#every day i think the british press cant get any more ridiculous

[sussex-sweetheart]

So the British press has gone from "Harry looked miserable at the Beyonce concert" to "Harry shouldn't be having a good time at the Beyonce concert because it was too close to the anniversary of his mum's death".

Like, imagine strangers, who never met your mother, telling you that you can't go to a concert because she died 26 years and 3 days ago... 😳

Apparently Meghan "twerking", which is so not what she was doing, is not "royal". Maybe they should inform their future King that dancing in clubs with his arms around women who aren't his wife isn't very royal. 🤣

[for-ests]

Hey, not sure if you do smut but I think this request can work without a lot if you’d prefer😁 reader’s an art student and needs to sculpt a full body nude sculpture and Tom offers but gets a bit cheeky

thanks for the request dear! this was fun to write :-) i literally know nothing about art so if I get something wrong just ignore! i hope you enjoy!! i went a diff +route but I still think it fits! [ mlist ] 

Word count: 3, 273

Warnings: slight nsfw,, nudity 

Pairing: Tom Holland x art student reader!

“The issue is… I have no idea who to ask.” You sighed deeply, embarrassment washing over you as you talked to your best friends about your upcoming project. 

Everyone knew you were a talented sculptor. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that your professional sculpting internship at (your school) was currently learning about Ancient Greece. One of the requirements to pass the semester was to recreate a modern sculpture of someone you knew, and to make it as realistic as possible. Nakedness and all, which was a huge distinction of Greek statues.

There was a big problem though. You were incredibly shy, and you didn’t know who to ask to model for you.

Nudging you with a laugh, your friend flashed you a mischievous smile. “You know a lot of cute guys, why don’t you ask one of them?”

“Cute guys?” You scrunched your nose. “I know like three guys and I would cry if I had to see them naked.”

She sighed. “Fair. Does it have to be a guy?”

*-You nodded regretfully. “It has to be the opposite sex. It’s annoying but I u

erstand why. It’s important to be familiar with both sexes.”

Your best friend air quoted ‘familiar’ with a ridiculous smirk.

“Shut up.” You huffed, trying not to laugh at how dramatic she had become.

“I think I know a guy, he’s an aspiring actor and model.” Your best friend added casually.

Groaning, you shot her a glare. “Why didn’t you say that right away?”

She shrugged. “I like listening to you talk about your art.”

Her compliment almost worked, but you already knew that was partly the reason she was teasing you so hard. The other reason was because she had been trying to set you up with multiple friends for months. According to her, you had been single for far too long.

Her offer made you ponder deeper about your situation. You were slightly awkward when it came to getting to know someone, but you couldn’t imagine asking someone to strip right away so you could sculpt every curve your eyes grazed over. Whoever it ended up being had to be incredibly confident. Shallow yes, but that’s why you were hoping to find someone insanely attractive. Attractive people were usually confident, and responsibly so. “Maybe a stranger would be worse than someone I know.”

Snorting through her nose, your best friend stared at you like you were crazy. “Definitely not. If it’s awkward you never have to see him again. And if it’s not, well you can get cozy with a cutie.”

Taking a deep breath, you rolled your eyes. “I hate you sometimes.” You mumbled under your breath. You knew she was right, but you would never inflate her already enormous ego like that.

“You love me.” She sang sweetly.

“I do, now give him my number and tell him it’s of the utmost importance.”

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

Days later, that conversation was on your mind as you nervously organized your sculpting tools. Trying to relieve some tension, you slapped a pound of clay against the table, and it echoed throughout the workshop.

Reality was the fact that this so called model boy was on his way to your studio. His name was Tom, and from the pictures you saw–he was incredibly handsome.

You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but alas, you needed this experience to pass your class. You just hoped and prayed that Tom was a lot more outgoing than you, and could keep the conversation flowing as you stared intently as his erect… penis.

Your cheeks flared up at the thought. How the hell were you going to do this?

Y/N: help (Y/B/F/N) I cant do this!!! im freaking out

Y/B/F: is he even there yet? lmfao

Y/N: noooooo :((

Y/B/F: if it makes you feel any better, he’s excited and thinks ur pretty

Y/N: why didn’t you tell me that before??!

Y/B/F: do u feel better now tho?

