Happy birthday to this man , who has brought me so much joy throughout my teenage years and still does. Safe to say Tom Hiddleston was my first ever real celebrity crush that i was obsessed about , to a point where i made my friends join this madness and obsess over him throughout highschool.
My obsession over this man has died down, but i still admire him, deeply , spiritually. But I'm still a Hiddlestoner .Loki will forever be my comfort character 🤧.
He's 44 now , I've seen him grow , find a wonderful partner, and become a dad in the past five years.
Not to mention he's great actor, and a fucking feminist.
you’ve been in love with tom all your life and tom has been in love with your sister all his life. what could go wrong, huh?
PAIRING: tom holland x reader
WARNINGS: angst, angst and angst! some fluff(??), bad writing
WORD COUNT: 3.8k words
A/N: hii hello everyone! this is something i wrote ages ago so i can’t guarantee that it’ll be any good but it’s been on my mind lately so i’ve decided to post it. i hope you enjoy!<3 pls tell me what you think<3 i’m obsessed by the washing machine heart by mitski so you get this!!
For the better part of your life, you had been in love with Tom Holland. It was not just a crush no, or just an infatuation as it started out to be. No matter how much you tried to deny it, you were wholly, completely irrevocably in love with him. The only problem here was that he had been pining after your sister for the better part of his life.
While you watched his slightly crooked smile and boyish laughter from afar, his caramel eyes watched your sister's. You wondered how your sister didn't catch on to the oh-so-obvious affection he held for her, messing with his tousled, pretty curls whenever she walked by or using any possible excuse to talk to her.
You, however, weren't that bold and mostly kept your feelings to yourself, preferring to suffer in silence rather than letting him know and suffering the loss of an otherwise tight-knit friendship formed out of years of living next to each other, and now ending up at the same university.
Even when it hurt you so much that you went to sleep with tear stains streaking your cheeks and pillows and searing hot jealousy rushing through you every time you saw them interact, you held your tongue.
Lately, you hadn't seen much of your sister. She left for class before you were even done getting ready, leaving you to walk to campus alone. That was unlike her, considering how close the two of you were.
You were now walking towards the cafeteria in search of her, coincidentally running into a strong figure. Looking up, you saw Tom, dressed in a tight-fitting white t-shirt and some worn-out blue jeans that had no business looking as good as they did on him, clearing his throat. He smiled at you sheepishly, the left side of his mouth turning up lazily, apologizing, "Sorry! I was just looking for Alana, didn't see you there."
"You never do," you mumbled to yourself before clearing your throat, and saying clearly," I was actually going to look for her as well."
"Mind if I tag along?" he asked, his pink lips pulling to one side as he shifted on his feet. Tearing your eyes away from him, you nodded as nonchalantly as you could, taking lead as you walked on.
He let out a satisfied sigh, walking alongside you. When you had finally spotted Alana sharing a bench with someone from afar, you raised your hand to wave at her, your mouth opening to call her name. But before you could utter a single word, as though in slow motion, you watched her lean into the person sitting next to her, leaving a sound kiss on their lips.
You turned to the side to look at Tom immediately. Pretty, heartbroken Tom, who looked like he had just been sucker-punched, had no air left in his lungs as he dry-heaved at the sight, his eyes watery and no trace of his previous smile on his face.
"Tommy..." you said, outstretching an arm towards him. He shook his head firmly, turning in the opposite direction to run as quickly as he possibly could. You tried to follow him, losing him only when you were pushed past by what looked like a group of frat guys that were playing around.
You yelled his name, asking some people that were around if they'd seen him. Pausing in your step, you realised exactly where he'd be. He would always go to the old bench near the drama building on campus to clear his mind whenever he was stressed or just needed some quiet. He'd told you this once in one of the tamer parties that Alpha Nu had organised.
With a quicker pace, you started walking towards the building, running up hastily until you were a few steps away, contemplating how you would handle this. Not wanting to lose your courage, you took the last few steps to him, treading lightly until you stopped just behind him. He held his head in his hands. "Tom? Can I…” you trailed off, not knowing what you were asking of him.
