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#tom holland imagine
stuckonspidey · 2 days ago
the ties that bind ★ t.h
SUMMARY; The Hollands are a powerful mob, in charge of most of London, and the only gang in their way is your family. So naturally, your parents have decided to join forces together, roping you and Tom into their own little affairs. Tom didn't want an arranged marriage, and nor did you. You were happy with your own life and your own boyfriend, and you were much more than either of you agreed to. commission by @pparkerxreader 💛
PAIRING; Mob!Tom x Reader
WORDS; 20753
WARNING; swearing, smoking, alcohol, violence, guns, shitty parents, smut!! (oral, hair pulling, spitting ig),
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Under normal circumstances Tom Holland would speak his mind, loudly. He would protest and yell and tell anyone and everyone to go fuck themselves, that he was the one who made the decisions, that no one stays alive for long enough to tell Tom what he can and cannot do.
But with a gun against his head he couldn’t say no, he wouldn’t dare say no to his father. What his father wanted, his father got. He never asked twice. His father was the only man in London that Tom actually feared.
And although the gun was only metaphorical at the time--he could very easily take out his glock and aim it right at his son’s head if he dared disobey him. Tom knew that. So Tom nodded his head silently and read over the papers.
Tom had no desire to get married.
Not now at twenty five and not in another thirty years when he’d be old and crinkled and lounging on a diamond covered rocking chair.
Tom Holland would never ever be somebody’s husband--he promised himself that when he turned fourteen, when he realised love had no place in a house of crimelords, drugs, gun. Love couldn't last in a world like his, and so he never let himself even want it.
But to add insult to injury, to make all this far far worse, Tom wasn’t even privy to choosing his own wife.
His father had already arranged a bride for him.
Tom liked dating. Actually, it was the only thing that kept him sane as the eldest son of a mob leader.
He’d go out to pubs and clubs and galas and chat up some innocent looking girl, with big eyes and long nails and those white sneakers everyone seemed to wear. As soon as she saw the tattoos and the gun and the scars, those big eyes would light up.
Every single girl he found was completely enthralled by his life and his personality and how brazen he had to be to just have a gun on him, like he was some old school gangster from those black and white movies. Tom knew they all just wished they could change him, he knew they all had some deep dark fantasy about meeting a dangerous boy and making him soft.
Tom wasn’t soft.
He didn’t care at all about the girls and about their delusional fantasies, and he had no desire to make them come true, nor did he care enough to even pretend. As soon as he was done, when he got what he wanted, he politely offered them a drink and a ride home. He never even bothered taking their numbers, rarely he’d even remember their names.
Tom knew a wife or even a girlfriend was the last thing he could fit into his routine, his life, his mob.
His days were like puzzle pieces--edged, rough, different but all part of the same grand picture his father had painted out for him when he was born.
Girls, they had no edges. They didn’t complete the picture, and none of them would fit in.
A girl wasn’t an option for him.
But when the strongest gang in London, second only to the Hollands, offered to merge their families--an offer they’d have to seal with a marriage--Tom’s father agreed in seconds.
He didn’t even consult Tom, not that he consulted him on most things, but this involved his personal life, this involved every single aspect of him, and Tom hoped his father would have the minimum amount of decency to at least tell him before he entered the study to be met with their rival--and his daughter. Tom’s future wife.
“So, we sign and what?” Tom asked, trying his best not to sound bitter. His father heard the bite in his words either way, and warningly raised his eyebrows at him.
“Watch your tone there, boy,” he said, paying no regards to their guests. “You’re gonna make Y/N think we’re marrying her off to a dickhead.”
Tom took in a big breath.
“Sorry, sir,” he said, as calmly as he could, “I’d be happy if you could explain it to me again.”
“You’re thick, aren’t you?” His father asked, slamming his hand on the table.
Tom took in another breath.
He didn’t even flinch. Tom was far too used to his father reacting that way--it would feel strange if there weren’t at least three table slams involved in a conversation with that man.
“Could you explain it to me, please?” The girl asked after a small cough, and Tom slowly looked over at her.
She wore half a smile, one he expected was meant for him--but he couldn’t allow himself to paint it that way. This was no time for friendships nor, god forbid, companionship. Especially not with someone from their gang.
“Of course, darling,” Tom’s father smiled at her, “this is a marriage certificate. You sign this and the deal is done.”
“The deal being..” she trailed off, looking up at her own father.
He couldn’t even look at her, his eyes locked on the marriage certificate, and Tom suddenly thought maybe they’d have more in common than he initially realised. Nothing like bonding over how much they hated their dads.
“You move in with Tom and that’s it. You’re his wife.”
“But, I--”
“Doll, you said you wanted to be involved in this business, eh?” Her father began, “here’s your chance. You do this for us and our families will take over all of London.”
“Yeah but, dad, when I said that I meant more like let me sit in on meetings and--”
“--that’s enough. Not in front of our hosts.”
“Aren’t they going to be your in-laws in two minutes? Might as well get all the dirty laundry out.”
Tom snickered to himself, doing his best to cover it up with a cough.
At that they stole another glance towards each other, concealed smiles winking.
“That’s enough now,” her father warned, sending a dirty look towards Tom.
Tom straightened himself up and nodded slightly.
Tom knew what this meant for his father and for his family. He knew an alliance with a strong and powerful family would be the one weapon they needed to demolish all their other enemies. He knew this meant work, he knew it was his duty to his father to do it.
Maybe missing out on dates wouldn’t be so bad.
He’d be far too busy taking care of all their enemies anyway, building up their empire.
Perhaps he could come up with some agreement with this wife of his that he’d still be able to fuck around. This whole marriage was just for show anyway, right?
A little voice in Tom’s head told him that wouldn’t be the best idea to propose such an arrangement, and for some reason he wanted to agree to the whole deal a bit more now. Tom wasn't quite sure what to name that thought, but now wasn't the time to dwell on that.
If he’d say no, his father would punch him in the mouth repeatedly until he changed his mind. And fuck it, it’s not like Tom even planned on getting married in the first place. His house was big, far too big for just him and his men--she’d have her own corner and they could avoid each other as much as they needed to. It would be just like having a lodger in the house.
His father never said they needed to share a room, and really why would she agree to that?
Tom looked over at her, at his future wife.
She was wearing a suit like her father but her hands were crossed over her chest.
Tom spent his whole adult life studying other people--the way they talked, the way they held themselves, the way they looked around rooms. She was scared.
Tom hoped it wasn’t of him but then he caught himself in the act of thinking such a ludicrous thought. Since when does Tom Holland hope people aren’t scared of him? He spent his whole life learning the art of intimidation, and if it was working on a girl that looked like her then surely he had mastered it by now.
Tom coughed and picked up his father’s pen. He signed his name on the dotted line quickly. There was never any room for hesitation in his line of business, some decision had to be made as fast as bullets fly. Tom wasn't sure he could add this to the harder decisions he had to make in his life, but he could feel her eyes on him as he stood up again--aware of exactly how quickly he signed the certificate.
“Thank you, son,” his father said, dipping his head down firmly. “good lad.”
Tom nodded at him, ran a hand over his chin and offered her his pen.
She just looked at him.
It was as their eyes connected that Tom didn’t even feel regret.
“Dad, can I have a word with you?” She said quietly.
The pair excused themselves from the study and walked out, her heels echoing into the hallway like a broken metronome, telling Tom something was simply off.
Tom felt himself breathing more quickly, rapidly. Was he not supposed to sign it first?
Two raised voices argued outside of the study door but their words were muffled slightly. Tom couldn’t make it out. All he heard was the name Ollie, and the unmistakable tone of a girl trying to rebel against her father’s wishes.
Tom’s father made sure his study was soundproof and apparently that worked both ways.
Tom did his best to fight his curiosity, he tried not to listen.
Instead he sat down in front of his father and pulled out his pack of smokes.
He plopped the stick in his mouth, felt around his suit pocket for his lighter, but his father smacked the fag out of his teeth before he could.
“Yeah?” Tom gasped, his hands shrugging in front of his father in question. It was his dad that bought him his first pack of cigarettes, and so he never thought it would be that same man to give him shit for his addiction.
“Don’t smoke next to your wife,” he ordered, “woman hating kissing smokers.”
“First off, she’s not here. She’s not my wife yet, either. And I’m not gonna fucking kiss her.”
“You need to consummate the--”
It was then the doors opened, thankfully, and Tom got up quickly--hiding his pack of cigarettes when he did.
Maybe his father was right on this one. Maybe she shouldn't know about his bad habits just yet.
Y/N didn’t have that playful smile on her face anymore, it was replaced with a scowl.
Her finger tapped against her bicep, now it seemed to Tom that her arms were crossed because she was furious.
She was biting on her bottom lip fiercely--and then Tom wondered if he did have to kiss her now.
It seemed like she would punch him if he even got close to her.
Tom never thought that way about a girl, he was never cautious next to them. He’d never even hesitate before kissing one, always knowing they were all practically frothing at the mouth at the simple idea of doing so. But he could already tell Y/N was different that way--she wasn’t batting her eyelashes and begging him to come closer. She was barely even looking at him.
He wondered if that was a good sign or not.
“Miss Y/N?” Tom's father offered, gesturing towards the certificate again. “Son, give your wife a pen then.”
Tom sent his father a small look.
Clearly, he wasn’t as gifted as Tom at reading other people--or he was, and he didn’t care how uncomfortable she seemed to be referred to as Tom’s wife so soon.
She didn’t even sign the papers yet.
Suddenly, Tom was consumed with the thought she wouldn’t sign them at all--and that thought left him uneasy. He wasn’t sure why, but it did.
Tom didn’t like not knowing why his thoughts acted the way they did.
Tom picked the pen up and offered it out to her, a small smile on his face.
She didn’t return it this time.
Instead she sent her father a look, asking silently if she really had to do this. Her father nodded deeply.
Begrudgingly, Y/N reached over for the pen and snatched it out of Tom’s warm fingers. He wondered if she could see him shaking and then he wondered why he even was.
Slowly she etched her name on the paper, sighing as she softly placed the pen back on the table.
“Fantastic!” Tom’s father said, “great stuff, you two. You’ve done your duties to your families.”
Tom nodded at that but Y/N didn’t seem to care at all. Her eyes were now studying the small specks of dust on the floor.
Tom followed her eye line and spotted them--making a mental note to tell the maid she did a lousy job of the study. But then Tom thought again, back to all the things he knew about people and their behaviour. Was she sad?
“Dad,” she whispered towards her father, “do we get rings or something?”
A small quip in her brow told Tom she was almost hopeful, if he could even use that word in such a situation, and he almost wanted to smile. He almost wanted to say yes, just to keep the hope alive in her eyes. But then he stopped himself.
Surely his father wouldn’t care for something as vain as that.
“Sure,” he threw out, haphazardly opening up his desk drawer and limply throwing a small box on the table. He nodded towards Tom, who understood to pick it up and open it.
Inside were two small golden rings.
Tom took the bigger one for himself, placed it on his hand, and passed the box over.
“Oh, be a gentleman about it, will you?” His father scolded, “put it on her yourself.”
“No,” she said softly, taking the box from her now husband. “I’ll do it.”
Slowly she slipped the ring on her finger and sighed. There was a sort of sadness around her Tom couldn’t quite place. He wasn't sure what to do to get rid of it. As her husband, wasn't that his job now?
She swirled the ring around her finger slowly, inspecting it. It looked so foreign on her soft skin.
“It doesn’t really fit.”
“You’ll grow into it,” her father promised, before he sat down in front of his now in-law and smiled. “Let’s toast!”
The parents shared a cup of whiskey as their children looked from the outside in, feeling no real reason to celebrate.
Y/N was still looking down at her hand, and as Tom studied her he felt the need to examine his own ring.
It didn’t feel like anything, really, the more he thought about it. It was just another piece of his uniform. Like the expensive suit, and the gun holster, and the spare magazine he always carried in his pocket. It was just part of his job. Although he never considered an arranged marriage something he’d have to do, it made sense, when all was said and done.
All the chips were falling into place and the two older men had already started devising a strategy to take down an up and coming new gang that were starting to steal their customers.
Tom was just a pawn in his father’s game.
He knew that since he could remember himself and it never bothered him too much.
Only now Y/N was wearing a pained expression on her face (her rather attractive face) and Tom felt the need to apologise.
Tom never apologised to anyone that wasn’t his father, let alone a girl.
You packed up your room in twenty different boxes the same night you “married” Tom.
Married was a funny word, and the more you thought about it, the more it lost its meaning--like saying one word again and again and again until you forget what it’s supposed to sound like. Being married meant one thing, it meant something, but now it was nothing but a stupid piece of paper you were forced to sign and a ring that wasn’t even really your size.
Sure, not every girl dreams about her wedding day her whole life, but you did. You longed for a wedding that was big and grand and magical--like most things in your life were.
Your family was rich and powerful and you always got what you wanted. You got the expensive shoes and the giant bed and the pool in the backyard and everything you needed and so you always let yourself imagine your wedding would be as grand as physically possible. You didn’t have to think about normal people stuff, like the cost of the venue and the dress and all the other things. You knew that whatever you’d want on that special day you would get. The bride always gets what she wants, no?
But here you were.
Already married, already a wife, completely skipping over the bride part of it all. The fiance part of it all. The love part.
The one thing you thought could be your own was taken away from you. Instead you stood in a poorly lit room in a strangers house and signed some papers legally binding you to some man you never met.
He was semi familiar to you, you were sure the pair of you saw each other at some gala or event, but you couldn’t remember where from. It was only that day, on the car ride there, that you even learned his name.
Your father said nothing to you on the drive home--just silently looked at the road ahead of him while you sat in the passenger seat imagining the road in front of you.
Living in a house with this man, doing his dishes, complaining about the way he ate his food. You had no idea how he even ate his food, what if he was a loud chewer?
You shuddered at the thought.
Your father didn’t even ask you if you were alright, if you were warm enough, if you wanted food. Your father used to care about you--but as he said when he dropped you off with the boxes at the Holland house, “you’re in Tom’s hands now.”
You were somewhat of a daddy’s girl, and you loved that, and now--you were to be put in this man’s hands (probably physically too) and you had no say in who this man would be.
All you could think about was Ollie.
You’ve been dating Ollie for three years, on and off. Whenever things looked like they were getting more serious--your father would tell you to stop fantasizing like a little girl and grow up already. Unbeknownst to you, this was always the plan.
The plan changed a few times, there was always a different husband on the line, but your father always meant to marry you off to someone for his own gain. This was always what was meant to happen and Ollie was just something he enabled for too long.
At least that’s what he told you when you stood outside Mr. Holland’s office and tried bargaining your way out of the arrangement.
There was nothing you could say. You knew that to be true when your father told you what his plan for you was all along. So you sulked back inside and did what was expected of you.
All that was last week.
You have since then managed to stay in your room every single day.
The maids would sometimes come in and ask how you were, and you’d always say fine. That you were just trying to unpack.
You knew it would start looking quite bad if all of your boxes just stayed there, so you did one every day.
Slowly, you put your shirts in the closet. Then your dresses. Then your makeup. Then one by one the boxes were emptied out and you were officially living in this house. Officially given up on your old life and just.. scummed to it all. Agreed to it. Let it happen.
The house wasn’t too bad, you’d admit.
It was big, vast, fucking enormous. It was much bigger than the house you grew up in and much bigger than the holiday house your dad bought you on the beach in Spain.
You practically had a whole floor to yourself.
You had your bed all to yourself, thankfully, even though it was big enough for four adults to sleep in comfortably. You had your bathroom with a bath that could fit two people in comfortably and a full length mirror. You liked that part a lot.
You had a balcony too, which was nice if the nights weren’t too cold. And the balcony overlooked the garden that seemed to spread for miles. Some nights when you sat outside you could see the top of Tom’s head as he stood outside and smoked while his dog ran around the green to her heart's content. She didn’t notice you the day you came in and she didn’t come near your floor too much. You reckoned Tom trained her that way.
He trained everyone that way.
No one was supposed to come to your floor unless specifically asked to. You didn’t know why he decided that, but you heard him scream at someone for going into your office the second morning you were there.
You didn’t even know why you had an office, but you did and it was empty. There were books there and a table and a laptop waiting for you (as some form of present, you thought) but you never stepped in there. You didn’t even touch the laptop.
In all honesty, you didn’t want Tom’s gifts.
You weren’t mad at him and you knew he had nothing to do with this whole situation, but a small part of you--perhaps the petty part--didn’t want to give in and enjoy any of this. Even though you'd be a fool to act like you didn't enjoy it, you decided to only indulge in the sanctuary of your own room, your own space. The office was not part of that space. For now.
So you only let yourself enjoy the material things. The room and the curtains and the fact you could put the jets on in the tub.
On morning number six, your phone rang.
“Babe,” Ollie’s raspy voice said from the other end, “why haven’t you texted me all week?”
“Oh, sorry.” Was all you could say.
You didn’t tell Ollie.
“I went over to your house but it was empty. Are you on holiday?”
Ollie didn’t know a lot about the mob. All he knew was that sometimes you’d have to go on holidays and that was your way of saying he shouldn’t come near you for the time being, because your father didn’t allow it anymore. When you got sick of listening to your father you’d tell Ollie you were back and you could come see him again. Ollie never saw beyond your lies, and you knew if you told him the truth he’d never understand.
You assumed Ollie thought you came from old money, which in a way you did, but he never asked how you were so wealthy and never working. He didn’t ask for money either, which you liked about him. Even though you’d give him money if he asked for it--Ollie never let you pay for things, and he bought you nice presents when he could.
He wasn’t wealthy like your father was and he couldn’t shower you with presents but he tried and that was enough for you. But he never bought you anything as expensive as a laptop, he wasn’t wealthy like Tom was.
You groaned. You didn’t want to compare them, not even a little bit, not even on something like that. Tom came from "old money" too and Ollie worked a normal 9 to 5 and paid his overly expensive bills and he'd save just a little bit aside for you so you could have nice things. He was a decent man, a real man, he didn't sell weapons and drugs to buy you things. Ollie was good.
Ollie was someone you loved and cared about, someone you wanted to be with forever, and Tom was just your husband.
“Yeah, Ollie. And I’m gonna be on holiday for a while.” A knock came from behind the door.
“Who is it?” You let out.
“Who are you talking to?”
“It’s Tom,” a voice said behind the door.
“Fuck off,” you mumbled to yourself--but with the phone by your face, Ollie heard it. He laughed.
Fuck, you missed his laugh so much.
All you wanted was to get in a taxi and drive off to Ollie’s house. He was only thirty minutes away from you. You could see him again, you could see him tonight. You could wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze until he started giggling and you could kiss his dimples and laugh at his stupid jokes.
A marriage certificate shouldn’t stop you from seeing the person you love.
“Was that house keeping?”
“Yeah, I put a don’t disturb sign on the door but I guess they can’t read,” you lied, just wanting to talk to Ollie for a few more minutes.
A knock sounded again.
Why was he even here? He didn’t come to this part of the house before and you prayed he would just keep it that way--keep his distance from you.
“Baby, just a second let me see what they want,” you put your phone on mute and walked towards the door.
“Yeah?” You asked.
“Can I come in?” Tom asked.
“So we can talk.”
“Are you decent?”
“Are you?”
Tom opened the door.
“I found that a bit rude, Y/N,” Tom scolded. You rolled your eyes.
“I didn’t give you permission to open my door so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again,” you said slowly. Quietly. Not at all as demanding as you wanted it to sound.
You had every intention of standing up to Tom but the second he opened the door it was hard to do so.
You always felt safe, especially around mobsters, especially when they knew who your father was. But every bit of confidence you had in the man, in your own safety, in your life, completely blew away when he handed you over to Tom. And you knew how mobsters treated their wives, everyone knew.
They didn’t care about them, their wives were just one more person there to serve them, and if /any of their servants disobeyed they’d have to be taught a lesson. At least that’s what your mother used to say, that’s what she taught you.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said slowly. “Didn’t mean to disrespect your space. I need to speak with you.”
“I’m on the phone,” you said, pointing towards the device still in your hand. You tapped the screen, just to see if the call was still on--just to make sure Ollie was still waiting for you.
“Who to?”
“Just a friend,” you shrugged. It wasn’t any of his business, and he had no right to ask that to begin with, and honestly, you deserved some privacy and you deserved a few minutes alone so you could talk to Ollie and maybe you’d find a way to explain it or if you couldn’t explain it maybe you couldn’t find a way to run off and be with Ollie and maybe you could just leave your last name behind and take Ollie’s instead. Of course, the name that put you in this mess was also the name that gave you your new one. Y/N Holland.
“Right. Then tell your friend your husband needs to speak with you and you’ll call them back,” Tom said, and for a second you were sure he was ordering you around. At that Tom left with a shallow smile, his hands stuffed in his pocket and the impatient frown in his brow already growing deeper.
You let out a small sigh, one that tasted of relief, and got back to the call.
“Hey, babe, sorry. They just really wanted to give me some more shampoos.”
“Your husband?”
You felt your heart drop all the way to the heels of your feet and you felt the air leave your lungs in one swift motion and you felt your eyes gap and you couldn’t quite string more than two words together to explain it away.
Ollie, no, you don’t understand. Ollie, please let me explain. No, it’s not what you think.
You could’ve said any one of those things but instead you said nothing, because nothing made sense, and nothing was better than lying, and how would you even explain to him the truth and how could you explain to him the truth and after a whole minute of silence the line went dead.
You called back and the call went straight to voicemail.
You texted. He didn’t respond.
Your heart was going two thousand miles a second--it was practically pounding in your throat but you weren’t getting a reply. You called again, nothing. Then again. Then again.
After what felt like three hours but was actually only seven minutes you got a text.
‘Now I understand what a holiday means. I’m sorry I trusted you. Bye’
Fuck fuck fuck no no no shit shit shit.
“Hey, Y/N, can you please come down? I need to sort this out.”
You didn’t answer Tom, you didn’t want to answer Tom, you weren’t even sure you could answer Tom as you had started sobbing dramatically into your satin covered pillow.
But on the other side of the door Tom could hear your small little gasps and concern had started infiltrating his mind. He knocked again.
Tom remembered you saying you didn’t want him to open your door if it was closed but Tom was more than sure you were sobbing and Tom wasn’t too sure what to do so he slowly turned the handle.
He did it as quietly as he could and carefully revealed your room to his eyes.
