reassurance/ bare-faced [t.h]
Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader
Warning: insecurities and self-doubt
Summary: we all feel down about ourselves but sometimes all we need is a little reassurance that we are perfect as we are.Â
Prompt: âI love you.â âI know.â
this was for @uglypastels writing challenge, you still have time if you want to take part !
(for some reason this fic gave me loads of grief, like there was just something i needed to fix but after multiple re-drafts I couldnât figure it out, so here i am posting anyway. and iâm the worst at keeping everything in the same tense so my bad if there are any errors, i did try to catch them all)
this fic also goes out to anyone who feels insecure/ self-conscious. youâre so beautiful, so amazing and so worthy of happiness, love and success. donât listen to that mean voice in your head theyâre just a shitty little nonsense gremlin
From where you were leaning against the kitchen counter you could see the back of your boyfriendâs head. Every few minutes you lifted your gaze from the magazine that you were casually flicking through up to him. The tv was turned on, a group of guys driving their motorcycles across it. He wasnât focused on it, turning the volume all the way down. Â The atmosphere in the flat had been meh all day. You couldnât pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but Tom seemed like a spring and at some point, he was going to need to uncoil. Â For the past half an hour you had been trying to work out the best way to approach the situation.
Tom was a pretty relaxed guy, so relaxed in fact that he was known to spread himself out as much as possible on whatever surface he was on. He blamed it on being a dancer, he was trained to keep his body as straight and flexed as possible. You both knew it was bullshit, but it didnât stop him saying it with that cheeky grin on his face. But for the past couple of hours, he had been sitting in the same position on the sofa, sleeves pulled down over his hands and back hunched over, his face barely visible.
Not knowing what was going on made you anxious. You closed the magazine and shuffled over to where Tom sat.
Your arms snaked around his shoulders, palms finding their way under the hem of his hoodie, chin resting on his shoulder.
Your immediate reaction was to snuggle up into Tomâs hoodie, the soft cotton comforting your skin. You loved when he wore hoodies. It was tantalising when he wore suits and snugly fitted jackets, t-shirts that clung to his biceps, often making them look engorged but this, this was how you liked him best. Soft and cosy. He may look dreamy in whatever outfit he wore but no item of clothing suited his warmth and endearing smile more than a simple hoodie.
âWhatâs up, darling? Youâve been quiet all day and while that sounds like me, it doesnât really sound like you,â you chuckled at your own joke, wanting to start on a light tone.
At first, you thought he was just extra sleepy or had woken up in a slightly grumpy mood, as he can definitely be prone to do. But the thing with Tom was he would soon pick himself up and be a big ball of energy again, his bad moods never lasting long enough to cause any actual problems. But as the day wore on, he grew quieter and quieter, closing in on himself. You were getting worried.
As you drew your head away a little you noticed the mistiness gathering within his eyes and the way his head drooped, no effort being made to hold it upright.
âLove?â you whispered.
A cloud began to roll over your heart, your earlier suspicions coming to the light. Tomâs forlorn expression imprinted on your brain.
The room was bathed in the artificial glow from the silent tv, illuminating both your faces and casting multiple shadows around the room. Something, that if Tom wasnât here, would spook you constantly, out of the corner of your eye. Thank god he was. He was always there for you. You wanted to return the favour.
As you removed your hands from his hoodie, you took one of his in your own and gave it a squeeze, walking around the sofa until you were in front of him.
You couldnât bare seeing Tom upset, he was usually so cheery so when something was bothering him it was always glaringly obvious.
Still keeping a tight grip on your hand, Tom shuffled to the side, making a small gap for you between himself and the arm of the sofa. The leather squeaked beneath him but neither of you gave it no mind.
âYou didnât have to move.â
âYou like sitting in the corner,â he said, almost absentmindedly. You couldnât help the way your lips perked up at his thoughtfulness.
Pulling your hand gently towards him, Tom ushered you onto the sofa. He waited for you to get comfortable before bringing your legs up over his and letting them settle on his lap. One of his arms reached up behind you and laid behind your head, sinking into the plush material, the tips of his fingers tickling the hair at the nape of your neck. His other hand stayed put on your legs, fingers splayed, his pale skin contrasting with your black jeans. Without noticing or intent, like simple muscle memory kicking in, his thumb started gently gliding along a small isolated section of your thigh. Â
This was a comfortable position for the two of you, intimate and cosy. All the physical closeness without any real expectations.
