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."I can't believe she asked you to sleep with her and you said yes"
Tom wasn't angry like yesterday, instead, he was jealous. The familiar feeling bubbling in his gut at the fact that Harrison, his best mate had got to share a room with you, his wife.
"I didn't sleep with her mate, I slept on the blow-up mattress. Besides, she wasn't going to let you in even if I said no. It was better to have me there then no one." Harrison had a point, one that was enough to at least slightly satisfy him.
He groaned, admitting that Harrison was speaking sense. The last thing you probably wanted last night was him in your bed after the explosive argument you'd had hours earlier. He was in your bad books, printed on the page in bold, black marker and he wasn't sure if he was getting off of it anytime soon.
"I could've slept on it" He put the cigarette out, swatting the last of the smoke away. Tom refused to admit his defeat out loud.
Harrison laughed lightly. "You're jealous"
He rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't you be? You're spending more time with my girl then I am"
"Not my fault you lost your temper, give her space mate. She's overwhelmed right now and as much as she doesn't want to admit it, she needs your affection. Not a cold shoulder"
Tom found himself growing frustrated as Harrison only continued speaking as if he knew your feelings better. As if he was the one that held you at night when you couldn't sleep or the one that told you everything was going to be okay when no one else was listening because that was the only time you ever got to vulnerable and open with one another.
Harrison sighed and spoke again. "I told you, didn't I? Years ago"
"Told me what?" Tom furrowed his eyebrows.
"That you needed to give her a chance. Look at you now, head over heels, ring around your neck" Harrison watched. "You need to fix this."
Tom wrapped his fingers around the chain, feeling the cool, metal ring roll around in his fingertips and felt his chest flutter thinking about the fact that you were wearing the one he gave you right now.
"She kept those messages from me. What if she got hurt, Haz? And I didn't even know about those texts. What kind of husband does that make me?" Tom swore, cursing himself for his words the second they passed his lips. "If she got hurt then I'd never forgive myself"
Tom sighed, dropping the chain to tug at the roots of his hair before continuing. "Look... I'm sorry for losing it at you, you did the right thing and I shouldn't have lost it at either of you but I'm just... there's nothing, no trace of information leading back to who might be doing this. I'm going crazy here."
While Tom was merely a stress smoker that only smoked when things got over his head, he was already craving another cigarette only minutes after putting the first one out.
Haz tore the pen out of his best mates hand, dumping it onto the desk. "Have you thought that maybe you're putting too much thought into this?"
Tom looked up in confusion. Every paper in front of him seemed familiar now, every word and letter engraved into his brain after reading them repeatedly.
"You've interrogated people from other mobs, looked into any articles you can get your eyes on but nothings come up. Have you tried looking at it all from a different angle?"
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THE HOLLAND BOYS AND HARRISON OSTERFIELD IMAGINES
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