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tropes-and-tales-archives · 2 years ago

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Silver Linings, Chapter Eleven

Word Count: 1755

TW: Kidnapping; violence (broken bones, etc.); death by gunshot; forced drug use. 18+ only.

AN: Part of a series. The series masterlist here.

Rafael knew immediately that something was wrong the moment that Rose ran into his office.

“Is she here?” she asked breathlessly, and he was already reaching for his phone as he shook his head.

It felt like an eternity, but it didn’t take long to pull the courthouse security footage, and Rafael’s stomach dropped to his shoes when he saw it: you walking lock-step with your ex, close by him. He couldn’t tell from the grainy footage, but he was certain he had a gun or knife on you.

You’d never go willingly.

Liv and the entire SVU team descended now that there was an actual case, and Rafael had never been so relieved to see them all, even Amaro.

“We’ll find her, counselor,” the man told him as he clasped Rafael’s shoulder.

“She’s tough,” Rollins added. “Tougher than even she probably knows.”

And then they got to work, and Rafael could only stand by and watch.

*****

The last thing you remembered doing was sitting in Mark’s car, sliding a hand into your coat pocket, and turning your cell phone’s ringer off – but leaving it on. Maybe someone would miss you and be able to track your phone.

The last thing you remembered feeling was a sudden pressure on your neck, and before your mind could process Mark’s arm across your carotid, blackness descended.

*****

NYPD were able to pull the plate from Mark’s car from surveillance from the courthouse. From there, they got the registration – under an alias – and tracked the car going through the Holland Tunnel towards Jersey.

Then nothing for a long stretch of time. He had obviously gotten off the Turnpike and was taking non-toll roads.

Until your cell phone started pinging off of nearby cell towers, and they were able to mark your progress across Jersey and into Pennsylvania.

“Call the Pennsylvania State Police,” Rafael ordered, pacing around the squad room uselessly. “Give them the situation. Then call Fin…” Fin and Amaro had been sent out, following your path as best they could. Rollins and Carisi stayed behind to helped run point.

Liv shook her head and gave him a long look. “I’ve already called the FBI. He crossed state lines with a kidnapping victim, Rafa. This is a federal case now.” She laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“Yeah. Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “The Lindbergh Law.” How could he have forgotten? Even first year law students knew the common federal laws. He was losing it.

Liv jostled him a bit. “Go into my office and try to rest. I’ll keep you updated.”

But no update came that night. Or the next one. Or the one after that.

And then one did.

*****

You weren’t sure how much time passed. Time became a hazy, uncertain measure. Sometimes you noted the way the light slanted across the floor and knew it was late afternoon. Sometimes you heard birdsong trilling and guessed it was morning.

You weren’t even sure where you were. You’d woken up in a small house…somewhere. You were bound at the wrists and ankles, but the binding wasn’t necessary. Mark kept you docile by feeding you pills that left your limbs heavy and your thoughts muddled. You tried to formulate a plan, but drugged, you couldn’t hold onto a clear thought for too long.

All you could focus on was the mantra that Rafael had drilled into your head over the past month: Everything’s going to be okay.

Sometimes Mark overdosed you on the pills, and you fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep, so deep that you weren’t even worried that you might not wake up. Other times, he gave you just enough to keep you compliant but awake. These were the times he ranted at you – told you how much trouble you’d caused him, cost him his degree and his job with the police and future jobs because of his record. How he couldn’t trust women now, how you’d ruined everything good in his life. He called you every name he had called you before, along with some new ones. Reminded you that he was the only one who loved you. Told you that he loved you even still.

“Why do you think I came all this way to find you?” he hissed in your ear one night. His rants became increasingly unhinged. He fed you pills, but he saved separate pills for himself. He crushed them and snorted them, and they had the opposite effect that your pills did. The more he snorted, the more manic and disturbed he got.

An upside to your pills was that the nothing Mark dealt you hurt quite so much. And a lot of it, frankly, slid over the surface of your mind, never taking hold and never to be remembered afterwards.

-----

You were shaky from hunger and from the pills, which Mark had taken to crushing up and forcing down your throat with cheap gin. He had caught you trying to hide the pills under your tongue, and he had dealt you a ringing blow that made the side of your face swell up.

You felt yourself dipping in and out of consciousness, and your mind circled back around to Rafael every time you resurfaced. You should have tried to kiss him before…all of this happened. It would have been nice to know what kissing a good man felt like.

Suddenly Mark was in front of you, jerking you to a sitting and then a standing position. You staggered against him, your legs weak from disuse and hunger and pills.

He put a firm hand on the back of your neck and steered you towards the large window in the front of the house. “Look,” he snarled. “They’ve found us.”

You squinted against the sudden bright light that streamed through the window as Mark held back the curtain. Once your vision adjusted, you could see he was right: SWAT trucks surrounded the house. Police cars with their lights on.

Then Mark’s phone rang.

His hand on your neck, he jerked you backwards and shoved you onto the couch. Then he answered the phone, but you couldn’t track what he was saying. You just heard him yelling, and you smiled to yourself, a dopey grin. At least he was yelling at someone else for once.

Even in your altered state, you could feel the tension in the house shift. Mark’s rants escalated, and they were only punctuated by the phone ringing, and short, terse conversations with whoever was on the other end. Then Mark would slam the phone down, hard enough to crack the screen. Then he’d stride over the couch, to slap you or scream at you or, once, to bend back two of your fingers until they snapped. The pain cut through the drug-haze, and you cried enough to make Mark smile broadly.

Nothing ever seemed to make Mark smile quite like seeing you in pain.

*****

It was a multi-agency task force that found you. NYPD, Pennsylvania State Troopers, FBI. And local cops, in Allentown. Your cell phone gave your position as you traveled across the state, and then it stopped in Allentown. From there, it was easy enough to triangulate the general area, and from there, old fashioned canvassing.

Allentown had been decimated by Reaganomics and local industry shifting out of the region. Certain neighborhoods were full of nothing but empty and abandoned houses. The local cops caught a break though – they found Mark’s sedan parked on a street. The plates had been switched out with stolen ones from Pennsylvania, but when the cops popped the lock and searched the car, they found your cell phone wedged between the passenger’s seat and the door. Drained and dead, but it had led them to you.

Rafael was already on his way when Liv got word that they had the house surrounded and that hostage negotiation was making an opening salvo to contact your ex. She hung and up glanced over at him in the passenger’s seat, and she filled him in.

“She’s going to be fine,” she offered, but she didn’t sound convinced.

*****

You came to realize, in your lucid moments, that Mark was negotiating with the cops outside the house. Honestly, you had forgotten that they were even there. He had ground up some more pills and pried your jaw open, washing them down with the last of the warm gin. It had hit you hard, and you spent the evening lying on the couch and marveling at the blue and red lights and the patterns they made on the cracked plaster ceiling.

It was early morning, or maybe a day later, or a week later. Possibly a year, or a lifetime. Who knew? Mark jerked you off the couch, and you reached out to steady yourself, forgetting your broken fingers. You cried out and caught Mark’s pleased grin, but it fell too quickly.

“We’re leaving now, sweetheart,” he told you. He hooked an arm around your waist and half-dragged you towards the front door.

“They’re letting us go?” you asked, or tried to. You weren’t sure if you were making sense. Your tongue felt thick, and your mouth was dry and sticky.

“No, sweetheart.” He turned and looked at you, and you could see his pupils narrowed down to pinpoints in his bright blue irises. He pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek, the tender one from where he’d hit you days earlier. “We’re gonna see who had the quicker trigger finger – me, or the FBI’s best.” He pulled the pistol of his waistband and pressed it against your temple, hard.

“Open the door,” he told you. “We’re going out together.”

You took a deep breath and opened the door, and you both stepped out together. You staggered against him, and the bright lights – spotlights, along with the red and blue police lights – blinded you. You winced against the sudden light and ducked away from it, and Liv would tell you later on that it had likely saved your life.

Your sudden jerk of the head threw Mark off his plan, and he turned his attention to you for a split second. It was all the FBI’s best needed.

One second, your ex had a gun to your temple. The next second, he was at your feet, dead, and his blood was spattered across your face. A second later, and a mountain of a man in tactical gear was by your side, and catching you as you fell.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes-and-tales

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blissfulparker · 4 years ago

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Sugar and Spice Pt.1→Dad!Mob!Tom

Parings: single!dad!tom x baker!reader

Warnings: none yet! Mafia!Au so future mention of guns, death, drinking, sex, smoking

Summary: Tom is one of the youngest Mobsters known to London, youngest and most successful he seems perfect to people, feared by people. But his deepest secret is that he’s been raising a son all by himself. No one to be with since the birth of his son until he walks into the small bakery last minute for his sons birthday and meets you.

A/n; so obviously this is more of a part one to a series(I know I always start series and then get really distracted with life) but I wanted a fresh idea and a fresh fic to start off the new year. I love mob!tom and I love dad!tom and I was hoping I could mix the two💗💗(also I have no idea how to do read more on mobile I’m so sorry😭)

Secrets. Everyone had secrets. Tom Holland, one of London’s richest, youngest, most successful mobsters, Had a son.

He had a beautiful boy named Riley, he raised him with only the help of his best friend and brothers. He was the smartest little boy he knew, charming and innocent. A little boy who didn’t know any of the dangers of the world just yet.

That was his secret. At age 20 he was rushed into life with the beautiful boy and one of the most stressful and dangerous jobs to manage. He did everything he could for the boy, it was always his boy before his work. Stressful days where he could put a bullet into anyone who walked in on him turned better when his son came home from school with stories.

It had been six years since his little secret was born and it was his best and hardest secret to keep.

And now he had forgotten his sons birthday cake. He was turning six years old today and Tom promised the best Spider-Man cake with iron man, hulk, all of the avengers in the flavor chocolate. Now he had to find a baker that could do all of that in the time span of six hours.

After endless calls, endless hunting, he found a small bakery in the smallest corner of London that was willing to make his son's wild fantasy come true on his special day.

Suit and all, rushed from work, Tom had walked into the small bakery. Ready to pick up the birthday cake and make his sons birthday the best one.

He was greeted with the smell of sugary frosting and warm baked goods. A career so diffrent from his as he was a man with blood on his hands and the people working here were the ones with the flour.

“Can I help you?” Your voice is soft and takes him by surprise. Not the voice of the older women he spoke with on the phone.

You’re covered in flour, chocolate frosting wiped on your apron and you rinse your hands in the sink. But you have a soft face, one that calms him just by looking at. As if you never saw a day of anger, of pain, of anything. You were simply a poem he wanted to read.

It takes him a minute to come back. He hadn’t gotten with anyone seriously since the birth of his son. Overwhelmed with his work and his son, he also had feared the idea of no women being good enough for his son.

Although his son longed for a mother, he could tell. He could tell the stories at bedtime weren’t as good as if it were a mother’s, every Mother’s Day was missed and he knows deep down that every nightmare would be better if he was cuddled up in a mother’s arms. Tom could give him everything except a mother.

“I’m here to pick up a cake.” He clears his throat. You notice the watch, the expensive suit and his scent, a deep wood, an expensive scent. He had money yet of all the bakeries he chose it was the nearly dying one. “It’s Uh, it’s my sons birthday and I’m here to pick up the cake. My name is Tom. I spoke on the phone earlier...with someone…” he stuttered nervously as if you might not have it ready. Laughing softly you find his order on the computer. Even your laugh was angelic.

“Sophie? The older women?” You ask and he nods.

“Yes, yes!” He didn’t know why he was nervous, awkward even. He shoved his hands in his pocket to keep calm.

“Avengers cake…” you look up at the man and he has a red tint to his cheek.

“My son, he’s turning six.” He didn’t spark you to have a dad look, you had seen fathers come in and out of this bakery. Most of the men in their 40s and stressed over possibly a my little pony cake or cookies for a last minute club meeting to make their kid smile. Most fathers had the same look though, tired and worn out in possibly old sneakers and a wrinkled shirt. This man had a different look.

“Ahh,” you search for a ring but don’t see one. A single, young dad who looks to have everything together. A book. He looked like a character from a book. “I’ll be right back with that.” You smiled before turning to the back. Leaving the man alone, in the lobby of the bakery.

“Quite the last minute cake.” You came out with the large cake done beautifully. Done with red and blue frosting and on top was all the small figurines that you had to search for. But nonetheless, it was gorgeous.

“Your wife must be lucky to have a man willing to run out and surprise their kid so last minute.” You sparked the conversation in hopes that you would see if the man is single or not.

“Oh, no, just myself.” He pulls out his card ready to swipe and you press down on your lips. Maybe he didn’t want a girlfriend, he was young but he looked to have his hands full with a six year old and a clearly good job.

“Well, then he’s lucky to have such a great father.” You tell. He tries to hide his red tinted cheeks again but you notice.

“Your boyfriend must be lucky to have someone who must always smell like cakes.” He flirted back.

For the first time in years, Tom had flirted back with a girl without the intentions of sex. He flirted back without needing a drink in his hands and to be at a bar. He flirted back not hiding that he had a son at home that could potentially turn away a girl looking for fun.He flirted back as just himself. And so far you had seemed to like that.

“No boy.” You laugh softly.

Your eyes flicker and stare into his. They are light brown, light brown laced with a sort of mystery. A light brown laced with charm, lust and a secret.

“Well then,” was all he could think of. His game was off, he’s realized that. The dangerous mobster got nervous around you.

“Well then.” You repeated.

It’s a mistake. He will be making a mistake if he falls for you. The mistake of ruining your life as he doesn’t know how far he could go protecting the ones he loves. Riley’s life was in danger every day and he hated that, he hated the women he once loved for leaving him all alone but was also given the best gift of a son.

Although the nappies and endless nights of screaming were hard, he would do anything to protect his son. And if he were to find the future mother of his son, he would do anything to protect her but her life would be just as risk as his.

Maybe it would be you making the mistake. He would be selfish to go after you.

“I hope your Riley has a happy birthday.” You say and he’s taken aback. He doesn’t know how you know it until he looks down and written in black frosting in cursive is ‘Happy birthday Riley’.

“Well, with the best decorated cake i think I have ever seen in my life, I’m sure he will not forget this birthday. I might not either.” He smiles at you one last time and you look down trying to hide the burning smile that wanted to spread across your face.

Once he leaves the building you turn and rub your hands over your face, finally letting yourself grow a smile that has been hiding the entire time.

For the first time in awhile, a man has made you smile.

“Happy birthday to you.”

Smoke from the candles filled the room. Six years, Tom had offically spent six years of his life raising his son. Being a single father as well as the youngest Mobster, Tom had his struggles.

“A girl at the bakery?” Harrison, Toms best friend, smirked as the two of them washed up dishes while the kids played in the backyard after eating their cake.

“It’s nothing Haz. I’m busy, remember?” He scrubbed too hard at the plate as he placed in into the dishwasher.

For a man who had maids most days, he wanted it to just be family and friends in the house on his sons birthday.

“Yeah. But Riley isn’t.” He commented looking over to the boy who laughed with his friends from school he had invited to celebrate the special day.

With a silent sigh and a stubborn mindset, Harrison was right. Tom was busy but Riley was a child who needed a mother.

