THE HOLLAND BOYS AND HARRISON OSTERFIELD IMAGINES

Young Gods

written by: @/ a-singleboat

A/N: ... yeah

Word Count: 990

Warnings: mention of death

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Nobody ever purposefully invites Tragedy to a party. They'd sooner invite Catastrophe or Panic because at least then they'd have a chance. This wasn't any different for Tom Holland. He purposely found himself Optimism personified and kept you close. You never left his side, and in the rare occasion you weren't there, he made sure you were safe. Keep his happiness safe and happy, and Tom would be the same.

That was how it worked and how it always worked, at least up until a week ago. A single phone call in the dead of the night was enough to make a grown man kneel. Harrison, who had been there for the night, heard the sounds from the next room and rushed in to find Tom on the floor, head in his hands. His phone had been discarded to the side with the most recent number still displayed on the screen. Harrison stared at it, vaguely recognizing the number as the one for the hospital one town over. What a difference a minute can make in the dead of the night.

Tom picked himself off the ground and stumbled to his car, only to be stopped by Harrison. He pried the car keys from the broken man's fingers and eased him into the front seat. "She wouldn't want you to drive like this," Harrison found himself muttering out, and upon arrival at the hospital, he had to race after Tom as he bolted through the hospital doors to the front desk.

"What room is Y/n in? Y/n Holland."

"She's currently not allowed visitors at the moment, sir."

"No, no you don't understand. Y'n, she's." Tom's fierce grip on the countertop weakened as Harrison pulled him away to settle him down into a chair. It truly broke his heart to see Tom like this, sad and dejected, bordering depression. He never thought he'd have to see him like this as long as Tom had Y/n by his side. You two were the poster couple that only fought a healthy amount and loved each other unconditionally. Tom was mumbling your name over and over again, as if in a trance.

Flashes of the times you had spent together sped past his eyes in bursts of color.

The first time you kissed. On a rooftop, tending to the garden up there. Finding out your favorite flower.

Bringing him over to meet your parents. Being a nervous wreck and nearly asking his manager to get him a interview for the exact time dinner would be.

Waiting for you at the altar. Those last minute bugs that wouldn't go away. It was taking you long for you to come down the aisle, but you had gotten a heel stuck in the carpeting outside.

Standing next to you as the doctor showed you the life you had created together. Being so elated that he had kissed you right there, the cold gel still on your stomach.

Tom watched with eyes glazed over as loved ones were approached by a doctor or nurse to be told that there was nothing to worry about. That everything had gone perfectly. The dread built up in Tom's stomach, but Harrison's arm prevented him from getting up to look for you himself. He fought the Sandman's attempts to pull him asleep even after the sun came up and the whole world seemed bright and happy, mocking him.

A doctor stopped in front of Tom, waiting for him to focus his eyes. "Are you Mr. Holland?"

Tom shook his head. "Yes, Holland. Is Y/n okay? What about our child? Were there any complications with the surgery? What about-"

He was cut off from his mile-a-minute questioning. "Mrs. Holland is stable at the moment, but I'm afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news." He paused.

Tom knew what was to come. He knew that you would blame yourself for it. He just knew.

"Your child did not make it. There was a complication during the surgery, and we had to make a choice. When the decision came, we chose to save Mrs. Holland."

Tom sunk down further into his chair. Harrison grabbed his arms to prevent him from sliding out of the chair. The doctor continues to speak. "If you would like, I could take you to see Mrs. Holland right now. She's currently resting, but you can stay in her room.

Tom numbly nodded his head and stood up on his own to blindly follow the doctor, Harrison trailing behind.

Sitting in the room made Tom sick. Shortly after they arrived, the doctor debriefed Tom about your condition and Harrison left to get clothes for the two of you. Tom refused to leave, memories of you both still flashing through his mind.

–

You were running away from him, laughing a laugh so pure. Your y/h/c hair flowed behind you, bit flying into your mouth. He tackled you into the sand, screams of laughter attracting the attention of people nearby. He kissed you once and then rolled over to lay next to you, your hands intertwined. You stayed until the sun went down and the beach became still.

"Stars are magnificent. Burning balls of hot gases look like diamonds from the far away." You fell quiet for a moment, enjoying each other's company. "Where do you think we go when we die, Tom?" You turned your face away from the sky to stare into his eyes.

"Why wonder about it now? Or even at all. We're young gods, never to die." Tom kissed you quick and sat up, pulling you along. You faced each other, the wind blowing your hair into your face. He pulled you close and kept you there for the rest of the night.

–

Tom blinked out the fresh tears in his eyes, willing them away. You were okay and you both would make it through this, together as young gods.