#Alasdair Campbell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tilltheendwilliwrite · 1 year

Text

Reflections

Chapter Seven

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, mentions of suicide and self-harm, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

**I do not tag. **To be notified of updates and new works, subscribe to me or the story on AO3 for email notification, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library with notifications turned on so you’re not missing out. An account is required to access my work on AO3. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.

In a borrowed coat and boots, Mia walked the grounds with Tom. He listened as she talked, asked intelligent and insightful questions, and occasionally interjected with facts about his home.

"So you have an altar for him?"

Mia nodded. "I do. Not just him, though he features. Freya is there, Thor, Odin, Fenrir and Jörmungandr. They're the ones who niggle at me most often."

"Can I see it?"

"No," Mia chuckled.

"Please!"

She shook her head. "One, it's in my bedroom, and two, an altar is very personal. I might be inclined to share it with you someday, but I don't know you well enough right now."

He sighed but nodded. "I understand the hesitation. May I ask what's on it?"

"Candles, crystals, some pretty feathers I found while walking. Loki likes candy, so there's often a bowl with something sweet and a few fun trinkets, again for Loki. Recently, I found a beautifully carved raven that seems to please Odin. Freya likes flowers." She shrugged. "I go where I feel led."

"The way you speak of them…."

She sighed. "It's fine. You wouldn't be the first to call me crazy."

He grasped her elbow, causing her to stop and look at him. "I don't think you're crazy, Camila."

She blinked at him in surprise. "How do you know my full name?"

He tucked his hands in his pockets and ducked his head. "I may have checked out your website. You list yourself as Camila online."

"Yeah, Camila Alasdair. It's my artisan name to help me avoid creepers. Not that I'm anywhere well-known enough to have creepers." She chuckled. "The only person who ever called me Camila was my dad." She smiled at the memory.

"It suits you," Tom murmured. "Camila, the firebrand with the copper penny hair and temper to match."

Mia shook her head. "I don't have a temper. You were an ass."

"Ah, that isn't what I heard. Did you not also threaten Benedict Campbell?"

She crossed her arms. "Again, a perfect example of assery."

Tom chuckled. "I think you Canadians have cultivated this persona of politeness, but it is complete rubbish."

"Don't test me, Hiddleston. You're stomping on the Geneva Accords again."

He snickered and grasped her hand. "And we wouldn't want that, would we love? I'd hate to get on your God's bad side. I know what trouble he can bring."

"And he's already annoyed about the hair," she quipped, attempting to ignore how his thumb pressed and caressed her palm.

"You said that before. What was wrong with my hair?"

"It wasn't red."

"How do you know it should be red?"

She bit her lip, studying him hard. She already spilled much about her private life to this man, but no matter Henry's warning, she felt a pull toward Tom that had nothing to do with liking his acting and everything to do with liking the man.

"No one knows what I'm about to tell you, and I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way."

His smile slipped into seriousness as he closed the distance between them. "You have my promise, Camila."

She sighed. "When I was thirteen, I met him."

His eyes widened. "What? Like actually met him?"

The disbelief was palpable, and Mia stepped back, causing him to release her hand, creating distance to protect herself from the skepticism to follow. "Yeah. I was in the worst of my foster homes, where the dad drank and screamed. There were five of us, four boys and me. Two were terrible, always pinching me and pulling my hair, making fun of my freckles and anything else they could poke at. The oldest one was indifferent, and the youngest didn't care. I learned to defend myself and fight dirty in that home. I had to, but it was a hard time. Really hard. I was thirteen, my body was changing on top of everything else, and I hated it. I hated life. I hated living. I hated foster care."

She hugged her elbows and turned to face the town, the view from the hill spectacular. "I was depressed and still grieving. No one thought to get me help, and after two years, I couldn't do it anymore."

"Camila." His hands were warm through her coat as they squeezed her shoulders.

"I ran away," she whispered. "I found the highest bridge I could and climbed over the railing."

"Fuck, Mia," he murmured against her hair.

"Then, out of nowhere, there was this… person crouched on the railing like a raven. "Girl, what are you doing?" he asked me. For the first few seconds, I couldn't tell if they were male or female. I didn't understand the shifting of their face until it stopped on these pretty masculine features, all angles and sharpness, almost too delicate to be male. His hair was long and red as blood, a sunset, a fall leaf. It was full of braids and twists and feathers, bits of gold and tiny bells. He crouched there with these piercing eyes like he could see my soul."

