#hcin fic

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not | Four

Playlist | Wattpad | Prologue | Series masterlist

Tom Holland x Reader | Fwb with an unexpected pregnancy 

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Angst. It gets a little heated near the end but nothing too smutty.

Disclaimer: There’s some trouble between the reader and her parents in this & I know that everybody's parents are different, but for the sake of the storyline !!!! Please remember to reblog and share if you liked this chapter and this series!! honestly, I love writing this but I write it a lot faster when it gets good feedback :)

“Are you sure about this?”

Tom was close compared to how distant his voice seemed. In fact, he was right there next to you, pouring exactly four drinks. But while two were filled with wine – red and chilly, cold beneath his bare fingertips, two of them contained soda. It was orange soda to be exact, your favourite and you wondered if it was a coincidence that Tom had picked it up on the way over.

Orange soda, the colour of stale Cheetos or carrot tops. The colour of the screwed up shirt in the bottom of your wardrobe and the plastic forks you made sure not to give to your parents tonight.

“I’m not. I’m nowhere near sure about this.” You admit, tasting the fear on the tip of your tongue as you speak. However, fear was always there lately, a sickly permanent taste. You’d think you’d get used to it after a while but you were yet to.

God, of fucking course you weren't sure about this. There were a hundred and one things you weren’t sure about right now and this was one of them. It made your heart race and palms sweat like there was no tomorrow and not even your loving cat hadn’t dared to come near you all night. 

You thought about the fact that you’d rather be working right now because surely that’d be less anti-climactic then what was about to happen and for once you wanted anticlimactic. Lately, all your life had been was climatic and if it were a story, it would’ve been one giant cliffhanger.

“We have to tell them and besides, you haven’t seen my mum in ages. She loves you.” You put on a brave front but beneath that, you were beyond terrified. It didn’t take much to see that. It took Tom, that was all it took. It took just Tom to see that.

Tom tilts his head, a gentle blush taking place on pasty cheeks. But it was easily hidden by the dim, kitchen lighting.

“She won’t after tonight.” He admits.

You agree silently.

The smell of freshly roasted potatoes frolics around the kitchen, fighting with the scent of gravy and a stirfry that Tom had attempted to make before you took over. The boy could bake like his life depended on it, from breakfast goods that warmed your heart and reminded you of home to stuffed, Oreo brownies but he surely couldn’t cook savoury dishes.

There were four plates laying in front of you, each with a fork and knife set neatly beside them. Maybe you’d been a tad pedantic about it, making sure that the cutlery was perfectly straight and the drink had gone in the fridge had gone in hours earlier than needed so that it would chill in time. There had been a timer for the potatoes and you’d kept a close eye on the vegetables, you’d also turned the fire on earlier. It crackled quietly in the corner of the room, red shadows illuminating the walls and the cat lays tiredly mere meters away.

While you’d been doing that, Tom had taken up the task of cleaning your living room. He had vacuumed and cleaned up lifeless rugs, stacked books and even watered plants. Then he complained about the number of dirty mugs you had laying around. Up until now, at least. Because now, he watches you tap one foot against the floor of your kitchen which barely fit the two of you, letting out short huffs of breath as your eyes watch the clock on the wall just across from either of you.

Maybe you disliked inviting your family over because there was no escape. Your apartment was small with one bedroom, a single bathroom and the kitchen and living room were combined. Meaning when they came over, you were practically boxed in. There was nowhere you could possibly run off to to clear your head because yes– they could drive you insane sometimes.

So inviting them over to share your news had prompted many questions from Tom, who was secretly sweating beneath his flannel tee. It had prompted enough questions for you to put your hand up and beg him not to ask any more questions that not even you knew the answer too. He was still questioning everything, but little did he know you were doing it too – just silently.

He was still asking endlessly, even with the food chilling on the oven top and mere moments before they were supposed to arrive. You could only imagine the large grin on your mother's face because finally– she was about to see her daughter after weeks of being apart and your dad surely couldn’t wait to hear about work. You wondered if she’d bring along her famous apple pie or a spare bottle of wine you wouldn’t dare touch.

You were about to let them down, plummet their expectations and make them second guess what they thought they knew about you.

Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with my best friend and look! He got me knocked up but it’s okay.

Your thoughts go unseen to Tom, who tangles his fingers together as he chews on the inside of his lip as he debates whether or not it was the right time to ask what he’d been meaning to ask for a few days now. It was an idea that’d been put forward by Harrison, who was more than eager to move in with Jacob– it wasn’t that Tom was a bad roommate, he just wasn’t home often.

Fearful eyes drift around the small apartment. There was merely room for one. And by one, he meant one. He didn’t mean a pregnant women. Tom was sure some of the windows were broken and sometimes the front door didn’t lock and as his eyes drift over your distracted self, he knows he has to ask. Because he’d never forgive himself if someone broke in and hurt you – he’d never ever forgive himself if someone broke in and hurt you and his kid.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Tom works up the courage to ask. His words are slightly shaky and filled with uncertainty. Of course, he was certain about wanting you to move in, he was, however, uncertain about your answer. “It’s been on my mind for a bit and Harrison mentioned it to me a few days ago, but with things getting pretty serious I thought that I’d ask tonight.”

Your eyes remain on the series of plates and the coolness of the bench beneath clammy palms. “What is it?”

“I just think that… well, your apartment is so small and you’re all on your own.” His throat goes dry. Your eyes seem to widen to the size of saucers. “Harrison mentioned it to me a few days ago because I’m never actually home, I’m always with you and he wants to move in with Jacob anyway–”

“You’re rambling.” You chuckle, feeling a strand of hair fall over your face. It’s quickly brushed back by fidgeting fingers. “What is it?”

Tom sucks in a deep breath, nearly choking on his own excitement that had quickly overtaken nerves.

“Do you want to move in with me? I know it’s a big thing to ask and all but you can take Harrison's old room and I can help more, especially as things progress. I can actually be there for you and that’s– that’s going to be important. I want to be there for you and the baby.”

It’s hardly silent over the gentle purring of the cat over by the fire and the crackle and pop of flames against wood– but for a moment that seems all too distant and Tom can only hear the pounding of his own heart in his chest. He waits for something. Maybe for his heart to tear through his ribcage or for you to laugh in his face. He wasn’t sure which sounded better.

But it’s barely a decision you have to think about.

“You loser, of course I’ll move in with you!” You beam, throwing a set of arms around his shoulders. “As long as it’s okay with Harrison then I’m down, I don’t want to have him kicked out of his own home.”

“Of course It’s okay with Harrison, he was actually the one that suggested it,” Tom says while holding you against his chest. You and Tom practically lived together anyway. His clothing was scattered across your bedroom floor and you were sure your hairbrush was laying on his bathroom sink.

Your best friend wears the same flannel shirt he wore last Christmas to your family get together straight after returning from his own. The thing is a navy blue and reminded you of the apple pie your aunt had made. Not only that, but it drew your mind back to sneaky kisses between two best friends under the mistletoe and tiptoeing up to your old bedroom to open thoughtful presents. He got you a necklace, you got him a watch. The watch sits around his wrist today, pressed against the clothed skin of your back. And the necklace? The silver chain with the ladybug charm clung to your neck.

His apartment had a door that locked and a bedroom that could fit a bed bigger than a single. It had working wifi and an oven that didn’t threaten to burn the house down whenever you so much as flicked it on. Your lips curl up at the thought. Then they plummet again.

“Before I move in, we have to focus on surviving this damn dinner.” You let out a sigh, heart beating against Toms' chest and he feels every erratic beat.

Tom ignores his own persisting fears and responds with a small; “We just have to be calm and civil and explain that we have a plan, we’re not kids– we can’t be kids.”

There’s a hefty knock at the door and your arms immediately fall limp, landing at your own side and his body is no longer as comforting as it once was. It was harder when he was tense, the warm flannel of his shirt now rough against your bare hands. Your kitchen is still a mess. Dishes still line the sink and half-filled mugs of tea sit on the coffee table despite Toms urge to down a pot of hot coffee.

“Do you want to get the door? I’ll finish setting everything up.” You offer. Despite the range of food in front of you, you weren’t hungry. Not in the slightest.

Tom sends you a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

“We do.”

Your small ‘we do’ isn’t filled with belief. Instead it’s filled with concern and nearly comes out as more of a question then a statement but if Tom notices it, he surely doesn’t say anything.

Tom had his reasons for inviting you to live with him and you had your reasons for saying yes. But maybe you should’ve gone over them before agreeing so excitedly. Because while you were envisioning finally having enough room in your bedroom, having him there 24/7 to help out when the morning sickness got too bad and having easy access to his wardrobe, Tom was already seeing cots and baby clothes.  

-

While dinner with them was usually filled with laughter, discussions over who’d missed what and comments about how delicious the food was, tonight it was dead silent. Because your parents just knew that something was wrong– of course they knew. They were your parents after all.

