Tomthesoftie - Indefinite Hiatus - Tumblr Blog

hi hi people that are following me!

wow, this has been a wild, wild journey. It’s been almost two years of me owning this account and posting my fanfictions on here. That fact is completely mind boggling to me. I can not express the immense gratitude I feel for everyone who supported me by following or liking or reblogging my posts.

In the past couple of years, my mental health was definitely going down a steep, rocky hill and writing and coming to tumblr was always my safe haven. I would spend my nights, and days, writing, to the best of my ability, out my emotions. I typed full fanfictions on my phone in the dark of night, when I was feeling down. I remember, on my family road trips, I would be sitting in the back seat, beside my sister, with the Google Docs app open, typing fanfictions to post on WattPad. My headphones always be plugged in as I worked on a new piece, music fitting my mood blasting in my ears. Honestly, I have so many precious moments of being a fanfiction writer stuck in my head that it makes me not want to do this.

Due to recent accumulation of work and stress, I haven’t been writing fanfiction. Not only that but I’ve been becoming increasingly insecure about my writing and not confident in my grammar and creativeness. With these burdens, I couldn’t help myself from writing anymore. As I read other peoples’ work, I noticed how unique, how special, their styles were. I’ve also been quite sad about my lack of mutuals, which the blame’s all on me. Since very young, I was socially discriminated for a immune system disorder that affected my appearance. This led to many confidence issues and my social abilities to be lacking.

Moreover, ever since I got rid of Instagram, I fell out of interest in Tom. I still support him, don’t get me wrong, but I just haven’t been as actively interested in his career. The past 5 years of being a dedicated fan have been a whirlwind of adventure and joy and some sadness. Becoming his fan opened my eyes to many new experiences that I will forever appreciate. I also wanted to say, TomDaya finally happened! I’m so glad those years I shipped them paid off, but I also did cut back on my shipping for reasons of respect, not that I have to cut back anymore!!!

Anyways, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been here for years or even just a couple hours for filling that empty hole in me and rejuvenating me into a happier being. I also wanted to thank @kelieah for trying to include me by adding me to a group chat, that I could never bring myself to join, and responding to me whenever I spoke with you.

It’s been a great almost two years, but I think it’s best for me to go on an indefinite semi-hiatus. If I were to ever return, that’d be for a momentary spur of inspiration or for Spider-Man: No Way Home. Yet again, thank you for your support.

Signing off for now, M. 🤍

p.s.: If you ever want to talk, slip into my inbox or chat on tumblr! Otherwise, I wish you all happy lives!

so tom and zendaya?

OMO HAPPY 24th BIRTHDAY TOM!!! 🥳

i just saw your post on your mental health, i’m so sorry i didn’t see it earlier absolutely no rush, i hope you feel better soon!

thank you thank you!! <3333 I’m so grateful to have your support, following others, of course!

I love interacting with fellow readers and creators so feel free the slip into my inbox anytime!!

i submitted a post but i forgot to say thanks in advance!

hi!! I saw your submission and I’ll get working on it sometime soon! also, i don’t write any actual smut anymore, but I still write suggestive fics.

ps: I don’t use tiktok so if I get the concept of it wrong, I’m so sorry :((

hi, so currently I’m not in the right mental state with everything piling up on me and my self-depreciation. no, this doesn’t mean I’m going a hiatus again, but it does mean that I’m going to be post even less or slower now until my health returns to a sufficient state. hopefully you guys can understand, even though I already don’t post often.

wait r u requests open or closed? it’s says closed on the master list but open in ur bio?

oh my,, I’m so sorry for the confusion!! I must’ve forgotten to update my masterlist. the requests are open. thank you for raising my awareness to this error anon!

your theme is absolutely amazing, i luv it <3

omg hi ☺️ thank you so much <3 I love your theme as well! 😩 you’re so good at writing too,, please show me how to become talented like you 🤧🤧

hi;; hahah... im running out of energy and motivation ahaha

bilateral contracts

❧ synopsis: a relationship turned contract... or has the relationship always been a contract? no longer does it matter, just kiss and make break up

❧ pairing: koh!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: semi-angst, suggestive

❧ warnings: break up, mentions of hickies, make-out session with a bit of escalation, plot twist (?)

❧ a/n: if you get it, you get it. also this came out shorter than i expected, but i liked how it turned out so i didn’t want to change anything lmao. listen to kiss and make up when reading this <3

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It started with the thundering echos in the room then ended with the inaudibly loud sound of hearts shattering. 

Now, you were resting on a cool, marble bench, breathing in the fresh, must-filled air. The chilled material of the seat ran a shiver down your seat, causing the heat from your anger to depress. 

Lately, you and Tom weren’t getting along as you used to. Constantly, you were being reminded—by Tom—that you knew what you had “signed up for” when you began dating him, ever the cliche. Had you known that you were dating via contract, you would’ve never accepted the offer; you would’ve rejected the offer whole-heartedly, as it is known, contracts can’t—and don’t—last forever.

Tom, on the other hand, went back to hoarding himself with work and planning out large events—usually for his own enjoyment. Being the king, after all, meant luxury and bliss, albeit the load of work and duty. 

