“we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” w/ mob!tom, end it with fluff pls u know how it b
a chance
warnings: nothing really, just fluff
thanks a lot to my bestie @celestialholland for beta-reading and suggestions, ily <3
“tom! get back here!” your footsteps chased his as he walked down the halls of the hospital compound inbuilt within the huge mansion he called home at a merciless pace merely seconds later he had gotten five stitches on his chest, refusing all sedatives after he had managed to escape, along with his mob, the location of their latest mission.
he slowed down, sighing a bit as hearing your concerned voice while you took this moment to catch up to him, taking ahold of his arm in your hands, “you know i can’t, (y/n).”
“you’re hurt, tom.” you stated in the softest tone you could muster.
“that doesn’t make a difference, i have to leave.” your grip on his forearm only tightened, making him hesitate, your eyes boring into his. they held a soft look. tom knew that he would have to give in sooner or later. you knew his weakness and you were using it against him in the perfect manner.
“it’s too dangerous.”
“darling, you don’t get it, it’s millions of pounds worth deal, i-”
“i know,” you interrupted, cutting through his sentence, “harry told me everything that happened. they are going to handle it.” tom’s eyebrows furrowed before he looked about. outside, as he could peer through the windows that aligned the hall, giving a clear view of the pavement, he found harrison’s car missing. hundreds of thoughts filled his mind; he was definitely going to have a talk with them later, “so please, let’s get you to your room.”
your voice made his head snap back to look into your eyes. he nodded a moment later, letting you wrap your arm around his waist while his went around your shoulder.
after some struggle, you managed to get tom back within the comfort of his room as closing the door behind you, you helped him climb up the bed. you removed his shoes, placing them neatly beside his bed for the moment, “blanket?” tom simply shook his head ‘no’ to your question, “i’ll leave now, get some rest.”
you were leaving, but tom’s mind had other plans. his hand shot out to get a grip on your wrist. ‘don’t leave’ said his thoughts, but he couldn’t get the words to roll off his tongue. you were looking at him now and he was staring back like a deer caught in the headlights, completely speechless. he cleared his throat, “i wanted to talk about something important with you.”
“you’re thinking about work right now?” an amused smile pulled at the corners of your lips, “just get some rest, tom” you added when he gave you a single nod.
“i feel at rest when i’m work- oh please, just stay.” he caved in, cutting his sentence short, as soon as he saw your raised eyebrows.
you chuckled, trying to not let the fact that he wanted you to stay with him get you flustered. tom was very observant. you muttered, “alright” quickly removing your shoes and sitting on the bed, at a safe distance, beside tom.
there was a moment of silence that enveloped the air around the both of you as tom closed his eyes and you rested your back against the headboard of the bed. your eyes roamed over tom’s face, watching his eyebrows crease a bit, exhaling softly through pursed lips as he tried to ease the pain caused from his “mild cut” as he called it.
his lips, you watched as his tongue poked out, wetting them slightly. you had wondered plenty of times what kissing him would feel like. but never having acted on it because your profession told you not to. you were just another worker to tom, like hundred others, what would make you so special.
his hands were resting peacefully on top of his abdomen, fingers interlinked together. those hands you wanted to hold throughout long nights and fix after he’d recklessly busted the skin around his knuckles.
“why do you care so much?” tom suddenly spoke up, catching you off guard. you thought he had drifted off but as your wide eyes travelled up to meet his, you found him already looking at you. wondering if he’d caught you staring, you couldn’t help prevent the wram that spread along your cheeks.
“what?”
“you know, everytime something like this happens,” he demonstrated, pointing to his chest, “you drop all the work at hand and come over to see me.”
you assessed his question, not missing how tom watched every expression that crossed your face. after a moment you gave him a simple shrug, “isn’t it my job to care about my boss?”
he scoffed frivolously at your comment “i thought you were supposed to hate your boss.”
“why would i hate you-”
“your boss who keeps a gun in the second drawer of his beside table.” he finished his sentence, cutting yours short.
you chuckled, slightly confused at his statement “why are you telling me that?”
he returned your shrug but lopsided, “you can use it any moment, ‘s on your side.”
“but you know i wouldn’t.” his expression morphed into a soft one, a dainty smile covering his face.
“answer my question now! it’s an order from your boss, come on!” his smile only widened with each word and soon, without even realising, your expression were a copy of his.
“harrison cares about you!” you found yourself replying to his question after racking your brain for answers, “i care about you exactly like that. we’re friends, i care about you like a friend should.”
“we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” tom deadpanned, making you look at him in all seriousness for a moment before the both of you burst out laughing.
“it’s... complicated.” you concluded with pursed lips after your fit of chuckles ended, “i do work for you.”
“go on a date with me.”
“what?”
“come on, just one date. i promise i’ll make it the best date of your life. no deals, no business, just us.” the tendency of his eyes holding yours never seemed to weaken. the offer seemed of your profit to the ears but you were second guessing. if the two of you didn’t work out, you could risk losing your job. tom’s hand stretched out, “deal?”
but then again, maybe you were willing to take the risk. ‘fuck it’ you muttered as you hand shot out to shake his, “deal.”
