REQUEST: Hiya!! I really like your writing and was wondering if you could please write a Tom Hiddleston x female reader (his girlfriend) and he comforts the reader because she just starts crying as she let everything build up and feels really overwhelmed but Tom helps her and is there for her. Thanks lovely ❤️❤️
TITLE: Overflow
WORD COUNT: 1391
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: sad fluffy stuff; hello dearie, thank you so much for the request! i’m sorry this took a couple days, i got unexpectedly busy. i hope this is okay :) x (AO3 LINK)
The drizzling of the rain outside your window pane is soft and calming. Your eyes are shut as you attempt to ease your mind, trying your hardest not to think of anything that would only result in stress. It’s been a tough week. You were constantly busy, you felt like everything was coming undone, and you had not confided in anyone about how you felt at all.
You sat, drowning in your own mind, and you had to admit to yourself that it needed to stop.
Moments pass but the time does little to make the weight on your chest go away. You sink further into your seat, feeling the cushions of the sofa begin to swallow you as you try to burrow yourself away from view. Away from your problems. Just this single moment of sitting should be calming, relaxing even. But for some reason, it isn’t. You sigh as you try to make your mind go blank.
It doesn’t work. Everyone knows that the more you try to make your mind go silent, the more it talks. And the louder it talks, too.
The front door opens, the rustling of a paper and keys resonating around the small space. You already know who it is so you don’t bother to open your eyes.
“Babe?” Tom’s voice calls from the threshold. You don’t respond, but hold your hand just high enough to be seen over the back of the couch. He seems to find this amusing because next thing you know, you feel his lips press against your knuckles before he laughs against your skin. “Comfortable there, darling?”
You nod within the confines of the pillows, listening as he retreats into the adjacent room to put down what sounds like groceries. But, who knows? He probably could have walked in with a whole new pet and you would not have noticed.
You feel his large hands grip your ankles, pulling them up high enough for him to nestle himself underneath. His hands rest on your calves, fingers drawing lazy shapes against the fabric of your pants. He sighs contently, and you build up the energy to ask him how his day was.
“Good,” he replies. He waits a second to speak again, “Is there a reason you’re hidden beneath the cushions?”
“No,” you mumble.
He seems to shift in his spot, one hand pressing against your thigh for balance as he grasps the pillow and pulls it away from your face. “You’re lying,” he singsongs, attempting a gesture of humor. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you say, keeping each answer as short as the last.
“Your nothing,” he says, grabbing your wrists to attempt to pull you into a sitting position. “And my nothing are two completely different types of nothings. Did something happen?”
You shake your head, scooting closer to the man who’s grip is still on your arms. You curl under the protection of his shoulder, sighing at the feeling. “I’m tired,” you whisper. The words hold more weight than they should, and you aren’t sure if Tom understands at first.
But then he twists his body, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other cradling your neck as he positions you against his chest. He sighs and the air brushes against your skin, warming it. You can’t be certain if this is him trying to make you nap while cuddled against him or if he is trying to comfort you, but whatever it was, you were thankful. His warmth seeped through the layers separating your skin from his, and you allowed yourself to shut your eyes again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is hushed, barely above a whisper as he speaks. You nuzzle your face into his neck, feeling the emotions begin to bubble up again. There’s something about Tom’s touch that seems to coax out the emotions you try to hide, and soon, you feel the tears leak from your eyes.
Tom moves his hands up to your shoulders, attempting to pull you far enough off him so that he can take a look at you. You push against his hold, not wanting to let him see you cry. You press your face against him again, nestling into the crook of his neck. You can feel his skin, wet from your salty tears, and you know that there’s no way that he hasn’t figured out that you’re currently using him as a comfort pillow.
He brushes his fingers against your neck, caressing the skin with his thumb as he holds you close. No words are spoken for a moment or two. You allow the tears to fall, and Tom doesn’t stop you.
The tears are supposed to be helping; they’re supposed to be making you feel better. But anything that is suppressed for so long is bound to explode, and that’s exactly what seems to be happening.
The sobs only grow more profound, your body trembling as his hands try to soothe you. He whispers soft reassurances in your ear, and when he whispers, “It’s okay,” his hot breath fanning against your ear, a violent sob racks through your body. His grip tightens and his voice seems to hold a bit of a strain to it.
“What is it?” He pleads, still holding you close. You feel like a child, desperately clinging to this man in order to find to some form of comfort from everything going through your mind. “Talk to me, darling, what’s happened?”
You inhale deeply. The breath is certainly shaky, and it definitely takes you a couple tries to fully inhale because of the cries, but you finally manage. You pull away, pulling your sleeve over your hand in order to dab at the tears you had left behind on his neck. Tom’s fingers wrap around your wrist before you can even begin.
His eyes are filled with concern, you can see it clear as day. They’re red, too. It looks almost as if he began to cry with you. And, well, you couldn’t put it past him. Tom has a lot of composure, but he is also the type to cry when empathy strikes a little too hard.
“I’m just really tired,” you say, casting your gaze downward in an attempt to avoid his watchful eyes. He won’t buy it, you know he won’t.
“I was willing to let that slide earlier,” he speaks, hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping the tears away. “But after that, I need to know what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning into his touch. He leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. “There’s just so much going on, I don’t even know where to start, you know?”
Tom doesn’t say anything; instead, he presses his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, hands still cupping your cheeks. After a brief moment, he leans back, eyes analyzing you carefully.
“You don’t need to hold it in,” he says, tone soft. “I don’t want you to hold it in. I’m right here; you can talk to me.”
“Tom —“ you start to say, but he cuts you off.
“I love you,” he declares quietly. “You know that I love you.”
“Of course,” you whisper in response, reaching your hands up to entwine in his hair. “I love you, too.”
“It’s because I love you,” he continues. “That I can’t let you go through this alone. I want to be here for you, to be your shoulder to cry on, to be someone you’re comfortable going to with your problems. I want all of you, even the tears.”
Your eyes begin to well again, tears threatening to overflow as you watch him display one of the most sincere looks you have seen. You nod, not being able to find the words to respond, and he understands perfectly well. He leans forward, kissing your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere he can reach. The tears begin to fall again, and he pulls you close.
Tom continues to whisper sweet nothings, reassurances that everything would be okay, that you will be okay. He starts to talk about simple things, things that you can control, things that didn’t mean life or death.
request: What about a one shot where there's a really big age gap between reader and tom and one night the reader tells him that she feels like she's holding him back from settling down/family etc. and he comforts her..... basically fluff please? thanks!!
TITLE: With You
WORD COUNT: 1914
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: fluff fluff :) i have a problem with writing too much. i hope this was okay!!
The door to your bedroom opened softly, revealing a tired and disheveled Tom. He had been out all day for interviews and public events, working hard even when he was technically not meant to be working at all. His curls were more than just a little messy; he looked as if he had run his fingers through them a countless number of times throughout the day. As your eyes locked with his, he smiled. You smiled back at him, knee bouncing up and down as you sat at the edge of your bed, book in hand.
“How was your day,” you questioned him, curling your leg underneath you in order to turn in his direction. Tom loosened his tie and sighed before plopping onto the mattress beside you.
