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just-the-hiddles · 5 years

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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.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #hiddlesfic #luke windsor #luke Windsor fic #luke Windsor fanfiction #luke windsor imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #luke and tom friendship #HIDDLESTONERS

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fyrecrafted · 5 years

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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.”

#tom hiddleston #thomas hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fanfic #luke windsor fic #luke windsor fanfic #mischief #tfr prompt #tfrs prompt #trf prompt 479 #the fake redhead #Fyrecrafted writes

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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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

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too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc · 5 years

Text

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.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #luke windsor #angst #heavy angst #emotions #fanfiction #fanfic #chief inspector #original female character #original male character #my crappy writing #let me know if you want to be tagged #hiddlesworth #feelings

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years

Text

Just The Hiddles Masterlist

Oh yeah, I am bringing it over baby!

It is long, sorry not sorry. I will slowly update links. All links on here are good links. I have removed all links to my now flagged blog.

TOM HIDDLESTON

*Tom Hiddleston One Shot Masterlist

*Tom Hiddleston Series Masterlist

LUKE WINDSOR

Day After The Rain- 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. Based off of @redfoxwritesstuff The Things You Find (in the Rain) series.

Shouldn’t- 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. Companion fic to my series Should.

You Did What?!- 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. Follow up to Unexpected Delivery

CELEBRATION MASTERLISTS | MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

*600 Followers Drabble Request Masterlist

Tri-Drabble Writing Cup Masterlist

*Smut-a-Rama June 2020 Masterlist

Twelve Days of Hiddlesmas Masterlist

LOKI (MCU)

*Loki One Shot Master List

Series

A Midgardian Christmas Masterlist | Loki x Reader

This Loki’s first Christmas on Midgard. You decide to show Loki all that a Midgardian Christmas has to offer. Things don’t seem to go as planned and you are having a harder and harder time keeping your burgeoning crush for Loki hidden.

Destiny Has Other Plans Masterlist | Loki x OFC UPDATES ON SATURDAYS

When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him. He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim. An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond. Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it. A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love. Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life. A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them. Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

Silken Sails | Loki x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC, Clint Barton x OFC Masterlist (Charlotte Liddell) ON HOLD INDEFINITELY

Summary: Charlotte Liddell dreams of a life of adventure on the high seas. She sets sail for the Caribbean which ends up entangling her with the hunt for the lost Spanish ship Viuda Negra and untold Spanish treasures. Along the way, she crosses paths with British Navy Officer Steve Rogers and famed French pirate Loki Laufeyson. Will she keep her wits about her?

ADAM AND CHARLIE | ONLY LOVERS LEFT ALIVE

Adam and Charlie Masterlist | All Stories

Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Other Tom Characters

*Other Tom Characters Masterlist

OTHER MARVEL CHARACTERS (BUCKY, STEVE, STEPHEN STRANGE)

Trivia Night | Stephen Strange x Reader

Stephen can’t pass up music trivia night at a local dive bar. But what should have been a landslide win is a bitter battle. Has Stephen met his match in more ways than one?

Dancing With Myself | Stephen Strange x Reader

Stephen goes out with Wong for some groceries and comes back to find his cloak and the reader up to some shenanigans.

We’ve Been Had | Stephen Strange x Reader

Wong and the Cloak decide to make a match of the two of you.

Milk Dud | Bucky Barnes Reader

You and Bucky settle down for a movie night and Steve is an unwanted tag along.

Netflix and Panic | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky has a crush on you and invites you over to watch some Netflix. Panic ensues as Bucky hides a secret.

*Drink Me | Steve Rogers x Reader

You are running late for Valentines with Steve at your place. You have just started dating and hoping to the relationship to the next level but will a critical mistake by Steve ruin the whole evening.

*Oh Captain | Steve Rogers x Reader

You are secretly dating Captain America. One day you sneak Steve into your parents’ house for a little smutty interlude, when your mother rudely interrupts.

*Somnophilia | Steve Rogers x Reader

Steve hears you moaning in your sleep and takes matters into his own hands.

OTHER CELEBRITIES

Ben Barnes

Wrong Phone, Who Dis? | Ben Barnes x OFC

After a sidewalk collision, Ben and Madelyn end up with each other’s phone. They quickly right things but find the chance encounter has had more of an effect.

Chris Evans

*Come On Over Baby | Chris Evans x Reader

You invite your good friend Chris over to watch the game. One too many beers and the truth comes out.

*Are You Jealous? | Chris Evans x Reader

You spot Chris’s old co-star, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, at a party. Chris introduces the two of you but the attention you lavish on Jeffrey does not go unignored by Chris.

*Kitchen Sex | Chris Evans x Reader

At a summer BBQ, Chris gets a little frisky in the kitchen.

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actualbird · 3 years

Note

*rUSHES IN HERE* FOR THE ASK MEME ABOUT FIC TITLES oml please tell me what was that scene for "in vino veritas or something like that..." please and thank you :D

YEEEEEE, HELLO SAMMMM :DDD

"in vino veritas, or something like that..." holds such a special place in my heart even if it was so frigging long ago (AUGUST?? AUGUST 2021?? THATS NOT A REAL TIME????) even if i didnt have the clearest grasp on all the characters yet cuz i just. i love artem "drunk mess" wing.

That Scene for this fic is this entire exchange

“I can’t…” Artem says. “...Get my tie...off.” Luke sighs fondly. “Let me.” “...” “...” “...” “Is this an Eldredge knot?” Luke says after several moments of him fumbling with the tie with no success. “...Yes." “Why?” Luke is vaguely aghast. He can barely tie a half Windsor and Artem is subjecting himself to the difficulty of an Eldredge? Already, he’s pulled his phone out to search through Big Data Lab how the hell to undo this ungodly knot. “Do you hate yourself?” “Sometimes,” Artem sighs. Oh, god [...]

