Your body felt like it was floating. You felt like you were above the clouds, far from the world. You knew you were still alive, but it felt like you weren't breathing, not in control of anything. It was definitely one of the best orgasms you'd ever had, like an out-of-body experience. Tom always gave you the best orgasms, and it was always great when you came down from it, seeing his face and feeling him touch you gently.
In the midst of your high, you can feel the distant touches of Tom's lips on your skin. It feels far away, but you can feel him, and as his hands start moving on you, slowly pulling your consciences back to reality. "Darlin," you hear his voice, it's quiet, "You in there? Can you wake up for me?" His voice sounded far away, and you were tired, but you did what asked feelings yourself start calming down and forced your eyes open, meeting his soft brown eyes.
"Hi," he says softly. He brings his hand up and gently caresses your cheek. "You ok, baby? What do you need?" You hadn't noticed it before, maybe you passed out, or the orgasm was just that good, but Tom had already cleaned you up. You didn't have a shirt on still, but he had put your underwear on and had the blankets covering your body, keeping you warm.
"Cuddles," you say, quietly but loud enough for him to hear. Tom smiles and climbs under the covers next to you. Like you, he only had on his boxers. Tom pulls you into his chest, his hand rubbing your back while he kisses your forehead. "You feeling ok, love?"
You hum, closing your eyes again and snuggling closer to his warm body, curling into him. "You did so well for me, darlin. So proud of you," he leans and gives you another kiss on your forehead, "Get some more rest." Tom leans over you, turning off the light and leaning back again. "Night, Tommy," you mumble, falling asleep before he can respond.
After sessions like these, it always takes time for you to get out of the sub headspace. Tom is always there, cuddling with you and keeping you close, making it all a good experience. He loved holding you, feeling you in his arms. No matter how tired he was, he would wait as long as possible to fall asleep, only to savor the feeling of you sleeping in his arms.
Tom's eyes were fluttering shut when he jerked awake, the sound of someone banging on the bedroom door making his instincts shoot to 100%. His brows frowned, and if you hadn't been in his arms, he would have already jumped out of bed, rushing to see what happened. But instead, he quickly looked down at you, knowing the sudden movement would have woken you, and it did. You were stirring in his arms, your eyes glazed with sleep as you tried to figure out what happened.
"Go back to sleep, love," Tom quickly says, removing his arms from you about to jump up. "Noo," you whine, "Don't go." You try to hold on to him, cling to his body, but it's no use, his mind switched, and you knew he wasn't going to stop until he knew what was going on. "I'll be back, love. Hold on," he says, grabbing a pair of sweatpants that were on the side and his gun, walking quickly to the bedroom door and opening it.
From where you lay on the bed, you see the light from the hallway peek in the room. You curl up in the blankets, not taking your eyes off Tom as he stands at the door, a serious expression on his face. After a few seconds, Tom walks quickly back to the bed, leaning over you and putting a hand on your cheek. "Love, I'll be back. You know the rules. Stay in here and do not open the door." You could tell tom was making his voice soft, but his expression told you something was wrong, very wrong.
Tom left, and you sat in silence. You wanted to sleep, but you wanted to sleep with him there, plus there was no way you'd be able to get to sleep with your nerves all over the place, scenarios going through your mind of what could have happened. You curl up under the covers again, eyes glued to the door, waiting for him to come back. Finally, the door starts opening, and you perk up, waiting for him to emerge from the door.
But the person that comes through the door is not Tom. You don't recognize the person at all that comes through, but he looks dangerous, and you shrink back in the bed when you see the gun in his hand. A horrified look crosses your face, and you wrap the blankets tighter around your shoulders on instinct, as if it would help. When the man sees you on the bed, he smiles, reaching for the switch to lighten up the room.
"Well, what do we have here? I forgot Tom had a play toy," the man says, walking closer to you. You were speechless, your heart beating fast, and if you hadn't been clutching the blanket to your body for dear life, your hands would have been shaking uncontrollably. "What?" he steps closer, stepping up to the bed and holding the barrel of the gun under your chin, "Cat got your tongue?" You felt your eyes start wheeling with tears, and your back was flush against the headboard, trying to get as far away as possible.
Before either of you could say anything else, the door swung open, revealing Tom, gun drawn, pointing directly at the man. "Leave her alone." Tom's voice was deep, a serious look on his face, and if you weren't already practically paralyzed with fear, it definitely would have scared you. The look in his eyes, on his face, he never looked at you like that. And you were glad. It made you shake to your core.
The man smiled, moving away from the bed, but keeping his gun pointed at you. He walked to the end of the bed, enough for Tom to see you both, but he was close enough to have a good shot on you. "Hey, it's the man of the hour," the guy says, trying to annoy him. "Get away from her, Ryan." Tom's voice never stuttered. His eyes were dark, and they had the look of murder. He was angry.
The door was wide open, and you could see Harrison and some of his men stepping in behind Tom, their guns drawn like his. As they stepped in behind him, Tom held up a hand, signaling for them not to engage. You saw the confused look on Harrison's face before his gaze fell on you, and he immediately understood.
"Now Tom, that's very unkind," the man fake pouted, "You should be kind to your house guest." Tom's hand grips hard around his gun. He stared daggers into Ryan. "You're an unwanted guest in my home, so GET OUT!" Tom yelled.
The man chuckled, shifting his hand and squeezing the trigger of his gun, the bullet flying past your head, hitting the headboard. You scream, ducking under your blankets on instinct. "Tom, I will shoot her. Without hesitation, actually. So you might want to lower your tone when you speak to me.
Tom visually clenched his jaw. If it were anyone else, he'd shot Ryan without hesitation, but it was you, and he couldn't risk him still having time to shoot you before the bullet hit him. "What do you want, Ryan," Tom asks through clenched teeth.
Ryan's expression changes, the petty, sarcastic smile he had been holding, leaving his face for a more look of seriousness. "Compensation," he says lowly, "You forced my men and me out. I want you to repay me for my work." Tom sighs, rolling his eyes, "You got removed because you didn't live up to the job," Tom steps closer, "Get out of my house and AWAY from my wife," he steps closer again, "Ryan, I swear to god if you don't leave you'll regret it."
Ryan shakes his head. "Or what, Tom? Or what? I could shoot her any moment. Or better yet," he moves his hand, so it is stretched out in front of him, now facing Tom, "I could shoot you and take over all your personnel."
Ryan smirks when Tom's expression darkens. "Shoot me, Ryan. Go ahead, do it. I dare you," Tom says lowly, "Not a thing will happen." Ryan lifts an eyebrow, "Oh, really?" Tom smirks, "Yeah. Really." Ryan nods, "Why don't we test that theory." He steps closer to Tom. "Yeah. Lets."
The loud bang of a gunshot sounded through the room. It hit your ears, and they started ringing. Your mouth fell open, and your hands started shaking, an endless stream of tears falling down your cheeks. You watched his body go limp, crashing to the ground. You watched the blood spilling to the floor, on the bed, everywhere. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out of your mouth.
Tom's hand flew to put his gun back in his waistband as he rushed over to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as the gun in your hands falls from them as you wrap your trembling arms around him and begin to sob. "Shh. Shhh, I know. I know," Tom coos, his lips against your temple.
