#if anyone notices the direct parallel to the prologue lmk lmao im proud of that one

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Epilogue) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Three years later, you and Tom are back at the Oscars.

Word count ↠ 3.3k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol mention, slightly suggestive but not really, lots and lots of fluff.

A/N ↠ I can’t believe we’re here! The epilogue! Thank you so much to everyone that’s supported me and the fic over the last three months :’) If you know me, you’ll know I really struggle committing to series, so the fact I made it here, without missing any updates, is something I’m very proud of tbh. I hope that you’ve liked the story :) The biggest thank you ever has to go to V, mischiefandi, for helping me so much in the early stages of this story... Thank you again for always listening to me <3 Additionally, a huge huge thank you to everyone that’s read, commented and sent in asks! I hope the epilogue doesn’t disappoint :)

POST-CREDITS SCENE: The Oscars: Take Two (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and with your hands grasped around two glistening trophies, you finally feel at home.

“Congratulations, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

You’re drawn away from your thoughts by the unmistakable voice of your friend Joe Keery. As you finally drag your eyes away from the golden Oscars in your hands, a smile splits across your face.

“Thanks, Joe,” you say, flashing him a blinding smile. “I still can’t believe it.”

Joe chuckles, eyeing your awards with pride in his eyes. “Two, eh?” He leans closer to elbow you, chuckling when you glare at him. “Not too shabby for your first year nominated.”

“Not too shabby at all.”

It’d been crazy - every single second of it. From the moment the nominations were announced, and you’d seen your name listed not only in one category but in two, you’ve been a whirlwind of nerves, excitement, and pride. You don’t think you’ve ever been as shocked as you’d felt when your name had been called out as the winner, not once, but twice tonight. Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, the latter of which was won for a performance in the same film which had brought about the evening’s Best Actor…

“And Tom?” Joe says, grinning. “Oscar-Winning couple, starring in a critically-acclaimed film together. Must feel pretty good, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you look down at your golden trophies. “I can’t believe it,” you mutter. “I really just… Can’t believe it.”

You feel a presence behind you, and then there’s the warm touch of a hand curling around your waist. You sink into it, tilting your head to the side, letting your eyes fall on Tom, your boyfriend. With a proud smile on his lips and his own golden award held in his free hand, he’s almost glowing tonight.

“Evening, Joe,” Tom greets. Finally comfortable at your side, he leans up and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. His deep cologne sweeps across you, and you bask in the familiar tones. “Good night?”

Joe nods. “Oh yeah,” he agrees, inclining his head towards Tom’s trophy. “Congrats, man.”

“Thank you.” Tom holds his award nearer his face, a deep frown line forming between his eyes. “I always thought it would be heavier?” He muses, running his thumb over the head of it. “But it’s pretty light. Look.”

What your boyfriend does next makes your blood turn cold. He easily and haphazardly throws his Oscar at Joe, who somehow startles in time to catch it, but not before letting out a stream of expletives.

“Tom!” You exclaim, eyes widening. “Don’t throw your Oscar around!”

He grins wickedly, brown eyes dancing. “Sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again. “Got a bit giddy.”

Tom’s been walking on air recently, you’ve noticed. You’d put it down to the buzz of nerves that’d characterised your last few days too, but even now, Tom’s vibrating with something. He’s been very affectionate with you, and whilst Tom is by no means a selfish lover, you can’t recall a time where he’s been glued to your hip quite as much as he’s been this last week. Always hanging around with open arms or warm lips or soft words, Tom has made it known, every second of every day, just how much he loves you. Which is a lot, apparently.

And you love him too, of course. You love him like you’ve never loved anyone else.

“You’re always giddy,” you tease. You manage to hold both of your trophies in one hand and use the other to reach up and tidy some of the hair from his face. Tom’s hair is longer now - less wavy and longer, grown a little older as the both of you have over the past three years. Looking at him now, you see a man - a very handsome, very loving man - and you’re proud of who he’s grown into.

“Only around you, love.”

