounded. “Not that I’m trying to get you to go, I just-”

“You want me here?” Tom looked back at her with his eyebrow raised. 

On impulse she threw a pillow at him. Her face was hot and she dreaded to know how red it looked. She wanted to back peddle, to tell him how he was assuming things or putting words in her mouth but there was no way she could do that without swinging wildly the other way and sounding like an ass. 

“You don’t have to answer.” Tom’s laugh told her that he already knew the answer anyway. 

“I don’t not want you here.” Was the answer she settled on giving. 

“I’ll take it.” Tom’s smile made her smile, she couldn’t help it.

Oh God, was she falling for him?

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

The springs in the bed squeaked as Tom all but threw her onto it. He loomed over her, admiring how her brown hair fanned out around her, contrasting with the cream bedding and the white of her dress. Her face was flushed, it had been all night but now it looked even better now, looking up at him. 

There was something intoxicating about standing over a flushed woman laying on his bed. Her dress was bunched around her thighs. It had long been one of Tom’s favorite sights. This though, her being his bride, made the sight oh so much better. Tom couldn’t help but run his fingertips up the soft flesh of her thighs.

He traced the tan line that marked where shorts hand cut the sun’s harsh power. It had been a while since he had seen something as simple as a unintentional tan line. 

She was so beautifully normal and he loved her already for it.

As she rose up on her elbows, he admired how the change of position pushed her breasts up. 

“Something wrong?” She asked. 

“Not even a little.” Tom planted his hands on either side of her waist and leaned forward and into her. 

Using one arm to support herself, she ran her other hand up his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his neck and pulled him to her. The kiss started sweet, a reminder of romance she had begun to think was only for story books and movies. 

It quickly became fierce however. These were the kisses that she knew existed but damn, it had been so long since she had kissed someone who was so good at it. She wanted more. Craved it. Needed it. 

Tom rolled them, pulling her to straddle him. Just as he had appreciated how she looked sprawled out on the bed, she was caught in a moment of admiration as well. 

Never in her life had she slept with a man as good looking as Tom. Now he was her’s and this was her reality. He belonged to her now and she to him. She won the Vegas jackpot. 

She could feel how much he wanted her as she rested on his hips. Though that was exciting, just having a man as strong and successful as him under her was enough of a rush in itself. He was beautiful. 

Tom rather liked having his wife straddling his lap. This was something he hadn’t thought he could ever have but it was here. She was here. It was his wedding night and she wore a beautiful white dress just for him. He wanted to see on the floor. 

Sitting up, he kissed her neck and chest as his arms wrapped around her. Her skin was so soft under his lips. While he worked along her collar bone, she ran her nails through his hair.

She smelled like sunshine, flowers and summer time. She smelled like sunflowers. What a strange, unique choice. What a beautifully her choice. 

When he found just the right spot, she couldn’t stop the moan that fell from her lips. That was a sound he wanted to hear her make again and again. Tom was hard in his trousers and she was pressed against him, each shift she made in his lap sending a wave of pleasure through him. She felt good against him, held against his chest, wrapped in his arms, neck against his lips.

He wanted to feel more of her against him. Never in his life, had he wanted to delve into a woman more than he did at that moment. Not once in his life. 

Not once. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia

#Tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom hiddleston x original character #Tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Celebs - Masterlist

Tom Hiddleston:

Series:

Take the Stage: While once again sneaking out of the Palace, you meet an actor...let’s just say there is something between you two. (Royal! Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Romeo to my Juliet: You are a student and a teacher at a college in Lodon, which is the same place a very handsome acting professor is employed. - discontinued

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

New Beginning:

(Part 1) | Part 2 | Part 3

Headcanons:

HC - Tom Hiddleston x clumsy!Reader

HC - Tom helps Reader deal with anxiety and stress

HC - Tom loves Reader’s boobs

Oneshots:

Forgotten Fears - The Reader had some bad experiences with her ex-boyfriend when he was drunk and is still traumatised by that. What happens when Tom forgets about that fear of hers?

Kinky Surprise - pure smut

Application - When you loose a bet, you are forced to send an application for Loki’s love interest. Who would have thought that they actually want to meet you?

Jealousy - Tom is insecure because of your age gap. What will happen when he sees you with one of your co-workers who is about your age?

Hidden - As an artist, you find a way to tell Tom that you’re pregnant

Bun in the oven - Pregnany reveal and a proposal. What could go wrong?

Drunken Start - After a night out with his buddies, Tom calls you, neither rembering you, nor how he got your number

Trick or Treat - Halloween Special

Best boyfriend in the world - You have trouble sleeping, so Tom decides to help you out

Dance with me - Reader and Tom slow-dance in Paris

Diary - Tom finds your diary while you’re moving and reads it

Drabbles:

Christmas Surprise - Christmas Drabble

Let it snow! - Christmas Drabble

Drabble #75

Drabble #3

Imagines:

Imagine while on vacation with your BFF you catch Tom Hiddleston during a photoshoot. Your BFF makes sure he remembers you.

Imagine tagging Tom Hiddleston in a meme and actually getting a reaction.Imagine working on the set of Avengers and instantly crushing on Tom Hiddleston. You are devastated when you find out your BFF Taylor is now dating him.

Benedict Cumberbatch:

Drabbles:

Drabble #69

Sebastian Stan:

Drabbles:

Drabble #46

Shawn Mendes:

Series:

Better that way: When Shawn’s girlfriend finds out that she is pregnant, she decides that she can’t burden the superstar with a child. She makes decisions which may seem stupid, but she knows that it’s Better that way.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Surprise: Walking a Victorias Secret show was an honour already, but being able to see your boyfriend while doing so? Pure bliss. Especially when he has a little surprise for you.

Part 1 | Part 2

Fan Mail: Writing to Shawn every so often paid off when he asked you to come to one of his shows.

Part 1 | Part 2

Oneshots:

When you’re ready - Inspired by his song

Guard my heart - You are a part of the security at one of Shawn’s shows and he notices you

Nervous - Inspired by his song

One more chance - Filming an explanation video why Shawn and you broke up, leads to some interesting realisations

In my Blood - Inspired by his song (Triggers)

Late Late Show - You are present during your boyfriend’s appearance on the Late Late Show with James Cordan. Let’s just say it was disgusting.

Sad song - Shawn finds out you can sing during a very sad occasion

Tom Holland:

Migraine - rl!friend has a Migraine and Tom wants and tries to comfort her

Back to the Master-Masterlist

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist

[crashdevlin]

Losses and Gains 5- Messages

Author’s Note: This is the fifth chapter of Losses and Gains, the second part of To Have it All. This is Something More...from Jensen's side!

Summary: Songs can convey messages...and sometimes they convey the exact one Jensen wants conveyed.

Pairing:  Jensen x Reader, background Reader x Tom Hiddleston

Word count: 3191

Story Warnings: open marriage, mentions of depression and heartbreak, bad things, alcohol as a crutch, anger, fighting, mentions of divorce

~~~

Drunk on set is not a good look for anybody, but sobbing on set isn't a good look either, and I knew I had to numb the pain in my heart to get through a workday. Having seen Y/n with Tom on the Late Show and in several red carpet interviews where he didn't let his hand stray from her lower back, it proved that Y/n and Tom were going to last. They were stuck on each other, and I lost her.

I got bitter with Danneel again pretty quickly. As soon as she mentioned my drinking, I stopped holding it back.

"So, what, you're gonna take away my liquor like you took away Y/n? I'm not allowed to have anything I want?"

Dee scoffed loudly. "I didn't take Y/n away from you! She chose to leave you to find happ-"

"She left because you were a bitch, and you made her feel cheap and used when I made her feel appreciated and loved, and now she's with a guy that holds her hand and touches her possessively on red carpets, and you drove her there because you got jealous of her when it wasn't-"

"You fell in love, and she was ruining everything! I was within my rights to put her in her place and-"

"I never should have let you meet! You ruined everything. I ruined everything. She did nothing, but you ran her off, and that's not okay!"

"No, she was a complete angel who did nothing but steal you from your wife."

"She didn't steal me! You gave me away! You encouraged me to be with-"

"I gave you what you wanted! And, ya know what, I'll give you what you want now, too," she said before hanging up on me. I was too hammered to be worried about what that might mean.

Gino messaged me a couple of days later. What did you do? Why is D talking to a lawyer?

Shit.

There was no positive thinking my way out of this. Danneel was going to divorce me. Y/n was happy with Tom. I had fucked myself out of everything good in my life. So I doubled down on my drinking.

Jared must've gotten worried when I stopped answering the phone. I mean, it died, I didn't charge it, so there was no way to answer his calls or texts. I was busy with my scotch anyway. He came by the condo, used the spare key I gave him before Y/n even moved in, and picked me up off the floor in my bathroom. How I ended up there is a mystery for Glenlivet and me.

"Jesus, Ackles. What have you done to yourself?"

"Doesn'even madder, man. Nuffin madders."

Jared sighed, a sad understanding in his eyes as he set me on the edge of the tub and kneeled in front of me. "What happened?"

"Danneel’s done. Y/n's done. I'm done. Nothin' madders."

"What, the show doesn't matter? The fans don’t matter? I don't matter?"

"I didn't say-" I started to argue as his phone beeped with a message. He grabbed me a glass of water and handed it to me.

"You've fucked everything up, but that doesn't mean you get to fuck my stuff up. You're gonna sober the hell up and get dressed, and we're gonna go to work, Jensen, because when you're down this low, you have to find something to fight for. It's not Dee or Y/n, so let it be me. Let it be your kids. Let it be your goddamn dog if you need. But you're gonna find something…" His words trailed off as he pulled out his phone. "...to fight for. Gimme a second. Drink that," he said, pointing at the water as he dialed a number and walked a few feet away.

I strained to hear him, curious about what could steal his attention from me at that moment. "You okay?” he asked quietly. “What’s wrong? What’s the problem?”

“Whossat?” I asked, cringing a bit at how slurred the words were.

“Doesn’t matter, dude. Drink your water.” Jared snapped, looking over his shoulder at me as I tried to stand. He turned his attention back to the phone, and his tone softened a little. “You better not hang up on me. I have time and energy enough for both of you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He doesn't talk to a lot of people like that. Firm, supportive, brotherly. I knew it was her. I needed another drink, and water wasn't going to do the trick. “Okay. I understand that. Where are you right now?” he asked. I imagined she responded that she was in London or somewhere far away with Tom. Far away from me, from Jared, from anyone...and she seemed to be having trouble too. But not me-trouble...her-trouble, brain-trouble. I used to be the one who'd help her.

“Did you talk to him?” Jared asked as I picked up the bottle from where it rolled under the sink. He pulled the phone away from his ear when he noticed me. “Damn it, Jensen, put down the scotch.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Padalecki. I’m fine.” It was a lie, but who cares?

“We have to be on set in three hours, and you need to sober the fuck up.” That was the truth, though. Unfortunately. Jared turned his attention back to her, and I set the bottle on the bathroom vanity. “Sorry about that. Have you talked to him?” He nodded as I ran warm water and splashed my face. “Okay. How have you been sleeping?”

He listened to her answer, nodding. “You're not drinking, are you?” Jared cleared his throat, seeming purposely to avoid looking at me. “Not anything? When’s the last time you hit the gym? You know that can help a lot.”

He nodded as I took a drink of my water. I contemplated a sandwich or a bagel as he adjusted the phone. "Look, I know that hotel has an on-site gym. Get some sweats on and go jump on an elliptical.”

By the way he smiled, I knew that she’d agreed. He was good at making people take care of themselves. I looked down at the water in my hand and took a drink.

“You know that you can call me anytime you need me.” She said something that made him look over at me. “Yeah. Hey, are you going to be making it to Toronto?”

I scoffed and stood. “She’s not gonna be there when we’re there, Padalecki. You’re not gonna get to see her. Nobody gets time with her except Loki.”

Jared gave me a look between tired and sad and kept looking at me as I leaned against the sink and took another drink of water. “Is there any possibility that I can convince you to stick around and have lunch with me on Sunday?” I was eager to know what she’d say, so I leaned a bit toward him. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew she responded that she’d have to ask Tom. “Well, come on…he doesn’t own you, Y/n. If you want to see me on a Sunday, you should be able just to do that.” Jared sounded just as irritated with that answer as I was. He sighed and adjusted his beanie. “Okay. Feel better. Text me when you know if you can make it to lunch. Bye.”

I cleared my throat and left the bathroom, heading for the kitchen to get myself something to soak up the whiskey. “Trouble in paradise?” I asked, pulling open the fridge as Jared followed me.

“It’s none of your business. You need to focus on your own trouble.”

“Right. Which trouble is that gonna be?” I grabbed a takeout container from the diner I ordered from three days before and tossed it in the microwave without looking at the food. “The fact that Danneel is gonna divorce me? The fact that I can’t go a day without crying lately? The fact that I’m ruining your life too, just by being attached to you? Which trouble should I focus on?”

“Danneel is gonna divorce you because you couldn’t get your head out of your ass.”

I shrugged. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

His eyebrows went up. “It doesn’t matter? It doesn’t matter that your wife is going to divorce you?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I’m too tired for this shit.”

“You’re too tired? To fight for your marriage?”

“I’m too tired to fight for any-fucking-thing.” The microwave beeped as it reached 0, and I pulled out the pancake breakfast. “I’m just physically and emotionally exhausted, Jared.”

He scoffed and scratched his eyebrow. “This is the stupidest shit you’ve ever said, man. You need to fix this.”

I nodded and flipped open the takeout container. “Yeah. Would’ve been easier before all this shit.”

“Yeah, probably, but you gotta think of your kids and your future. Y/n isn’t part of that anymore. Dee…well, she might not be either, but you gotta make things easier. Do me a favor, Ackles…if you have to drink, do it on the off days…and less hard liquor. You might be Dean Winchester, but you don’t have his plot armor liver, right?”

I scoffed and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Beer, it is.”

“Thank you,” he said, and then he hugged me. Jared’s got magic hugs…and I almost felt better for a few minutes.

Just for a few.

