Being an actress in a tv show is nerve-wracking, and being the star is even worse. Well, you had both. It’s your first time staring in a tv series, not to mention the show is meant to send a message. It’s one about the teen mental health statements. Like 13 Reasons Why and Euphoria. You’re a nervous wreck. But you’re a professional, and what they say is true, do something enough, you get used to it, and you did. Within no time, not much about it fazed you.
Something that helped through it all is Tom. He’s supportive and awesome, and you couldn’t ask for a better husband. “When will you tell me about your show?” Tom mumbles, pulling your body close to him. You told him the bare minimum about your show. Stuff like you’re in high school, it’s not for kids, and you definitely think he’ll like it.
Anytime he asked to know more, you always said either he has to wait for it to come out like everyone else, or promise not to spoil anything, then he can come with you to the set and watch you during shooting. “You know the answer, Tom.” You laugh and snuggle into his chest.
You get a knock on your door, detectives wanting to use your apartment for a stakeout. Of course you say yes, little do they know you have a secret of your own. Little do they know you know more about their investigation then what they tell you that night
»»——⍟——««A/n: Omg im so excited for this. I hope it goes well
“Can I help you?” You looked at the two men standing at your door, confusion written all over your face. It is late at night, and the banging on your front door broke you from the activities you were in, drawing you to the door.
“Hi, sorry for bothering you. I’m Detective Marcus Ryan, and this is my partner, Detective Chris Stevens. We’re part of an investigation on some illegal activity in this area and building. Your apartment is in the best position for a stakeout on the building and neighborhood. It will be a great service to the community if we catch this person we’ve been after. Do you mind us using your apartment for the investigation?”
“I guess not,” you step aside, “for the community.” You nervously laugh as they walk into your apartment, equipment already in hand.
“I know this may feel like a major intrusion on your privacy, I assure you it will only be the two of us, and we have no reason or intention to go through your home. Our main focus will be the windows located in the living room,” Marcus says as they walk in, already setting the equipment down and getting to work.
“No problem. May I ask what illegal activity it is that’s taking place here? I’ve lived here for so long, I can’t imagine something so serious going on here,” you say.
“I understand, but unfortunately, that information is confidential. You don’t need to worry tho. This activity won’t put someone like you in any danger,” Marcus replies.
“Ok. Well, can you say who you’re looking for?” you lightly urge.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but London is a popular area for mob activity. London’s top mobster has resurfaced. We don’t know what for or why, but we are determined to catch him this time around. His name is Tom Holland, London’s topmost dangerous mobster.”
“I see. We’ll I hope your investigation goes well. It’s late, so I’m heading to bed. You guys can help yourselves to do whatever you need. Bathroom is over there, and the fridge is full. Help yourselves,” you smile.
“Of course, thank you again, ma'am,” Marcus says.
You walk to your bedroom, opening and closing the door behind you, seeing the man standing in the middle of your room. “Hi,” you quietly laugh, walking closer to him.
“Hi,” he smirks. “They out there?”
“Yup,” you stand in front of him and wrap your hands around his torso.
“They suspect anything?”
“Of course not. You think I don’t know what I’m doing, Tommy?”
synopsis⇢ your and your best friend’s treehouse is your sanctuary. even though you’re only there in the summer (which means you only see tom every summer), it’s been your safe space for your entire life. after a certain surgery on a certain someone’s mole, you find your heart beats a little louder in his presence. now, seven years later, you’re back in the treehouse, and tom still makes your heart pound. even when you don’t want him to.
↳ childhood friends to lovers, actor!tom
genre⇢ fluff & very light angst
word count ⇢ 5.7k
note⇢ this is a collaboration with the lovely lia @justapurrcat for a sleepover hosted by @tshwritersnet !! we split it up in half so the deliciously longing first scene is all hers :’) our prompts were “2. tracing a finger across your lover’s scar” + “47. complimenting your best friend over small things, that realistically only someone who’s in love with that person would notice.” i had such a fun and frustrating time breaking my writer’s block with this, so much thanks to lia for partnering up with me
So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.
“Don’t follow me.”
Not now, not ever.
That had been three weeks ago.
And it still fucking hurt like hell.
It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.
Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.
So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.
“Don’t follow me.”
Not now, not ever.
That had been three weeks ago.
And it still fucking hurt like hell.
It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.
Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.
After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.
Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.
Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.
And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.
It was a vicious cycle of hell.
Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.
It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.
You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.
“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.
“You never normally sleep talk.”
“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.
“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”
“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.
“Toms here.”
“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.
“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”
“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.
“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”
It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.
“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.
“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”
“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.
“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“
“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”
“I’m not babys-“
“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeh”
That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.
“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”
“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.
After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?
With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.
What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.
“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”
“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.
“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.
“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.
“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”
And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.
After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.
“So… how have you been?”
“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.
“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”
“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”
“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.
“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”
“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”
“OUR kid”
“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“
“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.
“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”
It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.
“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”
“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”
“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”
“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.
Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.
“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“
“Fuck.”