He hadn’t seen it since you moved in, but already he could tell so much about you. He could tell you liked pink, because all the covers were pink and so was the carpet you ordered in the other day. He could tell you liked flowers because you had three plants in your room and five on the balcony.
Tom wasn’t heartless, he could tell what was happening. You were sobbing, crying.
Carefully, he sat at the edge of your bed.
You could feel the bed dipping under his weight and suddenly you stopped the sobs echoing against your ribcage. You didn’t want to seem weak, you couldn’t seem weak. Not in front of him.
“Hey,” Tom whispered. You said nothing. “Y/N?”
You said nothing.
“Are you okay?”
The simplest question, a naive question, an empty question. But it made you sob all the same and suddenly you couldn’t stop the water flowing out of your eyes and surely ruining the expensive satin covers.
Tom waited for an answer, although the state you were in was an answer in itself but Tom didn’t do well with emotions. They were a weakness, that’s what he was taught and that’s all he knew and Tom only ever saw girls as weak, crying bodies. He didn’t think that way about you, though.
For whatever reason he didn’t think you were weak for crying.
The more Tom thought about it, the more he pitied you. But pity was a weak emotion too, sympathy wasn’t in his arsenal and he didn’t know what to do. How to help. Tom didn’t know he even ever wanted to help someone.
But you just kept crying.
Suddenly the important Gala his father wanted him to arrange didn’t feel that urgent.
After a few minutes Tom made himself comfortable on your bed as he waited for you to calm down.
Tom Holland never knew how to exercise patience--but it wasn’t so hard now. He just looked around your room, took in the smell, took in the decor you decided on, took in the way you arranged your shoes on a shelf.
Tom waited.
“No,” you said after a long moment of silence.
“I’m not okay,” your voice was muffled by your pillow, but the vulnerability was louder than anything else, it was louder than the room itself.
“Why not?” Tom asked simply.
“My boyfriend heard you, when you said you were my husband.”
“I am your husband,” Tom said quickly, instantly. Before even thinking.
He wasn’t sure if you could hear the jealousy in his voice but even if you did, you didn’t comment on it. Tom wasn’t sure why he was even jealous, or if he was allowed to be. Just because the pair of you got married didn’t mean Tom had any right to you. Tom wasn’t sure if that was a weak thought or not.
Tom coughed. He wanted to take back his words but he couldn’t, so instead he said, “I didn’t know you have a boyfriend.”
“Had,” you corrected.
“You can still date him,” Tom said, “I don’t mind.”
He did mind, but maybe if he acted like he didn’t you’d feel better. Maybe if you had that boyfriend of yours Tom could still go out to nightclubs and find random girls like he’s done his whole life. Tom wasn’t sure why, but that thought made him shift uncomfortably on your comforting sheets.
“I can’t tell him what’s really going on.”
“Why?” Tom shrugged. “Here, I’ll call him.”
Tom reached over for your phone, but before he could grab it you sat up in a rush and concealed the device from him.
“Don’t fucking touch my stuff,” you snapped.
You didn’t mean to, but you snapped, and the last thing you needed was someone like Tom to call Ollie and explain everything to him.
You knew what mobsters were like, you knew what Tom was like, and he wouldn’t just explain things to Ollie--he’d threaten him into understanding, threaten him into agreeing to whatever whorish plan Tom had in mind for you. You didn’t care what his motives were--although you figured they were selfish--you just wanted Tom to stay out of it.
Tom’s messy brow raised your way, questioning you and your choice of words.
“What did you say?” He threatened. Or at least tired to. But once you lifted your face off the pillow Tom couldn’t bring himself to make you any more uneasy than you already visibly were.
Your tears had stuck to your hair and to your chin and your nose was wet and drooling. You were sure you looked a mess, far away from the menacing stance you were aiming towards.
You brought your hand up to your face to throw the tears away, and when you noticed you were shaking, you took in a big breath.
“Why did you come up here?”
“Because I asked you to come down and you didn’t,” Tom shrugged.
You sent him a pointed look, one that meant your question was different than the answer he gave you.
"That wasn't what I asked," you said, empty.
Tom shook his head slowly, almost as if he was disappointed. Was he disappointed in you for showing weakness--the one thing you’re never supposed to do in the mob? Or rather, was he disappointed in himself?
“My father asked us to throw a gala, one to celebrate our marriage.” You couldn’t help but scoff. “I don’t want to do it either,” he said, even though you didn’t respond with anything of that allusion, “but we can invite people around and you can dress up and anything you’d like.”
You took in a big breath.
You remembered your training and you remembered your father’s voice in the back of your head and you remembered the determination you had to be a part of the mob. In some twisted way you got exactly that--even though you felt more like a captive than a wife. You had to do it. Duty was on the line, your integrity, the rest of your life.
You wanted to start it off well, better than this at least, and so you nodded.
Tom slowly nodded back.
Your eyes drifted down to your hand, still damp from your tears, and that god awful ring on your finger.
“I hate this ring,” you said plainly.
Tom stood up from your bed. “Do you want to plan it or should I?”
“If you want you can,” you shrugged. “Just, no bad music. And can we have light food? And maybe--”
“How about you come down to my office and help me?” Tom offered, exasperation in his voice. You were already proving to be quite demanding.
If he was honest with himself, Tom didn’t mind that too much. He kinda liked that you knew what you wanted, that you already envisioned something in your head--regardless of obviously not wanting to be part of this event at all.
But Tom was rarely honest with himself.
You shrugged. Tom extended his hand towards you.
“Come on, doing something will distract you from that bloke.”
Although Tom had a point, work was often the answer to heartbreak, it didn’t quite help.
Tom’s father insisted on the gala being as romantic as humanly possible. The pair of you were supposed to sell the fact that this marriage, this arrangement, wasn’t a business one--the pair of you wanted to do this.
But you didn’t. You really didn’t. And all you could think about as you ordered a hundred dozen roses and streamers for decoration, was Ollie.
Tom didn’t say much as he typed the orders away on his laptop. He didn’t ask if you minded that he smokes in the office with no windows. He didn’t ask if you were feeling better. He just did the work that needed to be done, silently, puffing away.
You almost wondered if you’d have to kiss him tonight during this lie selling gala, if his mouth would taste of tobacco, but then you decided you didn’t want to know and you wouldn’t kiss him and frankly you didn’t even want to.
You hated your life.
As much as you tried getting excited about a party, getting excited about the beautiful dress you wore, you couldn’t care less. You didn’t want to interact with people and strangers and gangsters. You didn’t want to host a party in Tom Holland’s house. You didn’t want people to start calling you Mrs. Holland.
But surely they will.
Respect means life or death in this business, and surely, any small fraction of free will you had began and ended with the dress you chose.
Guests came in through the house, all dressed in impressive suits and dresses, high heels and lipsticks, diamond earrings and false smiles. They all addressed you as Mrs. Holland and shook your hand, they all addressed your husband as if he were royalty.
You knew about this world, you knew Tom was in fact royalty, and they all feared him to no end.
Perhaps you were supposed to fear him too, and a small part of you truly did. Although you’ve never seen it in person, yet, you knew exactly what Tom was capable of.
You heard the stories from your father and the whispers on the streets, but nothing made it more clear than the way people looked at him.
A strange mixture of adoration and fear. A cocktail of horrified respect.
“So, are you having fun?” Harrison, one of Tom’s men, asked you half way through the party.
You simply nodded. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say, and after a few weeks of living in this house, you realised it was the first time you even interacted with any of Tom’s disciples.
“Tom says you’ve been having a rough time,” he tried. You shook your head. “So you’re not going to say anything?”
It almost sounded like accusation, and you swallowed roughly as you looked around the room.
You didn’t know any of the guests, not really, and you weren’t sure how to escape this conversation.
You didn’t want to be part of this life, of his life. Correction, you desperately wanted to be part of the business--but only when it was your father running it. Only when your last name was still your own.
“I need a drink,” you said, voice small.
Harrison wore a half smile on his face, one that reminded you of belittlement.
“What’s your drink, then?”
“I’ll get it for myself, thanks,” you tried, and quickly made your way over to the makeshift bar.
The house still felt foreign, strange, but you did your best to move through it confidently--for the sake of the guests, for the sake of the show and the lie and the ‘happy Mr. and Mrs. Holland’.
You politely asked for something alcoholic, anything, and the bartender passed a glass your way. You finished it in two swallows.
“Another please.”
“Alcohol isn’t the best distraction, love,” a voice said from behind you.
You turned over to Tom, giving him a stern lift of your brows.
“I’m just enjoying our lovely party,” you said--but you couldn’t stop the sarcasm dripping from your tongue.
“You could’ve invited him, you know,” he shrugged.
“Really? How do you think that would’ve looked, Tom?” You sighed, “me walking around with my boyfriend in a party that’s meant to be about us.”
Tom leaned over the bar, closer to you, and pointed at one of the guests.
“See him?” You nodded. “That’s Mr. Wallows. Those two women with him are his mistress and his wife. He’s not shy about it at all, everyone knows.”
You rolled your eyes. Then Tom pointed at another couple, telling you about how the husband had two other girlfriends, pointed at them too. Then he told you about another man.
“Everyone does it,” he concluded.
“All the people you pointed at,” you began, “are blokes. A girl would never get away with it.”
“My girl would,” Tom stated plainly.
You weren’t accustomed to hearing Tom refer to you with that kind of sentiment, and suddenly, you weren’t quite sure what to say.
“I’m not your--”
“--you are.” He stopped you before you could finish. “Everyone here knows you are. Which is exactly why I wouldn’t care if some dude was here with you, too. I know you’re mine.”
“I’m not--” you tried again, but Tom clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, shaking his head.
“Don’t let me hear you say that again.”
Tom picked up a glass of whiskey and walked away.
Some time after drink number six, you ended up dancing in the middle of the living room with a swarm of people you didn’t even know. But you didn’t mind. The liquor was rushing through your body--numbing your fingers, numbing your thoughts.
Not all of them, though. Only some.
Ollie’s face still burned heavily on the back of your eyelids--and it was all you could do to keep yourself away from your phone.
Perhaps Tom was right. Perhaps you deserved Ollie and you would fight for what you knew you deserved. Perhaps this was the lesson your father was trying to teach you all along, that you were capable of fighting for what was rightfully yours. Perhaps the only thing you really needed to be a mafia boss like you always wanted was just a chance to fight for something, anything, for someone you cared about.
Tom dragged Harrison and his brothers to the edge of the room. He wanted whiskey and cigars and he wanted to be able to see his wife without anyone thinking he was being weird about it.
Granted, she was his wife, and if he wanted to look at her--he could. That was his right, after all. But she didn’t want him near her, that much was clear to Tom, and after he watched her drink one glass then two then three, he knew she’d do something unwise.
So Tom wanted to watch as she did it.
Harrison pulled out a lighter and passed it around. Tom took a big breath in as the tobacco stung on his cheeks. Tom found her in the crowd and watched as she moved her hips in time with the bass.
She didn’t know anyone at the party, they both realised that when she confirmed the guest list to Tom all those hours ago in his office. Her family said they’d come but they haven’t yet--and still, she was getting along with everyone it seemed. She was dancing with a woman Tom could only half place in his head, and her eyes crinkled by the edges every time that woman made her laugh.
Tom was almost envious--but then he decided that woman was beautiful and Tom wanted to dance with her. He didn’t want to admit that he longed to make Y/N laugh like that.
He wondered if he’d ever succeed. Perhaps if he walked up to her now he’d manage. She was visibly drunk, she’d probably laugh at anything he’d say.
Tom wanted to impress her, he wanted to make her laugh, he wanted to dance with her. Tom didn’t know what name that desire had--but he didn’t want to think about it too long.
Naming it would make it real.
He kept thinking back to that one minuscule interaction they shared that night, when Y/N insisted she wasn't his. If he had to name the swirl of emotions he felt after that--he’d call it anger.
But naming it wouldn’t make it go away.
So Tom brought his cup up to his lips and grimaced slightly when the whiskey hit his stomach.
“You should go dance with her,” Harrison said. “People are starting to notice.”
Tom chuckled inadvertently.
“Harrison’s right,” Sam said, “you two barely talked this whole night and it looks off.”
Tom nodded his head as he placed his glass on the bar and gave the cigar to Harrison.
“She might punch me though,” he said as he straightened out his blazer.
“I’ll pay to see her do that,” Harry laughed.
With a big breath, Tom put one foot in front of the other and walked into the middle of the improvised dance floor.
“Hello,” he said carefully, placing his hands around your hips. He could feel your body tense up at the touch, and the confidence he talked himself into with every step was now gone.
He shouldn’t have touched you.
But then you turned around and put your arms around his neck.
Tom didn’t expect that, in fact--he expected anything but that. He was positive you’d end up punching him in the face and now more than ever he wasn’t sure why he even approached you. So he cautiously moved his head closer to your ear.
“You okay there?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I need a favour.”
Oh. He thought to himself. Oh, of course.
You were playing along because there was something to gain, because you needed something from him. There was always a give and take in relationships--but with Tom, most people owed him something. Most everyone wanted something, and he realised now--you weren’t going to be any different. Why would you be--when the only thing that even brought you two together was a business dealing?
“And what sort of favour is that?” Tom whispered, masking the small crack in his voice with a chuckle. His signature chuckle, the one that made women fall for him and men fear him.
His small chuckle, the way his arms held onto your hips, the alcohol. All of it together in the pit of your stomach mixed into butterflies.
But that was you thinking of Ollie, wasn’t it? It was just the rum.
Tom hummed at your obvious silence, at the way you started moving your hips in sync to the music. He pulled his head back, enough so he could look at you.
Your eyes were unfocused and glossy and your nose slightly red.
Fuck, he thought. He didn’t realise just how drunk you were.
“Are you feeling fine?”
“Um,” you started, but couldn’t finish.
How come whenever someone asks you how drunk you are you suddenly realise it?
“Maybe let’s go have a sit, yeah?” Tom offered--no longer holding onto your hips but holding onto you, making sure you didn’t lose your balance on the heels you chose.
Your forehead felt a lot heavier than what you were used to and your tongue felt huge and your eyes wouldn’t focus on anything for too long.
You let Tom drag you somewhere with a chair and you let him guide you towards the chair and then you sat down.
You closed your eyes.
“Had too much,” Tom said, or more like observed.
“It’s not helping me forget him,” you sighed.
Tom sat back in his chair as he looked at you. It seemed like all your effort was moving towards not falling, and Tom almost wanted to put his hand around you to keep you safe.
He wasn’t sure if he should, he wasn’t sure how you’d react--but from the corner of his eye he saw a few of the guests looking at the pair of you. That would be his excuse.
Slowly he brought his palm around your shoulder.
“Do you need water?”
Then suddenly you brought your face into his neck and started crying again.
Tom didn’t even know girls cried this much--or that’s what his brain tried to tell him. In all actuality, all he cared about was the fact you were crying, you were upset, and Tom softly shushed you as his palm moved up and down against your skin.
“Hey, hey,” he tried, “everything’s okay.”
You shook your head against his skin.
Tom could smell your perfume very clearly now, he could feel your nose on his collarbone. It made his mouth dry up in an instant and his head feel lighter and suddenly he could feel every little rush of blood down to his fingertips.
Maybe Tom was drunk, too.
“I can’t believe I lost him,” you mumbled into Tom’s collar. Surely his white shirt was makeup stained by now--but Tom didn’t find it in him to care about that, with the current circumstances.
“I know,” he comforted.
“I don’t know what I can do to win him back and I--”
Tom brought his finger under your chin, pulled your head up to face him.
“You don’t need to win him back. If he doesn’t want you, if he wouldn’t do anything to be part of your life--even if it means understanding this whole thing--then you need someone else.”
You chuckled.
“What, someone like you?”
Tom nodded.
He watched as your eyebrows lifted slowly upwards. He watched as your jaw slacked. He watched as your eyes changed--as the pain inside them turned slowly into wonderment.
Then he watched as they flicked down towards his lips.
“Do you mean that?” You asked, but you weren’t looking at Tom anymore--you were looking at his lips.
No, Tom thought. No. Not like this.
“Come on,” he said, patting your back as if the pair of you were part of a highschool football team. “You’ve had enough of this party now.”
Tom showed you a soft side, a genuine side, but just as quickly as it came he was back to barking orders your way. You could barely feel your toes or your knees and so you let him help you up the stairs and into your room.
You let him move around your stuff and bring some makeup remover and you let him watch as you struggled with your wipes.
Then he shut off the light.
You couldn’t remember falling asleep, you couldn’t remember what happened in your dream either. But when you woke up you remembered thinking of Tom’s lips--so close to yours--thinking of what it would feel like if you kissed them.
Even though that was a sober thought you argued it wasn’t.
Day by day you let the minutes pass. Slowly at first, until you didn’t notice them anymore. Until time became plain again, no longer painful--now just part of a tick tock slowly tumbling in the background.
You had a routine.
You decided you were going to live in this house now, not just haunt it. There were paintings on the walls, grand oil painting like something out of a monarch’s chamber. They were always spotless, the golden frames around them, and the paintings always seemed to mock you. Like they agreed you didn’t belong--like they were judging you. Like they were waiting for you to join them on the walls, motionless.
But you had something those statues didn’t have; a heart. And although it was still broken, it was slowly healing, and soon enough you were sure you’d be able to use it again. Even if you loved Ollie, and you wouldn’t just stop loving Ollie--that didn’t mean you couldn’t learn to live your life without him. He was just one step in your journey but you lived your whole life with yourself and you needed to look after her now, you needed to build something for her. Ollie was in the past, and you had to leave him there if you wanted to stay sane, alive.
So you started building your new life.
You went down to breakfast when all the other boys were there too. You made jokes. You asked them how they slept and how they were--you thanked the chef for the food.
It was a decision, a conscious one, to no longer be just a phantom in this house. You wanted to be part of it now. You wanted to matter.
Even if it wasn’t real, even if you didn’t really make a difference to anyone.
This was your life now, the one your dad planned out for you--and if anything, you were going to prove to him that you fit in here. So what if he didn’t come to your party? So what if he barely called anymore?
You were going to be a wife of a mob boss and you were going to make your mark.
You had to.
Otherwise, what was the point of losing Ollie? Losing your family, your life? What was the point of anything if you didn’t even leave a mark, a stamp, some sort of evidence that you were here?
Every day you and Tom made progress.
At first, you dared step into his office while he was going over paperwork.
“Hello,” he said, almost surprised, as you closed the door behind you. “What do you need?”
“Oh,” he caught you off guard. You didn’t really plan anything to say--you just wanted to be in the office long enough to hear what he was working on. “I just, um, wanted to thank you for that night, at the party.”
“Don’t. I had to do that,” Tom let out, harshly.
You nodded.
“I was going to make coffee, should I get you a cup?”
Tom buzzed the intercom by his hand and spoke into the receiver, “Milly, two coffees to the office please.”
You felt your lips tighten.
“There, you don’t need to bother. It’s why I have maids.”
Of course you knew you could ask Milly to make you a cup of coffee, but you just needed an excuse to come back into the office--to watch what Tom was doing by his desk. Now you weren’t sure where to place your hands.
“No, I can go make them. I’m not sure if she knows how I take it.”
“How?” Tom deadpanned.
You sighed softly. “Two sugars, half milk.”
Tom almost laughed.
“Half milk? You’re insane,” he said with a smile. Then he pressed the buzzer again and announced one was his regular order and the other was for you, telling the maid how you liked your drink.
What else could you say now?
“Are you going to sit down?” Tom said, head still reading over the papers--as if he wasn’t even paying attention to you.
But he was. How could he not? How could he ignore the way your smell filled the whole room, how could he ignore the way it overtook control of his very thoughts? And you were just standing there, motionless, studying him. Tom never felt nervous--but under your gaze, he was suddenly very aware of how odd his fingers felt touching each other. How come he never realised his fingers almost always touched each other when he placed them on the desk and how come he could suddenly feel the desk under his hand and was he supposed to be pushing it so harshly?
Cautiously, you pulled up the chair in front of the desk and sat down.
Neither of you said a word.
The silence was born into the room--becoming its own entity. You were so aware of it you were sure you could give it a name, touch it even.
You didn’t move.
You were sitting in front of your husband, the man you were legally bound to, and yet you had no idea what to say. You just watched him.
Counted the brown hairs atop his head, counted the taps his pinky made onto the wood. Counted the times he clicked and unclicked the pen in his hand.
After three minutes, or maybe thirty five, Milly came in with your drinks and a smile and then she disappeared and didn’t even bother to take the silence with her.
You cradled the ceramic in your hand as you softly blew on the beverage, feeling as if your every move was being looked at, even judged.
Tom didn’t even say anything to make you feel so insecure, in fact--he said nothing at all. And maybe that was the worst part. There was no good reason for you to still be sitting in his office, no reason at all. You were not invited in here, you weren’t needed, why you even thought to come down was a mystery to you now and you had no idea what to say and if you should be crossing your legs but your thigh was itching and you needed to move it and you could hear yourself swallowing so loudly you were sure Tom could hear it and what if he could sense you were nervous and--
Tom sighed loudly and threw his head back, his hand covering his face. You noticed the ring he had on his finger--the one you both had.
“Everything okay?” You asked timidly.
“No, not really,” he rubbed his forehead twice before his hand fell limpy to his side.
You moved forward in your chair slightly, scared to move too far. You didn’t want him to think you were eager--but you finally had an opportunity to ask.
“What’s wrong?”
Tom licked his lips slowly, took a sip from his cup and looked right at you. For a second you were sure he could see right through you. He opened his mouth then closed it.
You wanted to say ‘forget it’, you wanted to take back your question. You were amazed at yourself that you even dared ask.
But you let him open his mouth one more time.
“There’s a missing shipment and we can’t seem to find it.”
“Oh,” you raised your brows. You hoped Tom couldn’t hear the enthusiasm in your voice, but when he sent you a half smile that hope faded quickly. Still, he didn’t dismiss you like your father always did and that was a good sign.
A great one, as Tom talked on.
He told you where the shipment came from and where they lost it and about all the bullets waiting in that crate. He told you about their arms’ dealer and the rumours going around that he shouldn’t be trusted.
Tom told you more and more and more and he didn’t stop talking and you wouldn’t dare ask him to and after your coffee turned cold from forget, you spoke up.
“What if you go over to this Mario bloke and ask him straight up?”
“No,” Tom shook his head. But it was his tone that stuck with you.