~~~

<<Are you singing for Toronto?

I stared down at my phone for a while. It was a perfectly normal question that Steve Norton asked before every convention. Am I singing for the Saturday Night Special? Used to fill me with apprehension, then with giddiness, now though…sadness. I used to get up and listen to Y/n. I used to sing with her. We used to have the time of our lives backstage and then head to my damn hotel to make love. What was I supposed to do?

But Y/n was going to be there. She always was. She loves singing…and I could at least listen to her and get lost in some memories of the better times…and maybe I could get a message across in the meantime. Maybe I could use Saturday Night Special to get her to understand how much pain I was really feeling…in a gentle way. In a way that wouldn’t hurt her. In a way that said I was hurting, but I was gonna be okay. Maybe.

>>Yeah. I’ll sing one.

I kept tabs on her through Twitter and stuff for Friday. She seemed good. She seemed happy. She always seemed happy. I had to wonder how much of that was bullshit, though, because she had just been on the phone to Jared less than two weeks ago. She was just having troubles bad enough to call on the moose. But she did the karaoke, and she took pictures in the green room, and she smiled and laughed with the fans at her panel. She seemed put together.

I wasn’t even close, but I put some concealer on under my eyes and gel in my hair. I put on a leather jacket, and I went to SNS. I made a point to stay by the door so I could see her when she arrived, but Jason pulled me away to talk about something completely insignificant that completely distracted me, and I barely noticed when she walked in. Rob walked up to confirm what I was singing, and I acted like I had hardly thought about it.

“I dunno. I’m not really feelin’ upbeat music. Want somethin’ powerful, painful. So, no ‘Whipping Post’ or anything Eagles or whatnot. I’m thinking…Johnny Cash’s cover of ‘Hurt’.”

Rob nodded. “Sure. We can pull the acoustic out. I think that’ll sound awesome. You, uh, you doin’ okay, though?”

I smiled as bright as I could. “I’m great, Rob. It’s gonna be an amazing show.”

Rob smiled back and turned to look at Y/n, and I couldn’t ignore her anymore. She was standing just ten feet away, and she had to have been listening to us. “Y/n, are you gonna do ‘Gunpowder and Lead’?” he asked.

“No. I-I told Stephen a week ago that I was doing ‘Dead Flowers,” she squeaked. She was stumbling over her words and singing a depressing song. She was all out of sorts. For some reason, seeing it up close made me feel a bit better. She wasn’t happy…and that meant I didn’t have to work to maintain her happiness. I didn’t have to let her be happy with Tom because she wasn’t fucking happy.

I looked away, angry with myself for even thinking that shit. It’d be petty to rub it in her face. It’d be shitty.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry. I forgot. It’s on the setlist and everything. Shit.”

“It’s cool. There’s a reason there’s a setlist,” Y/n said with an awkward smile. Rob just nodded and walked away, leaving Y/n and me just standing there. “Well, this is gonna be a depressing set. Swain should cover it with ‘Mama’s Jam’ or something.” Her trying to break the tension made me wanna have a big ol’ glass of Jack, so I walked away toward the plastic folding table they set up a makeshift wet bar on. I had just gotten there and was about to pick up a Solo cup when I heard, “Don’t drink.” I could almost feel her forcing herself to say the words; the way she spoke was so apprehensive and sad. I set my hands flat on the table, forcing myself to stay turned in the opposite direction, facing away from her where I couldn’t see her face, and she couldn’t see mine. “It’s not helping you.”

“That’s not any of your fucking business now, is it?” I spat out in a kneejerk reaction. But it gave me a chance to remember that I’d told Jared I would lay off the whiskey. I grabbed a beer from the cooler next to the table and walked away to let the others distract me.

The night went by pretty easily, but then Y/n got up on stage. ‘Dead Flowers’. “I feel like the flowers in this vase…They’re sittin’ in a vase, but now they’re dead. Dead flowers.” Shit. I felt that in my soul. The worst part was that I could tell that she felt it in her soul, too. She wasn’t happy. She missed me. She felt like dead flowers, so why wasn’t she coming back?!

Was it too complicated now? Was she still scared that Dee was leaving because fuck, that was already pretty much a done deal? Was she afraid of the backlash if she left him? Was he just…better even if he made her sad?

Her voice started wavering in the second verse, but that’s when the band came in hard, so they covered her for the audience…but not for me. Not for Kim or Bri. Everyone could tell that she had wrapped herself up in her emotions, and it was hitting her. As soon as she got down from the stage, Kim and Briana ran over to be with her. They took no time holding her and whispering to her. It made things a little better for me because I couldn’t comfort her, not that I was in a comforting mindset in the first place, but they could. She still had other members of the Family that would lift her, even when Jared wasn’t around. That was good…and it meant that there would be support for her when I got up there and sent my message.

Looking out at the audience as Rob grabbed his acoustic and stepped to the side, I saw a sea of people who just adored everything about me. Of course, none of them knew the mess I was underneath the mask, under the smile and the makeup and the leather jacket. Fuck, some of them would have adored me more if they knew I was falling apart. They would have loved the emotional honesty of the thing…and maybe that’s why so many of them went star-eyed when I started in on those painful lyrics. “I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real.”

I put every ounce of my emotion into those words. Every drop of misery and heartache into “And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.” because I wanted her to feel it. I wanted her to know. I wasn’t drinking to put some guilt trip on her. I wasn’t drinking to help me. I was drinking because I had to…because it was the only way.

