angel? (a Tom Hiddleston fanfiction)

an angel

Tom had always prided himself on being in control. Whether it was on set or off, he was a man who thrived under pressure. His reputation as a professional—someone who delivered his best no matter the circumstances—was something he'd earned through years of hard work and dedication. But in that moment, as the blinding lights of the movie set faded into a black void, he lost everything.

The pain came first, a sharp, searing pulse that shot through his skull as he stumbled. His legs buckled beneath him, and the next thing he knew, he was falling—falling fast, as if gravity itself had betrayed him. His world went black, the sound of his body hitting the ground distant and muffled.

For a second, everything was just... gone.

Then, like a sudden jolt, Tom felt himself drifting back into consciousness. His head throbbed, the ache deep and relentless, pulling him from the dark abyss. He wanted to open his eyes, but his lids felt heavy, as though the weight of the world rested on them. He blinked, slowly at first, then more rapidly, as the world around him started to come back into focus.

And that's when he saw her.

The first thing that caught his attention were her eyes—bright, so shockingly blue they looked like the sky after a summer storm. They were gazing down at him with an intensity that almost made his heart skip a beat. Tom's breath hitched in his chest, an inexplicable force gripping him in a way he couldn't comprehend. He blinked again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

She wasn't just beautiful. That word didn't even come close. She was something else entirely.

Her hair was black, dark as midnight, cascading in soft waves around her face, framing her features like a work of art. It caught the light in a way that made it shimmer, almost as if she were glowing. Her skin—porcelain white, smooth and perfect, with an otherworldly radiance—seemed to emit a soft glow. Her lips were full, painted in a deep red, like the sweetest strawberry, and they curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as she leaned closer. It was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but it made him feel... safe. Calm. Protected, even.

For a moment, Tom's heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat, and his mind couldn't process what was happening. He was staring at a face so impossibly beautiful, so serene, that the only explanation he could come up with was that he was dead. He had to be.

His head still felt like it was going to explode, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all, but there was a certainty that bloomed deep inside him, a thought that anchored him in a strange sort of peace: This must be it. I've died.

That idea settled into his chest like an unshakable truth. There was no other explanation. The pain, the disorientation, the sudden awareness of this strange, ethereal presence—this must be the afterlife.

Her face—this angelic, perfect face—was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. It felt... right. As if she were meant to be there, as if this was what he was always meant to see at the end of his journey.

He tried to speak, but his voice faltered, hoarse and weak. His mouth was dry, and his throat felt like it was made of sandpaper. But somehow, he found the words, a question that had been gnawing at him since he first saw her.

"Did I die?" His voice came out as a raspy whisper, barely audible, but it felt important to him. Important enough to ask.

The angel—this woman who, for all the world, looked like she had stepped out of a dream—leaned in closer, her expression softening with what seemed to be concern. But then she blinked, and the slightest flicker of worry passed over her face, as if she had noticed something about him that he didn't understand.

Tom's breath caught again, quicker now, his chest tightening with a strange sort of pressure. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning: he wasn't breathing properly. The air wasn't reaching his lungs fast enough. His body seemed to be in a state of panic, reacting to her presence in a way he couldn't explain. He didn't know why his heart was racing, why his breaths were coming in shallow bursts, but he could feel it—his body betraying him, out of control.

"Are you an angel?" The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, the desperation in his voice almost painful.

He didn't know why he asked. There were so many things he should have said, should have done, but in that moment, all that mattered was the undeniable certainty that she was something beyond the realm of human understanding. She wasn't like the women he had known. She wasn't like anyone he had ever met. She was... perfect. Like a vision, like a being from another world.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. His head was still spinning, but the thought of her, of her presence, grounded him in a way nothing else could. There was something soothing about her, something ancient and timeless, as if she existed outside the realm of time itself.

Tom tried to sit up, but his body was sluggish, uncooperative. His head spun, and the world tilted dangerously, making him dizzy. He had to focus. He had to understand what was happening. Was this the afterlife? Was this a dream?

The woman—this angel—gently placed her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He felt a warmth radiating from her touch, a warmth that made him feel even more certain of his fate. Angels, he had heard, had this ability to heal, to calm and soothe the souls they encountered. He had read about it in books, heard it in stories. The idea seemed absurd, but in that moment, Tom couldn't bring himself to doubt it.

The pressure in his chest eased slightly as he took a deeper breath, feeling the air filling his lungs more freely now. He glanced up at her, and his gaze locked onto hers. Her blue eyes, wide and intense, met his with a kind of understanding that sent a shiver down his spine. She knew, somehow, what he was feeling.

And then she spoke.

Her voice was soft, melodious, like the sound of a distant lullaby—calming and gentle, but there was strength in it too. "You're not dead," she said, the words slicing through his panic with an almost reassuring clarity. "You just hit your head really hard."

His thoughts were a jumble of disbelief. Not dead? But how could this be?

His mind raced, trying to process the words, but it felt like his body was still stuck in that limbo between consciousness and oblivion.

He looked at her again, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt surreal, as if the world around him was made of glass, fragile and transparent. Was he really alive? Or was this just a dream, some fevered hallucination brought on by the blow to his head?

For a second, he couldn't tell.

Her hands were still on his shoulders, steadying him. He felt the weight of her touch, grounding him in a way he hadn't felt in years. It was like she was pulling him back from the edge of something he couldn't quite understand.

Tom tried to speak again, but his throat tightened, and he coughed weakly. His chest still felt constricted, but the pain was no longer the all-encompassing force it had been before. There was a coolness now, an almost medicinal calm spreading through his body, as though her presence alone had the power to heal.

She was a nurse, he remembered suddenly—her uniform, the way she moved, the careful way she held him, the confidence in her voice. She wasn't an angel, she was... human. Real. A person who had the power to make him feel alive again.

But as he looked at her, Tom couldn't shake the feeling that she was something more than that.

He took another breath, a little deeper this time, and for the first time since he'd fallen, he felt the weight of his body in full. He was alive.

And yet, with her face so close to his, her voice a steady, comforting presence in the chaos of his mind, Tom couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had glimpsed something beyond the ordinary. Something that transcended the life he had known. Something that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt before.

Was she an angel?

In that moment, with the rush of emotion and confusion flooding his senses, Tom couldn't find the answer.