Warnings: mentions of alcohol, a little bit of angst, violence, and not giving him his money. This idea is mine.
Characters: tom, reader, and some harry
Summary: Y/N arrived at a bar, waiting for a friend, and meets a new man. When there's a turn of events, Tom finds himself doing something very out of character.
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The foul smell of the bar had Y/N gagging, twisting hopelessly in her bar stool. It hadn't even been three minutes since she had walked in, and she was already checking the time, sick to the stomach.
She looked around her. Why had her friend picked this of all places? The old looking bar, strangely isolated from the rest of the World. It was a damp area, the constant wind making it strangely eerie, and yet her she'd been told to dress like it was her last night. So, she'd shoved herself into a crimson number, an old clubbing dress paired with simple heels, and knew that charm would have to make men swoon tonight, chances there were any.
The sight of a group of men in the corner made her want to twitch. Although she wasn't sat close to them, she could feel their eyes on her, puffing away at their cigars. The room was tense, so hot that the wet mud on her legs seemed to tighten. She'd had to charge up the street, and by the time she got in the pub, She wanted to wring her friends boyfriend for suggesting this place. How he could influence her in the blink of an eye made her sick.
And she'd went through all that mud just to third-wheel.
"Are you waiting for a friend, or should I get you a drink? " Called the bartender. They seemed to always talk, she supposed it was their job to.
The bar seemed to grow quiet with a chair scrapping in the distance. She asked for a pint of beer.
Rooting around in her purse for a while, she wondered how long it would take her friend. Perhaps her mind had wondered too far to hear his voice, but she snapped out of her daydream when a man's hand slammed a bundle of change on the countertop.
"£2.50." He answered grimly.
Her nose was immediately met with a passionate scent of whiskey, the man's ginger bound of curls brushed back and a pink scar on his lip. His clothes were loose yet pulled tight in some areas. His fashion sense was old, a dark blazer contrasting with his good chain, the attire pulled together with pants and squeaky clean shoes. By his whole outlook, she seemed to sense he wasn't as prefect as he seemed to be.
"Harry." He grinned. It curled, his smirk, folding into a bittersweet Cheshire cat smile.
"I'm Y/N."
"And?" He laughed darkly. She raised her brows in question. "Y/n what?"
"Y/N Y/L/N, why do you want to know?" She turned from him, swirling her drink, deciding to let how the bartender hurried from them after giving her the drink pass.
A beat went by. The men in the corner seemed to quiet down a touch.
"You know a Kendra Hunt right?" Harry asked. His voice was cool now. Collected.
"I- yes I do." Kendra had invited her here, tonight. Maybe he was someone she'd set her up with?
The pads of Harry's fingers reached for her wrist under the countertop. Like little butterfly touches, yet each one was so warm that her stomach seemed to turn.
"She tell you why?" He looked behind him at the men in the corner of the room. His fingers latched onto her wrist, and her throat choked up. She nodded a yes. She knew that this wasn't a meet up at all, but the idea still seemed so sweet.
Another beat went by, "Where is it?"
Y/N went completely still.
Where is what?
"Tell me, now. Where about, take me there." His words seemed to shoot out, the rush of adrenaline wafting off of him.
His calm demeanour wearing away. She could practically taste his impatience.
"What? I don't understand -"
"The money -" He noticed her cold sweat, "Y/N, love, tell me, now."
Money? She was going to drop dead. Had her friend planted her in a mess she wasn't responsible for? She'd left her here, purposely, as a bait.
Harry took to silence her just in case a plea of scream would come out of her slack mouth, and pulled her closer to him by the hold on her wrist.
"Be quiet." He snapped, "She must've sent you here as a bargaining chip, or bait. Are you that stupid to think that she could afford all that stuff with what she earns normally?"
"Please." Y/ N cried. It was supposed to be a normal night.
Harry stroked her cheek with a sinister smile, "You know, my brother Sam thought it'd be funny for me to go get the pretty girl Tom's been eyeing. Poor girl, poor manipulated baby. The real bad people always act innocent."