You heard a grunt which wasn't a definite yes, but not a no either, you noted, and so, you crossed the distance between the two of you, taking the seat next to him.
You gently patted his shoulder. "Hey."
"Hi," he said his voice hoarse enough for you to know he had been swallowing his sobs.
"Do you want to talk about it? I know you're hurting-"
"No, you don't!" he yelled, turning around so you could finally see how bloodshot his eyes were, "You have no idea how much it hurts to love someone who doesn't love you back! I'm in love with her, have been my whole life, and she- she's kissing someone-" His words were choked towards the ending and it pained you to see him so heartbroken, even if it was over your own sister.
"I'm sorry, Tom, I don't know what to say right now," you said honestly, squeezing his shoulder.
"I just thought, at some point, she'd see me, y’know? Finally. And that we'd actually be something." his voice cracked painfully,” I’m so pathetic.”
“No, you aren’t,” you rushed to defend him, meeting his watery eyes, "Look, Tom, if she doesn't see you, it's her damn loss. Anyone would be lucky to have you," you said earnestly, cupping his cheek as you wiped the tears off with your thumbs. He nuzzled his face into your hand with his eyes closed as you continued, "I mean, look at you! You're so amazing and funny and kind and anyone who has you in their life has to be thankful."
His eyes opened to meet yours, wide and doe-like in their post-teary state, and in the blink of an eye, he surged forward, his lips colliding with yours with such fervour that you were sure your heart missed a beat. Or a couple of them. You melted into him for a few, long moments, your lips pushing against each other perfectly before your brain processed anything other than the warmth between your bodies, languid and slow.
You rested your arms on his chest, pushing him away with all your strength as you move yourself away from him on the small bench. You heaved loudly, heart pounding in your ears in deafening thuds, as you watched him through hazy eyes.
It was true that you'd dreamed of this, wishing it to happen for all the years that you’d known him, but this wasn't the way you wanted it to be.
You breathed out loudly, voice sounding alien and miles underwater even to yourself," You're vulnerable right now, Tom, this is wrong," you tried to explain yourself,” I’m sorry-”
"I know, I'm sorry, that was wrong of me," he cut in with a sigh, wrapping his arms around himself, curling into himself in a pitiful stance, and for his sake you let yourself stop freaking out about the kiss long enough to comfort him. You scooted forward, pulling him into a comforting embrace, hoping the way you hugged him made up for the amount of pain he was going through.
You were so busy making sure that his hurt didn't scar him to notice that you were bleeding to death.
That night you went to sleep, your mind swirling with thoughts of the boy with the dark eyes and the soft lips (which you now knew from actual experience). It was not until a few days later that you actually encountered him again, having made adequate efforts to keep away from him for the sake of his pride and your heart.
You had just passed by your sister and her boyfriend, Eddie (whom she’d finally introduced you to) and were making your way to the campus library when you saw Tom walking the opposite way, looking distracted. You gave him a small smile when your eyes met and with a gasp, you realised that he was going to run into your sister and Eddie if he walked past you.
You contemplated your options before deciding that sparing his feelings was more important than avoiding any encounter with him because of your stupid feelings. Besides, it wasn’t like you could avoid him forever. You literally lived next to each other and studied at the same university.
You approached him, plastering on the friendliest, least awkward smile that you could muster.
"Hi," he waved, awkwardly.
"Have you done the Intro to Economics essay yet? It's supposed to be how long?" you did your best to look confused, "That topic is really confusing, isn't it?"
"Oh uh, I haven't started yet. I think it's supposed to be around 2 thousand words? or so? It is very confusing yeah," he trailed off thoughtfully before saying, "Want to do it together?"
"Sure, in the library?" you smiled, glad to have distracted him from walking into the very thing that had turned him into a walking ghost. After that day, you might not have had any interaction with him, but you did notice him. Not that you were stalking him or anything… just keeping an eye on him.
He’d lost his usual sunny, flirty demeanour, flitting through classes silently, preferring to stick to his own company even when his friends jostled his shoulder or tried to include him in their conversations.
