#luke windsor fanfic

[getmehighonmagic]

WIP Word Search, December 26th, 2023

Thanks for the tags, @anincompletelist and @kiwiana-writes! This looks really fun, I'm definitely willing participate ♥

Now, before I begin, I need y'all to know I'm not lying, so I'm gonna show you the results of the generator. Because as a smut writer, I snorted right into my drink when I got these words. This is gonna be too easy, haha!

Right, let's get started!

GLARE - from my Alex/Hayes WIP:

Alex sends his sister an irritated glare and flips her off. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he sneers at her, before he puts his thermos on the ground. He frowns and pulls the sleeves of his coat over his hands, feeling insecure all of a sudden. “Can you just… do this one thing for me? Please? Without whining so much?”

TIP - from my post election night WIP:

“Touch yourself,” Alex pants, kissing the soft, sensitive spot just below his ear. “I need you to come for me, baby, go on.” Baby. Henry whines and doesn’t hesitate to obey, slips his fist over his cock and starts moving his foreskin back and forth over his leaking tip.

EDGE - from 'heading straight for your heart (like a bullet in the dark)', an Alex/Luke romance WIP:

Alex loves living in Central Austin - in fact, it does him good to be back in his home state - but the city sometimes feels too crowded, too loud, for his already busy mind. Lake Travis offers a piece of nature that Alex craves to calm down and regroup. With the sun shining bright and a soft breeze taking the edge of the heat, today is a perfect day to achieve just that. Before he’s aware of what he’s doing, Alex is climbing off the rock and heading down to the beach area. He has no idea what his intentions are or what he’s even going to say to the man with the bright smile and the cute Golden Retriever, but something about them draws him in.

Oh look at that, I managed to find a few non smutty lines, haha! No pressure tags for @magicandarchery @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @lostcol @winderlylandchime @wordsofhoneydew @firenati0n @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @writes-in-space ♥

[justthehiddleswrites]

You Did What?! | A Luke Windsor Companion Fic

Note: Follow up to Unexpected Delivery

Summary:  Evelyn Hiddleston, Tom's daughter asks Luke to tell her a story. Luke tells her the story of the day she was born. Hilarity ensues.

Warnings: cursing

-

The little girl tugged on Luke’s pant leg. He smiled and reached down to pull the girl onto his lap.

“Who is this little ninja, sneaking around after her bedtime?” Luke ruffled her messy ginger curls.

“I still have ten minutes!” she announced as she leaned against Luke’s chest.

“You sound like your father.” Luke chuckled.

Evelyn Hiddleston was the spitting image of her dad. Her hair in impossible curls, sparkling blue eyes filled with mischief. And the fiery personality of both her parents. At only six years old, she was already a force to be reckoned with. Luke prayed that if she chose to be an actor, he would be retired from the business.

“Tell me a story!’ her voice squeaked, and she bounced on her knees in his lap.

“Which story would you like to hear? Cinderella? Or the Three Little Bears?”

Evelyn, or Evie as most called her, wrinkled her nose. “Not fairytales! A story. A real story!”

Luke smiled. “Have your Mum and Dad ever told you the story about when you were born?”

Her eyes grew as big as saucers. “No!” she whispered. “Please tell me Uncle Luke! Please!”

“Sure, Evie. Get comfortable.” Evelyn snuggled into the crook of Luke’s arm and Luke grabbed the blanket off the back of the chair to cover her.

“Well, it started right before Christmas about six years ago…”

-

Six Years Earlier

Luke woke that chilly December refreshed. One might say rejuvenated. While most stressed out during the holidays, it was one of the few times Luke had peace and quiet. Because Tom Hiddleston was on vacation.

And this year, not just any vacation, but a babymoon in the secluded mountains of the Scottish countryside. No paparazzi, no journalists, no scandals. And no chance for Tom to get himself into trouble.

The last several days Luke found himself smiling for no reason. And then he got the call.

“What is the official statement regarding Tom delivering his own daughter?” the voice asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Luke questioned. “Tom did no such thing.”

“There is a report from a hospital in Scotland that due to the snow Tom delivered his daughter on the floor of his private cabin.” The journalist continued.

“No comment.” Luke snapped before ending the call.

He rang the office. “Don’t answer questions about Tom. Get the number of the closest hospital to the cabin!” He bellowed.

He could hear the scrambling and scraping in the background before hanging up. Next he dialed up Tom.

“Luke!” Tom cheered into the phone.

“You wanker.” he responded cooly.

-

“Language, Uncle Luke!” Evelyn yelled. “Daddy says cursing is the sign of a feeble mind.” She wagged her little finger at him.

“He would, the tit.” Luke muttered under his breath.

“What’s that Uncle Luke?”

“I said your Daddy is quite right.”

She smiled, her toothy grin warming his heart.

-

“You stupid man!” Luke yelled into the phone.

-

He glanced down to see Evie giggling at the thought of her dad being called stupid.

-

“What are you going on about—oh,” Tom’s voice dropped. “Y/N had the baby!”

Tom hoped the good news would diffuse any anger directed towards him.

“Congratulations, Tom. Anything else?”

“A girl! Evelyn Rose.”

-

“That’s me!” Evie popped up.

“Am I telling the story or you?” Luke said with a wink. He booped her nose.

“You!”

“Right. So enough from the peanut gallery.” Luke cleared his throat and opened his mouth. “Now—”

“What’s a peanut gallery?”

“A peanut gallery is…” Luke commented. “You know when your Mum is doing something and your Dad comments on how to do it better?”

“Oh, Mum calls that being a backseat driver.”

Luke pressed his forehead against hers. “Your mum is a wise woman. May I continue?”

Evie snuggled back into your spot.

-

“Anything else?”

“Errr….” Tom stalled.

“Something special about the delivery?”

“Healthy mom and baby?” Tom tested.

“Where was the baby born?”

“Scotland.”

Luke pinched his brow.

“Was this baby born on the floor of your cabin? Delivered by you of all people?”

“Ehehehe.” Tom laughed nervously. “No comment.”

-

“I was born on the floor?!” Her eyes wide again.

“You were.” he said with a no nonsense tone. “And your dad helped bring you into the world.”

“Wow…” she whispered. “What about Mummy?”

Luke giggled. “He worried your Mummy he might mess it up.”

“But Dad is the smartest guy there is. He told me so!”

“True right. And your Mummy is rather smart too.”

Evie leaned in with a glint in her eye. “Mum is smarter than Dad.” she whispered with a smile.

Luke bopped her nose. “Yes she is.”

She giggled.

-

“No comment is my line. Which I have had to in abundance over the last hour when a journalist called to confirm the story.”

“I’m truly sorry, mate. With everything going, you were last person I thought to call.”

“Which is precisely the wrong thing to say. I am your publicist and I should be the first call. Put Y/N on the phone.”

“Is that necessary? She just gave birth.”

“Put Y/N on the phone!” Luke insisted. “I need the reasonable one on the phone.”

-

“OOOOO!” Evie said. “Is Daddy in trouble?”

“Why would say that?” Luke furrowed his brow.

“Whenever I have to talk to Mum like that, I’m usually getting in trouble.”

Luke’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “What do you get trouble for? You are…” his kissed her forehead. “… an angel.”

“Talking in class.” her eyes dropped.

“Ah. I see. Well…” Luke started in. “… you should talk to Grandma Diana about your dad when he was in school.”

“Dad got in trouble for talking in school?!”

“Your dad still gets in trouble for talking.”

“With who?”

Luke pointed at his own chest.

“With you?!? What does he do?”

Luke chuckled. “I will tell you when you are older.”

Evelyn pouted. “Mum always say that.”

“Your mum is right, Now may I continue?”

She nodded.

-

“Y/N!” Luke chirped. “How are you? How’s the baby?”

“Fine.” you commented in a tired voice. “What do you want to know?”

“You know me so well. Did Tom actually deliver this baby?”

“Yes.”

“Did you yell at him?”

“A lot.”

“Did he make any stupid remarks, such as ‘don’t worry I’m a doctor?’”

“Yes.” you groaned.

“And you set him straight?”

“Of course. I told him that was for a movie and Dr. Laing would not be delivering this child.”

“Good girl.”

“You taught me well.”

“When will you back in town?”

“A few days. Luke? Sorry about this.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just glad that everyone is happy and healthy.”

-

“And that is all about the day you were born.” Luke finished.

He spied Evelyn curled in a tight ball underneath the blanket, softly snoring.

“I distinctly remember a lot more cursing that day.” a voice boomed from the doorway.

Tom strolled over to look at Luke and Evie on the chair.

“Well, I can’t use that sort of language in front of your daughter. She’ll tell Y/N and then I will really be in hot water.”

“True enough. We can’t have both of us in the doghouse.”

The two men laughed.

“Now if you will excuse me.” Tom lifted Evie from her spot next to Luke. “It is way past this one’s bedtime.”

Evelyn’s eyes fluttered as she curled against Tom’s chest.

“Was I really born on the floor?” her sleepy voice muttered against Tom’s sweater.

He leaned down to kiss her ginger curls. “Yes, my love.”

She giggled in her sleep as Tom carried her up to bed.

[fyrecrafted]

It Involves Fire

TFR's Writing Prompts #479

partially inspired by @luke-windsors-diary

“Luke, I know I royally fucked up... but I have a solution!” Tom claimed as he rushed into Luke's office.

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“It involves fire...” “Absolutely not.” Luke replied, his face contorting into a look horror and confusion. “How would anything involving you and flames be of any particular help in this matter... I swear half the time this job feels like being a nanny to someone who should fucking know better...”

“No, its not like that. No danger, no chance of anything going wrong whatsoever!” “Well isn't that a relief?” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

“Its not even real flames though. And I think it will make people forget about that... yeeeah...” “Oh, you mean the incident you caused, trying to be cute or something, which caused not only 5 fans to faint out because the railing fell and they got too close and over excited but also quite a bit of property damage... and sent you to the emergency room to get sorted for a decently severe sprain? That incident?”

Nervously Tom rubbed his hands through his hair, looking rather like a child called into the principals office for causing mischief. “Yeah, that...  that would be the one. Luke, you know that wasn't really my fault. The guys who looked over-” “Oh, I know. That still doesn't mean it won't cause tarnish to your reputation though. You were there, in an official capacity, so people are going to assume you have quite a bit of accountability for this situation. You have a lineup of interviews scheduled to hopefully distract people into paying more attention to your upcoming movie release, rather than this. They have all been made very aware to not mention this mess.” “Luke, I can't. This was my only time for a whole year to spend with my girlfriend for more than a day or two. You know how much this means to both of us! This wasn't even my fault. I cannot disappoint them again like this.” “It can't be helped. Maybe you should see if they can stay here during this time. Most of the interviews will be filmed locally. Honestly, I wish you two could be together more, they seem to balance you out a bit.” “Even after the mall thing?” “Oh God. I had blacked that out of my memory. Why do you do this to me...? Look, call them up and see if they can come here. I'll make all the travel arrangements needed if they can come. Now please go be nice and not start anything for the next bit.”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Virtual Strangers {Part 1}

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: 1/10

Words: 5.5k

Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?

~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~

A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.

Find all parts on my Masterlist!

______________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… … …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________

Tags:

@wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @lemonmochitea @thelittlepug

[just-the-hiddles]

You Did What? | A Luke Windsor Reaction Fic

A/N: An anon request:  So, since I’m completely hooked up in the Luke's Diary, i wonder what would be his reaction to the events of "Unexpected Delivery", with the press going crazy and he just wake up in the cold morning, look at his phone and being like "WTF", regretting not pursuing medicine like his mom dreamed, and then going out to defuse another one of Tom's mess... Or Luke telling Evelyn's about it, since Tom have no idea of how to tell her how he delivered her... And yeah, this is a request... 

Here is the link to original story:  Unexpected Delivery  and here is the tag for the side blog @luke-windsors-diary​ which is me pretending to be Luke is a daily “��diary” entry.  But it is mostly me ribbing on Tom and being ridiculous as Luke. 

Pairing: Luke Winsdor gen fic

Summary: Luke tells Evelyn Hiddleston his take on the day she was born.

Warnings: Just copious amount of fluff.

Word Count: 1302 

Whole Enchilada Tag List: @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @hopelessromanticspoonie  @yespolkadotkitty​ @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @snoopy3000​ @voila-tout​​

Hiddles Tag List (if you don’t want to be tagged on Luke fics, let me know): @hiddlesbitch1​ @drakesfiance​ @obtain-this-grain​ @unfortunatelyymuggle​ @theoneanna​ @too-cold-for-youhere​ @brucestephenbucky​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @ladyblablabla​ @lokixme​ @mishaandthebrits​ @blackcherry26-blog​ @jade10077​ @snoopy3000​ @disconnectedswift​ @myraiswack​ @bluefrenchfries604​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​

Untaggables: @sterwild @jumpxjess

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, PLEASE CONTACT TO BE ADDED OR REMOVED VIA MESSAGE, ASK OR COMMENT!

-

The little girl tugged on Luke’s pant leg. He smiled and reached down to pull the girl onto his lap.

“Who is this little ninja, sneaking around after her bedtime?” Luke ruffled her messy ginger curls.

“I still have ten minutes!” she announced as she leaned against Luke’s chest.

“You sound like your father.” Luke chuckled. 

Evelyn Hiddleston was the spitting image of her dad. Her hair in impossible curls, sparkling blue eyes filled with mischief. And the fiery personality of both her parents. At only six years old, she was already a force to be reckoned with. Luke prayed that if she chose to be an actor, he would be retired from the business.

“Tell me a story!’ her voice squeaked, and she bounced on her knees in his lap.

“Which story would you like to hear? Cinderella? Or the Three Little Bears?”

Evelyn, or Evie as most called her, wrinkled her nose. “Not fairytales! A story. A real story!” 

Luke smiled. “Have your Mum and Dad ever told you the story about when you were born?”

Her eyes grew as big as saucers. “No!” she whispered. “Please tell me Uncle Luke! Please!” 

“Sure, Evie. Get comfortable.” Evelyn snuggled into the crook of Luke’s arm and Luke grabbed the blanket off the back of the chair to cover her.

