#mobster!tom

The beer was good, the music was fine, Harrison's company was good enough, but the second Tom saw you approach, decked out in a cop costume, complete with real cuffs, Tom knew his night was gonna get a whole lot better, 

"Hi boys." You chide sweetly. Harrison is the one to look up, licking his lips, 

"Well hello angel. Don't you look beautiful." You smile, eyeing Tom, 

"I just… couldn't help but notice that the best mobster in the world was here and he has an equally attractive right hand man in his midst." You chide sweetly. For the first time since you approached, Tom's face changes and it's into a sinister smirk because he knows where this is going, 

"What can we help you with darling?" Tom asks. You smile, 

"I just… was curious as to if you boys would be interested in helping me with something for a minute." You pose. Tom hums, looking to Harrison and raising an eyebrow. Harrison shrugs, 

"Don't see why not." Both boys stand, following you down a dark hallway until you turn into a secluded lounge. You hum, flopping onto the couch,

"First thing's first, who has the bigger dick?" You ask. Tom looks to Harrison who shrugs, 

"I'm not getting fired. You can say it." Tom raises an eyebrow as he looks at you, 

"I don't have to lie about it. Mine's bigger." You giggle, 

"I'd love to see." You murmur. 

Neither boy wastes time, ditching their clothes as you unzip your cop outfit to reveal just a thong. You hum as you look between the two erect cocks in your face, 

"Wow, you two are so similar." You purr, slipping to your knees. Tom and Harrison blink and they're being taken in your mouth, equal distribution between the two of them, 

"Holy shit…" Tom murmurs. You giggle, taking him from your mouth, 

"So who wants a turn first?" 

"Well if I get it, I'm the only one getting it so…" Tom starts, gesturing to Harrison. Haz shakes his head, 

"I'm good with her mouth. You can have her mate." He takes a seat on the couch, humming as you smooth over his thighs, leaning in to kiss the shaft of his cock. Tom kneels behind you, dragging your thong down. He leans in, lapping at your drenched folds for a moment before he's sitting up straight, sliding himself inside of you cautiously. You moan around Harrison who brushes hair from your eyes, which are cast up to him,

"Pretty little thing. You look so beautiful filled with cock." Haz purrs. You bat your lashes up at him as Tom moves himself in and out of you quickly, his hips gently slapping into your bottom as he holds your hips. 

Soon enough, Tom's thrusts are brutal, forcing you to gag on Harrison who's broken out in a sweat, his head fallen back at how amazing your mouth feels. Tom grunts, pressing a foot to the floor and grabbing hold of your hair. He tugs, your eyes cast up into Harrison's as you suck him down, moaning softly, 

"Fuck baby… you are a gorgeous little thing aren't you." 

"She's fuckin tight." Tom growls, swatting your ass. You whimper and Harrison brushes hair from your face again, 

"You're too rough with your girls." He murmurs. Tom pauses, leaving you to whine and reach back to pull his hip into you, 

"Don't see her fucking complaining. In fact… she's begging for more." Harrison rolls his eyes as Tom continues to thrust inside of you. You moan again, whimpering as Tom reaches down, stroking your clit softly, 

"Cum for me baby. Show Haz that it doesn't fucking matter how rough I am with you." He grumbles, leaning into your ear. You keep your eyes locked in Harrison's, taking him deep in your throat. It's exaggerated by Tom shoving your headdown gently, chuckling darkly at the gags that leave your lips, 

"Such a good girl." Your eyes roll back in your head as you succumb to the pleasure and cum around Tom, taking Harrison from your mouth to stroke while you glance over your shoulder. You lock eyes with Tom. He leans in and presseshis lips to yours, 

"You're such a submissive girl aren't you?" He purrs. You nod, 

"For you two… anything." Tom chuckles again before he's drawing out of you, 

"Lay back baby." You lay on the floor, watching both Tom and Harrison stand above you, jerking themselves off. Tom finishes first, spurting hot cum onto your chest and stomach with a grunt. He places his hands on his hips, staring down at you as Harrison finishes across your torso,

"Beautiful little thing aren't you?" He poses. You giggle, 

"I try my best. How else was I supposed to get you two to come in here with me?" You pose. Tom smiles, watching as Harrison finds tissues and cleans you up. The three of you dress mutually before Tom snags your cuffs, twirling them around his finger, 

"I'd let you arrest me." He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. You giggle, 

"Bigger question is why do you have real cuffs?" Harrison poses. You hum, leaning up to kiss him too, 

"Just in case I wanted tonight to go differently." You mumble. Tom's eyebrows rise, 

"Oh really?" You nod, snagging them from Tom and winking,

"Don't worry, we've got time." You murmur, leading them from the room. Tom hums, fixing his tie, 

━━★✼☆｡

y/n waited for a moment. It wasn't long, but it was enough she had to check the clock on her wrist. 1:37am. Although she heard the snoring of Lottie, sound asleep in her bed, y/n knew otherwise. She knew that as soon as her feet hit the carpeted floor of her daughter's bedroom, the girl would shoot straight up and whine for y/n to come back. She loved Lottie with all of her heart, like all of her kids, however sometimes the precious little angels got on her nerves. Just last Tuesday is a prime example as y/n desperately fiddling with the buttons of Tom's shirt, wanting nothing more to take every inch of him while his whole operation continued below them. Just as she had popped the last latch, James called out for his father from across the house, most likely because one of the boys got hurt again from the play fighting they insisted they do. Sadly, y/n redid her husband's buttons and let him leave her widely aroused and dissatisfied.

As she watched Lottie take in her small breaths, y/n recounted the moments. She still remembers her wedding, clear as day. It was in their garden, with the trees dressed in beautiful pink silk and the flowers somehow in full bloom. No one was around, it's was secluded and perfect. It was just them, Theo and James stood side by side, their matching suits made her heart swell. Their perfectly rosy cheeks lit up as they saw y/n make her way down the grassy aisle. Though she never saw it, Tom admits that it was Theo who smacked him on the arm to turn around. To come face to face with his bride, a blushing bride that was 7 months pregnant. It was a rush of a events that y/n never quite saw occuring so early into her life. Yet, the day she told Tom they were going to be parents, he asked her to marry him. Of course, y/n organised a typical wedding after she had given birth but at that very second, every bad thing she had to live through suddenly became a single speck of sand on a vast beach. A prologue to her wonderful life ahead of her.

The door swung open slightly, though the light from outside Lottie's room was off, y/n could instantly tell who was stepping over countless dolls and plastic cars. Tom knelt at the side of his daughter's bed, just below his wife as she softly stroked Lottie's forehead. "You need some rest Sweetness," he told her quietly, watching over Lottie's snoring figure.

"I can't" y/n stifled through a yawn. Though she greatly needed to run to her bed and pass out, she refused to leave Lottie unless she knew her daughter was absolutely deep in sleep. Tom sighed, letting his forehead hit the soft linen of the bed cover.

"You need sleep, I can't look after the brady bunch by myself," Tom joked. His hand came to draw soft circles on y/n's thigh. It was nothing if not soothing to her. He could directly make out her face in the darkness, but Tom knew his wife was smiling, a low grin painted upon her fatigued face. "I'll take this shift."

y/n reached out for his face, finding it in seconds. Her thumb now matched the pattern on his cheek that Tom was drawing on her thigh. "We made a deal," it was his speciality, but he never wanted it to get this bad. "You would help Theo with his Valentine's Day gift if I could get this one to sleep."

y/n possessed many traits that Tom adored. She was empathetic, a woman of incredible wit and intelligence, had the stamina of a bull but her stubbornness seemed to be her crowing glory. Tom knew his wife as well as he knew how to count to ten. She wasn't leaving until absolute confirmation was handed to her. "Sweetness, I would prefer if you came to bed with me," he tried, the approach was simple and usually it worked.

"As much as I would adore that, I'm not going anywhere with you mister," y/n teased. Her attention focusing back on Lottie. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids seemed to betray her, closing every few seconds or if it was simply the way the mattress felt beneath her legs. Eventually though, the mixture of all of those and her husband's head laying flat on her thighs, she began to slowly creep off the bed. The pads of her feet pressed against the floor in such delicacy, y/n doubted that she even touching it. She reached out for Tom, grasping slightly at his bare bicep as she lifted herself up.

Tom caught on to his wife's movements and made sure that the path was completely clear of any of Lottie's toys. Calmly, the pair of them tip-toed out. Every move halted by their daughter's movements but eventually, the door closed and y/n was free from the little montress's grip. y/n wishes that she was more awake, more alert because even in her half sleep dazed she could make out the tight white singlet that clung to Tom's body. She reached out for him, it was the weakest of touchs. Yet, her hand fell on his shoulder and running up to the base of his neck. It wasn't sexual in any form, instead they stood in the dim light in complete silence. Watching each other feel the affected of forced insomnia.

