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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!

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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.

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muchadowriting · 3 years

Text

Just Like That

Tom Hiddleston x teacher!reader

Parts: Part 1

Words: 2.9K

Summary: What happens when Tom is forced to have a stronger social media presence? How does he respond when teacher!reader sends him a message with one of her student's writing assignments about Loki?

A/N: This is my first attempt at anything remotely like this at all. I haven't written a fanfic since I was in high school and that has been quite a long time ago. I have to thank @lov3nerdstuff for inspiring me, answering all of my ridiculous writing questions, and really just being an awesome example around these parts. Go check out their stuff!

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“Raise your hand to tell me why you think narrative beginnings are sometimes called ‘hooks’?” The room erupts in a flurry of hands raising after you prompt your class of fourth graders. They so badly want to please you and impress their fellow classmates, as though this one question answered correctly is all the recognition they will need in life. You’re obviously pleased with the participation, but it’s the select few that decidedly don’t raise their hands that have grabbed your attention.

“Scott,” you call on the boy who had been occupied with a glue stick in his desk than the discussion around him. A few groans were heard throughout the room from the disappointment of not being called.

“I didn’t raise my hand,” he replied, as if there must have been some mistake.

You smile, moving around the classroom in an effort to gain the attention of other students by your mere proximity. “Sneak attack,” giving a small shrug and a simple answer. ‘Sneak attacks’ were your common practice—another method of keeping students engaged. However, it was never used to intentionally embarrass students. “Why do you think narrative beginnings are called ‘hooks’?” you repeat the question, tone gentle as you continue to look at the boy who was beginning to fluster. You quickly gesture towards the whole class, directing your next words to them. “If you aren’t currently sending good vibes to your classmate, then I don’t know what you’re doing!”

As if on cue, students began to wiggle their fingers in the direction of the young boy. A few called out words of encouragement. “You can’t get this question wrong. I just want to know why you think a beginning is called a ‘hook’,” your tone even softer than before, barely heard above the other students’ excitement. You’ve chosen this student for a reason. He loves to fish. His only good memories of his dad are when they fished when Scott was a tiny boy. He hates to write and if you don’t get him invested in this now—you’re a goner.

“Um,” Scott’s small smile is contagious. His body language is telling you that this is going in the right direction. “You use hooks to pull the reader in—like you pull in a fish?” he asks, punctuating his question with a laugh.

Your face contorts in comical confusion. “Are you asking me or telling me, Scott?”

“With confidence!” a couple of classmates call out, again—they know you. They know your phrases and mannerisms. They feel safe. And if you don’t teach them a damn thing the whole year, you’ll be damn sure that they at least feel safe when they are with you.

Scott’s laughter mingles with his friends, jumping from his seat, his actions matching the energy of the room. “Hooks pull readers in!” he yells out. You respond with laughter of your own, because you know he isn’t done. “And—and—you have to have the right bait. You gotta know what type of fish you want to catch…” he rattles off quickly.

To keep the energy alive (and keep the conversation about writing), you’re quick to help him out. “Just like you have to know who your audience is when you’re writing.”

“Because you don’t want to lose them with the wrong beginning!”

“Exactly! Nicely done!” Your words are lost in a sea of excited claps, laughter, and words of congratulations towards Scott. “Today, we are going to begin to write a fictional narrative about what would happen if you and your favorite fictional character met and had to solve a problem together. It’s going to take us a month or so to complete it. Right around the end of the school year. Thanks to Scott, we already know that we have to grab our readers’ attention from the very start. He’s not going to have any trouble doing that, right everyone?” The students were already chatting away about what they were going to write about, even Scott who absolutely hated to write. You marked the ‘Publication Party’ day on your class calendar amidst the chaos.

There were more efficient ways to introduce a writing assignment. There were quieter ways. Ways that likely followed a perfectly laid out plan. You spent ten extra minutes that could have been used to go over the specifics of the assignment. But, had you done that….Scott would likely not have worked so hard on his narrative about meeting Loki. And you, dear reader, would not have randomly sent his writing to the man behind the God of Mischief…

—————————————————————————

There wasn’t anything mischievous about nursing a hangover with a five o’clock wake-up call from his furry companion. It seemed Bobby hadn’t received the memo that if his owner was up past midnight, drinking gin, and arguing with his publicist for the hundredth time about ‘social media image’---it wasn’t appropriate to lick at said owner’s face after he roughly had four hours of sleep. It was rude.

A muffled groan came from beneath the pillow that Tom had somehow managed to burrow under in his intoxicated state. It was a feeble attempt to avoid this whole situation. Yet, Bobby was insistent about getting up at their normal time. “I will buy you every bone this world has to offer, Bobby. Please. Five more minutes,” he begged the dog, but with little success. Hearing Tom’s voice may have made it worse, as Bobby’s cold nose dug deeper and deeper beneath the covers to lick at his owner’s ear.

“Alright! I’m up! I’m up!” hair flopped in all sorts of directions as he emerged from his cocoon. “We’ll take a walk and then go back to bed,” but even as he was saying it, he knew it to be a lie. He never could be one of those people who could just fall back asleep after padding around. When he was awake, he was awake—despite wishing with all of his might to catch a few more winks.

Hangover aside, the morning operated much the same. A quick pop outside for Bobby, before all of London was up for the day. Coffee. Two cups. Aspirin (not part of the typical routine, but decidedly required to survive today). Large glass of water. Then, to properly take Bobby on a walk more so to clear his own head than for his companion. Ballcap, glasses, and his comfortable attire were not noteworthy in his opinion—yet, he was fully prepared to force a smile if the paparazzi were out and about.

If they had been out, Tom wouldn't have noticed. The beautiful thing about walks is that you can lose yourself so wholly in the moment. A jog would have done the trick as well with the blood pumping, heart racing, the general feeling of being wildly alive and near the brink of death with each stride—though the thought alone of a jog this morning made him want to groan. Naturally, his thoughts found the way to the argument from the night before. His social media presence. Was it as active as his publicist would have liked? No. This wasn’t a new topic of conversation, but for whatever reason, Luke chose last night to put his foot down. Especially in this down time between projects, Tom had to keep in the public eye. No, not in the sense of the world knowing his every move—Where was he having dinner? Who was he eating with? Who was he sleeping with? The works. Taking to Twitter or Instagram with a picture of Bobby or the current album he was listening to would not be a complete invasion of privacy.

Luke was never going to understand though. While the publicist may have been in the public eye, he had never known what it was like to have every word scrutinized, to have his hand placement on a friend’s shoulder be the subject of countless blog posts, to read about his own break-ups in painstakingly dramatized articles… The world had never held him under a magnifying glass in an effort to see everything that was wrong with him.

And Tom told him as much. Hence, the hangover. For he never would have been so blatantly frustrated by the suggestion or as honest in his views had he not been two drinks in (the lightweight) while Luke had come by for a visit. At a certain point, Luke knew better than to argue with Tom after drink number two. Tom so rarely drank, that when he did, he would end up regretting everything that was said by the following day. It had simply been a combination of jet lag and a welcome home bottle of gin.

By the end of the walk, Tom was indeed regretting the argument from the night before. It wasn’t that he had a change of heart, but he didn’t like being cross with anyone. Did that stop him from getting angry? Of course not—but it was quite difficult to hold that level of bitterness in his heart.

Upon returning home, he set about preparing breakfast for himself and a new bowl of food for Bobby–proving that he wasn’t going to crawl back to bed like both man and canine suspected from the start. After taking a quick shower and sliding into something equally as comfortable as his earlier outfit, he forced down a piece of toast and another glass of water.

It wasn’t until he settled down at his computer to answer a few emails that he realized that Instagram was opened in one of his tabs. A disgruntled roll of the eye was all he could muster in terms of frustration, having used up most of it the night before. Of course, staring back at him was a picture of Bobby’s smiling face.

10,567 likes

twhiddleston A picture is worth a thousand words.

6 hours ago

Lovely. Just lovely. Tom’s immediate reaction was to start clicking around to look into how to change his password. It wasn’t as though Luke hadn’t posted pictures before on Tom’s behalf, but this certainly wasn’t going to be a constant–especially pictures of his, albeit adorable, pup. Throughout his search, he seemed to stumble upon the messages. What a rabbit hole that turned out to be… Most of the newest messages were about Bobby and how cute he was—which he had to agree with like a proud parent.

He was just about to click out of the messages when a new one appeared.

cgfan0820

Greetings! Not sure if Tom will actually see this—seems unlikely given how busy he likely is…

cgfan0820

Damn. Unlikely and likely so close in the same sentence. I could have figured out a better word. Or you know, not have sent that first message.

Tom had to give a chuckle as he watched the real time struggle this person was seemingly having with his or herself. He had half the mind to respond back, but the little messaging system said they were still typing—so, he politely stayed quiet.

cgfan0820

I really hope he doesn’t actually read these. Can you paint me in some sort of decent light–if/when you relay this? Or don’t relay. At least not this part.

He felt bad for laughing at this stranger’s self-depreciation. There was an endearing sense to it all though and a confidence that managed to peek its way through. Why allow others to see you stumble, if you were not confident that you would rise again? Alright, Tom. A little too deep for a simple message.

cgfan0820

Can you please show him this?