“Well, it started right before Christmas about six years ago…”

-

Six Years Earlier

Luke woke that chilly December refreshed.  While most stressed out during the holidays, it was one of the few times Luke had peace and quiet. Because Tom Hiddleston was on vacation. 

And this year, not just any vacation, but a babymoon in the secluded mountains of the Scottish countryside. No paparazzi, no journalists, no scandals. And no chance for Tom to get himself into trouble.

The last several days Luke found himself smiling for no reason. And then he got the call. 

“What is the official statement regarding Tom delivering his own daughter?” the voice asked. 

“I beg your pardon?” Luke questioned. “Tom did no such thing.”

“There is a report from a hospital in Scotland that due to the snow Tom delivered his daughter on the floor of his private cabin.” The journalist continued.

“No comment.” Luke snapped before ending the call. 

He rang the office. “Don’t answer questions about Tom. Get the number of the closest hospital to the cabin!” He bellowed. 

He could hear the scrambling and scraping in the background before hanging up. Next he dialed up Tom. 

“Luke!” Tom cheered into the phone. 

“You wanker.” he responded cooly.

-

“Language, Uncle Luke!” Evelyn yelled. “Daddy says cursing is the sign of a feeble mind.” She wagged her little finger at him.

“He would, the tit.” Luke muttered under his breath.

“What’s that Uncle Luke?”

“I said your Daddy is quite right.”

She smiled, her toothy grin warming his heart.

-

“You stupid man!” Luke yelled into the phone. 

- 

He glanced down to see Evie giggling at the thought of her dad being called stupid.

-

“What are you going on about—oh,” Tom’s voice dropped. “Y/N had the baby!”

Tom hoped the good news would diffuse any anger directed towards him. 

“Congratulations, Tom. Anything else?” 

“A girl! Evelyn Rose.”

-

“That’s me!” Evie popped up.

“Am I telling the story or you?” Luke said with a wink.  He booped her nose.

“You!”

“Right. So enough from the peanut gallery.” Luke cleared his throat and opened his mouth. “Now—”

“What’s a peanut gallery?”

“A peanut gallery is…” Luke commented. “You know when your Mum is doing something and your Dad comments on how to do it better?”

“Oh, Mum calls that being a backseat driver.”

Luke pressed his forehead against hers. “Your mum is a wise woman. May I continue?”

Evie snuggled back into your spot.

-

“Anything else?” 

“Errr….” Tom stalled.

“Something special about the delivery?”

“Healthy mom and baby?” Tom tested.

“Where was the baby born?”

“Scotland.”

Luke pinched his brow.

“Was this baby born on the floor of your cabin? Delivered by you of all people?”

“Ehehehe.” Tom laughed nervously. “No comment.”

-

“I was born on the floor?!” Her eyes wide again.

“You were.” he said with a no nonsense tone. “And your dad helped bring you into the world.”

“Wow…” she whispered. “What about Mummy?”

Luke giggled. “He worried your Mummy he might mess it up.”

“But Dad is the smartest guy there is. He told me so!”

“True right. And your Mummy is rather smart too.”

Evie leaned in with a glint in her eye. “Mum is smarter than Dad.” she whispered with a smile.

Luke bopped her nose. “Yes she is.”

She giggled.

-

“No comment is my line. Which I have had to in abundance over the last hour when a journalist called to confirm the story.”

“I’m truly sorry, mate. With everything going, you were last person I thought to call.”

“Which is precisely the wrong thing to say. I am your publicist and I should be the first call. Put Y/N on the phone.”

“Is that necessary? She just gave birth.”

“Put Y/N on the phone!” Luke insisted. “I need the reasonable one on the phone.”

-

“OOOOO!” Evie said. “Is Daddy in trouble?”

“Why would say that?” Luke furrowed his brow.

“Whenever I have to talk to Mum like that, I’m usually getting in trouble.”

Luke’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “What do you get trouble for? You are…” his kissed her forehead. “… an angel.”

“Talking in class.” her eyes dropped.

“Ah. I see. Well…” Luke started in. “… you should talk to Grandma Diana about your dad when he was in school.”

“Dad got in trouble for talking in school?!”

“Your dad still gets in trouble for talking.”

“With who?”

Luke pointed at his own chest. 

“With you?!? What does he do?”

Luke chuckled. “I will tell you when you are older.”

Evelyn pouted. “Mum always say that.”

“Your mum is right, Now may I continue?”

She nodded.

-

“Y/N!” Luke chirped. “How are you? How’s the baby?”

“Fine.” you commented in a tired voice. “What do you want to know?”

“You know me so well. Did Tom actually deliver this baby?”

“Yes.”

“Did you yell at him?”

“A lot.”

“Did he make any stupid remarks, such as ‘don’t worry I’m a doctor?’”

“Yes.” you groaned.

“And you set him straight?”

“Of course. I told him that was for a movie and Dr. Laing would not be delivering this child.”

“Good girl.”

“You taught me well.”

“When will you back in town?”

“A few days. Luke? Sorry about this.���

“No need to apologize. I’m just glad that everyone is happy and healthy.”

-

“And that is all about the day you were born.” Luke finished.

He spied Evelyn curled in a tight ball underneath the blanket, softly snoring.

“I distinctly remember a lot more cursing that day.” a voice boomed from the doorway.

Tom strolled over to look at Luke and Evie on the chair.

“Well, I can’t use that sort of language in front of your daughter. She’ll tell Y/N and then I will really be in hot water.”

“True enough. We can’t have both of us in the doghouse.”

The two men laughed.

“Now if you will excuse me.” Tom lifted Evie from her spot next to Luke. “It is way past this one’s bedtime.”

Evelyn’s eyes fluttered as she curled against Tom’s chest. 

“Was I really born on the floor?” her sleepy voice muttered against Tom’s sweater.

He leaned down to kiss her ginger curls. “Yes, my love.”

She giggled in her sleep as Tom carried her up to bed. 

[too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc]

In Your Veins Ch.2

Title: In Your Veins Chapter 2

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Luke has to deal with a lot of stuff after Tom has disappeared.

Pairing: eventually Tom Hiddleston/Chris Hemsworth

Warnings:   Weight Issues, Side Effects, Exhaustion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Kidnapping, Survival Horror, Heavy Angst, Feels and Hurt/Comfort, Protective Luke, Mental Instability, Triggers implied/Referenced Self-Harm

Notes: I edited this a few weeks ago, so I hope I didn’t make any mistakes. If anyone wants to be tagged for this, please just let me know :)

Taglist:  @frenchfrostpudding @emyhonny

Word Count: 2104

Luke let out an annoyed sigh as he watched the police men do their work. The two chief inspectors, who had arrived an hour later than the normal officers, had taken his evidence. It hadn’t been possible to pump an extremely tired Luke out for all the information they had actually wanted, nevertheless they seemed to be pleased with the answers they had gotten. Even if they had sceptically glanced at each other as he told them what he had just witnessed. The only thing that had made him a little bit more reliable had been the statement of the cab driver some time ago. It had been absolutely weird. In the aftermath Luke didn’t even remember what he had actually said. All he could recall was the blurry feeling, his itching fingertips and his aching head as they had questioned him about every little detail. When had their plane arrived? Had Tom carried all of his own luggage? Was something missing (besides the actor)?

It didn’t help, though. He couldn’t quite get rid of the feeling that they didn’t believe a word he said. That they thought it had merely been his mind playing tricks on him, or even worse, that he had been hallucinating and Tom had gone home long ago. But if Tom had really gone home it should have been easy to just call him and close the case. And that the police still were there simply indicated that they hadn’t gotten through to Tom or that the team, they had sent to him, hadn’t found him there.

Under the scrutiny of the two officers Luke rummaged around in his bag for his phone to give Emma a ring. She always waited for Tom to call her after he arrived home from a longer trip. Luke couldn’t imagine that someone had already informed her about her missing brother. Even though he didn’t quite know what he should tell her he couldn’t bear the thought of her waiting and waiting until eventually the police called her or she came to know about it through the press and the media. He was Tom’s manager, for heaven’s sake, he had to take on some responsibility and pull himself together. Albeit tired he typed in Emma’s number and waited for her to answer. It rang several times before he could hear a soft click.

“Hm? Luke’s that you? What’s up?” She sounded sleepy. He must have wakened her. “It’s late. Is Tom alright?”

Of course, Luke thought, she is equally as smart as Tom. Of course she would know that something’s wrong when you call that late. It’s almost midnight.

“Yah, hey, it’s me.” Wonderful, he sounded like a complete fool.

“What’s wrong? You never call me unless Tom insists on it for whatever reason.”

Dammit, she was right. It was no use beating around the bush, especially not when Emma already knew that something was sort of weird. “Listen, Emma, we’re still at the airport… well, I’m still at the airport…”

“Luke, stop pussyfooting around and tell me what’s going on.” Now she didn’t sound amused or tired anymore but rather alarmed.

“Tom has disappeared.” Luke cleared his throat and had a short look around. When he felt somewhat safe and unobserved, he sat down on a nearby bench to continue they’re talk. “I had called for a cab and when I turned around he was gone. I hadn’t even lost sight of him.”

An uneasy feeling arose in his stomach as he waited for an answer. The line remained silent for an utterly long time before Emma rose to speak again.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Yet her voice was calm, however, Luke was sure she was pacing up and down by now. “Did you call the police?”

“Yes, of course I called the police.” He glanced over his shoulder, realizing he was being watched. Once again he sighed and tore his hair. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more attentive. He is the person I care for, he is so important and I lost sight of him.”

Again there was a long silence on the other side, then a heavy sigh. “It’s….It’s okay… just call me if they find out something, alright?”

“I’m pretty much sure they’re going to call you by tomorrow anyway.”

“Don’t you try to be funny now, Windsor.”

“That’s not what I’m trying. It’s what I’m convinced of will happen.”

And again a sigh, more desperate now. “I know. I know. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to say something stupid to you right now.”

“I see.” He knew she would blame him. He had actually prepared for that outcome, but he still felt uncomfortable and guilty. “Good night, Emma.” No answer, just the soft beeping after the hanging up.

Okay, that’s it then. You’re terrible, Luke. His inner voice scolded him but he did his best to ignore it. Most of the time it was indeed helpful, giving him advice here and there. But it didn’t bring Tom back, anyways, so why even listen to that useless interior monologue. Now for fucks sake calm down, man, you’re not doing anyone a favour by constantly freaking out.

“Mr. Windsor?” Completely startled, Luke held back a gasp, quickly flattened his clothes and straightened his back. “Yes?” Both chief inspectors had come over to him, just to stand right in front of him and watch him closely. But what caused him all the more concern were the short glances they shot each other, full of uncertainty how he might react to whatever they had to tell him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong with Tom? Is he here? Did you find him?” He couldn’t hold himself back. Not anymore. Not when he knew exactly that Tom wasn’t safe at home, not in his bed where he should be right now.

“Please stay calm, Mr. Windsor.” The female chief inspector put forth her hand to show Luke what she was holding in between her fingers. In a transparent plastic bag lay a small card, an Identification card, more specifically, Tom’s identification card. Fine splatters of blood were splashed all over it, nearly covering all of Tom’s picture. “Is this Tom Hiddleston’s identification card?”

Blankly Luke stared at the item in front of his eyes. Blinking once, twice, then rapidly, not really knowing how to deal with that information. It was now that the ghastly truth dawned on him. Tom wouldn’t come back. Probably never.

“Mr. Windsor, please answer the question.” Suddenly the voice sounded more distant than before. “Is this the identification card of Thomas William Hiddleston?”

“Yes.” He had to clear his throat several times to at least rasp that simple and small word. It didn’t matter. Nothing did matter now, as they had found clear evidence that Tom hadn’t just gone home without telling Luke about it. “Is this… “ He gesticulated with both his hands and pointed to the card and the blood. The blood. Jesus Christ, it’s so much. “Is that Tom’s blood?”

By the way they observed him Luke could tell they weren’t sure how to judge his reaction. Not that he could have judged himself either. Too busy was his mind thinking about all the awful things that maybe, possibly could have happened to the never ever not smiling man that was Tom Hiddleston. What, if he was nearby? All alone, crying for help because he fell, or worse, someone took advantage of him while he merely tried to find the restrooms. What if all their efforts were too late? What, if Tom was already lying somewhere, cold and cadaverous, all bloodless-

“We’re not sure, yet. Our team is working on that.”

“Isn’t it obvious? Whose blood should it be otherwise? Oh my god I can’t believe it! Why is nothing happening? He can’t just have disappeared! That’s not possible… not logical.” Oh god, only now did he realize that perhaps they really, in complete earnest, thought Tom dead. Perhaps the amount of blood had been enough evidence for them. How was he supposed to stay calm? How?!

“Please, Mr. Windsor. Everything is fine, just steady your nerves. “ The female chief detective, whose name Luke had already forgotten - again - cracked a smile, seemingly to assure him of what she had just said. How she could even utter that – that everything was fine – was beyond him.

“I don’t… honestly, I don’t think that everything is fine right now. Perhaps you didn’t notice, but there’s a man missing.” Okay, the blatant sarcasm wasn’t that necessary after all, admittedly, though he simply hadn’t been able to hold himself back. “Do you think this is fun for me?”

“Do you think this is fun for us, Mr. Windsor?” She sounded calm, collected, but the disapproving glance she threw him nearly screamed at him to shut up and choose his words more wisely.

“No… No, actually, I don’t.” Luke stammered out and hung his head in shame and guilt, not sure how to further interact with them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude or to offend you.”

“We understand that it is a difficult situation for you, but you have to stay calm, otherwise you would set back the investigation. It is our main priority right now to find Tom Hiddleston, hopefully alive.”

“Hopefully?” Hope was not a thing he could rely on, not a thing that assured him of Tom’s well-being.

“The blood found by you is not enough to kill someone as tall and healthy as Tom Hiddleston is. So there’s a great chance that he’s still alive.” A great chance. A great chance is good. It’s really good.

“As long as the perpetrator treated the wound, we should be on the safe side.”

“Oh no…. I mean, yes, of course…of course. It’s great.”

