#bah hiddleston
Text
Reflections
Chapter Three
Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List
Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston
Warnings: none, 18+ Minors do not interact
A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.
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Mia marvelled out the car window at the house. The pictures didn't do it justice.
It was Tudor style; the white-washed daub between the timber frames, steeply pitched gables, and thatched roof made it easy to distinguish between that and other periods. Brick and pipe chimneys smoked merrily. The casement window glass gleamed with shine and a fresh coat of white paint.
Two years of Covid and a subscription to Home and Garden Television, along with Tubi and their shows on restoration projects across the UK, apparently imparted lessons that were paying off.
The door was kelly green with a white climbing rose clinging to the wall. The plant crossed the lintel and spanned the area above the house's main floor windows. Someone had taken great care of the garden, for flowers bloomed in veritable heaps of colour below every window before the well-kept yard spread out in a wash of lush green lawn, meticulously mowed.
Trees surrounded the property, but she could make out more buildings farther into the grounds, though Jacob - her driver - pulled up in front of the cobblestone path that led from the raked gravel drive to the door.
"It's bigger than I thought," Mia murmured, allowing him to get the door and her to step outside. The house was triple the size of anything she could afford back in Canada.
The fresh air was crisp and clean, and the sun peeking through the clouds was lovely. She stood and basked, eyes closed, taking it in momentarily before moving away from the car.
She couldn't help but smile at the unique roof and the fancy thatching. After hours of devouring the shows on home restoration for period properties, she had enormous respect for the men and women who could accomplish such an incredible craft. It was truly remarkable that, after hundreds of years, such material and labour were still used today.
Before she could touch the doorknob, already in love with the door's colour, it swung open to reveal a short, stout woman wearing a frilly apron. Her hair was flaming red, her eyes emerald green, but her cast of wrinkles bespoke her age. Still, her smile was wide and welcoming, if a little guarded.
“Camila MacAlasdair?”
"Mia, please," she smiled and held out her hand. "Mrs. Bailey?"
"Ock, we don't shake the hands of family," she huffed, grabbing Mia's wrist and hauling her forward into a hug that should have come from someone the size of Fergus. "Yer wee gran would 'ave taken one look at ye and known ye were Callum's girl. Ye've yer da's eyes."
Mia leaned into the hug - though leaned down was more accurate. "You knew them well?"
"I've been keeping house for yer grandparents since yer da was a wee lad. It was a shame what happened with yer mum. A true shame. Would that they had lived to see ye and tell ye all this themselves."
Grief tugged at Mia's heart for her lost family. "Yeah."
"Bah!" Mrs. Bailey set her back and lightly patted Mia's arms. "Here I am holdin' ye in the door like an eejit when yer probably puggled. Let's get ye a scran and settled 'afor I go talkin' yer ear off."
The woman turned on her heel and set off into the house.
"Puggled?" Mia murmured to Jacob, arriving with the first of her bags.
"She means tired," chuckled the very British Jacob.
With the thicker accents of the Scots she'd spent the last week with, it was a shock to have Jacob greet her in a voice that reminded her of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
He'd been kind enough to help her decipher a few of Fergus and Ivy's more colourful sayings.
Your head's full of mince was one of them. Your bum's out the window was another.
"Ah," Mia nodded, wondering if there was an app for deciphering Scottish - and British - English as even Jacob caused her to blink in confusion when he asked if she were 'taking the piss' and had to explain himself.
She would see about that later. Fergus gifted her a fancy new phone with what he termed better encryption and security. It was also already attached to her household expenses and ran on the nation's phone service.
Mia stepped beyond the threshold and bit her cheek to keep her jaw from dropping. The low-beam ceiling was spectacular!
Dark wood separated by white dab spanned the spaces between beams that looked like entire trees held up the ceiling. The wood flooring had planks that were so wide they, too, looked like they came from a whole tree. The rich dark brown of the well-loved wood made the house feel so warm.
She stepped into a kitchen right out of a fairytale.
Expansive windows threw light across the floor, reflected off the pans hanging above the antique stove and glinted on cut crystal vases filled with sweet-smelling flowers. Pots of fresh herbs sat in the window sills. Butcher block countertops ran the length of all the cabinets and covered the island.
An enormous fireplace occupied one wall, but a pot belly stove sat in the center, glowing a merry orange with the cheerfully burning fire. The mantel was another massive piece of timber, upon which sat a host of - what Mia assumed were - ancient kitchen utensils. They looked neat, some dull or rusted with age, while others carried a dark patina and still more shone with copper.
Before the fire, a round rug of burgundy and cream anchored two forest green wingback chairs with a small round table between them. It was of caramel-coloured wood, the top a little scarred with age, but it held a tea tray with the most gorgeous bone china tea service Mia had ever seen.
The white china fairly blazed against the dark backdrop, while the purple thistle and green leaves caressed the curves of the china with delicate brush strokes.
A small but fancy chandelier hung over the sink, but recessed pot lights covered the ceiling and would likely add to the warm glow at night, though they weren't currently on.
Mrs. Bailey poked a few mounds of dough back down at the island into their bowls before covering them with sunny yellow tea towels.
"Is that bread?"
"Aye. I always make bread on Mondays." There was something in how she said it, almost as if she challenged Mia to say something contrary.
Mia toed her shoes off beside the door and drifted closer. "I always wanted to learn, but Colt said it was a waste of time."
Mrs. Bailey's sharp eyes jumped to her face and the bruises she attempted to tone down. It wasn't easy to hide, not without also covering her freckles, and Mia didn't want to do that anymore.
"Ye've quite the keeker. I've some salve to help if ye want it."
"Did you make that too?"
Mrs. Bailey burst out laughing. "Naw! I'm a baker and a cook, alright, but I'm naw chemist."
Mia grinned. "I'd love to try the salve. I'm not sure which is worse, the black when it was fresh or the sickly yellow-green it is now."
Mrs. Bailey's brows drew together, and thunder filled her face. "The bloke who did it, he gonna be a problem?"
Mia snorted. "No. I left him in Canada, and he has no idea I'm here."
Her face cleared. "Good. Would've given 'im a good hard smack with a pan for laying hands on a lady."
Mia laughed. "No one has ever called me a lady."
"Yer lady of this house now, so expect to hear it." Again, there was tension behind the words.
Mia wasn't always the best at social cues in the fancy circles Colt aspired to. Still, after years in the foster system, not that she'd lived in any genuinely horrible situations, she'd learned to read people and the tension in their bodies reasonably well.
Only one of her homes was a bad place where the father drank excessively. He never touched any of the kids under his care, but he often yelled, smashed things, and made threats. She learned quickly to go to her room and stay out of his way.
So when Mrs. Bailey's brows pulled together in worry, and she picked at a crusty bit of dough on the island, Mia attempted to put two and two together.
"You know, I was thrilled when Fergus told me the house and the people associated with it were taken care of," she said, attempting to appear like she was admiring the pots hanging over the stove and not about to freak out. "I don't know the first thing about a place like this other than it's gorgeous, and I still can't believe I get to stay here. I wouldn't want people to think I would come here and make crazy changes, like fire everyone. It's not in my nature, and honestly, after the last few years, I'm just happy to have a home."
The last came out a bit of a hoarse whisper as surprise tears seared her nose and throat.
"Ye've had a time of it, haven't ye, Mia?"
She made the mistake of glancing at Mrs. Bailey, compassion in every line of her face, and broke down in tears.
"There now." The older woman enveloped Mia in a hug and rubbed her back. "Been a hard road, but yer here now. And we look after our own. Ye have yerself a wee greet. Then I'll show ye the house and put the tea on."
Mia sniffled. "Does tea include fresh bread?"
Mrs. Bailey chuckled. "Of course!"
Mia hugged her tight. "Excellent."
~
The house was a dream.
All the times Mia watched someone restore their period home on television, she'd sighed in longing. However, after the first time she pointed out how gorgeous the craftsmanship of those older buildings was, even the restored barns, Colt snorted in contempt and called them filthy she hadn't brought it up to him again.
Laying on her back on a beautiful wide bed with a thick white duvet, Mia stared at the crisscrossed ceiling and let the tears come.
She'd been so blind to Colt's faults, so desperate for love and affection after being alone most of her life that she ignored his red flags. Some, she even turned around and placed on herself as her faults. She'd accepted blame and tried to change herself when he was in the wrong.
Tears dripped down her cheeks, but they didn't last long. She cried for broken dreams and lost love, but she wasn't cynical enough to believe that would be the end for her. Mia would love again, but she'd learned tough lessons and would guard her heart with higher walls next time.
For now, she would put Colt behind her and move on with her life. It was here, it was new, and though it was a little scary, it was also exciting.
She sat up, wiped her face, and took in the sun-drenched bedroom. A fire burned in a beautiful iron grate in a modest fireplace between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream club chairs offered a welcome seat to soak in the view or the heat. Antique dressers now held the clothing she purchased, as did the pair of wardrobes. And, of course, the same stunning floor of overly wide wooden planks felt like they'd been polished smooth with literal generations of feet.
Off the bedroom was a bathroom straight out of a fantasy novel. A clawfoot tub sat on a riser within the confines of an alcove beneath a large octagonal window. The plank flooring gave way to large slate tiles, slightly misshapen, clearly hand-hewn. Again, it felt polished beneath Mia's feet.
A double sink sat in a vanity that looked like an antique dresser, while the mirror above appeared hand-carved or made from the bones of old crown moulding. It was magnificent, with the small wall sconces glowing on either end.
In virtually every room, some potted plant or vase full of flowers added greenery to the space, and her bathroom was no different.
She wasn't sure what the leafy plant on the sink was called, but she was determined to learn how to care for them and help out.
As Mrs. Bailey - first name Cora - showed her around through receiving rooms, drawing rooms, her late grandfather's study, the dining room, and five guest rooms, she introduced Mia to Oliva and Skye. The young women helped with the housework, general cleaning, laundry, and the like.
Cora explained the two women had received the items shipped from Edinburgh, found the boxes with her clothing, and unpacked them into the master bedroom.
It felt a little weird moving into what once was her grandparents' space, but Cora assured her the mattress and bedding were new, changed out when they learned she would be coming to stay. Her grandparents' clothing and the like were stored in the attic until she decided what she wanted to do with it. They had yet to bother with the rest of the house, as Mia could add or edit as she pleased.
So far, Mia was under the impression that her grandparents had impeccable taste. The antiques were glorious and well cared for. What brick-a-brack she saw seemed well chosen and possibly of value. Clearly, her grandmother had a thing for Waterford Crystal, not that Mia blamed her.
Her grandfather - apparently - carved and painted wooden ducks. The gorgeous creatures were lovingly displayed in his former office, riding the plate rail that ran the room's circumference.
They had stored her art supplies, works in progress, and finished paintings there.
Mia vaguely wondered if that was where her talent came from before Cora shooed her along, talking about how the house was fully renovated right before Covid hit, keeping the old world charm while modernizing things like the insulation, the lighting, wiring, plumbing, heat and air.
She could only imagine the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent modernizing the house while retaining its classic look and feel.
The house tour ended in one parlour where another potbelly stove glowed brightly beside a burgundy velvet sofa. Skye was there with the tea tray, Olivia a step behind with another of fresh bread, preserves, and a crock of whipped butter.
Mia intended to invite the women to stay, but Cora shooed them out, sat with a thump on the couch, and made to pour the tea, but Mia beat her to it.
She wasn't much for superstitions, but her mother always laughed and said, 'the lady of the house poured the tea unless she wanted to end up enceinte.' Mia was eight when she finally asked what the word meant, but she never forgot the way her mother laughed and explained about the silly old wives' tale. Still, it was one of the weird things that stuck in her brain and arose at odd times. Like now, when she realized this was her house. She owned it, lock, stock, and barrel.
It made her hyperventilate a little.
Then, as she handed Cora a delicate tea cup, the woman bluntly asked how she got the black eye.
It surprised Mia, but she told Cora the truth. When an ocean separated them, there was no point in lying to save face or protect Colt. But, as Cora poked a little at still raw feelings, Mia felt the fresh prickle of tears.
It was only a week—seven days from losing everything to gaining everything.
Cora made a displeased sound with her tongue and changed the subject, but the thunderous set of her brows said if she ever met Colt, he might become intimately acquainted with one of the cook's larger frying pans.
She asked instead about Mia's art, and happy to talk to someone about her joy, Mia ate three slices of bread, liberally spread with butter and jam, drank two cups of really lovely tea, and nattered on about what she did and why. She thought it might bore the woman, but Cora's eyes were excitedly bright, though a bit of confusion lingered.
"Well, ye've all the time in the world to paint now, love," Cora grinned. "Yer grandad had a woodworking shop near the barn that might suit ye if we clean it out."
The idea of it excited her when Cora encouraged her to have a walk around, but Mia returned upstairs to change first. It was roughly six degrees Celsius, and coming out of a Canadian winter when minus forty wasn't unheard of, six degrees was relatively balmy, but Scotland was damp in comparison. Mia learned quickly that you could get rained on at any time.
