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#tom holland x you
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.”
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vendettaparker · 2 days ago
Bound to You: Series Masterlist [T.H]
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Summary: A life you never wanted with a man you loathe. Life in the royal court has always been sour, but when you’re forced into a loveless marriage with the person you despise the most, you realize what little control you truly have.
Pairing: Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader
Warnings: angst, swearing, major character death, forced marriage, depression, SMUT (easily skippable), typos, (more to be added)
Status: Ongoing
Chapters that include smut are marked by *
a/n: can’t wait to start this adventure with you! comments and reblog are greatly appreciated 💗
moodboard made by @evyzyii (she’s amazing, send her some love!) ps. she makes them for free ;)
➳ Prologue: She Will Destroy You
Summary: (Y/N) hates lace trimming, satin, sipping her tea, and the entirety of her life in the royal court. But most of all, she hates silly British boys that happen to resemble frogs.
Word Count: ?
✧tags & moots✧ PERM
@ptersmj​ @princessofguineapigs​ @peterbenjiparker​ @cherrytholland​ @itsapeterthing​ @justapurrcat​ @kelieah​ @iovebug​ @celestialholland  @hollandcrush​ @scarletspideyy​ @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches​ @andilovetowrite​ @sinisterspidey​ @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend​ @lovelybarnes​ @white-wolf1940​ @wierdteenagenerd​ @arvinsescape​ @super-not-naturall​ @allthisfortommy​ @selfcarecap​ @misshale21​ @morganwilliams​ @loveaffaire​ @tomfknholland​ @pogueslandia​ @tomshufflepuff​ @aayaissaa​ @micaelaf05​ @hallecarey1​ @a-daydreamers-day​ @holland-styles​ @cloudyfeel​ @peni5parker​  @slut-for-steve-rogers​ @vavilip @kitkatt18-blog​ @kitkat2015-blog​ @bookfrog242​ @slutforfics​ @wildxwidow​ @hollandsfirstlady @hollandswife​ @writesforholland @prancerrparkerr​ @petesrparker​ @arlo-sanders​ @sxuxgarplxum​ @peter-parkers-gf​ @namoreno​ @niallberry​ @iaminlovetomhollandmarvel​ @1-800-lov3r​ @bisexualdragongirl​ @xoxokiaraaxoxo​ @hollandsvogue-blog​ @hallecarey1​ @marvelobsessed10031917​ @z3ndaya-blog @swiftnmarvel @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow​ @xxxstormyninixxx @marvelhasmyheart235 @kierstiniscrying @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @spideymix @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @runawaywithmyghost @rqmanoff @oxyparker @rory-cakes @parkerdarling @samaraaaaa @holland-horan @freds-slut @gingerbreadgodofhyperdeath @spideymixmain @blue-4-55-readinglist @camrenrodrigoswift @brown-eyed-doe @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @parkerflms @holland-horan @scorpiowhores @marvelxholland @hufflepuffseeker @spider-man-stiles-gubler @lost-girl24
✧tags & moots✧ TOM HOLLAND
@harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 @teenwishes08 @bradtomlovesya | @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @theonly1outof-a-billion @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @ottitt @lmaotshollandd @mcu-spiderman @tomhollandlol @watermelonsponge
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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
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ptersmj · 15 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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weirdos-am-i-right · 2 days ago
Expression// Peter Parker x Avenger!reader
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Summary: For her entire life, Y/n has been thrown into the chaos of what was known as the Avenger’s lives. She was constantly at war with someone, fighting for no good reason. Being thrown into a fit of chaos so much so hound had taken a dump of trauma on her, which was why she shut everyone out. Which was why Peter was determined to claw his way in.
Being an Avenger was tough. Being a teenage Avenger was even worse. Y/n was recruited by Nicky Fury in 2012 when she spiked their energy levels due to the recent use of her powers. She fought against the god of Mischief Loki with the rest of the avengers. She was young. Extremely young. She was thrown into a fit of chaos as a child, and it didn't stop until after the Battle of Sokovia, where everything seemed to settle down for the most part.
Though, years had gone by, there had been new enemies that threatened the state of the world, but they were put to an end rather quickly. Of course, there was still the occasional HYDRA mission, and whatnot.
Over time, there had been new recruits, some failed retirements, and additions to the team, the latest being none other than Spider-Man himself, Peter Parker.
Peter adjusted quickly, he was nice, friendly, outgoing, and incredibly smart. Everyone quickly took a liking to him, and since he was the second youngest on the team, everyone treated him as the baby of the group.
The actual youngest on the team was Y/n, also known as her alto ego, Amethyst. Though, no one ever babied her, or gave her special treatment, simply because she didn't want it.
Being thrown into such chaos at such a young age, as a coping mechanism, Y/n hid away her emotions, never really expressing herself or the way she felt, hiding behind a barrier she was built around herself at all times. And Peter Parker was determined to break that barrier.
"When are they getting back from the mission?" Peter asks, looking at Natasha. Tony had sent out Steve, Y/n, Bucky and Wanda on a small mission to gather intelligence, they were supposed to come back today.
"Soon. Don't get your panties in a twist, Y/n's fine." Natasha teases, grabbing a water from the kitchen. "You know, If I were you, I wouldn't take my chances with her. She isn't exactly the most open person."
"I know, Nat. But I have to try, don't I?" Natasha rolled her eyes.
"I've seen that girl shut down more men then I've killed, it's impressive." Peter sighs, leaning against the counter. "She hates everyone and everything."
"Not me. I'm supposedly her friend. She's said so."
"Peter, her telling you that she hates you a little less then everyone else is not her saying she's your friend." Natasha tells him.
"Hey, it means something." Suddenly, Steve walked into the kitchen, still in his suit. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, and downed it. "Oh, hey, you guys are back. How'd the mission go?"
"It went fine. Y/n went to her room if you want to go say hi." Steve informs him.
"Thanks." Peter nodded before leaving the kitchen, going over to the elevator. He pressed the button, opening up the doors. He stood in the elevator for a few minutes before the doors opened again.
He was determined to get her to go out with him before Stark's Halloween party, which was in two weeks. He went to Y/n's room, and knocked on her door.
"Come in." Y/n called, and he opened the door. She was sitting at her desk, tinkering with something on her suit. "Hey, Parker."
"H-hi. I just wanted to see how the mission went. Are you okay?" Peter asks, walking over to her, and sitting on top of her desk.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She answers. He looked at her suit, and there was a huge rip across the stomach.
"Woah, what happened here?" Peter asks. She shrugs. "Did you get cut on something?"
"No."she was a great liar. She could and has lied to everyone on the team, and they believed her no questions asked, even Fury at some point, but Peter could sense when people were lying,
"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" She looks at him, an annoyed look at her face. "Let me see."
"Hey, it's me, or Dr. Banner." She sighs, and lifts up her shirt. She had already wrapped the cut.
"See? It's not that bad."
"Jesus Christ, I though you were supposed to be smart." He teases her, looking at the poorly wrapped bandage.
"What's that supposed to mean? I'll heal in a couple hours, it's not a big deal."
"Come on, let me properly wrap this. I know you'll heal, but it could get infected." He grabs her hand, and pulls her up, leading her to the bathroom.
"I'm fine."
"You're not." He sits her on the counter, grabbing a bandage from her medicine cabinet. "It'll take a minute." He unwraps the first bandage, and grimaces at the cut. "This looks bad."
"I'll heal."
"I know you will. It still looks bad." He starts to re-wrap the cut, making sure to be careful. He gently grabbed her side, but she flinched back.
"Don't do that!" She hissed, jerking from his hand.
"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" She huffs, crossing her arms. He gives her a slightly confused look, but ignores it, finishing the wrapping. When he touches her side again, she jerks away, and a blush coats her cheeks. He gives her another confused look. "What is it?"
"Nothing. Are you done yet?"
"Almost. If you would hold still, I would be."
"Well, it's not easy when you're-" she cuts herself off, and huffs again.
"When I'm what?" Hd puts two and two together, and smirks. "You wouldn't be ticklish now would you?"
"What? No. I'm not."
"I can tell you're lying." He teases, and grabs her sides. "But on the off chance you're not, maybe I should test it."
"No, no, no," she grabs his hands, trying to pry them off.
"Do you really think you're stronger than me? I've lifted a building off my back, you're not gonna get me off." He lightly squeezed her sides. A smile forms on her face, and she covers her hand with her mouth. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile before. It's cute." He continues to tickle her, and she started giggling, squirming under his touch.
"Okay! Okay, I know you're stronger than me but that doesn't mean you have to be mean about it." She laughs, kicking her feet,'but he presses them down on the counter with his hips.
"I've never seen you like this before." He smiles, loving the way her eyes sparked as she laughed. "And don't call me mean. Say you're sorry and I'll stop."
"Fine! I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He stops, and smirks at her. "I hate you."
"Oh, do you?" He asks, the cocky smirk on his face making her want to slap it off. "You're so cute when you pout." He boops her nose. She rolls her eyes.
"You're obnoxious."
"Oh, am I?" He asks, lifting her off the counter, and putting her on the ground. "You need to rest, so the cut'll heal, okay?"
"I have reports to do, and I need to fix my suit, plus Steve needs to do-"
"Screw that, come on, I'll make you soup, and we can put on a movie."
"No. Get out." She shoves him out the door, and locks it. He sighs, leaning against her door.
"Is Y/n coming down for dinner?" Stark asks, looking at Steve and Natasha.
"Probably not. Unless the kid can convince her too. She has reports to do, and I doubt she'd put them off." Steve tells him, grabbing some of the food that was on the table.
"Either way, she needs to eat." Peter walked into the kitchen. Stark gave Natasha a look, who nodded.
"I can bring her some food up." Natasha suggests, and Peter's head instantly perks up.
"Y/n, she-"
"I can bring her dinner." Peter offers quickly, and Natasha hides her smirk a bit. She slightly gives Stark a look.
"Are you sure? She can-"
"Of course I'm sure. It'd be no problem at all." Peter grabs one of the bags of takeout, and basically ran over at Y/n's door.
He knocked a few times, and waited patiently. She answered the door, so he knocked again. "Y/n/n? I have dinner for you." He called out, knocking again.
"Go away." He heard faintly.
"It's gonna get cold."
"I said get lost, man!" The door opened, and an angry Y/n appeared. The lights were off in her room, and her bed looked unmade—which was unusual for her considering her room was always clean, and looked un-lived in. She seemed stressed, and overwhelmed, he could sense it. "Leave me the hell alone." She tried to close the door, but he pressed his door in the room, stopping her from shutting it.
"You look upset."
" you want to talk?" He asks, opening the door, and turning on the lights. Once he does, she winces, and turns them off again.
"Please, don' senses are just overwhelming right now." She admits, sitting down on her bed. Peter sad down next to her, putting the takeout on the night stand.
"Talk to me."
"I don't want to." She looks away from him. "I just want to be alone."
"You don't have to be." He grabs her hand, and she flinched away from him. "No one should have to be alone. You can talk to me. Please." He lightly grabs her chin, turning her to look at him.
"I'm just...tired. I'm really tired, Peter. I've been fighting my whole life, but most of the time I don't even know what I'm fighting for. I....I can't few emotions anymore. And I'm not saying that because I'm just being dramatic, I-I really can't. I can't feel sad, or angry, or happy, I just feel numb. I cry, but there's no emotion behind it. It's a miserable way to live." She didn't know why she was opening up to him, but either way, it felt nice to get these thoughts off her chest, she felt a little less burdened by them to say them out loud.
"I'm sorry. But, you're not alone. I'll always be here for you. And hey, I've gotten you to smile once." He reminds her.
"That didn't count, I couldn't help it." He frowned.
"You're right. I’m sorry you’re like this." Her eyes suddenly changed, like she had just realized something. She took her hand away from his.
"What?" She asks. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "You-you're sorry that I'm like this?"
"I didn't mean it like that, it came out wrong-"
"No, I don't think it did." She stood up, and he followed in suit. "You want me to be that broken girl, that loner outsider that you can 'fix' and then sleep with."
"That's not-"
"It is. What? Did you think I was just some angsty teenager with daddy issues? I'm a year younger than you, I'm not naive just because i'm young. Now get out." She shoved him out of her room, and slammed the door, making sure the click of the lock was loud and clear.
Peter stood on the other side, his mouth still slightly hanging open.
Bucky—who was walking past her door at the exact wrong moment—stopped, and looked at him. He started chuckling, and Peter turned, glaring at him.
"Let me guess-"
"Barnes, I really don't-"
"You said something stupid-"
"Please, just-"
"And now she hates you a little bit more than everyone else." With a roll of his eyes, Peter stormed off, going to his own room.
He just blew the one shot he had with the girl he was in love with. What was worse, she thinks he's a total jerk that's only interested in sleeping with her. What could possibly be worse?
A little less than an hour passed, Peter was in the lounge, watching whatever crap was on TV at the moment.
Natasha walked in a moment later, a pointed look on her face as her eyes met the back of Peter's head. "What did you do?" Peter turned around, resting his arm on the back of the couch.
"At this point, I don't even know anymore." Peter answered.
"I just passed Y/n in the hallway. She was crying. I don't think I've ever seen that girl cry before. Not even when she snapped her leg backwards."
"...she was crying?"
"I followed her to the kitchen. Where she threw the food you gave her in the trash can." Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. "I told you not to get too close. I knew you'd both just end up hurting each other."
"I didn't mean to. I didn't. I said something stupid. She opened up to me for like, a second, and I ruined it. How do I fix it?" Natasha walked around the couch, and sat down on one of the chairs.
"Honestly? I don't know. That girl has had a wall built up around her since Ultron. But I am nothing if not observant. A lot of our trainee SHEILD agents have tried asking her out, they all failed. One got her flowers, and she threw them away in front of him.
"How many guys have asked her out?"
"A total of 4. I think they realized she wasn't interested in anyone and they all collectively gave up."