Maybe the great lord feared by all was being selfish; maybe the young maiden who put her heart out on the line for said lord was insecure. It all narrowed down to a “maybe.” One thing that was certain, though, was the maiden’s love for herself.

Contracts aren’t unbreakable. They can be discussed and terminated. Besides, even if you “break” the contract now, you technically wouldn’t be the first.

With fast steps, you composed yourself, preparing for the risk you were about to take. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you also knew it was plausible. Your pride and self-love wouldn’t back down just by a simple glare or bark. 

Pushing the doors open, you stepped into the room, head high and shoulders wide. It felt as if the atmosphere had some confidence booster hidden in the air. Tom was already staring at you with peculiar eyes, silently asking you what you were doing.

You were tired of talking, letting useless words slip from your lips. You no longer wanted to hear any feeble “sorry’s” from either him or you.

Thus, without any words, you stomped over to his desk, pulling him by his collar and smashing your lips against his. You could feel him stiffen in your grasp, shocked at the sudden action and its roughness.

Pushing him back onto the desk, you looked him into his chocolate-brown eyes. Your hand laid flat on his chest, fingers skillfully unbuttoning his dress shirt. You attached your lips to his bare neck, sucking dark marks filled with ill-intents onto to supple skin. You could feel the brunette begin to relax under your touch, allowing you to continue. 

His hands touched you in such a familiar yet foreign way, touching you like he’s touched nobody. The soft pads of his fingertips trailed, bruised, and gripped onto every centimeter of your perfect body as if he’s been starved of touch for decades.

It was as if both of you could see and feel what was coming.

Pulling away, you slipped your clothes back on, leaving Tom tousled where he rest. A haze in his eyes told you that he was out of his body, floating in the clouds. Using his dazed moment to your advantage, you declared, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Before he could collect himself to think straight, you’ve already escorted yourself out of the room, leaving his door wide open to give him a show of you with your bags and luggage—walking away with a light sway of your hips—your figure dissolving into nothingness as you gained more distance. 

Tom didn’t chase after you like a dog on a leash. He let you leave without reluctance or doubt. After all, why would he? Everything had worked out in his favor.

The contract is now terminated ended.

taglist: @big-galaxy-chaos @chloecreatesfictions-archive @dpaccione @cuddlykoala101 @tomshufflepuff @lmaotshollandd @holland-styles​ @camerondiaz48104​ if you would like to be removed from the taglist, please send to my inbox

let them flow

❧ synopsis: after the collapsing of an unhealthy relationship, each side begins to improve and thrive, one for the other, one for themselves. coincidentally, they meet at the same dreaded party that led to the breaking of their relationship. will this unfortunate series of events lead them to opportunity?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: fluff

❧ warnings: mild angst, fluffy-ish ending, exes to friends to lovers, one or two curse words, lil bit of crying, mentions of alcohol

❧ a/n: it’s finally over. thank goodness. this also is so long it can be considered a second part fuck. i know i took a whole month to write this, but i barely have free time to write nowadays and the times i do, i don’t have much inspiration. anyways this came out better than i expected so hope you guys enjoy.

in order to understand this ending, please read this first: her hidden crystal tears 

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In the first month you spent broken up with Tom, you, for once, felt at peace, with no burden of hiding relationships and denying feelings. You had forgotten how free living singly was. Within that month, you were able to reshape your life. Your grades began to improve, and your mental health had phenomenally developed for he better. Your friends had even gone out of their ways to help you with a "glow up."

Tom, on the other hand, had tried to shape him into a better person in hopes of salvaging your crumbling, if you could even call it that, relationship. He worked harder in class, and every time he saw you sitting in the lecture hall, you were surrounded by other classmates, giving him no place to fit in. He also started to distance himself from his old group of friends, looking for a better, influential group.

Tom couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart when he saw you walking with one other friend to class, laughing at something they said. He saw how your under eye-bags turned bright and how you shoulders straightened up after the breakup. It broke his heart to know the negative impact he had on you, which you never complained or spoke out about.

The brunette wanted to improve for you and himself.

How you ended up in a pair of high-waisted, black, denim shorts and a black bandeau with a sheer, cropped, long-sleeved shirt overtop you didn't know. After much begging and bothering, your friend had convinced you to go to the afterparty of the football game. You tried your best to deny their attempts but failed when they baited you with money.

This would be your first time attending a party, for you were always driven home and away from them. You couldn't deny, though, the chills that snaked down your spine at the mention of it.

Stepping into the house, you noticed how similar it looked to a fraternity. People were dancing, pushing their bodies against others and grinding their hips onto drunk partners. Other students were playing beer pong, stripping on tables, or resting on couches with a red, plastic cup in their hands. It smelled terribly of sweat and oversaturated body spray, making you gag on your breath.

"How do so many people like this?" You shouted over the pounding music and loud voices.

"How do you not?" You friend giggled, dragging you through the crowd.

Dodging and pushing people off of you, you gripped your friend's hand tightly, afraid of losing them.

"Where are we going?" You asked, eyes darting all over the place in uncertainty.

"Before we party, we've got to get drinks," they pushed the door of the kitchen open, revealing the alcohol infested space.

Scrambling over to the bulky cooler, they grabbed a can of beer, popping it open and downing it.