“Do you think you can talk to us a second time? In the police headquarters?” It was the first time the male chief inspector chose to speak, his voice reserved and calm, unusually deep, even for a man. If Luke thought Toms’ voice to be a baritone, this man’s voice would be considerably lower, at least about one octave. And that was a lot, considering the width of the vocal cords.

“It’s probably for your best if you would go home and catch up on a little bit of sleep. That’s our card. You can call us whenever you like and because of whatever you like. The best would be, of course, if you remembered something.”

Luke could just sit there and nod briefly, not daring to say anything at all.

“Is it possible for you to come tomorrow, 10 am? You can find our address on the card.” It was printed underneath the inspectors’ name and his phone number, a faint blue on a white background.

“Yes, 10 is okay.” He thought about Emma and the interview they had scheduled for 1 am, but quickly pushed the thought aside. Everyone would understand why he wouldn’t be able to pursue his own scheme. For such cases the agency always had backups ready to hand. He could take a few days off, at least until he had told the police everything he knew and had somehow gathered himself.

Half an hour later Luke sat in his living room with a cup of tea in his hands, continuously thinking about nothing else than Tom and how the hell they were supposed to handle a situation like that, emotionally. What, if it wasn’t just his fault that Tom had disappeared because he hadn’t paid attention? What, if Tom had had a stalker? And just hadn’t dared to say a word?

He tried to call the agency but of course no one answered, so he simply wrote an e mail, trying to explain everything, but eventually just sent a short text with basic information. The more difficult part was contacting Emma. How much was he allowed to say? Was he even allowed to say anything about what had happened? Or should he simply wait and let the agency do its job?

Going for the latter he switched on the TV in hope that he could calm his nerves by watching quiz shows, but he gave up quickly, realizing that the last thing he was able to do at that moment was sleeping. He wasn’t even able to focus on any of the questions that were asked in the show. Everything seemed blurry, as if he just had been on drugs. Frustrated he let out a deep sigh, wrapped himself in a blanket and coiled up on the couch.

[can-i-say-something-please]

Charmolypi

Chapter 2

| Word count: 283 |

| Tom Hiddleston fanfic |

| Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader |

| Summary : Sometimes Love is not enough in a relationship, when a particular strain settles between the couple, will their Love be enough? |

| Warnings ⚠ : Angst and fluff |

| Author's Note: i know the pain of waiting for the author to update the story, how infuriating it is to be patient, so I will try my best not to make you wait for the next part |

| THE GIF IS NOT MINE |

Five months.

Twenty weeks.

In all of the seven years they had known each other, this was the longest (Y/n) and Tom had gone without acknowledging each other’s existence. Not once had their cell phones ringed with the specific contact they so desired, the weight of the situation heavy on both their hearts.

The shooting had wrapped up and only few days remained until he'd return home. Tom Hiddleston couldn't explain how he felt about that. Considering on the note they had left things on, he certainly didn't expect a warm welcome back home. He did, although, majorly expected her to be not waiting for him at their place. Tom barely believed she wouldn't have left the place soon after him.

“Tom, we have to leave right now. It's urgent. It's (Y/n).” Luke Windsor’s voice sounded frantic behind him.

Scoffing, he replied, “And why should that concern me?” It was clear the frustration of the current status of their relationship had not left him.

“She's in the hospital. She's in labour. And considering your status as her husband, I'd say that's more of your concern than anyone else's.”

Luke Windsor was a professional man, and his professionalism surely shone through his demeanor.

But he may be a professional, it wasn't really hard to care for someone who means so much to your client, and (Y/n)'s personality certainly did not leave him any other choice.

Tom's blood did not run cold, nor did he freeze. But one thing was sure, he had never ran faster in his life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere in the hospital back in London had been so grave and solemn, Tom could swear he felt his heart I'm his mouth.

[hjkkokooo-blog]

Let’s rewind back to the beginning of summer ‘16, with my bitter ass going through the “Hiddleswift” crisis. I wrote this @angie-baby inspired fanfic about T Hiddy and a darkskin nymph to sooth said bitterness..

Ya girl poured a lot into this. There’s even some racial themes in there..even themes about body insecurities..enjoy!

[getmehighonmagic]

omg ok I am so excited about literally ALL of the wips on your list but which one are YOU most excited about/haven't gotten to talk about yet???????? I WOULD LOVE ANYTHING SNIPPETS/DETAILS/VISUALS/VIBES ANYTHING!!!!!!!! <333 xx

ok ok ok I fucking loooove this!

So, there's two that I'm most excited about right now!

This one I'm writing on every day and I lie awake at night thinking about them. I've got this entire story mapped out, the first chapter is done. I plan on writing about 4 chapters and oh my god, I'm having the most fun working it all out. I came up with this story while doing the dishes and listening to San Francisco by Niall Horan and now I'm absolutely fucking obsessed. They're soulmates, they fall in love at first sight, followed by heartbreak and suffering, but there will always be a happy ending. Hopefully it'll be done soon!

“Kiss me,” he blurts out. He has to suck his cheeks between his molars and bite down hard to stop himself from cringing, because it really does sound insane, but he suddenly wants nothing more than for Alex to kiss him. He’s in a foreign country, in a place where he has all the privacy in the world. He’s alone, in the dark, under the stars, with a man so attractive it makes his skin prickle and he wants to be kissed. He wants to be swept off his feet. For once, Henry just wants to be something to someone.

This one here? This is my baby. FirstMarine will forever be my baby and this is the story in which I give Luke the happily ever after he deserves, even though he had to go through a lot of shit to get there. I've almost finished writing chapter 3, so this one is coming along nicely, but it's a bit of a slow burn, so it might take a while to finish it. Eeeee I could talk about this all day, haha! ♥

Luke ends up coming over almost every day, and if he’s not nestled under a blanket in Alex’s window seat with a book or his laptop and with Buddy at his feet, he’s texting Alex book recommendations or memes he finds funny. Alex has also discovered that Luke prefers tea over coffee, which means that he now owns a box full of various types of tea, sitting right beside his own coffee collection in the cupboard above the sink. Alex likes it; the fact that he’s not alone all the time anymore. He did make that choice consciously when he moved back to Austin - to concentrate on work and his own mental health for a while - but he hadn’t realized how much he missed having someone to share his brain worms with. He also likes Luke’s laugh when he says something especially silly. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a unique thing to witness; like Luke doesn’t laugh like that all that often. He feels privileged to be exposed to it and he won’t admit it out loud, but it’s definitely the reason why he sometimes says silly things on purpose.

I am also incredibly exited about kinktober this year! I've got 3 stories finished, 2 halfway there and 9 more outlined, so it's gonna be hella good!

Snippet from #18: Thigh riding:

“You’re not wearing underwear,” Nora pants against June’s lips, a statement that makes her stomach flutter and her pussy throb. “You’re in my office, rubbing up on me, and you’re not wearing underwear.” June giggles and breaks the kiss, before hiding her face in the crook of Nora’s neck. “You’re very observant today.” Nora growls and turns her head to sink her teeth into June’s earlobe, just beneath the gold of her earring. “Don’t get cheeky with me,” she warns, slipping a hand up the back of June’s skirt to cup one of her perfectly round, warm cheeks. “I think,” June murmurs, kissing up Nora’s neck, “that being cheeky is going to get me exactly what I want, right now.”

Thank you for asking, this was fun! ♥♥♥

[getmehighonmagic]

4, 7, and 10, please!

Graaaaaaace ♥

4. What piece of writing are you most proud of?

I have to say, just for the fact that I brought FirstMarine into the world, it's gonna have to be those fics (you can read them here, here and here). I'm also pretty proud of don't ruin your good trousers, just because I dipped my toes into a kink I've never really been interested in before.

7. What's the story or fic that you're most excited to work on or share next year?

10. What character did you fall in love with this year?

LUKE MORROW. My husband, my beloved. And Henry and Alex, of course, haha!

[getmehighonmagic]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you for the tags, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @eusuntgratie and @happiness-of-the-pursuit ♥

I've been pretty reluctant to do this, because I don't know what I consider a WIP and if I even know enough people to tag after I'm done, haha! But I'm doing it anyway, so here we go.

Outlined

Girl dads FirstPrince

Phone Sex RPF

Drabble inspired by one of @marz-rm's upcoming arts

Jealous Henry 2

Nursing home AU (nurse/family of a patient) - FirstPrince

A start has been made

Valentine's Fic (Holiday Series)

heading straight for your heart (like a bullet in the dark) - FirstMarine

I need comfort (but I hate being comfortable) - FirstMarine

Halex fic (Alex Claremont-Diaz/Hayes Campbell)

lead the way, darling - FirstPrince (post election night)

Just an idea so far

venom in your veins brings me to my knees (teacher/student) - FirstPrince

Easter Fic (Holiday Series)

Upcoming challenges

Kinktober 2024 (1 fic written, 2 fics outlined)

Right, so now I have to find 13 people to tag, haha! @bigassbowlingballhead @magicandarchery @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @anincompletelist @kiwiana-writes @winderlylandchime @lostcol @firenati0n @matherines @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @clottedcreamfudge @ninzied and tagging a few extra people because I'm too curious @sparklepocalypse @congee4lunch @rmd-writes @heybuddy-drabbles. Okay, that was easier than I thought :') No pressure tho! ♥

[getmehighonmagic]

Are you writing any new pairings for kinktober this year? 👀😏😍

I sure am 😏

So far, I've written Alex/Henry, Nick/Taylor and June/Nora, but I've got Alex/Luke, Alex/Hayes and Alex/Johnnie on the schedule as well. You can also expect to read more Nora/Bea and June/Bea, as well as a bit of a threeway relationship between them, because, yk... ✨️women✨️

[getmehighonmagic]

7 18 and 19

Oh I knew you'd be asking the good questions, haha!

7. What's the story or fic that you're most excited to work on or share next year?

Answered here.

18. Do you have a fic that you wish received more attention?

Honestly, I've been so blessed with the warm welcome I've had in this fandom. I don't know if there's one specific fic that I wished got more attention, but if I had to recommend a fic to read, it would be this fluffy drabble. I'll be adding so many more to the drabble collection in the upcoming year and even though they're all pretty short, some of them truly feel like some of my best work.

19. What was yout favorite comment or piece of feedback this year?

Oh man, I can't tell you how incredibly honored I feel with all the feedback I've received. I have to shout out @magicandarchery first, for beta reading my fics, giving me helpful suggestions and brainstorming when I feel stuck. Other than that, literally every comment my fic receive makes my heart melt. I'm so grateful for all the love, the support and the screaming over specific lines I write. I don't know if there's one specific comment, I'm just so overwhelmed in the best way.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Shouldn’t | A Luke Windsor Companion Fic

Note:  A companion fic to my series Should (to be posted soon).  

Summary:  Tom went over to Emma’s to celebrate her birthday.  One thing led to another and now the two of them are splashed across the gossip columns.  Luke must now untangle the mess but not before giving Tom an earful.

Warnings: swearing

- 

For the first time in a long time, Luke seemed well rested. With Tom in California with a big project on board, Luke breathed easy. Movie projects gave Tom little time to get himself into the trouble that made Luke wish he became an educator. Or so Luke thought.

Not long after Tom arrived in L.A., he text Luke about an actress called Emma Masters.  Tom often spoke with great fondness about this Emma and one night in New York. Luke knew there was more to the story but never pressed for more details to maintain deniability. He now regretted that decision.

As Luke sat down for dinner, his phone rang. He recognized the number of one of his assistants.

“Hello?”

“You need to check our email now.” a stern voice responded on the other end of the line.

“What did he do now?” Luke sniped back. He feared the ridiculous video someone posted to social media.  “You ever heard of someone called Emma Masters?”

“I’m going to the office.” he snapped as the blood drained from his face.

-

Luke rapped his fingers on the glass desktop as he scrolled through his news feed.  Only speculation as to why Tom’s car remained unmoved.  There could be an innocent explanation, but Luke knew better. He dialed Tom’s cell number once again.

“Hey Tom, it’s Luke again. I really need to speak to you, mate. Call me.” he said in as cheery a tone as he could manage under the circumstances.

He switched off the light before emailing the assistant handling Tom and told her to call him when any new information surfaced. There was not much to do at this point and headed home and wait for Tom’s call. He left two more unanswered voice mails and several unread messages before calling it a night.

The next morning, Luke woke up and saw Tom never called. Or text. Or apparently left the house. And the headlines rolled by on Luke’s screen. Hiddles Home wrecker. Costars in Love Nest.

“No.. No Nooo!” Luke cursed as he jumped from the bed and punched in Tom’s phone. Tom picked up.

“Luke, I…”

“What in the bloody hell were you thinking?”

“Luke it’s not like that. I was coming up for her birth…”

“You plan these kinds of things to torture me don’t you, Thomas?” Luke spitted into the phone. He could sense Tom wincing on the other end of the line at his full first name.

“No, it wasn’t planned.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Luke. Her horrible boyfriend left her alone on her birthday. What was I supposed to do? Leave her alone. I came over to have some cake. One thing lead to another…” Tom explained with a tense tone.

“And you slipped and fell.” Luke snapped back.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

“I’m not discussing that with you now. I’ll call when I get home.”

Tom ended the call. Luke threw the phone onto the bed, watching it bounce before falling onto the floor. This was not a good sign.

-

In the time it took Tom to call Luke back, new photos appeared on the Internet. Photos of Tom and this Emma girl kissing at her front door. Tom wore the same clothes from Friday and Emma appeared in what could only be described as pajamas. Their embrace was not one of two people who just met but long time lovers. Luke felt the knot in his stomach tighten and he grabbed for his trusty antacids. His phone rang, and he picked up knowing it was Tom.

“You prat.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tom questioned.

“KISSING AT THE FRONT DOOR?!?” Luke bellowed.

Tom cleared his throat. “I didn’t see the cameras.”

“I don’t doubt that. What with you blinded by love or was lust?”

“Watch your tone, Luke, when speaking about Emma to me!” Tom’s voice raised to match Luke’s.

