Tom Hollland Imagines (Aren't they all?)

Bookstore

The second week of October had been hectic for a certain actor. Filming nonstop for a week, with nothing seeming to go right at all.

It was Saturday, a nice fall day in NYC, strolling through the park, enjoying a break from all the stress of the week. Eating a bagel with everything on it. What could ruin that?

Paparazzi. Not adoring fans who just wanted a picture and autographs. Which he would've been happy to give. But no. The photographers with all the cameras and all the very shady picture dealers. (Is that a real thing?) Not to mention the people who were as rude as they could be, trying to get an autograph so they could sell it for the highest price they could.

That, could ruin a perfectly good Saturday. "Hey Tom, over here!"

"Look! Tom! over here!" They shouted over each other trying to get him to look their way. He ignored them and pulled his hood over his head. "Tom where are you going?!"

"Hey! Over here!!! I just want a picture!" Their screams and demands grew louder as they gradually invaded his personal space. And so he ran as fast as he could, dropping his bagel. He looked behind him momentarily to see them following behind, some on bikes. And some on skateboards.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up to him. So he frantically searched for any place to lay low until they gave up. He scanned the street ahead of him and saw the one place they'd never think to look for him in. He looked back one last time and officially gave it his all in a full sprint. At the pace he was going he probably would've outrun a Champion runner.

Then there was his chance, he quickly as possible ducked into a quaint bookstore and made his way to a book shelf. As he kneeled he slightly lost his balance and looked down. Only to see that he had stepped on a neat short stack of books. He sighed and tried to stack them back. Then he froze when he heard a voice not too far from him. Were they in the bookstore? "Hey! Where'd Tom go?" One of them asked the others. "Maybe he went straight ahead!"

"Come on, let's go!" He sighed a sigh of relief and emerged from his hiding spot. Then he took a moment to look around and observe the nice quiet shop. It was a large one, but it felt like one of those local ones on the corner street. He inhaled the welcoming scent of freshly baked goods. He heard a voice clear their throat from behind him. He turned around and his eyes met with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

(Earlier)

"Hey Y/n!" A coworker called out happily to a girl as she walked through the entrance of the bookstore where she worked at.

"Hey!" Y/n gave the other girl a hug and then noticed that the new shipment of books had arrived. "I'm going to put these up." Y/n walked over to where the stacks of boxes and books were and opened one with her knife.

"Okay that's done." Then she heard the bell jingle. She looked over at the counter where her coworker was supposed to be but she wasn't there. She sighed and gently placed her handful of books on the ground. Taking the time to stack them neatly. Then she walked over to the front desk to greet the customer. She frowned and tilted her head. There was nobody there. Maybe they were already looking around? She shrugged and went back to her books.

She gasped when she saw that her neat stack was messed up. She looked around, hoping to see who did it, when her eyes met with the back of a man's curly chocolate locks. She sighed and cleared her throat. As she placed her hands on her hips the man turned around. Y/n immediately put her hands down when she saw who it was. Tom Holland. She shook her head, celebrity or no celebrity he messed up her books. It was him, right?

"Hi," Y/n began trying to keep her temper in check. "Did you mess up my book stack?" He looked at her, then at the books askew on the ground. Slowly he nodded. "I'm really sorry. If I messed them up in anyway, I'll pay for them."

Y/n shook her head and smiled. "It's alright. I'm just messing with you. And, if you don't mind me asking. What is Tom Holland doing in a bookstore like this?" She began to put the books from the floor on the shelf in their respective places.

"Just hiding." She looked at him and watched as he shrugged.

"From what?" She raised her eyebrows curiously.

"Paparazzi. They were kinda following me." Then he changed the subject. "Do you have baked goods here?"

"Yes we do. They're at the back of the bookstore."

(POV change)

Tom offered her a small smile as he changed the subject. "Do you have baked goods here?" He asked, kind of wanting another bagel. Seeing as he had dropped his previous one earlier. "Yes we do. They're at the back of the bookstore." She pointed to the left of him and he turned his head in that direction.

"Thank you." He smiled again and headed in that direction, stopping in the non-fiction aisle on his way.

As Tom sat at the far side of the little bookstore cafe with a bagel and a book. The sun had begun to set. About the time he had finished several chapters of his book it was time for the bookstore to close. He didn't notice that though, until the same girl from earlier walked up to where he was sitting. "Hey, um. We're closing now, so you kinda need to leave." She said. Tom looked up at her from his book and smiled. Then it quickly fell when he realized it was dark. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm leaving now. He stood up and left the book on the table. "'Fred Astaire'. That's a good one." She stated, picking it up.

"Yeah, it is. I'm going to go now but um..." it was now or never. "Could I maybe have your number?" Tom watched as the girl tilted her head. "Sure." She responded. She took out a piece of paper from her faded jean pocket and pulled a pen from behind her ear. Tom watched as she wrote vigorously on it. When she was done, she took a step towards him and handed Tom the piece of paper. "Thanks, I'll text you." He told her. As he made his way towards the entrance he heard her call out, "Bye Tom!" He smiled, but didn't respond back. Then his smile fell. He didn't know her name. He quickly pulled the paper out of his pocket.

There her name was, in neat, bold cursive. "Y/n". He smiled and made his way home. But of course, he visited that bookstore frequently.