You sat in one of the corner tables of the library, a few reference books lying open as you struggled to tear your eyes away from Tom's when he started explaining one of the topics to you.
"...So, that signifies the law of diminishing supply. Got it?" he questioned, raising that cute, wolf brow of his.
You shook yourself out of the daze and nodded, fumbling with your pen mindlessly. "Yeah, I understood it, yeah." He chuckled, a soft and fluttery sound that made your heart clench, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, your eyes falling close on their own accord as his fingers traced your jaw with a featherlight touch.
He smiled to himself a little, before leaning forward and kissing you with every ounce of passion he could muster. You kissed back with all that and more, all your feelings pouring into it. You pulled away, both of you breathless before he pulled you back into another sweet kiss, his hand on your jaw, tracing mindless patterns onto your skin there.
Soon, stolen kisses in the dark corners of the library turned into holding hands, exchanging looks and blushing smiles everywhere. It wasn't as though you were completely oblivious though. You for the most part knew that to him, you were barely a replacement for your sister. Whether he knew it himself or not. But you took it. You didn’t know if it made you a masochist or a terrible person, but you took everything he gave you.
Each kiss pulled you closer to him, and every word he said to you when he looked into your eyes filled your head and heart with him until there was nothing else there, him with his honey eyes and tufts of dark hair that looked almost golden in the sunlight. Loving him was easy, intoxicatingly so and you lost all your senses to it until the only remaining thing was him.
You had often noticed how his affection for you increased tenfold any time the two of you came across your sister and Eddie, sometimes unbearably so and you would feel the need to turn away for a minute to blink away the building pressure in your eyes, plastering a fake smile that soon enough became more common on your face than your real one.
Before you knew it, you'd been together like this for four months. Four suffocating months that you couldn't bring an end to because of your love for him, and it was finally Christmas. Your parents had asked both you and your sister to bring along your boyfriends to spend the holidays with and Tom had jumped at the chance the moment you brought it up.
Now you were standing at your front door, giving Tom a hug with a nervous smile. He pulled away from you, his eyes roaming as much of the room as he could see, evidently looking for somethi- someone.
You heard your mum shout," Y/n, darling, is he here?"
You yelled back in the affirmative, hand slipping into Tom's on instinct as you walked him inside. Your mum gave the two of you a quick once-over, nodding approvingly when she saw his hand held in yours comfortably.
You shook your head with a smile as your father stepped in with your sister.
You glanced at Tom, who was conversing with your parents with an easy smile, giving them both friendly hugs, and making charming quips here and there but not without stealing secretive looks at your sister.
You sighed deeply, eyes falling to the floor when you saw him turn to her next, with a beaming smile, one so love-filled, it made you want to sob until you had no more tears left in you to humanly cry.
"So, where is he, by the way?" he asked referring to your sister's boyfriend. He looked nonchalant but you knew by the look in his eyes that he was anything but.
"Oh," your sister chuckled shortly, shrugging "We broke up a couple of days ago, actually. Figured that we wanted different things, so."
Tom's eyes gave it all away even though he expertly schooled his face to keep the smile in, glancing your way but you averted your gaze before he could catch you. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking forward to properly meeting him."
Lie.
Your mum called out," Let's take this party to the dining table, shall we?" Making idle chatter, you were now sitting at the table on one side of Tom while your sister was sitting on his other side. He had his hand on your knee as he spoke to her. You were sure this gesture was to remind himself who he was with, and had absolutely nothing to do with any comforting feelings that come with being in a relationship with someone.
He stayed at your house for a few days until New Year's, popping by his own house for quick visits during the day and spending the rest with your family, and by this point, you had gotten used to waking up to an empty bed and walking to the kitchen to the sight of your boyfriend having a cup of tea with the girl he actually loved.
And at this point, you had nothing left in you. No tears, no more hurt because your heart was numb. The love you had for him was slowly drowning you and you couldn't breathe. It hurt. It hurt so much that you didn't even feel it even anymore. You were numb.