You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.
She was just kicking really really hard. Right?
“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“
Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.
“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.
“Y/n sit down I can-“
He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.
“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.
“Wha-are you-are you okay?”
“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”
~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~
warnings: none I don’t think? tooth rotting fluff + bad writing
/////////////////////////////
These evenings would forever and ever be your favourite. The sky was almost an unbroken sea of vibrant blue, only interrrupted by the occasional cotton wool cloud - the sun wasn’t long from starting its descent below the horizon, but for now the light held.
Motorway driving had to be one of your favourite past times- no one else seemed to understand but for you, it was relaxing, a mind melter almost therapeutic. When ever life got a bit much, your answer was to hop in the car for a drive. It’s why times like this happen. Your boyfriend had been away for a painfully long time and he was coming home today.
Of course, for a star like Tom, the novelty of flying had long since worn off. It was almost part of his commute, the trip through security, in the air, then in a taxi back home. He never asked you to come pick him up, he didn’t want to put you out by driving for 3 hours, especially when the taxis were covered by his studio.
Except you chose to. Whenever he was landing at a time you werent otherwise busy, he’d find you on floor 7 of car park B - somewhere near the lifts so he diddnt have to lug his suitcases far.
|| summary: in which tom helps the reader to destress from her hectic school work.
|| author’s note: smut & filth, y’all already know my brand loooool + sorry it’s been soooo long, yikes.
warnings: this au features aggressive, but totally consensual nsfw content… read at your own discretion, please.
Strained red eyes and tight back muscles begged for any form of alleviation, but the intermittent shifting of positions was providing you with enough comfort to keep the driving pain at bay. Still, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to remain focused on your school work; primarily so, when Tom walked through the bedroom door in nothing but low-hanging sweats. The smug smirk he offered was a pleasant sight, especially when paired with glorious image of his naked chest. It glistened with droplets of water, shimmering and reflecting off the sun rays spilling in from the open balcony door — silently thanking yourself for opting on natural light.
“Still at it, huh?” He gives you a pitiful half-smile, running a free hand through his damp curls.
You nod, forcing your gaze away from his muscular torso and back to literary works of Charles Dickens — eyes trained to the pages of Bleak House,with your attention anywhere but.
Spotting him moving in your peripheral, half of his blurred figure peaking out over the bridge of your book, the bed soon dips as he sits opposite you. Fresh from shower his smell is intoxicating, and nearly impossible to resist. Nearly. Tenacity for finishing your assignments, outweighing the desire scratching between your legs.
Without a word, he leans forward, curious wet lips brushing the exposed skin of your shoulder, trailing open mouthed kisses up to the curve where bone met soft tissue. As each warm, gentle touch teased its way up your neck, the focus that was on the words below you faltered, eyelids growing heavy as your tense state melted into the familiarity of his mouth.
“I think,” he suggested between kisses, his words muffled into the crook of your neck, “you need to relax.” The rasp of his voice beguiled the lust sprouting in your core, your better judgement rapidly losing traction against the hot breathe now fanning over your ear. “‘Bout time, innit love?”
With your eyes closed, tongue caught between your teeth, you were nearly there — but the rational part of you was not silenced yet, and it was aggressively gnawing away your lust-fogged inability for discernment. “I can’t.”
Sighing reluctantly, you attempted to shrug him off, nudging him slightly with your shoulders. A dissatisfied groan leaves him, passing past his lips and onto the spot he’d just been nipping at, below your ear. “Seriously?” He questions, half serious.
Turning to face him, you nod furiously, your eyes flicking between his tousled curls and the paper work spread across your lap — both in dissary. “I can’t just stop working, I’m really close to finishing this paper, and if I stop now I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to start back up again and—“
“—okay, you need to shut up.” The rest of your incessant rambling is stopped, abruptly cut off by the palm of Tom’s hand which has forcefully clamped down over your mouth — your sentence falling into his skin, becoming muffled and incoherent. Keeping your head positioned so your eyes are on him, he cups the back of your neck with his free hand to hold you in place. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he starts, eyes of brown swirls boring into yours with unwavering intensity, “you’re gonna stop working, and take a break.”
Leaning his weight into you, he forces you onto your back, your head hitting the pillows with a light thud. The softness of the mattress envelops you under his force, your sore muscles screaming with relief. “You’re not gonna think about your work,” The hand on the back of your neck falls to your lap, grabbing your spread of papers and tossing them to the floor in one swift motion.
“Hey—” You grumble a faint protest into his hand, interrupted by the exclamation of his fingers’ grip.
“—I said shut up,” his jaw is tight, eyes narrowed in agitation, “didn’t I?” With the absence of papers clustered on your thighs, he nudges his way between your legs, spreading them effortlessly with his hips. Noting the feeling of his bulge against you, you nod timidly, your breathing gradually pacing out. “You’re just gonna close your eyes,” he picks up from where he left off earlier, “and feel me. My touch.”