Sure, he turned down your idea, but he didn’t dismiss it. Not in the same demeaning tone your father always used when he assured you you simply wouldn’t understand how horribly wrong you were.
“Guys like Mario don’t take lightly to accusations,” Tom explained.
“Sure, no one would. But if you say it plain as day you’re not accusing him so much as just asking. And if he denies it then maybe he does have something to hide.”
“I’m not--”
“--maybe this whole ‘pride’ thing is just his way of making sure people never suspect him.”
At that Tom’s brown eyes lit up--turning the whole room brighter.
You never noticed how beautiful brown eyes could be before that moment.
“Like, he’s built this reputation of someone that goes mental on you if you question him, just so no one would dare question him?” Tom repeated your sentiment in his own words, just to confirm it. You nodded slowly, and Tom’s face broke in half as he smiled big and wide at you.
“That’s actually a brilliant tactic.”
“Well, we don’t actually know that it is a tactic, but is there any harm in trying?”
“He could punch my head in,” Tom shrugged.
You lifted your eyebrows as you giggled. “For some reason I doubt this Mario, or any Mario alive really, would fuck with you.”
For a second you were sure you saw Tom blush.
“What does that mean?”
“Aren’t you supposedly the most dangerous man alive? Pretty sure someone said that to me at the party the other day.”
“Oh, did they?” Tom smirked, and you found your eyes were unable to leave his face, not even for a moment. It’s like you wanted to remember every second of this conversation. Even the not so professional parts of it.
You simply nodded, before Tom added, “I think your dad might hold that title.”
“Isn’t that the reason we got married though?”
“Not sure having a wife that cries constantly makes me that dangerous,” Tom chuckled.
Until he looked at you and realised what he said. He could’ve made that joke in a room full of blokes and he’d get an uproarious laugh, but you simply didn’t find that funny and why would you and Tom realised now he never ever spoke to a girl that wasn’t a direct blood relative of his for this long.
Now he realised he didn’t quite know how.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said stiffly and you looked at your cup of now cold coffee, tempted to reach out for it again just so you could have something to do.
“Are you going to talk to Mario then?”
“Yeah,” Tom said, getting up from his chair, buttoning up his blazer on pure reflex as he stood. “I need to go get Harrison.”
“Yeah, of course,” you nodded, taking that as your hint to leave--even though Tom was still just looking at you.
With one final look, one that even you couldn’t translate--you left Tom’s office and walked back into the small little haven that was your room.
Tom came back somewhere between midnight and three in the morning. You knew because Tessa was barking, and although the house was big she was loud and she let everyone know the men were back from whatever business they were attending. Of course, thanks to your brave decision to actually talk to Tom today, you knew exactly what that business was.
How he decided to conduct that business, however, was unknown to you. If he went for violence, if someone got hurt--you’d have to find that out in the morning.
And your question was brutally answered when you saw the black eye Harrison was sporting in the morning.
“Hello,” you said to him cautiously as you sat down for breakfast.
Harrison simply rolled his eyes at you.
But it was Tom’s small ‘good morning’ and smile that surprised you the most.
None of the men in the house cared too much for you, they never gave you the time of day, but for Tom to be decent towards you was new.
You had to ask.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m brilliant,” Tom sat down with a smile, “Harrison on the other hand isn’t too happy with you.”
“Yeah, Tom decided to listen to a woman rather than his right hand man,” Harrison practically sneered towards you.
You weren’t sure how to respond to that, and suddenly the strong smell of waffles that filled the kitchen only brought nausea into your stomach. Or perhaps that was fear.
“What-what does that mean?” You dared, against all your better judgement.
“We went over to Mario’s last night,” Tom beamed your way, almost as if he was proud. And judging by the smugness on his smile and the sparkle in his brown eyes--you couldn’t think he was anything else. He even dared wrap his hand around the back of your chair, and surprisingly, you didn’t mind it too much. You didn’t mind it at all.
Harrison however, was sending daggers your way--his thin lips curled inwards as if to stop himself from saying what was truly on his mind. You were sure it was anything but pleasantries.
“And how did it go?”
“Like shit,” Harrison yelled.
“Haz, keep your voice down next to her,” Tom demanded instantly. “It went really well,” he corrected quickly, once again sending a smile your way.
You nodded, daringly asking for more details. Harrison hated that you did, his blue eyes gaping at the mere audacity you had to stick your nose into their business--but Tom didn’t mind at all. In fact he placed his coffee cup back on the table and dived right into the details of it all.
He made a point of using his hands for every single thing he said--that wedding ring screaming out to you. It didn’t look bad on him, you had to admit, and the way his eyes sparkled as he talked was truly intoxicating.
He concluded with, “so, you were right.”
“I was?” You let out, cautiously.
“He’s been nicking off our shipments for a while now. So we recovered like twenty crates last night, and it’s all thanks to you.”
“I’m glad I could help,” you blushed. You didn’t doubt you were right for a second, but the pointed look Tom was giving you suddenly made you very aware of the fact you didn’t brush your hair before you came down to eat. Now you wished you had.
“We have another meeting tonight after dinner, I want you to join.”
Your head tilted to the side slightly. “What’s the meeting going to be about?”
“Oh,” he smiled, “no spoilers. You’ll have to come and see.”
“I don’t get a preview?” You chuckled, lifting your brows slightly at him. Tom smirked.
“No one gets a preview, that defies the purpose of a meeting.”
“Surely you can make an exception for your wife,” you teased.
You haven’t realised it before you said it, but now that those words were swimming around the air you noticed it. That was the first time you said that word, around Tom, so carelessly. Like it wasn’t such a burden anymore, like it wasn’t so bad to be called that after all.
But you didn’t mean to say it at all and now you couldn’t exactly take it back and you felt your neck heat up in embarrassment.
Harrison got up and left at that exact moment, mumbling something incoherent under his breath--but you could barely notice that. All you cared about, in that very moment, was the look on Tom’s face.
Tom’s features softened at you. His brown eyes lighter, bigger, taking the sight of you in. His brows weren’t scrunched in the middle the way they always were, his jaw wasn’t clenched. It was like all the tension he’s been under, all the stress, it was like it all just disappeared. Evaporated from under his skin. It was like finally he was calm, like he was safe.
For the first time he seemed like he was… nice. Like he wasn’t dangerous or full of sin. He seemed like he was almost happy.
So Tom spoke up, told you the meeting was to do with a new storage unit--one they could trust. He even made a point of asking you to be the one to help decide on the outcome.
You smiled at him once, nodded, and then excused yourself back up to your room.
You made a point of brushing your hair and putting some lipgloss on before you went about your day.
There was a fog surrounding the office as you stepped inside it, riddled with smoke and tension and the uncomfortable glare from Harrison. Harry sat right next to Tom, with a notebook in hand--taking minutes for the meeting. Sam looked at you, studying your movements.
You weren’t quite sure where you were supposed to sit; Tom patted the empty chair next to him.
You coughed, as if to reignite the muscles in your legs, and made your way over to him. Harrison was sending daggers your way and it didn’t take a genius to understand you took his chair away from him.
You wondered if that meant more than a simple seating arrangement. You tried your hardest not to hope.
You stayed quiet for the duration of the meeting--you were quite good at that--and simply took all the information in. When the boys spoke in vague terms, Tom always made a point of filling in the gaps for your benefit, looking over at you and explaining the missing pieces clearly. You always nodded at him, affirming you understood, before Tom let the conversation move forward.
It amazed you how in control of it all he was. He set the pace for everything; the way they talked, when something new could be mentioned, what problem they were to deal with next.
If Tom didn’t say it, it didn’t happen, and while your father had that trait about him as well he didn’t wear it half as decently as Tom did.
You had a feeling that if destiny truly was a deciding factor in this life--it all moved around Tom. Letting Tom be born into the family he was born into, letting Tom rise up the ranks to lead him to this very moment.
And although this moment was mundane at best, it was completely his. He wore his crown well.
It was three weeks later when a loud bang startled you up from your reading. Tessa was on the foot of your bed, snuggling against your pink covers, when the noise caused her to jump towards the window.
She had spent the whole week by your side--not because Tom wasn’t here, but because he was busy with other things and Tessa realised, at one point or another, that you were just as good for company as he was.
You wore that with honour.
You opened your balcony door slowly, stepping outside to search for the disturbance. You couldn’t see a wounded bird, nor a fallen branch, and frankly you had no idea why Tessa even thought it was coming from outside.
Then you heard a whistle.
Peering over the edge of the railing, you saw Tom.
With a hand outstretched upwards, he urged you to come down and join him.
“Tom, it’s raining,” you laughed as you felt the small patter of rain on your forearms.
“Come on, it’s just spitting!” He insisted and even though he was far away you could still see the sparkle in his eye. Even with the distance between you two and the darkness provided by the overcast shadows from the clouds, he could still get you to do what he wanted. Maybe it was the power you knew he possessed or maybe it was something else--but you realised you wouldn’t quite be able to say no to Tom. You weren’t sure if that was a dangerous thing or not.
Slipping on your garden shoes, you quickly ran down the stairs and walked outside.
“Hello,” you said as Tom towered slightly over you. The difference in height wasn’t that noticeable--but sometimes Tom just managed to appear taller than he was. Like his soul was bigger than his body allowed.
“I haven’t seen you all week,” Tom pointed out as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. You nodded as he exhaled the smoke to the side.
“You’ve been busy,” you pointed out.
“Yeah,” Tom rolled his eyes, bringing a hand over his brow before it slacked to the side of his figure.
The dress shirt he was wearing was clinging onto his body for dear life, the middle button threatening to pop open if Tom made any sudden movements. And it’s not that Tom couldn’t go and buy a bigger shirt for himself if needed--it’s that he very much wanted his shirt to be so tight. It was white, the shirt (as was the smoke leaving his parted lips) and if the clouds provided any more rain you were sure Tom’s shirt would turn see-through. You almost prayed for more rain.
You never noticed his body so closely before, nor did you notice the small, almost non-existence space between you two. You could smell the cigarette in your lungs but you didn’t mind it all that much. It smelled like Tom, anyway.
“Still,” Tom said, the coil at the end of the stick lighting up as he inhaled, “I should make time for my wife.”
“You should,” you said bravely.
Tom nodded at you--knowingly--before he threw the cigarette onto the ground.
“You should pick that up,” you said slowly, “wild life tend to choke on cigarette butts because they mistake them for food.”
Tom rolled his eyes at you, and for a moment you regretted saying anything at all. When he didn’t respond, you simply stuffed your hands into your pockets and shrugged.
Now--you weren’t quite sure why Tom called you down here at all.
“Well, I was reading, so I’ll get back to it,” you said, stiffly, feeling your lips stretch into a thin line. When Tom stayed quiet, you gave him a small--and frankly very awkward--wave before making your way back into the house.
With your back turned, Tom picked the butt off the ground and chucked it in the bin.
He made a mental note to ask one of his caretakers to install an ashtray, or something, in the garden. He was sure gifting his wife a dead bunny or whatever wasn’t the best way to start a marriage.
Tom wasn’t even sure when he started considering this a marriage at all--but he couldn’t deny it anymore. Whether he liked it or not, you were his wife, and the more days passed between your “wedding” the more he realised it was real. He couldn’t take it back and he couldn’t erase it and he had to make due.
It wasn’t the worst situation really, to be stuck with a girl like you. And he couldn’t say he was actually stuck with you considering you lived on the other side of the house.
As Tom fell asleep that night with Tessa tucked neatly by his side he let himself imagine what it would be like to have his arms around you.
After an hour in the home gym and a quick shower, you made your way downstairs to the living room. It was raining outside, and the electric fireplace was a much cozier landscape than your room. Of course, you were free to change your room if you so pleased--but a change of location was needed, and in a house as big as the Hollands', there was no reason not to.
A small pitpat of paws tapped against the marble floor and soon you were joined by Tessa. You were just as happy to see her as her tail suggested she was to see you.
You cooed at her for a few moments, brushing your hand against her fur before a body plopped down on the sofa beside you.
“She likes you,” Tom said, spreading his arms on the backrest while his thighs took over half the seat. You were sure you were meant to move aside for him, but you decided you didn’t need to after all.
“I’m technically her mum now, aren’t I?” You chuckled, inviting her onto your lap.
“Definitely not,” Tom scoffed, a smile sparkling in his eyes, “she’s mine. We didn’t agree to share custody.”
“Well, then I want my own puppy,” you tried.
“You can have whatever you want, darling,” Tom said, his voice softer than you’ve heard it for a while. As Tessa situated herself comfortably on your lap, Tom reached his palm over to pat her head. He was quite close to you now.
“I don’t actually want a puppy,” you confessed slowly, “Tess would get a bit jealous I reckon.”
“I would too,” Tom smirked for a moment.
“How come?”
“You’d never give me attention if you had a dog to care for,” he shrugged, his hand getting closer to your knee as he seemed to have neglected the task of petting Tessa.
“If I recall yesterday correctly, you fully admitted to not making enough time for your wife.”
“That’s why I’m here, actually,” he said, taking his hand away from your knee and running it through his hair instead. “Wanted to ask you if you’d join me for dinner tonight.”
You shrugged, as you usually had dinners together anyway. You, Tom, and the rest of the mobsters that lived with you in this house.
“Booked a table for the Ritz,” Tom said, casually, “if you need a dress I can take you shopping?”
The rest of your afternoon was spent around the shopping centre, walking in and out of all your favourite shops. You were quite used to buying whatever you wanted for yourself, but there was something uniquely special about the feeling you got when Tom would simply step up to the till and tap his card, with not a single care in the world.
You normally didn’t pay much attention to what other people thought of you--but there was an odd satisfaction in the looks you got in each shop; a daze of impressed, jealous, and some were just in pure awe of him.
And when you couldn’t make up your mind between two pairs of shoes--both looked perfect with the yellow dress you picked--Tom sat there patiently as you walked back and forth on each pair, trying them out, doing your best to just decide.
When asked for an opinion, Tom calmly told you what he thought of the colour, the height, the shape of each shoe--and said he quite preferred the black ones.
“But the yellow match the dress,” you explained.
“But you said the yellows aren’t as comfortable, love,” he tried reasoning with you.
You let out a groan in frustration, taking a shoe in each hand--thinking maybe they could speak to you and let you know which one of them to take home.
“You want them both?” Tom suggested.
“No, because then it’ll just be more of this when we get home.”
“Excuse me,” Tom said, as he saw a salesman walk by, “my wife can’t decide between these two pairs, would you be able to give us a hand?”
“Of course, sir,” he said, and you could tell he was intimidated by the suit and the watch and the way Tom simply held himself.
You imagined Tom saw it, too.
“If only this pair,” you said, pointing at the black heel, “was this colour,” you pointed out the yellow, “I’d have no problem.”
The salesman’s eyes lit up, and quickly he asked for your size. Not a minute later and you were at the till, with a pair of yellow heels in the same style as the black ones.
“You’re happy?” Tom asked as you watched the lady box up your shoes.
“So happy, thank you,” you smiled at Tom, who simply planted a kiss on your forehead before he tapped his card into the machine.
Once home (Tom carrying your bags all the way into your room), your husband insisted he needed a quick shower and you were eager to put on your new outfit and perfect your look for the night.
It was two hours later when you found yourself escorted to your table at the Ritz, the host even referring to you as “Mr. and Mrs. Holland” before he showed you to your seats. This time, you didn't mind the title as much as you used to.
You quickly secured your clutch on the shelf underneath the table and turned to Tom with a smile.
“I love it here,” you said with a sigh, remembering it’s been too long since the last time your father took you to afternoon tea at the prestigious restaurant. Tom smiled happily at this new piece of information and promised that this wouldn’t be your last date here.
“Oh, so we’re on a date?” You asked with a raise of your brows.
“Of course,” Tom said simply.
“Do married couples even go on dates?” You wondered out loud.
Tom pondered your question for a moment or two before he said, “I promised myself if I got married that I would still go on dates and do all those things. I didn't want to be the kind of husband that just lets that magic and the love fade. Even if I’ve never been in love.”
“You’ve never been in love?” You gasped slightly, finding yourself leaning closer to him.
“Never had time to date properly,” Tom said, “not that it would have mattered, really. Considering,” he trailed off--gesturing to your general area.
You leaned back slightly, doing your best not to get too offended by his insinuation.
A coldness fell over the table as you did your best to focus on your food instead of the man in front of you.
“And what about you?” Tom said, a few moments too long between his last sentence and the silence that took over you two--his words falling on the awkward side of a conversation.
You never thought you’d feel awkward with someone who was meant to be your husband.
“What about me?”
“Been in love?”
“Yes,” you deadpanned, “Ollie.”
Tom took a sip of his drink, his brown eyes staring you down. Your shoulders felt far too exposed all of a sudden.
“I’m sorry,” you said, once your plate was half empty. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I was being insensitive,” Tom agreed. He hasn’t been able to eat at all, seeing the discomfort on your forehead leaking all the way to your shoulders.
You nodded.
“Are you still.. I mean, well, how do you feel about him now?”
In all honesty, you haven’t actually thought about Ollie for a while. Of course you cared about him, and truly, you would do anything to get him back. Anything but leave Tom. Not that you cared for Tom in that sense, oh, not at all, but Tom was your husband and he spoiled you and he was nice in his own mobster way and of course who were you kidding, you always knew you’d end up in a gang--whether it was your father’s or not.
“It’s in the past,” you said slowly, nodding your head once as if to affirm it to yourself.
“And we should be focusing on the future,” Tom added, leaning his hands on the table. The gold watch on his wrist shining back at you.
A small smile fluttered onto your lips as you did your best to fight it away, but it was futile. Tom’s eyes had turned honey coloured in front of you, and you started to wonder just how sweet he would taste.
“The future?”
“Yeah,” he smiled softly, his thin lips spreading across his face, “our future.”
You smiled at him, your cheeks already hurting from the sensation, before you got back to your food.
The pair of you talked about sports (you mostly listened) and Harry Styles’ new music video (he mostly nodded) and the latest show everyone was watching on Netflix. He promised you that when the next craze comes along the pair of you would watch that together, and then he promised to take you to the cinema when the new Marvel movie was finally out.
You thanked him for the offer, even though you knew he didn’t really care about superheros all that much.
Tom thanked your waiter for the service, giving them a generous tip, and escorted you back to his car. You quite enjoyed that he drove a Ferrari, but you weren’t sure if you should be telling him that.
Either way, you listened as the engine purred all the way back to your home--and maybe you felt an odd sense of pride at the astonished looks from the vehicles next to you on the road, the pedestrians, and even the taxi drivers. You were sure they saw a lot of fancy cars driving down the streets of London--and yet still one of them even took a picture of the car as it zoomed past them.
You couldn’t help but place your hand on Tom’s shoulder for the remainder of the drive.
Once you were back home--in your shared home--Tom walked you up the grand staircase towards your room. You weren’t sure when, but your hand had slipped into his. Or did his slip into yours?
“Here we are,” you said softly, unsure of what else to say. Tom had a look in his eyes, a sparkle reflecting in the browness you haven’t quite noticed before. It reminded you of his whiskey, he smelt of his cigarettes, he smiled like he could never hurt anyone.
You took in a small breath.
“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” you said, squeezing his hand softly.
Tom smiled at you, leaning in closer. You could see the freckles on his nose so clearly now.
“Of course.”
“Would we be able to do this again?” You felt stupid for asking, but a part of you was already looking forward to the next time you could just spend a night with Tom, the same way normal couples do. You knew there wasn’t much normal about your relationship so far--but like Tom said, it was about the future now.
“We could do whatever you wanted,” he said, voice soft.
He let go of your hand, and before you could pout in response, his fingers found your waist.
“You looked beautiful tonight,” he said, licking his lips, “I feel like I haven’t told you that.”
“No, I don’t think you have,” you chuckled, your forearm leaning against his shoulder softly. “You look beautiful, too.”
Tom laughed, his eyes fixating on your yellow heels, and if you looked closely you could see a bright pink tint on his cheeks now.
“Tom Holland,” you gasped, your palm falling to his chest, “have I just made you blush?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he insisted with a smile so big you could see crinkles multiplying by his eyes.
“You’re gorgeous when you blush,” you mumbled.
With that, Tom took a step forward, his spare hand finding your cheek--his fingers brushing against your hair. You could feel the warmth from his skin and if you didn’t have any self control you would’ve sighed at the touch. But you stayed strong. You weren’t sure how long that would last, however, when he licked his lips again and leaned closer.
“You know you’re stunning,” he said, “I’m really lucky to call you my wife.”
“You could’ve gotten any model to be your wife and she would’ve been twice as--”
“--shush,” Tom stopped you, his thumb resting on your lips. “Maybe it’s not only about how pretty you are.”
“Then what is it about?” You muffled against his finger.
“You actually care about my job,” he said, and you were sure you’ve never heard Tom sound so sincere, “like you understand it and that idea you had the other day literally saved us. I need you by my side, in those meetings.”
“Are you serious?”
“Please, Y/N,” he sighed, “I want you by my side in everything.”
“Tom,” you gasped, “please don’t say this just to get in my pants.”
“You’re wearing a dress.”
The pair of you laughed, your whole body shaking with it, and for a moment you were sure Tom’s eyes had turned to little love hearts as he looked at you. You did your best to ignore that, and instead wrapped both your hands around his shoulder.
“Thank you,” you mumbled.
“You’re my wife, you don’t have to thank me for anything.”
You nodded at that, and took a step back. You turned to leave, reaching for your doorknob before you stopped yourself, and turned back around. Tom was still staring right at you.
“Hey, Tom?”
“Can you kiss your wife goodnight?”
You were sure your voice was shaking, you could feel your blood rushing all the way up to your eyes and your throat suddenly felt like it was going to collapse into itself--but all that fear and panic was short lived, as Tom leaped forward and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his embrace as he connected his lips to yours.
It was like fireworks were going off in the background, and music had started to build up into a crescendo and butterflies took over your insides and all cliches aside it just felt right. Like you were meant to kiss Tom and he was meant to hold and how come you’ve waited all this time to do this?
You moved your lips together in sync, your fingers in his hair and his hands going up and down your back, pulling you closer. He tasted like the champagne you drank at dinner and he smelt expensive and his lips were so soft and all you wanted was more, more, more.
His hair was silky in between your fingers and you couldn’t help but tug at it, urging a gasp out of Tom’s lips and a small giggle out of yours.
But that didn’t stop either of you, and you both deepened the kiss further, allowing yourself to slip your tongue across his lips and against his own.