Tom knew Luke meant well, but he was not about to allow anyone even his publicist to speak ill of the woman he was falling in love with. He would take the brunt of Luke’s punishment to save Emma the pain.

“What exactly is going on between the two of you?”

Tom gave a nervous chuckle. “It’s complicated, Luke.”

“I am sure it is. But try to explain Tom.” Luke responded with a dry tone.

Tom ran through the whole thing about the movie, his feelings, and Bryce. Tom left out anything about New York five years ago. It was none of Luke’s business.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose once Tom finished.

“So… correct if I am wrong. I went over to the house of your beautiful co-star, whom you have feelings for, to celebrate her birthday, while her long term live-in boyfriend was away on a business trip. HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND, YOU WANK?!?”

“Soon to be ex and complete jerk boyfriend.” Tom stated.

“But not an ex yet. That makes you the other man, Thomas, you tit.” Luke countered. “I am coming out to L.A. today.”

“That is not necessary, Luke. I have things…”

“… under control. I think you lost control of the situation when you took your pants off Tom.”

Tom stifled a comment.

“Fine. You can meet Emma.”

“You bet your ass I am meeting her. And you. Together. We need to straighten this mess out.”

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” Tom gave a little snap to tone.

“Don’t patronize, Thomas. It is so unbecoming. I will call you when I arrive.”

“Of course.”

“And Tom? Is there anything else you want to tell me before I get there? I don’t like surprises.”

Tom grimaced.

“Nothing Luke.” he lied. “See when you get out here.”

“Goodbye, Tom.”

“Bye Luke.”

Tom hung up the phone and began to sweat.

[justthehiddleswrites]

After The Rain | A Luke Windsor Companion Fic

Note:  Based off of @redfoxwritesstuff The Things You Find (in the Rain) series.

Summary:  Luke has to deal with the aftermath of Tom’s “heroic efforts”.  This is why Luke keeps a solicitor’s number on speed-dial.  For the day he kills Tom.  Hilarity ensues as Luke untangles the mess.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut

-

Tom fucking Hiddleston.  The man seems like a charmer, like the perfect gentleman.  But only Luke had the privilege of being his publicist.  Tom fucking Hiddleston.  Luke spent a good portion of his days wondering what the hell that handsome tit of a wanker got himself wrapped into and how Luke would straighten the mess all out.  

That man would send Luke to an early grave. Today should have been an easy day. He scheduled Tom for a few meetings, a couple of interviews, and then a dinner meeting. After that, Tom was off the hook for the next few days and Luke relaxed at the prospect of no damage control for a few days. All that stupid man needed to do is keep out of trouble for 48 hours. He didn’t even last 24.

Luke grew concerned when Tom didn’t return his text late last night, but he shook the bad feeling in his stomach off as Tom going to sleep early. But once texts started flooding in the next morning, Luke’s blood pressure skyrocketed. BAD PUPPY ALERT. That’s code for a Hiddleston situation. Luke sighed as he hustled over to the computer and pulled up his Google Alerts.

HOMEWRECKER HIDDLES! HEARTBREAKER BREAKS JAWS! RUNAWAY BRIDE MEETS THE NIGHT MANAGER!

And the pictures. Oh Jesus, the pictures.

“That fucking tit!” Luke bellowed as he banged hands onto the desk.

He punched in the number he memorized long ago. Voicemail.

“Tom! Mate!” Luke tried not to sound outraged but failed. “Call me as soon as you get this message. There is a situation.”

He hung and texted Tom.

CALL ME.

Luke left his flat and headed into the office. People inundated his phone with messages. He ignored them until he reached Prosper’s office. 10 missed calls, 24 new messages, none from Tom. Luke’s stomach dropped. He opened his desk drawer and pulled the extra large bottle of antacids out and shook one out into hand, looked to the computer screen and shook two more out and chewed them down with no water.

Luke called Tom again, voicemail again.

“Listen, Tom, I’m not sure what you are playing at, but if you don’t call me back in the next 15 minutes, I’m coming over.  I need answers.”

He threw his phone onto the desk and turned to reading these social media posts and news articles. After 10 minutes, Luke discovered Tom confronted some guy and punched him in the face before leaving a hotel with his wife and later spotted kissing that same woman at the front door of his house.

Luke didn’t wait for the last 5 minutes. He got into the car and drove as fast as laws would allow him. In a flash, he pounded on the door of Tom’s home. After some time, Tom answered the door.

“Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, you sodding arse!”

“Luke…” Tom looked confused as Luke pushed his way into the home. “What’s going on?”

“Really, Tom?” Luke retorted, the sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “What’s going on?  I thought you went to Cambridge, prat.”

Luke took the silence to glance at Tom, looking for signs of scandalous behavior. Hickies, bite marks, something. Tom wore only wearing his underwear but no marks save the bandage on Tom’s hand.

“Where the fuck are your clothes?”

“In the bedroom?” Tom answered with a question.

Tom hoped to avoid this conversation. The longer he avoided it, the longer he lived in denial about today’s events.

Luke removed his glasses, pinching his nose.

“You are the reason I keep a solicitor on retainer.” he grumbled at Tom.

Tom’s face breaks into a small smile.

“Thanks, mate! You didn’t have to do that for me—”

“IT’S FOR ME, YOU RIGHT BASTARD!  For when I kill you and then hide the body.”

Tom’s expression akin to a puppy being told he “a bad boy.”

“Tell me about the girl.”

Tom walked into the living room as Luke followed. Tom’s relaxed and languid stride contrasted by Luke’s short, staccato steps. The man embodied anxiety and stress.

“Can I get you something, Luke? Water, tea? You are looking pale.”

“TELL ME ABOUT THE GIRL, TOM! You can bullshit everyone else, but I know when you are stalling, you wank, so spill it.”

Tom sat on the couch and gave Luke the rundown of the night before, finding Maggie on the street, drunk off her ass, taking her to his place. Tom left out the part of somehow ending up in just his boxers.

“She needed to go get her things. Stood by as moral support. The guy was a total dick.” Tom chuckled, filled with nerves.

“And you’re the knight in shining armor to the girl in this scenario.”

“Maggie. Her name is Maggie.”

“Maggie, the married woman.”

“Not for much longer.”

“But still married now. And that…” Luke gestured to Tom’s bandaged hand.

Tom assumed the punch bruised his knuckles, but when the adrenaline wore off, they started to ache. He wrapped them and promised himself to go to a doctor in a few days.

“… Well deserved.” Tom puffed his chest out.  

Luke got up and paced the room. He pulled at his hair.

“You realize you’re the reason I’m going bald, right? It is all you, not Cat, not Nick, not Emma!”

“Luke, you are overreacting. She needed help. What was I supposed to do?! Leave her on streets?”

Luke sat down. The stomach acid burning his throat. Tom recognized that look, he left to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of antacid and handed to Luke.

“Thanks.” Luke popped two more. “You are aware you are not a prince, mate? You are not a knight in shining armor.”

Tom blushed.

“I’m aware.”

“Now that we got that cleared up. Let’s damage control. So this Evan bloke already told his side of the story, so we will need to play this with kid gloves. We don’t want it to seem like your some kind of marriage wrecker.”

“Which I’m not.”

“Of course, mate. And we need to keep the girl…”

“Maggie.”

“Maggie, away from the press until we figure out a statement. Where is she staying?”

Tom looked at the floor.

“Oh no,” Luke gasped, “Oh no you didn’t. Are you a fucking child?! ARE YOU A CHILD?  She’s here isn’t she? She is fucking here!”

Tom opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again.

“Where is she, Tom?”

Maggie, having impeccable timing, entered the room, wearing only one of Tom’s button-down shirts.

“Hey Tom, do you have—”

She stopped when she noticed Luke. The two men argued until they caught sight of Maggie and she attempted to slink out of the room, having no energy to dealing with more conflict today.

“You better come back here. This involves you too!” Luke demanded.

Maggie sat down next to Tom. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Luke’s head exploded.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? You just met yesterday!!!”

Maggie smiled up to Tom.

“What can I say? He’s a good human.  A good man.” Tom returned the smile, squeezing her closer.

“NO, HE’S NOT! He is a fucking bloody wanking bugger twat bastard who is single-handedly ruining my life and career.”

Luke took a deep breath before falling back onto the couch.

“Feel better, mate getting that off your chest?” Tom asked, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Now explain this.”

Luke narrowed in on Tom and Maggie’s interlaced fingers.

“Shall I explain darling or you?” Tom inquired

Luke rolled his eyes.

“You do it. dear. Maggie nuzzled into Tom’s side.

“It’s simple, Luke. Maggie and I are looking to give this a chance. Fate going by the name of Bobby brought us together. And I don’t care about the press or social media.  Let them talk.”

Luke stared at the two of them. He lived through many of Tom’s relationships and he never recalled seeing Tom as happy as he appeared now. Tom’s happiness was almost enough for him to forgive him. Almost.

“How romantic. In the meantime, I have to control this. You—” Luke pointed at Maggie.

“You need to lie low. Stay at a hotel.”

“She is not going anywhere.” Tom draped a protective arm over Maggie’s shoulder.

Fixing the PR nightmare took priority over arguing with Tom.  He would save the fight for another day.

“Fine. She stays here. But the two of you stay inside. Order in, close the curtains.  I’m clearing your schedule for the next week and a half.”

“But—”

“I’m. clearing. your. schedule. Until this is under control. No going outside, no walks in the park with Bobby.”

Bobby perked his ears up at his name.

“And no photos, you tosser!”

Tom’s face moved into full puppy dog mode again.

“Fine.” Tom responded like a petulant child.

Luke lifted himself off the couch.

“I’m nothing more than a glorified babysitter.” Luke muttered to himself.

“What did you say?” Tom asked, Maggie giggled.

“Nothing. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”

Maggie smiled as she squeezed Tom’s arm.

“I’m willing to find out.”

“Both of you are bloody fools.”

“Let me show you out.” Tom chortled.  

Tom rose as well and walked Luke to the door. Once out of earshot, Luke turned to Tom.

“She seems nice.”

“Yeah.”

“You seem happy.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you say anything other than ‘yeah’?”

Tom laughed.

“Yes, my friend.”

Tom opened the door and Luke gave him a quick hug.

“You are aware I hate you, mate.” Luke said with a smile.

“No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.” Tom patted Luke’s shoulder.

Tom moved to close the door.

“Good luck, mate.”

“Thanks. Take care.”

“Oh, and my phone broke last night, so good luck calling or texting and there may or may not be photos of last night with me carrying a very inebriated Maggie into my house.” Tom blurted as he shut the door in Luke’s face.

Luke’s eyes widened, and he banged on the door in vain.

“WHAT!? Open the door, you bastard!!”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Virtual Strangers {Part 10}

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: 10/10

Words: 14.4k (yes, that's not a typo)

Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?

~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~

A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.

Find Part 1 here! All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

______________________________

“The thing is, darling… Looks can be very deceiving.” With that, Tom snatched the box of cake out of your hands and stood back in an instant, moving away from you and out of your reach only to sit down on the swing next to the one you had taken with a huge grin on his face. That little stunt had inevitably made his heart beat way too strongly now again, relentlessly trying to break free from his chest, but going by the delightful look on your face, it had been absolutely worth it.

For a second you just gaped at him in pure and utter shock, looking entirely overwhelmed by what had just happened, until your lips finally curled into an incredulous smile, and you tried your hardest to glare at him in protest. “Oy! Rude!!!”

Tom merely snickered to himself with an even larger grin, placing the box in his own lap now to get out the large piece of chocolate cake at last, only to take a big bite of it with nigh exaggerated relish. Once he actually got a taste of it though, his eyes fluttered shut in sincere delight and he didn't even bother holding back the pleased moan that started as a low rumble in his chest and ended with the softest sigh on his lips. As far as cake went, this was bloody perfection. He sincerely doubted that a piece of pastry could get better than this, ever.

When he looked over to you once more, about to voice his positive assessment in greater detail, the flustered expression on your face made him stop before he'd even started, and frown at you in amusement and question instead. “What?”

“You’re lucky that you're cute, or else I'd have your head on a bloody silver plate for stealing my cake.” You grumbled to yourself, too pouty in tone to be even nearly believable, and both the sight and sound made Tom laugh out loud again.

“I don't think my head would taste nearly as good as the cake does, darling.” He winked at you in the same tease, then took another bite of deliciousness with only a sigh this time around. If he was entirely honest, he enjoyed your reaction almost as much as the cake itself, and that in return was most amusing indeed.

For a while you just glared at him then, not taking your eyes off his face for even a second, while Tom in return only smiled at you sweetly. He could honestly do this all day, waiting for you to make your move first… In this sense, his patience was nigh eternal.

“Will you share the stupid cake with me already or do I need to throttle you first?!” You finally blurted out in frustration, in the most sympathy evoking whine, and Tom almost felt bad for winning this time around. But only almost. He knew that he would never actually deny you a single thing, and as startling as that realization had been when it had first occurred to him, by now it was common knowledge in all areas of his mind. So he placed the cake back in the box, and held the entire thing out to you.

“As much as I'd like to see you try, I surrender in the face of your wrath when it comes to stolen pastries.” He couldn't help smiling, sincerely smiling now without the tease, but then almost would've laughed in irony at the thought that returning the cake to you now felt by far more rewarding to him than obtaining it in the first place. He really was hopelessly gone, good lord… Luke had a point in calling him out for it. And yet, he wouldn't have wanted it to be any different than this.

“Smart man.” You praised him in approval of his decision, with a grin on your face no less, while taking the box out of his hand and then the cake out of the box.

“Right…” Tom could've cursed himself and his breathy little laugh, could've cursed how much your words of praise kept flustering him. Compliments usually did that to him, fair enough, but yours were so much better and so much worse in so many ways… Perhaps he was a hypocrite. Teasing you like that, without being able to handle the payback. Oh, but he loved teasing you… And if he was honest with himself, he also loved the payback. He'd just have to work some more on not becoming a flustered mess every time. At least not in public, or rather not in front of anyone but you.