LITERALLY IT'S THE FIRST SCENE I PUT DOWN.

i just wanted a back and forth where luke jokingly asks "do you hate yourself?" and artem answers honestly in a kinda depressing way and luke GETS SO SAD, ARTEM, LOVE URSELF!!!! which is rich coming from Luke Pearce, expert at Not Loving Himself

i realized the most fitting way for that exchange to happen was for artem to be hammered cuz if hes not, he wouldnt be as honest and open. and when i figured out drunk artem and added luke to the picture, the rest of the fic followed :DDD

also: the only reason i made the tie an eldredge knot was cuz thats the hardest necktie knot even if artem visibly wears his in a half windsor and i just needed Something to make luke ask the question in the first place and it seemed in character for artem.

but guess what?

ELDREDGE KNOT DOER ARTEM CANON IN CN SERVER NOW!!! i called it 5 MONTHS BEFORE IT HAPPENED //air guitar solo

thanks for the ask, sam :DDDD

#asks #samsspambox #this is the one time i was truly a prophet #ask meme

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alexthedrummerboy · 4 years

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first line challenge

tagged by @moony221b and @ruzek-halstead to share the first line from my last 20 works!!

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!), see if there are any patterns, choose your favourite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

so my past 20 fics aren’t all jatp so i’m going to do first line from all my jatp fics, then a few from my jatp wips, and if i still have space (which i will), i’ll do the most recent couple fics on my ao3!!

idk who to tag so i’ll just say if you’re reading this and wanna do it, go ahead!

1. piss off your parents (date me to scare them)

"Shit."

2. i can get by the days just fine (but the nights)

There was only one problem with working the graveyard shift at Covington Coffee Roasters. It wasn't the lack of sleep (Alex was used to that by now) and it wasn't the customers either. He could deal with the occasional stroppy suburban mom - he'd had to live with one for the first 17 years of his life.

3. i need to forget you

The studio is cold when Alex walks in. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, it’s barely five in the morning and everyone is asleep.

4. darkest before the dawn

It starts when he’s seven. He’d invited Bobby over to his house after school to play, not knowing that his dad had come home from work early. They’re sitting at the dining table, drawing with Alex’s new 36 pack of crayons when he hears it.

5. crash into me

Alex was good at many things.

6. pretty boy

The sound of Willie’s laugh is quickly becoming Alex’s favourite sound in the world. There’s something about the way it bounces and shines - there’s not a creature on earth that could resist that laugh, he thinks.

7. loml

“Julie?”

8. untitled rival soccer teams au (WIP) - honestly this might be my favourite but i think i’m biased ‘cause it’s my newest baby

It was a well-known fact, or rather an indisputable law, that the Los Felix High Phantoms and the Belmont High Tigers did not mix. In fact if Alex were to even suggest something involving the Tigers that didn’t have to do with ‘toilet paper’ and varying degrees of legality, Luke would no doubt throw a temper tantrum.

9. untitled bobby daddy au (WIP)

None of them expect it - that much is clear. They all just stand there… staring at it, wondering if it’ll just magically go away.

10. untitled teachers!willex au (WIP)

Alex straightened his tie in the mirror, wrinkling his nose. It was perfectly tied and he knew that; he’d known how to tie a perfect Windsor knot ever since he was nine-years-old (his father had insisted on him learning how to tie his own ties for church every Sunday). His shirt had been washed and ironed two days ago too, out of nervous anticipation. There wasn’t a stain, wrinkle, or stray hair in sight.

the remaining 10 of my most recent fics are glee fdsjkfsdjl so i’ll put them under the cut if anyone wants to read them but if not, have a nice day!!

11. a pinch of salt

The year was 2015. ‘Babs! The Barbra Streisand Musical’ had just opened at the Lunt-Fontanne on Broadway, starring Rachel Berry in the title role as Barbra Streisand. The buzz around the show was unmistakable. Unfortunately for the entire cast, Babs closed after just 32 performances, leaving hundreds wondering… what happened to Rachel Berry? Well folks, we have finally gotten an answer.

12. hold you up

Kurt Hummel was a good cheerleader. No, scratch that, Kurt Hummel was an excellent cheerleader. He was smart and strong and flexible, damn it. He definitely wasn't the type of cheerleader who got so distracted to the point of personal injury.

13. android blaine

I think you're cute, my name is Blaine and I work at the computer store.

14. tangled in the sheets

Blaine is three years old when his big sister Rachel brings home a friend for the first time. Her friend's name is Kurt and he's in Rachel's second grade class with her and he is perfect. Well... as perfect as a three-year-old can comprehend.

15. bd_anderson responded to your question sticker

When the feature gets introduced, Kurt doesn't think much of it. It's a sticker that you can put on your Instagram story, prompting followers to type in a message in the little box that he can read and post. Kurt sees it and forgets about it almost immediately. He doesn't use his story for much other than live-posting about The Bachelor and promoting his new posts.

16. when are you gonna sing for me?

The name 'One Three Hill' has been on the forefront of the music scene since the band's first album in 2015. Their debut single 'Underestimate Me' skyrocketed to number 1 in the pop punk charts, solidifying their place as frontrunners in the competitive and cutthroat music industry. The band's most recent album, 'Clueless', was released in 2018 to wildly positive reviews but since then, fans have been left wanting more. Well, the public was not disappointed.

17. i scraped my knee falling for you

"Mr. Anderson, I-I'm so, so sorry!"

18. coffee flavoured kisses

Kurt Hummel had heard the words 'I'm breaking up with you' three times in his life. All three times, Blaine Anderson was there with a cup of coffee and a kind smile.

