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lillianofliterature · 4 years

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a well-deserved surprise | loki x reader

a/n: inspired by this imagine that I previously posted, but slightly altered (I’ll probably write another version that fits the imagine better). it paired perfectly with the prompt for day three of fictober, which is incredibly convenient because I wanted to write my imagine out fully as a one-shot! I imagine this as another timeline or taking place for Loki discovers he is a Frost Giant, when he still refers to Odin as his father, not knowing any better.

This isn’t my greatest, but that’s okay. Enjoyment, not perfection.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

fanfic or original work: fanfic

fandom: marvel (mcu)

prompt: ”you did this?” (day 3)

warnings: being taken for granted, fluff

word count: 1.6K

When you had walked out of the king’s evening council meeting, you hadn’t been surprised to find Loki leaned against the wall nearest to the large doors, waiting for your dismissal with the rest of the elected advisors. What had surprised you was the raw enthusiasm that gleamed in his blue-green eyes as he called your name, took your hand in his, and lead you away from the bustling voices of the council members who departed together towards the great hall.

The drifting leaves of the expansive gardens crushed softly beneath the soles your boots as you walked hand-in-hand with your betrothed towards the eastern wing of the courtyard – a place only Loki and yourself ever ventured to. You hadn’t the slightest inclination of what he might be planning or what the purpose of his sudden giddiness could be, but you were happy with whatever the reason. Seeing him so full of gleeful energy was rare; it only ever happened when he was alone with you or his mother and it never lingered for long.

But tonight, he was a like skittish kitten playing with an unraveled ball of knitted yarn, leading you through the maze of shrubbery and vegetation with frequent glances from the path and back to your eyes, his face alighted with delight between enthusiastic sentences. His steps were quick and light as he led you by the hand across the cobblestone, traipsing over the dying foliage that autumn had shed from its branched limbs.

His interest melted your heart as he spoke on and on about your recent success in the royal courts of his father. You were sure your blush could be seen in the torch lit passages as he recounted details about your written treaties that you had never disclosed to him – he must have read them for himself out his own curiosity. Your eyes slowly cascaded across the bounding tendrils of his raven hair and the curve of his chiseled jaw when his sudden halt disrupted your admiring trance.

When his gaze met yours and you discovered that his words had faded to silence, your smile turned apologetic. It seemed he knew you had been too busy admiring him to listen intently.

“(Y/n), have you heard a word of what I’ve said these past ten minutes?” Loki asked, his playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You were almost ashamed to admit it, but the specificities of whatever he had been saying all this time had simply evaded your attention – you could only focus on his contented smile and his genuine happiness that the golden hue of the torches seemed to illuminate perfectly. Not to mention, your mind was far too tired to indulge much conversing.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” you looped your arm through his, hoping to assuage his playful frustration by tucking yourself closer to him, “I was distracted by something far lovelier than words.”

Loki was quick to catch your compliment and was more than gracious in overlooking your blatant lack of attentiveness. He covered one of your hands that gripped his arm, chuckling at your attempt to avoid his confrontation. When he walked forward, he pulled you gently with him at a calmer pace that allowed you to rest your head against his shoulder.

“What was it you were saying, darling?” You asked.

“I was just commending you on the success of your proposals,” his voice was so soothing, it was difficult to keep your eyes from drifting to a close, “I know what a terrific job you did with writing up those trading plans and securing the treaty of welfare with Nidavellir. That was no simple feat, my dear – the dwarf folk there are short tempered and oft’ times even disagreeable, especially with men like my father.”

You uttered a flattered but quiet ‘thank you’, but Loki could tell you didn’t think much of your contributions to the royal council, which he knew was the result of negligence on Odin’s part. Loki was keenly aware that you never praised for your successes in the court of the king.

You hadn’t even received as much recognition for your solutions as Lady Sif had received for her fearsome skills as a warrior, and even Odin himself failed to thank you or compliment your successes that had bettered his reputation and solidified the peace that encompassed the realm. His father, even in the progressive society of Asgard, was still slightly biased against having a woman coming into his court as an advisor – and what he hated even more was that said woman was involved romantically with his son. Moreover, the son he liked least of all, which Loki knew very well.

Loki was very familiar with the feeling of never being quite good enough for the king’s approval, much less his high praise, and he wanted to assure that you would never have to bear that weight on your shoulders for long. If his father would not recognize your valiant efforts in aiding the realm’s time of peace and prosperity, then Loki would do it himself.

He lead you a little further through the garden until you neared a corner that flickered with green light and something buzzing in the air smelled of magic, like the spray stardust at the edge of the sea of space. Just before you could crane your head forward to catch a glimpse of it, he stepped in front of you, drawing your chin up with his finger. His touch made you forget your curiosity.

“(Y/n), I know you don’t get enough appreciation from my father, nor nearly enough support from the other advisors in his court, but you have it with me. I am very proud of you, my dear, as a member of the royal family and as your betrothed.”

Your heart swelled with warmth as his praise settled into your mind, softening every thought and rounding the jagged edges of your doubts, “Thank you, Loki. Your approval is all I need to feel as though I’ve succeeded in some way.”

“Of course, my dear,” Loki whispered, “Now, I have something for you.”

With a chaste kiss to your forehead, he led you around the corner and into the oasis he had made for you. When your eyes settled upon the sight before you, you could hardly hide the shock that overtook your expression. Your hand left his as you covered your gaping mouth, stepping forward slowly. His eager gaze was hungry for your approval as he watched your reaction carefully.

There, in the soft green light of his magic, was your corner of the gardens. The large willow that had encumbered the area seemed taller and its green leaves even greener. Among its dancing limbs were small orbs of warm light shimmering between the swaying shadows, like the fireflies you had chased in the summer months as a child, except they moved slowly like swirling nebulas.

Below the display of lights was a velvet tapestry placed delicately upon the lush grass – which had somehow grown back, despite the autumn chill – and adorned with vibrant cushions, votives, and platters of fruit, bread, and small desserts. Next to those was a basket you presumed held the main course and out of it poked a bottle of your favorite wine and a matching pair of crystal glasses. A small collection of books, sketching paper, and Asgardian board games sat neatly to the side, awaiting your interest.

All around you were arrangements of harvest blooms and vegetation that had grown almost into a lovely thicket or cocoon just for the two of you – it made the space very private and all the more romantic. When your eyes drifted upwards, a blanket of stars smiled down upon the two of you. You were sure Heimdall was smiling to himself some miles away in the spherical chambers of the Bifrost.

“You did this?” You managed to whisper.

You felt Loki’s hand at the small of your back when he stepped nearer to you.

“Of course, my dear,” you felt his breath close you ear before he placed a delicate kiss to your hair, “You deserve a reward for all that you’ve done since you were elected onto the council. I wanted to celebrate in a way you might like.”

“Oh, I love it, Loki...and it’s just us?”

“Just us.”

And so, with tender excitement and a growing realization of just how hungry you had truly been, you and Loki settled down on the plump cushions and began enjoying the delicacies he had prepared. The main course – the very one you had guessed was concealed within the basket – was one of your favorites, which you ate bit by bit with every attempt to savor its rich flavor.

When dessert came along and you devoured it a little too enthusiastically, Loki wiped the bit of cream you had smudged on your cupid’s bow, replacing it with a quick kiss. After both of your stomachs had been filled with all manner of tastes and comforts, you decided to play one the board games he had laid out for you to pick from, which was followed by several rounds trying to best one another with every move and copious amounts of playful quips and laughter. You then had the brilliant idea of using the sketching paper to play a game of guesses, where you would take turns drawing something around you and the other would attempt to guess what it was as quickly as possible (which you were very skilled at).