“Long,” he responded, nothing more and nothing less. You knew that Tom was having a rough time recently from all the new interviews he had to take part in as his latest work premiered. He was always so kind when being asked questions about not just his work but his life as well. Despite his kindness, it still took a toll on him when interviewers seemed to ask all the wrong questions. From the way he was acting, he most definitely had gotten asked all the wrong questions today.
Instinctively, you reached out to run your fingers through his hair, earning a soft hum of appreciation from your older boyfriend. You knew better than to pry into what’s upsetting him immediately after he had just found a second to relax. When Tom wanted to talk, he would talk. He always did.
You maneuvered yourself closer to him, laying on your side with one arm propping your head up as the other rested on his chest while your hand remained in his hair. By this point, Tom’s eyes were closed as he enjoyed the small gesture you were displaying. As your fingers continuously ran through the locks on his head, his hand made its way onto your thigh where he, too, began administering gentle caresses. It was almost as if he was finding solace in being able to reciprocate the comfort you were providing.
The two of you sat in silence for a few more moments before he opened his eyes and tilted his chin up to look at you. “How about you?”
“Hm?” You hummed in response, not quite sure what he was referring to. “Oh, my day was alright. I just got home from work not too long ago.”
It had been only a month or so since you started your job, and it was safe to say that your employers never failed to remind you that you were a newbie. Sure, it was tough on you, but you didn’t let that stop you from getting the job done. Tom knew it wasn’t exactly easy for you at the workplace because many of your coworkers had already recognized you as a celebrity’s girlfriend, poking fun at the significant age gap between you both.
Tom was 39 years old, a bit older than anyone you had dated in the past, especially because you were still {Y/A}. Between the two of you, the age difference wasn’t that big of a deal, but not everyone saw it the way you did. At first, this was something you said you could accept. Love was about acceptance; at least, that’s what Tom would say. One year later, and these words alone didn’t seem to be quite enough to hold your worries at bay. Looking into his eyes, you could see how tired he was, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe his worries away, but you didn’t know how.
“They kept asking about you today,” he sighed, not because he was upset but because he didn’t want to worry you about it.
“What were they asking about,” you asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.
“Well,” Tom started, “they were asking if we were planning on getting married, how our schedules work, if you plan on being a stay-at-home mom since I travel for work.”
Your eyes wandered around the room until they settled on the buttons of his shirt. If you had kept your eyes on Tom, you would have noticed that his eyebrows had knit together at your reaction, his worry only increasing. A minute of silence passed before you realized he was probably waiting for you to react to what he was saying. If you were being honest, you didn’t know what to say.
Was there a wrong or right answer? Were you supposed to tell him what you had planned for the future?
As your mind raced a hundred miles a minute, Tom’s hands had found your hips as he urged you to straddle his lap. With your knees on either side of him, Tom placed his right hand on the small of your back, holding you steady as his free hand pushed his body to an upright position. You were slightly elevated and his eyes were level with your neck. The position only granted him the access he needed to leave soft kisses along your collarbones and up your neck. Your fingers grasped the back of his neck when he stopped, and you took the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose.
“Y/N,” he exhaled, grip tightening around you. “Their questions had me thinking.”
You stilled, not wanting to know where this conversation was going at all. In an effort to keep him from talking, you pressed your lips to his. Of course, Tom knew what you were up to, but even for a split second he also enjoyed the distraction from an otherwise serious topic. The distraction only lasted a few seconds before you felt his hands on your cheeks as he pulled you away from him. In the blink of an eye, his expression had turned serious once again.
“Y/N,” he tried again, this time holding your face centimeters from his own. “We’re going to have to address these things sooner rather than later.”
You sighed, leaning back from his grasp as your hands fell to your sides. “Okay,” you replied.
“I love you,” he started; his words sent shivers down your spine. “I don’t want to be the reason this relationship falls through, though.”
You tilted your head, not quite understanding what he meant, and he noticed this. He grinned sheepishly before letting out a sigh of his own. You had a feeling these sighs were only the first of many to come in this relationship.
“Your job, are they still giving you a hard time?” He questioned.
“Well, no,” you tried to say, but the look in his eyes immediately showed that he didn’t believe you. “Yes, yes they do, but it’s simple stuff. It’s not like they’re harassing me or making my life entirely too difficult. It’s just a little extra workload here and there.”
His right hand reached up to rest on your cheek, brushing the area beneath your eye. Tom smiled sadly before speaking again, “Darling, I don’t want to be the reason your job is difficult, nor do I want to be the cause of the bags under your eyes. If this continues, you’ll be working yourself to death by the time you’ve fully settled into things.”
Shaking your head adamantly, you firmly disagreed, “It’s nothing coffee and a few days of overtime can’t fix. I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can, but,” he paused. You wish he hadn’t because your heart stopped beating the second he stopped speaking, impatiently waiting for him to carry on. “This is your dream job, yes?”
You nodded.
“Who am I to make your dream job more of a nightmare?”
“The man I’m in love with,” you answered quickly, knowing where he was going with this already. If he wanted to end this relationship because your job was getting a little too much, what was he going to do when other things started to go south? “You think you’re holding me back from loving what I do?”
It was Tom’s turn to nod. You laughed, almost bitterly, at his thoughts.
“Thomas, you think you’re holding me back?” You asked, voice rising in pitch. Standing from your spot in his lap, you let it all out. “You’re 39; you want to settle down. You want to have a family. Your family wants you to settle down and have a family. I’m not quite sure I’m ready for all that, and you want to say you’re holding me back? I can barely wrap my head around finally starting my career, let alone starting a family right now.”
Tom was standing now, worry etched into his features as he took in your distraught stance. Your hands were in your hair, gripping tightly as if you wanted to rip it out. Your eyes began to sting as tears of worry threatened to fall down your cheeks. With your chest heaving as breathing seemed to get harder by the second, you turned your back to him. You didn’t want to see him get worried over your own feelings of not being able to give him what he wants, and as much as he would like to pretend he didn’t know that you were uncertain about the future and what it might bring, he couldn’t ignore it now.
Tom’s hands reached forward to lightly grip yours, attempting to gently pry your fingers from your hair. As he wrestled your arms to your sides, he pressed his lips to your forehead, softly shushing you until you finally allowed him to comfort your mini meltdown.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you. “I didn’t know you were carrying all that with you, I’m sorry.”
You shook your head, knowing that you needed to apologize for semi-yelling at him for something you shouldn’t have even gotten mad at. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just - I sometimes think maybe it’s better if you find someone else, someone who can give you that family and kids because I’m not ready. I’m not ready for marriage, and I’m most definitely not ready for motherhood.”
At the sound of your suggestion, Tom released his hold, eyes now trained on your face. When you looked up to meet his gaze, he looked almost mad. Before you could say anything else, he closed his eyes and let out another deep sigh.
“If it’s not with you, then what’s the point?” He spoke with his eyes still closed. “Yes, we have things to work out, and the future to talk about. And yes, Y/N, I want a family and I want children, but I want that with you. Don’t tell me to find another woman when I’ve already found the person I want to be with. Age, race, or whatever, none of that matters to me as long as it’s with you.”