Y/N: no

Y/B/F: ik ur smiling ;) u aint slick

Giggling like a schoolgirl to relieve some of your anxiety, you set your cell phone on the table. Truthfully, your best friend had made you feel better. If anything bad happened, it would surely be a wonderful story to tell everyone in the future.

Your eyes naturally glanced across the room to the clock on the wall. 7:00pm. Tom would be here any minute as scheduled.

You took a deep breath and studied your surroundings. All your tools were in place, and the entire studio was tidied up as if you hadn’t worked the space in weeks. Next, you walked to the wall and glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

With your hair in a bun and your shabby working clothes, you looked suitable at best. You did have a little bit of makeup on to help yourself feel more confident. If you felt good, you could make your client feel good in return.

At least it looked like you didn’t try too hard. You didn’t want this man to get the wrong idea.

Then, snapping you out of your trance, there was a knock on the door.

You straightened out your shirt one last time, and tucked your baby hairs back behind your ears. Scoffing immediately after, you shook your head. Why were you trying to look cute? Who cares!

You rushed to grab the front door, afraid that you were making him wait too long. You flung it open, eyes locking with his right away.

You froze.

He was even more dashing in person.

“Judging by your cute outfit, I think I’m at the right place. Y/N right?”

And a British accent?

“Y-yes!” You flashed a smile to mask your obvious hesitation. You could easily play it off by opening the door and keeping your gaze averted. You were the master of smoothness.

“Thank you for coming, it’s about time I got this project done…” You tittered, locking the door behind him for privacy purposes. “You can set your things on the couch over there.” You pointed, eyes meeting his again when he glanced to the couch and then back to you.

“Awesome.” He nodded, holding your gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” You offered, nodding your head back to the small kitchen in the back of the studio. You wished the studio apartment was yours alone, but you shared it with multiple other college students in your program.

“Water… or beer if you have any?”

You threw your head back in laughter, causing Tom to smile at your genuine reaction.

“Yeah, I can get you one.”

“In the meantime, should I just strip?” He smirked, not trying to be sly with his flirtations. Though your cheeks were dusting with pink, you were able to match his energy. Your best friend definitely set you up with someone she knew you’d like.

“Do whatever you want, love.” You mimicked his British accent. “You’re the guest after all.”

Walking past him, you gave him one last look when he was fully-clothed. Tom was certainly the player type, practically the perfect embodiment of the muse you had in mind. This wouldn’t be awkward for you, and it would be even better for him. Men like him thrived off of cheeky discomfort in their female counterparts.

Yet, truthfully, you were enjoying it as well. It felt nice to be complimented so soon into an introduction.

As you cracked open a can of beer for Tom and yourself, you could hear him shuffling around with his items. The sound of his buckle falling against the floor made you suddenly nervous to turn around.

Inhaling sharply, and gulping down a few more sips of beer, you finally gained the courage to walk back to the studio setup, where Tom had already wandered over to, completely naked.

“You seem to be in your element.” You noted, trying to keep your eyes leveled with his. Now that you were thinking about it, remaining calm and professional was excruciating in front of such an attractive man. And it certainly wasn’t helping that he was enjoying your embarrassment.

And least this was exciting.

Thanking you, Tom took the beer and pressed his lips against the cold aluminum. “I would definitely feel a lot more comfortable if you were naked too, darling.”

“Hey now,” You nose scrunched in a form of mock distaste. The man caught on immediately, holding your gaze with a sort of amusement that was masking desire. “I might think about it if you sit nice and pretty for me for more than five minutes so I can sketch you.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walked over to your crafting desk. You decided you were going to start with the hardest part, the part which your grade depended heavily on- from the waist down.

But first, you quickly sketched Tom posing in multiple poses until you were satisfied with one. You had him mimic a sculpture you couldn’t recall, where one hand was pointed forward and the other was rested casually on his hip.

“Can I see what one you want to do?” He asked curiously from the stand you had him propped up on for a better view.

“Sure.” You flashed him your finished sketch. The lines darted all over the page, making it hard for him to picture what was going on in your head. The picture you had drawn would not make sense to anyone else but the artist. But apparently you were talented, so he would trust the process.

You were also trusting the process. The situation you were in could only be awkward if you allowed it to be. And so far it was moving along smoothly. You had your favorite music playing softly in the background to fill the silence, and Tom seemed to be relaxed and unbothered by how quietly you worked.