“God,” he gasped, pulling you impossibly closer as the temperature in your cheeks had started to rise. He moved you slightly, pushing your back against your bedroom door as the kiss had gotten hungrier, more passionate, as if you were both dying to do this for a while. You didn’t even realise how much you wanted this, and until now, you didn’t realise how long Tom had waited for this.
You knew the effort he was trying to put into your relationship, but you didn’t imagine he could be attracted to you. You couldn’t imagine anyone wouldn’t be attracted to him--and so you decided he had waited all this time for you to make the first move.
That realisation made you pull him deeper into you, kissing him with all the strength you had. Your thighs had started to grow your weak, your butterflies travelling to every point of your body and surely eating it alive, because you could barely feel it. It was lucky Tom was holding onto you so tightly.
It was then that one of his hands left your body, but only long enough to open the door he had pushed you against, catching you effortlessly as you nearly tripped into your own room.
“Don’t go,” you mumbled quietly, as he had maneuvered the pair of you towards your bed--the distance between you growing painfully as he pulled away.
“I’ll stay if you let me?” He asked. You never thought Tom asked for anything, let alone permission, and you were sure the thought alone was enough to make you fall for him.
But you were sure now, you were positive, that you fell for him a long time ago--without you ever realising it.
“Please,” you let out.
Tom took another step back from you, although he kept his hands on your hips, and connected his eyes with yours. The brown in them was truly stunning, melting your insides, making you all but crave him.
His eyes were too kind for the things you knew he did, but his eyes were looking at you, and that’s all that mattered now.
“Please stay here tonight,” you asked again.
“You’ve had half a bottle of champagne,” he observed.
Although that was true, you truly weren’t feeling the effects of it anymore as you’ve eaten so much food to go with it, and it has been a few hours now since the empty bottle was taken away by your waiter.
“You’ve had the other half,” was all you thought to say.
“I’ll stay with you, but I don’t want our first time to be when you’re drunk.”
“I’m really not drunk though,” you promised.
Tom kissed your cheek, so soft it almost hurt. “I know.”
Then he took a step back, brushed your hair away from your face and smiled at you. “Your lips are great, by the way.”
You laughed at him, rolling your eyes at his words and plopped down on your bed.
You finally got rid of your heels, chucking them to the side, and started taking off your jewellery. Tom had sat down beside you, a small distance still living between the pair of you, and watched in awe as you started taking off your makeup next. He held your earrings for you, and your necklace, and then he held your bottle of makeup remover as you did your best to wash it all off with a cotton pad.
“Are you just going to watch me then?”
“Yeah,” Tom smiled at you.
You chuckled back at him, taking off the rings still on your fingers--leaving only your golden wedding band.
When your eyes lingered on it for a moment too long, Tom noticed, and linked your hands together. His thumb rubbed against the back of your palm softly, his gaze delicate as he tried to understand what you were thinking.
But you weren’t someone Tom was going to analyze, you weren’t his prey. You were his wife, and he decided it was high time to start treating you as such. Treating you the way you deserve.
“Everything okay?” He asked, voice low.
You nodded, your lips disappearing for a moment before you faked a smile. But Tom saw right through it.
“Come on, what is it? I promise I won’t tell,” he joked, and it worked, since you laughed right back.
“My ring doesn’t even fit properly,” you admitted quietly.
“Neither does mine really,” he observed, making a point of twirling his ring around, gesturing at just how easily it moved against his hand.
“Don’t laugh,” you began, focusing on your hands, “but I always wanted an engagement ring.”
“Why would I laugh?” Tom reasoned, “I think almost everyone wants an engagement ring, and a fancy wedding and a big party. All we got was some fake gala.”
You nodded.
“Do you want me to fix it?” Tom asked, his nose bumping against yours.
“I wanna go to sleep,” you said instead, too afraid to admit to your own desires--taken aback by the way Tom simply voiced them as if they were his own. And maybe you two shared those desires, the want of a normal life, but you couldn’t face that just yet.
“Let’s go to sleep then,” Tom grabbed both your hands, lacing your fingers together, before he pressed a small kiss on your forehead.
You quickly walked into your en suite, changing into your pajamas, while Tom stripped down to his boxers.
The sight took you by surprise, his body perfectly sculpted--as expected from someone in good shape, and he was in great shape.
Still, you couldn’t help but stare--almost longingly--at the sight in front of you.
“I would say take a picture because it’ll last longer,” Tom started with a grin, “but actually you’re stuck with me forever so you’ll see it a lot.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” You joked, climbing into your bed.
“Probably both,” Tom mused, the smirk on his face impossible to miss.
You giggled at him, scrunching the blanket all the way up to your chin as you cuddled into yourself.
“I’ll keep my distance,” he said as he moved to his own side of the bed, the space of a full grown adult taking shape between the pair of you. You almost frowned at him.
He didn’t have to sleep in your bed if he didn’t want to, and you had half a mind of telling him so, until he moved his hand underneath the blanket, reaching over the space between you and touching your palm lightly.
“You know, in the nicest way possible, you’re probably the most respectful gangster I ever met.”
“Yeah,” Tom chuckled, “I’d say that’s a nice thing to say.”
“If you wanted to, you can sleep closer.”
“Are you sure?” He asked timidly.
“Tom, we’ve been married for eight months, I think we can have a bit of a cuddle.”
Tom smiled at that, moving right in front of you. “Okay, babe.”
He snaked his arm across your waist, pulling you into his bare chest.
If this was any other man, if this was any other situation, you would’ve tried every old trick in the book just to get what you wanted tonight. And what you wanted was to sleep with him. But you realised, as Tom’s shampoo covered your lungs, that this wasn’t like any other situation at all. This wasn’t some guy you went on a date with. This was something you had forever, this was your whole future. And if what you needed was to wait another week, another month, that would be fine.
You had forever.
Your second date with Tom was a mini golf date in Mayfair, meaning there weren’t many teenagers there, and it was mostly rich men wanting to play golf with their partners in a smaller space. Tom talked a lot about golf, and although you didn’t really understand what a Tee was or why he mentioned it all the time, you did your best to listen. Tom in return listened attentively as you explained the plot of your favourite show, and how compelling the character development was in the latest season. Tom even tried watching it one day, but instead fell asleep on your lap.
Your third date was an interesting one; as it involved going into a warehouse and sorting out a deal.
The leader of a different gang, one controlling the Crystal Palace area, was there to make the deal.
Harrison came with the pair of you, as did Harry, and although you didn’t have a weapon with you--you felt safe.
Your father never let you join him on the field--over his dead body, he always said--but when Harrison came into Tom’s office and said this had to be taken care of, there was only one viable solution.
“I know I said we’d go to this film tonight, but I need to take care of business,” Tom said as he entered your room, your hands occupied with your hair straighteners.
“That’s fine, if you have work to do, you have work,” you said sincerely, nodding at him through the mirror.
“Come with.”
“What?” You turned around, placing the straightener on your vanity so as to not burn your hand. You weren’t quite sure you heard him correctly.
“Come with. You wanted to be part of the mob, first time I met you that’s what you said,” Tom reasoned, and you didn’t even bother fighting the smile that was on your lips at the fact he remembered such a detail. It was only small, but to you, it was a very important detail.
It meant the world.
Harrison didn’t even grumble at you when the pair of you came down the stairs, and instead of saying anything mean or dismissive he simply asked, “can you shoot a gun?”
“No,” you said truthfully. Of course you wanted to impress him, him of all people--as Tom’s right hand man--but you didn’t want to lie about something as important as that.
“It’s fine,” Tom promised, “no one will dare hurt you when you’re with me.”
He linked your fingers together, pulling the whole group out into the parking lot as they each found their cars.
Tom’s hand was sat firmly on your thigh as he followed the sat-nav to the location agreed upon by Harrison and the gangster, who you learned was named Alfie.
Once in front of Alfie, he had a lot to say.
About respect and money and all that other stuff and you were doing your best to listen--but he barely even said anything, just used a lot of words to act like he was talking, with no true substance to his sentences.
Tom was doing his best to negotiate, but couldn’t get more than three words out before Alfie had started talking again. More like blabbering really.
“Hey!” You said, after three of Tom’s attempts to get one solid answer from the man. “Can you just answer his question and stop chatting shit?”
“What did you say to me?” Alfie asked, taking a step forward. Tom instantly brought his arm in front of you, putting a barrier between you and Alfie, and his two men beside him.
“What you bringing your missus here for anyway, mate?” Alfie asked again. “All woman bring is trouble, you should know that.”
“Take a step back, Thompson,” Tom warned.
Alfie smirked at him, raised his eyebrows and took a step closer to you. He was still a foot away from you, but that didn’t stop Tom from being as cautious as he could be.
No one would disrespect him like that, no one would disrespect his wife like that. His family.
So when he told Alfie Thompson, the rat, to move backwards and he didn’t--he had no choice but to take his gun out of its holster.
“Oi! No need for that, mate, this is a friendly business meeting, yeah?” You rolled your eyes at him, and at the whole situation, before you urged Tom to put his gun away and just listen to what the man had to say, regardless of how many words he used to get to his fucking point.
Alfie then proceeded to tell you all that he had three barrels of weapons to sell, all in mint condition, all waiting for Tom to take tonight for the right price.
The right price was as much as Tom had paid for four barrels last month, and so Tom refused that price. Alfie then added that there was a whole bucket of extra bullets included in that price.
His face had gone red when he said that, but Tom put that down to Alfie being unhappy with his first offer being refused.
“I can add another bucket, it’s there for you to take, no extra charge.”
“Two buckets of bullets are worth half a barrel of weapons though,” you whispered down Tom’s ear.
“Hey, what’s she saying in your ear, then, eh, mate?”
You rolled your eyes. Tom considered what you were saying, his messy eyebrow frowning slightly as he went over the calculations. You were right.
Alfie knew you were right, too, even if he didn’t hear your exact words.
“Alright, fine. I also have a few keys of some very fine powder, if you wanted it.”
“Why wasn’t this mentioned before, then?” Harrison interjected.
“I was going to keep it for myself, but I will let you lot away with it if you promise to keep it on your end of the streets.”
Tom was thinking his offer over. They already had a supplier of cocaine, but Alfie’s product was known to be the best around London, and if Tom could get his hand on even a few kilos, that would be great for business.
“Where is it?”
“In my car,” Alfie promised. “Take everything now and I’ll take the powder out.”
Alfie had smiled, the type of smile fitting a Cheshire cat, and his eyebrows were so far up his hairline they almost disappeared. He crossed his hands over his body, his elbow propping against his very visible gun, and he quite practically stared you down.
You knew a fair bit about Thompson’s gang, considering Crystal Palace was a prime location for selling product, especially something as highly sought after as cocaine was. There was no reason at all for him to offer you any, especially not of his own stash. But if he was desperate enough to close the deal, and it was obvious by the sweat on his forehead that he was, he would’ve said practically anything.
And so you ignored the snare like shaking of your heart and coughed, preparing yourself to say what was on your mind. You couldn’t let this deal go through silently.
“He’s lying,” you said, loudly.
“Sorry, what?” Alfie all but yelled.
Tom turned his head towards you, his eyes asking you if you were certain. With a small nod of your head, you assured him you were.
“The deal is off, then,” Tom said, a finality in his voice you found shaking your core. He knew exactly what he wanted in his business, and the security that made you feel was unmatched by anything else.
“Sorry, you’re just going to let your bird decide what you’re going to do then?”
“Exactly, and if you have an issue you better have a grave set aside for yourself, mate,” Tom said, his hand reaching out for his gun again.
Alfie muttered a few extra words, before Tom nodded his head towards his brother. Harry quickly made his way over to Alfie’s car to look for said product--and just as you thought, there was nothing there.
He was going to rob Tom in this deal, and once he got caught in that act--him and his men simply fled.
Harry got a punch in the face as Alfie climbed into his car, and although that wasn’t pleasant, that was better than being overcharged for a few guns. Tom would find a different supplier soon enough.
“Let’s go home,” Tom said, wrapping a hand around your shoulder and guiding you back towards his Ferrari 488.
The rest of the night, and what was meant to be your date, was spent in the living room--the boys all toasting your name in awe.
“I’m impressed you saw through his lies,” Harrison said, a sincere smile on his face.
“Yeah, well, he kept saying a lot and then he only used short sentences. Plus, his body language was way off.”
Harry and Harrison laughed at that, their giggles directed towards Tom more than anything else, and informed him that he had finally met his match.
“Tom thinks he’s the king of body language, or whatever,” Harry mocked, explaining the joke to you.
Tom shook his head, bringing his hand around your waist as he sipped the rest of his whiskey.
“I’m sure Tom is good at reading people,” you nodded, bringing your hand onto his shoulder, “but that man was clearly trying to hide it from you guys. I think he thought I wouldn’t see it.”
“You see,” Tom clicked his tongue, “you should never underestimate my wife.”
You smiled at that, leaning over to peck Tom’s lips.
You have been doing a lot of kissing since that night at the Ritz, but you only realised then that you’ve never actually kissed in front of any of the other residents in the house. So Harrison let out a small gasp, and Harry cheered like a child, and you found yourself hiding your face in Tom’s shoulder.
“Right, lovely,” Tom concluded, flipping the boys off before telling them to mind their own business.
“I’m happy for you two, actually,” Harrison said, downing the rest of his drink and getting up from his seat, “she’s a good one.”
You smiled at him, gratefully, and watched as Harry and Harrison made their way to their room, whispering unheard, but definitely noticed by Tom and you.
“I didn’t think Harrison would be so nice to me,” you admitted once the pair of you were alone in the living room.
“Well, you certainly proved you’re a badass today, Y/N,” he said with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss.
You felt warmth overtaking your cheeks, but you didn’t mind, and instead kissed Tom harder than before.
“Oh?” He mumbled against your lips as you pulled him in again, this time slipping your tongue into his mouth.
Your fingers found his hair again, and his hands found your hips, and then you were on his lap with your hand by his jaw and your breath ragged.
You pecked Tom’s lips once and then twice and then you started kissing his cheek, kissing your way to his jawline. You planted a few kisses from his chin to his ear and then you started kissing down--down his neck. Slow, open mouthed kisses, full of pure intent.
You wanted to thank him, you wanted to show him just how much you appreciated his trust in you today, the way he was fully ready to walk away from a deal because you said so.
No one has ever shown you that kind of trust, and it was that exact moment that told you the pair of you were truly in this together. In everything.
Tom’s hands had travelled all the way to your hair, moving against your scalp slowly as he pushed you closer to his neck.
You could hear faint gasps leaving his parted lips, enjoying the way your lips felt against his neck, and so you kept going--feeling brave enough to suck a mark into his skin.
“Upstairs, now,” he urged you.
You quickly jumped from his lap, leading the way up into his room with your fingers laced together.
There was no rush in your steps, as you were now certain this wasn’t something that was just going away. You had all the excitement of teenagers getting to kiss their crush for the first time, mixed with the security of spouses.
If you didn’t know any better, you would think this was almost your dream.
There wasn’t any fear in your movements as Tom opened the door for you, and there wasn’t any nerves as he wrapped his hands around you again--connecting your lips together.
There were a few nerves, sure, but only the good ones.
Tom guided the pair of you to the bed, letting his thighs connect with the mattress as he fell backwards, allowing you to climb on top of him. His hands haven’t left your hips, guiding your movements but not at all dictating them--letting you set the pace for yourself.
Your kisses have grown messy, desperate, as your hips moved up and down against his crotch.
After some time--you weren’t really sure that time mattered all too much anymore--you ran your hands over his chest, feeling his abs greedily. More than half of his buttons were undone, he loosened them as you all walked back into the house, and you wondered why he even bothered still wearing it if his whole chest was on display anyway?
So you decided he didn’t need to wear it at all, and started undoing the few buttons he still had left. Tom quickly helped you pull the shirt off his hands, and by doing so, you were able to see his biceps straining under the movement as well as his stomach.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to bite him or lick him or kiss him but you wanted to do something, and so you decided to plant kisses all around his chest. You’d have enough time to do the other two later.
Tom buried his fingers in your hair, his gasps once again returning to your ears and you smiled to yourself against his pale skin. He had a few stray freckles around his chest and you made a point of kissing them too, making sure you gave enough attention to every part of his body.
You then started kissing down his stomach, slowly and carefully, indulging in his smell and the way his stomach contracted when you started kissing above his boxers, your chin just about touching the white strap of his Calvin Klein’s.
Right as you moved the strap down, Tom pulled your hair--urging you back towards him.
“C’mhere,” he said, flipping the pair of you around. “You’re overdressed.”
“Oh, am I?” You smirked at him, before you quickly tugged your shirt off yourself.
Tom let out a small groan when he noticed your bra--lacy and perfectly flattering and all he wanted was to take it off you.
He started kissing your neck and then your shoulder and then he softly kissed one of your tits, and then the other.
“As gorgeous as this bra is, I really wanna take it off,” he groaned, as both his hands cupped your tits--burying his face in them for a moment.
“Take it off, then, Tommy.”
Tom took in a deep breath at the nickname. He snaked a hand behind your back, lifting the clasp open with one hand as the other moved your hair away.
You quickly moved your bra off your body, throwing it to whatever corner of the room, focusing instead on the way Tom held both your tits in his hand--his eyes growing dark with lust.
He used one finger to flick against your nipple, watching your face closely as your back arched off the bed.
“Oh,” you moaned out softly, and that encouraged Tom to play with both your nipples at the same time. He flicked his fingers against them, building up a quick pace as more and more moans fell off your lips.
He licked his lips softly, but you could barely see that, as you were blinded by the pleasure in your chest. Tom then pinched one of your nipples and took the other in his mouth, his tongue flicking against it just as quickly as his fingers were moments ago.
You let out a swear word or two, but Tom quickly moved his lips away from your tits, instead planting kisses down your body. He stopped just above your jeans, which the pair of you quickly removed, and started kissing your panties--right over the slowly growing wet patch.
“Tommy,” you whined slightly, bucking your hips up and closer to his mouth. He looked up at you, a smirk on his lips, as he brought both his hands back up towards your tits.
He kept his attention on your nipples, just as he was doing before, and started licking over your panties--the warmness from his kisses causing a slight tingling in between your legs.
You wanted more, but just as you were about to ask for it, Tom took one of his hands away from your chest and used it to move your panties to the side.
He licked at your pussy, slowly, and when a small sigh left your lips he did it again. And then again. And then he pulled away for long enough to rip the strap of your panties in half.
“Tom!” You let out in shock.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he shrugged, before he threw your very ruined underwear behind him.
Tom hooked his hands underneath your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and without so much of a word had started to devour your pussy.
“Oh, god, fuck,” you let out in between gasps. He moved from sucking on your clit to fucking his tongue inside you, licking up again every few moments. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, what you were even supposed to do, if your body would even listen to any commands you gave it.
You were practically seeing stars as Tom used every trick available to him. You ran your hand through his hair, pulling at it lightly as you tried to urge him closer to your core. With a smirk towards you, and a glint in his honey coloured eyes, Tom spat right into your pussy before he rubbed his fingers up and down your entrance.
You were sure a whole symphony of noises was leaving you, but you didn’t care. You simply watched Tom’s face as he looked at the wetness gathering between your legs.
He rubbed his index against your clit for a few moments, basking in the sounds he was urging out of you, before he slowly slid two fingers inside of you.
You could feel the fullness taking over you, stretching you out as your thighs contracted lightly from the pressure.
Tom’s eyes were glued to you, trying to figure out every single one of your reactions, as he started moving his fingers faster.
When you opened your eyes for only a moment, you took in the sight of him, kneeling against the edge of the bed--his head between your legs and his hands flexing from the strain of his speed. You wanted to kiss him so badly but this felt too good to stop him, and so you let out another moan as you pushed your head back down--trying your best to focus on the pleasure he was giving you.
“Baby, please, more,” you begged him, and Tom quickly wrapped his lips around your clit as he added an extra finger, stretching you out to the point all you could do was pant and whine.
“Fuck,” Tom chuckled, “you taste fucking incredible.”
He then got back to his previous task, only this time, he moaned around your clit--causing a wave of vibrations to course through your most sensitive spot. You let out a louder moan at that, and then, Tom did it again.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m--Tom, holy shit,” you tried your best to let him know, but he wouldn’t stop humming against you and it shot jolts of pleasure through you. You didn’t even have time to let him know how close you were before the coil in your stomach had snapped--and you were shaking around Tom’s lips as your whole body shivered through your orgasm.
After a few moments--Tom’s efforts never wavering--you had let out a small sigh, your whole body relaxing.
“Was that good?” Tom asked, clearly aware of what just happened, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.
“Shut up,” you let out between breaths.
Tom simply chuckled at you, his chin glistening with your wetness.
You pulled him close to you, kissing his lips desperately, giggling as you tasted yourself on his tongue.
“Are we done?” Tom asked with a raise of his brows.
“Definitely not,” you chuckled, reaching for his pants and tugging them off quickly.
Tom threw them away somewhere, to be added to the pile with your ripped up panties, and reached over to his bedside table for a condom.
He wrapped it around himself, secured it in place, and after a few strokes of his cock he lined up in front of you.
“You’re comfy?”
“Yeah, baby,” you smiled, pulling him in for a kiss. As his tongue moved against yours, Tom started slipping inside you--which wasn’t hard, considering your very recent orgasm--and although you were more than ready for him, you still gasped into his mouth as he filled you up.
“Shit,” you let out. Tom wasn’t the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he knew exactly what he was doing, and after giving you a few moments to adjust he started moving against you.
Slow at first, groaning at the way your body tightened around him with every thrust--the way your warmth comforted him as he moved in deeper and deeper and deeper.
Then, right before you were about to ask for it, Tom had started moving faster. His hips meeting yours in a harsh slap of skin.
The sound, mixed in with both your moans, was all that filled the room--as the pair of you were getting closer and closer to your releases.
Tom informed you he didn’t have long left, and you told him the same, and with his thumb against your nipple again you were starting to shake for the second time that night. It was the way your walls clenched around him that pushed Tom towards the edge, and after a few more thrusts the pair of you were scummed to a breathless, sweaty, mess.
Tom pulled out slowly--the pair of you taking a second to adjust to the emptiness that followed, and planted the most loving kiss on your lips.
“How do you feel?” He asked softly, planting another kiss on your cheek for good measure.