They knew you upside down and inside out, having each of the little creases that dotted your forehead and the freckles that padded down your shoulders memorised.

They didn’t have to notice the way you played with your food instead of consuming it or how you sent Tom nervous stares from across the table because they could just feel it the second they walked in. It was suffocating. You were suffocating. It was fair to say that the truth had a hold of you, gripping your throat with such a force.

Toms' knuckles were nearly painfully white beneath the fork and he struggled to get past the first few bites. It was as if the clock was ticking away painfully slow, every second feeling like a minute as he forced himself to chew each bite until the food was nothing more then mush. It tasted it too. He had to swallow with a grimace.

And if your parents were being honest, they’d admit that the news they were expecting was that you’d finally begun dating. That possibly Tom had asked you out on some extravagant date with roses and chocolates because their daughter deserved the best of the best and had later popped the question over a glass of champagne. Oh boy were they wrong. They were so fucking wrong.

“Are you enjoying the food?” You ask with a shaky voice. It was a bullshit question, of course. “Tom helped me out. He’s getting better when it comes to cooking.” You chuckle, sending him a playful glance.

Your mom plasters a genuine smile on her face. “It’s delicious, you really outdid yourself, you too Tom” She beams. Toms' lips curl up. He was a sucker for praise.

You want to thank her but the words are stuck in the back of your throat beneath layers of untold truths and guilt is enveloping you like a cold, unwanted hug. Lying to your parents was always hard, especially when all they held was sincerity and love. It was like kicking a puppy.

You supposed you hadn’t lied to them yet, you’d simply kept a secret. A groundbreaking, life-changing secret that was eating you alive– or taking up space in your belly, growing bigger by the day. One hand ducks under the table, ghosting over the barely-there bump before you straighten out your shirt.

“Anyways,” Your dad coughs, breaking through the sound of cutlery against glass plates. “What have we missed? Catch us up.”

He looked warm, tucked up in a sweater that he’d had in his drawers for years. One that reminded you of going to the park as a nine-year-old and eating ice cream on the beach at twelve. But it wasn’t the kind of warmth that you welcomed from the sun or the warmth that currently flooded your apartment with the fireplace as its source. But the kind of warmth that sent you to bed with a smile, and one that got you out of bed every morning.

You send Tom a glance, one that was practically a plea for help but his eyes remain on his potatoes, fork prodding the things yet they don’t move from the decorative plate.

There was no easy way to say it, really, and maybe you would’ve preferred to tell them through text or a letter in the mail but adulthood meant communicating properly. Even if you do feel like you’re about to choke on your words and throw up. Your heart drops in your chest and you swear you hear it go plonk.

“Me and Tom are moving in together.” You swallow. Looking up, fingers knot themselves in your tangled shirt. “We’re moving in together because I’m pregnant.”

There’s the cringe-worthy sound of a fork hitting the table. It clinks and then there’s the feeling of jaws dropping, mouths falling limp but no words come out. Not Toms, however, he remains still, prodding at his potatoes with a blunt fork and you actually want him to speak up. You want him to defend your decisions – path.

“That second part is a joke, right?” You mom asks. Her voice is as soft and loving as ever, but it held uncertainties. “Honey, I’m glad you’re finally going to be living with someone else, you know we don’t like you living by yourself but–”

“It’s not a joke.” You stop her, finally looking up from your untouched plate. They look on at you in disbelief, your fathers feature held masses of disappointment. “Please, I wouldn’t joke about this.”

But no one says anything, there’s not much to be said and even the sound of your heavy gulp can be heard. You start to wish you’d told Toms parents first. The cat even pokes his head up from his spot by the fireplace, suddenly concerned about whatever was happening over at the dining table.

Tom can feel the tension – anyone would be able to feel it. And he hates himself for ignoring your burning gaze, a plea for help as your parents wait patiently – expecting this to be a joke before you announced the news of your coupling because it’d be about time, right?

He looks up, his eyes finding your fearful figure and Tom can’t ignore the guilt that wallows in the pit of his stomach. The girl he’d long promised his heart to even if he hadn’t realised he had fully committed himself just yet.

So finally he budges, placing his fork down.

“Mr and Mrs Y/L/N.” The brown-eyed boy begins. Every word feels slightly more forced than the last. “This wasn’t meant to happen but it did and I’m sorry, but I–”

“You shouldn’t be sorry.” You dad spits, breaking his own silence as he directs his gaze to the brunette. Tom wants to shrink in his seat but he remains upright, strong.

“Dad–” You try, not liking the bitterness in his tone. Suddenly the end of your skirt is oddly interesting as you toy with the hem, cutting off the blood flow to your fingers. Any distraction was better than none.

He cuts you off. “You shouldn't be the one apologising, we should be. We should be sorry because we trusted you with our daughter. We’ve been nothing but nice to you, welcoming you into our home, to family events. We believed the very best in you – y/n believes the very best in you. She talks about you like you’re her lifeline and you go and ruin her life.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen.” He tries to defend. Toms' voice is shaky – words broken.

“You can say that all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened.” Your dad lets out a sigh, a puff of air escaping his chest and he stands up, dinner long discarded. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

The last comment is directed at you, every word filled with more disappointment than the last.

It’s the type of disappointment that strikes you like a knife. Not a butter knife but a butchers knife – sharp. It keeps plunging deeper and deeper until you feel your walls begin to dwindle and suddenly the end of your skirt isn’t enough of a distraction. And Tom feels his chest ache because he feels it too.

You feel the desire to take Toms hand and twiddle with his fingers, much like you had at the office a week ago. You wanted to roll his fingers between your own, counting every line that indented itself in his palm and caress each of his knuckles, trailing nimble fingers up the veins in his hands that paved the way up his arm.

“I’m not a child, Tom and I have a plan and we’re going to make things work. Starting with moving in together and Tom’s going to help as much as he can through the pregnancy. But I need you guys, I need you both to support this.”

He sucks in a breath, one that’s followed closely by Tom slipping out of his seat.

“I can’t.”

Tom winces as he hears those words but no one notices, not even you who picks up every little thing about him.

“You can’t what?” You ask, suffocating more and more with every pained sentence. Each one was closer to leaving you more heartbroken and let down then the last.

“Support this.” He says exactly what you were expecting but you still hear the dull sound of your own heart breaking in two. “I won’t.”

So you stop biting your tongue.

“What else am I supposed to do?” It’s a question without a solid, sure answer. One that was asked a little harsher then you intended but your theory is proved right when not a single person around the table answers it. The only move made is your father's heavy footsteps trodding towards the entryway. “Please sit down,” You beg, feeling tears brimming your eyes. Everything is collapsing. You need reassurance. “We can talk about it.”

Your mom's hand rests itself over top of his, asking him to calm down without using her words but fails. He’s closer to leaving now, hand gripping the side of his jacket. The same coat from your graduation, the one you stole once or twice when you knew you’d be staying out late because it was warm and had enough pockets.

“I expected better.” Is all he says. But it’s said through gripped teeth and clenched knuckles.

And through the entire thing, your mom stayed silent. Even when chairs are scrapped awkwardly across wooden floorboards and he begins to walk to the door and she trails behind with a sunken face and saddened eyes. Even when you reach out in desperation – shaky hand trying to take your dads only to be shrugged off.

It’s then that Tom realises he can’t exactly work out who feels worse right about now. Whether it’s you, who was watching your parents walk away with disappointment flooding their veins or your parents who were still in shock. Or whether it was him, who looked at you and saw a hefty fraction of his universe. But now all he could wonder was whether or not he’d ruined your life.

He shoves the thought away, for he’d argue with himself later.

“You can’t just walk out right now, that’s unfair to y/n – your daughter.” Tom steps forward and you take his hand, keeping him back. Instantly, Tom wraps his fingers around your own. “You need to be there for her now than ever and you can’t just walk out–”

“Tom, don’t.” You mutter, feeling the familiar churning in your chest. You shove it away. “Just let them go.”

“They need to be there for you–”

You shake your head. “Just let them go, please. I don’t need tonight going any worse then it already has.”

The sound of the front door closing is heartbreaking but Tom doesn’t see you bite back a sob as you turn your back, heading straight back to the dining table to clean the mess. The meals were still fairly untouched, especially yours. Toms potatoes had holes where the forks had prodded and there was food scattered all over your mom's placemat where she’d dropped her fork.

For a moment you reckon Tom had left too, trailing behind them before leaving to his own apartment. And thinking Tom had left, you place your spare hand over your stomach. Not for a second had you feared that the growing human inside of you was a mistake, you couldn't.

A boy, you feel like he’s a boy. But after heavily evaluating the small photo tugged behind your phone case you decided you couldn’t be too sure.

Suddenly a hand comes down on your shoulder, another reaching over to take the small pile of plates from your hand and they’re placed back down on the dining table with a small clatter. You jump slightly before realising that it was Tom who hadn’t even debated leaving, not after what’d happened.