“See? I’m right. Once again. Why don’t you go back and get your number so you can get your dick-“ his best friend started but Tom didn’t want to hear the rest of it. Rolling his eyes and turning off the water, he walks over the ruined cake and places it on the counter.

No words leave Toms mouth and Harrison lets out a sigh. Coming over to his best friend, his best friend who seemed to have the world on his shoulders only at the age of 25.

“Tom, this isn’t just about Riley. This is about you as well. This is about you finding someone and finally having some peace because your life right now is simply just working and at the end of the day being a father. Sooner or later, Riley will realize his dad is always locked up in his office and maybe a women can change some things.” Harrison placed his hand on his shoulder before walking off.

“Daddy!” He hears the excitement of his sons voice come into the room.

“Hey Bubs!” He lifts up the boy. He plants a kiss on his cheek and he holds his new Spider-Man toy in hand.

“Can Jasper sleep over? He says he has a Spider-Man too and that we can play together. Can he please?” He pleads. For Riley, Harrison’s words echo in his head about the women.

Tom sighs, if he had a mother who wasn’t apart of a mafia like him. He would simply not have to deny his boy sleepovers and simple things.

“Sure.” He sighs thinking of how he will have to move his 8am meeting to the afternoon.

His best friend was right. He needed someone and maybe that someone would be you. Maybe he should for once take the leap and go for you.

Please leave feedback it helps me out and let’s me know if you want another part!

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#mob!tom #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #imagine tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland au #Tom Holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom Holland fic #Tom Holland fan fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fan fiction

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xenia-cenia · 3 years ago

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Peter Parker x Fem!Reader - Coming Home

Part 1/6 of a series I'll be doing

All Tom Holland Spider-Man movie spoilers (but mostly No Way Home).

Originally posted on ao3 here

Your mother was a kind woman, she single-handedly raised you in Baltimore, Maryland, and rose through the ranks of her corporate job, ending up as a mid-level manager before she died. A car accident stole her ability to work, every bit of money she made was funneled towards her medical care and then to her funeral.

You had sat next to her on her deathbed, cradling her cold hands between yours and trying to force a comfortable smile to ease her pain. She had looked you in the eyes, a tired smile gracing her face before she leaned forward and spoke in a breathy voice, “Doctor Stephen Strange.”

And then, she died. You were 15, nearly broke, and completely out of options. You had never known your mother's family - she always changed the subject or dismissively waved her hand when you asked about them. She never spoke about her past at all, you realized, watching the view outside of the cloudy train window. You sighed and changed your position on the uncomfortable seat, hoping the combination of your loud music and the nice view would lull you to sleep - or at least a sense of peace. A huff of air blew through your nose as you recounted your mother's last words. Doctor Stephen Strange - a man you spent hours searching for at the public library and only finding through a dated article claiming he was in an accident.

“Must be somethin’ in the air,'' you mumbled to yourself, fumbling with the chain on your mother's old necklace. It was rusted and covered in fingerprints that always seemed to be visible no matter how hard you scrubbed at it, with a small piece of metal in the back annoyingly pressing into the back of your neck each time you moved your head. Despite everything wrong with it, you clung to it. A year before she had died, you had asked your mother the significance of the necklace and she had taken the time to describe the man who gave it to her.

A deep breath pushed through your lungs as you pressed the tip of your nails into your palm until a small crescent moon appeared on your skin. Thinking of her too much would make you cry, you reminded yourself, and you do not need to cry on this stupid old train. So, instead, you pondered the man she sent you after.

Doctor Stephen Strange. A dumb name, you decided after thinking about it for a second. You had memorized every photo of him you could find, with his smooth dark hair and the white streaks that slowly appeared over the years. You wondered how old he was, what he liked to do. What kind of man was this Doctor Stephen Strange? Was he kind like your mother? He must have been someone she trusted if she sent you after him.

Almost as if on cue, the train screeched to a halt and the various passengers began to stand and get off at the station. You hastily followed their lead, stuffing your hands in your pockets and leaving your only luggage on the train. With one last look at the faded purple bag, you stepped off the train and dumped your phone in a trashcan. There was no way that social services were going to find you before you found this man. You wouldn’t let them ruin this, let them take your mother away from you for good.

You flipped your hood up and walked through the station, occasionally getting shoved by people who gave you pointed glares instead of hurried apologies. But you didn’t care - you had a goal.

With one final step, you left the station and stepped into the cool New York air. You followed the crowd, awestruck at the size and density of the city. It seemed like everywhere you looked, 100 more people showed up. Part of you was tempted to stand in place and watch the world spin around you, to ponder what brought each person here, what they dreamed of, and what they feared. But you simply shook the thoughts from your head and continued on, nearly passing your destination and only noticing when you heard the squeal of a siren. You spun on your heel and looked at the looming building, pushing yourself through the front door and breaking into a sprint until you saw the front desk.

So focused, you hadn’t seen where you were going until you crashed into a blonde woman with her hair tied into a neat bun.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, dropping to your knees and picking up everything she dropped when you crashed into her. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? You look like you're in quite a hurry.”

You nodded enthusiastically, “I am, actually. I’m looking for a man-”

“A patient? You’ll have to check in with the front desk.” The woman stood and rubbed the dust off her scrubs.

“No, no. He’s a doctor.” You winced, remembering the article. “Was a doctor? I’m not sure.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together in thought, “I’m really sorry, but I’m kind of on a schedule.” She began to walk away, shooting you an apologetic face as she left.

“Wait!” You chased after her and grabbed her sleeve. “Stephen Strange.”

The woman stiffened, her head snapping towards you. “What?”

“Doctor Stephen Strange. My mother told me his name before she died. I want to know why.” You avoided eye contact, slightly uncomfortable with her scrutinizing stare.

She sighed heavily, “Stephen is an egotistical man. Whatever she sent you for, most likely wasn’t good.”

“I don’t care! It’s all I have left.” You looked up, a new fire burning in your eyes. “If I leave now - this will all be for nothing. And besides, I don’t have anywhere to go!”

The woman ran a hand through her hair and set the stuff she was holding down on a nearby cart, “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well, (Y/N),” she smiled sadly, “my name is Christine Palmer. I’ll… try to help you find Stephen.”

“Thank you!” You exclaimed and grabbed her hands, “Thank you so much, Christine. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just…” she sighed, “just don't get your hopes up, okay?”

“Hopes are down.” You lied, the giant smile on your face betraying you.

Christine tugged her hand free and rubbed at her temples, “I’m going to regret this.”

...

“I regret this.” You spoke in a hushed voice, trembling before the large door. Christine rubbed your shoulders and smiled reassuringly at you.

“You’ll do fine, (Y/N). You haven’t spent the last two months staying at my place to give up now, have you?”

“No. No, of course not. I’m just…”

“Scared?” She finished for you.

“Terrified.”

“He has that effect on people. Go on, knock.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can!” She leaned forward and harshly knocked on the door. “See? Easy.”

“Christine!” You hissed, quickly turning to face her with wide eyes.

“Oops.” She laughed and retreated down the stairs as the door slowly opened.

A tall man stood in front of you, his eyes were worn down and his lips seemed to be pressed too thin. He looked you down, narrowing his eyes in confusion, “Hello?”

“Hi.” You gulped down your fear, your fingers unconsciously playing with the rusted, old necklace that seemed a bit colder than normal. “My name is-”

“How did you get that?” He interrupted you, looking down at the necklace.

“The… what?”

“The necklace. How did you get that?”

“Actually, this is a great segway, my mother-”

“Your mother?”

“Yes, my mother! My mother gave it to me - or, I kinda… took it. But still, it was my mother's necklace and after she died, I took it and she gave me a name so I went to New York looking for this man with the strangest name. Anyway, I found Christine who let me stay with her and she says I can find him here, so I guess now I’m asking do you know a Stephen Strange?” You took a deep breath after you rambled, looking into his eyes and watching him realize something.

“(L/N)?”

“That’s my last name.”

He sighed and leaned against the door. “Christine, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“You weren’t exactly in a talking position the last time I saw you.” She countered.

“Tell you what? Tell him what?” You looked between the two of them in confusion.

“Come in.” He ushered you inside, “Please, take a seat. This is going to be… tough for you to understand.”

“Alright.” You nervously walked inside, scared about what he was going to tell you. You sat on a black leather chair, running your fingers over the golden indents on the arms.

“My name is Stephen Strange.” He began, and your heart started to race. “And, if I understand this correctly, it appears you’re my daughter.”

You paused. Did you hear that right? No, of course, you didn’t. Your father died. It was the only thing you knew about him for certain. He died of cancer. He was not this random dude you found in this weirdly nice-looking building.

“Bullshit. My father is dead.”

“Is that the story she told?”

“It’s not a story, it’s the truth!” You stood and began to leave the building.

“May 2nd, it was raining.” You paused as his voice echoed through the building. “We had been on our fifth date, but picnic dates and rainstorms don’t exactly go well together. We decided to go window shopping instead. I bought nearly everything I liked, but your mother would only smile at it instead. I hadn’t realized until I saw her staring at this beautiful necklace, and her eyes glistened in a way I’d never seen before. So I asked her to look at something and when she was distracted, I bought the necklace and engraved the day in the back. When I gave it to her she had said,” a smile grew on his face, a sad and distant smile, one that you recognized quite well.

“You are the stupidest man I've ever met.” The two of you spoke in unison. You looked up and his eyes met yours.

“When she disappeared, I assumed she’d thrown it out. But I guess she was a woman of many secrets.” He walked towards you and thumbed the front of the necklace. “Oh - there. You can still see the dent from when she dropped it down the stairs.” He ran his nail across a minuscule dent, one you had never noticed before.

“Are you really…?” Your voice cracked.

“I’m not sure.” He sighed, “But I’d love to find out.”

“I don’t have money.” You spoke before you could catch yourself, “I’m not even sure how we could find out for certain, it would all be-”

“Don’t worry about money.” He ruffled your hair, “You came all the way here, you found me. It’s only fair that I do my share of the work.”

You wiped a tear from your eye as you sniffled, “You… you were her last words.” He froze and you took that as a sign to continue talking, “She said your name and I looked and looked and looked and I couldn’t find you but you were right here and I had no idea, and now I’m in front of you and I don’t know what to say.”

He chuckled softly and kneeled down to your eye level, “You don’t need to say anything. If anything, I should be apologizing for not finding out about you sooner. But you’re here now, and so am I, and it’s going to be okay.”

You leaned forward and smelled his cologne, “I miss her so much.”

“I know,” he wrapped his arms around your back, “I do too.”

After a few moments of hugging, you pulled away and looked at him again. He smiled haphazardly and squeezed your arm. In that infinite moment, you almost felt your mother's arms wrapped around you, almost felt like you were whole again.

It took only a few weeks for him to obtain a paternity test and within the month, you got the news you were waiting for. The paper was filled with numbers and words you barely registered because at the bottom was the phrase probability of paternity: 99.99%. Neither of you had said anything, only staring at the paper and eventually turning to each other with a wide grin.

“It’s official.” He spoke in a breathy voice. “You’re my daughter.”

“Does this mean I move in with you now?” You spoke, mostly in shock.

He chuckled, “It could if you’d like. But for now,” he stood and grabbed a small wrapped box and slid it over to you, “I got you a present.”

“A gift?” You looked at him with wide eyes. “Why?”

“To celebrate.”

You swallowed anxiously and unwrapped the present, looking at a small box with inquisitive eyes. As you peeled the lid off the box, you frowned in confusion at Steph- your dad. “Mom's necklace?”

He lifted it from the box and clasped it around your neck, “I added a ward onto it. No magic or spell can affect you while you’re wearing it.”

“Oh.” You touched the metal, “Thank you.”

“Now that that’s settled,” he stood and clapped his hands against his thighs, “We should really get you enrolled in school.”

“Speaking of,” you crossed the room and grabbed a pamphlet out of your new backpack, and shoved it in his hands, “I liked this one.”

“Midtown School of Science and Technology?” He looked through the pamphlet, “Not that I don’t love the idea, but isn’t that place a bit tough to get into?”

“Yes, well,” you smiled confidently, “the entrance exams can’t get that hard if my formerly-a-neuro-surgeon father helps me study.”

He laughed suddenly, “Well, I suppose you’re right. Let’s see if we can get you in.”

...

You were right, the tests were a breeze. But you seemed to overlook the hardest part: being a new student in an elite school. People were far too busy to even look at you, and you spent the first few weeks struggling through the courses hoping to make a friend. It was one of the days where you felt even more lonely than usual when two lunch trays slid across from you. Connected to them were two boys, roughly your age, with sympathetic smiles.

“Hi.” The skinnier of the two said, awkwardly looking at his friend.

The friend, seemingly just happy you hadn’t up and left yet, beamed at you. “Hi, my name is Ned and this is my friend Peter.”

“Nice to meet you?” You looked between the two of them.

Ned sat and began to pick at his food, Peter quickly followed his lead. After a brief awkward silence, Ned spoke up again, “So, did you just move here?”

“Kind of.” You responded, suddenly fascinated with the shitty lunch food.

“That’s nice. Hey, have you heard about Spider-Man?”

Peter elbowed Ned and shot him a glare, “Ned!” He hissed.

“Spider-Man?” You looked up in confusion.

“You really don’t know?”

“No, I’m from Baltimore.” You replied, knowing it was a weak excuse by their confused expressions.

“Spider-Man.” Ned continued. “Friendly Neighborhood Web-Head. Masked menace.”

“Menace?” You recoiled. “Is he like… a super-villain?”

“What? No.” Peter looked at you with a comforting expression before switching to a pleading expression pointed at Ned. “Let’s just stop talking about him.”

“No, I’m kinda curious. What’s he like?”

Ned smiled, “He’s a vigilante! He stops criminals and saves lives.”

You nodded, “Like Iron Man.”

“Like Iron Man.” Ned confirmed.

“I wonder if I’ll ever get to meet Spider-Man,” you thought out loud. “Must be fun being a vigilante.”

Peter looked at you, his mouth somewhat agape as he considered you. Had he known what was coming, he would have stood and walked away. Had he known what painful future awaited you, he never would have sat down in the first place.

He just wishes he meant it when he told himself that.

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huntergatherercreator · 4 years ago

Text

The Takedown | Part Fifteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Maybe a teeny bit of violence?

AN: It’s been a minute since the last part of this series was posted. I haven’t written anything since then so fingers crossed this is OK.

Part 15 - 1,601 words

My apartment had already been too small. Now with Joe blocking the doorway and Holland practically breathing down my neck it felt tiny. Hunching closer to the laptop screen I tried to focus on the information scrolling before me. I’d pulled up the last three months worth of records detailing what cruise ships had docked and was whittling down the list slowly. There were ones we’d suspected that had already had a full background check but I couldn’t cross them off without raising suspicions.

“What’s this?” I stilled as Holland leaned over my shoulder, finger tapping at an entry. With his breath tickling my throat and the soft scent of shampoo emanating from his curls it took me a minute to focus.

“It seems like a shell company. I can try to trace it but it’ll take time.”

