Tom Recs - Blog Posts

#37 and 44 prompt with tom :))

❀ girls like you ❀

it’s my first time writing bartender!tom & it was a lot of fun, i hope y’all enjoy :’) i think this au is gonna be reoccurring on this blog lmao 😳 also! gif by the wonderful @cindymooons <3

prompts: (37) kitchen counter make-outs + (44) wrapping your legs around your lover’s body as they lift you

↳ bartender!tom, rich kid!y/n, secret dating au, a pretty frivolous make-out

word count: 1.4k

flufftober drabbles (requests are open!)

when the clock finally ticks 12:30 am, tom slides out from behind the bar and walks towards the large double doors leading to the hotel main lobby. it’s been a long shift; ten hours with only a half hour break in between to get off his feet and smoke a cigarette outside in the sweet, sweet silence.

customers of the four seasons bar are especially rowdy on a friday night. tom’s got a theory at least half the somewhat wealthy, married men of london go there instead of their homes, tan lines apparent on their finger where their wedding ring used to be, now shoved into the pocket of their work slacks. they drink like retired sailors and lay on the shameless flirting heavily. the former doesn’t really bother tom—after almost three years of bartending here, he’s at a point where he doesn’t really need a partner to split the workload with on busy nights.

as he slides the final lock shut, a loud throat clearing takes him by surprise, and he jumps up with his hands in a fight position. the sight of you leaning against the now open staff door behind the bar has him relaxing, but it’s too late; your arms are crossed over your chest and a very amused grin plays on your red lips at his ridiculous boxing stance.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” tom breathes, taking out the rag he slides into the belt loops of his trousers. wiping the closest table, he watches as you move to lean forward against the bar, giving him a better view of your cleavage.

“oops,” you say, tone utterly remorseless. “i’m not keeping you from work, am i?”

as if that’s ever stopped you before. tom shakes his head, pointing to the empty room. “just closing up for the day. what are you doing here, accepting an oscar?”

you snort, teasingly striking a pose. the gown you’re wearing probably costs more than his car; long, black, and shimmery. it’s sleeveless, a sweetheart neckline highlighting your chest and collarbones. “no, just a little gathering for one of daddy’s new sponsors.” you answer, shrugging casually as though it’s something everyone does once in a while. in your world, that’s the case, tom reminds himself with a bite to his inner cheek.

“had the time of your life, i gather?” he grins when you roll your eyes and mime a gun to your forehead. “nobody talks about the struggles of girls like you. poor princess.”

even several feet away from you, he notices the way your eyes darken at the pet name, and it fills his chest with pride. good, you’re not the only one who can tease.

“yeah, well, just wanted to see if you’re up to anything before i go home.” liar.

leaving the rag behind, tom walks decisively towards the bar, delighting in the way you take a step back when he’s right in front of you. “you’re sure no one saw you coming in here?” he asks, gaze flickering across your expression.

you nod, breath hitching in your throat at the intensity of his honeyed eyes. “i left out of the front door, walked to the end of the block, and entered the staff door through the alley.” you recount, like a kid reciting a memorised poem with pride.

“good girl,” voice raspy as it utters two of your favourite words, tom closes the cap between you, hands sliding around your waist. your chests press together a second before your lips do, and you skip the chaste kisses phase to get straight to open-mouthed, heavy-tongued ones.

your fingers disappear into his hair, the gel he coats it with tired after a long shift, and you work it off his curls pleasantly. moaning into your mouth, tom’s hands crawl up your bare back, drawing shivers along your smooth skin. one of your palms leaves his head, trailing up his uncovered forearms and into his blazer when tom wraps you tighter in his embrace. your heeled legs wrap around his hips as he lifts you up, holding you in place for a brief moment as you break the kiss and dive into his thick neck, before placing you on the counter.

the heat of your tongue sears his sensitive skin as you lick across tom’s adam apple, sucking on the junction of his throat and neck. breathless, his hands cup your face, mashing your unfurled mouths together in another passionate kiss. teeth clashing, tongues fighting, shaky groans floating across the charged air between you.

as thought it physically pains him to do it, tom sighs and moves a hair’s width away, putting an end to your intertwined state. he looks down to your lap, jaw clenching when he notices the slits in your gown that show your thighs and legs in your seat position, with his hips holding them apart. a slow smile curls on your lips when he places his palms on your skin, one of your hands falling on his wrist to draw figures on his strong forearm with the tips of your fingers. the other cups his cheek, raising his head up to lock your eyes.

