#TomCavanagh

[kaechan]

MERRY EARLY FUCKING CHRISTMAS TO ME! HELLLLOOOOO SANTA BABY!?

[freshthoughts2020]

KID FLASH

by

Jaevonn™

[atommadly]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐗𝐘𝐆𝐄𝐍

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Tom Cavanagh x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Pure fluff, asthma attack

𝘎𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦.

Masterlist

It was cold but sunny, the kind of winter day you always loved. The world outside was coated in a delicate layer of frost, painting the landscape a pale white. The sunlight hit the frost, causing everything to shimmer like there were sparkles scattered everywhere, creating a scene straight out of a winter fairy tale.

It was the perfect kind of day to start decorating for Christmas, and this year, it felt even more special. Tom had taken the week off, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he was all yours. Nothing could have made you happier. Christmas had always been your favorite time of year, filled with warmth, light, and love. It was one of the rare moments where you and Tom could slow down, escape from the hectic pace of your lives, and simply enjoy being together.

"Watch out!" Tom called out as he entered the kitchen, his arms laden with three large cardboard boxes. "Where should I put these?"

"Over there, by the table," you answered, suppressing a laugh as you watched him struggle to keep the boxes from tipping over.

Tom had gone to fetch the old decorations from the attic. His shirt was already soaked with sweat from running up and down between the third floor and the ground floor, each trip seeming to take its toll. His face was flushed, and a few strands of his hair clung to his forehead as he carefully set the last box down with a relieved sigh.

"I think that's all of them," he panted, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"Perfect," you smiled, stepping over to him.

You couldn’t resist; you reached up to push a stray lock of hair from his forehead. His cheeks were still flushed from the exertion, and a light sheen of sweat covered his neck. You had to bite back a giggle—he looked so endearingly tired.

"Go change, cool off a bit. I'll wait for you so we can start," you said softly.

Tom leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual before he disappeared into your shared bedroom to change.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you turned your attention to the Christmas tree you had picked out together. It was perfectly sized—not too tall, but full and lush, just how you liked it. Standing there, you gazed at the tree and began mentally planning where each ornament would go. You were already eager to start, but the anticipation felt unbearable. Without thinking too much about it, you snuck a peek inside one of the boxes, hoping Tom wouldn’t notice your impatience.

Inside, there were the familiar ornaments, carefully wrapped and stored away. But one in particular caught your eye. It was nestled in the corner of the box, the soft glow of its glitter reflecting the faint sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. With a smile, you gently lifted it from the box and carefully walked over to the tree, the memories flooding in as you held the ornament in your hands.

This particular ornament had a special place in your heart. It wasn’t just any decoration—it was the one you and Tom had picked out together during your first Christmas as a couple. You remembered how the two of you had wandered through the crowded holiday market, the air crisp and cold, wrapped in scarves and gloves, laughing as you searched for the perfect ornament. When you found this one, an elegant glass ball with gold and silver accents, you both knew it had to be the one. You’d laughed at how sentimental it seemed at the time, but now it felt like a symbol of everything you had shared and everything you had yet to share.

You traced your fingers over the smooth surface of the ornament, feeling the tiny grooves where the paint had been applied with such care. A nostalgic warmth spread through you as you smiled at the memories—the way Tom had grinned when he held it up to the light, the way he’d said it was “perfect” before carefully wrapping it in tissue paper to bring home.

Tom reappeared, looking fresh and relaxed in a comfortable sweater, his hair slightly tousled from changing. He took one look at the tree and then at you, his eyes softening as he smiled.

"I thought you were waiting for me?" Tom’s voice came from behind you, and you jumped slightly, turning around with a guilty smile tugging at your lips.

He stepped closer, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, his chest pressing gently against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against the chill of the room.

"I couldn’t resist," you murmured, your fingers tracing over the surface of the ornament you had been holding. "You know how much I love Christmas."

"I know," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You felt the warmth of his breath and his closeness, a sense of comfort settling over you.

"Look what I found," you said, lifting the ornament for him to see. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the smile that spread across it.

"Our first Christmas," he said quietly, the words carrying a quiet reverence, as if they held more meaning than just a simple sentence.

