Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom/Loki - Enough

A/N: The next two requests were similar, so I decided to combine them into one.

6...

Q: Would you rather have take a Shakespeare class with Tom or a Norse class with Loki?

****

Another filming, another six months without Tom sleeping next to you.

It was already hard enough trying to manage without him.  You were already pressured to gain more weight, as your pregnancy would be at high risk if you didn't.  And you didn't want to continue being the reason Tom was barred from having a child.  And you didn't want the question to be asked to him once again.  He was already asked six times in the past year, and after the two times he explained it, he maneuvered his way around directly answering.

But now it was beyond health.  It was beyond making Tom happy; it was pleasing the media.

You hug Tom's blue dress shirt around you as you search through your twitter.  You wanted to cry into his chest, feel his warmth as he buried you into a hug, but there would be no comforting solace of a touch.  You would have to face the criticism on your own.

This is what happens when anorexia is taken to the extreme.

If no one has told you yet, yes, we can see your rib-cage.

Are you on the same diet as Tom, where the food misses your mouth?  If so, rethink that decision.

Don't turn to the side.  We'll lose you in thin air.

Your feed would double by the minute, your notifications sky rocketing by the second.  Sure, it wasn't all hate; there were Hiddlestoners who would combat the messages and defend you.  But sometimes, unfortunately, it wasn't enough; it only added fuel to the fire.

I need to get out of here.

You close your laptop and go upstairs.  A walk should clear your mind; usually it did, at least for a little bit.  Slipping on a pair of shorts and white vans, you grab your keys, put on some sunglasses and head out the apartment.

But this time, instead of slipping under the radar, everyone seemed to be looking at you.  Growing uneasy, you hold onto your phone tighter as the whispers around you grew.  You wanted to plug in your headphones, but what would that do?  Your anxiety would only raise as you see but can't hear.  At least now you can try to make out what they were saying.  Maybe there was something on your outfit that you weren't seeing.  Or maybe you were being mistaken for someone else, someone, hopefully, most people tolerated.

But as a little kid opened their mouth and spoke loudly, you knew better.

"Mommy, that's Loki's skinny wife."

At least your sunglasses hid most of the tears.

As you pass the window of an electronics store, you pause as the news mentions your husband's name.  You pray it wasn't a scandal, wasn't his death, wasn't anything that would hurt him or your relationship.

"And it seems like Tom Hiddleston is speaking up as thousands of tweets are being posted degrading (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).  He and (Y/L/N) had just celebrated their first anniversary this past month, but recent tweets about the weight status of (Y/L/N) have caused him to take a pause from filming Thor: Ragnarok to post a ten-second video to his wife publicly onto Twitter..."

Your eyes widen as the video plays.  Sure enough, he was still in his Loki costume, green screen behind him, stage crew still working in the background as he talks to the camera.  And what made the message special was that he still spoke in his Loki voice; it was like no matter who Tom was--himself or a character he currently had to be--this message was and always will be for you.

"Hello, love.  I know you're probably swamped with people's opinions about how you should look, and I know how upset you must feel.  But I just wanted to tell you that I love you, (Y/N), and it doesn't and will never matter how much you stomach or whole body weighs, but by the weight of your heart.  And I'm so unbelievably worthy to call you my beloved wife.  I miss you terribly and can't wait to get home.  I'll talk to you soon, and I love you dearly."

You smile, wiping your eyes, not caring about the rest of the report and the anchorpeople's comments on it, not caring about the hundreds that were still murmuring or the people that had gathered around you to watch the same segment.  It didn't matter.  No one's opinions did.  Only his did, and it was enough.

It will always be enough.