Tom Holland Fanfiction

Dressed in black trousers and a white blouse paired with an open front white jacket, you glanced down at your shining wrist watch from Tiffany, your heels clicking against the polished marble floor as you paced back and forth the resort lobby. The meeting was supposed to start an hour ago, letting out an exasperated sigh you mentally curse the one and only person you despise in this world the most and the reason for this delay, Tom Holland. 

He was the oldest son of your dad’s longtime business partner so you had no escape from him. Every galas, luncheons, fundraisers or dinner parties you had to see his stupid gorgeous face. Sometimes people do get lucky or else how can an asshole like him be so good looking. Though you never got the appeal the very sound of his voice annoys you which makes you wonder what do people, especially girls, find so enticing about him? Except that he was reckless, impulsive and a total fuckboy. 

But one thing about him that seems to be applaudable is that Tom knew business. There wasn't a single meeting where he came back without getting the deal. He was smooth and had his way with his words, enough to convince the investors and that is why everyone adored him including your dad who saw him as the next CEO of this company. 

And that’s where the rivalry began, you both wanted the company and you are not going to let it go so easily. You could never stand each other though it was mostly you because he has always been polite and flirty with you that just irked you even more. It was this never ending chase of cat and mouse between you throwing insults back and forth to get a rise on the other.

You finally caught sight of him across the corridor in a powdery blue ensemble consisting of fitted trousers, crew neck t-shirt and a slim fit jacket paired with dark blue espadrilles. Tom had taste there was no doubt in that. He was walking in a hurry while trying to push back that one stubborn curl which always manages to fall over his face despite the amount of gel he used.

“Look who decided to finally grace us with their presence” you scoffed with a scowl on your face. 

“Hello Y/N surprised to see you here, love. Don’t you have your little dress up parties to attend?” he quipped back with a cocky grin. 

“It’s called a fashion week, Thomas, which you have zero knowledge about and it shows by your inadequate taste. Pairing a suit from Hugo boss with shoes from Gucci seriously? What a waste of money and a sore to the eye” you mocked him deliberately.

“Aww didn't know you cared for me so much. Hope your little boy toy isn't upset about your obsession for me” he bit back with a sarcastic tone. 

“First of all I don't give a fuck about you and secondly he is my boyfriend” you stated out agitated which only made his smile grow wider.

“Who are you kidding darling? He's with you just for your dad's money and of all you know it better”

“Excuse me, the last thing I want is relationship advice from someone who hasn't been in one like forever” you sneered. Tom was about to give another snarky reply but was interrupted by Anders, your dad’s assistant for the last thirty years. He's more of a family now.

“Are you two done? The meeting starts in a few minutes” he scolded both of you.

“Well it would have been over by now if someone had arrived on time. Now I have to cancel my herbal body wrap appointment at the spa” you grumbled striding away to the board room as Tom rolled his eyes and followed you shortly.

****

Board meetings bored you to death. It's always these old men arguing over the same things again and again. And ever since your dad gave you the responsibility of the publication house that your family owned you were forced to attend these monthly meetings. You sat there playing with the pen in your hand as your eyes wandered across the room to stop at the person sitting right opposite to you. 

Tom was quite invested in the whole meeting, listening to it carefully, occasionally taking down notes on the notepad kept in front of him on the glass table. It felt like time had slowed down and suddenly he became the most interesting subject for you in the whole room. Your eyes were now focused on him studying each and every detail. His freckle scattered face, his slightly crooked nose, that unruly eyebrow which you were always tempted to fix or how his eyes would wrinkle around the corners when he smiled or that very stubborn curl finding its way back to fall over his face which made a small smile creep up your own face. 

Your eyes trailed down further to his hands resting on the table, the very expensive Rolex glinting on his left wrist. How he held the pen between his long bony fingers and the veins popping with every slight movement of his wrist as you subconsciously bite the corner of your lips. It would be a lie if you said that he never invaded your thoughts once in a while, spiraling into some inappropriate places and fantasizing about him in not so innocent ways. Because let's face it he was cute and you may or may not have a little crush on him. And when he is not being a jerk he can be a real sweetheart even helping you out with the business. This duality of him confused you at times; it was like you wanted to kiss him and kill him at the same time.

You had no idea how long you were staring at him like that but soon you were brought back from your lust filled daze when Tom cleared his throat a little loudly to get your attention. You blinked and lifted your gaze to meet with his honey brown eyes, a smug grin plastered on his face as he had caught you red handed. He gave you a subtle wink and heat rose up your face in embarrassment. You looked away flustered, finally paying attention to whatever your father was saying.

“Okay as you can see there has been a sudden dip in the stock value of our company. The shares aren’t performing that well. So we have decided to cut some layoffs and we need everyone’s opinion on where the layoffs could be done” he explained. 

“It’s pretty simple actually that fashion magazine that we have invested in nobody cares about that” Tom remarked knowing how much it will irk you up.

“Excuse me, the publication is by far the best investment we have ever made. Our fashion page has around 8 million followers across the globe. Why don’t we shut down the luxury golf course instead?” you fired back. 

“Oh please we get lots of visitors all year round” he countered. 

“Yeah which mostly include a handful of shrewd old men”

“Yeah at least it’s helping them maintain their fitness and pass their time. What does your magazine do except gossip and fashion?” he argued. 

“Well it also talks about how to please women in bed. You should definitely give that a read, Thomas” you teased as his lips quirked into a smirk. 

“Oh darling I don’t need your stupid magazine to up my game cause--” 

“Enough! Both of you! We asked for solutions not more chaos” you father interrupted with a stern gaze.

“Sorry daddy”, “Sorry Mr. Y/L/N” you both mumbled an apology 

“Now can we talk about the business like grown up adults?” 

“Yeah sure, let’s talk numbers shall we?” you proposed moving forward to share your opinion “the fiscal turnover of the publication has been $3.9 million which is 30% more than the golf course and our stockholders are eager to invest more since the digital launch of our fashion magazine got a very good response. So clearly the golf course is draining a lot of money unnecessarily. I think everyone agrees on that?” 

“We agree, thank you so much Y/N” Tom’s dad nodded in agreement along with your dad and the other board members before turning to him “Tom we have to cut this year’s budget for the golf course”

“What? But dad -” Tom looked at his father in disbelief.

“Y/N is right in this matter so no further discussions over this” he said and Tom had to back off. 

“Ok so everything seems settled, see you at the gala tonight gentlemen” your dad said ending the meeting. Slowly everyone got up from their seats and made their way out of the room. Tom's face was pulled up in a frown while you had a wide grin on your face reveling upon your victory. 

“You think you won?”

“Think? I already did, you dumbass” you snickered and as Tom opened his mouth to say something you cut him off “sorry I don’t have much time to argue with you gotta go and select my outfit for the gala, see ya later sucker”   

“Fuck you Y/N!” he cursed fuming.

“You wish Holland” you sent a wink on his way with a sly smirk on your face. 

Tom watched you walk you away with a frown on his face, never missing the subtle sway in your hips with every stride you take. To be honest he neither hated you nor did he like you. If he had to be specific you were the classic stone cold bitch who always manages to get on each and every nerve of his. He wanted to hate you but then he can never ignore the fatal attraction he had towards you. 

You were smart, competent, charismatic and savvy who always knew what she wanted and did everything to get it. The perfect boss lady in the making. But the thing that he loved about you the most is despite your hard, unflinching exterior you had a good heart and always tried to do the right thing. Though you never let anyone see that side of yours not after your mother passed away when you were in middle school but knowing you for all these years he sees right through you.

Sometimes he may have stared at you a little longer and why wouldn't he? You were gorgeous. It may sound creepy but he had memorized each and every little habit of yours. Be it the way you flipped your hair haughtily or how your eyes sparkled when you were excited about something or the way you bite your lips when anxious. Oh that lip bite though. He had a certain kind of weakness to it. There was something innocent as well as seductive when you did that which only made him think of the things he could do to you if you were his. And that is why he was never fond of your boyfriends. He knew they were just a bunch of jerks who were just after your money. In those kinds of situations Tom couldn’t help but feel protective of you because somewhere inside his heart he fancied you. 