“Are you alright?” His voice is gentle and filled with concern.

“I’m fine.” You lie right through your teeth. But you couldn’t lie to him, it was pathetic even trying.

He tilts his head, flannel tee now unbuttoned at the top. “C’mon, tell me what’s on your mind.”

You want to ask what’s on his mind, but you know that if you do he’ll just throw the question back at you.

“You didn’t ruin my life, yeah? You couldn’t. I said this was a two-way thing and I meant it, I don’t blame you.” Your eyes hold sincerity. “You know that I don’t blame you, don’t you?”

“I know you don’t,” Tom says truthfully. “And your parents will come around, even if tonight didn’t go exactly as plan.”

“They’re so mad at me.”

“At us, they’re mad at us, yeah?” Tom brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before bringing it to your face where he gently wipes away a stray tear. The warmth stains his thumb. “Did you see the way your dad was looking at me? I think he was imagining sticking that steak knife through my chest.” He snorts but feels you tense and he immediately softens, partially regretting his words. “Look at me, love” He prompts. “It’s okay, they’re probably not even mad. They may just be shocked, this will take a bit to process.”

You sniffle as a fresh set of tears sting the corners of your eyes. “I just… I wanted it to at least go a little different, you know? A hug from my mum would’ve been nice and my dad… oh my god.”

“C’mere,” Tom pulls you into his chest and you welcome the warmth. If there was anything you needed right now, it was him. Scratch that, you needed validation from your parents that this was all going to be okay. Tom was the next best thing. “They won’t stay mad for too long, they love you way too much.”

“We’re still going to move in together,” You stop to hiccup. “and we’re going to make sure this pregnancy is successful and our baby is safe. That’s the most important thing.” You move a hand up to wipe away your tears but find that Tom has already done it and let them flutter shut, breathing in the smell of his flannel shirt.

Toms' heart warms upon hearing the reassurances. “We’re still moving in together, of course. I think that’s long overdue.”

Despite telling him that you wanted to think about it earlier, you were already hooked on the idea. You were hooked on the idea of having your things scattered around the house and mugs in the kitchen cabinets, tangled with his own. There was the thought of sneaking into his room late at night when you couldn’t sleep and him sleeping in between your sheets when he couldn’t do the same. You pondered if he’d make you delicious meals when you were further on in your pregnancy and the cravings had grown insane and if he’d rub your feet after a day of wandering around.

And then you’re thinking about how disappointed your parents are and will continue to be. Because it seems like all you do lately is let them down and this is just another thing added onto a list of many and you want to cry again– even though you’d only stopped mere moments ago.

“Can you distract me for a little bit?” You practically beg, the desire for something– just anything that’d take your mind off of the whole situation plaguing your mind. It was a simple question with a simple answer. Tom wasn’t going to say no to his sobbing best friend.

“What kind of distraction? I think you still have the game of monopoly that I left here a few weeks ago or we could go watch a movie–”

You want to chuckle at the mini list he was creating.

“Tom, not that kind of distraction.” You barely budge from your spot, but your hands had however moved from where your heart beat excessively in your chest. “Something else, yeah? It’s… It’s been a while.”

“Oh.” He mutters under his breath, tilting his head to the side lightly. But he’s still worried. He’s still worried that this is all too much and that you’re barely coping but you’re keeping it inside like you usually do– because it isn’t like you just to spill all of your feelings, not even to him. Not even to Harrison. “We don’t have to if you’re not up to it.” He offers. But you decline with a shake of your head.

“Kiss me, already.” You plead, lips waiting, bare without his own.

And Tom kisses you in the darkness of your apartment with the rain pelting against the windows. But unlike your rushed kisses that are a heavy mix of teeth and tongue, it’s soft and gentle. He’s trying to calm you down. He’s telling you that he’s got you but not through words, instead he does it through the way he moves. You’re infatuated.

Curls, thick and previously brushed back now brush against your face and he holds you with caution, so much so that you swore there may have been a caution sign on your back. But maybe it was in the bags beneath your eyes and the tears that still stained your cheeks. Or the way you held yourself as if you were about to collapse into a puddle of your own feelings.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry about them.” He reminds you. “They’ll come around.”

He reminds you then why you’re best friends. Why the two of you each other have gotten through everything that you have with dignity and pride and why you’ve never been able to let the other go. There’s an invisible string keeping you together, one that was slightly frayed in some places but it never broke. You didn’t think that it could, but the future was unknown.

You taste the soda on his lips, orange flavoured and the scent heightens as he licks your bottom lip with haste.

Somehow, you got to your room. Between breathless kisses and shared touches, you get there and Tom doesn’t waste a second. He knows he can’t because you need a distraction, not for the harsh words to come oozing back into your mind. Instead you’re reminded of how light the bed is beneath you and you’d forgotten lately just how hard yours was compared to his. The sheets are pure cotton, little pieces of it run beneath your fingertips and you mould into – however, you feel more at home beneath his sheets instead of your own.

A part of you does feel like you’re meant to be there, in his instead of your own, laying flat on your back with your best friend above you showing you all the care and affection you long craved.

As Tom sinks down the bed, running his fingers down to where your skirt ends he lets his hand rest for a moment over your stomach. He’s so gentle that you barely feel his hand there, you barely feel nimble fingers flutter over the skin of your abdomen but he does it and you’re aware of it and a small part of you wants to push him away but you don’t.

You shudder and Tom continues his journey, and then you’re okay with his fiery hands on you once more. You’d both been so distracted recently that you’d forgotten what it was like just to be together, focusing on one another the way you were now.

He peels the skirt up first and fingers loop around the hem of your underwear and then you feel as though you’re suffocating in the clothes you’re still wearing. You want them off- and you want him all over you. Your skin is hot beneath his hands, lighting like a fire as he goes and it’s been so long- too long for your liking.

“Tom, c’mon. I know you’re just taking your time.” You whine, feeling the desire in the pit of your stomach. It’s there and it’s eating away at you slowly, begging him to do something.

Tom smiles coyly against your skin, fully aware that he was taunting you slowly. “Relax, love, ‘m taking my time.” He ignores the straining in his pants as best he can, focusing all his attention on you. “We have all night, I’m gonna show you every ounce of love you deserve.”

Come and ask to be added to the tag list to be notified when i post chapters of this series! + PLEASE send comments and feedback and remember to reblog :’)

HCIN: @grayxswan @whatdaflerken @thataudreydork @h-natale @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @u-are-my-moonlight  @vendylewin @claredolphinbear24@slingingwingingspidey @voidklaroline @satellitespidey @tomhollandswh0re@bringmethehorizonandpizza @darlingimmafangirl @smalltownbigissues@hbmoore1986 @yeastystrumpet @timelock97 @spider-mendes@parkerstylesperalta @parkerspideyman @honeymoonparker @wirth-jackshit@honeymoonparker @sargentjamesbarnes @dumblani @its-lily-i-guess @queengemsworld @euphoricholland @mindfulwishing133 @taybugstuff @spideymood @xxxxdelenaxxxx @gioandreolli @danicarosaline @badhollandfluff @crazykenz-ie @morganthelittle @littlebluewoods @indecisivearia @theamuz @vintage-moonlight @itsrecklesscalum @annathesillyfriend @peter-prkr @scftholland @avengersassemblee @peter-prkr @its-lily-i-guess @scftholland @sadsadiesworld @sarah-moss2015 @@spideymybucky @sxbrxnx818 @tomsmelanin @hannahholland1811 @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @siriuslycollins @mutuallynotmutual @catstielanddeanthedog @kayla-m1996 @avenirectioner @toms-irish-girl @dullmiele @lokilove3112 @peterparkyourassonme @barneackles @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @rravenss @watsonundercover @tominhoodies @panemedited @ravynnn-12 @jake-peralta-b99 @thewackywriter @nickigv @clairesrainbow 

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @dej-okay@hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen@marvelismylifffe@lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess@southsidefandoms@justannothermonday @its-claire-louise@sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221@joyfullyjenny@damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please@futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six@c0prolalia @buckykinz@ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999@fnosidam@randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles@justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017@gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel@leslieandjensen @painted-soulss@practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey@holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill@elyshugh@hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644@parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1@tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl@thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275@parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork@peterparkerscamera@fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst@httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb@whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26@nephalem67 @underoos-tom @quaxon-holland@lovelyspidey @no-shxt-sherl @xlatinaaxx@starlightfound @mikexpeter @moonandstars-xo @httpmcrvel @evelyn120700@fromheroestodust@hollandfieldblurbs @ghostlypandacolorpersona@spazclaiire @curlyhairedparker @josierosie@unicornio-vomita-mierdas @icondy@euphoricholland @desir-ae @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin@ameeravioli@ramen-tically @mellifluous-tom @mrs-webslinger @krazykiara @scottyisthatyou@@s0cial-retard @sithskywalkers @avenirectioner @cokemania147@awkwardfangirl2014 @thot–holland @tomsmelanin @tryn25 @marvelismylifffe @fratboievans @draqcnheartstrinq @mellifluous-tom @obsidiandolans @peter-parkersbb @slingingwingingspidey @darlingxholland @50shadesoflaurmani @tomhollandswh0re  @ixchel-9275 @hellaparker @vintagexquill @spidey-caps

[typicalmidnight]

tom holland fic recs?? like any kind just want some good oneess!! thank u

Omg I have sooo many! First of all, I have a tag #lovely-rec where you can find all my fic recs if you want them!