Flinching in disgust, you commented, "Don't you want to wash that, first?"

"What d'you mean? It looks perfectly clean to me," they shrugged, throwing you a can.

You clumsily captured the condensated drink, before putting it on the counter behind you, "I don't drink."

They groaned, "Why are you such a doormat? Come on," they nudged your shoulder, "Live a little."

You laughed, "I can "live a little" just fine with water."

"Ugh, fine. I'm guessing you also want to sit in a corner and become a hermit," they spoke, sarcastically.

"Actually," your eyes lit up, "I do."

"You," they pointed at you unsteadily, "annoy me, but since I already brought you along," their finger moved to point at an idle seat in the corner of a calmer room, "There."

You nodded, eyeing the isolated spot with glee. However, before your friend could escape into the crowd, you told them to stay safe and slipped away to occupy said seat. 

Although Tom no longer associated himself with his old group of friends, he couldn’t avoid them forever, as they were his teammates. Also, as the captain of the football team, it was practically an obligation for him to attend the after parties. 

Honestly, ever since you had broken up with Tom, he had developed a small fear of being whisked away by his fangirls and teammates, constantly thinking you were waiting in his car for him. His guilt had piled on top of his conscious, leaving him an insecure wreck.

Nevertheless, he stepped into the filled building, nodding and waving at familiar faces. One face he wasn’t expecting to see sat in the corner of the room was yours. 

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, he murmured to himself, “She’s not there, you idiot.”

“Tom, buddy,” a familiar voice hollered.

Through your peripheral vision, you swore that you saw his chocolate curls, but when you looked up from your phone, he had disappeared. Your eyes began to dart through the crowd of people, looking for the man you supposedly had gotten over.

Quickly realizing your mistake, you shunned yourself for willingly wrapping yourself around his little finger. You returned to scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself with the illuminated screen.

Tom watched as his teammate, and former friend, grabbed at a girl swaying her hips, pushing her ass against his friend’s crotch, into a grind. Suddenly feeling highly uncomfortable where he stood, he moved into the kitchen to grab a drink.

The room let in muffled sounds but ultimately was the quietest room in the building. The white LED lights left the room bright and easy to navigate, albeit the clusters of finished drinks and used cups littered on the counters and in the sink and overflowing out of the trashcan. 

The brunette drifted over to the fridge, locating the fresh water bottles hidden from other partygoers. 

Feeling quenched, you stood up from your seat, unwillingly. You looked for a quick and precise path to the kitchen, though you failed to do so. Deciding to extemporize it, you awkwardly squished your way through the crowd, mumbling “excuse me” and “sorry” periodically. 

Pushing the white-paint clad, wooden door open, you stumbled your way into the room, glaring at the sudden brightness engulfing your vision. 

Hearing the music and sound of people cheering grow louder, Tom turned around to see the oh-so familiar girl he had fallen infatuated with many months ago.

You stood, blinking your eyes as they tried to adapt to the sudden change of lighting. Groaning, your hands began massaging and harassing the poor skin of your eyelids. 

Your unnoticed ex, still stood in front of the fridge with a cool bottle of water in his hand, smiled at your adorable behaviour — widely contrasting your provocative outfit — watching as your cheeks puffed out in frustration. 

Feeling the haze leave your eyes, you looked ahead of you to see a silhouette emerging. Embarrassed, you blushed, looking down at your shoes. 

You felt a cool presence resting beside your cheek, and quickly looked at the item.

Water? You thought, confused.

Eyes trailing up the arm holding the bottle, your met with the sight of your former boyfriend smiling at you.

“Tom,” you breathed.

After avoiding and ignoring the boy for so many weeks, you already had forgotten how sweet he looked with a smile and soft blush grazing his cheeks. Maybe you hadn’t forgotten; you were just rarely, if ever, given the opportunity to admire it.

“Hey,” he responded, shyly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

You glanced at the bottle then back to Tom, silently asking what he was doing with it.

“O-Oh, I just thought you’d want a bottle of water, since you don’t drink, but if you do now, that’s totally cool too,” he rambled nervously, like a little boy talking to his crush on the playground. 

Although you had only broken up with him a bit over a month ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust taking the drink from him.

“Thanks, but I can get one myself. I’m sure you wanted to drink that too.” 

You gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile before walking past him to the fridge. Reaching into the cool container, you pulled out a frosted water bottle. 

The situation was strange. Everything felt so familiar but so different. It didn’t feel right to talk to each other like you knew how they slept in bed at night or how they loved warm cuddles on the couch as they binged shows and movies. 

“Look, Y/N,” Tom spoke up, breaking the tension with a breath, “I know that I was a jerk we were together. I also know that I neglected you. I shouldn’t have cared about what everyone else thought about our relationship. 

“Looking back, I understand why you were so frustrated with me, and you had every right to break up with me. I was a wuss that used protecting you as an excuse to keep you under covers. I reveled in the popularity and attention I got, back then.

“I’m different, now, though. I’m not saying you have to take me back. You don’t even have to consider it. All I want to do, right here, right now, is to apologize to you, so, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the anguish and sadness I caused. I’m sorry you had to waste your tears on me. I’m so fucking sorry, and if I have the slightest chance to even be your friend again, please let me take it.”