“I feel,” you hesitated for a moment, but with the emotion swimming in Tom’s eyes, and the feeling swirling in your heart, you couldn’t help yourself. “I feel loved.”
Tom smiled, all the worries in your head disappearing. “You are.”
Tom got up, disposed of his condom and got a cloth to help you clean up. He kissed your shoulders as he slowly cleaned between your legs and then threw the cloth away somewhere.
His room was far too big to not have a bin in it, but that was a discussion for later.
A few moments passed, or maybe more, and with his arms wrapped around you and nothing but pure content in your heart, you fell asleep in your husband’s arms.
It was a few weeks later, as you and Tom walked down the high street with a few shopping bags in hand that you saw it. Right in the store window; the perfect engagement ring.
“What did you spot, baby?” He asked, a hand on your waist as he scanned over the window.
You, quite hesitantly, pointed at the purple ring in the window--a large stone at the centre with a few dozen smaller ones encasing it.
“Would that be the perfect ring?” He asked, stuffing his hand in his suit pocket.
“If that’s okay?” You scrunched your nose slightly, hoping you weren’t asking for too much.
Tom quickly went inside the shop, and after no more than five minutes came out of it with a black bag in hand.
That evening, after your weekly business meeting, Tom asked everyone to leave the office. You were sat in your usual chair, right by Tom's side, when he dismissed everyone else and smiled at you.
With just you there, he gave you the box and opened it, presenting that perfect ring you chose. Your heart skipped a beat or two, your chest clutching lightly at the pure sight of it. Tom, holding the open box, showing you the prettiest ring you've ever seen.
You were already married to him, of course, but you were just as excited to see it as you would’ve been if you weren’t married at all.
“Are you asking me to marry you?” You smirked.
“I’m just trying to give you what you always wanted,” Tom said, his face serious.
You leaned over to kiss him, your lips fitting perfectly together, as you slid the ring onto your hand.
“Your size?” He made sure to ask.
“I love you,” you declared sincerely, your heart growing in size as you said those words. It couldn't have been the first time you said it, or perhaps it was, but you both knew that about each other for a long time. It was clear you two fell into love in the same way one falls into a routine--unknowingly, until it's the only thing that makes sense.
“Not exactly what I asked, but okay,” he shrugged with a glint in his eyes. “I love you, too.”
281 notes · View notes
whereistradel · a day ago
script reading — tom holland
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pairing: tom holland x (actress) reader
warnings: none
summary: you and tom reunite after being casted in a netflix series together.
requested: no
note: i need tom holland requests in my inbox, NOW.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“(y/n), welcome to the sit-down reading today. some cast members are already here so you can chat with them later.”
you nodded, while the kind staff member led you to your designated room. you had recently been casted in a new romantic-comedy series with netflix and today was the script reading with all the cast members.
the tall woman stopped in front of a white door, before turning the knob and opening the door wide enough for you to stare inside. just next to the door laid a sign that read your name.
“this is your room,” she stared down at her wrist watch, “the reading starts in an hour so you can do anything till then.” she offered a kind smile and motioned you to go inside.
“thank you” you smiled before walking and plopping down on the couch inside the room. you heard a slight click, indicating that the woman had closed the door to leave you some privacy.
you stared at the ceiling, still in disbelief. this series had casted you as the main female lead and tom as the main male lead, the thought of that making you shudder.
tom was your ex-boyfriend, so you were surprised that he even agreed to do this project. the director happened to be your best friend, hannah, and let’s just say she was the biggest shipper of the two of you together. just like hannah, your fans went crazy hearing the two of you were making this film together.
you sat up on the couch, noticing your script was already on the table in front of you. your manager lola must have left it in the room beforehand.
picking up the thick paper stack, you started to go over your lines. you had been busy with featuring in several interviews and photoshoots, so you weren’t sure how the plot of the show went.
curiously, you skimmed through the script to reach around three-fourths of the book, before starting to read the lines.
then it hit you, there was a major breakup scene involved in the show. there was the getting-back-together part of the story, but since the show needs some spice there was a breakup scene.
you read that your character has to break up with tom’s character because the two of you grew busy to make time for each other.
deja vu.
“hey (y/n),” someone barged into your room, catching you off guard.
“let’s go meet the other cast members.” you got up from your seat while grabbing your script.
“sure. also hannah, i don’t know how you got me to do this series. you better hope i don’t start crying in the room after seeing tom.” hannah stared at you with pity, remembering how she was there to witness you cry your eyes out after tom and you called it quits.
you still loved tom, but sometimes things don’t work out and you have to learn to accept it.
hannah coughed awkwardly, before handing you a water bottle. “everyone went to the lounge to mingle but tom’s not here yet.”
you kept the smile on your face, hearing about tom made you want to run and cry because it had been six months since the two of you separated. still, you remembered that you promised to remain as friends, and this was film was only work.
“it’s okay, i’m ready.”
hannah gave you one last look before opening the door to the lounge. many people were inside chatting or eating snacks before the reading.
“hello, you’re (y/n) (y/l/n)!” a muscular man said to you as soon as you walked inside. he let out a hand for you to shake, “i’m mark, playing the second male lead, and i’m a big fan of yours.”
you smiled before shaking his hand, “thank you, mark. it’s nice meeting you.”
hannah went off to talk to the staff members while you talked to other cast members including mark.
“this is angela, she’s playing the role of your best friend.”
“hi, i’m (y/n).”
angela let out a chuckle before waving you off, “(y/n), of course i know who you are! you’re my favorite actress and i’m so honored to be casted in the same film as you!” as angela kindly praised you, you couldn’t help but be proud to make some friends.
“i hope we all get closer during this film.” you stated while the two of them nodded in agreement.
“the reading starts soon, cast members please head to the reading room now.” hannah announced while scanning the room.
“are you excited? i’m so nervous.” angela commented while walking beside you.
you shrugged while looking down at the grey tiles, “it’s quite awkward when you’re in the same cast as your ex.”
angela gave the same look that hannah gave you earlier, “you’ve got this, don’t worry about him.”
her encouraging words made you smile and when you entered the room, you headed straight to your seat. angela and mark had their assigned seats right across from yours, so they sat down.
the chair next to you was pulled back, and someone plopped down into the seat.
“hey (y/n),” you froze, the script in your hand dropped to the table.
you coughed a little, “tom? i haven’t seen you in a while.”
you looked to him and he held a grin, “how have you been?”
he was acting like the two of you were old pals, and it hurt that he looked like he’s moved on already. your freshly painted nails tapped on the wooden table surface, a nervous habit you had.
“i’ve been fine, just been doing interviews and photoshoots. you?”
he played with his shirt collar, “i’ve been good.”
it was quiet among the two of you, unlike the rest of the cast who were chattering all around the room.
“(y/n), i wanted to tal-”
“hello, everyone! let’s start the sit down reading now.” a staff member cut off tom’s words and you stared at him in curiosity.
“what were you just saying?” you whispered but he let out a sigh, not making eye contact with you.
“it’s nothing, i can tell you later.”
your lips thinned and you nodded, slightly disappointed at his words. deciding to not worry about it, you tried to act professional for the rest of the reading.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
hannah clapped as you said the final lines of the show, “that’s a wrap everyone! thank you all for being so cooperative. first day of filming is this weekend, so i’ll see you all there!”
you dropped the script that you held on the table, letting out a sigh and picking up your phone.
(y/n): the script reading just ended.
lola: good job! the car will be there in five to pick you up.
(y/n): okay. also, thanks for leaving my script in my room.
lola: what script?
a hand grabbed your wrist and stopped you from reading lola’s response. “(y/n), can you talk for a second?”
you turned around and saw tom was the one to stop you. you studied his face and felt weird inside.
“sure, here?” you looked around and saw that angela and mark were leaving the room. the room was almost cleared, people rushing to leave after such a long day.
“no, can you meet me at my house?”
your eyebrows rose in confusion, “your house?”
tom nodded, “yeah, i’ll meet you there.”
that moment, your phone received a message, indicating that your ride was here.
“okay, i might get there earli-”
“you can go inside first. you remember my house password right?”
you nodded slowly but still remained confused, why was he trusting you to go inside his house? what if you suddenly decided to rob him? you wouldn’t, but why did he trust you so much?
“okay, i’ll see you there.”
he let go of your wrist, which you didn’t even notice till now, and held a smile on his face.
“see you later.”
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
you put tom’s password in, it being the day he got his dog. it used to be the date that the two of you started dating but before you did date, it was the date he got his dog.
since the two of you broke up, you assumed he changed it back to this date.
“i’m here!” you announced and expectedly heard the little sound of tessa running to you.
“come here, tessa,” tom’s dog, tessa, immediately greeted you while jumping and wagging her tail.
“did you miss me? oh my, did you even eat?”
tessa started to whine, and you shook your head at tom before walking over to the kitchen. even though it wasn’t your house, you weren’t going to let tessa starve.
tessa followed behind you, constantly sticking out her tongue in excitement to see you.
“sorry, tessa. tom was probably out filming the whole day and couldn’t feed you.” you said to her while she ate the food you poured into her bowl.
“you should come to my house if you get hungry.” you joked while petting her.
“can i go over too?”
you jumped, scared because you didn’t hear tom come inside.
“tom! you scared me!” you yelled while placing a hand over your heart.
“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.”
he looked over to tessa eating, “you know my manager came and fed her, right?”
your mouth fell open, “but there was no food in her bowl when i arrived!”
tom laughed at you, “(y/n), did you forget that tessa eats all her food so her bowl is literally clean?”
his laugh died down as you stood there awkwardly. of course you had forgot, the last time you came here was the night that the two of you broke up; that was six months ago.
“so, what did you want to talk about?” tom started looking around his fridge so you decided to take a seat on the high chair next to the island.
“i wanted to talk about,” he paused a bit, “us?” it sounded more like a question.
you nodded, knowing this moment was going to come. this was the part where tom was going to tell you that he’s moved on and you needed to act more professional around him.
while you were in your own thoughts, you didn’t anticipate tom’s actions.
how he was trying so hard not to ask if you didn’t miss him. how he wanted to just go and hug you because he missed you. how he wanted to make you take him back because he’s still crying at night, asking himself:
‘where did everything go wrong?’
he pulled out the milk carton and started brewing you coffee.
“what about us?” you carefully asked, the atmosphere was felt serious.
tom was focused on the coffee machine, so you closed your eyes to prepare for his next words.
let’s act more profess-
“i miss you.”
your eyes opened wide. however, tom didn’t look at you because he was scared of rejection.
“what?” you croaked out, was this really happening?
“i said, i miss you.” tom finally looked up to see your reaction.
your mouth was wide open, obviously not expecting him to say that.
“but you broke up with me.” you recalled.
“you couldn’t make time for us, you were the one missing our dates,” you stood up from the chair, “you were the one who missed our anniversary.”
tom let out a sigh, both of you knew it wasn’t just his fault that you broke up. you, too, were stubborn enough to not try to fix things. the breakup was both your faults.
“i know, and i’m sorry that i didn’t try harder. but i said what i meant, i do miss you.”
you calmed down a little, taking a breath. just earlier, tom looked like he’s moved on and not to mention that he hasn’t contacted you since your breakup.
“why are you telling me this now?”
the coffee was almost done, so tom began to pour it into a tall glass cup.
he shrugged, not looking at you, “i was scared that you’ve moved on. also, i was the one who broke up with you, so why would you hear me out then?”
he had a point, he knew you would have ignored him then. but now you were better, being able to stand in the same room as him without breaking down.
there was a long silence, the only sound being made was tom pouring milk into your coffee. he finished and placed the glass in front of you, before looking up to meet your eyes.
he was waiting for your answer.
“i,” a phone rang and tom cursed under his breath, the call ruining this moment.
“go answer it, i’ll be in the living room.”
you picked up your glass and walked out of the kitchen to the living room couch, while tom picked up his call.
you were distracted when tessa walked over to you.
you placed the glass down on the table after taking a few sips, picking up tessa instead.
“hey tessa, your dad said he misses me.” tessa sticked her tongue out, not understanding anything but still happy that you were back here.
“i miss him too, but i’m scared. what if he breaks up with me again? i felt so much pain after he broke up with me,” you chuckled, pitying yourself.
“then we don’t breakup again.”
you let tessa down to the ground and stared at tom.
“i said i miss you, and i’ve realized that i love you.” tom started to approach you from the hallway.
“(y/n), i promise i won’t hurt you again. i want to get back together. i know i didn’t say this but breaking up with you was the biggest mistake i’ve ever made in my entire life. i didn’t realize it until you left me that day.”
you felt tears falling down your cheeks and tom wiped them with his thumb.
“please,” he stared at you nervously, “take me back?” he let out a small smile, hurting inside that you were crying.
“if you hurt me again, i’m going to adopt tessa.”
tom let out a laugh before hugging you tightly, “so, that’s a yes?”
“yes.” you mumbled while he pulled away slightly.
“thank you, (y/n). you’re making me the happiest man alive right now.” he picked you up and you let out a squeal.
“you’re officially my girlfriend again.”
“no, you didn’t even ask me!” you argued, while going over to pick up your coffee.
tom watched you take a sip. “fine.” he huffed like a child.
“(y/n) (y/l/n), will you be my girlfriend?” tom stood in front of you with puppy eyes and tessa stood next to him.
you laughed, the two of them looking so adorable.
“yes, now let me play with tessa.”
“no! tessa, stop taking my girlfriend’s attention.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile, watching him pick up tessa to keep her away from you.
he stopped and turned to you. “yeah?”
“i love you.”
tom genuinely smiled after six months, “i love you too.”
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“paul! i need you to change my house password,” tom checked the time on his phone. “(y/n)’s going over soon, please.”
paul was feeding tessa when tom frantically called him.
“why? isn’t it the date that you started dating (y/n)?”
tom slapped his hand on his forehead, “that’s exactly why i need to change it! how will she react when she realizes that i never changed the password for my house from the date that we started dating, when we’ve been broken up for six months!”
paul laughed at tom from the other line, “fine, what do you want me to put it as?”
“put it as the code i just texted you. oh, and i forgot to thank you for leaving the script in (y/n)’s room. i saw her reading right before we started.”
“it’s no problem tom. call me if you need anything else.”
“thanks again, paul.”
after hearing the call end, paul looked at tessa.
“he’s never stopped loving her, huh?”
tessa barked in agreement.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
written on october 22, 2021
link to my tom holland masterlist
194 notes · View notes
blissfulparker · 2 days ago
Could you do a frat Tom Halloween fic, where there is a customer party and he is dressed in something that shows off his muscles? Y/N hates him, but he keeps flirting with her all night, and he slowly wins her over, and then when she gives in, he's super cocky and arrogant and dominant. He makes her feel his muscles and then he makes her suck him off, and he's boasting while she chokes on his cock. And at the end, he cums on her face and makes her clean it all up and swallow it. :D
oh my—
Warnings; degradation, oral sex, rough sex, tom being an asshole, slut calling, choking on dick,
Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of that!
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Your hands tug at the short skirt for the millionth time tonight for the last thing Tom needed to see was your ass.
It was Halloween, which meant getting drunk and making out with someone in a mask if you were a college student. Loud music—including thriller being overplayed—raged through the house as you drunk a drink that had smoke coming out of it.
Everyone was dressed half naked, if not half naked than clothes tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination which is almost exactly what Tom Holland wore when he wore a skin tight spiderman costume.
“I didn’t think this was your scene.” He has a lazy smirk. You had met Tom way too many times, you know him well too. But the Tom you once knew wasn’t much like the Tom you knew now.
“Aww, you still have the spiderman costume you wore when you were five. It’s cute, you went for nostalgia.” You give him a fake pout and he bites down on his bottom lip and looks at you like he’s waiting for more.
“And you went for a slutty ratatouille?” He looked at your ears and then the grey fuzzy tube top with the skirt.
“I’m a mouse you idiot.” You roll your eyes and he knows he’s won. You lift your cup to your lip to drown out the embarrassment But he quickly takes it away.
“Its spiked, don’t drink it and stay away from Brad.” He took the cup and poured it out. Before you can say thank you he was already gone.
That was your first encounter with tom. You found him dancing with some girl dressed as an Angel but looked more like a demon from your personal hell, he knew you were watching and put on a performance. He then got you a drink which you poured out on his shoes worrying it was spiked, you then watched him show off at least three backflips until finally,
“We can’t be doing this.” Your lips break off of his inbetween kisses. You were drunk, no you weren’t but you wished you were. He wasn’t drunk either which made this whole situation 10x worse.
“Mmh, but you like it.” He hates how thick the tube top was as he wants more, pulling it down but he needed something from you first as you unzipped the back of his suit.
Your hands run over his biceps, for someone who is supposed to be majoring in business, he sure has a lot of time to work out.
You know he notices as you stare and he flexed in your hand which causes you to place your lips back on him.
“Knees pretty girl.” He tells you but you never found yourself listening to a man before and you certainly weren’t going to start with tom.
“Mmh, no.” You push him flat on the bed and pull down the suit. Predicable he wasn’t wearing underwear since the suit was so tight but truthfully you didn’t know how that was all going to fit.
“Scared?” He smirked. You roll your eyes before you take him into your hand. Letting your thumb run over the tip as you took him into your mouth, slowly at your own pace at first before he thrusted up into your mouth causing you to choke.
His hands gently run over your cheeks, he holds your stare as he thrusts up into you. Your eyes grow watery and the liner you spent way too much time on runs down your face.
“Did you get all dressed up for Me? Knew you would be on my dick tonight like a helpless slut? Act so innocent studying in those libraries and coffee shops, staying inside to get a good grade when you’re on your knees tonight getting fucked.” His words shocked even you so you sucked in your cheeks making him hiss at the sudden pressure and change.
You wish you could comeback but all you could feel was him pulsating in the rest of your hand, you knew he was about to cum, cum in your mouth and tonight you would not allow that satisfaction.
“Fuck!” He hissed as you removed your mouth from him. You wanted him to wait, wait until you were inside him but he was not going to last another second as he thrusted his hips up into your hand.
He cums longer than you expected, you’re impressed but not too impressed yet as you move off of him thinking that this was it but he grabbed your hand and forced you against his chest.
“Where are you going?” He looked at you up and down, feeling your breasts up against his chest making him hard all over again.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You blink a few times and he laughed a soft laugh.
“Darling, My plan was to fuck you so hard this whole party knew you were mine, you just got sidetracked but I don’t blame you I understand how you got so distracted.” He teased and you roll your eyes ready to get away from him but hoping he’d pull you back into him again. And that’s exactly what he did.
“You’re a whore, Holland.” You tell him and he lets his thumb come up to your face and wipes away the cum he left.
“I’m going to get a tissue, you’re going to wipe your face and then I’m going to fuck you until that music stops. Do you understand?” He was now taller than you as he sat up straight on the bed, looking down at you as if you were his.
All you can do is not nod as he moves away to grab a tissue for you to wipe youself with. Your legs were weak and you were stuck in his bed, like he was a trap and you fell right into it.
But the one thing Holland was not was a liar, he kept his truth of fucking you until the music stopped, then he turned on his own music.
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darlingholland · a day ago
last night
pairing: peter parker x fem!reader
synopsis: peter makes the morning after unforgettable.
word count: 0.5k
warnings: mentions of sex, kinda suggestive?
a/n: this is the cutest thing i've written i want to vomit :p pretend morning breath does not exist here p.s. cocky peter is the loml <33
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waking up to the sound of a car horn blaring couldn't phase you this morning. and as you flutter your eyes open, you find yourself tangled up in your sheets with peter, who was currently sound asleep. a glimmer of sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating peter's chestnut curls. light purple bruises strewn across his neck serve as an instant reminder of what happened the night before.
your suited boyfriend had stumbled through your window in the late hours of the night. the only words that could fall from his mouth were those reminding you of how he could not stop thinking of you while on patrol. and after many insistent and heated kisses, you and peter decided to give in to your desires for the first time since you started dating.
and now, the morning after, you lay clad in one of the many sweaters he's left, staring at your snoozing lover.
"take a picture, yeah?" peter's lightly chukles as he pulls you to his chest. slightly startled at his sudden consciousness, you look up to find his eyes sleepily gazing at you. a sheepish grin plays upon your lips as memories of his tenderness flood through your mind.
you begin to pepper feathery kisses over his chest, wanting to subtly thank him for last night. peter’s hands, once planted on your waist, now slide down to softly squeeze your bum.
"what do you want to do today, baby?" you now burrow your face further into his chest, flustered under his words.
"mmm," your voice muffled, "stay here?"
pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he responds with, "sounds good."
wanting to stare at your boyfriend a little longer, you decide to pull away to prop your head up with your arm. and for the first time since last night, you make proper eye contact with your darling boy. a shit-eating grin slowly forms on peter's face. you couldn't help but follow his stupid action.
this man.
he slowly takes in his view, a familiar keenness filling peter's eyes. "what're you thinking about, pete?
"i only dreamed of calling you mine just a couple months ago," he starts, "and now you're laying here in my clothes, totally fucked."
"peter!" you groan, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.
"c'mere." his hands come up to pull you toward him once again. his fingertips slide up to the middle of you back, drawing patterns into your warm skin. this alone makes you arch into him.
"yanno, you're kinda sweet when you're half asleep."
scattering delicate kisses across your neck, he mumbles, "mhm, i'm always sweet." his breath fanning over your skin drives you crazy.
quickly growing tired of the teasing, you push peter back down, into the mattress. swinging your leg over the boy, you straddle his lap. you bend down, stopping just before reaching his lips, "i love you." but before he could get a word out, your lips are already on his. a pleasant warmth washing over you as the kiss grows hungry. teeth almost clashing as he grabs for your ass.
"fuck, baby." peter whines.
after a couple more moans from both you and pete, you slow down, now softly pecking at his lips.
"god, you're beautiful." he murmurs against your lips. flustered once again, you bury your face in the crook of his neck.
"so," he sighs, "how was last night?", asking as nonchalantly as he could.
you swear you could hear the smugness on his face.
"i don't remember. remind me again, parker?"