I waved at the fans, gave a slight bow to them to show my thanks, and then I slowly descended the stage area. Y/n was frantically wiping at her eyes. Her cheeks were wet, and she had obviously been bawling by the puffiness and redness in the whites of her eyes. She got the message. She felt it. Good.

~~~

“So, you got the chance to see her tonight, right?” Jared barely greeted me on the phone call before he jumped into the hard stuff. “Are you okay?”

“She’s not okay. Jared, she’s not happy.”

I could hear him sigh. “She said she’s-”

“She’s lying!” I insisted.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know her!” I rubbed my eye and licked my lips, feeling guilty about snapping at him. “I know her, and she isn’t okay. She’s singing about dead flowers and crying…and she called you a few days ago so I know you know she’s not-”

“She was having a bad day. She’s allowed.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, she wasn’t having a bad day. She’s having a bad life, but she knows she made her choice. She’s not happy. She’s not-”

“What do you expect to do about it? Like you said, she made her choice. Did she give any indication that she regretted making that choice?”

I shook my head and sat on the edge of my hotel bed. “No. But…come on, Jared. You know this doesn’t sit right. You know she’s not happy.”

“I know that she’s had a few low moments, but that doesn’t mean she’s not happy. I have low moments, too.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How exactly is it different?”

“I…I don’t know, but it’s different. This isn’t…Jared, just…when you see her tomorrow, fix it. Make her tell you what’s actually wrong.”

“I’m not going to make her do anything. But I’ll figure out if she’s okay and do what I can to help her. That’s the best I can promise.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.” I hung up and flopped backward on the bed. I stared at the ceiling for a few moments before I let my eyes close.

#cassie writes stuff #spn rpf #jensen x reader #angst #divorce #tom hiddleston x reader

[tomhiddlestonfanfic]

Reaching Out

TITLE: Reaching Out CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One shot WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Actor Tom PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston/Gender Neutral Reader GENRE: Drama REQUEST: The reader is a fan and wins an hour with Tom Hiddleston or something and he sees her self harm scars and maybe he gets her to talk about it or not but they just end up hugging for a while while he whispers things in her ear. BANNER CREDIT:  Prislaa  

TAGLIST: @waddlenut @sleutherclaw @twhiddlestonsstuff

Reaching Out

Astonishment struck you upon discovering that you were the lucky winner of an hour to spend in the company of your favourite actor, Tom Hiddleston. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to believe it was actually true until you found yourself in a secluded part of a café standing right in front of him. His smile was infectious and you found yourself surprisingly at ease in his company. He seemed genuinely happy to meet you and showed a great interest in getting to know more about you as you both sat down with your coffees.

Tom was really nice and seemed very keen on making it a positive experience for you. You felt more relaxed than you had expected to be around him and at some point you took your jacket off as it was getting uncomfortably warm to keep it on. You didn’t realise that you were exposing your self-inflicted injuries and scars to him until it was too late. You pretty much always wore long sleeved shirts to cover any traces of your struggle with self-harm, so displaying them was very much an unintentional act.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised and made a move to put your jacket back on when Tom gently placed his hand on top of yours to stop you.

“Please, don’t be sorry, [your name]. You haven’t done anything wrong,” he assured you earnestly. “You don’t need to hide them away from me. Unless you really want to, that is. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible with me and it’s really warm, so naturally, you should take your jacket off to not get overheated,” he reasoned.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you mumbled apologetically and placed the jacket in your lap instead of putting it back on.

“Do I seem uncomfortable?” Tom asked and you smiled as you met his warm gaze.

“No, you don’t,” you replied and felt relief wash over you. Then tears formed in your eyes as you realised how much his non-judgemental and respectful response truly meant to you. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly seen by someone. You had revealed a well guarded secret about yourself to Tom and his response was not to shy away from you or act like he hadn’t seen it. Instead his focus was on making you feel more comfortable. For once, you felt truly accepted for who you were.

“Can I give you a hug?” Tom requested and you nodded through your tears. You both stood up and you continued to cry as he embraced you. You relaxed under his gentle touch and leaned into him, letting him comfort you. “It’s okay, [your name]. It’s going to be alright.”

You cried it out against Tom’s chest and you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. You smiled through your tears as you took a step back from Tom after your hug. He smiled back at you and held a hand on your shoulder as if to assure you that he was still there for you.

“Do you get any help and support for this?” Tom wondered and you shook your head in response. “Would you like me to help you reach out to someone? You shouldn’t have to carry this alone.”

“Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate it, but I don’t want to be of any trouble to you,” you replied and glanced at your phone to check what time it was. “Our time is up and I’m pretty sure you have other, more important matters to attend to.”

Tom glanced down at his own watch and sighed.

“Unfortunately, I do need to leave soon,” he told you regretfully. He frowned and seemed genuinely bothered by the fact that he didn’t have more time on his hands. “Don’t think for a moment that you’re not important to me, because you are. I mean it,” he said and handed his phone to you. “Please, give me your number and email so we can keep in touch. With your permission, I would like to ask my trusted friend Luke to assist me with researching some options on what kind of help there is out there for you. You shouldn’t have to be alone in this.”

You granted Tom permission to share your information with his friend and thanked him as you handed back his phone after writing down your contact information. You received another heartwarming hug before Tom had to leave the café. After he left, you gathered your belongings and headed home, feeling less lonely than you had before your meeting with Tom. Your phone buzzed and you smiled at the sight of a text message from him.

‘Hi [your name]. I just wanted to let you know that I spoke to Luke about what we talked about and he will contact you shortly with some options on different ways you can get help. Please, take care of yourself and let me know how you’re doing. You’re important to me. Love, Tom H.’

The next morning, you woke up to find a rather long and carefully worded email from Tom’s friend Luke in your inbox. You appreciated the help as it made it easier for you to figure out what to do next. Tom’s and Luke’s encouragement motivated you to finally reach out to a mental health professional for support. You felt a sense of relief and pride that you had finally taken that step and made sure to inform Tom and Luke about it.

Later that day, you received a sweet video message from the two friends. They sat in the back of a car and smiled as they told you about how proud they were of you for reaching out. The video ended with Tom telling you that you are loved and important to him. You smiled as you saved the message and for the first time in a long time, you felt carefully optimistic about the future. Later in life, you would look back at this moment as the beginning of a beautiful and lifelong friendship with Tom.

#tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x gender neutral reader #tom hiddleston/you #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddelston imagine

[winterrhayle]

cAn yOu rAtE rEpUtAtiOn dEarY aNd I'Ll wRitE sOmeThiNg wInlEt fOr yOu

HELP IM BRIBED SO EASILY OK:

delicate - OHHHHHHHHHHH THIS SONG MAKES ME FEEL THINGS,,, WHENEVER ITS PLAYING I IMAGING THAT IM DANCING IN THE RAIN LIKE TAYLOR DOES IN THE MUSIC VIDEO

call it what you want - this one and delicate are actually joint first in my ranking for rep,, theyre just so wholesome and i love them so much theyre my babies omg

new years day - also soo whilesome and i love this as a simple closer for such a highly produced, chaotic album. it really does make you feel like youre cleaning up after a long day,, ALSO THE LYRICS 'PLEASE DONT EVER BECOME A STRANGER WHOS LAUGH I COULD RECOGNISE ANYWHERE' HURTS SO BAD BECAUSE JOE IS A STRANGER WHOS LAUGH SHE COULD RECOGNISE ANYWHERE NOW :(((((((((( ACTUALLY DEVESTATING.

dress - not so wholesome ! but best believe i will be singing this song LOUD,, also when she talks about joes buzz cut and her bleached hair its so funny because idk how either of them pulled eachother that night😭 they looked so silly (i <3 bleachella though in a campy way)

king of my heart - ok this ranking is so hard to do bc half of these songs are about how her and joe are gonna be together forever and in this one shes literally like 'is this the end of the endings' and then they ended. so...

getaway car - sorry this song is acrually so hilarious im so sorry tom hiddleston 😭 i do not condone cheating but the way taylor admits to it here?????????? so proudly????????????? girl😭😭😭😭😭😭 ohh and the bridge takes my soul to another DIMENSION I LOVEEEEE KEY CHANGES

look what you made me do - ok the thing about this song is that you cant understand it without undestanding the context, the comeback from a year of silence with the snakes used against her,, the music video (which is the best mv of all time btw,,,, ive been decoding it for years now) etc etc i could talk so long about it,, also the rep tour version of this >>>>>>>>> so good

...ready for it - ICONIC ALBUM OPENER ( I WAS NOT READY FOR IT !!!!! 2017 ME HAD NO IDEA !!!!!!!!!!!)

i dont wanna live forever - ok guys can we just talk about how taylor literally has a collaB WITH ZAYN MALIK. WHY ARENT WE TALKING ABOUT THIS SONG MORE. WHAT. i love both of their higher registers in their voices so sos so so much

so it goes... - underrated bop, taylor was so wrong for not playing it on the rep tour because 'you did a number on me, but honestly baby whos counting / i didnt know you were keeping count (lyric from high infidelity,, which is about calvin harris,, aka the last long relationship she had before joe) IS GOLD

this is why we cant have nice things - i love it when taylor talks to the people who wronged her like theyre children,, its so satisfying

dont blame me - this used to be higher up but ive heard it so many times now so its getting a little ruined😭but the OHHHH LORD SAVE ME MY DRUG IS MY BABY ILL BE USIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE (USIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIIFE OOOOOOOhoooOoooooooOOOOOOOOOO O HHHHH) will REMAIN ICONIC TILL THE END OF TIME

dancing with our hands tied - the lyrics are so good and this song feels super nostalgic because the production is very reminiscent of a lot of the songs you hear in 2017 ahhh

i did something bad - i love how she was saying this even though at that time she actuually hadnt done anything bad😭 but this was necessary for the snake character so slay queen🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 ohh also the dyuuuh dhu dhu dhu dhu dhu dhu IS SO ICONIC,, THE WAY SHE WOKE UP AT NIGHT WITH THAT IDEA AND RECORDED IT??? LMAO????????

end game - WHY DID SHE LET ED SHEERAN RAP LMAOOOOOO SOBBING,,, HE WOULD FIT ON LITERALLY ANY ALBUM BUT THIS ONE😭also this is another one of those depressing rep songs bc joe was NOT endgame

gorgeous - ok i didnt like this song for literal years,, i like it now but its still in the bottom half of my overall ts ranking,, however i DO love the lyric about her cats and the *ding* after

#BIIG REPUTATION #BIGG REPUTATION #OOH YOU AND ME WE GOT BIG REPUTATIONS AHHHHHHH #asks #zhen tag #taylor swift

[erthlyheavn]

Munday Questions. Send in a number(s) to get to know the mun better!

@the-delightful-temptation said: 20, 9 and 17

20. Who is your celebrity crush?

I don't think I have a crush on anyone right now, but I used to have a major crush on Tom Hiddleston when I was a teen.

9. How would you describe your aesthetic?

Proooobably dreamy pastels? I also like florals and the galaxy/space aesthetic too.

17. What is your favorite food?

Pizza! Can never go wrong with pizza lol.

#❖ᴘᴀʏ ɴᴏ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴ: ᴏᴏᴄ #❖ᴀꜱᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ: ᴀꜱᴋꜱ #the delightful temptation

[spooky1980]

I'm Absolutely in love with Wrong Number by @youlightmeupfinn and felt compelled to make some artwork for this amazing story.

I really hope you don't mind me playing with your characters briefly. I hope you like them and they've done your story justice.

Please feel free to use them wherever you share this amazing story.

#tom hiddleston #hiddles #digital art #fan art #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic rec #cover art #youlightmeupfinn #wrong number #wrong number tom hiddleston #wrong number au #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x ofc #my tribute #spooky1980 #not mine #i just played

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 20

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: We get a it pissy, Flashback- nudity, female nipples, A dick gets touched a wee bit. Edit: **Yes, I got the chapter number wrong again...Fixed it **

AN:It's getting hot in here! Chapter warning- Our flashback finally has both nipples and dicks. Well, a dick. Very short mention of light foreplay and dirty talk. The flashback isn't long enough to be of anything more than once again blueballing readers. How long do you think I can do this before you actually get to the smut?

On a little more serious note, Kit is struggling. I'm sorry for anything that comes from me that is more unhinged than is normal though at this point, more unhinged than is normal is becoming the normal.

Masterlist Kofi AO3

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Mia woke warm and comfortable. It wasn’t how she usually woke. She tended to blast the AC at night or crack open the window during the winter. Anything to get it cold while she fell asleep. It was always something she regretted in the morning though when she had to drag herself from bed but the contrast of being warm and cozy under the blankets and the cold air in the room made for the best sleep.

This was something she could get used to, she decided as arms tightened around her. She had no business thinking that though. Tom traveled much for his career, even if they had managed to work out for real, how often would she get to wake up with him, tucked into his arms like this? 

They didn’t fall asleep in this position. They never did. More often than not in their short time together, she went to bed before Tom did. He often had late night calls and business to attend to thanks to the time difference but every morning she had woken in his arms and slipped herself free. 

Their life was quickly setting into a weird sense of normal. It was happening faster than she had been prepared for. They were strangers, friends and spouses all at the same time, changing with the fleeting moments. It felt like they were strangers less and less though.

Mia would wake up too early and make breakfast for her and Sally. Tom would wake shortly after and go down to the complex gym where he would run. Running was something Mia never really seemed to enjoy but Tom would spend quite some time running every morning. 

He needed to stay fit for his next project, he had told her. Running was something he enjoyed regardless but for his character he needed to be lean and fit. It was far easier for him to maintain the physique rather than let it slip and have to play physical catch up. 

Pinching at her belly, Mia knew it wouldn’t hurt her to join him. She could stand to drop some weight. It was just a matter of time before she was face to face with how horrible people can be when talking about women’s bodies. If she had a flat stomach, maybe they would have less to pick at. 

Who was she kidding? They would find something. They always did and she liked carbs too much. Plus, she had grown a whole ass child. No matter what she did, she didn’t think she’d have that flat stomach of her teens back again. 

After Tom had his morning run, he would come back for a shower and a light breakfast. An egg, some toast and fruit usually was what he would have. Mia would sometimes have it ready for him when he came back up but other times she lost track of time and he made it for himself without complaint. 

Every time he came back though, he would greet her with an arm around her waist and a squeeze of his hand on hers. It was a greeting she began to look forward to every morning. 

Mia sat at the table, plate of pancakes and eggs in front of her. Sally was across from her and they were practicing spelling ‘Sally’ and writing Mia’s phone number on a dry erase board as they ate. 

Sure, it would be quicker and easier to eat then practice, one task at a time but Sally was in a learning mood. Mia had long ago learned that when a child wanted to learn, you took advantage of that for as long as you could. 

Ride that wave while it lasted. 

Once Sally had these things down, Mia would start teaching their address. In handful of weeks Sally would be starting kindergarten and Mia wanted her to be as prepared as she could be going into it. 

“What do you want for your birthday?” Mia asked as Sally finished writing her phone number again. 

“Someone’s got a birthday coming up?” Tom asked from the doorway. His hair was dark with water from the shower still and sticking up in every direction from being towel dried. Mia had yet to get used to seeing him like that, tee shirt clinging lightly to his still slightly damp chest in places. 

“In two days!” Sally was great about not annoying people wit her upcoming birthdays. 

Mia had always been thankful for that but it also made her feel guilty. They never had the money to go big. Birthdays were always small affairs with little homemade cakes and dollar store toys. If Mia was lucky, she could get one or two quality toys. Ashley would pull through usually with something that wouldn’t break in two weeks. 

“Well, what are you doing for your birthday?” Tom asked, focused intently on the small girl that had unexpectedly became a part of his life. 

“I want a pool party!” Sally had seen a birthday pool party in a show and she had talked about off and on since. Mia had hoped that she had forgotten. 

“Well, if that’s what the birthday girl wants, that’s what she’ll get!” Tom loved birthdays. His sister had warned him against becoming over eager plenty of times when it came to things for her own children. “What is the birthday girl going to want for her birthday?”

“A pony!” Mia cringed back. Sally was treating it like a game. She probably thought it was. Mia was terrified however that Tom would take the request seriously.

“Do you even know how to ride a pony?” Tom leaned forward and raised an eyebrow dramatically.

Please be joking. Please be joking. Mia wasn’t sure there was a graceful way to jump in if he wasn’t joking. 

“Noooo.” Sally giggled. 

“Have you ever even touched a pony?” Tom asked, lowering the eyebrow and raising the other. It was comical and Mia couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

Please don’t buy her a pony. Please, Please, do not by her a fucking pony. 

“Nooo.” Sally giggled harder. 

“Well maybe a pony would be something to work up to.” Tom leaned back and put his eyebrows back where they belonged. “But who knows what birthday miracles may happen.”