“i missed you this week,” you whisper, honesty dripping from your words like tequila into a shot glass.

tom’s features soften at your confession, and he squeezes your thigh, bumping the tip of your nose with his. “missed you too, princess.” he mumbles back, although there’s no one around to overhear. “you’ve been busy, huh?”

“my mum’s on my ass about a charity gala we’re supposed to cohost, yet somehow all the work’s fallen into my lap.” despite the annoyance of your statement, your voice is gentle and sweet, in tune with the back and forth movement of your thumb on the apple of his cheek. “i wished i were with you every single day, though. i can’t wait until my parents fuck off to bali next week and you can have me all to yourself again.”

the grin that spreads on his face is completely shameless, like he’s swallowed a hanger, and he locks an arm around your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the bar. “all to myself… i really like the sound of that, sweetheart.” tom mutters, taking your bottom lip between his teeth for a split second. “as much as i love quickies in the elevator, i just wanna watch a bloody film with you and go to sleep like a regular couple.”

your heart thuds a bit faster when he refers to the both of you as a couple, and you try not to show just how flustered the label’s gotten you. it’s not like you and tom haven’t been exclusive for a few months now, but your situation is so precarious—all the secrecy and running around and scheduling brief moments to meet in between the chaos of your individual lives… it’s just hard to define your arrangement. you can’t even express in words how much it means to you that tom is the one who breaks that barrier for you, and he does so casually, like you’re the only one who’s been obsessing over the seriousness of your relationship this whole time. knowing how head empty he can be, you probably are the only one who’s taken notice of this dilemma.

“i really want that too,” you giggle timidly, laying a kiss on his chin, “especially now that i know, thanks to harrison, you’ve cried while watching notting hill.”

tom throws his head back with a groan, though the corner of his lips fight to curve at the sound of your dulcet laughter. “why would he even tell you that? you’re both obsessed with me.” he jokes, rolling his eyes like a dramatic teenager.

“i’m not obsessed with you, tommy,” grinning, you take his hand into yours and bring it to your chest. “i’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

cheeks flushing a furious pink, tom’s mouth dries at the sweet nickname you address him with, before he bites on his lip and looks at you with the most vivid adoration you’ve ever seen. “don’t worry, the boy’s well on his way to loving you.”

Oooh s I am FEELING number 9 for flufftober with tom??? And perhaps there was some mutual pining happening... Okay also as I was reading through the prompts I was listening to "clouds" by børns which is just... such a romantic song to me and it made me so giddy while reading the prompts so I thought I'd mention it in case if gives you any inspiration :)

❀ clouds ❀

i love this song too 🥺 this is so self-indulgent (as all my drabbles are tbh) i hope you enjoy <3 this might be the best drabble i’ve ever written lmao i’m rlly proud & in love with this one :’)

prompt: (9) your first passionate kiss with a person. you touch your lips absently, feeling the phantom of your lover’s lips.

↳ actor!tom, friends to lovers, tessa holland supremacy bc i miss her & need her back in my life

word count: 1.8k

flufftober drabbles (requests closed!)

“this one kind of looks like a one-eyed bunny. a one-eyed, one-legged bunny.”

snorting, you tear your gaze away from the sky overhead and onto the man lying beside you. his hand is outstretched, index pointing to an oddly shaped cloud slowly rolling away from you, and you try your best not to stare at his flexed forearm so close to your face. a passing autumn breeze gently ruffles the brown curls smushed on his forehead, his hair unruly after an impromptu nap.

a nap you shared. which is totally normal. it’s so normal for best friends to fall asleep cuddling each other that it borders on mundane. it’s boring, even. yes, you’re so bored of falling asleep in tom’s backyard with tom’s head on your chest and tom’s dog’s head in your lap and tom’s scent lingering on your clothes from the last time you fell asleep with tom a week ago. stupid tom.

