Tom Holland Imagines

Red Week.

A/N: For those of you wondering, "Red Week" is one of the British terms used for being, like, on your period. Guess what time of the month it is for me RN. Yay (she says whilst holding a Nerf pistol against her temple). 

You were sprawled out on the floor starfish-style with classical music playing in the background and your cat curled up on your stomach. You were absolutely miserable. It was the first day of your period, which meant your cramps were so bad that any time you even smelled something strong, it made you want to vomit. This was not a good thing after making yourself extra cinamonny oatmeal for breakfast that morning.

"Whyyyyyyy," you groaned, curling up on your side and causing your kitty to leap off you with a look of pure distaste thrown over her shoulder. Finally deciding to eat something to curb your cravings, you snagged a bag of potato chips and a half-eaten KitKat bar from the cupboard and crawled over to your couch, where you put your beslippered feet on the coffee table.

A few minutes later, you heard the latch on the door click and your boyfriend Tom Holland entered the apartment you shared. You, however, were too busy to do anything. Even say hello.

"'Ello? Y/N, love? Where are you?" 

"In the living room," you managed thickly. Your voice cracked with pain and your cat decided to forgive you and resettle herself on your belly. Tom had gone to change into some more comfortable clothes.

"What's wrong," he asked, coming out of the bedroom while simultaneously pulling a favorite white t-shirt over his head.

"What do you mean?" you replied, struggling to get to your feet. You popped your back and sat back down on the couch again.

"I mean, your Insta story earlier was literally just a photo of the cat on your lap captioned 'FML'. Something's got to be wrong, love. You can tell me. You're never that negative." He sat down next to you and looked at the remains of your snack on the coffee table: a KitKat wrapper and half a family-size bag of Lays. "Oh."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. You felt bad for not telling him right away. Tom always knew when you were on your period. But this time was different and more painful. And you were more moody than usual. You didn't want to bug him about it. You always wanted to be okay.

"That explains my sweats, then," Tom chuckled.

"What?" you asked, suddenly alert.

"My favorite pair of Nike joggers? I knew you were sleeping in them last night, and I found them in the hamper just now with a huge red stain in the crotch."

"Oh my God, Tom. I'm so sorry. I forgot about that."

"It's okay, love. It's only a pair of sweatpants. I'm just glad I know where that stain came from now. For a second I thought it was mine," Tom laughed. You smiled and snuggled into his shoulder. "I guess I had good timing getting you this, then." He handed you a little blue bag.

You opened the little bag and found a nice little box of dark chocolate, wrapped with a pretty red ribbon. Your favorite. They came from Italy and you'd discovered them on your trip to Venice with Tom last summer.

"Tom!" you gasped, "Where did you get these?"

"A guy I'm filming with right now is from Italy. He had a whole table full of them at work today, and I know you love them, so I brought you one home."

"You're the sweetest," you breathed, giving him a kiss.

Later in the night, after the two of you had eaten dinner, you decided to hit the sack. Just as you were about to get into bed, Tom pulled back the covers and laughed. There, on your half of the bed, was a huge red stain. Your cheeks went the same color as the blood.

"I'm so sorry!" you cried.

"It's just blood, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of."