Your lips roll into a soft smile, and you lean in to kiss him quickly. Tom’s mouth is warm against yours.

“Ew.” Joe’s voice interrupts your moment, and you pull away sheepishly. “Take your trophy and get out of here, you two.”

Tom reaches out and takes back his Oscar, giving Joe a fist bump. “Thanks, man. Have a good night.” There’s a moment where Joe and Tom look at one another, and Joe’s gaze flutters over to you, and you feel something there, between them - an unspoken secret. But before you can comment on it, Tom’s reaching out for your open hand and slipping his into it, and you’re moving off through the crowd again.

“I’m so tired,” you admit, stifling a yawn. You quickly smooth a smile over your face, noting with appreciation how the crowd of the afterparty seem to move out of your way. Your Oscars bring you a sort of power, and with three between you, it would seem that you and Tom are trading in top tier currency. “Can’t wait to get home and sleep.”

“Sleep?!” Tom exclaims, voice low. He squeezes your hand, glancing back to smirk at you. “As if.”

You raise your eyebrows as Tom guides you out the entrance of the party.

“What, you don’t think we’ll be sleeping later?” You ask, resting your cheek on Tom’s shoulder as you walk down the steps of the building together.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why’s that?”

Tom looks at you, eyes briefly flicking out over your figure. “You know why, darling.” He squeezes your hand before stepping nearer to kiss you. Your lips stay together a little longer, and you hum against his mouth. “You look bloody stunning in that dress, lovie,” he murmurs. His teeth brush your lower lip, and you feel your face warm. “Been thinking about ravishing you all night.”

You swallow, tilting your head to the side before kissing him again, briefly. “We’ll see,” you reply. You wink as you step back, turning around and looking out at the lines of cars before you make eye contact with your driver. “C’mon, winner. I don’t trust the house to still be standing. I still can’t believe you let Harrison and your brothers housesit tonight.”

Tom’s indignant as he follows you into the car, and for the drive back to your house in the Hills, you carry on your bickering. It’s interrupted by kisses and jokes and touches, though, and it’s all so familiar it makes your heart soar. He’s always kept you on your feet, and out of all the things that have changed since you got together, that fact has remained: no one makes you feel as intensely riled up as Tom.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted them to housesit,” you muse. The gravel of the driveway crunches beneath your feet as you walk up towards your house, wobbling a little in your heels. Tom offers you an arm, and you gratefully loop yours through it, your hands still holding your awards. You’d only brought a bag big enough to hold one Oscar, not two. “It’s not like anyone was going to break in. We have security.”

Tom just clears his throat, the sound deep and guilty. “Harrison’s idea,” he says, quickly. “They wanted to be nearer the action.”

“Yeah, or they wanted to use the wine cellar.”

Before you can continue your conversation, the front door opens and Harrison pokes his head out, eyes widening as he looks down at the trophies in your hands.

“Aye!” He calls out, clapping loudly. “Congratulations, you two.”

As you enter the house and ditch your coat and shoes by the door, there’s an interlude in which you pass around your awards and receiving raucous applause from your friends. Harry and Sam pose dramatically in front of the staircase, fighting over which one of them gets to carry two of the awards, and you hold up a phone, taking photos of it all. In the corner of the room, you see Harrison pulling Tom aside and whispering something into his ear. Before you can pay them much attention, you’re distracted by Harry deciding to try and balance Tom’s Oscar on his head.

It’s very wholesome, and you and Tom end up coerced into another series of photos together. It’s less formal than it was at the show, and Tom sheds his suit-jacket as you enjoy posing without the strain on your feet from your heels. Harrison barges in too, and then there’s a round of shots with all five of you together, laughing, talking, messing around.

On their way out, both Harry and Sam pull you in for hugs, and then Harrison takes your hands and looks at you, hard. There’s a seriousness to him that you’ve never seen before, and tears form in his eyes as he splutters out a quiet,

“I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Harrison,” you whine, feeling a lump in your throat. “Don’t make me cry again.”