The nail of his thumb was now digging in lightly, picking at the creases in your jeans. His expression caught as if in between emotions. You watched him, waiting for when he was ready to talk.
âWhatâs the matter, beautiful,â you eased in.
âExactly that,â he said. Confusion must have swept across your face because he leant forward with a groan, wrapping both arms around your legs. Nuzzling his cheek into them and then burying his face completely, eliciting another moan. All his feelings bubbling to the surface, you could see he was struggling to contain them anymore. Reaching out for him, your fingers smoothed over his hair, wanting to bring him back to you.
âGod, Iâm just,â he began, searching for the right words, âI just feel shit at the moment. About myself I mean.â He muttered the last part, almost shamefully, all too aware of how vulnerable he was being.
The smallness of his voice called directly to your heart. It was breaking you to see the one you love in any kind of anguish.
Not wanting to say more he began chewing the inside of his cheek, avoiding eye contact.
This was clearly something that was really bothering him, but you could tell he didnât feel comfortable talking about it. You thought about all the times he had comforted you, wiped away your tears, all the ways in which he showed you how much he loved you. You didnât want to push him into speaking up, but you also didnât want him to feel like he couldnât. It was your job, as someone who loved him, to help him feel comfortable with it and to, hopefully, make him feel better.
You knew he didnât need any words yet just actions. You inched closer and threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly, reassuring him you were there. The harder you squeezed the more he seemed to release, as one arm brought you closer to him, pressing into the middle of your back. The other snaking up your leg and resting on your waist, your shirt balled up in his fist.
As you pull away you place a kind kiss on his shoulder and grip his chin, centring his face and searching for his eyes.
âTom,â you said, softly.
The nurturing lull of your tone is what broke him, allowed him to free himself of his worries.
âMy acne is really bad at the moment,â his voice so quiet, âI donât see how you could ever be attracted to me when I look like this.â
His fist balled up tighter, your shirt becoming taut around your middle.
âJust the thought of going outside where there could be paps or someone that wants to take a picture,â he confided, âI donât want the world to see me like this, to be able to judge me so freely.â You nodded knowingly, facing your own insecurities daily.
How could he ever think that?
This wasnât the first time Tom had expressed discomfort at his own appearance, specifically his face. He was constantly worrying about the grooves covering his cheeks and that any small blemishes he got would turn into big problems, as they had done before. His face was his job and that just added to the pressure for him to be perfect. So, you got it, you truly did.
âI know itâs hard, Tommy, itâs so so hard but someday we have to face what we donât like about ourselves and learn how to love it.â Â
You held out a hand for him to take, offering him comfort, showing him you were there. Physical touch holding its own words and connotations.
At that small act, a single tear travelled down his cheek, he moved to swat it away, not wanting to show all his vulnerabilities at once. You got there first, dusting the tear away, wanting to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with the way he was feeling.
âHey, hey, itâs okay,â you cooed, encouraging him to further open up.
"Iâm being stupid, I know I am, but I just-â Tom leant back, tilting his head to the ceiling and
covering his face with his hands.
Every muffled sob that filled the silent space, plucked at your heartstrings. Â
âIâll always think youâre the most beautiful person Iâve ever seen.â
âEver?â Tomâs hands slid down half his face, his eyes twitching faintly.
âEver.â Both your eyes softened for each other, for a moment.
You needed to make him understand how wonderful he is, but itâs hard to make people see themselves from your eyes. You didnât want Tom to miss out on opportunities because he was riddled with self-doubt.
âI know itâs hard when you arenât feeling great,â you started, hurriedly trying to articulate what you wanted to say in your mind, âbut you canât let the possibility that someone may judge you stop you from leaving the house or enjoying things.â
âDoing that is much harder than saying it,â Tom said, his voice muted by his hands.
âJust because they are judging you doesnât mean you have to pay them any attention.â You tried to keep your voice steady, really wanting Tom to hear you.
The burdens of looking a certain way and being a particular person can be overwhelming at the least and downright miserable at the most. Â
âI know youâre right.â He screwed his eyes shut and didnât look at you when he opened them. âI just canât shake the idea that someone will see me next to you and think, what is someone so beautiful doing with someone so not.â
A gasp escaped your lips, the idea of what he was saying so ludicrous to you.
