Summary: you’re finishing your last year of university in london, and what better way do to that than with an internship at holland and osterfield’s?
Warnings: mentions of sex, language, tom being a teasing bastard
Words: 1.5k+
a/n: inspired by this picture right here bc damn. based on the prompt “i banged someone last night and they’re interviewing me for a job” from this list and the first episode of grey’s anatomy
here is my masterlist | let me know if i should continue this here ☺︎
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When you wake up, your initial thought is to fall back asleep. It feels too early, you conclude, turning around in the sheets. As you do so, your eyes widen, realizing why you had awakened in the first place. Taking in your surroundings, you also realize that you don’t recognize the room you are in.
The memories of the previous night hit you like a ton of bricks, and you stumble out of bed, in search of your clothes. Stumble was the right word because two seconds later you bump into the nightstand, knocking your phone down on the carpet.
As if it was second nature, your head whips toward the other side of the bed, your muscles tensing as the sleeping figure stirs. You wince, painfully aware that you had woken him up. He turns on his side, his bare chest peeking out from the white comforter. Licking your lips, you take in his muscular build and messy hair, mentally patting yourself on the back.
“Where are you going?” He blinks a few times, a yawn escaping him as he runs his fingers through his hair.
“I have an interview in,” you click the button on your phone, your eyes widening. “45 minutes. Shit. Besides, this how one night stands work.”
You turn around, fishing your dress up from the floor with one hand. You try to ignore the sounds of the bed creaking as your date from last night moves around. You pull the red dress over your head, slipping on your black heels - surprisingly keeping your balance this time around.
“You can stay for breakfast, darling,” he suggests softly, his voice raspy. “I can drive you to your interview. I actually have to be at work in thirty minutes anyway.”
You shake your head, grabbing your purse and slipping your phone inside. “Thanks, but no thanks. I really need to go home and take a shower. This interview is important to me.”
He shrugs as if to say suit yourself, effortlessly throwing on a navy colored shirt. He follows you to the front door quietly, his bare feet padding against the wooden floors. You grab the door handle, turning around to take in his ravishingly good looks one last time. If this had been any other day, you definitely would have taken him up on his offer.
“Well,” a smirk spreads across his lips, and you wish you could feel them against your own. “Thank you for last night, love. Good luck with your interview.”
You just nod, swallowing thickly, unable to form a normal sentence. You walk out into the hallway, realizing that you’re on the top floor. You’re already planning the fastest route back to your apartment when you hear his door close behind you.
XXX
Taking one last look in the full-length mirror on your wall, you nod to yourself. You can do this. You’re too much of in a hurry to care about the apple falling off the counter as you grab your purse. Locking your door, you inhale deeply; one last attempt at calming your nerves.
The nerves come back in waves as soon as you walk through the revolving doors at Holland and Osterfield’s. The view that met you was more than enough to take your breath away, but you’re too anxious to enjoy the beautiful foyer. After announcing your arrival and purpose, you are directed toward the fourth floor. As the elevator doors close, you give yourself one last pep-talk.
Sitting in the office was the most nerve-wracking thing you had experienced in a long time. You nervously tug at the hem of your dark grey pencil skirt, wondering if it was a little too short. After glancing around the room again, you focus your gaze on the bookshelf on the wall. You can just barely read the book titles, but it helps calm your jitters.
“You like reading?”
The oddly familiar voice makes you jump in your seat, and you stand up, wiping your clammy palms on your skirt. Turning around to meet your potential boss, you extend your hand toward him. You can physically feel your eyes widen in shock when you look at him. His stern expression changes, too, and a smirk suddenly makes its way to his lips.
“Y/N,” your name falls from his lips with ease, and you hate how good it makes you feel. “Good to see you again.”
The sly smile on his face fuels your sudden frustration. Just my fucking luck, you thought, looking at the man you had left this morning. Yesterday when you met him, he had been wearing black jeans, a black shirt, boots and a suede brown jacket. The bad boy exterior had been swapped out, and you couldn’t quite decide which side you preferred.
You nod. “You as well,” you trail off, realizing you had either forgotten his name or he hadn’t given it to you at all.
“Tom Holland.” He finally takes your extended hand, his touch lingering. He clears his throat, walking toward the chair behind his desk. He motions for you to sit back down and you comply.
“So, Y/N,” he starts, flicking through the stack of papers on his desk. You realize they contain information about you, suddenly itching to see what was written. “It says here you go to Imperial College London. Impressive.”
