#btw uhh i might have got beat up but WORTH IT!!!

[ladybugsfanfics]

Worth The Wait | Tom Hiddleston x Indian!reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Indian!reader

Style: One Shot

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: uhh, curse words, i dont thinkt there is anything in this??

Summary:  @thelowkeydetective said: “Hey, I wanted to request a soulmate au (with Hiddleston) and take your time, no hurry:if you're on separate time zones, when you sleep, you see the world in the eyes of your soulmate at present and when they look into a reflective surface/mirror the image is blurred. Hope you got which one.  I'm sorry for bugging you again but maybe you could make that one shot I requested to be Tom Hiddleston x Indian reader( that way you can get the time difference too and I'm Indian). Thank you😄” - soulmate au post also, to help the story i added another of the aus  “Because the universe is sadistic af, it only gave you the first letter of your soulmate’s name.”

A/N: this was so much fun to write and I hope i did good. I havent specified that anything about the reader so you can imagine being anything only you live in Chennai, India (it works so well since Tom’s older sister lives there). Thank you so much for the request and so sorry it took so long ^_^ italics are the dream she has btw

if you want to be added to my taglist, please send an ask ^_^  | requests are open, too.

Drying your hands after washing your face, your thumb swipes over the tattoo on your left wrist. The T stares at you, has your heart fall a little as the rope that holds it in place slowly rips―how much is left of that rope, you’re not sure. 

The tattoo appeared when you were 18. All over the world, people wake up to a new tattoo on their 18th birthday, except, most people get the whole name (the first name), and you woke up to only a stupid letter. When you turned twenty, that’s when the probability of finding your soulmate comes. If soulmates are on different time zones, you see their daily life when you sleep. 

For most, this never happens and is only something people use to test that they’ve found the right person. Most of your friends have gone on trips just to make sure the person they met is actually the person they’re meant to be with. 

You’re not one of the lucky. You’re one of the unlucky who has had dreams of their soulmate’s lives since the day you turned twenty. It has been a quiet ride so far, seeing as it’s impossible for you to find out who he is―the dude travels so much you can’t pinpoint where in the world he is from.  A lot of the time, you see manuscripts though, late night readings―Shakespeare seems to be a favorite. 

It doesn’t help that your parents want you to get married, have children and have been talking about this forever. Since you were twenty-five (about eight years), they’ve been going on about forgetting your soulmate and finding someone eligible in India, in Chennai. But you can’t find anyone you get along with, and believe it, they’ve tried hard. 

The T prompts a deep sigh, knowing if you don’t meet him, you will end up spending the rest of your life alone. Through the years you’ve seen him, you’ve noticed things, picked up on habits he has. Also, from time to time, when you believe he dreams, you’ve left notes, tried to speak with him. 

And he replied.

Steadily, you’ve been having a conversation. You still don’t know his name, or where he is from, because you’re afraid to ask certain questions. The first question was a boring yet sweet, how are you? To which he replied, fine, and you?

It became more prying after a while, but it’s only been going on for a year and it isn’t always easy knowing if he’s gotten your messages or not. Though he seems to have figured out when his will reach you. 

With a harsh scrub at the T, which does nothing but redden your skin, you let go of the hand towel. One final look in the mirror. Tired eyes look back at you. You sigh once more and get out of the bathroom. In your bedroom, you get into bed and pull the blanket completely over your head, hoping slumber takes you easily and that maybe, just maybe, you get a new message. 

People are everywhere, filing to and fro in every direction. They lug suitcases after them. Children screams at their parents. The woman who accepts the passport smiles warmly, raven-black hair tied into a ponytail that waves as she moves her head. She hands the passport back, with a tucked in boarding pass and reaches to tie a piece of paper around the handle of the suitcase. Her mouth moves, showing of a set of white teeth. 

Moving, the gaze lands on the boarding pass. It covers the passport, hiding away any information on it. But the pass says it all. From Heathrow to Chennai International Airport. The passport closes shut and is filed into a pocket as the moving stops. 

The security check is lined with people. The long line goes easily forward, stopping only a few minutes every now and then. Long, slender fingers grabs a gray box and pulls out some belongings. A belt, phone and keys land in one corner. So does a wristwatch. A black backpack gets its own box. The line through isn’t long. Green tells to go through. The security people smile and nod, and gestures to keep going. 

