tom holland oneshots

to a

warnings : petty shit, cursing lol

summary : reader and tom get into a fight ... but the reader was wrong and now she has to make it up to him

word count : 1500 

(requested) didn't proofread, enjoy :p

Maybe it was old fashioned that you and Tom had a home phone now that you lived together, but you liked the idea of a voice message for the two of you. In this case, however, you'd sworn at your past self for wanting such a cliche concept come to life. 

A custom designer purse company had just left a message, something about a pickup or delivery for Tom, gifted for A. Just A. An abbreviation. Maybe you were going crazy, maybe you were paranoid and maybe you were just jumping to conclusions. But when the doorbell rang, you knew you were probably right. There, on the doorstep, sat the unopened box, the packaging fancy and obviously done with care. In calligraphy, it read "To A, from Tom." 

Andrea, Tom's ex, had always set something off in your brain. There was something about how things ended so peacefully that just didn't sit right with you. And now, you were destined to find out. Leaving the package by the front door, you went upstairs to grab your phone, reading the text message Tom sent you 20 minutes ago. You suspected he'd be home in a matter of minutes, and you were proven correct when he came through the door, placing his coat on a hook and settling down like he would every day. Until you came down the stairs. 

"Thomas what the fuck." 

He stopped in his place, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out what he did to piss you off so badly. But to his dismay, nothing came to mind. 

"What?"

"You know what," you spat out. 

"Uhm, I don't, actually," he admitted calmly, a polar opposite to your stance right now. 

"That- that thing by the door." 

Tom turned in the direction of your eye line, and his eyes fell on the box and his shoulders released in relief. 

"Oh, just the gift for-"

"Andrea," you thought you were finishing for him. 

"N-"

"Don't bother denying it. I got the message the company left on the answering machine."

"Y/N-"

"No!" You cut him off. "Whatever excuse you're about to say, I don't want to hear it."

"Can't you just listen to me?" Tom exclaimed back, growing frustrated.

"Why should I?"

"I don't know, maybe because, and this is just a guess, because you're wrong!" He shot out sarcastically, his voice raised. 

"Yeah and how would that be?"

"You and your fucking brain. You're just jumping to conclusions. Again!"

"I am not! I have evidence! My name doesn't even start with an 'A'!"

"You don't even kno-"

"But your ex's does!"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N," Tom let out under his breath, running his slender fingers through his curls. 

"What?" you inquired, furious. 

"You're fucking ridiculous!"

"I am not!"

"Yes you are! You don't even have faith in me to believe that I'm not doing whatever it is that you're suggesting! Do you even trust me?"