She stopped to wipe her cheeks, the tears coming unbidden. "Girl, what are you doing?' He sounded disappointed, shocked, and sad. I told him I was tired and couldn't keep going when everyone dragged me down. He talked to me, told me this wasn't the way, that there were other paths to follow, and when I took his offered hand, he helped me back over the railing."

It was why she always knew his touch. She could never forget it or his voice that day.

"He kissed my forehead and walked with me as we headed back to that house. He told me he could help, that he understood and loved the parts of me others saw as weird or quirky. He said it would be hard, but I could make it if I had the heart to try."

"And so you tried at the behest of the God of Mischief?"

"Not at first." She smiled. "I didn't even know who he was for a while. Then, we had a class on Norse Mythology at school, and it clicked. I spent weeks in the library figuring it out. He's been around ever since."

You would miss me if I left, girl.

"And he still calls me girl. And yeah, I did think I was losing it for a while. I wondered if I had a tumour - I don't. I even considered that I was hallucinating because I was malnourished and sleep-deprived, but when both of those regulated, he remained. Like a tick, you can't scrape off."

Rude.

"Does he appreciate such remarks?" Tom chuckled.

"He makes worse ones."

Lies.

"You do, too, and you know it," she huffed.

"He's speaking to you now?"

She turned to face Tom, eyes narrowed, wondering if he was humouring the crazy girl, but his genuine curiosity released the tension from her shoulders. "Yes."

"Can you see him?"

She shook her head. "Not since the bridge, but I can feel his presence and his touch. Sometimes, when he wants me to know I'm not alone, there will be a flash of red and a raven."

One quorked in the nearby tree before flying down to land in the grass and hop along beside them.

"Like that," she chuckled.

Tom stared at the raven.

"Look, I get that you probably don't believe any of this, and that's fine. As I said, faith versus fiction is hard for people. Most people. My stuff is likely dry, so I'll just change and head home."

She tried to walk around him, but he pulled her back.

"I do believe you."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes, and I'll be forever grateful he stopped a child from ending her life," he whispered hoarsely as he cupped her cheek. "So she could grow into an incredible woman. A very beautiful woman. A fascinating woman."

His voice dropped sentence by sentence into a deadly velvet-soft purr that shook her to the core.

"I'm… I'm not fascinating," Mia insisted without much effort behind it, her knees now weak.

"Oh, but you are, Camila. You are bewitching. I thought it the moment we met."

"You didn't even like me."

"I was under a misconception," he huffed. "An error that irritated me."

"Why?"

He moved closer. "Can you not guess, Camila? Can you not feel the pull between us?"

She nodded, her eyes drifting to his lips as he licked them.

"Fuck it," he murmured. "I can be a gentleman later."

Again, Mia saw it coming, but when Tom ducked his head, she pressed up on her toes and met him in the middle. Her mind blanked as his mouth slid over hers, tilted, and locked.

Mountains could tumble, stars could fall, and Gods could walk the Earth. Nothing would drag her from the lightning wick of excitement that coursed her veins and dropped her to drown in a sea of searing desire unlike any she'd ever known.

The intensity made her gasp and break the kiss, but they didn't pull apart. His nose brushed against hers as tingling lips came together in small, almost delicate kisses.

Big and warm, his hand caressed and cupped her nape, keeping her near. He held her close, fingers splayed against her lower back, urging her into his body where she relished his heat.

Mia worked her arms up his chest and around his neck, her knees threatening to buckle when he bit gently into her lower lip.

When he finally drew back, it was only an inch, allowing her to see kiss-darkened lips and heavy-lidded eyes full of want.

She couldn't remember the last time someone looked at her like that or if Colt ever had.

"Camila MacAlasdair, where in the world did you come from?" he murmured, gently squeezing her nape.

"Canada," she said, a little lust drunk.

The man had power over parts of her she thought dried up and out of commission long ago. Now, they were awake, alive, and firing on all cylinders. She was embarrassingly wet. Add in her lack of underwear, and Mia was practically dripping down her leg from nothing more than a few devastating kisses.

