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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

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Well, you know I need to play...Fluff, #7, Tom. One day I will want to play with Loki...but not yet.

I’m so glad that this one was next, because I needed some fluff in my life! Before I knew it this was very much not a drabble any longer - I hope you don’t mind! Thank you for the request, bestie.

Gentleman

Tom Hiddleston was nothing if not a gentleman.

So, when he bumped into you while on his morning run, spilling your water all over the two of you - which was not pleasant in the chilled autumnal air, he had to offer some form of recompense for his misdeeds. On that occasion, that took the form of a cup of hot chocolate purchased at a small coffee shop just around the corner. The beverage replaced that which he had spilled, and you spent the time it took for your clothing to dry chatting away over the steaming mugs of decadent sweetness.

And when you were both standing up to part ways after hours lost to delight conversation, he couldn’t help but politely say, “I would very much like to see you again.”

You paused in tugging on your coat, eyes wide as you took in the sheepishly smiling giant of a man before you. “I’m sorry?”

He came around behind you, holding onto your coat to further help you slide into it. Once it was done, he patted your shoulder gently before standing before you once again. The simple act of kindness lit through you, warming you far more thoroughly than your cup of cocoa could ever manage. “Nothing too serious or formal. But it was simply nice to have a riveting conversation with such attractive company. I’d like to see you again, continue this later, if that’s all right with you.”

Your stammered agreement made such raw happiness shine through his sky blue eyes that any nerves you’d had were quickly soothed. You’d do anything to make that beautiful man smile, even if it plucked at the carefully guarded strings of your heart.

And that was how your friendship with Tom began. Over the next several weeks, you met up for countless coffee dates, quick lunches, bites of dessert after he was finished at the stage door, and aimless meanderings through a park nearby your apartment. Your comfort level grew with him, any anxieties set at ease by his ready smile and catching sunny attitude. When your attraction only increased as your unease decreased, butterflies multiplying rapidly in your belly and your fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to take his hand, you simply ignored it.

This was Tom Hiddleston, and you were, well, you. Someone who, on the grand scheme of things, couldn’t dare to believe that you were on the same level as him in all aspects of life. How could a regular person compete with everything that the world had to offer such a brilliant, handsome, talented man? It was best to take what you could get - his friendship - and be grateful for it.

You were. You were unendingly grateful for it, and for him. Despite the anxiety that crawled beneath your skin when you waited for him to come over to your apartment for the first time, you were excited. Everything had been thoroughly deep-cleaned in a whirlwind of activity that admittedly made you a little sore from all the elbow grease required, but it’d be worth it. Tom had mentioned he was homesick, frankly missing any sort of comfortable living situation that wasn’t a hotel room, and you had offered an evening watching movies at your place as an alternative. Sure, it was a Monday night because his schedule was hectic and crammed, but it was still exciting.

Your heart surged into your throat when steady knocks sounded on your door. Shoving it back where it belonged, you ushered him inside out of the light snowfall that had been traveled in with the latest cold front.

“Hello, darling. Thank you so much for having me,” he greeted you warmly, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks before shucking off his worn black peacoat, hanging it on a hook beside yours.

Ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks, you gestured toward the couch as you trotted off quickly to the kitchen. “I’ll grab the snacks if you want to get settled. I already pulled up the movies, so you can just pick which one you prefer.”

When you came back bearing a tray of two steaming cups of hot chocolate and a plate of brownies, he quickly rose from where he perched on the couch to take it from you. He carefully placed it on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch, stretching his arm across the back of it and spreading his knees wide. It left you no choice but to brush your thigh against his when you sat down, almost tucked into his side from how much room he took up. Not that your racing heart was complaining.

Not much was said for quite a while. You both sat in companionable silence, drinking your cocoa and watching the movie he had selected. Only when the cocoa was gone did he speak up, interrupting your occasional glance at his carved jawline to look at you. “I hate to ask, but do you have a blanket? I have been so cold with the change in the weather.”

Apologies erupted from you so quickly that they were basically nonsense, and you jumped up from the couch to run back to your bedroom, grabbing the large throw blanket that you had spread out on your bed to add another layer of warmth.

“I’m so sorry about that. The blasted heating isn’t the best in here. I’m afraid this is the only one I have,” you said in a flurry, coming back and draping the blanket over his lean form.

He grinned genially, lifting the corner. “Mind if I leech a bit of your body heat as well?”

How could you say no to that? Unable to meet his earnest gaze, you curled up against him on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you and pressing your side into his. He adjusted the blanket around you both before dropping his arm over your shoulders. It was heavy and warm and you were enveloped in the heady masculinity of his cologne. How something that smelled so clean could bring you to think such dirty thoughts was beyond you.