“that’s not true.” tom says, turning onto his side so he’s facing you, the movement making you reluctantly open your eyes again. “you don’t remember bobby bugs?”

“that’s not true.” tom says, turning onto his side so he’s facing you, the movement making you reluctantly open your eyes again. “you don’t remember bobby bugs?”

at the name, a loud laugh erupts from your mouth, and you hasten to slap a hand over it. “oh my god, i can’t believe i forgot him. he was your only friend before me.”

“yeah, and you’re so fucking mean, i might just dump you and buy another bunny to be my real best friend.” you giggle again as tom fake pouts, your neck hurting from being twisted to watch him.

silence falls over both of you again, interrupted only by random whines from tessa and the occasional passing car. most of tom’s neighbours are smart enough to stay inside when it’s only five degrees, whereas you both have just enough brain cells to decide laying down a picnic blanket and then laying under a couple more blankets should warm you up just fine. after all, cold and bad weather never stopped you and tom from indulging in your favourite pass-time as loud children who were often told to just go outside because you were too raucous.

you don’t remember which one of you began this tradition of cloud-watching. all you know is that your childhood memories are almost all riddled with tom’s crooked nose and chaotic curls and the large mole on his chin that is no longer there. many of these memories include spotting weirdly shaped clouds and inventing stories about them together, a habit you’ve continued well into your adolescence and haven’t begun to let go of in your twenties, either, even as one of you has become a bloody celebrity.

“ooh, i think i spot a giant raccoon.” you grin, nodding towards a particularly large cloud further away.

tom squints, sitting up to see better. the hood of his pink sweater flops with the movement, and you bite back the immature urge to shove leaves into it like you did when you were young. well, younger. you’re not proud of the side of yourself that loves stupid pranks. mouth turning into an o, tom’s expression soon breaks into a matching grin when he finds the cloud, too.

“he’s definitely got rabies.” he jokes, flopping down beside you, beam only widening when you giggle, palm clasped against your mouth. it doesn’t last long, though, the smile slowly being wiped off his face. you’re too busy staring at the burst of colours from the sunset to notice. “why do you do that?” he asks, voice suddenly monotone.

eyebrows furrowed, you look over at him. your lap grows colder when tessa gets off of you, almost like she’s sensed the awkwardness settling in and preferred to go sniffing for squirrels than to witness it. “do what?” you respond, shivering from the wind.

“you always hide your face when you laugh. like you’re ashamed of being happy.”

huh. you did not expect that. sitting up on your elbows, you scoff, “okay, i do not need you to go all walmart doctor phil on me right now. that’s the most cliché thing i’ve heard in a while, and i eavesdropped on harrison telling his girlfriend she lights up his world like nobody else this morning.”

“i’m serious, y/n.” tom snaps, sitting up again and giving you no choice but to do the same since, clearly, he’s turning this into a whole conversation. “why do you always put your hand on your face or hide behind your hair whenever you laugh?”

you sputter, not knowing how to answer such a ridiculous question. “i don’t—i don’t know. it’s just something i, and many other people, do. not everything means something. why do you always knock three times on the doorframe before you go the bathroom at night?”

“to alert any ghosts that i’m entering, obviously.” tom deadpans. “don’t change the subject. we’re talking about your insecurities and bathroom endangerment habits.”

“you’re ridiculous and i don’t like you.” you snap, lying back down and crossing your arms over your chest. “no wonder bobby bugs ran away from you. you’re annoying and you gave him the worst rabbit name ever.”

tom’s neck snaps towards you with full shock and offense, his eyes wide and lips pursed with anger. you’ve gone too far, staring right back at him with steady resolve.

