Ohhhoh oh ohhh I have an idea (May or may not be from tik tok) so y/n falls asleep whilst on FaceTime with Tom and he doesn’t hang up. He admires her sleeping and gushes to Harrison about her (and maybe y/n wakes up and hears this?? Or not)! Love your work <333
reading this request made me so soft omg... i love it :’)
frat!tom night !!
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“Are you falling asleep on me, Y/N?”
At the soft sound of Tom speaking your name, you force yourself to blink your eyes open and focus on the screen of your phone. His blurry form is smirking at you, his phone angled from below and capturing his face. He’s at the frat, sitting in one of the rooms with desks, working on an essay. While you’d normally like to be there with him and spending the night with your boyfriend, you’re absolutely exhausted.
“No?” You mumble, trying to sound more awake. You turn onto your side, snuggling further into your pillow as you look at the screen. Your eyes run over the sight of Tom, wearing a loose tank top and his snapback. “‘M not asleep yet.”
“You can fall asleep, babe. It’s okay. You’ve had a long day… I can hang up and—”
“No,” you whimper. “Don’t hang up.”
Tom smiles, soft voice cooing and coaxing a shy smile to your face. “Okay.”
“Just… Tell me about your day, or your essay, or something. Let me hear your voice.”
“Of course.”
You try to stay awake—you really, really try not to slip off into sleep. But it’s just so cosy tucked up in bed, and you’re so tired, and Tom’s voice is better than a lullaby. His words, so gentle and accented, easily lull you into a light slumber, and your phone slips through your hands as you drift from consciousness.
It’s hard to tell how long you’re out for, but you find yourself very slowly waking up again as a loud noise comes down the line. You keep your eyes shut, barely awake, but you realise it’s the sound of a chair scratching along the floor, coming from Tom’s end as he’s joined by a companion.
“Dude, shut up, you’re going to wake Y/N up.”
“Sorry, sorry.” It’s Harrison, Tom’s best friend. “Wait- are you guys on facetime?”
“Yeah… She’s asleep though.”
“Why don’t you just hang up?”
You hear the sound of Tom moving his phone around.
“Because look,” he says, voice quiet. “She’s so cute.”
Despite being sleepy, you feel your heart clench softly in your chest, and you have to force yourself not to smile and give away the fact that you’re awake and listening.
“You’re so whipped,” Harrison replies, voice teasing. You hear a loud thump, and you assume Tom’s elbowed him in the side. “It’s sickening. I’m happy for you though, bro.”
“Really?”
Harrison hums. “Yeah. I haven’t seen you this happy before.” There’s a brief silence. “I mean, look at you. You’re just sitting here staring at her sleep.”
Tom chuckles. “That makes me sound so creepy,” he mutters. “It’s not creepy, is it?”
“A bit.”
“Great.” Tom’s quiet, and you imagine he’s got his eyebrows furrowed. “I just… I really love her, Haz. So much.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t… I can’t describe it without sounding like- like a teenager or something, but… She’s just everything to me. Everything. I didn’t think I could love someone this much, but...”
“But you’re here, watching her sleep, because you like spending time with her so much.”
Tom hums, then clears his throat. “Fuck, I am whipped, aren’t I?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Whatever. I don’t care. It feels too good.”
There’s suddenly a burst of loud noise, and you recognise the sounds of more people walking into the same room as Tom and Harrison. It makes you wince, even in your rest.
“Fuck, do you think that’s going to wake her up?” Tom murmurs.
“Maybe.”
“Shit.” You hear Tom fumble with his phone. “Wait— Haz, fuck, how do I turn this off—”
A moment later the audio cuts out, and you blink open a tentative eye to see your phone screen dark. You startle when it lights up again, with a bright text from Tom. You read it, and it acts as further confirmation that your boyfriend is the sweetest man you’ve ever met.
Tom: You fell asleep on our call and I didn’t want noise on my end to wake you up. Just want you to know that you’re really, really cute, and I love you very much. Sweet dreams darling xx
imagine waking up to tom while you’re staying at his parents’ house. you can’t do anything because of where you are…so he’s just clingy and cuddly and gushy and lowkey annoying but you love it :))
my tom yearning levels have been through the roof for the last few days and i think writing this finished me off... thank you. cw: very slightly suggestive.
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Tom is pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, lips tender as they run over your skin from your arm to your neck. His kisses are feathery light, and so, so gentle, and you can’t even be too mad at the fact you’re being woken up because he’s doing it so softly and with so much consideration that you feel your lips twitching into a smile.
“G’morning, darling,” he rasps, voice light and quiet. “Sleep well?”
You hum, then blearily open an eye to look at him. Tom is cuddled into your chest, resting on his side with one of his legs thrown over yours and his hand splayed out across your chest. He’s shirtless and warm, his brown curls arranged messily over his head and glinting almost gold beneath the beams of morning light, streaming in through the gaps in the slats of his bedroom blinds. His thin pink lips twitch into a gentle smile as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah,” you whisper, too tired to speak properly. You stifle a yawn and reach up until you’re able to rest a hand on his side. “You?”
Tom nods. “Had a dream about you,” he admits. Before elaborating, he curls even closer to you, clinging to you like a koala as he buries his face back into your neck. You giggle lightly as he tickles your skin with his kisses, his other hand reaching up to blindly pet your face, fingers gently rolling over your cheek. “You were so lovely in it—bloody adorable—then I woke up, and you were still here. Thought to myself, how lucky am I to get to wake up beside this every morning, eh?”
You chuckle, biting your lip as Tom sits up onto his side. He rests with his elbow digging into the mattress by the pillow and anchors his head up with his hand, his loving gaze trailing all over you as you smile.
“You’ve already got me in your bed, you can turn off the charm,” you reply, voice tired but affectionate.
“Never, darling.” Tom leans down and kisses you, his fingers slotting along the line of your jaw as he holds you to him. After a few moments of lazy, close-mouthed pecks, he pulls back to press his forehead to yours. “I’m not being a good boyfriend if I’m not constantly telling you how spectacular you are.”
“Psh.” You try to brush it off with an eye roll, but you reach up and weave your fingers into his curly hair, humming as your noses brush. Tom’s warm breath fans out over your face, and you sigh. “You’re too nice to me.”
He gasps as if you’ve said something to personally offend him, then collapses down onto the mattress beside you. He’s still on his side, but he gathers you up in his arms and pulls you into his chest, not stopping until your forehead lies against his chest and you’re being held so tightly it’s almost an obstacle to your breathing.
“No such thing,” Tom states. “Let me adore you, love,” he pauses, tone dipping, “before we have to go out there and deal with all of them.”
You snort, eyes shut as you enjoy the feeling of his hands palming over your back.