I more have writer recs than fic recs, so I’m just going to tell you my fave writers and a fic or two of theirs that I love!

@spiderboythomas has loads of Tom content! She wrote a gorgeous 3 part series called Play With Fire about college!fuckboy!tom that I loved! -- Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 // Masterlist

@mcuspidey also has Tom content, as well as Peter and Harrison! She also writes smut if you want to read that! I love her series Bulletproof with Agent!Tom x Agent!Reader. -- Part 1 / Part 2 // Masterlist

@sunshinehollandd writes and I know she’s good, though I haven’t read any of her content that I can recall - Masterlist

@hollandroos has a beautiful series called How Could I Not? about Tom that I highly suggest you read. She also has tons of other fics about Tom! -- HCIN? Masterlist // Masterlist

@gennyld wrote an amazing fic called Swaying Death Away, as well as some other Marvel content! - SDA // Masterlist

I’ve also got an ongoing series for Tom that’s a Hogwarts!AU called The Kiss List that you might want to check out! -- TKL // Masterlist

Some good Tom smut writers I know of are @webbedparkers, @dtftomholland, @starksparker, and @hillsnholland.

If you’re looking for some Peter content too, @galaxy-parker and @celestialparker both have stunning fics.

These are all the people that I can really think of at the moment! Hope this helped darling!

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not? | Two

Playlist | My Masterlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Tom Holland x Reader | Fwb with a pregnancy added in the mix. Inspired by an ask that I received.

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Warnings: Pregnancy and a FWB relationship. A very brief mention of adoption & abortion as well as a drunk reader at the start in a flashback. Morning sickness as this answer from my survey suggested:

Words: 3.2k

One year ago;

One fifty-three am. Of course there had to be an in and out open at one fifty-three am, when the two of you were in dire need of a burger and a shake– at least you were, Tom seemed more concerned about whether or not you were about to throw up in the middle of in and out despite there only being one employee watching you with hawk eyes and a janitor mopping the floor awkwardly.

Swish, swash.

The mop swipes back and forth, wetting the floor and you giggle with your head against Toms shoulder, salty and slightly undercooked fries between your teeth. The janitor wore a frown and oversized bags beneath his eyes, things that told you he’d rather be at home then cleaning up in and out at nearly two am with a drunk young adult and her best friend.

“I think he’s been mopping that same place for the last five minutes.” You giggle to yourself, drunken mind finding it hilarious. Tom could only shake his head, glad he’d chosen to stay sober that night because you were truly and utterly out of it. On a completely other planet. While it was funny, it was also concerning.

“I think that’s his job,” Tom responds, knowing the words would go in one ear and right out the other. He passes you the drink, placing the straw tauntingly close to your lips. “C’mon, you need to sober up before you go home and throw up all over your living room.”

Leaning against his denim jacket, you take a mouthful of the shake, screwing your face up when the creamy, strawberry flavoured goodness goes straight to your head. Still, Tom had made sure to grab your favourite flavour and your drunk self appreciated that. “Sorry I dragged you out of the party, I was hungry and they had no good food.”

“You raided the kitchen?” Tom chuckles, taking a few of your fries between two fingers. He smothers them in ketchup. “And it’s okay, that party was lame anyway. I’d rather be here with my best friend.”

You furrow your brows, whipping ketchup off of the side of your mouth with a napkin. “Best friend? What’s he like?” You mumble.

Tom thinks. “She’s pretty cool, despite not knowing her alcohol limits.” He pauses, one hand toying with strands of loose hair that he had access too with an arm looped around your shoulders. “She’s super cute and really likes in and out when she’s drunk. When we were eighteen she got me my first job and at twenty she broke her ankle trying to show off at a party and I had to sit with her at the emergency room for nearly four hours. I’d say she’s reasonably funny too, the whole package.”

“She sounds great.” You hum softly, feeling your eyelids grow heavy against his shoulder. The denim of his coat brushes against the side of your face and you breathe him in, screwing your face up at the almost overwhelming smell of alcohol despite the fact that he’d been sober all night. “Hey, Tom?” You speak.

“Yeah, love?” He takes the milkshake from your hand, sipping from the same straw as you had.

Your face falls, morphing from exhaustion to shock and suddenly the side of his denim coat doesn’t seem like the best place to be laying your head.  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

And in an instant Tom is up and trying to get you up too, the napkin discarded as he moves hastily. Fries discarded and your drink is spilling over the table, pretty pink stains the napkins and for a moment the smell of the milkshake is more apparent than the taste that sits at the back of your throat, a warning. Tom only sends the workers an apologetic look.

“Oh fuck, c’mon, let’s get you to the bathroom.” He pleads, grabbing your upper arm and tugging you out of the booth. And you feel it in the way your head pounds and throat burns, drunken eyes glazing over and in the uneasiness of your stomach.

“No, I’m gonna…”

Current;

You haul forward, hair falling over your face but Tom is quick to pull it back in a makeshift ponytail.

“You’re okay, just let it all out,” Tom says, running his free hand up and down your back comfortingly. But after a couple of weeks of this, you were over it. The initial shock had worn off days ago and you’re left pleading with your mind, hoping to get all of it out sooner rather than later.

The back of your throat burns but by now it’s nothing new. The taste lingers but Tom is the one who reaches for your toothbrush first, handing you the necessity with minty toothpaste already on it. You hum a small thank you, taking the thing from him but not yet putting it to use. First, you collapse down beside him, letting out a huff of air as you attempt to catch your breath. And for a few seconds, nothing manages to remain still and your head pounds but Tom is right there through it all.

“That’ll never sit right with me.” You groan, leaning against his shoulder. Toms comforting arm remains around you, having heard and read about morning sickness on numerous occasions. Your eyes are glazed over and hair sticking out all over the place and he moves his hand to your head, brushing the strands down.  

“I’m sorry, that didn’t look… particularly fun. Is there anything you want me to do for you?” Tom offers. He makes a mental note to google it later to see what he can do, but he remembers that somewhere he read something about peppermint tea helping.

You shake your head, already afraid to look at the time. “Thanks for just being here.” Your voice is slightly croaky as you talk and you nearly apologise for making his shirt smell disgustingly of vomit.

“What’d I say, we’re in this together, yeah? You don’t need to thank me.”

Tom keeps his own fears to himself, comforting you for the time being but he can’t help it when his gaze lingers on your clothed stomach for a few moments. His free hand remains against the bathroom floor but the urge to see if there was a bump yet, even just the slightest one was definitely in the back of his mind.

You hum softly, eyes fluttering shut and for a moment you remain in his arms, just the two of you on your bathroom floor and you allow the silence to simmer. Goosebumps decorate your arms and at the same time your cheeks are hot, beads of sweat sit on your hairline but somehow he still holds you, giving you as much time as you need to come back to Earth after emptying your stomach.

In the next room, the sheets have been thrown off of the bed on both sides instead of just yours and where Tom had slept the night before was a semi-permanent indent in the form of his figure.

Usually, when you shared a bed he’d lace his legs with yours or keep one arm thrown around your waist. Sometimes his head would creep onto your pillow and you’d wake up to a small patch of droll and his mouth hanging wide open, or fingers laced with your own. If you were feeling cuddly you’d attach yourself to his chest, but not last night.

Last night he barely moved, staying on his side of the bed and you stayed on your own. You were separated by an imaginary wall, neither of you daring to creep onto the others side and you were almost frightened that the news had possibly ruined your friendship– which wouldn’t have surprised you at all, but last night instead of the warmth of his arms you were welcomed by cold, yet occupied sheets.

You’d be lying if you said things hadn’t shifted. Because they had and massively too. The only thing preventing you from expressing these changes was the fact that you wanted him on your side. And Tom wanted you on his side too. You’d rarely ever not been on each others side, you were Y/N and Tom as others would say and the thought of being on opposite teams scared you to no end.

You were on each others side when he decided to drop out of uni because the routine was making him miserable, even without failure when you were jobless and nearly homeless and he let you sleep on his couch for two months. You took his side when his ex and your ex-best friend tore his heart in two and stomped on the shattered pieces with no remorse and not only were you on his side that night but you were tangled up in his sheets too.

All thoughts are interrupted by a gentle purring followed by small cat noises and the bathroom door cracks open. A small, cream coloured cat pads into the room and your heart instantly melts. He meows upon seeing the two of you and brushes up against the bathroom counter, ears perked up in bliss.