"How am I going to get up this morning," y/n giggled as she accepted the sudden embrace from Tom. Her head finding it's way into the same shoulder she tenderly caressed seconds ago. Tom's fingers coiled around her forearm gently as the began to quietly walk to their bedroom. "Hopefully Meg will be around at that time," she sighed as the soft breeze of their room hit her face. Meg was their nanny, a woman who has been employed by Tom since James was a baby. She was a sweet old thing, a cliché of the lovely old lady in fairtales.

"She will, sadly I won't," Tom told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they both hid themselves under the sating covers. y/n wanted to continue the conversation, she knew that Tom wouldn't be back at home until tomorrow night and for the first time, she would be in charge of everyone but she couldn't. As soon as her head hit the lavender scented pillow, she was out like a light. Tom just chuckled in return, pulling her into a soft embrace.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n wasn't an idiotic woman. She has been with Tom for two and a half years; married to him for two years, she immediately knew when something didn't feel right. As her fingers gripped the steering wheel, she peered in her rear-view mirror. It was something Tom's bodyguards drive around in. The vehicle was large and bulky, looking like it a take down a building with minimum amount of speed. It was painted in the midnight black, even the widows seemed to be darkened. Like before, y/n recognised the model of the car to be a sister of the cars she would frequently have to ride in if she accompanied Tom anywhere, he thought posed even the slightest amount of danger. She knew that with every corner she took, the car would mimic her turns. y/n caught onto it in seconds, watching through Lottie's car seat and Theo's mop of hair. It didn't help that when she called Tom's head guard, he told her that he had followed her orders. To let her pick up her children to avoid the never-ending shock from the ensemble of 6'5 muscular men accompanying her wherever she went.

"Do you want us to do anything about it ma'am?" he asked through the car's speaker. y/n pondered for a few seconds. While her gut was screaming at her that this was something completely out of the ordinary, if there was any ordinary being married to a Mob boss. Her mind knew that if she did say something to him now it was no doubt find its way to Tom. He would instantly assume the worst and cancel any important deal in front of him to race home. The guard's voice pulled her out of her concentration.

"Get the house under lockdown," she ordered, for the first time she felt truly in control but as all things it was slipping. "Do not tell my husband."

"Ma'am, it is imperative that Mr. Holland know of this," the guard protested. y/n had been going through quite a rough day. She was tired, overworked and constantly around wailing children. She refused to be around another. Her jaw clenched as she pulled into their street, the car still hot on her tail.

"I don't care, Tom will not know of this," y/n snapped, peering up for a final time but to her initial surprise that car had vanished. She had no clue where the fucker had gone. "It's probably nothing," she spoke quietly. The sentence was more reassurance for herself than from him, yet he had heard her, accepted her terms and hung up.

As she pulled the car into the impressively large garage, she lets her bare forehead hit top of the steering wheel. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Mum," Theo called out from the backseat, "are you alright?" The boy's question was laced with genuine concern. It released whatever anxiety riddled grip had got a hold of y/n. She gazed up, smiling as she let all her negative thoughts leave her before turning to her three children.

"I am just really tired honey," she replied as she exited the car and proceeded to undo Lottie's buckled. "Not to worry, I think it is Boy's Movie Night tonight!" Both boys cheered in unison. The afternoon went on as usual. Theo and James spent the entire time with their faces glued to the screen in front of them. Squealing every time the supposed bad guys landed flat on his ass, jumping at every occasion that they could. Even if they lived in a mansion, y/n was positive that everyone in this house could hear their playful laughter.

y/n sat next to Lottie; her curly brunette hair clipped back into two adorable pigtails. Lottie was a carbon copy of Tom. Even next to her half-brother James, Lottie seemed to possess ever physical trait of y/n's husband. The smooth somehow flawless skin, the bouncy chestnut curls that y/n just knows will be her daughter's statement piece when she grows up and finally the pair of chocolate eyes that gets her father weak every time, she babbles up at him. She wondered how all of her children would look like when they get old enough to make their own decisions. While James doesn't have Tom's colouring like Lottie does, he has this glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. Something y/n has loves about her boys, they all share this odd ball of high-energy. Theo looks exactly like y/n, her colouring and her features. Theo's look alikeness to his mother is something y/n feels is divine intervention. To show that, this is her son. Her baby boy and no one else's unless she says so.

"Ma'am" Meg's heavy Irish accent perks up. She's standing at the windows, peering through the curtains slightly. "I think you should see this," she advises before stepping away from the scene and running to grab Lottie from her highchair. y/n hesitantly waltzes over, she presents a cool face to her children, but she can feel her stomach crawling into her throat as she gets closer. y/n pulls the fabric back slightly, she prays that is it now in the early hours of the night and the light is off. It's the same car, it's now parked across the road from her house. Just outside of their camera’s visibility, the vehicle is camouflaged almost to perfection, she can still spot it. Its headlights are off and the car makes not a single sound. At first, y/n faithfully believes she is now seeing things, that her brain is so unfathomably tired it has resorted to petty tricks. That is until one of the car doors open quickly. She waits for a moment as does this figure in the car before a pair of fit hit the ground. Though it makes no clamour, it startles her. y/n doesn’t wait to meet his eyes as his head ducks under the car roof to fully meet the air. She turns around to meet Meg’s eyes, the women wear matching looks.

“Take the children into the spare room, go now,” y/n speaks softly as not to alarm her sons. Meg nods quickly, instantly holstering Lottie on her hips and shooing the boys away from the glowing TV.

She pauses until she hears the door close. It’s deafening. She turns her attention back to the scene, it’s worse than before. There’s at least 7 of them huddled around this car, pulling unknown bags from the seats. As the mystery bags hit the ground, the unknown men begin opening it. It’s filled to the brim with metal, the holsters of guns peeking through with the aid of the dim light of the streetlight. y/n refused to observe anymore, silently she alerts the guards in the house. She doesn’t even process the next second, it’s like nothing is working anymore. y/n knows what the sound is, she knows what is happening, she knows that in a matter of seconds the men have begun firing at her front landing. Killing anyone standing outside, she can feel the bullets entering their bodies.

It’s with that, y/n goes from a fast pace to sprinting. She rushes down the long halls to meet with her children. It’s feels like an eternity that she is opening doors, calling out for any of them. All the while, gunshots ring out like a bell, constant and terrible. Her phone vibrates,it send her nerves over the edge. y/n stops for a second to stare at it, Tom’s name lights up the screen. Instead of answering, her fingers lose all their function. Her phone drops from her hand and hits the floor. She wants to pick it up but her feet work against her and begin to simply pace herself away from her phone as it continues to hum against the tiles.

Finally, she reaches the room. Meg holds Lottie close to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth as Lottie cries into Meg’s shirt. Theo and James are standing in the middle of the room. Both look like they are on their verge of tears and to be completely truthfully, so was she. Closing the door, y/n immediately wraps her arms around her sons. She feels the wet tears staining her shoulders. She feels their chests rise and fall drop as best they can.

“You boys are so brave,” she sooths, her palms rubbing circles atop their heads. Slowly, she peers up. While the gunfire continues to ring out, y/n stares at the people in the room with her. Not a single bulb is turned on, the area is pitch black, but she can still see how this if affecting the boys. How Meg clutches onto Lottie’s wailing body. “It’ll be over soon.”

“You promise,” James chokes out, he wipes his face of her blouse. y/n pressed a tender kiss to his hair. She lets a single tear escape her eyes.

“I swear handsome,” y/n tells him, but she’s not convinced by the sound of her own voice. The boys pull away from her, one of her hands reaches for their salty cheeks. “Everything will be alright, Mumma swears.”

She doesn’t want to; she wants to scream. She wants to burn the entire house to the ground. She wants to leave with her children and never come back. y/n has never felt this in her entire life. This is not only pure terror for the lives of her children but it’s uncontrollable rage. She’s being held together by a tearing material of a rubber band. Her limbs are coiled, feeling as though she has rusted in the rain. Her mind doesn’t stop, it runs as if it has never felt this wrathful freedom in its life. A million different thoughts threaten to take power, as if they should decide her next move. She doesn’t let them of course, y/n’s had practice at this, and she will not crack now.

“Meg, give me Charlotte now,” y/n’s voice is hoarse and breaking with ever vowel that drops from her lips. The old lady rushes over to y/n and hands her Lottie. The toddler instinctively wraps her arms around y/n, refusing to let go. Another 20 minutes go by, it's torture. The air seems to wash around y/n as she clings onto her children for dear life. Quietly, she pans over to Meg. The old woman looks as if she has turned from the humble baker's wife down the street to death herself. Their eyes lock, passing silent messages to each other.

I'm sorry, y/n pleads. She thinks if she spoke it aloud, it would travel barely above a whisper.

It's okay, sweetheart, Meg responded. Though the woman only truly meant the first part, y/n wanted to believe that she would have used the nickname to calm her nerves. Somehow it did.