Together, you placed the ornament on the tree, positioning it with a tenderness that spoke to how much it meant to both of you. You stood there for a while, gazing at the little decoration, the memories it carried, and the love it symbolized.

After a long moment, Tom kissed you softly on the lips before pulling away to fetch the rest of the decorations. One by one, you adorned the tree, hanging baubles and lights, each one a new addition to the growing beauty of your home. It felt like magic, and every decoration you placed on the tree was a small piece of your shared story.

But then, halfway through unpacking the last of the boxes, you suddenly felt it. A tightness in your chest, a slight dizziness that made it hard to breathe. You tried to shake it off, thinking it was just a momentary discomfort, but it didn’t pass. Your breath began to come in shallow bursts, and you found yourself struggling to get enough air. You glanced at Tom from the corner of your eye, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but the panic was starting to grow inside you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You took deeper breaths, hoping that would help, but it only seemed to make the sensation worse. Your chest tightened painfully, and your vision started to blur. You didn’t want to worry him, so you tried to focus on the decorations, hoping the episode would pass. But as you inhaled again, the lack of air hit you like a cold wave.

And then, in a moment of overwhelming weakness, you dropped the ornament in your hand. It hit the floor with a sharp crack, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. You gasped, your chest tightening further, but before you could even react, Tom was by your side in an instant.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice filled with concern, cupping your face in his hands to steady you. His gaze darted over your face, searching for any sign of what was happening. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?"

You shook your head, still struggling to catch your breath. Your body felt weak, your knees trembling as you reached out to steady yourself, but everything seemed to spin.

"Tom... I can’t... breathe," you managed to gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. The panic in your chest was growing, each breath becoming more and more shallow.

Tom’s expression shifted immediately, his worry deepening. "Okay, okay. We need to get you to the couch," he said, gently but firmly guiding you toward the living room.

You tried to stand, but your legs felt as though they might give out beneath you. Tom’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as he led you to the couch, his touch reassuring but filled with urgency. He sat you down and knelt in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart ache.

"Is it another attack?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

You could only nod, your lungs fighting against you. The asthma attacks had been happening more frequently lately, and every time they did, it felt harder to regain control. Your breathing was shallow, and you could feel the tightness in your chest threatening to overwhelm you.

"The... dust..." you managed to gasp between labored breaths. "It... triggered it."

Tom’s eyes widened in understanding. Without another word, he moved swiftly into action. He stood up, his mind already working to solve the problem. He dashed up the stairs, moving with an urgency that told you how much he hated seeing you like this. Moments later, he returned with your inhaler in hand.

He placed it gently into your hands, his eyes watching you closely as you took a quick puff, trying to calm the panic inside. It didn’t work immediately, but it was a start. Tom moved around the room, opening the windows wide. He worked quickly, creating a draft in an attempt to clear the air, his focus entirely on you. The breeze flowed in, swirling the dust from the room, but Tom didn’t stop there. He went to work, closing the cartons, making sure nothing else could trigger your breathing issues.

As he moved through the room, his calmness was the only thing that anchored you, and despite the struggle, a small piece of you relaxed. The sense of urgency in his every movement was comforting, knowing that he cared so deeply. When he was sure that the dust was gone and the air was cleaner, he closed the windows and came back to sit beside you.

"Feeling better?" His voice was soft, but there was a sense of relief in it now that he could see you were starting to breathe easier. His hand rested gently on your back, soothing you with slow, steady motions.

"Yeah... still a little labored, but it's better," you replied with a faint smile, your voice hoarse but filled with gratitude.

Tom’s gaze softened as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. The warmth of his lips against your skin was grounding, as though his touch could heal all the lingering anxiety.

You could feel the worry in him, even though he didn’t say a word. He always felt so helpless when you had these attacks, but you knew that his presence, his care, was the most comforting thing in the world. His quiet strength made you feel safe, even in moments like this, when your body betrayed you.

"You're okay now," he said quietly, his voice full of tenderness as he rubbed your back gently. "I’m not going anywhere."

"Thank you," you smiled at him, your voice still a little shaky from the ordeal. "I'm sorry for ruining our moment."

Tom immediately shook his head, his warm gaze never leaving yours. "No, you didn’t ruin anything. We can finish the decorations later. I'll clean everything up before you use them."