~~~~~<3

Mia waited for Tom outside of Sally’s door. At least for the time being, Tom was the requested guest star of bedtimes and Mia had been pushed aside. Sure, she could have felt jealous or threatened by it but she instead relished in the help. 

She was tired from working her shift. Her feet hurt and the dress was uncomfortable but she made it home just in time for bedtime. She gave her hug and kisses and goodnights but Sally wanted the bedtime story from Tom and Tom alone once again. 

Mia tried not to worry about how Sally would cope with things when Tom left again. It would be time to take him to the airport again before they knew it. She wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Sally would miss him. Mia would miss the help greatly. 

Mia would miss him greatly too.

Tom being there meant she didn’t have to pay for a babysitter, though this was the first day he was on his own without Gretchen relieving him for part of the day or supervising. He had insisted he was fine with watching Sally while he was there.

He reminded her again and again that he was her step father, even if Sally didn’t know that yet. It was a job he insisted he took seriously and so far, it seemed that he did. He had all but begged her to trust him and begrudgingly, she did. 

“Good Night.” Tom said, stepping out of the door and closing it behind him, nearly walking into Mia. “Oh-” 

“Do not buy her a pony.” 

Tom laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist. Mia didn’t find anything funny though she let him lead her away from the door and toward the couch. Bare feet padded along as she waited for Tom to say anything. 

“I mean it Tom, don’t buy her a pony.” 

“I’m not going to buy her a pony.” Tom said as he sat down on the couch. He made an effort to pull her down with him but she stood ridged. “What’s wrong.” 

“Tom, I am her mother.” 

“I know that.” 

“Then do not make birthday plans or promises or anything without clearing it with me first.” 

“But I-”

“Do you even know if she’s got friends to invite to a pool party? Who would show up? Or the logistics of planning a kid’s birthday party? I don’t know if they’re done differently in England but they’re a fucking nightmare here.” 

“I’m sorry, I-”

“We don’t have anyone to invite. Let alone on short notice. Do not put some grand party ideas in her head when I can’t deliver on that and even if you can, who’s to say if I can next year. Or the year after. She is my daughter and we have our ways of doing things.”

“Okay.” Tom raised his hands up in submission. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I got excited is all.” 

“Good.” Mia didn’t know what else to say. She was still angry, she’d spent most of her shift fuming about it and worrying about what other promises are being made without her being there to intercept it. “Good.”

“What can I do to fix it?” Tom tugged at her hand, urging her to sit with him. 

“Just keep it small. And ask first.”

He noticed then that she was still wearing the short cocktail dress that was her uniform. Her legs were on full display. She wasn’t particularly tall however the length of the skirt did wonders at highlighting the length and shape of her legs. “Why haven’t you changed yet?”

“I was distracted.” 

“By your need to yell at me?” Tom joked. 

“Yes.” She huffed. 