"They get along well, don't they?" your mum piped up from beside you as you stood, watching Tom and Alana from the entrance of the kitchen. You nodded sullenly and plastered a fake smile on, walking inside.
"Morning," you greeted, and you received synchronised greetings back before the two of them burst out laughing, saying incoherent things. You tuned everything out, trying to clear your head.
You met your mum's eyes from across the table and averted your gaze from her knowing eyes. Managing to get through breakfast without much interaction with anyone, you thought you had escaped but soon enough, your mom cornered you. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Mum, why wouldn't I be?" you said, faking another smile, but barely managing a grimace in front of the woman who’d raised you.
"I don't want to have to spell it out for you, Y/n. If he doesn't make you happy, you need to let him go. You look miserable all the time and it's killing me to see you like this, honey."
"I love him," you said firmly, raising your eyes to hers.
"I don't doubt that. But does he?"
Your mom's words stayed in your mind most of the day and it was soon time to take pictures, and the matching pyjamas were all ready, you and Tom standing by the fireplace as your dad brought out the polaroid camera.
You smiled for the camera, stepping closer to Tom on your mum's wishes. There was a loud flash and your dad handed you the polaroid. You waited for it to develop as you stayed in his warm grasp. When the picture finally developed, you saw his hand around your waist, a cheesy smile on his face as his eyes crinkled. You smiled equally cheesily, leaning into his arms. You put the picture aside safely, just its sight making you equally smiley and sick.
Your sister stepped into the room in her own holiday pyjamas and twirled around with a grin," How do I look?"
Your parents gave her their usual compliments and you gave her a quick thumbs up paired with a smile, your posture stiffening when you heard his voice mumble, "Perfect," from next to you. He cleared his throat saying louder," Really good."
You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't watch your boyfriend fawn over your sister like she was the only girl in the world while you were right there.
Later that night, you gave him the last kiss you would ever give him under the mistletoe, pouring everything in you to make it a final goodbye. You were sure there was a tear or two slipping down your face, but you didn't care as you made the moment last. Finally pulling away, you wiped your tears away quickly, ignoring his concerned eyes and raised eyebrows.
Pulling him by the hands, you called him into your bedroom and he stood there, hands in his cheesy holiday pyjama pockets, waiting for whatever you had to say.
"I think you should go home," you said plainly, your voice void of any emotion.
"I- huh? What-" He asked, his face the very embodiment of confusion.
You sighed sadly," I don't want to do this, Tom, I really don't."
“What are you talking about?” He remained clueless, running his fingers through his hair.
“I can’t,” you swallowed,” We can’t do this anymore. It hurts to do this. So much. But I just-”
He tried to pause you, taking your hands into his. "Then don't do it, baby, please. Was it something I did? You can't do this, I love yo-"
"Don't," you cut him off, pulling your hands out of his," You don't get to just say that. Not when you don't mean it. Please don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying! I mean it," He sounded desperate," I really do lo-"
"You were with me because of… her. Admit it to yourself if you won’t to me."
"I-" He started, eyes on yours before his shoulders slumped and a defeated sigh left his lips," I was."
You gulped, everything about this harder than you'd anticipated. Both your eyes were teary and you stepped forward to place a kiss on his tear-streaked cheek. "You can leave after dinner if you want. Tell them I’m not hungry anymore."
He stared at your figure as you walked away, stepping out of the room quickly, sniffling slightly.
You'd been cleaning out your boxes in the attic when you came across the picture. You stared at it a long time, thumb brushing over the edge as you took in your face and his, all the memories rushing back.
You were so in your head that you didn't see your little daughter of six crouching beside you, peeking at the picture in your hand curiously. "Who's that?" she piped up.
You jumped in surprise," You little devil! Are you trying to scare me to death or what?"
She giggled," Sorry, momma! Who is that though? You look so young!"
"That was... " you pondered on what to say, before deciding that the truth was always better," A boyfriend I had."
"Did you love him?"
"Yeah," you smiled, your face swimming in reminiscence "I did."
"Then what happened?"