List B, angst 50 “I don’t need you, I’m fine on my own.”, Fluff 50 “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”, Hurt/Comfort 33. “Talk to me. You can’t take on all of this alone.”, Mob!AU. You choose guy. Also not necessarily the lead mob guy either, could just be climbing he ranks so to speak.
“I don’t need you! I’m fine on my own!” He shouted at you, making you roll your eyes angrily.
Tom had always had a short temper, something that the mob thrived on, but you, his girlfriend and right-hand woman, hated it. He loved to remind you that you were replaceable, someone who could pack your things up tomorrow morning and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. And you resented him for it, even if you knew he were lying through your teeth.
He was stressed out, that much was clear. But for him to take out his stress on you, like he always did, was completely unfair. And you were sick of it. So, you did what the two of you always did best, screamed at each other until your throats were sore.
It wasn’t healthy, but then, nothing you’d done in the years since joining the mob to be with Tom had been healthy. You screamed things you didn’t mean, and he retorted by calling you names he normally never would. For a moment you began to realize just how toxic your relationship really was. But, of course, you knew that it was a poor time to bring that up. Even still, as the thought crossed your mind, you fell silent, tears pricking at your eyes and slipping down your cheeks. Tom, who was in the middle of a rant, paused, eyes frantically searching your face.
“Wha- wait why are you crying?” He asked quietly, reaching his hand up to wipe some tears off your cheeks before you batted his hand away with a scowl.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” You hiccuped through your tears. “I’ll take care of everything. I always do.”
He grimaced, running a hand down his face. It was his move when he realized that he’d taken it too far and made a mistake. It was showing you that he was making progress. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself before he gently tangled his fingers with yours.
“Baby...what can I do? How can I fix this?”
“For starters, you can learn to talk to me. I know you get stressed out, and I know that you think you have to keep me out of the business but, you can’t take on all of this alone. If you don’t learn how to let me in after all the times that I’ve proven to you that you can trust me, then I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
“I know...” He whispered, hanging his head in shame and pulling you closer to him. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. I promise you.”
You sighed, knowing you couldn’t stay angry at him long. He wasn’t perfect. Hell, he wasn’t even close, but he was yours. And as long as he was willing to work things out with you, you’d always be right by his side. The Bonnie to his Clyde.
Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, angst all around, mentions of sex, mentions of drugs and crime
You wore his green sweater when he left. It was old, had a few moth holes, and itched your sides, but it’s all you could wear to remember him. Vanished. It was a mission he said wouldn’t be too hard. He gave a hug, a long kiss on your lips, and a lingering stare before he walked out the door.
He tasted like toothpaste and tobacco, smoking being what he did when he was stressed. Tom had been nervous all week, fiddling with loose ends on his shirts or running his fingers through his hair. Coming home with blazed and glossy eyes while he held you tight in bed. Whispering sweet nothings and soft touches. As if this was the last time.
Tom and Harrison left in the middle of June, a week before your anniversary. It was muggy in August when Harrison returned with a tattered suit, under eye bags, and Tom’s wedding ring in hand. Harrison gave a tight hug, holding you close to his heart. You smelt Tom’s cologne on his shirt, and saw bright dots of red on the white.
The funeral was in late September. Family came to your side immediately, Tom’s parents and siblings were holding your hand the whole time. When the burial took place, everyone held their breath and collectively said a prayer to the closed casket. Nobody saw the body.
You looked to the sky, a single tear falling down your cheek. Looking back to the grave, beyond the cemetery there was an apparition quickly ducking behind trees and bushes. You scoffed lightly, confused by the onlooker and turned back to the funeral of your late husband
Every day became an uphill battle. Nikki and Dom stopped by once a week to deliver company, taking you out for brunch or bringing by pictures and memories. The wedding, the first pregnancy test (even though it was negative), his shirts and baby photos. It made you feel closer to someone you’ve known for years and that’s been dead for weeks. Sam, Harry and Paddy kept you busy by keeping you in his business. They brought you to meetings, taught you to use a gun, wear bullet proof clothing and even pick a lock.
The more you’ve become aware of what Tom did was when you noticed things at home were changing too. Tessa always greeted you extra happy, items in the kitchen and bedroom were slowly missing, food was gone and shirts were being lost. A final straw was hit when the wedding picture hung on the fireplace of you and Tom was taken from the frame.
You installed more cameras, hired more of Tom’s henchmen, and started carrying your gun in its holster whenever you went home. Harry, being the new man in charge, held the power and gave you your wishes, while also letting you into the business more than Tom did.
A chilly October night, Halloween exactly, was your first drug bust with Harrison. “Are you sure, I know that dealing with your loss is hard but this isn’t exactly the best idea?” You rolled your eyes, unlocking the safety on the gun and turned on your heel. “I want to see what made Tom go out and get himself killed, is that too much to ask for?”
