angel cake ♡ tom holland/sebastian stan/chris evans oneshots

Writing Romance // Tom Holland

   Your hands stopped typing suddenly, completely cramping up like your current mental debate physically stopped you from moving. You'd been writing for hours now, finally getting into the flow of this new novel. Romance was never your forte, but ever since Tom, you'd decided you had to prove to yourself that if you could write about intergalactic murderous counterparts then you could at least manage a novella of trashy teen love. If you were honest, you wanted nothing more than to keep writing about Eilixe and Elizabeth and the revolution against the rest of the universe, but something about finally experiencing something so strong and feeling something so vivid left you with, you felt, no other option.

   But you really did have no idea what you were doing.

   You got up from the sofa, laptop in hand, and ran up the stairs.

   "Do you think," you began, walking into the bathroom where Tom was showering, "That if Anderson calls Saoirse a naive little girl it's completely inappropriate for them to date later on?"

   Tom turned the shower off and looked around the curtain, completely drenched and hair still covered in bubbles.

   "Depends. How early on is he saying it?"

   "It's the... third night. They're eating with his parents."

   "Does he get told off for it?"

   "No, there's just an uncomfortable silence afterwards, then Saoirse goes upstairs."

   "To cry?"

   "To cry."

   "Then it's fine. But make sure he apologises really close to the time they get together."

   "How close?" You asked, settling yourself against the wall and typing frantically.

   "Probably during the same chapter. It might work if it's like, the reason they get together, you know?"

   "I like that, actually," you said, looking up at Tom, "Like if he apologises and she kinda... You know, just kinda tells him it's fine, and he says that it isn't and he wouldn't forgive her if he was her and then she says she's already forgiven him and then there's a silence and they both just kinda throw themselves at each other and badda bing badda boom, the Saoirse-Anderson relationship is a thing and I never have to write about romantic love ever again!"

   Tom grinned and stepped out of the shower.

  "Or maybe you will - you might get a taste for it and never be able to stop writing it."

   "No, I am so ready to burn the first draft," it was a ritual - after every novel was completed and published, you printed out the entire first draft and burned it in your garden, "And stomp on the ashes. I just wanna write about murder again, honestly."

"You are so dark." Tom teased, drying his hair.

"You love it. Get back in the shower and wash the shampoo out properly you psychopath."

~

You walked into the bathroom in tears, stopping in the doorway and looking at Tom. He was brushing his teeth but he stopped the second he saw you, toothbrush clattering into the sink and arms going around you firmly. You sobbed the second your face was buried in him, his scent a comfort but not quite enough to make you feel better.

   "I can't do it." You said weakly into his shirt, balling your hands up in the fabric.

   Instantly Tom knew what you were talking about. "Yes you can, love. You've gotten this far already."