Thus, she'd ended up sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to adjust to the metamorphosis her life went through in a short amount of time.
Quiet laughter echoed in her head, and she closed her eyes as the gentle touch of a caring hand danced across her forehead.
Loki was patiently waiting for her to unpack his things.
Smiling, Mia looked around the room. The dresser across from the foot of her bed was long and low with a vase of fresh flowers but otherwise empty.
It took very little time to unpack and cleanse the altar and set everything back as it should be. Once finished, Mia admired her handiwork before rummaging through the bags brought up by the maids. A few pretty crystals and a pewter bowl joined her collection, as did two silver candlesticks meant for fat pillar candles. She bought two in vanilla, two in citrus, and two with a cinnamon kick.
For now, she placed the cinnamon-scented ones in the holders, and the others remained wrapped in tissue paper she tucked into a drawer.
Loki hummed his pleasure, the warmth of it like the summer sun glowing in her chest.
"I'm glad you like it. Thank you for leading me here."
Here is where you belong.
Mia grinned. Yeah, she felt that, too.
Next Chapter
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J’ai décidé de faire une liste de tous les crush que j’ai eu sur des gens célèbres, dans un ordre chronologique (à peu près). Vous allez vous foutre de moi.
Les gros crush :
Tom Kaulitz des Tokio Hotel. J’ai passé des journées entières à avec ma meilleure amie (elle était fan de son frère jumeau, le fameux Bill) à m’imaginer être remarquée par lui dans un concert et devenir sa petite copine alors que je ne suis jamais allée à l’un de leur concert (mais j’ai écouté en boucle leur album “Schrei” mdr, on fait ce qu’on peut).
Orlando Bloom. My god. Découvert en Legolas dans Le Seigneur des Anneaux, puis dans Troie quand il jouait Paris, puis dans Pirates des Caraïbes dans le rôle du grandiose William Turner. Je vous le dis : ça a duré looooooooongtemps. De ma primaire jusqu’à la fin du collège. J’avais une photo de lui affiché dans ma chambre, toutes mes histoires comportaient son visage et je regardais TOUS ses films. J’avais même écris derrière mon lit, sur le mur : “mon prénom + Orlando Bloom” dans un cœur fait au feutre. Oui, ne me jugez pas.
Michael Fassbender. Non seulement le mec est un acteur incroyable, mais en plus à l’époque, tous ses choix de carrière étaient hyper stylés. C’était l’époque de X-Men : Le Commencement (mais si vous savez, les bons X-Men, ouais c’était bien), et alors Erik Lensherr... Oh god. Là aussi, ça a duré quelques années. Je suivais toute sa carrière et ça m’a découvrir des films de dingue, dont ceux de Steve McQueen (Hunger, Shame). Je n’oublierais jamais cette scène archi hot de Fish Tank, je vous le dis.
Dean O’Gorman. Wow. Ce mec. Je l’ai découvert en Fili dans la trilogie The Hobbit. Le nain le plus canon de la planète, archi sous-estimé (j’ai chialé comme une merde à sa mort, horrible). Après, j’ai fouiné dans sa filmographie, ce qui m’a permis de découvrir la série The Almighty Johnsons qui est juste géniale, et son travail de photographe qui est exceptionnel. Je vous encourage à aller le voir, d’ailleurs, parce que c’est vraiment bien : cadeau.
Garrett Hedlund. Aïe. Je l’ai vu dans Tron Legacy, immense coup de coeur, et après j’ai vu Sur La Route, re-aïe. Sans compter l’incroyable Quatre frères où il est jeune et si mignon. Toute sa filmographie est trop bien (Troie, encore, Death Sentence, Friday Night Lights). Bref, immense crush, qui a duré quand même un paquet de mois. Je m’en suis remise, tout va bien.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Alors ce mec est encore mon crush aujourd’hui, j’admets. Il joue bien, pas du tout people (genre tu vois pas un article sur lui par semaine), ses choix de carrière sont chouettes, et il m’a séduite dans TOUS ses rôles. Hyper canon, une prestance de dingue. Il sort avec une nana bien plus vieille que lui qui n’est pas un sosie de Scarlett Johansson et la façon dont il la regarde... Mamamia, le gars est full amoureux et ça fait rêver (et ça donne +10 points de compétence en charme, en passant). Mention spéciale au Comte Vronsky, Ford Brody et Quicksilver, je pense que je ne suis pas la seule qu’ils ont fait craquer.
Les crush secondaires (et y’en a beaucoup) :
Naveen Andrews dans Lost (dans son rôle de Sayid Jarrah, les mecs torturés ça marche toujours), Taylor Lautner dans Twilight (Jacob Black, bah oui, j’ai acheté un bracelet en plastique avec son nom, oui c’est honteux), Richard Armitage dans la trilogie The Hobbit (parce que Thorin merde, un peu borné mais tu partages son lit sans broncher), Nekfeu (il est canon et il a une prestance folle, faut bien le dire), Chris Hemsworth (Eric le torturé dans Blanche-Neige et Le Chasseur et Thor dans tous les films Marvel, pas besoin d’en dire plus), Tom Hiddleston (parce que Loki et parce que la classe, voilà, c’est tout), Mathieu Sommet (ah l’esprit critique assumé, ça me séduisait en moins de deux à l’époque et il avait des discours tellement féministes, et puis bon il était canon), Ewan McGregor (bah Obi-Wan Kenobi, désolé mais j’ai une bouffée de chaleur à chaque fois que je le vois dans Star Wars : L’Attaque des Clones), Dacre Montgomery dans Stranger Things (Billy Hargrove est un connard fini mais bon dieu, qu’est-ce qu’il est sexy et torturé, on en mangerait au petit déj’), Joseph Quinn dans Stranger Things (bah ouais, Eddie Munson est LE mec avec qui j’aurais voulu sortir au lycée).
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Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Masterlist
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)
Summary: Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?
Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst
Chapter 1 | Change of Plans
Chapter 2 | Winter Wonderland
Chapter 3 | Not What I Expected
Chapter 4 | It’s Not A Date
Chapter 5 | Winner Winner Chicken Dinner
Chapter 6 | Snowed In
Chapter 7 | Snowball
Chapter 8 | No Comment
Chapter 9 | Cold Feet on Christmas Eve
Chapter 10 | Blue Christmas
Chapter 11 | Joy To The World
Chapter 12 | Merry Christmas Darling
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston imagine#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston angst#tom hiddleston smut#bah hiddleston#masterlist
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Bah Hiddleston | Chapter 1 | Change of Plans
A/N: This is it, the brainchild since before Halloween of an epic Christmas romantic comedy with Tom. I want to give a huge shoutout to my smut sisters @hopelessromanticspoonie and @yespolkadotkitty for being there when this idea was just a spark and fueling the fire of my insanity. And a special shoutout to @nonsensicalobsessions you have always been my first and one of my biggest cheerleader. I am forever grateful.
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)
Summary: Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?
This Chapter: Tamra planned on going to London with her best friend. Tom planned on relaxing with family after filming in the States. Both of their Christmas plans are changed.
Warnings: Language for now, Grinchiness, eventual smut, talks of divorce
Word Count: 1773
Whole Enchilada Tag List- @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @hopelessromanticspoonie @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @jade10077 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope
Hiddles Tag List- @hiddlesbitch1 @drakesfiance @obtain-this-grain @unfortunatelyymuggle @theoneanna @too-cold-for-youhere @brucestephenbucky @vodka-and-some-sass @ladyblablabla @lokixme
Christmas Tag List- @mygreenmoleskine @my-soccer-and-skijumping-blog
Untaggables: @jumpxjess @sterwild
TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, JUST LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO A LIST!!
-
Tamra was not sure how she got turned around, but somehow she ended up back at her terminal gate.
“How the fuck…” she whispered to herself as she huffed back the way she came.
She hit something hard and immovable with her shoulder.
“Ow!”
“So sorry. My apologies.” a male British voice cut through the din of Heathrow Airport. Tamra stared in front of her to find a tall man smiling back at her. His reddish blond hair hung loose around his face. “Um, apology accepted.”
He reached his arms out as if to steady her. “Everything in one piece?”
Tamra took a quick inventory and other than a dull ache in the offending shoulder, everything seemed as they should be. She nodded back to the man, whose smiled widened at her affirmation, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes.
“Baggage claim is that way.” He gestured down the corridor. “And Merry Christmas.”
He turned and left Tamra in the busy terminal. Whatever goodwill Tamra had for the handsome stranger dissipated with his parting words.
“Bah humbug.” she scowled as she hitched her purse back onto her shoulder.
She pushed through the holiday travelers, making her way to baggage claim. If Tamra saw the festive Christmas decor in the corridor, she did not acknowledge them with a smile or glance. She only cared to retrieve her luggage and head to her accommodations with minimal fuss and muss.
She located the right carousel where the man gestured, only adding to her irritation with him. After what seemed like an eternity, the belt started moving and bag popped out. Tamra shouldered to the front of the gathering crowd. With the skill of an experienced traveler, she plucked her suitcase and pulled the handle up. She headed out to the taxi stand.
Her frown deepened when she spied a line snaking in front of the terminal. With at least three switchbacks, Tamra huffed as she took her place at the end of the line.
“Merry Christmas, indeed.”
-
By the Tom got outside, his PA already retrieved his luggage and parked the car right out front. While Tom would not pull the “I’m a Celebrity” card regularly, he would always take advantage of the perk of not having to wait at the airport for a taxi. He appreciated the perk even more now, two weeks before Christmas. The driver put his bags into the boot of the car as Tom climbed into the back.
Tom let loose a sigh as he scanned the London cityscape in the window. It’s good to be home, he reflected. His latest project kept him away from several months filming in the States. Now with Christmas fast approaching, Tom relished the idea of relaxing and spending time with family over the holidays.
His head fell back onto the headrest and Tom closed his eyes as the car moved through traffic. He didn’t sleep well on the flight as turbulence kept him awake. He foresaw a nap once he got home and retrieved Bobby from the kennel. The car came to stop far too soon for Tom’s liking and he groaned as he unfolded himself to head up the stairs of his home. His phone rang as the door clicked behind him.
“Hello?”
“Tom, it’s Sarah.”
“Hey!” Tom’s voice softened at the sound of his older sister’s voice.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. I just got home. How are the boys?” Tom smiled at the thought of seeing his nephews in the next few days.
“A handful. About Christmas…” Sarah’s voice trailed off.
“What? You’re still coming, right? Mom has a whole thing planned.” His voice sounded more whiney than he expected, he blamed the lack of sleep.
“Yes we are still coming but it might be later than we planned. Yakov can’t get away until Christmas Day.”
Tom’s face fell. A big part of his Christmas plans included spending time at his mother’s house with his sisters and nieces and nephews.
“Really? But Mom has everything planned out.”
“I know that’s why I called her first to explain.” Tom felt Sarah wincing through the phone.
“And?” He pushed her.
“She agreed to put off the festivities until Boxing Day. Sorry little brother, but you are going to have hold off your preening like a big Hollywood star for a few more weeks.”
“Ha. Ha. Hilarious, Sarah. You missed your calling as a comedian.”
“And you missed yours as a good actor.”
“My Golden Globe says otherwise.”
“If you say so. Are you disappointed?”
“Yes but I understand. Besides it will give me more time to return your present.”
“Whatever, Tom. See you in two weeks. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Tom ended the call and dialed his mother. The two discussed the change in plans. After an intense back and forth, Dianna won out and Tom agreed to stay put until Boxing Day. Now he just needed to figure out how to pass the time.
-
Tamra arrived at her Airbnb exhausted. The line for a taxi took forever and the ride to her flat took even longer. Her flight from Orlando must have hit every bit of turbulence along the way. And that screaming child did not help matters.
She opened the door to the small Westminster flat just as her phone rang. She answered as she closed the door with her hip.
“Madeline, you traitor.”
“Please stop with the guilt trip. Not everyone is a Scrooge like you, Tams.”
“Not everyone also deserts their best friend to hang out with their new boyfriend’s family.” Tamra rolled her eyes.
“At Christmas.”
“Bah—”
“Don’t even start with that Bah Humbug bullshit. Most people actually enjoy Christmas.”
“Most people are saps.”
“Tamra, I just called to see if you got in safe and sound.”
“Rough and I got lost in Heathrow, some guy bumped into my shoulder, the taxi line moved at a snail’s pace.”
“So par for the course for you. You always find the worst in every situation. What about London? At Christmas?”
“What about it? It’s crowded and cold. The best part about this town is the history.”
“Says the museum curator.”
“Whole purpose of the trip.”
“Happy Holidays, Tamra.”
“Enjoy the boyfriend’s family, Mad.”
Tamra hung up the phone in an even worse mood than she started. There was not much that could make this day worse. Her phone rang again. The screen flashed her mother’s number. Tamra contemplated letting it go to voicemail but she would have to face the conversation on a different day and she did not want her mother to dampen her time in London.