Harrison bit his lip, swiping his hand over his face. “This isn’t healthy, (Y/N).” You stopped walking, tears pricking your eyes. “What’s not healthy is wishing that you died instead of your husband, Harrison. Wishing you could have held him longer or said ‘I love you’ before he left. It’s not healthy staying up to see the sunrise in hopes that the love of your life will somehow walk through the front door and be alive! I need this, even if I end up in the ground next to him, I-I can’t just sit and wait for something to happen. Not anymore.”
You wiped a tear, then turned back to the bar entrance. “Let’s get this over with.” Harrison placed his hand on your shoulder and opened the door.
That night you killed five people. Five of the same henchmen that were involved in Tom’s murder. You got the drugs, got the sliver of revenge, and it soothed a tiny part in your gut. Getting home was silent, you were shaking with adrenaline and a cheshire smile on your face while Harrison watched with a look of sympathy and anxiety. He dropped you off at home and slowly pulled out of the mansion, not before taking a call.
Night after night, you showed up to Harry’s and asked for a mission, begging for them. And night after night, Harry gave you your request. Drug busts, torture missions, robberies, deals and hostages. You were addicted to the rush. On Christmas, Harry got you a new gun. Sam gave you the same cigarettes that Tom smoked. Harrison gifted Tom’s favorite cologne and cufflinks he wore his last night alive.
By the new year, the boys (except Harrison) all believed you were the reincarnation of Tom, even better and more ruthless. You got the money, and blew some brains in the way. It became a hobby for you, and damn did it feel good. Yet, at the end of the night when you scrubbed the blood off your hands did you finally get the killers remorse. On particularly hard nights, you slept in the green sweater.
The same one you last saw Tom in.
It brought you back to the last hug, the last kiss, the last “I love you.” He was everywhere when you wore it. It brought your humanity back, just for a night’s sleep.
“Tommy, slow down! Where are we going?” You laughed, as Tom pulled you through the busy crowds of London. He rushed you onto the busy subway, holding you close to his side as the bustle of people stop after stop nearly swept you away. “I’ve got you, love. You’re safe with me.” His breath tickled your lips while your cheek rubbed against his wool sweater, the one you wore every chance you got.
You woke up in the middle of the night, the day after Valentine’s Day, to the wind whipping outside your windows. The trees were slapping the glass, snow was filling the patio and the gust of wind nearly opened the door. You picked up your pillow and began walking to the living room for peace.
“Are you okay, my love?” Tom watched as you paced in the bedroom, peeking into the bathroom and dodging back out. “Are you feeling ill?” You looked up, biting your lip.
“I think I’m pregnant”
You silently closed the bedroom door and made your way down the polished wooden steps to the living room. Each picture down the staircase was a memory of you two. The wedding picture at the bottom always reminded you of the beautiful night. With a heavy sigh, you turned to the occupied couch.
“Cheers to the new Holland’s!”
Harrison put the microphone down, his best man speech brought tears to everyone in the crowd, and as everyone cheered loud, Tom left a tight kiss on your temple. “I cannot believe you’re my lovely wife.” You looked back, rosy cheeked and slightly champagne tipsy as you cupped his jaw. “And I cannot believe you’re my incredibly sexy husband.”
He let out a laugh, and with a smirk he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Just wait for the honeymoon, sweetheart. I’ll have to carry you around when we’re done with tonight.”
“Harrison?”
The man on the couch turned around, and he gave you a sheepish look. “We need to talk (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes. “I came down here to sleep, not to listen to whatever bullshit you’re about to give me.” Harrison furrowed his brows, clenching his fists and looking at Tessa curled by his feet. “It’s about Tom, (Y/N).”
You took a seat on the couch, fluffing your pillow and setting it down on the edge. “Oh, I’m ready. Let me guess, you found another picture. Oh! Oh! How about that he had a half burnt cigarette that he happened to leave behind as a memory? Maybe it’s a few pints of that honey bourbon he loves so much. Tell me, Harrison, what else is there to give a poor widow?”
“He’s alive.”
You rolled your eyes, sitting up to the table next to the couch and pulling out a cigarette and lighter. “Oh yeah, tell me something else that’ll give me false hope. He’s in the kitchen, he’s outside with flowers, he’s waiting at the fucking alter!” You huffed a smoke cloud out, tilting your head to the side. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“He’s at Nikki and Dom’s. Tom got there a few weeks ago. That’s why Harry keeps giving you those missions, so he can go back and see him. They’ve all known. He’s alive.” You let out a laugh, bringing the cigarette back to your lips. “This is so fucking low of you, Harrison.”
You stood up, a tear rolling down your cheek as you picked up the pillow. “I thought you were my friend, Tom’s best man. You’re disgusting for doing this to me. Don’t come here again. You know where the door is.” Walking back to the stairs, Harrison stood. “Let me take you there, please.”