You nod, not entirely sure how to reply. “Yeah,” you confirm. “I have been going to ICL for the past two years. I will be graduating in June.”
“I can’t help but notice your thick American accent. Although London is lucky to have you, I can’t help but wonder why you chose to come here. Enlighten me, would you, Y/N?”
You hate how your name sounds so much better in a British accent, especially the way it falls from his lips. You fold your hands in your lap, suddenly regretting leaving the top button of your blouse unbuttoned when you feel his eyes watching you.
“Well,” you begin, trying your best to avoid his curious eyes. “My aunt lives in London, so I used to come here every summer until I turned thirteen. I’ve always loved London, and well, ICL just seemed like the perfect university for me to attend.”
Tom nods, seemingly more interested in your appearance than your answer. You study the stripes on his tie, attempting to organize your thoughts so you would be prepared to answer his next question.
Crossing your legs, you use your right hand to throw your hair over your shoulder. Tom licks his lips, quickly glancing back down at the notes in front of him.
“What brings you to Holland and Osterfield’s? Why is this the company you want to intern with for the next six months?” He raises a questioning eyebrow, leaning back into the comfort of his chair.
You take ahold of your bottom lip with your teeth, trying to figure out the best way to answer his question. Truth to be told, his company had been the last on your list, but they were the only ones that had replied to your e-mail.
“Mr. Holland,” you start, meeting his eyes. “Your company is very extraordinary. I find what your company does and stands for especially inspiring. I know that Mr. Osterfield and yourself started out young, which makes your success that more impressive. I would love to work for a company like yours.”
Tom smiles at your answer, nodding. You glance at his hands as they write additional notes on the papers in front of him, an unwelcome redness spreading across your cheeks as you remember how they had touched you last night. The memory sends a shiver down your spine, and you shift uncomfortably in the chair.
“Harrison tells me you’re a marketing major. He’s the one who runs the marketing department of the company,” Tom informs you, looking back up from the printed notes. “Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make it in for your interview. He said you know all the basic marketing stuff?”
You nod, validating his information. You glance toward the black, elegant watch on the wall. It had only been ten minutes, and you were already more than ready to go back to your apartment.
“And do you usually sleep around?”
Your head whips toward him. “No! I-I, uh,” you sputter, embarrassed. The question had fallen from his lips so nonchalantly. “I believe that’s none of your business, sir.”
Tom grins teasingly with a shrug. “Fair enough.”
He pushes his chair back, standing up and straightening his blue blazer. You feel his eyes on you as he walks around his desk. You stand up quickly when he stops in front of your seat expectantly. You pick up your purse, slinging the strap over your shoulder.
Tom buttons his blazer, the fabric tightening around his abdomen as he does. You bite your lip, remembering his bare chest from the morning. You suddenly wonder what would have happened if you had stayed at his place.
“Well, Y/N, I look forward to working with you.”
You frown, meeting his eyes. “That’s it?”
“Yes,” he states simply. “Unless you have any questions for me, I expect to see you here on Monday. 8 o’clock sharp. Bring your laptop and good looks.”
You shake his hand, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away. If you had known the interview would be this easy, you wouldn’t even have bothered with the three mock interviews you had done with your friend the day before.
“Y-yes, Mr. Holland. Thank you so much! I will see you on Monday.”
You work in Tom's nightclub as a dancer/bartender and he's had his eye on you for a while. Ever since you started working, actually. So finally, he invites you to join him in his 'private room' and of course you say yes. (You wouldn't tell your boss no would you?)
At first you're a nervous, shaking, shy little mess. But after a few drinks and really getting to know Tom, you're cracking jokes and flirting HARD.
The next day you wake up at Tom's house in his bathroom and the first thing you see is him, hungover beyond belief and relaxing in his half filled bathtub.
A high pitched voice had filled the dull space of your cubicle, earning the person who had greeted, a grin from you.
You spun the worn out office chair around and found none other than your best bud, Jackie, an office workaholic junkie, smile down at you from the cubicle wall above.
"So, where’s the party at, slick?" Jackie playfully threw you a beautifuly wrapped blue box. You gave the little object a light shake to which you were able to recognize its contents immediately.
"I know. Don’t tell me. You like it already, don’t you? "Jackie enthusiasticly told you as she smacked her blood red lips. She apparantly had a thing for vampiric novelty items, which included a whole line of red lipstick variants to her make-up collection. Shady and grungy colors were the theme of her everyday syle. She was the definition of pure chic itself— with an edgy twist. Although you never really understood why, you didn’t question her likes anymore and she did the same for you.