You stared at him blankly, not knowing how to respond to his declaration. It was almost as if he was proposing to you; part of you wanted to glance around to see if he had a ring in plain view, but you knew he wouldn’t propose like this.
“But-” you began.
“No, no ‘buts.’” Tom opened his eyes and was quick to cut you off this time. “Take all the time you need until you’re ready to take those steps. I’ll be here waiting alongside you every step of the way.”
SUMMARY: The God of Mischief doesn’t like to leave you wanting, and he most certainly likes the idea of entertaining your restlessness.
TITLE: Late Night Proposals
WORD COUNT: 2952
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: please do not read unless 18+; there be smut ahead. i’ve never written Loki smut, but i live for it, so here i be with my sexy Loki scenes. :) x (( not my gif ))
It was late; you knew that much. The moon was still positioned high in the sky, illuminating the dark carpet that was splayed across the floor. Through a sleepy haze, you could make out the crackling of the fireplace and the soft glow of the flames as they flickered. You were laying in a low bed adorned with furs, emerald sheets, and porcelain colored pillows.
Your eyes fell shut as you burrowed yourself further into the blankets enveloping you. Even that small movement seemed to wake your lover from his peaceful slumber. You felt Loki’s cool, nimble fingers grip your hips and pull you ever so closer to his body. His warm breath skimmed across your neck as he subconsciously seemed to administer soft caresses to your skin. Sighing in momentary bliss, you settled in, pressing your back flush against his chest.
“You’re restless.” The hushed and muffled voice was soothing as the caressing stopped, his hand resting on your waist.
“Sorry,” you mumbled in response, opening your eyes to find that there was no longer the usual bleariness that accompanied your tired state. Moving to lay on your back, you accepted that you might not sleep much more for the night.
“An apology?” Loki asked, pulling his body from the mattress to prop himself up on his elbow. His pale skin practically glimmered in the moonlight, and you had to hold your breath as you marveled at his immeasurable beauty. He was a god, alright; he was one hell of a god.
His fingers played with the hem of your top, brushing against the skin of your hip in a way that could only be described as innocent. However, you knew better than to believe that any action was completely innocent in nature, especially from him.
SUMMARY: Imagine Tom is at an interview, and when you are spoken poorly of, he gets a bit upset.
TITLE: Always the Gentleman
WORD COUNT: 1263
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: This is shorter than what I usually write, but I loved the idea so I wrote it :) (AO3 Link)
“Now, Tom, I hear that you’ve been walking down Lovers Lane recently,” the host said, his tone playful as it always was when he began to talk about things he shouldn’t.
Your boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, was away for the day, attending interviews to promote the newest release of the Loki series. This meant that you had the entire day to yourself to sit on the couch and watch the live shows as they aired. Tom had mentioned before that he wasn’t fond of when interviews began to delve too deeply into his personal life, not after he received bad publicity for his previous love affairs. So when the host brought up your shared love life, you could already feel the annoyance flowing through your boyfriend’s veins.
Of course, the gentleman was never one to get upset so easily in front of others. He was more of an open book with glass casing around it. The pages he let the public see were the ones he reserved specifically for them. All the other pages of his life were kept relatively quiet.
Tom smiled, his signature laugh following the expression’s appearance, “Yes, I guess you could say that.”
The host’s eyes beamed at Tom’s response, and in the back of your head, you figured this was either going to end very well or very poorly. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.
“How is that going for you?”
You watched as Tom’s smile flickered, a clear sign that he wasn’t very happy about what was happening. The question itself seemed to hold significant underlying meanings, and you were certain that most of the viewers probably picked up on the sickeningly sweet tone. Yes, you were very sure by now that this would not end well.
Tom responded fairly quickly, “Quite well, actually.”
“Yes, well, there’s been a rumor floating around you know.” The interviewer continued as if his intent was to make sure things would not continue going well between you two.
“I do hope that it’s a rumor about the series,” Tom said, his smile becoming strained as the words escaped his lips. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be talked about, but there were some nasty things that people could say.
Before you and Tom had begun seeing each other, you had dated a handful of men, and unfortunately it gave you a bad reputation among friends. So, when word got out that you were dating none other than Tom Hiddleston, it was safe to say that your old friends and exes were very keen on destroying your relationship with rumors and underhanded comments. Whether it was that you had been with too many men or that you were quite literally insane, the rumors kept flowing like a river with an infinite source. However, despite the rumors, you were reassured by the tall fellow that you had nothing to explain and nothing to apologize for - he liked you the way you were.
As the host picked up a card from his side table, Tom’s eyes glanced at the camera. He was probably hoping you weren’t watching the interview, but part of him knew that you were the supportive type. You loved to watch him on screen just to tell him how great he did even if he had just existed in the frame for a split second.
“Now, now,” the host said in a joyful voice, “It’s about your missus.”
You watched as Tom’s knuckles turned a pale pink and then white as his grip tightened around the mug that he had just lifted up. A childlike side of you was happy that he didn’t have inhuman strength or else the porcelain kitchenware would have shattered in his hands.
“There are quite a few rumors floating around on the internet about her, have you ever looked it up?”
Tom shook his head, “No, I tend to stay away from that kind of thing.”
“Oh, you really should look at some of the things people say,” the host replied. “The most prominent rumor is one that says that your lady friend has spent many nights in the arms of other men. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Tom placed the mug on the table a little too harshly, the smile falling from his face immediately.
“I beg your pardon?” He urged as if he hadn’t heard it the first time.
The host continued to smile, probably enjoying the reaction he was receiving, “Well, don’t you think it’s rather problematic for her to be such a hot topic among past flames? That doesn’t bother you in the slightest?”
“No,” Tom spoke, sitting up straighter in his seat, “I don’t bother with rumors. You shouldn’t either.”
Of course, his words meant little to the host. These kinds of jobs would flourish from the rumors they nurture, and the world wanted to know the hottest gossip at all times. Hosts like that were meant to provide. It was their job.
“Such a used woman,” the man chuckled as if it was actually funny what he was saying. From where you were sitting, there was nothing funny about it. Judging from the silence in the audience, it was apparent that no one seemed to find it funny at all besides the host and a few outspoken males.
Tom stood slowly from his chair and spoke, “I’m sorry, I am failing to see the humor in this.”
“Oh, come on,” the host retorted, huffing as Tom held his hand out for the older man to shake. Always the gentleman, you thought.
“I sincerely apologize, but I’ll be taking my leave now.”
He then turned to the audience, waving at a few of them with an apologetic smile on his face. As he exited, you wondered if this would also end up being publicity, and if it would be all because of you and your past. The screen panned over to the host who was now alone with no celebrity guest to speak to. Some audience members even took the time to let out a ‘Boo!’ or two.
“Someone can’t take a joke,” the interviewer said, knowing damn well that he had crossed a line.
You switched the TV off, wondering how the media would portray the situation to the public, but after a few seconds something cut off your thoughts.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. Seeing Tom’s name flash on the screen made your heart flutter as it always had. The second you answered, the melodic sound of his voice filled your ears.
“Were you watching?” It was all he asked before you heard muffled words. From the sound of it, it seemed as though Tom was having a conversation with the producers of the show. The only words you could make out were frantic apologies from someone that was not your boyfriend.