“You make it sound like spending time with your family is the worst thing in the world,” you tease. “You love being here with them. Stop being so dramatic.”
Tom groans. His hands roll down your spine, briefly skimming over the curve of your ass before dipping back up.
“I love them, yeah. But I love you, and I love being with you.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “But… seeing as I’m on a sex ban, I’m trying to enjoy every second I have alone with you.”
You chuckle. “You’re not on a sex ban,” you chastise.
“Yeah, yeah.” He cups your cheek and gently coaxes your from his chest, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Whatever.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you giggle. “I’m just saying, they don’t need to know. We could be really, really quiet.”
You shake your head. “No way,” you say. “Are you forgetting what happened last time?”
Tom briefly scowls, but it’s quick to fade when you raise an eyebrow. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But that was Haz, not any of them, so—“ he breaks off as you firm your stare, and he decides to just kiss you instead. “Anyway,” he mumbles. “I’m just appreciating my stunning, incredible, lovely girlfriend before we spend the day with my family. Is that allowed?”
“I suppose.”
His lips are warm and soft, and you get lost in them for a while as you drift between bliss and daylight. His fingers rub warm circles to your waist, his legs tangled up in yours, and you realise, as he twists himself even further into your arms, that you’ve never felt more content in your life.
“I love you,” he whispers. You separate, both of you sharing one of his pillows, and you’re so close together that his features blur. You can still make out his eyes though, honeyed and brown, flooded with warmth. “You are...the love of my life.” Tom drops a few more lazy kisses to your lips. “I love you so much.”
You hum. Words couldn’t possibly capture how much you adore him, so you only hope he can tell how fondly you hold him in your heart as you snuggle closer and kiss him. His curls are soft against your fingers, as is the rhythm of your hearts, beating together in sync.
“Love you too, handsome,” you murmur. “Big softie.”
Tom sighs, but he doesn’t dispute it. Instead, he just kisses the tip of your nose.
“Only for you,” he grumbles. His frown melts into a lazy smile as he meets your eyes. “Only for you…”
summary ↠ you feel a mysterious object in tom’s pocket...
word count ↠ 4.2k.
warnings ↠ mildly suggestive, but this is just some very easy domestic fluff :’)
a/n ↠ this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote back in 2018! I sat down just to edit it, but I ended up adding 2.5k and changing most of it. lmao. it’s very cute though. very gentle. I was in a proper state after watching cherry, and working on this soothed my soul <3 hope you like it!
if you want to read the original version of this fic, you can find the link for it here <3
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You wake up to an empty bed and immediately get the suspicion that something is amiss. The sheets are pulled down, the duvet crumpled, and the mattress cool. As you draw your tired fingers over the space beside you, a soft pout finds your lips.
Tom’s away so often that he rarely skips out on the opportunity to cuddle you in the morning, and if he does, he’s always attentive in the way he pulls the duvet to your chin and tucks you in. He knows you hate to be cold, so he’d never usually jump out of bed so recklessly, leaving behind his uncovered side and your leg sticking out the duvet.
Perplexed, you yawn as you sit up. A quick glance at your phone confirms that it’s still early, and you find your confusion about your boyfriend’s disappearance quickly turning into concern. With a furrow to your brow, you slowly get out of bed, groaning softly as your tired limbs stretch and click. There’s an ache between your legs that makes you bite your lip, memories of the night before flittering through your mind like polaroids. You see flashes of a rose-tinted Tom, kissing up your thighs, panting into your shoulder, moaning sweet words of praise against your lips. He’d made you dinner, then laid you down, and you’d felt like the only person in the world as he’d cupped your cheeks and shown how much he loved you.
After pulling on a pair of leggings and a jumper, you find your curious feet taking you off in the direction of the living room. You hear Tom before you see him—the sounds of socks dragging over plush carpet filling the air. He’s pacing, half-naked, thick arms crossed over his bare chest as a few fingers stroke his chin. He’s in a thick pair of fuzzy purple socks, and rounding off the ensemble are some simple grey sweats.
When your boyfriend reaches the other side of the living room, he pivots and starts to walk back towards you, gaze vacant and fixed on the floor. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that you haven’t seen in a while, the valley between his brows pronounced and deep. Stress is obvious in every single part of his person, and it makes you so concerned that you decide to shatter his reverie.
With a gentle clear of your throat, you step forwards.
“Tom?” you say, voice soft. Your eyes widen as he startles, head snapping up, loose brown curls springing through the air. “Baby, are you okay?”
He blinks at you for a few moments, seeming to shake off the daydream as his lips pull into an instinctive smile. When he meets your eyes, the nerves on Tom’s face start to melt. He gives you a tight nod as he walks towards you, folding into your outstretched arms and immediately burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“I’m fine,” he vibrates, voice dark and husky like it always is in the morning. “Are you?”
You cup the back of his head with your palm, dragging your fingers through his curls in a way that soothes him. He’s so warm, his arms strong as they wind around your waist and hold you in a tight hug. Your heart beats a little faster at his question. He’s always been so attentive, even in times like these where it’s clear that he’s significantly worse off than you.
“I’m okay,” you respond. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he releases a quiet sound of approval, snuggling closer. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” You pause for a few moments, hesitating. “Is something wrong? Is this about last night?”
You know that Tom loves you. He shows you every single day that he adores you. He leaves your special mug out by the kettle, brings home your favourite snacks from the shops, does your dreaded household tasks unprompted. He looks after you when you’re ill, has all the names of your extended family memorised, and always does his best to coax a smile onto your face. His love for you is as obvious as the stars that twinkle in the sky.
Yet, he left you alone, and he’s stressed, and even as you’re voicing your concerns, you can feel him tug himself free from your embrace. It’s hard not to focus on the loosening of his arms and think about his odd behaviour from the last few days. Tom’s been on his phone more, acting scatter-brained and nervous. You don’t doubt his love, but with his life as hectic as it is, you worry about him.
“Last night?” Tom says. He pulls back, warm hands falling to your waist as he peers at you, shaking his head. “Darling.” He frowns. “Last night was amazing.” His lips pull into a slight smirk as he squeezes your hips, eyes glinting a shade darker. “I had fun. Didn’t you?”
You press a light kiss to his cheek, shifting both of your hands to cup his face. His skin is so soft beneath your fingertips. “I had a nice time,” you agree, pushing back the memories before you can get too lost in them. “You’ve been stressed recently,” you observe, treading gently. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”
Tom closes his eyes, inhaling a quick breath. “Yeah... I know. I… Yeah. I’m fine.”
You play with a few strands of his hair, trying not to frown too much. “Are you sure?”