There was a spot on the headboard that slid open to a secret compartment. Tom kept a gun in it, just in case something happened. While Ryan was talking, you had moved slowly, putting your behind your back to slide it open. You were waiting for the right moment, and after he and Tom started going back and forth, you got worried. Then you saw the opportunity and squeezed the trigger, hoping you didn't miss, and you didn't.
"I shot him. I shot him." You were like a broken record, repeating the words over and over again as you sobbed into Tom's chest. You could hear Harrison's men moving into the room, wanting to secure it, plus clean up the mess.
Tom wasn't one for showing his affection to you around other people. Once more people started piling in the room, Tom wrapped one hand under your legs and another under your neck, carrying you to the private bathroom and closing the door. He set you down, wanting to look at you, but you immediately crumbled to the ground, your mind still racing.
"I killed him. I- I killed him, oh my god," your voice trembled and shook as you spoke. Tom kneeled down to you, pulling you into him again. "It's ok. I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to do that, you'll be ok," Tom held you and cooed in your ear, slowly rocking you from side to side. Tom is used to this. He's used to killing someone, and it doesn't phase him, but you, you had never done it before. You took that man's life, and you couldn't believe it.
Tom understood, and he shifted his weight, leaning back against eh bathroom wall and holding you as you continued to cry into his chest. He rubbed your back and cooed softly in your ear, waiting for you to calm down. Once you stopped crying as hard, he told you he'd take you to another room for you to sleep, even though you knew you probably couldn't sleep. Tom didn't want you to have to stay in the bedroom, plus it'd take a while to completely clean. You had gotten a good shot straight in his head.
Tom stood up, pulling you with him and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. When he opened the door, you cling closer to him, turning your head and hiding it in his chest as you walk past the men cleaning up the blood and dead body. You're still shaking as you walk, all the blood drained from your face as you cling to him. You look, and feel, sick.
You made it to the room, and Tom laid you down, climbing in next to you and holding you into him. He let you tuck your head in his neck as he let his hands rub gently over your trembling body. Tom knew it would take a while for you to recover but was ready for all of it. He texted Harrison, telling him he wouldn't be out of the room or at work tomorrow, wanting to stay with you. Tom was with you, gentle touches and words. He knew the way you felt and was ready to help you out of it, however long it takes.
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I've just finished reading a book and tbh, the plot made me feel kinda uneasy and even though I might look calm and collected from the outside, I kinda need to recover in the inside. How do you think Mob Tom Holland would comfort the reader? Could you please make it fluff and thank you 🥰
I'm so sorry you're feeling that way lovey. Please remember that you always have the power to take yourself away from things that make you feel like that, whether it be a book, a tv show or a situation. If it makes you uncomfortable you can stop whenever, don't force yourself to continue doing something just because you feel like you have to.
I've never written fluff before so I'm really hoping this is ok and that it makes you feel even a teeny bit better.
Take care, and stay safe 💜💜
-------
You closed the book sharply. Laying it on the coffee table you shoved it away with shaking hands. Dread was swirling in your gut as you replayed the last few words you’d read.
“Everything OK?” Tom’s soft voice brought you back from your thoughts. You tried to ground yourself with it but just when you thought you had a grip on being in his office the story swept you up again.
“Mhmm,” you hummed lightly, nodding. You forced yourself to throw him a smile. He lowered the report he’d been scanning and swung his chair in your direction. As his gaze wandered over your face a small frown lined his forehead.
“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” he admonished. Eyes dropping quickly to study the floor you wrapped the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands.
“It’s nothing,” you murmured.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing. Come here.” Glancing up you caught him patting his thigh invitingly. When you hesitated his frown returned. He stood, shrugging out of his jacket and yanking his tie loose before making his way to you. Dropping onto the couch he deftly pulled you onto his lap, arms winding around you tightly before you could protest. With your head tucked against his chest and the warmth of him surrounding you the lingering unease started to lessen.
“Tell me what’s wrong, love” he cooed, his lips pressing kisses to the top of your head.
“It’s nothing. It’s just the book I was reading,” you mumbled.
“This one?” He gripped you tighter as he leaned forward to pluck it from the table. You nodded into his chest. His cologne was still strong after being at work all day, the smell of it soothing your senses. You buried closer against him trying to block out everything.
Relaxing back against the sofa he turned the book in his hand.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“It’s made me a little...uncomfortable,” you admitted into the sanctuary of his shirt.
“Which part?” You stilled, stomach tensing. You really didn’t want to go into detail about it.
“Uh.. almost all of it. The storyline was just a bit too much for-” you cut off at the sound of tearing paper. Gaze flying to the book you watched in awed horror as Tom tore a section of pages out. Crumpling them he pitched them across the room towards his desk. Mouth slack you couldn’t find any words as he set about tearing more from the book until he eventually tossed it to the floor broken and deflated looking.
You pulled back to stare at him.
“What did you just do?” you found yourself whispering, eyes wide as you took in his calm expression.
“It’s just a story. Words on a page. It’s not real unless you make it real.” Hand cupping your face his thumb traced your bottom lip as it quivered.
“I know that,” you sighed, “but I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like it’s seared into my brain.” You clenched your eyes closed as frustrated tears threatened.
“It’s OK, baby,” he hushed. “Let me take your mind off it.”
“How?” Interest piqued you opened your eyes in time to see him kick his shoes off and rearrange the decorative cushions so they were stacked at the arm of the couch.
“Lie down with me and you’ll see.” He smiled widely as you balked.
“We’re in your office, Tom!” you hissed, shoving at his chest but you couldn’t stop him from pulling you down on top of him.
“The one time that’s not what I’m thinking about and you’re all for it?” he teased, eyes glinting darkly as he watched you gawp at him. With a laugh he guided your head until it was lying against his chest and linked his fingers over your back to keep you still.
“I’m going to tell you a story.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’m going to tell you a new story so you forget about that pile of crap you were reading.”
Too intrigued you didn’t argue with him. Instead you got comfortable against him. Arms lining his sides your fingers gripped the soft material of his shirt.
“OK. I’m ready,” you insisted when he didn’t start right away.
“Once upon a time there was a handsome prince named Tom who-” he stopped as you snorted a laugh. “What’s so funny?” he asked in mock offence.
“Nothing,” you insisted quickly, “keep going.” He grumbled but continued.
“There was a handsome prince named Tom, who was the best in the kingdom at sword fighting. No-one in the land was as quick with a sword as he was.” Tom’s words rumbled under your ear soothingly.
“Even though his mother begged him to stop fighting and look for a wife he refused. Sword fighting was his life, his calling, he wouldn’t give that up for anything. Then one day he met the most beautiful princess...”
“And she told him to ‘get lost’?” you guessed a smile tugging at your lips as you sneaked a look up at him. His eyes softened as he smiled. You could tell he was reliving the day you’d both met too.
“She did,” he agreed, “but luckily for the prince she was a slow runner and he was able to catch her.” He grinned wolfishly as his fingers slipped under your arms to tickle you.
“Tom!” you squealed, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him and peppered your face with kisses as you tried to breath through your laughter.
“Stop,” you pleaded, lungs desperate for air as you smiled at him. He settled against you, hands brushing your hair away from your face.
“When I caught you I promised I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. Whether that be a person, or a book” he threw a dark look at where it lay on the floor, “I’m here for you, always.” What little air was left in your lungs evaporated as his lips met yours in a slow tender kiss.