You walked up the stairs alone, wiping tears and holding in your wails for a little longer until you heard the door slam shut. The cigarette fell into the sink, burning out while you splashed water on your eyes. Looking up, you grabbed your phone and called Harry.
“Hello?” You gripped the phone tighter. “Is it true?” Harry let out a deep groan. “What do you mean by that, (Y/N)?”
“Is it fucking true?” Harry sighed. “Yeah.”
You pulled the phone away and ended the call, looking up at the mirror of the girl wearing the green sweater. The one you wore the last time you saw your husband.
Guys I don’t do taglists. They stress me out. If you want to read my material, you’ll have to put post notifs on or something. Not to be a bitch, I love you guys, but taglists were something I tried and decided that they were too much for me. Sorry to disappoint.
teaser ✵ part 1 ✵ part 2 ✵ part 3 ✵ part 4 ✵ to be continued...
summary: Tom Holland is quick and in a hurry to prove himself to his family business, so when his final mission before his dad hands him the torch is to protect some college girl by any means necessary. It should be easy. Right?
words: 2769
Summer was finally over, and if 15-year-old you had heard you say such a thing surely you would've stabbed yourself. But the end of summer meant all your friends would come back. People would refill the small college you wanted to go back to. Home wasn't the same when you came back from college, right when you started to get used to it, you got thrown back home where most of your friends you didn't talk to anymore or just plain didn't have many to begin with.
Kingston University was your home now, it was a private, selective and put students in cohorts that would then be categorized by their major. Yourself, you considered yourself a writer. But you weren't exactly keen on getting an English degree and went for a communications degree. Don't ask why, it was flexible. Going into your second year excited you, getting out of the house again and away from the toxicity at home.
"Welcome back!" you heard leadership teams yell with signs and covered in school spirit, truly it looked like your mascot threw up on them. What was funny was you knew some of them, and their school spirit wasn't as high as they led on. Remembering when the guy in the cut up school t-shirt took a piss on the statue in front of the junior housing.
You drove your car to a parking space in your new sophomore housing. You didn't really have any friends in your cohort, so you were nervous about meeting who would be your randomized roommate. Instead, you had friends who were all creatives with film and performing arts majors. You found them rather quickly, they had a tendency to be quite loud and outgoing.
"(Y/N)!" You were attacked with a hug walking out of the parking lot and into sophomore housing court. It was your one of 2 of your very best friends you gained in school, she was apart of the performing arts cohort with majoring in commercial music and all, Annika.
"Hey, babe." You hugged her back, excited to see her after so long.
"Where are you staying? Do you know yet?" She asked, "Sarah isn't here yet, but we're living on the bottom floor, so you better be above us. Then we know who to kill if there's too much noise."
"I don't know yet, where do I go?" You asked, she pointed over to a table with a long line, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. She had the most incredible big blue eyes that seemed to have flecks of green in them. She also had just recently gotten her nose pierced, which really suited her face.
"How was your summer?" Annika asked you, waiting patiently with you.
"Long, did a lot of working at the pub. I think I saved up enough money to get me through a day of school." You joked.
"I feel you, dude." Annika laughed, "Have you tried for any scholarships?"
"Every single one they'll let me apply for. I got emails back on 2 of them for next semester. This semester I'm getting only a quarter paid for though. It's looking like my graduation will just be me celebrating my life of debt." You said, rubbing the back of your neck with how far in it you are.
You continued to talk about Annika’s trip to Ecuador, where she did some charity and life-changing work with a group of friends. She invited you to it, and you wanted to go if it wasn't so expensive. You were used to not having that kind of money now, your family was always well off but now that you went against everything they believed in you don't have that source anymore. The home you came from made you grow up really quickly, this was just the last thing you had to take on.
"Next!" You heard a voice come from next to you, and you stepped up to the table quickly.
"Hi!" You happily looked up to see one of your upperclassmen friends sitting there, Sav.
"Hey! How was your summer?" They asked you,
"Long, lots of work." You sighed, having just telling Annika the same.
"That's good you're working though! Getting that cash." They smiled, looking over their list, "And I know exactly where you're staying, I'm your RA!"
"No way!" You squealed, reaching over to hug them.
"Yeah, here is your key. Room 209, and our floor meeting is tonight in the lounge at 10 PM. Don't be late." Sav said, handing you your key.
"Thank you, do you know who my roommate is?" You asked.
"It says, Victoria Reinhart?" Sav told you, tentatively, "I'm sorry I haven't met her."
"All good, thanks Sav. I'll see you later!"
"See you!"
"Well?" Annika urged, seeing you approach her with your key.
"Room 209?" You offered and she frowned.
"136." Annika said, "But I think Tony and Jacob are in 109, at least I think that's what they said."
"Oh, great." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well how loud those two were going to be.
"Speaking of—" Annika started but was cut off by the yells of two boys, so covered in school colored paint they were practically unrecognizable. They were yelling for you, and then suddenly you were thrown over their shoulder as they ran across the quad with you.
