#boxofshenanigans

hello again! got a request to write a blurb-ish length bit where tom x reader are caught in a storm (just a platform for a shit ton of fluff)

this is another attempt at a one shot sans dialogue, all from tom’s point of view.

hope you love it!

no warnings here, just toothaching sweetness. (thank me later)

It was a rainy night.

Lightning bolts created a temporary daylight through the windows, thunder shook the walls. The power had gone out hours ago.

Tom lit the last flame of the arsenal of candles they’d splayed out across the coutertops, being careful to keep them away from the paintings she’d hung on the walls.

She walked into the den carrying a pile of blankets so high he could only see her eyebrows above it. She loved building blanket forts, he loved how much she loved something so innocent, so simple. It didn’t take much to keep her happy, and he did the absolute most to make sure she stayed that way. Never had he met anyone so enthralled with simplicity, full of raw, powerful emotion to share with the people she loved, only requiring a fraction of it back to be satiated.

He watched her hips sway side to side more so than usual, carrying the weight of the woven fleece. Her small frame continuing to carry her with grace, small curves and divots in her silhouette flowing smoothly with each stride. Step, after step, after step.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

He watched her like it was the first time he’d ever seen anyone move.

Arranging the blankets and couch cushions on the floor to her satisfaction, she walked over to him, taking his hands in hers, leading him to their safe haven amongst the candlelight. He pressed his fingers lightly into her soft palms, reveling in the warmth that they radiated up his arms, to his heart, through his whole body.

A pang of thunder made her shiver; his first instinct to hold her close until the reverb dissipated into the air. He sat down amongst the pillows, pulling her into his lap, perched up on one leg so he could see her face. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling her nose ever so slightly into the hem of his shirt. He could smell the faint hint of shampoo in her hair, and it smelled like home.

Another clap of thunder, another strike of lightning slashed through the night. The rain teemed on their rooftop, the soft patter a soothing metronome to which he could feel her steady heartbeat with his hand wrapped around her side and onto her ribs. Drum, drum, drum.

So delicate. Be gentle.

She lifted her head up to meet his eyes right as the sky burst into another fleeting dazzle of yellow, and it highlighted the outline of her face, her jawbone, her cheek. By lightning or candlelight, she was lit up only for an instant, and he had to savor every millisecond that he could see her in full, taking in her soft features, loving the visible curvature of her smile. She always smiled at him like that; he couldn’t get enough.

They stayed this way, tucked under blankets and into each other, inhaling the mist in the air, exhaling soft words of affirmation. Quietly enough so the rain wouldn’t hear them, keeping them safe from the storm.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

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