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t-lostinworlds · 2 years

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Revisiting Is Sweeter | Tom Holland [2]

R.I.S. Written Extra #2 ⥂ ⚽️ Part 3: accidental rebound

A/N: here we gooo! the night that started it all <3 a good amount of you lot wanted to see this and it was also quite exciting to be able to write in full how i imagined this in my head when i first made the series. had great fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy too! <3

》 SUMMARY: A few days after the cheating fiasco, going to a party didn't seem like a bad idea. But would that still be the case if the captain of the football team (a.k.a. ex-boyfriend of the girl your boyfriend cheated on you with) strikes up a conversation? 》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, light angst, mentions of cheating, tom being a flirt, light hearted insults, more mila & ash cuteness, suggestive themes, and one hell of a steamy & sinful make out (or in ashton’s words: dry humping session lol) 》 WORD COUNT: 8.5k+ (see why i’m not calling them blurbs? lmao)

♫ MINI PLAYLIST: ♪ enchanted - taylor swift ♪

✩ EXTRAS MASTERLIST ✩ R.I.S. MASTERLIST ✩ T. HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It seemed like you were stuck in a time loop—no, not a time loop. Well, it would be if there weren't any certain variations to your...love stories. This was more of a constant repetition of history that you couldn't seem to escape out of. It was always the same pattern and it always ended the same, with you sad, broken and alone.

So here you were once again stuck at a party, downing alcohol despite the bitter taste. It was the easiest yet poorest attempt to forget. Even for a fleeting moment, you simply wanted to forget about all the pain.

Not even nearly forget since you couldn't, especially with everything still so fresh. It was mostly to cause a distraction, to occupy your mind with other things rather than the deep, piercing ache in your ever so bruised and downright beaten heart.

What better way than to party it all out, right? It worked as a distraction before, so it was a guarantee it would do the same now.

Again, constant repeats.

Heartbreak, party, get drunk, rinse, repeat.

Once you start to slowly heal, somehow you were always able to meet someone in midst of the cycle. And no matter how many times you told yourself not to get too close, it still happens. Despite thinking that maybe, it will be different this time, it never changes.

Then you're back to square one.

Heartbreak, party, get drunk, rinse, repeat.

Maybe that was the loophole, the secret to breaking the cycle. Maybe the way for you to get out of this constant repeat was to omit that one part, to remain single, alone.

That wouldn't be too bad, right?

You'd be the cool, single aunt who'd give the most lavish gifts on every birthday, holiday or any special occasion. You would get to travel the world freely with no awaiting obligations back home. Maybe you'd get to live with a bunch of cats and dogs in a cottage somewhere.

Quite frankly, that was one better image than getting stuck in this seemingly never-ending cycle of heartbreak.

Maybe someday.

But right now, you were smiling.

You put on the most picture-perfect grin you could muster, careful not to spill your drink as Kat and Mila situated themselves on either side of you, Grabby crouched in front.

Ashton was the one who took the photo, laughing at how all four of you immediately lost balance a few seconds after the shutter went off. It caused you to spill your drink, anyway. You were thankful that it was only on the floor and not on the girls.

"I'm getting a refill," you announced to your friends in between laughs, loud enough so they could hear you over the deep and thunderous rhythm of the music.

Not bothering to wait for an answer, you dodged the sweaty bodies that littered the crowded living room, wandering around the quite nice and big enough flat to host a 'mini' party. It wasn't a big bash per se, but eleven football players along with a couple of their friends weren't exactly small, either.

Some people recognised you as you trod down the space, the looks of pity obvious and quite expected since the news had gone around campus quicker than wildfire. Gas added to the flame even more when there was drama about cheating thrown in the mix.

It wasn't solely because of you why it was prime gossip. It was mainly because it involved one of the most talked-about couples in the university to date.

You just so happen to be the girlfriend of the guy who Ms Popular cheated on Mr Popular with—if that even made an ounce of sense.

You put on a brave face, chin up with your smile wide, beaming, seeming to be unaffected as you nodded to anyone who met your eyes.

It was a couple of steps more until you found yourself in the kitchen, a quieter atmosphere with only a few people lingering about. You stood by the sink, facing the blank, white wall with a deep sigh as your smile slipped off. There was a faint sting on your cheeks, probably at how much you'd been forcing your lips to stay upturned the second you walked through the doors.

You grabbed the first bottle within your reach, not even looking as to what it was as you filled your cup nearly to the brim. Only then did you recognise the taste once you took a gulp, grimacing as the sparkling flavoured vodka burned down your throat. You leaned back against the counter as you turned in your place, eyes drifting vacantly across the room. An unconscious frown settled on your lips when you saw that the people around you were mostly in pairs, appearing that it was only you who were alone.

Well, what's new, anyway?

You contemplated if you should just go back to where the girls were. But you were slightly drained, and standing in the kitchen was a direly needed breather. It was an escape from the prying eyes where there wasn't much need for you to force a smile. It was a needed break from putting up a front that you were having a great time.

A few more minutes was what you treated yourself to since you couldn't exactly hide away for too long. The girls had probably already noticed your prolonged absence, and the last thing you wanted to do was make them worry even more.

But just as you were about to remove yourself from your secluded bubble, your movements halted when you met a set of brown eyes. They were familiar ones, but only from seeing them fleetingly through the halls but most commonly on the field.

His irises glimmered as if he too, recognised you. His lips were slightly parted, a soft furrow settling between his brows, his red cup unable to reach his mouth as he stopped himself midway through taking a drink.

It was cliché, mostly odd, but you found a sense of comfort in his gaze. Your shoulders unintentionally relaxed, body softening as you held it for a second or two, five more before you looked away first. You were unsure if the heat that coated your cheeks was caused by the vodka or by him.

You took a deep breath, taking an equally large amount of alcohol before your curious eyes found their way back to where he stood. He was saying something to this curly, red-headed lad, patting his back before he turned to you again.

His eyes locking with yours, he moved.

There was a soft smile playing on his lips, his feet taking somewhat slow, careful steps as he made his way over to you.

Oh.