But it wasn’t long after all of this fun that you felt your drowsiness seep back into your thoughts and your eyes began to droop. Loki noticed this and took up one of his books of poetry, motioning for you to scoot closer to him with a doting smile. He leaned back against the willow tree’s trunk and let you rest your head against his chest. You found yourself falling asleep to the muffled purring of his voice as it reverberated through his chest and lips, your last conscious thought being one of blissful gratitude.

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marvelwhyyyyy · 4 years

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request: maybe some (platonic) Tom Hiddleston x Teen!reader, i dunno maybe just some hcs about the friendship between reader and Tom???

• You and Tom first meet on the set for the first avengers movie

• You played tonys daughter morgan (let's pretend he didnt have morgan later on)

• Given you playing someone's daughter you were vary young at the time around four at the time of iron man 1

• So when you were asked to come back for your role in the avengers movie you gladly accepted

• You were now eight at the time and we're very shy only speaking to the directors and some actors (rdj, scarlett johanson, and gweneth paltrow)

• So when you were shooting and saw so many people you didnt know that was kind of stressing

• You were walking around set and we're trying to find someone you knew because it's a biggg set you we're going to get lost

• That was until Tom showed up and put his hand out for a handshake,

• You immediately kind of stepped back being afraid of the tall man with a pointy helmet

• Tom realizing what he had done said " oh sorry i'm tom, i play the bad guy or loki,"

• You started laughing because of the funny name the mans character had and eventually he laughed too

• You two then finally got your handshake

• Of course tom knew you had wondered off because all of the directors and actors needed you for a scene he decided to go look for you

• Tom walked you back to set holding your hand and robert started laughing while josh wheden took a picture of the both of you

• From that point on whenever tom or you were on set together you were like the best of friends

• Now on the shoot for infinity war (loki survives here) you were now around 15 when you were shooting

• And of course you and Tom have kept in touch

• But you two got to film in 'wakanda' together so that was great

•Now some of the random things about your friendship

• Tom and you would send each other fan fiction about the others character leading to tom yelling at you on set because of how you found all of these

• Tom is like a second dad to you, especially that time you wore a short dress to a premire and tom told you "go change y/n" jokingly

• You reprised your character in thor ragnarok because morgan wanted to help thor find the infinity stones

• Meaning tom and you were shooting together and that's never good for everyone else

• (from the behind the scenes) you were toms squatting partner-

• meaning whenever tom started squatting for no reason you joined

• one time while at a table read you spilled coffee (or tea whatever you drink) all over tom so he spilled his on you leading to you two having stained and wet shirts for the table read

•lets just say anthony jackie couldnt stop laughing

• "y/n, tom say coffee" "coffee.." you two responded

• that picture is the most liked one on taikas instagram page

thank you for reading ❤️ and thank you @tamayakii for requesting it

#avengersxreader #avengers x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tomhiddlestonxreader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast reader

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loveisfriendship · 3 years

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Hi! Like your tom and loki imagines ;). Can I request reader getting sick and refusing to eat? and loki is really worried and trying ways to make her eat, and fluff ensues?

Oh I love that!!!

And thanks darling. Means so much ❤️

#lis answers #tomhiddlestonxreader #loki x reader

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tomhiddleston-is-mischief · 5 years

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Thor: are you two fighting or flirting..?

Loki: fighting.

Y/N: flirting.

Loki: omg really?

Y/N: ;)

#loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #lokixreader #lokixy/n #lokixyou #tom hiddleston x reader #tomhiddleston #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrecttomhiddlestonquotes #incorrect loki quotes #TomHiddlestonxyou #TomHiddlestonxreader #TomHiddlestonxY/N

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granills · 5 years

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Instagram Imagine

Liked by yournamehiddleston, billskarsgard and 173,218 others

twhiddleston #lokimemes

View All 27732 Comments

yournamehiddleston i understand Jane

twhiddleston you always pick me. yournamehiddleston

yournamehiddleston it's because you don't have a brother🤨

twhiddleston are you sure?

unknown *impatiently waiting for Y/n's comment*

#tom hiddleston #imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #tomhiddlestonxreader #tom hiddleston x reader #celebrity imagine #tom x reader #loki imagine #loki x reader #instagram imagine #tom hiddleston instagram #yournamehiddleston

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ocean-park-avenue · 5 years

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Tom Hiddleston X Reader: Your Solace

Relationship: F/M

Words: 1581

Tags: Injuries, gore-ish, Angst

Originals found on my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797740

Summary: Something goes wrong at the Endgame premier in LA.

The loud cheering of the crowd echoed of the lit streets of Los Angeles. Black and white limousines pulled up against the curb. The driver of each opened the black door to reveal each stunning celebrity that was dressed in the finest of fashion and elegance.

You sighed.

So far, almost the entire cast of Endgame was on the red carpet now. You spotted Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie laughing along with a cute blonde reporter. You also spotted Tom Holland and Benedict Cumberbatch having a casual interview with a reporter from Entertainment Tonight.

All this commotion and still, you had not seen Tom Hiddleston once.

You sighed again, deeply.

A small hand slapped your back, causing you to bump into the metal bars that separated the common public from the busy celebrities on the other side of the road.

“Oops— sorry!”

You glared at your friend Tamara. “You didn’t have to slap me to get my attention.”

“Well, it’s really loud. So, it was the best way to not cause a scene,” she replied sheepishly.

You just chuckled and went back to facing the red carpet. “Yeah, whatever.”

More limousines pulled up to the street side. You could see Pom Klementieff, Evangeline Lilly, and Jon Favreau step out of each of their vehicles and wave to the adoring crowd.

“Still don’t see Hiddleston?” Tamara asked as she leaned on the metal rail with you.

“Nope.”

“I’m sure he’ll show. I think he tweeted that he was coming. I’m not sure though.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine if he doesn’t show. I can still admire Sebastian from here.”

Tamara giggled. “Yeah, but I specifically bought these tickets so you could meet him . Though, your not wrong about Stan. That navy suit works for him.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” You waved your hand dismissively. “If the universe doesn’t what me to meet my idol, it’s fine.” You focused your eyes back to the red carpet and exhaled loudly.

“Well, fuck the universe then! I say you will meet him! And he will come! As a matter of fact...”

By now, you had already drowned out Tamara’s voice. It wasn’t that she was annoying of anything. She just had a habit of constantly rambling on unless someone or something interrupted her. You’d learned it was better to let her be. Interrupting her just made her forget what she was saying and then have her repeat it all over again.

The next line of limousines had pulled up to the curb. The drivers each held the door open. Out stepped Chris Pratt, Josh Brolin (you still hadn’t forgotten what Thanos did to Loki in Infinity War), and finally...

Your breath hitched when a smiling Tom Hiddleston came out of the last limousine, enthusiastically waving to the crowd of Marvel fans, guarded by the metal railing you were having trouble grasping.

It was him. It was really him , in the flesh. Not some picture on the internet, just him . Tom Hiddleston was right in front of you (well, more like a roads length away).

You wanted to yell out to him or something , but the lump in your throat said otherwise.

“...and that’s why is so important that this happens for yo— Hey, isn’t that him?” Tamara finished her rant and looked to the same man your eyes were locked on.

All you could do was nod.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Yell out to him, flash him for all I care,” —Tamara earned an elbow to the stomach for that comment—,” just do something. You deserve his attention more than any of these thirty thots.”

“Hey! That’s a bit rude. And no I don’t. They all paid for their tickets, just like us. I deserve as much attention from him as anyone else here. I’m not someone with special privileges.” You retorted.

“Yeah, but you’ve been through so much just to get to this point in your life. You at least deserve a little recognition for that.”