He chuckled softly. "I suppose you did."

"So, that was unexpected," she said, rocking back on her heels.

"But not unwelcome?" he asked.

She blushed and shook her head.

"Mm," he hummed, eyes twinkling.

Mia didn't know they could do that outside fiction.

He stroked her hair, collected her hand, and led her to stroll toward a paddock fence. A couple of horses wandered over when they stopped at the railing.

Mia pet their soft noses.

"Do you ride?"

She shook her head. "That's the second time someone asked me that today."

"Oh?"

"Henry, he said my grandmother rode. He offered to teach me."

Tom stiffened. "Henry Stewart?"

Mia nodded, watching the emotions sweep across his face.

He cleared his throat. "How do you know Henry?"

"He looks after the farm."

The wince was subtle but present. "And he is aware you are here?"

"Yes. I drove his truck."

Surprise widened his eyes. "And he let you come?"

Mia frowned. "Because he's my keeper and has a say?"

"No, of course not! But…" He struggled to find the words.

Mia took pity on him. "He doesn't like you. I'm aware."

Tom cringed. "It's a bit more than that."

"Oh?"

He looked at her and sighed. She wasn't going to prod him into telling her. If he wanted to, he would.

Tom rubbed a hand over his mouth, then scratched the chin of the horse when it nudged him. "Henry blames me for his sister's death."

Emma squealed and yanked on Kip's arm. "I knew it! Oh, she's perfect for him."

Kip chuckled as they spied from a third-story window as Tom showed Mia around the grounds. Emma had her nose stuck to the glass and attempted to break his ears with enthusiasm.

"She's quite perfect for him. Sweet but unwilling to put up with his brooding," he agreed.

Tom spent the last years with his chin tucked, full steam ahead, fighting and clawing to save what they nearly lost. Sometimes, it felt like he meant to prove the sacrifice of his career wasn't in vain.

Kip wished it hadn't happened. He knew how much Tom loved acting, but he wouldn't hear of it when Kip offered to step back and do the hard thing. Tom insisted it was his duty, his responsibility. He wouldn't pass the burden to someone else.

That he sank nearly every quid he had into keeping Highpark afloat while they figured things out didn't go unnoticed. He never said anything, not one peep about basically going broke to keep the lights on, but it was a scant few years before and during the pandemic.

Now, they had breathing room and thriving businesses, and Kip was working more than ever. So much so that taking time for Serina and the baby was an easy choice to make.

But once in a while, he could see the far-off look, the stare of longing, the memories surface and hold his brother hostage, as he looked at Kip's life and thought… what if?

Tom spent so much time with his head down that he stopped living. If he kept going, the resentment would kill him.

Meeting Mia at the market was like a little miracle. She was funny, easy to talk to, and not impressed by fame. But oh, how her eyes lit up when she spoke of the other Loki. And not in the crazed superfan, murder you in your sleep and wear your skin as a trophy kind of way, but in the, I appreciate the effort you put into making the role something special way.

She didn't even cop to the name, making him doubly sure he wasn't introducing his brother to a nutter.

Then the idiot went and nearly muffed it.

The wanker.

"Oh… oh… oh!" Emma shrieked and slapped his arm repeatedly, dragging him from his musings.

"Dammit, Em! Leave off-" He caught what she was on about and stared in disbelief. "Oh, that cheeky bastard! And he gave me shit for moving too fast with Serina."

They were locked in an embrace, too far away to know for sure, but if he weren't kissing Mia, Kip would be disappointed.

Then, like something out of a damn period film, the sky broke just enough to bathe them in a shaft of sunlight. Mia's hair glowed like copper fire, Tom's like aged bronze.

As quickly as it came, it went, hidden behind the clouds that appeared less daunting than before.

"I have to tell Ethan!" Emma shrieked and dashed off, leaving Kip watching alone.

They'd plotted to toss the pair together as often as possible for just this moment. That his brother made a move in barely hours impressed and surprised Kip. He didn't think Tom had it in him to steal a kiss so blatantly.

Their moment lingered for long heartbeats before they broke apart.

Kip couldn't help his smile.

"Well done, Tom."

It was about time he found his happily ever after.

When they walked off toward the paddocks, Kip left the room.