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he cut you off before you could say a word, already knowing what you were going to say.

"That way, you won't have another attack," he insisted gently, his voice firm yet caring, rendering you silent. His determination was always one of the things you admired most about him. "In the meantime, how about we watch a Christmas movie?"

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart swelling with gratitude. You looked at him, deeply moved, as you saw nothing but tenderness and care in his eyes. This man—Tom—was perfect in ways you never thought possible. More than that, you realized just how deeply you loved him, more than you could ever truly express with words.

"Thank you so much, Tom," you whispered, the words barely enough to contain the depth of your feelings. "You're my oxygen."

Tom’s eyes softened at your words, and he offered you a simple, sincere smile that melted your heart. There was no need for anything grand in response, because this—right here, right now—was everything you could have ever wanted.

He reached for the remote control, his movements steady and sure, then grabbed a soft blanket from the back of the couch. As he tucked it around the two of you, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth that went beyond the physical comfort of the fabric. It was the warmth of being loved, of knowing you were safe in his arms.

As the movie began to play, you nestled closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling his steady presence beside you. The world outside seemed to pause for a moment. No rushing, no stress, just the peaceful, quiet comfort of being together. You closed your eyes, content and at ease, knowing that with Tom by your side, you could face anything—any challenge, any hardship, and even the most unexpected of moments.

And as you lay there, wrapped in his love and warmth, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the real magic of the season—love, support, and the simple joy of being together.

[arkhadiaravenblack]

Last december, this once two-legged wanderer met this incredible triple threat and human being. Thank you, Mr. @cavanaghtom, it was a pleasure to finally meet you! #TomCavanagh #TheFlashCW #HarrisonWells #StarLabs #HarrisonWells #Ed #Scrubs #VanHelsing #GCC2022 #GCCDortmund #GermanComicConDortmund2022 https://www.instagram.com/p/CpFUEf8LNYf/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[heavenboy09]

10 YEARS AGO TODAY, ON OCTOBER 7TH 2014

WARNER BROS TELEVISION 📺, THE CW , & DC COMICS PRESENTS

BASED ON THE ICONIC DC COMICS'S OF

THE WORLD'S FASTEST SUPERHERO ⚡

CREATED BY ROBERT KANIGHER

THE 1ST SPIN-OFF SERIES & THE BEGINNING OF THE ARROWVERSE 🏹

A YOUNG BOY WITNESSED A MYSTERIOUS & TERRIFYING EVENT IN HIS LIFE

THE DEATH OF HIS OWN MOTHER 👩

& THE FALSE ACCUSATIONS OF HIS FATHER BEING FRAMED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS MOTHER 👩

THE ONLY MAIN SUSPECT OF THIS EVENT WHO CAUSED IT ALL

WAS A RUNNING MAN WHO WAS IN THE FORM OF LIGHTNING 🌩 ⚡

THIS YOUNG BOY TOLD HIS STORY OVER & OVER AGAIN.

BUT NO ONE BELIEVED

FOR YEARS. HE HAS TRIED REALLY HARD TO FREE HIS FATHER FOR THE WRONGFUL CRIME HE NEVER COMMITTED

NOW MANY YEARS LATER

IN THE HEART OF THE GREAT METROPOLITAN KNOWN AS

CENTRAL CITY

LIES

A HERO FASTER ⚡️🏃‍♂️THAN A SPEEDING BULLET

& HE IS NO MAN OF STEEL

FAST LIKE LIGHTNING 🌩

& AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT.

THIS HERO WAS STRUCK BY A BOLT OF LIGHTNING 🌩 ⚡️

A FORENSIC SCIENTIST/ NOW A SUPERPOWERED META-HUMAN

IS NOW KNOWN AS

THE FASTEST MAN ALIVE ⚡🔴⚡️

HIS DESTINY, HIS CALLING, HIS WORLD 🌎 IS ABOUT TO CHANGE.

AS OUR HERO VENTURES & BRINGS JUSTICE ⚖ TO HIS FAIR CITY.

