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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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tom hiddleston x reader some formats are inspired by this post. okay folks, look at the photo. let’s pretend that was tom in this imagine. prompt: 21. "What did you just say to me?"

Originally posted by larygo

Hey, darling.

You sound like a pervert.

... What did you just say to me?

Yes. It wasn't a typo.

How do I sound like a pervert?

Your greeting. Only a pervert creep on the streets would catcall a girl with that kind of line.

Did you just call your boyfriend "creep" and "pervert" on the same sentence?

Unfortunately, I did.

Goodness. If it weren't you, I would've been very offended. I might’ve blacklisted your number.

Do you?

No.

Great. That's what matters.

At least not yet.

Can I call you?

Wait 5 minutes.

Go ahead.

Okay.

"Hey, darling."

"You sound like a pervert."

"Oh, no, please, not again."

"Only it's not, because you're Tom Hiddleston and Tom Hiddleston that I know isn't a pervert. At least the last time I saw him, he wasn't."

"He isn't, darling."

"Thank God."

"How are you?"

"Super fine ..."

"I sense a 'but' here."

"... but my hands fell asleep."

"Fell asleep?"

"I don't know. It started as that but now has escalated into cramps."

"Oh. Is it bad?"

"I spent half of my morning laying in bed because every time I move too much, my hands go screaming at me."

"Hands cramps."

"Yeah."

"That means both of them?"

"OH YES FRICKING BOTH. Fricking hurt. It feels like someone put a giant stone over my hands and buried me deep under sands and lift me up a week later. And now I'm suffering."

"That's a lot of exaggeration."

"Whatever you say! It's still hurt like hell."

"..."

"Did you just ... whimper?"

"No. Must be a passing cat."

"We have no cat at home."

"Who says I'm at home?"

"You said you spent half of your morning in bed."

"Yeah, unfortunately it's noon already."

"So, you've beaten the cramps?"

"Or I was beaten by it."

"What?"

"The cramps win."

"Where are you?"

"Somewhere within your heart."

"Darling, I'm serious."

"Clinic. Remember Carla, a friend of my childhood? She works here now! She had dreamed of becoming a doctor since she was still six. Can’t believe she had been one already. Time sure flies by, eh? I met her at the front desk. She looked tired but happy nonetheless.”

"Okay, Carla, she’s great. I don’t remember her. Can we focus on the topic? Clinic? How did you end up there?"

"Blonde-haired, blue eyes. Ring any bell? And what's wrong with me being in a clinic? People get hurt, people go see a doctor on daily basis."

"Doesn’t ring any. Did your cramps worsen?"

"Hoho. Actually, it's pretty embarrassing."

"Care to share?"

"Don't freak out."

"I'll try not to."

"I fell off the stairs."

"YOU WHAT?"

"I said don't freak out!"

"I said I'll try not to."

"Well you have failed! Now I'm hanging up!"

"Wait—oh, goodness."

Anyway, (Name), just saying: cats aren't supposed to be at clinic.

You’re not good at making excuses.

Shuuuuuut uuuuuuup.

Tom sent you a message of apology.

You found out approximately twelve hours after the message had arrived. It was a simple message, only sorry with nothing accompanied it but a full-stop. You stared at the message for a full minute, trying to decipher the meaning of it while chewing on some muffins. What had happened in the span of twelve hours? Did Tom say something that offended you in some way? It sure wasn’t, considering the fact that you had spent the rest of yesterday taking your medicine and sleeping the day away. Did you say something that offended him? The answer was no as well, with the same reason. You decided to hit the reply button.

Why be sorry?

You didn't expect him to reply as soon as possible, and he didn't indeed, so you shoved your phone down your pocket. There was some frozen food inside the fridge. There were veggies and whatnot for you to make a simple plate of luscious salad, one that both Tom and you liked the most. You had bought groceries yesterday. With all the stuff you had in the kitchen, there was no need for you to go out and wander around for lunch.

Absolutely no need for that, you thought, if only there was someone here to keep me company.

Yet apparently there was no one. The feeling of being alone sometimes consumed you from the inside, leaving a hole only you knew it was right there, open so wide waiting to be patched up. Usually you cope with it just fine, but other times you didn't, forcing you to seek comfort from anything you could dive yourself in.

Often times the outside world serviced that matter quite well.

Packing your notebooks, laptop, and several other stuffs to help you survive for the next few hours, you headed out, all the way making sure your bandaged left arm didn't bump into anything.

Five hours taking refuge in the central library turned you into the most productive human being in the whole universe: you managed to finish your screenplay that had to be submitted to your agent in a week tops, the first draft of your seventh novel, and above all, the character designs of which a studio company had hired you to create.

You didn't even need coffee to successfully get through all those mess! Tom would be so proud of you. You were so proud of yourself. Now it's time to grab some lunch. There was a nice cafeteria in the second floor, they served the best cream soup you could ever dream of.

You quickly shut down your laptop and was about to stand up when you realized you hadn't checked your phone for a while. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you glimpsed a blinking icon on the notification bar.

Tom had replied to your message four hours ago. You must have been so absorbed in your works to notice that. However, his reply left your brows furrowed:

For not being there.

What's with you all of a sudden? I just fell off the stairs. I'm not dying.

Yeah. Right.

It's not like you're responsible for every of my wounds.

I know.

Tom.

Yeah?

You're weird.

I don't know.

Perhaps I just miss you a little too much.

Taglist: @true-queen-of-mischief

thanks for reading!

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #marvel imagines #imagines

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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accident

tom hiddleston x reader some formats are inspired by this post. prompt: 32. “I need to know if you’re okay or not.”

I heard you've got an accident.

