peter parker/tom holland imagines

stormy weather | t.h.

another update?? i've acc been feeling motivated this is crazy

summary: right after an arguement with tom, you find yourself quaking during a storm.

warnings: panic attack, slight angst (angst to fluff), thunderstorms, cursing, alcohol

you huffed angrily as you threw your clutch onto the couch. "no, no, because you so clearly-"

"jeez! let it go! i was late, by what? like, 5 minutes?"

"try 3-fucking-0, thomas! 30 minutes late! and it wasn't even traffic. you didn't forget, i know you didn't! you chose not to show up."

catching the slight wince on his face, you groaned. it was always them, his friends, no matter what, they came first everytime. you hoped, maybe just for once, he'd see you. he'd pick you.

but no. nope. he didn't. and you felt so pathetic for it. for god's sake, you couldn't remember the last time he took time off to spend with you.

but since it was so rare, the thought of it even happening was insane.

he threw his hands up, "well, i don't know what you want me to tell you. it's my break. i think i'll spend it however the fuck i want, alright?"

"and that's fine! but you promised you'd be there! that you'd show up!"

"look, y/n," the name sounded weird on his tongue, foreign, almost. tom always called you some sort of pet name. "it's my off, and i hardly ever get those. sorry if i don't want to spend it with my clingy-ass girlfriend who does nothing but lounge around on the sofa all day sleeping," tom scoffed, pulling a beer out of the fridge.

you drew back slightly, words stinging. and what was he doing, having a beer in the middle of an- an... arguement? wasn't he late because he was at the pub?

and you didn't spend all day on the couch sleeping. tom insisted that it would be okay if you didn't have a job, so you did household things.

did the laundry, dishes, cooked, cleaned, bought food, all of it.

maybe it wasn't as big as his job... but it was still important, right?

right?

so, basically, to sum up your lovely boyfriend's words, you were useless.

"i- that's not-... i don't do that." okay, you needed a bigger arsenal of better responses.

"you know what? i think i'd rather be useless then go around sucking up beer and degrading people, such as your girlfriend, just beacause i don't have anywhere else to go to let off steam."

fine, so it wasn't the best, but it was something.

you stormed up to your room, and he followed right after. "where are you going?"

grabbing a pillow from the bed, you shoved it in his face, "you, dude, are sleeping on the couch," you gave him your best sarcastic smile, but it probably didn't work out great with mascara stains running down your cheeks.

and then you slammed the door in his face, waiting for any type of protest, but you heard receding footsteps, knowing he left. you turned and pressed your back to the door, sliding down it. you sniffed and slid down it, pulling you knees to your chest.

that was probably one of the worst fights you had in a while.

not with tom, but just in general. you just didn't get why he wasn't trying harder. he used to do everything he could to spend more time with you. and now?