Tamara was starting to sound childish at this point and you rolled your eyes.

“My life is far from what I want it to be,” you said looking down at the asphalt road. It’s even unbearable sometimes .

“Ugh!” Tamara groaned. “You’ve been through so much shit and you don’t give yourself enough credit for getting through it all! Your family is full of assholes, your dating life was filled with assholes at one point, and even your friends were assholes! Well— not me. And...”

As Tamara began to rant again, you looked back at Tom. He was standing next to Chris Hemsworth as a report mainly asked questions aimed at the blonde. Tom just smiled and laughed along with the jokes being told. You admired all of it from a far.

Your admiration for Tom Hiddleston came the first time you saw Thor: Ragnarok. You were just so amazed with how he portrayed Loki. You’d wished you had found out about him sooner. After, you binge-watched all his movies. Everyone seemed to be better than the last. You developed a deep respect for him, and from then on, vowed to watch every movies, film, play, or musical with him in it.

His work had come into your life when you were at your lowest. All you wanted to do was meet him and say how thankful you were. Without all of his amazing acting, you wouldn’t have been here to see him in real life.

Taking a break from just blatantly staring at the man, you stretched your neck and looked down the side of the road. Your head stopped when you saw a man wearing all black enter a black SUV with a pistol in his hand. In the front seat, he started up the car and cocked the gun. Your eyes widened.

As soon as the car started driving, your legs were already hoisting yourself over the metal bars. A few security guards tried to run after you but all you could focus on was the the car speeding down the road.

Everything moved in slow motion from then on.

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you and managed to make it to the other side of the side walk before the car could run you over.

The window of the drivers side rolled down and a silver pistol peaked out from it.

Tom was just a step away from you when you heard the pistol fire and you jumped.

The world was no longer slow. Everything was loud and chaotic. The sound of people running and screaming filled your ears. It was irritating.

You wanted to cover your ears but you couldn’t. Your hands were already pressing firmly on the bullet wound on your stomach. You could feel the thick blood trickle onto your hands and down your side as you laid in a pool of your own blood.

Among the loud noise of screaming and running you could make out a familiar voice with a particular accent. “Oh, my God! Someone call 911! Get an ambulance! Now, please! She’s going to bleed to death!!”

You felt your torso lifted and placed into the lap of someone. That someone also joined in on pressing on the bullet wound.

Your vision was blurry and the loud noise mixed with the awful pain the wound provided was somehow becoming more relaxing by the second. Your eyelids felt heavy and your heartbeat slowed with each passing minute.

A pair of soft hands gently cupped your face and your eyes fluttered open. Tom Hiddleston stared down at you with an expression full of concern and worry.

“No, no, no. Please don��t fall asleep. You have to stay away until the ambulance arrives.” His voice was so calm, but you could hear the fret behind the facade.

“I want to sleep.” You mumbled as hot tears ran down your face. “I-it hurts too much.”

“Shh, shh,” Tom whispered. His thumb delicately moved under your tear-filled eyes yo wipe them. “I know, I know. Just, please, stay awake. They’ll be hear any minute.”

You began a coughing fit, coughing blood into your shirt. You felt the blood roll your jaw and onto your neck.

You focused on Tom’s rapid breathing, instead of the piercing pain the wound left in your stomach.

It feels so much better when I close my eyes, you thought and your eyes began to flutter.

Tom noticed right away and brought you back to your miserable reality. “What did I say? No sleeping, please.”

All you could manage was a nod.

There was silence before Tom spoke again. “Wh-Why?” he whispered.

“Wha...?”

“Why did you jump in front of the bullet? It was aimed at me and you ran all the way across the street just to take it for me. Why?”

For the first time in this terrible situation, you smiled. “Because of you. If I died no one would care. But if you died, all your fans would be left without you and you’ve helped so many people... including me. So, all I want to say is thank you. Thank you for everything you do. It means the world to me and so many others.”

You reached with both arms to envelope him in a hug.

At that moment all of the pain you’d ever felt, seemed to leave your body and mind all at once. You smiled once more. Your heart beat slowed and the world around you went black.

#tomhiddleston #tomhiddlestonxreader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic

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winterfrostlovetriangle · 4 years

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Hayyy❤❤I have a request but if you don't want to write it it's really okay I know things are crazy right now but mabye the a fic were Tom is away for filming and the reader sends him a video of his daughter saying "dada" I just can't get it out of my head, love you and your writing ❤💞💞

Hi! Thank you so much for the ask! I thought it was adorable! I will admit I read your request wrong and realized it after the fic had been written. Also, I gave the daughter a name. I hope you still like it.

Masterlist

A Light in the Dark

Finally, after 14 hours of filming, Tom found himself back in his rented apartment. He was in Los Angeles filming for his new movie, and the workdays were grueling. However, Tom adored his profession, even when it took him away from his family for long periods of time.

The mere thought of you brought a smile to his tired face as he lazily kicked off his shoes by the front door. You were the most amazing wife, never complaining too much when he was away for months at a time. You both knew what you were getting into when you got married. You were always supportive and he considered you a saint for putting up with his way of life. Tom knew you didn’t like it when he was gone for too long, but he also knew that you would never want him to give up what he’s worked so hard for.

Checking his watch, Tom realized he had just enough time to make a cup of tea. Once settled on the couch, he set up his laptop for Skype, he’d been looking forward to this all day. He sipped his tea and waited for your icon to pop up. Your smiling face finally lit up the screen, and he immediately returned it with one of his own.

“Hello, darling. I miss you.”

You studied Tom for a minute before responding. “Hello, love. I miss you too. How are you? Eating well? Sleeping at all?

Your rambling earned a small chuckle from your husband. “I’m alright. Just tired.” He cut you off before you could continue. “How are things?”

You caught Tom up on all the news from home and he shared a few stories from filming. He tried his best to keep from yawning, but finally, he couldn’t help but let out a large one. Smiling sympathetically, you blew him a kiss. Tom caught it and put it to his lips. You stared at each other for a moment, your eyes suddenly brightened.

“Oh, stay right there,” you told him, hurrying away. You came back on camera carrying your six-month-old daughter.

Tom’s smile widened when you sat down.

“We learned a new word today. Alright, baby girl. Who is that?” You bounced her a little bit and pointed to the computer.

Rosie smiled and gurgled, but didn’t say anything. Tom laughed and waved.

“Hello, princess.”

You huffed slightly, “She’s been saying it all day. Come on, monkey. Let’s try it again.” You pointed at the screen again. “Who’s that?”Tom made a funny face causing your daughter to giggle. “It’s okay, darling. I-”

“Dada!”

Your husband looked shocked, and you could tell he was trying not to cry.

“What’d she say?” He looked at Rosie. “Who am I, love?”

The little girl laughed again and clapped her hands. “Dada.”

You cheered and clapped her hands. “Yay, that’s my girl.”

Tom grinned from ear to ear and wiped his eyes. You picked up your phone and typed something in. Tom’s phone dinged a minute later. He looked down and then back at you curiously.

“Check it later,” you told him. “Alright, my darling husband. Go get some sleep. We’ll see you soon.” You picked up Rosie’s hand and waved to Tom. “Say bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later.” He waves at her and blows a kiss to you. Good night, darling. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Later that night, you got a text from Tom, thanking you for your video of Rosie saying “Dada” multiple times, with a big toothless smile on her face, You responded back with a heart. Tom watched the video over and over again until he fell asleep with a smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to get back home to his family.

