Wuthering Heights and Billie Holiday
Hi sweet beans!💘 this is a soft and fluffy Tom imagine about him wanting to show the reader how much she means to him! I wrote this based on a request sent in by my bby, L🌸 L, I hope that this cures at least a little bit of your melancholy! I love you with my whole heart, my dear☁️
Wuthering Heights and Billie Holiday
The night before had been wondrous. Each time their fingertips graced the other’s skin, it was as if they were being molded even closer together. Tom was at a loss, he could barely believe how much larger his heart had grown since he’d met her. Everyday that Tom spent with her, the feeling of his heart expanding in a fashion similar to the Grinch’s after he’d observed the celebration of Christmas when he’d stolen all the Who’s presents would overwhelm him. Tom was so positively filled to the brim with love that it was dripping off of his frame.
Tom looked down at her sleeping form, all curled into his chest, and he was absolutely spellbound. Her skin looked luminous and soft, and Tom could feel her chest gently moving up and down each time she took a breath. Long lashes laid against her cheeks, and glancing down at her lips, Tom’s own mouth began to feel exceedingly lonely. He longed to press them against the rosiness of her mouth, but declared that after the night they’d had, she’d be needing to rest.
He moved swiftly out of the bed, as to not wake his sleeping girlfriend. Tom slipped on the pair of his sweats that resided in her drawers, and pulled on his shirt from last evening. Walking into her kitchen, he scrawled out a messy note telling her to go back to sleep because he’d be home with breakfast and coffee soon. Creeping back into her bedroom, Tom laid the note down on his side of the mattress and adoringly smoothed her hair back to place a tender kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll be back soon, my love.” Tom murmured, pulling her blanket a bit higher to tuck her in. He grabbed her car keys and headed out to the florist a few streets down from her apartment.
As Tom drove, he chuckled when he recalled their conversation a few nights before. His girlfriend had gone out with her friends and had drank a bit too much wine, and when she came back to him, she was completely wasted. One of her friends had called him, asking if he’d be able to come and pick her up because there was absolutely no way that any of them were alright to drive themselves. Tom obviously agreed and when he’d gone to get her, she flung herself into his arms, pressing wild kisses onto any spot of bare skin on his body that she could find. Her arms were like vines, constricting Tom with all the love she had to offer.
When he’d finally gotten her outside and into the car, Tom did his best to buckle her in when she poked him softly on his cheek and leaned in once again for a hug. “You know,” she slurred, “I think you’re the love of my life and I wish on stars every day that I’m yours.”
In the morning, it was clear to him that she’d been too intoxicated to call to mind her statement, but it had been on Tom’s mind ever since. He knew that she was the love of his life as well, and he was confused as to why she wasn’t aware that he felt the same. Tom decided that as soon as he woke up, it would be his mission to make her realize that he felt the same.
Tom was out and about for about an hour before he returned home to her. In his arms, he cradled a massive vase of flowers, two coffees, and a box of baked goods and a bag of bagels. There was never a time when he’d been more envious of Peter Parker’s sticky spiderwebs to help him carry goods.
When Tom made his way back to her room, he discovered that she was still blissfully snoozing. Sliding out of his sweats and yanking off his T-shirt, Tom burrowed back underneath her bedspread, eager to hold her in his arms again. Maneuvering her as slightly as he could, Tom could tell that she wasn’t going to stir. She was passed out, and Tom laughed. He supposed that their previous activities really had tuckered her out.
The night before, the couple had ventured out to a quaint, French bistro that she had spotted one day on her drive home from school. She’d mentioned that she thought it looked sweet, and Tom knew of her growing fascination with France, so he thought it would be fun to take her there on date night.
When they got there, the place was even better than she could’ve hoped for. Twinkly lights in the dimly lit cafe, along with soft, french tunes drifting in through carefully hidden speakers, and flowers littered room. Tom had to admit, the place was pretty dreamy.
Beyond the place being dreamy, she was radiating beauty that night. Her hair had been softly curled and she’d taken the time to carefully apply a red lipstick that went perfectly with her red dress, and the heels she wore made her legs appear endless. She smelled as if she’d rolled around in the field of daisies and when she smiled at Tom, she looked so pure and happy, that Tom would give her anything in the whole, wide world because he knew that she deserved it.
Passion and romance drifted throughout the bistro, and as soon as they’d gotten home, Tom had nearly torn her scarlet dress off, he was so keen to dive between the smooth skin of her thighs. After nearly five orgasms, they were finally too sleepy to continue. They’d kissed each other delicately on the mouth before she had picked up her copy of Anne Sexton’s collected poems. She read to him until her eyelids fluttered shut and the book dropped to the floor.
After another half an hour in the morning, Tom awoke to a changed position. He was laying on his back and his girl sat atop him, smiling down at him. “Good morning sleepyhead,” she greeted, leaning in to kiss him good morning.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Tom smirked, gripping her thighs and tossing her onto her back so that he could press tons of kisses to her exposed skin. “You get to sleep in, but not me?”
She wiggled around beneath him, giggling as Tom softly bit into the skin of her collarbone, “Exactly.” She halted her movements and glided her hands into a lock behind Tom’s head, “thank you for getting breakfast.”
“Course, darling.” Tom moved off of her and offered her a hand, “to the kitchen,” he said, once she took his hand. Truthfully, Tom wouldn’t have minded sharing the meal in her bed, he really just wanted to show her the bouquet of flowers that he’d purchased for her earlier in the day.
When they reached the kitchen, her eyes widened and she immediately jumped into his arms. Tom stumbled for a moment, her reaction taking him by surprise, but nonetheless, Tom spun her around the room.
“Thank you, Tom! I love them so, so, so much.” She kissed him quickly before moving to examine the flowers more thoroughly, “I don’t know how you can stand to be so thoughtful and wonderful all of the time, Tom. Doesn’t it get exhausting being you?” She teased.
Tom wandered around her kitchen, doing his best to get closer to her ever-moving figure, “I just really love you,” he said, once he’d finally caught her and snared her with his arms around her waist, “you’re the love of my life, and who am I if I don’t show it?”
She turned to face him, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”
Tom took her face between his palms and moved his mouth to hover over her own. “Wuthering Heights?” He pondered.
Moving her head up to meet his lips, “No, Pride and Prejudice,” she uttered before bridging the gap between them.
“I love the looks of you, the lure of you. The sweet of you, the pure of you. The eyes, the arms, the mouth of you. The east, west, north, and south of you.” Tom breathed as soon as they broke apart.
“Billie Holiday,” she smiled, moving to her head to kiss the palm of Tom’s hand.
“Dance with me,” Tom ordered, breaking away from her to fiddle withhis phone to put Billie Holiday’s ‘All of You’ on.
“Everything will be cold by then,” She started, reaching for her coffee, a hot blush spreading across her cheeks.
“I don’t give a damn about the coffee, love. And besides, it’s probably already cold.” Tom said, taking ahold of her waist.
“Tom,” the girl whined, “I don’t know how to dance, it’s embarrassing.”
Tom shushed her with a kiss, “Just hold onto me, yeah? I’ll show you how.” With that, he guided her arms into their proper place and he piloted their slow dance across her kitchen. As Billie Holiday’s voice coaxed her into relaxation, her eyes shut and she laid her head to rest on Tom’s shoulder.
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” She whispered into Tom’s chest.
He raised a quizzical brow at her, “Wuthering Heights?” Tom questioned.
Standing up on her tiptoes, she nodded and brushed her lips against his, “uh huh,” she agreed as they swayed together, knowing that there was no place in which they’d rather be.