“Go change. Then you can yell at me more from something more comfortable, if you want.”

~~~~~<3

Mia changed out of the reveling dress in the closet with the door shut behind her. It was silly, they were married and yet she she was still shy around him. He was a attractive man who could have and did have actresses and she was everyday normal. 

She slipped on a pair of athletic shorts that were used for sleep far more than they were used for working out. It was just a matter of time before her metabolism came crashing down and she’d have to start working out or learn to again love, well- like, her changing body.

For now, walking miles on the casino floor in four inch heels and skipping her mid shift meal to avoid the bloat in the dress worked together to keep her weight within what she felt was acceptable. 

Just because she thought it was acceptable didn’t mean she was ready to expose a sober Tom to every little bulge, sag and stretch mark that came with having grown a child. She’d seen pictures of the woman he had dated before her, she was too weak to resist looking. She was fit and trim and tall and fucking beautiful. 

That was the sort of woman men like Tom looked good with. They were the kind of women men like Tom liked. They belonged on red carpets and in magazines. 

Mia threw out her insecurities as best she could while she threw her bra in the hamper. She hated the feeling of taking it off. It did a great job of supporting her breasts that had never really recovered from a near year of breastfeeding. She had no other way to explain it but that they felt deflated, empty but with a good bra, they were pretty damn nice still. 

She slipped on a oversized Tshirt and pulled her largely deflated curls into a messy pony tail. With a overnight shift coming up tomorrow, she had enlisted Tom to help keep her awake so that she’d sleep in. 

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Tom folded over her as she ran her fingers up his chest, taking in the feeling of his muscles as they moved. His head swam as he took her nipple into his mouth again. Tugging, pulling and licking, he teased delicate moans from her throat. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he kissed his way up to her neck.

Her back arched under him as he ran his fingers up and down her sides. Each breath she took caused her nipples to brush against his chest. 

“I want you.” She pleaded as she blindly worked his buckle open. “Please.” 

She was like an animal pawing to get to some vital resource. It took far longer than she wanted to get the belt free. Tom grew impatient and uncomfortable with waiting and yanked it free himself. 

As he tossed it behind him, she palmed him through his pants. She moaned at the feeling and it would be a lie to say he didn’t take satisfaction in that. He wasn’t a poorly endowed man by any means, he knew that but having a woman moan at the feel alone was a great complement. 

“Please.” Oh, he liked hearing her beg for him. 

He also liked the feeling of her fingers wrapping around him. He hadn’t noticed when she had gotten his trousers unbuttoned, let alone unzipped but good god, her fingers felt good wrapped around his shaft. 

“Let me get these off.” 

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101 @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @kats72 @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @soulpiercing @evedia @princess-ofthe-pages

#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x original character #Tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic

[lokis-little-fawn]

Just Friends

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Tom Hidddleston x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: After attending a New Years party with your friends, how will you react to Toms confession of love?

Authors note: this was an idea I’ve thought about for ages, I don’t feel like this did my vision justice so I may revisit it at some point 💚

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), affair/cheating themes

“Five minutes until the new year!” You hear voices shout across the dance floor. You’d attended a New Years party with your closest friends and your husband. The majority of your friends were married, all except Tom Hiddleston, the eternal bachelor.

He’d been one of your closest friends for a number of years, you’d met him while still single and had been on a few dates before deciding you were better as friends. Despite this he had supported you through the many ups and downs of your previous relationships until you eventually got married. He had always been somewhat indifferent to your husband and although you couldn’t work out why, you shrugged it off as one of Toms funny ways.

As the count down begins you search the dance floor for your husband having re applied your lipstick ready for a New Years kiss. With the count down rapidly descending, your eyes quickly scan the room. From a distance you see your husband hauled up in a corner looking as calm and collected as ever. Walking towards him his face lights up.. his face lights up in the wrong direction, looking towards his left rather than towards you at a distance to his right. A tall blonde woman who appears almost statuesque wraps her arms around his neck, counting down with her lips pressed almost to his. You feel your eyes well up with tears as you turn away, your body immediately collides with the chest of a tall man, his arms wrapping around you catching you before you fall in your stilettos.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” His deep voice asks reassuringly as you shake your head, a single tear cascading down your cheek. You turn to point to your husband in the corner with another woman but before you can Toms eyes have already taken in the sight behind you, clutching you tighter within his arms.

“Get me out of here, please Tom. I just need to leave” you say, your hands curled tightly around his bicep as he looks down at your weeping face.

“Okay love, let’s go” he says as you turn and walk from the room, his hand pressed against your lower back as your stilettos and his dress shoes click against the wooden floor, almost inaudibly under the chanting as the count down comes to a crescendo. Happy new year, you guess?

Keeping your heads down as you walk through the lobby at a fast pace, over the years you’d grown used to the press surrounding Tom, but right now, with tears in your eyes, you couldn’t deal with it. Quickly stepping into the lift tom scans his key card and presses the floor number, taking you both to the penthouse suit on the top floor, Toms room.

As soon as you step through the door Tom pours you both a strong glass of straight whiskey, sitting beside each other on one of the comfortable sofa’s. Still lightly crying Tom pulls you into his arms, your head rested against his chest as he pulls you close, both of you occasionally taking sips of your drinks.

“I can’t go back Tom, not tonight at least, can I stay here with you?” You break the silence, asking between sniffles as his hand comfortingly strokes your back.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of allowing you back there with him” he replies, an angered tone in his voice that you can tell he is trying to restrain for your benefit.

“H..he has all of my things in our room, I don’t want to see him to get them back” you say, unsure of what to do, your thoughts not daring to venture to the concept of collecting your belongings from your shared house. At your words Tom picks up the phone on the side table next to him, calling the front desk.

“Hello” his deep tone starts as the receptionist picks up. “Would it be possible to have Miss Y/L/N’s belongings collected and brought to my suite? Yes her room number is 220. She’s here to sign for them on arrival. Thank you” he says in his deep sultry tone, hanging up before quickly attending to you again, pulling you into his arms. A few minutes later a knock is heard against the door as a porter brings in your belongings, placing them in Toms bedroom with the rest of his things. After signing for them, Tom gives the man a considerable tip for his discretion and sends him on his way.

“Can I take a shower? I feel like I need to wash my eyes out” you say with a half smile as the joke verges on truth.

“It’s just though there, use anything you need” he replies. As you go to close the bathroom door you see Tom run his hands through his hair before pulling his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt. The sight is a welcome distraction from your current circumstance. Although you had decided to be ‘just friends’ you’d be a fool to deny your attraction to him. With his physique closely resembling that of a Greek god, just like almost everyone else in the world you were attracted to Tom, a fact that came upon you often at the most inopportune of times.

Closing the door behind you, you kick off your stilettos. Your dress drops to the floor along with your lingerie soon after as you turn on the water, waiting for it to warm up before stepping under the fountaining faucet. Pulling off your fake eyelashes you place them on a shelf, quickly washing the remainder of your makeup away as you dip your head underneath the water. The feeling of it, warm and comforting cleansing every pour makes you feel alive again, like everything you witnessed tonight could fade into the background. After a short while you step out of the shower, drying your hair and wrapping a towel around your body. You walk back into the bedroom still wrapped in a towel as you go to find some pyjamas.

Hearing Tom on the phone to someone you try not to listen in, but as he nears you it’s hard to ignore.

“Yes I’m certain, please cancel my flight. We can reschedule filming whenever is best for you. I just can’t bare to leave her like this, I’m sorry” as he steps into the bedroom he seems surprised to find you out of the shower so soon, as he hangs up the phone.

“Tom, you didn’t just cancel filming for me did you?” You ask immediately, still sat on your knees wrapped in a towel surrounded by clothes you have pulled from your suitcase.

“It’s been postponed, I refuse to leave you like this. Don’t worry about me, what can I do for you?” He asks as he discards his phone onto the bedside table, taking a few steps towards you.

“Do you have any spare pyjamas? I’m an idiot, all I packed is lingerie thinking there’d be some kind of celebration and now I have nothing to sleep in” you say bundling your things back into your suitcase, lingerie almost bursting from the seams as you try your best to close it. Handing you one of his shirts he respectfully turns his back as you pull it on and button it up, due to his size the shirt engulfs you. Nevertheless when he turns around and takes in the image of you standing with damp hair in his shirt, he thinks you look adorable, a glimmer in his eye giving away his true feelings.

You jump into bed and although Tom, being gentlemanly as always, offers to sleep on the sofa you insist that sharing a bed is fine. You’ve slept next to each other before and you’d feel more comfortable feeling his presence near you. After changing into some pyjamas he joins you in bed, beginning to read a book next to you.

“Tom, can I ask you something?” You ask as you lay your head to the soft pillows. Tom copies your movements, placing his book on the nightstand and lying down to face you, your hands almost touching on the pillows.

“Anything, love” he replies, settling in underneath the blankets.

“You never liked him. Before we got married you were mostly fine, but a few days before the wedding something changed. What happened?” You ask him inquisitively, genuinely interested in whatever Toms reply would be. At this point you were determined that no matter what he had to say, after what you’d witnessed tonight, you’d be fine.

“Fuck” he says rolling onto his back, one hand pressed to his forehead momentarily before he begins to speak. “I’ve kept this from you for a rather long time and if you hate me after I tell you, I promise that I will understand” he says, a worried look spread over both of your faces as you wait to hear the news that seems to have troubled him for years. “I was at a wrap party for a film the weekend before your wedding, after the official party ended a few of us decided to attend a club in central London. We’d been there a few hours and just before we left I noticed a man in the corner with a young lady, she looked very uncomfortable and persistently tried to push him away. I decided to step in, but once I did I realised it was your fiancé. He was incredibly drunk and after I helped the young lady home I arranged a taxi for him, but by the time it arrived he had vanished and I didn’t see him again until the day of your wedding” the last words leave Toms mouth with a nervous quiver, the regret spreading through him like a plague as he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze.

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I hoped that after that night it would be the last of it but clearly I stand corrected” he says as he eventually turns back to you. “There have been so many times where I’ve wanted to tell you but I couldn’t bring myself to break your heart and I didn’t want you to think that I was engineering all of this for my own gain” he says, the guilt evident in his face as your tearful eyes meet his.

“It’s okay, how were you to know that he’d do something like that again. It could have been a drunken mistake for all you knew” you say as you dry your eyes. “What do you mean ‘for your own gain’” you ask him, no longer focusing on your soon to be ex husband and now back to the man laying in front of you.

“I.. uhm.. I know we called it off and decided to be friends. But that has been the greatest regret in my life, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. Being around you and watching you love him has been unbearable but as much as I knew he didn’t deserve you, I couldn’t be the one to break your heart” he mutters out, his voice just above a whisper towards the end of his sentence as your eyes widen and your mouth drops open lightly from shock. Admittedly you’d always had feelings for him, even after you’d called it off. You hadn’t even slept together and although you’d shared a few passion filled kisses you thought yourself a fool for thinking so deeply into your brief relationship. This was until you listened to Toms words as his hand reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear, his touch feeling like an electric shock sending a pulse throughout your body.

Without a word, hesitantly you lean forward placing one soft kiss to his lips. His hand near your cheek now wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you closer before you separate.

