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writerunsolved · 5 years

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The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 8

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 8/?

Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

After a wild night at the VMAs and some heavy partying and drinking at the afterparty, you write and publish a drunken tweet about a certain celebrity and one of their friends. You only realise what you've done the next day when a slew of texts and calls wakes you up to a dreadful but expected hangover. You immediately delete the tweet, but you're left to deal with the consequences. A public apology would probably be enough to make everything go away if you hadn't been invited to a movie premiere where said celebrity is most certainly going to be.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: Just a reminder that, because of Tumblr’s block of links - even internal ones - I can’t link to my previous and next chapters anymore. So be extra sure not to miss any updates by following this blog or subscribing to this fic on AO3 (link in the bio!).

Once again, your reblogs are an essential instrument for your favourite creators’ works to get around and reach a wider audience!

This one took a while to get fished out of whatever place it is I get my muse, but it did come out in the end. Fun fact: with this chapter we've officially surpassed the length of Animal Farm by George Orwell and we're a few words away from Charlie And The Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl!

Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

Previous chapters can be found on this blog.

Chapter Eight - Whispered Words And Jumping Sparks

You spent the next couple of days alternatively nursing your sister’s broken heart, and trying - without much success - to understand what happened. Amelia, for her own part, couldn’t do much more than cry and eat ice cream. Ben and she hadn’t been together long, but the relationship had seemed serious enough that you could perfectly understand your sister’s sorrow. In the last period, they’d even been considering getting a house together, which was one of the reasons you were struggling to guess what could have been grave enough to end the relationship.

You didn’t press the issue, Amelia seemed far from keen on sharing the details, so you just made sure he hadn’t laid a hand on her and that she was settled in as comfortably as you could make her. To you, Ben didn’t seem that kind of man, and it luckily turned out he wasn’t, but you could never be too careful.

From the little information you’d managed to gather, Amelia had gone home after work on Friday and she’d had some kind of argument with Ben - about what you didn’t know - after which she’d hastily decided to pack a few clothes and move to your house until she could be sure Ben wouldn’t go to hers again. However, Ben had easily guessed where he would be able to find her and, by Sunday morning, he’d come knocking at your door.

You were still completely clueless about the reason for their falling out when Ben profusely apologised to Amelia, saying that he was wrong and that he had made a huge mistake by hurting her and making her believe he didn’t love her anymore. He insisted that he’d been stupid, acting like a scared child and that he wanted to work hard so that she could forgive him. For her part, Amelia had made him promise that he would talk about his problems next time so that they could solve them together, and had accepted to let him accompany her home. She’d quickly gathered the few things she’d brought and reassured you that she was fine, with the promise to let you know when she got home.

You were briefly tempted to pull Ben aside before they left to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt your sister again, but he turned to you before you had a chance to do so and said with a regretful expression on his face, “I’m sorry,” so you decided to drop it and let them go on their way.

You closed the door behind them and let out a sigh of relief. Now that you were alone, you felt like you’d been keeping your breath for the whole time Amelia had been there. Seeing your usually cheerful sister in such pain had made you restless, and hidden worry had been quietly eating at you for the whole time.

You looked around at the empty house and wondered what to do. Amelia had completely disrupted any plans you might have made for the weekend - not that you’d had any in the first place - and with Monday off too, you found yourself at a complete loss for how to fill your free time. You resolved to make some comfort food after the crisis and to text Tom to let him know what had happened. You’d completely neglected your usual conversation in favour of assisting your sister, but he’d been worried too when you’d left the café and it only seemed right to make him privy to what was going on.

You entered the kitchen and started rummaging through your fridge and cabinet, determined to make a bowl of hot soup. The weather had finally turned for the worst the previous day, and an icy rain had been tapping incessantly at the windows of your apartment since the night. You managed to find some fresh pumpkin that you’d picked up during the week, so you took it out and gathered the ingredients to make pumpkin soup, leaving them on the kitchen island while you texted Tom before starting on the food preparations.

“Hey,” you wrote, “I’m sorry I didn’t text sooner, my sister just left and I’ve been away from my phone to be with her.”

You put your phone aside and started cutting and peeling the pumpkin. A few minutes later, you received an answer.

“Hi, I’m so glad to hear from you,” he replied, “Is everything okay? How is your sister?”

“She’s better now, she and her boyfriend had an argument and she crashed at mine.” You distractedly texted back, while continuing to work on your food. The exchange went back and forth like that for a while.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, is she going to be okay?”

“Well, the thing is,” you wrote, “He actually came and apologised and I guess they’re back together now?”

“That sure is a rollercoaster… a short one,” he joked, “But a rollercoaster nonetheless.”

You couldn’t help smiling down at your phone, grateful for the attempt to cheer you up. “Haha I know, right? But I’m relieved they sorted things out...” You went back to the food briefly, then sent more, “Anyway, how’s your weekend going?”

“Pretty uneventful,” he replied, “I met my younger sister for breakfast in the morning, but I don’t have plans for the rest of the day. What about you?”

“My sister was kind of unexpected, but aside from that, I didn’t really have anything planned to start with. And I have tomorrow off too, so that’s going to be a lot of free time with nothing to do.”

“Oh, wow! Long weekend? Is anything happening tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Nina’s (my manager) parents are visiting from France and she’s giving me a day off too. I’m actually meeting them for dinner tomorrow.”

“That sounds nice,” he wrote back. You kept stirring the quickly-cooking pumpkin and after a few seconds, he wrote again, “So no plans at all for tonight?”

“Nope, nada, zilch.”

“Would you like to go to dinner? My treat.”

Your heart missed a beat or two, his invite both unexpected and exciting. You took a deep breath and turned off the heat, gathering your composure. Then you finally texted back, “I’d like that :) but if I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pay.”

You grabbed a bowl from the cabinet above the sink and made to pour the creamy liquid into it. When your phone vibrated again, you looked away from your hands for just a second, trying to peer at the notification preview and in doing so, spilt some of the bright orange soup on the marble countertop of your kitchen island. You cursed and hastened to put the small pot back on the stove while you grabbed a couple of tissues to clean up the stain, ultimately unable to see what Tom had replied.

When you finally managed to get a hold of your phone, you saw that he’d written, “That’s true in theory, but I’m the one inviting you so etiquette dictates I’m the one who pays,” accompanied by a winky face.

You smirked and wrote back, “Sigh… I can sense a losing battle, so I’ll let it go this time...” followed by, “But I have a good memory.”

He sent back an open-mouthed smiling face, then asked, “Any cuisine preferences?”

“Is it my turn to choose?” you asked him in turn, buying time while you thought about it.

“Why not, I was the one to choose Mama Thai so I guess it’s only fair.”

“How gentlemanly,” you joked, still unsure. Then, you remembered that Nadia had been raving about what she claimed to be the best vegetarian restaurant in the whole of London. Before he answered, you added, “Actually, I might have a place in mind.”

You left your house just past 6:30 that evening, having agreed to meet on location at 7:15 PM. The rain had thankfully let up earlier in the afternoon, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way seen as you were going to take the subway to the meeting spot. The restaurant Nadia had been talking about wasn’t too far from King’s Cross station, you’d texted her asking for the name during your conversation with Tom and had reported back to him to make the arrangements to meet. You would have to take the same tube line as when you went to work, and it would take you around half an hour to get there.

You’d kept texting Tom through your lunch and for a couple more hours after that and, when you’d gotten off the phone, you’d looked up the restaurant to decide on an outfit. You’d ended up selecting a fairly casual ensemble composed by a peachy tan silk shirt half-tucked into a pair of light blue mid-rise skinny jeans. You completed the look with a pair of black suede boots and your trusted mid-thigh black coat which you used almost every day. You were strangely aware of Linda’s absence this time, and you almost missed her irreverent opinion and determination to do your makeup, especially when you finally made up your mind and decided to forgo it entirely.

You thought you might have run late when your hair-drier had suddenly stopped working, but you managed to borrow your neighbour Laura’s - who was thankfully home - and you left your house almost perfectly on time if a few minutes later than you’d planned to.

Nevertheless, you arrived at the restaurant a little earlier than anticipated and resolved to wait for Tom outside, when you saw that he was already waiting for you a few steps away from the entrance. He was listening intently to what you supposed was a call on his phone, distractedly looking down on the ground and adjusting a fold on his shirt through his opened coat every few seconds without much thought. You approached him slowly, making time to take him in and unwilling to interrupt the call. You could see his mouth move but you weren’t close enough to hear what he was saying, but you did hear the surprised thrill of a laugh at whatever the person on the other end had said.

You felt tender warmth bloom in your chest. Then, for a split second, a wave of anxiety washed over you, like a portent of fear and danger, but the feeling was gone before you could put your finger on it, leaving behind the prick of confusion. You brushed off the strange sensation, determined to enjoy the evening.

When you finally reached him, Tom was putting his phone away into his pocket and lifting his eyes. He spotted you to his left and greeted you with a sweet smile, turning his entire body towards you and immediately going in to kiss you on both cheeks. You reciprocated the gesture instinctively, your body allowing no time at all for hesitation to settle in.

“Hi!” you blurted, a little louder than you’d intended. His smile widened. You got your voice under control and spoke again, “Sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s no problem at all. I only just got here myself,” he reassured you. “I’m so glad we could meet again,” he paused for a second. His smile turned shy and he hesitantly added, “You look gorgeous.”

“I- I...” you stuttered, at loss for words. You felt like your face was on fire. You hoped with your entire being that your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Thank you,” you finally mumbled, returning his smile.

“You’re very welcome,” he replied. Then he gestured to the door and asked, “What do you say we go in?” You nodded, he pulled the door open and waited for you to enter before following behind you. You hurried inside, surreptitiously touching one of your reddened cheeks, internally chastising yourself for your embarrassment.

As soon as the door closed behind Tom, a blonde woman wearing a black polo shirt with the name of the restaurant stitched on the chest in thick red thread approached you. “Table for two?” she asked, looking between you.

“Yes, please,” was Tom’s reply.

“Please follow me,” she smiled politely, then turned around and started walking towards a row of tables overlooking the street outside.

You followed closely behind, zigzagging through occupied tables, Tom at your side.

Soon enough, you got to your table. You and Tom stopped, while the waitress continued past you to a small wooden structured pushed to the wall where some cutlery and glasses were kept, along with various condiments and a stack of menus. She grabbed two and got back to you, settling them down between you and Tom. He thanked her, and then she was gone.

You took off your coat and sat down, looking around.

The place was a spacious room with tables of different styles, unified by the same colour palette. High windows surrounded two sides of the restaurant, offering a comforting look at the eerie glow of the nightlife outside. Alongside the windows, the tables were higher and the seats consisted of dark wooden stools you were grateful not to have been seated at. The rest of the seatings were arranged in two more rows, one of which was separated from the main corridor of small light beige tables by ornate wooden panels.

Families, as well as young couples, filled the space that appeared moderately crowded but not stifled. A convivial murmur flowed over the entire place, reaching the elegant bar located at the left end of the room, where more wooden stools allowed patrons to grab a drink without the commitment of dinner. The atmosphere was relaxed and homey but carefully curated like restaurant chains tend to be.

“I like the place,” Tom spoke, breaking your observations.

You turned to him and smiled, “Yeah, it feels very cosy.” He’d taken his coat off too and draped it on the back of his chair, which gave you a better look at what he was wearing. He was more put together than the first time, he’d gone for jeans again but this time he’d opted for a white shirt and a dark blue suit jacket instead of a sweater. His hair was as wild as ever, you could almost picture him absent-mindedly moving his unruly curls out of his face. Just as you were thinking this, one of his curls fell on his forehead. He moved it away and to the wrong side, leaving it sticking up and out from the rest of his hair. You tried to hide the small affectionate smile that took over your face.

A moment of silence fell between you. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it seemed like Tom was determined to say something he couldn’t quite gather the courage to push out. He inadvertently shook his head in a small movement, as if putting aside whatever thought was going through his mind. Then he looked up at you with a gentle smile and said, “We should probably check out the menu.”

You nodded and handed him one of the menus, then grabbed one for yourself. “Shall we share like last time?” you asked him.

“I’d like that, yes,” he replied, so you both concentrated on the list in front of you.

A few minutes passed, and eventually, you both made up your minds. The waitress came over to take your orders almost as soon as you put down the menus and shortly after you were served drinks.

“So, how was your day?” you asked with a nervous but sincere smile, the awkwardness getting to you. You had no idea why you couldn’t seem to make yourselves talk as easily as last time. Even then, it had definitely been slow-going in the beginning, but some embarrassment for a first-time dinner was to be expected. However, you’d met several times now and the painstaking rhythm of your current conversation was starting to take a toll on you.

Tom swallowed the sip of the Roasted Pecan Old Fashioned he’d ordered and smiled back. “It was pretty relaxed,” he answered, “I met my sister in the morning,” - you nodded, he’d said as much in his texts - “But the afternoon was quite slow. How about you? Are you feeling better after what happened with Amelia?”

“Oh, yes, I think so,” you played idly with your own cocktail glass, “I heard from her after we talked, and she seemed to have made up with her boyfriend.”

“Did you manage to find out what happened?” he asked, polite curiosity clear on his face.

