Tom Holland Imagines

I Know Places

You and Tom had decided long ago to keep your relationship a secret. He didn't want you being bothered or attacked by paparazzi and you didn't want his fans bashing on him for his relationship status. Needless to say, your days were an endless cycle of duck-and-run from the press, from the fans, and from the rumours.

The thing about a limelight love story is that fame elicits delicacy. Once the media finds out, rumours fly like crazed flocks of birds. The fans try to put the relationship in a box. One magazine digs up dirt somewhere from years ago in an attempt to start something. You had to admit that the prospect of being found out terrified you (and it frightened Tom, no matter how big a brave face he put up).  

It was your one-year anniversary. Tom had rented out a quaint little hole-in-the-wall restaurant for the occasion. Nobody was around for blocks and security was posted at the doors in the front. You were completely safe. Or so you thought... 

"Thank you for this, Tom. It's beautiful," you said softly, fiddling with the silk tablecloth. Tom grinned at you.

"Thank you for being my love," he replied, kissing your knuckles softly. Just then, there was a flash of white light. Your heart stopped. Tom dropped your hand and spun around in his chair. A man, dressed like a chef, was holding a flash camera above his head, laughing.

"No, no no!" you muttered. You began to shake. If that photo got out, your relationship could go up in flames. Quicker than a shot, some security flanked the man and pressed him face-down into the table. He squirmed as the handcuffs were secured around his wrists.

"You've got me, but there's dozens more where I came from out there," the man sneered. A security guard bashed the pap's head against the table and his nose began to bleed. "It's vicious out there tonight, Holland. You'll be outed by morning."

The man was escorted out the back door in the kitchen. Just before it swung shut, you could hear a large crowd, shouting desperately over one another in the rain. You could hear camera shutters. You looked at Tom frightened. He looked inwardly panicked, but wouldn't show it to you for the life of him.

"There's about a hundred paparazzi out there, Tom, you'd better get out of here. We won't be able to hold them for much longer," Tom's manager told him from the kitchen door.

"Right," Tom muttered. You couldn't tell who it was directed at.

"What's going on, Tom?" you queried shakily.

"It's okay. Don't worry about them, okay? We're just going to get out of here and we'll be fine." He stood you up and helped you put on your coat before tipping a ballcap low over his eyes and grabbing your wrist. 

"Where are we going?" 

"Out the front. They won't expect us that way. Just follow my lead and don't run unless I say so."

"Okay," you managed shakily. Tom handed you a pair of shades and kissed your forehead.

"It's going to be okay." He ushered you out the front door and the two of you turned left down the sidewalk. There were a crowd of people at the opposite corner of the building. Tom took your waist with one arm to keep you close to him. The loiterers began to whisper. A few of them started to follow you, not so inconspicuously. "They've made us," Tom muttered into your ear. Your breathing grew shaky and you could tell his had too. "Stay calm." You nodded and the two of you picked up your pace a bit.

"HEY!" someone shouted from behind you. Your sweat mixed with the sheets of rain and you felt your pulse quicken.

"Run," Tom whispered to you. "And don't let go!" He snatched your hand up and dashed forward. You struggled to keep up on the slippery pavement but ran as fast as your legs could carry you. The paparazzi weren't too far behind. You could hear the thunder of their shoes closing in.

"They're following us, Tom!" you cried. He squeezed your hand.

"I know. It's okay. It's alright."

"What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry, darling. Trust me, okay? I know places we can hide and they'll never find us."

Tom pulled you sideways into a darkened alleyway towards a wire fence. He helped you over it, then vaulted it himself. The two of you leaned against the wall, breathing heavily in the rain, as you waited for the mob to pass. After a few minutes, the footsteps faded.

"I think we've lost them. But we haven't got much time. We're going to a safe-house, okay? Just down the block. We'll be alright."

"Safe-house? What is this? Mission Impossible?" you found the heart to joke as you caught your breath. Tom laughed.

"Something like that. Come on." He took your chilly hand in his and the two of you walked slowly out of the alleyway and down the empty street. "I'm sorry about our date. It wasn't meant to go...well...like this." He laughed and shook out his wet hair.

"That's okay. Even if they do find out about us, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't tear us apart like it does everyone else. I love you, Tom, and nothing can change that."

"I promise I'll make this up to you," he laughed.

"You don't have to. I had a wonderful night," you said, swinging your handbag back and forth awkwardly.

"You did?" Tom asked incredulously.

"Of course I did. I was with you, wasn't I? It doesn't matter what we're doing. I just want to be with you no matter what."

"You're the most amazing girl in the world, Y/N," Tom told you as the pair of you mounted the stairs to the back stoop of the safe-house.

"You're the most amazing man, Thomas," you told him. Tom wiped some rain from your face and pressed his lips to yours. 

At last, the two of you were safe and sound, along with your secret. What had been, at first, a terrifying experience had turned into a warm evening full of fireplace kisses and fuzzy blankets. It was perfect, and if the whole paparazzi incident was the catalyst for such a wonderful night, you wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Happy anniversary, Y/N."

"Happy anniversary, Tom."