Thank you to my beta @fortheloveoflamp

#tomhiddleston #fluff #tomhiddlestonxreader #tomhiddlestonxdaughter #twh #request

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lokis-little-kitten · 5 years

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One-Shot Sunday #2

Title: Binders Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: TomHiddlestonxReader Wordcount: 800 Rating: Low Warning: Depression, Selfharm Summary:

‘’Love,’’ Tom asks knocking on your bedroom door. His left hand is weight down by a bag with take away from KFC. His right still had it's knuckles on the door as he tries to listen to hear if you’re in or not.

‘’Y/N, are you in?’’ He pulls the key from his pocket he has for emergencies and opens the door to rush into your living room. There he finds you curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket with a book on your lap.

A small wooden table next to the couch is stacked with binders, papers, books and to Tom his despair a small knife. He can see some red on it so he quickly ditches the food and rushes to his knees next to you. He picks up your arm and finds what he feared. A few small cuts.

He sighs and blinks away a few tears that start to gather in his deep blue eyes. You have been in a depressive episode for weeks now and it keeps getting worse. Sometimes you seem to scramble out of it but the smallest thing pushes you back into that pit.

He grabs the food again to put it on your messy dinner table. He sighs to see even more of your work scattered around. You’re still in uni to get your masters degree and are in your last year when depression hit you hard again.

Tom starts to clean your flat a little to help you out. He makes stabs of papers per subject and puts those in your binders. Those binders go on top of your books and that all goes into your bookcase where you keep most of your books.

He then gathers your dishes and puts them in the sink, he’ll clean them later after dinner. He rounds up all of the other rubbish, clothes and other things and puts them where they belong or bins them.

When all of this is done he carefully lifts up your head and sits down next to you. He keeps your head on his lap and watches some telly. He had also put the food in the oven on low to keep it warm. He then just waits for you to wake up, if you fell asleep on your couch you probably really needed the sleep.

After a little while, you wake up again with a fright. ‘’Shit,’’ you call out and grab the book that had just fallen from your lap. You then notice Tom and seem rather confused. ‘’Sorry for barging in on you love, I thought we could maybe have dinner.’’

You have now scrambled to your knees and look even more confused than before with your flat suddenly clean and your boyfriend on your couch. Tom opens his arms invitingly for you. You crawl up to you and cuddles you close while rubbing your back.

‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ You hide your face in his neck as tears start to gather in your eyes. ‘’Nothing,’’ you lie with a slight tremble in your voice. ‘’I already saw them, no need to lie.’’ You pull Tom even closer to yourself and wrap your legs around his hips.

‘’I’m sorry. It just all got too much.’’ Tom slightly rocks you and runs a hand through your hair. ‘’That’s okay, what got too much? Hm?’’ You sniffle and pull away from him. ‘’I just feel like I can’t keep my head up anymore. I’m drowning in my work, trying to be social, my job… you. It’s all getting too much.’’

Cup cups your face with his large hands and wipes your tears with his soft thumbs. ‘’You’ll manage. You always have. I believe in you. How about we go eat now because you need a break I think? We then look through your work and see what you still have to make.’’ You dry your tears as well and nod at him.

‘’Yes please.’’ Tom smiles and kisses you softly. He then goes to grab the food he took and puts it on plates. You take your time to eat while watching some telly. Tom then does what he said he would. Looking through everything with him helps to get every straight and it turns out you don’t have to do nearly as much as you thought.

You then work on the things you find hard on Tom’s lap while he coos suiting and encouraging words in your ear. When he thinks you had enough he has to tear you away from your work to sleep. When you’re in bed with him though you feel much better. Calm and collected. You cuddle up close to him and kiss his cheek.

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#tom hiddleston #depression #selfharm #loki #marvel #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddelston x reader #reader #one shot sunday 2 #lokis little kitten

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scarlettsage77 · 7 years

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I read all 23 chapters of your TomHiddlestonxReader or SebastianStanxReader story and I am obsessed!!! I love it so much! I love the gifs before each chapter, I loce the storyline, the way you write Tom and I am definitely Team Tom Hiddleston all the way!!!! I was hoping you could tag me when you update so I could keep reading your fantastic story! Update soon! You've got a fan here!

Thank you!... Working on Chapter 24 now... oooh it’s a doozy ... Tag added... unless I spaz because it sometimes takes me a time or two to remember I need tags haha

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taylorgrace-writes · 2 years

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Coming Soon

Chapter 1: Magic Mirror

Chapter 2: A Journey

Chapter 3: 💔Prince Hiddleston

Chapter 4: The Ball

Chapter 5: 💔❤️‍🩹It Doesn’t Exist

Chapter 6:💔 Silent Cries

Chapter 7:💔 Rage

Chapter 8:❤️ Shadows Of The Past

In My Dreams

💖Tom’s Beloveds

#tomxreader #tomfanfic #tomhiddlestonfanfic #tomhiddlestonxreader #tom #tomhiddleston #fanfiction #price!tom #prince!tomhiddleston #prince!tomxreader #prince!tomhiddlestonxreader #tom’sbeloved’s

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haileygarciasunshine · 3 years

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Red Hood

Red Riding Hood AU

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader

Written: January 5th, 2021

Posted: January 5th, 2021

Warning: None

Word Count: 498

Requested: Yes! // Tom Hiddleston x Fem Reader story where Tom is the Big Bad Wolf while the reader is Little Red Riding Hood. @bchargoistheartist

Author’s Note: I did a mix of Red Riding Hood (Movie with Amanda Seyfried) and Once Upon a Time Ruby.

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Walking through the forest, it was eerily quiet beside the soft crunching of snow under your feet. Your grandmother had warned you against going into the woods, much less going in alone.

Your engine red cloak dragged behind you slightly. Before you left, your grandmother had given you a small honey-do list. Every month, whenever there was a full moon she would pull out the task list and send you on your way. She thought it would keep your idle hands busy, however, you were most certainly always done before noon.

Once you were done with your tasks, you’d make your way to the forest and meet with your childhood friend Tom.

Standing at your meeting point, you began to grow nervous. He was always there before you, waiting happily.

“Tom?” You muttered, eyes darting around the forest. The hair on the back of your next stood at attention. Your breathing becoming ragged.

“Boo!” Tom yelled, his hands darting to grasp your waist as a shrilled scream fell from your lips.

Whirling around you smacked Tom’s shoulder. “Don’t do that!” You exclaimed placing a hand over your heart. “You know how much I hate that!”

Tom’s bellowing laughter filled the air. “Sorry Love, I couldn’t resist.”

Scoffing you rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Real funny, considering a wolf is on the lose.”

“That’s just a rumor.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“How do you figure?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not the first time a rumor like this has gone through the village.” Tom scoffed.

“Yeah-”

“Come, it’s getting dark. We need to get back.” Tom spoke, holding his arm out expectantly.

Letting out a huff, you linked your arms together allowing him to escort you.

---

“You know how I feel about that boy.”

Letting out a sigh, you rubbed the side of your face. Naturally, one of the villagers went to your grandmother and told her they had seen you with Tom.

“We’ve always been friends.” You responded shrugging your shoulders.

“He’s a menace.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know enough to make an educated decision.” She responded, placing her knitting needles angrily on the end table beside her. “I don’t want you around him anymore.”

“Grandmother-”

“No.” She spoke, sending you a stern glare. “And that’s final.”

“Fine.” You spoke, tears beginning to form in your eyes. “I’m leaving.”

“Y/N-”

Not bothering to hear her out, you bolted out of the house. Gripping part of your dress, you lifted it before running down the snowy streets of the village. As you ran, the streets were empty, causing it to look like a ghost town.

Pausing by the of the shops, you leaned against the wall allowing yourself to catch your breath.