“I actually didn’t,” you shook your head and laughed incredulously, “She only sent me a text saying that she was fine, that they were fine.” You shrugged, “Other than that, no explanation.”

He laughed too, “Your sister is quite something.” Then, he seemed to catch himself and hastily retracted, ”That sounded so rude, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” you interrupted him, smiling reassuringly, “I get what you mean. It was kind of a weird situation for me, too. But in the end, I’m just glad everything worked out for the best.”

He nodded, ”Yeah, I’m happy for them. Have they been together long?”

You frowned and looked away, trying to think back to when they started going out. “Uhm… Not very long, no.” You looked back to him and added, “About half a year, I believe. But they did seem to hit it off pretty quickly.” Tom took another sip from his drink and kept listening attentively. You explained, “My sister was super in love straight from the beginning, and it did seem reciprocated. He’s already met our parents, too, it got serious pretty fast.”

He put down his glass and nodded, looking to his lap for just a second. He reached for his glass again but before taking it in his hand he paused and thought better of it. He hesitated, then he finally spoke, “And… Uhm… What about you?”

He was looking intently at you, examining you for an answer, but you weren’t quite sure what he was asking about. You fidgeted nervously but tried not to let your smile falter. “What about me?” you asked him.

He cleared his throat and, with a small wave of his hand, he explained, “I mean, you and Andrea from the café seemed pretty close, are you together?” and looked at you expectantly, frowning slightly and touching his lips with a finger pensively.

You sputtered, opening your mouth several times with no sound coming out. You were completely taken off guard and had no idea what to say. “Oh! No! No, no no, no no no,” you blurted, that was definitely too many No’s. A laugh croaked out of you unintentionally, you slapped your hand on your lips attempting to cover up the noise. When you’d finally regained control over your mouth you tried again, more calmly, “No, we’re not.”

His smile returned at last, and his posture seemed to relax. You hadn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders, but once it was gone, it was unmistakable. He sat back in his chair and fingered one of the corners of his folded napkin on the side of his plate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply, you just seemed very friendly-”

“Oh no, I mean, we are,” you confirmed, “But that’s just because we’ve known each other for almost two years now,” you explained. You laughed slightly at the thought, and added, “He has a huge crush on Nina, actually.”

“Oh,” he considered, “Oh!” He seemed to come to a realisation. “I didn’t- I mean… I don’t- Is that,” he stuttered, “Is that something that bothers you?” You frowned, confused, so he elaborated, “Is it an unrequited interest situation?”

“No! No,” you denied vehemently, “No, oh my god, not at all.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve known him since before I signed with the label, and he’s always been so supportive,” you clarified, “He’s like a very encouraging brother to me. And his parents have been so kind, too.”

“Oh, I see,” he sighed. He seemed somewhat relieved, “Well, I guess I hope things go well for him. With Nina, I mean,” he finished.

You winced slightly, “Eh… I don’t know about that.” You saw the confusion on his face so you told him, “Nina is a lesbian,” you smiled.

“Ah,” he rubbed at his neck skittishly and smiled nervously, “I had no idea, sorry. I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth a lot tonight.”

You laughed, “It’s completely fine. And well, seen as I’m usually the one doing that, it’s a nice change of pace for once,” you joked.

At that, he laughed too. You lifted your cocktail to your mouth and took another drink. Just then, the waitress accosted your table, carrying several plates with your order in her arms. She put them down in front of you and you both thanked her, finally digging in.

You moved the food around from plate to plate, dividing the dishes you’d ordered so you could both try everything, and spent a couple of minutes just sampling and commenting the dinner. Then the conversation picked up again.

You braced yourself and, trying to gather your courage in the most nonchalant way you could manage, between one bite and the other, you asked him, “And what about you? Are you seeing someone?” Immediately, something in your lower stomach squeezed tight, anticipation from his answer growing steadily in your belly. You looked at him and brought the fork to your lips again, trying to masquerade your nervousness.

He swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and patted at his lips with his napkin. Then he smiled and looked up at you. “Not at the moment, no,” he said, without elaborating further.

His answer was more than enough for your nervousness to dissipate, the painful grip of worry releasing your lungs. Your lips moved to reciprocate his smile and you said briefly, “Oh, I see,” before taking another bite.

You both continued eating, idly chatting away the dinner. Around 9:30 PM, the waitress who’d welcomed you approached your table again and took away your empty plates. Shorty after she came by asking if you’d like dessert and, as you’d already done the first time you’d had dinner together, you opted to share and ordered a slice of Forest Berry Mousse Cake. In what felt like no time at all, that was gone too, and all that remained for you to do was nurse the last inch of cocktail that was left in both your glasses.

You decided it was time to leave when the waitress neared your table again, asking if you cared for something else or if you wanted for her to bring the bill. You accepted the bill and, as you’d predicted, Tom insisted on being the one to pay. You could tell by his determination that there was no way to win the argument and resignedly accepted his kindness, thanking him profusely. You both grabbed your coats and put them on, exiting the restaurant right after. As you’d also done before, you stopped on the curb on the side of the restaurant door again and Tom asked you, “Are you taking the tube?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’m taking the Northern like towards Morden, how about you?”

“I’m also taking that one, but in the direction toward Edgware,” he replied, then, “We can walk to the station together if you’d like.”

You agreed enthusiastically, “Of course!” And so you started walking through the people passing by pressed side to side.

“Thank you so much for coming out tonight,” he said, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his coat and head turned to you so he could look into your eyes. He was smiling gently.

“Oh, no, I should be the one thanking you,” you protested, absentmindedly playing with one of the corners of your bag, “It was a welcome distraction after the whole ordeal with Amelia, and I had a great time.”

“Me, too,” he replied, “But it was kind of on short notice, so I would have understood if you’d said no.”

You smiled and looked ahead to the road, uncertain if you could say the next few words while looking in his eyes, “I would never have,” you almost whispered. He didn’t respond, and you instinctively looked up, the curiosity to see the expression on his face too strong to resist.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. He’d lowered his eyes to the pavement, and for a second you thought you’d embarrassed him. You were ready to apologise but just then, you saw a small smile grace his lips, and you noticed the faintest blush high on his cheeks. You looked away again, and another smile flourished on your own lips, filling your mouth with delightful sweetness. Something in your chest exploded with the tiniest pop, and your skin prickled as if dotted by sparklers.

He finally lifted his eyes and looked straight into yours, the smile on his face growing surer and brighter. He offered you his elbow, and you leaned your hand in the bend of his arm, getting ever closer. You spent the remainder of the walk in companionable silence, heat spreading into your bodies from the spot where you touched.

When you reached the station, you stopped a little ways from the entrance and separated, facing each other.

“Thank you,” you told him. If pressed, you wouldn’t have been able to explain what you were thanking him for, but it didn’t seem to matter because he pressed close to you and delicately put his arms around your shoulders. The tenderness of the hug left you breathless, disarmed to the point of being unable to reciprocate for the first few seconds. When you regained clarity, you squeezed him back.

After what felt like an endless time, he let you go.

“I’ll see you soon,” he told you, and you both went your separate ways.

Chapter 9 coming soon

@honeybournehippy @namelesslosers @unlikelytigerqueen @effielumiere @theoneannab @marikochi @sabine-leo

@huntersvibe & @gaylemonshark: I’m unable to tag you both unfortunately, the reason might be that you have the setting for hiding your blogs on. Let me know if you change them and if you want me to try again!

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #reader x tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x you #fanfiction #reader tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston reader #tom hiddleston fandom

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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@sabine-leo hi and sorry for the late reply! Thank you for reading and yes, I'll note you down for tagging, but I have to warn you that I have forgotten before 😅 so if you have a chance, I would recommend subscribing to this story on AO3 or following this blog which has been created exclusively for this fic :)

Again, thank you for reading and for your lovely feedback! ❤

#replies #sabineleo #sabine-leo

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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Thank you so much! I’ll definitely look on AO3 :)

No problem at all!! :D

#asks #gaylemonshark

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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@marikochi Hi! Thank you so much!! I will add you to the taglist, but I have to say in advance that I have forgotten before so I'd also recommend either following this blog (which will only ever be about this one fic) or subscribing to the story on AO3 to make sure that you don’t miss any updates!

Thank you so much again for your feedback and for reading :D

#marikochi #replies

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writerunsolved · 5 years

Note

“The Drunken Mistake “ Holy crap it’s amazing It’s so hard to find a rare gem as good as your story especially with Tom Hiddleston!!! Do you do tags ? If so please tag me !! I’m in love 💕💕

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story and for taking the time to leave such a sweet message!! ♥

Regarding tags: I do try to tag everyone who asks but I have also forgotten before, so I’d really recommend subscribing to the story on AO3 if you have an account, or following this blog which will only ever be used for this one fic! :D

Either way, I’ll definitely add you to the list and try to remember for next chapter, thank you again for you feedback!!

#asks #gaylemonshark

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 7

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 7/?

Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: Quick PSA: I’d noticed getting fewer notes than usual on the last two chapters. I later found out that Tumblr has killed internal links too, which means that my updates supposedly didn’t show up in searches. For this reason, starting today, I have to stop linking to my previous and next chapters. To make extra sure you don’t miss any updates, you can also subscribe to this fic on AO3.

Seen the situation, your reblogs are more important than ever! Remember to support your favourite creators on Tumblr by reblogging rather than liking their posts, it is the only way their work can get around and reach a wider audience! Thank you in advance for reading!

Previous chapters can be found on this blog.

Chapter Seven - Just As Sweet As Coffee And With The Same Aftertaste

When you’d gotten home after the dinner, you had just as mechanically divested and put on your pyjamas. Only once you’d laid down on your bed to sleep, had the weight of what had happened finally dawned upon your mind and quickly become a thought to worry about.

In the safety of your bedroom and under the cover of darkness, as well as the more literal duvet that the cold weather had started requiring, your brain had once again begun spinning out of your control providing you with ever new anxieties. You had soon started examining your behaviour during the whole evening, considering the way you’d eaten, laughed, drunk, the subjects you’d decided to talk about, and every single reaction you’d elicited from Tom. But the one thought that had kept circling back throughout your meticulous examination had been that of the almost-kiss you had almost-shared.

Right then, an unbearable feeling of embarrassment had burned inside you like a sudden stab, and you had immediately felt the shame that came with presuming that none of it had been reciprocated. Once the belief that you had forced yourself on poor, polite Tom had taken root in your head, sleep had seemed like a distant memory you had no idea how to chase, nor grasp.

At some point, you had lost any sense of the time passing, so much that only the vibration of your phone on the nightstand had finally made you realise how late it had gotten. When you’d hurriedly snatched it to check who it was, desperate for any kind of distraction from your own train of thought, the single text you had received had been enough to put your mind at ease and make you decide that it was time to try and sleep.

“I had a wonderful night,” it had read, “I look forward to next time.”

You hadn’t answered right then, only seen that it was almost 2 AM and turned around with a smile on your face, determined to rest.

When you finally did wake up, you were drowsy enough that the memory of the previous night wasn’t the first thought in your mind. You checked your phone and saw that it was almost 11 AM, panic shot through you for just a second before you remembered that it was Sunday and you had no work, so you relaxed back into the mattress with a sigh.

You instinctively reached for your phone, mostly to check if you had any new texts, not yet remembering that you still had one from Tom to answer. When you took it in your hand, his notification was still there, hitting you with a mix of undefined emotions.

“Hi, and good morning :) I also had a great time, we should meet again soon," you sent him in response. Then, in another text, you added, “If work allows, of course.”

You wondered just for a moment if it sounded like you were making excuses not to meet again, but your worry was instantly alleviated by him replying “I’ll definitely let you know when I’m free again, and I hope you’ll do the same.” You agreed and for the rest of the day you texted back and forth like you’d been doing for a while now, and the normalcy of it kept your preoccupations about the night before at bay.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion, with the exception of going back to work on Monday. You were distracted enough with new interviews and finally some meetings to determine when and where your upcoming concert tour would take place, that you barely had time to dwell on your anxieties again.

They had certainly faded from your mind that Wednesday when you were having lunch with Nina at a small place on the same street as the label building.

You were sitting down at a sleek square table, lunch in front of you, and slowly picking at the food while Nina spoke rapidly into her mobile phone. You had no idea what she was talking about, her voice fast enough and low enough that you could only catch a couple of words here and there, like “Liam” and “Be on time” and a whole lot of “No”. You looked distractedly around you, the small restaurant had a cold, minimalistic vibe to it, with polished aluminium tables and chairs. It was the first time you ate there, Nina had been the one to suggest it, you didn’t mind the food but it wasn’t anything special.

A lot of people kept coming and going, only very few opting to sit down in the small space that the restaurant allowed, and most just grabbing paper bags full of food to take away and eat elsewhere. You really didn’t understand the appeal of the place, but you imagined it would certainly be convenient to stop there and pick up a quick meal if you worked in one of the many office buildings of the area.

Your inconsequential thoughts were interrupted by Nina almost slamming the phone down on the tabletop and declaring, “This is why I don’t want interns, they’re only a waste of my time.” She sighed loudly and faced you, shaking off the annoyance of the phone conversation and digging into her lunch with vigour.

“Sorry for that,” she started, carelessly waving her fork around and talking animatedly, “Talking to Liam is like screaming into the wind. He’s always carrying that notepad around and writing everything down, and yet he still calls me for every tiny thing,” she huffed again, “Unbelievable.”