Before he had a chance to reread over the messages, several images popped up. At first, he was concerned about what the pictures contained–given how he knew people could behave on the internet, especially when there were no repercussions for such behavior. Upon further inspection though—it looked like a child's handwriting. These were pictures of a book of some sort. There were illustrations of Loki (the horns gave it away, but the grin sold it) alongside a smaller person. Based on the label that said in all caps SCOTT, Tom took it to be the main character. It was absolutely adorable. Page after page–some easier to read than others. After thirteen pictures of writing and illustrations depicting an adventure between Loki and Scott–and from what Tom gathered, they saved the world, he found himself checking to see the new message that had been sent.

cgfan0820

Scott has never been so proud. Writing doesn’t come easily to him. He gets trapped in his mind—like we all do at times. He finished it though because I promised I would try to have Loki read it. Tell Tom thank you for inspiring one of my kids.

It was then that Tom realized his cheeks ached. The low throb that occurs after an extended period of smiling. He read over the pictures three or four more times, understanding more and more with each repeated read. Of course it wasn’t the first time he had received a card or letter written by a child. This was by far the most extensive and proved to be a little trickier when it was through pictures. Nevertheless, it was Tom that was left feeling inspired, which was exactly the reason he felt compelled to respond.

twhiddleston

Please tell Scott that his work rivals that of many of the greats. Not only am I impressed with his use of metaphors (particularly ‘Loki was kayos’---I assume chaos?) but also his use of punctuation to make a point. Was that seven or eight exclamation points on page 2, sentence four?

Before he had time to close the browser, the typing sign appeared once more from the user. That polite nagging in the back of his still pounding mind forced him to stay glued in his spot. Read the message and then change the password. He would send an equally polite goodbye and be done with Instagram.

cgfan0820

You assume correctly! I cared more about the metaphor than the spelling. You should have seen the rough draft though. There were at least seventeen exclamation points. Now I have to know, did you read it with the enthusiasm of seven exclamation points? Was Scott’s punctuation in vain?

He had been caught. When he had read the story, it was all in his head and more focused on deciphering everything rather than reading it with conviction. The fact that this messenger was so quick to point out his obvious mistake amused him.

twhiddleston

I’ll have to come clean. I did not read it with as much enthusiasm as was warranted.

cgfan0820

Then, you didn’t do your job as a reader. Scott did his job as a writer. What do you have to say for yourself?

A chuckle awoke Bobby from his mid-morning nap, as Tom shifted in his seat to start his reply. He literally knew nothing about the messenger and yet the phrase ‘what do you have to say for yourself’ made him curious about the person behind the screen. That was wildly inappropriate though, especially if he was going to end this conversation shortly and his presence on social media.

twhiddleston

I apologize profusely. I don’t wish to lay blame on poor Scott, but the penmanship was making it a tad difficult to distinguish between exclamation and lowercase l’s.

cgfan0820

Do you run across a lot of lowercase l’s at the end of sentences? Is that a common practice in the UK?

twhiddleston

You make a brilliant point. I apologize once more.

There was a lingering pause as he waited for the messenger to begin typing once more. After five minutes had passed, however, he felt as though he may have lost his audience. This was the perfect time to end the conversation and carry on with the rest of his day. Yet…

twhiddleston

I take it, you’re not from the UK?

What was he doing? That was his chance to leave as politely as possible. Yet, here he was continuing a conversation with a complete stranger. Well, perhaps not a complete stranger. This person had children, based on the ‘my kids’ comment. Obviously cared about writing….and encouraged it wholeheartedly.

cgfan0820

Never been there before in my life. Southern woman here–minus the accent. I guess I should specify the United States?

twhiddleston

Really? You must be absolutely exhausted. It has to be–what? One? Two in the morning over there?

cgfan0820

Ding. Ding. Professional development day for the school district tomorrow. I don’t have to quite be on point as usual. My kids would call me out if I looked tired.

More and more puzzle pieces were being given to him about the messenger. She was a teacher. Her kids were her students. At that realization, something tugged at Tom’s heart. He had ‘nieces’ and ‘nephews’---children of coworkers and friends. Although he loved them dearly, he had never referred to them as his children. Yet, this woman did it so freely and with such ease that she had likely done it countless times before. Not only did she seem at ease talking about ‘her kids’, but she seemed at ease talking to him.

When was the last time a stranger had been able to do that? When had he been at ease with a stranger? Yes, he knew how to put on the smile, the charm—he knew how to be Tom Hiddleston. When was the last time he was able to simply be Tom?

cgfan0820

I have to ask…Who am I speaking to?

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

Thank you for reading!

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x teacher!reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #bobby hiddleston #luke windsor

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 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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hushedhands · 3 years

Note

I was wondering what the English royal families last name is?? I’m sorry but I can’t seem to remember it

I’ve never written it because I don’t think they really use one! Here’s why:

1. The Selection takes place in the same world that we live in, just in a dystopian future. So it has the same history and historical figures that we have, all the way through until “President Wallis”, World War III, and the unification of Asia under the Chinese government.

2. Years ago, back when I first referenced the English royals in Laws of Inheritance, it was easy for me to imagine that Britain splintered into England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland as the rest of the world started globbing together into empires (Illéa and “New Asia” for a start). Who would the UK glob with? FRANCE? lol ( also we know France had its own monarchy from The Selection books).

*Actual picture of the UK and France trying to form one country

3. After I decided about the fate of the UK, It was hard to imagine that England, formally separated from Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, would also toss off the royal family. It seemed like a step too far.

So therefore:

Like the real, modern UK royal family, the English royal family in Laws of Inheritance / The Thing with Feathers doesn’t use a last name very often, but when they have to they use one (like for Luke’s school enrollment or something) they probably go with Windsor or maybe Mountbatten-Windsor, which is what the current royal family uses.

TLDR, I think preserving the royal house of Windsor would be important to an independent dystopian future England, and also there are so many members of the royal family, I don’t see how they all become unavailable to sit on the throne and thus force a turnover to a new royal house.

#The thing with feathers #avatarkatie

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thesaltysocialworker · 4 years

Text

Masterlist

Last Updated: September 7th, 2021.

Requests: CURRENTLY OPEN

Loki Odinson/Laufeyson

Remember When it Rained: A short AU story about Loki risking his life for the love of his life in battle.

Black Magic (part one)/ (part two): Imagine finding a black cat in the rubble after the Battle of New York. You take it home to nurse it back to health falling in love with it in the process. Imagine coming home one evening and being heartbroken to discover that the cat is gone. Imagine Loki creeping on you from the shadows and being confused and astounded that you’re so upset by his absence.

King of my Heart: Requested one-shot fluff about Loki and the Reader confess/realize their feelings for each other over a picnic.

Winter Hearts: Requested one-shot fluff, Loki teaches the reader to ice skate and not all goes as planned but forces the reader to confront Loki about her feelings for him.

Wreck of the Day: Requested one-shot fluff. The reader had a bad day at work and Loki takes it upon himself to make the second half of her day better.

A Thousand Years: It’s the night of Loki and Readers Wedding, and the reader is offered the choice of immortality after a gift from her soon to be husband. Does she take it?

The Words: Loki believes the reader to be dead after a battle with the Avengers and reflects on how he was never able to say those three little words to her.

A Million Dreams: A look at how Loki’s lust for the throne destroyed his relationship with the love of his life from her POV.

Tightrope: Part two to a Million Dreams. Set between Thor/The Dark World, the reader reconciles with Loki only to lose him when she believes he died at the end of the first Thor movie, and reunites with him during The Dark World.

The Mistress: You’d gone from a simple “farm girl” to the mistress of the youngest prince of Asgard. Despite being deeply in love with one another, there’s one problem– you’re married, and your husband is tired of being second to your very public relationship with your lover. (Set before the first Thor movie.)

For the First Time: You and Loki are long-time childhood friends, who made an agreement about a certain birthday and your virginity. Both of you are too scarde to act on your feelings, but Sif sets a plan in motion using Thor to make sure you end up with the man you love.

Conversations in the Dark: You and Loki had been friends since you joined the Avengers, but is there something more there? And what about your current relationship with Steve Rogers?

Thor Odinson

I Prayed For Thunder: You and Loki have been in a relationship until he made the decision to marry for political gain. Loki tries to convince you to stay with him as his mistress, and you refuse. You find comfort in the arms of the older prince, Thor. Jealousy drives Loki to do whatever necessary to keep you as his.

Doctor Strange/Stephen Strange

Strange Love: The cape, knowing how Stephen feels about you, tries to get your attention by any means necessary.

The Winter Soilder/Bucky Barnes

Five Minutes: Bucky has always been running from something. But he’s trying to settle down into a long term relationship with you which causes some growing pains; especially after he injures you when you attempt to wake him from a nightmare. Can counseling with Raynor help him see how much he needs you and force him to stop running?

Thomas Sharpe

Are you with me?: Reader is a world renowned psychic who met Thomas Sharpe during an investigation of the infamous Crimson Peak. After growing closer with Thomas, the reader buys the home and the two can no longer ignore their feelings for each other.