“Oscar wants to say good morning.” You speak, patting your lap in hopes the pet would clamber towards you. Instead, he goes to Tom.

Tom screws his face up, remaining unmoving as the thing prances towards the two of you despite the smell of puke in the air. “I hate him.” He scoffs.

“Tom!” You scold, leaning out of his grasp to pet the cat that prances towards you, feet padding across the cold bathroom floor. “Morning, baby.” You coo, reaching forward to take the cat who brushes against an unsuspecting Toms leg.

“I really don’t know why you got that thing, he smells weird.” Your best friends hatred for cats was probably at the top of the list of things you couldn’t stand about him, right above the fact that he hated pickles in his burgers and would sometimes sneak into your apartment at ungodly hours, scaring the life out of you.

You gape, pulling the cat closer and Tom moves gently but doesn't get far. The cat paws his arm. “I got him because he’s cute and he keeps me company.”

“I’m cute and I keep you company!” Tom argues.

You giggle. “Someone just can’t handle me having more then one boy in my life, isn’t that right, Oskie?”

The cat purrs and for a moment, Tom softens. His hatred for the pet fades as he watches you give it gentle snuggles, scratching behind the cat's ear and you coo softly. Tom had seen you with that cat a million and one times, he hated Oscar the most when you bought it around to his flat and the cat would bound around like he owned the place– but Tom would admit that he enjoyed seeing you soften up. He enjoys seeing you so in love and so smitten with another being.

While you’re petting the cat, your mind shifts to the life you created and how soon enough, everyone was bound to know. Far too soon for your liking but still, you could push it away for as long as possible, right? You could keep the truth hidden as deep down as possible, make it you and Toms secret.

“Tom?” You speak gently, gaining his attention and the cat pounces off of your lap. “Just until we sort this out and work out a plan, this stays between us, okay?” You plead.

He knows straight away that you’re talking about the pregnancy.

“I thought we did sort it out?” Tom asks, furrowing his brows. His eyes shirt from the maroon shirt you wore to your face.

You remove your head from his shoulders, pushing yourself up using the bathroom sink and flush the toilet with one hand, starting the tap with the other. “We’ve hardly even talked about it. This a baby, not dinner plans or a new car… we need to talk about living arrangements, if we’re going to keep it–”

And the needle drops. Because Tom is quick to intercept, raising a hand in confusion.

“Woah Woah Woah, If we’re keeping the baby?” Tom steps back, catching you off guard. You lean against the counter, the sink cold against unsuspecting palms and you sigh. Because there it was.

You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the sudden tension. “This is why we need to talk about it.” A sigh escapes your lips. “We need to talk about what we’re going to be bringing out baby into and just… money, Tommy.”

He knows you have a point and loosens his shoulders, feeling guilty for snapping.

“And we will, we will talk about it, we can, I promise.” Tom is the next to sigh as he grips the roots of his hair, bathroom floor cold against bare feet and he shivers at the realisation, but admittedly you looked like you were struggling more in only the tea and underwear.

Not even twenty-four hours ago he was ready to break down your door after hearing nothing from you in a week. He was complaining to Harrison about how sick you must’ve been– nearing going against your word and calling an ambulance to your house if you were really sick enough to bail on bowling and the idea of hearing Harrison complain about his lack of love life. He had nearly convinced himself that your damn cat had died, that’s how quiet you’d been.

So at the realisation that you were carrying his child– bringing to life a being that would be a perfect representation of the two of you he begins to chuckle. It’s small, breathy laughs at first before there are small crinkles beneath his eyes and his teeth are on display.

“What?” You huff, folding your arms across your chest. “Tom, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He says between short laughs. “It’s just that… we’re having a baby. Jesus, we’re having a fucking baby.”

Tom wasn’t amused, no, he was goddamn terrified and as were you. At the sound of his chuckles evening out, you release your teeth's deathly grip on your gum and glance down at your feet, tapping cold toes against bathroom tiles.

“We’re having a baby.” -

The waiting room was quiet for a weekday.

In fact, there had only been one other woman and she had left with a smile on her face that you swore could reach the stars. The lady– maybe early thirties had glazed over eyes and her husband beamed about the fact that they were having a girl. At that statement alone your chest had ached, fingers brushing over your clothed stomach.

Brochures sat next to you, ones about adoption and where to go next– some that had to do with abortion and miscarriages and one on how to know if you were ready for a baby but you don’t touch any. You swallow nervously, tasting mint gum on your tongue and your nervous chewing intensifies. On the other side of the room was a corner with a series of toys from legos to Barbie dolls and books with silly names, some you recognised from your childhood such as the very hungry caterpillar and brown bear.

You’d hardly realized that your leg had been jittering up and down non stop since you’d first sat down in the plastic, faded waiting room seat. But it had been and Tom had been watching from the corners of his eyes. So when he notices you slip your lip between your teeth, chewing on the skin he takes your hand in his own.

His red coat is big and chunky and the ends rest against your hand.

“Just relax, yeah?” He prompts, squeezing your hand gently.  You’d admit that it was definitely comforting, but that doesn't stop your erratically beating heart. You tell yourself that it’s just like a normal check-up, that it’s just like any other appointment– only that it’s not.

“I’m trying.” You mutter, though you were still trying to convince yourself of that fact. “I can smell coffee on your breath.” You groan, taking the ‘distraction’ route. “New rule, you’re not allowed to drink coffee around me.”

Tom gapes at you, face morphing into shock and concern at the statement. “What? But I love coffee.” He complains.

You shrug, trying to hide the evitable smirk that was begging to take place on your features. “So do I, but I’m going without it for the sake of the child that you put in me so I’m sure you can bare waiting until you get home while I, will be waiting nine months.” You come to the conclusion right there in the waiting room that him sipping his extra sweet, caffeinated drink around you just wasn’t going to work.  “Suck it up, buttercup.”

Tom shakes his head, deep brown curls brushing against his forehead but doesn’t say anything else because all the signs showed that you were terrified right now, as was he so he silently agrees to your new deal. Realistically, he could still enjoy the energizer at his own flat around Harrison. Whereas you would go without.

A radio hosts voice breaks through the walls, talking about some weird way to win masses of money through the station but you don’t listen. Instead, you look down and begin to play with his fingers instead of your own and Tom discards the fact that watching you twiddle with his fingers helps calm his own nerves.

In his pocket, Toms phone buzzes and be tugs it out, nearly dropping the thing but manages to regain himself. Luckily your eyes are still on his hand and anxiously, you now toying with the ends of his red coat, picking at stray strands of cotton.

Harrison: just woke up, what the fuck did you do this time?

Tom chews on the inside of his gum and quickly slips his phone back in his pocket. That was a conversation they needed to have in person.

It’s then that the doctor steps out of the office, glancing around the quiet waiting room before her gaze lands on the two of you and your interlocked hands. She’s a gentle woman with her hair pinned back and cherry coloured lips, mascara paints her lashes and a series of small pins in the shape of hearts, teddy bears and flowers sit reasonably close to the collar of her uniform.

Tom wonders if that was supposed to make them feel calm. Instead, it reminds him of when his mother used to force him into the doctors to get shots and he’d kick and scream the entire time up– until the nurse would hand him and his brothers a lollipop.

“I think you’re up next.” she smiles warmly, teeth peeking through coloured lips.

And Tom hates that he feels your hand tighten around his because he feels guilty and he remembers that you’re partially here because of him. Of course it takes two to tango but god fucking damn, a huge part of him blamed himself and it was consuming his every thought at the minute.

He swallows, standing up with you.

“You got this, I’ve got you.” He comforts, much like earlier that morning before you’d briefly bickered, then he’d rushed off to work for a few hours at the bar but his mind had barely left you. “Let’s go see our baby.”

Part 3!