Oof ok this is a more soft and sweet side of Mob!Tom; so him and reader are expecting twins so she's twice as big and she's feeling insecure and getting mood swings so he showers her in a whole day of pampering; food, nail salon and some shopping and the end of the day he makes the sweetest love to her all night long, even gets her to cum like 4 times -💘
Okay but this is actually kinda cute 🥺 also, hi new 💘 anon! Nice to meet you :)
You stood facing the bathroom mirror, your hands gripping onto the edge of the sink. You sighed, rubbing a hand through your hair before glaring at your growing stomach. It was twice the size it was a few months back. The stretch marks and redness made you feel self conscious and not to mention the hormones made you extremely emotions.
Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes as you mentally complained about all the consequences you had to face now that you were expecting twins.
“Honey? Are you in there?” You heard a knock on the door. Swinging it open, you saw Tom standing there with a shy smile. “There are my three favourite people!” He strokes your stomach adoringly.
“I feel disgusting.” You told him as you leaned against the doorframe.
“Oh, baby. Don’t say that!”
“I do though.” Your bottom lip quivered as you moved over to the edge of the bed and sat down.
There was a pause for a moment and in the corner of your eye, you noticed Tom rubbing his jaw as he thought long and hard. “Get dressed, darling.”
“W-Why?” You sniffled as you wiped your nose and looked up at him.
“I’m taking you out for the day.”
“Really?” You smiled at him as he carefully helped you up. He nodded and kissed your forehead.
“Of course, love. You’re already suffering enough with the babies let alone with yourself.” He smiled brightly at you. “Now get ready and meet me downstairs.” He said before walking out of the room.
The day began with a trip to the salon. You had your nails and hair done to the best. It was done by the best nail artist he could find with all the gems and colours you wanted. Next was the mall where you were spoiled richly with expensive clothes and jewellery. Some clothes were for now and others were for after your pregnancy which you hoped you’d fit into. He bought you boxes and boxes of shoes, carrying them as he followed beside you.
Finally you were taken to your favourite restaurant, perfect for the pair of you. You were sat by the window meaning you could look out at the view of the city getting dark.
“Oh, thank you for today Tom. I feel so much better than I did this morning.”
“Anything for my angel.” He took your hands in his. “Your carrying my children so you deserve the best.”
You blushed as you stroked his cheek for a second.
“How about we head back home? You look exhausted and I’m sure you’d appreciate a back massage.” He called the waiter over for the check.
“Now that I think about it, my back is killing me.”
He nodded as he placed cash on the table and took your hand, leading you to the car.
Once you got home, you stripped down to nothing and sat in the middle of the bed, allowing Tom to sit behind you and pour body oil over your back. His hands caressed your sore skin, making you moan at the relaxation.
“You like that, baby?”
You nodded as you pulled your hair over your shoulder. The massage lasted for a few more minutes until his calmly told you to lay down on your back and let him treat you right.
He poured the lavender oil over your stomach, rubbing and caressing you. He littered kisses all over you, breathing in the sweet scent of the oil.
“I wonder if you taste as good as this smells...” he smirked up at you as he shuffled between your legs. Eyes widening, you positioned yourself so you were just barely sitting up.
He parted your legs, kissing up your inner thighs and just by your now soaking pussy that was practically calling his name. His tongue dived in, licking stripes up and down, licking your juices up. He groaned into your sensitive area, enjoying the succulent taste of you.
“You taste so good angel, goddamn.”
You panted as you gripped his hair, pushing him deeper against your pussy. He licked slowly, flicking his tongue and tracing circles before sliding a finger into you. And then another one. He curled them, making you arch your back slightly and moan.
“Oh, Tom! I haven’t felt this good in what feels like forever.”
He brought his fingers out of you and sucked them hard, enjoying the sweet taste.
“You deserve to feel this good, baby.”
He slid them back in again, going at a medium pace so he wouldn’t hurt you.
“Tom I think I’m gonna-“ you interrupted your sentence as you reached your climax, cumming all over his hand and fingers. “Uh... my bad.”
“Oh it’s not a problem, darling. This won’t be your last orgasm tonight though.”
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, a little bit of angst, violence, and not giving him his money. This idea is mine.
Characters: tom, reader, and some harry
Summary: Y/N arrived at a bar, waiting for a friend, and meets a new man. When there's a turn of events, Tom finds himself doing something very out of character.
__
The foul smell of the bar had Y/N gagging, twisting hopelessly in her bar stool. It hadn't even been three minutes since she had walked in, and she was already checking the time, sick to the stomach.
She looked around her. Why had her friend picked this of all places? The old looking bar, strangely isolated from the rest of the World. It was a damp area, the constant wind making it strangely eerie, and yet her she'd been told to dress like it was her last night. So, she'd shoved herself into a crimson number, an old clubbing dress paired with simple heels, and knew that charm would have to make men swoon tonight, chances there were any.
The sight of a group of men in the corner made her want to twitch. Although she wasn't sat close to them, she could feel their eyes on her, puffing away at their cigars. The room was tense, so hot that the wet mud on her legs seemed to tighten. She'd had to charge up the street, and by the time she got in the pub, She wanted to wring her friends boyfriend for suggesting this place. How he could influence her in the blink of an eye made her sick.
And she'd went through all that mud just to third-wheel.
"Are you waiting for a friend, or should I get you a drink? " Called the bartender. They seemed to always talk, she supposed it was their job to.
The bar seemed to grow quiet with a chair scrapping in the distance. She asked for a pint of beer.
Rooting around in her purse for a while, she wondered how long it would take her friend. Perhaps her mind had wondered too far to hear his voice, but she snapped out of her daydream when a man's hand slammed a bundle of change on the countertop.
"£2.50." He answered grimly.
Her nose was immediately met with a passionate scent of whiskey, the man's ginger bound of curls brushed back and a pink scar on his lip. His clothes were loose yet pulled tight in some areas. His fashion sense was old, a dark blazer contrasting with his good chain, the attire pulled together with pants and squeaky clean shoes. By his whole outlook, she seemed to sense he wasn't as prefect as he seemed to be.
"Harry." He grinned. It curled, his smirk, folding into a bittersweet Cheshire cat smile.
"I'm Y/N."
"And?" He laughed darkly. She raised her brows in question. "Y/n what?"
"Y/N Y/L/N, why do you want to know?" She turned from him, swirling her drink, deciding to let how the bartender hurried from them after giving her the drink pass.
A beat went by. The men in the corner seemed to quiet down a touch.
"You know a Kendra Hunt right?" Harry asked. His voice was cool now. Collected.
"I- yes I do." Kendra had invited her here, tonight. Maybe he was someone she'd set her up with?
The pads of Harry's fingers reached for her wrist under the countertop. Like little butterfly touches, yet each one was so warm that her stomach seemed to turn.
"She tell you why?" He looked behind him at the men in the corner of the room. His fingers latched onto her wrist, and her throat choked up. She nodded a yes. She knew that this wasn't a meet up at all, but the idea still seemed so sweet.
Another beat went by, "Where is it?"
Y/N went completely still.
Where is what?
"Tell me, now. Where about, take me there." His words seemed to shoot out, the rush of adrenaline wafting off of him.
His calm demeanour wearing away. She could practically taste his impatience.
"What? I don't understand -"
"The money -" He noticed her cold sweat, "Y/N, love, tell me, now."
