You know when you’re at a concert and you’re screaming so loud your lungs are about to go up your esophagus ?? And then the artist says “I can’t hear you” or “louder !” Like ???? Bitch this is all I got ????? How much more do you think I have to offer ??? Probably a lot
You want a train ticket? It’s yours, alright. You wanna get out of here? Done. I’ll lie for you. I’ll sneak you out. Hell, I’ll even drive you. If you want more, if you want to make sure whatever’s happening here stops, then I can help you with that, too.
|| Save Us - Cartel // Forever and Always - Parachute // Like We Used To - A Rocket to the Moon // Amnesia - 5 Seconds of Summer // Hotel Ceiling - Rixton // Therapy - All Time Low // With Love - Christina Grimmie // I Miss You - Blink-182 // Thunder - Boys Like Girls // I Can’t Not Love You - Every Avenue // There For You - Flyleaf // Candles - Hey Monday // Hear You Me - Jimmy Eat World // Miserable at Best - Mayday Parade // Yours Truly - Paradise Fears // We Are Broken - Paramore // Ever Enough - A Rocket to the Moon // Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan // The Strays - Sleeping With Sirens // Leave You in the Dark - State Champs // Robbers - The 1975 // It Ends Tonight - The All American Rejects // Endlessly - The Cab // Come Back Home - We Are The In Crowd // Crash - You Me At Six // Back to the Start - The Summer Set // Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey // Sad Songs - The Maine ||
Summary: When Tom and Harrison buy their new apartment… they end up moving into the Reader’s building. The Reader is ecstatic, being a huge fan of the duo, particularly Tom. They’re desperate to catch a glimpse of Tom, desperate to get his attention. And they sure do… although a series of unfortunate and embarrassing accidents isn’t the way they wanted to do so.
Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader (romantic), Tom Holland x Harrison Osterfield (platonic), Harrison Osterfield x Reader (platonic)
Warning(s): Vaguely described sexy dancing, swearing, embarrassment
A/N: I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I AM DOING THIS, TERROR IS COURSING THROUGH MY VEINS. Okay, now that that’s outta the way… I adore this song and Tom… so thought why not put the two together? Anyways, this is my first imagine in… awhile. The second one I’ve ever written, and the first one I’ve written on this blog. Please leave me some feedback!
P.S I know I use the f-word a lot. Sorry. It’s just… ingrained into my thoughts now.
Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield had moved into the building your flat was in nearly a month ago. Initially, you were flabbergasted, and desperate for a sight of them. You adored both boys, even more so after the release of Spiderman: Homecoming… and just seeing them in person would surely put you on cloud nine. Mostly because you had the world’s biggest crush on Tom. You couldn’t have been more wrong.
Three days after they had moved in, you had been cleaning around the window near your fire escape and accidentally knocked one of your many potted plants off of the windowsill. It fell several stories to the pavement below… and almost hit Harrison fucking Osterfield. Both boys had looked up, clearly startled. You squeaked and promptly ducked back inside, face tomato red with mortification. You sunk to the floor and buried your face in your hands, heart pounding wildly. You’d almost killed one of your favourite celebrities! God. How could you be that stupid? Had they seen you? It had felt as though Tom was looking right at you…You shivered at the thought.
Then and there you vowed to never do something like that again and to never say a word about it, were you ever to bump into them. Unfortunately, the Universe had other plans for you, and that was only the first of many embarrassing incidents involving you and Tom Holland.
The next… escapade occurred roughly two weeks after the “Deadly Potted Plant Incident”, as your best friend had dubbed it through a fit of giggles the very night of the tragedy. You were returning from the library, a mountain of books stacked in your arms. Most were for research purposes, but a few were pleasure reads, and you were quite excited to look at every single book. The lift hadn’t been working the past few days, so you had to take the stairs. Misfortune, it seemed, was following you everywhere these days.
With a soft sigh, you started to climb, arms awkwardly positioned to keep a grip on the stack of books. You made it up two flights of stairs before disaster struck. You couldn’t see very well with all the books in the way and thought that there was another step when there actually wasn’t… you lurched and tumbled to the ground, books skidding across the landing every which way.
“Oh, fuck,” you whined, pushing up into a standing position, your bum going out, wincing as you straightened your knees. You gently rubbed at your knees, hissing at the pain, still bent over. There’d be some lovely purple bruises tomorrow. Fantastic. Someone had cleared their throat, startling you into making a rather undignified noise and somehow flailing your way into falling again. This time on to the landing. Smack on your ass. And of course- because the Universe hated you- It was Tom fucking Holland.
“Hey… are you alright, love?” He asked gently, squatting down in order to be eye-level with you. Your eyes went wide, cheeks warming significantly. God, he was so pretty up close… You opened and closed your mouth a few times, probably looking like a fish… of fucking course now was the time your voice chose to take a lunch break. After a few painful minutes, you were finally able to speak… and that made things even worse.
“No!” You squealed, scrambling backwards on all fours, “I almost killed Harrison with a potted plant last week and now-” You cut yourself off, gasping. You’d specifically told yourself never to mention that if you met Tom! God, you were such a mess! You quickly gathered your books and somehow sprinted up the stairs. Once you got into your apartment, you threw yourself on the couch, moaning over your embarrassment. Only you could mess up this bad.
The third incident happened the next week. You just couldn’t catch a break. You had, by this point, lulled yourself into a false sense of security. You hadn’t seen Tom or Harrison since the “Book Bumble Of Utter Humiliation” (okay, so you’d practically run away whenever either of them spotted you) and everything else in your life had been going pretty well. Your favourite professor had asked to keep one of your essays to use it as a future example.
You had just returned from grocery shopping, headphones in and two bags in your hand. The lift was finally working again, so you walked in. Your favourite song of the moment came on before the doors closed. Things had been getting better… you hadn’t had any more… eventful encounters with your famous sort-of neighbours. You could just… let go and dance to your favourite song, right? You put your bags on the ground, hips already starting to drop and move with the bass. Seconds later, you were full on dancing as though you were in a club. A bright smile bloomed on your face as you spun around slowly, circling your hips, hands in the air.
You hadn’t noticed that the lift had stopped… but you did see the doors opening over your shoulder mid hip-roll. And there, in all his lazy Sunday afternoon glory, was Tom Holland, mouth hanging open. Oh shit.