“That’s cool.” Tom whispered, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Giggling from his sudden proximity, you tried to tease him. “It’s fine to not understand it.”

“I definitely don’t know what’s going on but it’s still interesting.” He admitted.

You set the paper back down on the table, and decided to attempt and sculpt the base. Moving past a still naked Tom, you tried to immerse yourself in your work, or at least make it seem like you were focused. “This takes hours you know, weeks and months- it won’t make sense for a long time.”

“Perfect.” He grinned. “I’ll get plenty of time to know you better.”

Laughing through your nose, you kept your attention on the clay you had dropped on the floor. “You can put your clothes back on.”

“Oh!” He chuckled. “Yeah.”

As you carefully trimmed the base clay with a heavy frame, you lifted your head to find Tom slipping a robe back on. He definitely came prepared. Had he done this before?

“Come here.” You gestured. “I need you to set your feet down on the clay.”

“I didn’t think this would get dirty so fast.”

“Shut up.” You huffed, grabbing his foot and pressing it down hard until the clay took shape to the size.

“Cold.” Tom commented in discomfort.

“I know.” You released your grip on his calf, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. “All part of the process, but good news for you- you’re done for the night.”

“Really?” Tom raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

You nodded, standing back up to normal height. “I’m experienced enough to sculpt the feet and legs tonight.”

“When should I come back?” He sounded a tad too eager, but it caused your smile to reappear.

“Tomorrow night if you’re available.”

“And maybe next time you can bring your own alcohol?” You gestured to the multiple beer cans poking out of the recycling bin.

The man flashed you a smile. “Sounds like a date.”

“It’s definitely not.”

Despite your rejection to his amusing advances, Tom’s expressions and mannerisms remained hopeful. Was it possible he was truly enjoying himself?

“I’ll leave my robe here. I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time?”

“Same time.” You confirmed, nodding him off. It was about time you started to really focus. Attractive man or not, you always got the most and best work done alone.

Because after the first night, the dynamics between you and Tom changed. He became incredibly invested in your process, asking you questions left and right, asking if there was any way he could help, and practically just lounging next to you hours after he would have been free to go.

“What do your sculptures usually look like?”

“Since this isn’t my own studio, I don’t have any of my pieces here. But I can show you a picture when I get my hands wiped off.”

“What do you build your sculptures with? It’s hard to imagine that a replica of me can come out of that much clay.”

“My sculptures are built with water-based clay and are fired in a gas kiln to cone 4, about 2150 degrees Fahrenheit… “ You nodded towards the back wall that had an installed kiln for you and everyone to share. “Trust me, there will be a lot more clay. Hundreds of pounds worth.”

“Can I help?”

“No.”

There was no lying that you enjoyed his presence. Whether he was talking your ear off or napping to the peaceful beat of your jazz music, there was never a dull moment when Tom was in your studio.

Weeks passed, and so did the process. Your sculpture of Tom had progressed to week three, and that’s when you started to grow nervous. When you finished, which you were almost done, would you ever see him again?

You had barreled through the awkwardness of replicating his genitals and chiseling his six pack perfectly into the hardening clay- but you still felt like something was missing. You knew even when you finished chiseling away his jaw line and chocolate brown eyes, there would still be something missing. Him. His presence.

Maybe it would have been better if you partnered up with a man that had zero personality.

Since it was just you and Tom for hours on end, your conversations gradually grew deeper, they stretched into new lengths, so much so that you eventually felt like you had known him for years.

When Tom claimed he wasn’t looking for a relationship, you felt your heart fall. That’s when you realized you were developing stronger feelings for your model. You hardly had time to think about trivial things like that, but you couldn’t deny your disappointment.

And you were sure he saw the brief tears glossing over your eyes when you turned away. Yet, he didn’t make light of it.

That’s when you knew it was useless.

It seemed useless until the sixth week, when you finally finished the head. You were too afraid to attach it. Tom had spent the last couple hours with you in the studio. His legs kicked back and occasional whistles streaming from his lips. He had practically memorized your playlist to the extent you had.

“Tom.” You called. “Your face is done.”

He cheered excitedly, pushing himself off the sofa and racing towards you. Tom had learned to give you your space while you worked, but in moments where you summoned him, he barely stood inches from you. The man would constantly touch you in ways you couldn’t deny sent shivers down your spine.

