Tom Hiddleston X Reader - Blog Posts

This was so sweet and wholesome

Family.

Hello! This is one of the most special things I ever wrote. Not only because it’s emotional, but also because it was requested by one of the sweetest people this blog gave me the pleasure to meet! I hope this was what you wanted, @purplerain85 ! Thank you for trusting me with this one!

Prompt: You’re a single mom to a little girl and Tom absolutely falls in love with both of you and wants to start a family.

Warnings: Besides wanting to have babies with Tom, none.

Ps: I know what you’re thinking. “Maria, are you going to give the exact same names to the children on every story??” Yes, I will. Fight me.

like 3.5k words. 

Keep reading

Bitch, I’m crying, this is amazing

Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts (Tom Hiddleston Edition).

Summary: Tom and you go to the Late Late Show with James Corden and some secrets come out. 

Word count: 2.4k+.

Pairing(s): Tom Hiddleston x Reader.

Warning(s): cursing.

Author’s Note: this was requested by @hiddlestonstansworld! I hope you enjoy it love! 

You and Tom were on your seventh month anniversary when you went to The Late Late Show with James Corden. Backstage, you two were on the same room watching the show from a TV while sitting on a couch.

“What do you think of this one?” You show him a picture: you in pajamas, him in a suit. It was before the GQ Awards. He was grabbing you by the waist, both of you smiling at each other. “Is it suggestive enough?”

He frowned. “We have more suggestive pictures,” he replied, a smirk on his face.

“I’m not about to post a picture of us kissing.”

Tom sighed. “Love, we don’t have to come forward if  you don’t want to.”

“But you want to,” you said. “And I want to, too, just… it makes me nervous. The reactions and…,” you sighed.

“I know.”

He grabbed one of your hands and kissed the back. You put that same hand on his cheek, caressing his skin with your thumb.

You heard a knock on the door. “Come on in,” you allowed.

A crew member opened the door, not even having time to notice your situation. She just said, “Time for you, guys.”

Tom got up first and you stretched your arms, him helping you out of the couch and walking behind you with a hand on your back like he always did.

You two stood behind a curtain as James began the introduction. “You guys ready to eat some nasty shit?” She asked you.

“Hm… Yes?” You mumbled, making Tom chuckle.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Tom Hiddleston, everybody!”

The curtains opened and the audience greeted you with cheers and applause. You waved at them, smiling. Tom shook James’ hand and you gave him two kisses, one in each cheek, gotten used to greeting like that after being in England for a while.

“C’mon, c’mon. (Y/N), you go there.”

It was a round table filled with inedible food that stunk. You caught a couple of names: cow’s tongue and sardine smoothie.

“Oh my Gosh, this smells disgusting,” you stated.

At the table, you were on the right side and Tom sat across from you, James in the seat that faced the audience.

“So, how you guys doing?” James asked you two.

“I was fine until I smelled all this stuff,” you answered.

“Oh, and wait till you eat it. It’s repulsive,” James joked, the audience laughing. “These are the rules: Tom will ask me a question, I’ll ask (Y/N) and she’ll ask Tom. For each question, you have to pick a food if the person decides not to answer the very personal question,” he explained. “So, this is our menu for the day…” The camera did a close-up. “A cow’s tongue, sardine smoothie…”

“Christ…” Tom mumbled.

“Clam juice, a thousand-year-old egg, calf’s brain…”

“Fuck, that stinks.”

“Bird saliva; cod sperm, which I’m still not sure how they get; and our old, classic buddy: bull’s penis.”

“This is the last time I come to your show, James,” you stated.

James and the crowd laughed. “So… who wants to go first?”

You kept quiet, chuckling to yourself. Tom sighed. “I’ll make the sacrifice.”

“Okay, very good!” James clapped. “I applaud your bravery, sir. (Y/N), pick a food for Mr. Hiddleston here.”

You were going to spin the table, but instead, you asked, “Can I read the question first?”

“Sure, sure.”

When you read the question, you chuckled and blushed at the same time. “Since I’m not sure if you’re going to answer or not, I’ll give you… the thousand-year-old egg..” You spun the table until the thousand-year-old eggs were in front of him. They had green and blue colours.

