tom holland + peter parker

no shouting T.H.

request: Based on a video of Tom saying to the press on a carpet "Please don't shout at me" could you write one where it's the reader saying this and Tom helping her?

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

You're attending the VMAs red carpet, just before the award show. It's nothing too big — no live press interviews or real time tabloids. But, because of that, there's twice as many paparazzis here, which means the crowd is huge and the flashes are brighter and-

Yeah, you don't love award shows. But, Scooter (your manager) thought it best to attend to promote your album, and sure, you could've said no, but where's the fun in that?

You're dressed well, too. You're wearing the dark green Givenchy suit — it fits snuggly and you feel like a powerful CEO as you stride to your destination in front of the cameras. You're at the first end of the carpet now, standing alongside your publicist and Scooter, awaiting directions. Tom is right behind you, chin on your shoulder comfortingly while he whispers things into your ear — he's trying to ease your nerves. Press and paparazzi gigs like today — red carpets and blingy outfits — make you anxious.

"Okay, Y/N," Scooter shuts his phone off. "Go, go now. They're ready for you. Go!" He rushes out, ushering you onto the bright rug. Tom can't help but glare at the man, upset at how oblivious he is to your state right now. Yelling is not what you need for your current anxiety levels.

You step out, right foot first, directly onto the rolled-out rug. You pat your thigh while you walk forward a bit before stopping for the first batch of large cameras.

"Y/N! Looking great!"

"Who styled you?"

"Look this way!"

At the commands, you move your head in every which way before ultimately glancing off to Tom. He nods his head comfortingly, shaking off the loud noises and surrounding crowds and mouthing to you "it's okay." After he assures you, you walk to the center of the carpet where everyone can get a shot of you.

"Y/N! This way! This way!"

"To your right! Your right!" You attempt to turn towards the direction of the voice. "That's not your right!"

You shut your eyes tightly, squeezing them while exhaling your deepest breath. When you open your lids again, it feels as though the sounds and voices have grown louder.

"Look up! Look up!" You tilt your head in a certain direction, but to no avail. "Higher! I need higher!"

"Ms. L/N, right this way!"

"Please don't shout at me," you state calmly, face still plastered with your signature smile. They ignore you, throwing more commands at you. Your tongue clicks and you clap a fist against your palm multiple times. Gently, your fingers swipe across your forehead and rub all the way to your temple, removing all access sweat. You're wary of the makeup, and you do your best not to cover your picture-worthy face. "Please, no shouting."

They don't listen and you start to panic, looking off to the side to find Tom's eyes. You lock orbs with him, desperate for a sense of relief. He nods, and though he's an actor at a music awards show, he steps onto the carpet anyways. The flashes of the cameras pick up immediately, and it's as though everything becomes white.

Tom's jaw clenches while he makes his way over to you. He's tender when taking your hand, arriving at your side in less than ten seconds.

"Tom! Tom over here!"

"Give us a couples pose!"

"Look this way!"

"Get out of the way! Show Y/N!"

Tom ignores them all while he blocks the cameras and flashing lights from your view. His back is to the paparazzis, and it's as though it's only you and him in a room by yourselves.

"Are you alright, love?" His hand holds your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm with a nod. He sighs, nibbling on his bottom lip. "Wanna leave?" You nod again, and though he wants to chuckle at your adorableness, he can't help but feel angered by all the people who think they're so entitled when they only make money off of taking your picture.

He starts guiding you to the other end of the carpet, away from Scooter and all the cameras. The paparazzis start yelling louder, yelling out disappointed "aw's" and "boos." Tom blocks their view of you protectively, arm around your shoulder while the other holds your hand.

"You're alright, love. We're alright."

You nod again, and when you're finally off the carpet, and the sound of the camera clicks is out of your earshot, Tom pulls you into a suffocating hug. You hide away in his neck's crook, pressing a sweet kiss to the open skin while you hug him as best you can without wrinkling your designer outfit.

"Love you... so much." You mumble after a few moments. He smiles, though you can't see it, and squeezes you tighter.

"I love you, darling. My strong angel."