“Hi, Mom!” Tamra feigned excitement.
“Tamra! How is London? Have you gone to Harrod’s? What about the Tower Bridge? How is Christmas over there?”
She held the phone away from her ear to shield herself from her mother’s shrill voice. “Mom I only landed two hours ago. I just got to my place. I have seen nothing and been nowhere.”
“But I bet it is magical there.”
“It’s London, Mom. Not Neverland.”
“But Christmas — “
“— is a sentimental tradition used for an excuse to support capitalism and Christianity.”
“Wow, way to suck the fun out of everything.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Well I just called to see how was your flight, sweetie. I’m sure you are exhausted.”
“Thanks for calling, Mom.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Bye, Mom.”
Her mother hung up and Tamra laid the phone down on the kitchen counter. 0 for 2, Tamra. Nice going, you just pissed off your best friend and your mother in the span of twenty minutes. She spent the next several minutes unpacking and taking a long shower to wash away the grime of travel. As she prepared to grab some groceries from down the street, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. Her itinerary.
“Tomorrow the National Gallery and Afternoon Tea.” she commented as she smoothed the piece of paper as she placed it on the nightstand before heading out to the store.
-
After his morning run and espresso, Tom set out to the stores around Trafalgar Square for some shopping. He didn’t want to face the holidays crowds at the shops but his list only seem to grow with each passing moment. He said a silent prayer that if anyone recognized him they didn’t say a word. Before he realized, he skipped lunch and his stomach growled in protest. He spied a sign for Afternoon Tea at the National Gallery. He ducked into the building hoping they would have a table available.
-
Tamra made a quick breakfast at her flat before plotting out her route to get down to the National Gallery. She made sure she booked a place near a Tube Station and before long she found herself in front of the museum. Tamra spent all the morning and through lunch, losing herself in the galleries and anterooms. Her phone dinged; a reminder for Afternoon Tea at the Gallery. She made the reservation for her and Madeline but when Mads canceled last week, she called up the restaurant. They assured her they could accommodate the request.
Her stomach growled as she walked up to the entrance. The attendant sat Tamra at a table for two right by the window. Her seat gave a perfect view of Trafalgar Square. The Christmas tree dominated the view and Tamra huffed.
“Madam.” the attendant had returned.
“Yes?”
“There is a last minute seating request for one, do you mind if we seat them with you? We are booked.”
Tamra gazed across the packed room; not another empty seat anywhere to be seen. She nodded, and the girl hustled off to bring the stranger to the table. Tamra looked at the window again.
“It is a beautiful view.” a vaguely familiar voice rang out.
“I don’t ca…” Tamra turned to see the man from the airport. “You!”
Tom’s brow furrowed. “You recognize me?”
“Yes.” she hissed as Tom took the seat opposite from her. “You’re the guy from the airport who hit my shoulder!” her voice raised.
“How’s the war wound?”
“Sore, but thank you for asking. What are you doing here?”
Tom smiled. “Afternoon tea and enjoying the view of that lovely Christmas tree out the window.”
“Bah humbug.” Tamra muttered at the mention of Christmas.
“I beg your pardon?” Tom exclaimed, looking at Tamra with a look somewhere between disgust and shock.
Tamra looked him dead in the eye and leaned forward on her elbows. “You heard me. Bah. Humbug.” She popped the last syllable as she smirked at Tom, whose mouth dropped open.
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston/ofc#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston smut#christmas#Christmas fanfiction#bah hiddleston#hiddlesfic#hiddlestoners
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Tom Hiddleston and Miss Piggy (Bafta 2012 - Red carpet). (x)
And my reaction... (x)
#gentlemen prefer blonds#bah#nevermind benedict prefer brunettes#tom hiddleston#miss piggy#my reaction gifs#me#jealous#videos#please give me credit#for the record I am a brunette with glasses#bafta#bafta 2012
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He's Not Real
A/N: this is totally not based on my own fear of venom and its definitely not comfort in the fact that I'm watching spiderman 3 while finishing this. i am terrified. (update: i will have nightmares)
Theme: fluffy banter
Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Gn!Reader
Warnings: swearing, constant mention of venom
Words: 485 (breakdown incoming)
Also thank you to @bittersnowflake for reading this prior to posting and for your support :) <333
---
Squealing in fear, I cover my face with my blanket, shutting my eyes closed and covering my ears. "Tell me when venom's gone." I squeak out.
"Darling, he's not real." Tom laughs, pausing the movie and gently removing the blanket that's currently covering my face. He gently holds my chin getting me to face him.
"He's still scary as fuck." I pout, trying to pull the blanket back over my face. Tom snatches it from my hands, putting it behind him and out of my reach. I stick my tongue out at him.
"Can he hurt you?" He inquires, eyebrow twitching upwards in a teasing manner. Oh no he didn't.
"Fifth Amendment." Crossing my arms, I turn away from him slightly, I can still see him out of the corner of my eye.
He laughs shaking his head. "We're in England, that doesn't count, love."
"Oh bah humbug! Yes it does, I am an American citizen, still counts." I turn my head, facing him yet again. The corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk. Good to know you’re entertained, Mr. Hiddleston.
“I don’t understand this, most people think he’s cool.”
"Have you seen Venom??" I counter, pointing towards the tv, which shows venom in all his sharp teethy glory. Yes, I said teethy glory. I try to reach behind him to retrieve my blanket, hoping he forgot he was holding it captive. My fingers are able to grasp the corner but its shortly ripped from me again.
"Yes, yes I have. I would say he's very un-intimidating." He gives me a soft yet teasing look, and i roll my eyes in return. "You watch Doctor Who for fun and you think Venom is scary."
"Okay, the only creatures in Doctor Who that are even remotely scary are cybermen and weeping angels. The rest are just meh."
His eyes blow wide as his jaw drops in astonishment, "Meh? Have you seen the creatures in that one episode--The Girl In The Fireplace? That's what you call scary!"
I laugh, my head rolling back in amusement."Those are literal clocks, they have gears for brains. You can freeze them and they won't move! Those are nothing compared to Venom."
"Still scary." He huffs, handing me back my hidey blanket. He then retrieves the remote, I hadn't noticed it, but somewhere during our banter it had gotten put on the coffee table.
"Look who has the absurd fear now." I give him the same teasing look he gave me earlier, wiggling my eyebrows.
"Oh hush." He smiles slightly, putting his arm behind my back.
Cuddling into his side, I ask, "Doctor Who?"
"The Shakespeare Code?" Looking down at me, he shines me an affectionate expression and then kisses my cheek, pulling me closer to him. And I smile, my heart filled with joy and love for him. Even if he thinks Venom isn't scary. I beg to differ.
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston x gn!reader#fluff#tom hiddlestion imagine#tom hiddleston one shot#idk what else to tag#Thomas William Hiddleston#okay thats it
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annoying how at a quick glance on my dash i keep mistaking tom hiddleston for andrew lincoln.
the disappointment when it turns out it is actually just tom hiddleston. bah
#no shade but...#andrew lincoln is Better#and his curls are something to behold#i need him to always keep the curly hair pls#andrew lincoln#tom hiddleston#gonna get lynched#??#idc
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A Loki Christmas Carol 1/5
So, I had this INCREDIBLE idea to see Tom Hiddleston and...this happened. I’m going to try my hardest to get every chapter published before Christmas.
Also available on AO3
Chapter 1: Beginnings and The First Ghost
Obadiah Stane was dead. Dead as a doornail these past 7 years. That which you must understand.
Not that his partner, or former partner, it should be said, Loki Laufeyson minded. With his partner gone, he had all the shares and all the money to himself. The wind howled down the alleyway of the dirty London street, but Loki didn’t mind. He liked the cold. He was sharp as flint and constantly had his nose to the grindstone.
A gust of wind and snow followed Loki into his office and he slammed the door behind him. But the office offered no refuge from the cold outside. One could even say it was colder in than out.
“Good Morning, Mr Laufeyson.” His ever faithful clerk, Anthony Stark called out. “And Merry Christmas Eve!”
“Christmas? Bah. Humbug.” Loki replied, strutting to his desk and settling himself chair, beginning to go through the day’s business, but his silent contemplation did not last long before a tall, blonde strapping, gentleman came bursting through the door. Thor, Loki's brother, had come to call.
“Brother! A Merry Christmas Eve!!” boomed his deep voice.
Loki rolled his eyes. “Hello to you too brother. To what do I owe the pleasure of you interrupting my business?”
“Why I’m here to spread the Christmas spirit of course!”
“What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough.” Loki spat.
“What reason have you to be bitter? You’re rich enough. Christmas is a wonderful time a year, of parties, drinks, merriment, and love. Though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I think christmas has done and will do me good.Therefore I say, god bless it!” Thor said, with a rousing stamp of his boot. Loki rolled his eyes.
“Fantastic speech, brother. A wonder you don’t go into politics.”
“Oh Loki, don’t be cross. I’d have to uninvite you to dinner with Jane and I.” Thor offered, beaming wildly.
“I’ll never understand, why on Earth did you get married?” Loki asked, bitterness dripping from his words.
“Because I fell in love.” Thor replied, joyously. To which Loki laughed cruelly.
“That’s the only stupider thing I’ve heard than ‘Merry Christmas’.” Loki said. "I believe every idiot that goes around with Merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.” Thor was away to rebuke, but another knock came at the door. Before Loki could protest, Thor opened the door and a gentleman with dirty blonde hair and a woman with flaming red hair stepped through, shaking the snow off their clothes.
"Good Evening Gentleman. And Merry Christmas Eve to you both. I'm Clint Barton and this is my associate Ms Romanoff. We're collecting charity for the poor.”
“Wonderful! I know my brother would be more than happy to donate some of his generous fortune!” Thor said
“Brother!” Loki warned, glaring daggers. “Don’t you have ANYWHERE else to be?”
“Sadly, you’re right. I must procure a great goose for tomorrow’s feast! So I will make my donation,” Thor dug into his pockets and pulled out a few silver coins, happily dropping them in the jar in Ms Romanoff’s hands, “and leave you to make yours!”
“Thank you sir, God bless, and Merry Christmas to you!” Ms Romanoff said. Tony and Thor exchanged goodbyes and Thor extended an invitation to Tony as well, before jauntily leaving Loki’s business, his merry humming being heard halfway up the street.
Silence once again fell over the office. Until Clint cleared his throat, alerting loki of his visitor's continuing presence. Trying to maintain his businessman-like composure, Loki took a deep breath and let it out.
"What can I do for you two so that you may leave my establishment?"
"Well sir, in this time of cold and despair, we seek donations so as to buy a bit of food and drink for those less fortunate. We call on wealthy businessmen like yourself to contribute." Loki replaced his quill in his ink.
"Well let's see. Are the prisons still in operation?" Loki asked
"They are." Clint replied.
"And what of the workhouses?” Loki continued. “How fare they?"
“Also in operation. Though I wish I could say they weren't," Natasha expressed remorsefully.
"Well. I sincerely remember paying my taxes this past season. There for you is my contribution."
"But sir! Many can't go there! And some would rather die!" Clint protested.
Loki slammed his hands on his desk "If they would rather die, then they best do it! And decrease the surplus population! Now sir, madam, too much of my time has been taken up with frivolities related to this blasted holiday, and such I will bid you good afternoon and my clerk will show you the door." And thusly, Loki returned to his work, leaving Clint and Natasha aghast at the man before them. Clint searched for words, but finding none, he tipped his hat to loki and turned to the door. Tony opened the door for him, but not before reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a small coin, and dropping it into clint's jar, where it made a small clink noise as it met not only Thor's donation, but the dozens of other donations, given charitably by men and women from all walks of life. But what echoed back was the emptiness in that vessel, and with it, the emptiness in the souls of those who had vehemently refused to donate, such as Laufeyson.
Continuing through his day, Loki was constantly aware of the presence outside, the voices happily exchanging merry Christmases and other greetings. Plannings of family gatherings. Of friends meeting.
When the lamp lighters finally set about their task, Loki dotted his last 'i's and crossed his last 't's before setting his quill back.
"Stark." Loki called out, and in a flash, Tony was in the doorway to Loki's office
"Yes Mr Laufeyson?"
"Take note of the things needed for tomorrow. Get some parchment." Loki ordered, but when he looked up, his clerk still stood in the doorway, looking much like a naughty child about to confess his misdoings.
"Well sir. Tomorrow is Christmas..." Tony began and loki sat back in his chair.
"I see. Is it my misunderstanding or are you seeking the day's holiday?"
"Well. I thought. One day might not make such a difference. Besides, all your associates will be closed, you'll have no one to do business with." Tony offered.
"Tell me. If your daily salary was half a crown's worth, do you think it would 'make such a difference', as you so put it?" Tony looked away sheepishly, ready to write the list of tomorrow's tasks and trying to figure out a way to tell his family, but Loki's voice broke the silence again "It's a poor excuse picking a man's pocket for wages with no work every 25th of December. But seeing as I'm the only one around here who understands that...take the day."