Like he did as he rounded the tabletop, planting himself by your side and placing his hand on the low of your back. As if it was natural.

“Wow,” He breathed. “Y/N,” Your name upon his lips sounded as blissful as the music. “It’s.. it’s wonderful. It looks just like me... wow that’s scary.”

“I’m happy you like it.” You bit your lip, wishing you felt more satisfied with your project. You wanted to impress him, but you didn’t want him to go.

“All I have to do is attach the head, and fire it up in the furnace one more time. Then it should be good to go.”

You moved to do so, wanting to remove yourself from his grip. It hurt your heart to know the bond you had formed with him would come to an end. Why did you even let yourself get to this point? Was it because he was good at flirting?

“Wait-” His sentence faltered when you whipped around to face him- looking somewhat hopeful.

“What?”

Tom paused, his throat tightening with the words he never thought he would admit. But he couldn’t leave tonight with at least trying. He needed to know how you felt. Because he could either leave with you in his arms, or he could leave never having to see you again.

He had been thinking of confessing to you for days now, but now that the time came, his mind was blank. “You really are beautiful, you know that right?”

“Why do you feel the need to flatter me?” You blurted, still unable to decipher the truth behind his words. You didn’t know how to accept such a compliment. Tom had claimed you were beautiful before, but this time it felt different.

His eyes spoke volumes. The beauty his eyes held was something you would never be able to replicate in a statue. It was a sight you found yourself never growing sick of.

Averting your eyes, you tried to move again. Yet this time, Tom gripped onto both of your arms.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I won’t let you play me.”

“I was never playing you, darling.” The tenderheartedness intertwined with his words caused you to slowly turn your head back. Your lip quivered, and suddenly you felt like a schoolgirl all over again. You felt childish and unprepared for the intensity of your emotions.

“I don’t want to leave tonight without knowing if you feel the same.”

You blinked, hand reaching out to grip onto his. “And that is?” 

“I don’t know if it’s love, but it could be.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You said, incredibly softly. 

Tom released your arms. And before either of you could process what to do next, your lips interlocked. 

You gripped onto him tightly, balling his white t shirt into a fist to keep him from leaving your side again. 

“Tom-” You breathed. 

The kiss you shared was laced with a fervent need, one that you had never experienced before, and one that you craved again and again. 

After the passion you felt, the skin prickling desire, there would be no turning back. 

“Fuck, you’re everything”’ He mumbled against your lips. 

You pulled back slightly to gaze at his expression. He had looked so afraid before, but now he was smiling from ear to ear. Much like he did the day he arrived with a teasing attitude, ready to get under your skin and provide entertainment. 

“How long have you felt like this?” 

“Since the first day.” He kissed you again, his hands cupping your cheeks. 

You whimpered against his muscular frame, trying to ignore the fluttering in your core, fluttering that begged and craved for more. 

“How did you wait so long?” 

“I wanted you to finish.” 

You chuckled, cheesing at his straightforward, simple reply. 

You were positive from that moment moving on, that Tom was not what you had thought at first glance. This entire time he had put you and your project first, letting his own desires sit and warm on the back-burner. That was something you would hold close to your heart, something you would cherish. 

He cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 

“Stay with me tonight, Tom.” 

“I would love nothing more.” 

[ahollandy]

Oh, You Again - Tom Holland Imagine

Summary: A drunken night out leads to an awkward encounter on your first day as a photographer

Warning: Bit of swearing, mentions of sexy time, y’know the usual.

Masterlist

You were prepared to have a cozy night in the night before an early start. 6am you had your alarm set for. It wasn’t often people landed their dream job, but you had somehow landed the photography job of a lifetime.

You had worked so hard over the past 3 years to develop an outstanding portfolio, and somehow the editors of Brittish GQ got their hands on it.

The phone call was out of the blue and they asked to see more of your work, so you sent them some more recent photo shoot images you had taken, and they were blown away. They invited you to join them on their team of creative developers and begin working with them right away.

As you were just starting to get comfortable on your couch, your phone buzzed against the pillow beside you, and you answered after a few rings.

“Sooooo…..” your friend started. “You’re definitely coming out for a drink tonight”.

“No way in hell” you replied.

“Yes way in hell. It’s been forever!” your best friend pleaded. You rolled your eyes at their pathetic attempt to pry you from your cozy, warm apartment.