He pries open an eye, the honeyed hues of brown bringing you a sense of comfort. “I’m a little stressed at the moment. I have to do something today, and I… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, love… A lot.” He breaks into a breathless chuckle, swallowing nervously. “It’ll be fine. I know it will, but I… I can’t stop thinking about it.” Tom’s gaze shadows a little, and he swallows. “You do… You do love me, don’t you?”
“You have to know how much of a silly question that is.”
Tom bites at his lip as he sheepishly averts his gaze. “Yeah…” He’s sly as he gently pushes forwards to kiss your cheek. “‘Know you really loved me last night,” he rasps into your ear.
You roll your eyes, but you’re glad to see there’s some colour coming back to his cheeks. “What are you doing that’s got you so nervous?”
“Oh… Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Tom looks a little perkier now as he glances at you. “Nothing,” he repeats. “Well, a secret,” he clarifies. “I can’t tell you yet.”
Immediately you pout. “But why?” you whine, pulling your hands away from his face. “You can’t say all that and then not tell me what you’re doing.”
“Yes, I can.” He grins as he steps back, only leaving you once he’s kissed your lips. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “I love you. So much, darling.”
“I know,” you respond, tilting your head to the side as you look at him curiously. “I love you too.”
“Good. Good…” Tom steps back, briefly glancing behind you to the living room wall. His eyes widen as he looks at the clock. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I need to go.”
Tom runs away before you have a chance to catch him, stumbling back into the bedroom as he mutters something about finding some clothes. You decide to leave him to it, a yawn reminding you of how early it still is. You wonder for a moment why he hadn’t mentioned he had an early call time last night, but he’s been so all over the place recently that it doesn’t surprise you.
As you wait for Tom to re-emerge, you walk over into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. You can hear him whistling to himself through all the open doors, and the melody mixes with the sound of your teaspoon bumping against the ceramic of your mug. It’s your favourite one—Tom had brought it back from Paris for you.
You’ve just settled at the kitchen table when Tom bursts back into the room, properly clothed and considerably more at ease. His hair is a little wild, but he’s in a pair of jeans and a lilac hoodie, and he wears his smile with confidence.
“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous this morning, darling?” Tom murmurs. He springs across to you, grabbing his keys from the bowl on the counter as he goes. When he reaches you, he tightly cups your cheeks and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Because you are, y’know? The most beautiful woman in the world.”
You chuckle as you sit back in your chair, cheeks aching from your dopey smile. “Thank you,” you respond. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.”
Tom pulls on his jacket and then reaches down, stealing your mug of tea and taking a long sip before you have time to warn him about how hot it still is. You watch as he splutters, cheeks burning red as he releases a yelp of pain.
“Fucking hell!” he yells, cursing a little more as he puts the mug back down. Tom sticks out his tongue, tenderly reaching up to poke at the tip as he winces. “Ow,” he whines, the word garbled around his open mouth. “It hurts.”
He looks very sweet standing there, and for a moment, you wonder how it’s possible to love someone so much. Your affections smother your chest, and you almost choke up as you’re briefly overcome with a sensation of utter adoration. It’s so intense that it almost hurts, but it aches in the most wonderful way.
You stand quickly and press a soft kiss to the tip of Tom’s tongue. He smiles and retracts it, chasing after your lips until he’s able to kiss you.
“It’s Harrison’s birthday party tonight,” Tom says as he steps back, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ll be back from set at 9, then we can go. Is that still okay?”
You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “Have a good day doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
He smirks elusively, then presses a final peck to your cheek before turning towards the porch. “Bye!” Tom pauses in the doorway to look back and send you a few air kisses, and you pucker your lips and send a couple back. The front door closes with a gentle click, and your smile lingers on.
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You think about Tom’s behaviour all day, flipping between confusion and adoration as easily as the wind changes its mind. When 5pm rolls around, you find your way back home, and you spend a few hours milling around before you get ready for the event.
With your dress on and your bag slung over your shoulder, you wait in the porch for Tom to pull up, scrolling through your phone with a crease between your brows. Time is ticking, and with every second your boyfriend fails to show, the nearer you get to being late for the party.
When there’s a bright burst of light and the crunching of gravel, you glance up to see Tom’s headlights douse the driveway to your house. You’re surprised when he clambers from the car instead of jauntily honking the horn as he’s taken such an irritating liking to doing. You watch him mess around with his jeans before hurrying along the front path, pushing open the front door a moment later and startling when he sees you waiting.
“Oh!” he exclaims wide-eyed. His hand drifts down to rest over the left pocket of his jeans. “You’re here?”
You pull a face. “Yes? Hello to you too.”
Tom grunts as he moves forward to kiss you hastily, jumping back when you try to pull at his waist and bring him nearer. As you’re left baffled by his behaviour again, he seems to swallow down a lump in his throat.
“Hi,” he corrects, smiling nervously. “I, uh… I’m going to go and change.”
You wince. “We don’t have time,” you point out, reaching out to gently tug on his sleeve. You turn around, reaching back to pluck one of Tom’s stylish jackets from a peg. You offer it to him with a smile. “Try this,” you suggest. “We really need to go, though, Tom. Haz won’t let us live it down if we’re late to another one of his parties.”
Tom hesitates. You watch as he digs his hand into his left pocket, clucking his tongue. “I… Yeah. Okay. You’re right.” His eyes flutter back to the main body of your house, but his reluctance fades when you nod and peck him on the cheek. He easily pulls off his hoodie before replacing it with the jacket, the red of the smart coat complementing his black t-shirt.
“C’mon,” you urge. “Do you want me to drive?”
He begrudgingly follows you out of the house, locking up behind you both before slipping into the passenger seat. As you navigate the roads, Tom keeps you company, nurturing a constant dialogue as he chats to you. He avoids all of your questions about his day and his mysterious engagement, redirecting everything you say into a comment about you and your activities. It’s cute how much he cares, but you get a distinct feeling that he’s trying to distract you.
Harrison’s birthday party is being held in a bar in central London, and you find him easily amongst the throes of people. Tom’s holding onto your hand, standing back, quieter, as you pass over your gift to his best friend with a smile on your face.
“Happy birthday, Haz!” you exclaim, beaming at the man. Harrison kisses your cheek as he grins, cheeks flushed from the booze and warm atmosphere. When Tom is noticeably quiet beside you, you squeeze his hand and glance back at him, raising a brow.
“Oh,” Tom mutters, blinking a few times. “Sorry,” he adds. “Happy birthday, Harrison.”
Harrison rolls his eyes. “‘S alright, mate. You already passed on your congratulations earlier. Thanks, though.”
Your friend is pulled away by his sister a few moments later, leaving you with a confused furrow to your brow. You turn around to look at Tom, tilting your head to the side.