You nodded in sympathy, “I guess it must be hard to keep up with you,” you told her, “Not even I have any idea of the number of things you get done in a single day.”

“Don’t defend him,” she groaned and pointed at you with her fork, you felt mildly threatened, “I know I’m a force to be reckoned with, but if he wants to get anywhere at the label he’s gonna have to learn.”

You replied with a small “Fair enough,” and took another bite of your lunch, Nina did the same.

“This food isn’t all that much,” she commented, “I shouldn’t have trusted Mike, but anyway...” She paused and quickly ate another mouthful or two, then directed her attention at you, “I don’t believe you’ve told me about your dinner the other night.”

Her change of subject surprised you enough that you almost choked on the food you’d just put in your mouth. You started coughing convulsively, barely managing to swallow a crouton before it choked you to death. Nina just looked at you silently, unscrewing the water bottle you were sharing and pouring some of the liquid in your glass. You thanked her with a look and gulped down the water, finally able to breathe normally again.

“Is that a positive or negative answer?” she asked you with a smirk.

You straightened up and gave her a nasty look, “Very funny.”

“It was a little bit funny,” she pushed her thumb and index finger together to show how much, “But mostly it was adorable, I can’t believe how much of a goner you are.”

You spluttered, you were just about to reply when your phone, which had been sitting on the side of your glass, vibrated with a new text alert. You ignored your train of thought in favour of checking the notification but didn’t get any further than seeing that it was from Tom because Nina started laughing. You looked at her, confused by her reaction.

She pointed at the phone you were clutching with the hand still holding her fork, “See, you have no leg to stand on! You literally stopped mid-thought to check if he was sending you a text.”

“I- I wasn’t- I didn’t! I-” you stuttered, trying to find something to defend yourself, “We were just… We were already texting before!” you almost shouted. Then, realising your sudden increase in volume, you cleared your throat and tried again in a much lower voice and a casual shrug, “It would be rude to leave him hanging.”

Nina smiled and rolled her eyes, “Oh, you are just so,” she elongated the word, “Considerate.”

“Well, excuse me,” you rebutted, an exaggeratedly haughty look on your face.

“Go on,” she urged you, “Read it. I know you’re dying to.”

“I’m not dying to,” you muttered but didn’t hesitate to open up the text. For some reason or other, you and Tom had started talking about the cartoons you used to watch as children, you had no idea how you’d gotten to the subject, and he was just following up on the conversation. You shot back a quick answer and put the phone back on the table.

“Anyway,” Nina started again when she saw you were done, “I really do want to know about dinner. Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” she pouted.

“It was just dinner,” you answered, “There isn’t all that much to say, really...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she nodded, “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it.” You wanted to protest, but she continued in a more serious tone, “Just remember that we’re friends, and whenever you’re ready - and if you feel like you need to - you can talk to me, okay?”

You shook your head gently, “I appreciate it, Nina. But, honestly, you’re making it out to be much bigger than it is.”

“I know you, hon,” she repeated, “And I’m pretty sure you’re stressing about this. But I also know that you need time to think about it by yourself, which is fine,” she insisted, “But don’t feel like you have to keep everything inside because you think we’re gonna judge you or something like that.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed and looked down at the table, nervously picking at the edge with your index finger, “I’m just not sure of the situation, and I don’t feel like I’m ready to share what’s going through my mind yet. I need more time to clear my head is all,” you finally admitted and looked up at Nina. She was smiling kindly.

“It’s okay, hon,” she reassured you, “I’ll still be here later.”

You forced yourself to smile back, trying to show your gratitude, but the feeling of being a bad friend was nagging at you. Something in you wanted to push and make you open up, but your insistence to deny that you were feeling anything at all was much stronger. Sometimes you just wished you could be a better friend to the people supporting you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Nina changed the subject swiftly, “The 4 PM meeting on Friday was cancelled, so you can definitely make other plans for the evening. And Monday, too,” she added, “My parents are gonna be in town, so I’m giving you a day off,” she winked.

“Nice!” you commented, then asked her, “How are your parents by the way? It was so lovely meeting them last May.”

“They’re fine,” she waved a hand dismissively, “They’re enjoying retirement in their dreamy French villa, as usual. You should join us for dinner on Monday, they loved meeting you, too. They were smitten by that talentueuse jeune fille,” she said the last sentence in an exaggerated French accent, an imitation of her parents’, “And wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

You laughed. The rest of the meal was spent making plans for the dinner on Monday. After that, you both went back to work. Later in the day, you texted Tom to let him know you would be free on Friday afternoon and asked him if he wanted to get coffee. He accepted enthusiastically and promised to discuss specifics later in the day.

Amidst your hectic working hours, Friday seemed to come in an instant.

You’d heard from Tom again and, in the end, you’d agreed on going to Caffé Piccolo. You’d mentioned their amazing coffee in previous conversations, and he was thrilled to finally get to experience it too.

That day, you managed to leave work exactly at 4 PM. The morning meetings about the tour had been slow-going and full of technical information you couldn’t do much about. In fact, you weren’t sure why your presence had been required at all, but you hadn’t minded too much and Nina had also been there.

You exited the building and looked at the time on your phone. You and Tom had arranged to meet at a quarter to five in front of Caffé Piccolo, which meant that you still had forty-five minutes to get there, it would be more than enough time to make it without being late. You looked up at the sky, thick grey clouds hovered above the rooftops, promising rain. You frowned, hoping that you would make it home before the weather turned for the worse, then walked away toward the tube station.

You made it to the café with a few minutes to spare and no rain on your path. You briefly considered whether to wait for Tom inside, but in the end, opted to stay where you were. Soon enough, you saw him hurrying down the street from the same direction you’d come, straight from the metro.

When he reached you, you could see that he was wind-swept and that he’d probably ran to make it in time. His hair was in complete disarray and his coat was unbuttoned, showing that he was wearing a soft navy-blue sweater underneath.

“Hi!” he greeted you cheerfully, a huge smile on his lips. He passed a hand through his hair, trying to slide it back in place, but it did very little. “Sorry, I’m late.”

You smiled back, “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not late,” you reassured him, “I got here a bit early, but you’re perfectly on time”.

He touched your shoulder gently and said, “It’s good to see you again,” then, he hugged you tightly.

You felt just as off guard as the first time you’d hugged. You guessed it would take a while before you would get used to it. You obviously didn’t hate it, but you had trouble letting yourself go, though you did try. By the time you separated, you’d even managed to reciprocate the hug.

“So this is the legendary Caffé Piccolo,” he said, looking behind you at the small door, “Did I say it right?”

“I’m not one to judge,” you joked, “But be reassured that if you say it wrong inside, they won’t hesitate to correct you.” He laughed, you added, “And I’m not sure about legendary, but their coffee is certifiably extraordinary.”

“I was excited to try it before, but now I can’t wait one more second. Shall we go in?” he asked, extending a hand towards the door.

You nodded and turned around to make your way inside, keeping the door open for Tom who followed you in and thanked you. You let the door close behind him and looked around, searching for an empty table. You couldn’t see Andrea, at his place at the cash register was his mother Santuzza, who immediately saw you enter and welcomed you with a huge smile.

“Andrea! Vieni un attimo alla cassa! ” she shouted toward the back, from which Andrea appeared. He quickly took his mother’s place at the cash register so Santuzza could make her way towards you, open arms ready to squeeze you. “Gioia mia, it’s so nice to see you!”, she spoke with a thick accent and her smile still in place. As soon as she reached you, she threw her arms around you and crushed you into the sweetest hug she could manage.

“Mrs Fusco, I’m happy to see you, too,” you told her when she let you go. You massaged your left side carefully, she had pushed so tightly around you, that you couldn’t help but jam your own elbow into the side of your ribs. You could see Andrea behind her punching in one of the costumers’ order, he raised his eyes from the cash register and spotted you looking back. He greeted you with a small wave of his hand and went back to his task.

“Oh, please, tesoro mio, call me Santuzza. How many times do I have to tell you?” she chastised you, then asked, “What are you doing here, goia?”

“I brought a friend to try your magnificent coffee,” you replied, gesturing towards Tom, who was watching the exchange with a tiny smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Fusco,” he told Santuzza, then introduced himself, “I’m Tom, I’ve heard amazing things about your establishment.” He extended his hand, and when Santuzza did the same, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. You could immediately see how flattered the gesture had made her and covered your mouth to hide the impressed grin that had bloomed on your lips.

“Oh my,” Santuzza almost blushed, “What a charming young man you have there,” she turned to you, “Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto.”

You laughed slightly, sure that the compliment had made Tom bashful, but not of what Santuzza had told you with her last sentence.

“Enjoy the coffee,” she told you both and went back to her place at the cash register, pushing Andrea back towards the kitchen in the back.

“You speak Italian?” Tom asked you while you made your way to one of the small tables next to the large window that overlooked the front of the store.

You took off your coat and draped it on the back of your chair before sitting down, Tom did the same. “Not really,” you told him, “I’m not sure what she said, to be honest, I only understand the pet names because she uses them so much.”

“I see,” he replied, “She was calling you ‘love’, and ‘joy’, and ‘treasure’. I can understand a little Italian, but not enough to know what she told you, I’m afraid,” he explained.

“That’s impressive!” you commented, widening your eyes, “You should teach me what you know sometime.”

“Why not,” he smiled, then changed the subject, “I assume you come here a lot, you seem very close with the owner.”

“Owners, actually,” you specified, “Santuzza and her husband Giovanni opened the café with their son Andrea.” Tom was listening interestedly. “From what I know, Andrea went to a business university here in London. When he went back to Italy after that, he convinced his parents to move to London too and to open Caffé Piccolo,” you explained, “They already had a small place back in Italy, and he believed they could really get somewhere with their coffee specialities.”

Tom looked around, almost every other table in the room was occupied, and there were several people waiting in line for their coffee at the counter. “I think he might have had the right idea,” he joked, referring to the small crowd.

You chuckled. “I know I amped up their coffee a lot,” you emphasised the last two words, “But I swear I wasn’t lying.”

Before Tom could answer, Andrea had reemerged from the back of the café and was approaching your table. “Bellezza, it’s been a while,” he greeted you. He looked around and towards the entrance before continuing, “No Nina today?”

“Hey, Andrea,” you greeted him with a smile, “Nope, no Nina.” He sighed in relief. “I brought a new friend today.”

At that, Andrea noticed Tom, who was sitting cross-legged in front of you with a small smirk, and gulped. He spluttered several times before squeaking out, “I didn’t know you were friends with Tom Hiddleston.”

You snickered at Andrea’s loss for words, he was probably mourning Nina’s absence just then.

“Hi, Andrea, nice to meet you,” Tom offered his hand to shake, still smirking and going along with your teasing.

Andrea took it and said, “It’s the same for me, Mr Hiddleston.”

Behind Andrea’s back, you widened your mouth in amused surprise and outrage: Andrea had never been that polite to Nina and you!

“Please, just Tom,” he answered. When their hands separated, Andrea took a step back and looked between you and Tom squaring his shoulders in the semblance of a professional demeanour, and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

You glanced at Tom and asked him, “Would you mind if I ordered for you?”

“Please,” he replied, “Go ahead.”

“Do you like chocolate?” you asked him one last time, and when he nodded you turned to Andrea and finally said, “We’ll have a Marocchino and a Caffé al Ginseng, please.” Andrea, who had taken out a small notepad, wrote the order down and nodded, leaving the two of you and walking back towards the counter.

“I’m kind of curious about what you just ordered,” Tom started, “But I also want to keep the surprise alive,” he joked. You laughed. A beat or two of silence passed before he spoke again, “I was surprised by your text,” he said, “Pleasantly, of course. Did you get a long weekend?”

“No, actually,” you explained, “The afternoon meeting for today was cancelled, and since it was the last appointment for today, I thought I’d let you know and see if you were free too.”

“Well, thank you for that,” he replied, “I was glad you thought of me.”

You blushed, “No problem,” you almost mumbled, smiling shyly. Then asked, “Did you also get a half-day?”

“Unfortunately not,” he lifted the corner of his mouth in a bitter smile, “I was free this morning, but I have a work dinner later tonight.”

“Oh, I see. What time do you need to get going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied with a brush of his hand, “It’s not until eight.”

You were going to say more when Andrea approached your table again, carrying a round metal tray. He set half of it on the table, keeping the other half up with his hand, and started moving the cups out of it. He set two glasses filled with water on the table, then said, “A Marocchinohere,” and deposited a small plate with a slightly larger than usual espresso cup filled to the brim with a deep brown chocolate and coffee concoction in front of Tom, then a smaller one with what looked like a very weak coffee in front of you, “And a Caffé al Ginseng for you.” You were about to thank him, but he added, “And I brought some Cantuccini. Dad made them this morning, let me know what you think,” and winked at you.

“Thank you, Andrea,” you told him. He nodded, picking up the tray and holding it in front of him, then left with a quick friendly touch to your shoulder.

You looked back at Tom, he was observing Andrea intently, but when he noticed you were looking at him he smiled with a raise of his eyebrows and said, “Shall we?”