Tom chuckled. He took one of the small, invisible cups out of the three and smelled. He squinted strongly and shivered. “That’s repulsive,” Tom commented.

“Tom, you’re a renowned, talented actor who has done over twenty movies, nineteen TV shows, and ten plays…” The audience began applauding. “Yes!” You clapped as well. When it died down, you continued the question. “Have you ever… done any of those characters in bed? And if so, which one?”

Tom’s jaw dropped. James was laughing hysterically and you were jumping up and down on your chair, excited about the outcome.

You knew the answer to this question.

“You’re joking!” Tom exclaimed.

“That’s what the card says!” You said, leaving the card on a side.

Tom sighed, passing his index fingers through his brows, looking at the egg in front of him, deciding whether or not to answer the question. “What’s it gonna be, Tom?”

He smelled the egg again. “I can’t eat this.”

“Then answer,” you suggested, a smirk on your face.

Tom lied back on his chair, rubbing his jaw. Then, he dropped the bomb, “Loki. I’ve done Loki.”

The audience rioted. You started dancing on your chair, smiling. James couldn’t hold back his laughter. “I can’t believe it!” James exclaimed.

“I can!” You replied. “You shall kneel before your new king, Loki, of Asgard,” you imitated Tom as Loki, the audience laughing and James clapping.

“Next!” Tom said, attempting to divert the attention from his recent confession. “James, your turn.” Tom read the question first and bit his lower lip to keep the laugh in, but he snorted. He spun the table, James landing on the: “Bird saliva.”

“You’re an evil man, Hiddleston.”

Tom cleared his throat, a mischievous smile on his face. “James; you’re the producer of Drop the Mic and are often invited to rap battle other artists, but you almost never win even when some of your rhymes are better than the ones from your opponent. So, is it true that the show is rigged?”

James looked at this crew as the audience laughed. “Who wrote these?!” He exclaimed. “No!” James defended himself for around forty-five seconds before drinking from the bird’s saliva… and puking it in a bucket. “That’s fucking disgusting.” The audience laughed. “Okay, (Y/N), since you made Tom confess he roleplays in bed, I will give you…” Tom chuckled. “The clam juice.”

You winced. “I can smell it from here…” The confession made the audience laugh. You sighed. “Hit me.”

James read the question to himself and chuckled. “(Y/N)…”

“Yes?”

“Your character in Avengers: Infinity War, Karma, died during Thanos’ snap; but a photograph from set got leaked last week, where we see your character in a new suit…” James took out the photograph, showing it to the audience.

“No!” You shouted, burying your face in your hands.

Tom couldn’t stop laughing. “So, my question is… what is the truth?”

You took a deep breath, one of your hands in a glass of clam juice. “You want to know the truth?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, the truth is…”

And you chugged down half a glass of clam juice pinching your nose. The audience was clapping and you heard shouting, James was laughing like crazy and Tom was supporting you, exclaiming:

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

You left the glass back on the table and drank water. You looked at James straight in the eye. “…I ain’t no snitch, Corden.”

James and you laughed hysterically as Tom clapped. When the audience settled down, you asked Tom how much he’d made during his time at the MCU… He ate the bull’s penis and proceeded to spit it in a bucket.

Tom asked James when was the last time he’d had sex… and James answered, confessing he did the Devil’s Tango the night before.

James asked you what castmate you liked the least from Avengers: Infinity War, and you wouldn’t have hesitated to eat up… if a calf’s brain wasn’t staring at you.

“I know who this one is,” Tom informed.

“You do?” James inquired.

“Truth be told, I liked him while shooting, just afterwards…” You grunted, putting aside the calf’s brain. “Dave Bautista,” you admitted.

Tom’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you said it,” he said, his voice almost drowned by the audience’s noise and James’ loud reaction.

“I was not going to eat that!” You took a deep breath.

“Gosh, this tea is scalding,” James said. “(Y/N), time to ask Tom a question.”

When you grabbed the card and read the question, your eyes went wide and your heartbeat sped up. You could feel your hands starting to sweat.

You spun the table. “A cow’s tongue,” you said, “for the answer to the following question…“ You tried your best for your voice not to come out shaky since your legs were going up and down under the table. “Tom, how many of the relationships you’ve had haven’t gone public? Name those people.”

You remained silent.