You hummed in response.
Tom sighed through the speaker, “I’m sorry, are you alright?”
You nodded even though he clearly could not see you. Realizing this, you responded, “Yeah, it’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either.”
You smiled, knowing that there was nothing in the world that could make you feel safe and happy like he could. If the world was ending, something told you that this man would ensure that you were safe with him when it happened. Well, as safe as one could be when the world imploded, but either way - the gesture is what counted.
“Always the gentleman,” you replied, and from the other side of the phone you heard him laugh.
SUMMARY: You and Tom liked each other in the past but never shared your feelings with each other. After a bad breakup, Tom asks you to dance with him to cheer you up, leading into something much more than just a simple dance.
TITLE: Dance With Me
WORD COUNT: 1999
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: steamy make-out session(ish) and kinda fluffy... i’m not that good at warnings. anyway there wasn’t a request other than a deep burning need to write this out oops!!
“Dance with me,” Tom said, holding his hand out for you to take. A goofy grin was on his face, showing that he was not only quite serious about dancing, but also quite serious about making sure you had fun while it happened. Without a second thought, you let him pull you close to him, dancing along to the soft melody of “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers.
As you swayed with the opening rhythm, you felt every worry in your mind disappear. Tom and you had been friends for a short while, and you couldn’t deny that you didn’t feel something towards him that was much more than friendship. Even knowing this, you knew you couldn’t make a move; the moment had passed for you to even think about making one.
I’ve hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
Your head was resting on his chest as he softly hummed along to the music. If you hadn’t been in a relationship when the two of you had met, would it have been different? Would you be seen as more than just another friend? You didn’t bother giving yourself the hope; in times like this it’s just better to let it go. The music continued as did your rampant thoughts, but Tom’s voice slowly brought you back to the land of reality.
“What are you thinking about?”
You could feel the soft vibrations of his voice as he spoke, it was like the most gentle alarm clock to wake you from a daydream.
I need your love,
I need your love
He waited patiently for your response, arms still wrapped around your waist. You shook your head, not daring to speak. If you answered, it would start a conversation. Quite frankly, as much as you loved listening to Tom talk, you wanted to savor this moment for as long as you could before the 3 minute song ended.
Tom didn’t press you any further, but you were sure he’d ask again later. He’d always been the curious type, especially when you were unusually quiet. Minutes passed too quickly for your liking, the last verse of the song playing through the speaker sitting on your kitchen counter. The lights in your living were dim and you could not have been more thankful for the shadows Tom cast above you, shielding your face from his view.
Time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
“Y/N,” you heard him whisper your name. His voice was so soft you would have never heard it if it wasn’t for the song coming to a close. Your {Y/E/C} eyes met his blue ones, and you suddenly realized how close his face was. Tom didn’t say anything else; in fact, it was better that he didn’t.
As silence filled the room, his hands reached up from their spot on your waist to cradle your face as he pulled you into a hesitant kiss. His lips were soft against yours, and before you had time to register what was happening, he had pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back.
‘No, don’t apologize. Come back,’ you thought, but no words left your mouth.
Tom’s eyes searched yours for any reaction, anything that told him that you didn’t hate what he had just done. What he found must not have been what he was searching for because he cleared his throat and turned away from you to walk towards his things.
“Where are you going?” You asked, watching as he grabbed his coat off the back of the couch.
“Home,” he responded. As he walked towards the front door, he explained, “I shouldn’t have done that, Y/N, I apologize. You’ve just gone through a break up and here I was thinking that now I might have a chance. I took advantage of my position as your friend. I shouldn’t be here. You deserve better than that.”
Your body began to move on its own as he bent down to grab his shoes. Before he could even slip the first one onto his foot, your hand was wrapped around his wrist, pulling him away from the threshold.
“Don’t go,” your own voice was quiet, scared of the feelings building up inside of you. His eyes traveled from your lips to where your hands held onto him as if your life depended on it. You watched as his jaw clenched, his mind probably trying to fully grasp the situation.
You couldn’t blame him for taking a second to think; you understood the feeling. You still couldn’t believe your dearest friend and long-time crush had just kissed you and then apologized for it as if you hadn’t been dreaming of that moment since you met a few years ago. Hell, you dreamt about it so much, your own (ex)boyfriend began to realize that he couldn’t compare to someone who could brighten up your day just by existing.
Tom’s free hand began to pry your fingers from around his wrist. His eyes never left yours as he began taking hesitant steps towards you until he had you pressed up against the wall.
“If I stay,” he began, his face growing closer with every heartbeat. “I’m not certain you’ll be able to make me leave if you change your mind.”
Your hands fumbled with the collar of his shirt, Tom’s gaze getting a little too intense for you to handle. If he kept looking at you like that, you’d collapse into a heap of skin and bones right in front of him. It wasn’t fair how just eye contact with this man was already too much for you to take. You still hadn’t spoken when you felt his nose brush yours only a few centimeters from connecting.
“If you don’t want it, push me away.” His words sent shivers down your spine, your knees weak already. He didn’t even give you a fraction of a second to do so if you had wanted to.
This time the kiss wasn’t hesitant. No, this time, the kiss was filled with years of pent up emotions and a desperation to make up for every second of lost time. You could feel the warmth of his body as he drew even closer, one hand pulling you in by your hips and the other pulling your face up to his. Your hands grasped the fabric of his shirt, making sure the man stood in front of you wouldn’t have a chance to escape even if he tried.
Your eyes fell shut as his lips began to move against yours, his tongue sliding in to meet yours. As the battle of dominance in the kiss took place, you felt Tom’s hands slide down to the sides of your upper thighs, squeezing lightly. It may or may not have been a sign to take action, but you were too invested in the feelings consuming you that you didn’t think twice to lift your legs for him to grab. His body pressed against yours, leaving absolutely no space between the two of you as he held you in place. A guttural moan emitted from him, a reason to believe that he was enjoying this as thoroughly as you were.
You were the first to pull away, trying to catch your breath. Tom, however, didn’t stop his passionate attack. You could feel his hot breath on you as his lips trailed over your jaw and stopped to leave a trail of kisses from the top of your neck down to the spot right above your breasts. You opened your eyes to see the top of Tom’s head as he pushed the two of you off the wall, walking slowly over towards the sofa. As he sat down, leaving you to straddle his hips, his teeth grazed your collarbone. His eyes met yours once again, his signature smile reaching his eyes. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, taking his bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled away.
For a second, his eyes followed yours as if testing to see how you felt about what was happening. As he attempted to analyze your body language, your fingers played with the hem of his shirt, tugging slightly. You heard a soft chuckle before he reached down to slip his shirt off.
“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, that beautiful smile still on his lips.
“Which part? The part where I’m on top of you or the part where you’re shirtless? Because I wanted both.” You retorted quickly before closing your eyes with an embarrassed grin on your face. The response only earned a melodic laugh from Tom, his eyes playful when you opened yours to steal a glance. It was at that moment that you realized that he said that he wanted a chance with you earlier. He wanted you to give him exactly what you had wanted to be given for the last few years: a chance. You suddenly became extremely aware of his hands underneath your shirt, caressing the skin at the small of your back.
