Tom Holland Imagines

Not-So-Secret Matchmaking//T.H. (SMUT)

"Holland, you are an asshole," You shrieked as you glared at the brown-eyed man that had just thrown you into the pool. He clutched his stomach as he doubled over, unable to contain his laughter.

"C'mon darling, don't be so sensitive," Tom responded once he calmed down. He watched in amusement as you mocked him and then angrily paddled to the ladder, eager to get out of the freezing water. You immediately began running after him, giggles fell from your lips as he ran away from you.

He yanked the backdoor open and ran inside the beach house with you close behind. Tom was so distraught with running, he failed to notice the small puddle of water you had forgotten to mop after accidentally dropping your glass of water - you had cleaned up the broken shards of glass, but hadn't mopped-. His foot slipped and he fell on the ground, which stopped you in your tracks.

"Fuck, I fell on my keys," Tom complained as he stood up and took his keys out of the back pocket of his jeans, dropping them on the kitchen counter. You let out a loud laugh at the comment, it made him smile and he easily ignored the pain. His brown eyes looked into yours as you approached him. You didn't waste a second to wrap your arms around his strong figure and shake your hair right in his face. Tom groaned and pushed you away as he chuckled, "I should take a shower, pick the movie,"

Tom nodded, you spun on your heel and headed out of the kitchen, leaving him alone. Tom shook his head as he looked down at his shirt, which had some wet stains in it. He took it off and left it on a stool.

-

You walked into the living room half an hour later to find a shirtless Tom sprawled on the couch with The Goblet of Fire playing on the TV. You threw the brush that you were carrying at him, it hit him square in the face and he groaned.

Tom paused the movie and scooted to make a bit of space for you on the couch, "Will you brush my hair?" You pouted and sat down next to him on the cramped couch. There was a larger one on the corner, but you couldn't bother to walk another step when you could just plop on the couch next to your best friend.

Tom rolled your eyes at the petition, "You're so annoying," He grimaced in a joking manner before you turned around and pressed play on the movie. Tom stroked your hair with the brush as both of you watched the movie.

"Should probably enjoy this before my parents come and start pushing the idea of the two of us dating down our throats," Tom commented and you nodded in agreement. You had planned a vacation with the Holland family months back. Tom and you had shown up a day before them, just so the two of you could make sure everything in the rental house was in order.

At that moment, the two of you were enjoying the few hours of peace before everyone arrived. It wasn't that you didn't like spending time with his family, but usually, his parents would speak your ears off about when you'd start dating. The same happened whenever you were with your parents and to be honest, you weren't entirely sure about how you should feel about it.

"They've been going at it since we were kids. I'm pretty sure if we were meant to be together we would be by now?" You replied. Tom hummed as an affirmation.

"Probably. Can you imagine it though? Us dating, I mean," Silence lingered for a second after the comment.

"Ridiculous, right Tommy?" You let out a loud laugh even if you knew deep down that it would be truly amazing. Tom felt a pang of pain in his heart at your words, but he tried to brush it off, "Incredibly, my love."

You looked back at him with a small smile on your lips, Tom swore he had gone mental right then and there because he was sure you were about to kiss him, but you spoke up instead, "I had missed you. Harry is a lucky bastard, you know? Getting to go with you when you film," You sighed and the brown-haired man laughed. He had gotten back from filming a lot of things back to back and it was probably the longest you'd gone without seeing each other since you were in diapers.