“Wait, when did you see Harrison?” you ask. “Weren’t you at work today?”
Tom reels you in by the hands, knocking his lips up against yours and disrupting your words. “Doesn’t matter,” he soothes, rolling his fingers gently across the sides of your face. “Let’s just have a good party, yeah?”
You melt into him with ease. “Okay,” you agree. His lips are warm and seductive as he kisses you again, deeper, harder, stronger.
Something is in the air. As a pair, you make a few rounds of the party, but somehow, you always end up huddled in a back corner together. As the alcohol flows and your friends around you get less and less observant, it happens more often. It isn’t long until Tom’s tugging you down onto a secluded armchair in the corner of the artsy bar. Your lips find home in his, slotting together as they always do.
As you shift in his lap, part of you feels guilty for blowing off Harrison’s birthday, but another part—a darker, hungrier part—demands you stay exactly where you are. You’re awfully comfortable with Tom’s hands on your hips and your legs spread over his thighs, content with the shadowy lighting leaving you secluded from the rest of them.
“Oh god,” Tom moans, speaking against your lips as he kisses you between laboured breaths. “Fuckin’ perfect woman, eh?”
You suck on his lower lip, smirking as you feel him whine. He discreetly grinds up into you, and you bite back a whimper. “Tom,” you whisper. You move your mouth to his ear, stroking your fingers through his curls as you brush your lips over his tender skin. “We shouldn’t do this here. We can’t go home just yet.”
He groans, head dropping down to your collarbones. When you expect him to agree and help you up, Tom instead seems to decide that his time would be better spent marking up your neck. Your pulse roars through your ears as he takes time licking and sucking and biting your skin, stretching from the base of your neck all the way up, up, up, soft lips suckling below your ear. By the time he reaches your face, you’re squirming, heat pounding in your body as desire replaces any wish to stay at the party.
“We should just go home,” Tom pants, lips red and inflamed. Your fingers drag over them until he uses his tongue to lick over the pad of your thumb. “I can’t take being here.” His voice drops down to a low grumble as he shifts in the chair, “‘m so hard, sweetheart.”
Wanting to feel for yourself, you shuffle up his lap, eyebrows furrowing together when instead of feeling his hardness, your knee knocks against something firm lodged where his pocket is. Confusion replaces lust as you tilt your head to the side. “Wait, what’s that?” you muse, unable to believe that his arousal has manifested itself in his jean pocket. Intrigued, you poke the object, pressing harder as your brows furrow.
Tom’s eyes widen. “O-Oh, no, that’s something else.” His hands go down to your waist as he tries to gently push you off his lap. “Just ignore it.”
But your curiosity has been piqued, and before you can stop yourself, you’ve reached up and dug your fingers into his tight jean pocket. It’s dim and dark in your secluded corner, and you find yourself squinting as you bring the small object closer. Too focused on your task to hear Tom’s noises of panic, you pull it up into the air. As the first dredges of realisation wash over you, you’ve got it half-open, and it’s too late to stop yourself.
There is a glistening engagement ring embedded inside the silky black box, glinting magnificently.
Your jaw drops.
A few moments pass in silence, the air between you being filled by the songs coming from the bar. Your thumb wanders absently over the edge of the jewel as you peer at it, heart throbbing in the back of your throat. Guilt twists into you, mixing with your excitement and your shock, and you look up at Tom, tears pooling in your eyes.
He’s looking at you, nerves written all over his face. His teeth are bared, and his eyes are wide with shock, every inch of him seized up and tense. When Tom sees your tearful expression, he blinks a few times, clearing his throat as he tenderly reaches up to cup your face in a hand.
“Darling…” he starts, voice softer than before. He drums his index finger over your temple as he manages a tense smile. “What’s going on up here?”
You open and shut your mouth a few times before finally finding the words.
“I’m sorry,” you manage, voice thick. “I…” You take a breath, looking away. Your mind starts to spin, suddenly kicking back to life as you recover yourself. “Wait… Why have you got this in your pocket? Did… Oh. Did you get this today?”
Everything makes sense. His nerves all week, his pacing this morning. The fact he’d left suspiciously early and met up with Harrison without you. Tom’s conflict when you’d pushed him out the door instead of letting him enter your house and stash the little black box before leaving for the party.
“Yeah,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. His chest is rising and falling quickly, his jaw still tense. “What do you think? Do… Do you like it?”
You nod wordlessly before looking up at him, lower lip wobbling. “I ruined it,” you lament. You fall forward, groaning as you rest your forehead on Tom’s shoulder. He chuckles, dusting the top of your head with light kisses as he hums.
“You didn’t,” he assures you. “I’m just a twat and didn’t hide it properly.” He falls silent for a few moments, warm hands wandering your back. “Y/N, darling… You… You would want to get married though, yeah?” His voice is light and high-pitched and full of so much uncertainty it makes you bolt upright.
“Tom,” you say, voice soft. You balance the box between you and reach up to take his face in your hands, admiring his handsome features with your fingers. “I would love to marry you,” you whisper. You feel yourself well with emotions again, but you let them build. You don’t mind if he sees you vulnerable.
Tom releases a deep breath, his own face twitching as relief ripples across his eyes in the form of light tears. He leans closer and kisses you very gently, his mouth soft and tender as if he’s savouring it. When Tom pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, the tip of his nose cool against yours.
“I love you so much,” he says slowly. “Every day, I wake up beside you, and I wonder what I did right to deserve being loved by someone as wonderful as you. I hate being away from you, and I think about you all the time.” Tom cracks a soft smile, his voice quivering. With trembling fingers, he reaches between you both and picks the box from between you both.
You gasp softly as he pulls back, squeezing your hip softly before holding the box out in front of you. The diamonds sparkle, blurred by your tears.
“Y/N… I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and I know this is sudden, and I know you deserve a proposal a thousand times more romantic than… than at Harrison’s fucking party, but I can’t wait another moment.” He swallows as he pulls the ring from the bed of silk. Tom’s gaze is unwavering as he looks back to you, speaking passionately. “There’s nothing else I want in life apart from you. I promise that I will love you for the rest of my life, darling, if only you’ll let me. So…” Tom’s lips pull into a small smile. “Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”
The world stops, and everything fades until it’s just you and Tom and the ring held between you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, two stray tears dripping down your face.
“Tom… You could ask me to marry you anywhere, and I’d say the same thing.” Your heart pounds in your ears. “Yes. I would love to be your wife.”
Tom releases a strangled sound of relief, and you both look down as he hurries to push the ring down your finger. It’s cool against your skin, but before looking at it, you find yourself leaning in to kiss him. Both of you are smiling, and you think he’s crying too. His hand shakes as he holds yours, and when you pull away to admire the ring, Tom loops both arms around your waist.