“why do i love you?” he mutters under his breath, disdain coating his words like a fresh coat of pain, before he falls back into his place beside you, shoulders touching.

even though you’ve heard those three little words from tom countless times in all the years—decades, really—that you’ve been practically attached at the hips, they never fail to make a lump form in your throat and to kick your heart into overdrive. especially when he’s so close to you that your pinkies brush against each other. you hate indulging in clichés, like you remind tom all the time, and yet you’re living in the biggest trope of all time. falling in love with your best friend wasn’t a realisation or a sudden crush leading to longing looks and timid touches. no, you don’t think you even fell in love with tom. there was no falling, no tripping, no moment in your friendship before you loved him. being in love with tom was simply a part of you, a facet of your personality with how long you’ve loved him, and you can’t imagine being y/n without loving tom.

quiet settles in again, the strain between you and your best friend lessening but not disappearing. you’re in the midst of convincing yourself that the only way to avoid this becoming a real fight is to just get up and pretend you’re hungry or thirsty or need to pee or anything that lets you stop your hand from inching towards tom’s, when he speaks up.

“i think you’re beautiful when you laugh.” tom says, gaze trained on the gradually darkening sky. it’s no longer a bright pink, but a fuchsia with sparks of orange, awaiting the deep blue of the nighttime.

your heart thuds to a stop in your chest, lungs expanding with air that you can’t seem to exhale.

“and when you smile,” he adds, tugging down the sleeves of his sweatshirt until they cover his fingers. “and when you snort when i say or do something stupid, when you squeal when i tickle you. when you glare at me for eating the last brownie. when you’re drooling on the couch while watching deadly women like it’s not supposed to be a little alarming to me i live with a woman who likes to learn about female serial killers to wind down after work.”

you crack, a breathless laugh escaping your throat, and tom takes that as his sign to lean on his elbow, face hovering over yours. there’s enough space between you not to be completely overwhelming, but you still find yourself drawn into his honeyed eyes and the splattering of freckles beneath them.

“i think you’re beautiful all the fucking time, y/n/n.” tom whispers, the wind tousling the curls on his forehead. “it kills me when you don’t see the beauty in yourself. like you’re trying to convince others not to fall in love with you when you’re at your happiest. but it’s far too late to do that with me.”

your breath hitches loudly in your throat, eyes as wide as saucers when tom leans in just a bit closer. hesitantly, you raise your hand to cup his cool cheek, thumb rubbing over its apple. the corner of his mouth quirks up in a minuscule smile, brown eyes flickering from yours to your lips. when you nod and lick them, he closes the gap between you, and you finally feel like you’re plummeting. all these years you’ve loved tom so much it felt like your heart was constantly bursting, and now, you’ve let yourself stumble off the edge—now, you’ve let yourself go. you know now that he’ll catch you.

tom kisses you softly at first, lightly rubbing your lips together, before your fingers travel to his hair. when you tug a little, he groans into your mouth, tongue flicking out to lick your bottom lip. you kiss for what feels like hours, indulging in each others’ touches and moans, until tessa’s loud barking interrupts you.

breaking apart, tom sits up properly, looking over to see his dog with her head stuck in a hole in the wooden fence separating his backyard from the neighbour’s. the laughter that befalls both of you is loud and disbelieving, bringing with it sparkly eyes and light stomach cramps. breathless from tessa’s comedy act and the kiss that propelled you off a bridge, you run your finger over your lips absent-mindedly as tom gets up to help her out.

he looks over at you, still sprawled under the blankets in a daze, and grins. “you wanna go back inside and get a drink?” he asks, patting tessa’s head once it pops back into the correct yard.