Tony's eyes turned brighter than the lanterns outside and he quickly thanked Loki, who was solemnly donning his coat and tophat. "But be here all the earlier the next morn." He demanded, slamming the door behind him.
In the shop, Tony let out a small "Yay!" And promptly tidied the small desk of his belongings before hurrying home, stopping along the way to join a group of boys in a snowball fight before stopping and buying a single chocolate orange (a week's worth of wages) to be divided amongst his family and children.
Meanwhile, on the opposing side of town, Loki sat in his preferred tavern, having preferred dinner and scanning over a newspaper before returning to his home. Loki kept the house quite dark. And cold. Dark and cold were cheap; thus, he liked it.
As Loki approached the door, a voice called out
"Mr. Laufeyson!" The beautiful maiden from the house next door called to him. Loki bit his tongue. He had been hoping to make it into his home unseen, unknown. But this bright glimmer of a woman had seen him. Eleanor Robinson. A woman like no other that Loki had ever known. A schoolteacher, sharp as a whip, incredibly clever and good natured. Everything he wasn’t. And like a moth to flame, Loki found himself drawn to her, but knew he was completely undeserving of something so wonderful as her. She had a beautiful face, with sapphire blue eyes, long dark hair, and rubenesque figure, she was truly lovely.
"How are you this evening?" she asked him, ever the pleasant conversationalist
"Quite tired actually. I look forward to retiring to my solitary chambers." Loki answered. Trying hard not to be the usual cold self he was.
"Oh, I completely understand! I actually just stepped out for a little fresh air and solitude. My family all arrived from the country yesterday. My brothers, sisters. Nieces, nephews. Thank goodness my.parents house is enormous or I'd fear I'd had to be sleeping in the broom cupboard."
"Yes and then where would your husband sleep?" Loki had meant to honestly be a little cruel with his comment. But this woman who radiated positivity had him smiling, something he had long thought himself incapable of doing. But now, her cheery expression turned glim.
"I'm afraid...I've never been married. I was to be betrothed to the son of an associate of my father's, but he moved to France and then with my parents passing..." she trailed off and in a moment the light returned to her face. "Anyways! Here I am blathering on. I know you wish to retire. Will you be visiting your family for Christmas?"
Even Loki could not be so heartless to break this woman’s spirit with his distaste of Christmas. So instead he cleared his throat and shook his head "No, actually. No plans."
“My goodness! Then you'll have to join me and my family! No one should be alone on Christmas!” She insisted.
“No thank you, truly. But I much prefer my solitude.” he replied.
“Well, alright. But the invitation stands, should you reconsider. Goodnight Mr Laufeyson.” Eleanor wrapped herself in her shawl, then went back into home, laughter and music pouring out of the door before shutting again. Once again leaving Loki alone in the cold and the dark.
“Goodnight Eleanor.” he said quietly to himself.
And with that those two souls had returned to their households. One full of laughter and love. The other devoid of all noise and light. But as Loki reached for his keys, he noticed the knocker. It seemed as standard as any other night. But in the light of the moon, Loki could swear the knocker began to change shape
The handle on it formed into the shape of a jaw. And the intricate design became a head. And soon Loki found himself looking into the eyes of his once partner, Obadiah Stane.
"S...Stane?" The knocker did not speak. But instead let out a loud, low groan that Loki could have sworn woke the dead. Loki stumbled back on the steps but in the blink of his eyes, the knocker was returned to normal.
Loki breathed heavy before righting himself. Steeling himself once again. "Humbug." He muttered. Convincing that what had just occurred was no more than a trick of the light and of an overworked mind.
But when Loki did enter his home, he took great care in checking the other side of the door, but finding nothing. Loki then carefully examined every room in household; again finding nothing,. He retired to his study with a glass of his favourite brandy. Sat by a roaring fire, loki soon began to hear bells chime out, marking the midnight hour.
"Merry Christmas indeed." He said to no one. But his response was the rattle of chains. Followed by heavy footsteps coming towards his room.
Loki quickly jumped from his chair, reacher for his rapier, hands shaking he stood his ground
"Show yourself intruder!" And at his words, a specter came through his deadolted and double locked door. And stood in his room. The tall, stiff, stature of his former partner now occupied a space where it had stood many times before. But instead of the solid form, a transparent body, wrapped in chains and on those chains were heavy bank boxes. When he stepped, each one rattled with the sound of coins against each other, like bones in a skeleton.
“Who…who are you?” Loki asked, holding steady and scarcely believing his eyes.
“Ask not I am. But who I was.” The figure spoke, in a voice low and dark.
“Who were you?”
“In Life, I was your partner, Obadiah Stane. Do you see? Do you believe?” the visitor accused.
“I see, but I do not believe.” Loki said
“Why do you doubt your own senses?” the specter questioned.
“Because they are so easily fooled and manipulated. You might be nothing but a crumb of undigested beef, or a crumb of cheese, or a swig of scotch. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you!” Loki was almost never one for jokes, but in a moment of sheer terror, he had nothing left but his humor. But in result, the apparition let out another wail and rattled the chains with such an unearthly sound that Loki dropped to his knees, clutching his hands as if in prayer. “Mercy, please! Spirit, why do you walk the earth? And of all men, why come to me?”
“It is the requirement of everyman, that while living, his spirit within him should walk abroad with his fellow man. But if his spirit does not, it must do so in death. Doomed to walk through the earth and witness what it cannot obtain while in death, but might have on earth. Happiness.” Again, the spirit let out a low wail, rattling his chains and clenching its fists.
“Spirit, Stane, why do you carry such heavy chains?
“I forged them in life. Link by link. Yard by Yard. Through my sins, my misdeeds, my misgivings. For my treatment towards my fellow men. My spirit never went beyond our business, and my self never showed any kindness towards man, particularly our ever faithful clerk, Anthony Stark. And now you forge chains heavier than mine own!”
“Spirit, please! Speak comfort to me!” Loki pleaded.
“I have none to give” Obadiah’s ghost replied.
“But surely there is a way these chains might be lessened, or lifted completely.”
“My time grows short. Hear these words Laufeyson.”
“I hear you.” Loki affirmed.
“There is not light to my penance. I am here to warn you of my own volition. Of your once chance and hope of escaping my fate. Tonight you shall be visited by four spirits.”
“I ...would rather not…”
“Without these spirits, you cannot hope to shun the path I walk. Expect the first ghost when the bell tolls one!”
“Can’t I have them all at once and get it over with?”
“Expect the second at the stroke of 2, and the 3rd at the strike of 3! Now gaze upon me no longer!” And in a flash of light, the ghost of his former partner was gone. With merely the echo of ‘When the bell tolls one’ ringing through his bedchambers. Loki hastened to his feet, walking around the room, examining where the ghost had stood but finding no residual evidence of what had just occurred. Loki walked to his door and saw that it was indeed double locked and deadbolted as he had thought. As the fire in his fireplace turned to ashes and embers, Loki returned to his bed. He tried to let out another “Humbug” but had only spoken one syllable when his head hit the pillow, and fell asleep in an instant.
#Christmas#A Christmas Carol#Loki#Marvel#Tony Stark#Thor#Clint Barton#natasha romanoff#Steve Rogers#Bucky Barnes#Bruce Banner#Thanos
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Action vérité : si tu pouvais avoir une relation avec n’importe quelle célébrité, ce serait qui
Moi, immédiatement : Tom Hiddleston
Ma meilleure amie en même temps : bah ce serait Tom Hiddleston évidemment
Un pote : c’était raPIDE
Moi :
#wolfie made a statement#tom hiddleston#me and my best friend#ça fait longtemps que j'ai pas parlé de tom#i love him
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Is This Seat Taken?
This is a Tom Hiddleston/original female character fanfiction written by me. This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, and the first time I’ve ever publicly shared my writing.
Tessa Alpin is a university Theology professor who moved to a new city in the last few years to avoid dealing with the sudden tragic death of her late husband. She lives with her gay male friend/roommate, but has few (if any) other close friendships. She is working on a writing project at a busy local cafe when she meets someone she didn't expect. He is curious about her writing - although truthfully, even more curious about her - so he invites her to dinner.
She sat at an outdoor table in a noisy, crowded coffee shop, ignoring all the chaos and voices surrounding her. She tapped the end of the pencil absentmindedly on the page of the yellow legal pad held in front of her, other pages of notes scattered about the table top, some crumpled, some smooth, others held down by empty coffee cups. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice him approach.
“Is this seat taken?”
Tessa jumped and glanced up at the voice, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun. It didn’t help. All she could see is a tall, slim silhouette. She glanced around the busy patio. Standing room only, it seemed, except for the one empty chair across from her.
“Sure,” she said, gathering handfuls of paper and stuffing them into her bag. “Sorry, let me get some of this mess out of your way.”
“It’s no trouble,” the softly accented voice said, as he moved around the chair to sit. “What are you writing?”
Oh, great, she thought, small talk. “Oh, nothing, really,” she said aloud. “It’s just bits of screenplays I’ve been working on for years. Nothing terribly interesting.” She still couldn’t see his face for the glare of the sun off of a parked car somewhere behind him. She bent over the legal pad again, hoping the small talk was over and he would simply drink his beverage and leave.
“It sounds interesting to me,” he said. “What are they about?”
“Ah. Well, they’re based off of Norse mythology mostly.” She chuckled self-deprecatingly. “You probably don’t even know what that is. Sorry, I’m kind of a nerd.”
“Actually, I do know a little about that mythology. Is there any part in particular you have interest in?” He took a sip of his drink and shifted slightly in his chair, but not enough that she could see his face clearly. He was casually dressed in jeans and a hoodie, but that’s all she could really see of him.
Tessa put down her pen, hiding a small sigh. Usually when people said they knew the Norse stories, they were referring to the Marvel movies with Thor and Loki that came out a few years ago, which were delightful as far as cinematics go, but really not anything like the actual stories that were translated from the Eddas. But it was obvious that the gentleman across from her was feeling chatty and that she wasn’t going to get any more work done for moment. British, she thought, his accent is British. I think.
“All of it, really. I started writing these when the Marvel movies were hitting theatres. Those movies, while they were really good movies and very well casted, really had nothing to do with what we actually know of the Norse beliefs and stories. I guess I always dreamed of telling those stories a little more authentically, if not as flamboyantly as Hollywood would do it.”
He chuckled at that. “Fair enough,” he said. “I agree with what you said. I’ve learned a fair amount about the stories too in the last while. I’d love to read what you’ve written sometime.”
She demurred, embarrassed. “Oh, no,” she said, blushing. “It’s really just for my own fun. No one needs to waste their time trying to read my chicken scratch.”
Just then, a large bus stopped on the street beside the patio, blocking the glare off the vehicle window across the street. She could finally see his features, a ball cap hiding reddish brown curls and shading his sapphire blue eyes. Across the table from her, smirking slightly, sat Tom Hiddleston.
“Oh, no,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry – I couldn’t see your face for the sun – I didn’t mean…” Blushing profusely, she took a deep breath. “Honestly, I meant no offence. You were wonderful in the Marvel series.” She wanted to crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.
He was grinning broadly now. “Thank you,” he said politely. “Although I must say, I still agree with you that the stories they told were nothing like what was translated from the Eddas. Which might be a good thing, really, in some ways. At least I didn’t have to tie my testicles to a goat’s beard.”
In spite of herself, she laughed. He did know some of the stories at least. “I see your point, that might have been….uncomfortable for you.”
Still smiling, he gave her an inscrutable look. “I have somewhere I need to be shortly, but I really would be interested in hearing more about your work.” He held up his hand as she tried to object. “Perhaps we could discuss it further over dinner? Say, tomorrow around 7? I haven’t your address so I’ll pick you up here?”
Speechless, she nodded. He smiled at her again and walked away.
***
Chas looked up from the paper he was reading as she closed the apartment door behind her. “What happened to you?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been beaten with a loaf of bread.”
She smiled at his unique analogy. He always had the most outrageous way with words. It was one reason they had become friends a number of years ago.
“I think I might have been,” she admitted. “Actually, I think I have a date tomorrow night, and you’ll never guess with who.”
“Oooh, I love it when stories start this way!” Chas tossed down the paper and bounced excitedly on the sofa, patting the seat beside him, indicating for her to sit. “And it must be some story if it ends up with you accepting a date. So, tell me all about this mysterious and alluring stranger.”
Briefly, she told Chas about the encounter she’d had with Tom at the coffee shop. He laughed aloud when she told him exactly who it was she’d met.
“Oh, Tess, leave it to you to try to chase off a would-be suitor with your imperious knowledge of all things nerdy,” he said, breathless with laughter. “Only to have the suitor be Tom Hiddleston himself!” Chas erupted into another fit of laughter, wiping his eyes.