His eyes rapidly scan over your face. As much as he admittedly loves you, he can almost feel your broken heart and the idea of being just a rebound for you is almost worse than never having had you at all. Despite this, the magnetism between your bodies as your heart rate quickens pulls his lips back to yours once more, pulling you in closer as his hand moves from your neck down to your waist. As your kisses grow more heated you wrap your leg around his waist. Using this he pushes you onto your back, your legs wrapped around his hips as his hands trace your curves.

His tongue pushes into your mouth tangling with yours as your breathing grows heavier, your hands rested on his chest. For the first time in what feels like forever you can feel the passion in his touch. With your husband passion and spontaneity had been waining for a while, every tryst felt insincere as if he was touching you out of obligation. But now, lying beneath Tom you could feel his want for you, his need to be near you as his kisses trail down your neck.

Pushing him and rolling him onto his back back until his head is pressed against the pillows, for a second he is certain you have changed your mind. This is until you move to straddle him, pulling his night shirt over his head before kissing down his neck and chest, his hands settled on your hips as you feel his length harden between your legs. Sitting up, still straddling him, your fingers begin to undo the buttons on your shirt, his shirt. His breath hitches beneath you as he watches you strip for him, fighting back the urge to grind his length against your pantie covered folds. As the buttons pop open, your breasts bounce in front of his eyes as you push the shirt off over your shoulders. The glimmer in his eye and his quiet gasp at the sight of you telling you all you needed to know, he’s wanted this just as much as you have.

As you lower yourself down to kiss him, you rock your covered heat over his length earning a mutual moan from both of you, vibrating throughout your kiss. Breaking the kiss once more you slide your panties to the side, hastily Tom pushes his pyjama trousers off, his length springing free as his tip glistens with pre cum. After grinding against him for a few moments you slide your hand down to the base of his length, sinking down onto him gasping at his size as he stretches you open. Your forehead pressed to his you take in each other’s expressions, the pleasure spreading across his familiar face in such an unfamiliar way causing your arousal to flow down his length.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamt of you like this my love” he moans out, his grip on your hips tensing encouraging your movements as your pace increases. Kissing him again, you feel him begin to thrust upwards into you, your loud moans filling his ear as you feel your orgasm begin to build. Your hips moving in quick circles you feel his thrusts become more ragged beneath you desperate for friction. In one swift move he lifts you, his strong arms holding your entire weight with almost no strain as he rolls you onto your back.

“Slowly, love, I’m not going anywhere” his words eliciting a loud moan from your mouth as he momentarily pulls out of you, pulling your panties down your legs and discarding them to the floor. Slowly reentering you, you feel every vein and bump along his cock as he thrusts into you. Savouring every expression, his eyes baring into yours, every precise movement is tailored for your pleasure as he rocks slowly in and out of you. Despite the slow pace you can feel your orgasm quickly build again as he grinds against you. Your legs wrapping around his waist you pull him in deeper, his length hitting against your innermost walls until he bottoms out. In need for more you rock your hips up to meet him as his pace builds, becoming frenzied above you again. His hand slowly creeps down the length of your body, his fingers trail the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and finally coming to settle at your clit. Gathering some of your wetness on his finger tips he rubs soft circles into your clit making you cry out in pleasure as his lips meet yours.

“Mhm.. I’m going to cum, T…Tom” you moan out as his pace increases. You feel your walls tightening around his cock, your orgasm beginning to flutter as the coil in your stomach begs to snap under his touch. With your thighs tightening and your toes beginning to curl from pleasure, your back begins to lightly arch as your hands tighten on his biceps.

“Look at me as you cum, I need to see you” he growls out. Your gaze meeting his before your eyes drop closed and your face contorts in pleasure. He takes in every line spread across face as your orgasm is drawn out from you, burning the memory into his mind. With the feeling of your walls fluttering around him overwhelming his senses his orgasm is pulled from him, hot lines of cum splashing against your walls as he rides out his high within you. His liquid settled deep within you, he pulls out of you as you both try to regain your breaths. For a second you expect him to collapse beside you, but to almost your disbelief he begins to kiss down your body. Sucking each nipple into his mouth one at a time he leaves a trail of sucked kisses down your torso until he reaches your heat.

“I need to taste you, you look good enough to eat” he moans out, kissing from your knee up your thighs before his kiss grazes on your sensitive clit. His kisses quickly turn to kitten licks as he savours your taste mixed with his. His tongue slips inside of your entrance before gliding back to your clit, flicking over your sensitive nub. His fingers trail up your thighs before slipping one dexterous digit into your entrance, slowly curling within you as his pace on your clit endures.

Your moans fill the air as his pace quickens within you, your hands carding through his hair, your grip on his blonde tendrils tightens. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapid circles over your clit making your second orgasm quickly build, your walls fluttering around his fingers, Tom pushes a second into you.

“Come one more time for me love, I know you can do it” he moans, his flicks over your clit transforming into sucks. Your thighs tighten around his face as he holds your legs open with his strong hand, pinning you down to the mattress as your legs begin to shake. With a few last curls of his fingers you cum around him once more, clenching down on his digits as his steady pace continues, drawing your orgasm out. His tongue laps up everything you have to offer as your arousal drips from you, licking and kissing until there is nothing left.

Kissing back up your body you pull him in to kiss you, his length fully hardened as he pulls you into his embrace. In your insatiable need for him, you begin again, the whole night being swept away by the desperation for each other, a feeling that you now realise had been there all along. Orgasm after orgasm exhausting you as you eventually fall asleep wrapped in his arms, his whispers of love warm in your ear as your heart flutters at his words making you wonder, maybe you’ve been more than ‘just friends’ after all.

Tag list: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @vbecker10 @virtualstrawberrydinosaur @lokiprompts@cryingismyonlyhobby

@lokistoriesblog @msturi2u @sharris8 @apine7 @chiyongberry @fangasm202 @sinsandguilt

#tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston loki #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki #fanfiction #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #mcu loki #loki imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki marvel #loki odinson x reader #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #lokiedit #loki tv #dark loki #loki fluff

[lokistoriesblog]

LokiStoriesBlog's 2021 FIC REC ROUNDUP

As we gear up to bring 2021 to a close, I wanted to take a moment to share some of my favourite fics from this past year with all of you. This is just a small sample of the many fics I enjoyed over the last year, so please check them and their authors out! xoxo Kayls aka @lokistoriesblog

Loki

"Two Sides of a Coin" or "Don't Let Me Go" by @handmaiden-of-mischief or anything from Kiki's Loki masterlist

"For a Moment" by @gaitwae

"Trouble" by @silver-tongued-bby

"Needy" by @ambrosiase

"In Shades of Blue, He'll Dream of You" by @kneel-bitches

"Glorious Purpose" by @high-functioning-lokipath

"Movie Night" by @the-emo-asgardian

"Dad" by @lovelybarnes

"Softy" by @theaudacitytowrite

"The Party" by @agentkinghorn

"Welcome Home" by @lokis-little-fawn

Jotun Loki

"After The After Party" by @starks-hero

"No Touchies" by @give-me-a-moose

"Cold Hands" by @sinner-as-saint

"Tiny Dancer" by @lokis-right-nut

Tom Hiddleston

"Wrong Number" or "Red" by @youlightmeupfinn or honestly anything from Taylor's Tommy masterlist

"Something Good" by @immersed-in-mischief

"The Nanny" or "The Cabin" by @handsomelyhiddleston

"Look Left!" by @sabine-leo

Bucky

"Fake Boyfriend, Real Orgasm's" by @bucksfucks

"The Mating Program" by @multi-stann

Zemo

"Emperor's New Clothes" by @maiden-of-asgard

"Take Care of You" by @zemosimp05

Flip Zimmerman

"Pretty Girl" by @bookishofalder

"Love Thy Neighbour" by @strangunddurm

Chris Evans

"I'm Just An Assistant" by @time-for-a-lullaby

"Best Friend's Brother" by @secretswiftymarvelfan

Ransom Drysdale

"Mrs. Drysdale" by @payperhearts

"Alpha, May I" by @imaginedreamwrite

Fred Weasley

"Left Waiting at the Three Broomsticks" by @potter-imagines

"I Don't Share" by @horrorxweasley or anything from Rachel's kinktober masterlist

If you made it this far - thank you for reading my fic rec list. Sorry it isn't a cumbersome list, there have been so many more that I enjoyed over the year but I wanted to highlight a small few to share with you all.

Please let me know if you read any of them from my list, would love to chat about them!

🕯manifesting good vibes for 2022🕯

#fic rec #fic recommendation #marvel #Loki #tom hiddleston #lokistoriesblog #fanfic #loki x reader #jotun loki #tom hiddleston x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #baron zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson

[lov3nerdstuff]

Virtual Strangers {Part 1}

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: 1/10

Words: 5.5k

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 all parts on my Masterlist!

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It was shortly after ten at night when you unlocked the front door to your tiny flat on the fifth floor, kicking it open with one foot just a little too strongly for your taste. It ended up slamming into the nearest wall behind it, causing a rattling orchestration of crude noises that surely would be heard by all of your neighbours, but quite honestly, you currently couldn't care less. It had been a clusterfuck of a day, stressful and annoying and way too long for anyone's good. All you wanted when you kicked the bloody door shut again and dropped your coat and leather satchel in your joke of a hallway was to get out of your fancy clothes and fall into bed with a good movie to soothe you into sleep. This day just had to be over soon… you were absolutely done with it and the world in general. Groaning to yourself quietly, you unceremoniously kicked your shoes off and finally made your way through the darkness of the flat towards your bed. You didn't have a sofa, didn't even have the space for one, so it was either the bed or the desk to reside at, and there was no way in heaven or hell you would spend another minute at the latter today. Not when you'd already sat at the one in your office at university for over twelve bloody hours.

For a minute you just lay in the darkness on top of your covers with your eyes closed, breathing deeply. At least there hadn't been anyone waiting for you who would be yelling at you now for coming home so late. Repeatedly coming home late. But then again, perhaps you wouldn't work quite so much if there actually was anything else for you to do after work other than sitting at home and fighting boredom. What did it matter… things were as they were, and you were content, usually. It probably was just the gloom and weariness of the pain of a day you'd had that was dragging you down the wrong path right now. With some comfortable clothes and a good movie (you really had spent enough time reading, after all), you would certainly feel better. Just when you were about to make yourself get up to actually put your plans into action, the loud 'ping' of your phone cut through the heavy silence of the flat from the short way back in the improvised hallway. Good thing your flat was more like one single room separated into sections by your plentitude of bookshelves than a construct of actual brick walls… at least it allowed you to hear that you'd received a new message just now.

Groaning to yourself once more, you got up to fetch the dreaded piece of technology from your bag, only to return to your bed immediately while opening the messaging app. Huh, a text from an unknown number… Your brows furrowed into a deep frown, and you finally switched on your bedside lamp while you settled against the headboard to open the text.

T: 'Hello Dave, Luke gave me your number so I would stop nagging him about this… Would you by any chance know more than him about the current state of affairs? I know it's terribly forward of me to bother you at this hour, but I haven't been able to think of anything else all day long. The matter really is of great importance to me, so please get back to me if you can. Best, TWH'

You still frowned at your phone, at the text that seemed so genuine and hopeful that despite better judgement you couldn't press the bin-icon button your finger was already hovering over. Usually you would just delete messages like this right away without paying any mind to them, deeming them either a possible scam or a practical joke. But something about this text made you halt and reconsider now, in sympathy for the sender, whether that was because of the almost ridiculously formal words chosen for the simple text, or the fact that it came from a British number much like your own. Either way, you thought it unlikely that a scammer would use the words 'terribly forward', nor would they sign a freaking text message like this. Thus, out of that odd pull of sympathy for the disappointed hopes of a virtual stranger, you decided to reply for once.

Y: 'I'm afraid you've got the wrong number there, TWH. This isn't Dave, nor has it ever been. Sorry to disappoint.'

It took but a minute that you spent scrolling through your newsfeed before you got a reply from the same unknown number, even though you hadn't actually expected a reply at all. Curiously, you opened the messaging app once more and crossed your legs beneath you to sit more comfortably.

T: 'Oh dear… I apologise profoundly, I must have missed a digit there at some point. Thank you for letting me know of my mistake, otherwise I would have spent hours waiting for a reply that wasn't going to come. That was very kind of you. I won't bother you any further now, but again, my sincerest apologies for the disturbance.'

