THE HOLLAND BOYS AND HARRISON OSTERFIELD IMAGINES

Blow a kiss, Fire a gun 1

Summary: You're arranged to marry Tom Holland, Londons most feared mobster, but it's never easy. He doesn't seem to want you and you don't want anything to do with him.

Words: 3k

"Now I told you last time you were here Marcus, You had one last chance to finish the deal or there'd be punishments" Tom stepped circles around the guy, excitement filling his chest when he noticed the blood dripping down his nose, electric red highlighted his lips, purple and blue formed beneath his eyes. "I may have given you a second chance, but I don't give out third chances."

"Please, I-I can do it-, I can finish the deal for you" The man could barely speak. Blood sputtering between his teeth, almost making Tom grin wickedly. It was sick really, Tom's fascination, but he couldn't help it when this was who he had been raised to be. Ever since he was a child he'd been exposed to gore and violence and taught to do whatever he had to, to stay at the top.

"I don't give a damn. Do you know how I got to the top, Marcus?" Tom practically spat out the man's name, rolling up his jacket sleeves though it was a little too late now considering he'd already beaten the man half to death. "By being fucking ruthless"

He swung his fist back, connecting it with the man's face and watching it fall to the side. Not even wincing when the already there ache in his knuckles only became more intense.

He felt euphoric every time his fist connected with the man's face, it was twisted though, it wasn't like he was beating this man up purely for his own enjoyment, no this man had screwed Tom around.

A knock at the door made him groan and with one last punch, Tom mustered up a quick. "Come in"

He didn't like to be pulled away from business, especially when he was in his prime, but still Tom grabbed the white rag that sat on the chair beside him and wiped the blood off of his knuckles watching the white turn a deep crimson and feeling a sense of pride when he noticed the deep bruises forming on each knuckle.

Harrison stepped in, "Gee you really fucked him up, mate" He snickered, watching as the man squirmed in his seat.

"Yeah? Well we're not even close to being done yet"

"Your dad's here to see you, said it's important, he's in the office." Tom groaned, chucking the bloody cloth at Harrison and gained the attention of one of his men that stood at the door, muttering a small "See to him." before following Harrison.

The walk to the office was long, up several flights of stairs and Tom would admit that it was a bit much, a big house for only a few people It was usually just Tom and his house workers as well as Harrison who stayed over most nights. He was a young man with too much money, what else was he to do with it?

When he reached his office, he walked in, taking a seat in his leather chair and leaning back. Tom's office was almost always dark, the stained, wooden walls and curtain that were always kept drawn shut kept it that way.

"Father! It's been a while, what brings you by?" Tom picked up a cigarette, lighting it between his fingers and taking a puff. "I was in the middle of dealing with someone"

"I have news that concerns not only the mob but you." Dom was on edge and Tom noticed easily, he was good at reading people's emotions. "You know that eventually, you'd have to... marry someone" Dom began. "A girl" he watched the way his son tensed up, his face hardening and the smile he wore only seconds ago, disappeared. Tom took another puff of his cigarette.

"I remember. We got her family's men and in exchange, I'd keep her alive." Though Tom didn't want to remember, in fact, the thought of marrying had terrified him ever since he'd been told only at the age of seventeen, it infuriated him. But he understood that without that deal he wouldn't have made it to the top. His parents did what was best for the mob even if that meant binding their son to a girl for the rest of his life and yours did what was best for their daughter, even if that meant conjoining her to London's most feared mobster.