Shifting in your place, you stood straighter, turning your cup in circular motions, letting yourself be distracted by the swirling liquid. You pretended not to notice him getting even closer, refused to look up even when he was already standing in front of you, the tips of his shoes just a foot away from your own.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice oddly comforting, somewhat deep but warm and welcoming.

It was ridiculous, the fluttering that erupted in your stomach the second you met his eyes again.

There was a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, the apples prominent as an ever so charming smile etched itself on his pretty face. It was a grin so sweet, soft in a way that made you feel at ease.

He looked just as, if not more handsome up close than he does from afar—

What is going on with you? Quit staring. You're not some teenage girl with a crush anymore.

You shoved your thoughts away, flashing him a small smile in return.

"Hi."

His smile grew wider then, a light crinkle appearing on the corners of his eyes.

"Y/N, right?" he pondered.

"Yeah," you hummed, nodding in affirmation before you tilted your head, eyeing him in feigned curiosity. "And you are?"

The question seemed to catch him off-guard, his eyelashes fluttering a few times as he looked at you in slight shock.

You bit your cheek to hold back a smile.

"Right, I'm Tom," he said after a few seconds, holding out his free hand for you to shake. "Tom Holland."

"That's a familiar name," you continued your little game, slipping your palm into his, a warmth starting from where your skins touched creeping its way onto your cheeks and causing the fluttering in your stomach to intensify. "Couldn't pinpoint where I've heard it, though," you added, shaking his hand once before letting go.

Oh my god, get a hold of yourself. The silent reprimand echoed in your head when the absence of his touch caused a great upset to the butterflies living in your gut, their wings slowly coming to halt.

Tom pursed his lips, his doubt-filled gaze trained on you quizzically. "You sure you don't know me?"

"Ah, used to people knowing who you are, huh?" you said without missing a beat, nodding slowly as you raised a brow at him.

A deep shade of red coated his cheeks in an instant as his eyes grew wide.

"No! No, it's just uh, ha," he chuckled shyly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as his head hung low. The action was adorable, his sudden shyness quite endearing. And you were glad his eyes were set on the ground because it gave you enough time to get rid of the stupid grin that grew on your lips.

Tom met your eyes again a couple of seconds later, his blush still prominent with a shy smile to match. "It's just, you know, I've seen you around the pitch before and well, the halls, around campus but not! Not in a weird way. And I know you're dating, well used to date—"

"I'm kidding," you cut off his rambling, your wide smile breaking out despite your best efforts to hold it back. "I know who you are."

Tom looked down at that, sheepish grin ever so prominent as the redness of his cheeks expanded to the tips of his ears. A playful glare got thrown your way a second later.

"You got me there, darling," he chuckled.

You did your best not to think too much about the pet name he so casually threw in. You tried your best not to acknowledge the ever so rowdy butterflies, awoken once again simply from how lovely the word sounded rolling off his lips.

You miserably failed, though.

Tom moved until he stood by your right, body fully facing you as his hip rested against the counter. Casually, he crossed his arms over his chest, his smile never wavering as he started, "So, what's a—"

"—pretty girl like me doing here all alone?" you finished calmly, brow raised as you kept your eyes locked with his.

"Oh wow, that's word for word." Tom blew out his cheeks, fingers running through his hair as he shook his head at you, seeming shocked. "Damn, I need to step up my game."

You laughed.

It was a laugh that caught you fully off-guard because it was a real one, neither forced nor held back, it was a real, genuine laugh.

What is happening?

"That's such a common chat up line that guys use," you pointed out with a shrug. "Be more...original next time."

"Noted, love," Tom hummed, shooting you a wink for good measure in case his tone wasn't flirtatious enough.

You pointedly rolled your eyes and looked away, bringing the cup up to your lips to hide your smile.

He grinned at that, tapping his fingers against his own cup as he asked, "So, you having fun?"

"Well..." you trailed off, not needing to elaborate anymore, also not needing to conjure a lie because you knew out of all people; he'd be the best one to understand.

Point proved right when Tom sighed, "Yeah, it's a good distraction for a moment but then it just creeps up out of the blue."

You nodded in agreement. "But I don't really want us to bond over our cheating exes though," you hummed, looking at him knowingly.

"Thou shalt not speaketh of them again," Tom chuckled, hands up in slight surrender, careful not to spill his drink everywhere. With a deep breath, he blurted, "How do you do your puzzles?"

You blinked, surprised. "What?"

Tom shrugged, grin widening as he explained, "Jigsaw puzzles, like do you start with the corners, do you sort the pieces by colour or...?"

"That's the most random question anyone has ever asked me," you said amusedly, turning to face him fully, hip resting on the edge as you leaned sideways against the kitchen counter. Your heart stuttered for a moment, only now noticing how close he actually was. The tips of your shoes were just an inch or two from each other. He was definitely very less than an arm's length.

"Glad I could impress." He smirked, standing taller as he puffed out his chest, chin up with a wink to match.

You rolled your eyes at that, shaking off the way your stomach churned—in the best way—at his flirtatious action. You also tried your best to not let your gaze linger for far too long at his toned muscles, the thin, white t-shirt he wore doing so little to conceal them as the fabric hugged him immensely. With his arms crossed over his chest, it wasn't at all helping your predicament.

"More baffled than impressed," you hummed, eyes trained on where the tips of your shoes were now connected. You contemplated it for a second, nodding to yourself before meeting his eyes again. "I guess it depends on the puzzle. Some have very noticeable corners so it's best to start with that. For the ones that don't, then I go with matching the colours as much as I can. Then there's the case where the colours are far too similar in shade, which I then take the patterns or images on the little pieces into account," you rambled, Tom nodding to tell you he was following, a soft smile adorning his features when he did so. "There's never one way or right way to do a jigsaw puzzle, it's a matter of using the different ways to your advantage," you finished.

"That's the best answer I've ever gotten," Tom said, smile wide, bright, matching with the twinkle in his eyes, and there was no ounce of teasing in his tone whatsoever. "You're really smart."

Your heart fluttered, looking away from his intense gaze as you shrugged. "For someone like you? Of course, it's smart."

"Ouch." Tom blew out his cheeks with a shake of his head, bottom lip jutted out as his eyes fell to the ground.