“Better?” you asked, hating how your voice cracked as you tilted your head back to look at him.

He directed his heart-stopping smile in your direction, all white teeth and crinkles around his eyes that made your hands shake. You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with his brow furrowed in concern.

“Are your hands cold? You can hold my hand. It’s okay.” His arm moved beneath the blanket until you felt his fingers graze over your arm, trailing down until they slipped passed your wrist and laced with yours effortlessly.

Speech was honestly beyond you at that point, so you nodded, turning back to the television so you wouldn’t get lost completely in the depths of his searching gaze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t have been able to recount the details of the remainder of the movie. You were too busy focusing on the man beside you, his breaths moving his chest against the back of your shoulder, his thumb rubbing against your knuckle, the absentminded scratch of his index finger over the fabric covering your shoulder.

“Well, that was an excellent film in far better company. Thank you for having me,” Tom said quietly, speaking as if he were saying his goodbyes for the evening, although he hadn’t moved a muscle.

You dared to look at him. This close his breath fanned across your face, chocolatey sweet and tinged with something uniquely him that you longed to taste to fully unravel. This close you were hit with the full force of his beauty, the elegant slope of his nose, the razor-sharp cheekbones that drew your attention to the soft pink lips of his expressive mouth. You couldn’t think of anything clever to say in response, so instead, you blurted out what had been playing on your mind for the entirety of your friendship, “I still don’t believe that you’re real sometimes.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. The hand that held yours ghosted up to your chin, finger and thumb caressing the skin there lightly to keep you from turning away. “This is real. I’m real.”

Who moved first, you weren’t sure. But in the next breath your lips were working together, teasing and testing the waters until you found a rhythm that more closely matched the pent-up passion that pounded in your chest. Your fingers found a home in the soft knit of his sweater, and his hand cupped your cheek while his arm only pulled you more tightly against him. It was sweet and addicting and you soon knew the taste of him - addictive, tantalizing, altogether too much and not nearly enough.

Your name upon his lips was a prayer when he finally broke the kiss, his nose nudging along yours as your eyes fluttered open. His pupils were blown and you felt the raggedness of his breath beneath your splayed fingers.

You wanted. You wanted so badly that it ached in your core and stole your breath. It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t as if you had spoken on the subject at all. But he had all of the strings to your heart in his clutches, and he tugged on them once again when he answered your unasked questions with the playful nip of his teeth at your neck.

He was a gentleman, after all, and a gentleman did not leave his lady wanting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#imagine tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston drabble #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddelston x reader #gentleman #hoplesswrites #hopeless750celebration

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

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The Angel’s Share - Ch. 4

Chapter: 4 of ? (Find Chapter 3 here)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Kate and Thomas strike up a few deals.

Permanent Taglist for hopelessromanticspoonie (open): @nonsensicalobsessions @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader

Taglist for Angel’s Share (open): @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare @Wolfsmom1 @arch-venus25

Co-written with the absolutely astounding @yespolkadotkitty!

He knew he probably looked a fright. The rain outside had been relentless, and he’d come out without an umbrella. His hair was plastered to his head and had started to curl, as it did when wet. And here was Katherine, looking delectable and totally at home behind the bar, her caramel hair sleek over her shoulders, the curve of her hips just visible in black jeans.

“I came to drop this by.” He offered the silky bag with a boxed, half-size bottle of Crimson Peak inside. “For Edward. Your boss,” he clarified.

She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “I took one of the miniatures.”

“In case he - or you - would like a proper taste.”

If he’d expected her to make some sort of pun about tasting him, he was disappointed. She took the bag. “Thanks. That’s…. Kind of you.”

She said if as if he’d given her a bag of snakes. He had no idea what to make of her. And it was intriguing. Addictive.

“Eddie’s sick,” she said shortly, bending down to put the bottle beneath the bar before straightening up again. “So he might not get this for a few days. Then he’ll decide whether to ask you to stock it.”

Thomas folded his arms, surveying the bar. It was well appointed, he had to admit. Beautifully restored jukebox belting out solid tunes. Leather seats that were looked after, not a crack in them. Polished wooden stools, hardwood floors - no sticky carpet here. Quirky framed pictures of dogs playing poker and kooky Rubenesque nudes. No wonder it was busy tonight. He could see his whiskey going down well here.

“Can we talk?” he asked, drawing his attention back to her, his brows curving upwards hopefully. “When do you get your break?”

Kate looked around her in an exaggerated manner. “It’s only me here.”

“Are you serious?” She was handling this entire crowd by herself? Not that it was rowdy, mind you, but almost every seat was taken, and there wasn’t an empty glass in sight. It was impressive.

“Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course I am.” She gestured to the man who’d arrived at the bar, empty glass in hand. “Excuse me.”