Mia stared at him, her face drained of colour, causing her freckles to stand out starkly against the cream and her ocean eyes to appear bigger. "He… what?"

Tom sighed. It was never an easy thing to talk about. "Back in the day, Henry and I were mates. Best mates. I spent as much time at his as he did mine, and Sarah, his sister, often tagged along. She was friends with Emma, as they were in the same year of school, but often wanted to chase after Hen and me." He patted the horse's cheek and pushed her face away when she tried to nibble on his shoulder.

"Do you mind if we walk and talk?" he murmured, motioning down the fence line toward the barns.

Surprisingly, Mia took his hand and squeezed it encouragingly. That one point of contact slowed his racing heart and calmed his fear that she would run from him when she heard what he had to say.

"At four years her senior, neither of us wanted to entertain his little sister. It was our last summer before college, and Sarah was especially clingy. She was taking Henry's leaving hard, but the minor infatuation I had ignored for some time escalated that summer."

She left him notes, snuck into his room, and showed up at parties she knew he would be at, causing him or Henry to have to take her home.

"She was fourteen to my eighteen, and while four years now may not seem that big of a deal…."

"It was a really big deal when you were dealing with a girl trying to be a woman," Mia murmured.

"Yes," he sighed, relieved she understood. "The night before I was set to leave for school, she showed up here, in my room, in my bed."

"Oh, wow," Mia whispered.

"It made me sick, a little mad, and desperately frustrated. The implications and the gravity of the situation were not lost on me. Luckily, I was with Emma and Kip, so they knew I had nothing to do with her appearance." Even now, the thought of what could have happened, the accusations that could have followed, broke him into a cold sweat. "I sent Emma in to get her out of my bed and dressed and Kip off to get Mum and Dad because enough was enough. She damn near invented a scandal with me at the centre."

They left the grass to crunch into the gravel drive that led to the barns. "How mortified was she?"

"Very," he sighed. "And Emma has never been known to hold back. I don't know what she said, but they weren't friends afterward."

"Emma would have wanted to protect you," Mia murmured, tightening her grip.

"Unnecessary but appreciated. When Kip returned, I found out Mum and Dad had gone out, leaving three teenagers to handle the mess alone." He thrust his free hand through his hair, remembering with a clarity clearer than glass. "So we marched her into the parlour, where, with Kip and Emma as witnesses, I told Sarah that I didn't like her that way. She was Henry's sister, would always be Henry's sister, and I would never see her as a woman."

“Ouch,” Mia murmured.

"I admit, I could have handled it better, been nicer about it, but I was leaving for college. I thought four years without me around would cure her of her obsession. Had I known, fuck, I don't know…."

Mia drew him to a stop just inside the shade of the cool, musty barn. "Tom, so far, I don't think you did anything wrong. I think you're fortunate that so much of it went right. If Kip and Emma hadn't been there…" She shook her head. "She was a girl with a crush and a dangerous infatuation. I don't know if nicer would have been better or encouraged her to try harder."

He nodded. "Such were my thoughts."

"So what happened? Henry mentioned Sarah died at sixteen. If you were away at college, how are you responsible?"

He closed his eyes against the sick feeling rising in his stomach. "I was home for the holiday, Christmas. Highpark always hosts a party, and that year was no different. Henry and I kept in touch, but we drifted. Going to different colleges, school work, and life made it hard to keep up our friendship, but he was there, and so was Sarah. We never told anyone what happened; Emma and Kip ensured she got home safe, but not even our parents knew what she'd done. But that night, she was dressed to the nines, flirted with everyone and pretended like I didn't exist. I was relieved."

"Clearly, she was planning something."

He snorted and shook his head. "Clearly, you are smarter than me. I didn't suspect a thing."

"I'm suspicious by nature," Mia shrugged.

"If only I were the same, I wouldn't have gotten pissed. I would have noticed when she disappeared toward the end of the party. I would have checked before I walked into my room and turned on the light only to find her naked on my sheets… with a fully pissed Henry on my heels."

Mia's eyes widened into round orbs. "Oh, shit!"

"Yes, well, as you can imagine, it went about that well. Henry raged and took a swing at me; I took one at him. Sarah screamed and cried, racing to get her clothes on as we beat on each other. When she finally managed to make us stop, I…" He swallowed thickly past the bile. "I said, "I told you the last time you pulled this stunt, I wasn't interested in fucking a child." She paled to a ghostly white and ran off. Henry cursed me out and went after her."