You felt a churning in your core, and tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You didn’t understand where your emotions arose from. You thought that you had moved on from Tom. You thought you had left him behind, left him in the shadows of your life. 

You turned around, hand reaching up to quickly wipe your tears away. That is, until a calloused hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t,” the accented voice choked, “It hurts me as much as it does you.”

Your words were caught in your throat. You tried to say something, anything, but nothing but sobs slipped your lips. 

Everything became a blur. You could only feel warmth enveloping you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, darling,” Tom murmured into your hair. 

After the encounter at the party, you and Tom went on with your life as normal. 

Although, nothing that happened that night could be considered normal. You cried while he held you tightly in his arms. He apologized for his faults and asked for a second chance, as a friend or more. You forgave him and gave him the chance. 

Will you ever want to have the same relationship you had with Tom as before? No.

You and Tom are working on building a better, healthier relationship for the both of you: an open and honest relationship that won’t be hidden from anyone, especially not his “fangirls.” 

“Don’t ever hide your tears again,” Tom whispered into your hair, “Let them flow.” His pointer finger gently lifts your chin, locking his eyes with your tear-filled ones. He brings his thumb to your cheek, wiping away the shining streaks of pain, sadness, desperation. 

“Let them flow because I’ll be here. I’ll be here to wipe them away every and any time.”

taglist: @big-galaxy-chaos @chloecreatesfictions-archive @dpaccione @cuddlykoala101 @tomshufflepuff @lmaotshollandd​ if you would like to be removed from the taglist, please send to my inbox

second part of "her hidden crystal tears" coming soon because my laptop was finally fixed !!!

Are you thinking of doing a second part to “her hidden crystal tears”?? Loved it.💘

hey! thank you so much for the support on my new fic. i’ve recently decided to make a change of plans for her hidden crystal tears. instead of writing a second part, similarly to my earlier fic, you lied, i will be writing two endings to it because personally, i like having an angsty ending but also like having a fluffy ending. i’m indecisive like that. i already have an idea submitted by an anon for the fluffy ending, so you should expect that sometime soon. good day, afternoon, or night! love you all ♡

Are you going to do a part 2 to her hidden crystal tears?

because everyone is asking, there will be a second part to her hidden crystal tears, but the release date has not been settled yet. thank you for your support xx

her hidden crystal tears

❧ synopsis: keeping a relationship under covers isn’t an easy feat. when a popular, successful jock of a college, who has many obsessive fans, dates an average student, they decide that it’s better to keep their relationship secret due to safety reasons, but when the jock starts to become more ignorant of how their s/o is feeling, what might happen to their barely stable relationship?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: angst

❧ warnings: lots of angst (?), petty girl fights technically harassment, crying, pent-up emotions, unhealthy coping

❧ a/n: this is an unedited fic, as always and I didn’t know how to end it because I had two endings in mind. I might write both endings (angst and fluff) or maybe I’ll let you guys suffer lmao I’m kidding I originally was writing a blurb about the reader hiding their emotions/hiding their tears by feigning happiness, but I ended up writing like a 2500+ word fic lmao. also if some shit seems wack, it’s because I posted this on my phone.

alternate fluff ending here: let them flow

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Swerving through the large crowd, you found yourself a seat on the filled bleachers, squeezing to fit in the front rows to spot your boyfriend. Looking about, you located your brunette partner jogging into the field arms raised in the air, pointing towards the crowd you were hidden in. He waved his hand mindlessly, eyes scanning the ocean of screaming schoolmates and “fangirls.” His gaze finally fell on you, and his face lit up, bringing a pink haze to your cheeks as he blew a kiss in your direction. The girls sat beside you screamed out, pretending to catch his kiss and sending one back. 

You and Tom decided to keep your relationship under covers, due to the overly obsessive “fangirls.” Both of you knew it would be the best option to keep you safe. If you were ever injured or threatened by one of his “fangirls,” Tom wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

Tom held the leather ball in the crook of his arm, with the other pushing his way through the attacking team. Calculating his success, he dove into a touchdown, scoring him and his team the winning point. 

The anticipating crowd jumped up, cheering loudly and hugging one another, whereas the visitor team’s crowd let out a loud, mutual sigh of disappointment. 

You jumped out of your seat, screaming out your lungs as you stared, wide-eyed, at your beaming boyfriend. His teammates had lifted him into the air, tossing him about. You giggled as he caught your eye, slyly winking at you. 

Lost in your own world, you almost ran down to where Tom was before you saw a hoard of girls jumping and reaching their arms out to grab at him. Frowning, you walked away from the crowd to retreat to the warmth of Tom’s car. 

You scrolled through the collection of images you and Tom had had together, warmly smiling at the memories. You let out a breathy laugh, selecting on one specific memory: Tom’s head laid on your lap, eyes shut, and lips puckered lightly as he let out even breaths. 

The car door beside you opened, shaking you out of your train of thought. 

“Hey,” your eyes were met with the blue pupils you weren’t expecting. 

“Haz?” You looked behind him, hoping to find your beloved boyfriend. 

“Tom — um — he told me to drive you back to the dorms, said he would be heading to the celebratory party,” Harrison explained, eyes shaking with concern and sympathy. 

