Life Ruiner (Tom Hiddleston Imagines)

Absolutely Fckrd, Darling...

It was the 13th of June, which could mean only one thing...

It was the Captain's birthday.

Earlier that day, Chris Evans had sent a message to the Marvel groupchat, simply reading

"Avengers, assemble."

Upon reading said message, you had opened your contacts to Tom and pressed 'Call'.

"Darling, how would you feel about getting absolutely shit faced with superheroes tonight?"

There was a chuckle at the other end of the phone, followed by "Kid, it would be my pleasure. I'll be home by seven."

It was now 6:30pm, and you had already washed and done your hair, put most of your makeup on, and were now deciding what to wear to such an occasion.

Evans' get-togethers were renowned for being the best, and you could feel the excitement bubbling up inside you as you looked at your wardrobe.

Choosing what to wear though was a hassle, and frankly dampening your spirits.

You frown in frustration, choosing instead to close your eyes and simply point to an outfit at random.

Whatever you'd chosen felt soft and comforting, and you reach into the wardrobe to pull it out.

Looking at the dress on the hanger, you realise you'd chosen a black, figure hugging dress that had a hint of sparkle in its body.

"Not bad for a lucky dip."

After applying a deep crimson, 'Peggy Carter' inspired lipstick, you step back to look at yourself in the mirror.

"Shit," you whisper, "I look good."

You'd eventually decided to wear red Converse, because heels were the work of the Devil, and whilst you'd normally be embarrassed by favouring comfy shoes, these seemed to compliment your lipstick perfectly, whilst also not taking away from the effect of the overall look (which was, let's be honest, breathtaking!) 

The dress clings to your hips and waist, outlining every curve and feature in a way that didn't make you feel self-concious or shy. If anything, it gives you more confidence than ever.

You'd put your hair half up, half down, choosing to let it cascade over one shoulder, leaving your shoulders bare and collarbones accentuated.

Your eyeliner was brilliant (after just two attempts - an improvement on the normal hour and a half's worth of effort on a standard day) and as sharp as knives, whilst your (E/C) eyes were left sparkling beneath thick eyelashes.

Yeah.

You look good.

Just then, you hear the door click on its latch downstairs, and a voice call "(Y/Nickname), are you still home?"

"Yeah," you call back "I'm waiting for my ride."

A laugh sounds, as feet bound up the stairs and open your bedroom door. "Why then, madam, your carriage awai-"

"Tom?" You turn to see an opened mouthed Hiddleston staring at you from the doorway.

"Wow." He whispers.