****

The gala had already begun, the hall was buzzing with guests and soft music played in the background to create the perfect ambience. Tom was standing near the open bar with a glass of whisky in his hand talking to one of the investors. He went to take a sip of his drink when you walked in dressed in a long gold sequin dress with a plunging V-neckline hugging your body at the right places paired with meshwork pointy-toe stilettos from Louboutin, hair set into loose curls cascading down your shoulders complimented by your dewy makeup. Tom checked you out through the rim of his glass but then he saw Chadwick by your side and his mood went sour. 

You went on to mingle with the guests while sneaking a peek of Tom through the corner of your eye, looking handsome as always in those fitted suits and obviously surrounded by a group of ladies giggling at his wisecracks and throwing themselves at him. It only made you roll your eyes and scoff at how predictable he was. You don’t know if it was the champagne or just your repressed feelings that you felt a subtle hint of jealousy creeping inside you. Sometimes you really wished he would be friendly with you as he is with others though you kinda brought that upon yourself with your mean attitude towards him.

You brushed away those thoughts and looked around to find your boyfriend was missing as usual. You met Chad at one of these galas six months ago and you both had hit it off then and there. This was the longest relationship you’ve ever had. He seemed like a nice guy compared to your previous boyfriends and you had a feeling that he might be the one but lately you have been second guessing that idea too. 

You felt tired, your legs aching from standing for such a long time in those high heels as you went and took a seat on one of the nearby tables. Tom was quick to notice you sitting all by yourself as he excused himself and beelined his way towards your table. 

“Aww all alone?” he teased, pulling out a chair and sat down next to you. 

“What do you want, Thomas?” you scoffed rolling your eyes. 

“Nothing just thought to give you some company since your dummy bf dumped you”

“Nobody dumps me, it's me who dumps people” you sassed.

“So then where is your dear Chad?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

“I don’t know and I don't care! He is a grownup man he can do whatever he likes” you stated.

“Woah no need to get so worked up sweetheart. I was just joking” he laughed.

“Why don’t you go and tell your horrible jokes to your lady friends? I'm sure they will find them funny just to sleep with you” you said with irritation.

“C’mon my jokes are funny ok” he frowned “but the thing I find more interesting at the moment that is you’ve been watching me. Hmm no doubt you are really obsessed with me eh” he smirked. 

“You!!” you fumed and stood up from your seat stomping your feet as you turned to leave.

“Now where are you going?” he called you back. 

“Away from you!” you huffed and stormed out of the hall to the lawn outside. Breathing in the fresh air you finally felt relaxed as you looked around the resort when someone caught your eyes near one of the pillars in the corridor. You squint your eyes trying to figure out who it was, the suit jacket appearing familiar to you. You slowly walked in the direction and your eyes went wide as you saw your boyfriend in between a very hot makeout session with one of the barmaids.    

“You fucking son of a bitch!” you roared from behind startling them. The girl ran inside as Chad looked at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N...”

“Don’t you say a word. We’re done!” you were hurt and were feeling terrible but you tried to hide your emotions under your angry demeanor.

“Y/N just listen to me” he took your hands in his but you were quick to pull them away.

“What more do you have to say huh? Just get out of here I don’t wanna see your face again” you told him.

“Hey I love you believe me”

“This is what you call love? Making out with some random chick behind my back?!” you yelled at him.

“I had too much to drink. I wasn’t thinking straight trust me” he said in his defense.

“Bullshit! You knew exactly what you were doing! I should have known you’re no better than the rest of guys who were just after my money” 

“Oh give me a break! With a spoilt brat like you any man would look for a little escape” he snapped at you.

“What did you say?” you were baffled by his audacity.

“You heard me sweetheart” he smiled crookedly “you really think everyone kisses your daddy’s ass so I would do the same? May I remind you are nothing without his name and money”

“What do you think of yourself? I gave you a little bit of attention and you seem to have grown wings. Don’t forget your worth is not even close to the shoes I wear!” you jibed with distaste in your voice which clearly offended his ego.

“You bitch!” he aggressively went to grab your arm but Tom showed up in time. He had followed you after you stormed out of the party and found you in a heated argument with Chad. 

“Yo mate back off!” Tom pushed Chad aside and stood guarded in front of you “what’s the matter bro? Didn’t your parents teach you to be nice to women?”

“You stay out of this, it's none of your business!” Chad barked at him.

“Well if that's the case my family owns half of this resort so whatever happens in its premises is totally my business” Tom tells him calmly before his voice drops an octave “and if you dare to touch her again I wouldn’t mind breaking that hand of yours. Now piss off!” he gave him a warning glare as Chadwick scuttled off leaving you two alone.

“You alright?” Tom looked at you with concern.

“Yeah” your voice was small.

“You need something?” 

“No, I better go back to my room. If anybody asks about me tell them I wasn’t feeling well” you told him.

“Let me walk you to your room” he offered.

“No need for that I’m fine” you dismissed him waving your hand.

“I know you are but still I want to” he insisted and you didn’t argue any further.

Reaching in front of the elevator he pressed the button, the doors slid open as you stepped in and stood next to each other. The elevator starts ascending as you let out a sigh slouching against the cold metal wall gazing down at your feet.

“Thanks by the way” there you finally said it, swallowing your pride which made him perk up and turn his body slightly towards you.

“Wait a minute, am I hearing wrong or did the Y/N Y/L/N is actually being nice to me for the first time?” he remarked with a look of surprise on his face making you regret instantly.

“Oh god it was a mistake, I take that back” you groaned, throwing your head back.

“No, no you already said it can't take it back now” he chortled as you silently accepted your defeat because for the first time he was right and also he stood up for you that is so unlikely of him to do at least for you.

“See I told you he was a jerk” he added and you knew he’s never going to let this go.

“Yeah, yeah I know. You don’t have to rub it on my face now” you huffed holding back the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Can’t help it. You really do have a poor taste in men” he snickered.

“You’re such an asshole” you grimaced. 

****

Arriving at your floor you swiped the keycard opening the door to your suite and turned to Tom who was about to leave “you wanna join me for a drink?” you don’t know why you offered but you wished he would agree to stay for some more time. 

“Would never say no to that” he said with a boyish grin and walked inside as you closed the door behind you. 

“Wine for the lady?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the armrest of the couch.

“Nah I need something strong” you said kicking off your heels and plopped on the couch feeling exhausted.

“So bourbon it is,” he chuckled, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves as he strolls to the minibar. You couldn’t help but shamelessly ogle at his hands, veins popping out as he reaches out for the bottle of bourbon and then grabs two glasses from the cabinet. He sat next to you and opened the bottle pouring you and himself a drink. You took your glasses and clinked them together before gulping down the drink and went for a second round. No words were exchanged as you both sat there drinking silently but Tom didn’t fail to notice the slight crease on your forehead.  

“Stop thinking about that jerk he isn’t worth it” his voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“But I can’t, I can’t stop thinking about what he said and the fact that it’s actually true makes it even worse. I mean how much ever I accomplish in my life to the world I will always be a rich man’s spoiled daughter who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and gets whatever she wants” you ranted taking a swig of your drink.

“Oh c’mon it’s not your fault that you belong to a wealthy family. People will always envy you so it’s useless” Tom placed a hand on your shoulder reassuringly “I mean look at me the tabloids write a lot of things about me on a daily basis but I never gave a fuck about that” 

“You never give a fuck about anything” you deadpanned.

“That’s not true!” he gasps dramatically, pretending to be offended “I do sometimes. I am a human with feelings too”

“Really? When?” you raise your eyebrows looking amused.

“Well when I don’t get my morning tea on time or when I lose in golf to my brothers” you break into a smile shaking your head sideways as he tries to list it out “or when some moron is unable to appreciate this beautiful woman in front of me” he said softly and you perked up at his words.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you reasserted slightly taken aback.

“Yes I do” he affirmed, looking directly into your eyes.

“Oh shut up” you laughed it off.

“You think I’m bluffing?” he puts down his glass on the glass coffee table and scoots closer to you.

