A C T O R S || OS

173. Tom Holland | Faking It

By : celebrities-imagines | Tumblr

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem reader

Summary: The world never knew your name like they knew your bestfriend, Tom Holland's name. That was until he told the world you were dating...even though you aren't.

Warnings: None

Words: 2.7k

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Being famous was something Tom had always wanted, not all of it was glamour and glitz, but nonetheless it was something Tom wanted. You on the other hand had never wanted it, it just wasn't pleasing to you, so when Tom made it really big you agreed on one thing, your name would not enter the spotlight.

Tom had never meant to subject you to fame and the invasion of privacy it brought with it, yet he had done just that.

It started when his managers brought up the idea of a PR stunt with Zendaya. Of course, they both repeatedly pushed away the idea. For a few months him and Zendaya had steered clear of the stunt, all while insisting they were just friends in every interview.

However, Tom was finding all of this more challenging when every interview he was asked about their relationship. He was only human, Tom was bound to break eventually, but he thought when he broke it would be giving in to the PR stunt, not spreading your name to the world.

Two days ago in an interview they asked him about Zendaya, instead of shaking his head and rejecting the idea he blurted out that he already had a girlfriend, you; his manager had eaten up the idea of a long time childhood friend being his girlfriend and now he was about to make your life a lot more complicated.

So as Tom stood on your door step, the echoing of the paparazzi's shouts, who had swarmed around your fence, all he could feel was immense guilt. He had gone back on his promise to you, and because of it you had lost your privacy.

A bead of sweat dripped down his skin, the warm June air not helping with his nerves; he thought back to when you were kids, playing in the pool, chasing eachother with water guns, then running inside to eat watermelon and drink lemonade; he constantly found himself wishing he could go back to then, times when you were just two kids the world didn't know.

From the inside he could hear the swish of a curtain flying away from the window and just barely made out your face, yet somehow he still didn't miss the way your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes locked on his, then on the paparazzi outside, before you swished the curtain closed.

Then Tom heard music to his ears, the clicking of three separate locks.

The door swung open and Tom was met with instant warmth: all areas of the house that Tom could see had a golden glow of light inviting him in, and then there was you; you were in sweatpants and one of his hoodies, one he had mysteriously lost a long time ago. Somehow, Tom couldn't fathom how, but even with the world questioning your every move now you still managed to seem okay, but he could tell deep down you weren't.

You did not say anything, just opened the door wider, averting the gaze of the paparazzi outside as they screamed your name, a name you never thought they would utter.

When Tom walked in the house you quickly closed the door behind him; the shouts of the paparazzi were gone but the silence was much more deafening.

You looked up at Tom, his brown eyes were filled with stress and worry; you thought back to all the times you had seen him stressed, a speech at school, right before auditioning, and in the twenty years of knowing him you had never seen him so distraught.

"I'm not mad Tommy," you said gently squeezing his hand.

"Your not?" He said, and it looked as if the world itself had just been lifted off his shoulders.