tom holland + peter parker

pixie dust hair

request: could you do one where the reader cuts her hair into a really short pixie and is insecure about it at first but tom reassures her that she's still beautiful no matter how long her hair is?

sorry it's kinda short but i hope u like it!!! <3

—

Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths. In and out, you glance in the mirror again, down to your hair which is section off in different ponytails. It's hard to coordinate which length you're cutting each, and while you know you can always go to a professional, you don't want to risk getting this haircut in public.

The bathroom door is closed, and right behind it seats Tom, who waits for you to open the door when you're finished — new hair or not.

You inhale one last time before grabbing the scissors again. You've been debating for the past ten minutes if you should really go through with this wild idea. In your head, you look good with it, but you fear what might happen if your mind is too cocky about how good you look with certain styles.

Sucking your lips in, you move the scissors back and forth, the snip sound ringing in your ears. Cut after cut, you follow the picture on your phone for guidance and inspiration.

Your locks come loose and you grab the banded hair, placing it on the counter until you're finished. You go again, and again and again and again. You repeat the process until you're certain each cut that's needed has already been done.

You spin around, checking your backside to ensure that all lengths are even, and you spin around again, hands leaning on the counter while you let out the sucked breath that you were holding.

You grab the pile of hair before tying it all in one hairband. You attempt to run your shaky hands through your newly cut hair, and all at once, you're shutting the bathroom light off and opening the door.

The creaking door hinges and the squeaky door knob has Tom's attention faster than a bullet. You stumble out nervously, eyes telling him that if it doesn't look good then you're about to cry.

"Love..."

"I know," You breathe out, whispering. "I'm fucking crazy. It looks awful, doesn't it? I swear, I never should've-"

"No," he cuts you off sternly, striding over to you with a grin bigger than the Grand Canyon. "No, love, that's not right at all. You look amazing — you're- you're beautiful. With long hair or with short hair or with crazy rainbow colored hair, you look stunning. Don't you dare think otherwise."

"Tommy..." You gasp out, arms hastily wrapping around his middle while you shove yourself into the comfort of his chest. He chuckles with an "oof," and he holds you close, your face hidden in the crook of his neck. "Thank you."

He hums, "I hope you know I'm always gonna be here to support you when you can't do that for yourself. I'm your rock, as much as you need me to be."

You smile, peeling away to look at him for a moment. He offers his signature grin, eyes crinkling. You let out a quiet giggle, nodding as you pull him back in for another tight hug.

"Does this mean you can use pixie dust now?"

You nearly choke on air. "That's not how it works-"