“How can you tell?” Suspicion was apparently his only tone tonight. I nudged out the chair beside me as an invitation. When it went ignored I twisted in my seat, intent on glaring at him until he relented, only to realise too late how close he actually was. My lips skimmed over his cheek. I could feel my colour drain as his breath caught. I made to shove back from the table but his hand caught my shoulder, holding me down.

“Trace them,” he murmured. Hands shaking slightly I pulled up a new search engine to start. Only when I started typing did he let go. Relief trickled through me but it was short lived. Dragging the offered chair to the corner of the table he slipped off his jacket and hooked it to the back before settling with crossed arms to watch me. I flicked a glance over his shoulder to Joe who threw me a wink before going back to staring out the window. Trying to shove back the humiliation I could feel creeping up my cheeks I pulled up as much as I could about the company, already knowing it’d come to a dead end.

After half an hour I read out the details I’d scribbled down, eyes firmly on my notepad as Holland questioned me. Then he chose another company. And another. On and on until we’d almost exhausted the list.

The smell of expensive coffee roused me from my notebook. I blinked and a takeaway cup appeared under my nose courtesy of Joe. I accepted it with a grateful smile and he gave me another of what was becoming his signature winks. Closing the laptop I shuffled my notes into order and put both on the counter allowing Joe to start emptying the paper bag of breakfast foods he’d bought. It wasn’t until I was up out of my chair that I realised how sore I was. Rolling my neck I rubbed at a tender spot on my shoulder with a grimace.

“Maybe you should take five to clean up?” Joe offered. My eyes automatically drifted to Holland for the first time in several hours. He looked as dishevelled as I felt. Hair unruly once again from running his hands through it every time I hit a dead end. I realised with a jolt that I was waiting for his permission.

“Good idea.” I mumbled. Quickly skirting past them both I headed for the bathroom locking the door firmly behind me. I cringed as I caught myself in the mirror. My skin was pale, tired. The tie that had been keeping my hair back had failed leaving long messy wisps falling around my face. Running the cold water I repeatedly doused my skin until I felt the last of the brain fog disappear. I needed to be on higher alert, more so than before. Holland wouldn’t keep accepting the trails going cold. There was only so long he’d sit patiently knowing Rivera was out there. I needed to find a solid lead but I wasn’t sure if I could on my own. As much as I’d learned about tracking down corrupt company details those had all been from tracing low level thugs, people who didn't have the knowledge or the money to properly cover their tracks. Rivera had both of those things. It could be damn near impossible to directly link him to anything.

A jolt ran through me. Wasn’t that exactly what Holland did? He made it impossible for anyone to get information about the next level because each of his men ran their own area. Quickly drying my face I threw open the door coming face to face with Holland.

“You and Rivera are the same,” I started the words dying in my throat as his mood visibly darkened.

“No. We’re not.” He stalked closer and it took me a second to collect my thoughts as replays of the day before hit me. My gaze flicked to the damaged wall. A reminder not to push him, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Let me finish,” I insisted, hands coming up to hold him off. “How did I find you?”

Confusion flashed before irritation settled on his face. “Stupidity, and luck.”

“No. It was through Arnold. The only way to you is through your men. It’s the same with Rivera, he-” He pressed his palms against the door frame either side of me, blocking me in.

“Why are you wasting my time? Rivera’s men don’t know where he is. If they did Joe would have gotten the information.”

“Stop interrupting me!” I shoved against his chest in frustration. He grabbed my wrists spinning me until my back was pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. Eyes boring into mine his jaw ticked, grip getting tighter.

“I am nothing like him.” Anger surged as we fell into the same dance we always did. Hooking a leg behind his I used his grip against him and put him on his back. A sliver of sympathy shot through me as he lost his breath but I let my anger chase it away, using it to power my arms into holding him down.

“I’m fed up with you thinking you can push me around and bully me. This,” I motioned with my head to the position we were currently in, “is the last time I have to do this. Understood?”

Eyes unreadable he nodded curtly. I cautiously let go, easing back to a sitting position, not ready to give up the upper hand just yet. When I was sure he wasn’t going to lash out I continued.

“We’re looking through the information for ties to Rivera himself. We should be looking for ties to the men we know he associates with. He’s using them as scapegoats. The companies are in their names, that way if anything goes wrong-”

“Then the trail ends with them” he finished, shoulders slumping as the realisation hit him.

“Exactly. And what better way to ensure your men’s loyalty. They’ll do everything they can to ensure their area runs smoothly because it’s their necks on the line, not his.” My smug smile was missed as he closed his eyes, hands coming up to scrub at his face.

“You didn’t sleep did you?” I asked gently. He let out a humourless laugh, his body rocking under mine. I planted my hands on his stomach to stop from falling onto him. Fingers splayed I could feel the solid muscles that made up his abdomen tensing as he shifted. The realisation of our position hit me. Mouth dry I tried to chase off the scenarios that my brain was throwing at me. I could control myself. Or so I told myself repeatedly.

“Care to let me up?” he asked, eyebrow raising as he looked pointedly at where I was touching him.

Sure he’d somehow been able to read my thoughts it took me a second to find my voice again. “It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you can behave yourself. I meant it before, this is the last time. You’d never have figured any of this out without me.” I instinctively clenched my hands into fist. His t-shirt got tangled in my grip, tugging it up to reveal a small section of skin just above his waistband where the line of his hipbone slid out of sight. I was a hypocrite asking him to have decency when all I could think about was how much more I’d be able to expose before he stopped me.

“You’re right.” I almost lost my balance in shock at his admittance, eyes darting away from him.

“From now on you can take the lead but only when we’re alone. In front of my men you say nothing.”

I reigned in the urge to roll my eyes. Given who I was dealing with the conditions could have been a lot worse. I could handle letting him keep the facade of all knowing mob boss.

“Deal,” I agreed. “We have breakfast then I need you to get me the names of Rivera’s men. The higher their status the better. I’ll work on retracing the list from earlier and cross referencing it against them. And you, you’re going to get some sleep. It’s a waste of resources having you sit watching me. Joe can help in your place, he was the one that interrogated them anyway so he’ll know more than you do at this stage.” Reluctantly I released his clothing and pushing up to my feet. Instead of joining me he propped himself on his elbows.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, deadpan. Spinning I left him on the bathroom floor as the heat that had been simmering through me peaked. Get it together, I mentally scolded myself.

- - - - - - -

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

@panicattheeverywherekid

@keep-bears-wild

@unbelievableholland

@tomholland-mcu

@whattheheckparker

@stargazerholland

@gorillaglue23

@marvelpeters

@weirdowithnobeardo

Part 16!

#Mob!Tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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bi-writes · 5 years ago

Photo

notorious: reboot — chapter one fire and smoke

How long do you think it will take for me to burn it all down?

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 6.6k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw themes series masterlist

There was something strange about New York. The window was open, and you couldn’t stop listening to what was happening in the streets below. It was the middle of the night, but you could still hear the honking of car horns, loud laughter, and a hustle and bustle that never seemed to quiet down. It was bright out, and you could see everything.

You sat up in bed, looking over at the sleeping figure beside you. They were silent, still deep in slumber, not even moving so much as an inch while you fidgeted, not able to even close your eyes. You had sobered up quick tonight. You had a lot on your mind, and even couldn’t distract you. You tried.

You slid off the bed, heading into the bathroom. You sighed as you stared at your figure in the mirror. Your previously curled hair was in tangles, and your makeup had smeared. Your lipstick was a mess around your lips, and you were missing your eyelashes. You searched around the counter for some makeup remover, scrubbing at your face to rid yourself of all the streaks and pigments of faded color. When you finally finished washing your face, you brushed your hair out and put it up. Then you retreated into the bedroom and began to retrieve your clothes.

You slid your panties back on, picking up the matching bra and fitting it back on. You searched for your dress, but you couldn’t find it in the dark. You dug around in the piles of clothes around the room.

“It’s in the living room,” a soft voice said behind you. You stood up straight, looking behind you.

“Right,” you said, rubbing your forehead. “Thanks, Ri.”

You padded into the living room, picking up your dress that had been tossed over the back of the couch. You slipped it on, zipping it up behind you, finding your heels thrown in a heap in the kitchen. You held them as you came back into the bedroom to get your purse.

Mariposa was sitting up now, holding the sheets up around herself, watching you gather your things up. She blew air into her face, the curl in her eyes moving to the side. Her dark, voluminous curls were a mess around her, coming undone from the low bun she had it in earlier. Her makeup was still intact somehow, you could tell from the soft light that was trickling in from the bathroom.

“You’re leaving?” She asked timidly, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. You bent your knee to put one heel on, and then you put the other on. You nodded, like it was obvious.

“Yeah, Ri. I’m leaving,” you said, pulling out your phone. You had a few missed calls from your father. You clenched your jaw for a moment. You would take care of it in the morning. You rounded the bed to get your jacket off the floor, putting it on. You turned to look at her, and she was playing with a thread that was loose along the seam of the duvet. You came towards her and took a seat beside her, nudging her with your shoulder.

“It’s been a long time,” you said, straightening out your necklace that was tangled around your neck. She looked up finally from her hands, and you could see her green eyes from up close.

“It’s been years, pendeja,” Mariposa replied, shaking her head. “A long time is a few months maybe. You’ve been gone for years.”

You looked out the window, away from her. She was right, and you couldn’t blame her for being upset with you. You had left so suddenly a few years ago, and you left her, to be more specific. You both had been joined at the hip, but then your mother was gone, and you went back to California with not even so much as a goodbye.

You were eighteen when you came to New York for the first time. Your father was sick of you being so rebellious. Once you turned sixteen, you were convinced you had to work for your father. You butted into his business whenever you could, becoming a nuisance to him and making him constantly angry with you, but you never let up. Your mother thought of it humorously, but your father couldn’t think of anything more infuriating than you not doing as you were told. You were putting listening devices into his offices, you were bribing his men to give you information, and you were doing reckless things with everything you learned.

Your father had had enough. You knew he had because he asked your mother for help, and he never asked her for anything. She gave in, but only to make him less angry. She didn’t give up on you. Instead, she sent you to New York City.

Your mother grew up in the city. She had connections far and wide, and it was one of the reasons your father found her so attractive, you thought. She was an asset to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and he needed her more than she needed him.

She had called someone very important to take care of you while you were there. A family friend she made when she was young, someone she recruited to your father’s business early on. His name was Roberto Muñoz, and he was the only man your father trusted at a distance. And when you arrived in the city, you met his only daughter, a tan, curly-haired Cuban beauty named Mariposa. She was there to pick you up from the airport, and from that day on, you both were inseparable. She had become your best friend in as little as a few days. You clicked on so many levels, it was the most natural relationship you ever made.

She had grown up just like you had. Her father trying to hide his business from her, but accidentally catching on. She had trained from a young age to be resourceful, resilient, educated, and quite literally the bad bitch you were aspiring to be. She always wore dresses with a thigh holster underneath so she could keep a gun on her always, and you adored her style, her accent, and the energy she spilled off onto you.

The only difference between the two of you was that it was not her mother that encouraged her to follow in her father’s footsteps. Her father wanted it. He was the one that pushed her to learn all she could, to sit in on his meetings, to learn from him so she could be just as good, even better, than him. It was something you were always a bit jealous of.

She always looked incredible. She always had her hair done, her nails done, her makeup glowing and perfectly applied on her sultry, cat-like features. She wore golden hoops that her father had gifted her at all times, and she was always done up with jewelry, beautiful dresses, and expensive shoes. She looked expensive because she was expensive, and she was the Latin princess of the city every single day. But you learned quickly to not let her fashionable, impeccable looks fool you. She could take down men twice her size, and she was the best shot you had met in a long time. She even gave you a few tips, because she reminded you always that as women in this world, “there is nothing worse than being less than...them.”

You couldn’t describe your relationship with Mariposa in one word. She was like your sister that you never knew you needed, but sometimes, the nights ended like they had tonight, where you both laid on either side of a king-sized bed with smiles on your faces. Maybe it was selfish, because you didn’t have feelings for her, but you couldn’t help yourself sometimes.

Scratch that. It was selfish. But she knew how you felt. So it was okay, wasn’t it?

A blaring horn outside made your eyes snap towards the window, and you swallowed hard.

“Ri, I’m sorry,” you said finally. Mariposa’s anger faded at that, because it was all she wanted to hear, all she needed to hear. She had missed you like crazy. You always went out together, broke the rules together, did each other’s hair and roamed the city together. You worked together, and you were always in sync. You owed her a lot, and she knew it, but she loved you, and she’d do you a favor always even if you owed her a thousand more favors.

She sighed audibly, brushing her curls back behind her ears.

“Why are you here?” She asked. “What made you come back?”

You turned to face her again, biting your lip.

“Do you...have you heard of a Tom Holland?” You asked, and Mariposa wanted to ask if you thought she was stupid. She scoffed a bit, rolling her eyes.

“Of course I know who that is,” she said simply, resting her chin on your shoulder. “He took over about a year after you left. Came all the way from London.”

“London?” You repeated, frowning, and she nodded.

“That’s where his home base was, but I guess it wasn’t enough. So he’s here, running things in New York now,” she looked down a bit. “He’s...ruthless, y/n. You know the city. There’s always been gangs and...groups, but he wiped them all out. Whoever refused his authority he killed and those that begged to stay alive he got rid of, too. We’ve been alright cause we stay out of the city, but now that he’s got Manhattan under his thumb, I think...I think he’s starting venture out.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “He must be,” you say. “We’re starting to lose small amounts on shipments coming back from Brooklyn. I called De Luca, and he said he didn’t want to do anything about it because he couldn’t be sure if it was Holland. But after everything I've learned so far, I’m starting to think that maybe it is him, and that we’ve got a bigger problem than I thought.”

Mariposa chewed on her bottom lip as she thought.

“Well,” she said after a minute. “You know if you need me, I’m all in.”

You turned back to her, leaning your head on top of hers.

“I think I’ll be alright. But I’ll keep that in mind,” you assured her, closing your eyes. The more you found out about Tom, the more you were convinced you were in over your head. A few lackeys spilling information would be easy to take care of. A man with his foot in two continents and as much power as you anticipated was not. You didn’t know what you were going to tell your father, but you thought about what he might say. “My dad is going to make me come back. He’s going to make me come home when he finds out what I’m dealing with.”

Mariposa shrugged. “Just say no,” she told you. “Refuse to get on a plane until he trusts you with this. It’s about time, y/n. He can’t take care of LA and New York at the same time. He needs you, and he needs you here.”

You pursed your lips. She got up from the bed, picking through her closet for a tank top and sweats, slipping them on. She combed through her curls until they were even and bouncy, and she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later with her makeup and jewelry off, her freckles showing now.

“I know...where Tom is going to be tomorrow,” she said after a minute. You looked up from your phone.

“What? What do you mean?”

She reached into her closet, pulling out another pair of sweats and a shirt. She tossed it to you, and you gave in, changing into the comfortable clothes and tossing your dress and heels to the side. Now that you had made up with her, there was no reason to leave.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on him. My dad always wants me to just...check up on him every once in a while,” she said simply. You both got into bed, snuggling under the covers like you used to when you were younger. “He’s going to be at 1 Oak tomorrow.”