“It’s so pretty,” you muse. You roll your thumb across the glittering gem. You feel so warm inside your chest. “Did you pick this out yourself?”
Tom makes a noise of disagreement. He cuddles in closer, burying his face in your neck and leaving a few soft kisses to your skin.
“Haz helped, and so did mum. Thought she’d have better ideas than him.” Tom pauses, and you feel him smirk against your neck. “I was right.”
Your heart softens a little at the revelation. “Do you think he’ll be upset that we’ve upstaged him at his party?”
Tom peels back from your neck, pressing his lips to your jaw as he chuckles. “Let’s...maybe not mention it tonight.”
You run your hand through his hair, eyes catching on the way the diamond cascades with shards of light. “Okay,” you agree. You lean closer to kiss the tip of his nose. “Are you sure you’re not mad I ruined this?”
Tom shakes his head. “Absolutely not, love. If anything, this just makes it more special.” He shoots you a toothy grin. “Don’t know what I’ll do with all the stuff I bought to use in the proposal, though.”
You smirk softly. “Well, who says you can’t do two proposals?” you say, intending for it to be a tease, only to widen your eyes when Tom’s entire face lights up. “Wait— babe, I was kidding, you don’t need to do another—”
“Shhh.” Tom cuts you off with a kiss. “Pretend that this conversation never happened.”
“What, even the proposal—”
“No.” He’s grinning, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me.”
Your lips twitch as you give him a slight nod. “Yeah. And you’re marrying me.” Tom kisses you again, and you fall back into his lap with ease. For a few moments, you make out with him, the temperature in your body rising until you remember what started off the conversation, an eternity ago. “Can we go home now, Tom?”
He’s a little slow to respond as he chases your lips, but the smile you share feels like dawn breaking for the first time.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll take you home, fiancé.”
And you like the sound of that. You really like the sound of that.
“Okay, fiancé.”
Judging by the unstoppable grin that finds Tom’s face as he hears you speak, you have a feeling that he likes the sound of it too.
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:’))) im going to be rewriting/reworking a few of my older fics! if there are any in particular you’d like to see refreshed, lmk?
lmk what you thiiiiink !!! <3<3<3<3
masterlist + taglist through the link in my bio wahey :D
hi hannah!! i was wondering if you could do a blurb of dad!tom of when he is doing his press interviews right now and his little one wants to be with him at all times, very clingy, and just wants to be close to him 🥺
deep in my dad!tom feels tonight :’) this was such a cute request too. i hope you like it joni!!! <3
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It’s just before 2am when Tom finds himself in his home office, stifling a yawn as he waits for his laptop to connect through to the Skype call. The latest round of press for his film has required him to join video calls with journalists from around the world, and whilst he appreciates that the flexibility means he can work from home, the time differences are killing him.
Tom really hadn’t wanted to crawl out of bed to do this interview. You’re still there, fast asleep, your arms curled around your two-year-old daughter, Rosie. All evening, you’d tried to encourage your daughter to peel away from Tom’s side and sleep in her own bed, but it’d been a losing battle. Ever since Tom came home a few weeks ago, Rosie has been glued to his side. She wears the same bright, innocent smile as him and has the charm to match it, and, really, who is Tom to deny his daughter from spending time with him? She’s his entire world.
“Tom! Great to see you. Sorry for the late call…”
Tom’s quick to switch on, and for the first few minutes of the interview, he manages to stay on track. The strong mug of tea on his desk helps to stave off the fatigue that so restlessly wants to unfurl throughout him. The journalist is asking decent questions, which always makes it easier.
After about ten minutes, the door to Tom’s office wobbles. Midway through a question, Tom spares it no thought, not paying attention at all until it swings open completely. He jumps, falling silent and feeling a cool sense of dread sweep across him as the door moves completely by itself. His house is new. It’s recently built. There’s no way that it’s haunted… Right?
“--Tom? Are you still there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Tom opens and closes his jaw, then very carefully and slowly stands from his office chair. When his eyes fall on the small, tottering figure of Rosie, he feels a warm blend of relief and embarrassment swirl through his chest.
“Rosie? What are you doing, darling?”
Tom sits back down, briefly saying a few words to the patient journalist before opening up his arms for his daughter. Rosie drags her feet across the floor, her bed of thick curls a mess and her deep brown eyes tired. She’s pouting, but when she sees Tom’s hands are open and waiting, her small lips quirk into a toothy smile.
“Daddy!” she exclaims, small voice a squeak. She throws herself into Tom’s lap, curling her tiny arms around his torso and burrowing her face into his chest as a deep chuckle leaves Tom’s lips. She’s warm and smells of laundry detergent, and Tom absently runs the tip of his index over her blue and red printed pyjamas. “Why you in here, daddy?”
Tom stills, his hand pausing on the back of her head as he stops playing with her hair and remembers he’s still connected to a journalist. An embarrassed smile finds his lips as he redirects his attention to the man.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, speaking lowly. “My daughter, she…” Tom breaks off, glancing down at Rosie. She’s peering up at him with curious eyes. “Well, I’ll put her back to bed, then I’ll come back. I’m--”
“No!” Rosie’s lower lip starts to wobble, and tears pool in her eyes. “Stay with you.”
Tom arches a brow, trying to fend off a tantrum with soft tones and gentle words. “Darling,” he starts, voice low, “I’m on a work call. It’s very important. I’ll be back in ten minutes, okay?”
His daughter shakes her head, reaching up and curling her fists around the front of his designer shirt. Tom sighs, briefly glancing up at the ceiling. He tries to think of a way to explain to his exhausted daughter that she needs to play nice and go back to sleep, but it’s difficult when she’s pouting up at him like that. Tom is completely gone for her, and everyone in his family knows it, Rosie included.
In the end, Tom’s decision gets made for him.
“Tom?” the journalist pipes up. “It’s fine. You can keep her in here for the rest of the interview if you want. I only have a few more questions to ask.”
Tom releases a breath, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks at the screen. “Are you sure, dude? I can… I can take her out.”
“I’m already keeping you up at 2am, so it’s fine. Just call it evens.”
He thinks on it for a moment before nodding. Tom knows that if he takes Rosie back to bed, the only thing that’ll prevent her from padding back to his office is you. You’re six months pregnant, and Tom doesn’t want to disturb you.
“Rosie,” Tom murmurs. “The nice man said you can stay, but you’ll need to be quiet, okay?”
She nods her head quickly, smiling widely. “Okay.”