The moment lasted for only seconds. A fleeting feeling of safety was ruined by the doorknob rattling furiously. At the speed of sound, y/n had handed Lottie over to Meg and told her to hide in the bathroom with the children. y/n heard everything, the door lock behind Meg and the muffled yelling behind the door in front of y/n. She scrambled to her feet, driving her to the wide bedside table. She threw open the doors until she landed on the one thing she never believes she's use. A small handgun. y/n didn't quite have time to question her morals at this very second in time. y/n wrapped her fingers around the handle just as the door swung open. Tears spilled as she pointed the gun aimlessly.

"Thank god," his familiar voice rang out. y/n sunk to her knees, the gun falling right from her fingertips. Tom rushed to her side; he didn't know what to say to her. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he knew whatever attempt he made at explaining the horrid situation would break his poor wife even further.

y/n studied his features in the dim light of the room as he got closer to her. She had never seen him in such a state. His hair flopping all over his face, hiding whatever panic was clearly evident over his features. More specifically, y/n watched as it became clearer. A large splatter of blood across his right cheek. She fell right into his arms, finally allowing herself to stain his shirt with her burst of weeps.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n's body was on fire. The fire was nothing but pure pain. As if bugs were nesting right under skin, desperate for a gasp of air. Even the clock ticked loudly, ever noise of the hand pressed her brain against her skull. Every joint rigid in its own specific way, damaged and tight.

"Sweetness, talk to me," Tom soothed, using the towel to clean the final fragments of blood off his cheek. Her eyes squinted at him, waiting for him to do anything other than be his normal gentle self. y/n slid herself off the foot of their bed and walked to the closed door. Flashing images of the other room crossing her mind.

"I need to check on the kids," she huffed. While y/n knew Meg was laying wide away on the floor of Theo's room as all three children slept contently, she wanted to be away from him at a moment like this. She needed to not see his face. Alas, Tom's hand gripped her wrist tightly. The touch sizzled her skin, the tension elevated for a split second.

y/n whipped around to face him; Tom felt his patience slipping from him. "y/n, be an adult," he hissed.

Tom knew he shouldn't be talking to her like this, but he was at his wit's end. A candle burning to the final wax. He mentally fucked himself over when he got that stupid fucking call. Sir, your wife has informed us of an unidentified vehicle following her, it engraved itself into his mind. Tom remembers sitting at the desk, wondering if she was witnessing the same group, he had fucked over a few months ago. Deciding it could wait, Tom told them to keep his updated throughout the night. As if whatever god was up there decided to play a tortuous comedy routine with Tom, it did begin to progress. First, the car pulling up hours before his arrival. Then the major security breach and finally as they began shooting at his house, ready to slaughter anyone they found inside. Especially his family.

She watched his intently. Waiting for a further response and yet, nothing. Her anger was bubbling over. "I am an adult," she seethed at him, her fingers unwrapping themselves from the doorknob. "I make sure that my children are safe, I make it my life's mission to ensure that I am not the direct cause of those certain dangers I wish to keep them so far away from!"

She had ripped her hand from his grasp, this wasn't something she was backing away from. It was something she could fight and to which she intended to do until the very end.

The little monologue broke Tom's heart. How could she believe that he would do such a horrific thing? How could she blame him for the events that unfolded tonight? He wondered if she truly knew this was never his intention. That he never wanted his family to come under direct attack all because he made one dangerous decision.

“You don’t talk to me like that y/n,” He grumbled. The air seemed to thicken with every word, cause more distance between the spouses. It was never like this they fought like a normal couple but never with this much venom. “I don’t deserve such criticism, especially from you.”

“Why?” she pondered, she moved closer to him. Inching closer with every second. “Is it because you question my authority? Or maybe is it because I am some silly little schoolteacher who got trouble with the wrong kind of people," she moved closer with every word of the sentence, pushing her dangerously closer. It’s a risk she must take if she wants to feel any sort of release.

“Stop being so theatrical y/n, you endured something horrible, but that is what you signed up for when you married me,” the room climbed in temperature. Tom had half a mind to strip himself just to get closer to peace, but with y/n so close to his chest, he preferred to work on her. Tom can’t pinpoint what made his mind switch in directions. Maybe it was the ever-growing heat, or perhaps it was the indescribable feeling of almost losing your wife and mother of your children. Either way, Tom thoughts were growing darker. The need to bruise y/n’s skin seemed to be the only thing he could really think about. “You wanted this,” he grunted, closing in on her. “Sweetness, you agreed to this lifestyle as soon as you sunk your sweet cunt onto me.”

The vulgarity of his words caught her off guard. Her breath stopped halfway when her back almost slammed into the wall. She wasn’t giving in so easily, even if the heat from her body had swiftly travelled to the valley between her thighs. y/n turned her head away from him in any desperation to not look at him. Unfortunately, Tom caught her actions as if he knew her every move. His fingers pressed against her chin to bring her eyes back to him. Tom was worried for an instant that she would truly be too furious with him to play into his game. Luckily, her eyes betrayed her. The big doe eyes of her stared up at him, pleaded to be fucked like an animal. Slammed into until all of her rage had slipped from her conscious.

“Screw yourself Tom,” she coughed out. She was playing along, y/n knew exactly where this was heading. A tender kiss was placed upon her lips, while the action itself was soft, nothing about the kiss genuinely was. It was the ultimate puzzle piece for him.

"You want to speak to me like a bitch," Tom chuckled, "you'll get fucked like a bitch." He kicked the back of her knees harshly, causing her to meet with the floor. "On your knees and hands behind your back." She wanted to protest, she wanted to act out the little brat but like most things, her arms instinctively pulled themselves behind her. "Now, I sincerely hope I don't have to punish you further sweetness," Tom soothed as he swiftly undid the buckle of his jeans, discarding the items of clothing across the room. His throbbing cock hit the base of his stomach with a soft slap. y/n bit her lip in instinct, it had been a while, and did she wholly miss this glorious scene in front of her.

y/n leaned forward and dragged her tongue from the base of him until her lips met with the beads of pre-cum drenching him. Slowly but surely, she wrapped her lips around him. Letting him enjoy the wet cavern of her mouth for a short time. He threw his head back in unison with a beautifully quiet moan. Her eyes never left him, as she bobbed her head gradually. If she was on her knees unable to reach out and touch him, she would at least make it fun for her. y/n only quickened her pace if their line of focus connected. As soon as Tom stared directly into her eyes, she would start her movements but if he turned away to enjoy the moment, everything would stop. It went like this before Tom had quite enough of it all. Without uttering a single word, Tom wrangle his hands into her soft hair and thrusted right up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat roughly. She gagged loudly, making an awful sound as she attempted to regain her position. He pulled away from her, only to slam right back into her mouth. Unlike her plan beforehand, as he face fucked her, his pace begins to speed up.

y/n was now struggling to hold back her ragged gags as small tears slid out of her eyes. "Pretty girl, all worked out from my cock in your mouth huh?" Tom teased as he relished in the sounds of her cacophony of broken breaths. Just as quickly as he began, he pulled away from her complete. He dropped out of her mouth with a small pop and a trail of saliva that landed on the tops of her breasts. "Get up," to which she happily obliged. As soon as y/n had regained her footing, Tom's hands had completely destroyed her pants. The loose skirt was now in two pieces at her feet, along with her favourite pair of panties. Unfortunately, she didn't even get a second to scold him before he spun her around and slammed her chest against the wall. The pain excited her, it coursed through her torso and down into her legs, causing them to spasm slightly.

Tom looked at her, in the soft moonlight she was glowing. Ass facing him, tits pressed up against the wall. Complete ready for him. Tom gave her a small kiss on her shoulder, this time it truly was meant to be tender but in typical Tom fashion. As soon as his lips left her skin, Tom plunged right up into her. His hand covering her surprised squeal. God did he miss this. Filling her tight pussy right up to the brim. Even after everything they had been through, she still fit him like a glove. Hugged him so perfectly, Tom was worried he was shot his load right into her at this very moment. Sadly, he pushed the thought away and began rocking into her; his hand still covered over her mouth.

y/n could feel every inch of his like this. She could feel just how hard he was ramming into her cunt. Her nails gripped onto the wall in front of her as she whimpered into the palm of his hand. With every snap of his hips, her worries seemed to really melt away. All the tension built up in her body being oiled as he parted her legs to reach a nook in her that she thought impossible. “Tommy, f—fuck, oh my god,” it was incoherent garble. Nonsense talk as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few seconds. His head found the valley of her neck, peppering light kisses a major difference to the rough pace he had adopted.

“What is it sweetness,” Tom gasped right into her ear. The hot air tickling her skin. His other hand gripped callously at her hip, bruising the delicate skin under his fingers. “Come on tell me,” Tom was struggling to keep himself in check. The pure sound of skin against skin as he fucked her ass filled the air, pushing him closer to ecstasy. His hand pulled away from her lips, an immediately low moan tumbled from her lips. y/n waited for her body to response to anything, everything thrown out the window every time his dick hit her perfect spot inside of her.

