Do Yall Like Fluffy Shit Or ??? Angst Seems To Be The Only Thing I Write So I Want To Expand My Kind

do yall like fluffy shit or ??? angst seems to be the only thing I write so I want to expand my kind of “genre...” requests are open

update 🖤

I’m so sorry for not posting part 2 of moonlight, but I got sick and then I didn’t use my laptop for this whole week because my father took it away, so I think I’m just going to type it on my phone. I’ll try to get it up by the end of this week. thank you for bearing with me 🥰

masterlist

Y/N pouting because Tom stole her jar of cookies: you suck

Tom: you swallow... and choke

Y/N literally chokes (on her spit):

Tom winks at her:

hello, fellow people of tumblr! i’m not necessarily new to tumblr because i’ve used it to read, but this is the first time i use it to make my own page. i was inspired by spideyunivrse to make my own page. i also have a tom holland fan account on instagram: tommohollander

K so people in English use different terminology, and Tom’s said a few terms like “bloody hell” or “minging” but like imagine you bring him over for a visit with your family and every time he uses his slang, you don’t even flinch cause you know what he means and your family is just like 🤨

english terms

a/n: omg i forgot about adding in english terminology, so sorry. gotchu tho. also, i don’t k is how to use these words, so im sorry if it’s used wrong :(( enjoy

masterlist

Tonight Tom was going to join me and my family for dinner. He was very nervous; continuously fidgeting with his suit and tie as we drove to my childhood home.

“Tom, babe, calm down. My family already adores you. Plus, they’ve already met you,” I giggled, shaking my head at his absurdity.

“I know, but we’ve never sat down a-and,” he gulped, “talked.”

“You’ll do fine, Tommy.” I stroked his thigh.

He relaxed under my touch, “You’re right, there’s nothing to worry about.”

When we arrived, Tom was surprisingly warm. He didn’t look as nervous as he was earlier. I was in my on thoughts while Tom and my parents talked about Tom and his acting career. Tom’s hand was gently resting on my thigh as he talked away.

My mother brought out a dish of fettuccine alfredo with chicken topping it. It smelled delicious. We all started to dig in, filling our plates with handfuls of the pasta.

“Bloody hell,” Tom sighs, “this is delicious.”

“Thank you, Tom. I try my best,” my mother smiles.

My father looks at me with confused eyes and I return the look, shrugging. Tom never used the term ‘bloody hell’ around me, so I don’t know what it means.

“Anyways, how’s living in Los Angeles? Heard it’s a pretty hectic city, is it true?” My father changes the subject.

“Indeed, there are many people there, but I enjoy the city. There is an issue with that minging scent around that place, though; smells heavily of cigars.” Tom shakes his head at the thought.

My family looks at me, still confused at the English terminology Tom was using but chooses to ignore it.

The night goes by smoothly, and we leave around 8 PM.

While we were driving home, I chose to acknowledge the terms Tom was using earlier, and asked him about it, “Tom?” He hums, “What does ‘bloody hell’ and ‘minging’ mean? I kind of understand ‘bloody hell,’ but not ‘minging.’”

Tom chuckles, “‘Minging’ means an unpleasant smell, darling.”

I let out a small “oh,” realizing what he meant.

“You’re adorable, princess,” I giggle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Tommy.”

Peter: *pats Iron-Man tsum tsum* this one T H I C C bih

Tony:

Stephen:

Tony: don’t buy him tsum tsums anymore

Stephen: *nods head slowly*