"Hey!" You pounded on their backs, scared of what they had planned, "Guys hold on! Put me down!"
“Okay.” The one on the left said and you recognized him as your friend Jacob. Typical.
Then you found yourself being dropped into the fountain on campus. It wasn’t particularly deep, but you were definitely soaked, with one of the spouts falling onto your head when you sat up.
“Are you okay?” You heard a voice, overall the laughter and heard the splashing of feet. You got yourself up out of the torture of the water pouring on your head to open your eyes to a boy who voluntarily got into the water. The bottoms of his jeans now soaked from coming in. His hand outstretched to you, and his face soft with big brown eyes and the cutest bunch of curls falling over his forehead.
“Yeah.” You replied simply and quietly, you didn’t take his hand though. Following him out of the fountain as people whispered, wondering who the boy nobody had seen before rejoining a friend of his with aloof blue eyes on the side of the fountain. The boy with the blue eyes wasn’t happy with your friend in the fountain at all.
You lost him in the crowd, being overwhelmed by your spirited friends laughing and offering you a towel after their prank.
"You guys are dead." You splashed the boys who waited aside from the fountain.
"We told you last semester, you were just waiting to be dunked!" Tony laughed, you groaned remembering their jokes.
"Give me some kind of warning!" You said, holding the towel around your shoulders and wringing out your shirt. You kept looking around, admittedly searching for your brown eyed attempted savior.
"You're no fun." Jacob laughed, "Hey, come to our housewarming party tonight! Room 109, we're inviting the whole building."
"Won't you get in trouble?"
"Not if the RA's are down to party too." He laughed, "And they are, let me clear that up—they are."
"Yeah, well since I'm your upstairs neighbor I might as well." You rolled your eyes.
"That's what I like to hear! And (Y/N), if you have any hot friends—please—I beg you—bring them." Tony added, putting his hands together in prayer.
"I'll make sure to bring Annika and Sarah." You laughed. Tony mouthed a thank you.
"I hate them." Annika rolled her eyes, rubbing your shoulders.
"Annika, did you know that guy?" You asked.
"That guy who got into the fountain? No, I've never seen him before." Annika said, "Whoever he was he was hot though. I hope he's at Jacob and Tony's party."
"Yeah, me too." You said, looking around then finally landing on Annika in front of you, "Now, give me a hug?"
"Stop!"
✵
Later as you started bringing your things in, leaving your door propped open, you watched and waited for your roommate to make an arrival. Your room was quite nice, a front living space and kitchen attached, with a short back hall that had a bathroom on the left and on the right would be your shared bedroom. It was going to take a lot of getting used to and moving stuff in. You needed to get some furniture for the living space if Victoria didn't bring any.
You had already changed into dry clothes, but your hair was still damp. You decided you'd leave it like that until you would go over to Annika and Sarah's to get ready for tonight. You sat in your kitchen, fixing up a decoration on the wall.
You heard a door slam and a key fumble before you saw a familiar flop of brown hair walk past your doorway. You ran to the doorframe, not really thinking through your actions. Your curiosity pulling you closer. But if your first year of college taught you anything, it was not to wait for people to make friends with you.
"Hey!" You called, catching him just a few feet away. He turned around and the longer you looked at him, the more attractive he became. He had a bag slid across his chest, clinging his t-shirt to his body.
"Hey." He said back to you.
"A-are we neighbors?" You looked to where he must've just come from.
"Looks like it." He said, shortly and patting his thigh.
"I'm (Y/N), I just wanted to introduce myself." You extended a hand, and he took it, "I swear I don't always get pushed into fountains. They mean well."
"Tom." He said back, "I don't know why pushing you in a fountain would be meaning well, but hey that's all you."
"Yeah," You continued, feeling wary of his judgemental tone, "anyways, thank you for down there. That was very sweet of you."
"Your welcome." He said, making a thin line with his lips and turning them up at the corners. His eyes looking over your face.
"Uh, there's like an all building party tonight that my friends are hosting. Apparently, all the R.A's are in on it, don't ask. But you and your friend are welcome to come."
"Thanks, I'll pass on the message." He said, nodding and then started backing up. You smiled, backing up too.
"Ok, cool." You shied away, giving an awkward wave before stepping back into your room. You shut your door after that. That was enough awkward interactions for the rest of the year. You put your hands over your eyes and decided to turn up your music until your roommate would hopefully arrive.
Hey, Sav! Is it possible I can get my roommate's phone number? Just curious as to when she's coming.
Delivered 5:07 PM
You texted Sav. Then waited, and waited. They were probably busy, it was move-in day after all. Maybe Victoria asked to come a day late? You decided not to dwell on it for too long. You unpacked all your clothes into what you assumed would be your side of the closet. Grabbing out something you could wear for tonight.
