HufflepuffHolland's Writing Collection

Quackson? // Tom Holland

Request: Can't get to my inbox right now but you'll know what it's about when you read it lol

Pairing: Tom Holland + Reader

Warnings: Fluff, embarrassed Tom

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"Oh, my god." You were desperate for air as you put the video you were watching on pause. This had to have been your favorite video, amongst the other remixes made for it. You wiped the tears from your eyes as you let out a loud snort. One of your hands came up to your mouth to keep any other sounds from coming out of you.

You loved when Tom did press tours, it was beneficial to your days off – being able to watch his interviews on YouTube, helping whenever you missed him or just wanted to see or hear his voice. Usually you watched them for a smile or just to have an excuse to look at him, but this time the main reason for you watching this video (over and over) was to laugh at your poor, defenseless boyfriend. You didn't realize how definite Tom's accent was until it came to saying certain words, foreign words especially, specifically the word croissant.

"What's up, babe?" You looked up from your laptop, immediately closing it when you saw Tom walking into your bedroom. You smiled at him and get up to hug him when he was close enough to your bed. He wrapped his arms around your waist and swayed you both side to side slightly. You inhaled his scent – you had just scene him this morning, but there wasn't a moment that you didn't miss him.

"Hi Tommy," you tilted your head just the slightest to give him a peck before pulling away completely.

"You ready?" You nodded and grabbed your bag and your keys from your dresser before letting Tom lead you out. You were both going out for brunch, one of your favorite things to do with each other. When you got in the car you suddenly remembered the interview you were just watching of Tom and chuckled to yourself. "What are you laughing at?" You looked to your left to see Tom looking at you in confusion, a smile on his face nonetheless. You shook your head and returned his smile, reaching one of your hands over to caress his cheek.

"Nothing, babe. Just something I was watching earlier." He still had a confused look on his face, but he dropped the subject with a nod and started the car. The drive was only about eight minutes – but you two always made the best of it. You drove with the windows down and serenaded strangers as they walked down the street with whatever was on the radio.

Tom led you into the small, secluded diner and helped you into your seat before sitting across from you. When the waiter came up to take your orders, your eyes skimmed the rest of the menu – you already knew you were going to get the French toast. Your eyes stopped on the sides, the word "croissant" seemingly bold. You tried to stop yourself from laughing but you couldn't help yourself. A loud laugh erupted from you, startling Tom and the waiter. You cleared your throat, your cheeks heating up as a few people turned to look at you.

"You okay, (Y/N)?" You nodded and apologized, and proceeded to order. Having never actually tried a croissant, you decided to order a couple for you and Tom.

"Can I also have a quackson?" Your eyes widen after the word left your mouth. You glanced at the waiter and then at Tom, a confusing look across both of their faces. "I mean a croissant!" You cleared your throat again. "Sorry, I meant a croissant. Two, please." The waiter chuckled softly before nodding and heading back to the kitchen.

"Babe, are you sure you're okay? What was that weird accent?" You shook your head before reaching out across the table and holding his hand.

"Nothing, sorry. I think my throat was just a little dry." Tom gave you an unsure look before nodding and smiling at you instead, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. The rest of brunch went well, minimum laughing coming from you. The way back was fine, and you were able to control yourself for the most part when you both got into your house. You made it to your bedroom and Tom asked if you wanted to watch something on Netflix, you agreed and told him to hook your laptop up to your TV. You went to the bathroom to wash the small amount of makeup you had on your face. It wasn't until you were drying your face when you realized you hadn't exited out of the YouTube video you were watching earlier. With your eyes wide you sprinted back into your room.

"Tom, wait! Don't open my laptop!" But, you were too late. Tom sat in front of your TV, a confused look on his face as he watched the endless loop of him saying the word "croissant".

"What the hell... what the hell is this?! Is this why you were acting weird at brunch?" His eyes darted to you quickly before reading the word on the screen that popped up occasionally. "Quackson?" His eyes squinted, before it clicked that this was what you asked the waiter to bring you. "Oh, my god. You were making fun of me at the diner!"

"No! Baby, no." You rushed to sit next to him on the bed, reaching to turn off the video. "I mean, a little bit. I'm sorry!"

"Do I really say it weird?" He visibly shrunk where he was sitting and you instantly felt guilty for laughing at him practically all day.

"No, of course not. It's just... your accent – it makes it sound different! Not that that's bad!"

He gave a small smile leaning over to peck your cheek. "How do you say it?"

"What?" You looked at Tom confused as you watched the color rush to his cheeks.

"How do you say it? Like, can you teach me?"

"Tom, you're fine-,"

"Please?" You took in Tom's pout and sighed, eventually nodding and fixing yourself so that you were facing him directly, him doing the same.

"Okay so, I guess you just need to work on pronouncing your 'r' more. Croissant."

He cleared his throat before speaking, "Quackson." He cringed as he realized he said it wrong again.

"Maybe if you slowed it down a little. Yeah? Let's try." You had him repeat the word over and over, him still not being able to articulate himself with his accent.

About ten minutes in he let out a frustrated groan.

"Fuck that word!" You laughed at his outburst, not meaning to, but the look of pure seriousness on his face got you. "I'm serious, fuck that word. I don't even like qua- NO. Those stupid fucking French treats, I don't like them."

"I think they came from Austria – but, I get your point." Tom rolled his eyes at you, leaning in to kiss you. Your hands instantly went to comb through his hair, pulling him closer to you. He sighed into your mouth, bringing his body to hover over you. One of his arms went around your waist as the other supported his weight. He scooted you up on your bed, not breaking the kiss. Your lungs started to burn as you became desperate for air. You tugged at Tom's hair, pulling away slightly. You pecked him one last time before he pulled himself off of you completely. He sat up against your headboard and patted his chest, signaling for you to lay against him. You smiled and pushed yourself up, and grabbed your laptop before resting your head against his chest. You put on the Office, and put your laptop on the side, feeling Tom run his fingers through your hair.