His smile fell as he looked down at the position between the two of you. Part of you wanted to know what was going through his mind to make such a sad expression appear on his face. What had he thought of?
“Is that all you wanted, Y/N?” He questioned, his eyes glistening with the hope of a child wanting their parent to buy them a new toy. Suddenly, you understood. Tom was making sure. He was testing the waters, ensuring that what you wanted was exactly the same as his.
“Or is this all you wanted?” One of his hands motioned to the minimal amount of space between you two. Tom was certainly one of the kindest men you had ever met, and it hurt you to know that he believed that after the past few years of friendship all you wanted was a chance to get into his pants.
Quickly, you moved to sit next to him, your hands wrapping around his wrist to pull him with you. It took a couple seconds for him to realize that you wanted him to lay with you. You smiled up at him as the two of you laid on the sofa facing one another. It was clear that he was fairly confused about your lack of response, but after a moment or two, his hand was placed on your hip where his thumb gently brushed along the revealed skin.
“Tom,” you said, and he hummed in response. He wasn’t meeting your eyes for once. “Did you think we were going to have sex tonight? Is that what you wanted?”
This caught his immediate attention. Tom’s mouth opened in protest, but before he could get a single word in, you cut him off.
“At least take me to dinner first,” you murmured.
He shut his mouth at what you said, the happy look on his face slowly returning.
“That I can do.” Tom spoke through his giddy smile. “This weekend? Your favorite restaurant?”
It was your turn to smile at him. Honestly, it took very little to please this man, and it never ceased to amaze you how quickly he could do a 180.
“It’s a date, then.” You spoke quickly, standing from your spot on the sofa. Tom seemed to groan at the loss of physical contact, or maybe it was because your apartment suddenly felt so much colder after being so heated. Spotting the blue top on the floor, you reached down to pick it up before tossing it back to its rightful owner.
“Now put your top on and dance with me,” you spoke, sauntering back towards the speaker to turn on a new song. Tom’s arms snaked around your waist just as you turned the power back on the small device as he whispered hotly into your ear, “Gladly, my love.”
SUMMARY: Tom is just too attractive to not day dream about, and while he likes to talk with his hands, you like to imagine what they could do to you.
TITLE: To Daydream
WORD COUNT: 1592
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: please do not read unless you are 18 or over!! purely shameless smut ahead!! - I don't really know what to say other than the fact that I needed to write something like this. I hope it’s not too shabby x
(AO3 Link)
Your eyes wandered over his body as Tom spoke. It was an unusual sight to see him dressed nicely; usually, when you saw him, he was clad in sweatpants or a pair of jeans that clung magnificently to his body. Seeing as though you had invited him to your parents’ house for a barbecue, though, he was dressed in more appropriate attire.
He spoke, gesturing with his hands, about how he had done such interesting work while on the set for his new show. Yet, as his hands moved, all you could think about was how amazing it would feel to have those hands on your body, free roaming in all the places reserved specifically for him. You caught your lip between your teeth as you thought more in depth about the wonderful things his hands could do.
***
Tom had been sitting at his desk, reading scripts all day while you sat on his bed waiting. You had fully expected to come over to “hang out.” But, of course, nothing goes your way unless you take initiative. So, you announced that you had something to do, and stood from your spot to walk towards his bathroom.
Now, your back was pressed firmly against the wall, a towel loosely wrapped around your body, as his eyes captured your own. The lust circling within them made you weak at the knees. It was almost as if he could see underneath the one piece of material separating your body from his touch.
“Are you about to shower,” he asked, eyes trained on the cleavage revealed from the lowering towel.
“Mhm,” you hummed, turning to walk towards the bathroom, Tom following hot on your trail.
Before you could think twice, you dropped the towel and turned to face him, watching as his eyes fully devoured every curve of your body. He looked at your face for a split second before slipping his sweats off of his lean body. One of the many upsides to Tom was that he wore the bare minimum when he lounged about - typically just a t-shirt and no underwear, just some pants.
You stepped into the shower, sliding the door closed while you let the water cascade down your body. Tom joined a fraction of a second later, his member already hardening at the sight of you in front of him. He took a step closer to you as you began to retreat from under the sting of the water, your back pressing against the cool tiles. His hands pressed against your hips as he knelt down in front of you.
Your eyes widened at the sight. Typically, you were the one on your knees and he was the one with his back pressed to the shower wall, but that’s a different story for a different time. Tom’s fingers grazed over your hips, trailing their way to the space between your legs as a smirk appeared on his lips. His lips pressed a light kiss to your pelvis, your core clenching in need for those lips to kiss them as well.
Hands. God, his hands.
He pulled your right leg up to rest on his shoulder as his right hand ghosted over your trembling heat. The water as well as the growing arousal within you brought shivers down your spine as his middle finger pressed to the hood of your clit. You hissed, taking your lip between your teeth at the sensation. Tom brought his middle and ring finger to your entrance, teasing ever so slightly by rubbing circles around it.
“So wet for me, baby,” he hummed, watching as his fingers became coated with your arousal. You whimpered as he slowly pressed his digits into your pussy, stretching them as he did so. He began to pump them in and out, curving them to press against the spot attached to your pelvis, earning a moan you had been trying to hold in.
“Is this what you wanted all day? You wanted me to fuck you with my fingers, baby?” You nodded desperately, hands reaching down to his wet hair. You wanted more. More. More. You wanted his tongue against you, not just his fingers. You figured he must have read your mind because a few moans later, his lips were wrapped around your clit, sucking softly to stimulate you. You were growing frantic, your body wanting so much more than what he was giving you.
The torture continued as you felt yourself growing closer to your breaking point. Your hands were gripping tightly to his locks, wanting more friction on your sensitive bundle of nerves. He didn’t allow you to control him, though. No, you weren't in control; he was.
You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, but for once, you didn’t want it.
“No, fuck me, please.” You cried, desperate for him to fill you up. “I don’t want to cum yet.”
He laughed against your folds, the vibrations sending you so much closer to the edge.
“Cum for me.”
“No-” You gasped, your orgasm hitting you hard. “FUCK.”
Tom stood quickly, his cock twitching and leaking with pre-cum. He flipped your body over, pressing your naked breasts to the door of the shower. The cold feeling of the glass door against your chest caused your nipples to ache, yearning to be touched. Your pussy was aching as you stood there, pressed against the glass, your back arched just enough for him to see the space between your legs. You felt Tom’s member rub against your entrance, his lips attacking your neck.
“What do you want me to do?” He asked.
“I want you to fuck me,” You whimpered, pushing your backside so that his cock slipped inside. He pulled away quickly and you moaned in disappointment. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me. I’ll be a good little slut for you, just please fill me up.”
His hand slapped against your ass at your words, a sharp hiss from the pain and pleasure escaping your mouth. Without warning, he pushed deep inside of you. He didn’t move at first; no, he waited until you begged again. And when you begged for him to move, he gave you a second spanking before pulling out almost entirely just to bury himself once more.
“You’re such a slut for me, baby,” he growled, thrusting into your pussy with every word. “My little slut.”