You nodded and picked up your cup, he did the same, taking a whiff of the beverage before bringing it to his lips. You took a drink of your coffee and surveyed him from the top of your cup, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally tasted the liquid and, as soon as it touched his tongue, he let out an appreciative moan.

“This is amazing!” he commented, visibly impressed.

You set your already almost empty cup back on the table and reached for the half-moon shaped cookies, taking one. “I’m glad to hear that,” you smiled, then took a bite.

“So I can definitely taste the chocolate and coffee,” he stated, “But how is this made exactly? And what is the one you ordered?”

You swallowed the cookie bite and replied, “I’ve been told Marocchino is not actually coffee, but a separate beverage. Although it is made with coffee and also sweetened milk cream, in addition to dark chocolate, of course.” He nodded in agreement. “And the one I got is made with Ginseng extract and milk, mixed with espresso, which is why it looks like watered down coffee,” you explained, “Would you like to try some?”

“Oh, no, thank you. Maybe next time,” he smiled, then reached for the cookies. You looked at him expectantly, ”Wow! These are incredible,” he exclaimed, “I’ve had Cantucci before, but these are really good.”

“Glad it lived up to your expectations,” you joked.

He laughed then said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking. You said you had a meeting that was cancelled, what would it have been about?”

“It’s totally fine,” you reassured him, “We’ve been in talks about my upcoming world tour for the last few days.”

“That’s amazing! Have you worked out the details yet?”

“Not yet, no,” you replied, “The dates for the European part are more or less all decided,” you explained, “But the American part is still a little foggy. Nina, my manager, was trying to keep them pretty cohesive, but the higher-ups have been saying that they’d rather have me take a break after all the European concerts are done and wait a couple of months before we move the tour to North America.”

He hummed pensively, “That doesn’t seem very intuitive,” he considered, “When are you going to start travelling around for it?”

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand and said, “Oh, not until next May, so there’s still a lot of time to argue about specifics,” you joked. “What about you?” you asked him then, “Any new projects in the near future? Something to do with tonight’s dinner?”

“Tonight is actually for some promotional appearances for that voice acting project I told you about before,” he responded, “But I should start on something new in a couple of weeks...”

You spent the next hour talking about work and pleasantly chit-chatting about your personal lives. The atmosphere of the café made you feel at ease more than the restaurant had a few days before. Something about the familiarity of the environment and the repeated experience of going out with Tom helped you relax like you hadn’t quite been able to do the first time you’d eaten together. Tom seemed just as serene in the more low-profile setting. Either way, you barely noticed the time passing by, marked by the arrival of a text from your sister some hour and a half later.

You ignored it at first, unwilling to interrupt the conversation and be impolite, but when more texts kept coming, you had to excuse yourself and check in case of an emergency.

“Ben just broke up with me,” the texts said, “Can I sleep at yours tonight? ” and then, in lack of a response, “I'll be there at seven.”

The surprise and worry must have shown on your face because Tom asked you, “Is everything okay?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologised, putting away your phone, “I really don’t want to cut this short, but my sister just told me she’s coming over to sleep at my house.”

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, “Something with her boyfriend. I’m honestly so sorry,” you insisted.

“Oh, no, please, it’s okay,” he reassured you, “It’s almost time I get going, too. Let me use the restroom first and then we can go, okay?”

You nodded. He quickly left the table, so you started gathering your things, putting on your coat and taking out your wallet from your bag. When he came back, you waited for him to do the same and told him, “I’m gonna go ahead and pay.”

He hesitated, then told you with a guilty look, “I already did that.” You were about to protest, but he continued, with a conciliatory smile, “I promise I’ll let you pay next time.” You didn’t believe him, but you dropped the issue with a small shake of your head and a playful roll of your eyes.

Soon enough, you walked out of the café, waving goodbye to Andrea at the counter. You couldn’t see his mom anymore so you mouthed, “Say bye to your parents for me.” Andrea nodded and went back to work, and you finally left.

Before leaving, you and Tom stopped on the curb in front of the café to say bye. “I would have liked to stay a little longer,” you told him, “I’m really sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologise anymore,” he said, looking intensely into your eyes. He leaned a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure we can meet again soon,” he continued, unconsciously playing with the lapel of your coat.

You smiled timidly, “I hope so too,” you told him, “I had a great time, good luck with dinner.”

“Thanks,” he responded, “Let me know if something serious happened with your sister and if I can do anything, okay?” You nodded, he dropped his hand from your shoulder, “I’ll see you soon,” he said finally and turned away with a small wave.

You waved back and turned around, walking in the opposite direction, on the path to your house. When you got there, your sister was waiting in front of the main door, huddled onto herself like she was cold and looking dejected. When she saw you approaching, she ran towards you and buried her head in your neck, expecting a hug. You squeezed her and tenderly caressed her hair back. When you separated, her eyes were wet with tears. “Let’s get you inside,” you told her softly, and took out the keys to the entrance.

Translation of French and Italian dialogue: - talentueuse jeune fille = talented young lady - Vieni un attimo alla cassa! = Come to the register for a bit! - Gioia mia / gioia, tesoro mio, Bellezza = My joy / joy, my treasure, Beautiful - Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto. = Make sure to hang onto him hard, my love.

Chapter 8 coming soon

@honeybournehippy @namelesslosers @unlikelytigerqueen @effielumiere @theoneanna

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writerunsolved · 5 years

Text

The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 6

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 6/?

Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: And it is happening! I have so many things I’d like to say about this chapter that I have no idea where to start!!! Let me hear from you guys, feedback makes my day! ♥

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Chapter Six - Dine With Care

It took you exactly seven minutes to get to the restaurant. You could tell because you’d been checking your phone obsessively the whole way, afraid of being late. You made the last turn and looked around for the Mama Thai sign, a fluttery rumble lodging itself in your lower abdomen.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath with the aim of calming down the undercurrent of anxiety that had completely taken over your mood. Its persistence was a loud cacophony blocking out any other emotion from seeping into your brain. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped and when you reopened your eyes, your attention zeroed-in on a silhouette on the other side of the street, immediately recognising it as Tom.

He was standing a little ways from the entrance to the restaurant with a hand in his pocket and the other around his phone, wearing a dark wool coat, collar raised up to his ears, and underneath a pair of soft jeans that looked well-loved. You stalled for a second, making time to take in his slack expression and his flowy reddish curls, which fell gently on his forehead and framed his features. You smiled.

You quickly shook yourself out of your reverie, trying to regain control of your face, and looked at both sides of the road before crossing to where he was, looking down on the phone in his hand. You took the last few steps that separated you and gently tapped him on the shoulder. He immediately turned towards you and pocketed the device. As soon as he realized it was you, a bright smile bloomed on his lips that you instinctually reciprocated.

“Hi!” he greeted you, going for a hug and kissing you on both cheeks. You rested your left hand on his side, the right gripping the strap of your bag, unsure of what to do and barely having time to realise what was going on. When you finally did, you had already separated and you could feel warmth spread all over your face, a deep blush sure to follow.

“Hey,” you greeted him back, smile turning shy, “I hope I'm not late. How are you doing?”

“You’re not, I was just early,” he reassured you, “I’m very good, thank you. I’m glad to see you!” He had yet to stop smiling at you, “How are you?”

“I’m also good,” you smiled again and nodded. Unsure of what to say, you pointed to the entrance with your thumb and asked, “Shall we go in?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied and gestured with his open hand, “Please, after you.”

You thanked him quietly and walked in, a small bell rang above the door announcing your arrival to the staff. Once inside, you moved to keep the door open for Tom, who thanked you and followed you in. You took a few steps to the side, getting closer to the high desk where the cash register was, the seat behind it empty, and you both looked around while waiting for someone to direct you to a table.

The restaurant was a small place with about a dozen tables, most of them seating just two people, but others pushed together for slightly bigger groups. The furniture was a rich dark brown, and the walls were lined with high mirrors to the ceiling alternated with beautifully detailed wallpaper depicting illustrations of landscapes and maps of Asia. It was almost impossible to grasp every single detail of the pictures, especially under the low golden lights that lit the place, which gave the space an intimate glow. The room didn’t feel crowded, but only a few empty tables remained to be filled, and you really hoped they hadn’t been booked in advance.

“There are quite a few people,” you observed, finally breaking the silence, “I guess that’s a good sign, right?”

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, looking at you, “I really hope so.” He laughed, bringing a hand to his neck and delicately pinching the skin with a nervous movement.

You smiled back, somewhat comforted by the thought that you weren’t the only one feeling insecure. You gathered some courage and decided you’d had enough of being embarrassed, “You know, I was actually surprised when you sent me the address,” you started, “I live just a few minutes away.”

He seemed surprised, “I had no idea.”

“Of course,” you laughed slightly and he did too, realizing that he’d said something very obvious. “It would have been worrying if you had known,” you joked.

“Definitely,” he agreed, “I swear I didn’t.” He lifted his hands, showing innocence.

Right then a waiter, a chubby Asian man with soft features, approached you and gently asked “Table for two?”

You were about to respond, but Tom stepped forward and preceded you, “Actually, I called earlier to make a reservation. Under Wilson?”

You frowned to yourself, confused but amused. The waiter stepped behind the desk and slid open a small journal where they supposedly kept a log of the reservations, and finally said, “Wilson for two, 7:45.” He closed the journal and grabbed two menus from a pile on his right, then he said “Please, follow me.” and started walking between the tables.

Tom gestured for you to go ahead and followed after you. The waiter stopped at a table toward the back and set the menus down with a cheery “Here you go.” and went ahead to a different table where another couple of diners had called for him.

You set your bag down next to the wall that surrounded the side of the table and placed your coat on the back of your chair, Tom doing the same, before sitting down.

He passed you one of the menus the waiter had left, and absentmindedly picked up the other, opening it but not reading it. “You were saying you live around here?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” you nodded, “Just a few minutes away on foot. I have an apartment in a building on Waleorde Road.”

“I have a friend who lives in the same area,” he noted, “Near the Elephant & Castle tube station, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s actually where I take the metro to get to the label building,” you told him, “It’s the closest stop from where I live.”

“Have you lived there long?” he asked interestedly.

“Not really,” you replied, “Just around six months now.” You fiddled with the laminated pages of the menu, unsure of what to do with your hands. “I made the down payment for the apartment with my first paycheck,” you laughed, “Some people go for a shopping spree, others buy a new house.”

He laughed, too. He was about to say more when the waiter interrupted you again, “Are you ready to order?”

You looked at Tom, who had the same chastised expression as you. “We need a couple more minutes if that’s okay,” he told the waiter.

The waiter responded with a soft “Sure.” Then asked, “Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?” You asked for water, Tom went for a glass of white wine. The waiter nodded and left again.

You smiled, “I think we should probably look at the menus,” you said.

He agreed, so you both looked down at the enormous list of dishes available. You were slightly disoriented at how many choices there were, you had no idea where to even start. “Uhm...” you hesitated, “These are a lot of dishes,” you announced, and looked up at Tom.

He seemed just as lost. “Yeah...” he murmured, still looking at the pages with a deep frown.

An idea struck you, “What do you say we choose a couple of dishes each and share them?” you asked him.

He looked at you and smiled, “That’s a good idea,” he replied, “Let’s go for it.”

“Okay, so,” you started resolutely, “let’s find… I’d say… two dishes each -” you made a V with your index and middle finger “- that seem appealing and order them, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded firmly, and you both went back to the page.

After two or three minutes, he closed the menu, and shortly after you did the same. “I think I'm done, you?” you asked him.

“Yes,” he replied, “I think I’ve made my choice.”

“Cool,” you said, “You first.”

“The rice cakes with aromatic herbs and spices look pretty interesting,” he started, “and the Sateh Kung sounds amazing.”

“I saw the Sateh Kung, too!” You exclaimed, “And I didn’t notice the fishcakes, but I’m totally up to trying them,” you continued, “I was also thinking we could get the Green Curry if that’s fine with you?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

The waiter noticed you putting down the menus and approached your table again, bringing the drinks you’d ordered with him and settling them down in front of you, “All done?” he asked.

“Yes,” you were the one to answer this time, “thank you for the patience.”

“No problem at all,” he said, “What can I get you?”

You glanced to Tom, then back to the waiter and decided to go first, “A Green Curry and a...” you looked at Tom again, for confirmation, “...Sateh Kung,” you finished.

He nodded and added, “And the rice cakes with aromatic herbs and spices, please.”

“Is that all?” the waiter asked, noting the order down on a small notepad.

“Yes, thank you,” Tom answered, “Could we get two plates, too, please? We’re sharing the dishes.”

The waiter nodded, finishing writing. “We serve rice with every order,” he informed you, “What kind would you like?”

“Oh, yellow fragrant rice for me, please,” you answered. “Brown rice, thank you,” said Tom.

The waiter nodded again and added the rice to the order. Then he pocketed the notepad and reached for the menus. You both thanked him, and he was gone.

“Now that I think about it,” you began, frowning lightly, “What’s up with Wilson?”

“Oh,” he laughed, his cheeks reddened imperceptibly, “I don’t usually give my surname for restaurants,” he explained.

“I’d guessed as much,” you noted, “But how come?”

“Well,” he seemed hesitant, so you stopped him before he could continue.

“You don’t have to say if you’d rather not,” you retracted, afraid you’d hit a sore spot.