Big hands grab the backpack and puts away the other belongings. People everywhere, walking past in a slow tempo. The big screen that tells the gates shows the gate for the flight to Chennai. Increased tempo. 

By the gate, there are few free seats. There is one by the corner. From the backpack, slender fingers drag out a book and a notebook.  A pen sits in the spine. Opening the notebook, pages file past with previous notes. Scrambling a date in uneligible handwriting, and then, in block letters, where are you from? The gaze lies there for a full minute, and the book closes, the pen reattached to the spine. And the other book opens, a bookmark placed at the back and a hand holding it by the spine as the other scrolls to the next page. 

---

Are you allowed to freak out? Are you allowed to keep going over the words you wrote, desperately hoping he saw them? Are you allowed to have your heart beat its way out of your rib cage because you know your soulmate is coming to Chennai?

You pace back and forth in your office, feeling the eyes of your office-roommate burn on you. He raises a brow as you stop, turn to face him and cross your arms over your chest. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. 

“Uhh,” you say, “it’s complicated.” You drag a hand through your hair. Again, again, again. It grows annoying and you tie it up in a bun with the hairbands on your wrist. 

Advik pushes himself from his desk, his chair rolling closer to you. He pulls on you to sit down in your own chair, and as you slump against it, he takes one of your hands in his. “You can tell me, I won’t…” He tries for a smile instead of finishing the sentence―nothing you find very comforting. 

“It’s my soulmate.” It sounds weird saying out loud. 

Your coworker cocks a brow. “Soulmate, huh?” His face gets a playful smirk and he turns your hand in his, but there is no tattoo on that one. Nor can you see the tattoo on your left wrist as you’ve perfected how to cover up the T. 

“Yeah, soulmate.” Something tugs at your stomach. Advik moves to check your other wrist. Deep brown eyes look up at you, a frown thrown across it, mixed with something akin to fondness. 

“You don’t have one, do you?” he asks, eyes glances down at your wrist again. His thumb strokes where the T hides underneath make-up. “That’s great news.”

Lips pressed together, and knowing people have been talking about you not having a soulmate for some time now, you don’t say anything. You let him stroke over your tattoo, even though he can’t see it. 

He pulls back his sleeves and shows his wrists to you. “See, no soulmate.” The lopsided grin that accompanies makes you feel guilty, a stab of pain in your stomach and the far away feeling of impending sweat. “Isn’t that great?”

You shake your head. “That’s not…” The words feel wrong. But how else do you say it? “That’s not true. I have a soulmate.” 

Advik frowns, his expression giving away what he says next, “but you have no tattoo?” 

“Wrong,” you say and find a wet wipe in your purse. You rub it against your wrist, taking the time to get everything off. As the T is visible, you show it to him. 

“Who is this  T, then?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I know he’s an actor, and that he likes shakespeare. Uhh, he travels a lot and reads a lot. Probably from the west, I think because he’s usually awake when I go to sleep.”

“So, he’s in another time zone.” Advik shrugs, though a small smile plays on his lips, as if he’s happy with that. “Doesn’t that open up to, maybe, trying someone else?” 

“I dreamt it tonight.” You take a deep breath. “He’s here. In Chennai. I saw his boarding pass.” 

Advik raises a brow, his smile falling. “Well, then we’ll have to see if we can find him, right?”

“You’re gonna help me?”

He nods. “Totally. I might not have a soulmate, and have hoped you haven’t had one either, but you seem to want to find him. Why not help you?”

You shake your head, unsure what to think but your heart flips at the thought. A grin spreads across you face and the anticipation of finding him has your gut churn. Maybe things will go your way? 

---

The bookstore you’re in feels like a dead end, just as every other bookstore you’ve been to. It’s not like you know he’ll even stop by one, you just know he likes to read. 

Advik smiles tightly, his eyes glancing to the door every now and then as the bell above it rings. It signals new customers, but so far, you haven’t seen anyone that could be from the west. After all, you’re looking for what you believe to be a white male, and the people coming in... aren’t that. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna find him,” you say and slide down the wall you’re leaning against. “How are we supposed to know he’ll come here?”

“Because he likes to read,” says Advik, “and this is the biggest bookstore in Chennai.”

You roll your eyes. “What has that got to do with it? He probably won’t come here, he’ll go to one of the small ones that are way cozier.”

“Y/N, he speaks English, how many bookstores here sells English books?” 

“Uhh, all of them?”