She shook her head like a wild animal, "Kendra and I haven't seen each other in months. It was a night out tonight. Harry, whoever you are, I can't even pay my rent, I don't have time for shady stuff. I didn't even touch it, I had no idea she even owed you money. Please, please don't hurt me. "
"Your friend took money off Tom." Harry stated. He seemed to shake with pent up energy. Would he let it out on her? "She probably spent it on booze and drugs. She hasn't given it back, and her time's up. She said you would be coming to give it to me tonight, but she probably sent you here to distract us while she gets away. Do you know where she is?"
"No, please let me go."
"Its not that easy love. If we don't get that money I'll hurt you. Give me your phone."
He took her phone with his spare hand, calling over a friend, "Harrison! I've got her phone. Try and track her. "
"Are you going to kill her? Are you the boss-"
She felt heavy breath at the back of her head. Harrison maybe? He couldn't get there that quick.
"No, he's not the boss."
Harry seemed to perk up suddenly, "Tom."
Y/N turned. This was Tom. In his all drunken and god-like glory, suit tight and golden chain sparkling like the sun, his scent warm and strangely comforting. His sweetly shaped eyes that seemed as dark as coal, and the only thing except his current state that was unkempt was his brown curls.
"The Hunt girl sent her to us as bait. Tom, I thought you were celebrating tonight? It's another successful transaction between businesses. "
"This one isn't successful," Tom couldn't seem to look from her, the two of them entranced, "I don't like people not telling me about business. You told me Hunt had paid up."
" Tom -"
"Don't 'Tom' me, idiot."
"Oi, both of you. You make a scene and our reputation goes up in pretty little flames. And If either of you want the girl to live, I suggest setting a good example so no more witnesses have to die, again." It was certainly Harrison now, a fresh head of Sandy blonde hair and blue puppy dog eyes.
Tom turned to him, "You knew too didn't you? " and pulled Y/N up by the hand, pulling her after him in a tantrum.
Harry and Harrison called after Tom from behind, receiving drunken mumbles of 'lady's bathroom '.
"What are you doing?" She cried, as he dragged her into the women's.
He propped himself up on a sink, pulling a lighter and a fresh cigar from his pocket, "Silence. Sweet silence. You can pee now without your little best friend, I'll just be minding my own business. "
Y/N could run, but the threats had nearly scared her enough to make her pee on the spot. So, she cautiously entered the toilet, and began to pee.
A beat went by, "If you're wondering, my father gave me this as a present as a kid. That's why we 're here. We haven't been in years. Just back to keep our reputation fresh."
"My brother threatened you." He folded his arms and she furrowed a brow, "He talked to me about you after you left. I know you're not responsible for this. Forgive Harry, he's violent. Don't call the police on him either, they don't come here, they know better." The dark in his eyes intrigued her.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea, at all. She wrote my name down -"
" - and put you right in the middle to stall us, and then ran. Harry tried calling her. She left. Probably ditched the phone." His outfit was the same as Harry's, except darker and sharper. Clean cut. It suited him, really well.
He snatched toilet paper from a stall at the sight of her watering eyes, and handed it to her. Tom then leaned into the sink behind him.
"I'm not good with sappy, emotional stuff, forgive me. And I'm not even supposed to go into the women's toilets but I wanted to check on you. After all, I have been staring at you all night. "
A chuckle came from Y/n. He was cunning. Yet she felt drawn to the accent, the skin, the eyes and the hair. The death-threats hovered to the back of her mind for a second. The cold breeze, cold feeling, that came with him felt luring.
A predator with prey. Oh lord, she didn't want to die. Even when the silence stretched out over them, she wanted to plead for her life.
And while she stressed over pleading, his thoughts were too twisted in the feels pulling painfully at his gut. A bad feeling washed over him. He had to make decision -and quick- and hope to not feel guilty about it.
He began again, "I want you to leave, right now with no but's, and don't ever come here again. " He rushed out, "No one's gonna come after you, as long as you don't interfere with us again, understand? I'll tell Harry that you ran, and make sure he won't go after you. I'm his boss. And if you tell anybody that I let a client go without giving me my money, I'll send him. Go before I change my mind."