Money? She was going to drop dead. Had her friend planted her in a mess she wasn't responsible for? She'd left her here, purposely, as a bait.
Harry took to silence her just in case a plea of scream would come out of her slack mouth, and pulled her closer to him by the hold on her wrist.
"Be quiet." He snapped, "She must've sent you here as a bargaining chip, or bait. Are you that stupid to think that she could afford all that stuff with what she earns normally?"
"Please." Y/ N cried. It was supposed to be a normal night.
Harry stroked her cheek with a sinister smile, "You know, my brother Sam thought it'd be funny for me to go get the pretty girl Tom's been eyeing. Poor girl, poor manipulated baby. The real bad people always act innocent."
She shook her head like a wild animal, "Kendra and I haven't seen each other in months. It was a night out tonight. Harry, whoever you are, I can't even pay my rent, I don't have time for shady stuff. I didn't even touch it, I had no idea she even owed you money. Please, please don't hurt me. "
"Your friend took money off Tom." Harry stated. He seemed to shake with pent up energy. Would he let it out on her? "She probably spent it on booze and drugs. She hasn't given it back, and her time's up. She said you would be coming to give it to me tonight, but she probably sent you here to distract us while she gets away. Do you know where she is?"
"No, please let me go."
"Its not that easy love. If we don't get that money I'll hurt you. Give me your phone."
He took her phone with his spare hand, calling over a friend, "Harrison! I've got her phone. Try and track her. "
"Are you going to kill her? Are you the boss-"
She felt heavy breath at the back of her head. Harrison maybe? He couldn't get there that quick.
"No, he's not the boss."
Harry seemed to perk up suddenly, "Tom."
Y/N turned. This was Tom. In his all drunken and god-like glory, suit tight and golden chain sparkling like the sun, his scent warm and strangely comforting. His sweetly shaped eyes that seemed as dark as coal, and the only thing except his current state that was unkempt was his brown curls.
"The Hunt girl sent her to us as bait. Tom, I thought you were celebrating tonight? It's another successful transaction between businesses. "
"This one isn't successful," Tom couldn't seem to look from her, the two of them entranced, "I don't like people not telling me about business. You told me Hunt had paid up."
" Tom -"
"Don't 'Tom' me, idiot."
"Oi, both of you. You make a scene and our reputation goes up in pretty little flames. And If either of you want the girl to live, I suggest setting a good example so no more witnesses have to die, again." It was certainly Harrison now, a fresh head of Sandy blonde hair and blue puppy dog eyes.
Tom turned to him, "You knew too didn't you? " and pulled Y/N up by the hand, pulling her after him in a tantrum.
Harry and Harrison called after Tom from behind, receiving drunken mumbles of 'lady's bathroom '.
"What are you doing?" She cried, as he dragged her into the women's.
He propped himself up on a sink, pulling a lighter and a fresh cigar from his pocket, "Silence. Sweet silence. You can pee now without your little best friend, I'll just be minding my own business. "
Y/N could run, but the threats had nearly scared her enough to make her pee on the spot. So, she cautiously entered the toilet, and began to pee.
A beat went by, "If you're wondering, my father gave me this as a present as a kid. That's why we 're here. We haven't been in years. Just back to keep our reputation fresh."
"My brother threatened you." He folded his arms and she furrowed a brow, "He talked to me about you after you left. I know you're not responsible for this. Forgive Harry, he's violent. Don't call the police on him either, they don't come here, they know better." The dark in his eyes intrigued her.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea, at all. She wrote my name down -"
" - and put you right in the middle to stall us, and then ran. Harry tried calling her. She left. Probably ditched the phone." His outfit was the same as Harry's, except darker and sharper. Clean cut. It suited him, really well.
He snatched toilet paper from a stall at the sight of her watering eyes, and handed it to her. Tom then leaned into the sink behind him.
"I'm not good with sappy, emotional stuff, forgive me. And I'm not even supposed to go into the women's toilets but I wanted to check on you. After all, I have been staring at you all night. "
A chuckle came from Y/n. He was cunning. Yet she felt drawn to the accent, the skin, the eyes and the hair. The death-threats hovered to the back of her mind for a second. The cold breeze, cold feeling, that came with him felt luring.
A predator with prey. Oh lord, she didn't want to die. Even when the silence stretched out over them, she wanted to plead for her life.
And while she stressed over pleading, his thoughts were too twisted in the feels pulling painfully at his gut. A bad feeling washed over him. He had to make decision -and quick- and hope to not feel guilty about it.
He began again, "I want you to leave, right now with no but's, and don't ever come here again. " He rushed out, "No one's gonna come after you, as long as you don't interfere with us again, understand? I'll tell Harry that you ran, and make sure he won't go after you. I'm his boss. And if you tell anybody that I let a client go without giving me my money, I'll send him. Go before I change my mind."
Her eyes caught with his brown ones. He smelt like strawberries and bourbon, and she could breathe him in all day. Perhaps on a rainy afternoon on the couch.
"Do I have to repeat myself?"
She looked at his curls. They were soft, so soft.
"What, do you want my number or something? I'll get your phone back to you in a day or so, and who knows, you might just get that number." He joked with a wave of his hand. The longing silence coming from her was his only answer.
She pressed her hands against the door and smiled at him, "Thank you. Goodnight, Tom." And set off, like the wind had swiped her off her feet.
He spun on his heal a beat after her exit. They lived around the same area, they would see each other again, right?
She hadn't given him a goodbye. She'd given him a Goodnight.
This is my first so I apologise if i have made any mistakes!
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You get a knock on your door, detectives wanting to use your apartment for a stakeout. Of course you say yes, little do they know you have a secret of your own. Little do they know you know more about their investigation then what they tell you that night
Warnings⚠️: description of injuries, blood
Masterlist
Prologue // Chapter 1
Chapter: 2
The night of the gala, you got ready, did your hair, and took an extra long shower, making yourself feel good. As the time ticked by, you put on the dress and did the finishing touches, waiting for Tom, who said he'd be around to pick you up around 8 pm.
Right on cue, you heard your door open and a voice yelling for you. You got up and walked to the door, a smile on your face, noticing the person waiting for you. He's dressed in a black suit and bowtie, looking handsome, but he also has a mask on, and anyone who didn't know them as well as you did would've thought the man standing in your living room was Harrison, but you knew better. You knew that smile and brown hair like the back of your hand. It was Tom.
You walk up to him, and he extends his hand, handing you a mask also. You'd been to this gala before, but it was always something special whenever he came to get you. Even now, he put on the mask so the detectives wouldn't notice him.
"Hey, Headwick," you heard Chris pipe up from his chair, snapping you both out of the trance. Tom nodded his head to the men, giving them a smile. He may look like Harrison, but he knows they're smart enough to notice the difference in both their voices, even from the few times they've met him.
Before one of them tries to say anything else, you reach for his arm, looping it with yours and pulling him toward the door. "Headwick?" Tom laughs once you're in the hallway.
"What?" you snicker. "I couldn't use Haz's real name."
"Why not? They don't know him," Tom asks as you walk to the elevator.
"Yeah, but if anything goes sideways and they see his name pop up, they won't think to question me about Harrison cause my boyfriend's name is Headwick," you say with confidence throw your voice.
"But Headwick?" he says in almost disbelief, "why not Harry? I find it hard to believe the first name you come up with is Headwick."
"Causeeee," you whine, "then it could somehow lead to your brother."