“will you kiss me again?” you blurt out, pinching yourself on the inside for being so utterly tactless.

tom laughs again, the sound like music to your ears. his grin is blinding and you’d let him to your heart and sight all at once if he would ask. “i’ll kiss you any time you want for the rest of our lives if you’ll have me, love.”

hey s 🤎 sending in prompts #13, #17 & #20 with tom for flufftober! hope you’re well and are enjoying the lovely autumnal season 🎃🍂🕯🥧

❀ late night love ❀

hi liv !! i hope you like it <3 excuse the shitty title lmao i didn’t know what to call this 😭 also tagging liz @screamholland get ur ovaries ready

prompts: (13) whispering “kiss me” to your lover + (17) intertwining your fingers + (20) running your fingers through your lover’s hair

genre: dad!tom, domestic au, so much fluff oh i’m aching inside just aching

word count: 1.2k

flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)

sleep never used to come very easily to you. only after giving up your electronics for two hours before going to bed, meditating, inhaling what must have been a toxic amount of calming oils, and doing yoga would you be able to sleep through the night. however, ever since your little boy entered the world, all you seem to want to do is slide into bed and never get out.

tonight, your bladder’s decided to be a pain and ruin your plans.

sighing into your pillow at being woken up, you whine against the soft material before throwing the duvet off of yourself. despite the heat being turned on, chills bubble along your limbs as you pad to the bathroom linked to your bedroom. you’re so sleep-deprived, mind already halfway back to its previous state of unconsciousness and body moving on autopilot, that you don’t hear the creaking of the floors as you wash your hands.

when you come out of the bathroom, your heart nearly stops as you run into a firm surface, and you yelp loudly, sock-clad feet tumbling backwards in shock. thankfully, your husband seems to have better reflexes than you; his arm curls around your hip before you trip, and he brings you into his embrace rapidly.

“tom,” you sigh, forehead falling against his chest, “you scared the fuck out of me.”

chuckling against your hairline, tom drops a kiss on your forehead and pulls back, humming as your limbs circle his waist in return. “sorry, baby, i thought you’d be awake.” he yawns, looking so much like his son when he does the same thing, it makes you smile uncontrollably. “what time is it?”

“ten thirty, grandpa.” teasingly, you peck him on the jaw before exiting his hug, heading back to your warm bed.

tom glares at you as he drops his work blazer on the dresser, a lone clump of hair comically dropping onto his forehead while the rest remains perfectly styled for whatever celebrity event he attended today. you love your man so very dearly, but after this long together, his galas and parties all melt into one and you stop listening. his long fingers begin working on his tie as he shoots you a scowl, “you were already deep asleep, weren’t you, granny?”

bringing the covers up to your chin, you glance at him for a nanosecond before looking away, your own grimace forms. “maybe,” you mutter, gaze interested in the pattern of your duvet.

“god, when did we get so old?” tom whines, untucking his silk, white and beige button-up from his dress trousers and not bothering to take it off properly, choosing instead to wiggle out of it like it’s a t-shirt.

“hm, about three years ago when you knocked me up.” you respond, turning over onto your side to face him, the coziness of your position already lulling you back to sleep.

tom’s head snaps in your direction as his belt clangs to the floor, his honeyed eyes wide with offense. “we were already married, i did not knock you up.” he huffs, taking his pants off.

“potato, potahto.” you mock him in a british accent, loving when he’s riled up with no place to go. “either way, your son aged me ten years. i’m beginning to see all the senior hype about dinners at five and falling asleep to jeopardy by eight.”

the mattress droops under his weight, and tom snuggles up behind you, craving your body heat because he refuses to sleep in anything more than boxers or a pair of sweats. “he’s only ever my son when he does something. ‘s not fair.” he mumbles into your shoulder, the tip of his cold nose tickling your neck and you squeal, turning to face him.

“that’s right, because i’m an angel so all his good traits are inherited from me.” you coo and cup his face to warm up his freezing skin, snorting at the unimpressed look gracing it. “you, however, are a godless gemini. noah’s chaotic antics are all you, tommy.”

grumbling, tom cuddles deeper into your chest, pressing a long kiss to your neck, just over your pulse. “fine, mrs holland, you win this round. only because i’m fucking knackered from work.”

a sad aw, baby falls from your lips, and your fingers comb through his hair soothingly, working out the bits of gel coating some of the strands. tom sighs at the comforting rhythm of your digits massaging his scalp, his shoulders and neck relaxing even more as all the tension of the day evaporates under your loving touch.