If it had to be there, then it had to be. You weren’t going to force Tom to eat a cow’s tongue if he could tell the truth…

“Wait, no. No naming. That’s an invasion of privacy of people who aren’t comfortable with that information being out in the open,” Tom demanded.

“I think that’s cool,” you supported him.

“Very well… Tom, speak now or eat the cow’s tongue.”

“Well… I believe the only serious relationship I’ve had that hasn’t gone public is the one with my current partner.” You heard gasps from the crowd and one from James. “She’s not certain about, you know, telling everyone, so I gave her the option to come forward when she wanted to, and how she wanted to.”

You grinned, your heart fuzzy from the statement. “Whoa, mate… And do you love her?” James inquired.

“Like a moth loves the light, James.”

Tom had confessed his love for a woman on live television. He’d never done anything like that…

Was he that sure about you two?

And as Tom asked James a question about which kid he preferred and made him drink a sardine smoothie, you admired Tom:

He was wearing a blue suit without a tie, his hair was perfectly done and brushed and he didn’t have his glasses, his eyes available for everyone to see clearly.

He was well-mannered, but also laid-back. He was professional but funny at the same time. He was that person that could make your IQ go up thirty points and could dance to any genre of music (even salsa). Everyone liked him… and how could they not? He had that smile. The kind of smile that kept you warm during the winter.

The kind of smile that outshined the sun.

“Okay, (Y/N), last question.” You snapped out of your train of thought when James mentioned your name. This time, he read the question first. He laughed to himself.

“Stop,” you requested.

“Okay, okay. Since I want to make sure you’ll answer this, we’ll go with the…” He spun the table, stopping it in front of three small cups of what seemed to be tiny, white pudding-textured sausages. “…Cod’s sperm.”

“How dare you?” You told James. “How…”

“You’re gonna have to answer the question.” James cleared his throat. “(Y/N), you admitted to a fan in Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen that you had a partner…”

The crowd went, “Uhhh.”

“Is that relationship still going? And if so, who are they?” James finished the question.

Tom pursed his lips. You brought the cod sperm to your nose, and you gagged when you smelled it.

“Nope, no, definitely not gonna happen.” You put the sperm back on its tray. “I wouldn’t feed this to my siblings, and I’ve fed them some shit.”

The audience laughed. “So what are you gonna do?” Tom inquired.

You could see it in his eyes: he wanted you to answer, but he’d never say it. He’d never pressure you to do it if you weren’t ready.

But you were.

“I do have a partner,” you confessed. James’ jaw dropped. “He is… kind and intelligent and talented and…” You stared right into Tom’s eyes, “…he’s sitting across from me.”

The audience gasped and cackled to James’ reaction. “WHAT?!” James looked at you both back and forth. “You… and you…”

“Yep,” Tom confirmed.

James’ eyes widened and his mouth opened. “James!” You snapped your fingers in front of him, bringing him back to reality.

“This was Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts with Marvel Sweethearts, Tom Hiddleston and (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! We’ll be right back!”

Marvel Sweethearts became a term in the Marvel fandom that same night. It was two-and-thirty in the morning, and Tom was waiting for you outside as you picked up your things from the room.

You’d taken off your heels and replaced them with slippers.

“You ready?” He asked you when you walked out.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me.” He took your bag and put it over his shoulder.

People in the hallway were already clearing out to go home since the show had ended.

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you,” he replied and you frowned, encountering his blue, harmonious eyes gazing back at yours. “I know it wasn’t easy to make our relationship public, so…”

“No, actually it was.”

Tom’s the one who frowned this time. “What?”

“Yeah…” You held his hand. “I realised that I wanted to share with the world that the person I go home to every night is the brightest star in the sky… and in Hollywood, just that people haven’t realised it yet.”

He chuckled and kissed the back of your hand, pecking you on the lips afterwards. “Let’s go home, love.”

You nodded, offering him a half smile. “Yeah, let’s.”

And you walked through the hallway to make your way out of the building while holding hands.

NEW BOT!! [REQUESTS ARE OPEN ON BLOG AND STRAWPAGE!!]

James Conrad - K:SI - he could not tell if it was betrayal or not

Plot: After Monarch takes Weaver and Conrad into custody, an unexpected reunion occurs.