Your friends were all a lot more riskay than you were, always able to find themselves dates for the night from how beautiful they always looked. You could if you wanted to maybe, and the occasional flirt here and there was sweet. But you had never gone home with someone. Tonight, that wasn't going to change. In high school, that's who you were, and had no judgment toward one night stands. But that wasn't what you wanted to do anymore, limiting yourself. You just wanted to get a little tipsy, socialize, and get back to your room and watch Netflix until you fell asleep.
But that didn't mean you couldn't look good. You grabbed one of your favorite heather gray knitted halter tops, with a pair of high waisted black skinny jeans, and a matching suede black jacket over your shoulders in case it got chilly outside, which usually it did. Grabbing your hair products and makeup, you left your room, praying you wouldn't run into Tom or his roommate, running to find room 136.
They had left the door open, and your reunion with your curly haired friend Sarah was a joyous one. Hugging each other, then her grabbing your sides at how attractive you looked in your outfit. You thanked her, before sitting on their new couch.
"How's the move-in been?" Sarah asked, sitting across from you with her own makeup mirror.
"It's been fine, my roommate hasn't come yet though." You frowned, "Oh, and Annika!"
"Huh?" Annika answered from the back bedroom.
"Guess who my neighbor is?"
"Is it the hot guy from English last semester?" She asked, half thinking.
"No.." You dragged out your answer, "It's the new hot guy."
"Shut up!"
"What hot guy?" Sarah perked up at the sound of a hot guy.
"Did Annika tell you about how Jacob and Tony finally threw me into a fountain?" You asked and Sarah's face scrunched up in confusion.
"What do you mean finally? But yeah."
"Long story, but there was a guy who came into the pond all cute and offered me a hand up." You said, "I think he's a transfer, he's my neighbor."
"Oo I wanna see him." Sarah said, "Are you gonna go after him?"
"I don't know-" You started,
"If you won't, I will!" Annika called.
"I just said I don't know cuz he acted kinda weird in the hall. Like sorta rude, I don't know. I invited him and his friend to the party but I don't know if they'll come. I'm telling you, something was off."
"Something being off means nothing as long as the dick’s good," Annika said, finally revealing her outfit, which consisted of: a black bralette, fishnets, high waisted distressed and cut up jean shorts, red thigh high boots and a jean jacket to finish.
"You look so hot, I guess you'll probably find out faster than I will." You smiled at your friend.
"Let's hope, I'm trying to celebrate the new year." She stuck her tongue between her teeth and went to a mirror in their hall to put her hair up.
"(Y/N), are you gonna try and find someone tonight?" Sarah asked.
"I doubt it." You rolled your eyes, "If a guy comes up to me that isn't trying to get to you guys or that one of you didn't put him up to it, then maybe. But that's never happened so let's not hold our breath. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone thought I was lesbian, and I'm okay with keeping it that way."
"Whatever you say, just know if you wanted to, any guy would be happy to have you. Trust us." Sarah said, getting up for her setting spray.
"Whatever, my lesbian ass is getting us a pizza though. Last time I drank without eating first I threw up on the hot guy from English last semester. And that's not happening again."
✵
You ran up to your room, wanting to throw your stuff in there before it was locked in Annika and Sarah's room for the upcoming day. Cautiously walking in wanting to see if your roommate had gotten there, you shut the door behind you, only hearing the party starting below you. There was no one else in there, just that you could hear Jacob and Tony excited to be finally able to host their own parties.
But you also could hear something else. You didn't realize how thin these walls were going to be. There was a bit of yelling next door, you heard muffles bits.
"That's none of our business!" You heard an unfamiliar voice and couldn't help yourself putting your ear to the wall. It was coming from Tom's room, "You know that's not what we're here for!"
"We're here to protect her..." there was something else but you couldn't hear it. Protect who?
"From afar! We're not supposed to get involved." You heard the other voice again, it was stern and close like he was sitting in a chair right on the other side of the wall.
"... my dad trusted us with this. I know what I'm talking about, promise."
"Fine, we'll go. But just watching. I don't want this to get fucked up, Tom. This is a big deal for us. I'm just trying to look out for you." You heard the close voice again. And felt more confused, and guilty for listening. Who the fuck were these guys?
Thank you guys so much for reading! please pass it on, and tell me what you thought by reblogging, liking or sending me a message!
I REWROTE THE ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER OF MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING AND IF YOU ENJOYED THAT THEN YOU MIGHT WANT TO GO REREAD IT JUST SO YOU WILL BE GOING INTO THE REST OF THE SERIES WITH THE RIGHT STORYLINE. IM SORRY I POSTED SUCH A CRAPPY FIRST DRAFT BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE THE NEW CHAPTER BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL.
That wasn’t all that short but please just go reread Mutual Understanding if you want to stay relavent.
So I’ve been working on a mob!Tom fic instead of the third part of Falling Hard or anything else because I’ve been reading mob!Tom fics and it has turned into a kink for me and I apologize. 😅😬
Warnings: Mentions of bullying, beating up, argument, uhm... let me know if I missed anything?