“I think that’s the alcohol talking you should go back to your room and take some rest” you rolled over giggling. 

“Well you might have not noticed but I always admired you a little too much” your laughter died down when he reached out a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, resting his palm on your cheek. Perhaps it was the huskiness of his voice or the fact that he knew what he was doing as you leaned into his touch, his thumb stroking your cheek gently “though you can be a handful sometimes” he chuckled lightly, his other hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer “but I’ve known the girl under this tough shell for a long time and she's beautiful and perfect” he gazed at you intently.

Suddenly you were very aware of how close he was to you, the heat radiating from his body made butterflies erupt in your stomach. The smell of his musky cologne invading your senses as you peeled your eyes off him, looking down at the floor in an attempt to avoid his intense gaze “I see you Y/N Y/L/N” he tilted your chin up holding it between his thumb and index fingers. You held your breath, eyes fleeting between his dark brown eyes and thin lips. 

His gaze lowered down to your plump lips, leaning in as his warm breath fanned against your face. His lips brushed against yours gingerly before gently pressing them to yours. Surprisingly you find yourself kissing him back. His lips felt so gentle, so warm, your hands slid up his chest and gripped on the collars of his shirt, pulling him closer. He traces your lips with his tongue, prodding your mouth open. He deepens the kiss, drawing out sweet delicate moans from you as you tasted the remnants of the bourbon that you were having a few minutes ago as. Your breathing was erratic as you slowly pulled away after sometime.

“I've been wanting to do this for a long time” he licks his lips eyeing you up and down with lust blown eyes. Your head was reeling as you subconsciously chewed on your bottom lip, rendered speechless at the fact that you just kissed the person you disliked the most and you liked it. 

“Stop doing that” he growled with clenched jaws. 

“What?” you blinked at him in confusion.

“This” he brushes the pad of his thumb across your red tinted lips. He may or may not have an unhealthy obsession with them especially when they are so soft and tempting “every time you bite that lip it just drives me mental” slipping his thumb between your lips for a split second before pulling it back out and resting it back on your plump lip, testing the waters. 

The alcohol was kicking in making you feel warm and fuzzy as you looked at him with droopy eyes which only made him chuckle but when he pushed his thumb into your mouth and you knew you'd fall victim to him.

“Good girl” he purred as you moaned at the praise, feeling slick pooling between your legs and continuing to suck his thumb swirling your tongue around it “you like to be called a good girl huh but are you?” he smirked and all of a sudden you bit his thumb.

“Ah you minx!” he groans, pulling out his thumb.  

“You think you can handle this Holland?” you raise a cocky brow, a mischievous smile dancing at the corner of your lips. Tom mirrors your smile, wrapping a hand at the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

“Such a brat. Maybe I need to fuck this bratty mouth first” he said condescendingly. You were too far gone to stick to your resolve. Moreover you read somewhere people can be lovers and enemies at the same and he was like a drug which you got addicted to with one taste and you needed more. So you did what you were best at, which is riling him up.

“Then maybe you should get on it before I change my mind” you said lowly, hand trailing up his thigh to palm his growing bulge as you feel him tense up under your touch.

“Get down on your knees princess. I won’t say it again” dominance laced in his voice as he stood up from the couch undoing his trousers and kicking them off to the side. He watched you slide down the couch as your knees hit the soft rug on the floor. Your eyes fixated on the hard outline of his cock visible through his boxers. He chuckled, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to look at him.

“See what you do to me? Now be a good slut and fix your mess” as if all rational thinking left your brain, your body moving in its own accord. Your fingers hooked on to the band of his boxers and pulled them down as his cock springs free slapping against his abdomen. You licked your lips, mouth watering at the sight of his impressive length tip red and swollen leaking with precum, a prominent vein running underside of it.

“Open up those pretty lips for me darling” he crooned with a dirty smirk on his face while he stroked himself lazily putting on a little show for you. You part your lips as he places his length on the swell of your mouth. Tom leaned over, collecting a ball of spit and letting it drip over his head and into your mouth. 

“Make it nice and wet for me so that I can fuck that tight cunt later” as if your mind went numb as you obeyed him swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock moaning at the salty taste of his precum mixed with his saliva. Tom tilted his head back at the feeling of your soft and wet lips around his head. He was hot and heavy on your tongue, your mouth stretching around his girth as you bobbed up and down his length. 

“Your mouth feels like heaven baby, just like I imagined” his words spurred you on as you hollowed your cheeks and went all the way down until your nose hit his pelvis as you pushed back the urge to gag. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the growing ache between your legs as you run your tongue on the ridge of the vein and then release him with a pop. Wrapping your perfectly manicured fingers around the base you jerked him off as you sucked on his balls. A groan left his mouth watching you look up at him with doe eyes while you pulled and tugged on them coating them with saliva while your hand worked on his shaft. You couldn’t resist anymore as you slipped a hand inside your panties and stimulating your throbbing bud in slow circular motions.

“Are you touching yourself?” he arches an eyebrow cockily “knew you were a pathetic slut” he patronizes “work yourself open darling but don’t you dare cum” he warns as you slip two fingers inside pumping them slowly in and out of you as you take him in your mouth again.

His fingers threads through your hair gripping them tightly making your scalp burn as he decides to take control. Holding your head in place he began thrusting into your mouth. You gagged when he hit the back of your throat, eyes watery as your hands went on to grip on his thighs, nails digging into his skin.

“Taking me so well fuck” he pulled out for a second as you gasped for air before continuing to fuck your mouth raw, drool sliding down the corner of your mouth onto your cleavage. The room filled with his pleasured grunts and the sound of you choking on his length. 

“Holy shit I’m close” he moans as you feel him twitch and then spill his warm load in your mouth. He pulled out when he was sure that you had swallowed every drop as he took in your debauched appearance, face flushed, lips swollen, the red lipstick smudged and a mixture of drool and cum smeared on your chin was enough to make him hard again. 

“Since you did such a good job sucking my cock. What do you want, princess?” Tom cooed, rubbing your cheek with the back of his finger. Your throat was sore, jaws aching as you looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“Look at you so cock drunk can’t even think properly” he chuckled, holding you by your arm and pulling you up on your feet. You stumble as he pulls you closer wrapping an arm around your waist as he looks deep into your eyes “I asked you something, love. What do you want?”

“I-I want you to make me forget about him” you rasped out in a hoarse voice.

“With pleasure darling” his smirk grows into a grin before crashing his lips to yours with such force almost knocking the air out of your lungs. It was passionate and messy, teeth and tongues colliding as he backed you towards the bed. He gets rid of his shirt and hooks his fingers into the thin straps of your dress sliding them down your arms as the dress drops on the floor. A hum of approval came from Tom as his eyes raked in your gorgeous frame, bare to him, except for the little lace thong.

The back of your legs hit the bed as you fall on the plush mattress with Tom over you. Your lips chase each other as he bites on your lower lip before sucking on it. His mouth moves down your jaw, your throat and over your chest as he nips playfully at the swell of her breast, smirking against your skin. He kisses back up towards your ear, he’s nearly breathing as hard as you are “I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you will forget you ever even met that asshole” he growled nipping onto your earlobe. 

Your breath got caught in your throat, thighs trying to press together as he nudged them apart with his knee. He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, fingers pinching and tugging your pebbled buds, kneading the supple flesh of your soft mounds. His lips ghosted across your stomach as he traveled down further. Gently tugging on the hem of the lacy thong between his teeth with a smirk as he slides them down your legs. Tom mouthed his way up your calves sucking light marks to the flesh of your inner thighs taking his own time appreciating your beautiful body as you squirmed with need.

“I think I’m gonna fall asleep if you carry on like that” you quipped snapping Tom out of his stupor as he smiled viciously and grabbed your hips and flipped you over on your stomach, pulling them your back arching with your ass up in the air.

“And I thought you’ll behave” without warning, a sharp spank landed on your ass making you yelp at the sting which he soothed by rubbing his hand over your burning skin “such a dirty girl made a mess already” he observes running two fingers through your sodden folds and brings them to his mouth to have a taste “you taste so sweet baby” he hummed sucking his fingers clean.