"I'm kidding, by the way," you quickly said, feeling the need to add the words of caution in fear of actually offending him. You didn't even notice that you'd unconsciously placed your hand on his arm in reassurance. Not until a wide grin erupted on Tom's face, his eyes landing on your hand briefly before he tilted his head at you.

"No, I know," he said, smirking with a wriggle of his brows. "Felt guilty for a second there, eh?"

"Fuck off," you scoffed as you pushed him playfully, retracting your hand away and curling it around your cup, slightly missing how warm his skin felt under your palm.

Tom laughed at that, which you learned has always been contagious. So in turn, you laughed.

It was surprising how the sound you emitted was still genuine. It was all the more odd when you gradually felt lighter the more you let out the sound more freely, the more you spent time with Tom.

The conversation continued to be like that, ranging from random questions and mundane small talks to sharing deep thoughts, casually sprinkling bits of teasing jokes and light-hearted insults here and there. But whichever topic it was, it flowed freely, an equal exchange of words where nobody was talking over the other. It was like a satisfying rally at a game of table tennis.

You learned that there's a girl back home he adores, his precious little princess in the name of Tessa, a beautiful Staffy he excitedly showed you a photo of. You also learned that he has three brothers, two of them—the twins—were actually here now.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you asked, "You ditched your brothers who came all the way here to visit you?"

Tom shrugged. "For someone totally worth it, though," he hummed, eyes never leaving yours with that charming smile etched on his lips.

You swore your heart was a gymnast in its previous life with how amazingly it did a flip in your chest.

"Hmm, ditching important people in your life for a girl you just met." You scrunched up your nose as you shook your head. "Not a good look."

Sheer panic crossed Tom's features in a snap. "No! It's not—"

You cut him off with a hearty laugh, your hand landing on his shoulder to steady yourself.

"Dammit, I fall every single time," he groaned, eyes screwing shut as he threw his head back.

"That's because you're so gullible," you said, patting his shoulder in feigned consolation. Tom dropped his head to meet your gaze, his pout in full play, quite an adorable sight. He was so close now, his forearm resting on the marble countertop just beside your waist. You didn't even realise that you moved closer as well, the only thing putting a distance between you two was both your respective cups held at the chest. "You should've seen your face," you teased, trying to ignore how fast your heartbeat had gotten.

Tom rolled his eyes playfully. "Glad you're enjoying yourself, love." Then his smile faltered a little, gaze meeting yours, softness coating his voice as he added, "For the record, I'm not that kind of person."

"No, I never thought you were," you said in all honesty, squeezing his shoulder to get your point across before you let your hand fall back to your side.

He chuckled shyly, a faint blush covering his cheeks as he nodded.

"Yeah, that's good, very good."

You smiled at that.

It felt easy, natural, just talking to Tom. You felt comfortable around him. You couldn't really explain the whys and hows, only that you felt relaxed, calmed, somewhat safe in his presence.

There was no need for you to pretend that you were having a great time because you genuinely were. The damning thoughts weren't given much chance to creep back into your mind as it was filled with everything about Tom.

It was refreshing, talking to someone without much filtering needed, without having to put up with the pity looks or the sadness that would cross their eyes in line with recent events.

It felt lovely to have someone who knew exactly what you needed at the moment. Tom understood what you were going through because he was going through the exact same thing. So naturally, he knew how to provide you with much needed comfort. He wasn't saying the most typical words to say in these types of situations. Some of them were nice to hear, but after a while, they just got repetitive.

There was none of that 'you can do better,' or 'it's his loss,' and 'he's not worth your tears' lines. All you were getting from Tom was his bad jokes, his flirtatious quips, his genuine compliments, and his occasional cheesy one-liners.

You weren't bonding over each other's sadness, either, no moment of feeling sorry for each other because you both knew it wasn't what you needed. And it felt much more comforting like that. It felt wonderful, just him talking to you simply because he wanted to talk to you and not for the sake of consoling a broken soul.

Besides that, no matter what he did, just him being him eased you up without much of an effort.

It was enchanting.

Tom is enchanting.

Everything was running so smoothly between you two.

And you would've gladly stayed right where you were for longer hadn't been for the couple who got too caught up in their own heated bubble.

"Oh god." You grimaced once the guy lifted the girl up on the counter right behind Tom. They were practically pulling at each other's clothes, probably forgetting how they were right out into the open.

The lad in front of you merely chuckled and moved out of the way, seeming used to this kind of scene. Then again, he probably was. You could only imagine how many parties he'd been invited and attended—being Mr Popular and all that.

"Come on," Tom said, offering a hand out for you to take. "Do you trust me?"

You rolled your eyes at him teasingly. "Aladdin? Really?"

"I just asked a simple question!" he defended with a laugh, though the twinkle in his eyes gave it away that he was, in fact, quoting the said movie.

"No, I don't trust semi-strangers," you answered, words reduced to none when you slipped your palm right over his.

"So I'm a semi-stranger then?" Tom chuckled, squeezing your hand before guiding you out of the kitchen and into this little lounging area in the far corner.

It was much more secluded; lights dimmed but not by much as you were still able to see clearly. He let go of your hand, placing his drink right on the corner table beside this tiny couch before he sat himself down.

And by a tiny couch, you absolutely meant a loveseat.

It was a space that could only fit two people, but even barely. Still, Tom looked up at you with a smile, patting the small space beside him.

"You are a semi-stranger because I know you, but I don't know you," you explained, settling right beside him.

Your thighs up to your hips were fully touching now, the two of you squeezed close together due to the little space the seat provided. But you didn't mind, it was oddly comforting, being close to Tom. It didn't help with the ever so rowdy butterflies in your stomach, though.

"Oh wow, that's so much clearer now," he gasped exaggeratedly, palm flat against his forehead as he gawked at you, pretending to be shocked.

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, "Maybe if you dust up that one brain cell, then you'll get it."

"You're hurting my feelings, love," he sighed, pouting. He rested his arm on the back of the seat then, situating it right behind you, his fingers brushing ever so gently against your shoulder, touch featherlike.