A/N: Okay, whether you are a new reader or a returnee, I would like you to be aware that this HAS BEEN HEAVILY EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL CHAPTER. I did not like the way the first write went. There was a shit ton of plot holes that just couldn’t be patched in later chapters, there was some poor dialogue, there were very one dimensional characters, there was nothing good about the previous chapter except the flashback. So, in the rewrite, I have taken the flashback and made the entire first chapter. I have beefed it up a little, added a little extra, and kept a little the same. I would highly suggest that you read the rewrite. I hope you enjoy this ten times better than the original, and remember to SHOW YOUR LOVE FOR MY WORK BECAUSE I AM AN ATTENTION SEEKING WHORE WRITER! Thank you, lovies.
___
Seven Years Ago...
The tray falling on the table just across from you is loud and startles you from your deep reverie. Looking up so fast that you could give yourself whiplash, you catch sight of Tom Holland sitting down, avoiding eye contact with you, but very obviously making the whole cafeteria aware that this is the seat he has chosen on the first day of school.
“I hope you know that’s a permanent decision.” You mumble around your straw, sipping at your grape juice as you stare at the curly haired boy in front of you. His black-brown eyes move to you and you can’t help but swoon a little. You feel your cheeks heat up and you move your gaze over his head, afraid that he could somehow read your thoughts through your eyes.
He’s Tom Holland, son of Dominic Holland, the next in line to take over the most powerful group of organized criminals, not only in Europe, but in the whole world of organized crime. Looking at him now, wearing his navy-blue Midtown Academy uniform beneath a black leather jacket, his curls falling on his forehead just so, and his dark honey eyes looking right into yours, he just seems like an Adonis-like, school bad boy.
“I am aware, love.” He reaches across the table to grab one of the fries off of your tray and pops it into his mouth.
You see the meaning behind what he is doing, you’re the daughter of a gang leader. He’s not here as a friend, he’s higher up in the food chain as you, both in the game of life and in the social hierarchy of high school, he knows that and he’s using it. It’s a smart move, making allies this early on.
“I just thought I would warn you before you become a social pariah.” He smirks in response, picking up his drink and unscrewing the lid. He leans back in his chair, putting the lip of his cup to his mouth. The chair teeters on the back legs, lightly swaying back and forth in a way that would make a mother freak out. Yet somehow, at sixteen years old, with a baby-face and child-like, untidy curls, Tom Holland radiates power.
Tom could never be ostracized, he’s built a reputation here. Two years in the making before you came along, all doe-eyed and innocent-looking.
Part of it is just the fact that you’re a first year, wearing one of the ridiculous school uniforms and pigtail braids. Tom knows that you could beat the shit out of anyone who tried to get physical with you, (y/d/n) would never send his daughter into a potentially threatening environment unarmed, but that doesn’t mean he can’t ignore the fact that you look so helpless.
You’re just a year older than the twins, and Tom could never stand the thought of someone treating Harry and Sam the way everyone treats you, and it’s only the first day. That’s the excuse he gives himself when he decided to sit with you. So, he sat down and enjoyed the appalled looks from everyone just before they all tore away their eyes, afraid to catch his gaze.
In his heart of hearts, Tom was a good person. He cared deeply for his siblings, and had a close relationship with both his mother and his father. Dominic Holland, although a feared man to most people, was the person who pushed Tom’s hair away to tenderly place a kiss on his forehead before bed every night until he was eleven years old.
It is this childhood that gave the young mob heir a vulnerable side, which is the same side that felt the intense need to protect you from the cruelty of high schoolers. To make himself feel less silly, Tom imagines himself as a sort of Cerberus at your side, a big and scary dog with three heads. It’s a silly notion, but it helps him nonetheless.
Neither of you speak for the rest of the lunch period, instead focusing on ignoring the sudden awkward tension that has built up in the air between you. The moment that the bell rings, both of you bolt from your seats and rush to your classes. You see him in the hallway twice that day, both times he gives you a nod that does not go unnoticed by the others around you.
The next day, when you sit down, Tom is already there. A textbook sits open to his right, a couple papers stick out from between the pages and you watch as he furrows his brow is confusion. You’re pealing your banana, watching him tap the eraser of his pencil against his perfectly, kissable pink lips, when he looks up at you.
“How good are you at maths?” You shrug, looking down at your tray as you shuffle in your seat. He doesn’t act like he’s caught you staring, but you know he did. Your skin burns with the remnants of your daydream. A daydream that involved the exploration of the inside of his mouth and the surprising discovery of the softness and intense heat his lips possessed.
“I’m alright at it.” That answer is good enough for Tom because he leans forward, pushing up in his seat to lean his elbows on the table, and twisting the book around to show you the problem at hand. It takes a minute for him to explain the situation, pulling some of the miscellaneous papers out from between the pages to reference notes, before you can help him.
And that is how everyday went. Some days Tom said nothing, simply ate his food and met eyes with anyone who dared to even think a negative thought your way. Other days you would help each other with homework.
