Tom Holland Imagines

My Hero | Peter Parker

mkay! in this image i'd love for you guys to just pretend that high school years are over and you and peter are in your mid-twenties, HE IS STILL SPIDER-MAN BTW! (:

Imagine #28

Word Count: 2114

***

THIRD PERSON:

Her body was sprawled out on her king size bed as she held one of her favorite novels in between her hands. It was presently nine o'clock on a Saturday night and the poor girl had no plans to do. Her boyfriend was probably someplace in Queens defeating a robber or saving several others who were endanger- meaning she probably wouldn't see him until tomorrow.

The only sound that filled her ears was the music that played on a low volume from a speaker, and the tunes were barely keeping her awake. Even though she knew she wouldn't see Peter until tomorrow, he'd usually text her when he made it back to his place safely. And that's what she was currently waiting for- just one simple message from him.

After marking her page, she shuts it and sits up from her position, grabbing a hold of her phone. Clicking on the home button, her lock screen showed up and there was still no text for Peter.

Y/N loved the fact that he got to be some big masked hero in their city, but she couldn't deny that it pained her whenever he came limping through her window with several bruises or small injuries.

"Come on, Parker." She mumbles, while beginning to scroll through her recent calls.

It was way past seven and that was usually the time his messages came through, along with a little smiley/blushing emoji. Her finger presses Peter's name once she find him and she places the device up to her ear, desperately waiting for him to pick up.

Hey, you've reached Peter! Leave a message an-

Groaning, she ends the call, not wanting to leave a voicemail. What she wanted was for him to answer to assure her that he was fine and dandy.

Y/N figured that she was probably overreacting and that maybe- just maybe, Peter was alive and well and fell asleep while forgetting to call or text her. Placing her phone face down, she slide back to her position from earlier, opening her book to read once again.

***

Y/N adjusts her position for about the twentieth time in the past four hours. Her book grasped tightly in between her hands as she tried to continue reading. However, the only thing that was making her lose focus was the fact that Peter hand still hadn't contacted her, which scared her even more. She attempted to clean a little around her studio-like-apartment, then listened to music and even drew some more ideas for her next homemade ceramic piece.

Grabbing her phone once more, she presses the home button, only to find a few notifications from Instagram and other apps. What the hell is going on? She thought to herself, setting the phone on the nightstand again. Placing her book beside her, she stands up from her bed and trudges over to the window. Y/N frantically searches through the beautifully lit up city that showed through the glass, hoping to maybe see at least a flash of red and blue.

Although, she does let out a yelp when a hand slaps against her window. Staring closely at the hand, she notices the familiar red material covering it and she quickly slides the window up. Peter stumbles inside with his mask only covering half of his face, steady breaths escaping from his mouth. Her eyes come in contact with his busted lip, several bruises, and a bloody gash on his upper right arm.

"Oh god! Peter, we need to get you to a doctor- like now." Y/N says.

He vigorously shakes his head, regretting it once he feels a headache. "No, no. Just- just fix it yourself. I can't have anyone asking too many question as to how I got these."