You hummed a bit, closing your eyes.

“Then I guess we’re going to be there, too.”

“Tom Holland,” your father muttered, and you wished you could see his face. You were sitting in your apartment, staring out at Central Park from your balcony as he thought.

“You know of him?”

“Of course I do,” your father replied, as if insulted by the question. You played with your nails, which were painted a fresh coat of dark red because Mariposa refused to let you go any longer without a manicure. “He’s a nuisance. I heard he moved his operations to New York, but I didn’t think he’d fucking dare go across the bridges.”

“Well...I know where he’s going to be tonight,” you informed him, going back into your apartment and pacing slowly in the living room. “And I’m going.”

“y/n, I asked you to get names. I will take care of the rest. Come home. Now.”

“No, daddy,” you said defiantly. “You need to stay there. If you come now, people will know, and with things shaking up here in the city, you need to stay home more than ever. Let me do this.”

“y/n,” his voice was sharp. “Listen to me, very carefully. I don’t have the resources there that I have here. My men are in Brooklyn, which apparently went to shit, and I can’t protect you from here. So get to the airport and get on the next fucking plane back here.”

You looked out the windows as he said that. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m not going back yet,” you said again, softer this time. “Dad, you won’t even give me a chance. This isn’t like before.”

“It’s exactly like before—!”

“It’s not! Because now, I don’t need to beg for your attention for you to listen to me!” You snapped. “So listen now, and listen well! You look really vulnerable right now. Your shipments from Italy are all screwed up, the money isn’t moving around the way it’s supposed to, and people are starting to notice. You need to stay home and make sure things are running smoothly while I take care of the little problem we have here in New York. I know you, daddy, and I know how you want things here. Let me get things sorted, and it’ll all be fine again.”

“And how the hell are you going to do that?” He asked after a few moments of dead silence.

“He’s a man,” you said simply. “All men are the same.”

“You’re going to sleep with him,” your father scoffed. “Absolutely not, y/n. He’d kill you before you even walked through the fucking door. You get on a plane, and you come home now!”

His voice sounded...exasperated. Desperate almost. Was he...afraid? You had never heard him afraid. Your father was always calm and collected. He got angry, of course he did, but he never sounded afraid or worried.

“I’m not going to sleep with him,” you assured him after a moment.

“y/n...you are not...” He sighed, deeply, “I know...I know things haven’t always been good between us. But you are still my daughter, and you’re not a whore to be passed around. My men will fix things.”

“Your men will ruin it, daddy,” you said firmly. “Your men will barge into the place, guns a blazing, and they’ll start something they can’t finish. You don’t need that kind of baggage right now, and you certainly don’t have enough resources in this city to take risks like that. He won’t expect me. And he will listen to me talk.” You closed your eyes as you continued, “I’m…just a girl. He’ll listen. Maybe not well, but he’ll listen, and then we’ll decide what to do.”

Your father was silent for a long time. You took a seat on the couch, staring at the coffee on the table in front of you, watching the steam rise from inside of it. You had barely taken a few sips.

“De Luca is there, at my warehouse in Queens. I will send him your way, with a few lackeys. You allow them to go with you, and I will approve,” he said finally, darkly.

“Dad—”

“This isn’t negotiable, y/n. You’re my only daughter.”

The door sounded from your bedroom, opening and closing. Mariposa came out of it, dressed for tonight. She was wearing a deep red dress and knee-high boots to match, her curls voluminous and shiny framing her seemingly sweet face. She wore her gold hoops and nothing else, a leather jacket draped over her bare shoulders. She looked wonderful. She was looking at you hopefully, and you nodded her way.

You said your goodbyes to your father, tossing the phone onto the couch.

“What happened?” Mariposa asked, and she sat down beside you. You turned to face her.

“Think you could give me a hand?” You asked, holding up a few of your messy strands of hair. You had never seen Mariposa smile so big in a long time.

You had never worn a thigh holster before. It was tight around your thigh so it wouldn’t budge or slip, and your gun was pressed between your thighs because of the tight fabric of the dress. You did feel a bit less nervous knowing you had it on you. You were comfortable with it, and you always liked fighting at a distance than up close.

You were sandwiched between Mariposa and De Luca in the back of the car. The leather seats were suffocating almost, and it seemed warm in the car. De Luca was younger than you expected. He had dark hair and tanned skin, his fingers adorned with golden and silver rings. He had a cross necklace on over his collared shirt, and his accent was so heavy and dark. He seemed sort of sweet on the phone, but he looked anything but kind in person.

You were let out of the car a little ways down the street, and you could already see crowds lined up, waiting to get in. It seemed as if the doorman wasn’t even asking people to come in, and the crowd was just waiting to see if they got lucky.

You were nervous. Not because of the club or of the dancing or of stupid drunk people, but because you had no idea what would be waiting for you inside. De Luca nodded his head for the driver to wait, always, in the spot it was parked in. He guided you and Mariposa out of the car, walking with you both to the entrance. Mariposa linked her arms into yours as you got to the front, and the doorman looked down at the both of you.

You were nervous you would be turned away for a moment, but then the doorman broke into a soft smile, looking down at Mariposa.

“Hola, muñeca,” he greeted her, and she batted her lashes his way. She leaned up even more on her toes so she could kiss his cheek, and he wrapped his free arm around her, holding her close for a moment. You noticed how tender the moment was, and you shook your head a bit. Mariposa had that effect on others. They melted for her, even though she was the devil in disguise.

“Buenas noches, Miguel,” she said gently, pulling back. “Any chance I can get in tonight? You know I’m good for it.”

He paused for a moment, his smile fading. “I...” He sighed, “I’m sorry, princesa. It’s a private night tonight, I-I can’t let anyone in.”

Mariposa pouted a bit, sliding a hand down his chest.

“Not even for me?” She cooed, tilting her head to the side. “Miguel, no me trates de esa manera, it’s me—”

“Miguel,” a hard voice said from inside. A hand poked out from the darkness, beckoning to you and Mariposa. “Let the girls through.”

Mariposa kissed his cheek once more before going inside, your hand in hers. De Luca tried to follow, but they blocked him from coming inside.

“It’s alright,” you said to him. “Just wait for me here.”

He looked extremely worried, opening his mouth to protest, but you dipped your head and followed Mariposa into the building.

The whole room was washed in a purple neon glow. Mariposa still held your hand as you both looked around. The bar was full, and the dancefloor was full, but you could tell there was something different about the scene tonight.

Lining the walls in the dark were numerous suited men, just leaning against the walls and watching. Some wore sunglasses and some did not, and some had cigarettes in their mouths and were surrounded by low clouds of smoke. The music was loud, ringing in your ears, and you were having a hard time differentiating your surroundings. Your eyes were darting to every corner and every table, searching for him. You didn’t know what he looked like, but you knew you’d know who he was once you saw him.

It didn’t matter where they came from, you always knew a boss when you saw one. They always wore jewelry, some sort of symbol on them. Some of them preferred rings, some preferred watches or bracelets, and some preferred necklaces and crosses. Your father wore his watch, you had relatives that religiously wore chains, and others enjoyed Cuban link bracelets laced with diamonds.

They always were surrounded by crowds. They never liked to be alone when they were out. Some had their reasons, but most of those reasons were for protection. The more you had surrounding you, the less likely you were the one to be hit.

They liked liquor. They stayed near the bars, hid out in the clubs, and they always had a glass in their vicinity. They were easy to spot. But the music was too loud, the lights were so low, and Mariposa was taking you to the bar anyways, asking for seltzers in nice glasses. She didn’t want either of you to be drunk tonight, and you were grateful for that.

You and Mariposa sipped at the bar for a bit. After an hour or so of shrugging off guys and declining dances, you both took a lap around the place, trying to look for wherever he might be. You disguised yourselves in the sea of dancing bodies, and by the time you came back to each other, you both noticed the long hallway that the bathrooms and employee lounges were located in. There were men hanging around the end of the hallway, and you spotted one man in particular that you knew was authority. He wasn’t a boss, because he had his cell phone out, and he was talking to people around him, but you knew he was responsible for those around him. His hands were adorned in diamond and gold rings, already telling you more than you needed.

“There,” you both whispered to each other at the same time. You noticed the lackeys filtering in and out of the spot, but the blonde stayed, always, in front of the last door of the hallway. He didn’t budge, never moved, and you both could see that he wasn’t going anywhere. Tom Holland was behind that door, and you just needed one chance to get in.

“Ri, I’m going to need you to...do something for me,” you said in her ear, and she looked at you, nodding.

“Whatever you need, y/n. You know I’m all in.”

“Distract him,” you nodded down the hallway, and she already knew which one you meant. She had her eyes on him long before you did. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ve got it, y/n,” she reached her hands into her hair, ruffling it up, and she pushed a strap of her dress off her shoulder, going towards the hallway. Once she neared the space, you noticed her knees buckle and her wobbling a bit, as if she couldn’t walk right. You laughed a bit to yourself. She was adorable, pretending to be drunk. She was good at it, too.

She held the walls as she neared them, giggling a bit, bubbly and bouncy even as she pretended to stumble.

“Do any of you boys...know where I could find—” she hiccupped loudly, “the bathroom?”

They all went silent, turning to face her, and they murmured amongst each other before she slipped and fell towards them. She was bracing herself for the embarrassing and very staged fall before two strong arms caught her, lifting her up firmly.

“Fucking hell, darling,” the voice muttered, and Mariposa giggled at that. “You’re bloody wasted, aren’t ya?”

“Oopsies, don’t tell,” she whispered in his ear, and it made him snort just a bit. She let her arms come around his neck, pulling him closer, and she took in a deep breath, smelling his cologne faintly. It was warm and musky, somehow familiar and new all at once. She dragged herself closer to him on unsteady toes, and the men behind him chuckled.

“Oh, Harrison, she’s asking for it.”

“Look at her.”

“She’s gone, mate.”

They were laughing to themselves, and Mariposa any other day would’ve knocked them all on their asses, but she was doing this for you. So she leaned into the body that held her up.

“Harrison, is it?” She cooed in his ear, hiccuping again, and he hums a bit.

“Careful with that name,” he said lowly, and she sniffled.

“I—I think I’m going to throw up,” she gasped, and Harrison reacted quick, picking her up and pushing open the bathroom door. With the boys distracted, you hurried into the hallway, reaching the crowd of them and beelining for the guns at their waist. You grabbed the first one you could, slamming him into the opposite wall and fishing his gun out of the waistband of his pants, putting him in a headlock and holding the gun up to his head.

“The door,” you nodded to the one they were all standing in front of, speechless as they gawked at how quickly they were taken over. “Open it.”

One of them reached behind them, and you cocked the gun against the man’s head, “move for that, and I’ll blow his goddamn head off. Open the fucking door.”

Your voice was venom, and all of them cowered at it. You had used this tone before, you were not a stranger to giving orders, and it revealed enough that they knew you wouldn’t hesitate with the gun in your hands.

They went slowly now, reaching for the door, and pushing it open wide. The door knocked against the wall behind it, and you let the man go, taking the magazine out of his gun and tossing it behind you as you went for the door. They grabbed for you almost immediately, their hands on your arms roughly. Two of them grabbed one arm, another latched onto your other arm, and they nearly had you against the wall before you heard a low voice come from inside the darkly lit room.

“Aye. Let her in, lads.”

You shoved them off of you, glaring at them all before going inside, kicking the door shut behind you. He was sitting on top of his desk, staring at you intently. He had a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and he was surprisingly calm.

The only thing that you could think of when you saw him was God, you are hot.

You took in his appearance finally, for the first time in person. He wore a dark ensemble. Dark suit, dark shirt, dark tie, Italian leather shoes. He was sitting, but his presence was still taking up the entirety of the room, and even though he wasn’t looking at you, you were surprised by how captivated you were. He had dark, styled curls and eyes to match, and he was making you nervous by how quiet he was.

You crossed your arms over your chest as he stood up straight. He met your eyes for the first time, and he took the cigarette out of his mouth.

Jesus, why can’t everyone look at me like this?

You were both sizing each other up, you could tell. His dark eyes seemed to get even darker, but they were unreadable, as was his blank expression. You knew this was how he expressed himself to everyone else. He didn’t want people to read him, to explore him, to get any hints about what he was feeling inside by how he acted on the outside. The way he sat, the way he looked, told you exactly what you needed to know about him. He was closed off, he never said more than he needed to, and he was just as good at reading other people as he was at hiding anything you wanted to know.

It’s okay, you thought to yourself. I’ve got all the time in the world to pick you apart.

He let out a breath of smoke, looking you up and down finally. The dress you wore looked fantastic on you, but he knew it wasn’t your style. Even though you stood with confidence, you fidgeted every once in a while, and you seemed unsure of how to stand in it. He could read you well, and you didn’t like the way he stared now.

“y/n,” he said your name finally, meeting your eyes. You stood up a bit straighter, shifting onto your other leg. You licked your lips before finally gaining enough courage to speak.

“Your men aren’t very nice,” you said lowly, and it coaxed just a slight smirk from him.

“You know how it is,” he said, the smile fading completely. He said nothing more, just putting the cancer stick back to his lips, taking a long drag of it and letting it out. You looked around, making yourself comfortable as you went for the bar cart. You poured yourself a drink, swirling it a bit in the glass before taking a long sip. You turned back to face him, and he was already looking at you.

“So you know my name,” you observed, coming closer to him. You took in a seat in the chair in front of him, crossing your legs, holding the glass at your fingertips. “You know who I am.”

He nodded simply, tapping off a bit of ash into the tray beside him.

“Aye,” he graced you with a word. “I know you. And I’ll be honest, princess, you being here complicates things.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side. “Why’s that?”

He leaned back a bit, still sitting atop of his desk, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Because you’re not from here, y/n. And you showed up here tonight, looking for me,” he nodded towards the door. “You knew I’d be here. You knew you’d find me. And you know exactly who I am, and yet you came in here with a gun on you, even though I could kill you right now. So the only question left to ask is...what did you expect to leave here with tonight?”

My life, was the first answer you could muster, but you knew he wouldn’t kill you. Not until he learned a little bit more. So at least you had your life for a few more minutes.

You hated the way he looked at you. He had a sparkle in his eye, as if he knew the answer to his own question, as if he knew what you were about to say. His arrogance was disguised, but you could hear it in his voice. He was king here, and he was gracing you with his time. You had no power here, and he wanted you to know it, and it was why his staring was starting to make you feel small. You were no one here, and even the pet name of princess was an insult to you. You were not royalty, not in this room.

You both stood up straight at the same time, so close now that you could smell the smoke and ash on his lips. Your gazes met again, but neither of you moved. You didn’t want to be the one to move first, and neither did he. You could tell he was starting to get annoyed, that maybe you were wasting his time, but you didn’t care. You were starting to figure him out, and you wanted to stay as long as he would let you.

“I want answers,” you murmured, tilting your head to the other side, your neck soft and bare to him. He leaned close enough that he could smell a bit of your perfume. You could feel his breath, but he didn’t dare get any closer. You straightened up again. “You know I do things in Brooklyn, don’t you, Thomas?”