“Oh, I understand,” your smile not quite making it to your eyes.

“He was being hoarded by his,” Haz hesitates, “fangirls. He didn’t want you to get involved.”

“It’s all good, Hazzy. No need to worry about me,” you let out a feigned laugh. 

You stepped into the warm building, waving Harrison goodbye. Another football victory, same schedule. 

You go to Tom’s game to support and cheer him on, Tom wins, you avoid him, Tom’s “fangirls” hoard him, you wait in Tom’s car, Harrison comes instead of Tom, Harrison brings you back to your dorm while Tom goes to his party, you fall asleep in your own arms: the ‘Tom’s football victory’ schedule, named and created by you. 

To say the least, you weren’t fond of the last half of the schedule. You always were left alone to celebrate Tom’s victory on your own, while Tom was doing who-knows-what at the afterparty. 

In full honesty, you were slowly growing tired of hiding your affection for one another. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold onto this style of dating. If the pair of you were going to date, you would date publicly and however you wanted, whether it meant risking your safety or not. Besides, you weren’t some helpless girl that doesn’t and can’t protect herself.

The next day, you woke up with an aching head and puffy eyes. Groaning, you looked into your mirror located at the corner of your room. You flinched at the sight of your pink, tear-stained cheeks and tangled, mop hair. Pushing yourself off the soft mattress, you stumbled into your bathroom, prepping a warm shower to start your day off fresh.

With your laptop and notebook resting in your arms, against your chest, you made your way to your next lecture. You walked sluggishly across the large campus, occasionally catching a glimpse of passing football team members. 

A specific group you walked past caught your attention. You saw the familiar brunette curls in your peripheral vision, immediately making you turn your gaze towards it. You saw his warm smile as he chuckled with his group of friends, some of his “fangirls” giggling along with the group. 

There Tom stood, laughing and joking about with his peers, radiating happiness. He was basking in the attention he received from his friends and “fans.” 

You tried to catch his eye, and you swore you did for a split second, but he only walked past you as if you weren’t even there. Not even a hidden smile or wink of acknowledgment was sent your way. 

Your walking came to a stop as you frowned at your boyfriend’s back. You wanted to shout out his name, call for his attention. You wanted to nuzzle into his chest, breathing in his scent. You wanted to look into his chocolate-pooled eyes, see the twinkle of adoration as he stared at you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything with Tom in public, for you were just another girl on campus, trying to get by, and Tom was the successful jock with a bright future ahead.

You walked into the large room, taking a seat, conveniently, in front of Tom. This time, you were the one to not spare him a single glance, albeit he probably wasn’t expecting or looking for one. 

You tried your best to listen and focus on the lecture, but the consistent whispers behind your back began to nag at your patience. You leaned your down further into your notes, as if it could fix the slowly kindling fire in you. Checking the clock, you saw that only five minutes of the lecture had passed, and your professor had barely said anything. 

“Five minutes? I swear it felt like half of the lecture had gone by. And the professor. I swear he had just said like tons of important information,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, catching a few students’ gazes. 

You gently pounded a fist into your temple, forcing your attention onto the lined sheets of paper on your desk. You expected to see notes, not illegible scribbles. You silently groaned, switching the sheet for a new, clean page. You took a deep breath and began jotting down the key points of the presentation that was being projected onto the large whiteboard. 

A feminine voice cleared their throat beside you, “Excuse me.”

You looked up from your work, a glare on your face as you were pulled out of your focus once again.

“Can I help you?” You asked, irritated. 

“Uh, yes, you can. You can help me by moving yourself to that seat over there,” she pointed at an empty seat across the room, “and giving this,” she placed her hand on the desk, atop you notes, “seat to me.”

You scoffed, “And why should I?”

“Oh, honey,” you cringed at the nickname, “Tommy, here,” she nodded towards Tom, “shouldn’t have to suffer by looking at your terrible hair. Like, honestly, do you even care for your looks?”

You were practically fuming in your seat, but to avoid trouble, you responded with a monotonous voice, “I’m sure “Tommy” can take care of himself. Spare us both the inconvenience, and go sit yourself on that empty seat because if you couldn’t tell, I’m occupying this spot.”

“Who do you think you are?” She shouted, hand crumpling your notes.

Furrowing your brows, you grabbed at your notes, hoping to spare them.

“Move your ugly ass before I kick you off this seat,” she threatened, pulling you by your hair.

The professor stopped talking, glaring at the pair of you. You took it as a sign to shut up and not fight back.

Fist clenching, nails creating red crescents in your palm, you stood up, pushing the girl off of you, ignoring her gasp. You grabbed your notes and laptop, turning to see if Tom would defend you, but when you saw his passive expression, you let out a quiet laugh of disappointment, carrying yourself to the back of the room. 

For the rest of the class, you stood in the back, writing your notes with blurry, tear-filled vision. Although you were still in shock due to the event that had unfolded minutes into the lecture, you wouldn’t let it falter how you were doing in school. 

As soon as you were dismissed, you bolted out of the room, heading to your safe haven on campus. 

Not many people, if any, knew about the hidden garden located within the campus’s vast park. You had only discovered it by accident when you were a freshman looking for your way around campus. 