19. between the lines

Blaine had never expected his life to turn out this way, working at his parent's book shop instead of performing on a Broadway stage. He didn't particularly mind it, though. His parents paid him alright (nepotism, he thinks) and he got to play his playlist quietly over the speakers most days, so it definitely could've been worse.

20. tug at my heartstrings

He isn’t usually there. That was the first thing Kurt thought when he saw the man playing the violin while walking home after work.

#britney plays games

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tonyrights-archive · 5 years

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tom hiddleston rpf reader insert circa 2014 starter pack

-luke windsor (Tom's publicist) is there and doesn't like the relationship

-chris hemsworth is there and he supports the relationship

-benedict cumberbatch is there and is either on luke’s side or chris’s. this one is author preference

- tom and Chris refer to each other as brothers

- at least one reference to the size of Tom's dick, in a an non sexual scenario

- Tom refers to reader as "darling" and "love" far more than any one person has ever before

- every other word out of Tom's mouth is "sorry"

- tom is either in a Shakespeare show, reading a play from the bard or directly quotes Shakespeare.

- tom is a character created by Loki, to disguise himself

- tom is an extremely polite gentleman on the streets but a kinky bastard in the sheets

- tom is obsessed with (American) pudding. (this stems from tom claiming he loves pudding (British). in England pudding refers to all desserts)

-if a fic is over hmmm 30 chapters the odds of Loki showing up as a real character, either as a "toms evil twin" type thing or a "Tom is my mortal disguise" skyrockets.

- if it's over 30 chapters you can also guarantee v dark over tones either like a weird dark kink that tom has or Tom's like an insane person or a serial killer or something.

#someone rb this ask me how i know all of this please #londyn speaks #tom hiddleston #im so sorry for this cursed post #but i can't stop thinking about it

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getmehighonmagic · 9 months

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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!

#fanfic #ao3 #ao3 author #fanfic authors #fandom #red white and royal blue #rwrb #au #fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #red white and royal blue movie #my fic #Fanfic Writer End of Year Ask Game #my fanfiction #rwrb fic #henry fox mountchristen windsor #luke morrow #purple hearts

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just-the-hiddles · 5 years

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Wednesday Teaser | Loki x Reader Smut and Luke Fluff

So tomorrow I got a Loki x Reader smutty one shot posting tomorrow. And then on Saturday a fluffy Luke Windsor fic. Here are some snippets from both. If you are not already on my tag lists and would like to be tagged in one or both stories let me know! Perm tag lists are open as well!!

“How I know his name is unimportant.” His lips trailed down your neck, sending a shiver to your core.

You let out a breath as Loki sucked on your pulse point. Rational thought slipped away with each passing moment.

“Loki…” you breathed as you gripped his shoulders for support. “… you’ll leave a mark.”

“Good. Then everyone will know you are mine.” He continued his suckling, grinning at the mark already appearing on your neck.

You protested but made no move to push him off of you. You pulled at Loki’s shoulders, twisting him on top of your body on the sofa.

“Aren’t we eager?” Loki purred as he slid the straps of your tank top off your shoulders and the shirt slid down off your breasts, exposing the tops.

“Can you blame me?”

***

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.

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.”

***

Can’t wait to share these with you all! I will see you tomorrow!!

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thfrustration · 7 years

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Crossing Knives, Chapter 10: Secrets, Surprises, Sauvignon Blanc

TITLE OF STORY: Crossing Knives CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 10 AUTHOR: missviolethunter / missviolethunterwrites WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Tom / Chef Tom GENRE: Romance, Comedy FIC SUMMARY: Tom Hiddleston is the brilliant executive chef of Band of Brothers, a London restaurant with a Michelin star. He also has a reputation for being arrogant, cocky and difficult. Hallie Harrison is a former home cook who has just won Masterchef US. Luke Windsor is a restaurateur who is tired of constantly looking for new sous-chefs because Tom keeps making them quit. In a desperate move to save his restaurant, Luke offers Hallie a job as a sous-chef… and maybe also a chance to meet the man of her dreams in the least likely of places: the kitchen of Band of Brothers. RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Links to previous chapters: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9

CHAPTER 10: SECRETS, SURPRISES, SAUVIGNON BLANC

Monday mornings marked the start of the work week at Band of Brothers. Planning menus, receiving deliveries, scheduling any special events… all those things had to be done on a Monday so the rest of the week would be properly organized.

Every day Tom was the first one to arrive. Sometimes a bit hungover, or wearing the same clothes as the night before (there was a shower in Luke’s office, and Tom always kept a change of work clothes in the car). But, no matter what he had been doing during the long weekend, he was always in the kitchen when everybody else got there.

Which is why Birdie and Kumal, the cooks, who were neighbours and usually caught the same tube, were so surprised to find the back door of the restaurant firmly closed. And locked. Birdie searched in her large handbag for her set of keys, that she barely had any occasion to use. She also grabbed her phone, wondering if she should call Luke or if she was worrying about nothing. It was half past eleven, and they didn’t have to start until noon, so it wasn’t really alarming that Chef Tom had decided to oversleep a little.

She was so concentrated, mobile phone in one hand and keys in the other, that she almost didn’t hear Luke’s voice behind her.

“Morning, Birdie! Hey, Kumal!” He turned off the engine and got out of the car, smiling brightly, with a cup of Starbucks in one hand and some donut crumbs on his otherwise immaculate suit. Luke Windsor was definitely a morning person.

“Morning, Mr. Windsor. Is Chef Tom with you?”

“Tom? No, I haven’t seen him since Saturday; I’ve got several lost calls from him, so I thought I’d come early so we could talk.” He glanced at the door, then at the two people in front of him, and finally at the door again. “Is there anything wrong? Why are you out here?”

Birdie sighed. “It’s locked. And empty.”

Luke frowned for a brief moment. “Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. He must have been partying until late, I’ll give him a call and tell him to get his arse out of bed.”