“Oh, no, it’s completely fine,” he hastened to reassure you, “It’s just slightly embarrassing...” His smile turned into a grimace for just a second and he finally explained, “Right after the first Thor movie, I called to make a reservation at this one restaurant in Edinburgh,” he paused, “And of course I used Hiddleston,” you nodded, “When I arrived they had put up garlands, the type one would usually find at birthdays, and they spelt out ‘Welcome Mr Hiddleston’.” He covered half his face with his right hand, the other half displayed a deep red blush. “It was incredibly flattering,” he almost mumbled, “but also quite embarrassing.”

You couldn’t stop your grin and tried to cover it with a hand. He peered at you through his fingers, you could tell you had done a poor job of covering your mouth because he was smiling too, with an exaggerated look of betrayal in his eyes. That sent you over the edge, an unflattering snort coming out of your mouth, followed by a suppressed laugh. “I’m so sorry,” you apologised, but your laughter made it sound insincere, “I really am,” you tried again.

“It’s fine,” he brushed your apology aside with his hand, finally uncovering his face. He was still smiling when he said, “When my older sister found out, she called me Mr Hiddleston for an entire month, texts included.”

“Oh, no,” you had finally stopped laughing, “That is some dedication.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, closing his eyes briefly and readjusting his glasses on his nose with a smooth gesture.

“I guess sisters are just like that,” you chuckled, thinking of Amelia, “My sister spoke and texted in a very heavy French accent for two weeks last year, just because I said her imitation of the French accent was annoying.”

“She… texted you in a French accent?” he probed, bemused.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, exasperated at the memory, “She put accents all over the place and just wrote words as they would sound in French.” You sighed, “It took me half an hour to decipher a text every time she sent me one.”

Tom widened his eyes and laughed loudly, amused and impressed by the spite you sister was capable of. Then, between chuckles, he said, “She seems like a fun person, are you two very far apart in age?”

“Not really,” you replied, “Just about a few years.” You took a quick drink from your glass and continued, “We were never in the same classes in school, but sometimes we hung out together,” you explained, “Although, we also made very different close friends… It was halfway through spending all waking hours together, and avoiding each other at all cost.” Your smile turned fond.

“As siblings do,” Tom agreed, “It was more or less the same with my sisters.” He started playing with his glass, sliding it in circles and making the wine slosh around the chalice slowly. “Even though I’m the middle child, I was the only boy so I got away with a lot.” He had a far-away look in his eyes, distracted by memories, “My sisters were not happy at all, especially my older sister. She had to fight for some of her privileges but, after her, my younger sister and I had guaranteed freedom,” he finished.

“It sounds like you’re quite close,” you commented. The look in his eyes made you feel at the same time like you were intruding on a private moment and incredibly flattered to be granted such insight.

He looked up at you, whatever thought of his childhood had been caught in his head was already gone, leaving behind a sunny smile. “Yeah, I suppose we are...” he trailed off, then added, “Although my older sister, Sarah, is a journalist in India, so we don’t see each other very frequently now.”

“That’s amazing,” you were genuinely impressed, “It sounds like quite the adventure.”

“Definitely” Tom smiled. “Are you close with... Amelia, right?” he asked.

“We are now, yes,” you answered, ”We weren’t as much before, but it was mostly on my side.”

He adjusted his glasses again, frowning and tilting his head to the side in question.

“I used to feel like I was leagues behind her when I was younger,” you explained, “She was always the popular type and so incredibly confident in what she wanted her future to be like, and pursued it from the beginning. But I wasn’t.” You paused, you didn’t want to be a downer so you considered what to say next carefully, “It took me quite some time to come out of my shell when I was small, and to make up my mind later on and finally move to London. It really felt like I was wasting my time and disappointing the people around me and it made me somehow turn sour against my sister who seemed to have everything figured out.” You smiled ruefully. “But they were just my own issues, she always did her best to be supportive,” you finished. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bring down the mood,” you chuckled.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” he reassured you, “I get what you mean. When I started acting I also felt like I was going nowhere for a long time,” he revealed, “I considered changing paths several times.” You nodded, understanding the feeling completely. Then he asked, “Amelia does seem like a very extroverted person. What does she do?”

You reached for your glass, still half-full of water, and tapped your nail against it delicately without thinking. “She works for a big company and has a very complicated job,” you answered, “She’s explained it to me so many times, but I’m not quite sure what exactly her role is, to be honest. I just know that she works like a mule,” you swallowed and sat up straighter, “I saw her just today and she was telling me how her boss doesn’t want to pay her for overtime but requires that she do it anyway.” You became quite animated, as you’d been when Amelia had told you the same thing earlier that morning, “Can you believe it?” you asked rhetorically.

“That’s awful,” Tom commented, “But it’s nice that you can meet regularly.”

“Well, to be fair,” you started, “It had been a while before today. She usually comes over and I make her lunch. She doesn’t have the patience for cooking, but I do, so she takes advantage to get a taste of home,” you laughed.

“You enjoy cooking?” he asked you.

“I do,” you nodded, “I find it relaxing, and sharing food is a good chance to just sit down and have a good chat, too.” At that, you gestured between the two of you, indicating that your current situation applied too. “Do you cook?” you asked in turn, then picked up your glass and took a drink.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, “I’m not an expert in any way, but I do have a couple of dishes I’m pretty confident in,” he winked playfully.

Just then, the waiter came back carrying a tray with the dishes you’d ordered. He put down the two empty plates in front of you and the rest on the table. You both thanked him and as soon as he’d left, you busied yourselves with dividing the food between your two plates. The personal conversation paused for a while, in favour of commenting on the food and agreeing that Tom’s friend had definitely found a gem of a restaurant. While you slowly worked through the quite big portions of food, he told you about said friend and how Tom had actually never had Thai food before. At some point, Chris came up and Tom recounted some of the anecdotes from filming with him and how they’d immediately clicked when they’d started working together.

In turn, you told him about the first time you’d met Nina, how she’s been the one to track you down after seeing your recordings online and how terrified and intimidated by her you were at the start. You told him a bit about Linda and Nadia, too, whom he hadn’t had the chance to meet yet, and the role the three had taken in your life beyond just being colleagues. How you could hardly imagine a life where they weren’t some of the most important people.

He shared similar experiences of meeting fellow actors on the various sets and theatres he’d found himself in and the easiness with which people became friends when you ended up sharing hours upon hours in such close contact. It became a delicate balance between talking about your past experiences and the people you’d both become because of them. It felt somehow like an approachable way to bare yourselves to each other.

You tried to keep a neutral but interested face whenever he named someone you were familiar with, but you could tell that he sometimes noticed your concealed awe at some of the names and when he did, he happily recounted the stories he had of meeting them.

“...he just looked me straight in the eyes and said in the most monotone voice you can imagine: ‘I like French fries, sue me.’ I believe I turned into stone right then and there.” By the time Tom had finished telling you about the first time he’d ever spoken to Mads Mikkelsen, only an inch of water was left in the pitcher you’d ordered, Tom’s wine had long been gone, and you were doubled over with laughter. He seemed pleased by your reaction.

When you finally regained your composure, a deep but comfortable silence fell between you. At some point between enjoying your meal and conversing animatedly, you'd decided to split a Creme Caramel for dessert and had barely noticed the time pass. You both seemed to finally realise when all that was left on the table in front of you were just empty plates and glasses. He looked at his watch and declared, “We should probably ask for the tab.”

You agreed and glanced behind you, noticing from a small analogue clock above the entrance that over three hours had passed since you’d arrived. Most of the tables that had been occupied before were now empty, only a couple was still lingering, looking deep into each other’s eyes and holding hands under the table in a semblance of privacy. You quickly averted your eyes, uneager to intrude on the private moment, and caught sight of the waiter that had welcomed and served you seated now behind the high desk with the cash register. You turned back toward Tom who was fishing his wallet out of his pocket and told him, “I think we can go ahead and pay at the register instead.”

He nodded and stood up, adjusting his jeans and putting on his coat. You quickly did the same, closing up your own jacket and shouldering your bag, a hand already in it and pulling out your own wallet. You walked ahead of him between the tables, determined to be the one to pay for the food this time. He followed close behind and stopped at your side when you got to the cash register.

“Please, let me-” he started, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“Nu-huh,” you said, “You already paid for coffee the other time. And besides, I was the one to invite you to dinner.”

“I insist,” he repeated. You shook your head decisively. “Let’s at least share,” he tried again.

You smiled, “I genuinely appreciate it,” you reassured him, “But I really want to do this.”

At that, he finally conceded, although reluctantly. The waiter gave you your total, and you passed him your card, inputting your security number when needed. He gave it back with a “Thank you”, and you and Tom finally stepped out of the restaurant and into the darkness of the evening, the bell above the door jingling as if to signal the end of the night.

You both knew you had to say goodbye, but neither seemed to want to be the one to let go. You looked at each other hesitantly, and then around you, trying to find a thread of conversation to avoid the inevitable.

“Are you walking home?” he finally spoke.

“Yes,” you nodded, “It’s really quite close.”

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he started, “but it would ease my mind if I could accompany you home. It’s quite dark and I don’t want you to walk alone.”

There seemed to be a tacit understanding that it was in part an excuse to extend the time together, but you were just as unwilling to say goodnight quite yet and internally jumped at the opportunity.

“I would really appreciate it,” you accepted and led the way, crossing the road with Tom on your side and retracing the way you’d taken to get to the restaurant earlier in the day.

As if the several hours you’d just spent together sharing details of your lives had never happened, a thin veil of shyness fell upon the two of you again, the darkness of the sky shrouding you in an intimate bubble. The atmosphere seemed aeons away from the easy chit-chat over the meal, and you could almost taste secrets on the back of your tongue that were threatening to spill out without your control. You couldn’t tell if Tom felt the same, but the lines of his frown and his downward glance told you he was also considering himself carefully.

A tiny nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth unconsciously, and the intensity of the moment seemed to shatter, leaving room for new words to more easily flow between the two of you.

“Thank you for letting me pay and not insisting too much,” you told him with a small smirk.

“I should be the one to thank you,” he replied, almost chastised. “Actually, it was very rude of me not to, I apologise.”

“Oh no, please,” you reassured him, “It’s completely fine.”

“Nevertheless,” he reiterated, “Thank you for the dinner.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“And thank you for the lovely night,” he added with a shy smile, “I had a wonderful time, I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His words roused a bright flash of excitement and trepidation in your stomach that the rational part of your brain had trouble controlling. You didn’t want to hope for something that might not be there, but you were too sated by good food and good company, and it was hard to squash the instantaneous optimism that awoke in your lungs like a spark. You felt like a hot yellow glow was alighting you from the inside out, and you hoped the smile you could feel on your lips wasn’t too obvious. “I would really like that,” you replied. His own smile grew more confident.

“I would love to cook for you at least once,” he told you, “Maybe even more than once if you’re not too put off by my far-from-excellent skills,” he joked.

You laughed, “I’m sure you’re just being modest.” You kept walking, looking in turn at each other and the road in front of you, “But I would be happy to accept your invitation, and maybe return the favour, too.”

“I’d like that,” he replied.

Silence descended between you again, but it was nothing like the awkward quiet of leaving the restaurant. You just kept walking, your bodies seemed to be getting closer, forearms brushing against each other with every step you took. Soon enough you could see the trees that surrounded your apartment building, and dread at having to separate came with it. The last few steps towards the main entrance felt simultaneously never-ending and incredibly short. You stopped, Tom doing the same, and you turned to each other, ready to say goodnight, but neither of you uttering a word yet.

You looked away for a second, the street was almost completely empty, just a passer-by or two hurrying away without paying too much attention to their surroundings. When you looked into Tom’s eyes again, you found an echo of the intensity from your first meeting on the red carpet. You didn’t feel intimidated in the same way, but your desire not to look away in fear of missing something persisted, anticipation brewing somewhere behind your sternum. You noticed a curved line of consecutive moles high on his cheekbone, next to his left eye, and you became transfixed, unconsciously leaning closer to him. You closed your eyes for just a moment, you could almost feel the warmth of his breath on the side of your nose.

A loud jingling broke you out of your reverie and you stepped back, Tom also seemed to shake off the tightening of his muscles that had kept him anchored to the spot during your strange moment.

A bike went loudly down the street, zooming past you and disappearing behind the first turn.

You giggled nervously, effectively putting a stop to whatever had been passing between you. “This is me,” you announced, quite uselessly.

“Right,” he responded, attempting a smile and brushing a rowdy curl away from his forehead, but only accomplishing to mess it up further by moving it to the wrong side of his head. The nervous gesture eased your mind just a little.

“So, now you know where I live,” you tried again, “Feel free to come around if you find yourself in the area, I’ll gladly make you tea,” you finally managed a natural smile, “or coffee if you prefer that.”

He returned your smile, his shoulders falling back and his posture turning more relaxed, “I will,” it felt like a promise.

“Goodnight, Tom,” you said softly, “Let me know you’re home safe, ok?”

“Goodnight,” he responded just as quietly, “I’ll text you.” He leaned into you one last time, gently kissing you on your right cheek, then started walking away in what you knew was the direction of the tube station.