"Well, I realised that he was not the one," you answered, letting out a short breath as you wondered how he was doing in life right now. Pretty well, you’d assume, considering the fact that his face was on every other post you saw on Instagram and any other social for that matter. A smile made its way onto your face as you finished your sentence," Then I met your dad."
"Then you met me!" You heard a voice from behind you and both your daughter and you jumped up in surprise and a little bit of fear. You rolled your eyes at the cheeky man who knelt in front of you with a handsome grin," I am a bit of a step up from all your boyfriends, though, am I not?"
"Not really," you answered sarcastically, turning your nose up in mock-disgust, before kissing his forehead when you found him pouting," But I won't give you up for anything in the world."
Meanwhile, in an untouched dusty corner of the attic lay a yellowing piece of paper, folded neatly with a single signed phrase on it.
For my love,
-Tommy
You had received the letter from the boy you'd once loved, two months after that fateful night all those days ago. What was in the letter still remained a mystery to you, since you'd never gathered the courage to open it, knowing that all the work you had put into moving on would be worthless if you opened it. You would be taking two steps back and that's why you put it in a box, never to be opened again.
But what was written in it was in Tom's trademark messy sloping handwriting, a few smudges here and there from what looked like splatters of teardrops.
It said:
Darling,
I'm so happy you've opened this letter. I know I've hurt you a lot. And I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry. You don't deserve any of the pain I put you through.
You were wrong, by the way, I wasn't with you only for your sister. Maybe it had started out that way, but things changed a lot. Things changed when you were the one I started falling for, love. They say you don't realise what you have till it's gone. And my realisation happened a little too late for it to matter.
I love you, Y/n. Forever.
You don't have to say anything to this, I just had to tell you how sorry I am. You deserve better. You deserve someone that can make you smile that lovely smile and laugh that lovely laugh of yours and have all those late-night talks about things that hardly made sense, and most of all someone that makes you feel happy. And loved. I know I can't be that person, after hurting you so much, but I wish you the best, Y/n. As long as you're happy, I’m happy too.
Summary - You are a NCA Investigator and have an ongoing case to rescue women and children that have been kept captive. The mission of course isn't as easy and can also prove to be life threatening. But with an incredibly supportive husband and a strong team, it doesn't seem all that impossible.
Warnings -
Interested in an absolute badass, strong female oc?
A/N & WC - I came up with this concept ages ago and only just got around to writing it, though it’s slightly short. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to. 2k.
Warnings - Swearing (that's now just a given), definitely suggestive and nsfw but nowhere near explicit, just mentions of sex, nudity too. And unknowing exhibitionism I guess? 16+
Summary - Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...
THOMAS WILLIAM HIDDLESTON IS A SIMPLE MAN, believe it or not. He likes meals he can cook in fifteen minutes, he likes his tea with only a splash of milk, he likes the simple pleasures of nature. He likes morning runs and evening walks, re-watching movies he’s seen a dozen times, cuddles on a cold night. But most of all, he likes it when you walk around nude.
It might just be the one singular thing in the great mystery of life that is inexplicable to him, the one thing he enjoys so bloody much he daren’t speak of it, lest he risk losing it. Just the sight of your beautiful body keeps him up night after night after night when he’s working away, plotting and planning ways to ensure he never forgets it for the second he returns home. He can’t even begin to explain the things it does to him.
So, he set up a Stripped Sunday, with the basic premise that you both have to walk around in your birthday suits all day. It’s essentially his unique, perverse, inventive way of seeing you naked all day once a week. Not every Sunday, naturally, but just on occasion, when he’s not working, he’ll jot it down on the calendar. Nothing too glaring, in case someone catches a glimpse of his calendar, but just scribbling down a winky face in a Sunday space, and you know what you’re in for.
In all honesty, you love it just as much as he does. It’s hard not to. Seeing him walking around the house with not a scrap of clothing on all day does things to you you’ve never been able to put your finger on—or his. If you were to get pregnant, Stripped Sundays would be the culprit with the amount that the two of you shag in a single day. And he always seems to have another round in the bank to wake you the morning after, hungover on dripping lust.