Come and ask to be added to the tag list to be notified when i post chapters of this series! + PLEASE send comments and feedback and remember to reblog :’)

HCIN: @grayxswan @whatdaflerken @thataudreydork @h-natale @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @u-are-my-moonlight  @vendylewin @claredolphinbear24@slingingwingingspidey @voidklaroline @satellitespidey @tomhollandswh0re@bringmethehorizonandpizza @darlingimmafangirl @smalltownbigissues@hbmoore1986 @yeastystrumpet @timelock97 @spider-mendes@parkerstylesperalta @parkerspideyman @honeymoonparker @wirth-jackshit@honeymoonparker @sargentjamesbarnes @dumblani @its-lily-i-guess @queengemsworld @euphoricholland @mindfulwishing133 @taybugstuff @spideymood @xxxxdelenaxxxx @gioandreolli @danicarosaline @badhollandfluff @crazykenz-ie @morganthelittle @littlebluewoods @indecisivearia @theamuz @vintage-moonlight @itsrecklesscalum @annathesillyfriend @peter-prkr @scftholland @avengersassemblee @peter-prkr @its-lily-i-guess @scftholland @sadsadiesworld @sarah-moss2015 @@spideymybucky @sxbrxnx818 @tomsmelanin @hannahholland1811 @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @siriuslycollins @mutuallynotmutual @catstielanddeanthedog @kayla-m1996 @avenirectioner @toms-irish-girl @dullmiele @lokilove3112 @peterparkyourassonme @barneackles

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @dej-okay@hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen@marvelismylifffe@lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess@southsidefandoms@justannothermonday @its-claire-louise@sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221@joyfullyjenny@damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please@futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six@c0prolalia @buckykinz@ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999@fnosidam@randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles@justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017@gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel@leslieandjensen @painted-soulss@practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey@holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill@elyshugh@hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644@parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1@tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl@thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275@parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork@peterparkerscamera@fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst@httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb@whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26@nephalem67 @underoos-tom @quaxon-holland@lovelyspidey @no-shxt-sherl @xlatinaaxx@starlightfound @mikexpeter @moonandstars-xo @httpmcrvel @evelyn120700@fromheroestodust@hollandfieldblurbs @ghostlypandacolorpersona@spazclaiire @curlyhairedparker @josierosie@unicornio-vomita-mierdas @icondy@euphoricholland @desir-ae @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin@ameeravioli@ramen-tically @mellifluous-tom @mrs-webslinger @krazykiara @scottyisthatyou@@s0cial-retard @sithskywalkers @avenirectioner @cokemania147@awkwardfangirl2014 @thot–holland @tomsmelanin @tryn25 @marvelismylifffe @fratboievans @draqcnheartstrinq @mellifluous-tom @obsidiandolans @peter-parkersbb @slingingwingingspidey @darlingxholland

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not? | Three

Playlist | My Masterlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Tom Holland x Reader | Fwb with an unexpected pregnancy added in the mix. 

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy and a FWB relationship. I’m kind of :// about this chapter but after this, things are going to get reallyyyyy good ;) Please remember to reblog and share if you liked this chapter and this series!! honestly, I love writing this but I write it a lot faster when it gets good feedback :)

The baby was merely a baby. You probably couldn’t even call it a baby. The doctor had said that the thing was merely the size of a blueberry and so Tom had taken to calling it that for now. His fickle, only just existent blueberry. Tom and you both ignored the fact that he hated blueberries, always finding them too sour or too bland because you loved them.

Your creation was yet to have limbs like arms and legs or a face, yet the blueberry sized figure had fetal organs and a working heart. Yet those had merely just formed and it’s a wild concept to think about, really. It was even harder to comprehend when the sonogram only showed an alien-like blob. Not a blueberry, a blob.

It was the heartbeat that brought you to tears, however. It was small and the room went dead silent– not even the sound of Toms exasperated breathing could be heard as you both waited in anticipation, holding the others hand with a deathly grip. But the second the dull beating filled the room you dropped his hand, allowing his paper white knuckles to breathe for the first time since you entered the room.

You were seven weeks and three days. Your baby had forming fetal limbs, a heartbeat and was the size of a blueberry. The best part? The developing baby was healthy.

If Tom remembers correctly, seven weeks ago Harrison went away to see his parents for the weekend and the two of you took to staying in his and Toms shared flat. If he remembers correctly, you two had stayed up until eleven playing video games and shared bowls of overcooked popcorn before crashing in his room surrounded by clothes that you had demanded he clean. (To which he had the very next day)

Two pocket-sized pictures of the blueberry sized, alien-like blob with a heartbeat and no limbs had been printed out and taken in two sets of shaky hands. Thank yous had been muttered by nervous expecting parents and yeah–, the drive back to yours was dead silent and you barely said a goodbye as you clambered inside and Tom was left outside the apartment building sitting behind the wheel of his run-down car, contemplating whether or not he wanted to go home for a few moments before he flicked his indicator on and did a three-point turn.

He didn't go home then. He spent a night at his brothers, crashing on the couch instead of his own bed that sat empty for another day. A mere few texts were sent back and forth between the two of you as well as a few photos on Instagram– funny animal pictures to be exact. Tom refrained from sending photos of baby outfits he stumbled across, or stuffed animals.

By staying with his brothers, Tom was, in a way, running from his problems. But you weren't the problem. The problems were the list of questions he’d be bombarded with when he pulls up to his shared apartment.

He knew what was waiting for him at home. Surely, it was Harrison. With possibly a hundred and one questions and confusion– confusion was a sure one, it’d be written all over the blondes face. Strung up in his eyes and shown in the way he’d purse his lips and screw up his nose.  

So when Tom opens the front door of his apartment, keys jingling in the palm of his hand and the blonde dives out of his seat, tugging at his navy blue t-shirt to unstick it from wet (post-shower) skin, Tom isn’t surprised in the slightest. The boy already looked frantic and he’d barely laid eyes on Tom yet.

“Y/N’s pregnant and it’s yours?!” He exclaims, asking as if it were a question when Harrison knew– boy did he already know, that it was, in fact, a statement.

Tom wants to groan. He wants to sigh and he wants to remain silent all at the same time. But the same questions would still remain an hour from now. 2 days from now. Three weeks from now.

“Okay, yes, but you have to hear me–” He begins. By now, Tom could practically taste his own exhaustion– then again, that could’ve been the handful of cereal he had for breakfast. As if it wasn’t enough that the bags beneath his eyes were larger then saucers.

“What the fuck?” Harrison utters. Harrison runs a hand through tangled locks and after nearly three days of only receiving a few mere texts from Tom, he felt that his interrogation was valid.

“It wasn’t meant to happen.” Tom quips, eyeing the fridge.

“So you just accidently had sex?” Harrison puts emphasis on the word ‘accidentally’ and Tom groans, having yelled at himself enough lately. The last thing he needed was for Harrison to turn on him– no, the last thing he needed was for you to turn on him, Harrison was a close second.

Tom shrugs his shoulders, dumping his keys down on the kitchen table. He spots a few empty beer bottles sitting on the kitchen table and nearly snorts, relishing in the fact that Harrison had broken into the beer fridge while he was out for the night. Okay– maybe there’s more than a few bottles, clearly he had someone over with him but Tom doesn’t ask. Not yet at least.

“It’s not really an accident if it happens multiple times, is it?” Tom retorts. He was too tired and far too overwhelmed to be yelled at. The bags beneath his eyes should’ve been evidence enough.

His mate chokes. “You fucking what?” He exclaims “Tom, that’s your best friend– she’s our best friend.”

“Didn’t know the two of you were so close.” Tom remains where he stood, somehow halfway between the kitchen and the living room. He frowns. “It just happened one day, okay– one day when we both just needed something and we were there for each other and it just stuck. It never got in the way of our friendship.”

Harrison grips the side of the kitchen table. He was used to Tom making silly decisions and he was used to having to tell Tom when he had possibly done the wrong thing. Tom did the same for Haz but this came as a shock. And in this situation, Harrison had already assumed that he didn’t have the right to tell Tom whether or not he’d messed up. Still, Harrison shakes his head.  He always saw you two as close– if you weren’t together when you were texting and if you weren’t texting then Tom was exclaiming something the two of you had done the day before.

But you and Harrison were close too, ever since you met when he came into your work with an ex-girlfriend of his on his arm.

Harrison had read enough books, listened to enough podcasts and heard far too many stories of heartache to know that the whole friends with benefits ordeal was never just friends with benefits. He’d also heard success stories in his time and he knew enough to know that you and Tom couldn’t just be friends with benefits.

There wasn’t a single universe in which you weren’t supposed to fall into each other's arms or crumble under the expectation to do so.

Maybe he should’ve seen this coming. Maybe it wasn’t the sleeping together part that shocked him but the fact that you were pregnant– yeah, okay, that wasn’t a maybe, that was a definite. You were the girl that joined them for Saturday night drinks, who always offered first to be the sober driver despite protest all around because they wanted it to be fair– but you just wanted everyone to have a good time. You’re the one Tom talks about like you’re the reason he wakes up every morning with a smile on his face.

“How long?” The blond ceases his thinking.

“What do you mean ‘how long?” Tom questions. Harrison gives him a mere glance, one that tells him just to ‘answer the damn question’ and he groans. “Few months I guess.”

Tom knew exactly how long it’d been.

“Since Amy–”

That was a no go, an untouched subject that made Toms blood boil and head tick.

“Don’t.” Tom snaps, tugging his coat off and throwing it over the back of the couch. You would’ve scolded him for that one. There was a coat hanger right next to the door for a reason. “Don’t bring her into this. This is between me and Y/N. Amy was forgotten ages ago.”

There’s no space for silence as the two go back and forth, arguing about the topic at hand while another one loomed directly over their heads. Poor Tessa, a blue staffy listened in from the other side of the living room with her head in her hands and the desire to rest.