You turned to the glass entrance of the building and unconsciously touched the spot where his mouth had been, chasing the feeling of his soft lips. You finally dropped your hand and pulled out the keys from your bag, inserting the one you needed in the door to the building. You kept turning to look at his back, unable to keep your eyes off him. Just before he reached a bend in the street, he turned around and your eyes locked again. He took his hand out of the pocket of his coat and waved once, a smile curving his lips. You did the same, then he disappeared behind the corner.

You finally entered your apartment building, your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and your eyes unable to grasp your surroundings. You took the elevator and arrived at the door to your apartment mechanically, only realising you were home when you took off your coat. You hadn’t stopped smiling once.

Chapter 7 coming soon

@honeybournehippy @namelesslosers @unlikelytigerqueen @effielumiere @theoneanna

@huntersvibe: still unable to tag you, so sorry!!! :(

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writerunsolved · 5 years

Note

Pass on the happiness 💛! When you get it, answer with 5 things that make you happy, and send it to the last 10 people in your notifications!

Hi! Thank you so much for sending this!! ♥

Here’s the five things:

- when I write the last word of a chapter and I know that is the right place to end it,- the face of my friends when they open a present I got them,- a hot cup of black tea with just the right amount of milk,- finally seeing a movie I’ve been waiting for in the theatre,- and each and every one of you who has been reading and commenting and supporting me through this story :’)

Thank you again!!! ♥♥♥

#asks #unlikelytigerqueen

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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How dare you ending the chapter like that?! Now I’ll die out of waiting, frustration and stress

Oh no, please don’t die! The fic isn’t over yet!!! 😂😂

#asks #kinghiddlestonanddixon

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writerunsolved · 5 years

Text

The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 5

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 5/?

Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: First of all, I want to thank you all for your patience. The holiday season has been quite busy and stressful, which is the reason why it took me longer than usual to update. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4

Chapter Five - Food For Anxiety

A couple of days later, you found yourself at the canteen again. You were having a short lunch break with Linda before recording for a BuzzFeed interview, Nina would be meeting the both of you there later as she was already otherwise occupied for lunch. It was finally the Friday of a really busy week, and you were already looking forward to the unusual free weekend you would be getting starting the next day.

You’d contacted your sister the day before, letting her know that you would be free that Saturday for lunch. It was rare for you not to have any commitments on a weekend, but not for her. Her nine-to-five job left most of her Saturdays and Sundays open, so it was usually up to you to carve out a couple of hours from your schedule to meet her and catch up on what was going on in your personal lives.

“It feels like I haven’t had a free weekend in months,” started Linda around a bite of her salad, “I can’t wait for this day to be over so I can go home and sleep for fifteen hours straight.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed, “I’ve been dying to watch this new movie that came out, but I’ve been getting home late almost every day.”

“What movie?” she asked, all the while decisively stabbing into a cherry tomato that burst all over her lettuce leaves. Sometimes watching Linda eat was like a nature documentary: she was driven in every aspect of life, and her eating habits weren’t any different. She used sharp and calculated movements and every bite was almost the exact same size as the one before.

“I can’t remember the exact title.” You were mesmerised watching her for a few seconds, so you didn’t immediately answer, “It’s along the lines of ‘Over My Body’ or something like that,” you shook your head trying to remember more accurately but failed, “It’s an Italian documentary, actually.”

She hummed in response and kept chewing on her lunch; you were about to dig back into your own plate when your phone, which had been sitting by your napkin, vibrated with a text alert.

Linda looked over in curiosity, you also glanced at the screen where Tom’s name and the first line of the text could be seen clearly. You looked to her to gauge her reaction and she was still staring at the phone, a sly smile on her lips. She finally looked up at you and said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” but you could tell she wasn’t chastised at all because her smile didn’t falter as she went back to her salad.

You put down your fork and picked up the device to open the text, which read, “Hi! I’ll be finishing the recording for my voice acting project later today and I know this is sudden, but I’m free tomorrow night and I’m not sure when again after that so I was thinking we could meet? It’s totally fine if you’re busy, but I thought I might ask.”

You quickly typed in “Hey! I’m actually free tomorrow, so I’m totally game… I have an interview in a bit, but let’s talk again later and settle on time and place?” and sent your answer.

“Oh wow, you must be crushing pretty bad,” Linda spoke again.

You put the phone screen-down on the table and picked up your fork, responding only with an inquisitive sound.

“Honey, you’re texting and smiling,” she explained, “That means trouble.”

You hadn’t even noticed yourself smiling, but now that she’d pointed it out it was undeniable. You tried to command your mouth to stop, morphing it into a weird half-grimace and quickly denied, “No, I’m not!” But she wasn’t looking at you anymore, and she didn’t need to to know that she was right.

She hummed knowingly, chewing carefully and slowly on another bite of salad. Then she lifted her eyes to you and resolutely said, “Yes, you were.” before looking back to her salad. Finally, she asked you, “How long have you been texting him?”

You used your fork to push the little that was left of your lunch around your plate with intent, unwilling to look into her eyes for fear of being too easily read, and attempted a casual answer, “A little more than a couple of weeks, I guess.”

Linda swallowed the last of her lunch and grabbed the water bottle in front of her, sitting back on her chair and idly playing with the cap without opening it. Unfazed by your vagueness and clearly aware of what you were trying to do, she replied, “So since you first met him at the premiere.”

Still desperately clinging to your coolness, you finally left your plate alone and looked up at her. Then you shrugged and nodded, “Yeah, I reckon that’s more or less it.”

She raised an incredulous eyebrow and finally unscrewed the cap off the bottle. Then, she took a sip, her fixed gaze into your eyes not faltering for even one second. When she was done, she closed the lid and put the bottle back on the table.

Her undivided attention and silence finally got to you and you gave up the façade. “Fine!” you huffed, throwing up your hands, “Yes, we’ve been texting since the day after the premiere, and I even met him in person once if you must know!” You rolled your eyes in fake exasperation and leaned back into your chair.

That elicited a small incredulous laugh from her and a “What? When?”

“Yeah, I met him by chance a couple of days ago after work,” you explained, “We bumped into each other and grabbed a coffee.”

She was gaping at you, excitement in her eyes. When you didn’t continue, she asked, “And then?”

“And then nothing,” you replied, “We only stayed for a bit, he got a call and had to go back to work.” You shrugged again and took a sip of the cappuccino you’d ordered with your lunch.

“Then,” she started, “what was that about just now?”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted to delve into details. You knew that ever since you’d met Tom at the premiere and you’d arranged to go to dinner together, everyone was expecting something romantic to develop, but you firmly believed that was not the type of interest Tom had for you and you weren’t sure of your own feelings either. Your past love life was anything but shiny or even reciprocated at times, and you didn’t want your hope to grow only to end up hurting all on your own over situations you’d been one-sidedly reading too much into. The feeling that you might end up surrounded by cats and living an eternal single life was neither new nor far-fetched to you.

You reached your fingertips over the edge of the table absentmindedly, mostly to have something to do with your hands while you decided on how much to disclose. Rather than look at Linda, you inspected your nails and avoided eye contact when you finally answered, “Just making good on that plan of having dinner.”

She hummed a small sound of agreement and at the same time speculation. She didn’t say more at first, so you looked at her, but she was looking down pensively. She seemed to be considering her words very carefully, and you could almost pinpoint the moment she decided to drop part of her answer because she lifted her shoulders just slightly and finally returned your gaze. “When’s that going to be?”

You were momentarily puzzled by the absence of any comment on your answer, and the fleeting wonder of what exactly you were projecting at that moment to make her decide against what she wanted to say crossed your mind, but you set it aside and answered instead “Uhm... tomorrow night, actually.”

“Good!” She declared, then continued, matter-of-fact, “I’ll be over at six o’clock.”

You frowned. “In… the morning?” you asked her, confused.

“Of course not,” she explained, “I’m coming over before your date to do your makeup.”

“What?!” You laughed, thinking she was joking, “Nice one, Linda. Besides, it’s not a date.”

“I’m not joking.” She rebutted quickly, “I am coming over and doing your makeup because it is a date.”

You spluttered and shook your head, completely at loss. You moved your mouth to speak several times but nothing came out as you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. Finally, you responded, “There is absolutely no need for that, come on.” You looked at her inquisitively, still waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come you continued, standing your ground, “It’s just a friendly dinner,” you enunciated slowly as if explaining a very simple concept to a toddler, “and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t need a professional makeup artist for a single night out.” You took a deep breath and firmly concluded, “You are not doing my makeup.”

“Ugh, fine!” She rolled her eyes and huffed out an irritated breath, “You never let me have fun!” she whined.

You chuckled, she spoke again, “I am still coming over, though.” she announced pointing her index finger at you.

You fell back in your chair with a sigh, this time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Why?”

“Because,” she elongated the word, “You’ll definitely be freaking out, and I wanna veto your outfit.”

You crossed your arms in fake disdain, “I guess I just can’t win, can I.” You rolled your eyes again for effect and finally announced, “I give up, you can come.” She just smirked.

The next morning you were woken up by two things, one pleasant, the other a bit less so.

While lunch with your sister Amelia had eventually gone swimmingly, she’d gotten to your house a bit earlier than you’d been expecting her and she had found you still half-asleep and wearing pyjamas. You’d ended up finishing quite late the night before and had hoped that your lunch date could mean a few more hours of shut-eye, but that hadn’t been the case.

She had turned out to be a blessing, though, because she’d helped you do some errands around the house while you cooked for the two of you and the extra time together hadn’t been unwelcome either. Your schedules rarely managed to align, so having the time to catch up was a pleasant respite from running around from the label to the various interview locations and events. You were grateful for the success that had been granted to you, but sometimes family was the pause you needed to recalibrate your anxiety.

The second thing that had been expecting you when you awakened had been a text from Tom. He had sent it to confirm your date that same night, and he’d suggested you meet at a fairly new Thai restaurant that had been recommended to him by a friend. When he’d told you the address, you’d been surprised to discover that the place was just a few minutes from your house so you had agreed on meeting there around 7:30 PM.

Even though you’d ended up spending several hours together, and she’d seen you text Tom back, you’d managed to avoid the dinner date conversation with your sister and Tom hadn’t come up even once.

It had actually surprised you that she hadn’t mentioned him, you were pretty sure she was going to pester you about meeting him at the premiere - especially after your tweet - but she hadn’t at all. She’d been extremely engrossed complaining about her job and how her boss was expecting her to put in extra hours for no pay and you’d barely managed to get two words in. You hadn’t minded, though, your time together had been enjoyable and felt too brief, and not having to contribute much to the conversation wasn’t exactly a huge problem. It just meant more time to just listen and relax for you.

Amelia left around five in the afternoon after a call from Ben with the promise of keeping in contact more often - as she always promised - and a hug. You took advantage of the short hour that was left before Linda would be coming over to shower and choose an outfit for the night. You looked up the restaurant, called Mama Thai, and decided on casual clothing. You wanted to choose what to wear before Linda could make a hostile takeover of that too, and it didn’t take you very long to settle on a pair of charcoal grey pegged trousers and a soft black turtleneck. Finally, seen as the weather in London had gotten chilly all at once, you would definitely be topping the clothes with your trusted tan wool coat.

With that out of the way, you were still left with a half-hour window of time before Linda would be coming over. You decided to spend it just chilling on the sofa, fresh pyjamas on - it was still too early to get dressed - and some low music in the background.

The short break of time allowed you enough quiet to start thinking - maybe overthinking - about the night to come, and a small orb of anxiety started to form behind your sternum. You wondered about how it would go, you and Tom didn’t know each other all that well despite the numerous texts you had shared so far, and you were afraid that talking with each other face to face would prove too much of a challenge. What if no words came out of your mouth? You imagined an awkward dinner of two people who have nothing in common and that all that could pass between the two of you would be an incessant silence broken only by the grating noise of chewing.

All things considered, that could turn out to be the most positive outcome out of the worst ones. You could always end up fighting over a disagreement of views and start throwing plates at each other, getting thrown out of the restaurant and ultimately ending up on a gossip magazine.

Or you could get food poisoning and throw up all over his shoes before the end of the night, or… or… or…

Or maybe you simply needed to calm down and stop making up disastrous movie scenarios. You could have many insecurities, but your politeness was not something you often called into question and you were sure that if you either made a fool of yourself or he turned out to be the worst possible person - of which you were highly doubtful - the night would merely end with a polite goodbye and no promise of a future encounter.

And just as you’d managed to subdue the part of your mind that liked giving you unnecessary worries, your brain immediately conjured conspiracies of you being the only one who enjoyed the night and developing delusions of it being reciprocated. Right then, you really wished you’d learned to take things one step at a time at some point in your life.

Just as your imagination started making up Netflix romcom worthy plots, the intercom sounded. Thankful for the respite, you let out a sigh of relief and got up to let Linda in.

In the time it took her to get to your floor with the elevator, you turned down the music to a background tune and picked up a couple of throw pillows that had fallen from the couch to the floor. Then, you went to the kitchen and switched on the electric kettle filled with water, already knowing that Linda would enjoy a cup of tea. You had an entire cupboard just for tea, both bagged and loose, and most of the reason for that was Linda. You certainly enjoyed the beverage yourself, but ever since Linda had started coming to your house as a friend and not just a colleague, your collection had steadily grown into the impressive assortment it now was.