I did.

You're not telling me.

You're busy.

That doesn't matter.

Well now you know.

Your brother told me.

Tck. Of course he did. That boy.

You should've told me.

I don't want to distract you.

The fact that you're hiding away is what disctracts me the most.

Don't worry about me.

What happened?

Get on with the show first. How many minutes before you're on-stage?

Y/N...

Get on get on get oooooonn. Don't make the audiences wait!

I need to know if you’re okay or not.

We can talk afterwards, yeah? I want to sleep first.

Fine. Go get some rest.

You'll do great just like you've always done.

I don't know. You're all I think about right now.

I'm strong and tough and unbreakable. You should’ve known that.

I know you are.

Darling?

I love you.

You didn't answer my call.

Can we just send messages? I can't exactly talk.

What happened?

An asshole decided to kiss me ... with the front of their car.

How bad?

In a nutshell? I look like a mummy, all covered in bandages.

I'll be home soon.

You don't have to. I am perfectly taken care of. The doctors here are super friendly and good-looking. You might want to be a little more careful :p

I'll be home soon.

Tom.

Wait for me.

It's not necessary.

And at least laugh at my joke!

It is necessary.

And I did. You just didn’t see.

I’m somewhat convinced otherwise.

I love you.

You said that earlier.

It was yesterday.

... Really? I guess I lose track of the time. Is it still 2017 or has it been 2035?

Hang in there, okay?

I will.

At least laugh at my joke!

At least say you love me too.

"Hello."

"Alex? This is Tom."

"I know. I saved your contact, you know, my soon-to-be brother-in-law. Glad you're calling."

"How is her condition?"

"Uuh. Bad?"

"How bad?"

"Broken neck. Her vocal cords isn't in a good shape. Broken ribs. Cracked limbs. Doctor said it's a miracle she could make it."

"Her vocal cords. Is that why she can't talk?"

"Yeah. We've been communicating through texts and whatnot. It's difficult, you know, even for us."

“That means her hands survived?"

"A hand, for that matter. The good one. Yes, it did. She texted you, right?"

"She did."

"To be honest, I helped her most of the time. Did all the heavy lifting. Sorry I read all your replies."

"Nevermind. If anything, I should be grateful."

"Thank God I got your consent."

"But, Alex, she—or you—stopped texting."

"Ah, that's ... how should I phrase it?"

"Just say it."

"She ... deteriorates."

"What has gone wrong?"

"She slipped into comma."

"..."

"It's been two days."

"... Oh God."

"You're gonna see her? I mean you're busy and stuff, but it'd be nice to have you here."

"I take a flight tomorrow."

"You know the best thing about stargazing?"

He didn't see your mouth beneath the scarf you were wearing, but he could tell you were grinning. "What is it?"

"I get to spending the night with you."

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but he was no longer sitting with you on the grass of the hill. Instead, he was standing in front of a restaurant in a bustling downtown, wearing a suit. He looked back at you, waiting for you to catch up with him. You had this very habit of stopping every now and then to study an interesting sight you found on streets.

Then it all changed. He blinked at the sudden cacophony around him, the front of the shops, people walking past him without looking up from their phone. There were cars and taxis. There were buildings and click-clacks of shoes.

Ah. A highway. He was on the sidewalk, blending in among a cluster of people, waiting to cross the road along with other pedestrians.

There was a young woman sitting on the rear seat of a taxi five feet from him. Tom eyed her with no particular interest. He was solely looking for anything to focus his eyes on. But something about her immersed him deeper, it felt oddly familiar although he knew she was a complete stranger.

The light turned green. Her taxi moved as well as other cars, and all that sight would've been so normal if only a car on the other side of the road decided not to run their red light. But it did, and nothing could be done to prevent that from happening.

The car collided with the taxi. The city was flooded with glass shattering and metal screeching; it was oh so deafening; and Tom realized why she looked way too familiar for a stranger.

That woman was you.

Tom jerked upright. The movement was too abrupt that dizziness crashed into his head almost immediately. His eyes darted in panic, looking back and forth in search of the remnants of broken cars or you or anything, but he found none. It took him a few seconds to jump back into reality. There was no accident. Neither highway nor bustling streets. Only a long, massive silence.

His heart was thumping heavily. It wasn't new to be surprised by your own dream, but it had been long since the last time he dreamed. These recent days, all he saw in his sleep was a solid black. No images, no flashbacks, no glimpses of anything. He thought he was finally able to get a proper rest. And he didn't think much about it.

Yet when he did dream, he dreamed of you.

He looked around to take in his surroundings. The only source of light came from the lamp on the night stand. Did the hotel room he was staying at always feel this small? This suffocating? It was as if the wall had been pushed forward, invading his space, as if it was shrinking he trapped inside.

He couldn't get back to sleep for the rest of the night.

"So, you're on your way here?"

"Actually, I should've been. My plane got delayed. Tough weather out there."

"She will kill me for doing this."

"Doing what?"

"For telling you what she went through, and for not forcing you to stay at where you are."

"I'll take care of it."

"So you have my back?"

"Of course, Alex."

"Great, because I kind of need that last bit in case she decided to strangle me when she learned of what I did."

"She should have told me in the first place, though."

"Yeah, I know. She was just ... so stupid sometimes. Terribly stupid. Hugely stupid. Ginormously stupid. Wow, that felt good."

"That one might cause her to strangle you."

"But you have my back."

"I do."

"Tom, how do you like your tea?"

He saw you standing by the counter, your back facing him. Your hair was pulled back into a messy bun. A few steps to the right was a french window leading to the backyard. The morning sun streamed through it, its rays reflected on the floor tiles, on the surface of the table, and on your side.