The first thought you had when you walked in was that you were transported into a different dimension. Thinking back on it, you were naive to think that, but you were still justified. Anyone would think such a beautiful place couldn’t belong to the aggressivity and rashness of this world. The variant shades of light green and pastel pink flowers growing between the weeds of grass gave the place a heavenly feeling, followed by the mist that sparkled under the sunlight. 

You dropped yourself at the thick tree’s stump, letting your notes and laptop slip out of your grasp. You cried into your knees, pouring out all of your stresses. Your breaths were short and heaved, occasional hiccups bubbling from your lips. Your sobs slowly lulled you closer to sleep, emotional and physical fatigue catching up to you. That is, until you heard the recognizable clang of the door handle hitting against the wooden door.

“Darling,” the accented voice you longed to hear spoke up.

Quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling away any evidence of your sorrow, you stood up, “Tommy!” A feigned smile lay on your supple skin as you ran over to your boyfriend, embracing him in your arms, “What’s up?”

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t speak up for you during class. I should’ve told that girl to get her hands off you,” he stroked your hair, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?” 

Letting a pained giggle out, you shook your head, “Nope, I’m fine. You know how strong I am.”

“I really, really did want to speak up, but you know that we should keep our relationship under covers, for your sake,” he spoke gently, placing a kiss on your head.

You scowled into his shirt but kept up your cheerful facade, chirping, “Mhm, safety.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he sighed. His hold on you weakened, “I should get going, though. The group will start to wonder where I’ve gone.”

You frowned, pulling away from him.

“Don’t be like that, darling,” he cooed, “I’ll come over tonight. Don’t worry.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “Of course, as you always do.”

His brows furrowed at your sudden mood shift, “What are you on, darling?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirp, hopping back to the tree, collecting your notes and laptop. “Go ahead, meet with your friends. Leave me behind like you always do,” you murmur the last half.

“Love?” His voice neared you, and you barely registered the stray tears betraying you, rolling down your peachy cheeks. 

Quickly bringing up a hand to wipe the wetness away, you keep your back facing Tom.

“Shouldn’t you be going? Don’t want your friends to worry,” you laughed, lightly. A hand placed itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact startling you. “You scared me, Tommy. You shouldn’t do that,” you giggle, hiding your true emotions, “You know how easily scared I am.”

“Darling, can you look at me?” He asked, quietly, concern lacing his tone. 

“What for, Tommy?” You inquired, nervously laughing.

“You’re acting quite… strange,” he explained.

“No need to worry about me, bubs. I’m as peachy as always,” you quipped, shoulders bouncing in emphasis.

“I’m giving you one more chance to turn, or I will do it for you,” he said, sternly. 

You stayed, unmoving, forcing Tom to turn you with his raw strength. At first, you tried to fight it, but you came to the revelation that there was no way you could overpower him.

When you met his warm, liquid eyes, you felt your own tear up, and suddenly, your shoes were an intriguing sight. 

“Baby, please look at me,” he whispered, hands rubbing up and down your arms.

You shook your head in denial, trying to keep your weakness hidden.

“It breaks me to see you this way,” he lifted your face with a finger to your chin. His thumb moved to wipe away your crystal tears.

“Then leave,” you hissed, weakly.

“W-What?” Tom stuttered at the unforeseen reply.

“I’m tired, Tom. I’m tired of hiding, of you ignoring me and me, you. How long are we going to do this? It’s so stupid, all of it,” you dropped your head again, this time of fatigue.

“B-But, you know why we’re doing this-” you cut him off.

“I know, and I can’t help but think that this was a stupid choice,” you motioned between the two of you, “You’re barely around me, and on campus, you don’t even acknowledge me. On the slim chance I do have you to myself, it can only last for so long. At this point, it feels like we’re not even together.”

“I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” Fear filled his eyes as the pit in his stomach became more and more noticeable.

“I think it would be better if-” you stuttered in a breath, “if we took a break.”

“Why? Just because we’re hiding our relationship? You know why I- we chose to keep it secret,” he rushed out his words, hands gripping yours.

“Do I? Do I really? Today was display enough that even though we act like we don’t know each other, I’ll still get harassed by those “fans” of yours. Not to mention, you saw it all unravel, and what did you do? Nothing. There’s no practicality to keeping our relationship hidden because either way, some “fans” will go overboard no matter who the person. Also, I think I showed that I can defend myself from crazy people when I pushed that girl off of me today,” you spoke, ferocity and resentment spurring you on.

“I know I messed up when I didn’t help you, but I thought about our relationship-” you scoffed.

“So what? Even if we weren’t in a relationship, you should’ve helped a girl out. Especially when she’s getting harassed because of you,” you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Tell me how to make it better. I want to make it better. Don’t end us, please,” he begged, gripping your hand tighter.

“Stop, Tom. I told you that I want to take a break. Besides, it won’t be any different to how our normal relationship is,” you laughed. Pulling your arm out of his grasp, you walked away, “Now, I won’t have to waste any tears on you anymore.”

shit,,, I forgot it was Valentines Day... well, um Happy late Valentines Day :DD

Hey, it’s me again. For the part two of ‘her blood-stained bodysuit’ where the reader is still upset about tom expecting to high of her, the next morning tom noticed it and try make it up to her..? Something like that... or you can make it your own way 😊 thank you in advance

her blood-stained bodysuit pt. 2

❧ prompt: all you wanted was to help your mobster boyfriend. you never expected your plan to go all wrong and result in failure. when you return home with blood soaking your suit and drying in your hair, how does Tom react?