Tom silently stares at you with a smile. "What?" you laugh.
The elevator gets to the lobby, and Tom shrugs. "Nothing. It was a trick question. I wanted to see what you'd say. You're smart." You laugh and shake your head, following him out to the car and climbing in, both of you taking off your masks once the doors close. After Tom takes it off, he puts on a pair of glasses, bringing his whole look together.
~~
You make it to the gala, Tom getting out first and taking your hand in his to help you out. Tom's face settles into his business look, a natural expression that doesn't show much emotion. He walks with you on his left side, putting his hand around your waist, leading you toward the inside of the building.
It's like any other gala you've been to, having a dark theme, waiters walking with expensive champagne, a large bar with alcohol that reaches the ceiling, tall tables with chairs, and many dangerous people strolling around, conversating with each other. The whole point of these is celebrating peace between families and mobs, showing they can be civil without war. Tonight is the official declaration of peace between the Maguire Mob and Reynolds Mob.
"Mr. Stan, I didn't think you'd be making it tonight," Tom says, extending his hand in a handshake with the man.
"Yes, well, I haven't been to one of these in a while. I thought I'd show up and see how everyone is doing. Never know when someone will end up dead. I'd enjoy having a good memory of everyone before it happens," Sebastion says, a smug smile tugging his lips.
Tom clenches his jaw, his eyes scanning over the man in front of him.
"Will your partner be joining us tonight?" Tom asks.
"No. Anthony has better business to attend to tonight. Excuse me a moment." Sebastion's attention gets pulled by someone a few feet behind you guys, and he walks past you.
Tom squeezes your waist lightly, bringing your attention to him as he leans down near your ear. "Stick close by me," he says lowly. You nod, and he straights back up, looking around the room before walking you guys to a nearby empty table.
Usually, Tom didn't mind you mingling or walking around by yourself. He knew you knew how to conduct yourself, plus that meant you could meet people and get along with them, and he didn't have to, but if the time came, then you could call for people you'd met. Most everyone loved you. You're Tom's charm.
However, you could tell Tom had a bad feeling. He always had a bad feeling with anything to do with Sebastion's partnering mob, run by Anthony Mackie. Tom and Anthony always have had bad blood, so you knew him not attending tonight, but Sebastion suddenly popping up didn't sit right with Tom. So in case Tom needed to leave quickly, he wanted you to stay near.
Like any other mobster, Tom had his inner circle. The main ones are Andrew and Tobey. They'd all been working closely together for years.
"Hey, bro," Andrew said lowly, stepping next to Tom at you guys' table. He, Tom, and Tobey had a very casual relationship. Close to the same as Tom, Harrison, and his family. "Hey, mate," Tom said, turning to him.
Andrew steps closer, lowering his voice so only Tom, and you, since you're standing next to him, could hear. "I heard about Paddy. Everything turn out ok?"
Tom lowers his voice the same as Andrew. "We got him out. He's staying underground for a while until this blows over. Found out there are some other moles in that department too. You should make sure to be careful too if you have any business over there." Tom wished he could find out who the other moles were. He'd take them and their mob down without a second thought, but he couldn't. If Tom kept Paddy in his position, they could've found out, but he wasn't risking his brother's life any more than he needed. They could deal fine without the mole. Call it bias or a soft spot, but that'd only earn whoever said it a bullet in the head.
Tom and Andrew continued to talk about other business, lowing their voices more to make it hard for even you to hear. You could if you tried, but you had no interest, knowing Tom would fill you in if need be. You could tell soon he'd probably slip away to a room for more privacy. That's usually how most of his conversations with Andrew ended.
You could see Tobey in the distance, talking to people and slowly making his way toward Tom and Andrew. Once he did, you knew for sure they'd step away to talk more serious matters, not that you cared much.
You scanned around the room, looking at faces, thinking of names and backstories about their mobs, taking small mental notes of who some people were talking to, wanting to keep it in mind in case anything went sideways in later deals.
It is like something from a movie. Nobody would see anything off. The only reason they would've known is if they knew about the plan prior to coming to the event. But it's almost like you could feel it seconds before it happened. Your eyes were scanning the room, and they landed on a wall. Nothing suspicious about it, nothing off. It was just a wall, like all the others in the room. It would've stayed like any other wall, but you watched as a big boom sounded through the room, the wall crumbling and blowing up into the crowd, also sending people flying.
It happened so fast it was hard to comprehend. You knew there was an explosion. You knew the building was unstable and debris falling from the roof, starting to collapse. You knew there were screaming, lots of screaming, and ringing in your ears, the whole room blurry and your head pounding. The location of your table was around the middle of the room, not too close to where you were dead on impact, but close enough that everyone around you went flying a few feet backward.
You tried to push yourself up, opening your eyes and seeing the pile of debris around you. You tried to call for Tom, but your throat is dry, and it comes out as a weak whimper. Your arms feel like jelly, and you cough, seeing blood land in front of you.
You tried to look around, but everything was moving too fast, and your eyes were too clouded and heavy. After what seems like hours of being laid there, you feel your body move, arms wrapping around you and holding you against a body. Tom. You still can't see anything, and the ringing barely slows down, only helping you hear muffled shouting and gunshots. You hadn't noticed the gunshots.
Your whole body aches, and you weakly hold on to Tom's suit jacket, feeling the roughness and dirt that it's now covered in, leaning all your body weight on him. You couldn't comprehend the chaos around you. Tom's twisting his head quickly, looking around for Haz or Harry, seeing neither. Andrew had ended up in a different area, and Tom found you only a few feet away. He holds his arm around your waist, keeping you up against him as he figures out the best way to leave.
His hand tightly wrapped around his gun, and he looks at you, making sure you're not too injured as he starts quickly to the door. Your lungs feel scratchy, and you cough a few more times. Tom brings his hand up, careful not to hit your head with the butt of his gun, and turn your head into his neck, trying to shield you from the dust and dirt particles in the air.
Tom gets you both out of the door, relief flooding over him when through the sea of people he sees a worried Haz and Harry already standing at the car. When they lay eyes on you and Tom, Harry jumps in the car, and Haz rushes over. "Mate! Thank god. I couldn't find you," Haz quickly says as he helps you guys into the car, jumping in next to you.
Tom keeps his arm around you, tucking his gun back into the holster on his waistband before turning to you. He puts his hands on each side of your face, turning your head to look at him. You force your eyes open for the first time, seeing Tom turned fully in his seat with his body toward you. Before you can say anything, you go into another coughing fit.
"Breath, Love. Breath," Tom says gently. He takes your hand, setting it on his chest and taking deep inhales, wanting you to follow. You try, not able to do deep inhales like him, but still even out your breathing.
Tom leans up, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your eyes start adjusting. The blurriness goes away and gets replaced with the feeling of tears threatening to spill out. You're in pain, lots of pain.
This' the first time you can see Tom and his injuries. There's blood on his head, a long line dripping down his face, reaching his chin. He has what looks like a gash under his eye, probably from landing on a rock. You can see blood on his shirt, and his jacket is filthy.
After looking over for him, you look at yourself, finally seeing the source of your pain. The bottom of your dress' ripped off, and there's a big chunk of your dress missing from your hip area, showing a large black and blue bloody bruise forming. You couldn't even tell your dress was purple anymore, everywhere having either rocks, dirty, or dust clinging to it, and your head was pounding to the beat of your heartbeat.
