Peter Parker Blurbs

#14 | Behind Closed Doors T.H.

T O M    H O L L A N D

PAIRING: Tom Holland x famous!Reader

PROMPT: I don't really know what this is...

WORDS: 652

—————————————————

My relationship with Tom is based on lie.

Now, 'what lie?' you may ask.

Well, it's quite simple actually. 

The lie is that we have romantic feelings towards each other.

We don't.

The only feelings in our relationship is both of our obsessions with control and stardom.

I will admit, it does make us seem a little psycho.

But the public doesn't need to know that.

It all started a few years ago when Tom was filming for Infinity War and I had just became a new face in the music industry.

Both of us rising stars in entertainment.

Looking back it was perfect.

Like we were meant to be.

It was an after party, for what, I couldn't tell you.

The only thing I remember about that night was Tom.

The heated looks he gave me.

The skimpy backless dress I was wearing.

Whatever was in those glasses that they kept handing us.

He was someone who knew what he wanted, and I respected that.

I had let him take me by the hand, leading me to a car.

Maybe it was his melodic accent, or his tight-fitting button down shirt, but I made the first move.

My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling myself towards him for a hungry kiss.

His hands placed themselves on my waist and he kissed me back.

It was supposed to be a one night thing.

Wake up the next day and part ways.

But the media had to be involved, doing us dirty.

It wasn't hard to find, too.

It was on the front of every celebrity gossip page.

Pictures of us undressing in Tom's hotel room.

We had both confessed that morning that we wished we could control what the media posted.

We shared the same idea with a look.

Playing it off for a couple weeks, finally the headlines were out.

"(Y/N) (Y/L) and Tom Holland; the newest 'ship' in the business"

And just like that to the whole world thought we were dating.

Four years later, here we are still making headlines.

You can be certain that we make sure of that.

"Read them off for me," I say, straining to contain my excitement.

The hotel rooms have changed over the years, getting bigger and keeping the curtains shut, that is, if we wanted them to be.

"Tom and (Y/N) caught skinny dipping in a Miami hotel pool," Tom starts reading off the headlines on TMZ.

I crouch down in front of the mini fridge.

"Oh, scandalous," I say jokingly, opening the fridge, "go on."

"(Y/N) (Y/L) shows up at LAX without her leading man," he continues on and I grab two beers.

"Spider-Man premiere tonight; who will Tom take, (Y/N) or Zendaya? That's all of them," he finishes.

"Right in the palms of our hands," I mumble to myself, standing up.

"Three. Not too bad," I comment, walking over to him on the bed.

He looks over his phone to see me, giving a small smile.

I plop onto the bed next to him, handing over one of the glass bottles.

His button up shirt that I was wearing flapped open, revealing my undergarments.

Not that I cared.

Tom and I are very comfortable with each other.

We could be completely naked in front of the other and not be bothered in the slightest.

That's just how our relationship is.

We clink drinks and take a sip.

"Why are we so good at this?" Tom asks, playfulness laced into in his tone.

Even though it was a rhetorical question, I still answered.

"Because we know what we want," I shift on the bed, "And when you know what you want you can pretty much do anything."