However, it’s been far too long without one of these days, you think to yourself. And you know that there are no plans for the day, seeing as there’s nothing in the diary or the calendar, where—upon Tom’s own decree—all arrangements have to be written down. Seeing as you and Tom have a somewhat secret relationship, one certainly sheltered from the press, and no one knows you’re together, let alone live together, keeping all plans written down is imperative. His work meetings are always good reasons for you to get out of the house for a few hours.
Today, however, Tom seems to have made a mistake. Today’s meeting utterly slipped his mind, and he completely forgot to tell you, let alone jot it down, that he was having a casual meeting with a few co-stars to discuss future production of some sort—of what, he was entirely unsure, since this was texted about weeks ago, now. Nothing too major, though.
Logically, Tom thought that, with how late you were currently sleeping, and how much you enjoy your lie-ins, he’d be wrapped before you woke up, and even if that wasn’t to be the case and you wake up, that you’d have the sense to dress, or even call for him at the very least, before going downstairs.
You aren’t so lucky.
—
Waking up to an empty bed is never much fun. Usually if Tom wakes up before you, he’ll only slip out to put the kettle on, or fetch a new book to read from the library while he waits for you to stir naturally… that is if he isn’t waking you up in other, more pleasurable ways. At most, if he does have plans and doesn’t want to wake you after a late night, he’ll leave you a lovely note, a voicemail, and a thermal mug of tea.
Today, however, you can smell the coffee machine on—no wonder after the late, and rather energetic night you had—and hear the machine whirring, signalling that Tom likely hasn’t long been awake. That’s when the gears begin to turn and your plan begins to formulate, a completely devious idea that creeps into your mind and quirks your lips into a smirk. No matter how enticing the idea to nuzzle back into the pillows is, your need for Tom is overpowering your clawing need for sleep, especially with your primal instincts telling you he’s within grabbing distance, his aftershave still on the sheets you’re wrapped in. So, you strip his shirt, now perpetually appropriated by you, off and get out of bed, stretching as you go, beginning to make your way downstairs.
“What’s that?” Tom hears someone ask.
Not hearing your footsteps on the squeaky stairs over the whirring of the coffee machine and the layered discussions, including his own laughter, he simply replies, “Probably the dog.”
You, however, aren’t lucky enough to hear this brief conversation before your bare feet land on the cold hardwood floor, sending chills throughout you that don’t seem to even mildly combat the overwhelming heat building all throughout you. With just a few more steps, keeping your footing light and avoiding Bobby’s various chewies and toys littered all over the floor, you’re entering the kitchen in nought but your birthday suit. Utterly, completely in the buff.
“Morning baby,” you call out, yawning, your eyes fluttering shut, your jaw wide.
Except, instead of the warm embrace and slatherings of kisses that you expect to receive, or even a simple “Good morning, Princess,” you’re welcomed with a deadly silence, a stillness you can’t quite comprehend.
Your eyes fly open in shock, opening to see three people, mildly familiar faces, with mouths agape and eyes wide, sitting around the breakfast bar with mugs between their hands. Tom looks as stunned as you’ve ever seen him, over by the coffee machine, his hands trembling. With a fixed gaze of his baby blue eyes, so piercingly alarmed, he looks you up and down, his eyes blazing over your nude form, his kissable mouth practically watering at the mere sight of you.
That’s before it clicks with him, the dire situation, and alarm bells begin to blare inside his head, causing him to jump into action. Almost instantly, he’s pulling his shirt off his strong arms and muscular torso with lithe fingers, and is tugging it over your head, covering your naked torso.
You can already feel the blush on your cheeks, your skin burning from the bruised base of your throat to the pierced tips of your ears, the blood in your veins rushing around so violently that it drowns out any other comments or noise within the room, within the situation, but you’re brought back to reality when Tom’s strong, callused hands fall to your arms, clasping the flesh before he’s all but lifting you off the tiled floor and steering you back out of the room. It snicks shut behind you, but all you can focus on is the kiss he gives you, slanting his thin lips over yours so intoxicatingly that you’re able to forget your humongous disaster, if only for a second. There’s an emptiness the second he stops kissing you, and you’re able to hear the previously shut out gossip from inside.