Harrison, with arms crossed across his chest and furrowed brows pipes up again. “Amy screwed you over and you went to Y/N–”

“I said don’t, I’m over that and Y/N knew what happened that night and things evolved from there. Why are we talking about our sleeping arrangements when I just told you that Y/N’s pregnant anyway?”

Harrison scoffs. “The pregnancy happened because of your sleeping arrangements. You’re going to be a dad– most people fall in love before that part happens.”

Tom already knows that he loves you. He knows that he loves you enough to stick around and take responsibility for this and he loves you enough to eat stale crackers on your apartment floor with the same movie he’d see four times playing. He loves you enough to let you raid his closet when you need a plain white tee or a beanie and he loves you enough to ignore the flirty glances of the girl you work with who he knows hates your guts.

Your friendship reached lengths untouched for others like being able to call the other your best friend after an argument that may leave one of you in tears and the other smacking clenched fists against the front door begging for forgiveness. It reached the two of you tangled up in a set of sheets no matter what hour of the day. Panting, sweaty, needy.

“I know you think that this is insane– it is fucking insane and it wasn’t meant to happen but it did. Y/N is still my best friend, nothing less and I’m going to be there for her and our baby as best I can. This is our normal now and for the next nine months I have to be present for that.”

Tom didn’t regret this. He couldn’t, and he certainly didn’t regret you.

“So you’ve really thought about this, huh?” Harrison steps forward, sock covered feet pointed towards Tom.

Harrison had no doubts that Tom was in this for the long haul, especially considering it was you. The one he talks about continuously like you’re the reason he’s still breathing, as if you were the one being that puts the stars in the sky and is the reason the sun comes up every morning. The one who Tom has endless love and patience for.

Platonic soulmates existed and Harrison knew that much. Because he’d seen enough proof that you were Toms and he was yours.

“I have, but there’s nothing else to consider. Being there for that baby is what I want and it’s what she needs.” Tom picks his wallet up from the counter and digs around for a moment before he stumbles upon the thing he was looking for. Sliding it out, he passes the sonograms to Harrison.  “This is my baby, she’s seven weeks old and she’s the size of a blueberry but soon she’ll have limbs. We heard her heartbeat.”

Harrison raises a brow but softens upon seeing the sonogram and after seeing how content his best friend is on this. Tom was right, the baby was merely a dot– a blob

“She?” He questions, spotting the date at the very bottom of the photo that told him it was taken just yesterday.

Tom shrugs his shoulders, taking back the photo. “I have a hunch.” He says it like it’s nothing. “You’ve seen me and Y/N do wild, unimaginable things together… this is just our next adventure.”

Harrison hesitates, ocean eyes glazing over with fresh tears. “I know you guys can do this, I know you can but–”

“But you’re just worried?” Tom stops him before he can continue, taking the sonogram back and tucks it safely in his wallet. “I’m worried too but I know that I don’t have to go through this by myself. You’re allowed to be worried for me, but I also want you to support me here.”

Harrison sees the look of pure seriousness on Tom's face. In all of their years of friendship, that look had come out a maximum of five times. Once when Tom talked about dropping out of uni, another time when he punched your ex-boyfriend in the face and nearly got arrested. The blonde can’t help but purse his lips.

“Of course I am, you’re one of my best friends.” He lets out a sigh. “But I better be the godfather of that baby.”

And just like that, Tom feels a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He still feels heavy knowing that his and your parents were next– the true critics, but as Harrison's arms wrap around him and tug him into a brotherly hug he feels light.  “Congratulations, mate.”

Tom relaxes his shoulders, patting his mate on the back and accepts that it was out in the open now. Soon, everyone would know whether you tell them or not thanks to the inevitable bump.

“Also, I wasn’t supposed to tell you yet,” Tom adds, moving out of Harrison's arms. “Just keep it quiet until we tell our parents, yeah? And besides, if Y/N finds out I told you she’ll have a go.”

Harrison makes a promise to keep it to himself for now, as well as making a joke about practising his shocked expressions in the mirror later. His last sentence was a promise, one unspoken but a promise nonetheless. He was going to be there for both of you, the guy on the side.

Even then, Tom couldn’t say he was out of the woods, not by a long shot but he felt supported and he could only hope that he had done everything in his ability to make you feel the same.

The what if’s briefly storm his mind, fogging every other thought. But that’s before he allows himself to strip off and be enveloped by a cloud of steam and finally, he’s welcomed into his own shower.

And while he’s in the shower, Tom stands under the heavy flow of humid water and allows beads to make its way through his hair, flattening curly strands and pressing them against his forehead. Everything he seemed to know– or thought he knew from a week before then trickle down bare legs and run down the drain, tangled between every one of Toms fears and insecurities.

He doesn’t want to grab the soap or the scrubber– because he doesn’t want to remove the feeling of your fingertips digging into the backs of his hand or your arm looped through his as you exited the clinic. He doesn’t want to forget the feeling of your nimble fingers toying with his own and how much the two of you had relied on each other. He felt breathless thinking about it. Breathless because he was lucky to have a best friend as incredible as you.

-

Tom sees’ you again three days later.

You walk into the bar at just past ten with your bag tucked tightly under your arm and a subway in one hand, phone in the other. Tom is serving someone when he first sees you and for a moment a wide grin takes place on his features and he forgets that he’s supposed to be serving before he quickly apologises, giving the girl a glass of their finest after she flashed her credit card at the bartender.

He can’t help it when he sees you, even with your hair drawn back and light makeup that tells him you had been working earlier that day. Either it was that or the fact that you were still wearing your name badge- either way, he can tell.

There’s music playing through the speakers, filling the bar with beats that if he had the choice, Tom wouldn’t have chosen. He knows they’re meant to put you in the mood to dance but Tom feels tired, he feels hungry and he feels over the late shifts that’d been getting the best of him lately. A headache was inevitable.

“Hey,” He smiles warmly, fighting to keep his voice above the music. Thought it’s tough in his current state.

You muster up the most sympathetic smile you can after seeing how drained he looked. It didn’t take a genius, surely and you wonder why he hadn’t been sent home yet.

“Harrison told me that you worked extra yesterday and I know you had work tonight and you always forget to take food.” You reach out to hand him the sub and Tom eyes it for a moment, bags beneath his eyes telling you that he possibly needed a little more sleep. “I got your favourite, don’t worry.” You reassure him.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in after successfully catching your words above the sound of the music and raging people, partying like there was no tomorrow. Tom just wanted to go home.

As long as you had known Tom he had been almost too selfless. A little cocky at times and some of his remarks made you groan his name in a way you certainly didn’t between the sheets but he was selfless, that much was for sure. Sometimes so much so that he would refuse to turn down shifts until he was at the brink.

“Will you eat with me?” He asks pleads, feeling his stomach rumble as he takes the subway from you. The chicken sub is heavy in his hand and he swears he could engulf the entire thing then and there.

You hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Bout time you asked.”

Tom warns his coworker before slipping out the back with you, not before his coworker gets to ask you how you’ve been but you tell him that you can’t talk after answering two of his questions- for Tom tugs on your shirt, leaning against the doorframe impatiently. The sub in his hand had his taste buds pleading.

You fall back onto the ragged old couch, cheap leather squeaking as you get comfortable. It does the same for Tom, only he rarely has to move and the two of you aren’t allowed even a moments silence as music plays through the walls. The sound of ripping paper fills the voice as you both take out your food.

Tom is the first to speak up, offering a dull, repetitive question.

“Anything interesting happen for you at work today?”

You think for a moment. “The girl that literally hates my guts actually said hi to me, that was weird.” You say, screwing your face up slightly. “What about you? Anything somewhat interesting happen to you today?”

“There was nearly a fight earlier over something ‘m not too sure what but they were both wasted. Then I caught another guy trying to spike some girls drink and I kicked him out, got her a cab home.”

You pick at your sub, picking out little pieces of lettuce and tomato. “Prince charming.” You snort.

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a small, half-hearted laugh.

One thing you loved about Tom was that he wasn’t a loud chewer and for a few moments, he chews away at the sandwich and you’re allowed to think without your thought process being interrupted by the obnoxious sound of lips smacking together and food slopping between teeth and tongue. Your stomach does little flips, fatigue nearly as visible in your eyes as it was his.

“Tom?” You ask. He responds with a simple hum, one that escapes the back of his throat using what little energy he has left. You feel your heart shatter. “We don’t have to talk, yeah?”

There's an eerie silence for a few moments– or as silent as it can be with music fighting through the hollow cracks in the wall. He agrees with your question– or was it a statement? Whatever it was, Tom savours the taste of oat and honey bread, adorned with chicken and ranch dressing on his tongue after a long shift. You, enjoy pieces of dry lettuce after having lost your appetite long ago.

After his last bite, Tom doesn’t hesitate to let his head fall onto your shoulder. You don’t falter, hand going straight to his curls as they run through the tangles in his hair, rolling soft curls between your fingertips and Tom breathes softly against you. Usually, you’re the one laying against him but Tom has no problem showing you his vulnerabilities.