Thomas stood back as she expertly pulled a pint of Bison from the tap, letting it settle for a scant second before topping it off. The customer paid and she flashed him a smile - making Thomas feel absurdly jealous - before turning back to him and scowling.

“Still here?”

“I’d like to have a conversation,” he said, keeping his tone mild.

She smiled, the barest hint of exhaustion keeping it from quite reaching her dark brown eyes. “And I’d like a hand behind the bar, and also a million pounds, but neither’s going to happen, are they? So, if you-”

She wanted to play, did she? “I’m afraid a million pounds is rather beyond me, but I can pull a pint.”

Her mouth opened and she shut it without any sound coming out. Then she blinked. “What did you say?”

Without an invitation, Thomas lifted up the hinged divider that separated the serving area of the bar from the patrons. He shrugged off his coat and threw it over an empty chair, then rolled up the sleeves of his black button-down shirt. Holding out his hand, he met her gaze steadily and said, “Pass me a glass.”

An eyebrow arched, she did as he bid silently, shifting her weight back onto one hip and crossing her arms over her dark gray button-down, the Dapper Tap’s logo embroidered over her left breast. He could see the wheels turning in her head.

Thomas settled a hand on the draft tap for Reverend James, and, hoping he could indeed put his money where his mouth was, slowly pulled a pint. He didn’t look at Kate once, concentrating on the task at hand.

When he was done, he handed it to her. “Care for a taste?”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth for a millisecond. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he’d have missed it. But he saw it. “Sure.” She raised the pint glass to her lips and he noticed that her small, neat nails were unpainted today. “You’re all right, Sharpe.”

The grin spread slowly across his face. He had her now. “Here’s the deal I propose. I pull pints for an hour, you give me five solid minutes of conversation. No less.”

A skeptical frown paraded across her face, but she knew a good deal when it was offered to her. “You’ve got yourself a deal, GQ.”

“You let me know if that whippersnapper gives you any trouble,” the man she’d called Dave said from his seat on one of the bar stools.

Kate chucked his cheek with a wink. “I know I can count on you, Dave.”

Thomas barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

The door of the pub jangled and a group of six came in, talking and laughing and smelling of the popular curry house a few doors down. Kate elbowed Thomas gently. “You’re up, Sharpe. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

*****

While Thomas pulled pints, she set about making the offhand cocktail and passing him clean glasses when he needed it. But, she had to admit, he could hold his own. As his hair dried it just seemed to curl more at the edges, combining with his rolled sleeves to make him look much more relaxed than she had ever seen him - the whole two times that she had. But he fit in. Mostly. His jeans that hugged his thighs and behind far too perfectly, his soft-looking button-down that flexed and stretched over his back as he worked, and his boots all spoke of more money than her typical customer. But, ignoring all of that, he did a fairly decent job at fitting in.

That is, until he opened his sinfully shaped mouth.

“I believe my labour is almost at an end,” he remarked, pulling her from her silent perusal as she leaned against the mirrored wall of alcohol behind her.

Nodding her head, she glanced at an ancient clock on the wall before grabbing the bottle of Crimson Peak she had stored away, quickly making up two Old Fashioned’s for them both. She slid one his way when another customer came up, asking for another pint, and she thought nothing of nudging him out of the way with her hip to pull the requested pint.

Turning around, she found him watching her with an expression she couldn’t place, holding his cocktail in front of him. He was far too close, she could faintly make out the smell of his cologne or aftershave - citrus and leather and spicy warmth that settled over her in a heady haze. Clearing her throat, she stepped backward, grabbing her own drink and gesturing for him to go back around the bar to an empty stool.

“Okay, you served your time, so you have five minutes.” She took a sip of the drink, humming lightly at the sweetness of the orange and sugar that just barely cut through the burn of the whiskey, still allowing for the smokey notes to linger on her tongue long after the alcohol had seared a path into her stomach.

His whiskey was good. Memorable. Unique. Like the man himself, but she’d rather eat her hat than say that out loud.

He took his own taste of the drink, and she couldn’t help but smile with pride when he nodded his appreciation. “You certainly can tend a bar, Katherine.”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, her prideful smile turning into one of teasing. “Eddie doesn’t just keep me around for my good looks, you know.”

His eyes remained firmly on hers, but she caught a quick flicker of heat behind them before he glanced back down at his glass to take another drink. “So, the reason that I came here tonight wasn’t solely to bring about the larger sample of my whiskey. I have a proposition for you. For both of you, you and your manager.”

Intrigued, she toyed with the edge of the orange peel in her glass, narrowing her eyes at him lightly in thought. It was worth hearing him out. “Continue.”