Her eyes caught with his brown ones. He smelt like strawberries and bourbon, and she could breathe him in all day. Perhaps on a rainy afternoon on the couch.
"Do I have to repeat myself?"
She looked at his curls. They were soft, so soft.
"What, do you want my number or something? I'll get your phone back to you in a day or so, and who knows, you might just get that number." He joked with a wave of his hand. The longing silence coming from her was his only answer.
She pressed her hands against the door and smiled at him, "Thank you. Goodnight, Tom." And set off, like the wind had swiped her off her feet.
He spun on his heal a beat after her exit. They lived around the same area, they would see each other again, right?
She hadn't given him a goodbye. She'd given him a Goodnight.
This is my first so I apologise if i have made any mistakes!
Pairing: Tom Holland X Fem!Reader (mobster!tom au)
Warnings: CONTAINS ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT!!
Notes: Please do not hesitate if you find any mistakes or if you have feedback! I’m always looking to improve, enjoy! xx
Chapter 1 (Pilot)
It was a Monday night, with a heavy drizzle that threatened to become a storm as dark clouds looked ominously overhead. The lampposts held flickering lights, due to old lightbulbs and faulty wiring that hadn’t been touched in decades. Rain collected in the gutters along the edge of buildings on each side of the street, instead of traveling down a rain barrel the rain simply fell through cracks in the rusted metal. The rain had caused the slope in the cobblestone street to be exposed, the rain gathered in the depths between the buildings and the road, causing deep puddles that the few pedestrians tried desperately to avoid. All the businesses that lined the street were closed for the day, except for one.
Nova Strip Club’s neon sign was bright from the dark window. A few men in dark coats and hats that covered their eyes slid into the club. The apartment windows above the club were on, Rob, getting ready for the night or getting laid by one of the prostitutes from the secret brothel next door.
The club and the brothel were owned by the Holland’s, a family that ran the London mafia. They’d owned everything for over a hundred years, it was the family business. Not many people knew much about them, only their names. Dom was currently in charge and he had four sons. Each of whom were expected to continue the business. The oldest, Tom, was going to replace Dom when he ‘retired’.
All of the Holland’s wore a stern face and always brought a cold aura wherever they went. The family had few friends, and the ones the did were simply business ties.
They rarely visited the strip club, even when they had to collect money they sent an employee. They’d come maybe once every few months, they’d sit in the private room to the right of the bar at the back of the club, order the most expensive scotch the club had and then they’d leave after collecting money.
Y/N walked through the front door of the club, saying hello to Victor who stood at the entry booth. Customers had to pay to get in the club, weekdays it was 15 pounds, weekends it was 20.
“Hey Vic, who do I have today?” Y/N asked, Victor would know who was working.
“Chloe.” Y/N groaned, she’d have to spend the next nine hours listening to her bragging about the creepy men that gave her their phone numbers. Victor gave her a sympathetic smile and waved her on.
First entering the bar, your eyes have to adjust to the darkness. The lights were always dimly lit and at midnight there was an hour of black light where the dancers would wear glow in the dark lingerie. The circular, glossy oak tables that filled the floor were mostly empty, but it was a Monday and only 6:00pm so things weren’t supposed to be busy. To the right was the bar, if faced the stage. Chloe was lining up glasses, getting them ready for the first wave of customers.
She had curled her blonde hair like always, she had new acrylics on her nails and she wore the white uniform shirt with only one button keeping it over her breasts. She tied the bottom half of the shirt in a knot just above her belly button, newly pierced. Y/N hadn’t seen her since last Wednesday.
“Nice piercing,” Y/N said, breaking the silence in the club.
“Thanks, Nick said he’d like it if I had it pierced,” Chloe said proudly, looking down at her new piercing.