Sharpe Edges: You'd never trusted Lucille Sharpe, especially after you married her brother. When you catch her poisioning your tea, you quickly learn what survival entails in the Shapre Household.

Tom Hiddleston

The Words: You meet Tom during his run in Betrayal while living in New York. After a whirlwind romance Tom has to return to London, and you make the decision to stay in New York. But will a song you composed and put on his phone before take off change your minds about a long distance relationship?

Waking up in Vegas: You got a second chance at a career that you’d grown to love after your own failed attempts at fame; shadowing Luke Windsor as you learn the ropes of becoming an agent. But a trip to Las Vegas with Luke’s most famous client may ruin your dream career before it even gets off the ground.

Never Worn White: Your long time best friend and ex, Tom Hiddleston, shows up at your wedding with the intention of convincing you to leave your fiancee at the altar. Will you pick an imperfect life with Tom, or a seemingly perfect and normal one with someone else?

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

One Night in Canto Bight: After the Rebellion caused chaos at the casino at Canto Bight, you were hired on to make sure such things never happened again. But when the Supreme Leader and the Knights of Ren show up looking for more rebels, will you be able to stop them from making a scene?

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actorfrustration · 7 years

Text

So Lonesome I Could Cry

Title: So Lonesome I Could Cry Chapter: One-Shot Pairing: Tom/Belle Rating: T Fic Summary: Belle visits Tom while he’s filming “I Saw the Light” and finds out just how much he misses her. Author’s Notes: I was watching some of the special features for “I Saw the Light” last night and this came to me.

It was a hot sunny day in Tennessee.

Belle didn’t know how Tom stood it, being a London native like herself. She hadn’t seen Tom in 2 months, so Luke (like usual) arranged for her to fly out to Tennessee to spend a couple of days with him. She was excited to see him and what he had been working on. She vaguely understood what this new project was about, because Tom hadn’t explained a lot to her.

They soon pulled up to a ranch style home on the outskirts of Nashville.

Belle and Luke got out of the car and Luke helped her get her stuff.

Tom came bursting out of the front door and ran over to her. He scooped her up in his arms.

Belle giggled and leaned down to kiss Tom.

Tom hummed against her lips as she threaded her fingers in his curly hair. Tom pulled away and set her down. “I’ll take it from here, Luke”, Tom said, taking Belle’s suitcase from him. Tom led her inside the house and upstairs to where he was staying.

“How do you stand this heat?” Belle asked him.

“Oh, you get used to it darlin’”, he said winking at her.

Belle whole body flushed hearing the term of endearment in an American southern accent. It was kinda sexy.

“Come downstairs with me. There’s someone I want you to meet”, he said.

Belle followed Tom downstairs and into the recording studio part of the house.

A man with grey hair sat on one of the couches, plucking away at an acoustic guitar.

“Belle, I’d like you to meet my mentor and friend Rodney Crowell. Rodney, this is my Belle”, Tom said.

Belle blushed at the way Tom called her “My Belle”.

“It’s an honor to meet you Belle. I’ve heard so much about you”, Rodney said.

Belle simply smiled.

“Would you like to see the man in action?” Rodney asked her.

Belle nodded and sat down on the other couch.

Tom grabbed an acoustic guitar and walked over to one of the mics. Tom strummed a couple chords before he started singing. When he started yodeling, Belle’s mouth dropped open.

She couldn’t believe that sound was coming out of her boyfriend. She wasn’t a stranger to Tom singing, but this wasn’t his usual style of music.

When Tom was finished, he looked at Belle.

“Wow”, she said, “What…how…?”

Tom chuckled. “It wasn’t without a lot of practice”, he told her, “There is one other I’d like to play and sing for you”. For this one, Tom sat down on the couch next to her and faced her. “Hear that lonesome whippoorwill. He sounds too blue to fly. That means he's lost the will to live. I'm so lonesome I could cry”, Tom sang.

Belle could hear the pain in his voice. By the time Tom stopped playing, both he and Belle had tears in their eyes. Belle placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. Clearly, he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

“I understand where the emotion from that song came from now”, Rodney said as he watched the two lovers.

“I miss you every day I’m apart from you”, Tom told Belle.

“Shhh, let’s just make the most of these couple days, okay?” she said.

Tom nodded and kissed her again.

Tom showed her around Nashville until the time came for her to leave him again.

They stood outside waiting for the taxi to come and take Belle to the airport.

Tom couldn’t keep his hands or lips off of her. “Don’t go”, he whispered against her lips.

“I have to, Tom. You need to be able to focus on your work. If I stay, I’ll just distract you”, she told him.

Tom knew she was right, but that didn’t change that fact that he didn’t want to be parted from her again.

The sun was slowly starting to set.

“It’s so beautiful here”, Belle said.

“Yeah”, Tom said rubbing her back.

“Maybe we could have a vacation house here”, she suggested.

“Would you like that?” he asked her, smiling.

“Yeah, somewhere to get away from the hustle and bustle of London”, she said.

“If that’s what you want, then yeah, we can get a house here”, Tom told her.

“I love you Tom”.

“I love you too Belle”.

Tom was happy to spend these last few moments with Belle, but he knew as soon as she left, he’d be so lonesome he could cry.

#tom hiddleston #tom and belle #luke windsor #rodney crowell #i saw the light #some day my prince will come #tom hiddleston imagines #Tom Hiddleston Drabble #tom/oc

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nonsensicalobsessions · 4 years

Text

A Symphony without Strings, Chapter 6

Today’s musical program will be varied once more. So much music will be going on! I do not know how many of you are participating in the musical adventure, and which service you are using, YouTube or Spotify. Since several of the pieces I wish to use are only available on YouTube, I will use that platform exclusively this chapter. If anyone has an objection, please let me know...but there is only one chapter following this one, Symphony ticket holders, and then the coda...Like the previous chapter, I will insert the selection at the appropriate scene, and you can simply loop it until the next piece is indicated. I hope you enjoy today’s musical arrangement.

Trigger warning: Leukemia

First selection: https://youtu.be/UfWT_7dTAtI

*** *** *** ***

Kelly did not hesitate to begin. Merry was hooked up to a machine within hours to begin having her blood drawn, her T cells filtered out, and have the remaining blood returned. The process did not take long, simply a few hours. Once completed, Kelly leaned against Merry’s bed and cocked her head to the side.

“Well now darlin’, before we infuse you with the new an’ improved T cells, we’re gonna hit you with another blast of chemo, to clean out as much garbage out of your veins as we can.”

Merry did not look happy at the thought of another round of chemo, but she didn’t argue, just nodded her head as she stared out the window. Kelly leaned towards and took her hand.

“Honey, you’re gonna have to be here for a couple of weeks. I know it’s gonna be rough, and no one can get in your skin and take it for you, but I am going to work overtime to make it as easy as I can...and you have people who love you and will support you as much as you will let them. The question is, are you going to let them? I seem to have heard you giving Aiden a lot of push back in the past.”

“Aiden had Liam. Liam was all that mattered,” Merry replied, a touch of defiance in her voice.

“Maybe so, but now Tom has Merry, so now Merry is all that matters,” Tom responded, his voice gentle, but with the same touch of firmness he used with Liam. Merry’s eyes shot towards him, her expression challenging.

Tom leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. “Hello, Missouri Mule. Meet Tom Hiddleston, bane of Luke Windsor’s patience and scourge of his peace of mind.”

Merry smiled. She couldn’t resist.

Liam was unhappy to hear Mama was going to be in the hospital for almost a month at least, probably longer. He knew she would try to video call him frequently, but he also knew there would be a lot of days she would be so sick and sleepy she would barely be able to speak with him. When he stopped to think about this, his tummy felt funny, it hurt a lot and he felt like he might throw up and cry all at the same time. Both Mama and Aiden were always telling him to talk about how he felt, but it didn’t make the feelings go away.

When Papa came home without Mama, he looked tired, sad, and worried. Supper was quiet, and everyone went to bed early. Aiden read him his story, but his voices weren’t as fun as they usually were. Liam understood.

“Hey, kiddo.” Liam looked up into Aiden’s eyes. He had been looking down at his two bears, one Mama had given him, and one Papa had. “Your Mama has done this a lot, she’s a virtuosa, you could say. You shouldn’t worry about her. She’s more worried about you, did you know that?”

Liam squinted up at Aiden. “Why’s Mama worryin’ about me? You’re taking care of me like you always do, and we’re gonna do the same things we always do. We’re going to be ok...but I’m gonna miss Mama...” and his bottom lip started to tremble as his voice wobbled.

Aiden gathered him into a hug. “And it’s that, right there, that has your Mama worrying. She loves you so much, she hates to think of you being sad. She wants you to be happy, always.”

Liam pulled away, his usually cheerful countenance marred with a scowl. “Can’t be happy without Mama here, how can I be happy when Mama’s stuck in that ol’ hospital and she can’t be home with us? Stupid medicine! Stupid leuk...leuk...I hate Mama being sick all the time, I want her to get better!”

Liam burst into tears borne of grief, anger, frustration, and fear.

Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted Liam to cry it out. So much had happened, and Liam was just a little boy...he heard Tom’s door opening with a crash, and his feet, oh dear...

If Merry was a virtuosa in this wretched treatment, Tom had barely had his first few lessons.

As soon as Tom came in the door, Aiden made a calming gesture with his hand. “Softly, softly,” he mouthed, as he continued to gently soothe Liam’s impassioned sobbing.

Tom had been lying in bed, his arm flung over his eyes, remembering his conversation with Merry before he left:

“Tom, it’s going to be hard, in fact I will go so far as to say it’s going to suck. But I’ve played this concerto before, I daresay I’ve even conducted this orchestra before. I’ve got this. I have my bag of tricks, I know how to get around the worst of it. Please, please, be there for Liam. Knowing he’s well and happy will do so much for me...”

He reached out and stroked her face. “Merry, do you mean to forbid me to see you? Are you planning on going through this alone? Tell me, sweetheart, who was with you all the other times? It wasn’t Aiden, it couldn’t have been. It wasn’t your family. No one has mentioned any other friends. Did you go through chemotherapy alone, each and every time...? Merry...”

She looked at him, smiled and shrugged. “Alone, not alone...there were always nurses, and I could always close my eyes, and escape into my head, I have my headphones, my music, my imagination...come, Tom, you know how easily I can slip into my head, and how difficult it is for me to get out of it sometimes! I would practice, even if I didn’t have an instrument, I could conduct, even if I was completely alone, I could compose, even if I never remembered note from note.”

“Not this time, Meredith,” he vowed. “I will be there for Liam, but I will be there for you as well. I will talk with Aiden, and see what he advises, so you can’t fret, Mama Bear.”

She was already falling asleep, but she grinned. “We’ll see, Papa Bear, we’ll see...”

When Tom heard Liam’s crying, it was if he had been jolted with a live current. He’d never heard Liam cry before, and the boy sounded heartbroken. Tom launched from his bed, completely forgetting Aiden was two steps away, and had been with Liam since the little boy drew his first breath. His son was crying. This being a father thing was so new, he scarcely knew what he was doing moment to moment, but right now, he knew his son was crying.

Seeing Liam caught in Aiden’s arms, he froze. Tom felt superfluous, and shattered. His heart was aching so profoundly, there was a part of him that wanted to weep as openly as Liam. Aiden was advising him to calm down, and he wasn’t sure if he could.

Aiden beckoned him to sit besides him, and that is how Liam found himself transferred into another pair of arms, as he hiccuped and trembled as a child does in the aftermath of hard sobbing. Aiden was still rubbing his back, but Liam looked up and saw his Papa was now holding him close. This was new. The crying when Mama left for the hospital, that happened, but Papa being here...

“’m glad you’re here,” Liam mumbled, scrubbing his eyes with his fists.

“I’m glad I’m here, as well,” Papa answered, and kissed Liam’s hair, which was definitely curly now. Mama would have gotten him a haircut by this point.

“Papa, did you know Mama was sick?”

“No, Liam. I didn’t. It makes me so sad, knowing she was sick and I wasn’t there to help her.”

Liam looked up into Papa’s face and saw that yes, Papa’s face still looked just as sad, tired, and worried as it did when he came back earlier, maybe even more so. He reached up and touched it, shyly. Papa looked down into Liam’s eyes, and gave him a special smile...Liam was reminded of the way Mama would smile at him sometimes. It made him start to feel a little better.

“You know, Papa...we have a secret, Aiden and I. Mama doesn’t know about it.”

“Oh, is that so?” Papa looked at Aiden, his lips twitching. “And what could this secret be? If it is about licking the bowl after you make cakes...”

“You told?” Aiden teased Liam, ticking his feet lightly.

“No, just Papa...but Mama was there, uh-oh...”

“It’s fine, Liam,” Papa laughed, his voice low and warm. “If that isn’t the secret, then what could it be?”

“Aiden, can we tell Papa?”

“Oh, I think we must,” Aiden answered him seriously. “Because your Papa is going be a part of it, as well...”

Papa leaned back against Liam’s headboard to give Liam his undivided attention as Liam explained. “When Mama is away at the hospital like she is sometimes, and we miss her a lot, we watch The Secret Mama Movie.”

“The Secret Mama Movie? Your Mama never told me she was a movie star, although it’s true I did meet her...” Tom stopped himself abruptly, and cursed himself as ten different kinds of a fool. Clumsy, stupid, foolish...he had no idea if Merry had ever told Liam how they had first met, or what Tom did for a living, or anything, and Liam was far too bright to miss a thing...

Liam, true to form, lit up like a Christmas tree. “You met Mama because she was a movie star?!”

“No, no...” Tom looked to Aiden for help, but as usual, Aiden had his arms folded, and was grinning at him, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Um, I met your mother because of a movie...but please, tell me more about The Secret Mama Movie, I am very interested.”

“Oh...” Liam looked disappointed. “That would have been neat, if Mama had been in a movie for real.” Tom shifted uneasily on the bed, while keeping Liam tucked in his arms, pressed against his chest as he did so. Liam pulled away, tears forgotten so he could look into his father’s face. “Aiden’s known Mama for a real long time, and they went to school together, and he used to see her when she would practice to have recitals...did you ever see any of Mama’s recitals?”

Tom looked at Liam, and gently cupped his son’s face. “Only one,” he whispered softly. “Only one...”

Liam didn’t understand why Papa was looking at him so tenderly, he just babbled on, “Well, he used to record her. She knew he was doing it, so that isn’t the secret. Sometimes she was even talking to him while he was doing it. Then after I was born, he would record her while she was playing lullabies for me! And then, sometimes she would learn pieces because she was tired of the pieces she had to learn for school, and she would learn them just for funsies, and he thought she was so good, he would record those too...he thought she was really good, and she didn’t, and he wanted her to see just how good she was...and then she had a big big recital right before she graduated, and the school recorded that...”

Aiden interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I promise you, Tom, Merry know about these, I’m no stalker,” he spoke quickly, his face uncomfortably red. “That’s not the secret, either!”

Liam rolled his eyes as expressively as a four year old can. “Nooo, the secret is that Liam got all of these together from all the different places and put it together into one big movie. The Secret Mama Movie. She doesn’t know he did it. But we can watch it and see her and listen to her, every night she isn’t here. It isn’t the same, but...”

Tom looked at Liam, at Aiden, and at Liam again. He spoke very, very quietly. “You get to see Mama play, every night?”

“Uh huh! And she had hair sometimes, and she was wasn’t always tired, and she was laughing, and sometimes she even sings!” Liam was both reverent and thrilled to be letting Papa in on this secret. “But we can’t let Mama know. She doesn’t like to see or hear herself on TV.”

“I can understand that,” Tom muttered, laughing to himself.

“E’scuse me?” Liam cocked his head to the side. Mama was very strict about his not saying just “what,” when he didn’t understand.

“I was trying to say that I can understand, even though your mother is so talented, she would not strike me as one to wish to see herself on the television.”

“But why not, Papa?”

“I imagine it is because she would only look at her performance and see the ways she could have improved, rather than all the ways she excelled...because she always wishes to learn more. Your mother is brilliant, and she loves music, loves playing her instruments, and being the moment. Seeing it captured, though...well, that’s something else,” Tom stopped, recognizing he was getting too philosophical, no matter how intelligent his son was, he was still only four. He wanted to get lost in a memory of himself and Merry, it was at the forefront of his mind, but this was not the time...he shook his head.

“We can watch it tomorrow, Papa,” Liam promised him, snuggling into his chest again. “That way we can all enjoy it together. Just us men.”

Tom closed his eyes and grinned broadly, thankful that Liam couldn’t see his face. “Sounds splendid, son. I am so thankful to hear that Aiden has done such hard work. Thank you, Aiden.”

Aiden had been beaming as well, but it faded. “I did it for a number of reasons,” he admitted, looking at Liam. “There was a point where I thought it might be...very necessary.”

Tom looked down at the little boy who was still curled up against him, and swallowed hard. He understood all too well why such a movie might have been required...as a memorial...a retrospective of a brilliant musician...but most importantly, a way for a boy to see a mother he might not have ever remembered. Thank God that was not the case.

Aiden added, “I also have some footage of her conducting, it isn’t just of her playing instruments. I thought it was very important that Liam see her at the pinnacle of her professional achievement. We’ve all seen her play, but God, Tom...her joy when she conducts...she all but self-illuminates. I can’t believe she doesn’t levitate.”

Tom was ruffling Liam’s hair, feeling him get heavier as he was slowly losing the fight against sleep. “Aiden, how long is this movie?”

“Longer than you would think. Take a guess.”

“Before you mentioned the conducting, I would have said, half an hour? That is quite a lot of time of playing...”