They all got in; the cooks headed towards the kitchen and Luke to his office. He tried calling Tom, but the call went straight to voicemail. And again. After four tries, he resorted to messaging.

‘Hey, mate, are you alright?’

‘Tom, I’m sorry I couldn’t come over yesterday, I was at my parents’ in Oxfordshire and I didn’t get home until all hours.’

‘Hiddleston, it’s almost noon. If you’re down with the flu I can go by your place and bring you some chicken soup, but I need you to speak to me.’

No response. He headed to the kitchen, where Hallie, Connor and Alex had also arrived and were starting to prep all kinds of food for the dinner service.

“Good morning, gods and goddesses of the culinary world! How’s the week presenting?”

A chorus of cheerful voices assured him, all at the same time, that everything was perfect (and that chefs can be very, very loud people). Only Hallie didn’t say anything except for a deflated ‘Hi Luke’, and that made him worry.

He decided to try calling Tom again, and right in that moment he heard the main door open and close with a slamming sound. And there was the missing Chef Hiddleston, standing in the hallway, in his chef whites, pale and sulky like the Ghost of Canterville on a bad day (minus the chains. And the castle. And the undead thing, although he did have the ashy complexion).

“Finally! I was starting to worry. Are you alright, mate? I tried calling you…”

“I was driving. Fine. I’m fine.” His voice sounded at least an octave lower than usual, which made it hard for Luke to understand him.

“I know that tone, Hiddleston, and it’s everything but fine. Look, if you’re not feeling well and you need the day off, just…”

“You can’t send me home, Luke”, was the half-growled answer. “This place is as mine as it is yours, so spare me your ‘cool boss’ talk and let me get to work.”

Now Luke was absolutely sure that Tom was either sick or being an asshole on purpose. Or maybe both. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, thinking of the best way to find out the truth.

“Great. Do whatever you want. If at any point in the day you feel like talking to your business partner and oldest friend, and telling him what the bloody hell is wrong with you, I’ll be in my office.”

About twenty minutes later, a quick rap at the door made Luke smile triumphantly.

“It’s always open, Tom! Come in and share that sob story, whatever it is!”

The door opened slowly, but instead of Tom’s closely cropped curls what appeared behind it was a head of blond hair, neatly tucked in a bun under a white chef hat.

“Luke, it’s me. Sorry to interrupt you, but…”

“Hallie! I meant it when I said it’s always open. Please come in. Coffee?”

“Luke, Tom burnt a sauce ten minutes ago and went to the pantry. He… he’s locked himself in and he’s not answering when we knock.”

Luke got up from his desk, looking slightly murderous. “Okay, this has gone too far. I’m going to…”

“Please don’t be angry with him! I think… I think it’s my fault that he’s all moody today, but I can’t get him to talk to me.” She covered her face with her hands.

“Fine, let’s all calm down. I won’t kill him…yet. Now let’s go to the pantry and find out why he’s acting more like an idiot than usual.”

In the kitchen, everybody was trying to keep things normal. The pots were boiling, the pans sizzled, and the cooks… well, the cooks had one eye on the suspiciously closed door that connected the kitchen with the pantry. Nobody said a word, but they all turned to Luke in unison.

The increasingly worried restaurateur knocked on the door several times. “Thomas, this isn’t funny. Nor professional. Get your arse out of there!”

One or two muffled words came from inside.

“I can’t hear you, you sod! This is a fireproof door!”

Nothing. Seeing that Luke’s efforts were in vain, Hallie moved to the front of the group and approached the closed door.

“Tom, it’s Hallie! Please, can we talk?”

Silence for a moment, and then they all could hear the sound of the lock being turned. Slowly.

It still didn’t open, so Hallie grabbed the handle. Luke put a warning hand on her forearm.

“Whatever you do, get him out of there. I don’t want to appear in the Daily Mail as the evil restaurant owner who almost let two of his workers suffocate inside a closed pantry.”

“Suffocate? There’s a ventilation system in there.”

“You clearly don’t read the Mail”, Luke sighed. “Just try and make him see reason, please.”

Hallie opened the door and got inside, closing it behind her without a noise.

“Now you want to see me.”

The Band of Brothers pantry was a spacious and well organized room, with cabinets and shelves to one side and a row of industrial sized freezers to the other. Tom was sitting on the floor, with his back to the wall and a can of beer in his hand, looking so miserable that Hallie almost had to fight back tears.

She thought of the best way to start the conversation; Tom seemed to be in a highly dramatic state, so she decided that maybe he would react if she dialed up the drama.

“Tom, if you want me to resign and leave, just say so and I’ll be out of here in a minute”, she stated in a clear voice.

“What?” He clearly wasn’t expecting that. He left the beer on the floor (unopened, Hallie noticed) and stood up with the help of the wall behind him.

He didn’t seem drunk, just extremely hungover and a more than a little angry. He walked up towards Hallie very slowly, as if he was walking under water.

“Did you have fun with your boyfriend Harrington the other night?”

Hallie went red as a beet. “Tom, I went to…”

“I know where you went. For some reason you decided I wasn’t good enough for you, so you staged your little freak-out and then Craig came to your rescue like a knight in shining armor. Well played.”

Hallie crossed her arms and frowned. “Tom, that wasn’t staged. I had to run home because I was feeling horrible, and then I got a text from Georgiana…”

“I see. So Georgiana was in it too, playing matchmaker for her little brother.”

“It was a birthday party! With at least fifty people in it!”

“I only saw two people in Harrington’s Tesla.”

Hallie took a step back. “Tom, were you following me?”

“Following you? Bollocks!” answered Tom, outraged. “It’s not my fault that in a city with nine million people you have decided to live right on my doorstep, Chef Harrison.”