Tom attempted to release Mia's hand, but her grip tightened, and her free one lifted to rest against his chest. "Tell me."

He swallowed hard. "I chose to wash my hands of it. Sarah could explain to Henry whatever she wanted. I was done. The next morning, he found her dead. She'd overdosed on sleeping pills."

Mia's jaw dropped.

"Henry blames me. I went to him, tried to apologize, tried to explain what happened, but he wouldn't hear it. Sarah was troubled, he said. If I hadn't been so brutal, maybe she wouldn't have-"

Soft fingers pressed against his lips.

"You are not at fault for the decision she made. When a person decides…" Tears caused her eyes to sparkle. "When they make up their mind, not much will stop them."

He cupped her cheek, heart aching for her. "You stopped."

She leaned into his hand. "I had an intervention. I'm sorry the same didn't happen for Sarah."

"As am I. Over the years, Henry's hatred of me has grown. Now, we avoid each other as much as possible."

"The town isn't that big. You're going to have to come to terms with this eventually."

Tom shook his head. "I've tried. He damn near takes my head off each time."

"Then what you need is a peacekeeper." She smirked. "Oh, would you look at that? A Canadian. How fortunate."

Tom chuckled. "I still think it's all poppycock. A reputation built on fabrication."

Mia rolled her eyes.

"You do that a lot," he murmured. Every time, he wanted to back her into the wall or spank her bottom pink.

"You annoy me a lot," she quipped.

He leaned closer. "I think you enjoy it."

"Maybe." Mia snickered, heading into the barn where a few faces watched them over stall doors.

"Welcome to the stud," Tom purred against her ear, his hand spanning her waist.

The woman had an ass on her that would make a pleasing handful and thighs he longed to grip, but she had a tucked-in waist and generous breasts, and he tried hard not to think about how she had nothing on under his clothes.

"Why does that feel like a line?"

He chuckled. "Unintentional, but would it work?"

Mia snorted. "No."

He laughed, and the sound echoed, causing a few people working in the barn to stop and stare. Tom ignored them as he introduced her to each stallion waiting for his attention.

"These five are our top producers."

Mia stroked the white spot on the end of Mystic's nose. "Producer of what?"

"Foals, love. They are our prize breeders. Once, they were tops in their fields." He turned and pointed at each. "Jumper. Steeples. Polo. Racer and this old man," he patted the cheek of the black whose nose she stroked, "ran like the wind in his day. They are all proven sires whose offspring have gone on to be just as talented as they are."

"So you just breed them? You don't raise racing stock too?"

"Ah, that would be the other barn. We have a few prospects we breed or purchase ourselves yearly, but the stud is where the money is. Ethan, Emma's husband, does the training and travels for the races or shows when needed, and while I'm fit to ride and give the old men their exercise, I leave the pairings to the farm's breeding manager."

"Did your family always raise horses?"

"Back down the roots of the family tree." He chuckled. "We weren't always Lords of Highpark, but horses are in the blood, though we shifted away from racehorses into a wider range. I was a polo man myself in my younger years."

"And you still ride every day."

He looked at her sharply. "And how would you know that?"

She glanced at him, a slight blush in her cheeks. "I see you when I walk the fields most mornings."

"Do you? And do you enjoy watching me ride?"

She nodded, and he could tell she held a firm appreciation for him on the back of his horse. It was a nice stroke to his ego.

They made their way out the far side of the barn, where he crowded her against the wall, bracing his hands to either side of her. "Perhaps tomorrow I will ride down to the fence so you may see everything closer."

"That…" Her voice caught. "That would be nice."

His grin spread, wicked and wide, as he leaned in. "Maybe you would like to ride with me?"

"I don't know how yet."

"That won't be a problem," he murmured, his heavy-lidded gaze back on her mouth before his lips slowly brushed across hers.

"Tom," she sighed, slipping her hands inside his open jacket.

"Sweet, surprising, Camila," he purred, cupping her nape and tilting her head up.

His lips brushed and retreated. Brushed and pulled her bottom lip. Brushed and teased until she whimpered, body erupting in shivers. His nose caressed hers. She breathed in his exhale. Their mouths met, and she moaned.