“Stop teasing and fuck me already Tom!” you whined a deep chuckle resonates from Tom as he gave another smack to your ass.

“Don’t be such a brat, good things come to those who wait” he ran the tip of his cock through your slick folds before lining himself to your entrance. You were already dripping with arousal and with one thrust he bottoms out as you gasp at the fullness. He was stretching you delightfully, making you feel each and every ridge and vein of his member. The gasps and mewls that fall from your lips are obscene, face pressing into the soft sheets as you rock backed into him slowly. 

“Bloody hell feels so fucking good wanna stay buried in this tight cunt forever” he groaned with pleasure. His broad hands gripped your hips, using his strength to slam your ass back against him. You fisted the sheets into your palms as he began rutting into you at a rough pace.

Tom pounded into your weeping cunt, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he drove deeper inside you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan as your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, his tip brushing against your g spot with every obliterating thrust. Meanwhile his fingers found your sensitive bud as he rubbed it vigorously, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, making your mind all hazy. The words that came out of your mouth were a garbled mess. 

“Fuck, can’t even speak properly. Did I fuck you stupid baby?” Tom grunted, his smirk growing wider as tears welled up in your eyes from how good you felt “where are those snarky little comments huh? You like it when I fuck you dumb, c’mon, tell me how much you love it” he slapped on your swollen nub. 

“Yes I love it! love when you fuck me so... hard that I can’t think, don’t stop, please,” you cried out in desperation. Tom watched his cock disappear into your tight pussy soaked in your arousal.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, such a pretty slut and all for me,” Tom taunted “I'm going to ruin this pussy for any other man, you like that idea?”

“Yes! Tom, please, fuck me, make me yours” you moaned, your walls constricting around his thick cock pressure building inside your stomach.  

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, gonna let me fill you up?” he slid his hand down your back and grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you up flush against his chest as he snapped his hips harshly. 

“Oh-” you gasped loudly, throwing your head back as you choked out a moan “yes, fuck, fill me up”

“That’s it baby, can feel you squeezing me, go ahead, milk me dry, show me how much you need it” he coaxed thrusting inside you as you moaned, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His deft fingers worked on your clit tethering you to the edge. With a few more thrusts your body convulsed as your high washed over you. Your walls pulsated around him as Tom fucked you through your orgasm chasing his own high. 

“Fuck!” he rasped as you felt him throb, painting your walls with his warm release. He dropped both of you on the bed panting as he pulled out making sure not to crush you and rolled over to your side. You weakly turned on your back on the bed breathless and panting, desperately trying to calm your breathing. Tom wrapped his arm around your body and pulled you closer to him.

“So did that help?” he asked, brushing your messy hair out of your face with a lazy smile.

“Yeah it was good but don’t need to flatter yourself so much” you sassed.

“Really? The mean girl attitude after you were literally screaming my name a few seconds ago” he gave you an unamused look.

“Well deal with it or leave” you shrugged nonchalantly.   

“Nah I don’t think I can leave you anymore” he said nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck “by the way you wanna go sailing tomorrow in our private yacht?”

“Only if you fuck me on the deck later” you said with a mischief in your eyes, the corner of your lips tugged into a sly smirk.

“Gladly” he grinned cheekily and captured your lips into a soft kiss.

..................................................................................

“oh god. what are you doing y/n? you’re not a child, you can walk on your own.”

you ignored him, still focusing on trying to hop onto him until he finally gave in with a sigh. “you’re so strong!” you practically yelled. you smiled at him before hiding your face in his neck.

reaching the bedroom, he sat you down on the bed and began unstrapping your heels. you weren’t making it easy for him though; you couldn’t stop squirming due to the busyness of your stomach. he’d be frustrated if it wasn’t for the undeniable truth that he’d do anything for you.

“love, you have to sit still. i can’t do this if you’re moving around.”

you groaned in annoyance, finally finding a position to relax in, while tom helped you out of your heels.

“i’m gonna go get you something to change into alright?”

“don’t go,” you pouted. “how am i s’posed to kiss you if you’re gone?” you drowsily grinned.

“you can kiss me after we get you something more cozy to sleep in okay? sit tight.”

he walked over to his closet, grabbing what he knew would fit you. “here, put these on and- y/n?” when he turned around again, you were gone from your spot on the bed. this was going to be a long night.

toms head turned to the sound of your gagging coming from the bathroom, and almost instantaneously runs to check on you.

“are you okay?” tom winced. he felt silly asking that, when you could only come up with incoherent babbling, before you started throwing up again.

tom soaked a wet cloth and wiped your mouth clean.

“wanna go to bed.” you mumbled, using the sink to pull yourself up, knocking down some clutter in the process.

“okay, we will. don’t you want to put on something comfortable though?” tom asked, but you were preoccupied trying to take off your dress.

“need some help?” toms hands reached out to assist you, but you slapped his hands away.

“stop, perv. i can do it myself.”

“fine.” tom held his hands up, trying to hold in his laugh at your obvious struggling. you’d somehow managed to get your head stuck.

“help me.” you sighed in defeat. you let him help you out of your dress, and immediately ran and jumped into his bed.

“y/n, come on. don’t you wanna change your- fuck it, i give up.” tom sighed, tossing the clothes in a nearby chair before snuggling in beside you. he pressed a few kisses to your forehead and down to your cheek. you were already dozing off.

“i love you.” he whispered.

“love you, tommy.”

taglist 🏷 {DM FOR REMOVAL}

Tom was home, it was one of those nice long stretches where the two of you were in the same city for an extended period of time. He wasn't working on anything for a few months and wanted to spend that time with you, but you were always either at class or at the library or, when you were home, you were cramming to no end.

Finals had been absolutely killing you, it had been weeks of Tom coming home only to find you passed out in amongst whatever you'd been studying, having to wake you up with sweet whispers and cheek kisses.

Finally, you'd made it through. You had one last exam next week and you'd decided to fuck studying, you had such a high grade in that class you could've taken the exam in your sleep.

You were curled up in bed, you half on top of him, one of your legs in between his as he traced patterns on your back and arms. There was a really soft ringing coming from somewhere in the room, the only sound other than your deep breathing.

Your curtains were drawn as tight as possible, the rest of the lights in the apartment off, so the only real light came from his ringing phone. Tom fumbled around for his phone, noticing the light coming from under the bed.

He moved away from you, trying not to wake you, when you grabbed him by the hoodie. "Stay, please,"

You were so used to him leaving early in the morning to get to set, that your sleep-addled brain didn't realise that he wasn't working. He leaned over the side of the bed and flicked his phone on silent, flipping it upside down before settling back down in his previous position. "I'm right here," he mumbled against your hair. "Just stopping my phone,"

You nodded, face pressed into his side as he started tracing circles on your skin again. "Missed you,"

"Missed you too, honey," he placed feather light kisses on your forehead. "You're so warm,"

You giggled into him and his hands left your back for a moment, causing you to rest your chin on his chest, looking him in the eye as best you could without supporting yourself. "Why'd you stop?"

You had your answer when his hands found your sides, grabbing on. You let out a peal of laughter and rolled away from him. "No more cuddles for you,"

Tom followed you, rolling so he was on top of you, his head on your stomach. Your hands delved into his curls and he let out a noise of content.

It had been so long since the two of you had been so close, not worried about work or school. You knew Tom needed this as much as you did, trying your hardest to get him back to sleep. You thought you were successful when he relaxed into your arms, but then he spoke up. "Can I have a kiss?"

He hoisted himself up when you hummed out a yes, pulling you back on top of him. Your hands went into his hair as his legs tangled with yours, his hands coming to rest on your lower back. He placed a gentle kiss on your jaw, then your cheek, the finally your lips. You tasted like coffee, which was understandably considering you'd practically been living on it during your exams and you pulled away. "One sec,"

You slipped out of bed and Tom was hit with a cold feeling, pulling the blankets up to his chin and curling up, trying to preserve body heat. He heard the faucet running and you came back in a few minutes with minty breath, kissing him just as softly as you had before. "Much better,"

You noticed his position, giggling. "You look cozy," you said, curling up next to him. "If only Thanos could see you now,"

He didn't answer, instead simply rubbing circles on your back. "Go back to sleep, love. We've got all day,"

Eventually, you were lulled back to sleep, Tom couldn't help but follow suit. He'd follow you anywhere, especially somewhere as warm and soft and full of love as this.