A little smile tugged on your lips as you read the message twice, both amused and oddly delighted by the thoughtful and astonishingly polite reply. Whoever this person was, they certainly had impeccable manners as well as a way with words you found yourself enjoying more than you cared to admit. For a moment you debated with yourself whether you should send another reply upon their message now or leave it at that; after all, it would be perfectly fine and polite to just delete the conversation at this point. But at the same time, you felt compelled to assure the stranger that it hadn't been much of a bother in the first place, and that their words and politeness had actually brought the first sincere smile of the day onto your face. On a whim, you decided on the latter.

Y: 'No apologies needed. I would've felt terrible to leave you hopelessly waiting for an answer when whatever this is about is of great importance to you, as you yourself have said. Uncertainty in the long run would've probably been worse than the short lived disappointment or embarrassment of having me and not Dave on the other end of the line. And also… ›Against ill chances men are ever merry, / But heaviness foreruns the good event.‹ In the words of the bard (if you are familiar), that's me wishing you good luck in reaching the right person.'

You made an attempt to set your phone down to get up from the bed and change out of your formal wardrobe, but the sound of another message cut through the silence before the device had even left your hand. Now the smile on your face grew to a degree where you actually couldn't help it anymore, and you flopped back down to look at the new message.

T: 'Henry IV, Part 2: Act 4, Scene 2… Nice! ›Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow / Serves to say thus, some good thing comes tomorrow.‹'

Your lips parted simultaneously with the stupid grin that was dragging their corners upwards. This person knew Shakespeare! Actually knew Shakespeare, because the reply had come way too quickly for them to have googled that quote. To say you were impressed was an understatement, much rather were you honestly intrigued now. Not even your colleagues at uni understood your literary references that quickly! Who was this person?

Y: 'Wow, I see I'm talking to an expert here… No wonder your messages are so uniquely eloquent, if you know Shakespeare from the top of your head.'

T: 'Why thank you! Are they really, though? I don't usually spend a lot of time composing text messages to strangers, I'm afraid. Or text messages at all, for that matter. Do you?'

You couldn't help the snort that escaped from a point low in your throat, as you shook your head to yourself in amusement. Uncomfortable slacks and blouses forgotten for now.

Y: 'I have never made a habit of conversing with strangers up until quite (very) recently, I'll have to admit that. And yes, your mode of expression is oh so different from what I am used to. In a good way! But since your original message was obviously meant for someone you do actually know personally, I will just have to assume that you text all your acquaintances in this manner, not just strangers.'

When a few moments had passed without a reply, you suddenly found a strange sense of nervousness entering your mind when you reread your text. Had your words been too probing? Just because the stranger liked Shakespeare about as much as you did, that didn't give you the right to forgo the appropriate conversational distance for someone you'd just met. On impulse, you sent a second message right after.

Y: 'I apologise if that was too forward of me. I didn't mean to make assumptions in a way that implies judgement… I merely wanted to assure you that your texting skills are indeed very eloquent, and also much appreciated.'

That wasn't much better, but you decided that you had done what you could to put things about right. Dropping your phone now indeed, your mind returned to your previous intention of changing into something comfortable for the night after all. An oversized sleep shirt was a whole lot better than the business casual you had been sporting before, and once you'd changed, you picked up your laptop from your work bag and settled down in your bed once more with a content sigh. Just when you had draped the covers around yourself in a warm and fluffy cocoon, your phone alerted you of a newly received message.

T: 'Don't worry. Or shall I say fret? As far as I'm aware, our common historical acquaintance used the word ›worry‹ only one single time in all of his work, and even then it's rather used to mean ›to strangle‹.'

You didn't know why, but you let out a breath in relief while reading. The stranger wasn't put off by your forwardness, thank the gods… For some reason you enjoyed talking to them, they seemed to be intelligent and polite enough, as well as outspoken and kind… and that's already more than the few somewhat-friends you had could account for. Either way, the stranger seemed willing enough to indulge you in talking Shakespeare, and you would most definitely use that opportunity to the fullest. So you leaned back against the headboard and replied with an almost excited smile.

Y: 'You're right about that. Etymologically, the word ›worry‹ originated in strangling and ›fret‹ originated in consuming, going off old and middle English words. They've only gained their modern meaning of being related to causing anxiety from the 19th century on, so logically Shakespeare would've used them in a different way.'

T: 'Who is the expert now, huh?'

A rush of hot embarrassment bubbled to the forefront of your mind, and you bit your bottom lip with a frown. Rambling on about the things you liked was a habit you had never really cared to break, but it probably wasn't something you should be doing with someone you had just met. At least not if you wanted them to continue talking to you.

Y: 'I'm so sorry, I probably sound like either a total swot or a real show-off… And while the former might be true, I would rather not be much of the latter.'

T: 'There is no fault in showing off your knowledge at an appropriate time, which is just what I consider now to be. Then it isn't as much showing off as it is enlightening the other. I am very interested in what you have to say, so please don't worry.'

Y: 'That would be a first… Most people wouldn't willingly listen to me talking about literature and language when they have a choice. And even if they do, they still only rarely have something relevant or interesting to say about the matter in return.'

T: 'Would you believe me if I said I have actually had the same problem, up until now? People do listen to me, but often enough they fail to sincerely care.'

Y: 'I guess it just takes an encounter by chance with a kind stranger to find someone to discuss these things with. At least you can be sure that if I didn't care about what you have to say, I wouldn't still be here talking to you.'

You were biting your lip again when you pressed send on that last message, and quite like expected there was no immediate reply either. Damnit, the internet was making you braver than you should be… braver than you normally were. Sighing, you finally flipped your laptop open to start up a movie you had already seen a couple of times before. But hey, everyone had a comfort movie, right? A little distraction from both the stranger and the brutal day you'd had would certainly do you some good. Still, a few minutes later, your phone pinged once more.

T: 'That is a relief ;) I was afraid you were merely feeling obliged to reply to my messages at this point.'

You let out a small scoff, smiling, and went to reply immediately. As if YOU, the person nobody ever talked to willingly for more than a minute, would actually complain about keeping the interest of another human being who you in return were interested in as well. That wasn't likely going to happen, ever.

Y: 'I was having much the same concerns about you, to be honest. I'm not keeping you from anything, right? And I'm not annoying you either?'

T: 'Not at all. Just as you said, if I wasn't enjoying myself, I wouldn't still be here. In all honesty.'

Y: 'Good… I'd have to say I generally appreciate honesty more than politeness, but you seem to have both on your side, so we're most definitely good. I hope, at least. Just tell me honestly if I'm bothering you at any point in this conversation, with too much or too little literature talk or anything else, and I promise to do the same. If you really should wish to keep conversing with me, that is.'

T: 'That seems only fair, and I do very much wish to indeed. May I thus inquire, with the option of your protest, who the stranger I have the pleasure to bother until further notice is? I would like to change the name in my contacts, seeing as we have now established that you are clearly not Dave.'

You let out a short and rather involuntary laugh, and something about the way your stranger was expressing him or herself just kept on making you smile. Leave alone the fact that you called them your stranger now. Good gods, why on earth did you always have to grow attached so bloody quickly?! And did you really want to give them your personal information? Yes, you decided. What bad could anyone possibly do with your first name and some random pieces of information about yourself that would also apply to a couple thousand other people? Not much.

Y: 'My name is Y/n, but I doubt that this will tell you much about who I am ;) I was female the last time I checked, a London resident, and quite obviously a literature enthusiast. What about you, TWH? What does that acronym stand for?'

For a while your phone remained silent, while your heartbeat on the other hand sped up quite ridiculously until the sound of your blood rushing in your ears drowned out the voices in your movie. Was this whole thing a mistake? It really didn't feel like one… But not every evil could be seen right away either, and there was a reason people always preached to be careful online. This wasn't much different now after all, even if you had their phone number already. The long awaited ping released you from your overthinking.

T: 'Very pleased to meet you, Y/n. Even if this probably is one of the most unconventional ways of meeting someone I've ever come across.'

You snorted, then raised an eyebrow up at your phone. You could see that your stranger was still typing, and you patiently waited for the second part of the message.

T: 'The last time I checked I was male, but a London resident and literature enthusiast no less. Now, would it be terribly unfair of me if I didn't tell you my name in return? I know this must seem like I tricked you into giving me yours, but I swear that this wasn't my intention at all. I simply didn't think this whole thing through before asking, if I'm honest. But I did promise you my honesty after all, and I like to keep my promises, thus it wouldn't do to just tell you a name that isn't my own.'

You frowned to yourself for a moment, feeling indeed a little tricked into telling him now, but you would grant him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he really hadn't had any bad intentions behind it. Sometimes people just hit send before they thought it through, that had happened to you before as well, on more than one occasion. Sighing, you decided to work with the little you had.

Y: 'So I will just have to call you TWH then, huh?'

T: 'I am sorry, honestly. I would love to tell you, but I'm a very private person and it seems I just forgot about the implications and extent of that for a moment. TWH is merely how I sign job related messages, so that the people working with me know who they've got on the other end. But as you yourself said, a name wouldn't tell you who I am anyway.'

Y: 'What am I supposed to call you, then? I would like to save your number as well, but as something other than ›stranger who accidentally texted me‹… Perhaps I will just call you T?'

T: 'I don't mind that, but the choice is all yours either way. After all… ›What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet.‹'

Y: 'Well, I'm not calling you Romeo, nor Montague for that matter ;) Most people would argue that this particular play is overrated anyway, so what's your take on that?'

You sent the message, then went ahead to save the number under TWH indeed while you waited for a reply. In the end, you figured that it really didn't matter what his name was. The more important facts were that he was male and old enough to be working, living in the same city as you, as well as probably gifted with a higher education, good manners and a more than decent memory. That was enough information to keep talking about Shakespeare with him.

And that you did, texting back and forth about the bard's work and words while your movie played in the background. T really had some interesting thoughts and opinions, some you agreed with and others not, but after a while you were beyond certain that he'd definitely had some kind of higher literary education beyond the usual stuff required for taking one's A-levels. The things he knew and pointed out just seemed so well thought out, reflected and far beyond the superficial… and at the same time, his knowledge was somewhat different than your own. You had gained yours through academia, following your literature degrees all the way up to your doctorate which you were currently working on… But where had he gained his? You didn't dare to ask, but the question lingered on your mind throughout the evening while you exchanged messages almost at the pace of a real-time conversation. Honestly, you couldn't recall the last time you'd talked to someone for this long, neither on the phone nor in person, and neither could you recall a time when you had laughed and smiled this much. It was ironic, really, how for the first time in weeks you were feeling honestly excited about your work on your dissertation again, and that even after the bloody bad day you'd had. All because of a virtual stranger who was willing to discuss Shakespeare with you.

When your movie ended two and a half hours later, you had hardly paid any attention to it at all. Most of your attention had been taken up by T and his texts, and as much as you would've loved to keep talking to him now that your movie was over, a glimpse at the glowing digits on your laptop told you that it was time to call it a night. It still was only Tuesday after all, and you were expected to give a seminar at 8 tomorrow morning. Sighing, you closed your laptop and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the night, taking your phone with you so you wouldn't miss any replies. Was this how your students felt when they remained glued to their phones even during class? You had to admit, from this perspective it most definitely made sense. Good gods, you were no better than them; no wonder people repeatedly mistook you for one of the students.