“Oh my god!” Your exclamation brought him back to the here and now in an instant, and while he had to realise with a hint of shame that he had been staring at you this entire time without noticing, the consecutive realisation that you were by far too focused on the cake to have noticed either erased the shame as quickly as it had appeared. Nonetheless, he quirked an eyebrow up at you when you finally turned to look at him again in the utmost astonishment. “This is the best piece of cake I have ever had the pleasure to taste! It's bloody fantastic, just wow!”

“Right?” He laughed, while on the inside though the mere sight of how happy you looked right then and there with the stupid cake just made his heart melt and weep in likewise happiness. Was it idiotic that he would happily spend fifty pounds on cake every single day for the rest of his life if only to see you smile like that? Probably. But he'd pretty much come to terms with the fact that he might just be an idiot after all.

“Did the cake rob you of your eloquence?” You raised an eyebrow at him in amusement in return. “You keep on smiling and saying nothing but ‘right’...”

“Right.” He absolutely did it on purpose this time around, and he knew that you were well aware of that, too. Your groan and the exaggerated eye rolling were good indicators, as was your laughter.

“C'mon, T! You deliver me with no incentive whatsoever to return the cake to you, and it'll be gone soon if you don't come up with something to stop me! And don't you dare say ‘right’ again…”

Fine, that made him laugh. So much so that he indeed reconsidered and refrained from saying ‘right’ yet again. So he went with the first thought that came onto his mind instead. “I'm sorry, I just can't take myself seriously while we're sitting here at four in the morning on a playground in a part of town we both don't know, eating crazy expensive chocolate cake for dinner like it's the most ordinary thing in the world.”

“What's wrong about any of that?” You frowned, then grinned while threatening to take another big bite off the cake. “I mean, if you'd rather not eat any more of this, that can most definitely be arranged.”

“Don't you dare!” Tom gave you a playful glare in return and leaned over as far as the swing would let him to, snatching the cake out of your hand. “Mine!”

“Fair enough.” A pause. “So… you're not underwhelmed by any of this?” Your voice still had that playful tone to it, even if quieter now, but the question itself, the way you were asking, put a pause to Tom's every move and made him look at you with a frown istead. All jokes and teases aside.

“How could I? This is absolutely perfect.” He relied sincerely, calmly, in a way that would hopefully convey to you just how much he meant it. “It's honestly all I ever wanted in life.”

“Chocolate cake and playground dates?” You chuckled with an expression he could only try to title as adoration, as you leaned your head against the chain of your swing seat, keeping your eyes locked with his.

“Well, not quite…” He huffed out a short laugh, then took a deep breath in return and finally just smiled at you openly and without bothering to come up with a tease. He knew you were asking this out of the sincere concern that this might not be enough for him somehow… and he would answer in the sincere conviction that this was more than he could ever have dreamed of. “But little adventures, finding joy in all the small and ordinary things of everyday life and making them remarkable through that. Being able to be silly and to play and to still have meaningful conversations that actually matter, that are genuine and heartfelt… you know, all of these things; all of the little things we've talked about before. I want it all, have it all, if only together with you.” Oh… While he was well aware of just how much he did mean that last part, he was also quite aware that he hadn't meant to say it. Or he had, but not right now. Perhaps right now after all. But the way your breath quietly shuddered, the way your eyes widened quite like his own did, the silence… It scared him. It scared him that perhaps you didn't feel the same after all, no matter how convinced he actually was by now that you did. And so he spoke on, like he always did when he was scared. “But you know me… Of course I want chocolate cake and playground dates as well.”

“Ha! I knew it.” You chuckled with a grin, then motioned to the cake in his hand with a softer smile. “You can have the remaining cake for yourself, if you answer me a question in all honesty first.”

“That’s an easy deal… It's just what I've been doing this entire time.” Tom finally gathered some of his wit again, smiling back, even if he rather regretted now not having left the statement standing without a joke. It hadn't quite taken back what he'd said, alright, but he felt like a coward no less. He could've had this happiness long ago if he just wasn't such a chicken about it. If he wasn't so scared of losing you by making a single wrong move. “Go right ahead.”

"Did you have Luke give me the tour of the theatre because you wanted him to assess me first?”

"What? No!” Okay, he hadn't seen that question coming either. He really shouldn't be surprised though at this point that you always kept on surprising him. It was one of the many things he loved about you after all. But thoughts back to the topic, or he'd blurt out things he wouldn't be able to brush off with a joke this time. Luke assessing you… “The mere idea of it is honestly just absurd… I mean, Luke did give his assessment, unasked for I shall say, but I told him to shut it and then proceeded to ignore him. You know, like friends do.”

“Right… I guess that's the risk of asking Luke for a favour; I can absolutely see it derailing.” You snorted in sincere amusement again, and Tom relaxed a little bit more just by seeing you still at ease as ever. "Why'd you ask him to do it though, if you knew he was going to tease you? And not literally anybody else who just happened to be around?"

“When you've learned to trust someone with your career and life's esteems, you more or less also trust them with your girl. At least for an hour.” He replied honestly, factually, but then couldn't help laughing either. Not when you looked at him with such passionate annoyance.

“Wow…” You rolled your eyes with a smile you obviously couldn't suppress entirely, trying to push his swing away from you without any success whatsoever. “Charming, T... Very, very charming.”

Again, he could only shrug and smile. “You are the one who asked, darling. And I wouldn't dare to give you anything but the truth.”

“I do regret asking already.”

“Do you?”

“No… I just regret giving up the cake for it.”

“In that case, I shall be gracious and share my reward with you.” He smiled, then chipped off the majority of the cake only to hold the bigger piece out to you. “Any other scenario would probably only end with you making heart eyes at the cake and me drowning in eternal guilt for taking it from you.”

“Smart man indeed.” You grinned at him openly while taking the cake, then added with just a touch too much mischief, “You know, as much as it's true that you're absolutely brilliant, I also just love how it flusters you to no end when I point it out.”

The comment made Tom both laugh and blush even more, but he didn't try to hide it this time around. If you were enjoying the effect you had on him, he wouldn't deny you the reward for your efforts. But after a moment he did put on that feignedly wounded expression once more, and again it didn't fail to make you laugh. “Really? Mockery and scorn? That's what I get for sharing my cake with you?!”

“That’s what you get for saying something incredibly meaningful to me and then trying to pretend it didn't happen by covering it up with a joke.” You gave him a pointed and surprisingly serious look, yet with a breathtakingly tender smile, both of which didn't fail to make Tom’s heart skip a beat and another for good measure. So you knew. At least that he absolutely meant what he'd said, even if what he'd said was only an effect of the truth rather than the entire truth itself. But you were brilliant, and you knew him better than he knew himself for the most part… Of course you knew that he wanted you in his life more than anything else. At least Tom hoped you did, now.

“I wasn't sure if it was something you wanted to hear. At least not at that moment. Saying things like that scares people away more often than not, and I-… I still should've known that it has never been like that with you and me. I do know, please don't doubt that. Emotions just don't always follow reason, and I… I just didn't want to be overbearing, even if just by saying something out loud that we both know to be true.” He finally replied in a calm and serious tone, but in honesty no less. In a way, he was beyond relieved that you were braver than he had been, that you were not just skipping over it like he would have. That you were well aware of how much he had meant what he'd said. “I'm sorry.”

“I always want to hear what you have to say, T. Whether it's silly, or playful, or genuine and heartfelt. I want it all, just the same as you. Alright?” You said so very softly, and Tom knew himself reminded of his first thought upon meeting you tonight. You really could end the world in a heartbeat, and bring it back to life in a far, far better way. All of you could, not just your smile. But before he could even begin to voice what his entire mind was literally screaming at him right now, could finally find the bloody courage to just say it to you as well, he was distracted yet again when you plucked the piece of cake out of his hand only to replace it with the larger piece he had given you before. Then you were smiling at him again, and he couldn't remember a single reason not to smile back. “Now eat your cake before I throttle you after all.”

Chuckling, Tom finally came to terms with the fact that it had apparently been the right thing to say after all. If you willingly surrendered your chocolate cake now, he must've done something right. Actually, that reminded him… Before too much time could pass after your adorable little threat, he focused his entire attention on you once more with a teasing smirk, raising an eyebrow as if in a dare. “Right…”

“Oh, you are impossible!” You laughed out in protest, once more trying to push his swing away, only that this time he actually helped you make it happen, lifting his feet off the ground just enough so that the swing could move freely from side to side, almost bumping into yours in return on the way back. You however only used the opportunity of him coming closer to try snatching the cake away from him again, but Tom was quicker than that.

“Mine!” He gasped in feigned shock and protest as he leaned away from you, holding the cake as far away as possible. “I do not take lightly to an attempt at taking from me what is mine.”

“Bit possessive, isn't it?”

“You haven't seen the end of it, darling.”

“Oh come on…” You snorted, giving him a look while Tom finally bit into his well deserved cake in bliss, directing an innocent as ever expression over at you as you spoke. “You don't have a single mean bone in your body, and you share your kindness literally with everyone. You can't fool me, Mister…”

“Well, but I am rather particular about some certain things.” He pointed out in half feigned, half honest seriousness, as he took another bite of cake. “Chocolate cake, for example…”

“Or literature…”

“Or my job…”

“Or your dog…”

“Or you.”

“Or me indeed.” You smiled down at your lap, brushing the last crumbs of cake off your dress carefully with an almost flustered expression of your own now, then looked up at Tom again, making his heart skip a beat with a start. “You know, I'm actually incredibly proud of that. Always have been. That I'm on your list of priorities.”

“You're at the very top of it.”

“Good… You're on top of mine as well.” You replied with a quiet laugh, eyes returning to your lap as your cheeks seemed to flush even more, and in a way it astonished Tom that while you quite apparently felt nervous about your admittance just now, he felt absolutely calm and certain about his own for once. Well, calm wasn't quite the right word for it of course, his heart was beating frantically as it was and he was so filled with happiness and adoration that he might spontaneously combust into flames of materialised intensity any second, but he wasn't scared. Not when you were, just like you hadn't been when he had. In a way indeed, that was rather ironic, and it didn't fail to make Tom smile just now. Perhaps you both were idiots after all… Nuts always came in pairs, didn't they?

“You know, I think Luke would have a blast telling us just how… dramatic, we keep on being.” He finally chose to say, to rescue you from your own thoughts and insecurities like you had done for him only minutes ago. And he held out the last piece of his cake to you, tiny as it was by now, as an offering to the only deity he knew to worship. Gods, he was dramatic indeed… But you accepted it with a smile, and let him speak on, while the pastry finally saw its last of night at your hand. “I mean, we could blame it all on the cake… But it was too good for that, wasn't it? Would be terribly unfair.”

“Unfair to the cake or to our mutual dramaticism?” You snickered, smirking at Tom in that way that left him just a little too breathless yet again. But it also made him chuckle just the same, happy just the same.

“I believe the fact that you just invented a word to describe it speaks for itself, darling.” He winked back at you with the same teasing expression, and for once got to enjoy how that gesture actually seemed to make you blush now. Oh, he would have to remember that… All those little things he could do to make your breath catch in your throat, to bring that lovely tint to your cheeks.

“The cake was actually bloody amazing, too, though… I mean it looked good on display already, but I really wouldn't have thought that it would taste that good as well.” You finally countered, picking up the box from the ground to fold it together now. “And I'm taking the risk that you might smite me for saying this, but I think it was well worth the fifty bucks even just for making you moan like that.”

Oh bloody hell, he really did love the payback you constantly gave him for teasing you. Even if it made him hide his face in his hands in embarrassment now as he laughed, good embarrassment if such a thing even existed, while his mind promptly supplied him with a wide array of scenarios how the instance could easily be replicated without cake. But that wasn't the point right now, the point was to tease you, not seduce you. Not that he'd currently have the nerves to do the latter anyways. So he took a deep breath, and did his best not to straight up start laughing again once he looked up at you to get out his own payback tease. “I do see your point, but…” He just couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling up and disrupting his sentence again, and therefore he actually had to make use of every trick in the book to keep a straight face and a low tone for the last part of it at least. The part that mattered. “I shall not make you pay again when you come back for seconds.”

Your lips parted in an instant, amusement mixing with shock and awe so clearly on your entire face while every and any word remained stuck in your throat, and Tom's composure just vanished entirely at last. He had to laugh, eyes closing and head thrown back without a care in the world about who might hear or see, unable to help it or even to breathe, so that before long every sense of balance was lost on him and he toppled over, falling backwards off the swing and into the sand below it while still unable to stop laughing. He hardly even noticed the pain searing up his spine for a second, hardly even cared that he was undoubtedly making a fool of himself… He hadn't been free to laugh like this in ages.

“Oh my god, T!!! Are you alright?!” Your panicked voice very close by finally brought an end to his fit, and he gasped to get the air back into his lungs with a few remaining chuckles, as he finally opened his eyes to look right into yours above him. The sight made him smile in an instant.

“Quite perfect, actually.” He replied in a last huff, finally feeling more apologetic than humoured for worrying you like that, and thus he sat up with a quiet groan upon the final reproachful sting in his back, which only deepened the frown on your face. You were kneeling in the sand right next to him, almost face to face now that he was sitting, and honestly Tom didn't think he had ever seen anyone but his mum look that concerned for him. It only made his heart melt all the more, and he offered you a soft smile in an attempt to ease your worry. “I'm alright, Y/n. Honestly. I pretend to die gruesome deaths for a living, occasionally at least… I've been through worse than falling off a swing.”

“You’re a nut!” You huffed with a reproachful frown, then practically leapt at him so quickly that Tom almost toppled over yet again, while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly and hid your face in the crook of his neck. After the initial second of surprise upon an action so contradictory to the expression on your face, he wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you as close as your position on the ground possibly allowed, then took a deep breath to keep his eyes from watering even more than they already had. Not because he minded that he was so easily moved by your concern and affection, touched so deeply by a great deal of things that never failed to bring him to the verge of tears in general, but because he was trying to comfort you here, not the other way around.

“It's alright, I'm alright… I'm sorry, I really didn't do it on purpose.” He finally said in a quiet and serious voice, leaning his head against yours even though it made his heart beat out of his chest all the more, which you surely could feel as an echo in your own body at this point, pressed tightly against him as you were. He didn't mind you knowing what you were doing to him though, didn't mind at all.