“I really don’t know how you find this so funny,” she smiled. “Now I have to go for dinner with him and talk about my work! You know I never really meant for anyone to read them! I barely let you read them!”
Chas sobered up a little at that. “I think it’s an amazing chance, honestly. Who better to critique your work than the man who played Loki himself?” He grinned again. “And when movies based on your screenplays premiere in Hollywood in a few years, you can invite me! I promise I won’t show you up on the red carpet. Well, I’ll try not to anyway,” he said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of the sleeve of his patterned purple dress shirt. With Chas’s colorful personality and dress, he’d have to try really hard to not show up everyone there, she thought.
“That’s not going to happen!” she said, feigning outrage at the idea. “I mean, if it did, of course I’d take you, but - !” Fidgeting, she stood up and started tidying the already spotless table. “My plays are nothing but a barely cohesive collection of vague ideas. They’re not ready to be read, never mind by someone I don’t even know!”
“Bah!” Chas dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Your ideas are amazing! And if he doesn’t see that, he’s a no-talent nobody and doesn’t deserve your time.”
“Chas!”
Chas walked over and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I’m serious, Tessa, you have real talent, and it shows in those plays. I think this is absolutely the fox’s fish, that they’ll be read by someone who actually works in the industry. Who knows where it could go from there?” he said, exaggeratedly shrugging his shoulders. “Now, get your things, we’re going shopping.”
“We are?”
“Well, of course we are darling, you need something to wear for your date!”
***
Sitting on the patio of the café the next evening, she felt awkward and overdressed. Her auburn hair was pulled into an elegant chignon, and Chas had helped her settle on a fitted black dress with lace on the shoulders and an open back. Over that she wore a soft grey knit shawl with tiny rainbow colored beads dripping from the bottom. Gods, how she hated being out of her comfort zone like this! He likely forgot as soon as he walked away, she thought grumpily. He’ll never show up. She was at the same time hopeful and worried that he wouldn’t.
“You really need to stop glowering,” said Chas over his latte. “You’re curdling the steamed milk.” He took a sip. “You know, most people would be thrilled to be in your shoes tonight. I certainly would.”
She sighed and tried to relax slightly. It didn’t work. “This is silly, Chas. Why am I here? You know I don’t date. He likely won’t even show….”
Her words trailed off as an expensive looking vehicle pulled up to the curb. The rear door opened and a tall, well-dressed man got out.
“That’s my cue,” Chas murmured, standing up and walking into the café. “Do try to have some fun tonight, would you? For me?”
Tessa barely heard him. I can’t believe this is happening! She thought, her mouth dry with something approaching panic.
Tom walked over to where she was standing and smiled. “You look lovely,” he said. A small crowd was beginning to gather, excitedly whispering to each other. A camera flashed behind him, blinding her momentarily.
He saw her blink and offered his arm to her. “My apologies,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m afraid this is somewhat of a hazard of being seen in public with me. Shall we?”
She ducked her head, suddenly feeling shy, and let him lead her to the car. At the curb she looked back into the restaurant, suddenly wishing Chas were coming with them. She felt completely out of her element. He saw her looking and waggled his fingers at them, grinning. Stupid! She berated herself. Since when do you need Chas to hold your hand? Or anyone for that matter?
Tom followed her glance inquisitively. He saw Chas waving and waved back, then opened the car door for her. Several more camera flashes went off as she slid into the dark interior, and Tom followed. “A friend of yours I assume? He looks charming.”
“Chas is my best friend and roommate,” she said. “We met at a writing event a few years ago, just after…that is, shortly after I began working at the university.” She looked out the window at the passing scenery, trying to compose herself.
Tom was silent for a moment as he watched her, then laughed. “I’m truly embarrassed to say so, but I do believe I quite forgot to ask your name yesterday. Tom Hiddleston, at your service,” he held out his hand, his eyes twinkling with humour.
Tessa took his offered hand. “Tessa Alpin,” she said.
“Utterly charmed,” he whispered, kissing the back of her hand lightly. She blushed again and took her hand back. I haven’t blushed this much in literally years! She thought, upset with herself. What am I, fifteen again? Try not to make an absolute fool of yourself, Tessa.
***
The restaurant was a small upscale place on the west side of the city overlooking the water. Tessa had never been anywhere quite so fancy before. She let the staff take her shawl before they were shown to a table near the windows. The city lights spread along the water’s edge to either side of them as the sun dipped low across the water. The first few stars were beginning to make their appearance in the sky.
“What a view,” she commented, suddenly nervous as he held her chair for her.
Tom smiled at her. “Indeed it is,” he said warmly, looking at her rather than out the window. She felt her cheeks warm again.
Tom selected a wine for them and they ordered their meals. He was an attentive date, charming and funny, and despite herself Tessa began to relax. They talked and laughed about many things as they ate their delicious meals. As their plates were being unobtrusively cleared away, an easy silence settled between them.
Darkness had fallen outside the windows, at least, as near to darkness as the city ever saw. “Tell me about yourself, Tessa,” Tom asked. “Have you always lived here?”
A shadow crossed her features briefly. “No, I only moved here after…a few years ago,” she said. “When I was offered a job writing for the university here.” Don’t think of before, Tessa. All that matters is now. ”It’s beautiful here though, and I try to make it out into the mountains at least a few times a year.”
“Yes, I love the area,” Tom said. “I haven’t spent much time here so far, but there’s a lot here to keep me coming back.” He smiled slightly and leaned back in his chair. “You know, skiing and surfing and, perhaps the coffee…”
She laughed. “Perhaps,” she agreed.
“Do you have family in the area as well?”
There it was. The question she’d been dreading all evening. The one that made her avoid letting people close. Chas was the only person in her new life who knew all the details of the old.
“Not nearby, no,” she wished she could leave it at that. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have twin sons, both in college. They chose to stay when I moved here rather than change schools and leave their friends.” It had been a hard decision, for all three of them, when she had chosen to accept this job and move halfway across the country.
“It must have been hard for you to leave them,” Tom said softly. “What of their father?”
“He passed.”
Tom was quiet for a moment. She waited for the awkward platitudes that always followed that admission, the looks of pity, the empty sympathy as people shied away from the less beautiful parts of life. “You have such strength,” he said finally. Surprised, she looked up. “You were dealt a terrible hand, no doubt about that. Yet you chose to move to a brand new place, away from everything familiar, and build anew. If that’s not strength, what is?”
She thought about his words for a moment. To her it always felt more like cowardice, not strength, that found her running away from all of the dreams that had been shattered with a single phone call. Even if she had found new dreams when she got here.
The band shifted into a slower song, and Tom stood. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to her.
How could she refuse? He’d been so charming all evening, the perfect gentleman. She stood and took his hand and they walked onto the dance floor. As she moved into his arms, she became aware of how small her hand felt in his large one, his other hand resting lightly at the small of her back. And he was so tall! The soft hair of his carefully trimmed beard brushed her temple as they swayed gently to the music. Tessa found it hard to think of anything but his presence with him so close. She wasn’t sure she appreciated the sensation.
The song ended and they made their way back to their table. Tessa found herself relieved at the physical distance across the table. She tried to put her thoughts back in order as Tom ordered coffees for them.
“So you’ve said you work at the university here. Do you teach?”
“Yes,” she answered, grateful for the safety of the topic. “I teach modern theology.”
“Modern theology, like religion?” Tom asked.
“Mmm, well, kind of?” Tessa thought how best to describe it. “It’s not that I’m teaching how or what to believe as far as religion goes, it’s more like comparing the differences and similarities of various religions around the world and throughout the ages. Where did they come from and why might a group of people have believed what they did, and where those beliefs may have come from.”
“So almost world history in a way, too. Fascinating. That must be where the interest in the Norse comes from. How did you become interested in screenwriting?”
She smiled a little. “Well that’s a relatively new thing. I’ve always loved theatre, and I’ve written books and dissertations and articles over the years for various topics. When I moved here and I didn’t know anyone I found myself with a lot of free hours to fill and decided to see if I could combine the two.” She grinned into her coffee. “And Thor had just come out and the world was wild about it. It gave me the idea for where to start.”
Tom chuckled. “Always happy to help. I really hope you’ll let me read some of it one day.”
“I never really meant for anyone to read them, to be honest, I mean I’ve hardly let Chas read much of it, unless I get really stuck and need a different viewpoint. It’s just a personal project to fill the hours. Although if you’re really interested maybe I can email you a few scenes. I can’t promise any of it will make sense though!”
Tom threw back his head and laughed. Gods, what a beautiful man, she thought, then mentally shook herself. Stop that, Tessa, that’s not what you need to be thinking about.
“I would, I really would like to read it, if you’re willing to share. So you just haunt random coffee shops and make a mess on their tables to work? Don’t you have an office?” His eyes twinkled as he teased her.
“I don’t like the quiet,” she said. “It gets too loud and I can’t think. I do my best work surrounded by that kind of chaos.”
“I can understand that. Do you often get harassed by curious strangers that ask too many questions?” He favoured her with a mischievous grin.
Tessa laughed. It felt good to laugh, she decided. She hadn’t done enough of it lately. “Not often,” she admitted. “And usually when I do I just ‘scare them off with all things nerdy’ as Chas puts it.”
That made him laugh again. “Your friend Chas sounds like a very interesting person. I should like to meet him someday. Seriously though, that does work. People seem to be terrified of intelligence these days. It’s unfortunate.”
“People are afraid of anything that might make them stand out from the crowd. If you’re seen as smart, you could also be seen as dumb. So if they fly under the radar, so to speak, and aren’t seen as either smart or dumb, they feel safer. At least that’s my observation.”
“A very valid point. Although, a very sorry state the world is in, when average is seen as the best thing to strive for.” Tom glanced out the window, seeming almost sad for a moment. “’When we are born, we cry, that we are come to this great stage of fools…’” He turned back to Tessa. “Do you fancy a walk along the water? We need not go far if you’re tired.”
“Sure,” said Tessa, smiling at his quote from Shakespeare’s King Lear.
The restaurant staff brought her shawl as Tom settled the bill and they left the restaurant. Again, Tom offered her his arm. Together they walked, quietly, each enjoying the night, their own thoughts and each other’s presence. They wandered to the end of the pier where they stopped, looking out over the calm, moonlit ocean.
“Thank you for agreeing to dinner with me tonight, Tessa,” said Tom, turning towards her slightly. “Believe it or not, it isn’t every day that I pick up intelligent, attractive women from coffee shops.”
She laughed quietly. “Well it’s not every day that I get that sort of offer, or would accept. Not that you gave me much chance to say no.” He grinned sheepishly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Especially by men like you,” she finished quietly.
Tessa felt, more than saw, him flip in and out of his Marvel persona. “There are no other men like me,” he said, quoting his character, Loki.
They laughed together. “That’s a kind of magic itself, how you are able do that. Amazing!”
Hand in hand they began walking back to the car. All the way to her apartment Tom regaled her with anecdotes of life on the set. They were still laughing when the car pulled to a stop outside her building. He stepped out of the vehicle and held out his hand to assist her.
Tom offered his arm to her again as they walked to the door of the apartment she shared with Chas. As they stopped outside, Tessa turned to face him, suddenly nervous again. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Tom,” she began, then stopped, having no idea what to say next.
“As did I, Tessa,” said Tom, taking her hands. “I have to fly out tomorrow afternoon, but I’m back in a couple of weeks. I’d really like to see you again. Would it be okay if I called you?”
She wanted to say no. She knew it would only lead her to more heartache if she said yes. It’s why she avoided dating in the first place. Besides, he was Tom Hiddleston, a gorgeous, talented, A-list actor who could probably have almost any woman in the world with only a devilish smile and a crook of his finger. She was a widow with two grown children and a lot of baggage. There was no way this could go anywhere. She opened her mouth to tell him so.
“I’d like that,” she said, surprising herself.
Tom’s smile was like the sun splitting the clouds. She couldn’t help but smile back. He leaned down brushed her lips with his, ever so gently.
Tessa felt a million different things at once. She felt on fire, although the night air surrounding them was cool. She felt lightheaded, and thought she might fall if he let go of her hands. She felt other things too, and was trying to ignore them.
He pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes dark. He bit his lower lip then moistened his lips with his tongue, as if he were still trying to taste her there. “Good night, Tessa,” Tom murmured.
“Good night,” she whispered back, unable to find her voice. She watched him walk slowly away. As he opened the door to his car he turned and blew her a kiss.
Tessa pulled out her keys, then leaned her forehead against the door for a moment, feeling completely off balance. Please let Chas be asleep, she thought, then unlocked the door and went in.
#fanfiction#tom hiddleston#original female character#first writing project#angst#tell me what you think
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14 minutes left to my lunch break...
Plus, I am able to get a hold of my dashboard from my desktop, too. So I might take advantage of this moment...