When you settled back into bed at last, putting the laptop on your nightstand and killing the light, you released a deep sigh. Who knew if you would ever get the chance to have another conversation like this again? Would T still be willing to continue this tomorrow, or another day? Oh well… so much for not getting attached. You rolled your eyes at yourself, then decided to get a grip and say goodnight already. You really needed to sleep. So you replied to his previous comment on Coriolanus, but then followed your message straight up with a second one.

Y: 'I absolutely don't want to cut you short, and I would love to just keep talking to you, but I'll have to be up early tomorrow and therefore should really call it a night now. Can we continue this another time?'

T: 'Of course, no problem at all. I'm sorry for keeping you up so late, I should have been more considerate.'

Y: 'You have been very considerate in keeping me company, actually. I probably would've been up until now anyway, but after the horrible day I've had, my night likely would've looked no better, hadn't it been for you. Thank you for making me smile, T. You've made me look forward to dealing with literature again for the first time in weeks. I really hope we can do this again, if you'd be inclined as well. For now however, I wish you a good night.'

With that you closed the messaging app and locked your phone, without waiting for a reply for once. If you had, you surely would've been tempted to reply to that reply in return again and so on and so forth, and then you would never get any sleep tonight. You couldn't risk that. So you set your phone on mute and put it on the nightstand to charge for now. And perhaps, if you were lucky, you would wake up to a message from T that you could use as an excuse to start the conversation up again tomorrow.

… … …

Tom smiled down at his phone, reading your last message for the third time already and yet his smile still wouldn't drop. As it seemed, this encounter by chance had not only turned his own night from sour to sincerely enjoyable, but yours as well. He couldn't help feeling genuinely happy with that knowledge, as well as thoroughly amused by the overall circumstance. Who would've thought that Luke of all people would be the one to kickstart all of this, when he'd jotted down Dave's number for Tom this afternoon in that horrendously illegible handwriting of his? And who would've thought, furthermore, that Tom's inability to read said handwriting would thus lead to the most intriguing conversation he'd had in the longest time? Tom certainly had not.

When he had tried to reach out to Dave at the beginning of the night, he had been all but anxious, stressed, and annoyed by sundry and the world. He was supposed to start rehearsing a play here in London in two weeks, but as of yet nobody had bothered to send him even a single page of said play for his preparations. He'd spoken to both the writer and the director before signing up for the job, of course, and while world premieres were always a risky thing to partake in, he had hoped that by now he would at least have gotten something he could prepare for. Some lines, a few beginning pages… But any time he had asked Luke to inquire about the script, he'd gotten the same answer: it's still being written. Great. So much for being able to show up prepared on the first day of rehearsals.

At some point, namely today, Luke had been so fed up with Tom's constant inquiries that he had simply given him Dave's number so he could ask him himself. Dave was the assistant dramaturg, mind you, not even the writer of the bloody play. But Dave was the one working with the writer's assistant's assistant, and that was currently the closest connection Tom could get to the script. Honestly, sometimes he hated the industry he was caught up in. Playing and preparing the parts was nice, his passion even, but the whole bureaucracy around it was a pain in the butt.

But then this happy accident, or rather a 7 he had mistaken for a 1 in Luke's scribbled font, had flipped his bad day (more like, a bad week) thoroughly on its head. At first when he had received your reply he had obviously been both annoyed with himself and embarrassed to have texted a stranger, uncomfortable in the uncertainty if perhaps by some sinister miracle you would know exactly who he was and thereby kickstart a PR disaster… But then he had rolled his eyes at himself for fearing the impossible, and apologised instead like his gut was telling him to. When he had then against any expectations received yet another message from you upon that, both your intelligent words and the fact that you had even bothered to try easing his mind about the situation had started intriguing him.

And then of course, there had been Shakespeare. He could never resist a well used literary reference, and thus he'd just had to reply to that message before even thinking about it. After that it had only taken a few more texts from you for him to know that you definitely knew more about the bard than he did, if not about literature as a whole. But still you had actually seemed to enjoy discussing it with him, willing to indulge him with knowledge and, foremost, with your own sincere opinion even if it differed from his own. That was rare to come by, even in his world. People always liked to listen to him, but rarely did they bother to listen to what he was saying. Not in a way he would have wanted them to, at least.

Everybody wanted to talk to Tom Hiddleston, the perfectly imperfect man in a fancy suit, but nobody cared much about Tom, the guy who tripped over his own dog on the way to the loo in the morning. Well, his family did care, admittedly, but as it always was with families, they had diverging interests and sometimes too little regard for his passions where the public had too much of it. Nobody would usually dare to disagree with him about his opinions on literature, one thing he was notoriously praised for against any reason, and it was honestly just bloody annoying. One couldn't have a proper discussion if nobody ever dared voicing a diverging opinion! So having you talking honestly and easily to him all of a sudden, entirely by chance, turned out to be one of the best things that had happened to him in a long time. And that, among a variety of other things that would be of more relevance to Luke than to Tom himself, had been the reason why he didn't want to give you his name. Perhaps being T, the random stranger who had accidentally texted you, would open up the possibility for him to have a normal conversation with someone outside of his own line of work and position therein for once.

Gods, he really hoped you would actually want to continue talking to him… When you'd said goodnight, he had feared for a moment that this had been it, that this had been all he would get out of his little break from being the Tom Hiddleston. It still would've been a lovely break, sure enough, but he had nonetheless found himself oddly relieved when you'd sent that last text, saying how he had managed to make you smile after a bad day, how you wanted to keep on talking to him if only he was inclined. Of course he was inclined, what a silly question… Otherwise he wouldn't be smiling down at his phone like an idiot right now. Perhaps he would make a habit out of texting after all, if you let him. He surely had the time for it these days.

Thus, after reading through the whole night's worth of text messages once more, Tom finally got up from the sofa and moved upstairs to his bedroom to call it a night as well. Not, however, without pondering what he should reply to you that would say not only goodnight but also voice how very inclined he was to keep on conversing with you as well. He actually couldn't wait to hear your opinions on some of the sonnets, or even the entire realm of literature beyond just good old Shakespeare… But he certainly wouldn't allow himself to unleash upon you the whole of his suddenly sparked desire for making conversation as himself and not as the role he played in public all at once. To some degree, he was afraid of putting himself out there like that, of possibly being the driving force of his own doom. Yet, on the other hand, he didn't want to scare you away with his excitable and intense nature that he also tried to hide from the public for the most part. Showcasing that he had gotten rather attached to you after just a few hours of texting back and forth probably wouldn't be the smartest move either.

So he ended up lying in bed half an hour later, overthinking and still staring at his phone without an idea of how to phrase his thoughts. It was rather ironic, really, that he had thought it so easy to talk to you all night, and yet here he was now without an inkling of how to say what he wanted to say. Luckily you hadn't been online again after sending your own good night… or should he better cross that thought out and say unfortunately you hadn't been online again? It gave him too much time to think; about actions and consequences and possibilities so far beyond the here and now that they lost every relevance in that alone. But he couldn't very well just say goodnight and leave it at that, right? Good gods, he was an idiot. What was the point of this whole thing if he still had to bother with pretenses?! Did he, even? Bloody ridiculous, this was… Had he really so thoroughly unlearned to be himself? When had his image and reputation become more readily accessible tools in determining his actions than his own true personality? Tom didn't know, and he also didn't want to waste any more time thinking about it.

Releasing a deep breath, he rolled onto his back and pressed his palms against his tired eyes for a moment, listening to Bobby's soft snores coming from the corner of the dark room. When had things gotten so complicated… and why hadn't he realized it sooner? Why had it taken a chance meeting with a virtual stranger to see that he needed a break from trying to keep up with his own bloody reputation? Perhaps he would simply be T for a while… That was easier than being Tom Hiddleston. It was being himself and not his own character, for once. And T, he thought, could reply to you whatever the heck he wanted.

______________________________

Tags:

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[midethefangirl]

y’all white tom hiddleston fangirls are so fucking weird

today on God’s green earth and beyoncé’s internet, i had to see the white hiddles starting their bullshit again all because the white man they want to fuck so badly is engaged to a black woman (zawe ashton) and they are so mad about it. first, it was an open letter from a bitter hiddles mad that their fave is with ashton, then it was another claiming that tom was gay (despite his history of dating women) and using ashton as a beard, then it is this dumbass tweet from a dumbfuck claiming that ashton is controlling tom using some photos that are probably photoshopped as proof. also, the racist implications of using a sapphire caricature on ashton.

can y’all just stop this delusional and pathetic bullshit y’all are doing? turns out you are not the default/only desirable ones, right? i have observed how when black girls/girls of colour express their desire/attraction/love for a (mostly) white man (or male character) who is an object of desire to many people, white fangirls come out with their racist bs saying “oh, he cannot like you, he’ll never date a black woman/woman of color” because they have been the default for so long, they use to put down women of colour.

and when it turns out that indeed, this man/male character does find women of color desirable, that is when they froth in the mouth like rabid dogs because in this case, they have been proven wrong about women of color not being desirable; that is when they show their true colors because they realize that “oh, it turns out i am not the default”.

while all this drama can be chalked up to the formation of parasocial relationships, let us not ignore the elephant in the room, which is of course misogynoir. this is the primary reason why a lot of white hiddles are going after ashton, because how dare that black woman be engaged to the white man i have always written erotic fantasies about? how dare she hold that attention i have always wanted to be focused on me?

look, ain’t nothing wrong with daydreaming about wanting to be with a celebrity (i’ve done it a few times) but you gotta realize it for what it is - a daydream and nothing but that. there is a .000001% chance that you are gonna end up with that celebrity you’ve been dreaming about and kudos to you if you are within the minuscule number of folks who do end up with their faves, you must be God’s favourite 🤷🏾‍♀️. however, life is not like that.

most of the hiddles embarrassing themselves like this are either 14-year-old kids or middle-aged women who are already married with kids. you really think a 41-year-old man is gonna wait for you or break up your marriage? are you seriously that pathetic that you believe that is gonna happen? this is the real world, tom hiddleston is happily engaged to zawe ashton, a black woman and if that offends you so much, i hope you choke on your tears.

#tom hiddleston #zawe ashton #tom and zawe #parasocial relationships #tom hiddleston fandom #misogynoir

[shiningloki]

Good Girl, Bad Grades

Good Girl, Bad Grades - A Loki One Shot

(PROFESSOR LOKI X READER)

Your grades in Professor Laufeyson's class have been slipping recently. He's noticed the change in your behavior, and that you seem distracted. He's not wrong. You are distracted - because of him. Professor Laufeyson invites you to his office to discuss your grades and it seems that despite his disappointment in you, he may have a way to help you improve them.

Word Count: 3375

Master List

NSFW, SMUT, DOMINANT LOKI, PROFESSOR LOKI, OFFICE SEX

There was not a sound in Professor Loki Laufeyson’s office when you entered.

He had asked you to meet him after class. It was about your grades, he said. They were slipping, he said. You weren’t doing well, he said. You two had to talk, he said. So, you came. You stood in his office, watching him carefully.

You were a good student, but recently, your grades had not reflected that. You were distracted in class, you were falling behind, and he said he was concerned.

He should be concerned. It was his fault.

Professor Laufeyson was far too distracting for you. He was too attractive, too charming, too charismatic for you to properly pay attention. You tried, truly you did, but there was little you could do when he would wear those clean cut suits, tight dress shirts, and sharp formal shoes that clicked when he paced the room - something you noticed he did often. Fourteen steps to the right. Sixteen steps to the left.

You wondered if he liked even numbers. You wondered it as you stood in his office. Because it took eight failed tests, two failed quizzes, and four failed papers for him to finally bring you to his office - room 244 in building 12.

The two of you. Alone. In his office. Quiet.

There was not a single odd number in this equation.

( CONTINUE READING HERE )

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