HE WILL BE AIDED BY ALLIES BY HIS SIDE, TO HELP STOP NEW & UNSPEAKABLE THREATS TO HIS CITY & THE WORLD 🌎

BUT , THE MYSTERY STILL REMAINS

WHO KILLED BARRY ALLEN'S MOTHER 👩

SOON .... OUR HERO OF LIGHTNING SPEED WILL COME TO SEE. THAT A MONSTER 👹 OF THE PAST

IS IN THE MIDST OF HIS LIFE RIGHT NOW

& SOON THE VILLIAN WHO MURDERED HIS MOTHER

WILL BE REVEALED ...

WARNER BROS TELEVISION 📺, THE CW, & DC COMICS PRESENTS

THE 1ST OFFICIAL FASTEST SUPERHERO OF ALL TIMES

IS

BACK

RUNNING

IN A FLASH ⚡

MY NAME IS BARRY ALLEN

& I AM THE FASTEST MAN ALIVE

I

AM

THE FLASH ⚡🔴🏃‍♂️

HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TO WARNER BROS TELEVISION 📺, THE CW , & DC COMICS

THE FLASH ⚡🔴🏃‍♂️

#TheFlash #BarryAllen #IrisWest #JoeWest #CiscoRamon #CaitlinSnow #ProfessorHarrisonWells #EobardThawne #EddieThawne #WallyWest #HenryAllen #NoraAllen #CecileHorton #RalphDibny #NoraWestAllen #BartWestAllen #AllgeraGarcia #ChesterPRunk #TheReverseFlash #GrantGustin #CandicePatton #JesseLMartin #CarlosValdes #DaniellePanabaker #TomCavanagh #KeiynanLonsdale #JohnWesleyShipp #MichelleHarrison #DanielleNicolet #HartleySawyer #JessicaParkerKennedy #JordanFisher #KaylaCompton #BrandonMcKnight #MattLetscher #CentralCity #TheFastestManAlive #RunBarryRun #SpeedForce #ArrowVerse #IAmTheFlash #WarnerBrosTelevision #TheCW #DCComics

[cksdays]

On second glance

Just defending my couch potato status #Ed #TomCavanagh #JulieBowen

I’m not sure how it happened. For some reason, the tv show Ed (2000-2004) awoke in my conscious again. I remembered I watched it when it was on NBC but I don’t think I finished watching it until the finale. Although I’m not 100% sure I watched the finale but that is something I like to do. So, that part is an assumption. The only thing I could remember about it was the plot involved a guy named…

[countless-dreamsss]

I literally only made this because of Harry

[unblogparaloschicos]

Cine: Breakfast With Scot (2007)

Eric McNally (Tom Cavanagh) es, así en la cancha como en el estudio televisivo en el que comenta acerca del hockey sobre hielo, su gran pasión, un tipo duro. Su único miedo es que en el medio en el que trabaja se descubra que el tal Sam (Ben Shenkman) no es el abogado que cada tanto viene a visitarlo sino su pareja. 

Salvo este pequeño detalle, podría afirmarse que tiene la vida soñada. Pero, sorpresas del destino, debe hacerse cargo de un niño, hijo del hermano de Ben, que ha quedado huérfano tras la muerte de su madre. A Eric no le van mucho los niños, pero no puede hacer nada al respecto. Hasta que se topa con éste, tan peculiar que usa crema para manos, usa vestuario de colores llamativos, le encantan los musicales, canta villancicos... y le dice al vecinito de enfrente que quiere besarle.

Esta película plantea una cuestión muy interesante: ¿Cuánta homofobia reprimida puede subyacer aun en una persona homosexual? La idea de que Scot (Noah Bernett) sea gay lo intranquiliza: le molesta su mohines afeminados, que le diga a todo el mundo que él y Ben son pareja o que sólo quiera ir de compras. Y, para su sorpresa, el muchachito termina accediendo a participar del equipo de hockey sobre hielo que guía.

Adaptación canadiense del libro homónimo de Michael Downing y dirigido por Laurie Lynd, esta comedia amable y rebosante de una bienintencionada ternura también cuenta con la participación de Graham Greene (Bud Wilson), Dylan Everett (el vecinito Ryan Burlington), Alexander Franks (su mejor amigo Joey Morita) o Colin Cunningham (Billy, el padre más que ausente). 

