So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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"You have every single Ariana Grande song in here," you said scrolling through Tom's phone. He was driving you back home.
"Don't make fun of my music," he said, snatching his phone from your hand.
"I'm not making fun," you laughed, "You could use a bit of a variety though."
"Such as....?" he asked.
"Hm...the Ramones to start. Everyone should have the Ramones in their library. Especially someone pretending to be Peter Parker."
Tom tossed his phone back to you.
"Alright, load it up. Password is 'Tessa'." he glanced at you and smiled.
"Tom," your tone turned overly dramatic, "this is a really big step in our relationship."
You hugged his phone to your chest and closed your eyes, "I just want to thank you for trusting me with your deepest, darkest secrets."
Tom shook his head, laughing.
"Y/N, sometimes you're a bigger idiot than myself..."
Suddenly, Tom's phone started buzzing in your hand.
"RDJ," you read aloud the letters flashing on his screen.
Tom looked over quickly.
"Wait, RDJ?!" your said, your eyes widened.
Tom hit the accept button on the dashboard, "Hey, Robert! You alright?"
"Hello, Tom," Robert's voice boomed through the speakers, "How's everyone's favorite Spider-Man?"
Tom smiled a little embarrassed and glanced at you. You were still wide eyed, watching him while silently freaking out. Iron Man makes house calls apparently. Be cool, Y/N, be cool.
"Can't complain," he responded.
"I suppose not. You're a hit with the fans. Saw your interview in Empire. Nice job, kiddo."
Tom smiled even wider. Man, he was precious. And look at him, so humble and aw shucks about everything. He deserved all the praise and accolades given to him.
The two of them continued their conversation, something about meetings, something about Atlanta, something about Jon, whoever that is.
You grabbed the riding crop and began tapping the tip of it against your palm while you stared out the window. You were close to home now. Your street seemed busier than usual. Lots of people about. It was a nice day after all.
"Talk to you soon," Tom ended the call and looked over at you, grabbing the whip from your hand.
"Practicing?" he asked, grinning cheekily.
You raised an eyebrow, coyly, "What makes you think I need practice?"
"Let's go inside and find out," he said before pressing his lips against yours. You brought your hand up to his shirt and clutched it, deepening the kiss, your tongue sliding around his in a dance. He brought the whip down lightly against your outer thigh, hard enough to sting. You pulled your lips away, breathing heavily.
"Ooh, I like that," you whispered.
"I thought you might," he growled, rubbing the spot that he just smacked, "come on."
You kissed him quickly and opened your door to exit the car.
"Wait...Y/N!" Tom suddenly yelled.
You stood up and were instantly swarmed by a decent sized group of people.
Click! Snap! Click! Snap!
You threw your hands up in front of your eyes, temporarily blinded by a flash. Then the questions came in a frenzy:
-What is your name?
-Can you tell us how long you've been dating Tom
-How did you guys meet?
-Who's your favorite Fifth Harmony member?
You blinked, completely panicked, then felt someone take your hand and pull you to your front door.
"Tom! Tom! How long have you two been dating! Tom! Tom! When do you start filming Spider-Man?"
Tom rushed you to your front door and finally inside, away from the madness. They continued to shout, they knocked on the front door. More flashes went off.
When you made it to your flat, you stood with your back to the door, holding the knob tightly as if they may try to get inside.
"You can let go, darling," Tom said calmly, aware of how spooked you were.
"What the fuck was that?" you asked, coming down a bit.
Tom sighed and leaned against the back of the sofa.
"That," he sighed, pointing to the window, crop still in hand, "That is a taste of what's to come."