“Think again. Almost two hours,” Aiden snickered, proud of himself. “Almost two solid hours of Merry playing the cello...violin...piano...conducting. You know our Merry, never content unless she was...is...making music in one way or another. That’s how it was so easy when we were still in university. It’s how she managed to keep her mind off the nausea when she was carrying that one there.” Aiden nodded at Liam, who was now asleep against Tom’s chest, mouth open, and snuffling slightly. “I did my best to encourage her, and keep her laughing. Once everyone in the department was clued into her condition, they were right there with me. For all she was so intensely private with her personal affairs, she was still so...well, she’d murder me fo saying it...merry with others. A smile, a laugh, a little pick-me-up with someone she knew was struggling. When she turned up pregnant, no one could believe it, no one had ever seen her with anyone, she had never mentioned anyone, well, there were some unkind comments about virgin births all over again.”

Tom’s eyes flashed both in anger and shame. “I never attempted to keep her from meeting up with classmates, nor did I try to keep us a great secret.”

Aiden shook his head. “I know, Tom. Merry was all about reaching out but never taking back. I’ve known her longer than you, at least by name and face. But I didn’t really know her. No one did, except that she was wildly talented, deeply focused, and so private. So once there was an ‘in,’ a way people could actually gain access to her, even if it was to encourage those impromptu recitals in the halls, a way to make her laugh a bit while I could video her on my phone...it helped. But still, she never let anyone in, not really.”

Tom took a breath, then asked, “Aiden, may I watch the movie privately, so when I see it with Liam, it isn’t the first time?”

Aiden nodded. “You know, that’s a really good idea. Let’s get this one tucked in, and I’ll get it to you.”

Aiden handed a DVD to Tom, who was surprised to see that it looked professionally marketed, instead of just something handwritten in permanent marker. “Aiden...this is incredible.”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure what it was going to be used for when I made it, and I wanted it done right,” Aiden deflected. “It helps having friends in the right places. Um, if you want, I could watch it with you, and explain some things. Or maybe you just want to watch it yourself. It’s up to you.”

Tom deliberated for a moment, then replied, his voice husky, “Aiden, I think it’s best I just see this alone. But thank you.”

“Sure, I understand. You know there’s a TV and player in your room. Good night.” Aiden gave him a half smile and wave, and left.

Tom couldn’t set up the DVD fast enough.

Second selection: https://youtu.be/12r8LCI47WU

Despite the DVD’s appearance, the opening menu was simple, and yet it still took Tom’s breath away. He was so grateful he was watching this without Liam’s alert presence by his side. His screen was filled with a lovely candid photo of his beloved Merry smiling and looking off to the side. Her long hair was loosely pulled back in an ivory ribbon that matched the cable knit sweater she was wearing (he remembered that sweater), and her cello was resting against her jean clad knee as she sat in a chair. He didn’t recognize the haunting and lovely background music, but he had no doubt it was Merry who was performing it. But the puzzling aspect was at the bottom right corner of the screen, the simple words, “The Tom Edition.” Perhaps this is what Aiden wished to explain?

The only option he had was to press “PLAY.”

Third selection: https://youtu.be/lrE5CC1up3s

It began with Merry sitting at a piano and playing, her fingers rippling across the keys smoothly. Someone called, “Skye, are you ready, can we get started?” But she did not reply, she simply kept playing, her body moving as an extension of the notes, clearly caught up in the music. Another voice sighed, “Ah, we’ve lost her again.” A third voice retorted, “We never had her in the first place, once she starts, she’s gone, you know that. You can either let her finish, go shake her, or physically move her. I’d suggest waiting if I were you. Even if you interrupt her, her mind is just going to keep playing once she commits to it.” The unseen onlookers fell silent until Merry played the last note, and she sighed and leaned back. The first voice called out, “Skye! We’re waiting on you, c’mon already!” Tom could see her come back to herself, and she called back, “Sorry! Here I come!” She rose, and walked away from the piano. Tom could see a slight swell in her abdomen, but he was looking for it. Her face was paler than usual, and she looked tired.

Fourth selection: https://youtu.be/3wzZtuo3MHU (does not require looping)

The next video had her standing in a hallway, there was a lot of laughter, and someone finally shouted, “No way, Skye, I dare you.” She had her back to the camera and challenged, “You wanna go there? Really, McIntyre? You sure about that?”

A voice, apparently McIntyre, riposted, “Skye, you’re talented on the cello, I’ll give you that, but no way can you bring that kind of heat on the violin. You just don’t have it.”

Aiden’s voice at the camera level called out, “Ten bucks, McIntyre. Put up or shut up.”

Merry turned around, and she was looking just as tired, but fuller around the waistline. “Forget the ten bucks. McIntyre, if I pull this off, you owe me some fried chicken. This kiddo is calling for some fried chicken...and some pumpkin pie.”

“Pumpkin pie? Skye, you’re crazy, there’s no pumpkin pie this time of year!”

Merry was tuning her violin and sighed, “Okay, just fried chicken then...”

Tom whispered, his eyes already filling, “Darling, I would have found some for you, I swear I would have,” as Merry launched into the brightest, fastest tune he had ever heard. It was clearly a Celtic jig, Tom couldn’t identify it, and the hall filled with hoots and laughter as her notes, triumphant and commanding, wrapped around all present, someone began beating on their instrument case to add percussion, there was clapping, and Tom found himself longing for his spoons.

Merry put her violin and bow down and grinned. “Extra crispy, McIntyre. I prefer drumsticks, thighs, and wings. Hop to, Capriccio is hungry.”

A laughing voice teased, “Only you would call your unborn child ‘Capriccio.’”

“Well, I won’t call my child ‘Bagatelle,’ because by definition that can also mean ‘unimportant’. And my child is very, very important to me,” Merry replied seriously. “And my child is certainly encouraging improvisation, among other things...McIntyre, why the devil are you still here?!”

The scene faded, and Tom found himself laughing, and he spoke, “Merry, you damned well better have gotten your fried chicken, or else I will hunt this McIntyre down and call him out...”

There were then a dizzying array of clips where Merry was playing in recitals, master classes, where her skills with the cello left Tom lost in admiration. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. He longed to tell her, repeatedly, how awed he was by her talent, her passion, the way she immersed herself, completely, in her music. Tom would watch as the woman he loved would somehow willingly walk into another dimension, where she would speak another language with truth and honesty, and all the strength she possessed. Once she entered it, the music was all that mattered.

Fifth selection: https://youtu.be/bSWxjcAAPL8

After were the symphonies. These were clearly professionally recorded works. Tom couldn’t always see what he wanted, which was Merry’s face, but he could make out her small form. The lush curves of her figure he had loved so passionately were gone, he noted, and a sick feeling arose in his gut. Was she already ill at this point? Was she aware? But as the camera would show her face, Tom saw what Aiden had referred to: Merry was clearly transported. It was as though she was pulling the music out from each section of the orchestra, weaving the notes like tapestry on a loom only she could see, creating a masterpiece. This was what she had longed to do, this was what she had spoken of longingly when they were entwined on her small bed, as they compared their dreams and ambitions while the snow fell outside, leaving them cocooned in the warmth of blankets and each other.

Tom thought about how he felt when he performed Shakespeare, the otherworldly plane he stepped into each time he entered the stage and began to breathe life into his character, giving words and poetry action and meaning, the high he felt when the curtain closed...and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Merry was also able to animate what others would see as mere ink on a page. It was real. It was true. It was her dream. And it was her soul. Tears were running down her face as he saw her expression when the last note sounded.

She was incandescent.

If the movie had been fiction, made in Hollywood, it would have ended there, just for the look on her face.

Sixth selection: https://youtu.be/gCCmaOMo5k8

There were the lullabies. Tom never got to see infant Liam, only occasionally hear his gurgling. Merry’s face was a portrait of tender motherhood as she would play piece after piece, sometimes singing. The setting would change, as would her clothes, but the love on her face stayed the same. But eventually her hair was gone, and her face grew thinner, her clothes larger, and her movements slower.

There were clips of her playing for Liam, then with Liam, as he picked up his violin and scratched out very basic beginner pieces, or plunked away on the piano. Both Aiden and Merry cheered him on, and praised his efforts.

Merry was now playing different styles of pieces. She would play tunes from Disney films, music that would have Liam belly laughing, giggling, dancing. But on the whole, they were growing slower, and less vigorous.

Seventh Selection: Reader’s choice--Instrumental: https://youtu.be/ZyFyapc3q9g OR original vocals by Enya: https://youtu.be/DFHaGBSyPr4

The last clip began with a darkened room. Tom heard cello music playing but could see nothing.

“Merry?” Aiden’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t, Aiden...so tired...I’m so tired...”

Tom’s attention was riveted before, but now all of his synapses were firing. Merry’s voice was trembling. She sounded so weak, as though she was at the end of her tether...he had never heard Merry like this, ever. This was the most intensely personal piece yet, and he understood now, why this was “The Tom Edition.” Aiden would never allow Liam to hear his mother suffering like this.

“Then put the bow down. Just put the bow down and close your eyes for a little while.”

“Aiden, when I play these pieces, I don’t have to think...I can just, just be. I fall into the music and rest, so that’s what I’m doing, okay? Please don’t nag me.”

A sigh. “All right, but I’m going to sit and be with you then. I don’t want you collapsing again.”

“No...I don’t want that either.”