The interview continues, and Tom’s nerves are quick to fade. For a while, Rosie sits in his lap, nimble fingers playing with one of the toy trucks Tom keeps sitting on his desk, her mouth releasing small sounds of narration as she zooms the toy over the front of the desk. Tom’s relieved when she tires of that and curls into him, pushing her face back into his front and hanging on as her eyes shut.
Through the screen, Tom can see just how much of her figure is in the frame, but it doesn’t seem to be an issue. He answers the rest of his questions with his daughter cuddled up against him, one of his hands holding the back of her head as the other sits at the bottom of her spine. Every few minutes, he leaves an absent kiss to the top of her head, and each time she makes a noise in her sleep, his smile quirks wider.
“Thanks so much, Tom. This has been an honour,” the interviewer finishes.
Tom nods, speaking quieter as Rosie’s gentle snores fill the quiet space. “Thanks, man. Talk soon.”
The call disconnects a few moments later, and Tom reaches forward to close the lid of his laptop. With a sigh, he sits back in his office chair, weary eyes falling shut.
“Daddy?”
Tom cracks open an eye, grimacing when Rosie reaches up and tugs on his hair.
“Yes, darling?”
“Sleep now?”
He nods, a tired smile on his face.
“‘Course, love.” Tom dips down and kisses the top of her head, his heart clenching in his chest as she makes a sound of agreement. “Bedtime.”
thought of a concept last night that had me up in the middle of the night so I said lemme send it to you. LMAO. Putting the self timer on for a social media app to take a video of yourself, and Tom unknowingly crashing in to have a needy little makeout session with you. and then grabbing your phone like guess I won’t post that and he’d laugh bc he didn’t realize but then want to watch it and be like don’t post it but save it, it’s hot. 😌🥲🙃😏😪😩🥴🥵
loooove this! sorry it took me so long to write <3 cw: a steamy makeout sesh + suggestive language.
✧———clearing out my askbox!———✧
Your phone is propped up against the bathroom mirror, the front-facing camera capturing your form as you do a short spin. You’d been sent a few pieces of clothing by a fashion company, and you’re halfway through taking a few videos to upload later to your Instagram story. Music plays from your phone as you work the camera, trying to get in all the best angles as you twirl around the echoey expanse of the bathroom.
“Darling! Where are you?”
You falter as you hear Tom’s voice, gradually growing louder as he enters your bedroom. You try to ignore him, not wanting to disrupt the flow of your video, but a moment later, the door to the ensuite opens and your boyfriend walks in.
Tom pauses in the doorway, and you glance over to look at him. The slightly disgruntled expression on your face at being interrupted melts away as you take your boyfriend in: eyes wide, face pulled into an expression of desire, teeth nipping at his lower lip. He’d been at the gym, and his exercise is evident in his curls, loose and damp from the shower, and the healthy flush rounding out his cheeks.
“Fuck, love,” he growls. Tom stalks towards you, eyes darkening as he takes in your outfit. “You look stunning.”
His hands catch at your waist as he walks you back, your body brushing up against the countertop as you wind your arms around his neck. Tom pushes you up onto the counter and you find your legs parting to let him in closer, your mind going fuzzy as you inhale his deep scent.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
Tom presses his forehead to yours, nose nudging up against yours. “C’mere,” he murmurs, then follows his words with his lips.
You moan as he kisses you, mouth needy and hot. Tom doesn’t tease you—he jumps straight in, his tongue slipping into your open mouth without hesitation. His lips, warm and bruising, envelope yours, coming down over your mouth again and again as he groans quietly against you. At your sides, his hands are roaming freely across your body, grabbing at your hips, your back, your ass, pulling you closer with rough movements that make you gasp.
He deepens it without encouragement, your mouth starting to ache in the most delicious ways as he pursues your lips with fervour. He’s like a man possessed, jumped up on endorphins from his time in the gym and only able to lessen them by channelling his frustrations into you. You don’t mind it—you enjoy the passion that flows between you, revel in the sensations of him pulling back to nibble on your lower lip. When you whimper, Tom chases you again, following the noise with his tongue entering your mouth.
It’s hot—he’s so desperate, pressing you further against the counter, grabbing at you, worshipping each part of your form with his eager hands and his teasing lips.
When he pulls away to breathe, Tom’s mouth falls into the crook of your neck. Gasping softly for breath, you let your hands fall slack in his curls, nimble fingers delicately twirling around some of his strands as he pants against your skin.
“I love kissing you,” he admits, words vibrating against your neck.
You sigh in agreement, but before you can respond, you hear your phone vibrate behind you and remember about its presence. Twisting back, you pick up the device and end the recording, swiping away the notification from one of your friends as you smile. The video starts to play, and you skip through until Tom opens the bathroom door, giggling slightly as you realise the angle of your phone captured the entire makeout session.
“Tom,” you murmur, gently coaxing him away from your neck. You sling one of your arms around his back and Tom leans against your front, resting his head on your shoulder as he squints at the phone screen. He laughs as he watches himself pushing you up onto the counter, the sound dying into a noise of intrigue as the video continues to play and you both watch yourselves kissing. “I guess I won’t be posting that one.”
Tom hums, and when you glance down at his face, you see his cheeks a darker red. He pulls you even closer, grunting softly as he kisses your neck again.
“Send me that,” he begs. “That’s hot.”
You roll your eyes as you do as he asked, then run your hands through his hair. “Such a narcissist,” you tease, earning a pout.
“No,” he whines. Tom stands straighter and settles between your legs, running his warm palms over your thighs. His teeth glint as his greedy eyes take you in, appreciation tainting his features. “I just enjoy admiring my stunning, beautiful girlfriend. Is there something wrong with that, love?”
A chuckle escapes you. “No, ‘course not.”
Tom smirks softly. “Good,” he coos. He digs his fingers further into your waist before leaning closer, leaving a light kiss to your cheek before dragging his hot lips back to your ear. “Maybe we should film ourselves doing other things too,” he suggests, rasping darkly into your ear.
“Mm?”
His tongue teases the sweet spot of your neck, causing you to whimper. “Fuck yeah, darling.”
“What would you want to film?”
Tom’s eyes glint darkly as he pulls back to look at you, lips pulling into a smirk. He squeezes your waist before reaching down and taking your hands.
“C’mon,” he coaxes, pulling you from the counter. He kisses you softly, letting his lips linger against yours as he adds, “I’ll show you.”
imagine prof!tom picking up drunk reader from a frat party and taking care of her...swoon
i think drunk pickup from a party might be one of my favourite tropes :’) thank u <3
prof!tom fever night
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The front lawn of the frat house is full of discarded solo cups, and as you sit in the grass, the blades are cool against your legs. You play around with the strands, pulling a few out with blurry fingers as you laugh softly to yourself. Time passes by quickly, interrupted only by a large shadow falling over your figure. You squint as you look up, tilting your head to the side as your tired eyes take in the person.