groaning, he raises his head, his thinner lips brushing yours along with the tip of his nose. “kiss me, sweetheart,” he whispers, eyes hooded and tone ever so gentle. who are you to object?

your mouths mould together softly at first, both of you too tired and drowsy to participate in anything more than shallow, closed-mouthed kisses. when tom’s hand grips your hip tighter and his tongue slithers along your plush bottom lip, you moan a little, fingers pulling on his hair. before anything can happen, though, like more of tom’s hips grinding into your own, a shy knock resounds on the door.

tom pulls away and rests your foreheads together, his eyes fluttering reluctantly before he kisses you one last time and moves for his closet. grinning at the frustration on your whiny husband’s face, you sit up on your elbows and watch the doorknob begin the jiggle a bit.

“come in, honey.”

as soon as the words leave your mouth, the door opens, a tiny hand reaching up to hang onto the knob. the two and a half-year-old boy is staring at you with large, shiny brown eyes, curls wild on top of his head, and his other hand clutching his favourite plushie, flounder from the little mermaid.

“mama,” noah whimpers, tiny feet trudging a little further into your room, “bad dream.”

“oh, sweetie,” you pout, looking over at tom.

noah does the same, not realising his father was already home, and his eyes light up, bringing about a toothy grin. “daddy!” he squeals, running towards tom, dressed in sweatpants and an old tee now that your child is in the room, who picks him up with just as much excitement.

“hey, buddy,” tom beams, bringing the boy to his face so he can pepper loud kisses across his chubby cheeks. “you couldn’t sleep in your bed?”

“no,” the toddler whines, burying his face in his father’s neck. “there’s monsters, daddy.”

tom and you share a knowing look, matching smiles on your face as noah plays with the material of his footie pyjamas in one hand and clutches tom’s shirt in the other.

“it’s okay, baby, you can sleep next to mama and i tonight, alright?” tom coos, bouncing the little nugget in his arms to melt his pout.

your husband and son fall back onto the mattress, noah immediately snuggling under the blankets like it’s his own bed he’s gotten into, and you snort at his actions. once tom’s settled in, too, he throws an arm across noah’s small body and your side, and you take the liberty of intertwining your fingers.

“night, mama. night, daddy.” your baby mumbles into your chest, humming happily as you play with his hair. he really is a mini replica of his father.

“sweet dreams, baby.” tom replies, squeezing your hand in his.

❀ welcome home ❀

if this don’t show up in the tags idk what i’m gonna do istg 🧍🏽‍♀️pls lmk if it shows up for you :(

warnings: a lil suggestiveness but overall fluff

word count: 1.2k

send some prompts for flufftober!!

after almost an entire summer abroad, there’s no better feeling—at least for tom—than that of an empty airport at three in the morning. silence lies heavy around him, interrupted only by the occasional announcement, the clacking of suitcases rolling against the floor, and the whirring of baggage carousels turning on and off.

the feeling of utter peace and relaxation that hits tom whenever he finally comes back home becomes stronger, more overwhelming, when his phone tings loudly in his ear, where one airpod sits. he knows before he’s even pulled the device out of his jumper’s pocket that it’s you, an excited tingle spreading in his chest.

i’m in the waiting area :’)

five simple words, one endearing emoticon, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst right out of him as though it’s a rocket surging into take-off. gripping the handle of his carry-on tightly, tom shoves the phone back in his pocket and looks around him with as much enthusiasm as a dog following the scent of a feast, eyes urgently searching for the right arrows to lead him out of baggage claim and to you.

mere minutes later, he’s finally outside, breath hitching in his throat when he spots the ever so familiar yellow nirvana shirt you can’t stop “borrowing.” grin widening under his black cotton mask, tom bites his bottom lip to temper it as he hurries towards you, but it only widens when you look up from your phone at the sound of his rapidly approaching footsteps and he notices the way your mask stretches across your cheeks the same way his does.

finally within arm’s reach, tom doesn’t even utter a word. his hands find your waist with oft practiced ease, and they bring you into his chest perfectly, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck, skin visible under his tee, clicking into him like a puzzle piece. your facemask scratches his throat, but he couldn’t care less, not when he at last feels your palms again his back, when he smells faint hints of your shampoo, when he squeezes you in his arms and you squeeze him right back.