"Mate." Harrison sits up from next to you, getting Tom's attention and nodding his head to your injury. They noticed it at the same time you did. Tom looks at it, his breath hitching, but he remains calm. He puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to lay your head on his shoulder.
~~
Harry pulls up in front of Tom's mansion, and Tom turns to Harrison, giving him a look that he knew what to do, jumping out of the car ahead of you guys. You'd never been to Tom's mansion. He never wanted you to have to come to his home since it was full of his most dangerous men.
The men in Tom's home were all the best of the best. He would've told them to stay away from you, and if they didn't, he'd kill them, but that'd be too many of his men lost just because they think with their dicks. So he never brought you here, but now, he had no choice.
Tom helped you out of the car, gently walking with you inside the mansion. If it could've been any other time, he would've had a tight grip around your waist, but he knew you were in pain and didn't want to hurt you, so he kept his touch soft and moved as quickly as he could.
When you make it into the mansion, there's nobody in sight. Harrison had gone inside, telling everyone to clear out of the area for the next 10 minutes and stay out of the hallway where Tom's bedroom is, making sure you stayed out of sight for the time being.
It seemed like a long walk to his bedroom. When you made it, he opened the door, walking with you inside and sitting you on the couch in the corner of the room. "We'll be down the hall, mate. Call if you need anything." Is what you heard Harry say on the other side of the door before Tom closed it.
Tom strips off his suit jacket and shirt, disappearing into the bathroom for a few minutes while you lay on the couch. You take in the look of his bedroom. It's clean, of course, not too decorative, though, having a theme of black with many red accents. He had a queen-size bed, and you remember the conversation you had with him. He said how there was no reason to have a big king-size bed. If you ever were to stay with him, he'd want you in his arms, plus it made room for other things, things like the humongous flat screen tv that took up almost the whole wall opposite to the bed, plus the long couch next to the bed that you're currently laying on.
The couch is comfortable, and you feel yourself begin to doze off right before there's a warm hand placed on your cheek. "Gonna take this off. Ok, Love?" You nod, wincing when his hands pull at the dress sticking to your body. He peals it off your body, throwing it to the side. Your eyes are heavy and clouded, not paying much attention to what he does. He picks up a towel from the first aid kit he got from his bathroom. He pours alcohol on the towel, cleaning the bruise on your hip.
You jolt on contact, feeling the pain surge through your whole body. Tom grabs your hand, letting you squeeze it, and apologizes roll from his mouth when you begin to bite your lip. He finishes cleaning your hip and moves to your face. You didn't even know what happened to your face, but you knew your head was pounding. He daps around your forehead and under your eye, placing a gentle kiss on your nose when he finishes.
You feel him pull away and turn your head, watching him clean up the medical stuff. It's the first time you open your eyes to look at him again, and you see the blood still on his face, plus the bruises on his chest that got hidden by his clothes.
"Tommy," your voice is quiet but gets his attention. "You're hurt." you try to reach out to him, a sad look on your face when you look closer.
"I'm alright. I need to take care of you." Tom smiles, continuing to clean up and go back to the bathroom. He comes back and grabs clean clothes for you, it being one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers. He would've given you his sweats, but he knows you hate sleeping in anything long.
Tom helps you up from the couch over to his bed, setting you down and getting you under the blankets. You glance at the couch where you laid on, seeing the dirt from your dress, plus some of your blood. "Sorry. I got your couch dirty," you say tiredly.
Tom looks behind him, turning back with a smile and shaking his head. "I can buy as many couches as I need. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're ok." You smile and nod, watching as Tom pulls away again and walks to get himself clothes. "I'll be right back."
While Tom slips back into the bathroom, you melt into his bed. The blankets are soft, and the mattress is as if you're laying on a cloud made from feathers. You were trying to figure out why he always stayed with you on your tiny regular-sized bed.
You want to stay awake, but unconsciousness keeps trying to drag you down. You fall asleep for a moment, waking when you feel the bed dip, warm arms slowly encircling you. You force your eyes open, seeing Tom. His face and chest were cleaned and only had traces of the cuts. He had his sweats on, leaving his chest bare for you to snuggle into, and his eyes are tired, but looking down at you with concern, making sure you're comfortable and not in too much pain.
When you give him a smile, his nerves settle, and he lays down next to you, pulling you to his chest. He holds you on your side, your uninjured side, and pulls you to curl up into him. You're asleep in seconds, and Tom is not far behind you.
Yes, you made it out. It's good you're ok, but not showing up that night back at your apartment made Marcus and Chris wonder what happened to you. Hearing from their boss about the mafia party that went wrong that night went over their heads. Them thinking there's no way you had nothing to do with it. It was a coincidence. But how many coincidences would work on them?
You get a knock on your door, detectives wanting to use your apartment for a stakeout. Of course you say yes, little do they know you have a secret of your own. Little do they know you know more about their investigation then what they tell you that night
»»——⍟——««A/n: I went into detective mode during this ngl. Sorry if you get confused 😃(I lowkey got confused while writing this so sorry in advance but I think it’s ok now)
▸beta readers: @waitimcomingtoo and @americaswritings ◂
^they are life savers otherwise I would’ve drove myself nuts😄😭
Masterlist
Prologue // Chapter 1
This chapter is brought to you by me on my detective ish🥸🕵️♀️
Chapter: 3
The days following the gala were somehow calm and chaotic at the same time. You're very sore and stayed in Tom's bed mostly all day. He had his maids cooking for you, and none of his men were allowed near his room. If they needed him, they'd have to send Harry, Sam, or Harrison.
Tom stayed in bed with you for the first three days, letting you lay with him and rest while he worked on his computer. He'd be sitting up against the headboard, you laying on your side, your head on his shoulder, and his unoccupied arm around you. Tom put his laptop on the bed next to him and worked like that. It was a lot easier than he thought it would be, and it was honestly the best three days ever. On the fourth day, he had to see to business.
"Love. Look, you'll never believe this," Tom mumbles. You're laying on him, your head on his chest while you watch tv. You hum, averting your eyes from the tv screen and looking at his computer screen. "Look," he points to his screen. "I was looking into what happened at the gala and found the source from the explosion."
"Wasn't it a car? I thought- It couldn't have only been an explosion cause of how much damage...the explosion would've had to already be in the building since the whole thing didn't go down," you say softly, your eyes heavy and close to sleep.
"Yes. Yeah, that's the thing it was a car. But look," he points again. "The driver. Chris Evans."
"Chris Evans? Doesn't he work with Mackie?"
"Exactly. And the car, the license plate is with the Stan Mob. The source of the explosion was inside the car. The car blew up after the impact."
You sit up, looking at him with confusion. "Wait, wait. The driver died, Tom. Chris is dead. Stan couldn't have been behind this. Why would he have one of Anthony's men killed?"
"It doesn't make sense," Tom shakes his head. "Why was Chris driving the car in the first place?" Tom crosses his arms, frowning at his screen.
"Do you think Anthony was behind it?" you ask.
"Yeah. Yeah, 100% I do. It doesn't make sense, though. What Anthony is getting at. Like why do it? Why crash the place? What was the motive?"
You smirk, leaning your body back on his and putting your head on his shoulder. "I don't know detective, Holland. I'm sure you'll figure it out, though."
