tom the hair stylist

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 "Tom?" You were twirling your hair around your fingers as you hesitantly stepped into the living room.

"What's up, love?" he looks up from the TV, Harrison and Harry on the seats next to him. His brows furrow as he notices your nervous demeanor. "Everything okay?"

You let out a breathy laugh, and he stood up slowly, making his way over to you. "I was just, uh- wondering if you could help me?"

He smiled softly, "Of course." Tom followed you upstairs and into the bathroom connected to his and your bathroom. You held up a pair of scissors and turned around expectedly.

"I want you to cut my hair."

He was silent for a few beats before he broke out into a large grin, taking the scissors from your hands gingerly. "Okay. How do you want it?"

"To my chest, please."

"Okay."

After separating it into sections, Tom was sending you comforting and encouraging smiles through the mirror. You heard the scissors just as weight was removed from your head. You inhaled sharply, smiling a small one as Tom continued. Fifteen minutes later, you were spinning around, looking at all angles before jumping into Tom's arms.

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

He chuckled, hands gripping your waist. "Of course, love. You look stunning," he finished in a whisper. He kissed your forehead, smiling. 

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