“missed you,” he whispers, fingers splayed over your back like it’s an anchor.

“missed you more, tommy.” you grin, happiness hiding in the fabric of his blue and white jumper. pulling apart ever so lightly, you look up at him, all the knots in your stomach unravelling at the sight of his pretty brown eyes. you raise a hand up to his hair, twirling a few strands around your finger. “and i missed these curls, too,” you coo, “why have you been depriving me of these babies with your cursed gel?”

snorting happily, tom scrunches his nose and leans his head into your hands. “why are you speaking like the villain dude from aladdin?”

“you forgot jaffar’s name,” you gasp, looking at him with teasing shock, “we need a rewatch stat. come on, let’s get out of here so i can educate you on a land from a faraway place where the caravan camels roam.”

both of you think your smiles couldn’t get any bigger under your masks, and you run your thumb along the crinkles beside his right eye, longing so clear in your own gaze that tom’s got half a mind of ripping the cloth off your face and kissing you right in the middle of heathrow.

“let’s go, i don’t know how i’m going to wait to kiss you for an entire half hour.” he grumbles, an immense weight lifting off his chest as he intertwines your fingers and sets off towards the exit, carry-on rolling behind him.

mumbling to him that he can still kiss you in the car and that he doesn’t have to wait until you’re actually at your house to do it, you snort as tom shoots you his classic annoyed look. he snips back that it’s not a proper welcome home kiss unless we’re home, y/n and pretends to pout for much of the car ride, his grimace melting into laughter when you decide to pout back but can’t help yourself from wiggling along to the radio in your seat.

once you’re finally unlocking the door and tom sets his luggage down, he turns towards you with a big grin, one you can actually see clearly without his mask acting as a shield. for a moment, you’re tempted to let go of your teasing streak and let him get his way, until you’re reminded—nah, being a little shit would be more fun for you. as your boyfriend advances towards you, honeyed eyes soft with the promise of an impending smooch and many cuddles, you give him your best exaggerated wink.

and then you sprint.

“what the fuck?” tom yells, watching you with bewilderment as you run up the stairs towards your bedroom. “i can’t believe i flew eight hours for this crazy woman,” he mutters to himself, though a spark of adrenaline lights up in his chest.

soon enough, his socked feet are sliding against the hardwood floor as he chases after you, only for his eyebrows to furrow when he hears the sound of water from the master bathroom. oh. oh.

you’ve left the door unlocked and the window hasn’t fogged yet, giving tom a clear view of you. a very wet you. a very wet and naked you giving him a teasing smile, beckoning him over with your index after months of being apart. he nearly trips over his pants multiple times as he undresses, your giggles at his clumsiness and enthusiasm heard over the shower, before he’s finally bare enough to join you.

“you could’ve just told me you wanted to shower, instead of making me chase you around the house.” tom can’t help but be jokingly curt as he steps under the hot water, instantly starting to soothe his muscles after seemingly endless travels.

your arms slither around his waist, bringing him closer until your chests are pressed together, and he sighs under your touch. with the water running down your face, you reach up, cradling his cheek in the palm of your hand. “but wasn’t it more fun to surprise you? it sure looked like it was exciting for you when you banged your head on the sink trying to get undressed.”

“oh, shut up and kiss me.” tom rolls his eyes, his own arms coming around you as you snort, leaning up to finally connect your mouths.

tom’s lips are chapped from the cold and because he always forgets to drink enough water, but it doesn’t matter, not when it’s your first time tasting them after such a strenuous deprivation. your fingers burrow in his wet curls as tom’s tongue licks along your bottom lip before it slips along your own, a gentle whimper resounding from both of you at the contact.

you break away after a long moment, eyes fluttering open to see your love’s are still closed, lashes brushing the freckled apples of his cheeks. “there,” you whisper, dropping a faint peck on the tip of his nose, “weclome home, tommy.”