You moaned, eyes rolling back as he pulled your body towards him, grabbing your breasts in his hands. He used his thumb and pointer fingers to roll your nipples between them, your core beginning to ache from the feeling. As time passed and his thrusts became more powerful, your pussy clenched around his member more and more.
“I want you to cum around your cock,” he demanded, his voice strained as he, too, felt his peak approaching. His hands grabbed at your arms pulling them behind your back as he held you up in the middle of the shower, hips thrusting erratically. The sounds of wet skin on skin echoed in the bathroom along with your moans.
Your nails dug into the flesh on your arms as you came for the second time, moaning loud enough for Tom’s neighbors to hear. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, grunting as he spilled his seed.
***
Your eyes were glazed over as you heard everyone speaking around you. Your legs were clenched tightly as you sat, beginning to realize that you were still in public and should not be day dreaming of sex.
Especially not in front of your family.
Tom’s eyes were on you, a smirk on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. He placed his drink on the counter before announcing that he was going to go take a call outside. When he met your eyes, a look of lust was obviously present. You clenched your thighs tighter, watching as he walked outside.
A minute or so passed and you decided to follow suit, and when you walked outside, you felt a hand grab you, dragging you down the hill to the side of your parents’ house. Tom put a finger to his lips and motioned to the group of people on the porch outside. He pulled you under the porch, pushing your back against the siding of the house. His hands reached up to his tie as he untied it before wrapping it around your head. The fabric entered your mouth as you widened your eyes, realizing that Tom intended to you it as a gag.
He then turned your body around, the sound of his belt unlatching and his zipper being pulled down barely audible. The music above the two of you grew louder as more people stepped out onto the porch for drinks by the fire. Tom pulled your dress up and thrusted deep within you without warning. You moaned, not being able to contain the pleasure built up within you.
You felt his lips near your ear as he continued thrusting, “Were you daydreaming about me?”
You shook your head, not wanting to admit that you had been doing just that.
“Oh, so you’re going to lie to me?” He moaned, pressing into your wet pussy to the hilt. You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to moan at the feeling of him inside of you.
“I’ll have to punish you for that later, baby.” Your pussy clenched at his words as he continued speaking.
“Now, don’t make a sound, or else I’ll make you walk around with my cum dripping out of you.”
SUMMARY: You find yourself in the midst of overwhelming emotion, and Tom wants to care for you.
TITLE: I’m In Here (based off the song)
WORD COUNT: 2630
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: Angsty and fluffy; depression, anxiety. I tried to make this as non-conforming to any genders as possible, so hopefully this can be relatable to a person of any gender. I wrote this at 3am when I couldn't fall asleep and so... yeah. It's unedited, but I hope you enjoy it x (AO3 LINK)
You laid in your bed, eyes trained on the ceiling above you. Every bone in your body ached with a tiredness you understood far too well. It was as if there was a weight, a pressure, pushing at your body from all angles and directions, tying you to the bed below. Your body felt impeccably heavy, too heavy to even think about moving from your spot.
The curtains covering your window allowed for the darkness to consume you. It clawed at your skin, your mind, and your soul. Sometimes it felt as if the darkness was impenetrable, like no matter what you tried, it wouldn’t go away. This, of course, you knew was not entirely true. You could easily get up and pull back the curtains to probably reveal a bright and sunny day, but at the same time, you couldn’t. There was not a single ounce of energy in your body, no motivation within you that would allow for you to just stand up and walk over there.
Not today.
Moments like this lasted for hours, sometimes days. It was a single moment that spanned lifetimes. One second was equal to a torturous decade. Slowly, you felt yourself growing tired to the point where you weren’t quite sure if the feeling would ever end. This was a downward spiral - a beginning to an end.
You closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to take you away from the mentally draining process of just getting up. Your eyes remained shut for mere seconds, maybe hours, before you opened them again. The phone you had placed under your pillow the night before was buzzing erratically, waking you from whatever trance you had been put under the minute your eyelids had fluttered shut. As the screen lit up, the weight in your chest only grew heavier.
It was afternoon already. You could have sworn it was just 9am two minutes ago; yet here you were, waking in the early hours of the afternoon, missing breakfast as well as lunch time. I’ve practically wasted a day already, you thought. This thought alone was enough to make you sink even further into the bed, a familiar feeling of dread and uselessness taking control of your body. By now the buzzing had subsided and you were met with the ‘Missed Call from Tom’ banner across your lock screen. You knew that if you didn’t call the man back, he would only grow worried, but you couldn’t find the energy to care.
Sighing, you pushed the phone back under the bed, turning on your side before burying your face into the adjacent pillow. You curled into a fetal position, clinging to the blankets like a child filled with fear after a nightmare. Every second that passed only added to the dread filling your body; you felt repulsed by yourself that you had even managed to stay in bed for so long. There was so much to do and yet here you were. Doing nothing.
Your phone vibrated again. This time it was short, indicating a text had just come through. You didn’t move for a few moments, waiting for a small wave of energy to hit you before you grabbed the phone for the second time in the past few minutes.
‘Are you busy, darling?’
You heaved a sigh before your fingers nimbly typed away.
‘Not really.’
‘I finished early, would you like to grab dinner?’
You glanced at the time again: 3:04. Would you be able to get up in time for dinner? Would you even be fun to talk to across from a dinner table? The answer was a hard no in your opinion. So, you quickly told him that you already had plans. Of course, he then asked what your plans were and you didn’t have a good enough answer right on the spot. So you figured you would just ignore the text and pretend you were busy.
Hours seemed to pass by as you laid in bed, thinking of all the things you had to get done. It was an endless list that would only continue to grow the more that you thought about it. Anything from buying new house plants to doing laundry to getting some work done was on the ever-growing infinite list of things you needed to do. The more tasks you added to the list only made you want to disappear, not wanting to take part in such responsibilities. It was too much.
‘Are you alright?’ Tom asked at 3:56. Apparently the minutes really did feel like decades.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ You responded.
The small bubble indicating that your boyfriend was typing appeared. You waited anxiously for him to say something, but he was taking far too long to answer. Part of you wondered if he had given up, but you wanted him to ask again. However, you didn’t want the gentleman to know this part of you. If he saw you like this, would he still be okay with having you on his arm at events? Knowing how easily you could turn around and be clouded with darkness, would he still want you?
Your phone screen lit up as an incoming call came through. Tom’s name was displayed at the top of the screen, a cute selfie of him smiling showing as his contact photo. Reluctantly, you chose to pick up the phone this time.
“Hello?” You asked, attempting to sound as if you had been up and talking all day long. Your voice betrayed you, though, as it got caught in your throat, causing you to cough for a couple seconds before speaking. “Tom?”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” His voice graced your ears like a smooth melody.
You simply hummed in reply, closing your eyes as you tried to let his voice calm your mind. Tom was silent for a moment before speaking again.
“Would you rather watch some films and order pizza?” He asked, and for a brief moment, you found the strength to smile. Perhaps he had just thought you weren’t in the mood to go out tonight, but no matter the reason for him asking, you felt glad that he was taking you into consideration. The smile vanished as you realized that this meant you would need to get up and clean, get dressed, and properly greet him at the door.