[kdramasforever97]

Me, after watching the new episode of the The Flash:

[rukii-imagine]

[tomcavanaghsblog]

Eobard in S4E7

[kaechan]

Glenn Shaw - Tom Cavanagh - Mistletoe Murders

[freshthoughts2020]

Original Sketch, circa 2017.

9' x 12', Free Shipping + Framed. + Certificate of Authenticity!

When Original is Sold, Don't Worry Limited Prints are available!

Select the print option while on the page.

[atommadly]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Tom Cavanagh x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | just pure fluff

𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧���𝘭𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘶𝘱. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘛𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

Masterlist

The sky hung low, an oppressive blanket of gray clouds that seemed to press down on everything below, heavy with the promise of more rain. The air was bitterly cold, a damp chill that seeped through every layer and burrowed into your bones. Hugging your long coat tighter, you shivered at the edge of the set, feeling like the human embodiment of misery. The drizzle was relentless—not heavy enough to stop filming, but persistent enough to make everyone uncomfortable.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to coax some warmth into your freezing limbs. Your superhero costume, sleek and designed for aesthetics rather than practicality, was utterly useless against the elements. Every gust of wind seemed to slice right through the fabric, and you clenched your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering.

Not far away, Grant stood in his Flash suit, visibly bracing himself against the cold. When your eyes met, the two of you shared a silent look of mutual suffering.

“How are we not filming this in a studio?” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Grant’s lips twitched into a tight, understanding smile. “Good question,” he replied, but before he could say more, the director waved him over for adjustments. He offered you a quick, sympathetic shrug. “Hang in there.”

You sighed heavily, pulling your coat even tighter around yourself. Your gaze wandered over the bustling crew resetting props and adjusting the lighting for the next shot. The scene you were about to film was pivotal—high drama, deep emotion—but all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to crawl under a blanket with a steaming cup of tea.

“Hey,” a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, soft but warm enough to chase away some of the chill.

You turned to see Tom approaching, his long coat zipped up snugly, hands tucked into his pockets. His breath formed little clouds in the icy air, and his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold. Despite the weather, he looked far more composed than you felt.

“You look like you’re about to turn into a popsicle,” he said, stopping a few steps away.

You forced a laugh, though it came out shaky thanks to the trembling in your jaw. “What gave it away?”

Tom tilted his head, his sharp blue eyes scanning you with a mixture of concern and amusement. “Probably the shivering,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” you lied, though the way your teeth chattered on the last word immediately betrayed you.

You had met Tom during the first season, back when everything was new—your character, your costume, the long hours on set. He was already seasoned, bringing an air of confidence and professionalism to the role of the enigmatic Harrison Wells. You, on the other hand, were navigating your first major TV gig, trying not to let your nerves show.

Your first conversation had been over coffee at craft services. You’d reached for the last muffin at the same time he did.

“Go ahead,” he’d said, pulling his hand back with a small smile.

“Thanks,” you’d replied, though you’d felt self-conscious under the weight of his sharp blue eyes. He’d lingered for a moment, then asked, “First day?”

You’d nodded, and from that moment, he had taken you under his wing. He’d guided you through blocking, talked you through the quirks of green screen acting, and even cracked a joke or two to lighten the mood.

Over time, your bond deepened. Between late-night shoots and long rehearsal days, you found yourselves gravitating toward each other. He had this way of noticing when you were overwhelmed, of stepping in with a kind word or a shared laugh to ease your tension. Meanwhile, you discovered the softer edges beneath his reserved demeanor—a dry sense of humor, a surprising love for cheesy sci-fi movies, and a deep respect for the craft of acting.

By the second season, you were friends—close friends. The kind of friendship where you could finish each other’s sentences, trade snarky remarks, and share knowing looks across the set. Yet, there was always something unspoken lingering between you, a tension just shy of romantic. Neither of you crossed that line, whether out of professionalism or fear of ruining what you already had.

Now, as Tom stood in front of you, unzipping his coat and holding it open, you felt that tension flare up again.

“Come here.”

You blinked at him, startled. “What?”

“You’re freezing,” he said matter-of-factly. “Come on.”

You hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. The crew was busy resetting props, and Grant was still deep in conversation with the director.

“Y/N,” Tom said gently, his voice drawing your gaze back to him. “You’ll warm up faster if you stop trying to tough it out. Just—come here.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, a mix of concern and insistence, that made you relent. You stepped forward, and he wrapped his coat around you, pulling you against his chest.

