tom holland oneshots

only angel

warnings : cursing

summary : reader moves to london, gets a rather interesting job, and meets tom 

word count : 4900

It was 9 A.M. , and you were at the airport in your home state of Wyoming. Your mother had come with you, just to say her last, most emotional goodbye, but she left when you both arrived at your gate. Summer was halfway over, but after accepting a scholarship to UCLA a couple years back, you had signed up to study abroad, and the program started a few weeks before the end of this summer. Only a few other kids from your college were going with you, but you didn't put in the effort to be friends with a group like that. 

"Flight 167 boarding now, flight 167 boarding now, gate 12," the overhead speaker announced. 

You picked up your carry-on bag; in it was several journals, a pencil case filled to the brim with every type of writing utensil, and your iPad Pro. You got in line with the rest of the people around you, a water bottle in one hand while the strap from your bag was on your shoulder. They scanned you through, and you were off to find your seat. You were lucky the flight seated two people per row, and you had the window seat. Your carry on wasn't big, and the flight was a rather long one, so it stayed with you at your seat. 

The flight was to depart in 10 minutes, and the seat next to you was still vacant. Maybe I'll get lucky. But then, three boys came in, rushing slightly to get a few things in the over head bins. Two of them sat in the seats in front of you, the last one sitting next to you. He offered you a small smile, his curly hair falling in his face. Sitting down, he pulled out his phone, and he didn't talk to you for the next 20 minutes.

When the plane was in the air and the seat belt sign was off, you took out your things. Opening the small pull-out table that was meant for food, you placed your things down. Your iPad was on, the design app opened on your personal projects. The pen it came with was in your hand, a cracker in the other. The man sitting next to you had been watching you for a good five minutes, and you had noticed, but it slipped your mind the minute you shifted your attention to what you were doing. You were adjusting a few details, choosing fabric types and colors, as well as a few minor add-ons & options. 

You turned to look at the man next to you, who was gazing at your iPad. When he noticed your stare, he blushed, slipping out a simple "Hi," to which you replied with the same. 

"Are you a designer?"

"Not yet. I hope by the end of this year."

"You're in college?" he asked, offering you a pretzel.

"Mhmm," you hummed, taking one from his pack, "I'm studying abroad this semester, and I'm interning for a designer in London."

"That's cool. I play an intern," he commented.

"Hm?"

"Oh, nothing," he assured you, hoping you didn't know about his rank in Hollywood. You did, though, only recognizing him as the young boy who starred in "The Impossible," but that was all you could recall on him; not even remembering a name. "Does that mean you're staying in London if you get a job?"

"I'll probably stay in London anyways. Things are a little tense back home, so the getaway was good."

He nodded, "Gotcha." 

"And you?"

"What about me?" he laughed.

"What do you do? Rushing to catch flights?"