"I think I know what I did wrong." Peter stood up, and walked away from a confused Natasha.
"Don't fuck up worse then you already did!" Peter ran to Y/n's room, knocking on the door.
"Go away."
"Let me in. Please. I just need to talk to you."
"No. Leave me alone."
"I'm not going to do that. Please, I'll stand out here all night." Out of pure frustration, Y/n opened the door, her arms crossed. Her eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like she had been crying for at least an hour.
"What do you want, Parker?"
"I...I wanted to talk."
"We did that before."
"I know." He stepped into her room. Her lights were on, and she had a small candle burning. "What I said was stupid. And I didn't mean it to come out that way. But please, don't feel like I'm only interested in sleeping with you because those others guys were." He grabs her hand, sitting her down on her bed. "I really like you, Y/n/n. I like you a lot."
"You barely know me."
"That's not true. I know you can't stand eating sandwiches without the crust being cut off. I know you hate watching movies, and that you're secretly ticklish." He teases, and a small blush dusts her cheeks.
"Shut up."
"I know you have this exterior around you all the time. And I know it must be exhausting. I want you to be able to feel comfortable around me. And I want to help you be able to do that. And I'm sorry that you feel the need to act tough, and strong all the time, I'm sorry that you were thrown into this crazy mess of things so young." She held back tears as he spoke, looking away from him and wiping her eyes.
"Can you close your eyes?"
"Just please." He closes his eyes. She shuts her eyes tightly, letting tears freely fall down her face.
For the first time in a while, she actually felt a wave of sadness washing over her. "Can I open my eyes please?"
"Okay." With his eyes still closed, he wraps his arms around her, letting her head fall into his chest. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, embracing the touch from another living being. Especially one that was so comforting. He softly played with her hair. "I know you're crying. And it's okay." He tells her. "You don't have to hide your emotions from me." She didn't answer him, so he wrapped his arms around her tighter.
It felt nice, reviving touch from someone that wasn't trying to kill her. She never wanted to let go of him again. She never thought she'd feel attraction towards anyone. But she was starting too. Wiping her eyes, she lifted her head up, smiling a bit when she saw Peter's eyes still closed.
"You-you can open them." He opens his eyes.
"Can I kiss you?" Hesitantly, she slowly nods, pressing her lips against his. It felt nice. Felt like something she granted for for a while, yet she didn’t realize it. She never had an intimate relationship before, with anyone. She never had time for friends, or boyfriends, or anyone, and even if she did, she shut them out. Peter was the only one who clawed his way back in.She pulled away after a few seconds, a blush coating her cheeks. “Does this mean you’ll go to the Halloween party with me?”
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leetotters · a day ago
hi i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is few years younger than tom holland ( maybe like 20?? )
note: i did not expect for this to end up being so long and probably senseless to some readers lmao but i tried. blame it on the lack of sleep and the unwanted essays i have to complete!
warnings: age gap, some dirty talk at the end, bad writing!
tom holland x younger!reader
summary: something like request ^
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tom and younger!reader and college essays.
A soft smile graced your lips as you felt your boyfriend's hands wrap around your waist, his fingers interlocking with your own as he guided them away from your computer and binders which were scattered across the large bed.
"We have to leave soon love, Haz just called said he's already at the restaurant." He mumbles into your hair as he sweetly pecks your forehead.
You only hum, eyes wandering over the notes before you as you attempt to find the minor errors hidden within the multitude of words.
"Darling.. you need to go and shower or else we'll be late." Tom chuckles, even though the situation wasn't funny. He knows that you won't tear your gaze from the computer screen until you spotted the fine mistakes. He knew how important and serious you were when it came between college and essays, yet he couldn't help but at least try to pull you away from the eye blinding screen.
When you ignore his words and continue to sway your body side to side, he gently tugs you away by your hand, his figure plopping on top of your own as you tried to release yourself from his grip.
"Tom get off of me! I have to finish that by today or else-" He presses his lips to your open ones, seeing as it was the only way to shut you up. "I know what you're doing Holland." You muttered against his lips, not finding the energy in yourself to pull away. His lips moving together with your own somewhat comforting and distressing for you.
Tom laughs, pulling away from you as you bite his lower lip. "Got to admit though, i'm pretty good at distracting people." He raises his head so he was able to run his nose along the apple of your cheek. Tom could feel you calming at the touch, the tense, worrisome look on your face replaced with your natural, soft features.
"How about we cancel dinner with the boys hm? We can spend the rest of the night by ourselves, no Harrison, no twins and no computer. Just you, me and Tessa." Tom proposed, running his hands along your sides as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"I really do like the sound of that," you trailed off, brushing your hands through his curls, the thought of your unfinished essay slipping your mind as you agreed.
tom and younger!reader telling niki and dom about their relationship.
Tom was one happy man when he walked up the front steps of his childhood home, his grin even wider when he glanced beside him, to see you, mirroring his enthusiastic grin that hadn't left his lips since you both arrived in the lovely city.
"They're going to love you, darling." Tom smiles, kissing your cheek as he goes forward to unlock the door. The footsteps behind becoming more audible as the door finally swings open, revealing Tom's parents with warming smiles on their face.
"Mom! Dad!" Your boyfriend exclaims in utter joy, the interaction before you making your heart do multiple flips, you knew how much pain Tom held being away from his family. As he pulls back, he brings you forward, his hand soothingly placed on your waist.
"Meet my girlfriend, y/n." He introduces, eyeing the surprise expressions on his parent's faces.
"Nice to meet you, Miss and Mister Holland."
You held in a breath at the look you receive from his mom, it was a simple pursed lips before it soon contorted to a small smile, it reminded you of Tom's.
"Welcome, why are we standing out here, come in!" She laughs, pulling you by your hand as she guides you inside. "I'm Niki and this shy man over here is my husband, Dom." She says, offering you a seat on the sofa as she takes the single couch to the side.
"She knows your name, mom." Tom chuckles, plopping down beside you, his hands quickly finding your own. "Where's Paddy?" He asks.
"Out," Dom answers. "So how'd you two meet?" He inquired as he hands his son and yourself a bottle of beer.
"I can't drink yet." You decline, a shy smile on your lips as you notice the older couple reaction.
"How old are you dear?" Niki asks, giving Tom side eyes as he gulped his drink.
"I'm twenty years old, miss." You answer, fiddling with Tom's hand as he tried to calm your shaking leg.
Niki doesn't react, she simply clears her throat and repeated Dom's question, her tone still pleasant making you a little less tense.
"Oh, funny story actually, we bumped into each other on his set, literally." You laugh, recalling the day. "He was running in his hero suite and I guess we were both too distracted to notice the other passing by."
"Yeah, it wasn't my fault though, I was rehearsing my scene and someone here- might I add snuck onto set with her friend trying to snap photos of her favorite superhero and bumped into me." Tom joked, earning giggles and a light shove from you.
"And you know I still didn't get my picture with Doctor Strange," You pouted, the once awkward atmosphere now hearty.
"Wait, isn't Peter Parker you favorite?"
"Uh yeah." You hesitantly nod.
The action made both Niki and Dom chortle as their son immediately feign hurt by your words. They watch how you were quick to wrap your arms around him, pecking his head a few times as you apologized.
"That's one unique story," Dom spoke, a grin on his lips as you two broke apart. "When did you start dating?"
"It'll be a year next month." Tom remarks, he couldn't believe it had already been an entire twelve months.
"Quite some time together and you managed not to tell us?" Niki gasps playfully knowing her son was somewhat known for spoiling things.
"That really is surprising," you add, nudging his side, however you knew the precautions he took to keep you away from the media and fans. He wanted you all to himself, he wanted to secure you from the judgmental statements and privacy invading paparazzi for as long as he could.
"I don't spoil everything!" He defended.
"I don't mean to pry here but are you in college dear?" Niki speaks up, the question was itching in her throat for quite some time.
"Yes, my second year actually. I'm majoring in neuroscience."
Tom grins at your words, the fact that his girlfriend was a genius only increases the love and admiration he has for you. He knew how much it meant to you, the hours of work and study you put behind books only makes him prouder.
"That's remarkable and for you to be doing this at such a young age is outstanding."
You smile at her words, there were familiar, but hearing it from your boyfriend's mother made you feel a wave of relief and pride.
tom and younger!reader paparazzi photos and gossip articles. (almost caught)
Tom blinked in shock at the article before him, he stared in disbelief, the pictures of you both in his car right below the gossip news atop.
Male actor, Tom Holland (25) also known as the one and only Peter Parker, Spider-Man has been spotted kissing an unknown female while stuck in unmoving traffic.
Fans of the well known actor say it's an old friend while others deny the hot kiss for being a public relationship for the upcoming Spider-Man movie. Some say it's a young college female as students claim to notice the car on campus. Who is this mystery lover?!
He groaned, chucking the device under the duvet before wrapping his arms around your snoozing figure. Even though a splash of rage was fuming inside of him, he couldn't help but smile at your soft breaths and light snores, the peaceful look on your face calming to him.
Tom wished he could've stayed in that particular moment forever, but reality kicked in as soon as he cuddled into your warmth, the sound of his ring tone from his business phone filling the once quiet room.
With a sigh, he reluctantly removed himself from you, tucking you in comfortably and kissing your pouted lips before making his way to the en suite bathroom.
"Hello-" Tom rubbed his eyes, the bags under his droopy orbs begging for a full night rest.
"Don't 'hello' me Tom, did you see the articles?! It's literally three in the morning and I have to wake up to a headline- which is now trending on twitter might I add- let me read the exact words for you. 'Tom Holland and his young sugar baby exiting college campus' and that's not even the worse one!"
Tom didn't respond, the words of his manager deaf to his ear as he heard the headline. He couldn't believe it, a day hadn't even pass and he's already receiving offensive articles about his relationship.
"Ok calm down, does any of the photos capture y/n's face?" Tom asks, the question was hesitant, he only hoped the photos contained nothing more than your back facing the privacy invading cameras.
"No, but i'm positive sure it won't take the media long to find out Tom. They already know what college she attends, it's only a matter of time."
Tom knew his manager was right. It wouldn't take long for the computerized world to figure it out. Hell, for all he knew, they probably already did.
"Tom, where are you baby? come back to bed."
The sound of your soft voice calling for him makes his heart leap. He ends to call with a quick tap and exits the bathroom, the miff look on his face magically vanishing as his eyes land on you, making grabby hands for him to come back in bed.
"I love you." He whispers sweetly, the tip of his nose stroking your cheek as you slowly let sleep overtake you. The events of the morning to come playing in his mind as he thinks of ways to avoid the unwanted reveal of his relationship.
tom gets asked about his relationship status during an interview
It was exactly three weeks before the premiere of Tom's upcoming marvel movie, which also meant that he was scheduled for various interviews with multiple media entertainment companies.
"Out of all the Spider-Man movies you've filmed, which one would you say was your favorite? And why?" the interviewer asked, folding his paper as he read the last words.
Tom scrunched his nose, pondering the question which much thought.
"That's a really hard one mate, you're basically asking me to pick a favorite child," Tom chuckled, looking at the camera with a raised eyebrow and pointing at the interviewer with his finger. "All of them are my favorites, can't just choose one, I literally portrayed my childhood hero mate, all of my movies remind me how far i've reached and what I accomplished in my twenty five years of life."
The interviewer nodded, thanking and shaking hands with Tom as he stood from his seat and exited the room.
It wasn't a minute later when the second person came in, he quickly pulled the chair out as he greeted Tom and took the slip of paper the cameraman held out for him. There was a little short ‘how are you’ between both men before the interview began.
“So Tom, can you give us a little overview of Peter’s relationship with MJ in this new movie, we see that the relationship between both characters has plainly developed from the short clips shown in the trailer..” The interviewer, Nikel, asked with curiosity laced in his voice.
Tom took a deep breath and rubbed his hand together, it was safe to say he was prepared to answer such question. “Yeah, the relationship between Peter and MJ is burgeoning. She is with Peter throughout his identity reveal and they both try to find the best way to move past what Quentin Beck did as a unit.”
“I think the marvel fans would be beyond elated to hear this news,” Nickel laughed making Tom nod his head in agreement. “Is it true that Spider-Man has the ability to woo women?” He jokingly inquired, while the fun little clip between MJ and Peter played on the small screen, with the two on the roof together as MJ read to Peter all about his supposed ‘powers’ including his ability to woo women.
“No man, Peter doesn’t need powers to get the ladies.” Tom quipped, chuckling when MJ called Peter ‘spider lord’.
“What about Tom? Does Tom need powers to woo women? But I have to say the recent paparazzi photos already answers my question..” Nikel stated obviously trying to get information about the actor's current relationship status and hopefully the identity of the mystery 'girl'.
"Have you seen the comments on my instagram posts mate? That surely confirms that I do not need abilities to woo women." Tom answered, avoiding the main point the interviewer was attempting to get at.
"I'm guessing your good boy charm helped you get that college chick of yours?" Nikel chuckled, thinking his sentence would be somewhat funny.
Tom stopped himself from rolling his eyes and instead chose to adjust himself on his seat and sip a bit of water. It was his way of washing down the bitter feeling inside of him and also a way for him not to cause an unwanted scene.
"Enough about me mate, my manager told me this was strictly a movie interview not a personal one." Tom uttered, once again shutting down the query and resuming his interview.
tom and younger!reader date night.
Date nights with Tom in public were rare, as he and you both preferred the safety of his house and also the privacy that came with being cuddled up with your boyfriend while a movie of your choice played on television screen.
However, from time to time Tom would suggest taking you out to fancy restaurants and such just so he could get the opportunity to spoil you. And you weren't one to deny his request.
"Oh my gosh babe, they have that classy red wine I like." You squeal in utter joy showing Tom the menu. "We'll have a bottle of this please." You smile at the waiter, but to your dismay, he had to ask you the question you so ambitiously loathed.
"May I see you ID please ma'am?" He kindly inquired.
"Um it's all right mate, we'll have iced tea." Tom spoke up.