A growl of contempt escaped his throat after being faced with that memory. His face grew hot with shame. The feeling intensified, when he quietly assessed about which factor embarrassed him the most: his deplorable behavior towards Nasira or the crystal-clear picture of how far gone he was while on the Wept.
Eric came to a stop, when he stood in front of the bench that was behind her. He was close enough to reach out and touch her, which was an urge that he was beating down. Instead, he kept his hands to himself and he just gazed down at her.
“Nass…” He paused. The lump in his throat expanded, making it difficult for him to speak. A warbled, light titter fell passed his lips but it reflected his uneasiness rather than his joy. “N-Nass…” The stinging from his eyes made the former faction leader to look away. “…I’m sorry.” A gruff exhalation left his nose and his jaw was barely restraining the chattering. “Y-You… I shh-should-shouldn’t b-b-bah-be able to even ask f-for forgiveness-ss-sss.” His right hand clutched his left hand and he proceeded to squeeze. Pain, to distract him from the thoughts that roamed in his head. He needed to gain control of himself. He closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath. The chattering from his jaw lessened. “I’ve had hurt you,” he declared before opening his eyes. He gazed down at her. “I had hurt you, Nasira and… I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you and what I’ve said to you… I’m so-fuckin’ sorry for everything that I’ve done! You’re a… got-damned saint for puttin’ up with me and my shit. I should be fuckin’…” He tried to figure out the right words to say; to let her know that she was worthy and deserved better. He grew flustered. He began to stammer out syllables and fractured words. “…I-I-I should be… Kissing your feet and building…” An insecure giggle fell from him. “…you altars all through Chicago, for being the woman that you are!” He released a few shuddering breaths. “I’ve treated you wrong. I’ve treated you in a way that you’ve didn’t deserve. I didn’t…” His head slightly bowed forward. His fingers reached up to his face and collected the spent tears that were soiling his cheeks. Once his cheeks were dry, he lifted his head back up. “I… Should’ve been protect…”
The impending words that were about to fly out of his mouth abruptly died. They were forgotten. Eric didn’t allow Nasira’s hands to reach for her face. He didn’t allow a tear to land on any of her palms. Quick reflexes and even quicker feet allowed the remorseful man to scoop her up. His arms carried her ample body and keep her in his embrace. He felt her fingers snatch up the collar of his shirt as her face tucked itself into the nape of his neck. He listened to her body-shaking sobs and felt her heated tears decorate his skin.
“Nass, I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry.” He nuzzled the puffy cloud of sweet-smelling curls. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Just a sneak peak. Hopefully, it will be posted tomorrow afternoon. I'll keep you guys in the know.
@dauntlessmetalmama
@frecklefacedb
@sparklemichele
@singingpeople
@captstefbrandt
@kenzieam
@oddsnendsfanfics @hiddleston-88
@virgosapphire79 @equalstrashflavoredtrash @beautifulramblingbrains @readsalot79
@jaihardy
#just a sneak peak#possibly tomorrow#waiting in the void#a divergent fanfic#a divergent a/u fanfic#eric coulter#eric/oc#Eric and Nasira
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“Iron Lady” - [Jeremy Irons / Tom Hiddleston - Multi-chapter].
Summary: Widower Jeremy, falls for and marries his son’s friend despite tripling her age. And just a few years later, his health problems and the return of his best friend, Tom, to London, make him doubt his marriage and wonder if his wife would be better off with a younger man like his friend.
Chapter IV: “Berries”.
Previous chapter(s): 1.”Horses”. // 2.”Books”. // 3.”Wine”
Written by: A.Wölf.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How’s the Mrs.?” asked the lawyer while writing something down on his agenda instead of making eye contact with his client who had just taken a seat across from him in his office.
“Winning a bet at a horse race I’m sure”, Jeremy answered causing him to let out a chuckle.
“As it should be. How can I help you, Jeremy?”
He pulled an envelope from his coat and slid it across the desk before saying,
“I would like to make a few changes to my will”.
The lawyer finally stopped writing and opened it. But it wasn’t until he read its content that he, at last, glanced up at his client with a curious expression.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“Just being cautious, Sam”.
“Are you sure about this? I mean it’s an awful lot of money and-”
“Yes, I’m sure”, Jeremy answered cutting him off, “I’m not getting any younger”.
The lawyer gave a slight shrug.
“As you wish”, he said moving files and papers around, “I’ll make the changes and call you in a few days so you can revise them and sign”.
Jeremy opened the fridge to pour himself a glass of orange juice and quench his thirst after the difficult morning jog. The chest massage seemed to dull the pain but he kept on going at a slower pace nevertheless.
He walked into the study and looked at the envelope he had shown his lawyer, Sam, a few days before, and realized that it was careless of him to leave it like that on his desk, so he took it and ripped it to shreds.
He went upstairs and into the bedroom before kneeling on the bed and crawling on top of his wife, who stirred once she felt the mattress shift under his weight. He pressed his lips to her neck.
“Why are you all sweaty?” she mumbled trying to keep her eyes shut to catch up on a comfortable sleep after spending the night on the couch.
“I went for a jog”, Jeremy purred against her skin.
She was wide awake now.
“A jog? After last night? Are you insane, Jeremy?”
“Bah!” He exclaimed leaving another kiss on her neck.
“Stop”, she ordered while putting her hand on his chest to force him to pull away and look her in the eye, “You need to take care of yourself”.
“Which is why I went jogging. Darling, I woke up and felt just fine… I thought you’d be happy”.
“I am but-”
“Enough. I give the orders in this house”, he said in a playful tone to lighten the mood.
“Is that so?”
Jeremy captured her lips with his and spoke again.
“Have breakfast with me”.
“Someone’s in a good mood…”
“Someone is keeping his promise. Just you and me remember?
“Where?”
“Dix-Huit?”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m afraid that’s in Paris, sir. We’re in London”.
“What are helicopters for?”
“What time do we leave?” she asked with a grin.
“I have a few errands to run before”.
“I can get ready in the meantime”.
“Then I’ll come and get you in a few hours”.
Jeremy pecked her on the lips, got off the bed, heading towards the shower but looked back at her.
“And while we’re in Paris… you could look for a new dress if you want”.
“A dress?”
“We’ve been invited to a party next weekend”.
She was enjoying some alone time in the city and decided to visit the bookstore.
She took her time, going through every title on a specific genre shelf until she picked out one, but a familiar face caught her attention.
“Tom?” she asked with a friendly smile.
He glanced up from the book in his hands and as soon as he recognized her, he snapped it shut and walked towards her.
“How are you? How’s everything?” he asked after greeting her with a hug.
“Good… good. Jeremy’s doing much better actually. We just came back from Paris. We stayed there a couple days”.
“Paris. Right. Yeah”.
She furrowed her eyebrows and cocked her head.
“You knew?”
Tom seemed nervous all of a sudden.
“Uh… he told me about it. It was a surprise so…” He pretended to zip his lips, and rushed to change the subject, “I’m glad to hear he’s doing better”.
She nodded, and silence started to take over but Tom felt the urge to fill it.
“You’re coming to my party tomorrow night I hope?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Tom grinned but there was silence again and she was the one to end it this time.
“Well… I should probably get going”.
Tom put his right hand in his pocket, still holding the book against his chest with his left one while he glanced at the floor.
“I… uh…” he started, “I’m going to the coffee shop across the street. Would you like to come with me?”
She stared into his blue eyes for several seconds. There was something about the idea of being alone with Tom that made her feel things she couldn’t describe. But before she could answer, her phone buzzed in her purse startling her, and as she delved in it, the book fell off her hands. The phone stopped ringing as Tom knelt to pick it up and as he rose, she remembered her first encounter with her husband.
Tom handed her the book and when she took it, their fingers brushed and she couldn’t help but wonder why history seemed to be repeating itself and making her weak at the knees. Both were still holding the book.
“Thank you”, she said out of breath even though she was standing still.
Tom gazed at her, and without thinking, he gently pulled the book causing her to get even closer to him for she hadn’t let go either. He slowly leaned in until his lips touched hers and he kissed her tenderly, tasting her for the first time. In the back of her mind, she knew she had to stop it but instead, she felt drawn to him. Regardless, as soon as he put his free hand on her waist to deepen the kiss, she snapped out her daze and pulled away.
Tom showed a slight frown as he kept on staring at her lips mystified.
“You taste like berries…” he breathed out nervously, more to himself than to her, not knowing what else to say and feeling like a teenager kissing for the first time.
“It’s just the… lip b-”, she shut her eyes and shook her head feeling ridiculous, “I should go”.
She finally took a step back so Tom would remove his hand from her lower back, and he did so with a guilty look on his face.
“I’m sorry”, he murmured, “I shouldn’t have”.
“I’m sorry too. I don’t think attending your party might be such a good idea after all”, she whispered without making eye contact, but Tom waited until she did to speak.
“Please do. This wasn’t your fault”.
“I don’t know, Thomas”, she said before walking away.
“You look dashing”, Jeremy said standing behind his wife who sat before a mirror while applying mascara.
He kissed the top of her head and as he walked away, her smile faded and she just stared at her reflection in the mirror, feeling guilty even in that beautiful French dress because of the slight excitement and curiosity she felt over attending Tom’s party.
Next chapter will be posted on Friday (May 19th 2017. 5 pm PST).
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Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 12 | Merry Christmas Darling
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)
Summary: Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?
This chapter: The time has come for Tamra to go home, where do they go from here?
Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst
-
The final days of Tamra’s stay flew by and before Tom realized what was happening, he was standing in front of the Departures at Heathrow.
“Stay.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“Easy for the famous movie actor to say. I have a job to get back to you. Obligations.”
Tom wrapped her into his arms. “Quit. Come and live with me.” He kissed her forehead.
“You would hate me.”
“Never. I would never hate you.” He kissed her temple. “I love you.” He kissed her cheek. “I will miss you and I can’t sleep without you here.” He now kissed her nose. “Do you want to be the reason I look tired and old in photos?” He pecked her lips. “What will Luke say?” He kissed her deeply.
“Luke would say you’re full of shit and I would agree with him.”
“Traitor.” Tom said with a pout.
“I have to go. See you in three weeks?”
“Three weeks. I will be the guy running into your shoulder at the arrivals gate.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“But dear, I am a man of action.” He kissed a final time before Tamra left through the doors for her flight. Tom only let a single tear fall before returning home.
Next Christmas
The better part of the next year, Tom and Tamra spent on planes and Facetime calls. Tom insisted Luke book trips to the State as often as he could, leaving plenty of time for trips to Florida. Tamra surprised Tom in June with the news Victoria and Albert’s Museum offered her a position as an adjunct curator. It was a step down from her current position, but the chance to be together in the same city made it worth it.
Tom insisted she move in with him, over her protests that it would create contempt in the relationship. He whined about needing her near and after weeks of protesting, she capitulated. Now it was December and Tom stood in the living room pulling the lights out of a box while Tamra sat by watching with a bemused smile on her face at the mess.
“Darling, can you help me with the lights?” Tom asked as he held up the tangle of lights.
Tamra looked up from her book and rose with a huff. “Honestly, Thomas. Can you follow instructions? I told you what to do before I left last year.”
“Which I promptly forgot when I was struck with grief at my girlfriend up and leaving me.”
“To return to my job. Sit.” Tamra sat on the floor. She weaved the lights in and out, creating a single length.
“Abandoned me, really. It wrecked me for weeks.”
“Until you came to visit me in Florida.”
“Details.”
Tamra stood and began wrapping the tree. “Important details, twat. Now help.” Tamra handed him the end of the lights.
“Has Luke been teaching you new curse words? I don’t like the idea of the two of you spending so much time together. It’s bad for my health.”
“Perhaps. Who’s going to stop me? You and what army?” They wrapped the tree in record time.
Tom pulled her to his side of the tree, pressing her against his hips. “Oh, I have an army.”
Tamra giggled as he nipped at her neck. “Ornaments, Tom.” She pushed the box towards him with her foot.
“Boo. You steal all my fun.”
“You can have your fun after we decorate the tree.”
“Yes ma’am.” He saluted.
“I hate when you do that.”
“Which is why…” Tom flipped the lid off with a flair. “… I do it. Here.” he handed her the first ornament.
Tom and Tamra hung each ornament, Tamra directing where to hang each one.
“I know. I know. Balance.” Tom quipped as he moved another ornament what he thought to be millimeters.
“Oh so you can listen to me.” Tamra snarked as she dug through the box.
“When it suits me.” Tom snapped back. “What are you looking for?”
“My blue glass ornament.”
“It’s not in there?” Tom asked in mock shock. “Dig deeper, I am certain I put it in there last year.”
Tamra leaned over to dig deep into the box. Tom took off down towards the bedroom without her noticing, his socked feet padding against the floor as he ran. He returned with the ornament in his hand, his breath only slightly labored.
“It’s not in here, Tom—” he held the ornament out to her with a smile. Tamra snatched it away. “Why did you have it?”
“Must have rolled away.” He commented. He rocked back and forth on his feet, twisting his fingers in his grip. She noticed his nervous gestures but said nothing.