“Sorry.” Your friend drops one of your hands and rubs at his eyes, laughing softly. “I’m just proud of you - both of you. You deserve this so much and I’m glad to call you my friend.”

You sniff loudly, cursing softly when you feel a stray tear fall down your cheek. “Thanks, Haz,” you mutter, pulling him in for a hug.

You leave Harrison with Tom as your guests leave, and walk into the living room to collapse on the sofa. You groan as you let yourself relax, sinking into the cushions. Something of an adrenaline high crashes over you, and suddenly the thought of crawling into bed and sleeping the night away sounds very tempting.

“Y/N,” Tom says, startling you. You open your eyes and find your boyfriend standing in front of you, smiling softly. He rocks back on his feet, briefly biting at his lower lip. “Come with me.”

You look at his inviting hand sceptically.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You hum, reaching up and taking his hand in yours. You glance at your wrist, noticing with fondness in your eyes how nice his watch looks wrapped around your hand. Over the years, you’ve made a habit of always trying to keep something of his to hand - his watch, his hat, his sunglasses. It doesn’t matter the occasion - you always like to carry something with you that reminds you of Tom. It works vice-versa, and you know that beneath Tom’s dress shirt hangs one of your favourite necklaces.

Your friends think it’s sickeningly romantic. You think it’s cute. Tom loves it.

“What do you mean, a surprise?” You ask, following Tom through the house. He’d moved into your LA home two years ago, his mark evident in the fluffy throws and the various stains on the walls.

Tom shrugs, rolling his thumb over the back of your hand. He leads you upstairs. “A surprise,” he repeats. “Stop asking so many questions, darling.”

You rest your head on Tom’s shoulder, sighing happily. “You’re very romantic, you know that?”

Tom chuckles, pausing outside your closed bedroom door. He looks nervous, and he drops your hand to run his hand through his hair.

“Right.” He stops, clearing his throat, hand shifting to the doorknob. “In here.”

You wait a moment for him to do something, but he doesn’t. “Are you going to open the door?” You ask, teasing, but reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Tom shakes his head, a bright smile finally finding his lips. “Crazy night.”

“Definitely.”

Tom turns around and finally opens the door, stepping aside and inviting you inside. A soft gasp falls past your lips as you walk into the bedroom and take in the scenes around you.

Someone’s been in your room since you were flurrying around eight hours earlier, tearing your wardrobe apart before the show. It’s been cleaned, the bed made and spread out with a few rose petals, and the lights are dimmed down low. The doors to the balcony are open, and through them, you can make out a large stand with a bottle of champagne.

“Tom!” You gasp. You turn around, jaw slackening further as your boyfriend procures a large bouquet of roses. The plastic crinkles as you accept them gratefully, taking a long breath and inhaling the deep romantic scent.

“Thought I’d do something nice for you,” he says, closing the door behind him. Tom smooths his hands over your waist, standing behind you and kissing up your neck as you laugh softly. “Come out to the balcony, love,” he murmurs, teeth brushing your ear.

“Was this why you had the others come over?” You ask, smiling.

“Mhmm.”

You pause to put the roses in a vase, and then let Tom wind his hand in yours and pull you out onto the balcony. It’s beautiful out here in the Hollywood Hills, and as he pours out two glasses of champagne and passes you a flute, you lean with your elbows on the railing and stare out across at the city. Shrouded in darkness, the city pulses with bright lights and distance car horns. There’s a warmth to the air that brings a smile to your lips, and a few strands of your hair drift around as the evening breeze caresses your face.

“Funny, isn’t it?” You say, closing your eyes. Tom’s just beside you, one of his hands resting over yours. He plays with your fingers before linking your pinkies together.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the first time you were out here with me?” Tom releases a short hum, and you take that to mean the negative. “Well, it was back when I hated you. You came and you picked me up from set, and then you stayed the night. We came out here and we took photographs together.”

“Of course.” There’s mirth in his voice, and the sound of his familiar accent brings a smile to your face. You lean your head on his shoulder, looking back out across the city. “That was the first time we ever talked properly, too. I remember realising you weren’t that horrible, after all.”