“Har—harder,” she strained through strings of vulgarities and chants of his name. Tom smirked at her, she caught it before he pulled away from her. Tom started to slow his movements, observing how she swallowed him whole every time he thrusted into her tight hole.

“You really want it harder sweetness?” Tom asked, he was just as desperate for a release as she was. y/n nodded her head furiously, words seeming to fail her at this instance. “Turn around,” he ordered, she swivelled around to face him. Her once neat hair now a mess of pleasure tugged strains. Her lids fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed. She looked like a Greek statue. Tom bent and lifted her over his shoulders, earning a tiny giggle from his huffing wife above him. He frantically sprinted over to their bed and promptly chucked her on it. The force knocking a bit of wind out of her.

In a flash of actions, her face had been pressing into the mattress and her ass high up in air. Tom gave it a light smack before lining up and pounding right into her. Both of them let out a soft line of curses. It had never been this intense in their entire relationship.

The room was silent. Nothing could be heard outside but inside was a different idea. Tom brought her hips down roughly onto him, matching his tattered speed. y/n’s breaths were muffled by the cover of the blanks, her hands desperate for anything to latch onto for support as he fucks her relentlessly. It a beautiful mixture of sounds. Nothing like the soft breaths and gasps on a normal night. While those still as amazing as now, this was pure unfiltered animalistic need. No feelings, just a fantastic way to blow off incredible tense steam. Tom usually adored staring at her as her face scrunched up in pleasure but something about how every time his cock rammed up into her, everything moved with his thrusts. It was memorising, as if a painting had been brought to life. y/n had lost track of time during this, so focused on the way he was able to stretch her so wide that she had completely forgot how long she had been lying here. She didn’t dwell on it for too long before the divine familiar feeling presented itself to her, dwelling at the pit of her stomach.

“Go faster, I’m going t—to come,” she pleaded, lifting her head up for only a moment before diving right back into her muffled screams. Tom growled at this, picking up his already forceful speed. While he tried, his thrusts became sloppy and jagged.

“Come with me sweetness,” he whispered to her, his fingered rubbing cathartic circles on her sensitive clit. The sensation on her bud rupturing another last piece of sanity in her body.

With a final thrust, both y/n and Tom came. A relief as both almost shouted out in absolute ecstasy, their juices mixing together in a beautiful sense of the terms. y/n’s toes curled as she felt it all, every little piece of tension, anger and lust all combine and explode inside of her. Tom wasn’t even the slightest but worried as he had been before this had begun. His sweaty forehead lay against her spine, as his wife attempted to catch her breath. Slowly he pulled out of her, his cum leaking out of her. A sight he would love to have burned into his vision for the rest of his life.

“Feel better?” Tom asked her as he threw himself next to her. y/n turned to face him and for the first time that night an honest grin appeared on her face. A grin given to her by whatever relief she had received moments before.

“Much,” she replied.

Whenever doing work, your mind always went back to the time before you were as involved in all of this, back to when you still had friends, when your parents were still here, and before thinking about this stupid rivalry took up a majority of your time. 

Being made second-in-command of one of the biggest mobs in London at the age of 16, after the death of your parents, was a major change that happened in your life even at the age of  21, you still haven’t completely adjusted to it if you’re being completely honest. The only thing keeping you together was your older brother and your best friend. 

Everything in your life before you turned 16 was perfectly fine, you had friends, school was great, you could live a normal life without certain stressors, and people you trusted at one point weren’t your enemy. But here you are 5 years later, working hard as second in command, living with your brother in a huge mansion, and living the lavish life while committing crimes and getting away with it every single time. 

Around this time of year the annual Gala of London, your favorite event of the year, you got to dress up, look nice, dance, and annoy the Hollands--which was your favorite part. This event made it easy to pull stunts against the Hollands and the Hughes, without terrible repercussions as it would lead to bad publicity. 

14 days before 

The sound of your heels clicking was the only thing you heard as you walked down the long hallway of your mansion. The smell of bourbon mixed with cigarettes filled your nostrils as you finally reached Harrison’s office. When you knocked and didn’t get an answer you walked in, assuming correctly that he was on the phone. 

You rocked on your heels as you waited for him to get off the phone, which lasted a shorter amount of time than you anticipated. “What do you want?” you asked as you sat at one of the chairs near his desk. “Well, hello to you, too,” you grinned.

“What’s up?”

“Just letting you know, that there’s a possibility I won’t be there at the Gala,” you were confused as to why he said it so calmly, but you were shocked to hear the news. 

“What do you mean you won’t be at the Gala?”

“I mean I have things to do that I can’t necessarily tell you right now, but if I can’t make it you’ll need to get information from the Holland’s,” he continued without looking at your facial expressions,” they’ve apparently interrogated one of our men that went rogue, but to find out who it is, we need the file from their computer.” Haz stopped talking and finally looked up at you, “what’s wrong?”

“So you mean to tell me that, a.) you won’t be at the Gala, b.) you want me to go on a solo mission while being in the Holland mansion, and c.) one of our men went rogue and you didn’t tell me. Haz, you can’t just keep shit like this from me, I’m your second, I should at least be informed on these things,” the feeling of betrayal after hearing he kept secrets from you and then expected that much of you, was a lot to take in all at once. 

“Yes, y/n, you’re my second-in-command, I am in charge here and although you help, you don’t always know everything as soon as it happens,” you scoffed. “Ok, Harrison, ok.”

You left as quickly as possible, making your way over to the east wing of your mansion where you assumed your best friend, Zendaya, would be. Luckily for you, Zendaya was also a part of the Osterfield mob, her parents were friends with yours when they were still alive, so you and her grew up together. She was only two years older than you were, making her and Haz the same age. She was able to move into the Osterfield mansion when she turned 18, she was family to you, being the older sister you never had. 

You tried hard not to cry, you usually didn’t. Keeping the basic, heartless facade that helped you get by in this line of work, but the fact that Harrison was the one to say something that hurt you bothered you more than you cared to admit. You and Haz acted the way that normal sibling rivalries go, but you would also literally kill anyone that hurt the other. The one thing that you both bonded over the most was leading, now that he was leaving you out of things--or that you became aware of it--hurt you more than anything. 

By the time you made it over to the east wing, you saw Z reading in your library. “Z, I need your help,” you smiled at her, knowing you probably interrupted her reading time. 

She glared at you, “You’re lucky I love you, y/n/n, so lucky. What do you need?”

“Soooo, the gala is coming up…” you said, hoping that she would catch on to what you were implying. 

“And?” she said waiting for your explanation. “And I need your help to find a dress to wear. Subtle, not too slutty, but slutty enough.” She simply rolled her eyes at you, “yeah, I get what you mean.”

You and Z headed to your favorite boutique in London, just so both of you could find the perfect dress. After trying on as many dresses as you could find that you liked, you finally settled on a velvet, emerald green long sleeve dress with a slit, that went up to your mid-thigh; the only issue was the dress showed way too much of your shoulder, which is where your soulmate mark is. 

You had mixed feelings about your soulmate mark. Your soulmate mark was an outline of a crescent moon on your left shoulder, the mark was beautiful, but you couldn’t show it. If you did, anyone would be able to use it against you. You didn’t want your soulmate to be harmed because of your actions. You always had to alter your clothes to where it couldn’t be seen, but you’d done it for the past 21 years and you would continue to do so until you died. 

“So, what happened between you and brother dearest today?” you expected her to ask sooner, but the question still took you by surprise nonetheless. “Uh, I don’t know honestly. He didn’t tell me some information and it just bothered me that’s all.”

“Well, did he say why he didn’t tell you?” she had made a valid point, maybe if he had told you why you wouldn’t have gotten so upset. “No, he didn’t tell me why.”

Zendaya, being the only rational person in your life, made you realize that maybe if you talked to him, he’d tell you what was up. 

When you got home Harrison was nowhere to be found, so you just left it at that. 

10 days before

“I’m just going to bring in the shoulder part of the dress, that way it covers your mark,” you nodded in response to Robert, your tailor. Even though the people in the mansion did work for you, you had grown close to many of them over the years. 

Robert was always able to make alterations that covered your soulmate mark, and you were so thankful for that. “Ok, y/n, how does this look,” you looked up at the full-length mirror in awe, you were already in love with the dress and you were thankful that it could be fixed. 

“I love it, it looks great,” you beamed at how nice the dress looked on you, “thank you so much.”

“Make sure her mark is covered,” a voice you hadn’t expected to hear, said. You honestly hadn’t anticipated to see Haz for a few more days, so hearing his voice surprised you a lot more than you wanted to admit. 

“It is, trust me,” you replied, not looking away from your reflection in the mirror. 

“Robert, if you’ll excuse yourself, I need to talk to y/n,” Robert nodded and left the room quickly, shutting the door on the way out, “look, I’m sorry about the other day, but you have to understand that I only keep things from you to protect you, I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt you.” 