"Hey Princess" Peter smiled, they were all in zones it looked like, Steve Bucky and sam were putting the new dirty clothes into the washing machine. Banner and Thor were pouring in the detergent. Nat and Clint were taking out the washing and tony and Peter were folding up the washing.

"Hey, uh, have you guys seen my blue hoody in the wash?" You asked, tucking your arms behind your back shamefully.

"Yeah I just saw it, you want it?" Peter asked, looking through the pile of washing that he had just folded up.

"Yes please" you nodded.

"Sweetie I hope you don't mind but I saw some blood on your sleeves so I had to put it through the laundry twice, it might have shrunk" your dad shrugged, holding up your jumper and walking over to you. It didn't look like it had shrunk that much.

"Thanks dad" you smiled, taking your right hand from behind your back and taking the jumper, wincing when you saw there was still some blood on your arm.

"What's that?" Your dad asked, furrowing his eyebrows, but before you could retract your arm he caught it, twisting your wrist around and meeting the one thing he never wanted to see. His daughters cut wrists.

"Pete?" Your dad choked quietly, you reciprocated the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"Dad no" you pleaded/ choked quietly, tugging on your wrist before Peter could see.

"Yeah mr stark?" He walked over, so cheery, so happy, and you felt like you were gonna ruin that very soon. He looked at you first, frowning slightly when he saw the tears in your eyes, then he looked at your dad, who was looking at your wrist, he furrowed his eyebrows before also looking down at your wrist.

You looked into his eyes that were locked in your wrist. It looked like his whole world had just been utterly destroyed. And it had.

"Baby?" He choked, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Pete can you go talk to her, come back to me when you have and then I wanna talk to you alone" your dad nodded, before hesitantly going back to the washing.

You choked and left, Peter hot on your feet. You put your hoody over your body, finally covering your scars. You both got to your room and neither of you knew where to start, until he spoke.

"Why?" He asked, tears were still in both of your eyes. "Are you not happy? Do I not make you happy?" He asked.

"No no Pete that's not it at all" you cried, sitting down on your bed and wiping your tears with your hoody sleeves.

"Then what is it my love? Please help me understand what I can do to help you" he nodded.

"I don't know, whenever I feel sad I just cut myself to change the pain from emotional to physical, and usually it works, sort of, there's not much you can do to help" you shrugged, sniffling a little bit.

"Okay, let's start like this, whenever you start to feel sad like that you come straight to me-"

"Bu-"

"No angel, please, you have to come straight to me, we'll cuddle, we'll do whatever you need to help you stop this okay, I promise, we'll get you through this. We don't need to tell anyone else, but I'm not leaving your side okay?" He interrupted back, you sighed and nodded.

"Okay" you smiled slightly.

"You promise?" He asked, holding out his pinky, you rolled your eyes playfully and connecting your pinkies. He kissed his hand and you kissed yours, which was your silent ways of sealing the deal.

"I promise" you whispered, and finally, Peter smiled back, making you relax more.

"I love you so much, and we are gonna get your through this" he nodded, you smiled and leant up to kiss him.

"I love you too Peter, and I know, thank you, I'm gonna try really hard for you." You nodded, he smiled and leant in, kissing your lips again. No matter what you guys went through, you were not alone.

“I’m actually so chuffed for Andrew,” Tom says with a smile as he walks down the walkway of the theatre, past the other guests, Harry in tow, “Did you see Tick Tick Boom? It was bloody excellent,”

Harry shakes his head. “I didn’t see it,”

“Yeah, I watched it with Y/N, I think,” Tom says, before his eyes rake over the entrance hall of the theatre, “Where’s Jack? Didn’t he say he’d meet us out here?”

“I think he’s waiting outside,” Harry says, “How is Y/N?”

“Fine, last I talked to her,” Tom says with a shrug, “There he is!”

They weave through the crowd of celebrities towards Jack, Tom’s bodyguard.

“How was it?” jack asks, and harry nods.

“You owe me 30 quid mate,” he says with a cheeky smile, and Jack sighs.

“I do, don’t I?” he mutters, and Tom frowns.

“What did you bet on?” he asks.

“Best drama picture,” Harry tells him, “I bet ‘Power of the Dog’ and he bet ‘Belfast’,”

Tom lets out a loud breath, frowning. “That’ s a tough call. . .they’re both good,”

Harry hums in agreement, before his eyes narrow at someone coming towards them. “I thought you said Mia would meet us at the Netflix afterparty,”

“That’s strange, she’s supposed to,” Jack says with a frown as the girl weaves through the crowd towards them.

Mia was the new assistant Sony had hired for Tom for the majority of Uncharted. She didn’t usually work full time, given Harry fulfilled most assistant duties and went most places with Tom, but for bigger events like awards ceremonies and press tours she was around to help out.

“Mia?” Jack asks as she finally steps within earshot, “What’s going on, I thought you were meeting us later?”

“I’m sorry, I know I’d said I’d meet you there but–” she says a little breathlessly, before she turns to Tom, “Mr. Holland–”

“Please call me Tom,” Tom says with a bit of a nervous smile, and she nods, taking another breath as she holds something out to him.

“Tom. . . it’s your phone, sir,” she breathes, giving him a concerned look, “It’s been ringing for the past two hours. It’s your brother, Sam.”

Sam Holland has always liked to think of himself as a relatively calm person. He had always been a calm child; he never lost his patience, never lashed out, never fought with other kids. Despite the fact that he’s still young and has almost all of his life ahead of him, he can’t recall ever having to live through a moment in his life even half as stressful as this.

Today, Sam is most definitely not calm.

Sitting in the dimly-lit waiting area at Barts hospital, every part of Sam is alert and awake, every nerve strung taut with tension. His phone, which has been on the seat next to him for the past 2 hours, hasn’t rung in two hours.

Why isn’t the fucking phone ringing?

The clock in the waiting room reads 3:30AM. He’s called Tom 16 times, left 3 voicemails for Harry and sent well over twenty texts to his parents after calling them repeatedly. The only person he’s seen in the two hours since they took Y/N into surgery is the nurse, checking to see if he wanted something to drink.

Still the phone sits there, screen black and empty and unresponsive. Sam stares at the phone, and the phone stares back, silent and solemn.

He tries to take a deep breath as he sits up for a second from his hunched position. His pants have creased from where his elbows had been resting on his thighs, and his back emits a few cracks as he straightens out his spine. The unease in his stomach weighs him down like lead, making him feel as nauseous as that one time he ate tacos from a truck off the roadside in Vegas with Harry and got E. Coli. It was not a feeling he ever wanted to feel again.

He hasn’t dared close his eyes in two hours, because when he does, his mind flashes with the images from a few hours ago. What if someone came in with news about you and he’d miss it?

Because as far as Sam’s concerned, he’s on the front line. He knows you’ve got no shortage of support, but as long nobody is answering their fucking phone and he’s sitting in this awful waiting room by himself not being calm, he’s it.

He’s all you’ve got, now, today. He has to be prepared.

His eyes fall on his hands; he’d scrubbed them clean of your blood hours ago, but he could still see some bright red spots under his fingernails.

The phone stays silent. Sam feels like throwing it.

He gets to his feet and paces a few steps, walking in the same line over and over. It helps him think. He’s been trying to muster a list of things to ask the doctor when someone does come around to tell him how you’re doing.

Is she okay?

It’s definitely the first question on his list. It was a no-brainer.

Is the baby okay?

Sam has thought long and hard about whether or not to ask this question first. He feels horrible admitting it, but he’s had hours to think about literally nothing else, and has drawn the grim conclusion that despite the fact he desperately wants you both to be okay, he cannot even fathom you dying without feeling like he’s going to hurl.

What happened?