For a moment, he was blinded by the warm ambience of the kitchen that his response answered nothing. "Tea?"

You didn't turn around, still looking down at the counter. The faint tinkle of spoon grazing the inside of the glass filled the kitchen. "Tea, yes, tea. Or you'd rather have coffee?"

He was about to stride towards you when someone touched his hand. Blinking, he raised his gaze to a stewardess smiling politely at him.

"Excuse me, Sir," the stewardess didn't have to explain further as he noticed the lack of people's absence around him. Since when did he fall asleep? "We have arrived."

Tom returned the smile, thanked the stewardess and asked if he could get a few minutes to collect his stuff. The stewardess nodded and left him on his own.

When he stepped outside, the air was cold, damp, and windy enough to make him shuddered slightly. It was cloudy, the sun nowhere within sight. He brought himself down in slow steps. The ground was dark and Tom could smell petrichor lingered in the air. It had rained, but it already stopped. Perhaps only minutes ago.

Tom stoody by a puddle of water. He bent forward a bit, raised an eyebrow as he found his own face staring back at him. Suddenly feeling sick, he tapped his shoe into it, making a small splash in the process. The reflection faded instantly.

He rushed to the arrival.

—Masterlist.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #marvel imagines #imagines

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

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How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

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How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

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How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

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Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

Illegal Activity

Examining Mob Mentality

How Street Gangs Work

Domestic Abuse

Torture

Assault

Murder

Terrorism

Internet Fraud

Cyberwarfare

Computer Viruses

Corporate Crime

Political Corruption

Drug Trafficking

Human Trafficking

Sex Trafficking

Illegal Immigration

Contemporary Slavery

Black Market Prices & Profits

AK-47 prices on the black market

Bribes

Computer Hackers and Online Fraud

Contract Killing

Exotic Animals

Fake Diplomas

Fake ID Cards, Passports and Other Identity Documents

Human Smuggling Fees

Human Traffickers Prices

Kidney and Organ Trafficking Prices

Prostitution Prices

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Marijuana Prices

Meth Prices

Earnings From Illegal Jobs

Countries In Order Of Largest To Smallest Risk

Forensics

arson

Asphyxia

Blood Analysis

Book Review

Cause & Manner of Death

Chemistry/Physics

Computers/Cell Phones/Electronics

Cool & Odd-Mostly Odd

Corpse Identification

Corpse Location

Crime and Science Radio

crime lab

Crime Scene

Cults and Religions

DNA

Document Examination

Fingerprints/Patterned Evidence

Firearms Analysis

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Forensic Psychiatry

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Guest Blogger

High Tech Forensics

Interesting Cases

Interesting Places

Interviews

Medical History

Medical Issues

Misc

Multiple Murderers

On This Day

Poisons & Drugs

Police Procedure

Q&A

serial killers

Space Program

Stupid Criminals

Theft

Time of Death

Toxicology

Trauma

#ref

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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cavity cavity boom

tom hiddleston x reader this is for @justsomewritingprompts writing challenge (which you can find right here). the prompts i use are listed below:

scenarios: 12. Cold Night, No Heater

quote: 6. “I’m going to get a cavity because you’re so sweet."

items: 14. Blankets

summary: Tom and pick-up lines didn't happen together.

“I’m going to get a cavity, because you’re so sweet."

It was the dead at night. Like, really really dead. It was two freaking a.m. and the third day of you not being able to sleep before dawn. Which was, kind of a big deal considering a long-ass list of things you should get to finish in the morning. You have to wake up—that if you even be able to actually catch some beauty rest. You have to do some chores. You have to go to the store across the traffic. And this you-have-to list would lose its real value if you didn't announce the most important event real soon:

You have to bake gingerbreads.

Not only a jar, but several. About ten, if you remembered it right. You thought you were right. For God's sake, you never knew running a small business of making cakes during the holiday season could inflict such huge appeal. You even only had advertised it on your social media, through the Instagram story, because it's holiday and it meant having a break from work, and you were a very energetic person who couldn't stand still without doing anything. People said, "Grow your hobby! Turn it into business! Make money from it!" One time you were wisdom enough to put that inspiring life advice into the real world.

And then your very best friend ordered ten jars of gingerbreads. At D-minus-two Christmas. And you accepted it happily, mistaking the number 10 on her message for 2.

Incredibly dedicated. Ambitious. And, stupid. Why would one person order ten jars of gingerbreads anyway? Why? How could you do this to me? I thought we were friends???

But why not. Challenge accepted, buddy!

It was the dead at night. Like, really really dead. You were to start baking like superman—woman—in only few hours. You had been determined to blink your insomnia away, focusing on your breathing and the quietness surrounding you, trying hard to fall asleep. The last thing you could possibly need was a distraction in the form of Tom cracking a cheesy pick-up line.

And yet he did.

He literally did.

He just. Did.

A huge pause settled over. The kind of silence with a giant level of awkwardness, as if someone had shouted that he had been an alien all his life and finally got reunited with his beloved lost-for-centuries space ship. Okay, not the best analogy, but you've made your point.

You stared at the ceiling for a solid minute before turned your head aside. Tom was still as rock, his gaze glued to the ceiling. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, so you said, "... What?"

To be honest, your voice held a tinge of accusation in it.

Tom took it the wrong way. Insteaf of explaining what exactly he was talking about, he repeated his sentence for you. "I’m going to get a cavity, because you’re so sweet."

"... And I'm going to kick you off the bed, because you just made me cringe."