The sound of a growl beside you captured your attention. With widened eyes, you turned to face the wolf, your jaw falling slack in the process. The wolf wasn’t just a village rumor, it was real.

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#tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tomhiddlestonimagine #tom hiddleston imagines #tomhiddlestonimagines #tom hiddleston x reader #tomhiddlestonxreader #reader insert #readerinsert #red riding hood au #redridinghoodau #redridinghood #red riding hood

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lillianofliterature · 4 years

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a stranger’s gift | tom hiddleston x reader

a/n: inspired by my obsession with simplistic aus/scenarios. Also, for the sake of this fic, we're pretending Tom lives in New York for a time. He was actually living there for a time because of Betrayal (his play on Broadway). And you guys, cakes are EXPENSIVE in New York! I got the prices and cake flavoring by referencing an actual bakery that's in New York. It's a hefty price - but for a good reason. Their cakes are stunning and I'm sure they're as delicious as they look. gif not mine, found on google. dm to claim or remove.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

summary: sometimes the simple kindness of a stranger can change the course of one's life. in your case, it meant getting a free cake in the midst of a lonely birthday celebration - and perhaps a little spark of romance to ignite the candles.

warnings: none

word count: 6.3k

music: Sisters by Christophe Beck

Tom's slender fingers plucked a tin of English Breakfast blend off of a shelf decorated with dozens of teas in dozens of differently colored containers. His eyes swiftly read the names of each one as he silently mulled over his next pick. After plucking a few more tins from the shelves, he turned and left the small aisle of the bakery, excusing himself politely between other customers. With a glance upwards at the signs that dangled above each designated aisle, he spotted one with a bright red arrow that directed him towards the front cashier.

When he reached the front of the store with his arms full of his carefully selected tea, he quickly took his place in line. Luckily, he was only third in line, so he would quickly be on his way back to his apartment full of books - and be able to continue his date with Shakespeare. He hardly noticed the woman in front of him, apart for the vague passing of his line of vision as he surveyed the menu of desserts and the working hands of bakers through the kitchen window behind the counter. From his place in line, he dropped his gaze to quietly admire the delicacies that were meticulously decorated in the display case by the counter.

He could feel his mouth water as he read the labels of individual slices of natural strawberry cakes topped with browned butter frosting and flecks of gold leafing, chocolate cupcakes filled with crème and doused with cream cheese icing, sugar cookies with the bright layers of royal icing and decorated with the steady hand of a professional artist. It was marvelous.

His vision blurred out of focus as the woman in front of him leaned in front of the display case, obviously tempted to taste the very desserts he had been admiring. He smiled at her, although it was only directed to the back of her head. He agreed silently with himself that coming to a bakery was one of the best experiences to have in New York - it was filled with people with a deep sense of passion for sweets, teas, coffees, and a plethora of fruit-based breakfast meals, typically sprinkled with crystalized sugar. In the late morning, it was the most enjoyable.

People were coming from their morning shifts, late shifts, from the comfort of their sheets, or for their break hour from their jobs - in Tom's case, it was his only day off from filming that week, which called for a day filled with tea, books, and possibly a box of sweets.

He took a slow step forward as the man two spots ahead of him took his pastry box and headed for the glass doors of the entrance. With the jingling of the golden bells above the door, the man was gone, and the woman in front of Tom began her request for her order. Tom couldn't help but eavesdrop as he waited.

"Um, hi, I need to order a birthday cake." You began with shy tint to your voice. Without a second's pause, the cashier pulled a piece of paper out from under the counter and pressed a pen to the paper as he jotted down the date.

"Who's ordering it?"

"Me."

"Yeah, but I need a name to place it under." The man looked up with an expectant expression, obviously unsatisfied with your vague reply.

"Oh! Right. My last name is (L/n)," You stammered, and Tom watched as you clutched your hands together behind your back, fidgeting visibly. He felt pity for you; a slip-up in simple conversation was always embarrassing, especially in public.

"Alright, what type of cake?"

"I'd like a cookies and cream cake with mocha cream filling, please." You watched patiently as he jotted the information down in the respective lines of the order form.

“Size?”

“Six inches.”

“Alright, and-“

“You know what? Make it an eight-inch.”

". . .Any additional icing?"

"Mm, how about cream cheese frosting."

My goodness, Tom thought with a smirk. She does have a sweet tooth.

"Color preference?"

"Uhm, what colors do you have?"

"Let me get you the booklet." The cashier excused himself and went to the edge of the counter, near the coffee machines. After a few seconds of perusing behind the counter, he came back with a spiraled book of laminated pages. He flipped it open and pulled on a labeled tab. "So, since you want cream cheese frosting, there's a limited color choice since it gets pretty watered down with regular food dyes and the gel dye only comes in so many colors."

"That's okay, I'm not picky." You feigned a bright smile, finally pulling your hands forward and placing them on the counter as you leaned forward to look at the swatches of frosting on the pages. Tom couldn't help but notice how you stood on the tips of your toes to lean across the counter, and it pulled his lips into a smile. When you turned your head slightly to peruse the colors on the right page, he admired the gentle curve of your cheek and the delicate shape of your nose.

"I'll take the green. With the gold accents. Oh! And those cream dollops on top," You pointed to the picture. "And do you have any logos? Like Marvel or something?"

Tom’s smile grew as he cocked an eyebrow, thinking to himself, A Marvel fan?

He pictured the finished cake in his mind; the colors resembled his counterpart Loki, who often adorned himself in lustrous shades of green and gilded armor. Had your choice in color been intentional? Or was it just a coincidence?

"Yeah, but we usually put them on kids’ cakes. Do you want a printed picture or do you just want this add-on?" He pulled an organized divider of decoration samples out and held up a plastic piece shaped like the Marvel logo, but the bright red sort of clashed with the shade of green you had chosen.

"How much extra for a print?"

"Twelve dollars." He replied blandly, still holding up the logo. You cringed at the hefty price.

"Ehhh...I'll just go without."

"Do you want to have something written on it?"

"Yeah, can you put 'Happy Birthday (Y/n)'? With some gold flakes around it?" He scribbled your request down on the sheet.

"Do you want the writing in the same color?"

"How about this one?" You pointed to a sparkly black icing swatch.

"I'll be right back with your copy of the order form, miss," As the man stood up to his full height from leaning over the counter, he glanced behind you. "Sorry sir, we're low on staff today, it'll be just a minute."

"Take your time." You followed the sound of the stranger's voice, only to accidentally make direct eye contact with its owner. As you took in the man’s features, you lost all ability to think coherently or breathe properly.

The man had wavy blondish-brown hair, with eyes so bluish-green they seemed like pure crystals. He was taller than you and had a slender frame, but obviously hid some muscle beneath his black button-up. He nodded down at you and smiled broadly, adjusting his grip on the tin cartons of tea sachets he held in his arms. You could make out the label of a few, one being an English Breakfast blend.

He was, in fact, Tom Hiddleston in the flesh. The very man who had played your favorite character for nearly a decade in the Marvel franchise; the one you had had in mind when designing your cake. He had been the leading man in almost all of your favorite movies to date and you knew that he was currently starring in a play on Broadway, and yet, nearly 8 miles away from that very street full of rising stars and shimmering stage lights, here he was. In a bakery not but a ten-minute walk from your very own apartment, granting himself the pleasure of indulging six different tins of tea, and looking you in the eyes as if it was nothing monumental.

"Sorry for taking so long." You gushed, embarrassed by how slow you had been in ordering your cake - you hadn't realized there was a line forming behind you, and that Tom himself was leading that very succession. Your nerves were in even more of a bundle knowing that he was even there, much less waiting for your order to finish up.