The sudden warmth was overwhelming after the relentless cold, and you let out a soft, involuntary sigh of relief.

“There,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Better?”

“Much,” you admitted, your cheek brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater.

He adjusted the coat to cover you better, his movements careful and deliberate. Then, to your surprise, he reached for your hands, pulling them out of your pockets.

“Give me those,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your icy fingers met the warmth of his palms, and he frowned slightly. Without hesitation, he tucked your hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, pressing them against his stomach.

“There,” he said again. “Keep them there. You’ll warm up faster.”

A soft laugh escaped you, partly from relief and partly from the sheer absurdity of the situation. “You’re like a walking space heater.”

“Years of Canadian winters,” he replied with a small smile. “You learn how to stay warm—or at least fake it.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, the warmth from his body starting to thaw the chill in your limbs. “You’re not cold?”

“I’m fine,” he said, though the slight pink on his ears suggested otherwise. “Besides, I’m more worried about you.”

Your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. You felt a blush creeping up your neck, though you told yourself it was just from the sudden heat. “Well...thanks,” you said softly.

His gaze held yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you felt the unspoken tension between you resurface. It wasn’t the first time, and you doubted it would be the last. 

Unconsciously, you snuggled closer, soaking in his warmth like a cold cat curling up by a fire. The tip of your chilly nose brushed against the skin of his neck, right over his pulse point. Tom froze for a split second, his breath catching in his throat. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, fighting the wave of feelings that proximity stirred.

God, he loved you. He’d been ignoring it—or trying to—for what felt like forever, but moments like this made it impossible. Your head tucked against his chest, your breath warm against his skin… it was torture, the sweetest kind.

Desperate for a distraction, he glanced around the set, his gaze flitting aimlessly. Then, as though struck by a bolt of mischief, he looked back at you, his eyes sparkling. “You know,” he said, his voice teasing, “there’s a very effective way to warm up.”

You tilted your head back just enough to look up at him, your expression wary. “What’s that?”

A slow, devious grin spread across his face. Without a word, he shifted his stance and began to sway, pulling you along with him.

“Wait—what are you doing?” you asked, your voice rising in both surprise and suspicion.

“Dancing,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Dancing?” you echoed, incredulous.

“Moving keeps you warm,” he replied matter-of-factly, swaying you gently from side to side.

Caught off guard, you stumbled slightly, but his hands on your waist steadied you. “You’re insane,” you said, though the laughter bubbling in your voice undermined any attempt at seriousness.

“Insane? Or brilliant?” he shot back, spinning you lightly in place before pulling you back.

You let out a startled laugh, shaking your head. “Ridiculous. You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, his grin wide and infuriatingly charming, “you’re smiling.”

Your cheeks hurt from how hard you were grinning now, but you couldn’t stop. “Only because I’m picturing how dumb we look right now,” you shot back, even as you allowed yourself to relax into his ridiculous impromptu dance.

“Dumb? No, no, we’re setting trends,” he said, twirling you again with all the exaggerated elegance of a bad rom-com hero.

“Oh yeah,” you deadpanned through your giggles, “nothing says ‘trendsetter’ like two idiots slow-dancing in the rain on a TV set.”

He laughed, the sound warm and boyish, and you felt it reverberate through his chest. It made your heart squeeze, a familiar ache you ignored, as always.

“See?” he said, his voice softening slightly. “Warmer already.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Between the laughter, the motion, and the way he held you so effortlessly, the chill that had gripped you earlier was a distant memory.

And yet, you both remained blissfully oblivious to the obvious truth—the way his hands lingered just a little too long on your waist, or the way you leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Two idiots in love, dancing in the rain, each convinced the other couldn’t possibly feel the same.

Main Taglist : @gabriella-aesthetic

[arkhadiaravenblack]

Reverse Flash (Tom Cavanagh) de la série TV "The Flash" // Reverse Flash (TomCav) in the TV serie "The Flash" Mars 2022 // March 2022

[countless-dreamsss]

“Iris is my wife, I have to save her.”

Barry stating that everyone is disposable, except for Iris 

Came out too fast, I’ll fix them later