Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

God of London - Part 2

Tom rushed downstairs after getting dressed, leaving Y/N in his room to get dressed as well. She listened to Tom's conversation with someone, the voices echoed throughout the house and walls. He was talking to a voice she didn't seem to recognize as she pulled on a pair of his black, skinny jeans. Y/N pulled a black sweater on with the words: 'Fuck Off', written on the chest in bold white writing. She yanked the door open and rushed downstairs, adjusting Tom's sweater near her hips. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she waited for a minute as she listened to his conversation.

"I don't fucking understand." Tom cursed, throwing something across the room. The object landed with a loud crash.

"Neither do I or your family. Nobody knows who it could be." The other person sighed. Y/N sucked on her bottom lip, a turmoil growing in her stomach. "Look, we have to use any sort of clue there is, starting with the handwriting."

"How am I supposed to identify the bloody handwriting, Haz?" Harrison. Tom's right-hand man. The most stalwart man he's ever met.

"Start with every mob you know of." Y/N said as she leaned against the white door-frame.

"Y/N?" Both men said at the same time, slightly startled. She pushed herself off of the frame and approached Harrison, the pair of them hugged each other tightly. "I haven't seen you in forever." Haz mumbled into her shoulder. She smiled and pulled away.

"Look, I've missed you loads and everything, but we need to get back to this situation." Y/N tightened her ponytail. "We research each and every mafia you know of. Each man has to be interviewed, especially the bosses. I'll try to ask everyone in my mob but I can't guarantee you that I'll find anything."

Tom chewed on a hangnail as he came up with other ideas. "Harrison, call a meeting for tomorrow morning. Ten A.M." Haz nodded and left the room, pulling his phone out from his pocket and dialing the phone numbers. It was only Y/N and Tom left. She couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for poor Thomas. Licking her lips, she took a step towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her thumb stroked the fabric of his shirt as reassurance

"Don't other-think it, Tommy. I promise that we'll find out who it's from and it'll get better from there." He sighed and she brought him into her, wrapping her arms around his upper-body. Tom wrapped his larger hands around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I don't know what to do, doll."

"I know, I know." She whispered, rubbing a hand up and down his spine to comfort the vulnerable boy.

***

Her eyes barely fluttered open, a bright room revealed itself through the small slit in her eyelids. Furrowing her brows, she rubbed her eyes and rolled onto her back. "I don't remember ending up in the guest room." She whispered to herself.

"What's that, doll?" A husky voice muttered beside her, making her jump and sit up.

"What the fuck?" She said, covering her mouth. "Sorry." The tired girl apologized and laid back down, the white sheets engulfing her body once again. "Wait where am I? Wh-Why am I in your room?"

"You were pretty tired last night so you passed out on the couch after we came up with a few plans. I then decided to bring you upstairs and keep you in my bed instead." Of course, the pair of them shared beds when they were younger. But both of them have changed and it seems more romantic than platonic. Tom slid a hand under his head for support and looked up at the ceiling.

"Thank you." She smiled, turning on her side to look at him. To be fair, he did look like a god at that very moment. His hair messy and not gelled back like usual. His bare upper half was toned and his jaw tightened every now and then, becoming more prominent. "You know, you should keep your hair natural. I like the curls." Y/N smirked, running her hand through his hair. He turned his head to the side and smiled slightly. However, it didn't last long before it curved into a small frown.