tom holland imagines

prince charming

Fingers poised on the keyboard, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. It was silent in the house, for once, the only sound being the crisp spring breeze blowing in through the open windows. Rarely was it ever this quiet in the house - usually there was music playing, or you and Tom had friends or family over, keeping the place alive. As much as you loved the energy in your house, it was nice to get a break from it sometimes. Especially when you wanted to focus on writing. And this morning, you woke up with the urge to write. So when Tom kissed your forehead as he got out of bed that morning, telling you that he was going to take Tessa to the park for a bit, you figured it'd be the perfect time to get to work.

Writing was your passion, and it was something that you eventually wanted to make your everyday job. It was unconventional, sure, but your boyfriend was an actor, he didn't exactly have a conventional job either. However, even though you'd woken up feeling inspired to write, nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to. Ideas had been bouncing around in your head all morning, and yet, the words refused to work themselves onto the page in the way you wanted. It was so incredibly frustrating to want so badly to put your words on paper and to have nothing come out. Usually, on days where you woke up to gorgeous weather and a full mind, you were able to get to work, but that just wasn't the case.

Just as you let out a loud groan, throwing your head back against the couch in frustration, you heard the door being closed and the sound of Tessa's paws scampering into the room as Tom unclipped her leash. Tom was close behind, his hand soon brushing across your forehead lightly as he swept a few stray pieces of hair out of your face, "What's up, lovie?"

Opening your eyes to glance up at your boyfriend, you were met with crazy windswept curls and those soft brown eyes of his that you loved. His cheeks were tinted pink from the brisk wind outside. He was, without a doubt, your very own Prince Charming, and you'd be lying if you said he didn't inspire the romance that you wanted so desperately to write about. As frustrated as you were, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, one of your hands coming up to capture his wrist in your fingers. Turning your head, you pressed a soft kiss to his palm as you mumbled out, "Trying to write. 'S not really going how I want..."

Humming softly, Tom nodded as his face twisted up into the tell-tale signs of thought, "Anything I can do to help, lovie?"

Lifting your shoulders into a shrug, you pursed your lips, "'M not really sure... could you maybe just sit with me? Missed you, anyways."

One corner of Tom's mouth quirked up into a smile, as he nodded again, "'Course, doll. Kinda was planning on it. Move up, yeah?"

Grabbing onto your laptop, you leaned away from the arm of the couch so Tom could slip in behind you. Sitting in between his legs, you scooted back into his grasp, leaning into his strong chest. He smelled good - the usual smell of his shampoo and detergent, along with the fresh smell of spring from being outside. A sigh of content escaped your lips as you scooted back to get comfortable, your head resting on his shoulder. Tilting your head back, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss just underneath his ear to his jaw, his arm coming around to hook around your waist and keep you close.

It was quiet again for a few moments as you reopened your laptop, staring at the screen to try to get yourself back into the zone. Tom didn't say anything as he watched quietly, only leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. His hands, somehow warm even after coming in from outside, traced across your sides where they were resting. Normally, you'd find this distracting - it was almost a teasing gesture. This time, though, you didn't mind. It was as if his gentle, loving touches were helping you get back into the mindset of writing this romantic scene.

You leaned into his touch as your mind finally started to get back on track. With his fingers dipping underneath the hem of your shirt, tracing against the soft skin of your hip, the words trapped in your head finally flowed out of your fingertips and onto the page. Though you began to get lost in the world you were writing, you were not unaware of Tom sitting right behind you, his chest pressed to your back. His fingers continued to trace shapes and patterns against your skin, forehead pressing against your shoulder after pressing a kiss there. He knew how self-conscious you were about your writing and didn't want to make you uncomfortable; you'd show him if you wanted to.

Tom was proud of you for pursuing what you loved. He knew how hard it was to give up the idea of stability in order to follow your dreams. You didn't share your writing often, but every time Tom read what you'd written, he was blown away. Even if you didn't always believe it, you were so, so talented. And now you were in the process of writing your first book. He couldn't wait for the moment he got to brag about you and your talent to the world. It didn't matter how long the two of you sat like this - if it helped you write, he'd do anything to help you.

After a while of staying just like that, his fingers continually dragging across your sides and stomach soothingly, Tom realized that quiet had filled the air. There was no longer the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard. Lifting his head from your shoulder, Tom leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Stuck?"

Your head shook in reply before tilting it back to get a look at your boyfriend, returning the kiss by pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. His lips curved up into your favorite smile as you lifted your arms in the air to stretch out, "My hands are stiff. And kinda cold." The breeze from outside had picked up slightly and the windows were still open, blowing all of the cold air in. It really wasn't that bad - you were warm enough otherwise.

Without a second thought or a moment to spare, Tom had taken your hands in his, turning you slightly so your torso was facing his. Your hands cupped between his bigger ones, he lifted them towards his mouth, blowing warm breath across your skin in an attempt to return some of the feeling back to your fingers. That small gesture alone brought a smile to your face - how'd you get lucky enough to have a man like this? Where'd he even think of doing something like that? The pad of his thumb brushed out across your knuckles before flipping your hands over and lightly pressing into your palm to massage them gently.

All you could do was grin at him in the most lovesick way. Everything about him was perfect, it seemed. It wasn't only his chocolate brown curls, those golden-brown eyes of his that always sparkled, or the cutest crinkles that appeared by the corners of his eyes when his pretty smile appeared. No, it wasn't only that. It was also the way he loved on you, how thoughtful he was, the way his jokes sometimes sucked but never failed to make you laugh. You were absolutely head over heels for your Prince Charming.

Tom felt his eyes on you, he knew you were staring, but he didn't mind. Instead, he simply lifted your hands to his mouth again, peppering soft kisses along your palms, the tops of your hands, the lengths of your fingers and then to the tip of each of your fingers. Flicking his eyes up, they met yours and the corners of his lips tugged up into a matching smile, "Better?"

Humming, you nodded, moving your hands to his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. Leaning, just before your lips pressed to his, you mumbled softly, "Perfect, just like you."

A light pink hue filled Tom's cheeks at your remark, scoffing in reply, "Shut up." Before you could say anything else, though, his hands came up, cupping both of your cheeks between their warmth, pulling you in so he could kiss you. Just like always, your lips molded together perfectly, the kiss soft and sweet. Your lips moved with his oh-so-carefully before pulling back enough to rest your forehead against his, giving him another huge smile.

"You know..." you started, fingers interlocking at the back of his neck, brushing through his curls, "you're like my very own Prince Charming. The love interest in my story is kind of based off of you." Your eyes darted away from his, looking down as you admitted this to your boyfriend.

"Really?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. When your eyes met his again, there was an unmistakable sparkle hiding within them. When you nodded, his face broke into a grin that rivaled the sun's shine, "Well you're my very own, princess, too."

Pressing one last quick kiss to Tom's lips, mumbling out an 'I love you,' you turned back around, securing your place against his chest once again and turned back to your laptop. Feeling all warm inside again, thanks to your boy, you felt ready to continue the story. Tuning back into your writing, you ready to write your boyfriend into your heroine's perfect love interest, just like he was yours.