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James Conrad ↳ K:SI - he could not tell if it was betrayal or not

I love this fic so far!! 🙏

chapter i. | into the hollow

Summary: Your long-awaited vacation is cut short when Bill Randa drags you into a classified expedition. Now, you’re stuck in a room full of military personnel, a photographer, and a quiet but observant tracker, James Conrad. As Randa and Houston Brooks explain their Hollow Earth theory, you start to realize—this mission is more than it seems, and Conrad knows it too. Pairing: James Conrad x Field Medic!Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Military themes, strong language, slow burn romance, suspense, mentions of injuries, canon-typical violence Author's Note: setting the stage for the expedition! this chapter introduces key players and builds up the tension before skull island, and it's a little short and i'm sorry! hope you enjoy nevertheless.

Masterlist | ← Previous Chapter ⋆ Next Chapter →

The room is stuffy and thick with the scent of old paper, burnt coffee, and sweat. A single oscillating fan hums from the corner, doing little to push the heat around.

The walls are lined with maps, aerial photographs, and classified documents tacked to corkboards, the kind of place where bad ideas are made to sound reasonable. 

You pause in the doorway, eyes sweeping over the faces gathered inside. Your sweater sleeve covers your nose, shielding you from the foul stench wafting through the room. Fucking smells in here. 

It sucks, you think. All these soldiers (as well as Landsat), just like you, were ready to go home—finally take a break, see their kids, and enjoy some peace after the war with Vietnam. But instead, you’re being sent off again, dragged into a mission with a bunch of maniacs convinced they'll find something on an island that will probably get them all killed.

The projector turns on, and a man starts speaking: "Hello and welcome. I'm Landsat Field Supervisor Victor Nieves." He points to a blond man at the front: "This is my colleague Steve Woodward, our data wrangler."

He continues, "Our expedition takes us to a place every nautical trade route known to man has avoided for centuries. As for our satellites show that the island is surrounded by a perpetual storm system, allowing it to remain hidden from the outside world; but with Colonel Packard's helicopter transport, we will be the first to break through to the other side." 

"We're also pleased to be joined, for the first time, by the resource exploration team led by Mr. Randa and accompanied by biologist Miss San, geologist Mr. Brooks, and Field Medic," he says your name. Heads turn toward Bill, Houston, and the biologist, while you remain at the very back, mostly unnoticed—except for Conrad, who glances back at you.

"Our focus will be on the island's surface, theirs, what lies beneath." He turns his head towards Houston, "Mr. Brooks," signaling for him to go to the front. 

"Simple really, we'll use explosives to shake the earth and create vibrations, helping us map the subsurface of the island." The projector switches to the bombing plan. "We'll fly in over the south shore and strategically drop seismic charges to better understand the earth's density."  

"You're dropping bombs?" Conrad’s British accent cuts through the room.  

Houston nods awkwardly. "...Eh, scientific instruments."  

A soldier chuckles. "You hear that, boys? We're scientists now!" Laughter follows.  

Woodward, a.k.a blond man grunts. "You guys are not scientists."  

"We'll land and set up base camp for ground excursions led by Captain Conrad." Conrad gives a slight nod. The speaker scans the room before calling out, "Major Jack Chapman."  

A tall, broad-shouldered man in a crisp military uniform steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His thick Southern drawl carries through the room as he begins speaking.

"Once on the island, the storm’s interference will cut radio contact with the ship. We’ll be on our own." The projector clicks again.  

"Three days later, the refueling team meets us here." Chapman points to the north end of the island. "That may be our only safe departure window."  

"So, tip for everybody—don’t miss it. Please."  

The supervisor wraps it up. "Alright, back to your places. We fly in the morning. Good luck."  

You’re the first out, escaping the awful-smelling room and into the cold, salty air. The meeting was exactly what you expected—reckless plans wrapped in scientific excuses. Pulling your sweater tighter, you descend the metal stairs, boots clanking against steel. 

"Goddamn suicide mission. Why am I in this? Why, dear Lord, why?" you whisper to yourself. 

You flip through the file Randa gave you again, hoping for some kind of reassurance. The words blur together, refusing to sink in no matter how many times you read them. Everything happened too fast—too sudden for the gravity of it all to truly settle.  