You gasp. “Oi!”

Tom nudges your side. “Hey, you know you felt the same way about me too.” He turns slightly, and you feel the soft press of his lips against your temple. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

You hum, grinning. “A very long way.”

There’s a moment’s rest, then Tom kisses your forehead again and steps away from you. You whine at the loss, but continue to look out at the city, resting your chin in your palms. You’re aware of him walking over to the table with the champagne, but you’re too distracted by the distant flickering lights to pay much attention to him.

“I love you a lot, you know,” Tom calls out, voice wavering. He clears his throat, and you smile to yourself.

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too.”

“No, I love you, a lot.” Again, Tom clears his throat. You decide to turn around, your eyebrows furrowing as you realise you can’t see him, but then your eyes travel down, down, down, and you spot him.

Tom is down on one knee, brown hair wafting in the gentle evening breeze, holding a black velvet box in his hands.

“Tom?” You whisper, voice hoarse. Tears pool in your eyes and your heart drums in your chest as you realise what’s happening.

“Y/N,” he returns, a soft smile finding his lips when he meets your eyes. “I love you.” Tom glances down at the ring, chuckling. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but picking the right time has been so hard. So, I thought, hey, we’ve already won big tonight, why not add onto the excitement.”

You fan at your face, exhaling a deep breath.

“We have been through thick and thin together, and I am so, so glad that we came out the other side stronger for it. Your ambition and your drive make me want to be a better person, and every time I wake up beside you, it makes me want to be a better man, too. You make me better, and I love you for it.” Tom breaks off, eyes sparkling with tears as he looks up at you, meeting your gaze firmly. “I have never been more sure of anything else before. I know there’s nothing else I’d want to do than to spend the rest of my life with you. So… Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You can barely still see him, through the tears in your eyes, but you nod. You nod, and then you fall down to your knees in front of him, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Tom,” you get out, voice thick with emotion. “I love you more than anything.”

Tom puts the box aside and pulls you closer, and you share a kiss that rocks your world. Both of you are smiling, and it’s clumsy and salty, but you don’t care as you kiss him again and again, your hands winding into his hair. He is so perfect, absolutely perfect, and you have never felt this whole before.

“I love you so, so, so much, darling,” he says, speaking against your lips. You chuckle, humming your agreeing sentiments before kissing him again.

“I love you too.” You finally pull back, shifting your lips to brush against his nose before you glance down at the box. You grin, holding up your left hand as you wiggle your eyebrows.

“If you don’t like it, we can always get a different one,” Tom prefaces, his hands shaking as it takes him a few attempts to pull the ring from the velvet bed. His fingers are warm against yours, soft and gentle as he slides the band up your finger. Your eyes catch on the beautiful sparkling diamond, and you feel a tear roll down your cheek. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” you say, rolling your thumb over the ring. You look up at Tom, wide-eyed and warm-hearted. “I think you’re perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you.”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks aching from the width of your smile. “You’re so cliché, Tom,” you tease, moving back to kiss his cheek. Your hands go to his shoulders, engagement ring glinting. “Are you going to be like this forever?”

Tom smiles, adoration floating in his bright brown eyes. “If you want me to be, yes.”

His lips find yours for one final time, and you bask in the feeling of him so close to you. After so long together, it feels like your souls have finally intertwined. Tom’s buried himself so deeply into your heart, into your life, that you know you’ll never get him out. You know you’d never want to.

“I love you,” you whisper. “Thank you for changing my life.”

His palm travels up to cup your cheek, warm fingertips stroking over your cheekbone. “It’s been my pleasure.”

FINIS.

extended a/n: 

thank you for reading the series, dear reader--the full thing is 59k! go you for getting through that much of my writing! I appreciate your time and willingness to enter this ‘verse with me <3

if you’ve got any thoughts on the series, please let me know! doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the series ended, I am always always always here to talk about these two :’)) would love to know what you think of their story!

we had a tfg blurb night! if you want to read any little extra bits, check out the masterpost for that here :)