THE HOLLAND BOYS AND HARRISON OSTERFIELD IMAGINES

Blow A Kiss, Fire A Gun 17

written by: @/hollandroos

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: 4.4k

Warnings: Death, blood, guns.

Not long after Tom arrived at the house, he was crouching outside of the door where Harrison stood minutes ago. He had no plan, winging it was the only thought on his mind but for the moment, he listened closely, despite the anger he was feeling-, the anger that made him want to bust those doors down and shoot every man in that room.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart. Your man has done some bad things in his time but the worst was definitely the day he ruined your life." All of the men cackled, guns casually hanging in their hands.

Tom was lost for a second, trying to work out what they were saying but all he could think about was the day the two of you signed that piece of paper, and you seemed to think so too.

"If you're talking about our arrangement then you're wrong." You muttered, ignoring the metallic taste that made its way onto your tongue.

"You didn't know? Oh man." the first man laughed, while the rest stared at the floor. You couldn't decide if they wore sympathetic looks or scared ones, it was one or the other but you were utterly confused. "Your perfect man, your knight in shining armour, he practically got your mother killed."

Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, still from the assault and horror and while at first, you didn't believe them, knowing well enough that Tom was merely a kid, as were you at the time, you quickly latched onto the looks on the men's faces-, they weren't lying. Your man, your husband, really did plot the murder of the person you loved most.

You felt sick to your stomach, a large amount of hatred and anger flowing through you. You fell in love with the man that played a role in the death of your mother. The reason she didn't stand beside you now, or wasn't in any family photos after the day of the bang, or was even going to be there for the birth of your first child, was partially because of the man you kissed before bed, the man you allowed to lay his filthy hands on you.

Tom sat on the other side of the door, gun in hand just willing the man to shut up. It was as if a knife had been placed in his chest and with every word, it was getting pushed in further, and further.

"Tommy was in the room when we made the plan, he even threw in some-, well, most of the ideas. The kid was always mafia material."

He remembered it-, that very day, the day he decided to go and help daddy with work just like any other day. Tom sat in the big chair, papers spread out. He felt powerful, sitting in the chair that was just as big as his fathers and he felt validated with every idea he put out in the open, the men that he'd one day control nodding in agreement and fixing up a few errors.

He didn't know it was your mother, his future wife and finally love of his life. He didn't fucking know and that made it even worse.

"He wouldn't-, h-he was a child, children don't do that stuff, especially Tom." Nausea took over and maybe it was from hitting your head or maybe it was from the shock but one way or another, you knew you were going to throw up sooner or later.

"Sweetie, you've been living in a bubble. Your man has blood on his hands and your mothers is only a small part of that. You knew, didn't you? You knew what he did for a living." You nod shakily. "He's a bad person, just like me, just like Ethan, Jake and Dave here. God, his daddy was so proud of him that day."

Hearing those words again, Tom felt waves of self-hatred hit him. He wanted to tear his hair out at what he was hearing-, how it was probably affecting your already weak self.