Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - Waiting for Superman, Pt. 2

A/N Note:

This week has been so hectic, I am so SO sorry!

I'm going to leave this one open ended. What do you think happens? Comment below your take! (Or you can write a whole separate part. Your choice, just credit yours truly :P)

Heads up: Requests ARE open again, but only for a brief time.

Reason: After I finish them, I will be closing this book. Yes, I may open up a new one, just to have a clean slate.

Okay, here's the continuation!

*****

So "Tom," eh? 

You had been studying the card for ten minutes. This stranger seemed nice, a gentleman, protected you even. He even called the police for you and offered to talk things out to make sure you were okay. And for once, even though you met him all but two minutes, you felt at complete peace.

No, no, what are you thinking, (Y/N)? Haven't you learned your lesson?

This was all too familiar. The idea of heroes and instant devotion to the damsels in distress: that's what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

Three years prior, you and your family had been on a cruise ship when it started to sink. You had helped other people make it safely, but as you were boarding, your ankle was stuck around rope as the last lifeboat fell into the sea. The ship went down, and you with it. You were almost out of air—in fact, you had just closed your eyes, prepared for death—when you felt hands around your ankle, loosening you. Your eyes darted open, and they only got wider when lips met yours and air rushed into your lungs. Your eyes opened, and you were face-to-face with a mysterious man, piercing blue eyes and wavy brown hair. Seeing that you were still conscious, he took his mouth piece and handed it to you, so you could take another cleansing breath. He swam you both to the surface, trading the piece back and forth to ensure that both of you continued to breathe.

"Are you alright?"

"I think so," you had answered, but as a rescue boat made its way to you, you felt your head getting dizzier.

"Stay with me," the rescuer had said, even tapping your cheek a bit, but your mind and body were elsewhere. By the time you were hoisted in the boat, you had already passed out.

Two days later, you had waken up in the hospital, balloons tied to your door's handle and the same stranger walking in the room.

"The doctor said you might be waking up," he said. You eyed the flowers.

"Are those for me?"

"Well," he said, with a smile, "I saw them, and I figured, 'Why not give dying and rotting plants to the woman that saved me?'"

You gave a laugh, "Wait a minute, wait a minute, don't you mean that I was saved by you?"

"No, I meant what I said." He had sat next to your bed. "I was beginning to lose hope in life, like it wasn't worth living, but then when I grabbed you from the rope, I saw that hope resting in your eyes, like you were more grateful for every single breath you take. And I'm so glad you opened your eyes because otherwise I may have joined you."

And that sparked a conversation of appreciating life, and it led to a date, then a second and a third, and before you knew it, you were married to this stranger named (Ex's name).

And that's how far the fairy-tale went. Because on your honeymoon night, you found yourself not trying to make love but trying to make a break for it. The hotel plans weren't exactly what he requested, due to its unavailability, and you had to make a last minute change. Who knew the biggest change would be in your knight's personality?

But this guy, this "Tom," was saving you, not from a rope, but from your worst nightmare. He explicitly frowned on the abusive behavior and shielded you from it. That had to be something, right?

Then again, your ex directly saved you. Now he was trying to end you. Irony can be so twisted sometimes.

I better not chance it.

And yet, even with that thinking, you left his card on your refrigerator, as if second guessing your affirmation.