You narrowed your eyes at him, contemplating if his arm placement was an unconscious movement or if it was part of his many cheesy yet smooth advances. Either way, you didn't really mind it, a smile breaking out on your lips at the thought of him doing the most cliché thing to be a little closer.

Silence fell between you two for a moment but Tom kept his gaze locked with yours. It was like he was thinking of something, his smile soft, eyes just the same. You took a drink as you looked away, your whole face heating up at his obvious ogling. His smile only grew wider then, head tilted as his eyes never left your face.

"Why are you staring?" you laughed shyly, kicking his shin gently to tell him to knock it off.

"Do you ever get angry? I feel like you're a person who doesn't get angry," he pondered, completely ignoring your question. Though his grin and the faint blush on his cheeks told you he indeed was staring, and he wasn't at all ashamed nor was he embarrassed at getting caught.

"I do, everyone does. It's a normal human emotion and there's nothing inherently bad about it," you answered, meeting his gaze as you added, "That only changes in the manner of how you act on it."

Tom narrowed his eyes on you. "Can I borrow your brain sometimes? I feel like my grades would skyrocket if I do."

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes, pursing your lips before tossing the ball into his court. "How would you act on your anger?"

"It depends on the why and if other emotions came with it." Tom shrugged.

"The floor's all yours, Holland," you hummed, gesturing around the space with your free hand, urging him to keep going.

Tom laughed, nodding slowly before his eyes landed on the ceiling. "If I'm hurt while I'm angry, I usually go cold, standoffish if you could say," he started, taking in a deep breath before he continued, "But if it's just pure rage then it's the very hard opposite."

"You get angry with fists?" you asked, brows furrowing in curiosity.

"Sometimes, but I do let it out physically most of the time, blow off steam whether that's kicking balls at mannequins or, well, taking it out on punching bags in the gym. Been working on keeping my anger under control," he said, nose scrunching up before he tore his gaze away from the white paint and met yours. He had a soft and shy glimmer in his eyes, insecure almost. "I've been successful so far with not bruising anyone's face, though."

You smiled at him reassuringly, letting him know that you weren't at all judging him. You placed your palm on his knee, the one that started bouncing when he spoke. Tom's eyes landed on your hand, his leg halting its movement before he met your eyes again. A sweet smile grew on his lips, the blush on his cheeks turning a shade deeper.

"How about you?"

"Hmm, I usually get livelier when I'm purely angry and annoyed, laugh sarcastically, but hurt-angry," you paused, squeezing his knee before curling your hand around your cup and settling it on your lap, "A little soft-spoken with tears, sometimes I stay completely quiet, sometimes I act like I'm not even affected by it. I never want to let it out somehow, which probably isn't the best, you know, bottling it in. Maybe if I reach the tipping point, then I'll yell at some point. But that rarely ever happens if I'm hurt."

"So you wouldn't want to punch Oliver in the face?" Tom asked.

"No," you breathed out, nothing but honesty coating your words. "I don't want to hurt any of them."

Tom stared at you for a moment, face unreadable before a smile slowly grew on his lips. "Yeah, you're an extremely kind, genuine, smart and sweet girl." He tilted his head, eyes never leaving yours as he hummed, "You're a sweetheart."

"And you got that from what?" you asked, laughing shyly, heat dusting your cheeks as your heart did somersaults.

"It's obvious really, from the way you talk and the way you see things, and—" he stopped himself, eyes cast on the ground as he pursed his lips.

"What?" you wondered.

"I just feel it," he finally said, shrugging as he locked eyes with you. His smile was genuine, his finger reaching over to poke your nose softly. "You've got no mean bone in you."

You instinctively scrunched up your face at his touch, a soft chuckle escaping him once you did so. You glared at him teasingly, trying to make your voice sound deeper, intimidating. "I can be mean."

"Cute mean," Tom countered without a second to miss.

"Fuck off," you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

Tom laughed, gesturing at the whole of you. "See? Cute mean."

You shook your head at him with a laugh, not bothering to conjure a comeback as you took a sip out of your drink instead.

When you looked back at Tom, though, his expression had changed. It was softened somewhat, his lips slightly parted, his eyes holding some kind of emotion. You couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but it made your whole face heat up, nonetheless.

Your heart fluttered when his lips curled into a sweet smile, brown hues flickering over your face with that certain glow in them unwavering. If anything, it gradually turned brighter, even more so when he met your curious gaze.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked after a few moments of silence. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Just a little—" He shifted in his seat, leaning closer to you, fingers landing carefully on your eyebrow before showing you a tiny white lint, "—fuzz."

"Oh. Thanks," you softly said, not finding the need to say it louder given that he'd hear it either way. Simply from the fact that his face was now only a couple of inches away from yours.

If the butterflies in your stomach were rowdy before, you had no idea how to describe them now. Hell, your heartbeat was practically ringing in your ears purely because he was such in close proximity.

"Have I already told you how beautiful you are?" Tom spoke up, voice soft yet laced with utter praise.

"Hard to tone down the flirt in you, huh?" you teased with a soft laugh. Yet your smile slowly slipped off the more you stared into his eyes. The deeper you got lost in them, the more beautiful they looked, simple shades of honey and chocolate mixed together in perfect swirls.

"I'm not flirting, just telling you the truth," Tom hummed.

You swore you felt your heart stop the second his gaze dropped to your lips. He wasn't being discreet about it either, making his intentions known as leaned even closer. Tom licked his own lips, tearing his eyes away from your mouth to meet your lingering stare.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to stop," he whispered.

Suddenly feeling quite daring, you moved, brushing the tip of your nose with his. You let your gaze fall onto his pink lips briefly yet evidently before you met his eyes again.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you hummed.

Tom grinned at that, taking your drink from your hands and then placing it on the table that was now behind him.

He cupped your face after, thumb smoothing over your warm cheek as his eyes bore into yours. It was clear how he was searching for any kind of doubt. But you knew he couldn't find any because the feeling wasn't at all present in you.

The next second your eyes fluttered close, not having the strength to hold the intensity of his gaze for any longer or you'd combust.

The second after that, Tom finally pressed his lips against yours.

It was cliché, but you couldn't deny the way your heart jumped out of your chest, sparks practically lighting up your whole body at the mere feeling of his soft lips against your own.