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ptersmj · 17 hours ago
this is me requesting for the first time but maybe going like to a haunted house with peter like wearing a couples costume but none of you have confessed and it leads to a confession<3 i hope this made sense 😭
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warnings: swearing, a little suggestiveness, and a lot of outer banks references
a/n: hehe i’m super happy with how this came out and i hope you are too!! i know i’m taking forever to get through these requests but i promise i’m working on them y’all please enjoy this one in the meantime <3
“guys, i’m fucking freezing out here,” you whine, teeth chattering and arms crossed over your chest. “i wonder why,” mj deadpans in reference to your costume.
your friend group decided to be the pogues for halloween this year, and you’re sarah cameron. in hindsight, a sleeveless crop top and skinny jeans weren’t the best choice coverage-wise.
you rub your exposed arms as you wait on line for the haunted house mj dragged everyone to. she refused to dress up unless you all did something she wanted in return, so here you are.
“you know what they say, em. go big or go home,” you defend. mj smugly adjusts the collar of her graphic tee — she’s supposed to be pope. “well, i’ll go home then. i don’t stick to the status quo.”
she saunters over to ned, currently jj, which gives peter the opportunity to steal her spot.
he comes up behind you with a squeeze at your shoulders to announce his presence. his warm palms feel nice against your cold skin, really nice.
“woah, you are freezing,” he confirms, thumbs running across your shoulder blades. “i could help with that.”
peter is grinning one of his toothy grins when you look at him, and you instantly grin back.
“please,” you laugh out and turn around to face him. “you wouldn’t mind, though?” still smiling, peter shakes his head.
he winds his arms comfortably around your waist, stepping towards you.
“as your john b, not one bit. not as your peter, either.”
did he just call himself yours?
you hum and tug on the bandana tied around peter’s neck. he draws you in so you’re chest to chest, only his is bare. how he manages to stay so toasty while wearing less than you is a mystery.
your hands innocently slide under his barely buttoned floral top. he shivers under your touch, chuckling softly.
“damn. i’m, like, elsa or some shit if i can ice you out,” you joke, pressing your hands flat against his stomach.
peter’s abs clench, and his cheeks turn so rosy that you notice even on the darkly lit street.
“no, no. you’re fine. we just…” he clears his throat, another smile painting his lips. “we’ve never been this close before.”
he’s right. you might cuddle during movie nights or hug when you’ve had bad days, but that doesn’t exactly compare to being flush against each other’s half naked bodies.
just friends is starting to feel a lot like more than friends.
“we’re next, mr and mrs,” ned informs you and peter, gesturing for you to move up in line. “huh?” peter splutters at the same time you choke out a, “what?“
“it’s almost our turn to go in,” ned reiterates obliviously.
because that’s definitely the part you were freaking about.
mj smirks and nudges you both forward, since you’re currently stuck in place. “mr and mrs, as in routledge,” she clarifies on ned’s behalf.
right, your costumes. john b. routledge and sarah cameron.
“totally,” peter scratches the back of his neck. “makes sense,” you quietly agree.
you and peter begin leading the way to the entrance of the haunted house. you’re already missing his warmth, despite the fact that you’ve barely been without it.
“two at a time,” a worker tells you as you reach the entrance. you sneak a glance at peter, who’s already gazing at you.
“uh, we have to split up,” peter relays to ned and mj. “what do you wanna do?” he’s asking everyone, although his eyes are locked with yours. you suck in a breath and boldly link your arm through his. “come with me.”
mj snickers at the exchange, doing the same to ned to mimic you.
“i guess this is fitting. we are jj and pope,” she remarks. “let’s go, leeds.” she nods at you and peter as she passes by you two to head inside, ned wiggling his eyebrows. “catch you on the flip.”
that leaves you and peter alone, and touching, and ready to admit what you haven’t had the courage to until now. the two of you walk off to the side so you can chat freely.
“why me?” peter wonders after a moment. “because you’ll keep me safe from whatever the hell is in there,” you explain lightheartedly, then add on a serious note, “you’re a protector, pete. it’s one of the many things i like about you.”
peter’s hand finds yours and tangles your fingers together, urging you to continue.
“i like everything about you, actually,” you murmur, peter holding your intertwined hands over his heart. “i could say the same, y/n,” he speaks lowly.
you giggle and crane your neck up to him, nudging your nose against his. peter’s other hand cups your cheek gingerly, his eyes practically twinkling.
ned’s shrieking from inside the haunted house interrupts the moment, you and peter bursting into a fit of laughter nevertheless. that’s your cue.
“shall we, mr. routledge?” you prompt peter. he caresses your cheek with a bite of his lip, attempting to suppress yet another smile. “we shall, mrs. routledge.”
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justapurrcat · 2 days ago
Unscripted | t.h
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Disclaimer: This took me sooo long to write, but t*mblr didn’t let me post this as a one-shot. Guess 36.247k words all at once are a bit too much, huh? So I decided to make a miniseries out of this. I hate that I have to do this, but I have no other choice.
And yes, I have a thing for writing titles with parenthesis/crossed out letters, but there’s a meaning to it, I promise!
Pairing: Tom Holland x actress!reader
Summary: “The situation had gotten to the point where everyone in the production had started joking about it. They would call you a couple and ask you when the wedding would take place. Sometimes you two would be chatting and someone would remind you that it was lunch break. Pretty harmless things, and you would simply laugh them off, even though, secretly, they always left you wondering where the joke ended and where the truth began.”
Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, self-indulgence at its finest, characters who talk a lot and probably flirt in a weird way, the holy trinity: fluff & (poorly written) smut (minors, please, DNI; also, unprotected sex, only because this is fiction and nothing bad can happen. Protect yourselves) & angst, Taylor Swift quotes, Reader is not a native English speaker: it’s addressed only a couple of times and I didn’t specify where she’s from, and it’s not even a key point in the story, so it can be easily overlooked.
Status: Ongoing
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Part One
“You had never left theatre, though, and this was a double-edged sword. You had been lucky enough to live your dream, while still getting to lead a private and somehow still grounded life, but your World was much smaller, much more fragile, than the one many of your colleagues – could you call them ‘colleagues’? – were well engraved in.
You were easier to break. Easier to destroy. Easier to forget.”
Part Two - Coming on 30-10-2021
“This curly-haired boy had the surprising ability to make you feel like an open book. A book he couldn’t fully comprehend yet, as he was still learning you like you learn a new language. Though at this rate, he would come to know you by heart someday. A day that you dreaded, and at the same time eagerly awaited…”
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
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Taglist: @isory @spideyspeaches @onewithnomightypowers @wildxwidow @harryhollandsgirlfriend @omegadumb42069 @thisisparadisemylove @tom-softie @jeyramarie @mn-jun @enilemes
(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed)
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skyeisawizard · a day ago
Spooky Boys
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Just an AU of Peter Parker and his immortal boyfriend
TW: death, but it never sticks
This is short but it made me happy yo (based on a fan art I now can’t find)
“Are you sure about this?” Asked Peter as he looked at his boyfriend, sprawled out on the floor. His shirt was off and his arms were spread, candles placed around his body.
Being a witch with an immortal boyfriend has its perks, he thought as he looked down at Y/N.
The boy on the floor eagerly nodded. Wax dripped from the candle in Peters hand and onto his chest; he grinned as he hissed at the feeling. “I’ll be fine, Parker,” he said with a glint in his eye.
Peter took several deep breaths before plunging his knife into his chest. It didn’t take long for Y/N to die. He gasped as the cool blade touched his skin and smiled, his eyes shutting as the life left his body.
Peter pulled out the knife and muttered the incantation. He let the magic surround him as he competed the ritual. The candles all went out and Peter relit them one by one.
Once he was done, Peter reached for Y/N’s hand. “C’mon,” he whispered as he waited for his boyfriends hand to become warm again. “Come back to me.”
A gasp suddenly filled the room and Y/N sat up. His body shook momentarily and he ripped his hand away from Peters. It always took him a minute to come back properly; his skin was always a little sensitive after coming back from the freaking dead.
After a minute Y/N stopped shaking. He looked at his boyfriend and opened his arms wide. Peter collapsed into him, pressing his head against his bare chest. “Did it work?” Y/N whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
Nodding, Peter touched the scar on Y/N’s chest. He had several around the same place, signifying how many times his life had been taken.
Ever since Y/N had found out Peter was a witch he had offered his immortal body for sacrificial rituals. With Halloween approaching so rapidly, Peter had placed several protection spells on the apartment, using Y/N as the sacrifice each time.
“How long is it going to hold?” He asked and pulled a hoodie over his head.
Peter shrugged his shoulders and blew out all of the candles. He leaned back against his hands and threw his head back. “It’s strong, but I don’t know if it will hold over Halloween. I’ve never felt energy this strong before.”
Halloween was a dangerous time for people like Y/N and Peter. There were other beings much like them who felt safe to be themselves on Halloween night. Fights broke out between them as they clashed and very few were able to quench their thirst for blood as they walked with humans.
There were some beings that only came out at Halloween. Peter has no idea what they were, he’d only seen them creeping up the side of his apartment building for the last three Halloween’s. They were why he did his protection spells.
Y/N grabbed Peters hand and pulled him to his feet. He took him over to the window and they looked out across the city. And the spooky decorations strung up on people’s front doors and in their windows, the pumpkins on their doorsteps.
As it did every Halloween, the city looked amazing. Y/N cupped Peters cheeks and kissed him as they looked down at the city.
There were so many dangers out there, dangers the rest of the world couldn’t understand. With Halloween approaching it would only get worse.
Both held the other tight, determined to keep the other safe this Halloween.
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wizkiddx · 21 hours ago
hiii, i hope your having a AMAZING day i love your writing!! if possible could you do one based on the song 'if the world was ending' by julia michaels. it makes me cry every time
hey!! thanku so much and it is a beautiful song - hope this is something like what u were looking for :)
summary: reader has bad news and gets a visit from one of the last people they'd expect
warning: loss of grandparent, grief
song: if the world was ending, Julia Michaels and JP Saxe
“I was gonna phone dad in the break if you fancy-“
“No abso-fucking-lutely not. Have you not seen the messages about his laptop breaking? I’m not listening to him rant about that for hours and hours on end.”
“You make him sound unbearable!”
“Tom, your the eldest child. You should’ve learnt this by now.”
“He’s just passiona-“
“He loves a moan! Just for the love of god don’t tell him I’m here and do be prepared for me to say I told you so.” The younger brother gleamed as he opened the door to his brothers (and therefore his too) trailer.
Toms newest project had been filming in Atlanta on the big Sony sets for nearly 2 months, which meant they hadn’t seen the family in that long either. True to his word though, without fail, he would always find time to call home. Something which especially recently, had been the most necessary - to keep him sane. It hadn’t been the easiest, so Tom had fallen on his most reliable support much more often.
“When did you become a moody 16 year old again?” Tom muttered, flopping on the sofa as he watched Harry sit on the beanbag across from him. It was not a surprise Harry didn’t grace his shit comeback with a response, instead just sighing - already preoccupied on his phone.
Barely 30 seconds later and Tom had to admit to himself that his younger brother was, once again, right. Dom was droning on and on as if his laptop trouble was the only issue in the world and Tom had barely got a chance to say hello. Already tuned out, his attention was easily sidetracked from the conversation to Harry- who’s phone started ringing angrily.
He took notice of how Harry’s eyebrows furrowed looking at the caller ID, clearly this was much more interesting than whatever his dad was saying.
“Hello?… umm I don’t think so, cos of what happened… Anyas number? I do have it, I don’t know that she’ll-… is everything ok?”
Tom had gone from intruiged to downright worried. Chewing on his bottom lip he sat forward, glaring at Harry intensely to try and get the insider info.
He’d already pieced together it was something to do with Y/n. Anya is her best friend, her ride or die, the person who knew her inside out. And ‘what happened’ clearly referred to what had happened between Tom and Y/n. As in the end of Tom and Y/n.
And Harry seemed worried. Which meant Tom was ten times more worried. It was Y/n after all.
Things between the two hadn’t really stopped- that was Tom’s issue these past months. It’s all good and well saying it was the end, but you just can’t stop feelings like that. Not when you’re two years deep and helplessly in love like Tom was.
And Y/n was the same too.
The breakup wasn’t for lack of emotion or love for the other. It was for the long distance, for the public pressure, for all the external factors that seemed like the end of the world.
Both of them had learnt the hard way that maybe they weren’t. That maybe they’d made a mistake.
“…oh shit, is-is she okay?… well yeh no of course… if there’s anything we can do… well yeh, I get that… yeh I’ll phone Anya but if Y/n is here in Atlanta too there’s not a lot she’ll be-… okay yeh I’ll send her number over, okay bye.”
Harry had also sat up rigid during the conversation, resumed his nervous tick of scratching at his cuticles. It was enough for Tom to interrupt his dad, making some poor excuse of being called back to set.
“So.” Harry already knew his brother would be demanding an explanation; also knowing his plans for having a relatively lazy, stress-free day had been ruined. In response Tom just made some weird grunt, as he shifted uncomfortably - making Harry carry on. “Um it’s Y/n’s grandma. She’s -well shes not okay. That was Alan because even he cant calm her down and he’s wanting Anya’s-“
“She’s here too?” As Alan, Y/n’s manager of 9 years (her whole career), had told Harry - they too were in Atlanta for Y/n’s most recent filming project. “I’m going.” Was all that Tom answered to Harry’s nod. His younger brother watched as Tom leapt up and hurriedly stuffed his stuff up into a bag and slug it over his shoulder.
“You are- I thought you werent speaking?”
“Her grandma meant the world to Y/n. She needs someone there with her.”
“Yeh but she’s got Alan and-“
“I’m going Baz.” Tom spoke shortly, thinking he had eneded the conversation as his hand hovered over the door handle to his trailer.
“Tom! Just, she might not want you. You might make everything worse.” Only with that did the brunette freeze whilst making his way down the trailer steps, before slowly looking back in toward Harry.
“I know, I just - I have to try.” His jaw was clenched and gaze was steely - and only Harry, knowing his brother so well, could notice the way his brown eyes gleamed a little more thna normla.
It had taken a few cashing-in of favours for Tom to work out exactly where Y/n was staying, after all she always valued her privacy. But all it took was one AD who took pity on his desperately heartbroken tone - and barely 20 minutes later he was getting out the car in a secluded and hedge-lined neighbourhood. With a little wave of thanks to the driver, Tom pulle dhis hood up and made his way up to the porch.
Because was this the wrong thing to do? Was he doing this to look out for Y/n? Or was it more a selfish action? Was Tom doing this for his own good, or for Y/n’s?
He felt gulity. Loosing a grandparent is an awful thing to happen to anyone, and Y/n’s nan had been the most pure old lady he’d met. But, Tom would be lying if he wasn’t the tiniest bit excited.
Excited because he missed her. Oh so much. More than anything.
And if this was a reason for him to see ehr again, to speak, to comfort her - then he was thankful for it. Which sounds god awful.
So with a shake of his head to try and sort himself out, Tom then raised a fist to knock twice - not too hard, but not too soft either. As he had expected, there was no response, he could more than imagine Y/n trying to block out the rest of the world in her be - in an attempt to process what she was dealing with. He knocked again, this time harder and more forceful - even if she ddidnt come to the door at least he’d get her attention.
After still no response, he gave a cautionary look back around, to make sure no one was watching him and worried he were trying to break in. Then Tom knelt down, so he were at eye level with the letterbox.
“Y/n?…. Y/n?….It’s Tom.” Still he heard not a peep from inside the house. “Look…. if you want me to go I’ll go…. just… just I’m worried about you, a-and I wanted to pay may respects for-“
His speech was immediately interrupted by the door being yanked open, the shock almost making Tom fall forward and across the threshold. Muttering a shit as he regained his balance, Tom slowly scanned upwards. He saw the ridiculous fluffy slippers Y/n claimed she couldn’t go a day without; dark heather grey sweatpants that he ddidn’t recognise ; a stained, stretched out light blue tshirt - that Tom knew to be her Dads. Most of all though, he saw the way her eyes were dull and almost glazed over, looking tired and distant. He saw her hurt, her pain and her grief.
“Y/n! I-I, hey.” Scrambling to his feet, he stuttered over all his words, instantly any hope of a cool facade disappearing. In response he got nothing, not even a hint from her facial expression of whether she was about to scream, slam the door or breakdown. “I heard about Fran and I just, just wanted to see you and check you were okay. It er- it sounds pretty selfish now but…”
“I feel like the world is ending.”
Her words were emotionless, blunt and cold, and yet the meaning were as though she was pouring her heart out to her ex-boyfriend opposite. TOm found it almost scary, without a clue what to do. So he didn’t over think, he just went.
“Can I come in?”
It was peculiar, given how -well- peculiar the situation was, how comfortable the silence was. Tom had come in, toed off his shoes and had followed Y/n as she walked upstairs to her room. And probably, having not spoken to Tom in months, the reunion of letting him back in her bedroom was a bit too exposing. Except that didn’t matter. Not to Y/n. Because as she said, her world was ending.
She almost jumped on the bed, pulling the covers seurely back over her, to a position it appeared she’d been in for most of the day.
“You know I haven’t cried yet.” She motioned for Tom to sit, which eh jiltedly did - the situation hitting him all at once all too fast. “Since the call I cant. I want to but it just… sorry this is-this is stupid.” Y/n buried her face in her hands, trying tos hield herself.
But then Tom’s natural reactions took over. He was immediately next to her on the bed, arms pulling her tightly to his chest - whispering soft reassurances to her.
“Why are you here?”
“Because… becaujse I care about you and… and this is a pretty good excuse to see you too.”
“You’re seriously thinking about yourself when my nans just died?” Like a deer caught in headlights Toms pupils widened almost comically, as Y/n leant away from his chest for a second.
It did only last a second though, before she choked into a fit of giggles, which in turn set Tom off - even if he didn’t really know why they were laughing. He just really liked the sound of her laugh. After a few moments she caught her breath back, but to Toms relief still looked entertained rather than angry. “You’re a fucking idiot you know?” She laughed, still wrapped in Tom’s arms as she looked deep into his brown eyes.
“I have been told that once or twice.” He spoke softly, before bringing his hand up to delicately cup her cheek- his stubby thumb brushing something wet on her cheek - almost making Y/n jump. “Think you’ve managed a tear love.”
Y/n hadn’t noticed, but in the fit of giggles, a tear has escaped. A tear that she’d been unconsciously holding in and unable to unlock. And all it took was for Tom arriving for the flood gates to open.
Because once one had came, and after it was pointed out, there was no stopping Y/n. Right there in her ex’s arms - she broke.
Although Tom knew this was exactly what she needed, it didn’t make it any easier to see her this upset. Her face was buried in his chest as he worked himself under the covers too, rocking the both of them side to side. The whole time, for what must’ve been atleast an hour he held firm, whispering little “You’ll be okay”’s every so often. He didn’t rush her, as she slowly seemed to calm down, still nestled into his side but with less and less of a shaking frame.
Eventually though, she let out a long sigh, as if signalling Tom she were back now - whatever that meant.
“ ‘m glad you’re here.” Her voice were slightly hoarse, but he still heard loud and clear, and in response he lightly placed his hands under her chin - forcing her to meet his eyes.
“When you need me, I always will be here.” A small smile played on his lips, making Y/n feel just a little tingly and lighter inside.
“Would you mind staying tonight? I just don’t-“
“Course… I’ll stay as long as you want me too.”
“Y/n… like it or not, right or wrong, I’m still a fool in love with you.”
“Well… I might like it if you stay too.
~~feedback is appreciated! also I have the last part to 3 hearts broken, but im not so happy with it - do people really want it? bcos tbh is deff a let down aha ~~~
tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @Elishi03 @lmaotshollandd @hollandxstoryimagines @dancingoceans-blog @happyt0exist @tomhollandlol @judeduarteripoff ​@kayla-stinson @chubby-cheek-calum
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hollandsmushroom · 6 hours ago
Hi Mae, I don't know if you accept request...🥺👉🏻👈🏻 but I've this concept in my head since days... I'm on the bed and Peter has his face on my torso, hugging my waist, while I comb his hair with my hands. After a little bit we change position (now I'm lying on Petey), and it's so comforting and super fluffy...
Ya Know? || P.P.
word count: 387
warnings: insurmountable fluff
a/n: sorry if this is complete and total shit, pain killers make everything loopy
“Your stomach is making weird noises” Peter grumbled into your belly, looking up at you from his place cuddled into your midsection.
“Yeah, well that's kinda what stomachs do” you chuckled, looking down at him as you ran your hands through his soft brown curls. His arms were tight around your waist, hugging you close to him, his fingers scratching softly at your back, soothing any residual tension that the day had left intertwined in the gentle sinew of your body. The air after your quip was silent, mute from any noise aside for your gentle breathing and his, it was soft and quiet and lit up by the New York skyline that shone through your uncovered window. It was an idealistic moment from a romance novel.
“I love you, ya know” Peter mumbled after a while, his voice thick with sleep as he shifted, looking up at you and causing your hand that was still inweaved in his hair to fall to the back of his neck.
“Funnily enough I did know that, Peter Parker” you poke back at him verbally, tightening your fingers in his hair as you look into the dark brown of his eyes, losing yourself in the amber rings. “And I love you too” you mumbled, still staring deeply at him, a gaze that he matched with the same depth and longing.
“Good, it would be awkward if you didn’t” you giggled at his words and his sudden movements, hands pulling from underneath your back and switching places, he was beneath you know and you were laying on him, a position that the both of you often favored for sleeping.
“It really would be awkward” your eyelids fluttered slightly as he pulled you up, your cheek to his bare chest and his arms still wrapped securely around your body.
Peter didn’t respond, he didn’t need to, he had said everything he needed to for the rest of the day when he told you he loved you, now all that was left was to drift off to sleep whilst holding the love of his life.
“Goodnight Petey” you mumbled, placing a featherlike kiss to his bare chest and nuzzling up against him. Peter still didn’t respond, simply he placed a soft kiss to your forehead and faded off, content and in love.
♡Taglist♡ join the gang
@iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @evermoreholland @spidey-sophie @harmqnia @thehumanistsdiary @samaraaaaa @itscaminow @alinastarkrovs @marvelsbitch8 @celestialholland @kasidy409 @parkerdarling @scarletspideyy @capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @hackerholland @tom-softie @hollandsjen @tomhollandsbitch8 @bi-lmg07 @reawritesthings @tomsholland2412 @lowkey-holland @cocoamoonmalfoy @vintageobx @elishi03 @spooky-season-bitch @hollandsvogue @idkseraphine @cloudyfeel @rory-cakes @nithikaa26 @hiraethenthusiast @marajillana @nocturnalms @daddyshrek23 @kasidy709 @thirlwallsholland @elenapatricia99 @marvelgurl @the-girl-in-the-chair @spideyspeaches @cloudyfeel @wildxwidow @1-800-lov3r @moonchild-s-blog @arachine
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wildholland · a day ago
Fake Date
summary: you brought tom as your fake date for your cousin's wedding, what happens when you develop feelings for him 4 months later
warnings: smut minors dni, fake dating (as obvious), maybe a little sadness
w/c: 2k
(not my gif credits to whoever made it)
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(smut warnings: unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving) oral sex (fem receiving)
"Oh y/n who's that lovely man?" Your aunt said as she pointed at your "date". "I'm her boyfriend" Tom said smugly wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.
