Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines

Almost A Good Way To Die | T.H

Summary: In public and in front of cameras, Tom is just your bodyguard. But behind closed doors you're much, much more. This is just a glimpse into one of your mornings with him where something goes a little wrong.

Words: Around 4k

Warnings: guns & a little violence but this is mostly fluff!

A/N: Part of this is briefly inspired by a scene in the show 'bodyguard' but that's about it. Also, this took me ages to finish and I'm kind of insecure now posting pieces of writing that aren't blurbs so enjoy and understand that this may not be perfect!! I'm trying to get back into the swing of things :-)

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Tom had a job to do, that job being to protect you.

As long as you were alive and well with not a single scratch in visible sight he was doing his job. It was fair to say that it was a job that kept him on his feet and boy was that something you were good at making sure of. You had a sharp tongue and wild mind, something that the bodyguard had grown to love. Though admitting that out loud could cause him to lose his place by your side.

You were the most unlikely duo. In public, Tom was stone-faced, tight-lipped and hard-eyed but behind doors when it was just the two of you? He'd soften ever so slightly, allowing his coffee coloured eyes to rake over your features. His fingers would draw delicate lines down the side of your face, tracing your jaw and curl of your lips and he'd crack a small, lopsided smile.

He was constantly torn between his favourite part of the job. Was it threatening those that dared to come close to you? That involved watching them cower back in terror as he placed a hand over the waistband of his pants right where the weapon sat. Or was it simply the many hours he got to spend by your side in meetings and speeches and taking you up to your room at any hour of the night– sometimes morning. Here he'd get to see you after hours when the exhaustion finally set in and all you needed was wine and a plush bed.

By now Tom had picked up on all of your little expressions and quirks. He could easily point out when you were uncomfortable or needed a quick escape and he was quick to be right by your side the second someone did any of the tell-tale signs of a possible assault. As the daughter of a well-known politician and as an actress yourself, that had happened more then once.

And whenever your father so much as bought up getting you another bodyguard, you straight up refused. Because Tom was your bodyguard, your protection.

He was the one that'd bring your pizza up to you at two am after an overload of meetings and actually sit with you and eat, the one that was quick to come to your defense when someone would raise their voice unnecessarily at meetings and the one that helped release the pent up tension when the day was done and the doors were closed. Never anywhere in public because he refused to do anything that'd put you in danger– anything that involved putting his guard down in a dangerous setting. And anywhere with you in public was a dangerous setting.

Just eight days ago you'd broken down in your apartment after viewing an article riddled with lies and nasty rumours and he had forgone his job for a fair set of minutes, enveloping you in his arms softly until you were done crying. Not only that but he scooped you up and got you to bed. It was a moment neither of you had bought up since it happened but you hadn't forgotten how nice it felt just to be held.

You were pleased to find out that the feelings ran both ways.

Tom shivers as your fingertips run circles across his bare chest, nails stretching up and down his abdomen. With your head pressed against his shoulder, you lean over and press butterfly kisses to his neck. The combination of actions soothed Tom but he was still alert– he was always alert.