He blew a raspberry. You watched the corner of his eyes crinkled, and his wide grin wasn't for the ceiling anymore. He turned to face the inside of the bed, mouth half-opened as if to say something. It didn't happen because he bumped his nose against yours first thing. You made a small noise of protest. Not hurt, not at all, but he was so cloooooose from grazing over your right cheek. You had cut your cheek two days ago, the result of your (pointless, worthless, undefined, foolish) experiment with some multiblade cutting devices. It just so happened to slip from your fingers while you were distracted. Then of all it had chosen to jump straight for your face, specifically your cheek, leaving a thin, nice, beautiful, endearing cut and a trickle of blood dripping down your chin in the process.

You remembered that had been horrible. Like, hooooooorible. With a plenty of o's. Sure it had been hurt and stung and whatnot, but the most unnerving hadn't been the wound itself. It was the realization that you could have cut your ... other important body parts. Clue: the one that could see. Okay, eyes, right. YOU COULD'VE CUT YOUR EYES. THAT HAD BEEN SO CLOSE. A few inches upward and—okay, okay, let's just stop right here.

Realized of what he could've done, Tom froze. "Did I touch your wound?"

"No."

He let out a breath of relief. "Good. When you get hurt, I feel it too. That must because we share the same fate."

HOLY HELL THAT WAS ABSURD.

You were too speechless to respond. He said nothing further. Both Tom's and your gaze returned to the ceiling. You decided not to think much of his previous statement. Perhaps he was just drifting off to sleep. Repeat, perhaps he was thinking of some pick-up lines when he started drifting off to sleep. That's what people did, right? Mumbling something when they were sleepy enough. Nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing. People thinking of such trivial things in such improper situation? Nothing wrong!

"Darling."

You blinked. "Yeah?"

"How about some sleep?"

"Exactly what I'm trying to get for the past three hours."

"Another sleepless night?"

You started to think Tom was sharing an equally restless night with you. Just like a couple sharing burdens together. Aww. How sweet. "I think so."

"Are you cold?"

You hadn't given it much thought, but come to think of it, tonight was cold. Really cold. Like, ginormous cold. You were wearing a long-sleeve along with a sweater. You stole Tom's beanie and in exchange gave him your favorite, super-warm, totally-comfy, woolly scarf. You had bought it two winters ago and it hadn't even lost a single strand. Well, it had to, considering the price you had to pay, otherwise you would lash out to the seller.

"It's cold."

That wasn't you. It was Tom answering his own question. But you had the same answer, so that didn't matter. Even a man as healthful and good-shaped as Tom couldn't take a better fight against the cold at this degree. He doubled his shirt. He put on a pair of socks. Your scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, making him look like a patient whose neck was broken. Quite amusing to see.

It didn't take long for you to declare that blanket is the most useful invention of all times. The invention in question itself was covering him and you up until your chin. You didn'tknow what you would have done in this current situation if someone hadn't invented blanket; best chance was turning on the heater, worst chance was freezing to death.

Cross that turning on the heater. The heater was currently out of order, which was the sole reason why Tom and you were forced to bundle up and lay on the bed a little too close than usual.

Man, this was cold.

You gestured to the blanket. "Yes, but not too much anymore though—”

"Because I can warm you up all fast."

... Okay. That's not sweet. At all. That's not breath-taking, let alone made your heart flutter. That was ... ironically brain-bending.

Tom must sense your dumbstruck stance because he laughed a little, poking your side it made you jerk slightly. "Oh, come on, don't think so hard."

You kicked his calf under the blanket with all strength you could muster in the middle of a dead night combined with the dropping temperature. You ended up only nudging. "You're aaaaawful."

"I'm not awful," Tom frowned disapprovingly. Only for a split second, because he continued with, "I'm your past, present, and future."

You're going to die. Very soon. You felt like you already saw the pure, white light at the end of the way. You're going to go to Hell and never came back. But if you managed quite hard, your wish might be granted by the Demon. You would come back and haunt Tom for the rest of his life. Perfect plan.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Tom propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you. "Anything."

"What's with all the cheesy pick-up lines you suddenly come up with?"

He didn't even pause to form an answer. You got the feeling that he had this planned all along. "I'm just trying to lull you to sleep.”

You failed to see the correlation. You weren't one with the smartest and brightest mind, but somehow you were quite sure Tom had mistaken pick-up lines for lullaby. "Is that supposed to work?"

"If you let it to."

"How?"

"I'm ..." he glanced at his right to look for an answer. He decided to stick with, "I'm making a distraction.”

"Distraction."

"Uh huh."

You stared at him with your brain functioning hard. Here's what you said: "Okay, great, distraction."

Here's what you didn't say: "Those are the worst distraction ever. I was about to fall asleep because I finally finished counting the hundredth sheep. And a hundred sheeps wasn't a small number. They were enough to feed this whole block for weeks. Come to think of it, in all honesty, I haven't ever eaten sheep. Have you? But that's not the point. What I'm trying to say here is stop being flattery and sing a lullaby instead. That'll be more useful. Kind of. Or, actually just shut up and let me meditate in silence."

He noticed your death stare and chuckled. "Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I can't help but smile."

"Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm not drunk, I'm just intoxicated by you."

... Oh my God.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #marvel imagines #imagines #i love pick-up lines not sorry #but im sorry the title sucks #it really sucks

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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the future (you once had)

tom hiddleston x reader

inspired by this post. they write wonderful chris evans imagines you should check them out!

prompt: 19. “Go home.”; 52. “Why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight?”; 64. “If you’re not busy… maybe we can get dinner?”

(pic source: x)

“If you’re not busy … maybe we can get dinner?”