There was more gentle, soft music...but then, Merry began to sing, her voice soft, and haunting:

Night has gone without my tears

Now I walk alone

You're no longer here

The days turn to years

I could never say goodbye

To the sadness in my eyes

You know you are in my heart

But the miles keep us apart

Time moves slow

In the falling rain

I still dream of you

And whisper your name

Will I see you once again?

I could never say goodbye

To the sadness in my eyes

You know you are in my heart

But the miles keep us apart

I could never say goodbye

Aiden’s voice spoke in the darkness. “Honey, when are you going to get in touch with Tom? I think you should give the guy a chance. He seems like he’s good man from what I can tell...”

Her voice was filled with tears as she said, “I promised, Aiden. I promised him, no strings.”

Aiden’s voice, filled with sympathy and reproach. “Merry...”

She sighed. “You’re right, Aiden. I’m so tired...I guess it is finally time to...” Her voice broke. “It’s time.”

Eighth selection https://youtu.be/kcMaxo0OaZo (can be looped for as long as desired)

The last clip had no video, it was simply a list of acknowledgements and thanks, while another piece played. Tom was struggling to breathe, let alone read them.

He had no idea Merry had been grieving so keenly. Tom had missed Merry, and wished she was still a part of his life. He refused to allow himself to address his pain, and went on with the business of living. He knew Merry had, as well. But the voice he had just heard, wrapping itself around the cello notes in the absence of light...it went beyond simply acknowledging loss. It spoke of deep mourning.

“I didn’t know, Mozart,” Tom spoke aloud in the empty room. “You seemed so composed when I saw you again...but why should I be surprised? You always buttoned yourself up so tightly when you felt afraid, or threatened in any way.” After her parents had callously dismissed her from their lives, Merry closed off her soft, tender heart, determined never to let herself get hurt again.

After their first kiss that had begun almost tentatively, but quickly built in passion, Tom took both of her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “Merry, I don’t do things like this lightly...not without a great deal of caring, and commitment...but I can’t give you commitment like you deserve. I am going to leave in less than five months, probably closer to four. Once we’ve completed filming in this area, I am going to leave to complete the movie elsewhere, and from there I am going to be thrust into a huge worldwide press tour. I desperately want to be with you...but you are far too precious for me to treat you carelessly.”

Merry’s smile was bittersweet. “Tom, I care about you as well...I don’t do things like this either, hardly ever...and when I have, it was never anything but casual, because I do not let anyone close to me. At all. I’m not asking for commitment. I just want to be as close to you as I can possibly be.” Wistfully, she lightly placed her hand against his heart, tentatively curling her fingertips as though it was most she dared, the most she expected to be allowed to touch him. “...me, who never wants to be close to anyone. It’s strange, really...” She stepped away from him. “I understand if you want to leave now. No hard feelings.”

He looked at her intensely, as though he was trying to look into her past and her soul. “Who hurt you so badly, Merry? You are much too warm and giving to have closed yourself off so completely. Who hurt you, Meredith Skye?”

She looked away and replied dully, “Life did. Thank you for walking me home.”

Seeing the light extinguished in her eyes, the spirit stripped from her voice, was more than he could take. Tom closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and drew her into a fiery kiss that not only rekindled the spark within her, but started a conflagration that didn’t stop until it consumed both of them, leaving only softly flickering embers in its wake sometime later.

Holding her body against his, softly stroking her hair, her face, her neck, Tom whispered, “I am going to find it so very, very hard to leave you. I already know this.”

Merry looked into his eyes and replied steadily. “But you will, Tom. You don’t have a choice. You have to leave, and I have to stay. We will have to enjoy the time we have together, cherish it for what it is, and then let each other go...no ties to keep you here...

“No strings.”

In the faint light of the bedroom, Tom pretended not to see the pain in Merry’s eyes as he repeated, “No strings.”

In the days that passed, Tom found that Merry was actually right: Yes, chemotherapy was awful. But she handled it well enough.

She knew which days were likely to be worse than others. She deeply appreciated Tom’s presence, but on bad days she seemed to slip into another headspace. All she wanted was her headphones, and for him to hold her hand. Even then, he would watch as she seemed to play the piano on her lap even if it appeared she was asleep. If she was going to vomit (which she did often) she did so calmly, and from another plane of existence. It was almost as if she wasn’t fully there...although when she would lie back down, she would still reach for his hand, and would occasionally welcome a cool cloth for her face.

One of the nurses took pity on Tom and told him, “Don’t take it personally. She is taking a lot of chemicals into her body, and it is not unusual for them to affect a patient’s personality, speech, memory...some even hallucinate. She’s actually taking this remarkably well.”

“I just want to be there for her,” he replied stubbornly.

“And you are. Just remember to give her what she needs, not what you want, or feel the need, to give her,” the woman advised gently.

Tom had to remind himself of those words frequently in the days to come.

It was the last week of filming, and they were behind schedule, mostly due to unseasonably foul weather that kept them from adhering to the proposed shooting schedule. While part of Tom was secretly overjoyed at the delays, this last week was turning into a hellshoot. Tempers were frayed and raw on all sides, and everyone was exhausted. Over half the crew were sick, and those that weren’t either were just coming down with or just recovering from a series of vicious viruses. So far, Tom had escaped what was being called “The Pestilence” (“plague” being found too passé), but he was almost sleepwalking at one point.

He was trying to spend as much time with Merry as possible, but his schedule was demanding, constantly changing, and hectic. He could never tell from day to day when he would have free time available. He knew better than to ask Merry to come to the set location, and he didn’t have time to track her down on campus. Merry made it a point to always have food waiting for Tom, day or night, along with the fresh fruit and vegetables he craved in order to keep sickness at bay. Sometimes she even shaved hours off her precious practice, class, and sleep hours to be there during the odd hours he was awake, or needing to rest to prepare for odd hour shoots: she found a sure-fire way to lull him to sleep was a certain combination of pieces, played on the cello and violin. He was stunned that she would give her time for this, but she would smile and stroke his hair, promising he was worth it.

He would float off, warm and utterly at peace, and would be completely unawares after he fell asleep (often faintly snoring), Merry would set her instrument down, and sit beside him, running her fingers through his hair, ensuring his sleep remained deep and even. She knew sometimes his dreams would become agitated when he was stressed, and he would begin tossing fitfully, even talking and crying out in his sleep. At the first sign of any disturbance, she would speak softly to him, soothing him with her words and touch. Within moments, she would ease him back into a peaceful place, and he could rest once more.

When it was the day before he was to leave, Merry slipped out of bed, murmuring she was going to start the kettle. He tried to ignore the pain raging in his heart, and nodded. He had barely set his feet on the floor when a crashing sound sent him running for the kitchen.

There he found Merry on her hands and knees, looking dazed and picking up shards of teacups. “Tom, stop, you’ll cut yourself!”

Oblivious, he knelt besides her. “Sweetheart, are you all right? What happened?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure...I must have stood up too quickly, I just felt so light headed, the cups, I was on the floor...I must have...”

Tom felt her forehead. “Merry, you’re ice cold and clammy...are you feeling ill?”

“No. No, Tom, I’m fine, just let me have another moment. I’ll clear this mess away and start making tea and...”

Tom looked at her face, and saw how pale she was. “I think not,” he decided, and picked her up carefully, bringing her to the sofa and wrapping them both in a blanket. “I think we shall just sit here for awhile until your color gets better, and you warm up. That’s it, rest your head on my shoulder, darling. I do hope you aren’t getting sick, darling, please, please don’t be getting sick, who will take care of you?” His forehead was creased with worry.

“You precious man,” she indulgently answered him. “The same person as usual, I can recommend her personally. She’s very capable. Quite good, actually. I’ve relied on her for countless years.”

He looked down at her quizzically. She pulled away from him, sensing his confusion.

“Oh, my sweet Tom.” She patted his cheek, and snuggled in with a smile.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize she meant herself.

Kelly was a constant presence, encouraging Merry, supporting Tom.

“Tom, I know it must look bad when she’s throwing her guts up so much, but truly, she’s handling this like a champ,” Kelly told him emphatically. “Her labs are very promising. I was really concerned how she was going to take this, she was so frail when she came in, but she is hanging in there. The better she does now, the more hopeful I am about the way her body will respond the the T cell infusion.” She paused and eyed the way he was pulling his hair if not rubbing the back of his neck or jaw. “Okayyy...you, good sir, look like you either don’t believe me, or are very stressed out.”

“I don’t know how to help her,” Tom burst out at last, mindful of his volume, but his tone was quite clearly agitated. “I can’t hold her. She doesn’t even want to be touched. Tell me what I can do for her, she’s so miserable, and I don’t know what I can do. I would play the guitar for her, but honestly, I don’t think I’m of the quality that would be of any help...”

Kelly thought for a moment. “When she wasn’t playing for you, what did you do for her...and keep it G-rated, please,” she teased.

Tom felt his face heat as he mumbled, “I’m afraid to even touch her...”

Kelly looked at him and asked, “May I give you a hug?”