You were suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin, an embarrassing look plastering over your face as the waiter left with a curt nod. A short laugh from your partner makes you glance up.
"Darling it's fine, iced tea is just as good as that wine." Tom tried to convince, placing a kiss on your forehead. "It's not your fault you look so adorable baby. My adorable baby." He smiled.
"I am adorable aren't I?" You joke, whipping your hair to the side dramatically and kissing Tom's lips.
Little did you know, someone was recording the interaction between Tom and yourself.
tom and younger!reader decide not to address relationship rumors.
"Are you sure about this?" Tom questioned for the fifth time that night as you both snuggled into each other's warmth. The only source of light illuminating from his phone screen as his finger hovered over the 'add post' button.
"Yes Tommy," You whine, tired of hearing him repeat the selfsame words. "But we don't have to, I mean i'm completely fine with being your hush-hush sugar baby," you teased, recalling the articles you'd seen after your date.
You found them humorous and uproarious while Tom felt the absolute opposite. He detested the misinformation which was spoken about you on the internet, and with that video of you both in the restaurant, it wasn't long after every one scooped you out.
His manager's words played in his head as he scrolled through the thousands of stories and posts which replaced his standard twitter feed.
Seeing as he didn't falsely laugh like he usually did, you straddled his waist and took the phone out of his hands. "It's fine babe, don't let this sour your mood again please." you beg, kissing the tip of nose softly.
"But if I don't do this y/n, they'll just keep on ridiculing us, they'll continue hating on you and you don't deserve that kind of treatment love." He responds, looking up at you with soft eyes. "We don't deserve that."
"I know," you felt like crying and kissing the fuck out of him at the same time. The way he was with words had you weak on your knees. "It's not our fault Tom and we have to face reality here too. Not everyone is going to be okay with our relationship baby, but at least we know what we are, how much we love each other and cherish the time we have. Even if you do tend to fall asleep at ten."
"I was about to cry until that last sentence." He rolls his eye and pulls you down beside him so he was able to attack you with kisses. "And I do not fall asleep at ten you div!"
"Oh please Thomas, I have pictures to prove you wrong!" you immediately shot back. "You're such an old man sometimes." You playfully said.
"Me? Old? Would an old man be able to make you come multiple times a night darling? Would an old man fuck you so hard that you pass out before you can even study-"
"Shut up, old man." You snort at his dirty words.
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tomhollandfics · 2 days ago
jealous!Tom and/or possessive!Tom ??
here's some x
Are You Jealous? - @eeyore101247
Don't Go Easy On Me - @hollandarling
How To Flirt - @fanatic1997
Lingering Glances - @marvelouspeterparker
The Misunderstanding - @marvelouspeterparker
Jake's Girl - @erule
Green-Eyed - @t-lostinworlds
Jealousy Looks Good On You - @smileyparkersmiley
Blurb - @lovewasted
Jealousy - @heavenlyholland
So Into You - @cutelittlestar
Not Jealous - @sunrisespidey
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tomhsource · 14 hours ago
distraction - t.h.
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pairing → tom x fem!reader
summary → you’re terrified of scary movies so tom helps you to take your mind off it. 
warnings → smut (18+), MINORS DNI. swearing. smut warnings below!
word count → 1k
a/n → there’s literally no plot to this, just a thousand words of smut that my tired brain can muster up when i’m cold and had the living daylights scared out of me tonight. i’m sorry if this sucks, i haven’t had time to proof read. gif is mine.
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*
smut warnings → fingering, nipple play, a little dirty talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys). 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*
your fists clench tighter around the handfuls of tom’s white t-shirt that you’re grabbing hold of in fright. a small whimper leaves your lips, the sound muffled as you bury your face deeper into his chest, and tom chuckles.
“babe, it’s just a movie,” he kisses the top of your head in comfort.
“easy for you to say, movie star,” you retort, allowing yourself to glance up at the screen with one eye, quickly closing them again when you’re made to jump.
“you really don’t like this, do you?” tom’s voice is more concerned now and you shake your head, curling up into a ball in his lap on the sofa. “we can just turn it off if you want?”
“no, you’re enjoying it,” you peer up at him and meet those soft brown eyes, and all fear within you starts to melt away at the sight of him. 
“hmm, can think of better things we could be doing,” his nose crinkles as he leans down to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours smoothly. before you have time to think straight, his hands snake up your waist under your hoodie, his rough hands happy to find that you aren’t wearing a bra. his thumb rolls across your nipple, causing a harsh gasp to rip from your throat — they’ve always been super sensitive and tom knows it, smirking against your lips. 
“the guys will be home soon,” you remind him but tom doesn’t seem to care. he shrugs, adding, “guess we’ll need to work fast then.” 
your hips start to move involuntarily, grinding down against tom’s crotch and he groans. 
“take these off,” he mutters into the kiss, pulling at the waistband of your sweatpants, and you oblige with a quick but awkward fumble to kick them off whilst keeping your position in his lap. once they’re off, you feel exposed and cold. you shiver, goosebumps rippling over your body. 
eager to warm you up, tom starts kissing your neck and you feel his hand glide up your bare thigh before he’s reaching beneath you, his fingers on your clit through the thin material of your panties. 
“someone’s excited,” tom remarks when he feels how wet you are and you feel the heat in your cheeks. it feels as if your whole body is alive with electricity when he starts rubbing small circles against the material and you’re rolling your hips against his fingers, your hands tugging at his hair.
its hard to be terrified of the movie now when this feels so damn good. you can feel that tom is getting harder and harder beneath you, digging into your leg. his free hand is under your hoodie again, but this time he’s grabbing at your breast, his desperation clear in the small moans that tumble from his lips. 
you pull away from him and wriggle off of his lap, finding a comfortable position on the floor between his legs. “jesus christ,” he groans when you yank his gym shorts down and his cock springs free. you decide to tease him, licking the tip gently before taking it in your mouth, and he makes a noise as if he’s being tortured. 
“feels so good baby,” he rasps as you wrap your hands around the base, picking up the pace before slowly drawing your lips along his length. he’s grabbing hold of the sofa like his life depends on it, his eyes closed as he concentrates hard on not coming down your throat. he looks incredible like this, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as his features scrunch up in pleasure. 
“oh my god,” his strangled cries are a tell-tale sign that he’s getting close, and tom just can’t bear the thought of not being inside you when he does. he pulls you up into his lap again roughly, his fingers pulling the material of your panties to the side before lining himself up, his hands on your hips to guide how slowly you sink down on to him. for a second, he keeps you still, holding you in place as if he’s just trying to savour the feeling of being inside you. 
after a minute, he allows you to move, and the pace you set is fast and desperate. burying your head in his neck, tom has to do a little more of the work but it feels fucking fantastic. you can almost feel how hard his heart is thumping in his chest and when you sit up to meet his eyes, you can see how hard he’s trying to be a gentleman and let you reach your high first. tom bites his lip, holding back the curses he’s so desperate to say, and you’re so focused on him that your orgasm creeps up on you, your entire body shuddering as he continues to thrust up into you, holding you close to him. you clench around him and he growls like a wounded animal, and the next thing you know you can feel him filling you up, coating your walls. his body trembles and he’s a panting mess beneath you, his usually fluffy curls sticking flat to his forehead with sweat. 
for a moment, you both stay exactly where you are, trying to catch your breaths, your bodies still intertwined. you know that the boys will be back any second and that this is the worst possible position they could find you in, but you can’t seem to find the will to care; you’re so content. 
after a few more seconds, you can feel the burning ache in your thighs and you have to move, though tom is quick to grab hold of you, his hands gripping tight on your ass as he stands. you squeal and clutch on to him, wrapping your legs around his waist. 
“what are you doing?” you giggle as he heads for the stairs. 
“like you said, the boys will be home any second and i’m not done with you yet,” tom growls as he slams the bedroom door behind you both. 
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wizkiddx · 19 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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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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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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vendettaparker · 21 hours ago
Bound to You: Prologue—She Will Destroy You
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Summary: (Y/N) hates lace trimming, satin, sipping her tea, and the entirety of her life in the royal court. But most of all, she hates silly British boys that happen to resemble frogs.
Word Count: 7.3k
Warnings: child injury, swearing, typos, angst, character death
a/n: you guys can’t even believe how excited i am to start this series. i’ve been thinking and planning and writing for this series since june. i can wait for you to see all the twists and turns i have in store and i can’t wait to rip your hearts out >:). love you all so much and thank you so much for your never ending support and love. as always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist 
Scotland, 1632. 
It was days like this when you truly abhorred your life. Days when the palace was bustling with gossiping maids, overbearing lords, and their whorish mistresses, hoping to get in on the royal affairs. Days when your mother would force you into the finest silks and satins, no matter how much of a scorcher the summer sun was, no matter how much the fabrics would weigh you down. 
Dahlia, your sister who was two years your senior, never minded. She curbed her tongue far more than you ever could. She played her role far better than you ever dared. Because you knew that if you played into your parents’ wishes for you, then you’d never get out. You’d never find happiness away from court. 
“(Y/N),” the sharp voice of your mother cut through the air, “stop pulling at the hem, dear. It’s unbecoming of a princess.” 
You rolled your eyes but kept your hands stationed at your sides as you stood in the heat like dead pigs, clammy and sticky, waiting for the faint hooves of the carriage to plow in the distance. 
“What will he be like?” You asked Dahlia, gripping onto her white-gloved hand. She merely shrugged and squeezed your hand in hers.
“Don’t worry, flower,” She smiled, “he’s a prince. I’m sure he’s just as charming as father.” 
“Doubtful,” You scoffed, which earned you a harsh bop upside the head from your mother. 
“Hush now,” She scolded, “I want you both to be on your best behavior for the king of England. This is the beginning of a new era. Scotland and England will finally find peace. Now, Dahlia, you will greet the prince with—”
“A curtsy and a ‘your grace’” Dahlia recited, “I know, mother.” 
“Hm,” your mother hummed, “you’ve been spending too much time with (Y/N), you know better than to interrupt.” 
“My apologies,” Dahlia murmured. 
“Speak clearly now.” Your mother demanded, “now shush, I believe I hear the carriage.” 
She was right, the light shuffling of hooves and the squawking of wheels was busting through the thicket of the forest around the castle. You reached for your father’s hand and grasped it. Your father looked down at you, giving you a small smile and a squeeze before letting go and returning his gaze to the castle gates. 
You didn’t have to wait much longer before the guards were announcing the arrival of the English royal family. The gates opened and in came trotting three carriages pulled by the most gorgeous horses you’d ever seen. The carriages were light blue and white, trimmed with golden detailing. It was nauseatingly extravagant and looking at it for too long made your eyes hurt. 
The carriages stopped in front of you and your family, and out first came the king. You’d only ever heard about him, King Dominic. The ruler of England for the past fifteen years after the death of his father. Married to Queen Nicola and together they have four sons, but their oldest was the only one already promised to another, your sister. 
Thomas, the oldest, was Dahlia’s age, ten, while the two twins, Harry and Samuel, were your age, eight. The youngest, Paddison, was just a baby. You were forced to learn about the royal English line once Dahlia was promised to Thomas. Your studies switched in the past three months from learning about how to hold our teacup and sip rather than slurp to learning about a family you didn’t care for. 
“Your grace,” Your mother bowed before the king. He took her hand and planted a kiss on it, “it’s an honor to have you in our court.”
“The honor is mine, Queen Guinevere,” Dominic smiled, “thank you for housing my rowdy boys, I do hope it’s no trouble.”
“Of course not, it’s a privilege.” 
Dom nodded and stepped aside as Nicola came out and shook your mother’s hand as well. Your father greeted the king as though they were old friends as the young boys exited the carriage.
“Your grace,” Your sister curtsied to Queen Nicola, “thank you for blessing our court with your presence.” 
“Oh please do rise, dear,” Nicola fawned over your sister, “I assure you it is a blessing to be in your presence, little princess.” She looked over to you and gave you a kind smile, “You as well, little one. My sons Sam and Harry are so excited to meet you.” 
You gave her a smile and a quick curtsy, “I am excited too, your grace.” 
Nicola moved on as the boys finally approached you and your sister, “Princess Dahlia,” a boy with brown hair and big ears approached your sister, “It’s a pleasure to enter your court,” he said, taking her hand and placing a kiss on it. 
“Thank you, your grace,” Your sister smiled, “I do hope to make you happy one day.” 
You nearly gagged at your sister’s gushing. But you didn’t have time before Thomas was reaching for your hand as well, “Princess (Y/N), you look lovely this morning.” 
You simply nodded, finding the whole affair quite ridiculous, “I’m not the one you should be flattering,” You said quickly, pulling your hand away from him, turning to your mother whose face was red with fury at your comment, “May I be excused please?” You asked, tugging once more at our hem. 
“Yes, please go,” Your mother gritted, before turning to Queen Nicola, “I apologize, your grace, she’s quite disturbed, I’m afraid.” 
Nicola just chuckled, “It’s quite alright, dear,” she smiled, “children will be free, there’s not much you can do about that. Let’s go inside shall we, perhaps have a cup of tea?” 
“Of course,” Your mother nodded. You scurried off before you could hear anymore, racing to your room to change back into your under dressings, a tattered pair of pants, and a raggedy top that belonged to the baker’s son. 
“It was awful!” You exclaimed to James, the baker’s boy, “they were so, so—”
“You complain a whole awful lot,” James laughed at your rambling. 
“How could I not? It was torture,” You said, digging in the dirt until your fingers finally felt the hard wood you’d buried there, “here they are!”
James knelt down beside you and began digging as well, pulling out the two wooden swords the carpenter had made for you and him. 
“I told you I didn’t bury them too deep,” You smiled as you pulled one out. You stood up and shook some of the dirt off before running back to the clearing beside the castle, “now remember, don’t go easy on me. I’ll never learn if you keep babying me.” 
“Forgive me for not wanting to get my head chopped off for striking royalty,” James scoffed, gripping his sword and following after you. 