"Don't worry about it, dear! You're perfectly fine. I'm in no rush." He shook his head dismissively.

"Thanks." You managed to say before turning back to the counter as you felt your cheeks flush. You were used to the wide mix of accents in New York, seeing as the city was so diverse from people traveling from all over the world to both visit and find residence in the Big Apple, but the rich English accent mixed with the tone of his voice made your skin shiver. It sounded like the sweetness of warm honey as it dripped from his tongue - just as it always had in his films, but in person, it was even more intoxicating.

You pleaded inwardly with the cashier to come back soon - you were practically squirming under the pressure of your nerves. You hated holding up lines, even more so when you couldn't do anything to speed the process up – especially when a handsome actor was at the mercy of your leisure.

"Whose birthday is it?"

"Hm?" You turned back around and met those wonderfully bluish-green eyes again. "I’m sorry?"

"I asked whose birthday you're celebrating."

"Oh- uh, mine. Today's my birthday."

"Oh," You could see his face fall, although his polite smile still decorated his pleasurable features. It was obvious that he was doing his best to try and hide his disappointment. You didn’t blame him; a grown woman designing and buying her own birthday cake was a pretty disappointing situation. "You're purchasing your own cake?"

"Yeah, I don't have anyone to celebrate with this time." You forced a smile, but you could tell you weren’t selling it very well. Tom felt it was a rather sad smile, especially with the way your eyebrows dipped together. In an instant, he considered the exact meaning of your explanation; did you not have any family in the area? Or were you perhaps without a family at all? Had there been some sort of fallout? Or did you just have very selfish friends who hadn’t taken the time to notice your birthday? Amongst his vast assumptions of the situation, a sincere feeling of deep empathy arose in his heart, no matter the case. "That's a shame. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's alright; I just live here alone is all. My family lives pretty far away." You explained with a courteous smile. Tom was relieved in part to hear that it was the more pleasant assumption that brought you here. The simplistic nature in which you held yourself reserved rather intrigued him, but the dullness in your mood and the lack of excitement in your tone made his heart dip with sadness. You seemed to be rather unimpressed with yourself, which made him remorseful for you, especially when you were standing in the midst of such a sweet-smelling bakery, unable to find even a limited amount of genuine delight.

You, of course, had been woken up that morning with a call from your family wishing you a happy birthday, and while it had easily been the highlight of your morning, the ecstasy of their voices wore off as you locked your apartment door and scrambled down the steps of your complex in an effort to arrive at work on time. You were expecting a call from your best friend as well, but it would most likely come in the evening when (he/she) got off work for the day.

But it just wasn’t enough, as ungrateful as that seemed. You had no one in the flesh to celebrate with.

"Well, happy birthday, then. I believe you deserve to good wishes from someone, even if it's from a stranger." He said with an almost wistful smile. Your mouth opened partly in shock and partly in an effort to form a decent ‘thank you’, but before you could speak, the voice of the cashier pulled your attention back to the counter.

If only you knew, you thought, realizing that he was far from a stranger to you. But I suppose he is sort of a stranger, even if I’ve indulged every one of his films and fantasized about a frost giant for the last decade. At the very least, I’m a stranger to him.

“Here’s your copy of the form,” He slid the form across the counter and you studied it mindlessly until he spoke again. “The total comes out to be fifty-three eighty-six, with tax. You can pay for it now or when you pick it up later.”

“Later is fine.”

“Can we get a number or an email so we can notify you when it’s finished?” He asked, his fingers twirling the pen around in his hand as he waited. You gave him your number and folded your copy of the form so it would slide easily into your purse. “Alright, Miss (L/n), it should be ready in a few hours.”

“Great, thank you.”

“Have a nice day, ma’am.”

“You too.” You smiled, stepping away from the counter and turning to face the stranger behind you. After shoving your wallet back into your purse, you smiled up at him bashfully. “And thank you for the birthday wishes. It was very kind of you.”

“Of course, love.” He stepped forward and began to empty the armful of tins in his arms. They clinked together onto the counter successfully, with the exception of one that clattered onto the ground. Swiftly, you bent down and picked it up as he muttered, “Ah, blast.”

When you stood and handed it to him, his fingers grazed yours just enough for his warmth to spread over your knuckles. You felt your cheeks burn as your fingers tingled from the sensation.

“Oh! Thank you very much. I seem to be a bit of a klutz today!” His laughter echoed in a strain of giggles, pulling a chuckle from your own lungs. Your lips parted absentmindedly in a quaint smile as you noticed how his laughter invigorated the gleam of happiness in his eyes and widened the bright smile he wore.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m always a klutz.” You smiled coyly, turning towards the exit once more. Your gaze fell to the ground as you fought the overwhelming sense of childlike infatuation as it made your thoughts swirl and prance around each other in an unbridled jumble of warm fuzziness.

When your fingers enclosed around the bar of the door, you glanced back in the direction you had come from just enough to assuage your curiosity. When you did, you noticed Tom as he turned his head to mouth a ‘goodbye’ and wiggle a few fingers in an effort to wave to you as he prepared to swipe his card. You dipped your head forward slightly and returned the gesture with a fluttering of your delicate fingers.

Did I really just meet Tom Hiddleston? Tom freaking Hiddleston?

The bells above the door chimed contentedly as you stepped outside into the noisy streets of New York City. You glanced up at the darkening sky as a gust of cool air blew tendrils of your (h/c) hair out of its neatly brushed style. As you watched the oncoming front of billowing storm clouds creep under the bright yellow hues of the sun, you dug your hands deeper into your jacket pockets. It felt as if a blackening weight had welcomed itself upon your shoulders in an instant, stealing the magic of meeting Tom and your skin brushing his. All too quickly, your thoughts returned to gloomier matters.

Of course it would storm today.

You typically didn’t mind the rainy weather on most days. In fact, you thought New York was most beautiful when rain made her flickering lights shimmer brighter and the streets glisten with the busy reflections of the city. But if there was one day you would prefer to be on the more pleasant side in terms of weather, it would be today. This time around, you were in need of at least one favorable turn-up; what with being alone in an overly crowded city, the unbelievably slow progression of the novel you were writing, and the dreaded responsibility of working.

You were in dire straits for at least one ray of hope.

A ray of hope, you smiled to yourself as you repeated the phrase in your head. In an instant, Tom’s gentle smile and calming laugh filled your mind. Those bright eyes pierced your memory and aligned with every scene from every one of Loki’s close-ups. You had dreamt of those eyes so many times. You never thought you would see them in person – you never thought you would see him in person.

A blushful smile painted itself delicately upon your lips, bringing a warm tint to your cheeks and brightening your sorrowful expression. As you thought more and more about the encounter, however, a sense of panicked regret twanged in your stomach in the same way that something sour bursts across your tongue - twisting your face into a contortioned mix of pleasure and pain.

Why didn’t I introduce myself? I only muttered a few meager sentences.

I should have complimented his career and told him about how much he means to me as an actor! How his words inspired me to become a writer!

And I’ll probably never see him again. That was my one chance and I spent it yammering on about my sad existence and eating a cake all alone.

Oh! What he must be thinking about me; a woman ordering an entire cake for herself?

I should have stuck with the six-inch.

With a discouraged droop to your shoulders and a heavy sigh, you flipped your hood over your already-askew hair and made your way back to work. On top of all of the social stress accumulating in your mind, you were aware that returning to work wouldn’t help matters any. You doubted your floor advisor would approve of your taking an extended break, even if today was your special day. Office hours still existed from 9 to 5 with expected punctuality and two minimal breaks, apart from your thirty-minute lunch hour, birthday celebrations or not – and you would be expected to uphold a bubbly appearance and carry on the “spirit of the company”.

