Requested by: @princesskink
Hi there this is for the post you made for request? Can the pairings be between me and tom or like is it someone else and tom bc I’d really appreciate one were tom calms me or the reader down from a panic attack after their ex calls them (this actually happened to me a few days ago and it sucked) but anyway thank you
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Description: The reader gets a phone call from a toxic ex boyfriend and has a panic attack. Tom is there to pick up the pieces.
Warnings: panic attacks
Word Count: 2,174
A/N: I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I’ve done a lot of reading and research into it. The panic attack the reader gets is based off of source materials and things others have described to me. This is also my first reader insert and my first Tom Holland story so please be gentle 😂 If you have any requests, feel free to hit up my inbox!
Your heart was beating rapidly, thrumming in your chest so hard that it almost hurt. Your breath was coming in short, hurried bursts—the rapid sound of inhale, exhale, inhale filling the room around you. There was a pulsing at your temple, a dull ache that was making your vision fuzzy and your eyes water.
You were distinctly aware that your phone had fallen to the floor and you were currently curled up against the wall, right next to it. The screen was still illuminating your kitchen and the “call ended” notification still hadn’t gone away. Your forehead was starting to feel clammy and you were shaking.
Things had been fine for almost two years.
You had moved out of your apartment that you shared with him and stayed with a friend until you could get back on your feet. You’d slowly started to regain your sense of self—you started going back out, started smiling again, started feeling better. You’d felt lighter than you had in years and suddenly, the world wasn’t so bleak anymore.
Then, you’d met Tom. You still remembered when you had first met him, the memory burned into your brain like flame. You doubted you’d ever forget it. You had started working as a production assistant on the newest MARVEL film and things had been going well for you—better than you’d expected.
The work wasn’t exhausting, the people were amazing, and you were doing something you loved. You met the actors slowly, as you bounced around from sound stage to sound stage, flowing wherever you were needed. There was little time to be star struck when you were surrounded by some of the biggest names in Hollywood constantly.
You’d met Anthony first. He was one of the funniest people you’d ever met and had the confidence of a man who took himself and his work seriously. He introduced you to Sebastian and Chris, who were kind and soft spoken and so committed to their roles that you had a hard time not seeing them as Bucky and Steve.
Then, slowly, you’d met the rest of the cast—Robert, Scarlet, Chris, Jeremy, Paul, and Mark—and you never once felt shy around them. They were a fun bunch, even more fun when they were all together, and they kept the set feeling lively and energetic. It was an amazing work environment and you loved it.
You met Harrison sometime around the third week, as he was assisting Tom, who had only just begun shooting. You saw Tom around set a few times, but didn’t speak to him until nearly two months into the shooting process. The day you officially met Tom was one of the longest, busiest days on set.
There had been a scene that had gone wrong, so production had been pushed back and everyone’s schedules went haywire. You had been darting around the set, speaking quietly with the directors and relaying messages to other assistants. In your comm, you heard the costuming director ask, “Can someone get Tom down to costuming, please?”
“I’ll send him your way,” You had responded. You wandered over to Tom, who had only just finished shooting his scene and stood next to him and waited for him to notice you. He was still wearing the Spiderman costume, his mask off and held loosely in his hands. “Excuse me, Tom?”
He’d looked up, startled, from where he’d been about to take a drink. “Yes?”
“They need you down in costuming,” You had said politely.
He’d nodded his head, curly hair bouncing lightly as he did so. He took another big gulp of water and put his bottle down. “Thanks, love.”
He had been gone before you could respond.
It seemed silly to think of such a small moment as life changing, but it had been. After that day on set, suddenly Tom seemed to be everywhere. You usually moved across the studio as you were needed, but Tom was always somehow at every place you were sent. You saw him more and more as the shooting went on and you’d become friends.
He’d asked you out a month after your first meeting and you’d said yes, smiling so wide that your face actually hurt from it. Tom had taken you out to dinner at a quiet restaurant in town where you’d sat in the booth and made heart eyes at each other for four hours. He had asked you out again the next morning.
You’d been together ever since. It had been almost a year ago since you’d started dating. He was an astonishing human being and you adored every single second you spent with him. He knew how to make you laugh without trying, he knew how to brighten your day, and he knew how to calm you down from your moods.
He was sweet and charming, kind and compassionate, funny and loving. He expressed more than any man you’d ever met and he wasn’t afraid to tell you when he was hurting. It was one of the things you loved most about him—how he’d come to you when he was feeling sad or angry or upset.
The two of you worked well together—Tom was a ball of energy and you were the steady, calming presence that he needed to anchor him. You were an emotionally driven person and sometimes you got caught up in thoughts that tore you down, but Tom was always there to remind you of how to get back up.
You loved him with everything you had. After your last relationship with him, you had sworn to never fall in love again, to never let yourself be vulnerable, to never let yourself be dragged under by someone else’s current. But here you were, hopelessly, desperately in love with Tom.
And things had been going fine—great, even. You and Tom were happy. You came to his house most nights for dinner and movies, you went out shopping during the week with Harrison, you FaceTime’d the Hollands on the weekends, and you felt free for the first time in a very long time.
But then you’d gotten the call.