“Aye,” he said huskily, and you tsked a bit, slowly sucking in the power he was giving off. He didn’t expect it to rub off on you, but it was, and it was making his thoughts run wild with what to do with you.

“So the rumors aren’t true?” You wondered, looking up at him. “You haven’t been crossing the bridge, have you, Tom? No, of course not...because that would be naughty, wouldn’t it?”

Oh, you’re a demon with a mask on, aren’t you, baby…sent straight from hell…fire and smoke behind you, huh?

He said nothing. He didn’t like the tone coming off of your words. You were taunting him, edging him on, and he didn’t want to give in. You could feel what you were doing to him, so you didn’t stop.

“Good,” you said simply after a moment, but you knew it was a lie. It was obvious Tom had something to do with the missing cash in Brooklyn, but you’d bring that up later. You reached up finally, picking a piece of lint off his fine suit. You flicked it away. “Then you’ll help me.”

He glared a bit, as if it was offensive of you to ask him that. You reached up, playing with a loose curl that had fallen onto his forehead. He stiffened, but he didn’t move away. No one touched Tom Holland. Tom Holland could touch others, but others couldn’t touch Tom Holland. But he let you.

She must be from hell. Only those that have seen evil would think of asking Tom Holland for help.

“You know, daddy didn’t like the idea of asking you for help,” you sighed, as if it saddened you. “But I thought maybe if I came and asked...maybe you’d reconsider.”

She’s good. Too good. How pretty would she look on that desk?

“And why would I do that?” He asked. He stared at you blankly, his voice flat as he continued, “are you his whore?”

You laughed, stepping even closer, your chest against his.

“Oh, Tom...” You cooed a bit, “I’m not that desperate. I don’t need to lower my standards that much to get laid these days.”

The tension between the two of you was something you couldn’t describe. You both were breathing against each other’s skin, pressed so close. You wanted to touch him, and he wanted to touch you, but neither of you dared to move that far. There was fire between you, and you wanted more.

Don’t give in. He’d use you, abuse you, and lose you. You’re better than that, baby.

Before either of you could move any further, the door burst open, and Harrison came through, his curls untamed and messy and his clothes disheveled. His tie had been forced out of place, and a button had been ripped off. He was panting, and then he glared at you, holding up his gun towards you, pointed at your head.

“Check her, Tom. She’s packing,” he growled. Tom leaned back away from you, sitting on his desk again, and he stubbed the cigarette out. He knew from the moment you walked into the building that you had a gun on you. But he also knew you weren’t that stupid.

“Oh, did you meet Ri? You look like you have,” you grinned, and Harrison cocked the gun, coming close enough to press the barrel to your forehead. Your smile faded a bit, and you glared angrily. “You really don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, I think I fucking do,” he laughed bitterly, and you moved quickly. You brought your hand up to push his arm off target, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed your head and hit the wall behind you, and you kicked his knee in, grabbing the gun and popping the magazine out. You tossed the bullets before moving to hit him again, but Harrison was quick to recover. Just as he was about to grab you, Tom’s voice rang out.

“Harrison!” He snapped, and you both froze. “Stand down. Are you fucking mad?”

“She’s got a gun on her, I know it, and her and her bloody little minx are—”

“Enough,” Tom interrupted him. “My door was shut. That means I’m in a meeting. And you know I fucking hate interruptions, Harrison.”

The moment ended too quickly. You want more, don’t you, Tommy?

Harrison scoffed, looking between you and Tom, not believing what he was seeing. You pushed him away firmly, brushing yourself off, kicking his gun to the side. Up close, you thought a gun as a weapon was a coward’s choice.

“Do I have to fucking repeat myself?” Tom shifted in his place, and Harrison stepped back.

“Tom—”

“You know what I need,” you said finally, turning to look at Tom over your shoulder. “I’ve got a problem in Brooklyn, and I’d like your help. The reward’s good.”

Tom stared at you for a moment, and you reached to pick up your things, gathering your purse and jacket.

“I’ll be in touch then,” you shrugged, taking his silence as an answer. You hit Harrison’s shoulder as you left, shoving him aside, and Tom watched you the entire way, the sway in your step making his mouth water a bit. Harrison ran a hand through his messy curls, shaking his head.

“Tom, what the fuck is going on?”

Tom stood, reaching to pour himself another drink. He shook his head slightly, and the image of you was unable to leave his mind.

God, fuck, she’s dangerous. But doesn’t she look delicious?

“The little bird needs some help. And we’re going to give it to her.”

“Tom, a problem in Brooklyn? She wants help to...to what? Catch us?”

“Aye, but she doesn’t know that,” Tom took a long sip, smirking to himself. “And she’s here. The heiress to fucking everything, mate.”

“Everything?”

“That’s my answer,” Tom took a seat, leaning back, staring up at the ceiling. “I told you I wanted North America, and that’s how I’ll get it.”

“Tom, she’s a problem. You can’t just kill her, and you can’t kill her family. You’ll start a fucking war,” Harrison looked at him incredulously. He was convinced Tom had lost his mind. Tom had done a lot of stupid things in his life, but getting involved with established American mobster royalty had to be the stupidest idea he ever came up with.

“Not going to kill her,” Tom clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He closed his eyes as he thought.

“Then...then what the fuck are you going to do?”

Tom chuckled, “’s pretty simple, mate. I’m going to marry her.”

read chapter two

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland series #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #mob!tom #tom holland imagine

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webslinger-holland · 5 years ago

Text

The Royal Family | Chapter One

Summary: When two royal family’s decide to conjoin their countries, they arrange a marriage between their eldest children. Once the two royals meet, it takes a lot of convincing before they are ready to begin their reign together...

Warning: mentions of war and mentions of arranged marriage

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Type: The Royal Family Series

MASTERLIST

The palace was an old country mansion that had been extended over the centuries. It now had four sides around a central quadrangle and over five hundred rooms. It took a small army of servants to upkeep such a large abode and indeed most of the rooms were never really used.

The early hours of the morning were spreading the colors of the sunrise against the skyline. The clouds were tinted with a light pinkish and orangish glow, painting the most magnificent sight known to man. The early risen choir of birds were singing to themselves in a little chipper manner.

A young princess was currently sitting on the perch of her window. She was looking towards the gardens, spotting the small buds starting to sprout on some of the bushes. She liked to wake up early so she could watch the sunrise every morning.

She was still dressed in her white nightgown. Her nightgown was the beautiful color of pristine white. The soft and silky fabric trailed down the short stretch of her body to gather near her ankles. The layers of lace were stitched around the edge. The silky sleeves of the nightgown were trailing down to the end of her wrist, bunching into these tight cuffs around her wrists. The lace collar was also stitched to the hemline of the white nightgown. And a single ribbon was hanging down from the center of her chest, which dropped down the length of the gown.

This morning should have been no different than any other morning. The princess had stood to her feet, heading towards the other side of her bedroom. She pulled a long line of fabric that trailed to the ceiling. It acted as a lever that would be pulled to call for service from downstairs. She called for her lady’s maid.

Within a few moments, Elsie (the lady’s maid) had come into the princess’s bedroom with a towel draped over her forearm. She closed the solid wood mahogany behind her, bowing in respect.

“Good morning, Your Highness.” Elsie said with a soft smile. She was quick to move towards the princess’s white vanity, laying the neatly folded towel beside the porcelain basin of cold water.

“Good morning, Elsie.” The princess did not hesitate to walk back towards the window. She lifted her hand to brush the silky white curtains away, smiling at the beautiful sight in front of her. Her lady’s maid usually found her in the same spot every morning.

“It is a beautiful day outside, is it not?” Elsie wondered. She had gone to the mahogany wardrobe in the background, fetching the light blue dress that she would wear for the day. She opened the doors of the wardrobe, pulling out the new dress amongst the various other ones.

“It is indeed,”the princess agreed. She could only imagine the feel of the wind kissing her skin. She loved to spend her time walking through the gardens, admiring the nature around her. It didn’t take much convincing for her. “I think I would like to walk the gardens later,” the princess claimed.

“Of course, Your Highness. I’ll see to it,” Elsie promised. She had gently urged the young princess away from the window, so that she might be able to dress her for the day.

The young princess was able to slip out of her white nightgown, watching the soft material tumble to the ground. She was fitted into her corset, which only seemed to grow tighter every time she wore it. She threw the crinoline over her head, waiting for her lady’s maid to tie the ribbons around her waist. She was quick to glance towards the powder blue dress that was laying out for her. It was the final touch.

In the end, the princess looked at her own reflection in the shiny glass mirror. She gave a short twirl to admire her new dress. The powder blue dress sleeves were quite puffy. They only dropped down to her forearms, leaving her shoulders cold and bare. There were white and silver stitches of roses on the skirt of the dress. And a long blue ribbon was wrapped around her waist.

Now the princess had lowered herself into the chair by the white vanity. She didn’t mind her lady’s maid brushing the hard knots out of her hair. She was used to it by now. Instead, the princess was looking through her small boxes of jewelry to find the perfect necklace and earrings to complete her outfit for the day. She would settle on some priceless diamonds.

At the given moment, one of the hall boys had knocked on the princess’s bedroom door. The heavy door had opened at a very slow pace. The hall boy had poked his head into the room, drawing the attention of the princess.

“Your Highness,” the hall boy said. He was quick to step into the grand bedroom, bowing to her in the utmost form of respect. He was here to deliver a message. “The king is requesting your presence in the throne room,” the hall boy explained.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep the king waiting. I will be there soon,” the princess dismissed him. The hall boy had scurried out of the room so that he could deliver his message to the king himself. He had almost forgotten to bow his head before leaving the princess’s presence.

She quickly stood to her feet. She draped her hands down the long length of her brand new dress, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles. She headed towards the large mahogany door in the background, leaving her bedroom that was secured by two palace guards. She barely even noticed them bowing their heads at her.

The Eastern Princess had known the whole layout of the palace like the back of her hand. She had started to maneuver her way through the various corridors in the palace. She would smile at each of the servants that she passed along the way, though not many of them would catch it because their heads were bowed. She quickly hurried down the long length of the corridor, heading straight towards the throne room.

The heavy doors of the throne were opened to the princess by the two palace guards. The throne room was an impressive setting for the king to preside 'in majesty' over official ceremonies, to hold council, to grant audiences, to receive homage, to award high honors and offices, and to perform other official functions. It was probably one of the most popular room in the palace.

The long pillars that stretched to the ceiling were made out of pure gold. The ceiling was a dome, decorated with very precise golden details. The line of chandeliers were sparkling in the morning light coming through the bay windows. The white marble floors were practically glistening because they had been scrubbed to perfection the night before. The king’s throne sat at the very end of the room.

The current monarch was definitely living in his last days. He was the most kind and gentle king that the kingdom had grown to know over the years. He was able to be attended to by the various servants in the palace. He also had many health complications, but he refused to make that announcement public to the press in fear that the word might travel. He was very wise in that sense.

The king was perched on the grand golden throne at the end of the hallway. His crown was placed on his head, which he never really wore unless there was someone coming to the palace. He had long white hair and a long beard on his face. His light blue eyes were shining. He smiled down at his only daughter.

“You called for me?” Y/N claimed. She was quick to approach his throne, crouching down to reside by his feet. This was something that she had always done as a child. She looked up at him with warm and gentle eyes.

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you about something,” the king admitted. He was already dreading having this talk with his daughter. He never talked to her about the things going on in the kingdom. He felt that it would only worry her more. He also did not like to talk business with her, because it was a burden that she didn’t need to bare.

“Alright,” the princess urged him.

“Many months ago, the King of the North had contacted me with a business proposition that would benefit the both of us.” The king began.“He feared that (with his passing) the Western Kingdom would try to overthrow the Northern Kingdom. I will admit that I have also had these kinds of thoughts in regards to my own kingdom. It is the worst case in my scenario because (unlike him) I do not have an heir who can inherit the title of king,” he further explained.

“You only have me,” the princess said. Her choice of words had come out in a very sad way. She could feel a rough pinch at her heart, because she was constantly reminded of her low position in society. She was ‘just a woman’ whose only purpose in life was to be married to some prince and bare his children. She would never amount to anything in this day and age.

“The king proposes that we should conjoin our two kingdoms together with a special treaty. That way we might be able to stand a chance against the westerners,” the king concluded.

“How would you conjoin the kingdoms though?” The princess wondered. She had furrowed her eyebrows together in thought. She was leaning forward in her place, growing more eager to hear his business proposition. She could only imagine what kind of treaty he would come up with.

“Well, the king has a son.” The king spoke in such a suggestive tone of voice. He had tried to make it look like he didn’t have the whole thing planned out in his mind. Like the idea had just popped into his head at that specific moment.

“Oh father,” Princess Y/N sighed to herself. She rolled her eyes at him. She was quick to stand to her feet again. She had turned her back to him, climbing back down the short steps. She wasn’t very amused with his comment. “Please don’t try to marry me off to some snobbish schoolboy prince,” she pleaded.

“He is not a snobbish prince. He is a highly respectable and honorable young man,” the king scoffed. He was trying to reason with his stubborn daughter. He pulled out one of his other cards. “I have even met him before. I think that he would be good for you,” the king claimed.

“You have said that before,” the princess called. This was not the first time that the king had tried to marry her off to some prince. She had played the game ‘match-maker’ far too many times to count. She was honestly tired of it now. “And I have told you before that I want to marry for love,” the princess demanded.

“You could learn to love him,” the king proposed. He had almost winced at his own choice of words, fearing her reaction. He was still trying to reason with her, mentally hoping that she would just cave in at some point.

“I highly doubt that,” the princess laughed. She had turned her head to look over the small stretch of her shoulder, shaking her head in denial. She just couldn’t bare the thought of being married off to some random stranger.

“Well, you will have plenty of time to think it over because I have invited them to stay at the palace for a couple weeks,” the king concluded. He had forced himself to stand to his feet, leaving his gold throne behind him. He looked down at his daughter with a triumphant smile on his face.

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed. She had whirled around to face him. She was looking up at him with the look of horror on her face. Her mouth had dropped open at his words. She couldn’t believe it.

“They will be coming later this afternoon,” the king remarked. He had started to walk down the short steps leading up to his throne, stopping to stand in front of his lovely daughter. He tapped her chin gentle. “Do try to be civil, my dear,” the king pleaded with her.

“Fine,” the princess sighed to herself. “I will try,” the princess promised.

Within a few hours, a beautiful golden carriage was being drawn by four white horses towards the frontside of the king’s palace. The large carriage had come to a full stop in front of the palace staircase leading to the front door. The carriage doors were opened by two palace guards on the sidelines.

The King of the North had climbed out of the golden carriage with ease. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, watching his two twin boys climbing out behind him. His eldest was the last one to clamber out of the carriage. He had shifted to stand beside his father, directing his line of focus towards the magnificent palace in front of them.

The four of them were being escorted through the various corridors of the palace. The king was leading the way. The princes were following behind him, but they were greatly intrigued by the intricate detail engraved into the gold pillars that stretched down the corridor. They knew that this kingdom was well known for their gold, but they did not realize how much of it was incorporated into very single aspect of the palace.

The two palace guards were quick to grab onto the door handles leading into the throne room, opening the two doors for them to enter. The four northerners had started walking towards the large throne at the end of the hallway, stopping to stand in front of the king. The four of them bowed in respect.