Soon enough, Linda ringed the doorbell. You went to open and she greeted you with a brief hug and an enthusiastic “Hi!”

You kissed her cheek and directed her to the small kitchen off the entrance, she placed her bag on the kitchenette island and divested herself of her coat, folding it across her arm.

“How are you doing, Lin?” you asked her, extending a hand so she could hand you the coat to hang in the closet next to the kitchen.

“I am so rested!” her voice followed you along the corridor, “I slept for almost ten hours non-stop.” You could hear the sound of a cupboard opening and of porcelain mugs softly hitting the countertop. Sure enough, when you got back you found her pouring the now heated water from the kettle to the mugs. She’d already chosen a tea for you, as she often did. She slid one of the mugs toward you and handed you a teaspoon.

“Ugh, lucky!” you groaned in response, “Amelia got here so early and had me doing chores right away. That woman is unstoppable.” She hummed in response, gently blowing on her tea, and took a sip. She let out a contented moan.

You tried your tea, she’d chosen a mint mix and you couldn’t help but ask her, “Oh, nice. Why’d you choose this one?”

“Because mint is a relaxant,” she explained briefly, “and I already know you’ve been overthinking this date.”

You harrumphed in disdain and lied, “No, I haven’t!”

She gave you an incredulous look and turned around, setting the mug down behind her. “Honey, honestly,” she started, opening her hands broadly in a placating motion, “I know you well enough by now, and I also know that you’re lying.”

You didn’t answer, preferring to hide what you could of your face behind your cup of tea and burning your tongue as a result. Linda had turned around again and was scooping up the tea bag out of her mug and placing it in a small dish you hadn’t noticed she’d gotten out.

When she faced you again, mug back in hand, you asked her, “Did you meet Paul earlier today?”

“Yes,” she replied, “He brought me coffee and croissants this morning.” She had a dreamy look in her eyes.

You smiled and looked into your tea, letting it swirl around the mug slightly. “He’s too sweet,” you told her.

“Don’t worry,” she answered quickly, “After the date tonight, I’m sure it won’t take you long to also score a boyfriend who brings you breakfast in the morning.” She smirked and sent you a wink. She downed the last of her tea and set the mug down behind her again, then clapped her hands resolutely and asked in quick succession, “So, what time are you meeting? Where are you going? And what are you wearing?”

You also finished your tea and walked to the sink, lowering your mug into it. You turned to Linda and gestured for her mug, she handed it to you with a “Thanks,” and you left it next to yours, reaching for the small dish with the teabag next and started, “Well,” you turned towards Linda again and leaned back onto the edge of the sink, answering, “We’re meeting around half past seven, at a small Thai restaurant not too far from here, and the clothes I’ve chosen are laid on the bed in my room.”

“Aw,” she whined, “You’re no fun, I wanted to help you choose!”

“Yes, I know,” you laughed, “That’s why I already did that.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in fake offence. Then, too curious to keep up the façade she said, “Alright, then, let’s see them.” And walked ahead of you towards your bedroom.

She eyed the clothes on the bedspread with careful consideration and picked up the sweater, flipping it back and forth and putting it down gingerly. “Are you wearing your tan coat over this?” she finally asked.

“Yep, but I’m open to disagreement,” you answered.

“No, no. This is nice,” she deliberated. “We absolutely need to get you into makeup now,” she announced, “It’s almost six thirty and I don’t wanna rush.”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t move. “I thought we’d agreed on no makeup, Lin.” You looked at your hands for a second, then to Linda, and hesitantly asked her “And anyway, are you sure about this?” She seemed confused so you continued, “It’s just a casual meeting, I don’t want you to go overboard, and maybe it would be better to go with no makeup at all, you know.” You paused, “I mean, I don’t want him to think I have ulterior motives and I don’t want to be overdressed, or I guess over-prepared in this case because what if-”

“I’ll go easy,” she stopped you before you could start rambling, “Just a soft, no makeup, makeup look. I promise.”

You nodded, still not entirely convinced but resigned to your fate, and inquired, “Where do you want me?”

“Living room,” she answered with no hesitation, “it’s got the best light. I just need to grab my bag from the kitchen, I brought all I need.”

You both moved to the living room; while she continued to the kitchen, you pulled out a small foldable chair you kept in the coat closet for when Nadia and Linda came over to prepare you for events. You opened it in front of the low coffee table where you knew the light would reach you best, but not directly, and sat down. It was almost routine, Linda had done that same action so many times before that you’d memorised the position too.

She reached you and propped her open bag on the coffee table. She then picked out a pair of small bottles and a foldable pouch that you knew contained her makeup brushes. Finally, she turned towards you, observing you for just a second, and got started.

You relaxed back into the chair, enjoying the delicate touch of the brushes on your skin and Linda’s soft humming of a foreign rhythm.

Relaxed as you were, you didn’t notice the time passing at all, so when Linda declared, “Perfect!” you jumped slightly, getting dragged out of your daze. You opened your eyes, she was offering you a compact mirror. You thanked her and took it, opening it up to observe the result of her work.

She had kept the promise of a soft makeup and to an inexpert eye it just seemed like you had flawless skin and enviably full eyebrows, but you could spot every difference from your bare face and you were truly impressed. It was a far cry from the looks you usually displayed at events, but no less impressive.

You handed the mirror back to Linda and thanked her again, “This is wonderful, Linda. Thank you so much for coming over.”

“Don’t mention it,” she brushed it off with a small wave of her hand, but you continued.

“I really mean it,” you insisted, “You were right, I was freaking out, and having you here really helped. So thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, “Now, you need to get ready and go out there and have an amazing night, okay?”

You nodded and stood up, walking back to your bedroom with Linda in tow. Undressing in front of her had stopped bothering you a long time ago, seen as how often it happened, so you didn’t ask her to leave and quickly divested yourself. When you went to take out a brassière from your bedside table, you noticed it was almost 7:10 and the anxiety that had seemed to dwindle with Linda’s arrival came rushing back.

You took a deep breath and put the feeling aside, determined to get to the restaurant on time. Walking there would only take around ten minutes, so you still had enough time, but you got dressed quickly and picked out a bag, filling it with your wallet, keys, and phone. You would take your coat on the way out, as it was still in the coat closet with Linda’s.

You turned to her, ready to leave. She gave you a once-over and said, “You look wonderful! But not like you’re trying, put together but casual.” And then she nodded solemnly.

You chuckled, “Thanks, Linda, that’s what I was going for,” you grabbed your purse, then asked her, “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” she answered, and followed you to the entrance, picking up her bag from the coffee table in the living room while you got out both your coats, handing her hers and shouldering yours.

As soon as you exited the apartment, you fished your keys out of your bag and closed the door. You took the elevator down together and finally said your goodbyes.

Linda hugged you briefly and softly told you, “Good luck. Please, don’t freak out too much.”

“I’ll try,” you replied. You separated and she smiled at you. You smiled back, then you both turned away from each other and walked off in different directions, just as a cold wind started blowing, slightly messing up your hair. You hugged your coat closed tighter around you and picked up your pace, trying to keep unfortunate thoughts out of your mind.

Chapter 6

@honeybournehippy @namelesslosers @unlikelytigerqueen @effielumiere @theoneanna

@huntersvibe: Tumblr won’t let me tag you, the reason for this might be that your blog is hidden from searches. You can switch it off in your blog settings, if you do and want me to try again, let me know!

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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Hi girl!!! When will next part be up??????? I love the stpry so much

Hi! Thank you so much for your enthusiasm!

I am currently working on the new chapter, it has been very slow-going because of the holidays so I’ve only been able to sit down and write very little over the past three weeks, which is honestly real bad because I was hoping to start updating faster..

That said, I’m doing my best to write more consistently now, and while I don’t have a set date for the next chapter, I really hope to have it out very soon!

Thank you for your message, and for your patience :)

#anonymous #asks

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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Happy New Year!

Just passed midnight in my time zone and I wish you all who have been supporting me a happy New Year! May all good things come our way 💗🎉💗🎉

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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@tinchentitri @huntersvibe @theoneanna @superfannatural thank you guys all so much!!! This is literally giving me life!!!!😭😭

@kinghiddlestonanddixon and you oh my god!!!!! This is the sweetest thing, thank you so much for reccing my fic!!! 😍😭😍😭😍

#replies #tinchentitri #theoneanna #huntersvibe #superfannatural #kinghiddlestonanddixon

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 4

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 4/?

Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: I had hoped to release this chapter a lot earlier, but I won't lie, the new Tumblr strikeout put me out of sorts, and I had a rough couple of days. Writing Hiddleston has turned out to be a bigger challenge than I had previously anticipated, but I hope it can still feel genuine to the fic. Thank you all for your great patience, and I hope you enjoy this one!

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3

Chapter Four - One Cheesy RomCom

After the premiere, life got back to the usual. Your workload somehow increased, even.

Seen as the event had been right in the middle of the week, the next day you were allowed a late morning, but had to be right back at work in the afternoon so you decided to grab a quick lunch from Caffé Piccolo, and make your way to the label offices a little earlier than when you were supposed to be there.

While you were at it, you also bought Nina a couple of her favourite doughnuts from the coffee shop, sure that she would appreciate them as a thank you for letting you sleep in even though she’d still had to go into work early in the morning.

You were pretty sure the first commitment of the day was a radio interview for BBC1. You usually got a car with Nina from the label building to the destination the interview would take place, but this time you were lucky enough to have been invited to one of the programmes that filmed in the same skyscraper where the label was located. The building also housed some recording studios for voice acting and music recording. It was there that you had recorded your entire first album as a published singer, and the place held huge sentimental value for you for this reason, despite looking like most unimpressive office buildings would.

As soon as you got there, you caught Nina in the lobby of the ground floor dictating what was sure to be a countless number of instructions to a spooked intern you’d never met before who was furiously taking notes.

You made your way to the two, carrying the paper bag full of steaming doughnuts in your hand.

“...and that needs to be done by 5:25 PM today. Got it?” was all you gathered from the tail end of the one-sided conversation Nina was having.

The intern looked at you then back at her and nodded fervently. “You can go now, Liam.” was all Nina said to dismiss him. At that point, she turned towards you, but before you had any chance to greet her, she eyed the paper bag and asked “Are those from Caffé Piccolo? Are they blueberry and cream cheese?” snatching them out of your hand.

Nina was already biting into one of the doughnuts when you spoke, in a sarcastic monotone “Don't mention it, Nina, you’re so welcome. I’m so glad you like them.”

She moaned around the huge bite in her mouth and when she finally swallowed it down she asked rhetorically, “How do they make them so good?!” then she bunched the top of the paper bag closed with another doughnut in it and announced, “I have news.”

“Oh?” you inquired.

“ Someone’s manager asked for your contact info,” she explained, “Thanks for the heads-up, by the way.”

“Oh my god! I completely forgot!” You hadn’t told her about your agreement with Tom the night before, so you apologised, “I’m so sorry, Nina. It totally slipped my mind. What did you tell them?”

“Well,” she began, “I gave it to her. I guessed that was the plan, considering the circumstances.”

“You are the goddess of order and knowledge!” You grabbed her before she could protest and squeezed her in a tight hug.

“Yes, yes, I know.” You were certain she was rolling her eyes. She patted your back weakly with her free hand and continued, “Now please, let me go. We have work to do.”

When you released her, Nina pulled out a business card from one of her back pockets and handed it to you with a “Here.” You stowed it away in your bag and resolved to enter the contact information in your phone as soon as you had a couple of minutes. Finally, Nina started walking towards the elevator, so you followed her up to the floor where your interview was going to take place.

It was a couple of hours before you could leave the recording booth of the radio. Between the waiting and the actual interview, the whole thing had run a bit later than expected, which luckily didn’t turn into a problem. As a matter of fact, your next appointment was for dinner with Nina and Nadia, and an agent from a fashion magazine.

You had been asked to give your input for an upcoming campaign you would be taking part in and be photographed for, and the dinner was the meeting to finalise the deal. Because Nadia was your personal stylist, she was also to be involved to make sure you were comfortable with the aesthetic of the photoshoot. These kinds of jobs didn’t usually require you to be so engaged in the decisional process, but you didn’t mind. You were actually quite enthusiastic about getting to work on the creative part of the project, rather than just standing in for the pictures.

Nevertheless, the dinner was the reason why a few hours went by before you could check your phone and finally type in Tom’s info.

At the end of the night, Nina dropped you off at your apartment building. While you waited for the elevator to get to your floor, you pulled out your phone from your bag, but before you could do anything else, you noticed you had a new message from an unknown number. It read: “ Hi. This is Tom, I thought I should let you know that my manager gave me your contact info. Hope you’re doing well, have a nice evening :) ”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you shot back “ Hi! My manager also gave me your number earlier today, sorry for not letting you know before... It’s been a long day, but a good one. Hope your day was also good (: ”

You finally reached your floor, keeping your phone in your hand while opening the door, and soon enough it vibrated with another text.