You looked at him and smiled widely but fakely "yeah he is" you looked at him admiringly. "Well you got yourself a quite handsome guy" your aunt said rubbing your arm then she walked away.
"I guess your family really likes me" Tom said proudly, you rolled your eyes taking a sip from your drink "it's not like it's gonna last". "Come on y/n we both know that you really like me you just don't want to admit it" he said following you as you started walking.
You turned around and glared at him "First of all I do not like you, secondly don't you dare talk about this here we are supposed to be dating so shut up and keep acting like my lovely boyfriend." you said smiling through your teeth. He quickly nodded and looked down.
When you and Tom started dating it was all just because you didn't want your cousin to talk about you not being able to have a boyfriend while she's already younger than you and she had a husband. You knew you didn't have to prove anything to her but yet you wanted to see that jealous glint in her eyes when she saw your boyfriend Tom, at the moment you knew you made the right choice by bringing a fake date.
And choosing him as your date was nothing but a coincidence, he was a usual customer at the shop you worked in and you caught him staring at you from the outside of the window a lot of times but you shook your head out of it, later on he asked you for a coffee once and you agreed. You knew that he liked you, you knew that he definitely has something for you and sometimes you feel bad for doing this to him.
But he's the one who said yes when you told him about your plan, you could still remember the disappointment look on his face when you told him "I want you to be my fake date for my cousin's wedding" and for sure you wanted to go back in time and take back what you said, but he said yes.
And for Tom, he couldn't say anything but yes, the glint of hope he caught in your eye when you asked him, and when you bit your lips nervously waiting for his answer he simply couldn't say anything but yes. He knew you didn't feel anything for him, but yet he still had hope that one day maybe you could at least like him back.
After the wedding, you said goodbye to your family and he drove you home. The whole drive was silent, you didn't know whether to thank him or to just stay silent. And he didn't know what to say either, he badly wanted you to tell him that you like him and that you want to turn it to something real but he knew you won't.
"Thanks for the drive." you said as he opened the door for you. "anytime" he said smiling, you nodded and mumbled a good night while walking towards the door of your house.
You walking towards the door was definitely the hardest moment of his life, he was wondering whether to ask you if you like him back or not, he took a deep breath "y/n will you ever feel something for me?" he said a bit loud so you could hear it. You turned around and looked at him, you really didn't know what to say, you didn't even know what feeling you had for Tom, you didn't know if you like him as a friend or as something more and honestly you didn't want to give false hope so you simply shrugged and looked at him, you vision started being a bit blurry due to the tears that were forming in your eyes, he nodded and walked away without saying anything else.
Broken was the least word that would describe his feelings, while he was driving he realized how stupid was he for asking this question and he decided to stop thinking about you, about the person who already took his heart and never planned on giving it back.
4 months later
"Oh my god is that Tom?" your friend Gina asked while you were sitting at restaurant having dinner, after than night you called her and told her about everything from the deal between you and him till what he told you, you cried to her and she listened and comforted you, and when that night replied in your head, you knew you liked him, but you still couldn't admit it to yourself.
You looked and saw him, it was him but he wasn't alone he was with a girl, when you saw her, something started burning deep in your chest, that sight hurt you. You wanted to get up and do something about it, but what will you do? you were the one who rejected him, you were the one who broke him first, you had nothing to tell him.
Those two months were the hardest for Tom, he wanted to move on, he really wanted to forget your existence but somehow he could still see you in every girl, his friends tried and sit him up for dates, but each time he couldn't imagine but you eating the dinner with, he couldn't help but say your name to every girl. He didn't knew how he fell for you that bad or even when but he just did.
It was his second date with a girl he met a club once, he was finally moving on, he found a girl, that he liked and she was perfect, everyone told him that, but she wasn't you.
When he saw you with your friends, he couldn't help but stare at you, you didn't change a bit in those four months, and all the memories between you two started flooding into his head the good ones he remembered the time when you two went for a coffee, he said a silly joke and you laughed at it, a lot. He would never forget that scene in his whole entire life, the sound of your laugh, it was the most beautiful sound in his whole life.
The whole entire date he couldn't focus on anything but you, he caught you looking at him a few times but you immediately looked away.
After a few more minutes you went back home, you shut your eyes tightly trying not to let the tears fall, damn that hurt you thought, you went to your bedroom and buried your head in the pillow, you just wanted this feeling to disappear, that burn in your chest, that jealousy you liked Tom you finally admitted it but what now? it's too late. He found a girl, and you're here crying over someone you rejected, you had no right to be mad at him.
Suddenly your door bell rang, you thought it's your friend, you wiped your tears away and opened the door to be greeted with lips attached to yours, you immediately pushed that person away and looked at him, it was him.
"What are you doing?" you said shocked by the fact that thirty minutes ago he was with his girlfriend and now he's kissing you. "Doing something I was supposed to do a while ago." he said before crashing his lips against your again, but you didn't push him, you couldn't, the feeling of his lips against yours was addictive, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist afraid that you might slip away, your hands tangled in his hear pulling him, deepening the kiss. After a while you pulled away to catch your breath "Tom you have a girlfriend" you whispered swallowing the lump in your throat "she's not my girlfriend we weren't official plus I ended things with her when I saw you at the restaurant" you couldn't help but smile and kissed him again, this time more passionate, his tongue swiped across your bottom lip asking for permission, which you gladly accepted, his hands started going lower and lower until he reached your ass, he gave it a little squeeze and motioned for you to wrap your legs around his waist.
He carried and went to the bedroom, he threw both of you in bed and pulled away, staring at you, your face, your swollen lips, he was breathing heavily and so were you "are you sure about this?" he asked and you quickly nodded, he kissed you again and started taking off your shirt "wow" he muttered underneath his breath when he saw your cleavage, he started kissing down your neck slowly until he found you sweet spot and gave it extra attention, a moan slipped from your lips you could feel him smirk as he sucking on that spot.
He started kissing down your body slowly, your back arched when he kissed the valley between your breasts, until he reached your pants, he looked up at you for permission "yes tom please, need you" you moaned as he gladly started unbuttoning your pants he threw them away somewhere in the room but you could care less, you were aching for him, you were aching for his touch, and he saw that in you, he kissed your covered clit and looked up to see your reaction, your eyes were shut tightly enjoying the feeling he smiled at himself and removed your panties and started his assault on your pussy, sucking and licking your clit continuously, and you were a moaning mess, and that's what he loved to hear, he started teasing your hole with the tip of his finger you moaned louder "please stop teasing I need you" and he immediately thrust two fingers, "you love that babe" he said fastening his pace.
The way your back arched, the way you're moaning his names, the sounds that were formed by his fingers in your wet hole only made him extremely hard, and he couldn't wait for the moment that he would feel your walls clenching arounds and these thoughts only made him harder.
"Come on baby cum for me" he said while drawing fast circles on your clit, you moaned loudly as you came undone. He kept fingering you while riding your high.
You looked at him and saw him smiling you lazily smiled back and pulled him into a kiss while taking off his clothes, you wanted to feel him, to feel how he would fill you up to feel his chest against yours, you wanted to experience that.
He lined his cock with hole after teasing your clit with his tip a bit, he slowly fully entered you with one thrust, you both moaned at the feeling "god you're so tight" he moaned into your ear, he still didn't move giving you time to adjust, you kissed his earlobe as a sign so he could move, he slowly pulled away and thrusted back in, "god you feel so good around me" he buried his head in your neck and started again sucking on that spot.
He knew he wouldn't last much longer so he started rubbing your clit and rolling it but his fingers "oh tommy" you moaned loudly into his ears, and god that sound was music to his ears "Come on babe cum for me" he said thrusting into you faster, your legs started to shake "Cum for me i know you want to" and with his final thrust you came for the second time while wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, he kept moving in and out of you fast and he came with a loud moan.
He laid his body on top of yours catching his breath, after a while he slowly pulled out of you, you whispered at the feeling of emptiness. he laid beside you pulling you to his chest "I don't just like you y/n I am in love you" he said kissing your collar bone, you smile lazily and closed your eyes, you couldn't say anything after the moments you shared, and he respected that, he put the blanket on top of your bodies and closed your eyes.
You didn't knew what's gonna happen in the morning but one thing for sure, you're not letting him go.
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farfromharry · 2 days ago
Hey can I have 2 and 25 from the Halloween prompts with tom?
Summary: Tom’s a huge baby when it comes to horror, so there’s no way he’s going to like the idea of a holiday in a cabin in the woods
Tom holland x reader
w/c 481
Getting Tom to watch a scary movie with you had been a challenge. He was possibly the biggest baby you’d ever met so he’d have to prepare well in advance if you wanted him to sit down and cuddle with you for a little while even while the film just played in the background.
You had to promise to both protect him from the dangers and turn it off if it got too much for him, and then he was ready to go.
Not even halfway into the action did Tom find himself shuffling closer to your body in search of comfort, his face contorting into one of disgust at the scary things happening on screen.
“I promise, the monsters aren’t real,” you cooed. He nuzzled his head into your neck. The action would’ve been cute if he wasn’t doing it out of pure fear. Your fingers running through his mess of curls made him feel better, but the idea that something evil could be right around any corner of your home was too grave for him to be completely calm.
“C-Can we turn it off?” he stuttered. You nodded, letting the two of you be engulfed in darkness once the TV was switched off. You heard your boyfriend whimper, rolling your eyes as you tried to detach him from your body long enough to turn on a light. However he really didn’t want that, he was convinced the second your touch left him that the evil monsters would be able to get to him.
You were delved into a comfortable silence, your hands rubbing over the large expanse of his back. He was nearly asleep when you decided to speak up again, a slight smirk on your lips that he was unable to see.
“What about staying at a cabin for halloween? Somewhere in the woods where it’s just us,” you suggested. You weren’t actually serious, only teasing to see Tom’s reaction, but you were going to enjoy this nonetheless.
His eyes widened comically, his head whipping in your direction. His mouth opened slightly as if he was going to speak but quickly closed again when he realised he didn’t know what to say.
“Let me get this straight. You want to spend Halloween in a cabin in the woods?” he questioned rather frantically.
You nodded. “Yes.”
He sat up a little straighter, your arms slipping from where they’d been wrapped around him. “A cabin… in the woods… during halloween.”
He groaned, eyebrows completely furrowed. “Do you want to die? Did you not watch any of the movie we just saw?”
“You’re so easy to wind up, Tommy.” You stood from your seat on the couch with a wide grin. He didn’t move, instead whining quietly that you’d left him. “Have fun finding your way back to bed without me. In the dark, where all the monsters are hiding.”
tom holland taglist → @lmaotshollandd​ @photoshopart15​ @hopelessly-harry @call-me-baby-gir1​ @icyhollands​ @sinisterspidey​ @siriuslyslyslytherin​ @musicalkeys-blog​ @itstaskeen​ @tpwk-grande​ @zspideyy​ @spideyssunshine​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @lowkey-holland​ @hollandcrush​ @wizkiddx​ @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby​ @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @piscesparker @bvttercupbby @spideyspeaches @l0velyevans​ @celestialholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @annathesillyfriend @lovableparker @whoeveniskendall @hollandswife @sunwardsss @dhtomholland @messedupmyfuckinglife @scarletspideyy @multixfandomwriter @mrsholland96 @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @aayaissaa @jacksnoodles @cedricdiggorysimpp @edmundspevensea @lovehollandy12 @peterbenjiparker @tomshufflepuff @the-girl-in-the-chair @prancerrparkerr @tom-softie @rqmanoff @mcushvft @nellabellaa @miraclesoflove @marvelobsessed10031917 @samaraaaaa @hogwartsmarvelmommy @elishi03
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whereistradel · a day ago
inspiration — tom holland
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pairing: tom holland x (singer, female) reader
summary: your latest album hints to your fans about a lover
warnings: none
requested: no, send me tom holland requests!
note: acquaintances to lovers. this is kind of short.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“thank you, new york! tonight was my last concert for my debut album, and i’m going to miss touring like this.” you let out a breath, sweat already evident on your forehead from performing.
the crowd ‘awed’ and you were no longer bothered by the flashlights that they held to film you.
“don’t worry everyone, i’ll be back soon.” you winked to the crowd before bowing slightly, then walked off the stage while waving.
heading backstage, you couldn’t help but run to lay down on the couch in the green room. “tour is really over.” you said to yourself, not believing that the three month journey had ended.
“(y/n)! there you are!” you slightly lifted your head up to see who entered the room. it was katie, your manager.
she walked inside and handed you a water bottle, which you thankfully took to drink. katie still had a headset on her head, which she used to ‘answer business calls quickly’.
“great job out there, your tour is finally over! what do you plan on doing after this?”
you froze, putting the bottle down by your lap. you haven’t thought about that.
“maybe i’ll write another album.” you shrugged your shoulders. “i still need to find an inspiration. i want this next album to be meaningful.”
katie nodded slightly, then her phone received a call. she immediately answered, “hello? this is katie. who’s calling?”
katie covered her microphone and whispered to you, “i have the driver ready for you outside to head home.”
“thank you.” you answered while leaving the room for katie to take the important call. as you walked outside, katie’s words really hit you.
you needed to find an inspiration.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“and the award for this year’s ‘top new artist’ is, (y/n) (y/l/n)!”
you couldn’t believe what you just heard. you stood up, and taylor hugged you.
“(y/n)! congratulations. i knew you would win this!” taylor cheered on while pulling away from the hug, “now go and get that award!”
there were big cheers coming from behind you as you walked up the stairs.
“here you go.” the announcer handed over your trophy, and you couldn’t believe it.
the man handed you a microphone to say a small speech, so you accepted.
“hello.” the crowd had gone quiet and the focus was on you.
“i still cannot believe i’ve won this award. so thank you for giving this to me, billboard.” you chuckled and rose the trophy.
“i would love to thank my fans, especially the ones who were there since when i first started my career. i want to thank my parents, my manager katie, taylor, selena, and all my staff.”
you smiled, “mom, i made it!”
the crowd laughed and applauded so you headed backstage. you couldn’t believe all that hard work was paying off.
you were actually going to announce an award so you had to go backstage anyways.
a woman approached you, “(y/n), you can leave your trophy with me because you have to host an award in five minutes.”
you nodded and handed her the award, before following her to where the announcers walk out.
“your partner will be tom holland.” she quickly mentioned and your eyebrows rose.
“tom holland?” you repeated in question.
“that would be me.” a voice said. you looked next to you and saw tom holland—the tom holland— dressed in a black suit. he smiled at you and offered to shake hands.
“uh, hello. i’m (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n).” you introduced yourself while shaking his hand. as he let go, he chuckled.
“(y/n), do you think i don’t know you? you’re so famous! i’m actually a big fan of yours.” your eyes widened. tom holland is your fan?
“you’re lying. i’m your biggest fan. i went to the spider-man premiere and watched the movie so many times.”
tom smiled, the two of you standing in front of the door. he was technically your celebrity crush, but you couldn’t tell him that.
“are you going to the after-party? i would love to buy you a drink later.”
you slowly nodded your head, trying to hide the smile that was about to form, “yes, i am going. i’ll look for you there, then.”
right on time, the woman came back to tell the two of you that it was time to walk out.
“guess it’s show time. let’s go, darling.”
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“(y/n)! welcome back to the tonight show starring jimmy fallon!” a round of applause came as you took a seat in the comfortable couch.
“thanks for having me, jimmy!” you straightened up and smiled.
“so (y/n), by the time this airs your new album is releasing. can you tell us anything about it?”
you carefully thought of what you should say to the public. there were definitely going to be headlines tomorrow.
“my new album is called ‘lover’, and it’s mostly about romance.”
jimmy kept reading off his cards, “interesting. your last album wasn’t about romance. is there a reason why you chose that topic?” he paused before reading, “maybe a lover?”
your lips formed a thin line, unsure of what to say.
“maybe? i would just like to say that i’ve found my inspiration for the album. but the lyrics are very meaningful for someone.”
jimmy’s eyebrows rose. “can i have a guess in your inspiration?”
the crowd grew loud, wanting to know who the rising pop star’s possible lover could be.
“jimmy! don’t expose me!” you whined, and jimmy just laughed.
“okay, because i love (y/n), i won’t be asking anymore. let’s move on,” the crowd booed jimmy and you knew that his producers would be mad at him later on. still, you thanked him silently for not pressing on the topic so you wouldn’t expose your relationship.
your lover was obviously tom—but the two of you didn’t want to go public yet.
you think tom didn’t mind being public or not, and you didn’t too. but it didn’t feel right to reveal your relationship without him.
jimmy continued the interview by asking more questions about your career.
“i better be mailed vip tickets to your next tour.”
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“hey babe, what’s up?” you answered you phone while writing a new song. you finished the interview last night and headed straight to your studio because taylor wanted your opinion for her song.
“i was your inspiration for your album?”
you rolled your eyes playfully, “that’s why you called me? not because you wanted to hangout with your girlfriend?”
you were joking, and you could feel tom smiling from the other line.
“yes, you were my inspiration.” you checked the time and it was almost 1 in the afternoon.
“now please come visit me. i miss you.” you crossed out some parts of the lyrics that you didn’t like, and wrote an alternative.
“of course, darling. i’ll be at your studio in twenty. i love you.”
“i love you too, tom.”
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
written on october 22, 2021
link to my tom holland masterlist
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tomhsource · 2 days ago
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lessons in love - t.h.
your first term at university proves to be more than you’ve bargained for when you get assigned a tutor to help you in your failing literature class — the top of the class heartthrob tom holland. but when he inadvertently finds out that you’re more inexperienced than is conventionally natural, he offers to give you some extra lessons.
part one coming soon!
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tomhollandfics · 23 hours ago
hi, love your lists! can you share some fics that are like second chance? so reader and tom are exes who fall in love again? ty!
here's a few for you x
I Forgot You Existed - @spidernerdsblog
Ex On The Beach (Series) - @heyhihellowhatsup0
Evermore - @gf4hjp
* Sabotage - @venomsilk
* Something Holy - @cindysilk
Its Always Been You - @sweetlysilent
Script Reading - @whereistradel
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sam-hollandsgirl · 2 days ago
Chapter 3 - Storm
Warning: Smut (oral -woman receiving-unprotected sex)
Word count:1114
A/N: I know I said the chapter wouldn't be out until the weekend, but I was really excited about it and decided to post it all at once. I hope you all enjoy it. English is not my first language, so please forgive any grammatical errors. All the love 💖💖
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Harry had never slept at your place. No matter how tired he was, he would always leave right after the sex was over. But this time it had been different, and he didn't regret it.
He felt your body against his, taking a deep breath so that he could smell your perfume. A snowstorm had started that dawn and he didn't even realize that he ended up hugging you in the middle of the night to keep their bodies warmer.
When he woke up he could hardly stop admiring you, he didn't mean to sound creepy or anything, he just found it interesting how he could find you beautiful in exactly the same amount that he found you annoying.
His hand touches your face, lightly caressing your cheek before he removes a stray strand of hair that insisted on falling across your cheek and tucks it behind your ear. Your eyes slowly open as you wake up and Harry's touch retracts.
"Good morning" you in a still sleepy voice.
"Good morning."
"When did it start snowing?" You ask looking at your bedroom window and noticing the small snowflakes staining the glass.
"I guess early morning" he answers quickly and soon gets up from his bed, for some reason he was feeling very comfortable around you and it scared him "I think I better go."
"What? No" you say getting up too "You should stay for breakfast.
"You don't need to.
"But you're a guest so it's the least I can do and I won't take no for an answer so..."
"Okay, but I'm leaving right after, okay?"
"Ok" you reply excitedly "I'm just going to shower and change clothes, you can use the guest bathroom, there is a spare toothbrush in there so make yourself at home " you say before entering your bathroom.
A few minutes later he finds you in his kitchen with your back to him as you stirred a pancake batter while the radio on some news program served as a soundtrack. Harry smiles at the sight, admiring how beautiful you looked in a summer dress that didn't even reach halfway down your thighs.
He can't resist the urge to hug her from behind, tossing her hair over his shoulder leaving her neck free to plant a light kiss there making her sigh with a mere touch.
"I never thought I'd have you cooking for me" he says smiling.
"Don't get used to it, I still hate you" you say jokingly making him laugh.
"I'm sure you do dear, even so, it's still an admirable act" he lets his hand run up your thigh lifting your dress until his fingers reach the bar of your panties "I guess I should thank you for that" you say in a slower and softer voice.
"I'm trying to make breakfast Harry" you say, not really denying it because the truth was you wanted him to touch you.
He turns you around so he can finally look into your face and kisses you, he puts you sitting on your kitchen countertop getting between your legs and letting his hand finally reach your still clothed core.
"We can leave this for later, now I want you" is all he says before he gets down on his knees in front of you.
He removes your panties letting his fingers touch her without any fabric preventing contact and you smile as you feel how wet you were already for him.
"Harry, please" is all you need to say for his mouth to finally be on you, a sigh of relief escapes your lips.
You loved the fact that Harry knew your body so well, he knew exactly what to do, and it was perfect. Like it was made for you.
He runs his tongue slowly from your opening to your clit before hooking it between his lips. One of his long fingers enters you, but it wasn't enough, you wanted more, you needed more and he knew it, soon the second finger joins the other and you feel in paradise once again.
He looks at you and feels like laughing to see how beautiful you looked when you were in need of him.
His hand pulls at your red curls and he knew you were already close which only makes him increase the speed of his fingers and run his tongue more slowly over your clit, quickly making you reach your limit. When you finally come you throw your head back, moaning Harry's name once more as if it were a prayer.
He picks himself up off the floor positioning himself between your legs again kissing you and making you taste your own.
"I hate you so much" you say between the kiss, that phrase that was already so well known to both of you.
"The same" you reply smiling before kissing her again.
"Please Harry" you say as your hands work to unzip his pants.