“What harm can one drink do? I’ll even buy you food” they said, in another attempt to convince you.

It was at that moment you heard a knock on the door. Whilst still arguing on the phone, you stood and walked over the door, surprised to see your best friend standing behind it.

You hung up the phone and looked at them with an are you serious? look.

It may have taken another 30 minutes, but sure enough you were coaxed into leaving the comfort of your home.

The bar down the road with your usual go-to, the comfy plush booths, good music and underground vibe was always something that picked up your mood a little. Although the bar was a little dark, you knew your way around pretty well by now so the two of you easily made your way to a table with some drinks.

You had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be just that one drink consumed tonight.

Three hours past, multiple empty glasses scattered around you, and your vision was so burry that you could barely make out the face of your best friend opposite you.

After that, you really don’t remember anything else that happened that night.

Somehow, with some luck, you woke up the next morning back in your bed.

Your head was thumping and your stomach was twisting at the cocktail of alcohol in it.

Curled up to one side, your eyes are still tightly squeezed shut as you try and will away the sickening feeling that is spreading through you. As you open your eyes, the brightness of the day seared your irises. As you try and ignore your burning eyes, you roll onto your back slowly, stretching your arms above your head.

As your head rolls onto the other side, your eyes slowly adjust to see a mound of sheets and pillows surrounding an unfamiliar shape.

As your eyes grow, you can start to make out the messy curls that fall over a strangers head, the muscles in their back as they lay facing away from you, leaving their back exposed to the air, the rest of their body hidden under the duvet.

Your heart begins to pound, racing as you begin to lift yourself to lean on your elbows.

Peaking over their shoulder, you see a content face, mouth slightly open as they breathe peacefully in their sleep.

You slump back down into your bed.

Holy shit.

‘What have I done?” you whisper to yourself, covering your face with your hands.

You look down at your body, only noticing now that our dressed in only a bra that’s twisted uncomfortably around you and your underwear from the night before.

But before you can start to string together the memory you have from the night before, you glace at your alarm clock, seeing a bright red 7:14am glaring at you.

HOLY SHIT

You throw the sheets off your body, disregarding the comfort of the stranger, as you scramble to the bathroom, snatching a pair of black denim jeans and a stripe shirt on your way.

You ready yourself in the bathroom, almost tripping 2 or 3 times from the room spinning so much, bumping things over and you clamber up to your feet again. You stopped in your tracks as you left the bathroom when you saw the stranger sitting upright in bed, chest bare and hair messily strewn across his head. He rubbed at one eye before throwing you a lazy, sleepy smirk.

“G’morning” he said, leaning back onto his hands, his British accent catching you a little off-guard.

“Uhh, good morning” you say, avoiding eye contact.

He lets out a little chuckle at how flustered you were, watching silently as you begin to gather your photography gear and put it into your work bag.

“You in a rush to get out of here love? You know this is your house, you don’t have to run from me,” He says.

“I’m going to be late for work” you say hastily pulling together your things and brushing the hair out of your face.

“You need to leave” you say to him, throwing what looked to be his pants over at him.

The stranger pulls themselves from your bed, standing as they began to pull their jeans on, and you cant help but let your eyes wander over the form of his body.

This guy was good looking, and boy could you tell that he worked out. The way his muscles rippled under his skin as he moved his arms, his chest more chiseled than a damn Greek god.

Your eyes snapped back to your feet when you see him peering up at you through his eyelashes, catching you looking at him. You avoided eye contact as you grasped a blazer in your hand, throwing your bag over your shoulder and began looking for your phone.

He slipped his shirt over his head and turned to face you, pushing his unruly disheveled curls away from his face. You watched as his nimble fingers combed over his locks, admiring how they shaped his sharp jaw line and brown comforting eyes.

Once again, he caught you ogling at him and you snapped your eyes away from him. You could hear him chuckle as he walked over to his shoes, slipping them on.

You glace at the clock once more, 7:30.

“Shit!” your hands pull at your hair. “I was supposed to be there by now!” You run to the door, hoping that you had everything you needed, before glaring at the stranger walking slowly to you.

When he finally walked past you, out of the apartment, you rushed behind him, closing and locking the door behind you.

At this point you didn’t care what that guy did, He was out of your home and you were late to your first shoot with your new job. So as you ran down the stairs away from the stranger, you couldn’t care less what they thought of you.