“I know… I'm sorry for overreacting like that.” You sighed quietly, and the way your warm breath gently fanned against his neck gave him goosebumps all over, as did the subtle brushing of your lips against his skin while you spoke. “It's just… You really did give me the best and the worst shock of my life consecutively right there, in such a quick succession, and it… it somehow ended in an emotional shortcut to panic. I'm sorry…”

“Don't be, I understand that perfectly well. Too many emotions at once can be quite overwhelming, and then you either end up in a frenzy of nerves, saying things you don't even want to, or… Well, or you end up saying nothing but ‘right’ for the next ten minutes.”

His words made you chuckle, he could both hear and feel it oh so clearly, and that finally made him close his eyes with a content sigh. Yes, he loved teasing you, he loved debating the world and sundry in astonishing detail, but most of all he loved being there to comfort you, in any way he possibly could. He loved that he could be both comfort and excitement to you, just like you were for him. And after a moment of very high energy just now, perhaps it was time for some quiet and calm in return, without teasing, without revelations, just enjoying the presence of each other.

Still, after a while longer of letting you cling onto him more than happily and without anything but ease and comfort on his mind, the sand you were both sitting on finally became rather uncomfortable in return, as its clammy moisture started seeping into his jeans more and more insistently. Realising that it would not fare much better on your bare legs, rather all the worse, he released one arm from around your waist while the other tightened its hold, then moved to stand up while simply pulling you up along with him. “C'mon darling, the ground is far too cold to be sitting on. We better get up.”

“You're warm though… I like warm.” You sighed into his shoulder, so heart-wrenchingly disappointed yet with enough of a pout to make Tom smile nonetheless.

“I'm not letting go of you, I'm just picking you and me both up off the ground before we're entirely sodden. Alright?” He couldn't help chuckling when you grumbled something incomprehensible in reply, but did let go of his neck once you both stood straight again only to wrap your arms around his waist instead, making him move his own around your shoulders in return. Needless to say, the mere fact that you refused to let go of him made him your devout servant all the more now, always, no matter what you'd wish for. Hugging you back was the least of it.

“T?”

“Hm?”

“It's been like an hour since, and you still haven't made fun of me for being called ‘Professor’ by my student, even though I'm not even a doctor just yet… Are you sure you're alright? Or are we blaming that missed opportunity on the cake as well?”

“Oh dear…” Tom laughed, then rested his head on yours once more and thought for a moment before a suitable tease to your liking came to his mind. “For all I know, your unmatched intellect could be the talk of the school, in which case that moniker would be very well justified.”

“There it is…” You chuckled in return. “Thank you, I really needed closure on that.”

“Am I wrong though?” Tom quirked an eyebrow up in question, not that you'd have seen that, but he was tempted to believe that you could hear it, at least.

“Well… Now I will probably end up being the talk of the school indeed, coming to think about it. Miss Moore is somewhat of a chatty bird. Or at least I'll be the talk of this year's intro to early modern lit class.” You replied with a more or less humoured huff.

“Aren’t you supposed to be just that anyways? Being the talk of the class, as the one teaching it?”

“No! I mean yes, kind of, but not for something like this… Only for the content, not my personal life!” You sighed, and for once Tom actually didn't quite know what to make of your tone, without seeing the expression on your face that was still buried in his chest, or rather in the fabric of his coat.

“I’m sorry.” He thus said, with a frown he noticed too late, and the tiny twinge of insecurity it was born of. It's not like he had ever truly gotten used to all the rumours and gossip about him either, nor to the literal tons of attention he received for things that weren't worth drawing attention to. His work, yes. His public appearances related to the job, alright. But him walking Bobby or having coffee with a friend? He'd never get why people were interested in that kind of thing. Nor did he understand why other people were being pestered just for knowing him.

“You-...” You started, interrupted yourself almost immediately, then finally pulled back to look at Tom with your eyes widened in an apology as it obviously dawned on you that he wasn't quite sure just what he was sorry for here. “Gods, T, I wasn't referring to them talking about you and me!!! I'm perfectly happy and okay with that! I was talking about my totally uncanny chocolate cake addiction; that isn't supposed to become known! It's bad enough that they know about the pudding and vainly try to bribe me with it. I just don't want to find a chocolate cake on my desk every other day and-... Wait, actually… That wouldn't even be half bad though. Useless for them of course, but we would at least get free cake out of it.”

“Right…” He chuckled in return, looking down at you with a soft smile, uncertainty banned for now. “I was almost actually concerned for a second.”

“Don't be, I just didn't think before trying to be funny. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you.”

“No, it's quite alright. I just have to stop thinking at every corner that you will be put off by the prospect of… well, all the downsides my life brings along.” He really had to. To stop thinking that every little negative thing you pointed out was somehow related to him and thereby also his fault. Or that you might spontaneously hate him now if something happened that he had no control over whatsoever. Everyone had flaws, and just because you were so very accepting of his many ones didn't mean he shouldn't be working on them. He knew that you weren't going anywhere, public life or not, so he should start acting on that knowledge. “But I get it now, I really do. I'm willing to put up with all the downsides of my life for the love of my job, and you're… you're for some miraculous reason willing to put up with it all for me. I wouldn't doubt my own conviction in that, so I won't doubt yours either.”

“You really are a remarkably quick study, you know.” You smirked up at him in an instant, then gave him a little squeeze with your arms that were still wrapped tightly around his waist, smiling. “I'm glad my terrible joke brought you some insight.”

“It really did, in a way.” He shrugged with a small smile in return, and therein caught himself drawing little circles on your shoulder blades with his fingers again, which however you did rather seem to enjoy, so he continued on with it even as his smile turned into more of a chuckle now. “And if you ever need someone to help you distract your class from your chocolate cake addiction, with some well rehearsed Shakespearean soliloquy perhaps, you know just who to rope in for the task.”

“You know, I might actually take you up on that if you keep offering it.”

“And you know that I'd be delighted to comply.” He replied easily, without even needing to come up with a tease. Honesty was working just fine. “I'm always happy and proud to help you with anything you could possibly ask of me.”

“Just like yesterday, when-...” Your eyes widened for a second, then you let your head drop forward with a groan until your forehead connected with Tom's chest with a dull thud. “Good lord, I finally get why Luke was so upset that I made you run around half of London yesterday! That must've been a bloody nightmare for him!” But then you couldn't help snorting either way, and your hold on Tom tightened even more. “I literally made Tom Hiddleston run errands for me… That's bloody hilarious.”

“Well, what else are you supposed to do with me while you're working, dear?” He grinned, mostly to himself, and found that he was rather enjoying the fact that it humoured you so much to boss him around. Not that it ever felt like that to him, really. “I thought it was fun. And I didn't even cause any trouble, so Luke really has no reason to be upset with either of us in the first place.”

“Right?!” You laughed, then sighed. “It really is his luck though that my plans to take you dancing went down the drain at the train station we missed.”

“We could dance here…” He shrugged easily, swaying from side to side and moving you along with him to make his point, but it rather served to make you giggle and lift your head from his chest once more.

“C'mon, T, don't be a dork… Here, really? There's not even any music.”

“Here’s as good a place as any. We've got you, and we've got me, and that's all we need.” Again he shrugged, grinning perhaps just a little too widely at you as he simply moved his right hand into position on your back, while picking yours off of him to hold in his left. “Now be so kind and put your left hand on my shoulder, will you?”

“You know that I don't know how to dance like this…” You sighed defeatedly, yet complied and placed your hand where he'd told you to. “Unlike you, I've never had the pleasure to learn all the classical dances.”

“And you know that I've been telling you I would love to teach them all to you one day.”

“And that day’s today?” You raised an eyebrow up at him in amusement.

“That day can be every day, if you want it to be.” He replied easily, smiling as he nudged your elbow higher with his own, lifting his chin just enough to prompt you to do the same. You mirrored him immediately, probably even without noticing you did, and he couldn't help feeling a little pride over that. “Now just look at me, and let me lead you through the movements, alright? It's just some easy fun, I promise.”

You nodded, even if a little insecurely, but once he took the first few steps slowly and in the knowledge that you would need some time to get accustomed to the flow of the movements, the frown on your face vanished and was replaced with a smile instead which grew in brightness the longer you kept going. It didn't fail to brighten his own along with it.

“This actually is easier than I thought…” You finally commented after a while, with an almost incredulous little laugh. “People at my workplace always make it look terribly complicated or incredibly awkward during social functions, while apparently it really is rather more of the opposite of either.”

“Perhaps we will just have to show those people how it's done correctly then.”

“Right…” You snorted in obvious sarcasm, shaking your head with a smile. “I'll make you sit through an entire evening of boring conversations about some random people's current research, just so we can show them how to dance properly at the end of the night.”

“Sounds fun to me.” Tom replied with a sincere smile, very much intent on making a point of just how gladly he would accompany you absolutely anywhere, boring or not, if only you'd want him to be there.

The incredulity returned to your face in the form of a frown, but the smile stayed on your lips either way. “Really? You'd actually want to be my date for all my terrible work events?”

“For all the nice ones, too, I hope.” He smiled, with as much of a shrug as the silent dance allowed for. “And if it makes you feel any better, I'd also make you sit through entire evenings of boring conversations about some random people's current movie projects and luxury vacations in return, just because I like having you by my side.”

For a few seconds upon that you merely looked at him with that surprised, if not even reverent expression all over again, almost making him feel nervous enough through his racing heartbeat to joke it off once more against any better judgement, but luckily it didn't have to come to that. You averted your eyes for a short moment only, with a flustered laugh and the loveliest blush on your cheeks, then looked back up at Tom with a sincere smile. “Alright. I guess I'll be very much looking forward to the next terrible work event, then.”

“Great.” Great, yes, that he could ask you to be each other’s date to work events, but not tell you that he wanted to be your date everywhere, to everything. Yours, date or not. Always, entirely. Great indeed… He was slowly starting to get seriously frustrated with himself. All those fancy words at his disposal, but he could only ever scratch at what it actually was he wanted to say. It's not even that he didn't know what to say, for heaven's sake! He knew perfectly well. He just was an idiot with a ridiculous blockade in his head that he couldn't seem to get rid of just yet. Great, indeed. But at least he was making progress… At least he was getting closer. Perhaps that had to be enough for now. He almost scoffed at his own thoughts; he had never been one to settle for ‘enough’. He wanted bloody perfection, always had, always would. And right now, right here with you, he was the closest to having it that he had ever been. The thought made him smile, and he chose to put his internal dilemma to rest again for now, in the face of the bigger picture. “You better hope I won't embarrass you in front of all your colleagues, darling… I already had to try extremely hard not to do so in front of your student tonight.”

That comment made you snort in an instant, then look up at him again, so entirely humoured yet with such a great fondness that Tom actually had to laugh as well now even as his heart skipped a couple of its many racing beats. He really had no idea how you could unravel him so softly over and over again and still leave him feeling more whole than he ever had.

“You really are a nut, T… But you and I both know that you can actually behave if only you make an effort to.” You said with a pointed look, but in obvious amusement no less. “You can literally be bloody Prince Charming, if only you want to, with your dazzling smiles and your impeccable politeness and all. Oh, and with the dancing of course. I have no idea how you can even keep the rhythm this steady without any music and while we're having a bloody conversation at the same time.”

“Practice.” He shrugged, smiling. “And there is music to it, even if you can't hear any right now. It's just all in the heads of the people dancing. A steady rhythm, three-quarter time ideally for this particular dance, but that only serves as a rudimentary basis if you are to do it properly. Which in this instance, we are.”

“And how does one do it properly?”

“You simply listen to the music. For every move of the body, for every twist and turn, every breath and every touch there is a movement in the music that tells you precisely what to do. A tone, an emotion that leads you and guides you as much as your partner does. A rise and fall of action, of tension, an ongoing up and down of intensity in the face of time in its passing. And as you listen, you will know what to do, and how to do it.”

“What if there's nothing to listen to though, like right now?”

“Right now, my dear, we are making our own music.” Tom smiled, and couldn't resist the temptation to twirl you around once even if just to hear your startled little squeak, before pulling you back towards himself with ease. “Reverse the order of things, create the perfect soundtrack for reality merely but entirely through you and I. The way we move, the way we feel draws up and plays the music in my head, and… in the end we create music through dancing right now, instead of creating a dance through music as it usually goes. But I guess with the two of us things just never want to stick to the ordinary, do they?”

“No. I mean yes. All of it, just…” You replied in a breathless laugh, looking up at him in untainted awe. “I'd really love to have your imagination, T... Or even just your eloquence at my disposal. Your mind is truly incredible, and while I dare say I believe to know it quite as well as my own at this point, it still never fails to enchant me entirely.”

“Do you actually mean that just now or are you just trying to make me blush again?” He raised an eyebrow at you in an exaggeratedly questioning manner, while his face without a doubt gained in colour just as described. Yet, he couldn't help revelling in the way your eyes lit up as you listened to him speak, the way your hold on his hand tightened even more from moment to moment, the way you almost missed a step in your dance but continued on anyway just by trusting his lead. The way you laughed in such sincere enjoyment about his quirks instead of trying to erase them from your image of him.

“You're well aware that I absolutely do mean it. We've covered that much on the first day of knowing each other.” You tried to mirror his raised eyebrow in the very same manner, and it didn't take more than that for Tom to finally chuckle as well. If he looked anything like you did trying to pull off that gesture, he wasn't too surprised that you would laugh at him doing it.

“Fair enough.”

“But I still do very much like making you blush as well.” You added without wasting a second, smirking up at him in a pointed tease that served its purpose quite wonderfully indeed.

“I'm well aware of that, too.” He laughed lightly, smiling down at you, but then just had to smirk to himself instead, as an idea entered his mind that simply seemed too good to forego. He rather enjoyed making you blush, too, after all… And he was quite confident that he had figured out the best way to do just that by now. Even if it would inevitably send his own heart into a frenzy as well.