“Darling.” It’s Professor Holland—Tom, your boyfriend—, drowning in a hoodie. It’s a light lilac colour and he’s paired it with some grey jeans. He’s wearing an amused smile as he raises a hand in greeting. “Why are you sitting out here?”
You accept his hands, glad for his steady grip as you go stumbling to your feet. You’re very drunk. The frat party had been amazing for the first few hours, but as soon as the clock passed 3am, you’d started to flag. Now you’re tired, delirious, and ready for bed.
“Too hot in there,” you reason, winding your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. His features float in front of your eyes, his gaze kind and full of amusement. “It’s cold out here.”
“That’s most definitely true.” Tom reaches up and cups both of your cheeks, frowning when you sigh contentedly and nuzzle into his warm palms. “You’re freezing, Y/N,” he scolds, eyebrows furrowing. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“I did,” you complain, pouting. “You said to call you if I needed anything. So I did.”
Tom coos, then leans forward to softly kiss you. His lips linger there for only a second, but it’s enough to warm you up from the inside out.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. A moment passes then he squeezes your cheeks and steps back, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking with you down the long path. “I’ll take you home.”
“To yours?” you ask, fluttering your lashes despite knowing he’s looking at the path and not at you.
“If you want, darling.”
“Yeah.” You giggle softly and reach up to mess with his curls. You accidentally knock his hood from his head, and Tom rolls his eyes as he quickly pulls it back off. “No,” you whine. “Keep it down, I wanna see your hair.”
He squeezes your waist. “I’m flying under the radar tonight, sweetheart,” he reminds you, voice low. “Wouldn’t exactly be the best look to be seen picking up one of my drunk students from a frat party, would it?”
You giggle as you totter down the street, recognising his car. “But that’s what you’re doing?”
Tom kisses your hand before opening the passenger’s side for you and helping you in. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But you’re not just any student, are you?”
You wait until he’s walked around the car and buckled into the driver’s side to respond. “Aren’t I?”
He rolls his eyes and leans across the console to kiss your forehead. “No,” he stresses, eyes dancing. “I love you. You know that.”
You smirk as you cross your arms over your chest, blearily happily. “Love you too, Tom,” you reply.
Tom takes you back to his. You try to stay on your best behaviour, but you’re still very drunk, and when you’re drunk, you’re annoying. He’s patient with you, but it brings you great amusement to watch his jaw tense from irritation as he sits you up on the bathroom counter and tries to wipe your makeup off, only for you to dodge out of the way each time.
“Stay still,” he mumbles, frowning. Finally, Tom manages to hold your chin, grasping gently as he dabs at your cheeks with a wet cotton pad. “There you go.”
You pout your lips at him. “Kiss?” you ask, smiling widely.
He sighs, then leans closer. “If I kiss you, will you stay still?”
You nod your head immediately. “Yeah,” you reply. “Promise.”
Tom quickly learns that the easiest way to get you ready for bed is by punctuating every movement with a kiss, and once he makes a routine of pressing his warm mouth to yours every few seconds, you’re a lot more compliant. Eventually, he’s convinced you to down a pint of water, change into one of his old oversized hoodies and move over to bed, your lips connected as you pull him down with you.
“Y/N,” he murmurs, easily and effectively pushing you back onto your side of the bed. He rolls over, briefly sitting up as he throws off his t-shirt and struggles from his jeans. “Time to sleep.” As soon as he’s back beside you, he wraps you in his arms and you snuggle into his chest.
Masked by darkness, a sudden, tipsy thought strikes you. “Wait… What were you doing when I called you?”
“Sleeping.”
Your eyes snap up, and you fail to find him in the darkness. Tom reaches up, warm palm cupping the back of your head until you’re soothed.
“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling a little guilty. “This was probably really annoying.”
His lips grace your forehead. “It wasn’t,” he promises. “I’d come out and get you any time of day, darling. I care about you.”
A happy sigh falls past your lips, and your eyes droop shut. “Thanks, Tom,” you murmur. “Love you.”
He kisses the top of your head again. “‘Course, darling. I’m going to the gym at 6, do you want me to wake you up before I go?”
You growl into his chest, only stopping when you hear him laughing. “Do you even love me?” you lament. “What kind of question is that?”
He squeezes your waist. “I love you,” Tom says, voice softer than a lullaby. “Get some sleep.”
Tom tugs you closer, and despite being able to feel the hangover ache building in your temples, you fall asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around you, and his lips coming over your forehead every few minutes.
Ooo can I request some profesor Tom where he has some marks on him from a night you guys had and a student sees one the next day during class and points it out as a joke and all the female are heartbroken and jealous finding out he’s taken
cute :’)
prof!tom fever night
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It’s a slow Wednesday morning, shards of golden light fluttering into the classroom through the wide windows. Professor Holland is sitting behind his desk, chin resting on two slender fingers as he scrolls through some files on his laptop. Behind him, the whiteboard shifts through slides as he searches for a video clip to show the class. You’re hardly paying attention, too focused on your doodling on your notebook to watch him change about the slides.
Vaguely, you’re aware of him stretching, a gentle yawn leaving his mouth as he grunts. The girl beside you shifts in her seat, gasping softly as Tom crosses his arms over his chest.
“God,” she mutters, and you realise she’s whispering to you. “He’s so hot.”
You smirk to yourself, glancing up to Tom and briefly admiring his figure. You’d been pressed beneath his chest a mere two hours ago after waking up in his bed.
“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s distracting.”
She makes a noise of agreement, and you look back to your paper, doodling in the margins. From the corner of your eye, you see some movement, not really paying attention until the girl gasps again and elbows you hard in the side. You frown, getting ready to glare at her, only to freeze when you hear her speak.
“He’s taking off the turtleneck,” she describes.
Immediately you look up, biting back a groan as Tom rolls up his jumper and sheds it, tossing it on top of his desk with no regard for what lies beneath it. You’d suggested he’d wear it this morning after seeing the plethora of dark hickeys you’d left sucked to his skin, and he’d agreed after much complaining. Now, mindlessly distracted, he’s pulled off the only layer of disguise, leaving your lovebites loud and proud, stark against his pale neck. If it wouldn’t be too obvious, you’d face palm.
“Oi oi, sir,” one of the rowdier boys calls out. “Got lucky last night?”
Tom glances up, brows furrowing. He looks first to the boy, then briefly at you, holding his tongue between his teeth before you discreetly point at your own neck. You stifle a chuckle as Tom’s eyes widen, his hand drifting absently up to the marked skin as he shuffles around in his seat.