Nick was a middle aged man that often came to Nova on Wednesday’s. From his usual attire, Y/N could guess that he was a businessman of some kind, maybe a lawyer. He was obviously rich, and enjoyed making power moves. Especially, over Chloe. She guessed that Nick had said something to Chloe while she waited on him last Wednesday, leading her to pierce it the next day. Y/N didn’t really care, she wasn’t one to get involved with other people’s lives.
At midnight, the regular lights shut off and for a few moments the club was pitch black. But then Vic turned on the black lights and everything that could be seen was neon. The bar had subtle backlights behind the bottles of alcohol, so that bartenders could make the right drinks. As the night went on, the oak tables around the club became sticky with dried beer and liquors. Y/N and Chloe had to constantly go around and wipe down tables, and also make drinks behind the bar. Rob, the manager, was in charge of organizing the private rooms and finding those who were interested in the brothel. If there were any squabbles between customers on the floor, Rob had to break it up.
At one o’clock in the morning, three men with long dark trench coats and black fedoras over their eyes. Their boots tapped on the hardwood floor as they walked through the entry booth and all the way to the back of the bar into the private room.
Chloe was standing beside Y/N and had grabbed her forearm as she stared forward and watched them walk across the floor.
“Holy shit! It’s them,” Chloe whispered urgently.
“Them? As in?”
“The Holland’s and their people, you dipshit!” Chloe looked at Y/N in disbelief, “I’ll take care of them.”
She slid from behind the bar and strutted to the back room, she shook her hair around and adjusted her shirt before she opened the door.
•••
Tom was in a good mood, he had just collected over 100,000 pounds from three clients. His father would have no reason to be angry, at least not tonight. Harrison knew he was in a good mood, so he decided to take advantage of it. He had suggested they go to Nova’s have a drink. Tom didn’t shoot down the idea, so there they were. Ben was with them, Dom hired him about six months ago, in October. He had never been out on a job with Tom, and Tom wasn’t sure if he liked him. Actually, Tom knew he didn’t like him. He thought Ben was a pig, he treated everyone like shit. Tom was the same, but he had done things to deserve respect, and he came from a family where they made money by treating people like shit.
Ben was young, about the same age as Tom. He was about 5’11 and had an athletic build. He had black hair that was cut to be short on the sides and long on top, he wore the traditional all black outfit that Dom made all the members wear. Tom rebelled against his father’s rule by wearing a blood red tie or shirt underneath his black coat. But Ben, he followed without question. He had tattoos that snaked out from under his coat sleeves and out on to his hand. Tom hated them, they were just basic flames. They had no meaning, they were just there to show that he had tattoos.
Or maybe he just didn’t like Ben.
When the waitress came in, Tom studied her, trying to figure out who she was.
She had curled hair, it was done with a curling iron as he could smell hairspray and a faint scent of burnt hair. She did it often, maybe every time she went to work because it was dry and brittle. He assumed that she was jealous of someone, someone who had naturally curly hair. He felt like she was that kind of person. Her nails were freshly manicured, she had money. She probably didn’t need this job. Her name was Chloe, it was written on top of the notepad she held in her left hand. Her shirt was held together by one button and she tied it up under her breasts, showing off a belly button piercing. A man had told her to do it, she would have never done it without an incentive. She had napkins sticking out of her right pant pocket, right handed. On the napkin we’re numbers, phone numbers of customers. They started with an area code from Paris and New York, businessmen’s work phone. She was desperate, if she wasn’t she would have thrown them away. Then she spoke, “what can I get you, gentlemen?”
“The best scotch you have, no ice,” Harrison replied with a smile. He was never rude to waitresses, Tom wasn’t sure if it was how he was brought up or if he was just looking for a fuck.
When Chloe left, Ben looked across the table at Tom then nudged Harrison with his elbow, “How about that one, eh?” He smiled.
“She’s pretty,” Harrison replied.
“She’d be a pretty good fuck,” Ben stated.
A few minutes later, Chloe came back with a bottle of scotch and three glasses. She was placing all the glass down when Ben grabbed her hips and pulled her on to his lap, “give me a dance, yeah?” He said into her neck.