“Welcome to the Eastern Kingdom,” the King of the East said. He nodded to them in acknowledgment. He had raised his hands in greeting, gesturing to the great halls around him. He wore a grand smile on his face.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” The King of the North spoke. He was slow to lift his head up to look towards the other king in front of him. He hadn’t seen the other king in quite some time. His lips had grown into a friendly smile on his face. “It was very kind of you to invite me and my boys to stay here for a few weeks,” the North King said.

The two kings had started to engage in short conversation. The two younger princes were standing beside each other. They had turned their heads to look towards the young princess standing in their company. The older prince could feel a sharp nudge in his side coming from one of his brothers. He could see his brother gesturing towards someone standing in front of them.

Slowly, Prince Thomas had turned his head to follow his brother’s line of sight. He found himself gazing at the young princess standing on the side of the throne, feeling his breath getting caught in his throat at the mere sight of her. He had never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire life. He felt that, if she smiled at him, he might just dissolve into dust right there. He wanted her to smile...at him.

On the sidelines, the princess had turned her head to look at the three princes standing beside their father. She had caught one of them looking directly at her. She had just briefly glanced at their matching navy blue and silver uniforms. She was also able to notice that the three princes were much younger than she would have thought for most of the princes that she had met before were much older than her. She would admit that she found them quite handsome.

“Are these your boys?” The King of the East wondered. He found himself looking towards the three princes standing in front of him, gesturing to them with his hand. He took a second to inspect each of them, but he was able to identify the one prince that he had met one other time.

“Yes, they are. These are my three eldest children. This is Sam and Harry,” the king said with a nod of the head. He was quick to turn towards his three boys, so that he could introduce them to the king. He motioned towards each of them with the slight move of the hand. “And this one is my eldest whom you have met—Thomas,” the king concluded.

“It is a pleasure to meet you again,” the Eastern King said. He could barely contain the smile from growing on his face. He knew that it had been a few years since he had seen the prince last. But he had seen him grow into a very handsome young man.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Prince Thomas complimented him. He had bowed his head down once again to show some more respect to the king. He looked up at the king with a timid look on his face, mentally hoping that he would gain his favor.

“May I present to you my only daughter?” The King of the East proposed in such a suggestive tone. He had glanced down at his daughter standing at the lower level of steps leading up to the throne. He waved his hand to gesture towards her.

Of course, the King of the North and the King of the East had known in advance that the prince and princess were going to be the sole members of the treaty between their countries. The two kings had turned their heads to look at each other with slight amusement written on their faces. They smirked in an all-knowing manner.

Now the prince and princess had also been informed about this treaty between their countries. They had been told that they would be married to each other, so that their kingdoms might be able to stand a chance against their enemies. It was only natural for them to blush at the king’s suggestive comment.

Slowly, Prince Thomas had found himself walking towards the young princess standing in front of him. He could see that (with each step he took) he was able to admire some of the more delicate details of her face. He watched her raise her hand towards him.

“Your Highness. It’s an honor to finally meet you,” Prince Thomas confessed. He was careful to bring her hand towards his face, pressing the most delicate kiss onto the back of her hand. He lifted his head to look up at her, feeling the smile growing on his face. “You truly are the most beautiful princess in the land,” Prince Thomas complimented.

The young princess had almost grown tense under his stare. Her breath had caught in the back of her throat, so she was unable to form any words. She felt this tingly sensation on the back of her hand where his lips had touched her soft skin. Her cheeks had started to grow pink and rosy at his words.

“My dear,” the king of the east called to her. He had tried to pull her back to reality. He could already acknowledge that she was probably caught up in her own thoughts right then and there. “Why don't you show the young princes to their rooms? They can get some rest before dinner,” the king suggested.

“Oh yes,” the princess said in a cheery tone of voice. She was hesitant to pull her hand out of the prince’s. She didn’t turn her head to even acknowledge the king’s command. She was too caught up in the prince’s strong stare. “I will take them there,” the princess concluded.

The Northern Prince had never heard anything more beautiful than the words that came out of her mouth. He didn’t even notice that his hand was back at his side. He didn’t even want to draw his eyes away from her. His heart started to flutter wildly in his chest upon seeing the kindest and warmest gesture in the world. She had smiled at him.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland series #tom holland royalty #tom holland!royal #tom holland!royalty #tom holland!king #tom holland!prince #tom holland x reader

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tickle-bugs · 3 years ago

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🍰 💻 💖 🌝 for the fanfic asks <3

Find the ask meme here!

Thanks for asking!!! <3

I answered 🍰 here!

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

Yes!!! I did research for High Maintenance about how to respectfully portray prosthetic maintenance, plus about an hour of scrubbing through screenshots and clips to figure out how Bucky's arm worked (this was pre-FATWS, so no detachable arm yet, so I had to make something up on my own). I did some minor research for Learned Behaviors too, but that was more me combing through the bestiary to add creatures into the background.

My deepest dive was for the Home Again series, because there is a lot of Star Trek lore, and I really wanted to create a version of Bones's home that paid homage to the original lore but was uniquely mine and fit his character :)

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I have a very hard time giving myself compliments so this one is...hard to answer. I like to think I really understand characters and have good characterization most of the time? Like I very easily understand how most characters think and how to give them their own unique dialogue, because I just get them! So when it comes to actually writing the fics, I think that is what I'm consistently most proud of.

When I think of my fics that I don't like, I still (usually) tend to vibe with the characterization aspect. So, uh, yeah! I would say my characterization is, perhaps, spicy :)

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Peter Parker! Though the MCU version of him isn't my favorite (*blows kiss @ the stars for Insomniac Games's Spider-Man*), Tom Holland gave Peter some really cute mannerisms and I think my favorite character syndrome would really shine through on a fic with him.

The reason I haven't written him yet, aside from a lack of ideas, is that I feel weird about writing tickles with him and the Avengers, because of the minor/adult power balance. Even with Tony. It's not that I wouldn't write them, I just have to get a better grip on my personal boundaries and how I want to execute them. So, yeah, I'm still processing how I want to go about him interacting with the Avengers, since they're a huge part of his life, plus cracking MJ's dialogue so it feels as natural as the others.

(I've been tossing around an idea for a fic, but I'm not super in love with it. We'll see what happens.)

Thanks again for asking!!!! I appreciate you <3

#ask meme answers #sillyfeathers #thx for asking lovely!!!#one of the projects on my list is to rewrite the Home Again series tbh before I finish pt 3 so...more research for meeeee (in a good way)

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borhapparker · 6 years ago

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holland’s scrubs | chapter seven “The Night Shift” (part 2 of 2)

a/n: a big ass thank you to danika ( @spider-girlwanab / @spidergirlwanab ) for helping me heal and craft this incredible chapter. i owe everything to you. muchisimas gracias. i hope you guys enjoy. i also encourage you to read the previous chapter if you haven’t. you won’t understand the reason behind what’s going on in this chapter. do me a favor and click “previous chapter” and read!! (:

word count: 3k

Previous Chapter | series masterlist | full masterlist

A half hour after the altercation with Harrison and Derek, all of the attendings and doctors were paged into the conference room. All of them started to pile in, as Skye and Danika waked in last, heading to the front. All of them sat in chairs, some leaning against the wall while Danika addressed them.

“So, I know you are all aware of the altercation we had half an hour ago regarding two interns and Skye. Due to this, we have decided to bring everyone together to decide if we will be firing these two interns or if we should give them a chance.” Danika paused, as all the doctors nodded, and she continued, “Did anyone see or hear about what happened?”

All the doctors nodded, as Irene addressed the room full of doctors. “Did we check in with the patient to see if their symptoms are the ones that the intern told you?”

Danika nodded, “It was, indeed a domestic violence case, and the drip had a nerve block for the pain of her two broken ribs. So, anyone want to start?”

Irene steps up, as she addresses the whole room, the doctors turning to look at her. “I heard the commotion between both interns before the fight began. Derek did indeed insult Harrison.”

TC quickly cut in, turning to look at Irene, “I’m sorry, but who are you?” he stopped, not letting her answer as he commented on her opinion, “I think we should give the kid a chance. I’ve done this before and this has happened at the hospital before. He defended a friend and fellow co-worker as well as fix a problem with a patient a nurse couldn’t. He should stay.”

“I’m the OB/GYN in charge.” Irene said as Skye cut in.

“She’s cool, TC, don’t worry.”

He only nodded, as Z spoke up, “Irene’s right. We did hear the commotion, and even though it could’ve been for a good reason, we can’t let that slide here. We have rules for a reason. I think Harrison should go.”

Drew stopped her, “Wait, what about the other intern, Derek? The one who started with the comments?”

“I think we should give him a chance. He was the victim, after all.” Z said, as Drew angrily chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“That’s unacceptable. We can’t let some mediocre intern who couldn’t do something as easy as a simple stitch on a patient or even place and IV correctly stay, while one of our top students leaves.” he argued, a couple other doctors pitched in.

“Harrison should be given another chance and Derek should know that simple things like placing an IV correctly, doing a full workup on a patient or even correcting a stitching could determine his status as a doctor. He should know that for a simple mistake, there will be consequences.” TC explains.

“Okay, wait a minute,” Irene interrupts the group, “Look, we all know this wasn’t okay at any point in time, but we can’t blame Harrison. Do you all remember when Danika and Skye got into a fight with some other interns during their first year? Because it sure looks like we’ve been here before.”

Topher, Drew, and TC looked at Danika and Skye, confusion on their faces, as both doctors shared a look.

“I knew Danika was one for getting into trouble but I didn’t picture you as an agitator Skye,” TC chuckled, as Danika glared at him before looking at Seb.

Skye tried to divert the attention from her friend, as she started reminiscing. “Well basically when we were interns, one of our fellow co-workers had been given a surgery after he stole an answer from me.”

“That son of a bitch is really going to get away with it, isn’t he?” Danika scoffed as Skye shrugged, heading to pick up some labs. “It’s not fair! You have to say something. That was clearly supposed to be your surgery, Skye”

“How about we just let him be?” Skye said, as she grabbed the labs, before turning around and encountering the ‘son of a bitch’.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Miss Know it all. Grabbing labs, I see?”

“What do you want, Ian?” Skye asked with a monotone voice.

“Well, I’m off to my surgery with Doctor Lancaster. So I just wanted to let you know that your patient will be taken care of,” he said, as he gave her a petulant smile.

“I doubt he will really be in good hands if the doctor in that OR had to steal an answer to get it,” Skye said, as Ian only scoffed.

“Oh please, we both know the reason you didn’t get that surgery is because the attending was so busy looking for your boobs that he couldn’t hear what you were saying. Besides, no one in their right mind would ever let you do anything more than hold a retractor.” Ian claimed as Skye clenched her jaw and balled her fist in anger.

“Back of moron, everyone knows about what happened last time you were in charge of a patient,” Danika cut it.

“Now you need your girlfriend to defend you, how cute.” Ian said as his girlfriend, another fellow intern, joined the conversation.

“Everything okay, honey?” she asked, arm wrapped around his bicep, as both Danika and Skye glared at her.

“Yeah babe, don’t worry about it.”

“Your boyfriend stole the surgery from under my friend, that’s what happening honey.” Danika said, as Lisa only scoffed, smirk on her face.

“You two are just jealous that we’re better than you. Look at this sad little pair,” she turned to her boyfriend and then Skye, “No boy wants a girl who can’t even look the proper age, and that hair is a disaster,” she walked over, as she pulled on a strand, Skye pushing her away. “Oh look, she fights back, how fun,” she said, using a patronizing tone.

Skye’s fist was starting to move up when Ian stepped closer to her, making their height difference clearer.

“What are you going to do dopey?” he said as both girls lost it.

Danika’s hand connected with Ian’s nose first. He stumbled backwards as his girlfriend tried to pull on Danika’s hair. Skye caught her arm and twisted it away but her other hand came directly at her face, scratching it. Danika was now repeatedly punching Ian, straddling his waist as she muttered a sentence under her breath that only he could hear.

“No one calls my friend one of the seven dwarves but me,” she said between punches.

As this happened Lisa and Skye were about to hit a wall when two attendings swooped in to break up the fight.

Everyone in the room stared at Skye as she told the tale.

“So you fought some intern because he stole your surgery?” someone asked.

“First of all he was a crappy doctor and he would’ve killed that patient.” Danika stated.

“In the end we explained the whole situation and the hospital decided to keep us. Besides the guy and his girlfriend were both let go after they were questioned about the case and didn’t know how to answer.” Skye claryfied.

The doctors pondered over the new information, some whispering about the two doctors and giving them disapproving looks.

“Anyway, we should let the interns state their case.” Seb cut in.

“He’s right, we should hear both sides,” Danika agreed.

“Of course you think he’s right.” TC muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, do you have a problem?” Seb addressed him.

“On the contrary, bring the boys in. Let’s see what they have to say.” TC used a challenging tone building up the tension.

“Alright boys, let’s leave the measuring contest for later and concentrate on what really matters,” Irene cut in.

The interns were notified. Each one of them waited outside the conference room for their turn to tell their version of the mishap of the night. Derek got to step in first. He had changed his bloody scrubs for a spare and was not holding anything near his nose anymore. His perfect hair seemed to be unaffected by the altercation and his dazzling smile greeted the doctors inside the room. As he recounted the events of the night he couldn’t help but try to charm his way out of the mess. He claimed to be a perfect nurse in duty and a concerned doctor who felt his patient needed a shoulder to cry on. The doctors questioned his technique, his knowledge on the case and after an hour of expressing how supposedly sorry he was the he helped cause a scene, he was let out of the room. The doctors left inside conferred. Some of them buying his act, other still open to hear what the other intern had to say.

Harrison waited sitting next to Tom, tapping his foot, telling his friend exactly what had happened. He lost control of himself. He was aware of the gravity of this situation. The whole incident could end his career.

“There’s something you’re not telling me mate,” Tom insisted. “This has something to do with Allison, doesn’t it?”

Tom was always able to hit the nail in the head when it came to Harrison. Allison, his girlfriend from college had broken up with him after rumors of her screwing a faculty member had started going around. It had destroyed Harrison. Not only because he loved her but because she confirmed the rumors to him and used them as a way to leave him. He had become ‘dull’, ‘boring’ and ‘childish’, that’s how she justified her cheating on him. What he hated the most was other students insisting that she was only after academic benefits and him being a target of jokes around campus.

“Are you sleeping with Dr. Rojas?” Harrison blurted out.

“Don’t try to change the subject, I haven’t gotten laid since we started working here,” Tom answered sternly. “Besides I don’t think she would let me.”

“Sleep with her?” Harrison looked at him.

“No, get laid,” they both chuckled. “I’m her right hand man, I need to stay sharp.”

“I don’t know man,” Harrison sighed. “It’s just that when that dumbass said that it was like going back to being ‘the guy whose girlfriend slept her way to the top’ and that just got to me.”

“And now that dumbass is in there smiling his way out of trouble,” Tom completed. “You’ll get your turn to tell the truth,” he patted his friend’s back.