“Maybe not tonight,” you replied quietly.
The line was quiet again as Tom processed your answer. You never said no to food or getting cozy under blankets with him, so maybe he was really catching on to what was happening.
“And you’re sure you’re feeling alright?” He prodded.
“Of course,” your voice was weak as you answered. The fragile state of your mind was causing tears to build up in your eyes. You desperately wanted to say that you were anything but fine right now, but for some reason, the words would not leave your lips.
“Y/N,” Tom sighed. “Just tell me what’s wrong, please. I can tell you aren’t okay.”
“It’s nothing,” you said, mentally hitting yourself for sounding like a high schooler that couldn’t admit when they just weren’t feeling good. The sound of you sniffling was a dead giveaway to the fact that it most certainly was not nothing, but you couldn’t say it was something either.
“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.” Your boyfriend breathed into the speaker, “But at least let me come over with some food and check on you. Have you eaten today?”
“Yes, of course,” you lied. The lie didn’t settle well in your stomach as you felt it churn from either disgust or the mention of food. If you were being honest, you weren’t hungry. If anything, you might throw up at the sight of anything edible.
“Have you eaten recently?” Tom spoke, investigating your answer further.
“Not exactly, but-” you were cut off by the sound of his voice.
“Alright, then I’m bringing pizza with me, okay? I’ll be there soon, love.”
After Tom hung up, you sat up in bed, glancing around the room to see if there were any messes needed to be picked up before your boyfriend arrived at the scene. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you were incapable of taking care of yourself on a day off. Seeing only a small clutter on top of your desk in the corner, you decided that it was fine the way it was. If he was going to get upset about a few papers scattered upon a wooden desk top, then that was an entirely different issue to deal with.
You urged yourself to get out of bed in order to do the supposedly simple task of looking somewhat decent. Opting for just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, you took your time to pull the clothing over your weary body. The more time it took, the more of an excuse you had not to get back in your bed. If you allowed yourself to go back to bed before Tom arrived, chances were you would not get up to let the poor man in.
Your eyes were fixated on the hands of the clock that hung on the wall. The ticking sounds from the clock allowed for your thoughts to be drowned out temporarily. It was peaceful even if it was only that way for a few mere seconds. It was like a small breath of fresh air, one you desperately needed.
However, the fresh air soon turned to a poisonous gas; it was suffocating you. With every tick of the clock, a newfound worry made itself present and you felt your knees go weak as you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground. The pressure weighing down on your chest made your lungs burn and your chest ignite with familiar pain. You felt sick.
For a moment, you almost went to call Tom back, letting him know not to come over anymore. This thought was quickly pushed aside as a knock pounded on the door. How long had it been? How long had you been sitting there? You clawed at your clothing, nails raking down your covered thighs, itching to tear away the skin your mind had been held captive in for the entire day. Silence engulfed you as all your worries crashed into you full force like a tsunami of insecurity. Your eyes were screwed shut, hot tears burning your cheeks, as you attempted to silence your raging mind.
You were so deep in whatever panic had overcome you that you hadn’t noticed the hands that had snuck under your arms, hauling you to your feet. Your breath was ragged as you opened your eyes, watching as two aqua-colored irises stared back at your shaking form.
Tom’s eyes were filled with worry as he pulled you towards your bed. He sat back against the pillows, pulling your body to sit between his thighs as he held you. His large hands rotated between lovingly caressing your hair to pulling your hands up to his lips for a gentle kiss. Honestly, you weren’t sure how long this lasted. All you knew was that Tom had probably used the spare key you kept hidden outside in order to enter and that the poor man had found you at one of your darkest points.
An eternity passed before you calmed down, your arms growing limp with fatigue as Tom continued to sway your body along with his. His lips were pressed to your forehead by then, seemingly hushing your thoughts while whispering sweet nothings to you. When you finally took in the man holding you, you felt embarrassed while he appeared to think nothing of it.
“Darling,” the term of endearment allowed for the tiniest bit of relief to settle within you. Tom pulled you flush against him, your head resting on his chest. “What happened?”
You shook your head feebly against the exposed skin below his neck.
“Have you been like this all day?” His voice was soft as he asked, hoping not to trigger any negative reaction from you. All he wanted was to make sure you were okay.
You nodded this time, pulling away to look at Tom’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed together in concern, and he still had some makeup on his face from the set he had just filmed on hours before.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, lifting a hand to brush his fingers against the skin of your cheek.
“I didn’t want you to see me this way,” you responded, eyes cast downwards to the sheets below the two of you. “You shouldn’t have to see this part of me.”
Tom heaved a sigh as he pushed himself further up, his back straighter than it was a second ago. He loomed over you even when you were sitting, and to be frank, it was usually quite intimidating. However, the position was far from the intimidating stance he showed on screen. In fact, his taller figure felt protective if anything.
“I would rather you show me these parts of yourself than you hide them away,” he spoke. His voice wasn’t as quiet this time around. He seemed to be trying to get a point across, “If I don’t see you at your worst, I certainly don’t deserve to see you at your best.”
You pondered over his words, wondering if he meant them. You wondered if the man before you could be trusted in the ways that he needed to be in order to handle you at these low points, and you wondered if he would ever grow tired of seeing you like this. Although this part of you was not something you could push away or hide for another day to later emerge, it was still something you had wanted to keep secret for at least a little while longer. Then you thought of how Tom had reacted and how he was quick to get you on your feet and pull you into a position where you couldn’t accidentally harm yourself. There was nothing left to think about after that. Of course he was trustworthy to handle you, but were you worthy of such affection?
“What are you thinking about?” His words broke through your thought process, and part of you was glad he had done so. He had just spent quite a long while calming you down from an episode that had stemmed from overthinking. The last thing either of you needed was for you to overthink this situation and get pulled under again.
“Just about,” you paused, contemplating your words, “stuff.”
“Stuff?”
You hummed in response, a barely noticeable childish smile playing on your lips. Tom leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips where your smile had upturned.
“What kind of stuff?” He questioned, his voice like velvet as his breath fanned over your cheek.
“How I couldn’t possibly deserve you,” you whispered into the air, allowing the both of you to soak in the words. Tom smiled softly before brushing his lips against your forehead.
“No, Y/N,” he breathed, “it is I who couldn’t possibly deserve someone as amazing as you.”
The evening carried on with you in Tom’s arms. Silence surrounded the two of you for hours, his presence washing away the insecurities and worries you held in your heart. Whatever worries you carried of him rejecting you for not being as carefree as he probably thought you to be seemed to vanish. Surely, this wouldn’t be the first time they would show up and taunt you, daring you to mess up your chances at happiness.
For now, though, it was just you and Tom, and that was all you needed.
request: can you do a one shot where Tom is filming for some new series or something and hasn’t answered his phone all day and he gets super apologetic because he doesn’t want the reader to feel like he’s ignoring her??