“Well, it’s hard to see people’s faces from the balcony of your luxury penthouse, Chef Hiddleston, so you were either using a telescope or–”

“I don’t need a telescope to see when someone’s hiding something from me.”

She sighed. “Okay, this is ridiculous. We’re having a conversation in the stupid pantry–”

“An argument”, interrupted Tom.

“Fine, an argument. But this is not the time or the place to do this.”

Tom raked his fingers through his already tousled hair. “Right. We must look like a pair of bloody teenagers. But you didn’t deny you are hiding something from me, so don’t tell me I’m imagining things.”

Hallie closed her eyes for several seconds. When she opened them again, she looked very serious. “Can we call a truce for a few hours and talk after work? Yes, there’s something important I need to tell you… but it can’t be here.”

“Have it your way”, said Tom in a chilly tone. “I’ll take you home after work… but I don’t know what you want me to say, except that I feel like you’re gaslighting me.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen. And if you don’t like my explanation, tomorrow I will resign and you won’t have to see me again. Deal?”

“Fine.”

He opened the door for Hallie with an exaggerated flourish, and looked at the bunch of people who had congregated in front of the pantry door.

“What, don’t you all have jobs to do?”

Luke let out a sigh of relief. “I’m going to remove that lock today. No, forget about the lock, I’m having the whole door taken away.” He pointed a recriminating finger at Tom. “No more silly shenanigans in this kitchen, understood?”

Tom answered with a mock of a military salute.

“Splendid. Now, let’s all get back to work and forget the past thirty minutes of our lives. Back to cooking, everybody!”

At the same time Tom relived his personal drama in the Band of Brothers kitchen (and pantry), Harrington Craig was parking his Tesla right across the street.

He was in a bit of a hurry. Not exactly late, but he was anxious to try a couple of new and exotic ingredients he’d had shipped from Thailand the day before. Also, he had stayed at his parents’ brunch for a bit longer than he should.

According to the family chronicles, the Craigs had been doing brunch since before the word was invented. The only thing that had changed over the years was the date: what for centuries had been a Sunday event had been changed to Monday since his two elder sisters got married and started having children. Apparently, having all your weekends planned in advance is not practical when you have several little ones, so brunch was rescheduled and now everyone was happy (except for the aforementioned children, who of course were at school).

Whatever the reason, every Monday, Lord and Lady Craig had the table set for at least thirteen people: her eldest daughter Eleonora, her husband, and the youngest of their three girls (who was two years old, so no school yet); Georgiana, always alone because she pitied his boyfriends too much to make them endure the family event; Minerva and her husband with their two daughters (who were homeschooled, and loved being at the table with the grownups); Arabella, the youngest, who had recently became engaged to a young man and had earned the right to bring him to brunch; and, finally, Harry. Alone since his divorce… and frequently alone during his marriage, because his ex-wife Charlotte had hated his sisters with a passion (often reciprocated), and she always had an excuse to avoid setting foot in the Craigs’ Hampstead house.

On that particular day, brunch had been a bit uncomfortable for him. His sister Georgiana, always eager to embarrass him at family events, had told their mother about Hallie… and the hopeful Lady Craig had spent more than an hour trying to extract information from her son.

“My dear Harrington” (she was the only person who called him by his full name all the time). “If there’s a new young lady in your life, do bring her to tea sometime. I’ll be very glad to meet her.”

“That would be wonderful, dear Mamma, but despite what Georgie may have told you there’s nothing to write home about. I’ve met a girl I like, but unfortunately she only has eyes for Tom.”

“What a pity! Speaking of Thomas, I do wish you two would solve your differences. You were such good friends at school! You know, when you were younger I had the secret hope that he would end up marrying one of your sisters.”

Harry couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at this affirmation, and all the other people at the table reacted in a variety of ways: his sisters Nora and Belle managed to muffle a burst of laughter, while Georgiana, less used to hiding her impulses, laughed heartily. Only one of the sisters, Minnie, seemed very concentrated on her food, blushing furiously. She’d had a brief thing with Tom during their time in Oxford, and her sisters had teased her mercilessly for years about ‘the Hiddleston affair.’

As for the men who were also attending brunch, not one of them noticed a thing. Harry’s father was too busy enjoying his eggs Florentine; and all three of his daughter’s significant others were completely oblivious to the crossing of glances between the women and their amused mother.

“Anyway”, continued Lady Mountjoy once the giggling had stopped. “I haven’t lost hope of having a grandson yet. And apparently it has to come from you, because your sisters are exclusively occupied in having girls. Who I love very dearly, of course”, she added with a wink and a smile directed towards the three little girls sitting at the table. “But who’s going to inherit your father’s collection of toy soldiers?”

This time the laughter was general, husbands and father included. It was a running joke in the family, their particular genetic lottery. The elder sister, Nora, had three lovely girls; the second, Minnie, had two and was expecting twins… she had just found out that both of them were also girls. The youngest, Belle, wasn’t married yet, but she always joked that she was going to start buying pink furniture for her future home. And Lord Mountjoy’s collection of toy soldiers, enjoyed for the last time by Harry as a kid, had been collecting dust in the attic for more than twenty-five years.

Harry’s recollection of the family meal was suddenly interrupted by the sound of steps in front of him. He forced his attention back to reality, just in time to avoid a collision with a young Black woman carrying the largest Starbucks cup he had ever seen.

“Oy! Careful, Mister Daydreaming!” she said, holding the cup as far as she could from her leather portfolio and her elegant black and white suit. She never lost her smile, however, and Harry wondered how a person who was on her way to work, and obviously in a hurry, could be in such good spirits.

“I am awfully sorry… God, I hope nothing has spilled.” He surveyed the woman’s slender figure looking for a nonexistent stain, and then something clicked in his mind. “Wait a minute… don’t I know you? You work with Luke Windsor, right?”