You easily melted into him with a sigh, head tilting as you instinctively leaned closer. It was almost as if he was his own source of gravity, a gradual pull that you couldn't even begin to resist.

And honestly, you didn't want to.

Your hand found its way on his thigh, unintentionally putting pressure on the muscle as you tried to steady yourself. Tom breathed out shakily at that, your brows rising in question to which he only shook his head with a low chuckle.

Then, his lips moved, a gentle coax, and it took no time at all for you to match with him.

Your lips moved in sync like it was second nature as if you'd kissed plenty of times before. But no, it was the first, so it was also slow, careful, testing the waters to make sure nobody was pushing the other too far, tied with the worry that maybe you were moving too soon.

Though the second Tom darted his tongue out, asking for entrance, you didn't even hesitate to welcome him in.

He groaned ever so softly as your tongues met. You responded with a satisfied hum of your own, letting him explore your mouth gingerly, his tongue moving in a way that was passionate but not rushed. It was almost like he was relishing it, relishing in your taste, and your heart could only beat faster at the thought.

The taste of beer was what greeted you first, faint but present for you to take notice. But it wasn't powerful enough to override the taste of him.

And you honestly couldn't decide which of which was making you feel more intoxicated.

It was the latter, most definitely.

Tom's hand travelled from your cheek and down the side of your neck, his warm palm smoothing over your shoulder, running down your arm until his fingers curled around your waist. He squeezed it pointedly, leaning forward so he was able to wrap a strong arm around you. He pulled you close with another squeeze, silently urging you to be even closer.

You clocked onto what he wanted, gladly obliging as your hands landed on his broad shoulders for support. With a sharp intake of breath, you threw one leg over him until you were straddling his lap, your knees on either side of his hips as you kept your lips warmly pressed on his. You sat fully, comfortably, exhaling through your nose at the mere feeling of your chest pressed flush against his.

Tom groaned into your mouth, probably enjoying the newfound weight on him. His hands were glued to your waist but you could almost feel his fingers twitch. It was like he was itching to move them somewhere else, but he didn't.

Well, at least, not yet.

He pulled away, chest heaving, pausing momentarily to look for your gaze. You saw the glint in his eyes, his hands caressing your waist but not moving too high or too low. Your heart fluttered once you understood what he was trying to imply. Despite it being a silent one, he was asking for permission, nonetheless. You nodded with a smile, nudging your nose with his with a soft,

"It's okay."

And it was the only thing Tom needed before he crashed his lips back on yours.

The pace picked up then.

His mouth moved hungrily this time, his touch mirroring the absolute fervour that he poured into the kiss. His hands were hot and heavy as they trailed down your thighs, squeezing them firmly, earning a soft hum from you. His fingers caressed your sides before they traced your spine, moving further up to your shoulders and then back down again.

Your heart was beating in anticipation as the warmth of his touch slowly, teasingly travelled south, further down until he was cupping your ass. He squeezed them firmly through your jeans, pulling you forward in the process, closer as if you could go any further.

Tom groaned as you moaned, the perfect alignment of your cores swiftly dialling up the heat.

And oh you definitely feel it hard, right under you.

You were intoxicated, there was no doubt about that. Although you weren't so sure if it was from the alcohol you drank, the feeling of his lips hotly on yours, the burn of his palms all over your clothed skin or merely his presence alone. Either way, you felt a surge of confidence, added with the tinge of need as you slowly started to grind on him.

"Fuck." Tom gripped at your hips tightly, breaking the kiss unintentionally as he gasped in surprise.

It gave your burning lungs a needed breather yet you weren't planning on stopping your movements any time soon. So, feeling bold, you trailed your lips down his jaw instead.

"Oh, careful, darling," he warned teasingly as you moved onto the warm skin of his neck, placing open mouth kisses before gently suckling on it. "Shit," he cursed lowly, your smile widening with pride when he shivered under you.

"Sensitive?" you teased, teeth gently nibbling on his skin, smoothing it over with your warm tongue which made him suck in a sharp breath.

"Somehow," Tom breathed out shakily, "Probably because it's you."

You rolled your eyes despite him not being able to see you. "You're such a flirt."

"You are literally not in the position to say that, love," he retorted, breath hitching when you kissed a spot an inch below his ear.

Sweet spot.

You grinned against his skin with a hum. Tom shook his head at you in response, his guttural groan following suit when you started sucking on that specific spot, intent on leaving a mark.

"If you keep this up I might have to take you somewhere private," he mused, a choked moan escaping his lips when you grounded your hips on him a little harder. His grip found its way back on your ass, squeezing it hotly.

Once satisfied with the deep purple colour you left on his skin, you trailed back up, kissing his jaw until your lips were pressed right on his swollen, pink ones.

"Hmm, your room perhaps?" you purred against his mouth.

Tom nodded in confirmation with a dark chuckle, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. He was trying to get an upper hand, and he successfully did so by simply thrusting up against you. Your movements faltered with a gasp, Tom not wasting any time on slipping his tongue back into your mouth like it belonged.

He swallowed your moan when he guided your hips to meet his. Your jean-clad cores were grinding against each other, his hard-on lusciously slotted between your thighs, your soft gasps mixing with his deep grunts each time more pressure was added. The friction was making your head spin, insides churning, the feeling overwhelming in a way that had your body all hot and feverish.

You gripped one hand on his shoulder for support as the other made its way to the back of his head, pulling him impossibly closer, your fingers lost in the mesh of his curls. He rutted his hips up again, his bulge bumping against a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, making you pull his hair harshly in surprise with a moan.

Tom let out an animalistic growl at that, the sound sending shockwaves through your whole body but felt more intensely at your very core. You shivered, a barely-there whine escaping out of you. But with how close he was, of course, he heard.

He smirked smugly between the kiss, a chuckle vibrating through him. He was obviously relishing in pride knowing that he has a certain power over you, coming to that conclusion simply from your reaction.

"Room's just down the hall, darling," he grumbled against your lips, the need in his tone palpable, the desperation to have less clothing and more of you present in his touch as he squeezed your ass pointedly and added, "Your call."

"Y/N!"