Tamra examined the ornament and noticed a gold band running around the middle. “This isn’t my ornament, Tom. Mine was plain.” She offered the ornament back.
Tom smiled as he took the ornament. “It is your ornament, I contacted the original artist this year and had her make a small modification.”
He twisted the ornament in his hands, taking care not to drop it.
“Why on earth would you have them make a modification?”
“So I could do this.”
Tom lowered down to the floor on one knee. He popped the clasp on the gold band to reveal a secret compartment. Inside sat a simple silver band with a single brilliant cut diamond.
Tamra’s hands trembled as she covered her mouth. Her eyes crinkled as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
“I want to share the rest of my days with you and only you. I love you and I am never making the mistake of letting you go ever again. Marry me?”
“Ye… yes!” Tamra choked out as she pulled Tom to his feet and kissed him through happy tears. He continued to peck at her lips, tears filling his own eyes. With trembling fingers on both their parts, Tom slipped the ring onto Tamra’s finger.
“I have a surprise for you too.” Tamra took off to the bedroom and came back with a small gift bag.
“It’s not even Christmas, darling.” Tom look at her with a confused face, brows worried as he inspected the small bag.
“Well, this present shouldn’t wait until Christmas.” Tamra’s eyes twinkled. “Unless… you want to wait.” She reached for the bag but Tom raised it out of reach.
“That’s unnecessary.” Tom pulled out the first item in the bag.
“A Christmas ornament. My, your Grinch sized heart has grown in a year.” He kissed her cheek.
“It’s not just any Christmas ornament.” Tamra took Tom’s hand and turned the bauble to reveal writing on the other side.
Baby’s First Christmas
Tom’s brows raised and his lips pulled into a thin line. “Um… thank you. I’m sure we get use of this one day.” he feigned excitement.
“Well… there is one other thing in the bag. Here let me hold this.” She took the ornament from his hand and Tom dug back into the bag.
He pulled out a small object. Tom turned it over in his hands several times, his hands trembling more and more with each turn.
“When did you find out?” his voice filled with tears.
“I took the test a few days ago. I have an appointment scheduled at the first of the year.”
“I’m going to be a father?!”
“Yes, you are.”
Both their eyes glistened with tears. They hugged and kissed before hanging the ornaments on the tree. They settled onto the couch, with Bobby at their feet. Tom gave his ears a scratch.
“Ready to have a little one around here, Bobby?” Tom asked. Bobby barked. “The man of the house approves.”
“Both of the men of the house approve.” Tamra quipped back.
They talked of names and furniture and plans for the rest of the night, before snuggling onto blankets under the couch, Tom spooning behind Tamra, hands firmly placed on her belly. Tom turned on Love Actually.
“Tom…” Tamra asked as she drifted off to sleep.
“Yes, my love.” Tom cooed back.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston imagine#tom hiddleston angst#tom hiddleston smut#bah hiddleston
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Bah Hiddleston | Chapter 7 | Snowball
A/N: This chapter was quite the bugaboo to get done. Shout out to @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie for being the best cheerleaders a frustrated writer could have!
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)
Summary: Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?
This Chapter: Tom makes his feelings know but does Tamra feel the same? And where do they go from here?
Warnings: Language for now, Grinchiness, eventual smut, talks of divorce
Word Count: 2339
Whole Enchilada Tag List- @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @hopelessromanticspoonie @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @jade10077 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77
Hiddles Tag List- @hiddlesbitch1 @drakesfiance @obtain-this-grain @unfortunatelyymuggle @theoneanna @too-cold-for-youhere @brucestephenbucky @vodka-and-some-sass @ladyblablabla @lokixme
Christmas Tag List- @mygreenmoleskine
Bah Hiddleston Tag List- @from-hel-i-with-love @darkprincessloki92 @skiddleskaddle @mishaandthebrits @villainousshakespeare @my-soccer-and-skijumping-blog @sabine-leo @julijah
Untaggables: @jumpxjess @sterwild
TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, JUST LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO A LIST!!
-
As Tom pressed Tamra against him, electric shocks traveled from his lips to his toes. Tamra’s other hand moved to the back on Tom’s head, tangling in his ginger locks along the nape of his neck. He tasted of chocolate and mint. They sighed against each other and parted. Tom panted as he pushed his forehead against hers.
“Um…” Tamra panted as she twirled Tom’s hair in her fingers. “That was…”
“Yeah… ah.. so…” Tom stood up straight, searching her face for a smile, a wink, something to show him she returned his feelings.
“Um… so… you kissed me.” Tamra asked, pushing away to face Tom head on. She stood emotionless, her face a mask of all emotion.
“I did.” Tom flushed as he started to pull away, wringing his hands in front of him.
“Why?” she questioned.
“I did say I was a man of action.” Tamra’s face remained unmoved. The smile dropped from Tom’s face, and he felt a wave of guilt and embarrassment at the whole situation. He clearly read the room wrong. “We can just forget that ever—”
Tamra grabbed him and pulled him into another embrace. He returned the kiss and sighed against her and Tamra followed suit. Tom slipped his tongue in and Tamra moaned in his embrace. Their embrace grew more heated as Tom’s hand slid down from Tamra’s neck, past her shoulders, skimming her curves before lighting on her waist.
“So…” Tom panted as they parted. “You kissed me.” He stood confused.
“Yeah. I did.”
“Why, if I may ask?”
Tamra’s lips curled into a small smile. “You said you like a woman who takes charge. So… I took charge of the situation.” Her hands never left his neck.
His eyebrows rose as his mouth fell open. “I find myself lying awake at thinking about the next time I will see you. I can’t sleep. Hence the dark circles. It’s all your fault.”
Tamra giggled. “Are you blaming me for your lack of sleep?”
“Yes. You don’t know the effect you have on me.”
“And you… like you don’t know how ridiculously charming you are? I still hate Christmas but I can’t help but enjoy our time together.” Tamra huffed.
Tom smiled as he raised a hand to cup her cheek. “You think I’m charming?”
“You know you are. And handsome.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Tom smiled, raising now the other hand to cup Tamra’s other cheek.
“Did I say handsome? I meant incorrigible and ridiculous and… and…” Tamra stammered as her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an escape.
“Darling…” Tom whispered as he kissed her once again, this time tender. His thumbs ran across her cheeks. Her hands raked through his curls.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.
Tom opened his mouth, but his stomach growling stopped him from speaking.
“First, we need to eat some dinner. We skipped lunch. Again.”
Tamra rolled her eyes until her stomach growled. She pulled her arms around her midsection, willing her stomach to cease its loud yawing. Tom laughed.
“And then…”
“And then…” he gave a quick peck to her lips. “Whatever we want.
Tom led Tamra to the kitchen where he fished out a small collection of takeaway menus.
“So I was right about not cooking.”
“Guilty as charged. Pick a menu.”
Tamra shook her head. “You pick. I trust you.”
“A horrible choice.”
They spent the rest of the evening eating, watching movies on the couch and snuggling under the blankets. Tom yawned as Tamra clicked the movie.
“It’s late.” she commented about the hour. “You must be exhausted.”
She stood and turned to head to the guest room. Tom grabbed her wrist, preventing her exit.
“Stay with me tonight.”
She looked down at him. Her brow furrowed. “I am staying with you. We’re snowed in. Remember?”
Tom stood to meet her eyes. He released her wrists and laced his fingers with her. “No. I mean stay with me tonight. Not two doors down the hall. Not in the guest room. In my bed, next to me. I need you near me.”
Tamra chewed on her lower lip, considering the proposal. Tom dropped his chin and looked at her through his lashes, his eyes begging and pleading her to say yes. She gave his a hand a squeeze.
“Okay.”
He smiled and kissed her temple. “Thank you.”
Tom led her to the master bedroom, and they ended up buried under blankets and sheets. Tom sat up reading a script for a potential project. Tamra continues to read the book from the night before.
“Tom?” she asked in soft tones. He didn’t respond.
She turned to find him fast asleep, script slipping from his hand, his breath deep and even. Tamra went to his side of the bed and took the glasses from his face, placing them on the nightstand. She followed with the script, keeping his place. Finally, she cradled his head to lower the pillows flat. She brushed an errant curl from his forehead and press her lips to Tom’s forehead.
“Goodnight Tom.”
Tom rolled onto his side as she clicked the lamp off. “Goodnight darling.”
-
Tom awoke the next morning to find himself snuggled against Tamra’s back, arms wrapped around her. Tom hummed and sighed as he enjoyed the weight and warmth against his chest. He felt at peace and for the first time in days, refreshed. His alarm disrupted the blissful moment, and he turned to shut the sound off before it woke Tamra.
With much reluctance, Tom rolled out of bed and dressed for his walk. He fed Bobby and headed out the door after leaving a note in case Tamra woke up before he returned. On his run, his mind raced through everything that transpired over the past several days. He panicked for a moment at what would happen after the holidays ended and Tamra needed to leave but he pushed that troubling thought away for the time being. Tom returned and found Tamra still asleep. He headed to the shower.
-
“Now that is a sight I could get used to in the morning.” Tamra commented as Tom stepped out from the bathroom, his towel slung low on his waist.
Tom chuckled. “I agree 100%.” He leaned to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “A lovely, beautiful woman in my bed. Smiling up at me. You spoil me.”
Tamra moved so Tom could take a seat next to her.
“What do you want to do? Which museum today?”
Tamra thought about the day ahead. “Why don’t we skip the museums for a day? You pick.”
Tom’s eyes lit up. “I know just the thing but first we need you to get dressed and go by your flat to pick up some clothes for you because you can’t wear my shirt outside.”
“But I make this look good.”
Tom kissed her, pulling her down on top of him. “You do.” he pecked her lips once, twice, three times. “But it is not suitable for snow. Would you settle for a borrowed hat, scarf, and gloves?”
“Fine.” Tamra stood. “Let me get dressed.” She left the room.
“You could use the bathroom in here!” He yelled in the general direction of the hallway.
“But it smells like boy!” a disembodied voice yelled back.
Tom took Bobby out to the backyard to run around in the accumulated snow. Bobby bounded through the thick blanket of white with balls of snow gathering on his fur, making him resemble a pom-pom monster.
“What a mess, boy.” Tom scolded as he brushed as much snow off of Bobby’s coat.
Bobby barked as if in agreement. Tom smiled as he petted Bobby’s back. “What do you think about Tamra? Is she a keeper?”
Bobby barked again and jumped into Tom’s chest, rocking him back and almost off his feet. “Me too, boy. Me too.”
Tom headed into the house and found Tamra standing in the living room, spying out a nearby window.
“A little male bonding time?” she chuckled as Bobby bounded in ahead of Tom, jumping at Tamra’s legs.
“Something like that. He is quite taken with you.”
Tamra knelt down to scratch behind Bobby’s ears. “He is a sweetheart.” Tom’s smile reached his eyes as he looked down at the two of them. “Much like his owner.”
“A high compliment coming from you.” Tom grabbed her jacket. “Come on, let’s go.”
Tamra gave Bobby a final scratch and took off for the door. Bobby gave a whine as Tom and Tamra gave a wave on their way out.
-
They stopped by Tamra’s flat first, so she could change into some fresh clothes and put on the one pair of boots she brought with her. Tom packed her suitcase into the back of the car.
They stopped by for more pastry and coffee and then walked over to the nearby park.
“So what about your family?” Tom asked as they sipped coffee and navigated the icy path.
“What about them?”
“Well, you’re here and they’re not. At Christmas. Surely you are not an entire family of Scrooges.”
Tamra snorted. “No. You and my mother could compete for the Christmas spirit stick. Fully decked out trees, the tree up the day after Halloween. The whole works.” Her nose crinkled in an expression Tom now recognized as a sign of distaste.
“I can’t wait to meet her.” Tom bumped into her shoulder.
“I don’t think I could handle two Buddies in my life. You are bad enough on your own.”
Tom took a big sip of his coffee before taking her hand and leading her around a patch of black ice. “You don’t know what you are missing out on.”
“I’ll take my chances. What about your family? Are they bundles of boundless energy just like you?” She turned to see Tom throw his head back in laughter.
“Hardly. They are normal bundles of energy. And my sisters constantly remind me I am nothing special.”
He gave her hand a squeeze as they finished up their coffee. Tom grabbed Tamra empty cup and walked to a nearby trash can.
“Sounds like my kind of girls.”
“You are never meeting them. I would never survive the onslaught.” Tom commented over his shoulder.
He noticed Tamra’s back turned to watch a group of kids have a snowball fight. His eyes twinkled as his gaze darted to the fresh snow in front of him.
Splat!
“EEEK!” Tamra squealed as a snowball hit her square in the back. She whipped around to find Tom bent over in a fit of laughter.
He didn’t see the snowball until it landed on his shoulder, exploding into shards of white.
“Hey!” Tom’s eyes narrowed as he shot off towards Tamra. “You’ll pay for that!”