❧ pairing: mob!tom x assassin!reader

❧ genre: angst, fluff

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, slamming a glass cup onto a counter (?), mentions of insecurity

❧ a/n: i got a backup laptop babies! it’s not actually mine but i’m going to get mine fixed soon :)) hopefully this part lived up to your standards, anon. i tried to make it angsty-er than the first part since someone reposted it saying it wasn’t as angsty as they expected. i didn’t find it as an insult because i took it more in a constructive criticism way. anyways, enjoy!

part 1!

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You flinched awake, placing a palm at the side of your head. Your eye shut in pain, letting out a shaking breath. You looked ahead of you, stabilizing yourself, before using both of your arms to push yourself up into a sitting position. Beside you, you heard the sheets rustling and felt movement beneath them. You froze in your spot, turning to face the sleeping figure.

Tom laid peacefully, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. His steady breathing filled the radio silent room. Flashes of the night before filled your mind, Tom’s voice ringing in your ears. 

“It’s so unlike you to be so reckless.“

“I expected you to know better.”

You let out an audible huff, forcing your aching off the bed. Your blistered feet touched the cool floor, relaxing your tense body. Quietly, you made your way to the bathroom with an occasional limp. 

Looking yourself over in the mirror, you took note that you looked like a mess: (h/c) hair a tangled mop, dry, cracked lips, and bruises littered your figure. You winced at the sight and began towards the shower. 

Stepping into the warm, fog-filled cubicle, you sighed as the warm water relaxed your tight muscles. Your arms wrapped around your torso, holding yourself as your hair flattened against your scalp. You let a hand fall to your thigh, fingertips dancing along the hem of your waterproof bandage.

Sighing, you stepped into the empty gym. You closed the door behind you, pulling off your large, black jacket. You placed the piece onto the bench, sitting beside it to put on your black tennis shoes.

The gym was a sad room at those hours. The hours when everyone was still asleep or slowly awakening, when the rising sun was concealed by the overwhelming fog. Through the teal-tinted glass, the opaque light in the room was faint, shadows hiding in the corners of the room. The air was still, an occasional shift when there was the slightest of movements. 

A chill ran down your spine, as you shook, and goosebumps slowly arose from your soft skin. Rubbing your arms for warmth, you grabbed the black hair tie and pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail.

You worked hard for the next couple of hours, pushing yourself over your limit. Occasionally, you stopped when you felt a sharp pain in your thigh or your vision spun you off balance. 

After another shower, you made your way into the kitchen, smelling of fresh soap. You grabbed a glass of water, chugging the cup in one go. You leaned against the island of your kitchen, staring out the large window and at the gorgeous scenery of trees. 

“I’ve done everything I can to be the top,” you spoke, quietly, “Where did I go wrong?” 

“G’morning, darling,” Tom’s groggy voice filled your ears, as you felt him place a gentle kiss to your temple. 

You flinched back at the sudden contact, strangely alert to your surroundings. 

“Sorry. Did I touch your wound?” A concerned hand came up to your face, gently moving your hair behind your ear.

Shaking your head, you moved towards the stove, thinking about ways to improve yourself on the field. Just as an idea popped in your head, his voice came up again. 

“It’s so unlike you to be so reckless.“

“I expected you to know better.”

Your head snapped up, and you looked behind you. “What’d you say?” You asked with a venomous tone.

“I just asked if you were feeling better, love,” he walked up to you and placed an arm around your waist, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Maneuvering out of his grasp, you replied, “Yes, I’m fine. I don’t need to be babied, Tom. I just have a lot going on in my mind.”

Concerned, Tom pushed further, “You know you can tell me anything.”

Frustrated, you harshly put down the glass in your hand, almost shattering it against the counter. 

Tom flinched.

“Look, I’m just really tired and sore and frustrated, right now. If you could just leave me alone for a few minutes, maybe I’ll feel like putting up with you later,” you snapped, walking out of the room, leaving him no time to speak.

As expected, he followed after you, wondering what had gone wrong. He thought back to the night before, trying to remember if your attitude could possibly be a symptom of the medications you took. Shaking his head, he reflected the argument the pair of you had.

That must be it, he nodded to himself.

Unknowingly, you lead him to the gym, but when he tried to pull the door open, the glass wouldn’t budge. From within, he heard your gentle grunts and soft breaths, leading him to the conclusion of you exercising. Thinking to the injuries you had returned with, he began to worry and panic for you and your health.

What were you thinking? What if you injure yourself further? Why aren’t you prioritizing your health? Tom thought, growing frustrated, mostly at himself.

His fist banged on the glass, head spinning with negative thoughts, “Darling, you need to let yourself rest. You’ll only hurt yourself more if you push yourself over your limit.”

You heard the faint murmur of his shouts but decided to ignore it. If you were stronger, you wouldn’t be in the position you were in: a limp in your walk, ache in your thigh, and an occasional blur to your vision.