“I appreciate the apology, but please know that I can hold my own and I understand you keeping info away from me for my safety, but piling it all on me in one sitting was just a lot. Now, how do you like the dress?” Haz smiled at the fact of how quickly you deflected the conversation.

“It’s very nice, but I know someone that will be happy to see it,” he smirked as he saw your smile falter. 

“If you mean Holland, then stop.” You and the oldest Holland had a strange relationship. Before your life went to hell, you and him were extremely close, considering the fact that you were on opposing sides. You two had been through a lot, but when things got difficult between the mobs, everything changed. The exact reason you knew that friendships never worked in this line of work. 

“You’ll definitely grab his attention, but on the topic of the gala, the meeting I was at didn’t go as successfully as I had anticipated, so I won’t be at the gala.”

“I can’t go to the gala alone and try to get information, especially at the Holland mansion,” he was asking a lot of you, but you still had doubts. 

Harrison made his way over to you, “y/n, you’ll be fine. I already know that you aren’t scared of them, and I know Tom wouldn’t hurt you even if he had to,” he laughed. 

“Just because he’s gone soft doesn’t mean anything,” Harrison scoffed at your statement, he knew better than anyone how much of a soft spot Tom had for you, he hoped that you were smart enough to notice. “The only soft spot he has is for you. I hope you realize that.” Haz left you without saying anything else; you were smart enough to know that Tom did have a soft spot for you, it was very obvious, but you didn’t want to think about that much. 

6 days before

Physically, you knew you were ready for this mission. Everything was set: the dress, the look, the plan, everything. Emotionally and mentally, not so much. You were so used to Haz being there with you, that it was a weird transition to be on your own.

Haz had left early this morning, you still didn’t know where, but after he apologized you could respect it to an extent. You were hopeful that when all this was over he’d be able to actually share information with you, but you could only hope. 

The past few days had sped past you in a blur, as they were just you doing the same things every day: wake up, have breakfast with Z, fill out paperwork or do anything Haz needed you to do, shower, and go back to sleep. You had a simple routine that you made sure to always stick to, especially when Harrison was gone. 

2 days ago

You were trying not to overthink the situation, knowing that it would only make things harder for you. The plan was simple: don’t draw too much attention, then get in, get information, and get out. You knew that you would be fine, but the looming thought that something could go wrong was running through your head. There was also the fear that you would disappoint Haz, this mission was necessary, especially considering the fact that you needed to figure out who the person who had gone rogue was.

You were brought out of your thoughts with a knock on your bedroom door, “come in.” Zendaya walked into your room and sat next to where you sat at your bay window. You two sat in comfortable silence for a while, until she finally broke it. 

“You know you’ll be fine, right. Plus, I’ll be right there if you need anything.” You didn’t say anything, because, in all honesty, you didn’t know what to say. You knew she’d be there and you knew there was only a slight possibility that things went wrong, but you weren’t prepared for what would happen if it did go wrong. “Everyone will be on their best behavior while at the Gala, the only person you might have to worry about is maybe Corina, even then we both know you could take her easily,” you couldn’t help but laugh at her statement, “plus, as much as you don’t want it to be brought up, you and the Holland’s still have a history no matter how much you avoid the conversation. Now, please, get some rest. You have a very big day ahead of you.” 

Z leaned down to kiss the top of your head and you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, “goodnight, Z. Sleep well,” and with that, she left your room. 

The day of

You woke up a lot later than what you usually do, immediately going to take a shower and do your morning routine. Once you got out of the shower, you made your way downstairs, making sure to greet Robert and Pepper, your chef, on the way to your office. You kept to yourself for most of the day, until around 3pm, when you had to start getting ready for tonight. 

Although you had the accessibility for other people to help you get ready, you preferred to get ready yourself. You wanted to keep the look simple to draw the attention to your dress. You started off with your hair, doing a simple, yet elegant, half-up-half-down look that accented your features well. Then came the makeup, sticking to a more simple look, a natural smokey eye, keeping it basic by wearing red lipstick, and adding minimal highlight. 

You waited a while to put on the dress, saying as you had enough time before you had to leave. You allowed the emerald train of the dress to flow as you walked down the stairs,” woo, look at you,” you looked up to see Z waiting at the end of your stairs grabbing her clutch. “Not too bad yourself, Z.” 

You grabbed your diamond choker from your clutch, asking Z to put it on you as you put on your Osterfield ring. You gave yourself one last glance in the mirror and once you were happy with how you looked, “are you ready, y/n/n?” You nodded your head in confirmation. 

The drive to the Holland mansion was filled with talk about anything and everything and also the occasion Beyonce song to hype you both up. When you felt the limo finally come to a stop, you forced a breath out. “You’ll be okay, just don’t draw too much attention and you’ll be able to find me if you need anything,” Z said, reassuring you again. 

"With crime and terror constantly ruling the streets, the only question left to ask ourselves is; will we ever be free from the Holland crime family?"

-Y/N Y/L/N

Thomas read the back printed words with his teeth grinding and jaw clenched; this was the third report in the month that Y/H had written about him and his mob, and with this much attention from the public eyes, police force and FBI, it was too risky for his business to move around discreetly, even with all the secret eyes and rats within the goverment forces. Tom was annoyed that his generational crime family business was being tethered by one female reporter with a cocky, nosy attitude. 

Although Tom had gathered all information and pictures about you and often got his men to follow you so you arrived home safe late nights, he couldn't help but feel an angered attraction towards you, of course, the idea of you writing about him and opening your mouth to spread news made his blood boil, but the soft delicate skin and kind eyes that you had made his heart thump, not to mention how you looked in your gala dresses and office outfits. Now, Tom's thoughts were drifting in the idea of watching you tonight at the gala, you no doubt would be there, trying to worm yourself in more gossip and dramas within the London crime families; and no doubt you would be wearing one of your infamous red dresses that adorned your perfect figure.

"Aye mate! hurry up daydreamer, limos here," Harrisons said, busting the door open only to leave just after. Tom let out a short sigh, taking a final puff from his ashed cigarette and popping a mint into his mouth before leaving his dark marron office to join his best man in the long sleek black vehicle.

"Is she going to be there?" Tom asked, or grunted in Harrison's direction, leaving the blonde man to laugh in response. The affection that Tom had towards you was insanely deep, even if the words you wrote caused the heeps of trouble.

"Why don't you just admit that your head over heels for her mate?" Harrison laughed again, watching the city lights ass by in the window, sipping n the tall flute glass of champagne.

"Because I'm not, you fucking twit," Tom responded with a rather harsh bite, but the outburst only made Harrison chuckle more to himself, as they drove the rest of the way to the Gala in silence.

-

There you were, standing directly in the centre of the ballroom, all eyes and lights seemingly focusing around you laughed with a group of men and women talking about nothing imparticular whilst your hand tightly grasped the liquid bubbles. During the dull conversation, your eyes continuously wondered around the room, searching for any stories or dramatic people to write up next weeks storyline about, and when you found the man you wanted, you couldn't help the smirk that rose on your painted lips as you downed the last remaining glass of bubbles.

Toms eyes where focused on you as you watched each other across the room. The cross back red fishtail maxidress floated around your feet, the lighting making your hair glow against your skin and the gentle makeup making your eyes scream out at Tom, almost controlling his movements as you stared him up and down. It wasn't long before Tom had reached you on the dancefloor, both your hearts reaching out to each other, eyes trained on each other and your fingers shaking in anticipation to touch him.

The idea of the infamous rough and tough Tom Holland holding you gentle and passionately drilling into you all night made your head dizzy and stomach flip with excitement, however, your entire workforce and operation against the Holland crime family would be destroyed, as well as your professional matter and reputation; but the closer Tom came to you, the more professionally flew out the window.

"Miss Y/L/N," Tom spoke in his low, gentle voice. And you weren't sure if it was the heels or his effect on you, but your knees almost stumbled and gave way to your weight as soon as you heard his voice.

"Holland," You bit back, trying to keep a stern face and attitude whilst he was standing so close to you. "Hows that illegal gun ammunition trade going with Greece?" You smirked, getting under his skin easily as you saw his jaw clench leaving you beyond flustered.

"It would be fine if you kept your big nose out of my business, darling," The words few like venom out of his mouth, and a touch of sadness could be seen in your eyes if you looked closely enough, which Tom did.

"I think you forget it's my job, darling," You replied, huffing and beginning to turn to walk away; but Toms' hand reached out to yours, pulling you in close, wrapping his arms around your waist, a huge cocky grin plastered on his face.

"Dance with me," He demanded, leaving you to roll your eyes, but nonetheless comply to his wishes. The two of you stayed together in silence for a while, one of your hands leaning against his shoulder, and the other resing n the peck of his chest, as he remained on the lower stretch of your back, touching your bare skin from the low cut back dress, and dangerously low. You tried to avoid his gaze by searching the room, taking notice of Toms men dotted around the outskirts, conveniently blocking the exits, but Toms' eye pulled you in like a temptress.

