THE HOLLAND BOYS AND HARRISON OSTERFIELD IMAGINES

not helping - fuckboy! tom h. 1

wirtten by: @/spiderbiteholland

PART ONE

Pairings: fuckboy!tom holland x reader

Warning(s)?: kind of pg-13? drugs n kisses. no smut yet

Word Count: almost 1.9k

Summary: When you and playboy Tom Holland get paired up together for an assignment, it doesn't take long for you to see why all the girls are so smitten by him.

The last place you ever thought you'd find yourself was the infamous bedroom of your university's notorious playboy, Tom Holland. Everyone had been somewhat invested in the boy who'd mysteriously appeared from London, England this past semester. His above average looks, paired with his diplomatic personality made girls lose their minds any time he'd look their way. Needless to say, many girls had dreamed of being in the room you were stepping foot inside right now, but only a few got to actually live out the fantasy. You were one of them. But not in the way one would think.

You had the pleasure of being partnered with him for an assignment in your Psychology class. When your professor had called out his name following yours, some of the girls in your class sent you daggers filled with envy. But you weren't really feeling any type of way about your partner. You'd be the first to admit he was gorgeous, but this semester, you pledged to be focused solely on your academics. And besides, you were never the kind of girl to throw yourself at any guy.

After class, he'd stopped you outside, and you both agreed that you'd meet him at his place later in the day. It was your first time talking to him, and you were a bit surprised. Expecting the typical jock attitude from him, you were taken aback when he didn't act cocky or arrogant like you imagined. He was actually really approachable. You exchanged numbers and that was that. Maybe this project wouldn't be bad.

And now you were in his apartment, standing behind him as he opened his room door.

"My humble abode," he spoke, letting you in before him, then shutting the door completely. As you looked around, you realized it wasn't possible for the room to get any more Ferris Bueller. The walls were plastered with music posters ranging from The Notorious B.I.G. to The Rolling Stones. His bed was messily done up, but you appreciated the effort. There were shirts hanging down out of his half-opened drawers, there was a huge Great Britain flag on a door that you assumed led to his closet, and the room smelled strongly of cologne but there was also the slightest hint of weed.

You glanced back at Tom, who was scrolling through something on his iPhone, fiddling with the chain around his neck while biting his lip mindlessly. Not going to lie, you had a moment of clarity— you're with this hot ass guy, in his bedroom. Your primal instincts were drawing you to your male companion, but your conscious mind was screaming 'You're here for an assignment. Nothing else.'

"Cool room," you commented, suddenly becoming hyper aware of your actions as his eyes moved from his phone screen.

"Thanks." his eyes meet yours briefly. "You can sit, if you want." He motions to the bed, to which you sit down and lay your binder down beside you.

"You mind if I play some music?" he asks, glancing back up at you again with his bottom lip in between his teeth. Looking around back at all the posters, and the Amazon Dot on his nightstand, you figure that music is probably his thing.

"Sure, go for it," you answer, putting your hands in your lap, waiting to hear what song he chooses. As the opening notes of the song start to play faintly, you already know the song. The Morning by The Weeknd. Okay, so he has a good taste in music, too. Not helping.