You pulled away immediately with a squeak, already recognising the owner of the voice. Screwing your eyes shut, your whole body slumped as it grew immensely cold, your head dropping on Tom's shoulder with a groan.

Without a doubt, it was the most pitiful attempt at hiding. But how else would you hide when it was painfully obvious that you were still on his lap?

It wasn't the most common for you to get caught making out with strangers at a party. Occasionally, it happens, you admit. But it was mostly tamed and driven by loads of alcohol.

But to end up on someone's lap, and not even just sitting but grinding? Not to mention the lap of the one and only Mr Popular, captain of the football team, Tom Holland? It was a side of yourself you didn't even know you had. And then to get caught right in the act by someone who you know would never let this go, embarrassed wasn't even the word to describe it.

You simply wanted to disappear into a hole and never come back out again.

The lad beneath you chuckled, probably noticing your mortification as he immediately put his hands back on your waist, squeezing it gently in comfort.

"Uh, sup, Tom."

"Ashton."

"Okay, right, I'm really sorry to interrupt your dry humping session—"

"Ash!" Your head shot up as you looked at your friend in absolute horror. Tom laughed at that, his chest vibrating once he did so. But the sound swiftly died down when you smacked his chest lightly as a warning. He squeezed your waist, looking at you with a pout almost as an apology. Almost.

"—but I need help," Ashton continued, completely ignoring your death glare.

You sighed, not needing any more explanation once you saw the look of desperation on his face. "Already?" you asked.

"Yup," Ashton exhaled, scratching the back of his head in defeat.

You turned back to the lad in front—well, partly under you. "I have to go," you murmured, face turning warm, your eyes only meeting his briefly as you squeezed his shoulder.

"Yeah," Tom breathed out, offering you both his hands to help you off his lap.

The second your feet touched the floor, a voice shrilled.

"Y/N! My beloved!" Mila slurred as she stumbled into the space, Ashton closely by her side to make sure she didn't face plant onto the floor. "Have you seen Ashton, my other beloved?" she wondered.

"Oh, so I'm the other beloved now," The lad in question sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at his girlfriend but the adoration in his eyes never did waver.

Before you could even answer her question, she suddenly raised a hand, pointing harshly at you. "Hey, you!" Mila exclaimed, eyes narrowed in pure judgement. "Were you just grabbing her ass?"

Confused, you looked behind you only to see Tom standing there, a shy chuckle escaping his lips as his face turned crimson red. He met your eyes briefly before they dropped to the floor, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck shyly.

You would've found the sight quite adorable if you weren't too preoccupied trying to crawl back into the hole you now decided you were going to bury yourself into.

"Well, can't blame you. She does have a great ass. Did you like grabbing it?" Mila asked, eyes still trained on the lad behind you. "Only one right answer!"

You thought Tom couldn't get any redder, but he did.

"Mila you can't just ask people that!" you hissed, not giving Tom a chance to answer, looking away from him as you rubbed your palm over your face in utter embarrassment. Sighing, you turned to Ashton with a bewildered expression. "How many did she have?"

"From the photo Kat posted, I'm guessing, a case maybe?"

"Make sense," you muttered before turning to your best friend, the one who's lightweight when it comes to alcohol but doesn't at all let it stop her from having fun. "Hey you, let's go home, yeah?"

Mila grinned at that, practically stumbling and then throwing herself at you with no hesitation as she wrapped both her arms around your shoulders. "Okay!"

"Oh my god, I can't carry you! You know that!" you complained, her whole weight practically dragging you down to the floor.

"Well, give me Ashton then!"

"Right here, babe," the lad sighed, trying again as he flashed his girlfriend a smile. Mila stared at him suspiciously for a moment before a glow of realisation bloomed on her face.

"Hi baby!" she giggled, finally getting off of you and snuggling herself into her boyfriend's arms.

"Hi, let's get you home," Ashton chuckled, kissing her temple before guiding her towards the front door.

"No! Y/N! Don't leave me!" Mila whined, reaching out for you before she could even take a step.

You two made a pact way back when that whenever you're out at a party, no one ever leaves the other behind, mostly for safety purposes. And Mila, well, she takes that pact to another level when she's got alcohol in her system. You adore her for it honestly.

Ashton shot you a sympathetic look, knowing that there wasn't much he could do about it if ever you wanted to stay a little longer. Mila was one stubborn girl, and nobody could truly stop her if she set her mind on something.

But you simply brushed him off with a smile, silently telling him that it wasn't a big deal.

Okay, fine, you'll admit, you didn't want the night to end just yet. You wanted to stay for a few moments more but the rational part in you was yelling at you that you shouldn't.

Other than the fact that Tom Holland brought nothing with him but ample amounts of attention with that charming dash of trouble—two things you really didn't want in your life right now—the both of you did just come out of very recent, bad break-ups. Separate ones but a break-up that you two were tied together in, nonetheless.

Tom was the boyfriend of the girl your ex cheated on you with, and you are the girlfriend of the guy Tom's ex-girlfriend cheated on him with.

That sentence in itself goes to prove just how complicated it would be.

It wasn't the right time to get involved with him, especially when things would only end up getting messier if you did. Maybe in a different circumstance, you'd give it a chance, see where this would lead. But right now? You really didn't need any more drama in your life.

With a deep breath, you turned back to Tom who was just standing there, waiting expectantly.

It made you feel so bad, truly, and you wished the night would end differently. But you only managed to give him a small, apologetic smile, holding back any words you wanted to say as the consequences of getting too close to him started to barrel their way into your head.

Tom returned the gesture, a reassuring smile gracing his lips, his hands slipping in the pockets of his jeans as he nodded. It was like he understood completely, despite there being no words exchanged.

You took that as the cue to leave, turning on your heel and rushing towards your friends without daring to look back.

"Is she out?" you asked once a sudden silence rang in the parking lot.

"Yup," Ashton confirmed, locking Mila's seatbelt in place, a sweet peck landing on her forehead before he closed the passenger's door. He moved to open the backseat door for you. "Come on, I'm dropping you off at your flat."

"Thanks." You climbed into his car, waiting for him to get into the driver's seat before asking, "She's staying with you right?"