"Your bushing you know," Tom said slowly, his sensual voice once again affecting your body. You had already felt the heat in your checks rise the first time you had caught Tom's eye, but ow you were close and touching, they had burned considerably brighter.

"It's just hot, don't flatter yourself," You scoffed, you were building a wall, protecting yourself from seeming gullible and week in front f his tough mobster exterior.

"Oh sugar," To leaned in, his face close to yours, his hot, minty breath against your skin as goosebumps rose to the surface of your skin, "you look fucking ravishing,"

The comment had left you stunned, as you turned your head to avoid his leaning kiss, capturing eyes with Toms best man, Harrison, who was standing and watching the two of you smirking, making you feel more conscious about the proximity between you and Tom. You didnt reply to him, and instead dug your pointed fingernails into his chest causing him to loosen his grip as you slipped away quickly, rushing to the bathroom before you could explode.

Rushing through the white door into the pristine dark marble bathroom, you clutched your hand at your chest, wishing you could solve the itch that felt deep in your chest. You pulled out your mobile phone from under your breast, calling your best friend and co-worker.

"Fucking help me, babe, I'm in some deep shit here," You spoke before your friend could even answer. You know this was a risk, every event that you bumped into Tom this happened, well not the dancing, but the butterflies, dizziness, and headaches that he gave you. It was a dangerous compromise, to be infatuated with the man you swore to yourself to destroy. The irony was laughing in your face and you were blinded to its harsh words.

"Ahhh, Tom Holland is it? I told you, you just need to fuck, get all that pent up energy out of your system, and then write about how shit he was in bed," Your friend replied, munching on a packet of crips through the line. You rolled your eyes once more, no matter how much you denied wanting to sleep with Tom, you knew she was right he was like a virus.

"Ugh, even if i wanted to fuck him, which i don't FYI, it would ruin my writing, i would be too biased," You replied, looking at your flushed cheeks in the mirror. dammit.

"Arent you already biased?" She said through the phone, filling the room with silence as you didnt know how to respond.

"Anyway, i bet he's a killer in bed if you don't take the shot i will," She said, making you internally cringe but laugh. You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your fingernails, painted dark maroon.

"He does look like the type to totally dominate you in bed, true, but-" You were quickly cut off by a hand grasping the phone from behind you, making you scream before another hand wrapped up to your mouth, preventing you from doing so. Your eyes widened as they met Toms reflection in the mirror, and even though your eyes dropped in realization, your body was still tense.

Toms' hand relaxed against your hand, as he dropped the phone harshly on the marble counter and using his now free hands to coax up and down your sides. He was aware of the effect he had on you, as he could see the reaction clearly in the mirror, as well as feel the tense muscles underneath the palms of his hands.

"You'd be so lucky to find out daring," Tom whispered in your ear, pulling the loose hair away from your neck, exposing the fresh skin to his lips as he grazed against it. You breathing was harsh and foreign, and you almost fainted as his mouth began to harshly suck onto the skin, your eyes closing and head falling back onto his shoulder to allow him easy access.

"Tom," His name fell from your lips, causing his grip on your waist to tighten and his body to grind against your slowly. The both of you moaned in response, the light echo surrounding you in the room, making you aware of your situation, you were allowing him to do this to you, but it felt too good to stop.

"Tom I- i can't do this," You whispered, your head and heart fighting with each other, not wanting the moment to stop.

"Yes you can Y/N," Tom said, and the sound of Tom whispering your name so explicitly and sensually made your knees week and your heart flutter.

"My job,"

"Quit. Be with me, you can start your own fucking business, id do anything for you," Tom said, continuing his attack on your neck as your eyes widened. You shoved your bum back, pushing him backwards, allowing you to turn around to face him, pushing your hand out to his chest and shoving him further.

"I don't need you to sort my life out y'know," You spat, furious but still needy at the same time, your body craving the hot contact Tom once fed you.

"Of course not darling," Tom said, taking your attacking wrists in his hands and holding you against the bathroom counter to keep you from hitting and shoving him again.

"But i can offer you your own company, own newspaper, the fucking world if you where with me Y/N," Tom moved closer, his body against yours, causing a catastrophic reaction in your lower belly.

"I'll think about it," You hated giving him control, especially over your work, but having your own business meant running your own thing, and not being controlled by forced segments, deadlines or topics you didnt even want to write about, and you could always buy it off Tom whenever you wanted.

"Good with me, now, let me kiss you," Tom demanded, leaning in again to capture your lips together in a feverish kiss. Fireworks erupted in your stomach as you grew needy and desperate for his touch, and you moved harder against him. You knee raised against his side, his rough hand running against the underside of your thigh, the thigh split letting his touch erupt your bare skin, his lips ground against you, the friction giving you enough, but not enough, you needed more.

You pawed at his chest, tugging off his suit jacket and rushing to undo his buttons before his hands caught yours.

"Say it first," He said.

"I'll be with you," You sighed, knowing full well you just handed over life to him. But you didnt care, you knew that you had a strong feeling for him, vice versa, and you were willing to sacrifice things for him, as he would for you, and together, you would be so fucking powerful.

"What a fine Queen you will make Y/N,"

-

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You’d easily admit that the small girl was growing up too fast, but that was probably only due to the fact that she no longer allowed you to carry her around in public (despite the odd occasion, of course), and kisses at the kindergarten gate were rare and you savoured them when you could. Now she was dressing herself, some days in almost every color of the rainbow and some, like today she went for a more subtle outfit.

You were grateful that Rosie still allowed you to do her hair, the long, brown curls that frizzed up when you brushed them hung in a simple ponytail today, little brown baby hairs stuck out wildly, hanging in gentle coils.

Something told you that there was another reason as to why the girl was so independent. Maybe it was because some days she found herself clambering up at the beat of her purple alarm clock, finding you still dead asleep in the double bed (sometimes with your boyfriend- the man she didn’t like) and manage to grab herself a bowl of cheerios.

Rosie would stand on the very tips of her toes to grab a bowl, little fingers wrapping around one of the plastic ones. (one had barbie on it and one had a frog- She favored the barbie bowl) The child was careful not to make too much noise, never knowing whether or not her mummy had enough sleep the night before or if she was up late again. She’d grab the glittery stool, dragging it over to the pantry where she’d reach in and grab out the container of her cereal of choice as well as a food item her mum wouldn’t approve of that early in the morning.

Rosie would sit at the counter with a pencil in one hand, spoon in the other and color away, ignoring the little droplets of milk that landed on the paper and spotted her work. She’d wait for you to run in, hair strewn around and a panicked look on your face as you cursed and stressed. She’d giggle from her place at the counter, already excited to show off her first artwork of the day while you struggled to even make her lunch.

Your hands would tremble, eyes racing around the room before falling onto the little girl in the seat and you’d remind yourself that you had her- you had someone to live for and you had to take deep breaths and watch your thoughts and-

Rose stares up, expression that of a dog getting a belly rub as she waits for you to take the artwork from her hand and react positively as you always did. Maybe you’d even hang it up on the fridge like last time! So she was shocked when you took her hand in your own, completely missing the piece she held in her hand.

“What happened to your hands?” You ask, concern lacing every word. The small girl doesn’t answer, she can’t even look at you and whether it was out of shame or embarrassment- you couldn’t be too sure. Her deep, brown eyes were fuzzy however from shock, not expecting you to notice the damage. “Rose?”

Her little hands, merely half the size of yours yet somehow chubbier were bleeding, not a lot but little beads sat around the red marks. Two sickly crimson scratches sat on the backs of each hand. It looked as if she’d done it herself, even with her nails a little longer then stubs that you mentally noted to deal with later.

“I was itchy.” She mumbles. You pick the girl up, placing her onto the kitchen table where her eyes immediately fall to the easter egg shaped jar filled with cookies that you’d only stocked up last night. Somehow she knew what day was shopping day, and shopping day meant cookies that she could easily ween around of you.

“What’ve I said about scratching yourself too hard?” You sigh, the morning already going off with a bang. Life was never dull or slow with a child around. To say that you were always on the edge of your feet- mind always reeling with ‘to do’s’ and ‘must remember’s!’ Was an understatement. When the little girl didn’t reply, you answered for her. “We need to sort this habit out.”

Rossie sniffles gently, the hand you weren’t examining reaching out to drag over the cookie jar. “Can I have one?”

“You can have one later.” You say, knowing full well that she’d try and wriggle her way out of that whether it was pulling out the puppy dog eyes, the tears or just straight up steal one when you were out of the room. “Stay still, I’m gonna grab the bandaids.”

You turn around, reaching into one of the cabinets to find where the bandages were. You knew that Rosie preferred the Hello Kitty band-aids, usually peeling the wiggles one’s of within only an hour or fiddling with the bland, murky brown one’s too much. She adored the way the pink and white ones looked.