âHey, donât say that about yourself,â you glided your thumb across his cheek, âcause itâs not true and besides how could anyone say something so mean about the softest, sweetest, most compassionate boy.â
Despite himself, he breathed out a rush of air, the closest to a laugh he could get right now. You knew it may be silly and over the top but if he couldnât see it himself, you would have to list every single good quality he has.
âWe are all our own worse critics, Tommy.â
âYou got that right,â he exhaled.
This was the most Tom had opened up, but you could tell there was still more trapped inside. You didnât want to push him to share, you just wanted him to know that you would be there whenever he wanted to.
âI hate seeing you upset but if you are donât keep it to yourself, know you can tell me anything, talk to me about how youâre feeling. I want to know my best boy is doing okay.â
Without missing a beat, he hummed, âI love you.â
You dappled his cheeks with kisses letting them converge into the centre, a soft brush against his nose and down to his lips. A simple kiss. A loving kiss. A reassuring kiss.
âI love you too, my beautiful,â you held out your hand, pushing down each finger as you continued to list things, âgorgeous, caring, sexy, sensational, hilarious, intelligent and,â you bit your lip, âunbelievably fuckable boyfriend.â
Tensions left his body, you could feel the weight shift as he allowed himself to release them. A faint line appeared down his chin signalling the smile that was spreading on his face. A perfect smile you thought.
His forehead rested against yours, his lips hovering parallel to your own. âThank you,â he breathed into you. You tasted his words, comforted by his comfort, by the knowledge that you helped, even if it was only a little.
Dry patches of his lips scrapped along your own before they connected. Another simple kiss. But one that offered you an idea of how to really help him.
Rather suddenly you drew away from him.
âWait here.â Tomâs brows knitted at the widening of your eyes. Â
âLove, what are you doing?â
Jumping up you dashed off down the hallway, entering your bedroom. Manoeuvring past the articles of clothing lying haphazardly on the carpet and the sharp corner of the bed you always managed to bang your knee against, you found your way to the dresser. Across it was a smattering of makeup and skin products. Picking up the make-up remover you dabbed some onto a piece of cotton wool and started to wipe it in gentle circles around your face. The cold liquid refreshing your skin. The pad was pressed against your eye when Tom walked in.
Two hands gently rested on your hips. âWhat are you doing, love?â
His voice was tight, tinged with sadness still.
âTaking my makeup off,â you replied matter-of-factly.
âBecause,â you turned to look him in the eyes, his hands instinctively slipping into your back pockets, âwe all have flaws and imperfections and whether bare face or beat face, weâre still beautiful.â
âAnd thatâs why youâre taking your makeup off, to prove a point?â he asked, an eyebrow raising.
With a final determined swipe across the other eye, you said, âyes.â
âWell youâre right, you are still beautiful, youâre always beautiful.â
â-and donât you think thatâs how I always see you.â
âI do,â he squared his shoulders, âI think maybe I just need to set a reminder in my phone, so I donât forget.â A small breathy laugh came from him.
âGive it here, Iâll do it right now,â you played into the joke.
You studied his face, to you the most beautiful face you had ever seen. It didnât matter what anyone else thought or what anyone else looked like. No one could take that feeling away from you, no one else would or could compare to him. You couldnât believe he couldnât see it within himself. But that just meant you had to show him.
No one deserves to feel insecure or filled with self-doubt. The idea of him feeling too down and self-conscious to leave the house broke your heart. Sometimes we simply canât see what others do, we are too close to ourselves, can only see all the flaws because we spend most of our time concentrating on them. But for someone else, youâre revolutionary. A marvel. The eighth wonder of the world. It was cheesy and cliched but thatâs exactly how Tom made you feel. If only you could let him inside your head, then he could see what you do. But no doubt he would say the exact same thing to you. You had insecurities too. Thatâs why it was so important to let people know how truly special they are.
Tomâs face was in front of you; the thin lines that made his mouth, the dappling on his cheeks from previous acne, the wide bridge of his nose that only got wider every time he broke it. All beautiful to you. And what made Tom, Tom.
For the first time today, a real smile enveloped his face, âI know.â
tagging some peeps: @thelazypangolin @tomhollandthirst @mysteryavengers @rachramblesstuff @christmas-marvel @h-osterfield @hazsterfield