It had been your fault—you hadn’t checked the caller ID. You were at Tom’s house for the night, absently stirring pasta in the pot on the stove as you waited for Tom to get back from the store, where you’d sent him to pick up parmesan. When your phone rang, you’d automatically assumed it was Tom.
But it was him. Your ex. The one who’d destroyed everything in your life and torn apart everything you held dear. The one who made you hate the person you were, who filled your heart with his terrible darkness, the one who’d made you swear to never, ever, fall in love with someone again.
You couldn’t remember much of the conversation because as soon as you’d heard his voice, you heart has started pounding and your ears had started ringing. All you could remember was hearing him say your name and feeling the dread that made your heart drop all the way to your stomach.
You had ended the call as soon as you heard him speak, but your vision was still turning black at the edges and you still felt faint. The sensation of pins and needles shot up and down your arms and you were certain that if you tried to stand, your legs would give way because they were shaking so bad.
You couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in your ears and the sound of your panicked breaths. The wetness on your face dripped down your cheeks and onto your shirt, staining the grey material black. Your hands were trembling in your lap, vibrating with tension and anxiety.
You were so lost in your own frightened mind that you hadn’t even heard the door open. You hadn’t heard Tom stroll into the house, hadn’t heard the way he’d called your name, didn’t heard the way the groceries clattered to the floor as he skidded across the kitchen to crouch down next to you.
He grabbed your hands as his face swam into your line of sight, blurry and disorienting. He was saying your name, voice getting more and more frantic the longer it took you to respond. It must’ve been the, “Please, love, talk to me, what’s going on?” that startled you out of your state.
Something about the British lilt to the words, the way he’d spoken, had stirred something in your brain that just said safe. So, you tried your hardest to focus on him and choked out a soft, “T-Tom?”
His nervous, wide brown eyes finally found yours. You stared at him, taking comfort in the softness, the kindness you saw there. “Hi darling, come back to me,” He shushed your blubbering sobs quietly, thumbs rubbing gently across your wrists as he held you steady. “Easy now, dove.”
“I know, I know,” He shushed you again and moved closer, pulling you into his strong chest. He rubbed your back gently as he tucked your wet face into his warm neck. “Breathe, love, okay? Nice and easy. Breathe when I do,” His words were quiet and he placed both of your hands on his chest.
Tom took a deep inhale that you desperately tried to follow. He held his breath for a few seconds and then exhaled deeply. He continued breathing like this for a few moments, inhaling, holding, and exhaling, until your own breathing had calmed down and you had sagged against him in relief.
Your head was still pounding and your face was still wet, but your vision had cleared and your hands had stopped shaking. Tom was still rubbing your back, fingers making slow ovals from your shoulders down to your waist, when you finally felt comfortable enough to croak out, “Thanks.”
“How are you doing?” He asked, voice still quiet.
“Better,” You told him. You leaned back and looked up at his face, wiping underneath your eyes and under your nose. You felt exhausted and drained, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed for the next twenty-four hours and never get up.
“What happened?” He asked, eyes searching yours.
“He called me,” You explained, voice rough. “He said my name and I—I couldn’t—I couldn’t breathe.”
“Easy, easy,” He cooed gently, brushing your hair out of your face. “He’s not here. You’re here, with me. You’re safe.”
“I know,” You whispered, voice breaking. You coughed and sniffed, resting your head back against his chest. You rubbed at your eyes, sighing. “I hate that he has this much power over me. That he can make me fall apart like this.”
“That’s what people like him do, my love,” Tom said, voice sad and apologetic. “They get into your head and fill it with lies and hatred. They tear you down and break you apart.”
“I just wish he’d leave me alone,” You admitted.
“I do too,” Tom nuzzled the top of your head, lightly brushing his nose over your scalp. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“I’m sorry,” You told him, fingers curling in the soft cotton of his shirt.
“Don’t apologize, darling,” He said immediately, placing a firm, but gentle kiss at the crown of your hair. “You don’t need to apologize for anything, you hear me?”
You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Tom. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’re welcome, my love,” He squeezed you just a little bit tighter. “I’ll always be here for you.”
“I know,” You said, smiling into his neck.
Tom helped you to your feet slowly, holding on to your hands to make sure you didn’t fall. You swayed in to him, being pulled into his orbit like the moon to the earth. He rubbed your back as you settled against his chest. He glanced at the stove. “Why don’t you go get in bed, and I’ll clean up in here?”
You were too tired to argue, so you mumbled out an, “Okay,” and stumbled off towards Tom’s bedroom. You didn’t waste any time in stripping to your pajamas, throwing on one of Tom’s softest shirts and climbing under the thick, heavy comforter. Tom came into the bedroom only a few minutes later.
He followed your lead, stripping out of his clothes and into his sleep attire, before clicking off the light and climbing in beside you. He curled up behind you immediately, his arm bracketing your waist and his nose pressed against the base of your spine. You wedged one of your feet between his and pressed your back against his chest.
“Goodnight, darling,” Tom breathed out, already sounding half asleep. His breath tickled the back of your neck and gently moved your hair. “I love you.”
A genuine smile slid across your face. “I love you too, Tom.”
A/N: requests are open loves, hope you all enjoyed xx