Your hand finds the brightly colored box, pulling it down and turning around to see the girl already reaching into the jar, her chubby fingers trying to slip a sweet before you could catch her. Rosie thought that maybe she’d get away with it this time if she was quiet enough, taking a treat or two and stuffing them in her pant pockets to eat later when her mother was busy, or in the back seat of the car on the way to kindergarten. Maybe she’d even eat them at kindergarten tucked away in the back of the play shed where no one could take her cookies from her.

“What’s the rule?” You scold, digging into the almost-empty packet to pull out the last few bandages, wishing you’d bought more yesterday.

Her head snaps up, brown curls that were tightly pulled into a ponytail bouncing around, falling over her wide eyes, a look of pure guilt crosses her features. You just had to crush her thoughts, staring down with a disappointed glint in your eyes making the girl pout. What you wouldn’t tell Rosie was that there was already two cookies tightly wrapped in glad wrap and hidden at the bottom of her lunch box.

The cookie slipped between her fingers and back into the jar, crumbs and the remains of chocolate chips remain and yes, she was already thinking about licking all of it off the second she got the chance. “No sweets before ten.”

“Mhm.”

You take one of the bandaids, ripping the paper packaging off and take the sticky strip out. The right end stuck to your finger for a small moment, before you move to stick it over your daughter's wounds. The ones that were right over last weeks, little scars and picked scabs still remained.

“No! It hurts.” Rosie complains, whipping her hand away almost as fast as she’d offered it in the first place. “Don’t touch,” she grumbles, a pout forming. She stuffs her hands into her chest, hands turned away.

“It’s not going to hurt, Roo” A sigh escapes your lips, followed by a frustrated groan when Rosie flicks you a wicked glare. She was never a happy person in the morning. “Let me do this or it’ll get infected.”

She wiggles back, clothed bottom sliding against the bench. “I don’t care if it gets intec-intected.”

“Infections hurt a lot more than what you’re feeling now.” You screw your face up in distaste, watching Rosie’s face remain the same. “They smell too.” Rosie gawks, mouth open only slightly as you speak. She was listening intently but also wanted to pretend that she wasn’t, so began to play with the hem of her t-shirt, the bright yellow distracting her from the sting in her hands. “Infections mean hospitals.”

“Hospitals mean lollipops.” She still looked down, voice sounding muffled and words slightly shrewd. The little girl wanted to stick her tongue out at her mother, feeling as if she’d found a loophole in the situation but you thought otherwise, all while trying not to stare at the clock that continued ticking- every moment gone was another one that you’d be late to work and she’d be late to kindergarten. 

“They also mean needles.”    

That got her attention. Hesitantly, your daughter holds her hands out, legs outstretched on the kitchen table and you try and ignore the fact that this was the third time this month that you’d been in this situation. She stares carefully, eyes watching your every move like a hawk would its prey. She was ready to pull away at any moment, to tell her mother off for pressing too hard on the wounds despite your attempts to be as gentle as possible.

It was eerily silent as you applied the band-aids, Rosie’s eyes drawing between your actions and the still full cookie jar, her mouth only watering at the sight despite the fact that she had a piece of jam on toast only half an hour earlier. That was until she winced slightly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and refusing to look.

Your eyes, however, were fully trained on the girl's hands, making sure that you applied each band-aid with caution to her already sore hands. A part of you wanted to tape a pair of gloves to her hands or wrap them in bubble wrap but that thought was completely unrealistic. You stuck your bottom lip between your teeth in concentration, working until her hands were now a mess of pastel pink and slightly creepy looking cats that stared up at you with pestering eyes.

“Done?” Rosie asks, still not opening her eyes.

You laugh, “Done, baby.” She opens her eyes slowly, squinting as she looks down at her hands to see that there were three band-aids, the little white cat covering the dorsal side. “I’m proud of you.” You give her a small peck on the check, the little girl screwing her nose up at the action. “Now, try not to make it any worse at kindergarten today, can you do that?”

The little four-year-old was confused, wondering why it was such a big deal but nods anyway. That seemed to be enough for her mother who picked her up, planting her back onto the wooden flooring where she was minutes earlier.

The second her mother looked away she stuck her fingers into her mouth, the taste of chocolate and little prickles of cooking crumbs making her taste buds tingle in delight despite the minty undertone.

It’d been years since you’d seen him, only hours since you thought of him and minutes since a fresh wave of guilt had hit, knocking you back down into the rubble and grime. It was all symbolism, really. A key selection of words that you’d chosen to describe how it felt to not only be away from the man you once loved but to live with the guilt of what you did every day. Every. Damn. Day.

There was a list of things that you did, in no way are you playing victim nor plan to. You left days after his best friends death, days after his house had been the location of a hostage situation and days after he ultimately broke. The price of that? Post-traumatic stress disorder to the nines.

You didn’t just leave. You left with his child- his daughter who was now four and had no idea her father even existed and you had absolutely no idea if he was still okay if he was safe and still involved in the mafia or not. Knowing Tom he most likely still was. He may have still been as greedy as ever, taking in all of the power he could with open arms and a deep, grey heart.

The small, apartment door opens. Wood creaking lowely making Rosie snake around your leg, little fingers in her mouth as she licked off any trace of what could of been. It was only open for a split second but you managed to catch a whiff of the cool air, all of the warm air that had been building up in your apartment for the last half hour creeping through the cracks.

“Mornin, sweetheart.” His voice is thick, gruff and a sound you definitely didn’t want to hear this early in the morning. It was only nine am, wasn’t that a little too early for him?

“Morning.” You find yourself muttering, hands racing around the kitchen to find everything you’d made for Rosie’s lunch without her letting go of your leg, the small girl was clinging to you like a monkey, something she only did every so often.

“What have you two been up to?” He asks, looking directly down at your daughter. She doesn’t reply, her lips remain in a visible purse. “I asked a question, darling.”

Rosie looks up at you, then back at Aiden who was waiting for an answer. “I drew mummy and me and watched SpongeBob.”

The little yellow sponge that lived under the sea was Rosie's ultimate favorite. You could find her watching that show every chance she had, giggling away as the characters made stupid jokes that you would’ve once laughed at. Maybe it was because of that show that she asked you for a fish for Christmas and had even tried washing her own dishes with the cleaning sponge under the sink, drawing a small face on it last time she got her hands on a black marker.

Aiden creeps closer and you pat Rosie on the shoulder, instructing her to run off to her room or to the living room, assuring her that there’d be a good tv show waiting for her on the television and she seemed hesitant, but noticing your hard face unwraps her arms and sprints off to her bedroom, hopefully to shove a pair of shoes on before you’d be running drastically late once more.

Aiden speaks up first, his black ruffled hair hanging in messy strands that bounce around as he moves closer. “She’s doing it again.”

“I know.” You reply curtly, not wanting to talk about the issue that had become Rosie’s nature.

“You really should keep a closer eye on that girl, she’s destructive. It’s a bad habit.” Aiden was indiscrete about directing the blame towards you, disgusted gaze staring you down.

Anything was better than arguing. Take the comment and change the situation.

“You’re early today?” You hum gently, getting the bright pink school bag and making sure everything was inside, including the stuffed bear. You swore the girl hadn’t gone a day without that bear ever since she started kindergarten and now, since she was so close to starting school you wondered what would happen to it. Whether the toy would continue to lay at the bottom of her bag or go back to its place at the end of the single bed.

“I’ve got a meeting.” The man almost huffs, looking down at his phone before shoving it into his back pocket. He walks over to the fridge, grabbing out a bottle of cider from a few nights earlier and takes a large gulp, a few drops staining his lips. “Soon, actually. Just thought I’d stop in before heading over.”

“Meeting? You never have them.” You point out, a small smile forming but beneath that was nerves. The forever feeling of uneasiness. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, its all fine. Just meeting with the big boss, you know. Need to go over the stats and things.”

You move over to the sink, the tub already full to the brim. White bubbles floated around the top, bouncing around the few dishes that still sat. There was Rosie’s plate, a mug of discarded orange juice and your coffee mug- despite the fact that you’d been strictly told to stay away from caffeine.

“The bills come today.” You sigh. A wave of stress and nausea washing over you as you think about the pile of letters that’d be waiting in your slot later that day. Your hands sink into the tub, suddenly engulfed in the warmth.

“Whatever, I can see to them.” He offers, no hesitation as one of his hands go around your waist as you lean against the counter, cool material flush against the flesh of your back that had managed to peek out of your t-shirt.

You tense, muscles stiffening at the sudden contact. “You don’t have to, you got them last-”

He chuckles. “I have more money than what I know to do with, you’ve got nothing.” While it was a nice offer, his comment made you grit your teeth, the fact was all too real. Laced between a fake kindness and generosity was intimidation. Maybe it was sick and twisted. "Without me, you and her would both starve- you'd be living in the streets."

There was no spark between the two of you, nothing at all in the last year that you’d been together. It was a two-sided, unspoken thing, really. It was bad and it was dirty and made you feel like the upmost crappiest human being on Earth.