He had googled all the terms: hypertension, preeclampsia. . . even exsanguinating. While he has no doubt the WebMD pages on these conditions were informative to people who knew what they were and what it meant for a person to have them, it was all gibberish to Sam. Only the conclusions had all been the same: see a doctor immediately. . . can be fatal if left untreated. . . can lead to miscarriage. . .

Sam lets out a watery breath, his feet stopping short. Maybe he would go and get another coffee. The moment Sam’s feet turn towards the door, he stops abruptly when a sound fills his ears.

There, on the seat where he had left it, the phone has begun to ring.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will shortly be serving dinner. In the meantime, we recommend that you take your seats. . .”

The stewardess’ voice fades into the back of Tom’s mind as he sits in his seat, eyes fixed on the clouds he can see through the small airplane window.

“Tom,” comes Harry’s voice, and Tom turns to look at his brother, who’s sat next to him and is giving him a sympathetic look, “She’ll be okay mate,”

Tom shakes his head, heaving a breath. “I should never have left, I knew it,”

“Don’t do that,” Harry says sternly, eyes boring into Tom’s, “You feeling guilty won’t help her. . . just like there isn’t anything you could’ve done if you had been there,”

Tom swallows hard, clamping his lips together and not saying anything, turning his head back to the window.

“She told me she was feeling iffy,” Tom says quietly, “And I didn’t even ask her if she was okay,”

“Tom,” Harry says, and tom hears him take a breath, “She is going to be okay,”

Tom nods his head slightly, but he isn’t reassured at all. Even Harry’s tone of voice isn’t calm, and tom knows he’s worried, too. They hadn’t heard any updates from you at all in the past few hours. All Sam had heard is that you had still been in surgery, but had had been before Tom and Harry had gotten on the eleven-hour flight from LAX to London Heathrow.

Mia had been the most efficient. The entirety of Tom’s 23-minute call with Sam, she had looked up the soonest flight leaving for London and booked them into first class immediately. Tom hadn’t even needed to tell her something was wrong, all it had taken was one look at his face from the second Sam got on the phone. Then, she had ushered them all into the car, and instructed the driver to drive them to the airport. She had assured Tom and Harry she would arrange to have all of their stuff sent on the next flight, and that she’d inform Tom’s publicist that she would have to cancel his engagements.

“Remind me to ask Sony to give Mia a raise,” Tom says, looking back at his brother, who lets out a breath.

“Yeah,” he says with a nod, “She was impressively efficient,”

Tom tries to take a deep breath and calm his nerves, but his stomach is rolled into so many knots it’s proving to be very difficult. Harry sees the worry on his brother’s face, and leans forward to put a hand on his arm.

“Only a few more hours mate, and then you’ll be home with her. . ,”

“Yeah,” Tom says with a swallow, giving his brother a watery smile, grateful for his attempt to cheer him up.

As the stewardess walks past with the dinner cart, all Tom can think about is you, and he can’t seem to shake the feeling that somewhere, something has gone terribly wrong.

“Darling,” Nikki says in a breath as she approaches Sam, arms outstretched to hug him.

“Mum, hi,” Sam breathes as she embraces him, and her familiar smell makes him feel a little better.

“Have you heard anything?” Dom asks seriously as Sam pulls away from his mum, and he shakes his head.

“Nobody’s been able to give me an update,”

“It’s been 4 hours,” Nikki says with a frown, and Sam gives her a worried look.

“I know, Mum,” he tells her, and she nods, before eyeing her son worriedly.

“Have you had breakfast? The hospital cafeteria just opened. We can go and get a roll, or something,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“No, mum, it’s fine. We should stay. They might come out and give an update or something,” Sam says, swallowing, eyes flitting to the large double doors that lead into the hallway and the elevator into which you had disappeared hours ago.

“Sam–” his mum starts.

“No, mum,” he lets out, voice raised, “I’m not hungry. I’m staying here until someone comes out of that bloody room and tells me she’s alive, and as far as that hasn’t happened, she needs people gunning for her, not sitting in the bloody cafeteria eating breakfast!”

There’s a silence in which Sam tries to take a deep breath, but it’s shaky.

“I am not going anywhere,” he says decisively, but he feels tears stinging his eyes and his voice is wavering with emotion as he stares at his parents, “I am staying here,”

“Sam,” Dom says in a calm voice, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, fingers squeezing into his skin, “It’s okay. . . you’ve been brilliant. You called everyone, you’ve been here the whole time. You’re okay now. We’re here to help,”

“You’re the first to arrive,” Sam says thickly, looking at his dad, who nods.

“Wes and Oliver are almost here,” Nikki tells him reassuringly, “They got stuck in traffic on the M40, but last I heard they were already in London,”

Sam swallows thickly, nodding his head.

“Tom and Harry’s flight will land in a few hours, as well,” Dom says, “Everyone is on their way. They’ll be here,”

Sam nods again, blinking his eyes furiously, desperate gaze flitting between his parents.

“I just want her to be okay,” he says, and his voice is small and thick with emotions as his eyes shine.

He’s spent four hours keeping it together, and now everything feels like it’s unravelling.

“I know, darling,” Nikki says, taking his hand, “It’s okay to be upset. . . we’re here now. You’re not by yourself anymore,”

At that moment, Sam hears a familiar voice in the hall. He turns to see your dad and brother hurrying towards them, expressions full of concern.

“Wesley, hi,” Sam’s mum says as she gives him a hug.

“How is she? Has anybody heard?”

“We just got here,” Nikki says, “But Sam was with her,”

“I’m sorry, they haven’t been by to update me at all,” Sam tells him apologetically, “I’ve waited here for ages–”

“It’s alright,” Oliver says with a nod, “I’m just glad someone was with her when she got here,”

Your dad nods as well, taking a deep breath and putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you for being there, Sam. I’m glad she’s had someone here the entire time,”

“Yeah,” Sam says in a tense breath, “No problem,”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Oliver asks, and Sam swallows, nodding.

“She called me on the landline at uh–. . . at about one thirty this morning. She was already on the phone with 999 then, and by the time I got there, they almost immediately took her to hospital,”

“Did they say anything about what she had?” your dad asks Sam, and his tone has a hint of desperation, “Maybe Oliver. . . you’d know what she has if he remembered, right? You’re a paramedic,”

“Dad,” Oliver says gently, “Even if Sam did know, we shouldn’t jump to medical conclusions off the top of our head. I’m medically educated, but not enough to make an accurate assessment about her health, let alone the baby’s. We just have to wait,”

“Let’s get a coffee,” Nikki says, gently taking Sam’s elbow and steering him away, “Would either of you like one?” she asks your dad and brother.

“Yes, thanks, Nikki,” your dad says, and Oliver nods as well.

Sam turns around a last time, looking at Oliver. “She said something, uh–. . . that she thought she was preeclamptic?”

Oliver gives a grateful nod, but his expression barely changes, if only darkens more.

“Let’s give them some space,” Nikki tells her son as she pulls him down the hall, and Dom follows after them.

It takes around 20 minutes before they’ve gotten coffee for everyone, and Sam has found himself relaxing a bit by the time they’re on their way back to the waiting area. Just as they round the corner, his eyes fall on your dad and your brother getting to their feet, and the blue-scrub clad surgeon walking towards them.

He slows his steps as he watches, through the glass of the doors, as the surgeon begins to speak, a solemn expression on his face.

Please, god, let her be okay.

He watches as your dad nods, once, twice. Oliver is standing behind him, looking intently at the doctor.

Sam can’t hear the words the doctor is saying, but he watches as your dad nods again, and after a second, he takes a deep breath, before he bows his head and begins to cry. Your brother puts a hand on his shoulder, and Sam can see he’s squeezing him tightly, his fingers almost white with the effort, a he presses his own lips together, an expression of grief etched into his features. There’s another expression on his face, too. . . is that relief? Sam can’t decipher it.

He feels his stomach drop to his feet as he watches the doctor stand there, hands clasped in front of body, his gaze directed on your family. Your dad’s shoulders shake as he brings up a hand to his face, and Oliver wraps an arm around him, laying his head sideways on your dad’s, closing his eyes, his chest heaving with a deep breath.

