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sourholland · 2 years

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dad!Tom on his baby boy's first day of preschool

Slipping Through My Fingers || Tom Holland

for blurb night 🥲 extra sappy if you listen to slipping through my finger by abba or never grow up by taylor swift

“I just don’t think he needs—”

“Y/N,” Tom chastised sweetly. “He’s only going to preschool, it’s alright.”

The three of you were in the car on the way to August’s school. He had on cuffed blue jeans and a white wool sweater. His hair was all messy, most likely his doing after you’d tried to comb it down.

“Y/N, he knows that! Don’t you, bud?” Tom chuckled, looking into the rearview mirror and seeing him smile bashfully. “You’ll be fine, don’t even worry ‘bout it. Mum knows it too.”

For the remainder of the car ride, you all listened to music and Tom held your hand lovingly. August babbled about kicking the football around with dad and his snack you’d packed for him. When you pulled into the lot, you felt the tears starting to well up as you hopped out and scooped him out of his carseat. Tom grabbed his backpack, and told you to let him walk in by himself.

“Darling, he’s nearly five,” Tom told you. “Let the champ walk in on the first day.”

“Yeah, mum. I’m five!” August smiled up at you.

“Not five yet,” you said with a smirk. “You’re still my little four year old boy.”

The walk inside was less emotional than the car ride, seeing August walk proudly with his Paw Patrol backpack and Spider-Man lunchbox. Once you got to his classroom you all stood outside of the door and his teacher came out to greet you.

She was a tall, slender woman. Her dress had strawberries on it and she wore white stockings. August had met her on parent-teacher night, but she still got on his level and introduced herself again to him.

“Hi, August. I’m Miss Mabel!” She said with the biggest smile. “I am so excited to have you in my class this year.”

She shook both of your hands and started to talk about what their day would consist of, August antsy, waiting to be released into the room of fun colors and toys. He tugged on your hand, but you kept him out and listened to what the young woman had to say.

“August’s privacy is our utmost concern, we will be completely aware of any photographs taken of him inside school or outside on the playground. We know your circumstances are different, and I just want to personally affirm to you that I am going to do my absolute best as his teacher.”

“We really appreciate that—”

“Can I go in now?” August cut Tom off, making everyone laugh.

Miss Mabel gave him a nod of yes, making you let out of a shaky breath and hug him tightly. He kissed your cheek in anticipation, Tom rubbing your shoulder in support. You didn’t know, but he himself had some tears brimming at his waterline watching the embrace.

“Mummy loves you, alright?” You sniffled into his hair. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tom hugged his son and Miss Mabel brought him inside and bid you both farewell for now. You stood watching him go in for a few moments, along with some other parents watching their kids.

August didn’t look back.

Seeing as he is almost five.

Tom put his arm around you and you both began to walk back to the car when you heard a loud voice coming from the classroom.

“No, my dad actually is Spider-Man!”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland series #tom holland imagines #prince tom #tom holland blurbs #elle’s blurbs

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sourholland · 2 years

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Glamorous || Tom Holland

Part Eight

| Series Masterlist |

Summary → In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

AN → Bittersweet, but necessary. [This chapter has some pretty NSFW sections]

Chapt. References → Bathing Suit, Ballgown

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → Alcohol, Sex - FxM, Oral Sex - Female Receiving, Unhealthy Relationships

Word Count → 2.7k

Late March, 1983 - When it was good, it was great

A full week of smooth sailing, the happiest week you’d had since the start of your relationship with Tom. After the row you’d had in the suite, he kept his promises—he remained yours in entirety, and Henry’s.

In the time since then, you’d been to Canberra, Adelaide, and now Sydney. The crowds were massive, stretching miles wherever you went. It was overwhelming, to say the least. It was all worth it, though. To be with your family, and with the people of this beautiful country everyday, it at times felt like a dream.

Tom took off the bracelet Eleanor had given him, he no longer took long phone calls in the evening when you put the baby down. Several nights, he’d even come to sleep with you in the night. The sex was long-lasting and passion filled, he whispered sweet nothings into your ears as he let you revel in waves of pleasure. It was like a second, more improved, honeymoon. It felt like the fairytale everyone thought you shared.

In a rare few hours of peace, you and Tom laid out on the sand of the private beach attached to the house you were staying at for the short two day duration you’d be in Sydney. A large polka dot beach umbrella shielded you and baby Henry who sat idly in between you, seven months old and babbling away. He couldn’t make out any words yet, but you swore he said ba-ba earlier in the week.

A rosy sunburn coated Tom’s cheeks, even after you’d lathered both him and the baby in sunscreen and covered yourselves with the umbrella. Not only was it for the sun, but the press who had parked themselves not only on ledges, in cars, and behind trees—but some had started taking pictures from boats on the water. It baffled you, how they would go to such invasive lengths to get a photo. Even with the major security detail, they still found a way to harass you.

What was worse, was how you suddenly felt so insecure in the bathing suit you wore. It was a two piece white bikini, one you’d seen in a catalog, it reminded you of something you’d have loved as a girl. However, now you knew that the papers would have a field day with it. They were always trying to photograph up your skirts, and in between your breasts if they could.

