More Than This [Tom Holland x Reader]

Red. (Or, The One With The Mirror Selfies)

Timeline: Year 1, April

Summary: Tom can't help himself when you wear red.

Words: 1.8.

Warnings: language, implied smut

*

Tom is relaxing in his favourite armchair when he gets your text message. It's Thursday evening and he got back earlier today from a crazy week of press events and photocalls. Just the thought that he's going to have the next few days off from work, with instructions to ignore his email until Monday, it's making him all tingly.

He drops a text to his friends to let them know he's back in town for the weekend in case they want to hang out tomorrow. Fridays are usually when they go out to The Treehouse for some chatting and drinking. Yet he has no idea if they answer him because you're the first to text him back. In private.

You: Going stag to a friend's party

Since it doesn't make sense in its own, Tom leaves it on read for a couple of minutes, but then he gets something else. It's a picture of your reflection in the mirror, wearing a filthy black dress.

Short, tight, most likely fake leather, making you look impossibly petite. The cheeky cleavage and the sneak peek of your bra underneath, topped with the irreverence of your beanie, tipped on your head as if to hide the mystery in your mischievous eyes. You look ready to go and really freaking gorgeous.

You: Would you like to come?

Tom widens his eyes at your invitation, never once having gone out just the two of you. Things could get intensely awkward, he thinks. You two get along amazingly well when it's just you, talking for hours and discussing stupid, random things like why a table is called a table and not a tebla. Like, who decided those things? All the conspiracy theories you come up with together create an insane amount of laughing moments.

Bedroom talk or living room talk is always easy, same as couch tickles or chasing after you in your flat. (He always catches you and makes sure to brag about it, though he thinks you think you're letting him win out of pity. Still, it's nice to win some times.)

Yet the thought of being seen doing these things, or even just being casual friends, in front of other people, it raises a whirlwind of questions in Tom's mind. What made you invite him? What kind of party is it? Should he go? Should he play sick or tired and discuss doing it first?

His brain becomes a swirling mesh in a flash of a second, and it's almost impossible to stop.

He notices the little dots that tell him you're typing something, so he waits a bit longer.

You: Maybe this one is better

He's confused about this last message and his thumb hovers over the question mark as he ponders what you could mean, but then he gets another picture. It's your reflection in the mirror again, only this time you're wearing a filthy, tight red dress.

"Shit," he mutters as his phone drops to the floor. He's used to you in black dresses because that's your favourite colour, but You in Red will always be a sight for his sore eyes.

There's something magical in the glint of your gaze when you stare back at him whilst wearing red clothing. Hell, even red accessories or shoes or that one time you wore all black, but your makeup was smooth red, your lips dark and inviting as he chewed on his to keep himself in check. After that day, he made sure to start telling you he wishes you would wear more red, every now and then just so you won't forget, but you usually say that black is more of your thing.