Tom turns his head and smiles at you, laughing lightly before turning back to the computer. It's quiet for a few minutes. Tom goes back to scanning his computer, and you relax back into him, closing your eyes for a moment.
"No...no, that can't be right," Tom mumbles, frowning at his laptop. His eyes widen. "It wasn't two. It was three," he says breathlessly. "Y/n. The moles. It wasn't two. It was three," he shakes you from his shoulder and shoves his computer to your lap. "Look."
You sit up and look at his screen. "Isn't that, Chris?" you say, looking at the picture on the file.
"I went back into the database Paddy got us access to, but check out his case summary. Steve Rogers, office worker, pronounced mafia spy on February 7th, 2022: Disappeared before confrontation. Investigation put on hold." Tom reads the summary to you, slowly piecing everything together.
"February 7th, a week before the gala?"
"If the police found out, he, of course, would've run. We had already gotten Paddy out by then. His file says the same thing." Tom mumbles, talking to himself but also to you.
"I'm sorry, Tom, I'm not really following. What do you think happened?"
"Think about it. We found out about the two moles after Paddy was out of there. You said those detectives at your house said they knew about a mole, and according to this, it would've been before Chris was suspected, but Chris disappeared a week before the gala. Paddy would've known it was him if he was around," Tom explains.
"So, after Paddy left, they suspected Chris too, but we already knew about two moles. Chris would've been the third," you speak slowly, still trying to understand what he's saying.
"Yes. Anthony's set on trying to bring me down any chance he gets. Crashing the gala could've jeopardized the peace between Tobey and Ryan. Anthony would've known that if Tobey and Ryan had deals, it would eventually branch out to me, and Ryan has a lot of good assets I could use," Tom's eyes are trained on the screen as if he's figuring everything out as he says it.
"So, Anthony doesn't want you to have ties with Ryan, and he wants to bring you down. That still doesn't make sense as to why Chris was in Stan's car," you say, confused.
"Think about it. Think about what Sabastion said that night."
"I thought I'd show up and see how everyone is doing. Never know when someone will end up dead. I'd enjoy having a good memory of everyone before it happens."
"Sebastian knew," you say breathlessly.
"He knew," Tom agrees, "Anthony probably got mad that Chris got found out. He used him for the job and killed him in the process."
"Wow. Pretty extreme way to prove a point," you say.
"That's Anthony Mackie for you," Tom says sarcastically. "Sabastion probably let him use his car solely to scare his own men. A way to tell them they aren't afraid of a mess."
You begin to think, going over everything again in your head. Chris was the third mole, and when he got found out, Anthony used him as a pawn to try to break up ties Tom could have with the Reynolds Mob.
"Tom," you say quietly. He hums, still going everything in his head. "If Anthony has moles in the police, they'd know about Paddy. You're buildings, the apartment. Anthony wants to take you down. What stops him from sending someone in to give information about you or me. They all know me. They'd know it was my apartment. What if he rats?"
Tom's eyes darken, realizing how serious this could be. Of course, it was serious before, but you had literal detectives in your apartment. It could put you in real danger. Tom isn't having that. "I'll look into it. There's no way I'm sending you back there if it's a possibility they know about you." Tom grabs your hand.
"I'll have to go back eventually. If Marcus and Chris don't suspect me now, not coming back will make them suspect me," you sigh.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. But I'm going there, Harrison and I. You can't go back until we check it out to make sure none of Anthony's scumbags were in there."
"Tom..." you sigh.
"It'll be fine. I'll dress differently and put a mask on. I cannot risk you getting caught, Love. Not if I knew I could try to have avoided it," Tom says, softly squeezing your hand.
That's how, on the fourth day, you ended up helping Tom pick a casual outfit, do his hair, and come up with a believable story of why he and Harrison showed up at your apartment, plus where you were and why you hadn't come back.
You dressed him in a hoodie, jeans, and smoothed hair over to one side. "Clothes aren't that bad. But I hate this hairstyle," Tom groaned, looking at himself in the mirror.
You laughed, walking up behind him and putting your hands around his arm. "The goal is to look like any other everyday person. You look normal."
"I don't want to be normal, Darling. If I did, I'd be a Hollywood actor," he smiles.
"How is that normal? You'd be famous," you asked, confused.
"What's more normal than acting like someone you're not," he shrugs, tugging around his hoodie to adjust it.
You roll your eye, "Ok, Hollywood boy. Get ready to put your 'acting skills' to use." He laughs and picks up the black mask sitting on the dresser, putting it on his face.
"This look, ok?" he asks. You nod, looking at him through the mirror. "Should I put on the glasses? It'll probably cover up my eye." Tom has a scar under his eye, not very big, but noticeable.
"Will they cover it? I mean, they're only regular glasses. Maybe the sunglasses would do better, but going in there with those would be suspicious. You can if you want, I guess," you nod.
Tom nods, picking up the glasses and putting them on, looking at himself. If you're being honest, he does look normal. Anyone who saw him wouldn't think a second thought, especially with the corona stuff going around. Nobody will care about his mask. People who were around him enough would know it was Tom. You guys are pretty much riding on the hope they can't tell. It's unlikely they'd be able to, and yeah, it's a risk, but what else is mob life about, right?
After you feel Tom's look is ok, you turn to walk back to the bed, feeling tired from standing long. You weren't even close to being recovered. Tom put bandages around your torso, but it is still sore, and you can't move around by yourself much.
Tom sees as you turn around, slowly trying to shuffle back to the bed. He turns to you and puts his arm out, letting you grab it and helping you toward the bed. "Thanks, Tommy," you say when you settle into the bed. "You guys shoulder probably get going."
Right when you said that, someone knocked on the bedroom door. "You ready, Tom?" you hear Harrison on the other side of the door.
"Yeah," he yells back. "Sam will stay here with you. Get some rest while I'm gone," he kisses your forehead, "everything will be fine." You give Tom a nod, and he gets up, opening the door and letting Sam inside. You see Harrison on the other side of the door, dressed in casual clothes like Tom.
"Oh. Oh, Tom, wait," you get his attention, "take the dress with you," you say, pointing at the dress in the corner. You still wanted it, a little sowing and cleaning, and it'd be fine.
Tom nods, walking back into the room and grabbing the dress and a bag, stuffing it into the bag and throwing it over his shoulder, walking out. Sam comes into the room, sitting on the now cleaned couch, getting comfortable for the time.
~~
"You ready for this, mate?" Harrison asks Tom after they pull up to your apartment building.
"Yeah. How hard will it be?" Tom shrugs.
"Remember, they know me, so let me do the talking," Harrison says. Tom nods, adjusting his glasses and mask, checking, making sure his hair is still perfect.
After he sees he looks ok, he and Harrison get out of the car and head up to your apartment. Harrison uses his (Tom's) key to get inside. Marcus and Chris are in their usual spot, looking at the door when they see it open. Tom and Harrison act normal.
"Hey, Headwick. Uh, Y/n isn't here. She actually hasn't been here in the past few days," Marcus says. Neither of them seemed to think to give a second glance until they saw the second person who they hadn't met.
"Oh, yeah. We're here to pick up something," Harrison says. Tom doesn't look at them, keeping his head forward as he walks back toward your bedroom.
"Everything ok?" Chris asks, both of them eyeing Tom as he slips to the hallway.
"Yeah, yeah. Y/n needed something, and we're picking it up." Before they can say anything else, he walks away to the bedroom with Tom, closing the door behind him.