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward and propping his forearms up on the bar. “I would very much like to sell Crimson Peak in this establishment. You seemed hesitant about the venture from the beginning, so I would like to extend an offer to both you and Eddie to come to the estate. Come view how the whiskey is made, let us prove to you its worth. I can tell by the way you’re nursing that drink that you like how it tastes. Just one weekend is all I ask. The estate will bear the cost of your travel and your overnight stay.”

Sir Thomas was smooth, that was for sure. The entreating look he was shooting her over the bar was one she was sure had sent countless women swooning over the years. And while he was stunningly handsome, especially having lost some of the polish on him from the bit of hard work he’d put in for her, it wasn’t enough to have her following in his past conquests’ teetering heeled footsteps. “Buy a girl dinner first, would ya?” she joked, brushing him off, playing for time.

“Name the restaurant and the hour, Katherine, and you have a deal.”

Oh, the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

*******

She thought for sure she’d catch him out of his element, recommending the tiny basement Chinese restaurant off Leicester Square. The place barely had enough room to breathe, let alone for the four round tables taking up a majority of the space. The heavenly aroma of warm spices, sesame oil and fried meat filled the air, an enticing, unmistakably oriental scent that made her mouth water. She didn’t even glance at the menu placed before her, having come here often, instead keeping her eyes trained on the door for her dinner companion to arrive.

The sound of the pouring rain met her ears as the door opened, and in he strolled, looking far too confident and cool for what should have been a surprising venue to him. He was supposed to think himself above hole in the wall places like this, thrown off-kilter, awkward, not looking like sin personified.

Sir Thomas flashed a charming smile at the tiny waitress - especially in comparison to his towering frame - by the kitchen door who hurried over to greet him. She pointed him in Kate’s direction, who sat up straighter now that she was the subject of his attention. His leather jacket glistened with the summer rain rolling off of the slick, jet-black material, and his deft-fingered hands reached up to rake through his raven’s wing hair, attempting to tame the errant curls against the damp.

He unzipped and slipped off his leather jacket, revealing a white button-up shirt rolled up again to his elbows, the top two buttons undone to allow just a hint of dark chest hair to peek up through the gap. She should not be focusing on that. Pulling her eyes back up to his face, she caught his soulful stormy blue eyes watching her take him in, the barest hint of a smile visible on his poet’s mouth.

Was it even legal to be that hot?

“So, you, uh, found the place okay?” she asked, cursing herself inwardly for sounding like such a simpleton. She was still shell shocked to see him looking so at ease in the establishment, smiling pleasantly at the petite waitress who walked up to them.

“Your directions were perfect,” he confirmed.

“Hey, Kate.” The tiny woman who’d showed Thomas in, her dark hair piled high atop her head smiled curiously at him, but said nothing.

“Hiya Karen. Gok still giving you the runaround?”

Karen grinned, rolling her dark brown eyes. “He’s a rocket on little legs for sure. My toddler,” she explained to Thomas. “What can I get you?”

“How about… you okay for me to take the reins, Sharpe?”

Thomas gestured for her to go ahead. “I bow to your superior knowledge. I trust your judgment.”

Did he have to be so nice? Was he for real? “Cool. How about a couple of char siu bau, a plate of noh mai gai, a load of har gau, um, two beef noodle rolls, and a bowl of garlic pea sprouts. And two Tsing Tao beers?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at Thomas.

He nodded, leaning over the table propped up on his elbows, his hand cupping the other as he watched her. His long legs were stretched out to the side, encased in dark denim.

This close to him, it was impossible not to appreciate his beauty. It would be so easy to fall into the bottomless depth of his light eyes, give in to the urge to see whether his palms had calluses or not, but that was out of the question. He was too upper class, he came from too much “old” money, having known a life of silver spoons and privilege, a life that she had been cheated out of long ago - and now one that she decidedly did not want. She wouldn’t fall into his beautiful and deadly trap.

She’d made that mistake already. Life didn’t give you any free do-overs.

“I am buying you dinner, which fulfills my end of yet another bargain. Does that mean that you are willing to visit my estate - with Eddie, of course - to see for yourself the legitimacy of my whiskey?” he asked, his velvet-lined voice low and soft, intimate, with his request.

Kate was grateful to be bought time to reply when they were interrupted by their food being placed before them, the intricate dim sum delicate and fragrant on the plates embossed with dancing dragons. The aroma of the food soothed her in its familiarity. After a hearty bite of her favourite prawn dumplings, the morsel warming her from the inside out, she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “We’ll see.”

#thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe au #thomas sharpe x ofc #imagine sir thomas sharpe #crimson peak #crimson peak au #crimson peak fic #modern au #romcom #the angel's share #hoplesswrites #yespolkadotkitty

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