But as the rain began to trickle down in plumes of chilled mist, you wished for nothing more than to be curled in your bed with every blanket in your possession, with a pleasurable book or movie to entertain you, and an entire cake waiting to be devoured with a single fork.

You most certainly didn’t feel motivated to return to work of all places.

The clicking of your shoes on the dampening pavement lulled your thoughts to a state of rest. With your mind already settled into a state of glumness, you resolved to accept the reality that this time, there was no surprise party waiting for you back home, no special dinner out with friends or family, and no unexpected gifts. Nothing was going to happen that didn’t mirror exactly what happened every day: minimal sleep, loads of unbearable work, and avid amounts of stress.

And worst of all, no one to help you forget it all, even just for a day.

“You’re all set, sir. Enjoy your tea.”

“Uhm, thank you, but actually, I was wondering, is there any way I could cover the expenses for the lady’s cake? The one who ordered before me?”

“Uh, I mean, sure, if you want to.”

“Yes, please. I’d like to pay for it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite.”

“Alright. Let me pull up her order real quick,” - the cashier mulled over the monitor, tacking away a few command codes until your ticket joined onto Tom’s - “It comes out to fifty-three eighty-six.”

Without hesitance, Tom swiped his card through the machine and waited patiently for his receipt. As it fed slowly from the printer into the cashier’s hand, Tom folded his wallet up and slid it into his back pocket. With a gentle tear, one copy of the receipt was Tom’s for the keeping, and another required his signature. As Tom quickly scribbled something resembling his name, the cashier offered one more option for him to consider.

“Would you like to leave a note with the purchase?”

“Yes,” a delighted smile spread across Tom’s face, “Yes, I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

“One-hour rush, people! Busiest time of the day! Remember to keep those smiles taut and those voices peppy! We’d hate to lose that five-star customer service review!” The voice of your floor manager echoed through the room as she walked from her office to the printing room, violating your eardrums with her overly-joyed chorus of passive-aggressive commands.

It was unhealthy, in your opinion; no human in their right mind should be that excited about managing a dingy lit office floor cramped with grey cubicles. You whiled away your last hour with the most polished manners you could muster, trying your best not to glance too much at the time on your monitor, and blocking out the voice of Effie Trinket as it issued pointless remarks throughout the floor.

As the hour dissolved into mere minutes, you tapped your pen against your desk, silently hoping this costumer would comply so you could both get on with your night.

“No, ma’am, I’m sure you aren’t lying. I just need to make sure that the receipt is in your possession so I can give you your rewards back in full. Without the receipt code there isn’t much I can do for you in accordance to our policies.” You said, listening intently for your costumer’s reply. You flinched as a barrage of frustrated insults blared over your headpiece. Thank the heavens this was your last customer.

“No, no, I didn’t call you a liar, miss. No, I- ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down for me. I’m only trying to help you, here,” You planted your face in your hands, pulling the mouthpiece away from your lips and you groaned. The woman’s voice grew incessantly louder. “Yes, I am qualified to work this position, ma’am, I just can’t overlook the policy, even in this situation, or I could risk my own job. I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can d-”

Click.

“Well, there went one of our stars.” You mumbled, pulling off your headset and scooting away from your desk. You let yourself slouch as you mindlessly logged out of your monitor and quickly shoved your things in your purse. You lumbered out of your stuffy cubicle, flicked your desk lamp off, and made tired strides towards the elevator. You tried your best to avoid eye contact with your coworkers as the atmosphere of the room filled with the sounds of people shuffling about and making their way to the lobby. Just as your fingers pressed against the orange button of the lift, a bright voice rang in your ears. You turned to find Effie Trinket herself – your floor manager, Karen.

“I heard that last phone call, (Y/n), and I have to say, it was a little disappointing,” Karen said, her expression dramatically downcast with a pouted lip. “You could practically hear how tired you look! Just remember; the customer is always right, okay? Okay!” She patted your shoulder in a patronizing manner as she bobbed her way back into her office.

What I wouldn’t give to see that hair sprayed rat’s nest deflate just for one minute. Just one, you thought as the doors of the lift glided open and a dozen people shuffled inside. You reminded yourself to breathe evenly as your shoulders rubbed involuntarily against others. The air was hot, silent, and awkward, but everyone was thinking the same thing: Why do I even work here? The paycheck isn’t even that great.

With a ding, the doors opened, and you hopped out in a hurry to avoid being forcibly shoved out. The clicking of shoes echoed through the lobby as you neared the doorway and plucked your umbrella from the stand. With one fluent movement, you shoved the door open and held it behind you for a lingering moment for the woman after you, and shook your umbrella open before leaving the dry space of the concrete awning.

You had been right; it was raining, and with little mercy. Something about the gloomy downpour felt a little more appropriate now than it had several hours since you had left the peaceful ambiance of the bakery. Any hope of optimistic pleasure had been beaten out of you after nearly a hundred phone calls with impatient strangers.

Raindrops pattered onto your umbrella and dribbled off the edges, making small dashes of chilly water tickle your ankles as they hit the concrete. You walked in silence as you swiped through the notification center on your phone; nothing interesting had popped up in the last few hours, only weather alerts and another system update notice. No calls or texts. No birthday wishes or invitations.

It wasn’t until you dropped your phone back in your pocket and stared at the glittering reflection of the cityscape in the puddled streets that you remembered that an entire cake was waiting for you back at the bakery. The same bakery you had met Tom Hiddleston in the same morning – which you were still struggling to believe.

The ghost of a sweet voice enriched your memory of the day, even if it was mostly full of embarrassment and undeserved stress. Warmth flooded your cheeks as you recalled the richness of his velvety tone in person and his gentlemanly demeanor that lived up to his reputation.

Your shoulders shrugged together as your posture dipped in delicate cadence to the girlish fantasies rolling about in your mind, followed by a fond smile. You wondered if he had given your meeting a second thought, or if he had mulled over the conversation you had briefly shared as you had, or if perhaps he had thought you pretty.

But then you remembered that you had hardly made any conversation with the man, and what you had said had been vulnerable and awkward, and you felt a wave of fresh embarrassment flood your nerves. You huffed a bleary sigh into the chilly rain and felt your body slouch. You had a knack for ruining your own mood quite efficiently.

When you finally reached the café with soggy shoes, you caught your reflection in the tall windows, and your temperament deflated completely. Your hair was a damp mess, your foundation and concealer had long worn off, and the outfit you had chosen didn’t flatter you as well as it had in front of your mirror with groggy vision that morning. Had you looked this exhausted when Tom had seen you?

The bells chimed above you as you entered and shucked off the droplets of rain from your umbrella before the door closed behind you. You slipped it into the crowded vase beside the welcome mat, surveying the quiet bakery. A polite ‘hello’ from the nearest waitress floated in your direction somewhere in the mingling conversations of the room, which you replied to with a smile. The line was a little longer now that the after-work community had fluttered in, but in your slumped attitude, you felt no irritation in the matter.

You observed the bustling streets outside as the line slowly progressed, your eyes wondering to the personalities that filled the tables and short aisles of the spacious shop. Your mind wandered over the events of the day and to the rich flavor of sweets that awaited you until you were next in line. Promptly, after rehearsing your words in your head, you requested to pick up and pay for your order. It took only a few minutes for the clerk to bring out your cake.

When she popped open the lid to the paper box, you let out a pleasant gasp.

It was stunning.

“Is it to your liking?”

“Oh, yes, very much, thank you,” you gushed, admiring the Loki-inspired palette before she folded it shut and secured the edges to each other, “It’s perfect.”

