tom holland oneshots

the ceiling?

Warnings: probably cringe-worthy fluff, mayb a smudge of angst? 

summary: you decide to (attempt to) bake a cake, and tom comes home from filming a little early

idk if this is good, pls tell me if it sucks

It was four o'clock on a Friday afternoon, and to say you were bored was an understatement. [Your best friend] had asked you to go clubbing with her that night, and though you were never one to turn down an opportunity to party, you weren't in the mood to come home hammered and horny. 

Browsing through Netflix, you had found nothing worth your time, so you shuffled your way to the kitchen.

It was grand, too grand really. Moving in, you had insisted on a normal sized one. But Tom being Tom, wanted to spoil you so much. So here you were, in a kitchen probably the size of your old apartment. Ever grateful, you were, but the pantry was always your least favorite part. Going in, you'd searched through, obviously preferring baking over cooking. To your dismay, there was no cake mix, but instead a bag of flour and Tom's old cook book given as a gift from his grandmother. Without hesitation, you opened it.

Finding a red velvet recipe (side note: tom said he was a red velvet kinda guy in an interview so thats why i chose it, although red velvet is just colored chocolate), you placed the flour on the kitchen island and went back into the living room to play some music. Finding your phone buried in the couch cushions, you played something you only ever played while you were alone: One Direction. What could you say? It was your guilty pleasure, and you were a 'Larry' shipper from the start. 

The speakers, yet another gift from Tom, were loud and deafening , so you could sing without bothering anyone with your squeaky, off-key voice. 

You didn't know when you decided it was a good idea to wear leggings and a sports-bra, but here you were with cake batter all over your arms and the counter, shamelessly dancing along to the beat of "Best Song Ever" while you screamed the lyrics. You had realized too late to know that your mixing spoon was full of the red substance, but by that point, it was already everywhere. You would clean it up later, for sure.

" SAID I HAD A DIRTY MOUTH," you smirked, hips swaying and hands stirring the spoon in the bowl, dipping your finger in for yet another sample. You placed the bowl on the counter and got ready to dance, knowing the choreography by heart. If the music video were on, you'd be perfectly in sync with the rest of the boys. Zayn's run was up, and quite possibly, it was your favorite part. Your smile was wide; this song reminded you of your childhood -- simpler times where you really had no worries. You were carefree, and it was something you could always go back to; something to brighten your mood and widen your smile.

Tom would never admit it, but he loved when you played One Direction. Not because he loved the band (though he secretly did), but because it always made you happy. There was nothing he wanted more than to see that smile 24/7, he was positive he could live off of it. Part of him, deep in his gut, told him that a smile that big could never be caused by him. Tom never mentioned it to you, because that would mean being the cause of your smile disappearing, something he swore he would never do. The thought didn't come often, but when it did, it would nag him to no end. It's amazing, isn't it? How much your thoughts can kill you. Stress, they say, is the silent killer. Eats you up inside until you break. Today, though, Tom was too caught up in your happiness to care about anything but you. 

Walking in, Tom slipped his shoes off and left his backpack by the door, heading to where the music was loudest. At the sight of you, Tom fell even more in love. It was times like these where he thought you were most beautiful. Not all dressed up for a red carpet event, still gorgeous, but sexy always outweighed the simple beauty of your regular look. And to Tom, 'regular', was natural (make-up free), fitted with sweatpants and a jumper (today it was leggings, but Tom wasn't complaining).