“Darling,” Tom hummed as he laid shuteye on the towel. You gave a quiet hum back, but he only whined at this, making you laugh at his childishness.

“Y/N….” He drawled, rolling on his arm and looking at you with one eye open. “You look gorgeous, if I hadn’t already told you.”

Blushing furiously, you playfully rolled your eyes and let him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He bent over and kissed the baby on the arm, picking your hand off your lap and kissing the inside of your palm mindlessly. The sweltering heat didn’t mean so much in those moments, only those boys, your boys, whom you loved with all your heart.

“Let’s walk out a little,” he encouraged, going to grab Henry. “Let them photograph us, I’m not going to sacrifice seeing my beautiful wife under the sun because of a few blokes.”

Before he could pick the baby up, you reapplied sunscreen to his cheeks and arms. He was in shorts and a protective swim shirt, but you’d still only let him in the sun for small increments. Tom scooped him up and left footprints in the sand, you got up and followed after them happily.

The water felt nice on your feet, the shore sloshing at your ankles. Tom was shirtless, chest oily and a bit bronzed, you couldn’t help blushing again, he held Henry by both hands and walked him as his tiny toes were splashed by the water. He erupted into fits of giggles, you stood in front of them, calling to the baby with open arms.

“Come to mumma, Hen!” You cooed, seeing him wobble as Tom held him upright. “Come to mumma!”

Tom smiled, shaking his head, his eyes crinkled at the sides and his cheeks ached with radiance. You grinned back at him, seeing the freckles that coated his pink cheeks and wishing to kiss each one of them. Henry splashed in the water, stomping his tiny feet in joy. Only then did you feel true, and utter happiness.

The following night, after a long day of press and public appearances, you sat tiredly in the large bathtub of the house. Perched on the toilet seat was a small portable radio, you had acquired a good signal to pick up anything possible before you got in the water. Billie Jean by Michael Jackson came in a bit static, but wonderful nonetheless. You wanted to meet him so badly, you hoped to if you ever had the opportunity.

The bubbles covered the whole surface area or the water, you sat back and breathed in the lavender. The travel nanny who watched Henry while you both had long hours in the public put him to sleep already, seeing as the driver did not bring you back to where you were staying until after eleven.

You heard footsteps coming your way, and Tom pushed the cracked door open. You were covered from the collarbones down, smiling bashfully as he appeared to be getting ready for sleep. You pondered the thought of asking him to join you, knowing he’d fit in the tub.

“Tom,” you wondered aloud. “If you wanted to—”

He laughed briskly, kicking off his loafers and removing his cufflinks. It seemed he already had the same idea as you, when he got down to his underwear, you nearly looked away. He laughed at you, and you laughed at yourself. He walked over when he was fully undressed and cupped the underside of your chin, leaning down and kissing you shortly.

Scooting forward, you felt him step into the water and sit behind you. The radio was playing a Bowie song now, making you lean back and rest on his chest. He wasn’t much familiar with your sort of music, but he listened curiously as you sang along.

“You were amazing today,” you whispered to him as he peppered your shoulders in kisses. “I was stunned at how easy you were talking, even though I know you’ve been doing this far longer than me.”

He chuckled, massaging you sensually. His hands ran up your torso and cupped your breasts, this making you hum in delight. He kneaded the sensitive skin softly, thumbing your nipples and listening to you whimper in pleasure as he kissed your neck.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair.

“I love you, Tom,” you breathed. “I love you so much.”

Arriving at the charity ball the next evening was a dream, you were dolled up in an off the shoulder red ball gown, short white heels to match. Tom was in a tux, hair slicked over. Before the cameras could catch you, he kissed your deeply in the backseat of the car being driven. His hands ran up and down your arms and you let his tongue slip into your mouth.

Checking each other over before getting out, the press could only wonder why the Prince and Princess stepped out of the sleek black car so giggly. You quickly met the state governor and his wife, a small girl in a white dress presenting you with a red rose as you walked inside of the building.

Cameras flashed incessantly as you knelt down to her level and asked her name, learning it was Lottie. You thanked her, watching her cheeks pink as she embraced you tightly and cupped your cheek. Soon she ran off, leaving you to smile and move forward with Tom and the rest of the party following you.

Coming into the ballroom, there was a large area dedicated to the tables and cameras, people mingling as you entered. It was clear that you both were the center of the show, many gawking as you came in and greeted people. Wen who approached you curtsied, men bowing their heads to Tom and yourself. It was still an odd practice to you.

There was an orchestra, and a group of several women on stage singing into boxy metal microphones. Tom’s cheeks were red as he leaned in and whispered a cheeky apology, pulling you by the hand as the women began to sing Frankie Valli’s song Can’t Take My Eyes off You.

It was custom for you both to get this first dance alone, but you hadn’t expected him to pull you to the floor so quickly. The cameras clicked and flashed ferociously, both you and Tom giggling as he took your hand and someone announced your presence on the ballroom floor.