Ashton nodded, turning to you with a raised brow. "You want to do the honours this time?"

You laughed, shaking your head, already knowing he was referring to being the one to put up with an otherwise grumpy and groggy Mila in the morning. "Ash, I've done that for many years. It's all your turn from now on, bud, sorry."

"She's so lucky I love her," he grumbled jokingly, a chuckle escaping him as he reached over to brush away the hair that was practically covering Mila's whole face. Though you know he didn't mind it at all, always down to take care of the love of his life whether it be from a nasty hangover or otherwise.

"She is," you hummed, extremely happy for your friend to have found someone who would give the world to her without hesitation.

At least one of you was getting the happy, fairytale love story they rightfully deserved.

The rest of the car ride was silent apart from the faint music that played on the radio. It would've been comforting but it wasn't at all helping in drowning out the loudness of your thoughts.

It was mostly just replays of tonight; all the good parts from the moment that brown-eyed lad approached you in the kitchen.

Your grin was prominent, growing unconsciously since you only realise you were even smiling whenever you catch your reflection on the car window. But no matter how many times you tried to smack it off your face, it just creeps its way back without meaning to.

The more you recalled tonight, the more your cheeks started to hurt, added with the tinge of heat that would coat your skin the deeper you go down memory lane. The rowdy butterflies in your stomach hadn't stopped either, wings fluttering into chaos at the simple thought of his lips on yours.

You were well aware that you were acting like a teenage girl who just kissed her crush for the first time. But quite frankly, that was exactly how you felt.

You'd never want to admit it out loud but Tom certainly had an effect on you no matter how short your moment was together.

"So..." Ashton's voice suddenly filled the car, "Tom, huh?"

"Shut up," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Though with one look at him through the rearview mirror you knew he wasn't letting this go. He was raising a knowing brow at you, so obviously wanting to get into the details, ones he'd only use against you, for joking and embarrassment purposes, of course.

"That was only a one-time thing, Ashton. Don't even start," you added, not in the mood to start with the teasing side of this whole thing. You'd rather save your energy for it later because you knew it would be even worse once the girls find out.

"One-time thing," he hummed. "Let's hope that's not another one of your famous last words."

You ignored his comment, your own words echoing in your head and it made your heart sting. As much as you didn't want it to be a one-time thing, it needed to be.

Slowly, your smile dwindled, curving downward as the sting continued to settle in your chest.

The memories of the certain flirtatious yet charming lad you'd just been so close with a few minutes prior continued to cloud your mind.

You still couldn't shake the feeling of his warm skin against your own, the softness of his lips equalled with the eagerness of their movement as they moulded yours, the sense of calmness his presence brought, the sheer comfort he provided.

Yet the memories emitted a different set of emotions this time around, a new sense of dread.

All feelings lingered too strongly for your liking, every single one caused by him, feelings that you found yourself craving to feel again.

But you shouldn't.

Who knew that you'd be carrying one set of baggage as you walked into that party only to walk out carrying an entirely different one?

You breathed out shakily as you closed your eyes, silently pleading to whoever was listening out there in the universe,

Please, don't throw me back into the cycle.

Not again.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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t-lostinworlds · 2 years

Text

Revisiting Is Sweeter | Tom Holland [1]

R.I.S. Written Extra #1 ⥂ ⚽️ Part 2: too good to be true

A/N: soooooo, this took a lil while. this part is dedicated to that person who said they wanted to see mila punch oliver in the face so here ya go <3 oh and by the way, this is the ONLY extra that’s 1k words so only upwards from here ++ i haven’t posted a fic in a while so i’m shitting bricks lmao. hope you guys enjoy! more to come soon <3

》 SUMMARY: when Tom sees Oliver at practice after the incident, he wanted nothing more than to break his face. But someone beat him to it. 》 WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, talks of harrison walking in on tom lmao, penis size...mocking? lol?, mila & ash <333333, bloody nose due to one (1) badass punch. 》 WORD COUNT: 1.7k+

✩ EXTRAS MASTERLIST ✩ R.I.S. MASTERLIST ✩ T. HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rage.

Pure, boiling rage was exactly what Tom felt the second he saw him at the field.

Oliver Chase.

The guy who'd been fucking his girl behind his back for who knows how long.

Granted, both persons were to blame. And don't get him wrong, Tom was just as angry at Tricia. But when it came to seeing her, he also felt hurt, an aching feeling of betrayal right on top of endless questions of whys and what ifs.

But seeing the blue-eyed dickhead? Nothing but absolute rage seethed in him. No less, could definitely be more.

The studs on Tom's shoes felt like they didn't belong on the freshly mowed grass on the pitch. It felt like it much more belonged, harshly drilled into that asshole's face.

Tom's emotions were probably so blatant across his entire being—he'd always been quite expressive—when not even a second later, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Don't do anything stupid," Harrison warned, eyes narrowed at him sharply.

"It's not stupid if it's fucking justified," Tom grumbled, shrugging his best friend's hand off before trailing towards the bloke he absolutely wanted nothing more but to end up on the ground.

Harrison followed him hurriedly. "Tom, don't—"

But both lads didn't get a chance to get closer to where Oliver was standing when a loud voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Oliver fucking Chase! You fucking asshole!"

Everyone in close vicinity turned their attention to the person who entered the field, one who was practically glowing with fury. And by everyone, that included the whole football team and the few students that were lingering near the bleachers.

Tom looked at the girl in slight confusion, trying to pinpoint why she seemed familiar. Though he quickly watched in amusement when Oliver seemed to look so scared shitless the second he noticed her practically barreling towards him.

He then saw Ashton trailing right behind her, not at all fazed at how aggressive her stance was. It was surprising given that she looked like she was about to murder Oliver, the person who was Ashton’s supposed best friend.

Then it clicked.

Ah right, Mila, Ashton's girlfriend, Tom thought.

He only met her a few times when she came around the field every once in a while. Tom and Ashton were friends, of course, being on the same team. But they weren't exactly that close for Tom to know every bit of his life or that he'd get to know his girlfriend more than the passing ‘hi’ and 'hello.'