Potent wasn't the right word for Camila. Explosive. Dangerous. Devastating. Those were closer to how easy it would be for him to fall into something with her. He could only imagine how the rest would go if kissing her was this good.

He kissed her until she was breathless and panting, then traced his lips down her throat to suck where his jumper gaped between her shoulder and neck. The quiet groan she released had him slipping his knee between her thighs and pressing more of his weight into her welcoming body.

"Would you have dinner with me?" he asked, tugging her earlobe with his teeth.

"I would. When?"

"Tomorrow. I would say tonight, but I have an obligation I cannot escape," he murmured before sucking on her neck again.

"Tomorrow is good," she agreed, running her hands up his back.

"Excellent," he crooned, returning to her mouth to kiss her because he couldn't get enough of how she tasted.

A drizzle began to fall, dampening only a little of the heat they created, but it was enough for Tom to lift his head. "I should return you to my sister. I seem to have monopolized your time."

Mia laughed. "I don't think she'll mind."

"Why's that, love?" he frowned.

"Well, she's spent the last two weeks texting me about how great her brother is, and she wasn't talking about Kip. They think they're so tricky, but I know they intended to set us up."

Tom cursed softly but inventively and shook his head. "And I nearly muffed it up. No wonder Kip looked seconds away from beating my arse."

"At the time, it was an arse worth beating," Mia teased.

He snorted and stepped back, pulling her from the wall to tuck her under his arm as they headed for the house. "I was a complete prat, but I've never been so thoroughly jealous of Kip in my life."

"Not even when he took over as Loki?"

He looked down at her. She couldn't possibly know losing her to Kip - had that been a possibility - would have hurt far more than losing Loki.

He slowly shook his head. "Not even then."

Mia blushed and tightened her grip on his waist.

Unable to stand it any longer, he asked, "Do you still regret meeting your hero?"

"Oh, Gods!" she cringed. "I can't believe I said that to you."

As they crossed the lawn, he whispered in her ear, "Would you like to explain how, in all the realms, I'm your hero?"

Her face burned scarlet, but she murmured, "You did him justice. You took the role and very clearly put thought, research, and effort into it. There was passion in your performance, and while I wasn't familiar with the comics then, I could tell you researched the source material. The guy who played Thor was decent, but if he ever read a passage of the Eddas, you could have fooled me."

Tom stopped, drawing her to a stop with him in the grey mist that added tiny droplets to her hair like individual crystals. "You could tell that from my performance? And this makes me your hero?"

She shook her head. "It's difficult to explain. What I am, who I am, being Lokean is part of my identity. By then, I'd practiced for years, hearing him, following him, and, yes, loving him. I had also put up with ridicule and discrimination for just as long. When I found out about and then watched Thor, seeing someone else care that much?" She shook her head. "You don't know what that was like for me. Did I think you were Lokean? No, but you cared enough about Loki, about doing him justice as a character to go above and beyond what was asked of you."

Heat warmed his cheeks. "Camila, I'm… I'm honoured."

She tilted her head. "I was so disappointed when you weren't in Ragnarok, but then I didn't enjoy that movie. I felt it made a mockery of the growth and effort put into the other films. I stopped watching after that, and I never was much of a movie watcher before Thor."

"Which is why you didn't know who Kip was."

"Yeah. And I've never been great with names, so yours just slipped my mind until Emma explained who you were." She shrugged.

"Yes." He sighed. "I faded swiftly and thoroughly from the limelight and everyone's memories."

"Maybe," Mia murmured. "But today, Loki isn't why I think you're a hero."

He frowned. "Oh?"

She shook her head and hesitantly brushed her fingers over his cheek before combing the water droplets from his hair. "No. What you did to save your home and your family is far more heroic than anything you might have done on screen. I know it's not my place, and my opinion isn't likely to matter, but… I'm really proud of you, Tom."

"Camila," he whispered, voice thick and hoarse with emotion. Her opinion suddenly mattered most of all.

She smiled, pressed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "We should head in."

He cleared his throat and nodded before tucking her back under his arm and leading her to the house.

Next Chapter

#reflections #au tom hiddleston fiction #rpf #real people fiction #tom hiddleston

23 notes · View notes