Before he could overthink it yet again or even consider backing out, he twirled you around once more and brought you back in, just like before, only that this time he didn't catch you once you were face to face before him; no, that had never been the plan to begin with. It was only the beginning. Instead, in the matter of a broken second, he had you pulled flush against his body with your back pressed to his chest, trapping you there with an arm wrapped around your waist even though his hand was still tightly holding onto yours. Lowering his lips to the shell of your ear once more, he had to consciously refrain from smirking, to keep his voice to a mere but steady whisper. “You better be careful when playing with fire, darling… Or have you forgotten what happens to those who fall for the flames?” He could feel you shuddering against him, could hear your breathing hitch, could almost taste your scent on the tip of his tongue. It only made his tone drop even lower with emotion. “Like Icarus and the sun… we will always burn.”

For a few seconds there was but the silence of night, the echo of his own heartbeat in his ears… Then he couldn't help it any longer and started giggling in equal rushes of excitement and embarrassment. That had been a bold move, even when keeping in mind that your hugs had been far closer than this. Still, he loosened his grip on you in an instant, in an admittedly poor attempt to make himself feel any less nervous about it now, about how you might react to this. It had rather been a bit much, hadn't it? Even if it did quite obviously fluster you just as intended. But then again… you made no attempt to step away from him now either. You only let go of his hand after a few seconds of shock so you could turn around while keeping his arm wrapped around your waist, staying close to him on your own accord now while looking up with that awestruck expression that made every fiber of his being light up in excitement. Still, it soothed his nerves in an instant just the same, and he had to smile at you in both humour and a twinge of remaining embarrassment alike.

“Fuck…” Was the first thing you blurted out after a moment, dropping your forehead against his chest with a thud once again, releasing a single breathy laugh. “I can literally feel my heartbeat everywhere in my body right now.”

Your words inevitably made Tom laugh, and his free hand moved to your back once again as well, on its own accord, to draw soothing circles in an attempt to help you calm down with him. “Is that a good thing or did I just terribly overstep the boundaries of our mutual teasing?”

“Good thing!!!” Your reply came immediately, so quickly in fact that Tom could feel his cheeks heating up even more as a flustered chuckle left his lips without his consent. You also noticed what you'd done though, and had to laugh as well after barely missing a beat. “Well, you really are bloody brilliant at this, good gods… I surrender, you've officially won the game of teasing for tonight. I couldn't possibly do it one better even if I tried.”

“Seeing as I flustered myself about as much as I flustered you with that little stunt, I think we can in good conscience call it a draw.” Tom had to smile in earnest now, and while his heart was still beating almost painfully fast, he was beyond relieved that you had indeed understood his action as a means of teasing back, and had even enjoyed it as such. He hadn't overstepped. It was alright. Even if in the depths of his mind, he wasn't quite so sure if he could still put it off as a mere tease after all. If anyone, it was him who could tell what it felt like to act a part… and this hadn't been it. In the means, perhaps, but not in the intent.

“Fair enough.” You chuckled, and finally leaned back enough again to look up at him in amusement. “A draw it is.”

“And as the winner and loser of this imaginary competition I wasn't even aware of until now, what would you like to do next?”

“Why do I have to decide? You won and lost just the same!”

“Don't argue with the mad man, darling.”

“Fine…” You groaned, unable to keep the smile off your face now matter how hard you apparently tried, quite the way Tom liked so much. “Well, I for my part am not nearly done dancing with you.”

“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow up at you in amusement, glancing at his watch just out of sincere curiosity before his eyes moved back to yours. “And what kind of dance do you fancy at ten past five in the morning?”

“Well, what did we dance to the last time we were up at ten past five in the morning?” You replied sweetly, looking up at him with an innocent yet terribly excited smile that didn't fail to brighten Tom's own.

“That would have to have been a swing, I suppose.” He grinned, biting his bottom lip for a moment to tone it all down. The memory of it wasn't too old, really, barely a month or two… You and him had spent the majority of the night texting as ever, unable to find a point to call it quits and go to bed, only to decide roughly around five in the morning that you would stay up to watch the sunrise together, because even if separately seen, it was still the same sun. And in order to stay awake during that last hour of dark, you both had taken to dancing around your homes to a playlist of old swing music. Tom had always loved that memory with a fondness great enough to remember it in its every detail.

“So…?” You prompted with a grin, raising your eyebrows.

For a moment Tom looked at you as if in consideration, pretending to think hard about it even though he had already made up his mind the second you’d said ‘dancing’, then he grinned at you once more and started unbuttoning his coat. “You better get out that playlist, darling, because I'm not dancing a swing without the right music. That's best left for the olden classics only.”

If a smile had ever been as bright as yours in that moment, Tom wouldn't have been able to tell, nor would he have cared for that matter. Your excitement was quite enough for him as it was, and he was beyond content just watching you, as you dug through your phone for the music, then tossed your coat on top of his own over a metal bar. It didn't even matter that Tom had absolutely no clue how to swing dance, at least not properly; he was inspired enough to try anyway. And when you put your phone down on the swing seat, with it playing swing music, you just wiggled your eyebrows at him knowing full well that the inherent-yet-terrible pun wouldn't be lost on him. It wasn't; he was still grinning like a loon when you took his hand and started moving to the music together with him at last.

The songs came and went, piece after piece flowed by but neither of you really bothered to count them up. There were far better things to do, things like dancing in the most ridiculous yet fun ways there were, like finding ever new ways to touch, for reasons to be found in the self but to be blamed on the music, like jumping around to keep out the cold of dawn, like laughing too loudly just because. In a way, Tom found great amusement in the fact that you were almost putting the playground to its intended use, after all. Only that you weren't his childhood sweetheart but his… well, his everything really, and that children probably didn't try to, or rather fail to swing dance at five in the morning either. Perhaps those were the only perks of adulthood at the end of the day, being able to stay up late and to have chocolate cake for dinner if only he wanted to, and to be able to love someone like this, like you. Or at least these were the only ones that mattered, currently.

He was just about to let you twirl him around just for the sake of it, when your shared laughter was joined in by yet another party; the loud barking of a dog, no doubt not too far off to your left. You immediately stopped in your movement, as did Tom, which left him awkwardly yet comfortably wrapped in your arms as you both turned to look at the origin of the disturbance. Indeed, a Collie of some sort with an elderly man attached to the other end of the leash were crossing through the park-ish side of the playground, and while the former seemed rather enthusiastic about seeing you, the latter only frowned at you in mere and utter distaste. The sight made Tom snort, but he kept his face straight and just stared back with an unrelenting little smile, until the elder looked away with an irritated frown, shaking his head to himself.

“Perhaps… Perhaps we should get going. Before we get arrested for lurking around a playground.” You laughed, biting your bottom lip with an expression both apologetic and humoured to equal parts, as you tried to unwrap Tom from your arms without letting go of his hand just yet.

“I think, just perhaps, you're right. We should probably go.” He chuckled in return, and yet, the question that came to his mind promptly and inevitably made him frown, especially as you both went to stop the music and put your coats back on; it was nearing six o'clock in the morning, where exactly were you supposed to go at this time? And far more importantly: wherever it was you were going to go, would you allow him to come with you?

… … …

After leaving the playground behind at last, you both continued on down the street you had strayed from seemingly hours ago. Truth be told, you were beyond relieved that Tom still didn't make any indication that he'd like to go home at any point in the near future; he'd only taken your hand once more, quite like before, and you were happily walking next to him at so close a distance that your shoulder bumped into his arm more often than not. It really was rather ironic that apparently you both knew perfectly well that you both wanted this, that you both craved the other’s touch and closeness, yet neither of you could actually say it out loud. You didn't doubt anymore that he felt for you exactly the same as you felt for him… You were rather certain of it even. But still… The fact that he couldn't say it as of yet also left the words stuck in your own throat. Not because you doubted him, not at all, but rather because you trusted his inherent timing for things. Or rather, the timing inherent to you both, and the way you worked together as one. There was no rush hearing him say what you already knew to be true anyway.

“Are you tired?” His words drew you back to reality, back to him. You turned your head to look up at him with a smile, careful not to trip over sticks and stones (yet again…).

“A little.” You sighed happily, and really, you'd never been this delighted to be exhausted. “It's not easy keeping up with you energywise, you know… Though you do a great job charging me back up again. How about you?”

“Quite the same, I suppose.” He smiled back, and you could've sighed in happiness all over again. “I can't believe I've gotten through a full day of tasks, a very high energy run of the show, and then all the things that came after… I should be bloody exhausted, shouldn't I?”

“I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging. “It honestly doesn't feel like this has just been 24 hours, I mean can you even believe that? And we've only known what the other looks like for about seven or eight of them.”

“That's just crazy. And I do not quite believe it, no.” He huffed out a little laugh, shaking his head to himself. “I just wish I'd gotten over myself sooner and met you a week ago, or a month…”

“Why did you change your mind about it quite so suddenly last night? About meeting me, I mean. Not that I'm complaining by any means at all... I'm just curious.” You couldn't help asking, curious eyes meeting his own as you slowly sauntered along the empty streets. The explanation that he'd only wanted you to see his work just wasn't quite doing it for you anymore; you wanted to know the truth he currently had.

“Well, I… I had a talk with Luke yesterday, or rather two days ago at this point. We talked about the choices I make, and… I realised that nobody was going to tell me what is right and what is wrong.” He said, in calm seriousness, shrugging but just ever so slightly. “It's all only determined by what I can live with in the end, and what I cannot. So I asked myself if I could live with the decision that I would never allow myself to meet you, the one person who ever truly knew me entirely, and... the answer was that I could not."

"Why?"

"Because absolutely nothing makes me happier, and nothing makes me sadder than you."

The quick but easy sincerity in his voice made your heart jump with a start, while his words rather seemed to wrap around your throat like vines that threatened to strangle you if you weren't careful as you spoke. "I… I make you sad?"

"Your absence does.” He clarified quickly, tightening his hold on your hand as if afraid you would let go. “Only ever, but always, your absence."

"Oh…" You replied, on a breath you hadn't quite known to be holding before. But as soon as your mind clicked back into place, you started drawing lines on the back of his hand with your fingertips, like he had done before, to let him know without a doubt that you weren't going anywhere. "Yours does that to me, too, you know. Do you think it is inevitable to feel that deep sadness in the absence of someone, because it's the shadow of an even greater happiness their presence grants us?"

"I believe one doesn't feel sadness in someone's absence at all for the longest time. Only when the happiness they make you feel reaches a certain point, a point of no return, the sadness is there, too, all at once and with a maddening force and depth to it.” The mere passion in his voice left you breathless as he spoke, but it was his words that truly were your undoing. “I think that this is what makes the height of happiness so lethal... That you never see its shadow coming until you are already in danger of drowning in it."

"And that's when you realise you can't live without the presence that is your height of happiness anymore?" You asked in a tone too quiet now to not let on just what you thought, too raw to keep hidden just what you felt.

"It's when you decide that you don't want to live without it anymore." He replied almost solemnly, and for all the right reasons in the world, that just made it all the better.

"And you decided to meet me." You smiled, still in a quiet tone, but with an uproar of happiness within you far too strong for you to fight.

"That I did." Silence. A quiet smile. “And now I can't imagine parting from you again.”

“Neither can I. From you, I mean. Of course.” You couldn't help your own breathy laugh now, couldn't help leaning even further into his side, which he welcomed immediately with an even brighter smile. For a minute you stayed silent, then you had to smile, and thus looked up at Tom again. “I think it's rather ironic that neither of us wants this night to end, Dylan Thomas would be proud of us… We most definitely do not go gentle into that good night. Only that we rage against the dying of the night, not the light. We caught and sang the moon in flight, and learn, too late, we grieved it on its way.”

The smile on Tom's lips broadened as far as it could go, then he let out that little breathy laugh again, and finally just grinned down at the ground that ran along beneath you as you walked. The sight didn't fail to amuse you, too, and thus you released a playful scoff and nudged him in the side merely by shifting your weight.

“What's so funny?” You inquired as he still wouldn't talk, raising up an eyebrow at him, which he finally looked up to see as well, still smiling.

“Just a thought.” He shrugged, giving you one of those looks that could drive you up the wall in one way or another. “But you're right, of course… I don't want the night to end either. Never, if possible. And that made me think of something both very appropriate and terribly inappropriate. Not that there's still such a thing as inappropriateness left between you and me in the first place. So it's just a thought, really.”

“Well, out with it then!” You protested in a laugh. “Now that you've got me curious already, you can't not tell me!”

“Right… Are you familiar with the work of Mark Strand?”

“Vaguely, I'll have to admit. Not my period in time nor my country of origin, if I'm honest.”

“Fair enough. The piece I'm thinking of is titled ‘Provisional Eternity’. I think you'll enjoy it.” Again, he gave you a smile in utmost humour he failed to tone down, then cleared his throat and went to recite from memory. “A man and a woman lay in bed-...”

“Good gods, T! Do I even want to know how this goes on?!” You interrupted him with half a laugh, in a vain attempt to fight off the heat on your cheeks just as you crossed into another street that finally bordered upon a real park, giving you something to look at for a moment before you could bear looking at Tom again. He was extremely good at making you blush, and you honestly both loved and hated that he was getting better and better at it with each time he tried. Even if right now, it apparently hadn't been his intention to fluster you after all for once, and thus you took a deep breath, enjoying the first signs of dawn visible over the treetops for a second, before looking back at Tom with one eyebrow raised in question and with a smile.

“Just let me finish the whole thing and you'll know. It's not about what you apparently think it is about.” He mirrored your expression, then started over without waiting for you to voice any further protest. “A man and a woman lay in bed. ‘Just one more time,’ said the man, ‘just one more time.’ ‘Why do you keep saying that?’ said the woman. ‘Because I never want it to end,’ said the man. ‘What don't you want to end?’ said the woman. ‘This,’ said the man, ‘this never wanting it to end.’”

A pause. After an opening line like that, you really hadn't expected the piece to end in that way, to end so… deeply. With such a palpable sense of longing to it. You could see why he'd had to think of it just now, could feel why even. And honestly, you were glad that Tom granted you a moment of silence to let the words sink in, before he looked to you for a reaction.