“Uh… Enough of that,” Tom responds, trying to reign in control over the classroom that only seems to rise in volume. “Settle down.” He’s blushing, cheeks dark and his eyes full of embarrassment, but he doesn’t put the jumper back on. If anything, he sits a little straighter, flaunting off your hickeys as you try not to smile too widely.
“Oh my god,” the girl beside you whispers. You glance at her, noting her heartbroken expression. “I can’t believe he has someone.”
You chuckle, looking back to your hands. “Lucky girl, eh?”
She hums sadly. “Yeah,” she mutters dejectedly. “Very lucky.”
ok imagine that you are always seeking tom out for cuddles when you're cold (even when he's in meetings), but then finding out that he keeps the mansion at a cold temperature on purpose just so that you always have an excuse to cuddle him alwaysssss im softtttt
this is such a cute idea I think my heart exploded when I wrote it :’)
—soft!mob!tom monday—
It’s perplexing, really. Given Tom’s wealth and his riches, you’ve never been able to figure out why his house is always so chilly.
You’re sure it never used to be like this. When you’d moved in over winter, it’d been warm - the mansion running warm due to a very complex heating system. Granted, even that had never been enough to keep you completely happy. Over January and February, you’d frequently found yourself trailing the corridors, searching for your boyfriend and his warm, warm arms. You’d made a bit of a habit of it even - somehow always ending up in his lap in the office, or sprawled across him in the study, clinging to his heat. Once spring had rolled around, you’d thought your case of the chills would stop, but no.
If anything, the mansion only feels colder now that it’s late spring. You’ve asked Tom about it before, only to be met with a suspicious level of reassurance from your boyfriend, who seems to flush every time you mention the heating situation. You’d learnt to drop it and deal with it, realising that it’s just one of those things that don’t quite make sense, and besides - there are far worse things to complain about than the temperature of your boyfriend’s mansion.
But you’re cold. It’s 4pm, and you are so cold, and there’s only one thing you can do to help the situation. Forget jumpers and extra layers - the only thing that ever manages to bring the warmth back to you is the feeling of Tom’s arms wrapped around you, so you set off on a mission, walking from the library in the general direction of his office.
Rocking back on your heels, you knock on the door, pulling the sleeves of your jumper down and holding them in the palms of your hands, your teeth almost chattering. After a moment, you hear the sound of Tom’s voice, drifting through the door as he calls out, “Come in!”
You slip into the room, raising a hand in greeting. “Hi,” you say, glancing around the office. Tom’s not alone - there are three other men settled in the chairs in front of his desk. Two of them you don’t recognise, but the third is Harrison, Tom’s best mate, and he smiles at you.
“Hi, darling,” Tom says. He pushes back from his desk, tossing down his pen as he stands up. His inquisitive eyes take you in, zeroing in on the way you’re rubbing at your arms, drowning in an oversized hoodie. “Are you cold again?” He asks, lips quirking into a soft smile.
You nod as you step forward, sinking into his hold easily. Immediately you sigh, your cheek pressing against the crisp white shirt that covers Tom’s chest. He runs hot, constantly, and whilst that can prove troublesome when it’s a warm evening, right now, there’s nothing you enjoy more than his body heat.
“Thanks,” you murmur. You bite your lip, remembering about the other people in the room, and reluctantly you pull away. Tom’s hands slip down to your waist, and he looks at you, eyes softly caressing the curves of your face. “I should let you-”
“Nonsense.” Tom pecks your cheek before taking your hand and leading you back over to the desk. As you’ve done a thousand times before, he slips into his seat and pulls you down with him. You settle in his lap, looping one arm around his neck, settling sideways over him as your other hand reaches out for his desk and picks up your book - your favourite book, which you keep in his office, for occasions such as these. “Comfy?” He asks.
You hum, enjoying the feeling of his hand holding your back and the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek. “Yeah,” you reply, biting your lip as you look up at him gratefully. “Thanks, baby.”
“Any time.”
Tom gets back to his discussion with his men, and you enjoy stealing his body heat as you rest in his lap, flicking through the pages of your book with ease. It’s relaxing, listening to the background hum of his voice, feeling the vibrations that shoot out from his chest as he speaks. Whenever the volume gets a little too high, you feel his eyes flicker over you, and then he corrects himself, lowering his voice and rolling a hand over your back in smooth apology. You’re like a well-oiled machine, so familiar with these late-afternoon snuggle sessions that they’re second-nature.
After about half an hour, the meeting seems to conclude, and the two men leave the room. When only Harrison remains, you bookmark your page and sit up a little straighter, looking over at your friend as he stares at you and Tom, an amused expression on his face.
“You’re both very funny,” Harrison says, standing slowly from the chair.
Tom wraps both of his arms around your middle, pulling you nearer protectively as he kisses your temple several times in quick succession.
“What do you mean?” You ask, amused. One of your hands shifts to rest in Tom’s hair, toying gently with his soft brown strands.
Harrison rolls his eyes. “Every day you end up doing this,” he says.
“Because it’s always so bloody cold in this house,” you reply.
“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Harrison replies cryptically.
You furrow your eyebrows, sitting straighter. “What?” You say, looking around at Tom. When you see the sheepish look on his face, you furrow your eyebrows. “Tom, what is he talking about?”
“Harrison!” Tom grunts, a flash of irritation passing through his eyes when he looks at his right-hand man.
Harrison winces, throwing both of his hands in the air before rapidly walking to the door. “Bye,” he says, scurrying out before another word can be said.
You turn on Tom, pushing up from his lap and repositioning yourself so you’re straddling him, a leg hanging either side of his thighs.
“Tom?” You say, looking at him curiously. You cup his cheeks in your hands, smoothing a thumb through his ruffled eyebrow as you stare him down, a soft smirk on your face. “What’s Harrison talking about?”
Tom sags, biting his lower lip. His cheeks tickle pink, and he looks away as he mutters something incomprehensible.
“What was that?” You ask, grinning. It isn’t often you see him so bashful, so shy. Tom’s tender with you, always, but you’ve never seen his facade drop so low in his office like this. You coax him around, kissing him softly and slipping your hands back to his hair as you press your forehead to his. “What’s going on?”
Tom sighs.
“I might’ve got them to set the thermostat really low,” he mutters, “Because I like it when you come in and interrupt my meetings so we can cuddle.”
You just about melt, right there and then.
“Aww,” you coo, pouting softly. You run your hands through his hair, lifting your lips to kiss his forehead. “Mr Tough Guy likes his cuddles.”
Tom scowls, squeezing your hips. “I like your cuddles,” he counters, before bringing your lips together in a warm kiss. “You’re making me soft,” he whispers against your mouth.
You smile, pressing your nose to his. “Do you mind?”