You began to dig around in your purse for your wallet, ignorant to the tiny envelope taped to the top of the box. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s already paid for, ma’am,”

“What?”

“Um, It’s been paid for. You don’t owe anything.”

“I’m sorry, but – I- I don’t understand. I didn’t pay for it when I was here earlier today.”

“Well, our bill shows that it was paid for shortly after the order was made, along with several tins of tea.”

Tea? I didn’t buy any tea.

Your eyes widened as you remember a certain handsome stranger with six cartons of tea in his arms, one of which you had helped him pick up.

The tea. Tom.

Tom paid for my cake.

“Whoever paid for it left a note for you,” she added, removing to the small envelope attached to the box lid and handing it to you, “Maybe the person behind you or something? There’s a trend for that going around online.”

With quick fingers, you opened the tiny envelope and pulled out the delicate little card which read,

“I hope this small gesture can bring a little joy to your day. Happy Birthday!

P.S. If you need help eating it, just give this number a call. (###)###-#####.

(I trust that you won’t give this number out.)

Tom Hiddleston”

Alongside his invitation for company was a quaint little doodle of a smiley face. And he trusted you with his personal phone number? A woman he had only just met? The air in your lungs thinned as your eyes darted over the loose penmanship and scribbled name several times before you glanced back up at the cashier.

“Um…”

“Do you know them?” Her excited curiosity pulled your gaze back to hers.

“Uh, no...not personally.”

“A stranger, then? That was kind.”

“Yes,” you murmured, reading over the card another time, “yes it was.”

In a dense phase of disbelief, you managed to return to your apartment with your gifted cake in hand. After dipping out of your shoes and dumping your accessories by the door, you set your cake in the fridge with timidly careful hands – the value of this delicacy had increased immeasurably. It was no longer just a simple treat you had decided to give to yourself. It was the result of something simplistically spectacular, a desert made a hundred times sweeter by the giving heart of a stranger.

Except that stranger didn’t feel like one. He felt familiar. He felt like a friend.

After you quickly showered the grime of work off of your body and freshened your rain-dampened hair, you donned a comfortable pair of sweats and made for your kitchen. You peered into the cabinets and fridge for quite some time, searching for something that piqued your cravings and also offered a bit of healthy influence to your growling hunger – but why not just eat the cake? It was your birthday, after all.

You pulled the box out from the cool shelf and set it on the counter, preparing a dish and silverware, and hunting for a set of small wax candles you remembered having stashed in a drawer. When you found a pair of neon-colored candles, you pulled the cake out of the box timidly and poked the tip of the candles through the cream cheese frosting. You dimmed the kitchen lights, and with the flick of a match, you lit the candles.

You watched them twinkle for a moment, your thoughts drifting to the handsome stranger who had graciously picked up the tab for someone he barely knew – and you were beyond grateful to be that someone. With a quick puff of air, you blew the candles out, wishing quietly you would be able to see him again.

After you cut through the cake and carefully set a slice aside for yourself, you sat on your sofa in the still silence of loneliness and tried to delve into the delicacy. But you couldn’t. You thought back to the generous offer written hastily on the small card…

“P.S. If you need help eating it, just give this number a call.”

Surely, he hadn’t meant it? Tom was an incredibly generous person; someone generous enough to donate to charities, give back to his fans, remain humble after a decade of hard-earned success, and buy a stranger and very expensive cake…and offer his company?

If it hadn’t been for the number scribbled beside the offer, you would’ve dismissed it entirely.

Your social anxiety told you that it was simply a gesture of kindness, equivalent to when someone inquires after your wellbeing, but not truly seeking the honest truth, happy or not, just a simple “good, thank you, and how are you”. It was a social normality to politely check in on others but never impose upon them by pushing your honesty too far, whether you were doing well or rather horribly.

So, was this the same? Had it just been a polite gesture of kindness? One he hadn’t intended on you following through with?

But he left his number.

You poked at the slice of cake, unable to push past the chance that maybe, just maybe, he had been completely sincere in his offer – and maybe even hoped you would call.

With a disheveled sigh of determination, you pushed yourself off of the cushions and stalked back into the kitchen where the envelope sat primly beside the cake box. You opened it up and with shaky fingers, typed in the digits on your phone’s keypad.

What harm could trying do, in all honesty?

The quaint melody of Tom’s phone echoed in his apartment, sending him in a frenzy of overturned pillows and disheveled cushions until he found it buried beneath a stack of scripts and thin poetry books. He wondered briefly who it could be before answering the unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hi, is this Tom? Hiddleston?”

You cringed inwardly, scrunching your face as you fiddled with the unused napkin in your hand. The familiar English accent was already enough to prove that it was him.

“This is he,” Tom’s expression was one of confusion from the unfamiliar female voice on the other end of the call, “To whom am I speaking?”

“Uh, this is (Y/n). From the bakery. This morning. You paid for my cake?”

“Oh, yes! Hello, darling! Was it as scrumptious as it looked?”

“Well, you see, that’s why I’m calling you…I wanted to thank you, it was so kind of you to do that, and I actually haven’t tried it yet? Um, It’s just that, well,” you inwardly chastised yourself for babbling, “I can’t seem to eat it. I’ve been staring at it for an hour and I just can’t seem to get up to nerve to celebrate by myself… I’ve never had a birthday alone, you see, and I was just wondering if, um, if I could take you up on your offer? To help me eat it?”

Tom’s lips bloomed into a full smile – he had hoped you would call.

“Of course, that sounds like a lovely idea. Would you like to meet somewhere?”

And so, after a few minutes of planning, you had agreed to meet Tom at a small café near his apartment building. You quickly changed into a casual outfit and packed the cake back up, climbed into your car, and found your way to the café – all while hardly believing that any of this was happening.

Would this be considered a date? Or was it simply a show of interest as a stranger who sought to become friends?

When you found a space to park, you felt your heart pounding harder with every minute that brought you nearer to Tom’s presence. With the cake box in hand, you stepped up the sidewalk to the café, and found Tom standing by the door like the gentleman he was.

“(Y/n), darling, there you are!”

“Hi, Tom!” Your cheeks flushed red as you approached him. Your shoulders dipped together in timid embarrassment – was it appropriate to call him by his first name?

“I trust you found your way safely?”

“Yes I did,” you offered a smile as he opened the door for you, “thank you.”

It was a quaint little place with a small crowd, dimmed with candles and warm rustic lighting, plants dotted every corner and table, a grey tabby cat mingled between tables, and the mix of rich drinks was overwhelming when you entered.

The table he led you to – with a gentle hand on your back – was in the corner, huddled by a shelf of old books and dangling vines. You had to admit, the air in the café was exceedingly romantic, but you held your hopes within your mind and focused instead on your grasp on reality itself.

You were about to share your previously isolated birthday dinner with Tom Hiddleston?

When two cups of tea and dishware had been brought to the table, you offered Tom a generous slice, which he took giddily. After a few moments of acquainting yourselves and nibbling politely on your slices, Tom attempted to assuage his curiosity.

“Now, I have to ask,” his smile was almost wolfish as he grinned at you from across the table, “Did you, by chance, plan to decorate your cake after a certain Marvel character?”

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes, which was all too familiar.

“Well, yes, actually. Loki has been my favorite in the MCU for as long as I can remember...he-well, you, helped me get through a lot in my life. I thought it fitting to spend my birthday with him.” You returned his grin, gesturing to the cake.

“In more ways than one, evidently.”

And so, in the generous gift that a stranger had bestowed upon you, a flicker of something wonderful, something beyond friendship, bloomed all around you.

You knew then that your life would never be the same - and perhaps Tom's wouldn't be either.

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