Running outside, you threw yourself into a cab, hoping that somehow they wouldn’t fire you on the spot.

 You pull up to the shoot location frazzled and sweaty. Nerves were building in your stomach as you walked briskly over to who you assumed was your boss.

“I’m so sorry I really am I didn’t mean to be late something just happened and I-“

“Calm down, its okay” an official looking man clad in a suit said to you. His colleague beside him smiled at you.

“The model for the shoot hasn’t even shown up yet” she said.

You wiped your brow and exhaled, before walking over to the set that was lit up by the industrial sized light boxes.

You smiled at the people around you, introducing yourself as one of the photographers and began to set up your equipment. Your camera somehow wasn’t damaged from your thrashing to get there and you thanked the lords for that. You needed this job more than ever and couldn’t afford to buy a new one right now.

You watched as set in front of you and admired how it was finalized to look like a tropical hotel getaway. There was a large pool outside with lounge chairs scattered around it; the room you were standing in had a large glass window and a comfy couch that sat pressed against the wall.

It wasn’t for another 30 minutes until you heard “He’s finally here! Lets get this show on the road” being called behind you.

You take a deep breath and turn to walk towards the scene, only to have the breath knocked straight out of you.

You stared at the ‘model’ for the shoot, as he stared back at you with those warm, familiar eyes, hair still a mess of unruly curls, and he was even wearing the same damn clothes he left your apartment in.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, sudden heaviness weighing down on your chest as you tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound totally ridiculous.

As the seconds ticked by, the stranger from your bed stared back at you wide-eyed, sharing the same unexpected shock, but they definitely played it off cooler than you did. He was suddenly ushered away from you, tugged on the arm by one of the stylists you had met earlier, in order to get ready for the first scene.

You stood frozen, still trying to register that he was the model for the shoot. The stranger that you woke up with in your bed; he was the one you needed to photograph.

It wasn’t long until he reemerged sporting a blue-silk outfit unbuttoned down his chest. He threw you a smug smile as he walked past you towards the couch for the fist shoot and you turned on your heels to follow him, shoving your nerves to the side knowing that there was no way around this.

As the first shoot began to warm up, the awkwardness was slowly subsiding as the two of you finally got to learn each other’s names.

Tom was a great model, there’s no denying that, but it was hard to focus on the task at hand when you kept on getting flashbacks of his mouth on yours every time you saw his tongue dart out and lick his lips.

Seeing as you were pressed for time, the stylists didn’t waste any time in changing between outfits, and Tom wasn’t shy about stripping from his first outfit in front of everyone.

His hands rose to grip the back of his designer shirt, tugging it off his shoulders with ease, and when he turned his back to you, you couldn’t help but let out a very audible gasp at the sight.

A sight you hadn’t noticed this morning, but there were red scratch marks clawed down his toned back, finger-sized bruises dug into his sides and what looked to be feint bite marks littered his hips.

You hand covered your mouth in an attempt to mask your gasp, but to no avail. As he turned to face you he twisted his arms through the sleeves of the next shirt, your eyesight moved over the red trails that continued down his chest, evidently caused by your very own fingernails the night before.

You could see more feint bite marks dotting his abdomen, bruises flushing against his abs.

Tom wasn’t looking at you, but instead he was looking down at his own body with a smirk plastered firmly on his face. He could see you from the corner of his eyes react to the marks you had left on his body.

You could see the disgruntled look on the stylists face as they overlooked the state of Tom’s body.

“I thought you were told to take care of yourself before the shoot, they wanted to do some shirtless scenes” the stylist grumbled as they fixed Tom’s hair.

“I mean, I took care of myself, it was someone else who didn’t” Tom remarked, throwing you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at an attempt to look dismissive but really you needed an excuse to walk away and hide the red flush of your face. As you walked over to switch out the batteries of your camera, you heard some grumbling behind you.

You hadn’t noticed that Tom had walked up behind you, making you jump as he spoke.

“Maybe you should take a little better care of me next time, darling,” he murmured under his breath, before turning and walking away to the next shoot site. As you look over your shoulder you see him turning around, throwing you a cheeky wink and then walking out the door.

“Next time, eh?” you said under a sigh, but you couldn’t help the smile spread across your lips, because there was no denying that you loved your job; now more than ever.