“I just hope they believe the right person,” the door opened and Derek walked out rubbing his face in exasperation. Danika’s popped up from the side of the door.

“Osterfield, you’re up,” she looked between the pair of friends. “McDreamy go get the other pretty one and check on my post-op patients.”

“Yes sir,” he said without giving it much thought. “I mean ma’am,” he cringed once more. “I mean, Dr. Rojas”

“Just go.” she said as he whispered an ‘okay’ and left. “Ready?”

Harrison took a deep breath and nodded. As he entered the room he sensed some tension between certain doctors which could go against him if the wrong people decided to take his side. He took a seat and began answering questions. Everything fast forward in his mind. He would instantly forget the question when he was done with his answer. He even had a hard time processing what words were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t know if he was giving the right answers or whether the doctors understood what he was saying. He shut down completely.

“Thank you for your statement, Mr. Osterfield,” a doctor he didn’t know escorted him outside of the room and just like that his fate was in the hands of a dozen doctors.

The first one to break the silence was Drew.

“I think we have enough information to make a decision,” everyone nodded. “Stand on the right if you think Derek should stay and Harrison should go,” people shuffled around the room “Stand on the left if you think Harrison should stay and Derek should go.” Once more the crowd moved around. Drew counted people on each side. “Looks like it’s a tie” he sentenced and looked at Danika, who hadn’t taken a side yet.

“I’ll go notice them then,” she said as she stepped out.

Everyone started leaving the conference room and going back to their business. Skye went to get properly admitted on Seb’s request. Irene and Z went back to their consult in the pit. The night shift doctors went back to their patients and interns.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” TC told Drew and Topher.

They brushed it off and kept walking. TC jogged to catch up with Danika.

“Rojas!” he called out.

She pretended not to hear and kept walking. When he finally caught up with her she kept ignoring him. He grabbed her arm and she yanked it away.

“What?” she said, nostrils flared.

“I need to know that you’re going to do the right thing,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, like you care about these kids.” she kept walking.

“I do.” he stepped right in front of her.

“Give me a reason why I should listen to what you have to say.” she emphasized on the word ‘you’.

“Don’t let the past get in the way of a kid’s whole future career.” he insisted. “You can’t be this petty.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” she tried to walk past him but failed.

“You want to hate me? Fine, go ahead! But don’t let the fact that it’s me defending that kid get in the way of his career. You know who’s side I stood on. I didn’t just do it because I had so, I did because I believe in him and what he can do. He will become a fine doctor someday but only if we provide him with the tools and education to do so.” he stepped aside. “You still have time to make up your mind.”

She gave him one last glance and made her way to the anxious interns. They both glanced up as they heard her steps.

“The decision hasn’t been made yet.” she cleared her throat, “While the deliberation continues you will not touch a single patient. You will file paperwork and try not to fuck things up even more. Understood?” they nodded. “Osterfield, you’re in Peds and Shaw you’re in Ortho.”

They scattered as she went looking for her best friend. She found herself next to Seb, looking at Skye getting a CT. She plummeted onto a chair and sighed.

“I thought you were in the plastics posse.” Seb chuckled.

“I was very close to specializing in neuro,” he said concentrating on the scans. “You decided yet?”

“She didn’t even hit her head,” Danika pointed out.

“Don’t change the subject,” he gave her a quick glance. She pointed at the intercom and mouthed the question ‘is this on?’ to which Sebastian proceeded to shake his head. “Come on, tell me what’s really going on, why can’t you decide?”

“Stupid TC vouched for his candidate. He tried to give a very convincing speech.”

“The problem is…” he waited for her to finish.

“The problem is I still hate him for what he did to us, for what he did to you,” Seb looked at her and grabbed her hand.

“You already know what to decide, otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me,” he pointed out. “You would be tossing a coin. You know he’s right in some level and you don’t want to face it.”

She looked away. He knew her like the back of his hand and she hated that. He knew how to push her buttons, what moved her and what her thought process was like.

“Fine.” she didn’t really like saying he was right.

“I’m glad you think I’m right, now please go end those kids’ suffering.” he squeezed her hand and she nodded before walking out.

She headed to the Peds section, as she found Harrison at the nurse’s station, filling out paperwork for patients, signing the papers and entering them into the database. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up, noticing Danika, as he stopped what he was working on.

“Osterfield, come with me.” she motioned for him to get up and he did, following her to a room in the same hall.

He was visibly nervous. Hands shaking, look weary as he made eye contact with Danika. She motioned for him to sit on a cot, as he did, wringing his hands together.

“Did you make a decision?” he asked her as she nodded.

“I did.”

She paused, Harrison waiting for the answer to spill from her lips.

“I’m fired, aren’t I?” he didn’t wait for her to answer, as he stood, slightly shaking his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have spoken up, that was a bad idea. I’m an idiot for having stood up for Tom, fuck, no other hospital is going to hire me. I’ll clear my stuff out of my locker right now.” he mumbled as Danika stopped him.

Looking up, he made eye contact with her.

“Calm down.” she smiled, “It’s always been you, Osterfield. Derek left the hospital premises hours ago.”

“But.. you sent him to Ortho.” Harrison argued as she shook her head.

“Dr. Sebastian was waiting there to escort him out.” she said, sitting down on a cot as he sat opposite from her. “It wasn’t tough having to make this decision. You vouched for yourself and made the right choice by fixing the patient’s mistakes. A nurse shouldn’t have a misplaced IV and a stitch, you were right. So don’t beat yourself up about it.” she sighed, “Just.. don’t beat others up because they insult your mates, please. I don’t want to have to go before the committee and explain the behavior of one of my interns.”

Harrison nodded, as he stood up alongside her, before bringing her into a hug. “Thank you.”

She smiled, squeezing him before letting go and giving his shoulder a playful punch. “Now, get out there. We still have two hours left.”

“Yes Dr. Rojas.” he smiled once more before leaving the room, as Danika sighed in relief.

tags:

@friendlyeightleggedbro @tomhollandish @hollandfics @hazhasmycoffee @darling-marvel @hollandroos @theimpossiblehologramtree @desperately-bisexual @elioelioeli0 @hi-mishamigos @trashqueenbitch @pbnjparker @drxgxnslxyer @cosmetologynerd @inspiredbynewt @bucky-smiles @stormyparker @hannah-risacher33 @discodeak

#skye's writing #hollands scrubs fic series #tom holland #sam holland #harry holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland imagines #harry holland imagines #sam holland imagines #harrison osterfield imagines #surgical intern!tom #surgical intern!sam #surgical intern!harry #surgical intern!harrison

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readingwithalyssaa · 5 years ago

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Recommended fics Masterlist

None of these fics are mine! They are just fics and blurbs that i enjoyed and wanted to share! I do not own them

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Ethan Dolan

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ao3feed-petermj · 4 years ago

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by coykoi, Jsscshvlr

“MJ, I’m trying...I’m trying to keep you safe. And trust me when I say you’re safer not knowing,” Peter pleads.

“I don’t see how or why that would be the case since it’s not going to change what you are.” Michelle is at least sixty-seven percent sure she knows what he is, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

“What am I, then?” he asks, and his voice goes cold as if he’s trying to distance himself from her already.

Michelle hesitates, figuring she can at least mess with him once as she says, “Spider-Man.”

“What?” Peter’s eyes get wide and he coughs, scrubbing his jaw with his hand. “I—I’m not Spider-Man. I mean...not anymore.”

or: a twilight au

Words: 9096, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Two is Better than One

Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Harry Osborn, Felicia Hardy, Flash Thompson, May Parker (Spider-Man)

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker

Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, peter can be a prick confirmed, they're in LOVE your honour, jess and jill having the time of their lives atp, ALL THE BEST, we are taking liberties, mj is mj aka not pathetic ty

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #peter parker #michelle jones #peter x michelle #peter x MJ

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commander-rahrah · 5 years ago

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RESIDENCY (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART TWENTY - THE FINALE

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: M (Swearing, and just to be safe honestly!)

Word Count: 4200+

Description: Jordynne’s Ethics Hearing is finally here. But what does this mean for all of them? (Majority in Bryce’s POV!)

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Welp at least I did my goal of releasing the final chapter before OH Book 2! This fic did take me a lot longer then I thought it would -- but I did it!! YAY! This is the first time I have ever actually completed a fic! I most definitely will be continuing the story of Jordynne, Bryce and Ethan for Residency 2.0 (is that what I’ll call it?). Thank you so so so much for everyone who has read the series along the way, and for all the comments, likes and reblogs! It means so much! I hope everyone enjoys and is excited for OH2 to come out on Saturday!!!!!

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374 @lahelable @mayar-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @llamasgrl @timmagicktoad @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @mfackenthal @paulfwesley @ccolz88-blog @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous @lapisreviewsstuff @choicesarehard @themingdynasty @omgjasminesimone @hopelessly-shipper @binny1985 @perriewinklenerdie @jens-diamondchoices @indiacater @chasingrobbie @writingsbymissy @dimitriwife @tacohead13 @amy-choices @violinet

Previous Updates: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen

Previous Update

PART TWENTY

Bryce jiggled his knee nervously — it was hidden under the table, out of anyone’s eyesight. He was picking at the food in front of him — his fork lazily spinning around the take out Chinese food.

The roommates had ordered it — and invited him over. He had accepted, as he really had started to feel like he was becoming one of them — but with everything going on he just couldn’t enjoy himself.

He still hadn’t heard from Jordynne — the last he had seen of her was her whirling around the library like a tornado. And even then it was all medicine and science.

“So, has any heard from Jordynne? Is Doctor Banerji okay?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, not yet. Maybe she won’t come home again.” Jackie shrugged as she chewed lazily.

“What you mean?” His eyebrows furrowed, setting his fork down.

Sienna flashed Jackie a look.

She kept chewing, before opening her mouth again, “I mean she didn’t come home last night either. Maybe she won’t tonight.” She shrugged.

“Oh.”

Bryce felt his heart go up into his throat — he did his best to keep it down. She hadn’t come home last night — the night she went to see Ethan.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions. And he didn’t have any right to. He had been through this. Over and over and over and over. Hell, he had told the guy to stop fucking it up with her already. To do something about it.

So why did he still feel this way?

A couple hours later he was wedged onto the sectional — his coffee-colored eyes glazed over as they huddled around the television. Elijah was talking animatedly about Battlestar Galactica but only Sienna was really showing an interest.

The rattle of keys in the front door caused his ears to perk up, and he watched as Jordynne slid in through the front door. He was like a dog waiting for his owner to come home — Bryce practically jumped up off of the couch.

She gave them a tired smile and a quiet “hey” as she pulled her messenger bag over her head. Using her toes, she kicked off her shoes.

“Hey,” The group called back in unison. Sienna grabbed the remote from Elijah’s lap and paused the show.

“How’s Dr. Banerji?!” Elijah asked — his brown eyes wide.

Right — Dr. Banerji. God, how selfish was he being? A man was on his death bed and he was consumed in his own thoughts of him and Jordynne and her with Ethan.

“It’s hard to tell. Ethan did the phage therapy. Now we just wait.” She shrugged — she looked exhausted.

“You didn’t stay?” Jackie asked — the question seemed double-edged.

Jordynne bit down on her bottom lip, “They needed some time. And I still haven’t prepared for the hearing.”

Her blue eyes found Bryce’s dark ones — he hesitated as she stared at him. They studied each other for a moment, before he coughed, “Well, I can help you prep for it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Bryce shook his head, “Then make sure you get to stay at Edenbrook? No way.”

She smiled — but it looked forced. The edges of it faltered before she turned towards the kitchen. “Chinese food? Yum! Can I have some?” Her voice sounded a little higher than usual.

“Yeah, help yourself, Jordy.” Elijah waved, craning his neck to look back at her. He and Sienna shared a look — they were just as concerned as he was.

“Well, I’m dipping out. No more Number Six for me guys. Do you need help with the prep Holland?” Jackie asked, her arms crossed over her torso.

Jordynne finished swallowing a mouthful of noodles, “No that’s okay. Those old cases you sent me are more than enough. Thanks.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow.” She turned on her heel and headed to her bedroom. Bryce watched Jordynne’s face fall again before she dipped her face to continue to eat.

“We can watch the rest of the show in E’s room — so you can study out here.” Sienna reached for the remote — but Jordynne cut her off.

“Oh my gosh, no, please. I’ve ruined enough evenings for you guys as is. I will study in my room.” She placed her bowl in the sink, padding towards her room. “Seriously, I love you guys.” She smiled back at them before slipping into her bedroom.

She left the door ajar.

“Thanks for the Chinese food guys. I’ll transfer you money tomorrow.” Bryce said, still standing in the middle of the living room.

“Sure man, no worries.” Elijah nodded — a kind but sad smile on his face.

Taking a breath, Bryce headed over to her bedroom — knocking on the open door.

“Hey,” Jordynne turned around from her dresser — a binder in her hands. “Thanks for offering to help — you don’t have to you know.”

“I know.” He said, carefully stepping into the room. “I want to.”

She shuffled through a large stack of papers — they were highlighted and flagged in organized chaos. “So I’ve reviewed all these previous ethics hearing and I thought maybe you could listen to what I have prepared and —,”

“Jordy?” He tried to get her attention but she kept mumbling on.

“And then maybe you can just help me sound more confident? You’re good at that so if —“

“Jordynne.” He stepped forward, putting his hands on either shoulder. “Breathe.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “Right, yeah.”

The pair sat on the edge of her bed — the mattress sinking at the weight.

“How are you?”

“Well, Naveen is stable so that’s better and as long as I—“

But he interrupted, “No, Jordynne. How are you?”

“I’m alright.” She sighed, “Tired. And nervous. You?”

“I’m okay,” He whispered, putting on a smile. “How’s Ethan?” Her face twisted with surprise at the mention of his name. “I’m sure this has been just as hard for him. Especially with Dr. Banerji.”

“Right — yeah, he’s come to terms with a lot of things. But he’s okay.”

“I saw him — a couple nights ago,” He admitted. “He was a mess, honestly. I’m glad it sounds like he’s doing better.”

“Me too.” She agreed, but her voice was quiet.

They sat in silence for a moment — side by side, legs just barely touching.

“Are you sure you want me here?” Bryce asked — his brown eyes big as he looked over to her.

She met his eyes — searching them, “Yeah. Yeah — I do.”

“Then this is where I’ll be.” He settled into the mattress, folding his hands onto his stomach, “Let's hear this speech, Jordy.”

She nodded with a small smile, “Okay.” She grabbed onto one of the pieces of paper and settled in next to him. _______________________________________________________________________

Bryce sat in the tight auditorium chair — his green scrubs riding up uncomfortably. Most of the hospital staff had packed themselves into the space — nobody had wanted to miss this.

Jordynne was standing up front — her face and demeanor calm as she listened to the panelists. She looked amazing — wearing a crisp, white suit that accentuated her long legs and tan skin. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

They had just returned from the recess — after Mrs. Martinez’s son showed up and surprised everyone by thanking Jordynne for what she had done.

“Dr. Holland, you stand accused of not just breaking Edenbrook’s policies, but the Hippocratic Oath.”

“First, ‘do no harm’. You broke your vow as a doctor.” Dr. Cyrus chimed in.