“Okay fine… You're right. I do like the piece.” You sighed, smiling up at him in defeat at last. “I mean, of course you're right! You literally always are, it's scary how you do it. And I just think it's amazing as much as it's ironic how badly we all crave the eternal and yet condemn it so cruelly for being meaningless.”

“Do we, really? Condemn it?” He asked right back, brows furrowed just ever so slightly in a way you'd come to recognise as a sign of sincere interest, one of concentration. Of deep thoughts and difficult questions with even more difficult answers to them.

“You know that we do, T… I know what you've read, I know that you know.” Your smile stayed on your lips nonetheless, even as you sighed at last. “I doubt that I could put it quite as eloquently as any of the people who have written about it over the centuries.”

“That’s why I'd like to hear your own thoughts on it, not just your version of the truth in someone else's words.”

“Well, but my thoughts on it have been forged by the forces of others!” You argued back, almost tackling him in the side with your attempt at a dramatic shrug. “Take Eliot's words, for example...”

Before you could even try to get your words straight, he beat you to it. “If time and space, as sages say, are things which cannot be, the sun which does not feel decay no greater is than we. So why, Love, should we ever pray to live a century? The butterfly that lives a day has lived eternity.”

“Exactly!” You went right along with it, nodding enthusiastically enough to make Tom chuckle to himself, but you spoke on anyway. “Even Blake said that ‘Eternity is in love with the productions of time.’ And don't even get me started on all the people beyond that who wrote that the meaningfulness of life lies in its brevity! Thereby they all condemn eternity to lose its value in the face of time, in the face of the fleeting moment and of a brevity therein. Apparently, for all of them, eternity is too long a time to be enjoyed or meaningful.”

“Quite obviously none of them has tried to part from you, darling.” He said so easily that your every thought came to an immediate halt. “None of them has been faced with such magnified impossibilities. Or else they would have realised that even eternity is not nearly long enough a time when spent together with you.”

“I-…” Your own heartbeat cut you off, your words stuck in your throat, until you huffed out a shallow laugh at last, with the only words that found their way past your lips. “I really get what Luke meant, when he said that you could put any poet to shame without even trying. And that you always know what to say, in the most impressive and dramatic way possible.”

“Did he really say that?” Tom raised an eyebrow at you with a huge smile, obviously trying his best not to straight up laugh again even as he undeniably blushed as well.

“Yep…” You sighed, then grinned in return. “He said it makes him and everyone else feel severely uncultured.”

“Oh that twit…” Tom rolled his eyes with a groan, but it only made you chuckle all the more, until he spoke on with a sigh of his own. “He’s got a point, I can be a tad dramatic at times, but otherwise he's really just a master of exaggeration and mockery. He does it literally all the time, especially to me.”

“In this case though, he really didn't. You truly have an incredible gift with words, T… One he couldn't possibly exaggerate even if he tried.” You replied without any hint of tease or joke, with just a smile that probably let on too much a glimpse of your yearning heart all over again. But you were beyond caring at this point, you only wanted him to see how amazing he was, all and every version of him, or even just make him understand how amazing he was to you. Exactly as he was. “I adore that you can so easily express a depth most other people even lack the ability to feel. And it doesn't make me feel uncultured at all, actually. Being at the receiving end of such an art only makes me feel… loved, in a way. Even silly as that might sound to you.”

“Does it sound silly to you?”

“Well, no, but-…” Your heart skipped a beat, multiple really, perhaps it even stopped beating entirely as your eyes fell onto his expression that said a million things at once, which yet again you could not find the words for. His eyes were screaming at you, but his lips stayed closed as before, as well. A tragedy of a million unspoken delights. So when your heartbeat returned at last, you gasped, and granted easy passage to the first words that came along with it. “I guess I'm just so used to interpreting the words of people long dead that I hardly know how to deal with them when they're coming from someone right in front of me. It just feels silly to me to try understanding what you meant by what you said when you could tell me any minute that I'm completely mistaken, that it's all in my head and-...”

“What if I told you that you're absolutely right, though?”

A pause. “What?” Your voice was quiet, remarkably so, as he stopped in his spot and thereby forced you to do the same.

“What if I told you that I want you to feel loved not just in one way, but in all ways possible?”

“Why would you want me to feel like that?” The words didn't come out as more than a whisper, and you could only hope that he had heard them at all, could hope that he could read in your eyes that you already knew the answer.

“Because-…” He started, stopped, with that same frustration on his face that you recognised oh so well by now, understood as what you'd come across too often yourself tonight. You knew; you knew the words just wouldn't be spoken without a fight. But if he wanted to do this right now, do what you hadn't been able to do before either, all there was left for you was to draw gentle circles on his hand, and to smile at him in a way that would let him know this was a fight he had already won. There was no rush… Nothing to prove between you. For a few seconds he just closed his eyes, releasing a long breath and tightening his hold on your hand at once, then his gaze was back on your soul. “Because I've been trying to prepare for this moment all day, and yet here I am now, still feeling absolutely terrified for absolutely no reason at all. Because you really are my height of happiness, and being here with you now is… a joy impossible to find words for that could do the reality of my feelings justice. Because quite apparently I'm unable to tell you what I feel, not without using words that are borrowed from someone else and therein lose their entire meaning. So I… want you to feel what I feel. I've tried to make you feel what I feel for you all evening, I've been trying, in every way I could, to show you, not to tell. Turns out that's the only thing I'm actually good at.”

A smile.

A pause.

“You aren’t just good, you are absolutely breathtaking, T… How else in all this time would you have managed to make me feel loved quite so intensely, huh?” A pause. A smile. “If you feel for me even half of what I feel for you, then I still would never have been loved more truly than this.”

A pause. A quiet chuckle. “Who's the poet now, huh?”

“Still you, of course. But you endlessly inspire me to try to keep up and do you one better.” You grinned, poking him in the chest with your free hand, then just held onto the lapels of his coat as you stood right in front of him anyway. Taking one more deep breath before meeting his eyes which would inevitably steal it from you again. “And I… I also promised you this morning that if we meet, when we meet, I… would tell you what I feel for you above anything else, which emotion comes-…”

You had been wrong, oh so wrong, it wasn't his eyes that stole your breath away. It was the way he cradled your face, the way his fingers softly brushed against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, caressing every inch of your skin in their gentle path. The way he reluctantly let go of your hand only to place his own on the curve of your waist, slipping down to your hip to pull you even closer to himself. The way he still gave you the time of two eternal seconds to stop him if only you wanted to. Then his lips finally touched upon yours, and it brought both life and breath back to your body with a start. You felt it all at once, the rush, the lightness, the softness of his lips, all tied together by a string of heartbeats both his and your own. You could only think in the language that was Tom.

Thus it was both tragedy and delight at once, when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, with his forehead touching yours, and his breath on your lips. “All this time, you have been telling me just that. How else would you have managed to make me feel loved quite so intensely, huh?”

“That's plagiarism, you know…” You couldn't help smirking, in just a whisper, nor could you stop yourself from leaning into him even more. “Those are my words.”

“It literally is my job to borrow other people's words, darling.” He smiled as well, and you could hear it, feel it, surrounding you entirely. “And your words, to me, are simply the most perfect. I won't apologize for that.”

“I am already madly in love with you, T… You don't need to make me fall for you even harder.” You couldn't help laughing, quietly still and breathlessly even beyond, yet not without relishing the way it felt to say these words aloud at last. To know he heard them, believed them, just by the way he breathed you in, the way he shuddered when you moved your hand from his chest to delve into the soft curls at the nape of his neck instead.

“But what if I want to?” His voice was no louder than yours, no less thoroughly delighted, but sounding a million shades darker when spoken so reverently against your lips. “What if I want to make you feel just how much I love you, have loved you this entire time…”

That was all the invitation you needed to press your lips to his once more, in every grain of passion and longing that had been building up for far too long now, and he happily indulged you just the same as he kept you tightly pressed against his body. There really was no place in all of eternity you would rather have been than right here, right now, with Tom. Nibbling on his bottom lip as your lips moved against his in the most luscious urgency, making him put his quick tongue to an even better use with your own and drawing a moan from him in that way you hadn't been able to stop thinking about for over two hours now. Burning up in a blaze of divine delight when he did the same to you, only so much better. Good gods, that man really was quite magnificent at everything he did… Your perfect nut indeed. He even tasted like chocolate cake, for heaven's sake! Chocolate cake that had to make a conscious effort not to devour you on the spot as it seemed, instead of the other way around for once. The thought made you grin against Tom's lips after a while, flooding you with liquid lightning in every fiber of your body. Even more so when he smiled brightly as well, just because you did.

“The night is over, the darkness is tamed… more or less at least.” He managed to say, or rather to laugh in a breath, after taking a moment for you both to catch up to the world, without however moving more than a breath apart even now. “The question is, will you allow me to make breakfast for you, darling?"

The bright grin wouldn't leave your face now, wouldn't dare to disappear. “I think that was the classiest way of asking someone to come home with you I have ever heard, in my entire life…” You laughed, shaking your head to yourself in awe before resting it against his chest, right next to his chin. “You are way too good at this, T, and I am powerless before you. I've always been.”

His chuckle in return was both a low rumble in his chest, and the most delightfully happy sound you had ever heard. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Smirking to yourself, you just couldn't help it now either. “As long as there is T with my breakfast, take it as an always.”

… … …

This time around, your slow saunter down the street eventually continued arm in arm, and with far too many smiles you were both unable to tame. Unwilling, would be more like it. Tom couldn't even begin to get a reign over the immense flood of happy excitement in his system that was lighting him up inside out like the sun and stars combined, and he didn't bother trying to either. Not when he knew that there was no limit any longer, nothing that could or would keep him from having this every day from here on. Perhaps that was what happened when happiness wasn't an event or process, wasn't bound by the means of time, but by a person. And you were his, now, always. Why on earth should he ever stop smiling about that?

“Would you like to make me breakfast at my place or at yours?” Your voice made him look down at you again, just as you reached the nearest train station Google Maps had been able to find in the area you'd ended up in. It was time to head home, after all.

“Well, that depends entirely on your preferences for the day ahead…” He shrugged, the smile turning into more of a grin. “If we were to head over to yours, I would have to leave again sooner rather than later to go check on Bobby.”

“Your place it is, then.” You smiled back up at him sweetly, then had to laugh and bit your bottom lip for a moment before voicing your thoughts. “That's probably for the better anyway… Because I wouldn't even have been making a move on you by saying that with my tiny apartment, you literally wouldn't fit anywhere but in my bed.”

“Right…” He laughed, shaking his head to himself as the inevitable heat crawled back onto his face. Perhaps that would never change, who knew… It didn't have to. “You really do have a point there though, your apartment is almost ridiculously tiny.”

“And you're tall as fuck.”

“Right…”

“Are we really back to that again?” You sighed exaggeratedly, in the worst mocking annoyance he'd ever seen, and Tom could only laugh and shrug with an innocent expression.

A quick glimpse at the map of train lines and stations later, he'd come up with the best and quickest way to get you both back to his neighbourhood at least, even if you'd still have to walk a short distance from there. Then, as you waited for the next train to arrive already, he caught himself remembering something. Biting his tongue to refrain from grinning more than usual, he removed his arm from around you, but took your hand in his instead, intertwining your fingers. For a moment he didn't say anything, just stared right ahead at the train tracks with a clenched jaw to keep in the laughter, while he could practically feel your frowning gaze burning holes into his side. When he thought you'd suffered enough as a payback for repeatedly teasing him, he turned to you with feigned surprise about finding you staring at him already, and when your frown only deepened in question, he finally went to explain.

“Well, you told me to let you hold my hand before stepping onto the train…” Still bloody difficult not to laugh… “And as I've said before, when the lady commands, I'm obliged to follow.”

“You actually still remember I said that, after the entire night that happened afterwards?” Your astonishment replaced any question on your face, and apparently on your mind as well. Didn't help much with Tom's amusement though, and he finally allowed himself to laugh, then shrug yet again.

“I tend to remember most of the things you tell me, to be honest. No matter when or where.”

“Your memory is just crazy, honestly, T… Is there anything you don't remember in detail?” You wondered, just as the train finally rolled in and the doors opened up to allow you passage onto your ride home.

“Well, to be fair I generally tend to remember the things I read far better than those I hear, which generally works in my favour though. In most cases, at least.” Tom replied honestly, but didn't bother to find a seat once the train started moving now either, only leaning against the wall by the door once again as his eyes stayed on yours.

“Well, perhaps I better write this down for you then.” You smirked, and instead of holding onto something like Tom very much would have liked you to, you just grabbed your phone out of your pocket with your free hand. Well, at least you were still holding onto his hand as well, so he could probably still catch you in case you'd just topple over again. That definitely had worried him a bit too much at the beginning of the night for the instance to be repeated now.

He didn't get to dwell on it though, as his phone pinged in his pocket, and he had to hold back the grin yet again. Still, his eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second as you slipped your phone back into your pocket while he got his own out at the same time. Only once he'd unlocked it and instinctively tapped on the spot he knew the messaging app to be, his eyes finally left yours to see what mischief you'd come up with now again, what your text said.

Y: ‘I love you.’

Okay, screw holding back the grin, even if it had just been for the sake of teasing. Tom didn't bother to hide it even a second longer as he kept his eyes on his phone, heart thundering in his chest, and sent a text back.

T: ‘I know ;)’

Then he looked back up at you with the most innocent expression and slipped his phone back into his pocket, keeping his eyes fixed on your face again as you got yours out with a smile in return. That smile however turned into an incredulous yet humoured gaping once you'd read the message, and your eyes shot up to meet Tom’s in an instant.

“Oh, you nut!” You laughed, eyes sparkling in a way he could never get enough of, and he waited just long enough until you had put your phone away again to tug on your hand in a single fluid movement that made you fall the short distance forward, and thereby inevitably fall against him in return.

With a tiny squeak you barely still caught yourself on your hands on Tom's chest, nonetheless leaning against him now while he leaned against the wall behind his back. Still holding onto your hand that he'd tugged on, he let his other one come to rest on your hip again as he leaned down the minimal distance to your ear with a smile. “I love you, too.”

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