“Wanna go home?” You speak softly, easing your hand through his hair and down the side of his face, teasing his jawline with nimble fingers.

Tom murmurs something against your shoulder. He was drifting off right there. “Can’t, gotta work.”

“You’re hardly busy, I’ll tell Jake that you’re too tired to stay. You need to take care of yourself now more than ever.” Your fingers falter, going down to his arm and you tug him up softly. Tom is heavy against your side, resting most of his weight in your waiting grasp. “Let me look after my best friend, yeah?”

Best friend.

How could he say no?

PART 4

Come and ask to be added to the tag list to be notified when i post chapters of this series! + PLEASE send comments and feedback and remember to reblog :’)

HCIN: @grayxswan @whatdaflerken @thataudreydork @h-natale @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @u-are-my-moonlight  @vendylewin @claredolphinbear24@slingingwingingspidey @voidklaroline @satellitespidey @tomhollandswh0re@bringmethehorizonandpizza @darlingimmafangirl @smalltownbigissues@hbmoore1986 @yeastystrumpet @timelock97 @spider-mendes@parkerstylesperalta @parkerspideyman @honeymoonparker @wirth-jackshit@honeymoonparker @sargentjamesbarnes @dumblani @its-lily-i-guess @queengemsworld @euphoricholland @mindfulwishing133 @taybugstuff @spideymood @xxxxdelenaxxxx @gioandreolli @danicarosaline @badhollandfluff @crazykenz-ie @morganthelittle @littlebluewoods @indecisivearia @theamuz @vintage-moonlight @itsrecklesscalum @annathesillyfriend @peter-prkr @scftholland @avengersassemblee @peter-prkr @its-lily-i-guess @scftholland @sadsadiesworld @sarah-moss2015 @@spideymybucky @sxbrxnx818 @tomsmelanin @hannahholland1811 @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @siriuslycollins @mutuallynotmutual @catstielanddeanthedog @kayla-m1996 @avenirectioner @toms-irish-girl @dullmiele @lokilove3112 @peterparkyourassonme @barneackles @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @rravenss @watsonundercover @tominhoodies @panemedited @ravynnn-12 @jake-peralta-b99 @thewackywriter @nickigv

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @dej-okay@hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen@marvelismylifffe@lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess@southsidefandoms@justannothermonday @its-claire-louise@sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221@joyfullyjenny@damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please@futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six@c0prolalia @buckykinz@ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999@fnosidam@randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles@justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017@gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel@leslieandjensen @painted-soulss@practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey@holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill@elyshugh@hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644@parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1@tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl@thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275@parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork@peterparkerscamera@fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst@httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb@whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26@nephalem67 @underoos-tom @quaxon-holland@lovelyspidey @no-shxt-sherl @xlatinaaxx@starlightfound @mikexpeter @moonandstars-xo @httpmcrvel @evelyn120700@fromheroestodust@hollandfieldblurbs @ghostlypandacolorpersona@spazclaiire @curlyhairedparker @josierosie@unicornio-vomita-mierdas @icondy@euphoricholland @desir-ae @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin@ameeravioli@ramen-tically @mellifluous-tom @mrs-webslinger @krazykiara @scottyisthatyou@@s0cial-retard @sithskywalkers @avenirectioner @cokemania147@awkwardfangirl2014 @thot–holland @tomsmelanin @tryn25 @marvelismylifffe @fratboievans @draqcnheartstrinq @mellifluous-tom @obsidiandolans @peter-parkersbb @slingingwingingspidey @darlingxholland @50shadesoflaurmani @tomhollandswh0re

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not? - Chapter 3 Coming Friday

Series masterlist | Playlist | 

“I said don’t, I’m over that and Y/N knew what happened that night and things evolved from there. Why are we talking about our sleeping arrangements when I just told you that Y/N’s pregnant, anyway?”

Harrison scoffs. “The pregnancy happened because of your sleeping arrangements. You’re going to be a dad– most people fall in love before that part happens.”

Tom already knows that he loves you. He knows that he loves you enough to stick around and take responsibility for this and he loves you enough to eat stale crackers on your apartment floor with the same movie he’d see four times playing. He loves you enough to let you raid his closet when you need a plain white tee or a beanie and he loves you enough to ignore the flirty glances from the girl you work with who he knows hates your guts.

Your friendship reached lengths untouched for others like being able to call the other your best friend after an argument that may leave one of you in tears and the other smacking clenched fists against the front door begging for forgiveness. It reached the two of you tangled up in a set of sheets no matter what hour of the day. Panting, sweaty, needy.

HCIN: @grayxswan @whatdaflerken @thataudreydork @h-natale @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @u-are-my-moonlight  @vendylewin @claredolphinbear24@slingingwingingspidey @voidklaroline @satellitespidey @tomhollandswh0re@bringmethehorizonandpizza @darlingimmafangirl @smalltownbigissues@hbmoore1986 @yeastystrumpet @timelock97 @spider-mendes@parkerstylesperalta @parkerspideyman @honeymoonparker @wirth-jackshit@honeymoonparker @sargentjamesbarnes @dumblani @its-lily-i-guess @queengemsworld @euphoricholland @mindfulwishing133 @taybugstuff @spideymood @xxxxdelenaxxxx @gioandreolli @danicarosaline @badhollandfluff @crazykenz-ie @morganthelittle @littlebluewoods @indecisivearia @theamuz @vintage-moonlight @itsrecklesscalum @annathesillyfriend @peter-prkr @scftholland @avengersassemblee @peter-prkr @its-lily-i-guess @scftholland @sadsadiesworld @sarah-moss2015 @@spideymybucky @sxbrxnx818 @tomsmelanin @hannahholland1811 @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @siriuslycollins @mutuallynotmutual @catstielanddeanthedog @kayla-m1996 @avenirectioner @toms-irish-girl @dullmiele @lokilove3112 @peterparkyourassonme @barneackles @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @rravenss @watsonundercover @tominhoodies @panemedited @ravynnn-12 @jake-peralta-b99 @thewackywriter

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @dej-okay@hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen@marvelismylifffe@lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess@southsidefandoms@justannothermonday @its-claire-louise@sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221@joyfullyjenny@damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please@futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six@c0prolalia @buckykinz@ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999@fnosidam@randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles@justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017@gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel@leslieandjensen @painted-soulss@practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey@holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill@elyshugh@hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644@parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1@tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl@thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275@parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork@peterparkerscamera@fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst@httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb@whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26@nephalem67 @underoos-tom @quaxon-holland@lovelyspidey @no-shxt-sherl @xlatinaaxx@starlightfound @mikexpeter @moonandstars-xo @httpmcrvel @evelyn120700 @fromheroestodust @hollandfieldblurbs @ghostlypandacolorpersona @spazclaiire @curlyhairedparker @josierosie @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @icondy@euphoricholland @desir-ae @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin@ameeravioli@ramen-tically @mellifluous-tom @mrs-webslinger @krazykiara @scottyisthatyou@@s0cial-retard @sithskywalkers @avenirectioner @cokemania147@awkwardfangirl2014 @thot–holland @tomsmelanin @tryn25 @marvelismylifffe @fratboievans @draqcnheartstrinq @mellifluous-tom @obsidiandolans @peter-parkersbb @slingingwingingspidey @darlingxholland @50shadesoflaurmani @tomhollandswh0re

[hollandroos]

i uhh... never know what to do when people steal my fics so i just kinda simmer in anger 

[hollandroos]

kinda wanna fuck around and re upload one of my favourite fics ive ever written

[hollandroos]

i was writing the next part of ‘how could I not’ but then big time rush started playing and honestly, BTR isnt the mood for HCIN but the music is too good to turn off :/// 

Also, I still have this open and I’m still accepting your ideas & open to hearing about what you want to see in this fic and incorporating those ideas with my own

[hollandroos]

Hii. Do you have a planner for how could i not coming? Obviously no stress, Just if you do. Cause it’s first now I can see my tags on the fics ain’t working and I missed the third chapter, but nothing against you, just telling you I’m excited

thank you!! i’m so glad to see that you’re excited and im so sorry that your tag isn’t working :((

I don’t have a plan of when the chapters after the next will come but i have my series masterlist here for HCIN and every time i post a new chapter, i put the new chapter on the masterlist straight away.

Chapter 4 will be coming hopefully tonight or tomorrow morning :)

[hollandroos]

ok so Ive just started reading hcin and???? It's so amazing ur the bestttt. like the first ultrasound? brought back memories and I'm so happy about this fic

THEY’RE SO SOFT AND IN THIS ESSAY I WILL–

[hollandroos]

Hi sweets I NEED PART TWO OF HCIN OR I AM GOING TO DIE its really good and i really love it tho 😍😍

Honestly, with the amount of love I’m getting from this fic it’ll come ASAP

How Could I Not: One