#oh mother will you be angry with me if i cant finish uni | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wizkiddx · 3 years

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heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕

ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:

Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader

implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox

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Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now.

You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too.

However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy.

In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English.

Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.

“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke.

So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that.

Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her.

Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest.

“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over.

“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“

“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language.

“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing.

With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly.

“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.

“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors.

“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest.

“Oh come here my little bean.”

//////////////////////

When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay.

It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together.

But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions.

So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately.

“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”

“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg�� The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes.

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it.

“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.”

Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction.

“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”

“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”

“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ‘kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”

“I really don’t think I could ev-“

“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat.

“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees.

“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”

“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips.

“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous.

“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.

“Fine, how was your day love.”

“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”

That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.

“Oh darling… you have no idea.”

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #fluff #Tom Holland angst

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jessethejoyful · 5 years

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9. We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine.

HEH FINALLY DONE WITH THIS THANK U

The rattling of the can is loud, deafening almost, in the quiet night air. My breath is a puff of steam in front of my face.

“Baz,” I hiss, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “Baz! We're gonna get caught, let's just go!”

The grin that spreads across his face, oil on water, is wicked sharp. He takes a step toward me and cants his head. “Don't worry so much, Simon,” he whispers, popping the cap off the can and shaking it a bit more. “This will be cathartic for you, I swear.”

“This is illegal!”

He shrugs, still smirking. “Nuances.” He tries a spritz, and the paint comes out in a quick stream of color. When he flips the can in his hand and holds it out to me, I instinctively take a step back. “Simon. Live a little.”

I stare at him for a long moment, then turn my eyes to the walls of my father's home, the classic brick, the ivy crawling up the side. My father, who abandoned my mother and I, didn't even show up to her funeral, too busy at some function for his work.

I take the can from Baz.

I give it a few good shakes myself, then step closer to the wall. Baz is watching me, and I can practically hear that smirk I know he's wearing. Writing out the first letter sends a thrill down my spine, making me dizzy with adrenaline - and an almost cruel satisfaction.

Baz doesn't say a word until I get to the last letter and step back to admire my handiwork. The word ‘WANKER’ in big, sloppy red letters blooms out from the wall.

“Very succinct,” he says approvingly and with a nod. I roll my eyes, but I can't deny the sense of justice I'm feeling.

That is, until a shout at the end of the alley nearly frightens me out of my skin.

“Oi, you two!” the rough voice barks, a light flashing across the both of us. “Stop right there! Step back!”

I freeze where I am, fear and regret gripping my chest and keeping me from moving. The policeman starts toward us, brandishing his torch in front of him.

Baz, however, clearly isn't taken with the same hesitation as me. He grabs my hand and whispers, “Run!” and suddenly we're flying down the alley, the cop shouting behind us. I make myself focus on keeping up with Baz and his damn long legs. This guy, who I met only a few hours ago at a bar, and ended up telling him my whole life story - and am now sprinting from the police with.

How did I end up here?

“Is this seat taken?” a smooth voice had asked, and I turned to see this tall dark bloke simpering down at me. His long hair was falling in cascades over half of his face, but I could see his features clearly. His beautiful, cut features.

“I - uh -,” was about all I could manage, but this luckily didn’t deter him. He sat down on the empty bar stool and leaned toward me, under the pretense of not wanting to shout over the thumping bass.

“What’s your name?” I blinked stupidly at him for a long moment, trying to remember if I had a name. I was only a drink in; there was no way I was drunk already.

I was just star struck.

“Simon,” I finally gasped, plucking the name out of my subconscious and thinking it must fit.

The mysterious stranger smirked. “Simon,” he said in his posh voice, like he was trying the word out for himself. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Baz.”

“That’s not a name,” I said, before I could stop myself. I sounded like an idiot and a jackass, but instead of getting angry, the guy - Baz - laughed.

“Not quite,” he agreed, flagging down the bartender. “But it is a nickname, for a much more unfortunate name.”

I watched as he took a sip from the drink he received. It occurred to me then to drink my own, and I took a deep gulp. I could feel the heat crawling up my neck.