The question stunned you into silence. For a minute you thought you were only dreaming, hallucinating, or that was your brain playing tricks on you. The next minute you were trying to get your mind together, resuming your work like nothing had ever happened. Indeed it didn’t, right? You hadn’t heard anyone asking you for a dinner. In fact, you hadn’t heard anyone saying anything.

You inserted coins to the cashier. Your shift ended in two hours. If you could manage, and you should, you might be able to visit your Grandma. Her house was only a kilometer from the nearest bus stop.

“Hey.”

Grandma would be very happy when she found out that you had baked her a jar of gingerbreads. The jar in question itself were safely hidden beneath the counter. You couldn’t risk dropping your bag by accident and broke the jar in the process, that’s why you had chosen to put the jar in a place you could get a clear view of.

“Knock knock, is anyone there?”

It was snowing, yes it had been, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Not at all. The last Christmas you had driven with your windscreen half-covered with snow, and you had managed to get home safely. Plus, you didn’t bring a car today. You had planned to just walk. So basically visiting your Grandma was the best plan you could possibly have.

Someone leaned on the counter and said, “Y/N, I actually was talking to you.”

You felt your fingers twitched. It seemed your terrible attempt at ignoring his presence was pointless. Determined not to back down, you continued counting the money of today’s transactions. “Yes, Sir? How can I help you?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes, I did. Is your change right?” You didn’t bother looking up, but you could feel his eyes staring a deep hole at your face. The problem was your count would soon come to an end; you even actually had double checked the money earlier. When you ran out of idea to stall time, there would be no other choices but facing a conversation you knew he had prepared.

Keep reading

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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The Things You Said With Miles Between Us: a Chris Evans x Reader One-Shot

I miss you.

You’ve only been gone for an hour. You can’t miss me already, idiot.

Are you saying that you don’t miss me?

No, Chris, I’m saying that for the past month you’ve seen me every day, when I had you all to myself.

I like that last bit the most.

You’re a child.

Ah, but now you’re thinking about that last bit again.

I am not

Don’t you lie to me, baby.. I can practically read your grin through the phone

I am not grinning

And there’s the blush. You find your shirt yet? ;) I think I threw it in a corner

But you don’t even miss me a little bit? You’re making me feel pretty pathetic.

I started missing you when you told me you were leaving.

–

“Your mom called me today.”

You heard his laugh through the phone, “Did she really? What’d she want?”

“She wanted to make sure I was alright. And then she asked if I wanted to come over for dinner Wednesday.”

“And are you?”

“I think it’d be nice. She said that she had already invited Scott, too.”

“I wasn’t asking about dinner.”

“…”

“The bed’s cold without you.”

“I’m sorry, baby. .. What about you get Max to sleep in my spot? He’s a puppy. They’re good at that.”

“He doesn’t take up nearly as much space as you do. It’s weird.”

“It’s just a couple more months.. God, I’m sorry.”

“Chris, I..” You felt tears prick at your eyes, and you took a deep breath. You couldn’t let him hear your voice crack. He already knew.

“No, no, sweetheart. Don’t cry. Please, please, don’t cry.”

“It hurts.”

“I know, I know.. But it’s going to go by quickly. You’re going to wake up one day, and I’m going to be snoring in your ear before you know it.”

You sniffled as a smile crept on your face, “You don’t snore.”

“You just don’t hear it.” He let out a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. A smile on his face now that he knew you were okay.

“Just a few more weeks?”

“Just a few more weeks.”

–

I need you to call me ASAP

“Chris, what’s wrong?”

“Tell me that you’ll still love me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just.. Just tell me that you’ll still love me, even if I’m not.. Even if..”

“Baby, baby, you’re okay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Christopher, you know I’m always going to love you.”

“You promise?”

“Are you serious?”

“…”

“Chris, of course I promise. Don’t be ridiculous. What are you getting ready to go to?”

“An interview.”

“With who?”

“Scarlett.”

“Act like it’s just the two of you.”

“I’m going to mess up.”

“Babe, you and I both know you won’t. You’re going to go and kill it.”

“But one day, I’m not.”

“But today’s not that day. And when that day comes, I’m still going to love you, just like I always have.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Will you call me when it’s over?”

“…”

“Chris.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.”

–

What’d you think?

I think you were supposed to call me afterwards.

I can’t right now. Still busy.

I think you are amazing.

You say that every time.

That’s because it’s true, every time.

–

Babe..

Hey! I was just getting ready to call you. :)

I have some news

What’s going on?

They’ve added another month to the schedule.

I did my best to convince them not to.

Sweetheart?

Please say something.

–

“You didn’t have to send Scott over to check on me.”

“I did when you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts.”

“I didn’t realize that I had to answer you first thing.”

“It’s been two days since I’ve told you about the schedule.”

“I know, I’m not a child.”

“Believe me, I know you’re not.”

“I’m surprised you still remember.”

“Christ, I told you. I tried to get them to cut the weeks.”

“And I told you fine.”

“No, you told Scott fine. You told my mom fine. You never told me fine.”

“I knew the message would get across.”

“God, you’re impossible.”

You hung up the phone.

–

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

“I can’t watch him act like this. You need to come out here.”

“.. Is he really that bad, Scarlett?”

“He won’t say he is. He’s got the fakest smile on his face, and he keeps hiding out in either his dressing room or his hotel room. You need to get out here.”

–

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.

I know you’re still pissed at me. You have every reason to be.

Scheduling’s out of your control. I should’ve remembered that.

Chris..

I’m sorry too.

There you are. Thank God.

I’m so, so sorry.

Sweetheart, it’s not your fault. I should’ve fought it harder

No, you shouldn’t have. This is your job. I should’ve understood.

You’re more important.