It never became so personal that you learned about his home life or met any of his friends, Harrison had been strictly forbidden from sitting at the table with the both of you. He never heard about your love life, which didn’t really exist because you were harboring the largest school girl crush on him.
One of the more significant events that happened in your two shared years of high school was the time you actually got into a fight.
Somehow, Tom managed to keep anything from getting physical for the your first year and a half at Midtown Academy. It isn’t until a group of large boys, at least a year above you, decided to try and corner you one day in gym that things get a little ugly.
It had been basketball day, one of your least favorite sports, and therefore one that you did not play very well. Nonetheless, you still got on the court and played your part, without any enthusiasm or much effort.
Your name is called and as you turn to look, the ball comes hurtling toward you at an alarming rate. You manage to keep it from hitting your face, but in turn, it jams your finger so roughly that you drop the ball and push your injured fingers into your chest with a hiss.
The same group of boys that threw the ball at you make their way over, taunting you the whole way.
“Is the big, bag, girl gang leader gonna cry?” One of the guys shove you. You can’t help but wonder where the coach was. Surely it was his job to keep stuff like this fro happening? And yet, he was no where in sight.
You tilt your chin up, push back your shoulders, broaden your stance, and ball up your fists.
“Don’t touch me again.” The group laughs, reaching out to grab one of the braided pigtails.
“Look how cute and deadly she is.” One sneers.
“Like a little doll.” Another mocks.
“She’ll never really amount to anything, will she?” You grit your teeth and tighten your fists.
“Take it back.” The mocking continues, grabbing the attention of half the gymnasium. From where you stand, you see the coach finally catch wind of the situation, but it is already too late by the time the tallest and blondest of the group leans down to whisper in your ear.
“If you get lucky, your guard dog might let you sleep with him one day.”
The moment the words are out of his mouth, you swing your fist into the side of his face. He stumbles back, touching his tinder jaw before looking at you with crazy, entitled, white boy eyes.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are-”
You don’t let him finish.
“(Y/F/N).” Chaos explodes. Kids around you start to cheer, channeling their hormones into a blood lust. All three boys come at you like a herd of bulls. One knocks you off your stomach, another kicks you in the stomach, and the last balls up his fist and send it into your face. It’s all the time anyone has to do anything before the coach finally pushes his way into the middle of the mob.
When he gets to the middle, he somehow makes it your fault and promptly escorts you to the front office. The left side of your torso screams with every step and blood keeps coming out of your nose. You push your tongue onto your lips and find that the bottom one is definitely busted and also bleeding.
Yet, you’re the bad guy.
Tom catches sight of you on his way to his next class and stumbles in his tracks. You, pigtail braids, over-sized Midtown Academy gym clothes, blood all over your face, and a look that could kill a million times over.
“What the hell?” Tom takes a step toward you and you shoot him a glare.
“Back off, Holland.” He watches you, frozen in place. The next day, neither of you say anything about the bruise that has swollen your bottom lip, or the snickers and whispers that follow you down the hall. Those same snickers and whispers stop when Tom sit across from you at lunch. It isn’t until every last bruise and cut heals that things start to go back to normal.
When Tom graduated the following year, you dreaded your first day back to school. You wanted to hide in the bathroom for lunch, and you almost did. Your fight against the three stooges had not helped you in any way, and people only hated you more.
You stepped off the lunch line, tray white-knuckled in your hands as you turned to face the bustling cafeteria. By your estimation, if you ducked your head and double-timed, you could make it out the side exit in less than two minutes. From there you only had a minute walk to the restrooms. The only thing that stopped you was the familiar sight of leather clad shoulders and tousled chestnut curls sitting at an empty table.
“What are you-“
“You’ve still got two years left and I don’t want these high schoolers thinking that they can mess with you because I’m gone.” You slowly lower yourself into the seat across from him.
You stare, dumbfounded, across the table at Tom Holland, resident bad ass and future mob boss- who has a soft spot for bullied school girls? There must be a look on your face because he bristles in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking around with a menacing glare. The eighteen year old in front of you has changed slightly from the sixteen year old you met that first day.
His arms are more muscular, his jaw is more defined, his face has gone from babyish to boyish. There is a notable difference in the boy you met and the man you have have come to know as a meal time companion. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the kindness in his heart that always manages to find a way to be shown, whether to the whole world or just to you, that was unimportant. What matters is that he still cares.
“This won’t be an everyday thing, I’m a busy man. Just a casual drop in here and there, when I have time.” He manages to play it cool, but you’re close enough that you can see the tops of his ears turn pink and the faintest of blushes color his cheeks. You don’t respond, you just pull out your textbook and push it across the table.
“How good are you at French?” He hasn’t moved a muscle but his eyes are on you now. The glare softens and then his stance does, his whole body melding into a routine he is used to. He uncrosses his arms to pull the book closer to himself, peering down at the page before glancing back up at you. There is a twinkle in his eyes and a soft smile on the edge of his lips.