He isn't crying.

“No. . .” he hears his mum whisper under her breath, but Sam barely hears it, turning on his heel and walking out down the hallway as fast as his feet will take him. His breathing is ragged and panicked, and he tries to blink tears out of his eyes as a feeling of nausea grows in his stomach. By the time Sam sees the double glass entrance doors of the hospital, he’s practically running. He’s barely stepped into the still-dark morning air when he turns to the shrubbery lining the edges of the wall, and throws up the contents of his stomach onto the grass, coffee still clutched tightly in his hand.

“Thank you,” Tom hears Harry tell the cabbie as hastily walks towards the glass double doors of Barts hospital.

He’s at the receptionist desk in mere seconds, and she gives him an inquiring look. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Dad said first entrance, third floor corridor, to the left” Harry says hastily as he catches up, and Tom gives the lady a curt nod before both of them make for the elevator. It thankfully arrives quickly, and Tom presses the button on the third floor, eyes zeroing in on the tag stuck next to the elevator button.

3rd floor: Surgery wing, ICU

Tom’s heart is beating so violently against his ribcage he thinks it’ll come right out of his chest, and he watches as the floors seem to painstakingly go by. Nervously, he presses the button for the third floor again, fully aware it won’t make the elevator speed up. As soon as the doors open, the two boys hurry down the hallway, taking a sharp left.

Tom sees Sam first, sat a little ways down the corridor on the floor, back and head leaning against the wall, eyes staring upwards. Dom is standing opposite him against the wall, head bowed. To their left, Nikki is giving your dad a hug.

“Sam,” Harry calls out to his twin, and as they approach, Sam turns his head to look at them. His eyes go wide as he scrambles to his feet, but Tom barely pays him any attention as his eyes go to his dad, who gives him a look.

“Tell me,” Tom says urgently, and Dom purses his lips, taking a deep breath

“There was a lot of bleeding, Tom. . . they did everything they could to save–”

Dom doesn’t even finish his sentence before Tom has noticed that they’re standing in front of a door, and without even thinking about what he could find on the other side of that door, with only the tidal wave of panic rising in him, he steps through it.

As his eyes fall on the hospital bed by the window, the breath leaves his lungs in one go.

You’re sitting up in the bed, your head turned towards the window, eyes staring outside with a vacant expression.

“Oh thank god,” Tom lets out in a laboured breath at the sight of you, and the relief coursing through him at the mere sight of you awake makes his breath come easier with each inhale.

You turn to look at him, and when your eyes meet his, the relief leaves Tom as quickly as it came. Your eyes are glistening with threatening tears as you give him a look filled with more pain than he’s ever seen. You shake your head slightly at him, pressing your lips together as your face crumples.

“I’m sorry,” you bring out in a jerky breath. Your voice is small and weak, but filled with anguish as the tears begin to stream down your face.

Tom doesn’t say anything as he steps towards the bed, but he understands, he knows. The warmth that has filled Tom’s chest for the past few months leaves him in an instant, like fire dying in a furnace.

In seconds he’s sat on the side of the bed, wrapping an arm around your form as you fold into his chest, his other arm enveloping you in securely.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob into his chest, shoulders shaking violently as Tom holds you, hot tears staining his shirt. Tears of his own threaten to spill down his cheeks as he presses you to him, your desperate and heartbroken crying echoing off the bare, white-painted walls of the hospital room.

“Just her?” Arvin pulled out of the church parking lot, “Seatbelt, Lenora.”

“I got it, I got it,” the girl waved off before returning to her previous conversation, “But yeah, just (Y/n). He was talkin’ about putting together a church choir. Thinks (Y/n) would have a pretty voice.”

“She’s got a pretty voice but she ain’t singin’ for no church choir,” Arvin’s brows furrowed, white-knuckling the steering wheel at the mere idea of that damned preacher trying to get close to his wife, “Not in that man’s church choir.”

“Let the girl speak for herself,” Emma cut in, “Thought I raised you better than that.”

Pursing his lips, Arvin turned to (Y/n) for a split second before returning his stare to the road, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she looked back to her sister-in-law, “You singin’ in the choir, Lenora?”

“I’d love to try.”

Clenching her jaw, (Y/n) thought over her choices. Leave Lenora to sing in that choir - leave her sweet, naive little sister-in-law in that preacher’s hands for far longer than was typical or wanted… Or, suck it up and sing for the bastard.

“I’ll sing with ya, sweetheart.”

Arvin sighed quietly, glad none of the women in the car heard him over the rumbling of the truck’s old engine. To distract himself, and by proxy the women in the car, he suddenly changed the topic, “This damn old truck. Gonna hafta fix it up or take it in.”

“You’re gonna take it in?” (Y/n) tilted her head.

“Thing’s old; I’ll do as much as I can, darlin', but sometimes there’s only so much I can do. You know that.”

“I’ll need to go with you,” the truck jumbled with the rocky bumps of their home’s pull-in, “Pick up a few things for dinner.”

Lenora felt her heart warm and lips quirk into a smile at her brother and sister-in-law. They weren’t so into the church as her and Grandma, in fact - Lenora’s certain they only played along to please her and Grandma, but watching them was nice. Nothing to play along to, just a simple, pure expression of adoration between the couple. Arvin was never a man known for something as soft and tender as love but (Y/n), since the two were in grade school, was easily able to pull it out of him.

From high school sweethearts into married lovers. It was overjoying to know someone else was looking after Arvin.

“I’ll check up on Mr. Earskell and be right out.”

“No, no, (Y/n),” Emma shook her head, taking the woman’s hand as she was assisted out of the truck, “I’ll handle things. You and Arvin go on and stay out here.”

She didn’t bother fighting against the older woman, she was the matriarch of the family - she was just the rule maker. It was only fair.

“You don’t hafta keep callin’ em Miss and Mister,” Arvin came out and around to the hood of the truck, “They’re part a’ your family now.”

“Feels improper,” (Y/n) rebuffed, standing beside her husband, “I’m just thankful they’re lettin’ me stay here.”

“And why wouldn’t they?” he knew why she felt that way - her own family was insufferable and he could barely stand being around them for a dinner - he couldn’t imagine having to live with them.

“Let’s not open that can of worms today, huh, love?” (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips as she watched her husband look over the truck’s interior and drag over his tools and oil.

“Don’t joke ‘bout that, love,” despite his words, Arvin was smiling slightly, “Poor fishermen work hard to get those worm cans.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” she sarcastically relented, peeking over the man’s shoulder, “Wish I knew anything to help you.”

“I could teach you a thing or two.”

“Maybe not now, baby.”

Which, of course, was code for ‘I’d rather not. Ever.’ but politely.

There was silence between the married couple as Arvin worked until he sighed and planted his hands on each side of the open hood, head hanging low as he murmured, “You’re really goin’ to that choir?”

“We both know I gotta be there for Lenora.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll still be worried to hell ‘bout you,” he turned to face his wife, restraining himself cupping her cheeks and smearing grime over her, “Both a' you,” then he finally admitted as to why he was so apprehensive, “I’ve been watchin’ him.”

“You what…?!” she whisper-screamed, coming in closer to her husband, “Arvin Eugene Russell, you been what?”

“Watchin’ him,” Arvin almost regrets the admission at the sight of his wife’s shock, “He’s a no-good-sonofabitch, (Y/n). Messin’ around with a young girl behind his wife’s back. She’s good to him, (Y/n), she cooks him dinner and she does her best to keep him happy. He’s no good to her. He’s no good, at all.”

(Y/n)’s brows furrow, “Cheatin’ on his wife?”

“A girl from Lenora’s class. He’s worse than a cheater,” he turned back to the hood of the truck and quickly said, “We’re takin’ it in.”

“Why haven’t you said anything yet?”

“Nobody will ever believe me, (Y/n), you know that. Everybody here loves that damn radio bullshitter.”

Nodding quietly, (Y/n) fisted a hand in her skirt before turning towards the home’s door, “I’ll tell Lenora we’re goin’.”

