The Fame Game || Tom Holland

+ extra bits

I hosted a blurb night on my blog after finishing tfg! people sent in requests and I wrote them, it was a fun time. I'll be posting them here! there are nine, and the final one contains nsfw material. they're also split into three sections: pre-story, mid-story and post-story. thank you so much for supporting the story <3

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PRE-STORY.

Bad First Impressions (T) 

"I'm telling you, Tom, she's amazing. So talented and funny. Heart of gold, too. I think you'd really get on."

Tom's got a very fake, very forced smile on his lips, and he nods vacantly as he listens to Harrison prattle on about his new friend: you. Harrison doesn't seem to realise that he's been gushing about you for ten consecutive minutes, nor that Tom tuned out about eight minutes ago.

"Cool," Tom adds. He's reached the point where he's just interjecting a filler word every few minutes, adding to Harrison's otherwise one-sided conversation.

"Yeah, really cool," Harrison replies.

Tom's distractedly staring at his phone, scrolling through Twitter, liking a few tweets as he goes. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at a particularly funny thread, smiling as he likes it. In the background, Harrison's continuing to speak.

After about a minute, Tom feels Harrison kick him - hard.

"Ow, you prick!" Tom mutters, looking up angrily. The two men are sat at their kitchen table, Harrison's opposite Tom, arms crossed over his chest. "What was that for?"

"You're not listening to me!" Harrison whines, frowning at Tom. "I'm trying to tell you a story, and you're just ignoring me."

Tom feels guilty as he looks at Haz's wide, blue eyes.

"Sorry," he murmurs, putting down his phone. "You've just been rambling on about Y/N for ages, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me, so it's hard to stay interested."

Harrison pulls a face. "What?" He asks, looking at him with confusion on his face. "But you've never met her."

Tom nods. "I know, but I reply to her Instagram stories sometimes, and she opens them and never says anything back."

It's quite disheartening, actually. When Tom had got the notification that you'd followed him, he'd seen that as a green light to try and initiate something with you - a friendship, perhaps, or maybe something more. So he'd taken to leaving comments on your posts and always, always, replying to your stories - only to draw up a blank every single time.

"Well, if that's the only thing she's done to give you that impression, then I think you're reading into it too much." Harrison grabs Tom's phone from the table and unlocks it, moving it out of Tom's grasp before he can do a thing. "Here, I'll give you her number. Just text her when we're back in LA and see if she wants to meet. I'm sure she'd be down."

Tom eyes his friend sceptically, gnawing over his lower lip. There's turmoil in his heart - churning continuously. His desire to pursue a relationship with you fights against the humiliation of being left on read, but after a moment's contemplation, he sighs in agreement.

"Fine," Tom agrees. "But only because she's your friend."

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A month later, Tom's back in America, Harrison at his side. He's here on promo, hurrying from interview to interview, doing the rounds through the television stations. He's on cloud nine, but he's tired, which is why he'd turned down Harrison's offer to go out to a bar with a few of his friends.