“Exactly, I’m his assistant. Shirley Berry.” She managed to hold both portfolio and coffee in her left hand, and extended the right towards Harry’s offered handshake.

“Harry Craig. I’ve heard Luke talk wonders about you several times.”

“Well, he manages the restaurant, and I manage his finances, his schedule, and the rest of his professional life. Everything except Tom, of course. No one in the world can manage that man… but according to the rumours you already know that.”

Harry smirked. “You know, all this time I’ve been wondering how Band of Brothers is doing so well despite Tom not being able to keep his staff stable… maybe I should have looked into the business side of it. If you ever feel tempted to switch your allegiance, I’ll be right here with open arms”, he added with a shy smile.

“Awww, that may be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in weeks. To be completely honest I have no intention to change jobs… but if you weren’t my boss’s best friend’s mortal enemy, I’d invite you to coffee.”

“Even if you are my mortal enemy’s best friend’s assistant, I will take you up on that invitation. I see you like Starbucks, but you may want to try a little café two streets away from here; they serve the best blends in London.”

Shirley’s smile widened. “That sounds great. And I promise Tom hasn’t paid me to poison your Cappuccino or anything.”

“Actually, I take it Ristretto… just so you know where to put the poison”, he answered with a wink.

“Duly noted.” She scribbled her personal mobile on a card and handed it to Harry, and they parted ways, hurrying towards their respective restaurants.

Harry put the business card in his pocket, and a second later he changed his mind and stored it in his wallet. Growing up in a house full of sisters had made him notoriously bad at flirting for many years, so he liked it when women took the initiative in a frank, carefree way, like Shirley had done. Even if it was just for coffee, and not a real date.

The workday at Band of Brothers ended almost at midnight. Most Londoners, except for the ones who partied really hard, were already asleep or getting ready for bed, so the light traffic allowed Tom’s Aston Martin to make the trip from Chelsea to Goswell Road in twenty minutes, instead of the usual thirty.

That meant twenty long minutes of sulky silence on Tom’s part. After the bumpy start of the day he had been more cooperative, but for most of the day he’d kept a stubborn silence. Hallie tried to lighten the mood making a couple of casual comments at the start of the drive, but noticing the lack of response she chose to concentrate on her phone. She texted her mother to let her know she was bringing Tom home, but Lorraine hadn’t answered her yet.

Finally, when they were only a couple of minutes away from the City, Tom broke his silence.

“Texting your boyfriend?”

Hallie huffed. “I’m glad you’re speaking to me again. And no, as far as I know I don’t have a boyfriend, thanks for asking.”

“Then what do you call the Honorable Harrington Craig? Just a fuckbuddy? A friend with benefits?” he asked between gritted teeth. “I bet he’s already planning to make you the second Mrs. Craig. He can be very quick when it comes to marrying other people's–”

“Will you stop with that, Tom? We’re almost… turn right, please, we’re almost there. You can park around that corner.”

Tom decided to go back to sulking in silence during the short walk through the front door, up the stairs, and finally through the door of Hallie’s flat on the second floor.

“Hallie? Is that you, cupcake?”

“Yes, Mom, I’m home.”

A cheerful looking woman got up from the couch and turned off the television. Tom thought she looked exactly like an older version of Hallie, only a bit shorter. And with glasses.

“Ah, you must be Tom! Nice to meet you, I’m Lorraine Harrison” she said, offering him a firm handshake. “Sorry I didn’t drop by the restaurant to meet you sooner, but I was a little busy with… with a thing that I’m sure Hallie will tell you in a moment.”

“That’s why I asked him here, Mom. To talk.”

Lorraine exchanged a knowing glance with her daughter, a glance that left Tom even more puzzled than before.

“Well, in that case I’m going to the kitchen to have a cuppa. The living room is all yours.”

Hallie led a very suspicious Tom to the living room and asked him to sit down. He did, looking around him as if he was expecting some kind of nasty surprise to jump at his face in any moment.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Am I going to need one?”

“Probably.”

He made an affirmative sign, and Hallie walked to the dining room table, where someone –probably Lorraine and her motherly powers of precognition– had set a bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc and two glasses. She offered one to Tom, and remained standing in front of him.

“Look, I’m not usually a person who shares all her secrets, but…” she paused. “What I mean is that there’s something I should have told you when we met, but it was…”

Another pause. Despite Tom’s resentment, it was actually painful for him to see Hallie struggle like that. He took a sip of his wine; very nice, not expensive but good vintage, whispered his restaurant-trained mind.

“Christ, Hallie, you look like you’re going to confess a crime”, he blurted. “I don’t mind hiring felons, you know. One of our line cooks stole a car when he was sixteen, and that didn’t keep me from giving him a job.”

“No, it’s not that.” Hallie blushed and started pacing up and down the room. “It’s just… a long story.”

“I have all the time in the world. Or at least until I have to open the restaurant tomorrow.”

She took a deep breath and almost emptied her glass of wine. “Okay. As you know, my family moved from here to California when I was a toddler. My Dad owned a small agricultural supplies company, that now belongs to my older brother. Eight years ago, I was starting my second year at UCLA, when–”

“Mommy, can you come say goodnight to Stuart?”

There was a boy standing at the door; a sleepy little boy with blond straw-like hair, wearing a Lighting McQueen pyjamas, and holding a Minion plush almost as big as him. With the corner of his eye, Tom looked at Hallie. She was paralyzed, all the blood having escaped from her face, so he tried to react in the less awkward way he could think of.

“Hello, mate! I’m Tom.” He extended a hand towards the kid, who shook it with enthusiasm.

“Hi Tom, I’m Max. Hey, my best friend at school also calls me mate! Is it an England thing?”

“You’re absolutely right, it’s an England thing”, Tom said with a very serious face. “It’s what we call our best friends here.”