Don’t say that. Your fans would’ve been devastated if you stopped.

I can’t do this without you anymore.

Can you come out here? I need you here.

I have a ticket for the next flight out. x

#reblog #chris evans imagines #not mine #i love this

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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Tell me brother, what were you the god of again?

#reblog #thor: ragnarok

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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tom hiddleston x reader

prompt: 59. “Don’t say another word.”

When Tom stepped on your eyeglasses, you screeched like a kid seeing a clown for the first time.

Tom heard your screech. Tom also took notice of something hard and shattered beneath his shoes. He decided to pay attention to the pavement below him first, lifting his shoes so he could get a better look of what things just broken. Here was what he found:

Crumbs of glasses. Wait, what glasses? Did someone throw their antiques outside the window and he just happened to step on it? That seemed unlikely.

There, a piece of ... what? Plastic? There were shattered glasses with some solid plastic attached to it.

He couldn't decipher what exactly that thing was, so he looked at you for help. Instead, he found your jaw dropped to the floor, and your hollow expression. There was something missing from your face, but what was that?

Tom looked down at his feet. Then up to your face. Down at his feet again. And everything's clicked.

"Ah."

"Don't just 'ah'???" you punched his upper arm, raising your voice too high. Tom thought that made you sound like a mouse stranded in a trap, squeaking desperately for mercy. He knew he shouldn't laugh but it was exactly what he did next.

You glared at him in disbelief. Your mouth half-opened as if you were about to scold him or throw cynical remarks, but at the last seconds you turned your back to him, stomping away furiously. Tom hastily followed suit.

"Hey, hey!" he was quick to match your steps. You wished you had run. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was your eyeglasses."

"Don't say another word."

He stepped ahead, putting his body in front of you. The movement was so abrupt and you didn't see that coming, resulting in you bumping your nose against his shoulder. You shrieked, cupping your poor nose out of reflex. You weren't sure which one dominated you the most: half-mad, half-annoyed, half wanted to kick his side, half wished to punch his gut? Kind of confusing.

He cut your train of thought by reaching for both of your upper arms, practically holding you so you wouldn't go anywhere. His eyes softened as he spoke, "I'll buy you a new one."

"Well of course you have to!" you tried to retreat but to no avail. You supposed his grip on your upper arms was strong enough to keep you grounded for the rest of your life. "Exactly what you're supposed to do when you broke someone's property!"

You could tell Tom was suppressing a smirk. Or, laughter. You didn't know which one. Nevertheless, you gave him your best scowl. "I hate you."

Tom ducked his head so he was eye-level with you. You didn't flinch back. He had this sincere smile on his face, one that made him the most gorgeous, one you loved the most. "Forgive me?"

"You're awful," you scolded, ignoring his heartfelt apology. "Breaking someone's eyeglasses should be counted as a sin."

Tom knew he was wrong. He remembered the last time you lost your eyeglasses at home: you turned into a moody, fuming, don't-talk-to-me-or-I'll-bark-and-bite kind of person because you "couldn't see a thing" and "the world seemed all blur and ugly". A part of him felt somehow afraid that you were supersupersuper mad at him, but hearing your answer sent him a breath of relief. If you were still able to crack a joke, despite your magnificent frown, that meant he didn't cross the line.

Tom leaned a bit forward, his nose nearly touching yours. "Darling, I'm sorry?"

"I'll buy the very expensive eyeglasses ever invented in the human history."

Tom couldn't help but snickered. "Sure you will."

"That would put your current bank statement to zero."

He pecked your cheek with a smile. You smelled like a fresh orange. Perhaps it was from your soap, or parfume, he didn't know. Whatever it was, he liked it. "Is that supposed to make me concerned?"

"It is."

"And how is that supposed to make me concerned?"

"Well you will have to depend on me for everything, that's for sure. I will have full control over your life."

"Is that so? I’ll even buy you the whole shop if you want."

"Great. I've been waiting for this opportunity to ruin your life, Tom Hiddleston."

Tom chuckled at your brutally honest answer. He rested his forehead against yours, taking in your body heat and the proximity you both shared. "So, forgive me?"

"That is to be discussed further after the eyeglasses in question is dealt with."

"Well," Tom pulled back, taking you by the arm and smiling at the world ahead. "What are we waiting for?"

#tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #marvel imagines #imagines

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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#reblog #avengers: infinity war #lmao im crying #why barney

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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the future (you once had)

tom hiddleston x reader

inspired by this post. they write wonderful chris evans imagines you should check them out!

prompt: 19. “Go home.”; 52. “Why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight?”; 64. “If you’re not busy… maybe we can get dinner?”

(pic source: x)

“If you’re not busy … maybe we can get dinner?”

“Hey.”

“Knock knock, is anyone there?”

Someone leaned on the counter and said, “Y/N, I actually was talking to you.”

“You heard me.”

Why would he visit this bookstore, anyway? You cursed silently. In other days, you would probably take advantage of him. Maybe put him in the spotlight as a main attraction. It sure would increase the bookstore’s income one way or another, for who wouldn’t want to buy a book with Tom Hiddleston smiling at you behind the cashier? With Tom Hiddleston handing you your book and wishing you a good day? And taking selfies together as a bonus? That would totally be great! You could even get a praise or two from your manager. Business done, everyone’s happy, what a win-win solution is that!

Unless, today wasn’t that other day. It was a day as usual as any. Eleven o’clock at daytime. As much as you loved books, which made this part-time job a perfect way to spend your time and make some dough simultaneously, there were times when you wished you could go anywhere but your workplace and home. A travelling would be nice. You had been saving money for that, solely the reason why you had taken two jobs at a time. If anything was on schedule, you could take your flight two months from now.