You almost shiver as his hands wrap around you, the familiar- yet hated feeling making your heart miss a beat. Your hands falling to the sides of the bench where you find yourself gripping the edges. “Okay, yeah.”

There was no point in fighting the matter because speaking back meant arguing, something you couldn’t deal with. Arguing meant voices that bounced off of walls, bright, sickly red faces and glass hitting walls and tears, lots of them.

“Do you have therapy today?” His stubble hits your cheek briefly, little prickly hairs making goosebumps form on your arms but there was a small possibility that was out of pure discomfort.

“That’s Tuesdays.” You remind him, noting that it was in fact Thursday. The words were actually hanging up on the wall calendar behind you, if it weren’t for that then you would have sworn it was Wednesday.

“Oh yeah, forgot.” Your boyfriend mutters, phone vibrating in one hand while the other remained around you. He unlocks it, eyes hardening but you don’t get to see the name on the phone, nor what the text was before a small curse exits his lips, phone shoved away as quick as lightning. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

Aiden was quick to reply, the hard glare changing to a sickly smile. “Nothing, nothing. Just the boss.”

You nod, hands playing with the water and bubbles collecting on the palms of your hands instead of actually doing the dishes. It was hypnotic, really. The water moved so calmly, little swirls and shapes forming with each stroke of your hand.

“Hey, what time does Rosie have to be at kinder again?”

You look up at the clock hanging on the pale kitchen wall seeing that it was in fact, getting late. By this point, you should already be in the car, an excited child in tow but she was still in her room tugging at her shoelaces, trying to figure out how to work them with her tongue sticking out of her mouth carefully.

“Shit! Rosie, we’re gonna be late.” You call, panic setting in all of a sudden. You try to pull away only to be pulled back into his chest, arms remaining tightly around your waist and you find your breathing getting caught in the back of your throat between a quickly forming lump.

“Kiss?”

Spinning around to your waiting boyfriend, you give him a small peck, warm lips meeting his chapped, still icy cold from the cider ones. They tasted of apples and it reminded you of summer. “Good Luck at the meeting and say hi to Avery for me!”

It was fair to say that this was nothing like your relationship with Tom. There was no spark, no looking forward to what would happen next or desire to be near each other. On one end you felt that you needed him around. Without him, you and Rosie would sink and on the other you wondered if maybe it was partially a punishment, your sick mind making you think that you deserve this for the lives lost on that torturous day.

“Will do.” Your boyfriend mutters, already reaching into the cupboards to look for something to eat.

-

Tom

‘Recent statistics show crime rates dropping in Kingston as police keep an extra eye out. Drug busts are the lowest they’ve been in years and theft is at a minimum. The level of-”

Tom sits at his desk, pen tapping away impatiently. Things had been oddly quiet lately and to say that the mobster was itching to get his hands dirty was an understatement. Today seemed to be the day, with a meeting only hours from now he was determined to shed a little bit of blood and quite frankly, paint the walls red.

A firm expression settled on his features as, the annoying sounding of Sam playing some phone game could be heard over the tapping of feet, but the game was easily more annoying. It sounded like a metal spoon hitting a hardwood floor over and over until ultimately he’d lose yet another round, a grunt leaving his lips as he tried again with no success.

Much to Tom’s pleasure, Harry sat quietly. For once in his damn life, the mobster thought.

Silence was good, it allowed the most important thoughts to flow freely without being interrupted. Tom often found himself thinking about his next move so that he could continue to stretch his empire, to dig up more gold whether that came in the form of the secrets of those that despised him so the mobster could ruin them or actual, hard as wood gold.

It’d truly been mere hours since Tom had last thought about his past, the recurring thoughts that circled his brain like a merry go round. Tom thought about her and how the last time he saw her she was empty, merely a body with no soul because he fully believed that she lost any ounce of light the day she was threatened and held at gunpoint. She lost any sign of life the moment a man- a good man at that, bled out at her feet.

He thought about how her soft giggles used to fill the naked silence and wondered if she still did that, laughed when times got tough because humor was an awfully fun coping mechanism, but one that’d tear you apart eventually no matter how many times he warned her. Okay, maybe he was a little bit of a hypocrite.

He remembered just how the bed never used to feel as empty as it did now, even with Tessa snuggled up to his side and how it never used to be as cold. Maybe Tom sometimes imagined her snatching the blankets away at half three or the little snores that’d slip out as the sun began to rise. Those little snores that used to wake up him, but he never once complained.

He was haunted with the ghosts of his past and he couldn’t shake them off no matter how hard he tried, despite the fact that he was still angry beyond comparison. Angry at the world- angry at fate and angry and himself.

Tom was holding a grudge, sure. One that wouldn’t settle. At first, Tom had been upset, he mourned and grieved the loss of his best friend and his wife. He had tried to drink himself silly going through limitless amounts of brandy and a sickly amount of cigarettes. And then he went livid.

All Tom saw was bright, hot red and directed all of his anger into his work instead of himself. It was probably the best week the mob had in years. He was demanding, making people drop to their knees in pure fear and no one- Not a soul dared to defy him again. Especially when they found out what happened to Nick.

Something Tom couldn’t get over, however, was what Harrison would think of him now. He’d be shaking his head, disappointment evident on his features.  The best friend always wanted more than death and gore but Tom had slipped down the wrong path, fallen waist deep in trouble.

“Have you decided how you’re going to deal with Wilson?” Harry snaps his brother out of a trance all while looking through the personal folder. In it contained all of the information the Hollands had on the dealer they were about to mess with, everything from each one of his addresses to the trouble he caused ten to twenty years ago. Also, just enough information to get him jailed for life if the guy ever decided to cause any trouble.

To put it simply, his name was Aiden Wilson. A long-term client of the mob and one that hadn’t been paying what he owed to the brothers. Certified sleazebag.

“Not yet, I have got a few ideas though,” Tom replies.

Harry hums, eyes scanning the folder before a thought come to mind. He almost pushes it away, thinking the hunch was merely that- a hunch, but he manages to remember one thing has father taught him before running loss. Never take chances.

“Can you check his bank records real quick?” Harry leans forward in his seat. The boy kicks his legs off of the table and wheels around in the spinny chair so that he was able to see everything Tom was doing on the computer.

“Why?” Tom questions, still working his magic to access each one of the man's bank records from over the last twenty years in only seconds.

“I just want to check something.” He murmurs, squinting at the screen. Tom swore that he was going to pay for Harry to get his eyes checked sooner or later.

Tom clicks around and ultimately the page overflows with recent purchases, money going in and money going out. The guy seemed to be earning more than enough money so why wasn’t he paying his fair share to Tom? As if Tom wasn’t angry enough.

There was, however, one big transaction going through around once a month, a few smaller- yet still fairly large ones in between. Wilson was sending money through to someone, pretty large amounts.

“What the fuck?” Tom muttered, eyeing the odd transactions. “What do you think this is?”

“Prostitution?” Harry asks, not putting it past the guy.

“No way, he wouldn’t pay through eftpos.” Tom points out. His mind was reeling with possibilities but none seemed to make sense. “Those sums are pretty big.”

“Here, check where the money’s going.” Harry pointed and Tom complied.

The brothers weren’t expecting to find anything big, maybe something to add to the pile of dirt they already had. They had enough, clearly, but what was a bit more?

“You have to be fucking-”

“What is it?” Harry asks. His eyes hadn’t landed on the name that was so clearly on the screen, in solid letters, teasing and taunting Tom who grits his teeth out of pure frustration.

Y/N Y/L/N

Your name sat on the screen in big, bold letters and Tom had to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly, thinking for a moment that it actually was your name. There were probably many women in the world with the same name as you, more than you’d imagine but an address sat underneath and it only confirmed his suspicions. That name, that damn name made him feel too many things at once- a wave of emotions he didn’t even want to think about hitting him like a bus going full speed.

Tom felt like he was invading, breaking his long-kept promise as he stared at your address on the screen. All of the information he needed to get back to you was right in front of him and it only made him angry, hand tightly curling around the mouse.

The sudden urge to chuck the computer across the room became too much, invading his already fuzzy mind and he didn’t exactly care about the fact that you were closer then he’d expected- well, of course he did, but then and there he wanted to know why he was seeing what he was seeing.

“It can’t be her-” Harry began, eyes squinting in slight disbelief.

“Same name, same fucking city.” Tom growls, face growing red hot. “It’s her.”

It was only then that Sam looked up from his game, knowing who it was without needing to ask. Maybe it was twin telepathy or maybe the two brothers were just completely obvious. But Sam knew and he could practically feel his oldest brothers anger radiating throughout the room.

“What are you going to do?” Sam tucked his phone away, discarding his game of helix jump after being stuck on the same level for the last half hour.

“Text Wilson, tell him to come to the warehouse instead,” Tom instructs, his grip now almost suffocating.

“Tom-” Harry tries to say, voice cut off by a furious Tom.

“I told you to do something so fucking do it.”

PART 2

Remember that updates are partially dependant on your response (as well as my love for writing these) ♡

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