“Are you Mom’s chef boss? She says you make the best food in the world!”

Hallie finally came out of her stupor with a shy laugh. She crouched beside the boy and hugged him.

“Oh, Max… What are you doing up, pumpkin?”

“I heard the door and I wanted to say goodnight. Is it very late?”

“Very very late. All the other children in London are in bed, you’re the only one awake. Aren’t you sleepy?”

“Yes…” as if choreographed, a giant yawn followed the word. “Yes, I think I’m going back to bed now. Goodnight, Chef Tom.”

“Goodnight, buddy.”

Hallie picked up the dozing child with one arm and Stuart the minion with the other. “I’ll be right back”, she said before disappearing into one of the doors.

During the following moments Tom sat motionless, in complete silence, listening to the distant sound of two voices wishing sweet dreams to each other. When Hallie reappeared he pretended to concentrate in his glass of Sauvignon Blanc, still full.

She sat down on the couch beside him, but not too close.

“Well, I guess the explanation I was giving you is kind of moot now. As you may have guessed, Max is my son… And he’s the reason why I’ve been hiding things and acting strangely. Part of the reason, at least.”

A light went up in Tom’s mind. “Hallie, are you trying to tell me that you’re married?”

“Of course not! I would never have gone out to dinner with you if I was married.”

“Trouble with your ex?”

“I don’t have an ex”, she said in a low, breathy voice. “I’ve never been married, Tom.”

Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. When he opened his eyes again, the black cloud that loomed over him had started to dissipate.

“So… this was your terrible, horrible secret? Many single people have children. And I’m sure Max a handful, but… I like kids. You didn’t have to hide that from me.”

“I was scared.” Hallie reached for the bottle of wine, but Tom was faster; he grabbed it first and poured her another glass. “Thanks.”

“Scared of me finding out about Max? I already told you, there’s no reason–”

She placed her hand over Tom’s for a moment and then drew it back, as if his skin had burned her.

“Tom, this isn’t easy for me. I really need you to listen without saying anything for a couple of minutes, because I’m not used to talking about… personal things. Not with anyone outside my family or my closest friends, who are all girls.”

“I’m listening”, he said in the most reassuring tone he could manage.

Hallie repositioned herself on the sofa a couple of times, looking alternatively at Tom and at the wall in front of her.

“Max’s father… Dave… was my first serious boyfriend. We started dating on the last year of High School, and we weren’t sure what to do with the relationship after that… but then we both ended up in UCLA, so things went on.” She seemed to relax a little, and took off her shoes. “College was a lot of fun at first. I had a lot of friends, a popular boyfriend, I was in a sorority… I was going to get my BA in World Arts and Culture, and I loved it. I guess I wasn’t the most brilliant student, but I did well enough in class. And then, just at the start of my sophomore year… I found out I was pregnant.”

“Did you have a fight? Did he leave you?” Tom blurted without thinking. “Sorry, I just… sorry. No more interruptions.”

“No, he didn’t leave me”, she continued in a soft, sad voice. “He said he would do the right thing… his parents were very religious. Episcopalian. And as soon as they knew what happened they started planning our wedding. Quickly, before it started to show, because… you know. The scandal.”

She left the empty glass of wine aside, and held her knees to her chest.

“My parents told us to wait, to be sure of our decision, to see what happened with the way Dave and I felt about everything after the baby had been born. Mom was very insistent about that, she said we were too young and life was too complicated to throw our education aside and start playing house. But Dave’s parents wouldn’t even hear about that, and we were in love… or, at least, the kind of love you’re in when you’re nineteen and you haven’t experienced real life before. Dave started to work with his father at a real estate company; he came to see me every morning before going to work. My future mother-in-law let me borrow her wedding dress. She arranged all of it: the church, the flowers, the music… I don’t remember much of the preparations, everybody told me I had to rest and take care of the baby so I wasn’t allowed to help much.”

Hallie’s gaze was fixed on the wall now, and her voice was almost inaudible.

Tom opened his mouth to speak again and then he remembered in the nick of time that he wasn’t supposed to; he stopped fidgeting with his wine glass and moved his hand towards Hallie, just up to the point where only one of his fingers was touching one of hers. She looked at him again with a sad smile.

“Two weeks before the wedding I had my bachelorette party. Nothing crazy, not in my state, just me and a few friends. My Mom had the idea of making it British themed, and we had this afternoon party with tea and crumpets, and little Union Flags on the tables, all very Victorian; all my friends loved it.” She ran a hand through her hair, undoing several strands of her already messy ponytail. “Dave and his friends went out, of course. To a… a strip club. Everybody knew they were going there, after all it was his bachelor party. They spent the night dancing with the girls there… and drinking.”

A light went off in Tom’s head. He saw the painful truth coming from afar, digging its way out of Hallie’s memories before showing its ugly face in the present.

“They waited until I woke up the next day, because they didn’t want me to get upset at five in the morning. I remember my parents coming to my room… it’s strange, the things one remembers. My Mom had a cup of tea in her hands, a porcelain cup with pink flowers painted on it. And Dad hadn’t shaved. He was such a proper gentleman, I knew something was wrong the moment I saw he hadn’t shaved. But I don’t remember which one of them said that there had been an accident, that Dave wasn’t coming to see me that morning… that Dave was dead.”

Tom had heard enough. He crossed the small distance between him and Hallie and held her hand, delicately. He looked at her face expecting tears, but her eyes were dry.

“I’m sure you loved him very much.”

“I was completely infatuated with him, and losing him was the worst thing that had happened in my life. Suddenly I was a college drop-out, alone, terrified of giving birth, afraid of raising a baby without a father… I think I managed to survive that year thanks to my parents. I don’t know what I’d have done without them.” She looked at Tom again, at his clear blue eyes and his worried gaze. “I’ve been awkward around men since then. We should have had this conversation before our date, Tom, and I’m so sorry I freaked out. I was so scared!”