“You won’t get your head chopped off,” you sniggered, “they’ll just maim you. Now try to keep focused or I’ll—” You swung around the second you reached the edge of the woods and swung at James, but he was quicker and blocked you. He retaliated by swinging at your head, but you ducked. 
You ran around the clearing as James chased you, laughing, you jumped and swung, with no finesse or skill. You landed a few hits on James’ arm, but he was quicker, dodging your attempts the majority of the time. In fact, he managed to bash you up pretty good, but he was holding back, you could tell. Especially when you got you in a position where he could’ve ended it, instead he held out his hand to help you up.
“Ugh,” You complained when James once again went too easy on you. You were on your back with him above you, holding his hand out to help you up, “That’s not how it’s supposed to go!” You protested, “You’d be dead if you showed mercy on the battlefield. I’ll never learn how to fight if you keep—”
“Forgive me, Princess,” James rolled his eyes, “but I don’t think you’ll ever step foot on a battlefield, let alone fight on one.” 
“You don’t know anything,” You scoffed, taking James’ hand and letting him help you up, “you’re just a peasant boy, you don’t know anything about war.” 
“Neither do you,” James countered, “you’re just a spoilt princess. I know enough to know that I’ll have to grow up and fight to defend my country one day.” 
“I can fight if I want to, James,” You narrowed your eyes at him, “and I’m not just a little princess. I have more brains than you’ll ever have.” 
In a fit of rage, James scowled and swung his sword, hitting you sharply upside the head, knocking you back to the ground. The pounding in your head was thunderous and the sharp ache persisted as you held your hand over your scalp. 
“Ow!” You cried, curling up on the ground in a heap of tears, “You really hurt me, James!” 
You began to sob loudly, drawing the attention of your sister, Thomas, and his two twin brothers as they were walking through the gardens. 
James dropped his wooden sword and knelt beside you, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, your grace, I didn’t mean to!” 
Your sister came running when she saw you on the ground with a huge welt on your head, “James!” She scolded and she held you in her arms, “What have you done?” 
“I-I’m sorry, your grace,” James cried, “I didn’t mean to, she was just—she was being so cruel—“ 
Thomas came beside James and pushed him to the ground, “So you decided to strike her?” 
James backed away, but the figures of Harry and Sam blocked his escape. “No, your grace, it was only an accident,” James explained, “I’m sorry, I swear it.”
Thomas noticed the wooden swords lying forgotten on the ground. “Soldiers don’t hit girls,” He mocked, “My father always says you should never strike a lady, especially not a peasant like you.” 
“Of course, your grace,” James sniffled, “I’m sorry.” 
“I’m not the one you should be telling that to.” 
You were still curled up in Dahlia’s arms, wiping your tears on her lace. 
“I want to go to bed,” you sniffled. Dahlia nodded and tried to help you up, but her strength wouldn’t allow it. 
“I can give you a piggyback,” Thomas offered, and in a haze from the blow, you simply nodded. Dahlia helped hoist you up onto Thomas’ back, and he swiftly carried you back into the castle. 
James tried to follow but Harry and Sam pushed him back down, leaving him crying on the ground in fear.
You awoke to a doctor in black robes lifting your eyelids. You frowned and turned your head away from his intruding hand.
“Hm,” he pondered, “she doesn’t seem to have any permanent damage, though I suspect her head will be greatly sore tomorrow. Perhaps an easy day in bed will do the trick?”
 “Of course,” Your mother nodded, stroking your hair back, “thank you, doctor.”
 “My pleasure, your grace.” The man nodded with a bow, “I will return tomorrow at high noon to make sure the swelling has subsided. Good day.”
The second the doctor left your mother retracted her hand and frowned, “Sword fighting? Really?” She scoffed, disgusted, “Have you no decency?” 
“Darling, let the poor girl sleep,” Your father chided, “she’s exhausted.” 
 “No, Henry,” Your mother snapped, “this has gone on long enough. She has to learn to be a lady or she’ll never make it in this world. I'm only trying to protect her.”
Your father wrapped his arms around your mother and kissed her head, “I’ve got to go. I have a meeting with Lord Hawthorne. Keep me updated, okay?” 
Your mother nodded and sat beside your bed, “Send Dahlia and Thomas in please, I know they’re hovering outside the door.” 
“Slow down, (Y/N)!” Dahlia yelled chasing after you in the woods, “you just got better! You’ll hurt yourself again!” 
“I can’t slow down!” You yelled back, “I’ve got to show James my new book! I’m teaching him to read!” 
“(Y/N)…” Dahlia stopped running to catch her breath, “James isn’t here anymore.”
“What do you mean?” You stopped and turned to her, “Where did he go?” 
“Mother sent him and his father away from court. There’s a new court baker now.” 
“But why?” You asked, “He didn’t do anything wrong.” 
“I’m sorry, flower,” Dahlia said softly when she saw the tears beginning to spring in your eyes, “Mother asked what happened and Thomas was just telling the truth.” 
“So it’s his fault,” you deduced, “he’s the reason James had to go.” You quickly wiped the tears in your eyes and ran back to the castle. 
Thomas and his brothers were sitting in the garden rolling marbles and pebbles around on the ground. 
“Mine went the farthest!” Harry yelled, jumping up and down, “I win!”
“Hardly,” Tom scoffed, “ours are actually tied—Ow!” Tom yelped when you slapped him upside the head. 
“You stupid frog-looking boy!” You yelled, jumping on his back and pounding into him with your fists, “You got James sent away! You ugly toad!” 
“(Y/N) stop!” Dahlia yelled, running into the garden after you. “Stop, you’re hurting him!”
“Good!” You cried, “Maybe that’ll teach him!” 
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Thomas yelled, trying to wiggle out of your grasp. “Help me, you guys!” He yelled to his brothers, who were staring at the scene in front of them wide-eyed.
They finally snapped out of it and began to pry you off of Thomas, “Get off of me!” You cried, “I hate you,” You spat at Thomas, “I hate you! I’ll never forgive you!” 
Dahlia ran over to Thomas and made sure he was alright. He had a reddened cheek and a few scratches on his neck, but other than that seemed to be in good shape. 
“I didn’t do anything!” He spat back at you, “Crazy shrew!”
That made you fight against his brothers harder, “You got James sent away! You ruined everything!” 
“He struck you!” Thomas argued, “Peasants cannot strike members of the royal family!” 
“I’ll strike you so hard your liver turns purple. I swear to it, you bastard!” 
“(Y/N)!” the booming voice of your mother cried from the entrance of the garden, “what is the meaning of this?” 
Harry and Sam immediately let you go, and your mother was right there after, snatching you up by your ear. 
“Ow!” You cried, “It's not my fault, Mother!” You flailed in her grip, “It was him!” You pointed at Thomas as tears streamed down your hot cheeks, “it’s his fault.” 
“We do not blame our guests for our misbehavior,” Your mother reprimanded, letting go of your ear and gripping your upper arm, “do you understand?” 
“It is his fault!” You yelled, clawing at your mother’s arm, trying to break free, “He ruined everything! The moment he showed up, he ruined my life—” 
Crack! Hot and quick like lightning your mother struck you on the cheek, “Don’t you dare say another word or it’ll be another!” She yelled at you. You immediately ceased your squirming. Dahlia gasped, but quickly held a hand over her mouth and bit her tongue when your mother narrowed her eyes at her. 
“Martha!” Your mother called to the chambermaid that accompanied her to the garden, “take (Y/N) to her chambers. I think that’s enough fresh air for her today.” 
Martha, a young girl, no older than sixteen, nodded and took your hand. You held the other one to your burning cheek, trying to suppress your sobs as they rose in your throat. 
Your mother turned back to Dahlia and the boys and gave them the best smile she could muster, “Dahlia, dear. Why don’t you and the boys go to the stables? I’m sure Ser Edric would gladly take you riding.” 
“Yes, Mother,” Dahlia said, taking Thomas’ hand and leading him and the boys away. 
“I-I didn’t mean to get her in trouble,” Thomas whispered as they left the garden, “I didn’t know—” A look of complete shock was etched on his face. 
“She’ll be fine,” Dahlia dismissed, “I’ll take her some pastries later. She’ll be okay.” 
“She won’t forgive me, will she?” Thomas asks, watching through the window you were passing, Martha holding you close to her chest as you cried. 
“No,” Dahlia agreed, “she won’t.”
England, 1636 
You picked at the lace trimming on your baby blue satin gown. You wore it for the last day of your trip, and the heat in the carriage was causing the satin bodice to stick uncomfortably to your chest.
“We’ll be there in a moment,” Your sister said, not looking up from her book, “Mother said for me to not let you ruin your bodice.” 
“Mother said—” You began to mock her, but she shut her book abruptly, cutting you off. 
“Will you just give it rest this summer?” She asked with a pleading look in her eyes and strain in her tone. “I just want one nice summer—”
“How can it be nice when we’re forced to spend every summer with them?” You scoffed. 
“Oh please,” Dahlia rolled her eyes, “I know you really mean him. I know for a fact that you’ve grown quite fond of Queen Nicola. I heard our mother and her gossiping about setting you up with Harry.” 
“Over my dead body,” You gagged.
“Sam then?” Dahlia side-eyed you. 
“Or perhaps a donkey?” You deadpanned, but it soon turned into a smile, “It doesn’t matter, Court isn’t my cup of tea, as Nikki would say.” 
“What does that mean?” 
“It means that it isn’t for me—”
“No, I mean why would you say that?” Dahlia looked concerned, taking your hand in hers, “(Y/N), you must do your duty and marry another royal—”
“Nobody wants the second in line princess. I’m not as valuable as you. It wouldn’t be a loss.” 
“It would to me.” Dahlia whispered, “You’re my flesh and blood. You’re my sister, you can’t just leave me here by myself.” 
“You won’t be by yourself,” You argued, “You’ll have Thomas.”
“I don’t want him in place of you.” 
You squeezed Dahlia’s hand and nodded, “Perhaps I am just talking to talk. I won’t worry you like this again.” You smiled. 
Though there wasn’t an ounce of truth in that statement, yet you had to ease her fears. Dahlia’s life was going to change forever. She was going to be married, and then a queen, and someday a mother. She already had so much on her plate being the oldest, the one responsible for your lineage. Who were you to add another concern for her?
“Okay,” Dahlia smiled back, though she may not have been fully convinced, “I love you.” 
“I love you too,” You said, before looking outside the window of the carriage, “now shush, we’ll be arriving soon and you know how Mother prefers us seen and not heard.” 
The summers in England were usually spent sipping tea with Nicola, though you often referred to her as Nikki. Your father went on hunting trips with King Dominic and the other Lords, such as Lord Osterfield and Lord Barrett. 
Dahlia and Thomas rarely talked if you were being honest. Your mother always tried to push them more together, but they usually just sat in silence and read their own respected books. Dahlia knew she would most likely not marry for love, but she also hoped that love would come along the way. So far that hope has been crushed. 
This summer, your mother and Nikki did drop a few hints about you being paired with Harry or Sam, but you just shrugged it off. It was reckless to give such little thought to your future in court, but if you had things your way, which you intended to, you wouldn’t be forced to spend your days as a princess any longer. 
“You won’t tell my dad about this will you?” Harrison, son of Lord Osterfield asked hesitantly. 
“I swear I won’t,” You promised, sticking out your pinky. Harrison reluctantly took it and handed you the sword. It was a thin training sword and it resembled more of a needle than a true sword. 
“This is shit,” You deadpanned, ready to hand the flimsy tool back to him. 
“Woah, watch it!” Harrison scolded, “It’s still sharp. Just not as heavy. You can’t fight with a normal sword yet, you’re not strong enough—”
“Excuse me?” 
“Not in a bad way,” He corrected, “just as a fact. You have to build up the skill and strength first.”
“Whatever,” You grumbled, gripping the sword in your hand and positioning yourself to fight. 
“Okay, so your legs are too close together,” Harrison pointed out, coming behind you and maneuvering your feet apart, “if you were heavier it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, but you’ll have to stand wider so you’ll be harder to move.” 
“Okay,” You nodded, adjusting your position, “now what?” 
“My father said that a good soldier is also quick and light on his feet. So many you should just try some basic moves to see how your balance is.” 
You nodded and began swinging, shifting from one foot to another. Harrison observed from the side before stopping you. 
“That wasn’t terrible…” He trailed off, “but it’d be easier to tell if you were going against someone.” 
“Like you?’ You asked, playfully poking him in the arm. 
“Ouch,” Harrison rubbed the small dot, “and no, I wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt you. I’m kind of an expert at this.” You rolled your eyes as he continued, “I’ll go get Harry or Sam. They technically are still kind of new to this.” 
“Okay,” You agreed before Harrison ran off, back to the castle to track down Harry and Sam. 
You sat in the patch of grass you’d been practicing in and set the sword down at your side. You laid there and waited for Harrison and the others to return and when you heard some rustle in the woods, you were surprised by how quickly they were coming back.
You smiled when you saw a body pushing through the branches, but frowned immediately when you saw who it was, “Oh,” You said, sulking in the grass, “it’s just you.” 
“God,” Thomas groaned, “is no place sacred anymore?” 
“Get out of here, will ya?” You ignored his comments, “I don’t feel like fighting today.” 
“Really?” Thomas raised an eyebrow, “because you sure do love to pick a fight over absolutely nothing. And by the looks of the sword there, it looks like you’re ready for a fight too.” 
“I mean I don’t wanna fight you,” You clarified, standing up and taking the sword in your hands, “you better be nice to me, Holland. I’m the one with the sword.” 
“Please,” Thomas scoffed, “you probably don’t even know what end to use.” 
“I do too!” 
“Really?” Thomas questioned, before grabbing the handle from your hands and pushing you to the ground, “Wow, you’re right (Y/N), you’re such an amazing swordsman.” he said sarcastically. 