That was still in the future. Right now, you had your cashier, and this particular customer who hadn’t gone from your sight eventhough you had handed him his change.

The particular customer who, of all people, happened to be someone you knew all too well. Mention his name and fangirls would go crazy. What would you say about that? Oh, yeah, it’s Tom Hiddleston and he is my ex. Guess what, we broke up not long ago! How does that sound?

Great, but no thanks.

His arm was resting on the counter that separated him from you. You stole a swift glance to his watch. You expected nothing out of it, really. You did it without purpose, just idly trying to come up with an idea to avoid him as best as you could. But the sight made your gaze lingered a little too long as you frowned: he was wearing the watch you had given to him as a present one Christmas ago. It brought back memories you had kept at the deepest of your mind, some of them you didn’t want to remember.

And he noticed this. Seeing an opportunity to catch your attention, he quipped in. “Familiar with what you see?”

Don’t talk to me like we are strangers, your inner voice called out. Yet at the same time you also thought, or, better, don’t talk to me at all.

The first thing that crossed your mind was to snap at him, telling him to just get out of your sight, to go anywhere but near you, to disappear right now and if he wouldn’t, you would happily be the one doing so. It only took seconds for you to realize he didn’t deserve that. No matter how bad the way you parted, he didn’t deserve any of that.

Tom was a good man. Even if he slipped once or twice, even after you learned one particular thing about him you couldn’t stand without getting angry, that wouldn’t change the fact that he indeed was a good man. He had this very sincere smile. He had this dimple on his left cheek. He treated you the way you wanted to be treated. He respected your privacy. He listened to your rants. He was there by the end of your day. Sure it had been a long-distance one; him with his works and you with yours. Sure you made compromises every now and then. But you had his hands holding you while you walked down the street, the stolen kisses, the nights spent doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company; the times when you had his undivided attention and he had yours.

You couldn’t ask for more. Everything had been perfect. But of course life wouldn’t let go without plunging you into one of their twists. Reality didn’t always go as planned, apparently.

You bound the money together, putting it inside the cashier. For the first time since he had stood across you, you lifted your chin. You were met with a set of brilliant blue eyes, staring at you the way they had always been, with a look only people who once loved each other would know how to. Once, you highlighted. It felt like decades had passed when in fact it had only been months.

Most people didn’t change much within months. Keyword: much. And so did Tom. He was clad in a casual wear: a shirt beneath an outer, a pair of jeans, you couldn’t see his shoes from where you were standing. You wouldn’t say he wasn’t handsome, because dear Lord how could he not be, but it was unbelievably difficult to look into his eyes while pretending you didn’t want to strike him with a bone-crashing hug.

When you fully realized what you had just thought, you wondered if you had missed him all along. Did I? You asked yourself, but no answer came back.

“Tom.” You greeted. Even his name had a vague taste at your tongue. As if you had never said his name out loud before. As if you had just learned a random name you saw on the street.

Tom smiled. A tiny one, only a twitch at each end of his lips. If you hadn’t known him for years, you would have missed it easily. He must have sensed it too, the unease feeling hanging thickly above the both of you. The atmosphere between strangers.

“How are you?”

You glimpsed the paper bag on his other hand. Inside was the book you had swiped its barcode only minutes ago. A copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. You knew Tom had already had Hamlet, for you yourself had seen it in his bookshelf. Why would he buy another? You couldn’t help but wondered. Was it to be given for someone? Was it a gift for someone’s special day? Did he buy it just because it was the limited edition from the publisher? He could have bought it online, couldn’t he?

As soon as your head started running possibilities, you stopped. It wasn’t to be your concern. You had absolutely nothing to do with that. Nothing with Tom. Not anymore.

He took a rather deep breath at your quietness. “For an acquaintance of mine.” He explained without you asking. You raised an eyebrow. It was rare for him to use that word. He would usually prefer something that had more depth in it, such as friend. Or buddy. “A big fan of Shakespeare as I am—”

“Why don’t you tell me why you really came here?” you interrupted, unable to hold back any longer. You thought he must have anticipated the question though, for he didn’t look surprised at all. Nevertheless, he seemed to hesitate, you could tell from the way he subtly clenched his hand into a fist.

“I bought a book.”

What an obvious answer. You couldn’t see the point of beating around the bush and didn’t want to deal with one, so you nodded. “Of course.“ A few beats of silence and you shrugged. “Yeah. Have a good day. Come back soon to our bookstore.” The last sentence didn’t deliver its real meaning. It was a formality instead of hospitality. You hoped he would never visit this bookstore anymore, not while you still worked at it.

You were about to retreat when he made a move. Tom reached forward, grabbing your fingers with one fluid motion, practically trapped your fingers between his and the hard surface of the counter. It startled you like hell, yet he opened his mouth before you could react, “Hold on.”

You swept your surroundings in a quick but thorough glance. No one was near the counter, which meant no one would come to pay their books, at least not for now. You wasn’t sure whether you have to be grateful or dreadful about that. Having someone around would include getting a curious look or two, but also a chance to escape from this very situation. Unfortunately you got neither.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to tear your fingers out of him. His grasp was strong enough to hold you still, but not strong enough to hurt you. “What is the matter with you?” You whisper-shouted. “Let go!”

“Please, Y/N,” He flashed you a mixed look of frustration and plead. “We never talked about this. Not once. One time you were with me and in a blink you were gone. Just like that.”