They quickly look around the room, checking for bugs, cameras, anything that could've been planted or moved. They don't find anything, both letting out a sigh of relief. "I'll look around the kitchen. You check the bathroom," Harrison says. Tom nods, and they split up. Harrison is careful, not bringing any attention to himself, making it seem like he was making something. Neither of them finds anything.
They regroup within 10 minutes, thinking and hoping they didn't miss anything. "You think it's clear?" Harrison asks, sitting down on your bed.
"I don't know, doesn't feel right. But, Y/n is right, she has to come back eventually, and right now, I guess there really isn't a reason not to," Tom sighs. "My gut says something's up."
Harrison shrugs, "It's your call."
Tom nods his head to the door, turning to walk out. "I'll put a sensor on the door. Let's go."
"Wait," Harrison stops before he opens the door, "does she make a panic button? Like the ones you put in the mansion?"
"Yeah. One in here by the bed, one in the bathroom, and one by the front door."
"The front door? Where?" Haz asks.
"I'll show you on the way out." They walk out of the room, Tom keeping his head forward like before. They head straight for the door.
"Hey. We never caught your name," Chris speaks up, both him and Marcus eyeing Tom.
"Peter. He's my brother," Harrison cuts in, Tom looking at him over his shoulder. "We actually have somewhere to go, but Y/n will probably be back soon," Haz nods.
Both Marcus and Chris nod their heads, watching as Tom opens the door for them to exit. When Tom steps throw the door, he turns back to Harrison, hoping the detectives don't notice, and slyly points his finger to the little button a few inches from the door. Harrison's eyes follow his finger, seeing the little button. He does a nod, and they continue out of the door.
Marcus and Chris watch them, and when they leave, they stay silent for a few seconds. "That was weird, right?" Marcus asks.
"So weird," Chris shakes his head. "I don't trust that Peter guy." Marcus picks up his laptop while Chris watches Tom and Harrison walk to their car. "Yeah, no. Somethings up. There's a third," he sees how they both get in, but someone else drives off.
"Chauffeur?" Marcus asks, eyes trained on his laptop screen as he searches for something.
Chris shakes his head, "I don't know, maybe. It looks like the same car Y/n got into when she left for that wedding."
"What, you think the boyfriend isn't letting her come back? Get the plates," Marcus mumbles. Chris watches as the car pulls off, grabbing a pad and quickly writing down the plate numbers.
"No, it doesn't feel like that, but something's weird."
"Yup, ok, look." Marcus picks up his laptop and puts it in front of Chris. "There are only ten people in the area named Peter. Here are profiles on each of them. Now, do any of these people look like the guy who was just here?" Marcus urges, shaking his head.
"Ok, but we can't know for sure cause of the mask. Try Headwick. Maybe the name is spelled weird. Either way, if they're brothers, he should be under Headwick's profile in family," Chris explains.
Marcus types quickly but then laughs. "Only Headwick's in this area is an eighty-year-old man and a fifty-year-old."
"Jeez," Chris sighs.
"You run the plates. I'm tapping into security. We're figuring out who these guys are," Marcus says, pulling up a chair directly next to Chris.
Both of them get to work, tapping away at their computers, focused.
A few minutes go by, and Chris sighs, sitting back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. "Fake plates."
"Ok, look," Marcus sits up, "I followed the car through the security around the city." Chris sits up, looking at his computer screen. He sees the black car at a stoplight, not able to see in the backseat, but can see Harrison in the front and Harry driving. Marcus captures the picture and tries zooming in. "This is the clearest picture I could get. That's Headwick, and that's the third you mentioned. I'll run him through facial recognition."
It takes a little over 5 minutes before the program beeps, announcing that it found Harry's face and file. Both their eyes widen, staring at the screen. "You've got to be kidding me," Chris breathes out.
The file reads: Harry Holland. 24 years old, brother to Tom Holland.
"We just let them go..." Marcus says.
"You don't think..." Chris trails off, looking at Marcus.
Marcus nods, "It was him. It had to have been."
Chris runs his hands over his face in frustration. "This' ridiculous."
"Yeah. Check this out," Marcus points to the family section, "look who it is."
Chris sarcastically laughs, shaking his head. "The mole. No wonder Chief wouldn't say his real name," Chris sighs. "Y/n doesn't know. She couldn't. There's no way."
"It's possible. But think about it, I mentioned the mole. A few days later, the guy's gone." Marcus runs his hand over his mouth, staring at the screen. "'Headwick' isn't anywhere under the family, so that would mean he's in some other part."
"The wedding," Marcus says, Chris, looking up at him. "She left for the so-called wedding and hasn't been back. What was the same night as the wedding?"
"That explosion. The whole mafia interference thing," Chris nods.
"If Y/n does know, I don't doubt Holland, and the whoever Headwick was there. She would've gone with them and been caught up in it," Marcus explains.
"You think she's dead," Chris frowns.
"Can't know for sure. Headwick said she'd be back, but we obviously can't trust that," Marcus sighs.
"Wait, the bag," Chris points at him, sitting up in his chair.
"What bag?"
"Remember, Holland came in with a bag!" Chris says, jumping up and walking to your room. Marcus follows him, watching as he opens your bedroom door and starts looking around.
"Careful," Marcus steps in behind him.
Chris looks around, finding the bag on the side of your bed. He pulls it up, throwing it on the bed and opening it. "Woah," he says, reaching in and pulling out your mangled dress.
Marcus frowns as he steps closer. "Either she's dead, or she did get caught up in it. Whatever happened wasn't pretty," Marcus mumbles, seeing the dress crinkle as it gets lifted from the bag, covered in blood and dirt.
"I think I saw a scar under Hollands eye. That would mean he had been there for sure." Marcus nods in agreement.
"I definitely saw him point at something as they walked out," Marcus comments.
"I saw too, but I didn't think much of it," Chris says as he leaves the room, walking to the front door and crouching down, looking in the direction Tom pointed. "Check this out."
Marcus squats next to him, seeing the round button. "Sensor?"
"Nah, it's a button. Probably panic button to alert Holland," Chris says.
"Should we tap it? Get him to come back and make the arrest?" Marcus asks.
"No. He'll know it wasn't from her. We have to wait. When, or if, she comes back, then we'll find out what we can and take her in if we need to."
~~
While Tom's gone, you and Sam turned on a movie, and quickly you fell asleep. Sam sat comfortably on the couch, noticing you asleep and not bothering you. It was a little less than two hours when Tom returned.
He opened the door slowly and stepped in, seeing you asleep, curled up in his blankets, and Sam asleep, sprawled out on his couch. Tom smirks, stepping further into the room walking toward the couch. Harry and Harrison watch him from the door, rolling their eyes when they realize what he's doing.
Tom stops about two feet from Sam, taking his gun from his waistband and pointing it at him. He continues to walk closer and closer, waiting to see when Sam will wake up. Sam only jolts awake when he feels the barrel of Tom's gun against his forehead but quickly lets out a breath when he sees it's him.
"I'm revoking your babysitting privileges," Tom speaks barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake you. "And you're taking classes with Harrison from now on to strengthen your reflexes. You should have woken up the second I stepped in the room," Tom says dryly.
"Fine," Sam groans and sighs, pushing himself up and to the door, not wanting to wait around long enough to get in any more trouble.