Taking the acute shifting of your hips towards his as an answer, he brings his fingers up to his lips, pulling the index and middle into his mouth. You watch as he lubircates them with gentle sucking and flicks of his tongue, the sight causing your insides to clench in anticipation. “Just let me do all the work, pretty girl. Close your eyes and spread ‘em wider for me, yeah?”
As his fingers trailed down your torso, you obliged, spreading your legs as wide as they’d go, and shutting your eyes. Propping himself onto one forearm, he lifts his hips away from yours, providing enough space for his arm to fit between your bodies — his fingers dipping into the lace waistband of your panties. The warm, wet touch of his digits against your slick folds caused your back to arch, pressing your clothed body into his bare chest.
“Jesus,” the word drags out, past his shallow gasp, “this all for me?” Before he’d even touched you, a dampness had grown between your legs at the sight of him, his fingers now running along its evident effect. Pursing your lips against his palm, you nodded, allowing a faint whimper to escape you as his middle finger now dragged lazy circles over your clit. With his forearm pressed against your stomach, the constant flex and relaxation of its muscles, and his two fingers now dipping inside you — it wouldn’t be long.
The length and slenderness of his digits, allowed them to make quick and effortless contact with your g-spot, as they bottomed out before curling. Lips parted and wet against his palm, you allowed a spew of moans to pour into the skin of his hand, nearly thankful that it provided you with a comfortable barrier to cry freely into. “‘Like that, sweet girl?” Tom’s lips brushed along your ear, teeth grazing your lobe, “you like it when my fingers are deep inside your pretty pussy, don’t you?”
Only being able to respond with muffled noises falling from your mouth, he took the gentle bite to his palm as a gesture of agreement. His apparent smirk curved against your jaw before he took the lobe of your ear into his mouth, sucking softly on the smooth skin. As his fingers continued to run themselves along your walls, pumping into you at a deliciously slow pace, he brought his thumb to your clit — the two sensations, added with bites and kisses he placed along your neck, created a heady combination, that brought you to the edge quicker than expected.
“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He didn’t need a response, already recognizing the telltale groans beneath his palm and the contracting of muscles around his fingers. Your wetness had become audible, as he quickened his pace, flicking his wrist aggressively. Thighs clenching around his hand, hips bucking to meet his fingers, and head pressed forcefully against the pillows; you were in euphoria. As his thumb added pressure to your clit, precisely timing it with his two other fingers motions, you were crashing over the edge.
“That’s it, love,” he groaned into your ear, “come all over my fingers.” His hand tightened over your mouth as you met your release, a string of profanities and his name falling into it.
Blinking your eyes open, you exhaled through your nose forcefully, struggling to catch your breathe without using your mouth. Met with adoring, but hungry eyes and a lazy smirk, you couldn’t help smile under his hand. Pumping his fingers a few more times before removing them, he brought them to his lips, pulling them into his mouth as he had before; closing his eyes briefly as they were sucked clean. “You never disappoint,” he hummed appreciatively, removing his hand from over your mouth, “do you, pretty girl?”
Blushing, you smile at him coyly, reaching up to push his curls off his forehead, “could say the same about you, Tommy.” He was radiating smug, boyish confidence as he leaned down to kiss your waiting lips - tender from their restraint against his palm. The kiss was slow and sweet, his tongue dipping into your mouth, stained in your flavor mixed with his own. Pulling back to run the bridge of his nose along yours, he sighed contentedly.
“Guess I should let you get back to it.”
You shook your head, a hand cupping the back of his neck; after having had a taste you craved more. Tilting his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “but I thought said that you needed to finish your paper today, otherwise your professor would only give you half—“
“—okay you need to shut up.” You interjected, echoing his assertion from before as your hand came up to cover his mouth. Surprised, you felt his grin against your palm, and although you feigned a cool resolve, your eyes were alight with humor. Using your body weight, you pushed him onto his back beside you, hand remaining over his mouth as you moved to straddle his parted legs.
- full days where you both have time off were rare so they’re usually spent just lounging around the house or just going out for ice cream or something small
- waking up and nestling into his chest just under his chin
- he literally smells sooooo good
- while you’re in the process of doing so he wakes up and once you’re settled he kisses your head and wraps his arms around you
- his groggy, raspy morning voice oh god
- “what d'you wanna do today love?”
- “mmm i dunno. i’m kind of in the mood to watch a movie.”
- “alright then. shall we get up?”
- “five more minutes tom.”
- him laughing and saying “darling no, whenever you want five more minutes it turns into half an hour. come on get up”
- “nooooooo”
- him picking you up out of bed and carrying you downstairs
- “okay first of all, how DARE you”
- watching movies on netflix but not really paying attention because you guys are barely ever able to just be together like this
- taking like three naps in the same day
- sitting in the bathtub together
- “why do they call it a bath bomb if there’s no explosion?”
- “tom i don’t know and quite frankly i don’t care.”
- “but it doesn’t make any SENSE y/n!”
- laughing because he’s an idiot but he’s your idiot
- just enjoying each other’s company and being together