“Only if you catch me!” Tamra ran as Tom barreled towards her.
They both made hasty snowballs as they ran towards the center of the park. Their throws going wide as they continue chase, Tamra lobbing snowballs over her shoulder.
Tom’s running background comes into play and his long stride helped as he gained on Tamra.
“Gotcha!” he triumphed when he made it within arm’s reach of Tamra.
His fingers grazed her sleeve, and he gained purchase on Tamra’s wrist. He whipped his arm to snap Tamra back towards him. She pivoted to face him but her momentum sent her straight into Tom’s chest.
“Aah!” Tamra clambered as she and Tom tumbled into a deep bank of snow.
“Oof.” Tom’s breath left him as Tamra landed on top of him. His hands shot out to steady her. “Got you.”
Tamra smiled down at him and Tom brushed her now snow soaked hair out of her face to gaze into her hazel eyes.
“Truce?” he asked not letting up on his grip on her.
She leaned down and kissed him. He used his grip to pull her closer, not caring if anyone saw or that his coat soaked with snow. They parted. “Truce.”
Tamra pushed herself to standing and offered her hand to Tom. He took it and stood. Tamra wrapped her arms around Tom.
“Tom?”
“Yes, darling.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Have I ever told you…” she paused to look down at her boots. “… that I lie?”
Tom’s eyes widened as Tamra’s face grew into an evil smile and she shoved a hidden handful of snow down his shirt.
“OOoo!!” Tom jumped at the cold wet running down his back. His blue eyes flashed at Tamra and she took off running. “Never trick the trickster!”
“Loki can’t save you now!”
The two of them continued taunting and throwing snowballs until both of them were soaked to the bone and out of breath. They returned to the car, blasting the heat on the way back to Tom’s place.
“Brrr.” Tom exclaimed as he peeled his jacket off and then his sweater and shirt. “You fight dirty.”
Tamra stared as Tom stood shirtless and her pulse raced. “So do you.”
Tom took a step forward. Tamra shivered at the proximity of him. “You’re shivering.” He raised his hands to rub up and down her arms.
“Not helping.”
A whisper of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Does this help?” He tugged her into his chest.
His warmth bled through Tamra’s thin sweater. Her heart raced, and she felt Tom’s race and he pulled her into a passionate kiss. He huffed as he nipped at her lips. Tamra moaned against him. Their chests heaved as Tom pulled away, his bated breath fanning across her cheek.
“Better?” Tom whispered.
“A little.” Tamra whispered back. She stared into Tom’s eyes, his pupils blown and his lips hungry.
“How about a hot shower?” his intention clear by his tone.
She nodded. “Sounds… nice.”
Tom smiled as he kissed her again, more heated and more urgent. He led her towards the master bedroom, unaware of the notifications going off on his phone in his discarded jacket.
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston imagine#tom hiddleston fluff#tom Hiddleston smut#tom Hiddleston x OFC#tom Hiddleston/ofc#hiddlesfic#hiddlestoners#christmas#chirstmas fic#Christmas fanfic#Christmas fanfiction#british actor rpf#bah hiddleston
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I was tagged by @melmey-fanfics. Thank you, let’s play the game.
Rules : 15 questions 15 mutuals
Okay... 1st question, what are mutuals ??
1 Are you named after anyone? Yup, Marilyn because Monroe. Thank you, mom, who avoided John because John Wayne for my brother.
2 When was the last time you cried? A few days ago when I’ve tried listening to a song that I know I cannot listen to anymore without crying. My father has died 3 years ago and To Make My Father Proud (by Michael Jackson) is the only song that drives me to tears now.
3 Do you have any kids? Nope, and I’ve never felt like I wanted to become a mother. The planet counts way too many humans already...
4 Do you use sarcasm a lot? I have invented sarcasm, honey.
5 What’s the first thing you notice about people? The Cumberbum ? The Hiddlebum ? Oh, you meant people. This is less interesting... Okay, so the eyes, the smile, the hands, general behaviour, good manners, the sense of humour, the culture and a nice bum. I also tend to notice little details people cannot see which is not obvious to believe because of what I’ve typed previously. I see and I observe, Sherlock !
6 What’s your eye color? Grey but with a tiny bit of green when I wake up.
7 Scary movies or happy endings? Horror movies. Happy endings ? Bah, I roll my eyes each time the pretty main male role ends up falling in love with the pretty young female role. Have mercy, where’s the rope ?
8 Any special talents? Still trying to figure this out. I am a great physiognomist, whish is completely useless unless I work for the FBI someday ? And I am a great movie critic (never watch a movie with me or you would only hear my comments). Real talents ? I can’t even get my dog to come to me when I ask him to !
9 Where were you born? France, en Lorraine ! Oui, là où ça caille et où c’est super moche.
10 Do you have any hobbies? Photoshopping, giffing, blogging. God it’s all virtual. Okay, I’ve started to play tennis ages ago (teacher called me boom boom Marilyn because I played like Boris Becker, heee).
11 Do you have any pets? I’ve always had pets. I have grown up with poodles, and also had hamsters, a chinchilla, a guinea pig, mice, turtles. I have a chihuahua (I had two but my angel died earlier this year) and he is very very very stupid. I figured out that all chihuahuas have a huge brain that actually doesn’t work. They have no expression. They are the anti Cumberbatch creatures.
12 What’s sports do you play/have played? Is farniente a sport ? Or playing video games ? I guess nope. Well, I played tennis and this is it.
13 How tall are you? 1,62 meters, which shall be 5′3′’ Google says.
14 What’s your favorite subject in school? Philosophy, english, german.
15 What’s your dream job? Not working at all ? I guess it’s no answer. Doing Benedict Cumberbatch’s makeup ? Won’t happen. Styling Tom Hiddleston’s hair ? Wil not happen either. Working for the cinema ? Cesar Millan’s job ?
Won’t tag anyone because I’ve already tagged bloggers I love in other things of that kind and I don’t want to bother anymore. Play the game if you want to @everyoneoutthere.
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Maybe This Time -- Chapter One “Random”
Tom Hiddleston x Plus Size OFC
No real description yet, It is going to be sweet and fluffy for the most part... but you guys know me... that never lasts haha
Chapter One - Random
It was just a random Thursday night. Why do the best things seem to happen on the most random days and the most random times? If it were a scene in a scene in a movie it would have been a rainy night. A chance meeting in a smoky bar or cafe. A sudden spotlight on the perfect girl in slow motion.
It wasn’t a movie though, so it had far less fanfare. It was a clear and quiet night, it was a hole in the wall cabaret in a neighborhood about halfway to being gentrified, and it was just a woman with a voice.
He'd been out to dinner with friends and was walking back to his hotel when he heard the music and figured a nightcap wouldn't hurt. The bartender nodded as he came in, motioning him over as the emcee, a brassy woman with dyed black hair and so much confidence it was almost imposing, introduced the next act. He ordered a beer and settled at one of the empty tables, taking in the charming little room with mismatched tables and chairs, bowls of candy and dollar store electronic candles on each table, artwork at various levels of talent, each tagged and displayed proudly despite the disparity in quality. He finally turned to the stage when the piano started playing and another woman took the stage.
If he was honest, his first thought was how unremarkable she was, round-faced and pleasant looking, her hair braided back from her face, wearing a perfectly ordinary paisley print thrift store dress, nothing flashy or sexy, just a normal looking woman, more curves than angles, walking out to take center stage. Yet something about her was also instantly appealing to him. She seemed quiet, thanking the emcee and adjusting the mic stand so she wouldn't have to stand on her toes, cringing at the noise it made through the sound system. He laughed a little when she apologized to someone off stage, “Sorry, Fred, I tried really hard to not be short tonight, but it couldn't be avoided.”
A voice called from the back of the house, “You're good, Jules. It's my fault for not bringing in a step for you.”
She laughed, oh that was a laugh, and she shook her head, turning to the pianist and giving him a nod.
He felt himself leaning in, suddenly needing to hear more of this voice. She had a wonderful laugh and a light soft voice that felt like whimsy, what was going to happen when she used that voice to shape a melody.
She took a slow deep breath, her eyes shifting to look at some invisible face out in the distance. “Tonight you're mine, completely. You give your love so sweetly. Tonight the light of love is in your eyes, but will you love me tomorrow?”
That first impression was so very wrong, she was mesmerizing. She didn't belt things out or insist you watch her with overwrought faces and overdramatic gestures, she just sang a song as if she was having an honest conversation with someone. It was heartbreaking.
He forgot about his beer, he forgot about the candles and the candy and the mismatched tables and art, he was just, for the three-song set, all slow and sad ballads about heartbreak, confusion, and loss, completely lost in her face, her soft, fragile voice, her real and gentle, yet jarring pain.
As the piano finished out playing the final song, she readjusted the mic, stretched up to it to give a quiet thank you, and disappeared behind the black curtain at the back of the stage.
He wanted to follow her, to make her turn around, to look into her eyes and wrap his arms around her and tell her that she was beautiful, that everything was going to be okay because a part of him felt like no one had ever told her that.
He sipped his beer and watched the rest of the show. They were an interesting bunch of misfits: the handsome broadway tenor with an impressive falsetto but a little too much bravado, the sultry redhead who was clearly meant to be the star with her cookie cutter perfectly imperfect singing and tutorial quality makeup, the bluesy older woman with graying hair and a slight lack of rhythm. He couldn't leave, he just kept hoping she would come out from behind the curtain again, he wanted to talk to her, to tell her how amazing he thought she was, he just hoped she was still here.
After the final singer, the emcee came back and thanked the nearly empty room, giving him a point and a wink, “Especially you, you're new and should come back more often, handsome.”
He gave her a cheers and a nod and finished off his drink, leaving a tip under the bowl of candy. He was almost to the door when he heard her name again. “Jules!”
Just her head popped out from behind the curtain, hair unbraided and piled on top of her head is a messy, wavy knot, “What up, Fred?”
“Can you come keep an eye on the board for a bit? I need a smoke.”
“Sure thing.” She popped out from behind the curtain, the makeup scrubbed off, wearing an oversized David Bowie t-shirt and a floor length black and white skirt, glasses perched on her head. He watched her as she bounced off the stage and trotted past him. He wanted to stop her, but it felt like he was intruding, and it was never a good idea to postpone a techie when he was finally getting a chance for a smoke break, so he just smiled when she made the briefest of eye contact on her trek to the sound booth.
He took his glass to the bar, looking for excuses to linger. The others started dribbling out from backstage, making small talk with the few people still in the room. The tenor came bounding over to him. “Hey, Man, thanks for coming in.”
They shook hands, and he shifted his attention to the younger man. “Oh, no, thank you, you guys have a good show here. I'm glad I stumbled upon it.”
His eyes kept drifting to her as he made small talk, she was watching them.
The tenor kept talking, “Anyone ever tell you-you look like that dude?”
He laughed, “All the time.”
The redhead turned up next, draping herself lazily against the tenor, “Hey baby, Ani says she needs your black shirt. She's gonna fix that button.” she barely noticed anyone but the tenor. He looked over the sound booth again, biting back a laugh when she had queued up Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend”. This was starting to make a lot of sense.
He excused himself from the now far too handsy couple, took a breath and headed over to the booth. “Hey.”
She shook her head and looked down at him, “Shit, oh, Hi, sorry I was somewhere else, did you have a request?”
He laughed, “No, not really, I just wanted to come over and tell you that I thought you were amazing.”
She laughed with a half smile and waved him off, “Bah, it was alright, but thank you.”
“No, really, you are fantastic, don't brush it off.”
She squinted and shook her head, “Um, thank you.”
He reached over the board carefully, “I'm Tom, and yeah, I just really needed to come and tell you that.”
She took his hand and gave it a firm shake, “I’m Jules,” she paused then, really looking at him now. “Wait, you're Tom, like” her voice drops to a stage whisper, barely audible over the music playing, “That Tom.”
He couldn't help but laugh, rubbing the back of his head, nodding.
She laughed also, a nervous edge to that affable laughter. “I'm a fan, so, excuse me a moment while I try to tamp down my inner screaming fangirl.”
“Oh you're fine.” he smiled falling then into an easy silence, just looking into her eyes.
A kind-faced man with a salt and pepper goatee came up behind her, “You're all clear, thanks, Jules.”
She snapped out of the silence. “Cool cool, I'm gonna duck out then, tell Ani I'll email her the new design tomorrow, okay?”
“Got it. Have a good one.” He gave her pat on the back and she hopped down.
She really was a short one, easily a head shorter than him. She extended her hand this time. “It was nice to meet you, Tom, thank you for coming.”
He smiled and took her hand, “Jules, can I buy you a drink?”
The shock on her face was adorable, “Sure, but not here, Ryan waters down the scotch.”
#Maybe This Time#Tom hiddleston x plus size OFC#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston#teamtom#imagine tom hiddleston#imaginetom#imagine hiddleston#imagine tom#tom hiddleston imagine
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