Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - Insecurities

        "Darling, you'll have to finish your breakfast before the interview," Tom reminds you as he washes the dishes.  "We won't be eating again for a while."

        "I'm not hungry."  You've been pushing around the eggs on your plate for fifteen minutes.

        "You one took one bite of your toast, your eggs are barely eaten, and you didn't even touch your bacon."  You don't say anything.  He turns off the water, dries his hands, and pulls up a chair next to you.  He sits down, rubs your back, and tries to look into your eyes.  You keep your eyes fixed on the plate, knowing you couldn't handle looking at him right now.  You've been avoiding this look for a long time now.

        "Are you okay, (Y/N)?  What's wrong?"

        "Nothing.  I'm just not hungry right now."  You get up, scrap the food into a tupperware, and wash your dishes.  Tom gets up and wraps his arms around your waist and lays his head on your shoulder.  He starts humming your favorite song, and it gets you to smile.

        "See, there's the (Y/N) I know."  He pecks your cheek.  "Let's get ready, okay?"

        An hour later, you find yourself and Tom getting out of the van and walking to the news studio.  Luke and other bodyguards were around to protect you, but they couldn't protect you from the hurtful glares and snide remarks as you walked by.

        "Why is she wearing her glasses?"

        "Her hair is a mess."

        "Did she gain weight?"

        "She has big hands."

        "I heard she got plastic surgery to fix her nose."

        "If that's true, they didn't do a good job."

        "No, it wasn't plastic surgery.  It was something for her weight."

        Don't you think I already know that I'm not beautiful?

        You kept your head down and stood closer to Tom.  You wanted to curl up into him, fall asleep, and never wake up.  You wanted to run to an abandoned, foreign land, one where no one would find you or even care.  But Tom seems oblivious to all the whispers.  When he sees you even closer to him, he puts his arm around you and kisses your temple.

        When you arrive at the studio, you find yourself standing next to the cameraman.  The tech crew set Tom up with a small microphone, and the interviewer is preparing Tom for what questions he was going to ask.  You slip away to the bathroom, knowing you'll be alone there.

        You peer into the mirror.  You don't see the beautiful girl Tom is always claiming is there.  You see a washed-up nobody, a girl no different that the people on the street described.  Big hands, fat stomach, chunky thighs, thick messy hair, round face, small eyes, chubby cheeks--it was like watching a nightmare.

        It's true.

        You covered your face and sobbed silently.  How could Tom ever really love me?  How could he ever stand to call this horrible mess his?

        You heard footsteps coming your way, so you rush to a bathroom stall, lock the door, and prop your feet on the door.  Another woman came in and used a stall further down the row.  After five minutes, they were gone, and you went back to the mirror.  Your eyeliner had completely ran, making you look like a panda.  You take a paper towel and wipe the makeup off.  Reapplying it, and you looked like nothing ever happened.  You try to suck in the weight, but after a minute, you run out of air, and the weight shifts back.

        It's no use.

        You head back to the where the interview is taking place.  The speaker was introducing Tom and starting with the questions.  Even though your eyes were locked on Tom and the interviewer, you couldn't focus, for out the corner of your eye were fans screaming, holding up signs tell Tom to date or marry them, completely ignoring that there was a wedding ring on his finger and that you were standing right in the window, right next to the cameraman.

        The interview is over before you know it.  Tom gets up and grabs his phone.

        "(Y/N), let's go say hi to the fans."

        "I think you should go without me."

        "But (Y/N)--"

        "Tom, it's okay.  I'll be fine."  Not believing what he's hearing, he goes to take your hand, but you take it away.  With a sad frown, he kisses your lips then parts ways.

        You watch him from the window, and you can tell that he's plastered on a smile for the fans.  He spends two hours out there, signing whatever paper is shoved at him, taking pictures with countless phones, and even dancing in front of them.  But every so often, he would look back at you through the window with a face so sad you had to turn away.

        There is silence on the way back to the house you two share.  You hadn't even gotten a chance to take off your shoes when Tom takes your hand and drags you to the couch for you both to sit down.

        "We need to talk.  Now."  You flinch.  You've never heard him so stern, so serious before.

        "Tom, there's nothing to talk about."

        "Yes, there is."

        "You don't under--"

        "No, I do.  I know what's going on, don't you think I heard those whispers too?"  You swallow.  He had seemed so calm, like he wasn't giving it a second thought.  Then again, he was a legendary actor.

        "How dare you," he says.  "How dare you think that your weight or anything else is an imperfection."

        "But--"

        "No.  I asked you what was bothering you this morning, I've been asking you for weeks now, and you never had anything to say.  Now I'm speaking up about this."  You start to look down at your lap, but he lifts your chin up with his finger.

        "Stop this.  Stop treating yourself like garbage just because ignorant people think you are.  I didn't fall in love with a number on a scale; I fell in love with the size of your heart.  I love you, beautiful, wonderful you.  And although I love running my fingers in your hair, and how adorable you look in your glasses, and that your hands fit so perfectly in mine, and that I can make you smile with a peck on the nose, and that you know how to eat and are not afraid to, I fell in love with your kindness and generosity and optimism.  I just wish you would expand your positive thinking to include yourself."

        You feel a tear fall down your face, then one more, then a whole stream.  You couldn't wipe them fast, so you buried your face in your hands.  Tom gently takes your arm and brings you close, the back of your hands against his chest.  He kisses the top of your head.

        "I don't understand how you could see all of this, Tom."

        "You're perfect to me.  I don't see how you don't see it."

        That didn't help you to stop crying, but only increased it.  He holds you closer and continues to place soft kisses and whisper sweet nothings in your hair until long after you stop crying.

        "Feeling better?"  You nod.  "Good.  Now, I have some chocolate saved in the refrigerator.  I'm going to go get it, and we can watch a movie here together."

        "Sounds like a plan."