Chloe was uncomfortable, Tom could see it in her eyes. She was desperate but didn’t see this coming. She tried to get up by pushing up on the table but Ben pulled her back down and pinned her thighs, “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.
“I need to get back to work,” Chloe whimpered as she tried again.
After a few seconds of staring at Ben, Harrison spoke up, “mate, I need her to get me some fucking chips.”
Ben groaned and he shoved her off of him, “well, go get them.”
•••
Chloe came out of the room hysterical, she ran behind the bar and sat down on the floor. Y/N was behind the bar and she sat down beside her, the club was starting to slow down anyways.
“Chloe? What’s wrong?”
“He grabbed me and he asked for a lap dance and he wouldn’t let go and they just watched. Then one said he wanted chips and then he pushed me off and told me to go get them. I-I can’t go back in there, Y/N. I can’t,” Chloe spoke fast and panicked but Y/N understood her.
“I know, um- I’ll take them I guess,” Y/N volunteered.
“Oh, thank you so much, Y/N. I owe you.”
•••
Y/N grabbed a basket of chips and walked over to the room, she took a deep breath before walking in with her head held high, “Hello, I’ve got your chips, anything else?”
The one closest to the door had black hair, he replied, “I’d like a dance,” he sneered.
“I can arrange one of the girls to come over,” she said.
“I’d rather not wait.”
“It’ll only take a moment,” he grabbed her hips and pulled. Instinctively, she grabbed his forearm with her right hand and twisted forwards, her other hand slammed his head against the table and pinned him there. The glass full of scotch shook with the impact. Harrison was shocked, but Tom just watched without expression, he was too busy trying to figure her out.
Was she broke? She must have this job because it pays well, but what for? To pay for student loans? She was about his age, but nothing he could see told him anything else. Her hair was wavy, it was natural. She wasn’t timid or desperate like her, she was confident and clearly didn’t take any shit. Tom wanted to know where she learned such aggressive self defence, they didn’t teach that move at any of the self defence classes in London. She wasn’t from outside England, so where did she learn?
Before she let go of Ben, she pushed his head into the table once more with heavy force and then let go, “I’m guessing that’s all,” and she turned and left.
•••
At 3:37am Y/N left the club, it had closed at 3 but she got stuck on cleanup. She started walking home down the narrow street. Now most of the street lamps were out, water had corrupted their wires. The neon sign that indicated the club was open was now off, and only two lamps lit up the street. The rain had stopped but it was still wet, the puddles were deep still so she walked in the middle of the cobblestone.
There were alleys laced into the street, between every few units would be an unlit alley that held a few dumpsters and cardboard boxes. Y/N was thinking about the hot shower she was going to have when she got home when he grabbed her hair, she knew this was coming.
Ben pulled her deep into an alley on her left, and flung her behind a dumpster, hidden from view if anyone looked down from the street. He grabbed her wrists in one of his hands and pinned them over her head, the rough brick causing the skin on the back of her hands to become raw and bloody. His other hand was fumbling with the buttons on her pants, rage coursed through his body and he was unable to steady his hands. While he was struggling, Y/N used her core strength to quickly lift her legs up to her chest and use the wall to shove her feet into Ben’s chest, throwing him backwards. She didn’t stop her attack and she kicked him in the groin, while he was hunched over she jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around his neck, she squeezed as she watched his face turn red and then purple. After clawing at her legs, he ran out of oxygen and passed out. Y/N jumped off his back as he fell to the ground, she crouched down and stared at him, then straightened up and kicked him in the stomach, “pig.”
She grabbed her bag that had slid off her shoulders amongst the chaos, straightened her shirt and adjusted her pants. She threw the bag over her shoulder and started to walk out of the alley with her head held high.
Y/N saw him and she mentally scolded herself, how could she be so reckless. First he witnessed the move she pulled in the club and now he had seen her take down a trained assassin. Tom stood at the mouth of the alley, his black fedora pulled over his eyes and his coat open as it waved in the wind that coursed through the streets of London, “you’re going to have to come with me, Y/N.”