Just yesterday, you had stormed into Randa’s office, furious at him for going back to the senator. And somehow, Senate Willis agreed to this insanity. Jesus Christ. Probably worried about competition, afraid the Soviets would find something first. But still—goddamn.

The ship sways gently beneath you, the deep hum of the engine vibrating through the deck. Around you, soldiers linger in small groups, their laughter and conversation blending with the distant crash of waves.

You weave through narrow corridors, the dim overhead lights flickering slightly with each shift of the vessel.

Eventually, you find your way down to a storage unit, stacked high with crates stamped with military insignias and Landsat labels. Equipment—cameras, geological tools, radios—piles upon piles of supplies meant for an expedition that feels more like an invasion. 

As you scan the room, a faint shimmer of light catches your eye from the far corner. Curious, you step closer.  

Conrad stands near a stack of crates, the small flicker of a lighter illuminating his face in the dimly lit storage bay. Shadows dance across the sharp angles of his jaw as he reads the labels, his expression unreadable. At the sound of your footsteps, he turns, brows furrowed.  

"What are you doing down here?" he asks, his voice low, steady.  

You lean against a crate, arms crossed. "I could ask you the same thing." The air smells of wood, metal, and a faint trace of oil. 

Glancing at the boxes, you feign casual curiosity. "Why does a geological mapping mission need explosives?"  

He tilts his head slightly, watching you. "You weren’t listening in class. Seismic charges for the geological survey."  

You walk past him, fingers trailing over the rough wooden crates, scanning the stenciled labels. Landsat Equipment. Seismic Survey. Your lips press together. "Uh-huh. You believe that?"  

"I didn’t say that," he replies simply.  

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shift gears. "Have you met Colonel Packard yet?"  

Conrad nods. "Yeah."  

You scoff. "The guy's wound pretty tight."  

Conrad shrugs, flicking his lighter open and shut. "Well, the man's a decorated war hero. That’s the package they come in." His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he asks, "And you? Isn’t one field medic on a jungle mission a step down for medical?"  

You narrow your eyes. "I didn’t choose to be here," you say, tone edged. Then, arching a brow, you add, "Are you doubting my credibility? Safe to say, I think I’m a damn good medic."  

He smirks faintly. "And being here doubles the small pay you have."  

You huff a quiet laugh. "Huh. Okay, Captain Conrad, what about you?" You tilt your head, challenging. "How did British Special Forces get roped into this?"  

"Just Conrad," he corrects. "I’m decommissioned."  

"Mhm."  

"They offered me money," he says as if that explains everything.  

"Ah, right. Just like the small pay you mentioned earlier." You mimic his words with a smirk, catching the slight flicker of amusement in his expression. "You don’t strike me as a mercenary."  

He meets your gaze, unreadable. "And you don’t strike me as someone who’s seen war."  

You hold his stare. "Government field medic," you clarify. "I don’t do war."  

The ship creaks, metal shifting with the waves. For a moment, silence stretches between you, something unspoken settling in the air. Then, a sharp click—a sudden flash blinds you.  

"Sorry, documentation," a voice chimes. You blink, turning to see Mason—Weaver, or whatever her name is—grinning slyly, camera in hand. "Also, both of you are being called."  

You clear your throat, glancing at Conrad before nodding toward the stairs. "You coming?"  

He hesitates, flicking his lighter one last time before pocketing it. His gaze lingers on the crates as if considering something. Then, with a small nod, he exhales.  

"Yeah."

You and Conrad barely make it a few steps toward the stairs before the sound of approaching footsteps echoes through the storage bay. The dim overhead lights flicker as the ship sways, casting long shadows over the crates.

Turning your head, you spot Bill Randa, Houston Brooks, and San Lin making their way toward you. Randa looks as intense as ever, his gaze sharp behind those thick glasses, while Houston appears more at ease, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

San Lin moves with quiet curiosity, eyes scanning the stacks of equipment.  

“There you are,” Randa says, adjusting his glasses. His voice carries that same urgency he’s had since the beginning of this mission. “We were looking for you both.”  

Conrad tucks his hands into his pockets, glancing briefly at you before replying. “Didn’t realize we had a curfew.”  

Houston chuckles under his breath as he steps past, running a hand over one of the crates. “Impressive setup, huh? Landsat really went all in.” He tilts his head at one of the labels.

