Tom Holland-Peter Parker Imagines

"𝕀'𝕞 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕞𝕖.''

Warnings: Slight mention of abuse.

Summary: (Y/n) comes home from her boyfriends house with a mark on her cheek.

"There you are." I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Tom's voice as I approached my apartment door. I assumed he would be looking out for me, which was why I had put on a hoodie and sunglasses.

"Here I am." I mumbled unenthusiastically, keeping my back turned towards him as I unlocked the door to my apartment.

"I texted you." He said, following me through the door. "You never responded."

"Sorry, got distracted." I said.

"Oh." He shrugged. "Hey, what's with the hood and sunglasses? You look like me when I'm trying to avoid the paparazzi." He snorted.

"Umm...I walked home." I said.

"And it was cold, yet bright?" He teased.

"Mm-hmm." I busied myself with taking off my shoes and setting them neatly on the rack.

"Y/n?" He asked, suspiciously.

"Yeah?" I said, trying to make my tone innocent and light despite the growing lump in my throat.

"What's going on?" He asked, his tone a little more gentle. I stood up quickly and headed into my room, hoping the darkness would offset the mark on my cheek. I had already cleaned up the blood, but there would definitely be a mark. I could barely see anything with the glasses still on, but I refused to take them off. He caught on real quick.

"Take them off." He said. I racked my brain, trying to come up with an excuse to leave them on.

"Umm..I'd prefer to leave them on. I actually have a migraine, so I'll probably just go to bed." I made up.

"Let me see your wrist." He said, his tone more quiet. I could practically feel his anger building though. I rolled up my sleeve and held it out to him. "The other one." He practically gritted.

That one I wasn't as eager to show, and instead I tucked my hand in my sleeve. He took a step towards me and I flinched, jerking back.

"Please don't?" I pleaded, cowering away from him. He sighed.

"I was just going to give you a hug." He said.

"No thank you." I mumbled, still shaken from the images that flashed through my mind when he stepped towards me.

"Please show me." He said, his tone light and slightly desperate.

"You should go." I said. "I'm tired."

"Y/n-"

"Go, Tom." I snapped. Hurt flashed across his expression briefly before he replaced it with a firm look.

"I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." He said, his soft tone a stark contrast to his serious expression. It almost made me think someone else was talking.

"I'm okay." I assured. He shook his head slightly.

"That's not enough." He said. I closed my eyes for a moment, not that he could see it, and sucked in an impatient breath, blowing it out slowly.

"I really don't have the energy to deal with this right now." I admitted. I slumped down on the bed. "Please leave me alone." I closed my eyes again and heard him shuffle closer. I had to repeatedly tell myself that it was fine. That he wasn't going to hurt me. It's just Tom.

I sunk a little lower as the bed indented with his weight. He wasn't touching me in any way, but I still started to hyperventilate.

"Tom..." I trailed.

"Break up with him." He said.

"I can't." I whispered, feeling the first tear of the night slowly roll down my cheek.

"I'll come with you." He offered. "Or better yet, just text him." I shook my head rapidly.

"No." I said. "No, he'll come over."

"I can protect you." He said. I shook my head again. I squeezed my eyes shut as he gently pulled off my hood and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, burying his face in my hair. "I won't let him touch you."

"I don't want you to get involved." I said, weakly. "It's nothing."

"Let me see." He said.

"No, you'll freak out." I said, standing up.

"Let me see." He repeated, his tone firm. I felt my eyes flood, my cheeks becoming wet. I bent my head, and he came closer. I shook my head, but he still reached out and pulled the glasses off.

His fingers lifted my chin up, but I kept my eyes cast downward, refusing to look at him. He guided me over by the wall and flicked on the light.

He didn't make a sound for a good minute. He grabbed my wrist and I yanked it away. But he tried again, and I didn't refuse, as more tears streamed down my cheeks. I hated this feeling, possibly even more than getting hit. I hated the pitiful looks, the small frowns of disapproval, the long stretches of silence where he just observed me.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hit me." I tried to explain. "He just got drunk...and I said something I shouldn't have. It-It all happened so fast I-" his sharp intake of breath shut me up. He hated it when I blamed myself.

His thumb lightly grazed across the mark on my cheek, and his frown deepened. I couldn't take the silence.

"Please say something?" I begged. He pulled away, his expression slowly contorting into anger. In an instant, he was fleeing the room, headed for the door. I ran after him. "Tom, where are you going?"

"I'm going to beat the fucking shit out of that worthless piece of-"

"Please don't?" I interrupted.

"-I'm going to find him, and break his fucking nose." He continued, as if he didn't hear me. He threw my front door open, and I stayed at his heels. "He's never going to touch you again."

"Tom, please?" I cried, grabbing at anything I could to make him stop. He simply shrugged me off, slamming the button on the elevator a bunch of times. "Stop."

"He's going to regret hurting you. I'm going to make him regret ever-"

"You're just going to make it worse." I said. "Please just leave it, I can handle it."

"Can you?" He snapped, swiveling around to face me. "It sure doesn't look like it." His harsh tone brought more tears from my eyes and I shrunk back away from him, afraid he might actually hurt me.

His eyes widened as he realized what he had done. My hands were shaking as I brought them up to my face to shield myself. A sob escaped my throat as I backed into the wall.

"I'm so sorry." He gushed as the elevator dinged open. "Darling, I didn't mean to shout at you. I would never hurt you." His hands outstretched, desperately wanting to comfort me but not wanting to scare me further.

He appeared blurry in my eyes, but his expression was still clear. I saw the guilt, the worry, the sadness. I slid down the wall, crumpling on the floor in a heap.

He quickly dropped down too, hesitantly moving closer. When I didn't flinch away, he grabbed me and pulled me into him, enveloping me in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry." He continuously whispered, peppering my face with soft kisses. I hugged him, squeezing him as tightly as I could manage, my face buried in his chest. He ran his hand through my hair, smoothing it down.

I didn't know how much time had passed, in each other's arms in the middle of the hallway, with my apartment door still wide open. But I didn't care either, because for the first time all day, I felt safe and sound.

Someone cared about me. Someone would do anything they could to protect me. To make sure I was okay. And that was enough.