“ I can’t say I worked as hard as you, I had a free day so I caught up with family. Unfortunately, the rest of the week won’t be as merciful… what about yours? ”

“ It’ll be just the usual, I guess, ” you typed fast, “ Some promotional work at the label and a couple of interviews here and there. What are your plans? ”

You took advantage of the wait for his answer to get undressed and ready for bed. Unlike that morning, you had to work early the next day and it was already past ten. Nevertheless, your mind kept drifting to the conversation you were having. It had been surprisingly easy to enter the conversation, you did it with almost no thought. It felt liberating to communicate this way - even though you didn’t know each other very well and you weren’t really expecting a conversation to start, it definitely did wonders for your shyness. And the exchange came strangely natural.

It reminded you of catching up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while, even though the warmth in your chest that didn’t seem to want to go away was unquestionably a new feeling.

You pulled on a soft t-shirt you used as pyjamas, and finally settled in bed with your earphones in and some soft music to help the day flow out of you. You checked your phone and Tom had answered again.

“ I’ve been recruited for voice acting this time, ” his text read, “ It’s a fairly big project, I’ll be on the job for the next couple of weeks. ”

“ That sounds exciting! :D ” you sent back, “ Should I wait until you’re free again to schedule our promised dinner? ”

“ I hope we can arrange something before then, but I’ll let you know in a few days. :) ”

“ Great! ” You should have probably toned it down with the exclamation marks, but you couldn't stop yourself, “ Is it okay for me to ask about your voice acting project, or is that top secret? ” You didn’t feel like letting the conversation end just yet.

Luckily, it turned out that he could indeed talk about it, and he told you as much along with some more details. You asked him more question, and he did the same in turn. Before the talk could end properly, you drifted to sleep, the both of you still deep in conversation until almost an hour later. You didn’t say goodnight, but when you woke up the next day - earphones still in but music long faded away - you found you had a couple more messages.

One of them was a continuation of your chat, while the other had been sent around midnight and read, “ I’m guessing you fell asleep, so goodnight… and good morning. :) ”

The next few days proceded in much the same way. Sometimes you were the one to text first, and other times he was: you would greet each other with a “ Good morning ” right before work, and the conversation would continue from there.

That wasn’t to say you could text continually, you were both quite busy - you were often at the label offices, or you were out for interviews and small musical matinées - so the conversations weren’t always linear, but they happened almost every day.

Some days you would text him and he could only answer after several hours, and the opposite could also happen, but all the days you heard from each other ended with a goodnight text.

At some point, talking so often became natural enough that you stopped worrying about bothering him, you just saw something funny or that made you think about him, and a text followed shortly after. Of course, some days that little voice in your head going “Don’t text him, he’s just being nice, you’re actually bothering him a lot!” would come back with a fiery passion, but the way he would end a sudden text with an “ I’m glad you texted. ” made all your doubts dissolve on the spot.

It was rare that either of you would delve into intimate matters - you’d only met around a week before after all, and the understanding that the texts should remain light seemed mutual - but the way you spoke to each other felt like a prelude to something greater, always on the brink of that one word you were nervous to say or hear. You realised with an exhilarating mix of apprehension and excitement that in the short time you’d known each other, you had somehow started trusting him, and it hit you out of the blue like a bat to the stomach.

A little over a week after you’d started texting, on just any day, you were in a meeting with some old man from another label who was requesting your presence at an event you couldn’t quite remember in detail. The reason for that was that, seemingly out of the blue, he had made a sexist joke at your expense, and you became blinded by rage. You felt humiliated and belittled, afraid of how to tell Nina you wanted out of the agreement.

You should have trusted her to have your back, though, because the minute those foul words left his mouth, she stood up, said glacially, “Thank you for your time, but we’re not interested,” and made quick work of getting out of there. You were left scrambling to follow after her, completely stunned.

As soon as you were both out the door, she turned to you with an irritated expression and apologised, “That was completely unacceptable. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I’ll take responsibility for the deal being called off.”

You struggled with a response, mouth gaping but unsure of what to say. So you didn’t say anything at all. You just threw your arms around her and hugged her with all the strength you had, hoping that your gratitude could seep out from your skin and into hers. She hugged you back without a word and when you separated she touched your cheek gently, a rueful smile on her lips, and told you, “I have another appointment after this, but you should go ahead and enjoy the rest of the night. This was your last meeting for today.”

You nodded and thanked her before saying goodbye, and then you watched her back as she walked away. Nina’s support had definitely helped lessen you initial anger, but the whole situation was still nagging at you, leaving you with the acute prickle of disappointed and a sour taste in the back of your throat.

You decided to make a quick stop to the restroom to cool down before leaving. You looked into the mirror, and your mind instinctively thought of Tom, the urge to contact him mounting with every second.

You exited the room and started rummaging inside your bag for your phone with shaky hands, ready to text him. You had just grabbed the device and were unlocking the screen when you felt something lightly brush your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin.

You whirled around with a jolt, expecting some kind of fight, and sighed in relief when you realised it was Tom.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologised. He was looking at you with concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “Don’t worry about it.” Then you forced out a smile and started over, “Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he greeted too, “I didn’t realise you were signed under this label. This is where I’ve been recording for that project I told you about,” he explained.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering the previous exchange. You tried to think of something more to say when he spoke again.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, a frown had taken over his features and was deepening by the second, “You seem a little shaken.”

You closed your eyes briefly, your unconvincing smile disappearing entirely, and tried, “I… Yeah...” You gave up halfway, sighed again and started over, this time sincerely, “Actually, not really.”

You finally opened your eyes, he looked right into them with intense worry, it made you weak in the knees for just a second. Registering that he was giving you time to gather your bearings for an explanation - if you were willing to give one - you continued, “I had a harsh meeting.” You paused again, diverting your eyes, unsure of whether to say it or not and in the end, you decided to do so, “Sexism doesn’t magically disappear when you start selling music, apparently,” you concluded, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

He reached a hand and circled his fingers around your wrist in a delicate grasp, not once turning his focused gaze away from your eyes. He took a deep breath and finally said, “I am mortified that you had to go through that. I will try and be of support to you if you were to decide to take legal action.”

You recoiled, completely blindsided by his words. You didn’t think that was necessary, and it definitely wasn’t something that you had even considered. Nevertheless, warmth spread through your chest, and you felt all the remaining anxiety drain from your bones. The thought of someone so readily believing you, not even knowing the whole situation, was as unfathomable as it was touching and the fact that that person was Tom, whom you’d unwittingly started trusting and hesitated to believe the sentiment was reciprocated in the way it seemed to be, made something deep within your soul shake in fear and trepidation.

You smiled, earnestly this time, your hand sliding backwards so that his fingers were touching yours. You could feel heat seeping in from where your fingertips were pressed against his. “I am genuinely moved, I don’t know how to thank you for what you just said,” you almost whispered.

His frown dissipated, a tiny smile taking its place, and his cheeks darkened in an almost invisible blush. You kept silently smiling and looking at each other for a few more seconds, then a door along the corridor closed with a loud bang and the moment was broken. Your hands separated.

Tom looked around embarrassedly, stroking the side of his neck in a nervous gesture and searching for what to say. He smiled nervously once again and finally asked you, “There’s a canteen on the 18th floor, would you like to get something to drink?” then he seemed to have forgotten something and hastily added, “I mean right now. With me.”

You couldn’t stop the small giggle that left your lips, seeing him flustered made your heart swell with affection. You lifted the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder and replied, “I’d like that very much.”

You made your way to the elevator walking side by side, neither of you speaking. When you finally entered the lift, he selected the 18th floor as you stood next to each other, silence turning stiff. Suddenly, you twitched with realisation and said, “I know I should have asked this sooner, but how is the voice acting going, by the way?”

“It’s been a lot of fun, thanks for asking,” he replied with a genuine smile, “It’s been quite intense, considering the hours, but I’ve been enjoying it greatly.”

You smiled back. Right then, the elevator pinged to signal you had arrived, so you exited it and made your way to the canteen on the other side of the corridor.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” you told him, “You have an amazing voice, it’s surprising that you’re not flooded with offers of voice acting work,” without thinking you also added, “But then again, it would be a shame to hide your lovely face behind a virtual character.”

He suddenly stopped walking, you did the same. “Oh?” he asked, his tone entertained.

You were confused for just a second before realising what you’d just said, “No! I meant- uh- I-I… Wha-” you scrambled to explain yourself, “Because of your acting!” He pursed his lips, obviously trying to suppress his laughter, and you continued, “The things you do! With your face! While acting… are just, so good!” you finished with a grimace.

He finally started laughing.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I did this again.” you groaned.

“It’s completely fine,” he reassured you, still smirking, “It gets more endearing every time.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, a deep blush staining your cheeks.

You both started walking again, finally reaching the entrance to the canteen. He opened the door and gestured for you to enter ahead of him, then followed you inside.

The canteen was a spacious area on the left side of the building, it was furnished with small wooden tables and wrought-iron chairs, all along a wall of windows overlooking a district of mostly other office buildings. The tables surrounded the central space where an island bar was located and the cashier worked. Off to the side, there was a small door closing off the kitchen area where most of the food was prepared. The place was mostly used by the employees that worked in the building as a lunch area, but it wasn’t unusual to find other faces of the music or show businesses drinking a coffee and enjoying the view at all hours of the day.

You’d been there several times with Nina and the rest of your crew for a coffee break or to wait between meetings. You loved the view, watching the grey London skies and looking at the bright city lights when your work kept you busy until late was a great way to take in the vastity of other people’s lives.

You looked around for an unoccupied table, there were quite a few but you set sight on one right next to the windows with two empty seats.

“Go on ahead,” Tom told you, following your gaze, “What would you like? I’ll go grab it for us.”

“Just a cappuccino, please.” You then motioned to pull out your wallet and added, “Here, let me-” but he stopped you with a hand on your forearm and said with a smile, “No need, I got it.”

You smiled back and thanked him, so he headed for the small bar and you made your way to the table you’d eyed. You set your bag on the floor against the legs of your chair and sat down, looking out towards the city while waiting for Tom to join you.

When Tom reached your table with a small metal tray - two coffee cups and a few sugar packets on it - and set it down, you jumped slightly. You’d been staring intently out onto the city, and your mind had begun to drift off on its own over what had happened earlier.

“Thank you very much,” you told him, sitting up, “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” he answered sitting down, then asked you, “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a little spaced out.”

“I’m fine, really. Thank you for asking.” You ripped open one of the sugar packets and poured its contents into your drink and started stirring it absentmindedly. “It just kind of feels like a long day on my shoulders now, that’s all,” you smiled, your eyes on the cup.

He answered with a soft “Mhmm...” and said nothing else. When the silence stretched out, you finally looked up at him and he was staring right back at you, a scrutinizing but gentle expression on his face, but he didn’t say more.

You blushed under his gaze but covered it by taking a sip out of the large cup of steaming cappuccino. He did the same with his drink, then set it back down. Finally, he said, “I had a chance to listen to your album.”

You tried to read his expression with no luck. When he didn’t continue you prompted, “Oh?”

“I was very impressed,” he explained, “I already knew you have a wondrous voice - as I said before, your song for the soundtrack was quite astounding - but I was very surprised to find out you wrote most of the lyrics, too,” he paused for a second, then finished, “You have an amazing way with words.”

You were lost for words, didn’t really know how to respond to such high praise. You started, “I-” but had no idea what to say. In the end, you only said, “Thank you,” hoping that your gratitude would somehow translate in your tone. So much for the amazing way with words.

He chuckled, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he didn’t quite apologise.

“Oh no, that’s not it at all,” you insisted, “I’m just really stunned, I don’t get such huge compliments every day.”

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but just at that moment, his phone started ringing from his pocket. He pulled the phone out and looked at the screen with a frown. “I’m terribly sorry, I really need to take this,” he apologised.

“It’s alright, go on,” you reassured him and took another sip of your drink.

“Hello?” he answered into the phone. He listened to the person on the other end and said, “I understand, see you later,” then he ended the call.

He put the phone back into his pocket and told you, “I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. That was my manager,” he explained, “It seems something has come up, and my presence is required. I’m really very sorry.”

You put down your cup and told him, “I completely understand, you don’t need to apologise.”

“Before I go,” he started regretfully, “I wanted to talk about dinner.”

Hearing the negative tone in his voice and bracing for a rejection, you said, “I will understand if you’ve changed your mind,” but he stopped you.

“No, no, that’s not it,” he rushed to deny, “I just don’t think I’ll be able to make it before my voice acting commitment ends. I know I said I would, and I apologise-”

“It’s alright, honestly,” you stopped him, “There’s no need to apologise, I can wait.” You smiled genuinely.

He responded with a smile of his own. You both got up, his now empty cup still on the table, and you finally said your goodbyes.

“It was tremendous to bump into you, I’m glad we could sit down and chat even if only for a bit,” he looked into your eyes and said, “I look forward to meeting again.”

You were disarmed by his charm. “It was the same for me,” you replied with a shy smile, “I hope we can talk again soon.”

“Of course,” he said, pointing to the pocket where his phone was. He hugged you briefly and kissed your cheek. “Have a nice evening,” he said, and with that, he walked away. You sat back down to finish your drink and looked at his retreating back. He turned around just once, noticed you were also watching him and saluted you with a small wave and a smile before finally disappearing behind the doors of the canteen and into the corridor.

You finished your drink slowly, gaze back towards the city. You couldn’t keep a dreamy smile from blooming on your lips.

Chapter 5

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