Tom nodded, and she wrapped her arms around him, her head coming right under his chin, her hands rubbing his back slowly. “You’re being put through the wringer, big guy. All I can say is you have to be patient. Which you have been. And trust her guidance. She’s been through this before. She doesn’t want to be touched, not because she doesn’t love you anymore, but because her body just hurts. Has she asked you to pack up and go home?”

He shook his head as he and Kelly parted.

“Then she wants you here. Believe me, I’ve heard about Meredith Skye’s temper. If she has something she wants to be said, she doesn’t leave room for doubt.”

Tom frowned. “She wasn’t your patient before now...I don’t understand.”

Kelly’s laugh was nostalgic. “When she informed Dr. Roths’ staff that she was flying out to see you...? He, ah, made the classic mistake, and forbade her to go. I don’t think anyone had ever heard the dressing down the likes she gave to him. I know he certainly hadn’t...they’re probably still replacing the paint she blistered off the walls...” Kelly sighed. “Ah, it was a beautiful thing. Dr. Roths is brilliant, but his people skills definitely need some work. When our Merry was through with him, there might have even been some applause. Might, I say. In a very discreet, surreptitious fashion.”

Tom looked down and laughed.

“She’s done, you know. With the actual chemo. She just has to recover from it, and we are going to keep a very close eye on her...and by then, it will be showtime. So try and relax. And once she is feeling better?” Kelly looked at him intently. “Do not be afraid to touch her. Are we clear on that? Don’t make that mistake. Love up on her as much as you want. What are you waiting for? Don’t waste time, Tom...we all make that mistake, don’t we?”

Ninth (and today’s final) selection: https://youtu.be/2iovXlPv52s

Merry’s fingers were moving, one hand was by her shoulder, and the other in her lap. Her bed was reclined at an angle, so she didn’t have to lift either arm. Her eyes were closed, and there was a faint smile on her lips.

“Darling? It’s Tom, sweetheart...are you up for some company?”

Her eyes opened readily, and her smile widened as her fingers ceased their movements. “Tom...how lovely to see you. I’m sorry I’ve been out of it for awhile, but I’m feeling more alert today.” She reached one hand out, and elated, he took it and brought it to his lips.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that,” he replied, his face aglow with genuine pleasure. “What were you playing when I came in, it looked like the cello...”

“‘Gabriel’s Oboe’...but it’s neither here nor there. Tell me everything going on at home, Papa Bear...”

Tom looked at her carefully, and saw she wasn’t tethered to a variety of apparatuses. Slowly, he lowered a side rail, asking, “May I?”

Merry blushed, and nodded, thinking he was simply going to sit besides her on the bed. She was surprised and delighted when he carefully scooped her up and lay back on the bed with her in his arms. She was even more amazed when he lightly pressed his lips to the top of her head.

No one—no one—had ever touched her bare head outside of medical personnel since she had lost her hair. The simple intimate touch of his lips caused something in her heart to crack, then shatter...an ice shelf around her heart that had formed years ago suddenly collapsed.

If Tom could have known this, he would have been insufferably pleased.

But he couldn’t tell. If he noticed anything, it was Merry seemed more inclined to touch him as he told her about the latest in the World of Liam: the ducks in the area were slightly less rude than London ducks, Tom was aggrieved to report; minor key was much more interesting sounding than major key; scales were boring but arpeggios were fun; he was reading at a frightening pace, so much so that he and Aiden found they needed to pay attention to advertisements and graffiti much more than they had in the past.

He looked down at her. Merry was so still, he was certain she had fallen asleep.

Her face peaceful and wreathed with a blissful smile...but when he fell silent, her eyelids flew open. “Why did you stop?”

Drowning in her blue eyes, he touched the tip of her nose lightly. “I thought you’d fallen asleep there.”

Merry reached up and patted his chest, over his heart, right next to where her head was resting. “Are you joking? I can hear your heart, your breathing, the vibrations of your voice as you are telling me all about our boy...I wouldn’t miss this for anything, Tom. I don’t want to miss a single word.”

Tom felt his heart actually skip a beat when Merry touched him so tenderly of her own volition, and reached up to capture her hand and press it closely to his body. “In that case, I won’t waste a single moment.”

He felt her smile as he continued, “Liam has decided that pigeons and squirrels must be mortal enemies of old, as they are clearly fighting over the same resources...the way he tells it, it sounds as though they could be Montagues against Capulets...”

“Vampires against lycans...”

“Liverpool against Manchester United...”

“First chair versus second chair. God save me.”

Tom laughed, and kissed her head again. “Just so...”

TAGGING: Lifetime Memberships @hopelessromanticspoonie @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @winterisakiller @theheartofpenelope

Symphony Season Ticket Holders: @jessiejunebug @alexakeyloveloki @scorpionchild81 @tinchentitri @theoneanna @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @blacksuitofdoom @mishaandthebrits @wegingerangelican @rjohnson1280

#tom hiddleston #a symphony without strings #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston x oc #look Christine I did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

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wolfpawn · 5 years

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 34

Chapter Summary - Taylor's new song causes Danielle to wish she was a more physically aggressive person, but she keeps herself calm.

When Luke turns up on set, slightly miffed, his annoyance is quickly diverted from Danielle and Tom's relationship to Taylor, leading to him getting to know Danielle even better, what does he think of Tom's new flame?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum@nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

It took every fibre of restraint in Danielle’s being to not want to go over and slap that smarmy tart across the face as she gave the Safety Officer a sickeningly sweet false smile on her entered the set for everything she had said of Danielle and of Tom. Danielle remained right next to the head of the studio, who of course, would not miss the opportunity to suck up to the famous pop star. It was her best defence, knowing from Taylor’s demeanour that she would relish in getting Danielle fired.

“Well then, Ms Hughes, this is the placements for everyone, is there any issue?” the producer and choreographers asked.

Scanning the plans, her eyes widened. “You can’t do this.”

“And why not?” Taylor demanded, “Just because it hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it can’t. That is the difference between an artist and some set worker, you lack the vision to do something like this.”

“Actually, I am sorry to inform you, Ms Swift, this is not a revolutionary idea, it has, in fact, been done ad nauseum. The issue here is not the inability to do it, but the safety factors involved. That.” she pointed to a nearby pillar, “Is purely for decoration, it not for function. It is only plasterboard and other cheap, breakable materials, and is not attached to the ceiling, or indeed the floor. Your dancers are very much at risk if you have them dance too close to it, it could very easily fall over, and though it is not functional, it is close to half a tonne in weight, not something I could ever possibly sign off on as being safe.” She explained logically, loving the fact that every word she spoke drove Taylor more and more to the brink of a tantrum, knowing that she could not argue Danielle’s point without others thinking her as being nothing more than petulant. “I can suggest other safer areas if you’d like.” She offered the producer.

The rest of the shoot went as well as it could in Danielle’s opinion, considering the main person dictating the shoot was the narcissistic ex-girlfriend of her boyfriend who seemed hell-bent on getting a reaction from Danielle. The song, as Danielle had gathered, was not only slating Tom as a user, a manipulator and a cheat, but also ensured to hint that Danielle, or the ‘The Heeler’ the title of the song referenced to, was the reason for the protagonist’s pain and hurt. She just bit her lips together and made comments to the producer where necessary to ensure the safety of everyone on set; though were Taylor to be hit across the head by a low beam, she would not have been entirely heartbroken.

“Thank you for all your hard work, Taylor was right to specifically ask for you.” The producer smiled politely.

Danielle mulled over those words for a moment when something came to her. “I have never worked with Ms Swift before, how did she even hear of me?” she asked, playing innocent.

“Well, I assume it has something to do with your work on other music video’s.” the producer dismissed, thinking nothing of it.

“I have never done a music video.” Danielle countered.

The producer frowned, “Did you work stateside?”

“I have never been to the States. This is my fourth ever gig. Sherlock, a soap opera, Game of Thrones, Beauty and the Beast.” She listed off.

“Odd, she knows no one really on those; your reputation obviously precedes you, because she was adamant about having you here.” He shrugged and walked off, leaving Danielle very concerned as to how Swift knew her career change.

“She’s over there, black jacket saying S.O. on it.” She heard a guy instruct.

Terrified as to who it was, she turned, shocked to see Luke Windsor coming towards her, grimacing internally at the annoyed look on his face “Mr Windsor.”

“Ms Hughes.” He replied curtly.

“You do not look best pleased.” She commented.

“Perhaps that is because I am not.”

“Is it anything to do with my relationship with one of your clients?” she gambled.

“That is exactly what it is.”

“Have we been spotted?” She knew it was only a matter of time before they were, but she had hoped to have spoken with Sophie before being thrown to the wolves or crazy fangirls as the case may be.

“No, there is no hint of anything.”

She frowned. “Then I don’t understand.”

“Would you like to know how I found out my biggest actor is seeing a set safety officer?”

“Tom sending a drunken text?” she guessed.

“No, that would actually have been better.” He growled. “I found out when I was speaking with Emma, Watson that is, and she made mention that she has seen Tom quite frequently of late, and how she was delighted he found a, and I quote ‘great, down to earth and decent’ girlfriend.” He explained.

“I know you’re mad Tom didn’t tell you that your conversation with me fixed our little miscommunication issue, but I am just going to bask in the knowledge that the Emma Watson called me those things.”

