Hi! Can i request a Tom Hiddleston fic where he dates a girl who is very, very independent and self sufficient so she’s not very good at showing when she cares and Tom just thinks she’s not as much in the relationship as he is (but it has a happy end) please?❤️
when are we getting a loki movie ? :( also happy kinda? ambiguous.
You don’t exactly present yourself as the emotional type, and Tom knows this, he has always known this, and it is one of the things he likes about you. You are strong and independent and you don’t shy away from hard work but emotional communication is often a taxing task for you and so you can appear cold and uncaring. But you are caring, just bad at showing it. Tom had, at first, assumed the ice around your face would melt eventually. When it hadn’t, he began to question whether you even liked him as much as he liked you.
Tom wanted to spoil you sometimes, yet you would not allow it. He would want to help you at others, but you’d always say with an energetic smile, “It’s fine! Can do this on my own, thanks”. He began to feel a bit left out. Not to say he was at the assumption that you as his significant other had to share every little detail, yet he opened himself up to you completely and felt that you, in your own peculiar way, refused to do the same.
Morning. Misty. The summer home the two of you had been staying at for a week now creaks happily, dimly lit, and homey. He had woken up a little bit after dawn - sunrises always calm him down - and his thoughts had been merciless and hurtful. He had not been able to sleep well for weeks now: the cramp in his shoulders and slightly red, endlessly tired eyes prove it. You had noticed his stiffness of body when you came here to vacation. And you had done almost nothing to reveal your concern.
So when you find him on the porch, his bare feet touching the grass, a cup of now cold coffee secured in his hands, your brows knit with worry and you approach him gently in uncertain small steps. You pull your robe closer and sit beside him, his attention briefly drifting to you before he goes back to watching the pretty scenery of the countryside.
“You look ill.” You say, your eyes roaming around his sunken face. He gives you a tired smile and his hand finds yours, “Tell me what’s the matter. Please.”
It took a bit of persuasion - he was unsure if voicing his inner turmoil would be even worth it - but the rawness in your expression somehow made him spill everything. And it was a tough thing to hear. It hurt, but must of all it hurt that it hurt him. You love him and you assumed that he knew that you did. It was frightful that he began to question your feelings, when to you they were so painfully clear.
By the end of it, your head was resting on his shoulder, your hands clasp around his in fierce, though loving, grip. And silence followed afterwards where the two of you simply breathed the clean air and listened to birds chirping in the distance.
“I’ll make breakfast.” You eventually say. You flick a few loose strands of hair from his forehead and smile lightly, “You go rest up. I’ll wake you once it’s ready.” You land a soft kiss on his lips. He lazily pulls away and stumbles to bed. You sit outside for a little while longer.