“Sweetheart, what the hell was that?” he commands, his tone soft.
Despite the austere authority he so naturally demands in a room, he doesn’t sound angry whatsoever. If anything he’s just a little exposed, his private home life revealed to people when he wasn’t in the least bit prepared for once in his lifetime, with a definite undertone of irritation, mostly that he can’t have his way with you instantly. His blood is roaring, his stomach an explosion of swarms of butterflies, his core pulsating. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, even now you’re covered, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.
“I— I saw the calendar was empty, I wanted to impress you, have a nice Sunday because it’s been so long,” you confess, shuffling your feet on the floor, unable to meet his blue gaze boring into you, “I’ve felt… distant from you recently, you’ve been working so much. I don’t know,” you shift anxiously, tugging on his shirt wrapped around you, “I love you, I didn’t wanna lose you. I thought you’d like it.”
“Baby,” he says, “I love you and this so so much. Of course I like it!”
You let out a feeble cry against his chest, his arms knotting around you and tugging you into his chest in one swift movement. His hugs, the way he holds you and cradles you, always make you feel better, no matter what your troubles may be.
You sniffle a little, “Really?”
Any trace of hardness in his face just dissipates and is replaced with sympathy, empathy, love.
“I truly wish I could take you right now, Darling, and if they weren’t here, I’d be fucking you on that breakfast bar and you know it.” He sighs deeply. “But, I didn’t put down a special Sunday for a reason, love.” Leaning down, he kisses away your wry tears, and then the tip of your nose. “You are so thoughtful. It’s all my fault though, I must’ve just forgotten to write this down.”
How can you be mad at him when he’s being so thoughtful and heartfelt, confessing his mistake even when it was your rash thinking that’s gotten you into this mess?
Once you calm your breathing down, though, you realise that you’re actually not particularly phased by this at all. You don’t mind this; it was the sheer shock that passed over Tom’s face, the flash of terror he must’ve felt with his work colleagues in the room with him that scared you so. You know well enough that it’ll be a huge knock—monumental, even—for him, if this gets out. Your worry for your treasured boyfriend takes power over any of your own misgivings.
“I’m really sorry, Tom.”
“Don’t be,” he says hastily, “can you please pop up and get dressed, though, darling? Just some shorts, I don’t want you to feel exposed.”
You let out a soft chuckle, nodding, stepping away from him to make your way upstairs. Before you’ve taken so much as a step, though, he tugs you back by the bottom of his shirt, and ravels you into a searing kiss, everything he wants to say passes from his lips to yours.
—
You return a couple of minutes later, dressed simply, comfortably, his shirt in your hands, you find him waiting for you, standing outside the door with his hands clasped at his front. He greets you with open arms, prompting you to take his hands as he leads you back into the kitchen, your eyes connecting in a secret agreement before stepping inside.
The air is rife with anxiety, three panicked faces staring back at you, but thankfully, you’re able to recognise these people as ones he’s worked with for a while, people he knows really well; confidantes and friends more than co-stars or colleagues. However, by the inquisitive glint in their eyes and their parted mouths, you imagine they’ll still have a lot of questions, and this’ll still be a hit for Tom.
He wraps his spare arm around you, his head bowed as he meets the dead faces staring at him. That’s when you begin to wonder if something else has happened.
“Baby, everything okay?” you ask, cupping his jaw, caressing your thumb over the scruff of a beard shadowing his bone structure.
That’s seemingly when it hits him, his face paling, blanching, his grip around you loosening.
“It’s a good job you never got over the threshold, darling,” he says breathlessly, “or I’d be in much more trouble.”
You look to him, eyes searching his face imploringly as he viciously gulps. “We were live on Instagram.”
“SHIT!”
Well, it looks like Tom’s girlfriend is public knowledge. You can’t mind, though not as he dips his head and kisses you hotly, heartily. With this passion, the second these people leave, Stripped Sunday might just happen after all.