“Shove off,” You spat, standing up and dusting the mud off your pants, “one day when you're happy and alone and you think you’re safe, I’ll get you back and do what I swore to do four years ago, bastard.” 
Tom looked at you wide-eyed and shocked, “You can’t threaten me, I’m—”
“I just did.” You said before taking the sword back and walking off back towards the castle. 
Harrison passed by you with Sam on his heels but you just handed the rinky sword back to him and stomped off with a huff. 
“What’s her problem?” Sam wondered before Tom wandered out of the woods as well, “Oh, never mind, I understand now.” 
“Hawthorne says there’s trouble with an uprising of peasants,” Your father said as he walked into the dining hall, holding a folded piece of parchment, “I’ll have to take a carriage back to Scotland tomorrow morning.”
“Can Hawthorne not handle it?” Your mother asked, “We’ve only just got here.”  
“I’m sorry, dear, but as King, my responsibility is to the people. I must resolve this issue before it gets out of hand.” 
“I can offer troops if need be,” Dominic said, raising his chalice to your father, “and I will watch over your family in your absence.” 
“Thank you,” Your father nodded, “you are a true friend.” 
You thought satin was terrible and sticky, but black stain, that was hell. And in the middle of summer too. Your father’s body was returned to England, along with his most trusted advisors and Lords. Your mother was too grief-stricken to make the journey back to Scotland, she didn’t want the people to see her this way. 
The horrible, thick black dress dug into your shoulders and weighed you down, but it was also coupled with the morose feeling of complete dread that came with grief. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt, but what were you supposed to do? Cry and hope it all went away? That’s what Dahlia and Mother did. If they were going to be the broken ones, then you had to be stronger, for them at least. 
“I’m sorry for your loss, your grace,” Sam and Harry both had come up to you and said. 
You shrugged them off, “It happens.” That was all you said. That was all you ever said about your father’s untimely passing. You said it to Harrison, the Lords, the Ladies, even King Dominic. 
“It’s okay to be sad, little princess,” Nikki said, stroking your hair as you laid your head in her lap.
“I am sad,” You admitted, “but showing it won’t change what happened.” 
“It could make you feel better.”
“I don’t think it will,” You sighed, “can we play chess now?” You asked, sitting you and changing the subject, “I think I’ve got a good strategy this time.” 
Nikki looked at you with sad, kind eyes, filled with sympathy, and nodded. 
Tom did his best to comfort your sister. He was her betrothed and she was hurting, so it only seemed right to be by her side in these times of need. 
“I don’t even know what’s going to happen,” She wiped her tears with her baby blue handkerchief, “Who will take the throne now? I have no brothers, I have no sons, and (Y/N), she—well, it’s a fruitless hope that she’ll step up to help Scotland. She cares for our land as much as she cares for a dead rabbit.” 
“She’s grieving too, I suspect,” Tom tried, but then he scoffed, “though she does seem particularly unphased.” 
“She’s trying,” Dahlia defended, “she just doesn’t know what happens next and it scares her. So she ignores it.” 
“She needs to let it out,” Thomas argued, “it’s no help at all if she bottles up her emotions. It’s like she’s a ghost, completely emotionless. Dull.” 
You were in the garden as well, playing chess with Harrison while Sam and Harry watched on. That’s when you heard the sound of your sister crying. You wanted to go comfort her, but you were too late, Tom already had taken the space next to her. 
You rolled your eyes and went back to your game. And then you heard it, the spineless comments Tom always seemed to make. 
You slammed the chess piece you had down with great force, knocking some of those on the board over. Harrison tried to stop you, reaching out to grab the sleeve of your terrible black gown, but you slapped his hand away and bounded for where Tom and Dahlia were seated. 
Tom saw you coming and he knew he was in for it. No tears in your eyes, just hatred. It was the way you always looked at Tom, except it seemed to be multiplied tenfold. Before he could process it you slapped him clean across the face. 
Crack! Tom immediately could feel the burning in his cheek. He let go of Dahlia’s hand and held his own to his cheek. 
“Don’t you dare talk about my grief!” You spat, “You know nothing, and if it weren’t for my sister’s wellbeing I’d hope the fate of my father would befall you as well. Killed by his own people. I can only pray that one day you’ll suffer such a pain as that.” 
Dahlia reached out for you, probably to scold you, or hold you, or both. But you turned away too quickly, heading back to the chess game you were determined to finish. 
“Hawthorne can take over as consort for now,” Dominic explained to your mother, “When Dahlia and Tom are married, while they will prioritize ruling England, we could merge the responsibility with Scotland.” 
“That will probably be best,” Your mother agreed, at least until (Y/N) can marry Harry and hopefully take over. It’ll be a struggle though. Getting her there is a task I’ve always dreaded.” 
“Don’t worry,” Nikki said, holding your mother’s hands, “it will all fall into place. We just need a plan for now.” 
“Yes, you are right,” Your mother gave her a grateful smile, “Tom and Dahlia will be wed the summer after their eighteenth name days. (Y/N) and Harry will follow two years later, by then Tom and Dahlia should have at least one heir if the gods are good.” 
“Your grace,” Lord Osterfield said, garnering the attention of the royal court, “if I may, perhaps letting Dahlia and (Y/N) spend the rest of their time here will be beneficial. Dahlia should spend more time in the land she is to rule over, and (Y/N) should spend more time with Harry.” 
“As much as it pains me to leave my children, I trust you are right.” Your mother sighed, “I need to return to Scotland. Without my husband, Hawthorne can’t do it on his own.” 
“Of course, we will watch over your children as if they were our own,” Nikki assured, kissing your mother on the cheek. 
“Thank you, Henry was right, you are true friends.”
England, 1640
“You have all you need?” Harrison asked as you came to him shrouded in a black cloak. 
“Yes,” You nodded, “you have the horse ready?” 
“I do, your grace,” Harrison nodded.
“You don’t need to call me that anymore, though I suppose I should start calling you ‘my lord’,” you joked, situating your bags on the back of the horse. 
“You’re still a princess to me, (Y/N),” Harrison smiled, helping you situate your things, “but more than that, you’re my friend.” 
“You’re my friend too, Haz.” You smiled, before pulling him in for a hug, “You’ll tell Harry I’m sorry, won’t you? It’s not his fault I can’t live like this. He’ll find someone more worthy.” 
“Of course,” Harrison nodded, holding you tight.
“What are you two doing?” You heard a harsh whisper that jolted you two apart. 
“Tom, not now—” Harrison tried, but Tom shushed him and he quickly shut up.
“You’re running away, aren’t you?” Tom scoffed when he saw the baggage you’d put on the horse. 
“Not that it’s any of your business—” You argued, but were quickly cut off.
“Not my business?” Tom nearly yelled, but Harrison shushed him, “Do you have any idea how alone this will make Dahlia feel? I’m going to be her husband, her partner, that makes what happens to her my business, this will crush her—”
“If you’re so worried about her wellbeing then go back to the castle and be with her!” You snapped, “You know as well as I that I can’t do this.” 
“You’re a coward,” Tom said, gripping your arm and shaking you around, “you’d leave her to satisfy your own fucked up wants? You’re selfish. You’re disloyal.” 
“I’m leaving her because I have to!” You yelled, “I love her! She is my flesh and blood, she is my sister! Don’t you dare accuse me of not loving her enough! But I won’t wither away in this court, I refused. She knows that this is what I need. She knows that and she’ll accept it in time.” 
“If you knew how much this would hurt her—”
“I do know how much this will hurt her,” You admitted, “but still—she’ll survive.”
You gripped Tom’s jaw and forced him to look at you. “You be good to her,” You said sternly, “you treat her right, or I will come back, no matter how far I go, I will come back and I will destroy you.” 
Tom slapped your hand away and turned to Harrison, “You will never speak of this again. As far as you’re concerned, you have no idea where the princess went.” He spoke lowly, “Understand?”
“Yes, your grace.” Harrison nodded. 
Tom gave you one last forlorn look before turning and walking off. Harrison turned back to you and held out his sword, “For you,” he said, “strike hard and fast.” He instructed, “The real world is filled with terrors.” 
“So is court,” You said, taking the sword in your grasp, “thank you, Harrison.”
“Where will you go?”
You pondered for a moment as you mounted your horse, “France has a lovely countryside,” You noted, “we have a chateau there currently unused. Perhaps that is where I’ll be happy.” 
“I hope that is the case, your grace.” Harrison nodded. 
“I do too,” You sighed, giving Harrison one last smile before kicking your foot into the horse’s side and trotting off.
The chateau in the French countryside was quaint and perfect. It was small, but had acres and acres of land, perfect for gardening, farming, and riding. The estate had been in your family for years, first belonging to your great grandfather, who used it to house his niece and her family. It was passed down generation to generation until your second cousin, Maude, lived in it with her husband. But they never bore any children and both died very young, so ever since you were a baby, the chateau had been empty and unused. 
Your father still had servants that lived on and around the property, so it wasn’t as if you were entirely alone. You had a few maids and a guard, but all in all, it was just you and the blissful ignorance that came with living freely away from court.
The town just at the bottom of the hill up to the estate was also lovely. Many merchants and shops were open, always providing the best and freshest products. And that little town, that perfect little town is where you found eyes that you hadn’t realized you’d been searching for. Eye’s you hadn’t seen in years. 
“Are these fresh?” You asked, pointing to the lemon tarts on the baking tray. 
The baker turned around and flashed you a charming smile, “Yes, Ma’am,” he smiled, “just took them out of the oven to cool.”
“They smell divine,” You smiled, “I’ll take two please.” 
“Okay, that’ll be—” The baker did a double-take after grabbing some lemon tarts and squinted his eyes at you, “have we met before?”
“I don’t believe so,” You tilted your head to the side, “I’m new in town.” 
“Really? You look awfully familiar.” 
“I’m not sure,” You shrugged, “maybe I just have one of those faces.” 
“Perhaps.” The baker nodded, “Where are you staying? Martin’s Inn? That’s the most popular one in town.”
“No,” You shook your head, “I’m actually in the chateau on the hill,” You said, pointing to the hill in the distance. 
“T-The one that belongs to the King and Queen of Scotland?” The baker asked, peering at you once more, “(Y/N)?” 
“Hm?’ You snapped your attention back to him, “No, sorry, I’m sure you’re mistaken—”
“No, I’d know those eyes anywhere. Forgive me, your grace,” The baker bowed before you, “I assume you have forgotten the lowly baker’s boy you used to call ‘friend’.”
“James?” You looked at the man once more, finally realizing all the familiarities in his features. The button nose and kind, green eyes. The floppy golden hair and sun kissed cheeks. He was James, your James. “James!” You smiled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into a hug. “You idiot!” You scolded after pulling away, playfully slapping his arm, “no need to kneel for me anymore. And stop that ‘your grace’ foolishness.” 
“What do I call you then? Your highness? M’lady?” 
“(Y/N) will work just fine.” You smiled, “I haven’t seen those green eyes in so long. It’s refreshing and relieving to see a familiar face. Please, when are you free next?” You asked, taking his hands in yours, “I have room in the chateau, we can talk. I so desperately want to talk to you. I’m alone here and you know how much I love ro ramble—or complain as you so eloquently put it.” 
“I’ll be done just after the sun sets,” James laughed, “is that too late?” 
“No, not at all,” You shook your head, “please, come to the estate, we’ll have dinner and fine wine. And we’ll make up for lost time, okay?” 
“Of course, your gra—Um, (Y/N).” 
“I can’t you called the future King if England a bastard!” James’ boisterous laughter filled the room as you both drank your wine. 
“I know, I know,” You giggled, “I was a bit of a spitfire.” 
“You still are,” James noted, causing you to tilt your head at him curiously, “I mean leaving court? Quite the rebellious streak you have, your grace.”
“Oh shush,” You waved him off, “I had to leave. Even when I was little I knew I wouldn’t be able to live up to what was expected of me. And I've only been here a few weeks now, but this is heaven.” You said, gesturing to the estate you were on, “this is easy. I like easy.” 
“Hm,” James took another sip of his wine, “I always thought you liked a challenge, if I remember correctly.” 
“I like a challenge that interests me,” You corrected, “court does not interest me.”
“No, I never thought it did.” James smiled. “Not to ruin this lovely mood we've established,” he began, “but I do believe I forgot to apologize for your loss.” James, set his chalice down and took your hand, “losing your father, I know it was years ago, but that type of loss stings. I know how much you cared for him.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” You gave him a small smile, “it feels like a lifetime ago that it happened. Sometimes I try to remember his voice or what he smelled like and I can’t. It was so long ago, I don’t think it matters much anymore.” 
“And your mother?” 
“I haven’t seen her in years as well, though she writes frequently. Not to me anymore, since I’ve been here. But she writes to Dahlia. She’s going to England soon for the wedding.” 
“Are you going to the wedding as well?”
“James,” You laughed, “I ran away, I can’t go back. Not even for her wedding. It’s not a ceremony of love anyways, it’s protocol. It’ll happen whether I’m there or not.” 
“I bet she misses you though.” 
“Yes, I miss her.” You admitted, “I missed you too. Years have gone by and while I may have stopped dwelling on it, I know deep in my heart that what happened to you and your father in our court was wrong.” 
“(Y/N)—” James sighed but you cut him off. 
“No,” You help you hand up, “you shouldn’t have been asked to leave. I should’ve stopped them.” 
“I did hit you fairly hard in the head,” James tried to make light of it, “I probably deserved it.” 
“You didn’t,” You promised him, “you were an angel. You didn’t deserve that and I am truly sorry. I’m even more sorry that it took me eight years to apologize.” 
“Don’t worry about it,” James shrugged, “it was so long ago.”
“I do worry about it though,” You admitted, “I don’t think about it often, but when I do, it makes me sad to think about all the time we missed out on. Did you ever learn to read?” 
James laughed at the question and shook his head, “I did, but I doubt I could do it as eloquently as you.” 