Geological Survey Equipment. Seismic Imaging.

“This stuff could map the entire island in incredible detail… or, you know, do a hell of a lot more than that.”  

San Lin examines a set of carefully sealed containers, each marked with biohazard symbols and research tags. “I assume you two weren’t just down here sightseeing?” she asks, her voice calm but pointed.  

“Sightseeing’s not really my thing,” you reply, crossing your arms.  

Randa exhales, clearly uninterested in small talk. “The mission briefing is over, and I need you both focused. There’s a lot you don’t understand yet.” He turns toward the crates, pressing a palm against one as if grounding himself.

“Everything we need to confirm our theory is right here.”  

You exchange a glance with Conrad, who looks just as unconvinced as you feel. “Right,” you say, voice dry. “A theory.”  

Houston gestures toward a nearby set of steel doors at the back of the bay. “Come on, since you’re down here, might as well take a look at the other storage areas.”  

Reluctantly, you follow as he pushes the doors open, revealing another section of the ship lined with rows of metal shelves and stacked crates. Inside, floodlights hum overhead, casting a harsh white glow over the neatly organized equipment.

Maps and geological charts are pinned to a board near the entrance, displaying rough sketches of Skull Island’s terrain. A few scientists are inside, cataloging supplies—mostly radios, first aid kits, and survival gear.  

Near the back, a weapons locker sits against the wall, its steel doors secured with heavy-duty locks.

Inside the mesh barrier, you can make out the unmistakable shapes of rifles, handguns, and stacks of ammunition. Next to it, another container is marked with a bold red symbol—explosives.  

You glance at Conrad, who doesn’t seem surprised.  

“Seismic charges, huh?” you murmur, voice laced with skepticism.  

Randa ignores you, stepping further inside as if absorbing the weight of everything stored here. “We are on the brink of discovery,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.  

Houston, ever the optimist, claps a hand against one of the crates. “Let’s just hope we live long enough to see it.”  

You shiver slightly as a draft creeps in from somewhere, the cold steel walls doing little to keep out the ocean’s chill. Folding your arms, you take a slow step back toward the door.  

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Let’s hope.”

The spare bedroom is small, barely enough space for the two cots squeezed into opposite corners. A single overhead light flickers, casting a dim yellowish glow over the metal walls. You drop your bag onto the cot closest to the wall, exhaling as you finally sit down. The air smells faintly of salt and oil, but at least it’s better than that god-awful meeting room.

Mason sets her camera bag down by her bed, stretching her arms with a tired sigh. “So,” she starts, glancing at you with a knowing smirk, “what were you and Conrad doing down there?”

You huff a quiet laugh, kicking off your boots. “Sightseeing.”

She raises a brow. “Right. Sightseeing in a dark cargo hold full of explosives and classified equipment?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one with a lighter and a suspicious amount of curiosity,” you say, leaning back against the wall. “Conrad was already there when I showed up.”

Mason hums, clearly unconvinced but amused. “Mm-hmm. You two seemed cozy.”

You scoff. “If by ‘cozy’ you mean questioning the sanity of this mission, then yeah, sure.”

“Seriously, though,” she says, shifting to face you. “What do you think’s really going on with this mission?”

You exhale, staring at the ceiling. “Nothing good. Randa’s desperate, Packard’s got that war-hungry look in his eye, and those ‘seismic charges’ aren’t fooling anyone.”

Mason nods. “Yeah. Feels off.” She fiddles with her camera. “But at least we’ve got front-row seats.”

You watch her adjust the lens, her fingers moving with practiced ease. “You believe in all that—exposing the truth, showing people what they don’t want to see?”

She shrugs. “Someone has to.”

You smirk. “Lucky us.”

A pause lingers between you before you smirk. “Alright, journalist. If we live through this, first round’s on you.”

Mason laughs. “Deal.”

The ship groans as another wave rolls beneath it, but for the first time tonight, the tension in your chest eases just a little.

funny how she said she doesn't do sightseeing then says she does to mason.. kinda weird, anyway that was chapter one! i used most of the script from the movie itself to actually feel like you're in it. hope you enjoyed, lots of love from me! (sorry if it was too short, the chapters will be much more longer later on!)

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!