imagines ; tom holland & peter parker

thrill to kill part 1 (tom holland)

he tilted the gun slowly, while looking at you deeply through the mask. you were crying, of course, begging and pleading with him to just take what he wanted and leave. you had gotten down on your knees with your arms still in the air. the man actually laughed a little bit before crouching down to reach your height.

"this will make sense eventually," he croaked, in a raspy disgusting voice. you cried out as he put the silver gun to your throat and pulled the trigger.

you didn't know what dying felt like, because who really does? but you definitely knew something was weird when you were back in your apartment setting your bag down by the door like you had done just 1 hour prior.

"what the..." you looked around frantically. searching through your apartment looking in every door and every crevice. you didn't see anything or anyone and you say in your bedroom perplexed.

it had all felt so real. you laid back in your bed and thought about whatever had just happened. it couldn't have been a dream because you never went to sleep. you thought maybe you were drugged but you hadn't eaten or drank anything since you had left your apartment earlier.

you texted tom, knowing his presence would ease your mind.

would you mind stopping by my place a little earlier?

it took a second but he responded and you sighed in relief.

sure thing love, on my way now

you got up and locked your door and all your windows. you sat in silence while you waited for tom and when someone knocked on your door you shrieked. you had grabbed your biggest kitchen knife and headed towards the door.

"please be tom, please be tom, please," you whispered. you got to your door and looked through your peephole this time. you basically dropped the knife on your floor trying to open the door, you pulled him inside and shut and locked the door again.

"are you okay?" he implored, looking at you longingly. you grabbed him by his hand and pulled him into your living room. he slowly took the knife out of your hands and placed it on your counter.

"it depends on how you take this." you stammered, sitting down on your couch. he sat next to you and wrapped his hands in yours.

"shoot,"

"that's ironic.." you mumble. "i got shot. right here. less than 15 minutes ago. a guy came into my apartment and pointed a gun at me and said some really vague, godly like shit and then shot me in the face and then i thought i died but i woke up in my apartment doing something i had done an hour before!" you blurted out.

tom stayed silent, his grip on your hand stayed firm although his face showed some doubt. "i know, i know it sounds insane and you really should walk away now because he is gonna come back most likely and you shouldn't be here when he does and i don't wanna put you in harms way but i just couldn't sit here alone wondering for a whole hour on if i'm gonna be shot to death again— well i guess not death! maybe this is another reality... or maybe i got hit on the way home from the store and i'm in a coma in the hospital right now. or maybe i just-" tom covered your mouth with his hand and nodded his head slowly.

"hey, hey shut up and speak like you know how to breathe. you're saying you were shot?" he questioned worriedly.

you nodded your head, "right here," you began to cry. "and i'm having a hard time believing it happened. i should be dead. it was so real," he encased you in his arms as you cried, "it was so real."

he held you for a good minute while you got out what you needed to. he let you cry and just comforted you by patting and rubbing your back and whispering soothing words. "hey, i believe you. okay?"