You smiled and took his hand in yours, “I’m happy I found you again, now I can properly pay you back for hitting me upside the head,” You joked and you playfully tried to bop him upside the head. But James caught your hand before you could hit him. 
“Still too slow, little princess.” 
France, 1642
The days of summer in France were perfectly warm. The golden sun was always bright in the sky, bathing the land in its warmth. So the majority of your days were spent in light, white dress. Made from thin, breathable materials. A complete contrast to the silks and satins you used to be accustomed to. But a good contrast—a much-needed contrast.
“What is the plan today, m’love?” James asked as he came in from the garden with the fresh tomatoes. “Sword fighting? I still need you to show that one move. The one where you take the sword from your opponent? Brilliant.” 
“Hm,” You pondered for a moment, “maybe after a nice ride in the meadow?” You suggested as you cut up some apples for tarts later, “there’s a nice breeze out today and I’d like to take full advantage of it before the sun comes back to burn me into the ground. Oh! And don’t forget to make these tarts. Miss Marjory is having her baby soon and I promised I’d send some to her. I’ll probably get Ida to take them, as I’m much too tired, at least, that’s the lie I’ve come up with to avoid Marjory. She’s been so crabby lately, she’s starting to remind me of my mother. Speaking of, I heard that my mother is making another trip to England soon, though I’m not sure what for. Perhaps Dahlia had an heir, though I’m sure I would’ve heard something about that as well—”
“Marry me.” 
“—And it’s so strange to think that I haven’t seen her in so long, two years almost three and—wait what?” You stopped cutting the apples and looked up at James, “what’d you say?’ 
James came up beside you and took the knife out of your hand, “Marry me, (Y/N).” 
“Why?” You squeaked out after a moment. 
“Because I love you. And I’m not sure if you feel the same way, but as you were sitting here rambling, I realized that I never wanted to stop hearing your voice. I want to listen to you ramble for the rest of my life, and when you stop, I want to kiss your lips while they take a break from the incessant, beautiful rambling.” 
“James, I—”
“M’lady,” Ida, one of you maids came into the kitchen, “there is a man requesting an audience with you. He says it’s urgent.”
“R-Right, of course,” You nodded, taking off your apron and wiping your hands on it. You turned to James, “we’ll talk about this later?” 
“Of course,” James agreed. 
You walked to the foyer, where the entrance to the chateau was and there waiting for you was a tall man. Light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Friendly eyes that you knew all too well. 
“Harrison,” You breathed out with a smile, before running up to hug him.
“Umpf!” Harrison grunted when your body collided with his, “Your grace, it’s an honor to see you again.” 
“Stop the formalities and hug me like you mean it,” You scolded, finally feeling him squeeze back. 
You pulled away and looked into his eyes, seeing the sadness that had pitted itself in them. Then you noticed it. How had you not seen it before, the all black outfit of mourning? 
“What’s happened?” You asked, running a finger along the black detailing on the jacket he wore.
“It’s your sister,” Harrison spoke gently, “she’s passed, your grace.” 
A/N: omg i did it! i finally did it! this took so so so long, but i had so much fun writing it, and i loved how it turned out. no poll at the end of this chapter since there is no choice to be made yet, but there will be some pretty serious choices coming up as we go along. the ages of this prologue might be confusing, so here is a little cheat sheet: 
1632: (Y/N), Harry, and Sam are 8, Dahlia and Tom are 10 
1636: (Y/N), Harry, and Sam are 12, Dahlia, Harrison and Tom are 14 
1640: (Y/N), Harry, and Sam are 16, Dahlia, Harrison, and Tom are 18 
1642: (Y/N), Harry and Sam are 18, Tom and Harrison are 20
I know they are pretty young to be going through all of this, but that’s kind of how things were at that time. you didn’t live long back then, so it was supplemented by doing things like getting married and having kids young. technically, a more realistic age of marriage would’ve been 15, but i’m following today’s standards for age of consent. sorry if there are a fuck ton of typos, i’m gonna spend the new few days rereading this and getting rid of as many typos as i can. lastly, thank you so much for your love and support, it genuinely makes me feel so good and makes writing 1000x more worth it.
✧tags & moots✧ PERM
@ptersmj​ @princessofguineapigs​ @peterbenjiparker​ @cherrytholland​ @itsapeterthing​ @justapurrcat​ @kelieah​ @iovebug​ @celestialholland​  @hollandcrush​ @scarletspideyy​ @blissfulparker​ @spidernerdsblog​ @spideyspeaches​ @andilovetowrite​ @sinisterspidey​ @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend​ @lovelybarnes​ @white-wolf1940​ @wierdteenagenerd​ @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy​ @selfcarecap​ @misshale21 @morganwilliams @loveaffaire @tomfknholland​ @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @aayaissaa @micaelaf05 @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeel @peni5parker @slut-for-steve-rogers @vavilip @kitkatt18-blog @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @hollandswife @writesforholland @prancerrparkerr @petesrparker @arlo-sanders @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @niallberry @iaminlovetomhollandmarvel @1-800-lov3r @bisexualdragongirl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue-blog @hallecarey1 @marvelobsessed10031917 @Z3ndaya @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @marvelhasmyheart235 @kierstiniscrying @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @spideymix @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @runawaywithmyghost @rqmanoff @oxyparker @rory-cakes @parkerdarling @samaraaaaa @yuh-bitchh @freds-slut @gingerbreadgodofhyperdeath @spideymixmain @blue-4-55-readinglist @camrenrodrigoswift @brown-eyed-doe @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @parkerflms @holland-horan @scorpiowhores @marvelxholland @hufflepuffseeker @spider-man-stiles-gubler @lost-girl24 @jjmaybanks-whore @wildholland @demirunner @tom-softie @quackquackbi @samsanchez857
✧tags & moots✧ TOM HOLLAND
@harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 @teenwishes08 @bradtomlovesya | @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @theonly1outof-a-billion @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @ottitt @lmaotshollandd @mcu-spiderman @tomhollandlol @watermelonsponge
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whereistradel · 19 hours ago
one night stand — tom holland
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pairing: tom holland x (actress) reader
warnings: none
summary: you broke up with tom but end up having a one night stand.
requested: no
note: exes to lovers
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“Hey, love. Didn't think I'd see you here.”
A low voice joined your side but you didn't need to turn to recognize that voice. Instead, you remained to stare at the empty stage in front of you.
There was a brief break time for people to interact, but you decided to go back to your table and wait till the ceremony again. You could feel some people near you staring, so you remained your gaze anywhere but at him.
“I’m an actress, Tom. Why wouldn't I be here?”
The both of you knew that the question he asked was stupid and clearly an excuse to start a conversation with you.
Tom awkwardly chuckled and took a sip from his glass while you tapped your freshly polished nails on the white-clothed table.
You started to regret coming to this award show—there was always an option to be absent and get sent the award to your house—but of course, your manager said not to.
“What do you want, Tom? I know we agreed to go back to being friends, but now people might get the wrong idea.”
You scanned around the celebrities among you, most of them talking quietly to their peers. It still bothered you that a rumor might get published tomorrow that the two of you were talking again.
“Tom Holland and (Y/n) (Y/l/n), seen together at the Oscars after their break-up.”
You already shuddered, thinking about the possible headlines. Tom, on the other hand, seemed not to mind being seen next to you.
Three months ago, you made the heavy-hearted decision to break up with Tom. The two of you were drifting apart and you were being selfish, ending the relationship without trying to fix it.
You cried for a week, not realizing how much Tom had impacted your life, since the two of you dated for almost nine months.
Tom suddenly cleared his throat and you thought he was going to leave.
“Do you want to head to my place after this?”
You finally looked at his brown eyes, reading that he was nervous for some reason. Maybe the decision you made months ago was a mistake.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
Confusion clearly showed in your face as Tom stood up from his bed. He was only wearing his boxers, so you tried to stare at his face.
“What’s no?” You sat up, pulling some of the white blankets towards your naked body.
“No, this,” Tom motioned between the two of you, “Cannot happen.”
It wasn’t confusion anymore, but sadness was written all over your face. Your shoulders slumped and all you could do was him ask why.
“Last night was wonderful to me, love. But, I'm filming my movie soon, I can't go back to a relationship right now. Maybe we should see other people.”
Your head started to process his words and all you could think about was that he probably didn't like you anymore.
“Okay, I understand,” You quickly grabbed your clothes from the wooden floor and walked out, “I'll see you around, Holland.”
Heading towards the guest bathroom, you put your clothes back on while thinking about his words.
Tom continued to stare at the door after your exit and sat on the edge of his bed.
Why did you look so sad, didn't you want this? You were the one who broke up with him three months ago.
When Tom heard his front door close, he sprawled on his bed trying to analyze your reaction just now.
Maybe he was wrong.
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
“And, that was perfect!” The director yelled across the room.
“Mark and (Y/n), that shot was amazing. Why don't we wrap today’s filming here? Good work, everyone.”
A sigh finally left your mouth as you got up from the wooden chair, bidding goodbye to your fellow actor Mark.
The two of you were filming an upcoming romantic-comedy movie, but despite loving the plot, you started getting tired of the busy schedule.
“Hey (Y/n), before you go, I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out to grab dinner sometime?”
Mark looked hopeful; he was nice and after all, you wanted to move on from Tom. It had been a month since you had slept with him and you haven't seen him since.
“Sure, I think I'm free,” You started to think of which day you were free. Next to you, staff members quickly cleaned up the set.
“I think I can do…”
Mark quickly interrupted you, “Actually, I just realized I'm packed all month. Sorry, (Y/n).”
“But isn't your schedule clear to film?” You didn't care whether you got dinner with Mark, you were just confused as to why he was lying.
Mark stood up straighter than before, his eyes glancing behind you then to your eyes. He was intimidated by something.
“Uh, I think my manager is calling me. I’ll see you next time (Y/n).” Mark quickly waved goodbye and left the set.
You stared at where Mark had just left, obviously confused at his actions.
“Well, wasn’t that weird.” You mumbled, deciding to leave and go home soon.
“Yes, that fellow is quite strange if you ask me.”
So Mark wasn’t intimidated by something, but someone.
“Aren’t you going to greet me, love?”
Turning around, you kept an emotionless face to act like you weren’t affected by his presence. It was a good thing you were an actress.
“Don’t call me that, we’re not dating.” You pointed out while crossing your arms. Tom had a grin on his face knowing he had successfully scared away a guy asking you out.
“You look tired, love, why don’t we leave?”
You rolled your eyes and began to walk towards your dressing room. Tom’s grin fell a little as he trailed behind your quick steps.
You hoped that no one saw Tom on set, not wanting rumors going around.
“Why are you here?” He was probably trying to mess with your feelings, and you didn’t want to be a part of that. You continued to hear his loud footsteps behind you.
“I want to talk about us.”
That sentence made you stop in front of your dressing room door. Thankfully, the hallways were empty so both of you had privacy.
“I’ll give you one minute, so talk.”
Tom took a breath and avoided your eyes, “I was wrong about what I said that day. I want to try us again, and I was stupid to not tell you earlier.”
His gaze left the white marble floors to make eye contact, “(Y/n), I still like you. No, I’m in love with you. And if you could please take me back, it would make me the happiest man alive.”
His mouth turned into a cute pout and you grew confused, “Didn’t you say you were too busy to date?”
Tom let out a sigh, “I thought that’s what you wanted, a simple one-night stand with no strings attached.”
You glared at him, knowing what he believed was stupid.
He raised his hands in surrender and you remained silent. “But in my defense, you were the one to break up with me.”
You nodded slowly, thinking back to that dreadful day. You started to wonder why Tom wanted you back.
“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I should’ve tried to talk with you instead of ending things right away.”
Suddenly, arms wrapped around your figure and you could hear Tom breathing.
“Don’t say that, love. I’ll forgive you if you go out on a date with me tomorrow.” You could feel Tom smiling; you hugged him back while closing your eyes.
“It’s a deal.”
༄ ‧₊˚。゚・
written on october 23, 2021
link to my tom holland masterlist
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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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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 15 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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tomhollandfics · a day ago
pregnant!reader x tom? Thanks!
hi! you'll find some other pregnancy fics in my dad!tom fic list - but here's some more x
Baby Bump - @hollandsmushroom
Pregnancy Anxiety - @lovewasted
The Best Birthday - @celestialholland
Of Pregnancy & Cravings - @multific
Protective Pup - @hollandprkr
Overdramatic - @webslinger-holland
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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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starksview · 2 days ago
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『 Episode 03: 』
Navigation ; War of Hearts Episodes (< read this first please) ; taglist yourself here
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t a g l i s t: @loxbbg ; @perspectiive ; @erule ; @writingsbyliv ; @marvelxholland ; @thesunlightofourpast ; @lilgoddesshines
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Don’t Answer the Phone | T. Holland | Chapter 3
Summary: Summary: The town of Riverwood just got a whole lot more scary when a killer decides to reek havoc on the teens at Riverwood High. Y/N Y/L/N and Tom Holland have to find a way to survive Halloween weekend. Or will they just be apart of the killers sinister plans?
TW: blood, death, gore, drinking, mentions of sex, attempt SA, light PDA
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After you fell asleep, you had a terrible nightmare. The red masked killer was chasing you down a long hallway and with each step you took, the killer took two more. He was able to catch up to you and continued to stab you until you were nothing but a blood, screaming mess. You woke up screaming and thrashing around, sweat stuck to your body and it took you a second to realize it was Tom touching you, not the killer.
You felt embarrassed when you saw Tom’s father, Dom, and his two twin brothers, Harry and Sam, at his bedroom door with bats in their hands. You had woken the whole family and felt like a lunatic. You apologized profusely but they said it wasn't a big deal, but it was because the killer was now attacking you in your dreams. He was with you even though he wasn't.
You had gone to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face in hopes it would make you feel better. It didn't. Your eyes were red and swollen, you still had a few stray tears on your cheeks and you had small bags under your eyes. If you didn't know any better you looked like you were fighting to stay awake in a Nightmare on Elm Street movie. You had gone back to bed with Tom who was waiting for you, he welcomed you with open arms and asked if you were okay. All you did was nod your head because you didn't have the strength to tell him you weren't. He held you close but you still couldn't fall back asleep, afraid you would see the red masked killer.