Advik purses his lips, but glances at the door again. To your lovely surprise, someone white does come in. A woman with long blonde hair and a pretty face. Behind her, a white man―probably not who you’re looking for though―with more ginger hair. It curls at the ends, slicked back behind his ears and a little messy, but it goes great with the beard he’s sporting. 

“Can it be him?” Advik arches a brow and looks at you. 

You shake your head. “Probably not, he’s way too hot to be my soulmate.” 

Advik chuckles. “Nah, he’s definitely within your league. Maybe check somehow?” 

Answering that with a resounding ‘no’ doesn’t work because Advik grabs your wrist and drags you with him to a shelf near the two white people. You’re certain they’re a couple, as it seems unlikely to think anything else. Though they’re not as handsy at the couples you’ve seen on TV in most American shows. 

You act as if you’re browsing―which you end up doing―and glance at the male every now and then. The book you pull out has an interesting title, but other than that you don’t really read what it’s about. 

“Tom,” the woman says, voice low but not low enough for you not to hear it. “Do you really think this is the place?” Her accent is British, and how the male’s name starts with a T has you glance down at your wrist. 

Advik wiggles his brows your way, nodding a little in the direction of the male. It works, he mouths. You roll your eyes, but still glance the stranger’s way. If it is him, you have to admit that’s not something you’re opposed to. 

“What better place? A bookstore is the perfect―”

Whatever the end of the sentence is, you don’t get it as he speaks too low. His accent is British, which works well with the soothing deep tone of his voice, which again does have an effect on the feelings flowing through your veins.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The side-eyeing of him seems to go unnoticed, however, still scared of getting caught, you turn your caze back to Advik. 

But your coworker isn’t where he was moments before. No, he’s… your gaze lands on him a meter away. The man is stumbling onto the male―Tom―with a book. Wide-eyed you go to him and decide to help. Which doesn’t work and instead you eye a clumsy mess together with the woman Tom’s with. 

“Boys, huh?” she asks, rolling her eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah,” you say. “That was on purpose, too.” Immediately after saying the words, you want to hide. 

The woman smiles. “Oh, so a friend of yours then?”

“You can say that. Only I didn’t know he was going to do that.” You shake your head, eyes on the two men who both laugh awkwardly at each other. 

“No, why did he do it?”

“He believes the guy is my soulmate.” You’re surprised at how casual it comes out. 

Something lights up in the woman’s face. “Well, let’s find out then? I’m Sarah, by the way. His sister.” She holds out a hand, and you take it. 

“Y/N,” you reply. “But I don’t understand how we’re supposed to find out.”

Sarah shrugs and takes your left hand in hers. She twists it to see your wrist. The T isn’t covered up today, and you’re almost relieved it isn’t. “That’s something, right? You know, he only has the initial, too. Maybe he is your soulmate?”

You nod. The prospect of being so close to figuring it out is overwhelming. It tugs at your gut, in a good and bad way. What if it turns out to be nothing like you want? Or to be completely awful? Or what if it’s everything you want? What if it actually brightens your days? And it will stop the nagging from your parents... 

“Okay, how do we check?” you ask. 

Sarah smiles. “You have to talk, and touch. The touch is important.” 

“Have you met your soulmate?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” she says and her smile brightens, “it’s worth everything.”

You mirror her smile and let out a deep breath. “Then let’s try this.”

Sarah waves her brother over to you, who seems deep in conversation with Advik. The two men walk over, and the glance over Tom gives you stirs something in your stomach. You press your lips together, and swallow. Only your throat stays dry. 

God, is this really how I’m supposed to feel?

Sarah smiles. “Tom, this is Y/N.”

You extend a hand for him to shake, and he takes it in a firm grip that shoots electricity up your arm. She was right about the touch. But she hadn’t warned you about those ocean eyes that rip your soul out and tug at your heart. 

“Hi,” you say, voice soft. You bite down on your bottom lip, afraid you’re gonna let something slip. And remembering you’re still holding his hand, you let go. The absence feels wrong, and that alone seems like all the answers you need. 

He smiles at you. “Hi.” 

“It’s official,” says Advik, “you are most definitely soulmates.”

Sarah nods in agreement. 

You just shake your head with an embarrassed smile. “I guess? Wanna go on a date?” where did this confidence come from?

“I would love to.” Your heart flips, does that one-two beat. 

So long, the nagging and rumours had scared you. Now that you’ve met your soulmate, you know it was worth the wait.

permanent: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

tom:  @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert

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