“Ladies and gentleman, Their Royal Highnesses, The Prince and Princess of Wales!”

Loud claps erupted, whistles coming from the crowd as the music started. Your cheeks ached from smiling so hard.

You’re just too good to be true,

Can’t take my eyes offa you.

You’d be like heaven to touch,

I wanna hold you so much

He spun you gently, pulling you in and starting a slow and sweet dance. The women sang merrily as you stared into each other’s eyes, you felt immersed in the moment as you danced back and forth and the music carried on.

But if you feel like I feel,

Please let me know that is real.

You’re just to good to be true,

Can’t take my eyes offa you.

As the pace of the song picked up and the beat changed, you let the slow shuffle become a fun gallivanting across the floor. Both of you laughing, Tom spun you sweetly several times, pulling you close and settling a hand on your waist and another in your other hand.

“Let’s give them something to talk about, yeah?” He smirked, spinning you several times more and parading you around in swift steps.

I love you baby,

And if it’s quite alright,

I need you baby,

To warm a lonely night.

You both continued around through the song, him pulling you close and swaying back and forth, only to spin you again a few times. As the melody began to drift, he let you turn in close, your back to his chest, ending the song by turning you back towards him and holding you close.

Don’t bring me down, I pray,

Oh pretty baby,

Now that I’ve found you stay,

Oh pretty baby,

Trust in me when I say.

That night you’d stay in a hotel, the one the hall was hosted in. You and Tom laughed all the way up to your rooms, a bit tipsy off champagne and unable to keep off each other. Only when you approached the rooms that were meant to be opposite each other, he came in with you and somehow everything just felt right.

His lips found yours quite easy, and soon his hands found the back of your dress. He undressed you swiftly, pulling off his tie, unbuttoning his shirt. You stood, bare chested and only in your underwear. He kissed you again, lips trailing down your neck and sucking your breasts, then down your stomach and finding your underwear, he hooked his fingers at the waistband and pulled them to leave you exposed.

“Can I try something?” He asked, you nodded, watching him on his knees while you leaned against the wall.

His mouth found your centre, legs spread as he tongued you, sucking on the small bud of nerves as your threaded your fingers through his hair. You let him direct you onto the bed where he continued. Only when you approached climax did he climb up on top of you and kiss you hard, you could taste yourself on his lips and apart of you wondered what that was like for him.

You spread you legs around him, arching your back at his thrusts. Your fingernails found his back. Letting relaxation take over, you both collapsed into a state of exhaustion after, only then did he hold you as your both fell into sleep.

Things were wonderful when you arrived in Newcastle, you and Tom both stood as a roofless vehicle paraded you through the crowded streets.

He held your hand tightly, there were many signs in the heaps of people. All of them being directed at you, the cheers were directed at you, even the cameras were being predominantly directed at you.

And suddenly you felt Tom stiffen, a man had yelled for him to move to get a better view of you. Squeezing his hand, you tried to rid him of his worrying, but you could see in his eyes that he felt like this was wrong, he is the Prince, this is his tour.

It was Hobart, Tasmania the next day—you walked through crowds of children. Primary school teachers stood in awe, many small children brought you flowers and gifts. Young girls and boys tugged on your pink skirt.

The military officials walking behind you occupied Tom.

There was a state reception the following night, Tom was distant beforehand, you could tell he was upset. All day had felt like a drag, but you attempted to try and express how you recognized his feelings and wanted to help. He gave you the cold shoulder.

You wore a knee length white dress, your tiara was the same you’d worn on your wedding day. Both of you put on warm smiles as you greeted everyone, letting the crown direct you towards the banquet hall where Tom would deliver his speech.

It was a dreary long night. Once every had finally settled in their spots, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with Henry and drown your sorrows in ice cream.

“I’d first like to thank everyone for such a heartwarming welcome as my wife and I come through Tasmania,” Tom spoke into the microphone. “It’s been my pleasure to visit such a lovely place, this time with such a wonderful, amazing woman.”

You smirked at the compliment, bashfully shaking your head in the process. A few members of the crowd chuckled at this, making Tom tense. You hadn’t meant anything by it, it just got you flustered.

It was only after the reception that you felt the silence radiating off of Tom, along with the frustration and anger. It made you sad, following him silently through the halls to your suite.

“Tom!” You called after him as you stepped inside. “Would you please talk to me?”

“And say what?” He countered, “that you’ve gone and made faces during my speech, humiliating me in front of everyone!”

“Oh, Tom, stop!” You called after him as he walked out of the room. “I was only smiling.”

He removed his suit jacket, shaking his head with creased brows. You waited for his eyes to soften, thinking back to the beautiful time you’ve been having. They never did.

“This is my tour, and you’ve gone and made it all about you!” He shouted, making you flinch at his words. “God, I can’t even look at you right now.”

He stormed off, slamming the door and locking it behind him. You went to it, trying to coax him into coming out, waiting there like a child. Tears began to fall silently, tiara still perched atop your head.

“Please, Tom. Just come out, won’t you?”

He never did come out.

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