"How could I not?" You spun yourself around placed the gift on top of your desk, letting the blue box land with a light ‘thump’.
Jackie eyed you suspiciouly. A look that didn’t go well with his cheerful attitude.
"Aw, now you’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?"
"No, I’m not."
"Okay, fine. You’re not being sarcastic then."
I nodded before piling the remaining stack of document on the desk. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
Jackie grunted in frustration. There was no way she was ever going to win an argument match between the two of you. “That’s it. I’ll let this one slide.”
"Thank goodness." You said as you let out a sigh of relief.
"Only because it’s your birthday."
You rolled your eyes at her before crossing your arms on your chest. “Everyday’s my birthday.”
Jackie squinted her green eyes at you. “The last time I checked, birth certificates didn’t work that way.”
“Well the should consider the idea since the hell I go through this heap of crap isn’t easy to deal with.” You jerked your head to the direction where massive piles of documents lay untouched, only waiting to be done.
Jackie followed your gaze as she gave a long and low whistle. A slow grin started to show on her face. “Touché.”
"Thanks."
"So we’ll just grab some fancy booze and party at your place then? And by party, I mean, watching some chick flick with some hot lead actor in it as we drink ourselves into oblivion and in frustration, right?"
You wondered just how far she could go talking without even worrying how to ever breathe again. Such a thing was a mystery.
"Yes ma’am, that’s the plan."
"Well boo. That’s lame as hell."
You rolled your eyes as her again and wondered if your eyes would fall off the next you’d do it again. “Says the person who does it with me every year.”
"Only because you’re my best friend and I love you, plus, you let me crash at your place whenever I run into problems."
You snickered. “Those problems wouldn’t have happened if you kept yourself from sleeping with every guy you want to lay your hands on.”
Jackie feigned a shocked expression at you but you knew she was hardly affected by it.
“I do not ! It has only been Michael, Angelo, Damian, Todd…” Jackie started to count and name but was lost halfway through it. “Okay fine, but I make sure that they’re always clean.” She finished as she flailed her arms up in your feat. You laughed.
“Talking about my fucked up sex life makes you happy, doesn’t it ?”
You cupped your mouth as you tried to contain another laugh. “A little.”
"You know, I feel sorry for you. Why don’t you try something new for your birthday ? Just hook up with some random guy already. Your vajayjay isn’t just some decoration for display purposes, you know."
Your eyes widened at her choice of words so you threw her the closest thing you could grab onto. Apparently it only took a pad of sticky notes to shut her up.
In a low tone of voice you whispered, “What the hell? Are you trying to get me in trouble? If anyone here finds out that I’m still a virgin—” You stopped as you heard someone clear his throat behind you. You eyed Jackie to which she could only reply with a muted, ‘oh shit”.
"Laters." Jackie was faster than Usain Bolt when it came to dodging situations like this.
For the second time, you spun your chair around, hoping that the division head hadn’t caught you chatting and slacking again. You started to sweat bullets when you realized it wasn’t the man you expected him to be, hell, it was worse.
Standing before you was none other than the Chief Operating Officer of the company you were currently working in. Given with the way he was looking at you differently, his eerie silence made you swallow the thick lump forming in your throat.
Startled, you started to utter some words that only came out as muffled squeaks. “M-Mr. Hiddleston ! I’m sorry hadn’t seen yo—”
"Miss _________. I’d like you to report to my office now to discuss some matters with you." The man before you appeared to be colder than ice. His brow twitched in annoyance when failed to deliver a reply immediately.
You swallowed the lump again. You felt your heartrate grow erratic.
"Y-Yes Sir! Right away Mr. Hiddleston!" You quickly jumped onto your feet and began to straighten yourself out. Remembering that you had worn a half-ironed skirt today because you were already too late to work to even bother remembering, you just wished that things would go well today.
You followed suit after him all the while some of your nosy co-workers eyes were transfixed on you, wondering what juicy scandal you’ve gotten yourself into right now. You passed by Jackie’s cubicle and found her giving you a sympathetic look before mouthing you sheepish ‘sorry’.
You gave her an unconvincing smile, telling her that it was all okay. You chanted a mantra throughout the whole duration of the walk. Telling yourself that it was all going to be okay.