October 30, 1999
You heard noise down in the kitchen and you figured everyone was awake besides Tom who was snoring lightly beside you.You carefully unwrapped yourself from Tom’s embrace and looked at the small clock he had on, it was nine thirty-four in the morning. You were exhausted but you refused to go back to bed after the nightmare you had, so you stood awake the rest of the night.
You grabbed some socks from Tom’s drawer, as well as a new shirt and some sweatpants since it was so cold. You quietly made your way down the stairs and you heard the Holland family chatting and heard the tv going too. You made your way into the living room and stopped to watch as one of the news women spoke, you suinted your eyes and scoffed when you realized it was your house she was talking in front of.
“As police scramble to find Katherine Wheaton’s killer, they strike again but only this time did they leave someone alive. Last night seventeen year old Y/N Y/L/N was attacked by the same person who murdered Wheaton. The police have no reason to believe these attacks were connected, only just an opportunity for the killer. We have no word from Y/N about what happened, only that she fought for her life to be here today. Stay strong Y/N, back to you Carl.”
The tv was turned off and you turned to see Sam with the remote, a sheepish smile on his smile. “Sorry, Dad just wanted to see if they were airing some golf segment. We didnt mean-”
“Sam, it's okay I can't hide from what happened. Not when he’s still out there.” You shook your head and he sighed, he reached to place a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“They’ll find him, Y/N. And he’ll rot in jail for what he did to you and Katherine.” You nodded and thanked him for his words. He then guided you into the kitchen where everyone bid you a good morning.
“Morning Y/N, i was asking Tom when you'd come over again!” You smiled at Tom’s younger brother Paddy, he was a sweetheart and you knew he'd grow up to be just like his brothers.
“Well Paddy, I’m here now. It’s good to see you again.” You smiled at him and then at Nikki who placed a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of you.
“Can I see your cut, Y/N?” Nikki gasped, Sam and Harry froze in place, and Dom glared at the younger boy. “Paddy! How dare you ask Y/N that! Apologize right now.”
You jumped in to try and same Paddy, you know he meant no harm and was just curious. “It’s fine, Nikki. I'm sure he’s just curious. Sorry Paddy, I don’t think I can show you just yet.” You sent him a weak smile and he mumbled an apology. But now your appetite is gone thinking about the cut on your left side.
Tom came into the kitchen, yawning. “Morning, everyone.” He bent down and kissed the top of your head and thanked his mom when she handed him his breakfast. He took a seat next to you and immediately began digging in.
“What are we talking about?”
“Paddy asked to see Y/N’s stab wound.”
“Harry,” Nikki scolded.
“Paddy,” Tom hissed and threw his fork down to glare at his younger brothers.
“Tom, it’s fine. It’s an honest mistake. I don't want to talk about it anymore,” You rubbed your temples and the kitchen became quiet. Soon after Dom bid goodbye to his family and you as he had to leave for work. Paddy left to go watch tv and the twins had to convince Nikki to let them leave the house to go to their friends house.
You tried to help Nikki clean up the mess but she insisted that you and Tom both go relax. She sent you a smile full of sympathy and you hated it. Tom guided you up the stairs and abc into his room. You both sat down on his bed and it was quiet for a minute or two but your thoughts were racing a mile a minute and you knew Tom had questions.
“You can ask, you know. I won't get mad or anything.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face.
“I just don't understand how this happened. I mean, why you?” You shook your head at his question because you've been wondering the same things yourself. Why did he choose you? Maybe you did something to them without even realizing but still what did you do that made him want to kill you.
“I should've taken you home. I shouldve never agreed to go to Jacob’s. I should have been at your place.” Tom continued to ramble about yesterday but you began thinking about what he said and what Harrison said about him being at practice. Then when you called Nikki and asked about Tom, it didn't add up. You sat up straight and began to slowly inch away from Tom. It was a crazy idea but it didn't now make sense. It hurt to think that your caring, sweet, loving boyfriend would do this but you wouldn't rule out anyone. You tried to blink back the tears that came to your eyes but you couldn't make them go away.
“Where were you last night?” He stopped talking and turned to look at you, a frown on his face and eyebrows furrowed.
“What? What do you mean? I said I was at Jacob’s. Wait, what does that have to do with anything?”
“I'm just asking because I was attacked and I was told you were supposed to be at the school and then I was told you were at Jacob’s.” You tried to subtly scoot away but Tom saw it. He reached out and grabbed your hand and you stopped moving. You both locked eyes and your breath hitched.
Stop. Stop. He didn't do this. He would never.
“Are you saying that I did this? What the fuck?”
“No! I’m not saying that! I-I just, I want the truth. Where were you?” You asked and Tom scoffed, “I was at Jacob’s for the night and then we got the call from Z that something had happened to you. I drove to the police station as soon as I heard what happened.Wait, who told you this in the first place?”
“Your mom told me you were at Jacobs and the-” There was a knock on the door and you both turned to look at it. Tom shouted at whoever was behind the door to come in. And in walked your four best friends. Luna was holding what looked like a care package and Zendaya had balloons in her hands. You appreciated their gesture, you really did. But you felt there were some things that you didn't need or require. Getting attacked and almost butchered didn’t require a gift basket or a card.
“Surprise!” You gave them all a fake smile as they piled into Tom’s room. You slowly made your way to the end of the bed and ignored Tom’s gaze, you focused on your friends who all came to give you hugs. The girls put the gifts beside you and Luna grabbed your hands and forced you to look at her.
“What the hell happened, Y/N? Tell me who I have to kill.” You shook her hands off and looked off to the side. “I don't know. I don't know who attacked me and I don't know why they did it.”
“Jesus, who would do something like this? Going after you and Katherine, they must be insane,” Everyone agreed with Harrison and you couldn't meet anyone's eyes. You were afraid to see the pity that swam in their eyes, you could feel it. You almost began to envy Katherine, as bad as it sounds. She was dead and although everyone did pity her she wasn’t alive to feel their eyes bore into hers with such sadness. She was able to escape it, you weren't so lucky.
“So… are we still going to the party tonight?” Luna’s question had everyone in the room glaring at her.
“Luna,” Z hissed and pinched her arm. Luna glared back at Zendaya and slapped her hand for hurting her. “Bitch.”
“Luna, it’s not really a time for a party. Our best friend, you know Y/N? Almost got her insides spilled on the floor!” Your eyes widened in surprise at Jacob’s last sentence, you were not expecting it to end like that.
“Jacob, what the fuck?” Tom’s voice snapped and Jacob threw his hands out.
“What the hell are we supposed to say? This doesn't happen to normal people. I mean, this only happens in movies,” Jacob said back and you sighed as Zendaya jumped in and tried to come to your defense too. But the arguing was starting to give you a headache that you didn't need right now.
“Guys! Please, stop talking. It’s fine, it’s fine. Go ahead, go to the party, I don't care. I’m not going,” You said and Luna jumped from her spot on Tom’s bed and pulled you up.
“We can't go if you're not going. That’ll make us look like shitty friends. And you know we all care about you, of course we do. But I do want to get shitfaced and my costume is pretty hot.” You wanted to cuss Luna out for trying to sound like she cared about you more than getting drunk and laid. Luna was a good friend, sometimes. And at this moment she was a bad friend.
“Luna, you can't just make her go to this party. She’s been through enough and who's to say this maniac isn't waiting for her to make a guest appearance,” Harrison said and you shook your head at the idea of this person just waiting to catch you alone and finish you off.
“We dont know that for sure. Y/N, you cant be afraid of this lunatic. You need to put on your costume and show that fucker you are not afraid. It’ll be great, I promise and we will be with you the whole time. Please, I’ll owe you one big time.”
“Y/N, dont listen to her-”
“It’s fine. It’s whatever. I’ll go just please stop fucking talking.” You sighed when you heard Luna laugh in delight and you could tell everyone was worried with your decision. You were worried, scared even, with your decision. What if he was there? You don't know why you said yes, maybe it was the pressure. Maybe it was to get Luna to shut up because Luna is so damn stubborn.
“Can we go to your place, Z?” The plan was originally to get ready at her place anyway so everything you need was already at her’s.
“Yeah… you want to leave soon?” She asked and you shook your head. “Right now.”
“I’ll see you guys later.” You went to leave the room but Jacobs' voice stopped you, “We all came with Z.”
“Right. Right, let's go. Now, please.” They all said goodbye to Tom and you didn't have it in you to acknowledge him so you just walked out of the door. You said goodbye to Paddy and Nikki as you all left.
When the five of you got into Z’s car and as soon as the last door was shut, Luna was the first to speak. “So, are you and Tom okay? I noticed you guys were a little tense.”
“Fuck you, Luna.” You snapped and she scoffed.
“That was rude and I’m going to ignore it considering the circumstances you were put in.” You rolled your eyes and dropped Harrison off first since he lived closer to Tom. He said goodbye and told everyone he’d see them tonight. Next was Luna and then Jacob.
“Listen we don't have to go if you don't want to. Don't listen to Luna, she's being a bitch.” She parked her car in the driveway of her home and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I don't care anymore. I said I would go so I’ll go.” Zendaya didn't say anything but the look she gave you was one you couldn't describe.
Once you were in her house, you greeted her mom who was so happy to see you. And of course the look of pity stood out. Zendaya’s dad was at the police station, still trying to figure out who the killer was. Zendaya had noticed your discomfort and managed to pull you away from her mom and to her room.
“Are you and Tom okay? Luna was right, it was kind of awkward, we all felt it.” You threw yourself on her bed and shook your head, you didn't want to tell Z that you thought for a split second that Tom was the one to do this to you.
“I can’t tell if he was lying to me or not, that's it. Typical couple shit, I guess. I don't really want to talk about it.”
There was a knock on the door and Zendaya called out, “Come in!”
“Y/N, there’s someone on the phone for you?”
“What? Who is it?” Nobody should be calling you right now so you wondered if it was your mom or dad. “They didn't say but it was urgent they said.”
“Could it be from the cops?” You asked and Zendaya shrugged. You followed her mom downstairs where the phone was.
“Hello Y/N.” The voice made your skin  crawl and your whole body began to shake. “It makes me sad that we couldn't finish our little game last night.”
“Go screw yourself!” You couldn't help but start to cry. He was out there and he was going to come for you again.
“I’m gonna kill your friends and then I'm gonna make you watch as I kill your boyfriend.”
“Y/N! Who is it?”
“And maybe I’ll gut your parents right befire I slit your fucking throat. It ends with you.” The phone call ended and you were left clutching the phone in tears as Zendaya and her mother were asking questions left and right.
“He’s not gonna stop,” You sobbed and Zendaya began wiping away your tears. “Was it him? The killer?” You nodded your head and her mom left to go call her husband.
“Wait! If he comes then so does the whole town. I don't want to deal with them right now, please. I, just,” You didn't know what to do right now. The last thing you needed was the news and police up your ass right before the party and it would only make things worse for you.
“Y/N, my dad will catch this bastard. But we have to call him!”
“No, Z! Let me figure out what to do!” You looked around the living room and saw the movie cabinet and front row were two of your favorite scary movies. Halloween and Scream. Now that you think of it, this person was just another person trying to live their horror fantasies. They were just another regular human being going around killing someone. You knew none of your friends were capable of murder so you began thinking of anyone you may of hurt.
“I have to stop him.”
“What do you mean you have to stop him. Y/N, you're starting to sound a little crazy. I mean he’s already killed Katherine and he tried to go after you too!” She tried to reason with you and she was right, you didnt know what this person was capable of. But that was the reason you had to stop him, who knew who he would kill next. Was it going to be Zendaya, the girl you considered your sister? Would it be your parents?
“Girls…I’m so sorry.” You both turned to see Z’s mom with the phone in her hand, a sorrowful look on her face. “What is it mom?”
“They just found your principal on the football field, he was murdered.” You turned and gave Z a look. You didn't like the sound of this either and you knew your friends would have some choice words with you if they found out what you were planning.
“He wants me. And he’s not gonna stop until I'm dead or he is.”
Zendaya tried to talk you out of your plan but she couldn't stop you. Not with Katherine and Principal McNighter dead, and you had almost met your match too. You had to protect your friends and family. You knew it was going to be a hard plan, considering you didn't know who the killer was. He could be anyone and it was a Halloween party, the mask he wore was a basic Halloween mask that anyone could have bought. It was going to be hard but you were preparing yourself as you got ready for the party.
“Why the hell do I have to go up into the attic?” Harry complained and everyone laughed at him. “No nose goes, bro. And you lost. So take your ass up the attic and get the decorations.”
Harry flipped Damon off and everyone laughed, going back to setting up the beer table. Harry sighed and made his way up the stairs that lead to the attic. “Assholes.” He mumbled as he reached for the tiny rope that connected to the door. He pulled it down and took a step back, watching the ladder fall to his feet. He slowly began climbing the stairs, watching his step because he didn't want to fall through the ladders or roof and make a fool of himself.
As soon as he stepped foot into the attic he saw the box Damon was talking about filled with decorations. Hereached down to pick up the box but stopped when he heard the floorboards creek behind him. He quickly turned around and began laughing when he saw who it was.
“Mate, what are you doing here? I didnt know you were helping with the setup.” He didn't answer and Harry laughed again.
“You can't scare me. At least put on that ridiculous mask if you want to at least startle someone.” When Harry got no reply again, he turned and picked up the box and sighed when he saw the person still standing there.
“See ya,” Harry chuckled and began to walk towards the attic entrance when suddenly a hand was placed on his shoulder. “C’mon, I have to finish helping or else Damon and the rest of them will be on my ass for the rest of the year.”
The person showed Harry the large knife they had in their hand and Harry scoffed, “Stay out of your dad’s hunting stuff, yeah?” Harry didn't get to finish walking away because he was gripped tightly by his curls and pulled back roughly.