“I don’t believe I did,” Jordynne stated.

“I see. Might I ask, what you think it means to be a doctor then?” Bryce’s surgical attending asked.

“What it means to be a doctor? It means fighting the inevitable,” Her green eyes searched the crowd as she said it. Bryce couldn’t see who -- but he didn’t need to see in order to know who she was looking for. “They say that as doctors, we’re just buying time. We all die eventually. But time isn’t always what we need. Mrs. Martinez would’ve rather spent 10 days doing what she loved than 10 years cooped up here. Since we all lose that fight eventually... I’m gonna fight to make sure my patients fight on their own terms.”

The crowd burst into applause. That was the speech that they had practiced all night. And that was the best version yet.

“I have one last question, Dr. Holland? Do you regret what you have done?”

“I regret the pain I’ve caused.” She turned to Mr. Martinez, sitting next to Ethan Ramsey — apparently, that was his doing. “I regret all the pain I caused Mrs. Martinez’s family. I regret causing problems for my colleagues and mentors.” She looked over to their group, meeting their eyes. “But I do not regret what I was able to do for Mrs. Martinez. To me, it’s worth everything. Maybe even my career.” She shrugged, pursing her lips into a serious line.

“And there we have it! Dr. Holland knowingly broke the rules and would do it again! I move that we stop wasting time and call a vote!” Dr. Cyrus slammed his hand onto the table.

“Seconded. The seven panelists will now vote whether to revoke Dr. Holland’s privileges at Edenbrook.” Chief emery said.

“Here we go...” Kyra whispered into Bryce’s ear, holding onto his forearm tightly.

“You weren’t going to start without me, were you?”

Shock buzzed throughout the room as Dr. Banerji walked slowly into the room — aided by both a cane and Landry. Gasps and whispers filled the room.

“Dr— Dr. Banerji?!” Jordynne looked as confused as the rest of them, and she rushed over to him walking down the stairs.

“Sorry for the wait! Once he woke up, I got him here as fast as I could.” Landry’s curls were disheveled and his scrubs wrinkly.

Bryce craned his neck to find Ethan — Naveen had paused beside him — shaking his hand vigorously. Ethan‘s mouth was spread into a tight-lipped smile.

“Naveen, what are you doing here?” Chief Emery stood you from her spot in confusion, “You said you were retiring.”

The old man barked a laugh as he took the stairs one at a time, “What I should have said was expiring. Until yesterday, I was on the verge of death. Sepsis of unknown origin. Unknown, that is, until Dr. Holland gave up her last day to prepare for this hearing by solving my case.” Letting out a loud breath, he smiled as he reached the panelists. “Now then, I believe that seat still has my name on it.”

“Cyrus! Stop this!” Declan spat, his eyes ablaze.

“That’s uh, fantastic news, Dr. Banerji, but I’m afraid it’s too late for you to vote. Procedure and all…” The man didn’t sound very sure of himself.

“You were never a good liar, Cyrus.” Naveen patted him on the back before taking his seat. Letting out a happy sigh, he spoke again, “Now then. Given the circumstances of my resurrection, I think we all know what I’m about to say. That’s going to be a ‘nay’ from me.” He said, winking up at Jordynne.

Three more panelists continued to vote ‘nay’ — including Bryce’s surgical attending. It made his heart leap with pride at his department.

The voting paused on Chief Emery — who looked around the room trying to find someone. Then she focused back on Jordynne. “Dr. Holland, you’ve proven you’re someone who focuses as much on what a patient wants as what their body needs…But we’re not here to save bodies. We are here to save lives. I vote nay.”

Jordynne’s mouth opens in surprise, her green eyes wide as she stared back at the panel. “Oh my god. I get to stay?!”

As the crowd began to buzz with excitement, the other panelists voted ‘nay’ — following those before them no matter what they have originally felt.

“Hell yeah! Unanimous MVP!” Bryce cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting in the auditorium. His shout broke the crowd and everyone broke into applause. A smile broke out across Jordynne’s face as she watched everyone celebrate. He watched as her eyes searched the room — he knew who she was trying to find. It didn’t matter — she did it. That’s all that mattered.

Everyone around them began to stand up — chatting excitedly with each other about the outcome. The crowd became suddenly thick — and Bryce and his friends had to try and fight their way throughout it in order to get to Jordynne.

But he stopped when he saw her — smiling up at Ethan, who was holding onto her elbow gently. Probably the most they could get away with considering their setting. Bryce gulped, grabbing onto the back of Elijah’s chair, “Come on. We’ll meet her outside guys.” _______________________________________________________________________

Bryce sat on the metal bench outside of the sandwich shop next to Donahue’s — his skin blushing red from the cold wind. He had just needed a break.

He loved a celebration as much as the next guy. Hell, probably way more than the next guy. All of them had needed this — needed a win.

But it was all becoming too intoxicating — and he wasn’t talking about the liquor. Dancing with Jordynne and laughing with her and singing with her. All he had wanted to do was to reach down and kiss her — but he wasn’t supposed to do that. Was he? They had never said.

Lost in his own thoughts, Bryce blinked himself back to reality at the sound of a car door closing. He froze all over as he watched Ethan step over the curb. He watched as the well-dressed man locked his car over his shoulder without even looking.

Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.

He let out a breath as the ex-Attending glided by the bench without a second glance. Ramsey was fiddling with the strap of his watch as he walked by — he seemed nervous.

Craning his head to continue watching, Bryce’s eyebrows furrowed as the man stopped in his tracks.

“Dr. Olsen.” He had stopped to greet Landry as he exited the bar. Bryce had noticed him slinking around the bar, chancing glances around the room trying to get their attention. He must’ve finally given up.

“I — uh, Dr. Ramsey. Sir, good evening.” God, he was such a kiss ass.

“Save it, Snake.”

Bryce’s ears perked up as Ethan’s voice turned into a growl.

“Wh—what?” Landry asked in confusion until suddenly there was a scuffle of movement. Ethan had grabbed Landry by his collar — shuffling him into the little alley next to the bar.

Ethan pressed him up against the brick wall, his voice low and rough, “I’ll start things off pleasantly. You were apart of saving Dr. Banerji — I can’t deny that. But that is the only reason you don’t have a broken nose right now.”

Landry’s blue eyes were wide, his face completely pale, “I don’t underst—“

“You think I don’t know? The role you played in all of this? The lives you put at risk you petty shit.” He spat his words like venom.

“I — I did what I had to! For the competition! To be the best doctor I could be. To be like —to be like you.”

“That is not the kind of Doctor that I am.” Ethan snarled. “You wanted me to know your name, Olsen? Oh, I know it now kid. It’s blacklisted now.”

“I’m— I’m,” He stammered, “I’m transferring to Mass Kenmore. I won’t be—“

“I know you are. Who do you think got you in? You think Dr. Simmons would take you if I hadn’t have called her?”

Bryce could still see Landry gulp — even from his bench.

“If I see you anywhere near Dr. Holland again, you will be answering to me. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Landry nodded profusely.

Ethan finally let go of his collar — stepping away and wiping his hand on his trousers. Like he didn’t want any essence of Dr. Olsen lingering on him.

“You’ll never be a doctor like her, Olsen.” Ethan’s jaw set in a hard line before he shoved his hands in his pockets and marched into Donahue’s without a backward glance.

Bryce watched as Landry attempted to collect himself in the alley. A part of him wished it was him instead of Ethan telling him exactly what he deserved to hear — but he was just glad it happened regardless.

He waited a moment — not wanting to follow either of those two men. Before he could move though a figure walked towards him.

Jackie slid into the spot next to him — still clutching her drink. Bryce’s mouth turned into a frown as she pulled out a cigarette from the pocket of her leather jacket.

She rolled her eyes, “What? I do it like once a year, okay?”

“Some doctor...” He coughed, shaking his head.

“Look I know I shouldn’t I just —“

He put his hands up, “Do whatever you want. But when I see you in 5 years on the OR table because your lungs have tumors don’t complain.”

“Like I’d let you put me under the knife Lahela.” She scoffed with a smile.

“Gimme some of that,” He pointed at her drink. She put it out for him to grab.

Just as he took a swig he watched as a pair stumbled out of the bar — the music from inside getting louder as the sound poured out of the building. He swallowed the liquid down hard — the straight vodka burning down his throat.

“Dr. Holland and I are just dropping by the hospital for some paperwork, that’s all.” He heard the familiar voice — the one he has just heard threatening Landry in the alley. But it was softer now.

Then he heard her laugh — Jordynne’s laugh. It was music to his ears — but it twisted his stomach that it wasn’t because of him. “You are so bad at being subtle.” She squeezed Ethan’s arm, as they walked away from the bar.

“What are you talking about? I played that extremely well.” He smirked at her, grabbing her hand from his shoulder and holding it with his— pulling her further down the sidewalk and away from the bar. Bryce and Jackie sat in silence — watching the scene unfold.

Ethan stepped out off the curb, waving down a cab for the pair of them. With mixed feelings, Bryce watched as he opened the yellow door for her — his hand on her waist as he helped her inside.

Bryce took a large gulp of the drink as Jordynne reached up from sitting in the cab — straining her neck as she kissed the well-dressed, scruffy Attending. Averting his eyes, he looked down into the glass and into the clear liquid.

Once he heard the cab pull away he looked up. Jackie was watching him carefully — studying him as she took the final drags of her cigarette.

“Well looks like Holland’s off for a good time.”

He let out a quiet sigh, “I guess so.”

“Sorry, Lahela.”

He gulped, “Why?”

“‘Cause — ‘cause I know how you feel.”

He waited for her to speak again.

“How you feel watching Jordynne and Dr. Ramsey... That’s how I feel when I watch her with you. And Dr. Terminator now too.” She put her cigarette out on the metal bench — playing with it in her fingers.

“I — I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well — it’s hard to not wanna be with her. She’s —“

“Something else.” He finished for her.

Jackie nodded in agreement— her eyes falling down to the sidewalk. “ I fucked it up. I felt jealous and intimidated and then the competition...”

“That was hard for both of you. I know — I know Jordynne had a hard time with all of that,” He remembered the many venting sessions they had at the coffee machine, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I’m telling you this because — Just don’t give up on it. Not yet.”

“I wasn’t—“

“It’s you, Lahela. It’s always been you. Since day one.” She finally looked up and met his eyes, “Just don’t give up.”

“Okay.” He nodded, “Okay.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Thank you all for coming. I just have a few short announcements.”

Jordynne quickened her pace as she stepped into the atrium, not wanting to miss the first announcement. But her steps faltered as she passed Ethan.

“Dr. Holland,” He nodded — avoiding her eyes.

“Dr. Ramsey,” She replied politely — waiting for him to move first. She watched as he moved to the side of the crowd — staying near the back and out of the way.

Weaving her way through the crowd, Jordynne looked for her friends. She sidled up next to them, bumping her hip into Bryce’s as a greeting. He looked down at her and gave her his classic megawatt smile.

"Are you seriously late on your first day again?” Jackie asked, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, had to resuscitate a guy in the waiting room.” She smirked, shrugging her shoulders.

“You get to have all the fun.” Bryce winked at her. Jordynne gulped at the action.

Harper waited for the crowd to settle down before speaking up once more, “I’d like to thank you for all your support and service during my year as hospital chief… But after much deliberation, I have decided to step down, to return to my previous post as head of neurosurgery.”

The crowd of hospital staff immediately began whispering to each other in shock.

“Are you kidding me?! I get to do surgeries with Harper Emery all the time now. I am blessed. ˆ” Bryce whispered into Jordynne’s ear — the sensation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Was he wearing new cologne too? He smelled different.

“Thank you all, “ Harper continued, “I’m eager to get back in my scrubs, and I couldn’t do it without someone very qualified to hand the reins to. Please welcome to our new chief of medicine, Naveen Banerji.”

The crowd cheered and applauded as the old man approached stood beside Emery. His cane was still clutched in his hand. Jordynne craned her neck to look behind her — searching for Ethan. Did he know about this? Gauging from the stunned look on her face, she would say no.

Naveen smiled out at the crowd, “As many of you now know, my health has taken a recent turn. It has required me to step away from the busy caseload of my diagnostics team. But I am leaving it in the very capable hands of Dr. Ramsey.”

The crowd redirected their attention to Dr. Ramsey, hiding at the back of the crowd. His arms uncrossed from his body, his shoulder raising up, “Wait, what? What the hell is happening?”

“Have a good day everybody!” Naveen said cheerfully, dismissing the crowd before he could say anything else.

Ethan marched towards the pair, causing Jordynne to pause. She watched him for a moment, hearing his words echo throughout the atrium. “Administration. Naveen? Really? You hate administrators.”

“Hey, I’ll be right back okay?” Jordynne whispered, heading over to the trio — leaving her friends who were walking towards the elevators. “I’ll meet you upstairs,” She said reassuringly at Bryce who had hesitated.

Naveen barked out a laugh, “No, my friend. You do. But now that I am one, I’m sure you and I can strike a balance.”

“Ha! Good luck with that one, Naveen.” Harper remarked, turning on her heel and strutting away.

The new chief turned to go with her, before pausing and looking over his shoulder, “Oh, and Ethan! This will leave an open spot on the team after all. And I think I know who I want to take it.” Naveen raised his eyebrow for a moment, before gesturing to Jordynne who was standing close by.

Jordynne moved closer, pointing at herself, “Me? Wow, it’s such an honor.”

Naveen’s smile grew as he looked at her, holding out his hand as he patted her on the shoulder, “It’s not an honor, Dr. Holland. It’s an opportunity. One I think you’ll shine in.”

She looked at Ethan next to her — his mouth was hanging open in surprise.

“Holland? But… she… I…” He stammered, unable to get any words out.

“You don’t think she’s proven herself worthy to train on the team?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Of course she has. But we —“

Naveen interrupted him, “Excellent. It's settled then. Dr. Holland will spend her second year as the junior fellow on the diagnostics team… with you as her direct supervisor.” His eyes moved from Ethan’s shellshocked face to the newly promoted intern, “Congratulations, Jordynne. You earned it.”

Jordynne swallowed, offering a smile to Naveen before turning to face Ethan. He was standing with his arms dangling at his sides. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. This is what a lot more complicated than anything they could have imagined.

“So, um… how do we deal with this?” Jordynne pulled on her ponytail nervously.

His blue eyes studied her face, stopping momentarily on her lips, “We make it work. What matters is the patients. Right?”

“Right.” She nodded. It sounded like they were trying to convince themselves more than anything.

Ethan stared at her for a moment longer, before scratching his head. “Well then. Get to work, Rookie.” His voice returning to the cold, Attending she had met on her first day.

“Yes, Doctor.” She nodded, adjusting her ponytail one more time before turning on her heel. She licked her lips as she headed towards the elevator, trying to contain the thousands of thoughts whirling through her head.

But she was brought back to reality as she heard her name called. Looking up she saw Bryce standing in front of the elevators, his smile still plastered on his face. “You good, Jordy?”

He had waited for her. Of course, he had.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” She lied, stepping onto the elevator with him. “It’s all good.” She gulped, holding onto the railing.

Residency: Second Chances

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