The topic is ultimately dropped as they leave into town. As they take the truck in for the shop and as they pick out items for dinner that night and even on the walk home. Reverend Preston Teagardin didn’t come up again, neither did his affairs or his disgustingly, sickeningly low age preference for said affairs.

They weren’t the only people in town on watch of their new preacher in town, they were just another young couple walking home.

Even as dinner passed and time for rest came - as they pressed into bed and huddled together in the cold night. Teagardin was temporarily forgotten, pushed to the backs of their minds as they slipped into slumber.

And when Arvin darts up from bed after another nightmare over finding his father’s body that fateful night, (Y/n)’s thoughts are solely on her husband. Bringing him back into the present, where he’s not in the woods finding his father knelt down in front of their makeshift church but instead in bed with his loving wife. With his sister down the hall. His grandmother at the end of the corridor and his great-uncle's own room across from theirs. He’s in a home that isn’t going anywhere - he’s with people who won’t leave him, not any time soon anyway.

It’s not until the next day, after Lenora’s first day back at school for the week had finished and her daily visit to Hellen Hatton-Laferty was over, that Teagardin even peeked back into the couple’s brains.

“If that sonofabitch touches you or Lenora, tell me,” Arvin whispered to his wife, hands holding hers tightly before she went into the church for choir practice, “I’ll make sure ain't got no hands to touch you, or Lenora, or any other unlucky woman.”

“I’ll come right to you, honey,” (Y/n) was quick to confirm for her husband, “Promise.”

“Good,” he cups his wife’s cheeks and pulls her into a tender forehead kiss before going to his sister and giving her a tight hug, “Be the loudest one there, got it?”

Lenora chuckled quietly, patting her brother’s shoulder, “You know I can’t do that.”

“You can.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) goes up the stairs and pulls one of the double doors open, “You just shouldn’t, ain’t that right, Arvin?”

A teasing shrug and he’s walking off towards the car while Lenora follows her sister-in-law up and into the church.

Teagardin is sitting in one of the pews with his back turned towards the two women.

There’s nobody else in the church despite having been told this was the meeting time. It’s silent. Preston still hasn’t turned to the two.

Lenora is fidgeting beside (Y/n) the longer the man stays quiet. The younger girl nervously bunching the skirt of her dress in her fists. Her brows drawn tight in confusion and lips pressed into a thin line.

(Y/n) steps forward, ignoring the nerves urging her to run and encouraging her knees to buckle underneath the weight of her body, “We’re here, preacher.”

His head lifted, a smile coming over his lips, an unnatural smile - one she’d imagined on the devil when he tricked another soul into his claws. Preston comes to a full stand and approaches the women, “I didn’t expect both of you to come.”

“I wanted to support Lenora.”

“How wonderful.”

~~

“Preacher’s dirty.”

“What?”

(Y/n) sighed, sitting up in bed and looking down at her husband and whispering into the night air, “Teagardin. He’s just as dirty as you said.”

Immediately, Arvin was also sat up, no longer tired and now entirely focused on his wife, “What happened?”

“Tried touchin’ Lenora ‘til I stopped him. Grabbed me. I got us out of there and now Lenora’s tryin' to figure out how to tell Ms. Emma.”

Arvin stood out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants over his boxers, slipping on a shirt and his hat before heading to the bedroom door and slipping out of the room. (Y/n) followed after, eyes wide and brain springing into panic as she watched him tug on his shoes. Hurriedly, the woman put her shoes on as well while Arvin snuck out of the home, her continuing to follow after him.

Once they were in the car, (Y/n) turned to Arvin as he pulled out of the driveway, “What the hell are you doin’? It’s late, you can settle this tomorrow, can't ya?”

“No. It don’t matter if he’s with his wife or at the church, I’m puttin’ that bastard in his place. I hope that woman leaves his ass,” he shook his head, “Rotten fuckin’ bastard.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

The man was silent as he drove towards where he knew the Teagardin residence was. Every few minutes he would take off his cap and run a hand through his matted hair - if he could force himself to do so, he could almost pretend this was a nice drive with his wife. A simple late-night cruise through town with the love of his life, but then he would remember exactly why they were on a late-night cruise. A peek at (Y/n) would remind him, she must be frightened to all hell - it must’ve been awful to be in that church. Be near that rotten man.

And Arvin’s rage was freshly re-lit.

“Is this the right time?” she remembered each time her husband had repeated the phrase from his father, it was usually enough to sway him from acting out at that moment.

“Best time there is. He’s asleep - won’t be expectin’ us.”

(Y/n) settled into her passenger side seat, turning her head to stare out the window, “How’re you gonna get him out?”

Arvin was silent once again, fingers tight against the steering wheel as they pulled up to the bend at the end of the preacher’s street. He got out of the car and stormed towards the Teagardin home with (Y/n) trailing after.

It wasn’t long until Preston came stumbling out of his home with Arvin banging on the front door. Cynthia was out soon after her husband, clinging to the door frame.

“Late night for a sinner, kids,” Preston rubbed at his eyes, “Can this wait ‘til the mornin’?”

“You try touchin’ Lenora?” Arvin was blunt, he didn’t like sugar coating and he didn’t like the people who did it. Turning, he gestured to (Y/n), “Tried touchin’ my (Y/n)?”

Immediately, Preston’s eyes widened, “Now, now, I- I didn’t do nothin’ to those two.”

“Callin’ my wife a liar?”

Cynthia looked between her husband and the younger couple on her lawn, “What’s this about, Preston?”

“You just go inside now, Cynthia!” the preacher called back to his wife, “These two are full of delusions!”

“Arvin, let’s just head home now - you can take care of this tomorrow…”

Shaking his head, Arvin only approached the older man further, “My wife ain’t no liar. And those hands ain’t free of sin.”

“Go inside, Cynthia!” Preston shouted at his wife once again before turning back to the other man, “You won’t say nothing. I will have your lives ruined. Who will the town trust? Me, or two scruffy children who married straight outta high school?” he gives a forced chuckle, shaking his head and pointing at (Y/n) with a shaky hand, “Your wife… she- she… your wife is delusional. She’s crazy.”

Arvin Russell had been fighting nearly his entire life - he learned from his father and he continued on far after his father passed. Preston Teagardin had never been an athletic boy nor had he been confrontational by any means, preferring to hide in the shadows and smile his way out of trouble.

It wasn’t a mystery as to how Arvin managed to land Preston on the hard ground, chest pressing into the dirt and hands tightly wound behind his back in Arvin’s hold.

He didn’t know what he was looking for in the man. He didn’t know what he wanted from the preacher. He couldn’t kill the bastard - he still had a sister and wife to look after when his grandmother and uncle could no longer. Was it admission? Was it a promise to not even look at the women of Knockemstiff? It wasn’t an apology, he knew that - because there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be giving out forgiveness.

“You take back what you said,” Arvin grunted out, pushing his body harshly into Preston’s back and hoping it’d hurt as much as when boys did it to him on the playground, “You take back what you said about my wife, you hear me?”

“She’s crazy!”

Arvin took a hand into the preacher's hair and smushed his face deep into the dirt, “If I- “ when Teagardin’s whining got too loud, Arvin let his head up before roughly smashing it back into the ground, “Fuckin’ listen when I talk. You listenin’?” he waited for a nod of confirmation before continuing, “If I even hear your name in the same sentence as my wife’s or my sister’s, I’ll bash your fuckin’ brains in, hear me?”

“Arvin!” (Y/n) finally screamed out to her husband, hands landing on one of his arms and pulling, “Arvin, you let him go!”

“He deserves this, (Y/n)!”

“I know, but dammit Arvin, you’re gonna get the sheriff on you, let’s go home!”

Giving one last thunk of Preston’s skull into the ground, Arvin stood and kicked the man’s ribs before nodding at Cynthia with a brief ‘goodnight ma’am’ and returning to the car.

“That was a dumb thing you just did, Arvin Russell,” (Y/n) scolded, rather lightly, as her husband drove.

“I don’t regret a damn thing about it, (Y/n) Russell.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she reached over and snatched his cap before fixing it over her own head, “I’m proud my husband cares so much.”