“What the fuck-” He gasped when he was shoved agaisnt the wall and a hand covered his mouth. He tried struggling against the person but it was no use. They were stronger than Harry and Harry’s screams were muffled by their hand when he stuck the hunting knife into Harry’s skull with all his strength. His screams died down slowly as the blood oozed from his head. The killer watched with satisfaction when the blood began to drip over the both of them. He pulled the knife out from his head with a sickening crunch. He let Harry’s body drop to the floor with a loud thud and wiped the knife on his black jacket.
And just like he did two times before, he took out his polaroid camera and made sure to snap a photo of the two of them, this time without the mask on. The killer’s smile was seen perfectly this time.
“We’re going to be late. The party already started,” You said as you waited for Luna outside her house. Luna was always the one who showed up late when you all hung out.
“Relax, she’ll be out any second.” Zendaya honked the horn twice just so Luna would get the message. You waited in silence and watched Luna’s front door like a hawk, you were starting to get nervous and the butterflies in your stomach were non-stop. You couldn't shake the feeling of something awful that was going to happen. Zendaya could feel your anxiety leaking out of you and into the car. It was making her anxious but she chose not to comment on it. Luna came skipping out not two minutes later with a bottle of alcohol clutched in her hand. She took a drink as she approached the car and threw the door open, literally. Zendaya scolded her as she jumped in and slammed the car door shut.
“Why are you so aggressive when you're drunk?”
“I'm not even drunk yet. Want some?” She shoved the bottle between the two of you and you both shook your head. Z was driving adn you couldnt afford to be drunk with everything happening. You wanted to warn Luna about getting drunk tonight and tomorrow night but you knew she wouldn't listen. She would call you paranoid and then try and force you to have a drink or get high.
When you drove past the house, it looked absolutely insane. Zendaya had to park in the next block over with how many cars there were.
“You know we can go home now. I can ask Jacob to watch Luna-”
“Stop. Please stop doing that. I appreciate it but you're not helping, you're just making me feel worse.” You shouldn't have snapped at Z but she was making that dreadful feeling in your stomach build and you felt like you had to throw up. You left Zendaya walking behind you as you caught up with Luna and linked arms with her.
“Do you think hooking up with Haz would be a bad idea?” Her question caught you off guard. You didn't know they were interested in each other. Sometimes they flirted, but they were both natural flirts with everyone. That’s just who they were.
“Um, I guess not. If you guys like each other, go for it.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, “We don't like each other, it’ll just be casual.” You nodded your head and threw your hands in the air in disbelief because as soon as you entered the house, Luna was running off to do her own thing. You looked behind you and saw Z talking to some of her friends and you didn't want to leave either of them alone but you wanted to find Tom anyway. You needed to apologize and you hoped he’d be forgiving.
It wasn't hard to find him, he was pretty popular at school so he was in the kindle of a group, drinking a beer and holding his Spider-Man mask. He saw you approaching and immediately passed his almost empty bottle to Jacob, who rolled his eyes and set the bottle down. The smile he had was gone and he met you halfway.
“Hi. You're here.” You nodded and grabbed his hand.
“Can we talk? Somewhere more private?” He immediately nodded and squeezed your hand. He began to lead you up the stairs. The music was still loud in your ears no matter how far into the home he led you. The first door he opened, there was a couple fucking on the bed. He instantly closed the door and turned to look at you. You both started laughing and he pulled you away from the room and opened another one two doors down. Luckily it was empty, he ushered you inside and you started to feel a little uncomfortable in your leather catsuit and you sure Tom’s Spider-Man costume was uncomfortable as well.
“I'm sorry.” You both said you chuckled at you being insync. That was the thing about being with Tom, it was never awkward. There was never a time where you felt like you couldn't be yourself or couldn't talk to him about things. You love him and you love being with him.
“I shouldn't have grilled you about your whereabouts. I don't think you’re some psycho killer, I was just paranoid and I still am. But I trust you, I know you and I love you.” Tom pulled you into him and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss and when you broke apart you pressed your forehead against his.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” He laughed and nodded, “Of course I do. I’m sorry too, I should've been more understanding. I know what happened is really hard on you. I'm sorry.” He kissed you again and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him as close as possible. He began to guide you backwards until the back of your knees touched the bed. His lips began to trail down your neck and he started to nip and suck on the skin. You couldn't help but let out breathy moans as he did so. His hand reached up to grab the zipper that was on the front of your costume. Your hands gripped his hair harder as he started to pull it down your body.
You both jumped in surprise when the door knob began to rattle and there was banging on the door. “What the fuck?” He helped you fix your costume and got up to open the door. As soon as the door was opened, Sam and one of his friends came busting in, looking absolutely crazy.
“Sam, what's going on?”
“Have you seen Harry? He’s been gone for a few hours and we can't find him. Tom, did he go home?” Your heart began beating faster and you could feel anxiety crawling up your spine. Harry wasn't one to go missing, your immediate thought was that the killer got their hands on him. But you couldn’t jump to conclusions, even when every bone in your body is telling you this was wrong.
“I’m going to help find him. I’ll be right back.” He kissed you and left the room. You began to pace back and forth as you thought of all the other possibilities. You didn't want it to be true but with everything that is happening there was no other explanation. You even debated going out to help Tom and Sam find Harry because you couldn’t stand the idea of being alone right now and not helping find Harry. You stopped pacing when Tom came back into the room and you sighed in relief.
“Thank god. You found him right? He was probably just messing with you guys, as some stupid Halloween prank,” You laughed and he began to slowly walk towards you. You realized he was wearing his Spider- Man mask this time and you raised a brow at him.
“What are you doing?” He wrapped his arms around your waist and began to trail his hand from your waist up your stomach, between your boobs, until his fingers reached your lips. He parted them and stuck his gloved thumb on your lower lip.
“So you wanna role play, now?” You chuckled and he lifted his mask up, only enough for his lips to show. But it happened so fast, his lips were on yours in an instant. The kiss was fast and needy and you had to brace yourself against him because he was kissing you so hard, your body was starting to lean back. But that’s when you noticed it.
This wasn't Tom. You've been with Tom for a little over a year and you knew exactly how his lips felt against yours. You knew for a fact this wasn't Tom. And if this wasn't Tom, who was it? You continued to kiss this mystery person, so as to not set them off. But the alarms in your brain were going brizerke, something was telling you to run. Run and never look back. You had to get out of the room and find someone. His hand came and gripped your neck and began to push you on the bed. With the grip they had on you, something popped up into your brain. The killer.
You had to make your escape, now.
You pretended to try and wrap your legs around his waist but you snuck your knee underneath and kneed him as hard as you could in his balls. He groaned in pain and you pushed him off you and ran straight for the door. You didn't make it very far because he grabbed your hair and threw you back on the bed. You don't know where he got that same knife from last night but he held it in the air and brought it down. You moved to the right and watched as the knife went through the mattress and you looked back up at the monster. You’ve only seen it work in movies but you were cornered by a psychopath with a hunting knife, you were running out of options.
You leaned your head back into the mattress and as hard as you could, you slammed your head straight into his. He fell back once again and this was your chance, you ran. You ripped open the door and saw that no one was upstairs. Had he managed to clear the floor to get you alone?
You stalled at the top of the stairs. This was your chance to pull off his mask and see who he was once and for all. End this nightmare before he hurts anyone else. You looked around for some type of weapon and your regret not taking that knife from him. All you saw was a lamp on a side table. You pulled it out of the socket and took off the shade and slowly made your way back to the room. Your heart was racing when you took a step in. And your heart fell when you looked around the room and saw that no one was in here. You felt a breeze and saw the window open, you were sure that it wasn't open when you were in here. He was gone. You had lost your chance.
“Damn it!” You didn't mean to throw the lamp but you were so angry with yourself. You had the chance but you let your fear get in the way of your chance.
“Y/N?” You turned just in time to see Tom, Harrison, and Sam walk into the room and their eyes widened when they saw the mess that was made.
“What the hell happened?”
You grabbed Tom by his hands and ushered them all out of the room, “The killer. He’s here. He just came after me again but he got away. We have to go before he comes back.” You said urgently but Tom stopped you from walking down the stairs.
“Wait, are you serious? Are you sure it wasn't some asshole trying to scare you?” You nodded your head and began to tell them exactly what happened, Tom was furious that he kissed you and tried to take it further.
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Harrison asked and you finally got a good look at him. He looked kind of ridiculous in his bulky Batman costume and you noticed he was sporting a bruise or two on his face. “What happened to your face?”
“Some girl I was hooking up with. Apparently she had a boyfriend,” He rolled his eyes and Sam and Tom both snickered at him.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.” The laughing stopped when you all heard creaking coming from above you. You all paused and looked at one another. You looked around and saw there was an attic door and you thought the killer might be in there. There were four of you and one of him, you could take him. You walked over and reached for the string but a hand came to clamp down on yours.
‘“What are you doing?” Tom whispered and you shrugged his hand off and pointed up to the attic. “I’m going up there. What does it look like I'm doing?”
The boys all watched warily as you pulled the string down and took a step back for the ladder to come down. You looked back at all the boys and noticed they had no interest in going into the attic. You rolled your eyes and began climbing up the ladder. “Y/N.”
You ignored Tom and continued climbing, the music in the background was starting to become annoying, considering it was so loud.
Once you made it inside you couldn’t see a thing. It was dusty and had some spider webs that had you cringing and cowering back. You realized that none of the boys followed you up here and you saw a light in the middle of the room. You carefully walked towards it and pulled the switch and watched the light come on. You began to do a full three-sixty of the room, slowly. You searched every square inch of the room with your eyes and saw nothing.
“Y/N, what is it? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. There’s nothing.” Just then the rocking chair in the corner of the room moved just the slightest. There were two of them and you slowly made your way over to them. It looked like there was something, no, someone under the clothes that were concealing them.
You reached both hands out for the fabric on each chair and with a hard tug you pulled them off. Your hands flew to your mouth at what you saw and you were close to vomiting. You screamed in terror and immediately began retreating back. You could hear your name being called and you realize you couldn't let Tom or Sam come up here, They couldn't see their brother dead. And next to him was none other than Jacob’s corpse. Tears began to flow from your eyes and you ran towards the exit and met the boys halfway. You tried to stop them from going up but it was no use.
“Tom, Sam. Please, don't go in there. I’m begging you.” They both looked at eachother and pushed past you, along with Harrison. You couldn't see their reactions but Harrison let out a gagging sound and immediately booked it back down to the second floor. You could hear him throwing up in the distance.
Sam was the first to cry. Scream more like. His brother was killed and stuffed aside like some rag doll. Tom fell to his knees and began crying as well. You walked up to him and held him as close as possible. Your heart broke at the sounds of the Holland brothers mourn over their brother, especially in a way like this. Harry was sweet and kind, he didnt deserve to die like this. Your sad tears turned into angry ones as you thought of the pain he inflicted on both Harry and Jacob.
One of your best friends was dead. You never got to say goodbye. He was just downstairs having a beer, how did this happen? How did no one see them get murdered?
You turned when you saw Harrison appear next to Tom and Harry. He leaned down and hugged his best friend, more so brother. He had tears in his eyes too and he looked anywhere but at Harry and Jacob.
“I called the police. They’ll be here any second.” You were grateful for Harrison at this moment.
“H-How? I-I dont U-understand. Oh my god, mum and dad don't even know. How the fuck are we supposed to tell mum and dad!” Tom was in hysterics and it only got worse when you heard the music stop and people began screaming. Tom and Sam still had tears streaming down their faces but you all looked at each other with a puzzled expression.
These weren't people screaming with joy, these people were screaming in terror. You looked over at Harrison, “What’s going? What’s happening?”
He shrugged his shoulders and you couldn't decide if it was the heat of the moment or anxiety creeping up on you, “You were just down there! How do you not know!” You ran down back to the second floor and immediately bumped into a girl who looked like she was trying to jump out the window.
“What the hell is happening?” You grabbed her arm and made her look at you. She was on the verge of tears and shaking badly.
“That maniac is here! He tried to gut someone downstairs!” She ripped her grip from you and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was down there, somewhere. You wanted to find him but you were reminded that your boyfriend needed you. You couldn't  leave your best friend's corpse upstairs without making sure he got carried away properly.
You ran back into the attic and grabbed the boys’ attention. “We have to go now!”
“What’s going on?”
“That fucker is here! He’s going to try and kill us. We have to go, we can't afford to lose anyone else!” You saw the look on Tom’s face. He wanted revenge. Revenge for his brother and his best friend. But you were worried what the killer would do to him. He’s killed four people that you know so far, he won't have a problem killing another.
“Let’s find this, bastard.”
“Tom, no. We need to go. He’ll kill us!”
“He already killed Harry and Jacob!” You didn't mean for it to sound so ignorant but it was true and it was staring at you guys right in the face. You grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him towards you.
“Please, we have to go.” With tears in his eyes he reluctantly nodded and with one fearful look at his brother and best friend you all ran down the attic stairs and out the house.
You saw everyone getting into their cars and driving in a hurry, especially when everyone saw red and blue lights coming from up the street.
“Guys! Guys!” You all turned and saw Luna and Zendaya running towards you. You had to admit, you all looked pretty ridiculous in your costumes, huddled around, four out of six of you had tears in your eyes and running down your faces.
“Thank god, you guys are okay. He was here! He was actually here!” For the first time since this all started happening you heard and saw the fear in Luna’s voice and face.
“Yeah, we know,” Sam’s voice cracked and he took a seat on the edge of the curb and buried his face in his hands and let out another sob. Tom immediately began to comfort him.
“Where’s Jacob?”
“And Harry.” Tom and Sam began to cry harder and you felt tears start to build up again. You shook your head at your friends and they both had looks of disbelief on their faces.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, holy shit.”
You knew this was far from over. The killer wasn't done. And you feared you would be his last stop.
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