Stepping onto the treadmill, you dialed the speed to 5 miles per hour to start as a warm up. Within a minute, you pushed yourself to a run at 6 miles per hour, then to a sprint at 7. You were panting for air, sweat dripping down your face.

 You could still hear Tom’s protests, angering you further. 

Unsatisfied that you could still hear the noises in your environment, you brought the speed up to 7.5 miles per hour, a sharp pain slowly becoming more and more noticeable in your thigh. The blood that rushed to your ears drowned out anything and everything you didn’t want to hear.

Barely any time had passed when the faint pain in your leg began to feel like someone was constantly pressing on your wound. Additionally, your head was pounding, and your vision was growing blurrier by every passing minute. 

You brought a hand up to your forehead, fingers pressing into your temples, attempting to massage the pain away. Unfortunately, the pain stayed, and if anything, increased tenfold. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, arms grasping at the hand supports of the treadmill.

Before you knew it, your vision turned black, and the sensation of your body getting thrown into the air was all you felt before you went unconscious.

-

After too many attempts, Tom was able to successfully break the lock of the gym door. Hearing you continuously and vigorously increase the speed of the conveyor belt made him move in haste, leading to his multiple failures. He was too worried about your wellbeing to think straight.

As he stepped into the room, he saw your hands fall limp by your side, and your body rocked to the side, off balance. With wide eyes, he ran to your slipping figure before you could make contact with the hard floor.

“Darling? Love? Are you alright? Please answer me,” he cried, looking at the pain-etched face of yours.

Not receiving a response, he quickly stood, carrying you bridal style in his arms and back into your shared bedroom.

-

You rolled your head to the side, hearing a rustling beneath you. Your body felt overheated, aching to feel even the slightest of breezes.

As you began to move your leg to kick the thick duvet off your body, you flinched in pain, reflexively grabbing said leg to support it.

“Don’t move. You’ll only make it hurt more,” a gentle voice explained from behind you.

Consumed by your pain, you hadn’t even noticed you were tucked in your bed, back in your shared bedroom. 

The familiar brunette you had spent the day trying to ignore protruded from the shadows, eyes quivering and shining with tears.

“What happened?” You asked, throat oddly hoarse.

“You overworked yourself. You fainted whilst running,” he explained, “I was so fucking worried, darling. I almost lost you,” he shook his head, “No, I could’ve lost you, but I didn’t. I’m so lucky to have opened that door before you hit the ground.” A few tears began to leak out of the inner corners of his chocolate eyes as he thought of the scenario of him not saving you in time.

“It’s all my fault,” he let out a loud so, “If I hadn’t said that you weren’t good enough or that you were too reckless, you wouldn’t be here,” he placed a hand onto the bed, “in this wretched bed, resting as you are now. Your thigh wouldn’t be bleeding out, right now, if I hadn’t insulted you out of frustration and worry. I wasn’t—” he hiccuped, “I didn’t have my head on straight. If I did, I would’ve been more generous and not passive to you. You were only trying to help me, and all I repaid you with were insults.”

Pitifully looking at your boyfriend, you moved a weak arm to his hand, tugging him down onto his knees. You patted his curled locks, giving him the best smile you could muster.

“I know you were concerned for me, but what you said really hurt me. You know how,” you thought for a proper word for a moment, “insecure I can be about my abilities in this field. There’s so much— too much competition in my industry and having to keep up this perfect, high-leveled assassin façade is taking a toll on my mental health.”

Tom’s eyes shook with despair. He never knew you felt this way. He’d never want you to have to deal with your hardships alone.

“But, because of you, I’ve been trying my best and pushing myself over so many of my limits to make me the best I can be. I mean, you’re one of the most powerful mobsters to be, so it would only make sense if I were one of the most successful and strongest assassin, right?”

Shaking his head, he cried, “No, not if it means breaking yourself apart and tearing your morale into pieces.” He grabbed both your small hands, enclosing them in his. He looked straight into your eyes, sniffling away his tears, “I don’t care whether you’re number one or number 3 billion. All I care about is your happiness and wellbeing. I want you to live your best life with me. I want you to feel like you can trust me and come to me whenever you need me because I am here. I will continue to be here through thick and thin. I love you. Not because you’re one of the most skilled assassins, not because you’re someone I can flaunt to others, but because you are the most beautiful, talented, intelligent, lovable person I know. I wouldn’t exchange you for the world.” 

This time, Tom’s eyes didn’t sparkle because of his sorrowful tears, they twinkled because of his love and adoration towards you and only you.

“I-I love you, too, Tommy, and I promise that I’ll come to you whenever I need you,” you placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You can also come to me anytime as well,” you blushed.

“Thank you, love,” he tilted his head, smiling, thumb stroking the blush on your cheeks.

“Thank you, bubs, for having my back and understanding me and putting up with me.”

Pulling on his arm, you dragged him into bed with you to cuddle. He stumbled as he focused on avoiding touching your injuries.

That night you fell asleep in each other’s arms, an unbreakable bond connecting the two of you. You understood him, and he, you.

All left of that tragic night from before had dissipated into nothingness, except for her blood-stained bodysuit.

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