You had determined not to argue, but his words inflicted a sense of defensive inside you. You leaned just a bit forward, feeling offended more than ever. “Well, what am I supposed to do? Waiting for you to act first? I did wait! I did give you a chance to talk to me, to confess, to apologize! I gave you time to do any of that! But did you? Not at all! You’re the one hiding everything. You’re the one ruining what we once had. It’s just logical that I chose to give up on us, isn’t it?”

Tom tightened his fingers around yours. He clearly was trying to find a way to make things clear between the two of you; the misunderstandings you both probably had, the event that dimmed out the sparks that once had been there. But what could he do anyway? Things had ended for the both of you. You didn’t want to look back. Not ever.

“One dinner,” he finally resolved. You recalled it was what he had said in the beginning, the offer you had ignored. “One dinner. We’ll talk. Let me make it up to you. Let me … let me fix this.”

His grip loosened a bit, most likely because of his defeated stance. You seize the moment to rip your hands from him, wincing when you realized you put too much force in it. Tom flinched a bit, a look of hurt flashed across his face and you couldn’t help but felt guilty. Yet you recovered quickly, nearly snapping in anger but you held back in the last moment. “Go home, Tom.” You shook your head to emphasize your point. “There’s no use of talking anymore. I won’t take that offer. Just, try to get on with life, I suppose.”

That sounded horrible. More than that, hypocrite. Only a jerk would say that. Have you become one? You weren’t sure. But it was an honest truth. You had been trying to move on. He should, too.

Tom didn’t avert his gaze from you. He looked tired, miserable, like he hadn’t slept or eaten properly the past days. Were you the reason behind that? “I’m sorry.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. There was warmness pressing your eyes, but you had decided this wasn’t worth crying upon. “You should have said that months ago,” you said bitterly. “I might have forgiven you.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“You slept with another woman while you’re away,” you looked down, staring at the space between your shoes.

“I’m sorry.”

"You betrayed my trust.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time barely a whisper.

From the corner of your eyes, you see a young woman slowly striding towards you. Her focus still torn between going to the cashier and a display of books, so it might buy you some time. However, this should come to an end.

“Go home, Tom,” you pressed your palm against your forehead, wanting nothing but some solid five minutes to settle the mess inside your head. “Don’t come back. I don’t want to see your face ever again. Just … go.”

He had hurt you so deep the wound would never recover completely. You probably had hurt him back by leaving so abruptly, and now shoving him away, refusing his apology and whatnot. It was probably for the best since you were no longer able to see your future with him. It used to be there, but not anymore.

God, how did everything end up like this?

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #marvel imagines #imagines

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knockbeforeyouspeak · 8 years ago

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tom hiddleston x reader

prompt: 56. "It's so good to see your face."

He made you a glass of chocolate. Served still steaming hot, only half-full, with three marshmallows floating in the middle. It smelt like dark and vanilla, bittersweet yet sugary. Just like your favorite. It had always been your favorite. You didn't know how Tom had got so far as nailing everything the way you liked it to be, but a part of you had already understood.

You could feel your stomach churning. The thought of him hearing what were you going to say next sent a wave of nausea washed over you. You tried to concentrate to the hot chocolate within your grasp, but it wasn't enough. In a minute or so you would have to spill everything out, maybe an explanation or two because he deserved it, but no more than that.

You heard footsteps approaching. The sound felt so dreadful it almost overwhelmed you. But you managed to sat still, gripping onto your glass as if your life depended on it. Soon enough the doorway admitted Tom, in his long-sleeve and jeans and hair neatly combed, a coat hung over his shoulder. You guessed he was about to go out.

He noticed your presence right away. How could he not? You were sitting right across the doorway. Perhaps it was a mistake after all. Seeing him so fresh and right as rain made you felt even more guilty. You didn't want to tear him apart, let alone break him down when he was only weeks away from promoting the new movie he'd been filmed for months. He had to be at his best to nail the upcoming press conferences. There were red carpets and interviews he couldn't miss. The last thing he needed was you throwing rocks at him and watching him crumbling to the ground.

But he wasn't that vurnerable, was he? You contemplated in a vain attempt to justify yourself. Tom was strong. He had always been strong. Probably the strongest person you had ever met. He had a heart as gentle as angels yet as fierce as lions. You had seen both.

His lips were on your forehead and you jerked back, completely taken aback by how long you had been lost in thoughts. He must hotice it for he ruffled your hair slightly. "It's so good to see your face. How is the chocolate? I made it for you since you said you'd be home today."

"Oh," you mentally rummaged through your brain, looking for an answer. "Perfect. Just like, you know, usual. Fantastic."

He took a few seconds to process your answer. Then you realized what was wrong. Tom opened his mouth before you could. "I must have been very amazing at making hot chocolate, then. You haven't even drunk it."

His tone was light, filled with jokes. You snickered back at him, silently praising God for saving your ass. When you were caught in a situation you hated the most, your ability to lie seemed to get worse as well. This had happened countless times.

Tom strode to the counter. He picked a glass from the rack, reaching for the teapot. You had managed to brew some tea the moment you had got here, in an attempt to calm yourself earlier. A few beats of silences passed and you seized the moment. "Actually, I have something to say."

"Sure you do," Tom looked back swiftly, flashing you a smile. "Spill it out."

Tom's back was still facing you. He poured the tea to the glass, the sound of it subtle and somewhat satisfying. Your tongue refused to budge and you almost decided to retreat. Perhaps your plan was that bad. Perhaps your friend was right. This was a ridiculous idea. Perhaps you just had to drink this delicious hot chocolate, wave a goodbye and see you tomorrow, and make a run for it. Clearly this was stupid.

Yet you blurted out without a second thought, "Let's break up."

#tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #marvel imagines #imagines #.......srry i dont even know what im writing abt #writer's block hit me like a truck

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