Life Ruiner (Tom Hiddleston Imagines)

Tired

You rolled around in the double bed that seemed bigger than ever tonight. Your arms flopped from one pillow to the other as you lay there, not able to sleep but too tired to do anything else.

Where was he?

Tom had been out all evening to learn lines and meet up with some friends. He'd asked you to go with him but you'd declined, he needed his free time away from you and you didn't want to seem clingy and annoying. You were still getting used to this 'dating a celebrity' stuff. Yes you loved him, you utterly adored every breath he took and would happily pull time apart for him, but for some reason, the papers didn't believe that was enough. For some reason, they believed you had to be drop dead gorgeous, rich, clever, speak like a lady, and have other famous friends.

But you didn't.

It was just plain old you. You, the girl from London who worked in an art gallery. You, the girl who every so often, would have to Google search the words that came out of your boyfriend's mouth or text messages. You, the girl who had nearly died when you'd seen him, sitting on that bench in the gallery. You'd nearly died when he'd asked you questions about each piece of art, and asked you to go on a walk around the gallery with him. You, who if you hadn't already died, you certainly had when he'd asked you if you wanted coffee, then a date, then to be his girlfriend.

And, oh how you loved him. You needed him. He was your world, the first thing you thought about in the morning, and the last thing you thought about at night. You hadn't told him yet, but you'd had dreams about him, ones you'd hoped would come true. Such wonderful dreams, the thoughts a child would have on true love and true love's first kiss.

The days with Tom had been like the longest, happiest dream. A dream you would never wish to awaken from. Not that you'd have that problem tonight, you couldn't sleep.

There were downsides to being in love with a Norse god. Like, the nights he'd be out all evening, drinking with Cumberbatch or Hemsworth. Yes you loved the both of them like brothers but boy when they drank, they drank. The thing that got you about Tom was his loveable nature. Every night, he'd be there to cuddle you, to run his fingers through your hair, to help you sleep. Which was why on days like tonight, you could never sleep. You needed him. He was your drug, the one thing you couldn't live without.

You rolled over and looked at your alarm clock. 2:44AM.

"That's it kiddo," you said aloud, "no sleep tonight."

You peeled back the covers and climbed out of bed. You gasped slightly as your feet hit the laminate floor. Tom had said to get carpet but you'd claimed this would be better. He'd never say he told you so, but you knew he thought about it every morning when it happened. A sly little grin would find its way to that handsome face of him.

You took a deep breath and ran across the floor, trying not to freeze your feet anymore. When you made it to the soft carpets of the living room, you sighed with relief. You'd need carpets for that room ASAP.

You wandered over to the lamp behind the coffee table and slowly switched the plug, the light filling the room. You smiled as your eyes caught the picture frames on the sideboard, their frames and glass covers sparkling in the light.

One was of you and Tom and your first Christmas together. That had been one hectic holiday. You'd spent hours debating over whose tree was better and which lights would look best on it. Then there was the meal...best not to think about how burnt that turkey was. You laughed softly as you remembered how 'crispy' the carrots and potatoes had been. You should have just said yes when your parents had invited both of you around, not argued over who was the better cook. You'd never tell him to his face, but Tom was definitely gifted in the kitchen. He could make even beans on toast the most delicious meal in the world, but he'd never tell you how.