Tom was so thankful that the young lad told him the truth about Tricia and Oliver, though. You'd think Ashton would defend his best friend, hide the whole thing to save his face. But by the looks of it now, their friendship didn't seem to hold that same meaning anymore.

Oliver backed away a couple of steps, hands held up in surrender as if that'll help him. "Mila—"

"Walang hiya kang gago ka!" she seethed.

The words flew right over Tom's head, but he didn't need to understand what it meant to know that Oliver was completely done for. If the pure anger in her voice wasn't enough, the way she walked right up his face without an ounce of fear—even with the obvious height difference—told Tom that she wasn't one to be messed with. Hell, Oliver practically towered over her and without a doubt, could easily cause damage with one simple push.

But Oliver merely shook his head with a sigh, "Alright, just calm down—"

"Ang bobo mo! She was so fucking good to you!" she screamed, shoving his shoulder harshly. "You walking pile of shit she treated you so well! She's been nothing but an amazing girlfriend to you!"

"Okay, okay, baby, he's got it," Ashton spoke up, but not at all remotely trying to get in her way, let alone stop her as he merely stood by the sidelines.

"No, I don't think he fucking has!" Mila hissed, glare not faltering by one bit as she kept it piercingly steady on Oliver. "You know what she's been through but still! You go around shoving that micro-penis inside that girl out of all people?!"

The chatter and snickers around the field erupted then, more people now in tune with what was going down. After all, who doesn't enjoy a bit of drama every once in a while?

"Micro-penis, damn," Harrison breathed out beside him, both brows raised in amusement.

"So Tricia downgraded then," Tom hummed, arms crossing over his puffed out chest as a smirk grew on his lip.

The blonde lad rolled his eyes at him pointedly. "For fucks sake, are you still in high school?"

"What? I'm just saying!" Tom laughed, shrugging. "I mean, you've seen it. Mine's definitely above average," he stated, as a matter of fact, both inches wise and well.

Living together definitely had its downsides. And by downsides, Tom meant walking in on him whilst in the middle of a pounding—Harrison's words, not his—in the living room. It wasn't Tom's fault his best friend didn't tell him he'd get home early.

"I still have nightmares about that, please don't," Harrison complained, rubbing his eyes with his fingers as if it would help erase the image. "I sit on that couch, bloody gross."

"Oh fuck off. I wiped the cushions right after," Tom scoffed.

Oliver's jaw tightened at her words, face hardening as he stood straighter. Tom chuckled at that, his reaction obviously clear that Mila just struck a nerve.

She laughed sarcastically, "Oh don't act fucking surprised. Y/N's my best friend, not to mention we live together. You really think she hadn't complained to me about where you're lacking?"

A chorus of oohs echoed around the field, people merely watching with their invisible popcorns in hand. But Tom wasn't sure if Oliver's face was red from embarrassment or anger.

Mila didn't seem to give a single damn, though. And even if the lad did try something, Tom knew Ashton wouldn't be happy with that. The latter was simply standing close by, letting his girlfriend do what she needed to do and by the looks of it, only planning to interfere when needed be.

"You know what? I knew you didn't deserve her in the first place. You're way below her level. She's so much better off without you," she spat, breathing in deeply before turning on her heel.

But Oliver just made the mistake of grabbing her arm. "Just let me talk to her—"

Mila swiftly turned, a painful smack ringing in the air as she let her knuckles connect with Oliver's nose with one quick but hard punch.

The lad stumbled back with a groan, his hand going over his face reflexively.

Everyone let out sounds of pure surprise since nobody expected that to happen. The noises then quieted down to hush whispers, snickers from a couple of the boys on the team and the funniest part was Coach Tyson seeming to not have seen anything.

Coach might be your stereotypical dad in his late 50s, probably bad with technology and all the 'young talk,' but he was always in tune with what news went around the campus, especially when it involved two members of his team. And clearly, Coach didn't condone cheating on his pitch.

Mila brushed it off with a shrug, clenching her fist a couple of times before she hissed, "You better stay the fuck away from her."

Oliver pulled his hand off his face, eyes trained on his palms that were now stained crimson. The blood oozed out of his nose as he glared at the girl in front of him and took a step forward.

"Why you little bit—"

"Finish that sentence I fucking dare you," Ashton growled, stepping in front of Mila as he placed a firm hand on Oliver's chest.

Tom pursed his lips with a hum, "Right, I'm going to go help." But before he could even take a step, Harrison grabbed him by the collar of his jersey.

"No. Stay."

Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I'm not your dog, Harrison."

"I know you're going to 'help' beat him up so stay, Tom. You'll only make it worse." The blonde lad shrugged, grip on his shirt tight and firm.

"Babe, you done?" Ashton asked, glancing at Mila over his shoulder.

She nodded, softly breathing out, "Yes."

Ashton let go of Oliver then, turning around fully to face his girlfriend. He took her hand in his, carefully inspecting it before placing a soft kiss on her knuckles before leaning in to place another one on her forehead. "Let's get some ice for your hand and then I'll walk you to class, yeah?" he hummed, Mila nodding in response.

"Ash, mate, really?"

"Don't act like you didn't deserve that," the lad in question scoffed, only shooting Oliver a pointed grimace. "Go get your face fixed."

The couple left the field after that, Ashton guiding Mila out with a protective arm around her.

"Damn. You really wouldn't want to mess with Y/N's best friend huh," Harrison stated, the whole field continuing with their business as if nothing happened.

Tom nodded. "Yeah, good on her to do that," he said, cracking his knuckles before adding, "It's my turn, though."

But just as he was about to take one step, his name rang in the air.

"Holland! Osterfield! These cones aren't going to place themselves, lads," Coach Tyson called out, arms crossed over his chest as he shot both boys a knowing look.

Tom groaned in utter annoyance at yet another interruption of his plans. Harrison merely laughed at him, patting the top of his head mockingly before jogging over to where the cones were stacked.

Oliver, on the other hand, was already walking out of the field, cloth over his face to stop the bleeding. He was accompanied by Blake, another player on the team, probably towards the clinic to get his face fixed.

Tom ran a hand through his hair, taking in deep breaths to calm himself before following Harrison's tracks.

Lucky bastard. Maybe next time.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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