forbidden - tom holland x gwyneth paltrow

part one: the rendezvous

tom's POV

i almost threw up this morning. no, i don't have a stomach bug, i'm just a generally nervous person. but it was worse today, because today's the day i start filming my solo movie: spiderman homecoming. i've been through a lot this past year. the fact that i can walk at all is mind-blowing. the doctors doubted that i would even be able to eat on my own again! oh, sorry. i forgot to tell you. i was playing tennis with serena williams when all of a sudden i was hit by a missile! but it wasn't a missile, it was a firework that hillary clinton had shot at me, because she was jealous that serena and i were playing tennis without her. since hillary plays so much tennis, her aim is impeccable. she hit me directly on my spinal cord! if i wasn't paralyzed, i would've been very impressed. i doubt you've heard this story before though, because the illuminati ran a very elaborate cover-up operation. anywho, you're probably wondering: tom, how can you film spiderman if you're paralyzed? well, i made a very speedy recovery (despite a brief morphine addiction) thanks to lots of thoughts and prayers. but i can't say my relationship with larry recovered as well as my body did. let's just say, i am not with her. serena and i are still close, though!

as i slipped into my dirty white converse and pulled on my oversized serena williams sweatshirt, i worried about what my costars would think of me. i'm going to be working with some very prestigious people - robert downey jr, zendaya, and sigh gwyneth paltrow! now that wasn't a sad sigh - that was a sigh of admiration. she's just so smart and talented and beautiful! and i love goop! 

i check the time and - oh shit! i'm late! since i don't have a car (those dingity dangity medical bills [i hate america]), i quickly steal my neighbour's electric scooter. guess i have to move now. as i'm yeeting down the freeway, i decide to keep the scooter. it's just such an efficient way to travel!

after narrowly avoiding getting hit by danny devito in his bulldozer (where did he get that... i want one), i finally arrive on set. wow! i'm only 2 hours and 17 minutes late! that's a new record! and wow - robert's there to greet me.

"hey man, glad to see you. i love your scooter, know where i can get one?"

"ummm... walmart?" i say hurriedly. "i spotted it while shopping for a new ak-47, and knew i just had to have it."

nailed it.

"a new ak-47 huh? i see you're enjoying our american privileges."

"well, you know me sir. the second amendment should be the first amendment, that's my motto!"

robert chuckled heartily. "ohoho. that's my boy!"

nailed it.

i was shown to my trailer (bigger than everyone else's, and right next to robert's village - just the way i like it) and had just started to settle in when amy adams knocked on my door.

"hi there tom, sorry to barge in like this, but robert wants you to meet someone."

"amy? what are you doing here?"

"oh, haven't you heard? i'm taking over for the russo brothers!" [a/n: amy would do a better job]

"wow, that's great, amy, congrats! hey... crazy question... you're not going to let black widow die or anything are you?"

"damn, tom, of course not! she's my bitch! i love scarjo!"

i breathed a sigh of relief. this is a topic that has caused me countless sleepless nights. scarjo is my bitch too!

"anyway, meet at robert's village in five. k, bye?"

i waved goodbye to amy adams. how did she even get this job? and i thought the russo brothers weren't directing this movie? so many questions, and i don't care enough to ask them. ah, well! better see what robbie wants!

i electric scoot to robert's village, and on my way there i pass all the poor people who are walking. ugh. sorry, i don't speak broke. hashtag sorry not sorry. 

as i scooter past a tree, i see amy adams and... is that? james? james charles? MAKING OUT?!?! i put my scooter on full speed and try to remove myself from that toxic situation. my self-care guru life coach would be so proud uwu. i don't need that negativity.

"tom, there you are! i've been waiting for you!"

i feel my cheeks go red. i always hate disappointing my dad - i mean... robbie. 

robert stood, arms crossed, feet wide. power pose. i would be scared, but he's really short. behind him stand the other 5 og avengers: scarjo, cevans, marky boi, chris heh, and jer-bear. and... paul rudd? ok. 

"i want you to meet gwyneth," says robert. the avengers part and gwyneth is carried out by 3 brazilian models. gagnam style is playing and it seems time slows down. gwyneth is set down gracefully and she looks down at me innocently from underneath her long, luscious lashes.

"pleasure to meet you, tom," she says huskily as gagnam style transitions into senorita. "i've heard so much about you."

"all - all good things i hope." god, i hate how unsure my voice sounds. i clear my throat, but that just makes it worse. soon i'm choking! oh crap, the doctors said this would happen. side effect of being paralyzed by hillary clinton.

"oh my god, tom, are you ok?" cries gwyneth.

"yeah, i'm gucci gang," i try to say, but all that comes out it some froth. where did that come from?! soon my eyes are swimming. luckily, my electric scooter starts administering CPR. strangely, it can do that, but it doesn't have any anti-theft precautions.

"i think he needs an ambulance! oh my god, oh my god," gwyneth was in hysterics as all the other avengers stood and chuckled heartily.

"ohoho tom," they all chorus. "such a drama queen uwu." 

how did they manage to say uwu?! also, how are they all in sync?!

there's an increasing pounding in my ears, and all i can hear is the hearty chuckles of the avengers and gwyneth's screams of anguish. not gonna lie, they were kinda hot. things slowly fade to black, and the last thing i remember is collapsing into gwyneth's arms as nicki minaj filmed the event for her insta story. 

A/N: this is a crack fic. please keep reading, we've got some tea for later (you know you enjoyed). also, please don't get us sued for, like, defamation or something. 

written with the love of my life, izzy.