"So desperate for me" His voice sounded so smug.
He pulls down his pants and Boxer shorts together and soon he is fully inside you, you both moan in ecstasy.
You never imagined that you would wake up in your bed next to Harry and then be fucked by him on your kitchen counter, but sometimes fate tended to surprise you.
"More," you say against his lips.
"You want more than that honey?" He smiles as his thumb finds your still sensitive clit and teases you "You are always so needy."
He withdraws almost entirely from inside you and penetrates you again quickly and repeats this over and over again until you are both almost at your apex.
"Say it again" he speaks wrapping one of his hands around your throat "say you hate me again".
"I hate you Harry Holland" he makes the same move as before "I hate you" you repeat needily "I need you" you let it slip in your moment of ecstasy
You cum again around his cock and he comes soon after inside you.
Harry captures your lips just as you both recover from your orgasm, this time more slowly and needily.
"Authorities state that after yesterday's storm it is best that everyone stay safe where they are and avoid leaving the house" the journalist's voice sounds through the radio interrupting his moment with Harry.
"I guess we will spend the rest of the day stuck with each other" He says with his face lit up with a smile.
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justapurrcat · a day ago
Unscripted | t.h
Part One
Pairing: Tom Holland x actress!reader
Summary: “You had never left theatre, though, and this was a double-edged sword. You had been lucky enough to live your dream, while still getting to lead a private and somehow still grounded life, but your World was much smaller, much more fragile, than the one many of your colleagues – could you call them ‘colleagues’? – were well engraved in.
You were easier to break. Easier to destroy. Easier to forget.”
Word count: 3.585k
Chapter Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos
A/n: And here we are. After months, Unscripted is finally done... I never thought I would post it as a miniseries, but hey, at least it gave me the excuse to create a moodboard… To those who waited, thank you for your patience 💜 To my new readers, welcome 💜 I hope you all will enjoy this! See you at the end of the post!
Series Masterlist
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You stood there in front of the door, nervously pulling at your clothes, trying to look busy. Like you were actually there for a good reason. The best part of it was that you were. The worst part was that maybe you just needed a bit more time to convince yourself about it.
When your manager Cindy first broke the news to you, it didn’t feel real. You could still remember every single detail of that exact moment like it just happened a few seconds ago.
The way she burst into your room as soon as you opened the door, scaring Lady Yuna to death, and gaining a loud hiss of protest from what was possibly the most peaceful and quiet cat in the whole World. How she had to help you get up from the floor before she could tell you what was going on. The look of excitement on her face and the fact that you just couldn’t believe that the sentences coming out of her mouth were correct and true, and that it wasn’t only your mind playing tricks on you.
But it was real.
A new play, a completely original one, and a role waiting just for you to be brought to life for the very first time. In eighteen years of treading the boards, you’d had the occasion to play many different roles on many different stages all over the Country. Some bigger, some smaller. Some quite important, some barely known.
However, even after all those years, even after literally growing up in that universe, the excitement, the sense of wonder, were still there with you, as strong as they had been on that very first day. That was the reason why this was total dream come true.
That, and the fact that you had the chance to forever link your name to a new character, taking the responsibility to lead the way for many other future actresses, maybe even becoming their reference point.
… assuming things went in the best of ways, of course.
Sure, being associated with a success is a huge responsibility… but success doesn’t hold a candle to failure. Especially when your name is not a big one.
It wasn’t like no one knew who you were – after being in the business for so long, it was objectively impossible –, in fact, you had discovered that you had a quite strong and adorable fan base, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for that.
You had never left theatre, though, and this was a double-edged sword. You had been lucky enough to live your dream, while still getting to lead a private and somehow still grounded life, but your World was much smaller, much more fragile, than the one many of your colleagues – could you call them ‘colleagues’? – were well engraved in.
You were easier to break. Easier to destroy. Easier to forget.
And if I fail, if I’m not good enough, it’ll be entirely my fault…
“You okay?”, a voice, accompanied by a snap of fingers, finally dared to interrupt your train of thoughts.
Your head turned towards Cindy, who was standing right next to you.
She was tall. Like, Taylor Swift tall. Much taller than you. Always had been, ever since you could remember. Yes, you loved her, but at the same time you kinda hated her for those gorgeous long legs. Despite the fact that you were both wearing heels – very high heels, in your case –, you still didn’t even reach her cheekbones. Those beautifully high cheekbones, caressed by those incredibly long lashes.
Remind me again who’s the actress and who’s the manager…
Knowing you like the back of her hand, she wasn’t offended by your answer. Or rather, lack of. “Daydreaming again?”, she simply asked.
“I feel like a fraud”, you blurted out, your voice threatening to break on the last word.
Cindy arched an eyebrow, a sceptical look in her eyes. “Doesn’t sound like daydreaming to me.”
You shook your head, ignoring her teasing. “It’s not too late”, you tried again, your fingers wrapping themselves around her wrist. “We can still leave.”
“Stop it.” She freed her arm with a roll of her eyes. “They’re gonna love you.”
“Or maybe they’re gonna take a look at me, see that I look like a child wearing adult clothes, and kick me out faster than the speed of light as soon as I open my mouth”, you deadpanned, staring down at your restless hands, but quickly raising your head – and voice – when you felt a light pinch on your arm.
“Ouch!” You rubbed the skin through the fabric. “What was that for?”
“First of all”, Cindy began, pointing a finger at you. “You’re twenty-four and that dress looks great on you.” She lowered her hand and narrowed her eyes, a knowing smirk appearing on her face. “Second of all, it would be their loss, not yours.”
You were grateful for her words. But no matter how nice they were, your doubts remained stronger. “I mean it, Cin…”, you replied. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for this.”
“What makes you say that?”
“What makes you notsay that?”, you countered, frustration and insecurity palpable behind your apparently calm and relaxed tone. “I don’t even know what the script is about”, you started listing, your fingers keeping the count, but your gaze getting more and more lost with every passing word. “I don’t know how many characters the play has. Or the name of the main characters. Are there even main characters? Or is it a one-person-show? Or–”
Cindy simply cut you off with what had become her usual answer. “It’s top secret. They told me I couldn’t tell you anything.”
“Yeah. I know”, you huffed, biting the inside of your cheek. “Because they want to be the ones to introduce me to the story. I get it.”
You knew all too well that there was no point in trying to get any sort of information from her. Cindy was the type of person you could trust to keep a secret even under torture. By no doubt, an amazing and loyal friend. And an absolute nightmare of a manager when you were the one she had to keep things from.
She leaned her head towards yours a bit, as her voice was reduced to a whisper. “If it makes you feel better, I know a couple of things.”
“Please”, you scoffed. “Every time you say that, it means you already know life, death and miracles of every single character that’s gonna appear in the story.”
That sentence caused her to chuckle. “And that is why you should trust me when I tell you that this role is already yours”, she said, matter-of-factly, making it clear that nothing you could say or do would change her mind. “So, stop questioning my abilities.”
“I’m not questioning your abilities, Cin”, you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You hated this. To sound like an ungrateful, untrusting brat was the last thing you wanted, and yet, there you were, doing just that because, hey, God forbid you might actually formulate some positive thoughts about you and your situation…
This time, you didn’t receive a pinch on your arm, but a gentle, yet firm squeeze on your elbow. “Just trust me, kid.”
“Don’t call me ‘kid’.”
“Don’t call me ‘baby’.”
Of course. She knew exactly where and how to hit.
“Don’t you dare use Taylor against me.” You stopped your lips from curling up into a smile, and instead forced them into a pout, pretending to look offended.
Cindy let go of your elbow, not even attempting to mask her satisfaction. “Then stop being a pain in the ass and be the actress I know you are.”
You were about to reply when you heard noises coming from the other side of the door. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you managed to stay still and to keep your face neutral. To an outside eye, you would’ve looked like someone with no worries, who was simply waiting to be received. Yes, you were dying on the inside, but you were an actress, after all.
And Cindy was right, it was the moment to show it.
Then, a sudden feeling appeared inside of you. One that you knew very well. It started in your chest, buzzing like a swarm of bees, getting stronger by the second, spreading from your stomach to your toes, from your knees to the back of your head. It was the same feeling you got every time you were about to hold a script in your hands, every time you were about to get into character, every time you were about to walk on stage.
And, just like that, fear vanished, getting lost like a distant memory, completely replaced by thatexcitement. That sense of wonder.
“There you are”, Cindy smirked, immediately sensing the change in you.
You raised your chin and straightened your back, definitely putting an end to your nervous fidgeting as you watched the door open.
Easier to break. Easier to destroy. Easier to forget.
Well, y/n l/n, do your absolute best to make sure none of that happens.
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“What did I tell you?” Cindy pointed a finger at you. “They bloody loved youuuu!” She was singing those words to the rhythm of the chorus of 22, which was now playing in the background. “Everything went alright! Just like I told youuuu!”
Cindy had many talents, but if there was one thing that she really couldn’t do, it was sing: she would constantly complain about how tone-deaf she was and categorically refused to even hum a melody in front of anyone.
Anyone but you. In fact, she used to say that singing with you actually improved her performance – something to do with you having an actual singer in your family –, so you were some sort of a lucky charm for her. Those moments, when she would just let go, were simply the best ever. You both would sing on top of your lungs like kids, without giving a shit about off-key notes or wrong words.
Laughing, you pretended to prostrate yourself, careful not to spill your drink. “I humbly ask to be forgiven.”
“Mmh.” Cindy tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing like she was seriously considering it, while swirling the wine around in her glass. “Granted”, she came to a decision, downing it in one go. “But only because I’m in a good mood.”
You suppressed a giggle and played along, bowing your head and thanking her silently.
“Here’s to you, Miss I’m not sure I’m the right person for this”, she added, pouring herself another glass and then raising it towards you, and you were quick to mimic her. “… or should I start calling you ‘Anaïs’?”
You had “met” her and fell in love with her right away. As soon as you began reading the script, everything fell into place and you just knewthat she was yours. Truly yours.
To say that things were going well was an understatement.
The meeting turned out to be an actual audition, a test that you passed with flying colours. The director, Thecla, had explained to you the plot and, most importantly, who the character was and what her journey would be, then proceeded to read several scenes with you. Every time, she would give you an exhaustive explanation of what her original idea was, but one thing she had made specifically clear from the very beginning, was that, during the months of rehearsal, you would have a say in that matter, too.
She liked the idea of having actors involved in the process of developing and evolving a character and, when she had seen how brilliant you could do after just a simple explanation, she was left with no doubt and straightaway gave you the part.
It was a play written for only two actors, but you still didn’t know who your co-star would be. In any other circumstance, all this secrecy would’ve worried you, but this time it wasn’t the case. You had never trusted a director that rapidly and that blindly, but you and Thecla had clicked instantly: even after a simple conversation, it was evident how much she cared for her story and how important it was for her to bring it to life in the best way possible. There was no way in the World that she could make the wrong choice.
Which means I’m a good choice, too…
That thought almost brought tears of joy to your eyes. “Oh God, I still can’t believe it…”, you murmured, mostly to yourself. You knew that there was a very stupid smile on your face, but you just couldn’t care less. “What about you, Lady Yuna?”
The soft ball of fur was curled up on your crossed legs, but promptly raised her head when she heard her name, blinking at you a few times with her big blue and green eyes.
“Can you believe it, kiddo?”, you cooed, giving her a light scratch under her chin and causing her to purr happily. “Are you happy for your mommy?”
Cindy watched the scene unfold, her gaze travelling back and forth between you and your cat. “Can’t decide if that look means that she’s proud of you…”, she began, but stopped to take another sip of wine. “… or that she just wants some more treats.”
“Well, I’m gonna give her more treats anyway”, you decided, already setting your glass down, trading it for a little flower-shaped box an opening it. Lady Yuna wasted no time, sitting with her ears pointing up. “Because she is proud of me.”
Plus it was a special night: it was only fair that all the ladies in the house got their chance to celebrate. You were drinking wine, which was an extremely rare – if not unique – exception for you, therefore Lady Yuna could definitely get some extra treats.
“Your logic is flawless.”
For a while, Taylor kept singing and so did you. Once Lady Yuna had finished her treats, she got off your lap to get to her favourite napping spot, right next to the one you were occupying. You petted her a bit more, then returned your attention to your manager and friend, who was now singing Exile, trying to play both Taylor and Bon Iver at the same time.
You paused and bit your lip, trying to find the right words. In the end, you settled for simple ones. You already knew what they meant: they didn’t need to be grand, just true. “I wanted to thank you.”
“You already have, y/n”, Cindy pointed out with a giggle. “More than a hundred times, I think… not quite sure, though, I might’ve lost the count.”
You shook your head. “No, I mean…”, straightening your back, you sat up and looked her right in the eye, “… thank you thank you”, you clarified. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. I’m not even sure I would actually be doing what I’m doing if it wasn’t for you.”
“Please, let me finish.” You cleared your throat and inhaled deeply. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life. Not only as a manager, but also as a friend. Especially as a friend. You’re…” For a moment, you were tempted to take her hand in yours, but decided against it: she wasn’t too keen on touching, and neither were you. Just another reason why the two of you got along so well.
“You’re so important, and I always feel like I don’t tell you that enough”, you confessed with a coy smile. “Thank you for being in my life, Cindy Lai.”
She stared at you for a while, as if she was taking you in for the very first time, an unreadable look in her eyes and her hand practically gripping the stem of her glass so tightly that, in case she broke it, you wouldn’t have been surprised.
What actually surprised you were her next words. “… shit, y/n!”, Cindy gritted, looking up, blinking repeatedly and using her free hand to aggressively fan herself. “You can’t be this adorable just like that!”, she whined, and maybe it was just your imagination, but you could’ve sworn you heard a few sniffs coming from her. “I have Yves Saint Laurent stuff on my eyes!”
You had to hold back your laugh, her complaint turning your initial shock into amusement. “I’m sorry, do you want me to get you a tissue or…?”
“Oh, shut up and give me a hug before I change my mind!”, she cut you off, opening her arms and motioning for you to come closer.
You did as she told you, but it felt weird at first: you didn’t exactly know how tight you were supposed to hold her. Your doubts were short-lived, since she literally knocked the wind right out of your lungs with a strength you had no idea she could own.
After that, hugging her back with the same energy was the only natural consequence.
“I bet it’s just payback for not telling you anything”, she muttered, voice still shaken by light sobs. “And for that Taylor joke.”
“A bit, yes”, you admitted, rubbing her back. “But it’s mostly love and good intentions.”
“… and cat fur on your shirt.”
“Okay! That’s a little too much.” She pulled away as if she had just been scorched, almost spilling her wine in the process, and worriedly started checking her blouse, its crimson colour perfectly matching the shade of her lipstick.
“I can already tell Tom’s certainly not gonna be impressed by that.”
That name caught your attention and your smile dropped. “Tom?”
“Your co-star.” Her nonchalance hit you like a punch in the face: she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. Like you were supposed to know what she was talking about.
“Cindy…” You furrowed your brows, the gears in your brain working like crazy. “This is the first time I’m hearing that name in… the whole day.”
Cindy froze at your last words, hand still on her shoulder as she slowly raised her head to look at you, eyes widened in what you could’ve only described as pure dread. “Oh…”, was her only comment.
But it wasn’t enough for you. “They do know who my co-star is going to be?”, you inquired even though it didn’t sound like you were really asking it.
Narrowing your eyes at her, you realized you had her cornered. And by the look she was giving you, you weren’t the only one to think that. “And so do you.”
“Tell me”, you demanded.
“I can’t”, Cindy gulped, shaking her head. “I couldn’t even tell you that I knew it!”
It felt like a few days ago all over again, with you being about to start a war you had no chance win. That alone was enough to convince you to give up. But then your gaze fell on her blouse, and more specifically on the white hair she hadn’t been able to remove, and an idea popped up in your mind.
“I’m gonna unleash Lady Yuna on you.”
Colour drained from the poor girl’s cheeks at your declaration, and she instinctively leaned back. “No…”
“And she’s super cuddly, tonight.” By sheer coincidence, your cat stretched out her paw to tough your thigh, meowing to get attention and unexpectedly backing you up.
That’s right, kiddo. Team up with your mother.
“Please, don’t”, Cindy attempted to reason with you. She didn’t sound like herself, the weak, trembling voice and submissive behaviour being completely off with her. “They told me I had to wait…”
Deaf to your friend’s plea, you gave her a wicked smirk, picking up Lady Yuna, and holding her in the same way you would’ve held a rifle. You even closed one eye, pretending to aim to make your threat appear more realistic.
“Tell. Me.”
“I…” Cindy pressed her lips together, eyes bouncing wildly between your face, your cat and her shirt. “Oh, fuck, alright!”, she whined, head sinking between her shoulders and defeat painting itself all over her features. “Alright…”, she repeated in a murmur.
As pride filled your chest, you raised you chin and let go of your cat, opting for letting her settle on your lap – like the poor creature had originally planned before she became your weapon. “Who knew Lady Yuna was the secret to break you all along…”, you pondered with a grin. “Interesting.”
She rolled her eyes and gave you a fake laugh. “Very funny.”
“So?”, you prompted her, tilting your head to the side and raising an eyebrow.
Cindy pointed a finger at you. “You didn’t hear this from me”, she warned you, now somehow more similar to her usual self. “Better yet, you didn’t hear this at all. Got it?”
“Got it”, you nodded solemnly. “Cross my heart, won’t tell no other.”
That caused her to roll her eyes again, but she didn’t comment on it. “Okay then…” Chin resting on her clasped hands, Cindy took a long deep breath. “Brace yourself, girl”, she warned you one last time, eyes boring into yours.
“Tom Holland’s gonna be your partner.”
That night, the one who scared Lady Yuna to death was you. Seriously, that poor cat really couldn’t catch a break.
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Next chapter
A/n: ... yeah, no Tom for now... but fear not, we’ll meet him very soon! Thank you so much for reading this, let me know what you think, if you like 💜 se y'all on next chapter!
Taglist: @isory @spideyspeaches @onewithnomightypowers @wildxwidow @harryhollandsgirlfriend @omegadumb42069 @thisisparadisemylove @tom-softie @jeyramarie @mn-jun @enilemes
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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 17 hours ago
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Yes! The epilogue will be up this Monday!!!
Misadventures In Babysitting (Dad! Tom x Reader) - Ongoing
SYNOPSIS: When an unexpecting guest arrives at Tom’s doorstep, he finds himself  taking on a role he never thought he would. Knowing he can’t do it on  his own he turns to one of his closest friends for help.
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Summer of Love Masterlist
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Hey guys! I had so much fun doing the summer of love that I think I want to make it a yearly event! Because of this I’ve decided to make the event it’s own masterlist! Of course the fics will still be listed on my regular masterlist too, but this is a special section for anyone who wants to read through them all or is just trying to get into a summer or mood or whatever really. Idk I just wanted to make it so here it is. Love you guys so much! Thank you for all the support with this event, love you xx
Symbol Guide:
🖤 = angst
💖 = fluff
✨ = Summer 2021
Tom Holland
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Making it Worse 💖✨ - (rich kid au!)
The AC goes out, Tom thinks he can fix it himself
Let’s Give It a Shot 💖🖤✨ - (lifeguard au!)
Tom show’s you exactly why you love him so much
Penguins and Popsicles 💖✨
You and Tom spend the day at the fair
Twister with a Twist 💖✨
Tom wants to play Twister, but he doesn't play fair
Drive Thru Wedding 💖🖤✨ 
You had a drive thru wedding with your best friend
Peter Parker
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On the Run 💖✨ - (college au!)
You and Peter run from the cops
Trouble Tanning 💖✨ - (college au!)
You’re trying to tan, Peter can’t keep his hands to himself
Extra Crispy 💖✨ - (camp counselor au!)
Peter takes care of your sunburn
Arvin Russell
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Water Balloon War 💖✨ - (camp counselor au!)
You and Arvin prepping for the camp water balloon fight
Harrison Osterfield
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Pool Games 💖✨
You and Harrison have fun at the pool together
Message in a Bottle 💖✨ - (summer school au!)
You tutor Harrison
Come and Get Me 💖✨
You make Harrison put in a little work for his birthday present
Not Going Anywhere 💖🖤✨- (surfer au!)
Harrison gets a little jealous of your new friend
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tom-holland-parker · 21 hours ago
Kinktober Day 23
Pairing: Frat!Tom x reader
Word Count: 416
warning 18+
Kinktober masterlist// masterlist
It was probably a bad idea to come here but you couldn’t care less, you were sad, lonely and horny. What a better way to get those feelings out of your system than hooking up with someone at a frat party. You just didn’t expect to be hooking up with the Frat President. Tom Holland, just dumped by his girlfriend of a year and a half and looking for someone to bury his feelings in or maybe bury his dick in. 
Your kisses were sloppy and you both entered his room, not caring about anything other than getting each other naked. You pulled off Tom’s shirt, quickly throwing it across the room as you kissed down his body, starting at his neck trailing down to his chest and ending just above the buttons of his jeans. You fiddled with the belt buckle attempting to pull down, Tom grabbed your wrist, “As fun as that sounds I need to be inside you or I’m gonna explode”
You chuckled, getting up from your knees. Tom unzipped your dress mindlessly throwing it across the room. You climbed on his bed, spreading your legs as you watched him put on a condom.
Tom smiled at you as he stood between your legs, “ready?”
You nodded with a smile as you grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss. “Fuck me,” You whispered as he slowly entered you, enjoying the way your walls tightened around him. 
His thrust sped up, the sound of skin slapping each other was drowned out by the loud music from the party downstairs, “Oh fuck you feel so good” Tom groaned as he leaned down to kiss your neck.
A loud moan escaped your mouth as your fingers trailed down to rub your clit. The sex was sloppy and messy but you couldn’t care less, you were both just glad to fuck the sadness you had.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum” You whined as Tom spend up inside you. You came at the same time as him, you watched as he threw his head back in pleasure, a sight that would play on repeat in your mind.
As you both came down from your orgasm the room became quiet, “so that was fun” Tom said awkwardly You sighed, getting off the bed to quickly get dressed, “Yeah it was we should do it again sometime’ You smiled, walking towards the door. You waved goodbye as you walked out the room, leaving Tom breathless in the bed. 
@awesomebooklover17 @tomsholland2412 @mskatharinak @justiceemarieee
@writesforholland @wildxwidow @hackerholland @nelly-belly @marvelgurl @marvelswhore69 @crybabyddl @wildholland
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