“Do you come here often?” Baz asked then, leaning toward me again. “I’ve never seen you here before, but then again, I’m not here much myself.”

We were in a seedy bar in a corner of London, tucked away from the main tourist tracks and usually filled with other students from the local uni. Tonight was no different; the music was loud, and bodies shifted all around us. It was hot, and not just because I was under close scrutiny from this gorgeous bloke.

“Not much, no,” I replied, meekly. “My friend Agatha convinced me to come out, to celebrate the end of term - but I seem to have lost her.” I looked around the room, realizing the truth of it in that moment. When had she disappeared?

“Unlucky you,” he said, somewhat sympathetic, before that wicked grin returned. “But lucky me, I think.”

My ears must have glowed at that. “How’d’ya figure?” My voice sounded thick, even to me, but it seemed like the dumber I sounded, the more endeared Baz became.

When he leaned in again, his lips brushed my ear. “Because that means I have you to myself, for a while, at least.” I couldn’t speak for a minute after that.

We talked for a long while, sitting close together at the bar and slowly downing drinks. We talked about anything and everything that came to our minds; I learned he attended Oxford, but was in town to visit his aunt for the holidays. I told him I attended locally, and he asked me about my studies. He told me some about his family, that his mother had died when he was young and that his dad was a piece of work, but he didn’t go far into it. I told him about my mother’s death in return - and the bitterness that came from thinking about my father must have shown on my face.

“Are you alright?” He gripped my hand, squeezing it once, and I startled. “You don’t have to tell me about this if you don’t want to -“

“Oh, I’m fine,” I hurried to say, shaking my head. “I just - when I think about my dad, I guess I get sort of grumpy.”

Baz looked thoughtful at this. “You did look like you’d just swallowed something sour.”

I breathed out a laugh. “Yeah - he’s just such a wanker. Didn’t show to my mum’s funeral, after leaving us flat for years - then expects me to move in with him and be his perfect son.” I waved my hand, glowering again. “He occupies some minor government office, so it’s all very political. No scandals allowed.”

“Wow. He does sound bad.” I just nodded, trying to get rid of the bitter expression I was surely wearing. “Does he live around here?”

I thought about it. “We’re actually pretty near his house. He’s got one of those brick townhouses -“

Before I could finish my thought, Baz had tossed down an alarming wad of cash on the counter and, still gripping my hand, dragged me along with him toward the door. I was too shocked to argue, instead trying to keep myself from losing him in the throng of people crowding us.

We made it outside, into the cold night air, and I pulled my scarf up over my nose.

“Baz?”

“Let’s go have some fun, Simon.”

The pounding of our feet brings me back to the present. Our current situation. The policeman is still behind us, I can hear his shouts, his heavy footfalls and even the heaviness of his breathing. He must be tiring, because it sounds like he’s getting further and further away.

Baz, on the other hand, shows no sign of tiring, or slowing down. Our hands are gripped tightly between us, and I’m staring at the back of his head in awe. We weave in and out of alleyways and cut across yards, my legs burning from trying to keep up.

When Baz stops suddenly and drags me into a shady doorway, I let out a squeak. His hand slaps across my mouth, our bodies practically flush together as the cop’s footsteps grow louder again. I can just make out the features of his face in the half-light, concentrating fiercely as he listens.

The cop runs right by us, but doesn’t see us, doesn’t even slow down.

It isn’t until the sound of his steps disappear once again into the night that either of us breathes. I have no clue where we are, wasn’t paying any attention to the winding path Baz took us on. My eyes strain against the darkness, and his hand slowly lowers away from my mouth.

“I think it’s safe now,” he whispers, his voice carrying a tinge of amusement. We’re still standing in the doorway, chests touching as we heave with tired breaths.

I’m staring at his lips as I murmur back to him. “Then why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know. Why are you?”

“I don’t know.” I tilt up without thinking and press my lips to his. He’s startled, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips my chin and pulls me in, and I lose myself in him.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #rainbow rowell #my writing #writing #carry on fanfiction #fanfiction #carry on simon #carry on baz #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch

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