“You were just as capable of telling me.”

“I am not your client, though. I can’t imagine your secretary putting through my calls.”

Luke made a face that told her he could not argue that. “Well, a warning from either of you would have been nice, I need to make sure that when this does become public, that I actually know what is going on, as it stood, I thought there was nothing between you.”

“Shh!” Danielle looked around to see if anyone was close by. Luke looked around confused. “I…Do not bring that up here, please.”

“Why not?”

“Well, one; I don’t want anyone thinking I got where I am by sleeping with an actor, and two; of all the days for that to be made public here, today is not the day.”

“Why not?”

“You have no idea who’s here, do you?” he shook his head. “Your favourite pop princess.”

Luke’s face fell, his pallor changing. “What?”

“People were wondering why she was in London; she is here to shoot her new video, in this studio, today, and guess who the song is about?”

“I am going to kill him. I warned him.”

“I know, but there is nothing we can do about it.” She soothed.

“How bad is it?”

“He manipulated and used her, and I made him cheat on her with me.” She explained.

“Fuck,” he shook his head.

“You need to go,” Danielle stated. Luke looked at her almost indignantly. “If she sees you here, she will make a big deal of this, you are Tom’s publicist so she will know we’re together. She already knows I’m working here. That’s already too much.”

“Well, if you knew she was going to be here, why did you take this job, are you actively looking for trouble?” he growled.

“I was told, under no uncertain terms, that should I leave set today, after my actual job, I would be blacklisted. She demanded me specifically.” She informed him. “How she even knew I was working here, or indeed that I changed careers, I don’t know.”

Luke’s brows furrowed. “She wouldn’t have known?”

“They were broken up when I moved into it, and Tom didn’t find out until a month ago. There’s no way she should know.”

“Unless she has been keeping tabs on you.” Danielle cocked her head slightly, “Why come to London to shoot a video, the company she is using,” he looked at the emblem on the side of a soundboard case. “That’s an American company, she flew it all here.”

“She wouldn’t have done it specifically for me.” Danielle dismissed.

“Wouldn’t she?” Luke challenged. “I went snooping on PR Barbie when she and Tom were linked. I cannot believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but I agree with Kim Kardashian, she is a snake.”

“Hey, we don’t even know that woman, don’t judge her.”

“She got famous for nothing.”

“Actually, she got famous for something; something I don’t think many people would be willing to do, but to say she maintained fame shows she is not an absolute airhead, she’s worth more than you and I are.”

“You don’t strike me as a trash television fan.” Luke eyed her up and down.

“Never saw her show, not overly bothered by her existence, I just don’t know her, and as a fellow woman, I commend her for doing well with her life.” She shrugged.

Luke was about to say something else to her, but his eyes flickered over her shoulder and his jaw clenched. He made a slight movement of his eyes to Danielle to inform her who was coming towards them.

Taking a deep breath, Danielle composed herself and turned around. “Is there anything more you need Ms Swift?” she asked, though keeping the words polite was difficult.

“So you were only after him in the end, that’s a surprise.” She snarked, looking between the pair. “I was right all along.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” Danielle feigned ignorance. “Mr Windsor and I are merely discussing his client and a future lunch between themselves and myself.”

“He seems to have only one client, and he follows him everywhere like a faithful puppy.”

Luke’s brows rose at Taylor’s comments. Danielle only laughed. “It wouldn’t be a successful PR firm if he had only one client. He has others, one of whom I happen to be a huge fan of, and whom I am working with at present, so with her being on this set, but having to leave early today to facilitate you, and him stuck in a meeting dealing with the premieres for this movie, he is merely relaying her message to me while here.”

Luke stared at Danielle, impressed with how she had concocted a story from thin air and had stated it with such conviction, he had to remind himself for a moment with was fabricated.

Taylor glared at her, “So you expect me to believe you aren’t sniffing around my scraps?”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you believe or not, it is no concern of mine. My only concern here was that nothing happens anyone on set when shooting, I have done my job, so I am getting ready to go home for the evening, perhaps get some room service, and see what’s on TV.”

“God, you’re boring.”

“Perhaps to you, but I’m happy, and that’s all that I am concerned with.” Danielle smiled, seeing the head of the studio coming, she decided to finish the conversation, even if Taylor didn’t want to. “Have a safe flight to your next destination Ms Swift, and thank you so much for asking for me today.”

Taylor’s nostrils flared at her manner. “What?”

“Well, I thought you would like to know that the money you’ve paid me for this shoot means I can take a month’s break after these few reshoots and spend it with those I love and get a new car, so thank you.” She beamed as the singer stared at her blankly. “You’ve paid for my Christmas and car.” She almost burst out laughing, loving how Taylor seemed to only then realise it was entirely true. “Thank you and safe journeys.” With that, she gave a wave goodbye to her superiors and walked off.

“You lie with too much ease,” Luke commented, having followed her out of earshot.

“I am dating an actor, I work with actors, all I see day and night are lies, people pretending to be people they’re not, people pretending to believe everything they say, you pick it up easy enough.” She commented, going for the exit.

When they came to Luke’s car, he stopped, looking at her for a moment. “I didn’t think I would be saying this, but you may actually be able to survive the gauntlet that being with Tom requires.”

“I hope so, but I’m not always sure. I am so scared of when we are found out.”

“Don’t you want to be with him?” Luke asked, confused.

“Yes, God yes. But it’s not really him and me in this relationship, though, is it? It’s us and every fangirl, gossip rag, and ex-pop girlfriend’s, that’s the worry.”

“If he wasn’t famous, would this be a concern to you? Would you be so sceptical?”

“If Tom worked as, I dunno, what would Tom be if he wasn’t an actor? I suppose something in literature, isn’t that what everyone thinks; then I would actually be happier, and probably not have spent five years of trying to convince myself I wasn’t completely in love with his dorky nutty ass.” She laughed.

“But he is an actor,” Luke commented.

“Yes, and a brilliant one.” Danielle concurred. “But it means we are not allowed be normal, are we? I mean, even you have an internet following, just because of him being him. I am just trying to get used to it Luke, I am doing everything I can to. I love him, I love everything from the fact he seems morbidly afraid of learning how to work a washing machine to the fact that his greatest brag in life is he can cook a breakfast, to even that weird attempt he does at dancing.”

“That fucking dancing.” Luke shook his head, causing Danielle to laugh. “What about the fact he is being seen as getting older now, getting…well, thinner haired.”

“If he heard you.” She scolded. “I guess he is going to get a few more ‘Dad’ roles in the near future, and yes, his hairline is receding a little, but if he turns out as bald as a coot, why would I care, he would still be the same dork that tripped over his own gangly limbs the first day I met him, the same guy that seemed to think it appropriate to make a sex noise because I made his tea right on the first go in my new kitchen, and the same guy who acted as though I gave him the moon when I got him a joke present of Baloo in the Disney store.”

“You really do love him, Tom the person, not the actor.”

“I met Thomas first, Tom came along after, and to be honest, being in the spotlight caused him to become colder, more clammed up in public, which startled me really, but when he is away from that, when he is behind closed doors, he is still the same happy sweet guy, thankfully. I was so scared she had destroyed that, it scared me so much; I wanted to save that part of him. When I fought with him during that relationship, I would have had it that he hate me for eternity than him risking becoming a cold person.” She explained. “Have a good evening Mr Windsor, and I’m truly sorry for any trouble today may cause for you.” She opened her car door and got in, leaving Luke slightly flabbergasted for a moment, before getting into his own car, mulling over her words, knowing that of any attempt Tom had at a relationship in the time they were working together, Danielle was there for the right reasons, and he found himself hoping she would be the one to stick.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 34 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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luke-windsors-diary · 3 years

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January 14, 2021

What @tom-hiddlestons-journal, you ran out of blue sweaters? Have you forgotten how to do laundry?

#luke windsor #luke windsor imagine #luke windsor's diary #tom hiddleston #wandavision launch event #you look better in brown #throw out the blue sweater #new year new you

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just-the-hiddles · 4 years

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Memory Lane Monday | Shouldn’t

Hello! I have decided to pick one of my Luke reaction fic. Specifically Shouldn’t. Written as reaction fic to a chapter in Should (but you don’t have to have read the story to get this fic!). I love writing Luke. I love taking the piss out of the perfect Tom. I love the cursing. My favorite line in this one is: I think you lost control of the situation when you took your pants off Tom. And you can just hear the disdain in Luke’s voice. A fun fun read!

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.

#memory lane monday #tom hiddleston x ofc #luke windsor fanfiction #luke windsor imagine #tom hiddleston #luke windsor #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fluff

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Virtual Strangers {Part 10}

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: 10/10

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

~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~

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

______________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do regret asking already.”

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bit possessive, isn't it?”

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

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

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

“Or literature…”

“Or my job…”

“Or your dog…”

“Or you.”

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

“You're at the very top of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how does one do it properly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… … …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it sound silly to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A smile.

A pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… … …

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

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

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

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

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

“And you're tall as fuck.”

“Right…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y: ‘I love you.’

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

T: ‘I know ;)’

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

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

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

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