TITLE: Deserving Better
WORD COUNT: 1728
AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: literally the tiniest amount of angst possible, and kinda fluffy towards the end -- also this is my first time posting a one shot to this account so i hope its not too shabby (( i also already posted this but messed up so here it is again oops ))
You were never one to complain about people’s schedules, even when they made you feel slightly lonely. Everyone around you, including yourself, had a life outside of just friendships and romantic relationships. This was something you had to constantly remind yourself every time you found that your texts and calls were going unanswered for hours, sometimes days, on end. It was something you silently chanted to yourself especially now.
It was a typical Friday for you, a rare day off from work, that was meant to be completely stress free. Today was supposed to be no exception to this “no stress” rule you had made for off days; however, no matter how much you tried, relaxing just wasn’t on the agenda. You had woken up to a sweet text message from your most recently acquired boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston. Although the two of you had only known each other for a few short months, it felt as though you both had found your endgame. This wasn’t spoken in conversation, of course, but it was obvious in the way you treated each other that there was something between you that neither of you had found in anyone else.
You were sitting on the sofa in the comfiest clothes you could find, snacking on some popcorn as the 4th movie of the day’s credits rolled across the screen. It was 8:03pm, and for some odd reason you couldn’t shake this weight on your chest no matter how much you tried. Tom had started filming at 9am, he had told you this in the text. Surely they had finished their filming by now, right?
Sighing, you grabbed your phone from between the couch cushions where you had purposefully shoved it in hopes that you wouldn’t stare at it all day. You carefully read the text he sent again:
“Good morning, darling. You’re probably sleeping still, I hope this text doesn’t wake you. I start filming at 9, but text me whenever you wake up.”
You read the text a couple more times just for the sake of feeling the wave of happiness it sent through you. Seconds later, you decided to put the phone back where you had it a minute ago.
Tom was a thoughtful man, always caring, always sweet. When the two of you started dating, he made it clear that he would be quite busy right off the bat, but he would try his hardest to make time for you. After a string of bad relationships, you weren’t so sure of the idea of dating an actor, let alone an actor that was quite well known. Tom was extremely convincing, though.
Well, to be honest, you didn’t need much convincing. All he really had to do was look into your eyes, kiss the back of your hand, and smile his award-winning smile. That was all it took to sweep you right off your feet, and you didn’t regret it one bit.
Tom was right, of course. He was extremely busy. One month after your first date, he was already planning on filming for a new series in the city. You shared your excitement with him with drinks, kisses, and a passionate night, but it didn’t stop you from feeling like this could be a test so early on in a relationship. The same question kept popping up in your head after that:
Could you really handle not hearing from him all the time? Would he miss anniversaries? Birthdays? Holidays?
You kept telling yourself that yes, of course. That didn’t do much for your mind in the long-term as the days passed. Tom had already called for a rain-check on date night once or twice in the past couple months. You had brushed it off for the most part because it could be much worse.
He had told you to text him when you woke, and you did. At least, you could have sworn you did. Groaning at your own impatience, you quickly grabbed the phone again to make sure you had hit send on the text from this morning. You did. You also saw that you definitely hit send on the text you sent at 3:21pm, asking whether or not Tom had eaten lunch. He probably didn’t.
You gently tapped the message box for the millionth time since you woke up. There were multiple texts that you had almost sent throughout the day, but the last thing you wanted to do was seem clingy when he already told you that he was going to be busy. Realistically, you knew he wasn’t ignoring you, but in the back of your head you had already begun to worry if he was tired of you when he had so many beautiful celebrities in his midst at all times. He wasn’t a typical man that you meet and go on a few dates with, and you knew this very well.
Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, dancing in the air as you thought of something, anything, to say that was enough reason to text. Slowly but surely, you decided that it was probably best to just ask if they were done filming yet. So that’s what you did.
As the 5th movie of your day began coming to a close, meaning that it was most likely close to 11pm, you wondered if Tom was ever going to answer his phone. He hadn’t gone this long not responding before and that thought only made it worse in your mind. What if he was now completely annoyed that you had asked if they were done filming? As silly as the thought was, you couldn’t help but contemplate it. Just as you finished running through the endless possibilities from his annoyance to him somehow ending up hospitalized, your phone began to ring.
Upon picking up the device, all the worries vanished from your mind. A cheeky photo of Tom kissing your temple showed on the screen: his contact photo. You let out a breath you had probably been holding all day right as you hit the answer button.
“Hello?” You answered the call, a sheepish grin on your face as if to hide your embarrassment.
“Y/N, darling, I am so sorry for not answering your texts.” Tom’s voice poured through the phone. He sounded frantic, every word seemingly rushing in order to explain himself. “I left my phone in my car and by the time I realized I left it, we were starting to film.”
“It’s alright,” you said. Ten minutes ago, it most certainly wasn’t alright, but you wouldn’t let that show especially with him sounding so flustered about the situation. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
“No, no,” he shushed you, “I even told you to text me when you woke up, but I didn’t have the blasted thing on me. Love, please forgive me.”
You let out a small laugh, “All is forgiven.”
“Are you sure?” He pressed on.
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Then,” he drew out the word as something in the background of the call began rustling, “I suppose I should go back home.”
Confused by his statement, you sat up. Tom was quite unpredictable, and for some reason you felt as though he was up to something right now.
“Home? Are you not home yet?” You asked, trying to hide the overwhelming curiosity that had taken you over.
“Well, not quite, I got some Chinese take out in hopes that my girlfriend would forgive me of my wrongdoings,” he sighed dramatically through the phone, pausing for some dramatic effect. “But I guess that won’t be necessary since she says that I’ve already been forgiven.”
“No,” you rushed out, slipping off the couch and running towards your bathroom. Your hair was a mess and you looked as if you had just crawled out of bed. Granted, you had definitely been sitting on the couch for the past 10 hours, but Tom didn’t need to know that. If he saw you like this, though, he would definitely know that. “Not forgiven. I want the take out, give me a second.”
You could hear his laugh through the phone as the sound of his car door closing made you move ten times faster. You threw the phone onto your bed, running to the bathroom to fix your hair and gargle some mouthwash so that Tom wouldn’t be able to smell the hundreds of different snacks you had consumed in one sitting. A full minute passed before there was a knock at the door. Fumbling for your phone, you saw that he had already ended the call.
As quickly as you could, you went to open the door. The second your eyes fell on him, you stilled. It wasn’t just takeout; he had brought the entire brigade with him as an apology. He held a bouquet of your favorite flowers with the takeout in one hand, and in the other he held a bottle of wine. Tom smiled at the shocked expression on your face before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and letting himself inside.
After slipping off his shoes and placing the food and flowers on the table, he made his way over to where you stood. His tall frame loomed over you as he placed his hands on your hips, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.
“You didn’t have to go this far,” you said, head tilted to look at the small distance between the two of you.
“Didn’t I?” He breathed, pulling your body closer until his hands wrapped around your waist and rested at the small of your back. “I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, I know how you get sometimes.”
You held your breath. Tom knew that your past relationships went sour because of lack of communication and because you had a tendency to overthink, but you never realized that he was taking that into account. It started to click in your mind as you recalled his promises to make time for you, to be there for you, and to try his hardest to make things work. He had done all of that for you, because he was thinking of you.
“Thank you,” you whispered perhaps too quietly for him to even hear it.
Tom heard it, and as he tilted your chin up to look at him, his smile showed that he did.