“Of me finding out about Max?”

“Not only that. I already told you Max’s father was my first boyfriend. Then after him I had a small baby and of course I couldn’t go around dating. When Max was four my Dad got sick… when he died, I had to lend a hand in the family business and I didn’t have a lot of time for anything. And then I had the silly idea of going on Masterchef, and with all the fuss of the contest, the win, the promotion, the cookbook…”

“Yes?”

“Tom, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re the first man I’ve dated in eight years. Which, counting Max’s father, makes you the second guy I’ve dated in my whole life.”

Tom froze for a moment, and then hid his face in his hands. “Oh, bollocks. I scared you.”

“Just a little.”

“I’m a sodding brute.”

“No! You were just… Enthusiastic, I guess. And I was too confused to tell you that I needed to go a little slower.”

He nodded in silence and wrapped his hand around hers. They sat like that for a moment, until a sudden noise coming from the kitchen made them jump.

“Do you think your mother’s listening?”

“Of course she’s listening! She’s been in there for fifteen minutes. How long does it take to make a cup of tea?” Hallie laughed. “Mom, please come out and stop eavesdropping!”

Lorraine came out of the kitchen, holding a nearly empty cup of tea and a sugar biscuit. “Well, did you fix it?” she asked, staring intently at Tom and Hallie.

“Yes, ma'am. All fixed.”

“Good. I was getting bored to death in there, but I didn’t want to interrupt your little conversation. And now that I’m sure there won’t be another World War in my living room, this old lady needs to go to bed.” She finished the biscuit, left the cup on the table and hugged her daughter. “Sleep well, cupcake. Goodnight, Chef Hiddleston.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Harrison. Pleased to meet you.”

After Lorraine left they both stood in the middle of the living room, too tired to say anything, until Tom reacted.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re going to fall asleep standing up.”

Hallie offered him a tired smile. “Well, it has been a tough day. For both of us.”

Tom threw his arms around her, enclosing her in a tight embrace. “As much as I like doing this, I really need to go and let you sleep. Or tomorrow we’ll fall asleep in the kitchen.”

“And Luke will scream at us.”

“Luke was very close to having an aneurysm this morning…” Tom observed. “I think I owe him an apology. And another one to you, for behaving like an arse all day. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, Tom. I’m sorry too, for not being honest with you earlier. I promise, no more hiding things.”

“And I promise to take things slow. I’m also out of practice doing that, so we can find our ideal speed together”, he said with a wink.

“I like the sound of that”, Hallie answered. “I guess for tonight we can start with something small. Like… one kiss?”

“Only one, Chef Harrison? It will have to be one hell of a kiss.”

“That’s up to you, Chef Hiddleston. Remember that I’m a silly sorority girl with only one boyfriend on my record who knows absolutely nothing about these things.”

Tom entwined one of his hands in Hallie’s hair, slowly stroking her cheek with his thumb. She smelled like red wine and powdered sugar.

“You keep getting it wrong, Chef Harrison. Wrong in two counts.” His breath ghosted on her cheek, and she shivered. “Number one, you’re not a silly girl. I don’t think you’ve ever been a silly girl.”

He pulled her even closer to him and brushed his lips with hers, slowly, giving her space to respond. And she did, leaning eagerly into him and into the caress of his mouth.

“And… and number two?” she said, feebly, once the kiss was over.

“Well… I think your count of boyfriends has gone up. By one.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #thfru #crossing knives #missviolethunter #missviolethunterwrites #au tom #chef tom #romance #comedy #hallie #ofc hallie #luke windsor #multis #mature #submission

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getmehighonmagic · 9 months

Text

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! ♥

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getmehighonmagic · 7 months

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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! ♥♥♥

#ao3 #fanfic #red white and royal blue #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #luke morrow #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #purple hearts #fanfiction #red white and royal blue fic #rwrb fic #first prince #first marine #junora smut

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getmehighonmagic · 9 months

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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.

#fanfic #ao3 #ao3 author #fanfic authors #fandom #red white and royal blue #rwrb #au #fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue movie #rwrb fic #luke morrow #purple hearts #my fic #fic rec #my fanfiction #fanfic writing

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just-the-hiddles · 5 years

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Shouldn’t | A Luke Reaction Fic

A/N: So I am not sure if all my followers know this, but I have developed a slight obsession with writing stories of Luke Windsor, Tom’s publicist, reacting to the ridiculous things he does in our stories. Very much the exasperated babysitter. Here is one for my series, Should. It takes place right after the last chapter. And a bit of shameless self-promotion, if love exasperated Luke, check out my side blog @luke-windsors-diary for daily Luke antics.

Last Time in Should: Tom came over to help Emma celebrate her birthday and one thing led to another. And the two of them are splashed all of the gossip columns. Luke must now fix this but not before giving an earful to Tom.

Pairing: None. Tom Hiddleston x OFC in the companion series

Warnings: Language and consequences of bad decisions, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 997

Taglist: @nonsensicalobsessions @winterisakiller @jennytwoshoes @pinkzz123 @klbates22 @jumpxjess @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @hiddlesbitch1 @drakesfiance @sterwild @obtain-this-grain @unfortunatelyymuggle @sheris532 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @beananacake @et-puto @hopelessromanticspoonie @yespolkadotkitty @littleredstarfish @theoneanna @too-cold-for-youhere @rjohnson1280 @fire-in-her-veinz @brucestephenbucky

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.

#tom hiddleston #tom Hiddleston fanfic #luke windsor #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom Hiddleston imagine #hiddlestoners #luke Windsor fic #luke Windsor fanfiction #should fic #tom Hiddleston angst #tom Hiddleston smut #tom Hiddleston x ofc #tom Hiddleston/ofc

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