The Mobster's Princess [Tom Holland x Reader]

V

It had been days now. Nearly a week. Tom had come in for a chat every day. He never asked questions like, how rich were you, what're the weakest points of the castle, or anything personal, or of which could harm anyone else. He usually was the one to talk, as you didn't feel quite comfortable talking to him most of the time. Sometimes however, you would explain some duties you had as a princess, or things you enjoyed doing. Even how beautiful your home was.

"So do you have any electricity in the castle? Or is it like the medieval days with torches and fireplaces and candles?" Tom asked and you let out a breathy chuckle, you hadn't laughed, much less smiled since you'd been here. It was a silly question to you. "Yes, we have electricity. We're kept up with the times. I hate to inform you but we're not like the Amish." You said and Tom chuckled a little.

"You've been cooped up in here for awhile hm?" Tom blatantly states out of nowhere after a moment of silence. You nodded while adverting your gaze from his. "Why don't we go for a walk? Around the building. A short tour perhaps?" He questions and you look up at him. "You'll have to be placed in hand cuffs, I'm afraid." He said as he stood up. He held out his hand, as you'd been sitting on the ground against the wall. "Come along." He said. You nervously lifted your hand to his. He gripped onto your hand not too hard but enough to keep a steady grip on you as he hoisted you up.

Tom had never done this with any of his prisioners, of course Tom wanted to at least be humane and give them food, showers, clean clothing, and bedding. Depending on the inmate. However, contracts would usually be killed in the same day, as the contracter wanted them to be killed to put it simply. But with you, the contracter wanted you alive, for whatever reason. And while Tom didn't question the reasoning behind it, as he was getting paid very generously daily for holding you captive, he just didn't know how to treat it.

Tom had a system. The contracts were usually treated as humanly as possible, as Tom often had little to nothing against the person. People who commited small crimes against Tom, such as people not paying up small amounts of money, for example, would end up in cells that weren't as great but still better than the people who commited terrible crimes against Tom.

Such as stealing, or spying upon the mob, anything that could destroy Tom, or aggrivated him deeply. Those people would either rot in their moldy, rat infested cells, or they would be tourtured to death.

But now Tom had a new case of which he hadn't had to deal with since his father died, making Tom the mafia leader.

Tom watched you closely as he gave you a small tour of what he thought wouldn't give too much away about his work and the location. He didn't watch you closely because he didn't want you to run. It was in fact because you were just so interesting to look at. The way your eyes would get a little bigger when you saw something interesting. Or when your lips would purse together in thought. Or how you'd brush a strand of your beautiful hair behind your ear to pay attention to him better. All of these details were accounted for by Tom.

He didn't understand why he wanted to pay you so much attention, or be around you so often. These feelings felt so natural to him, however he'd never experienced them.

Tom and yourself were now heading back to your cell, after viewing what he called the "basment" which held the people who betrayed Tom the most, and even had a tourture room at the end of the long hallway. You'd hoped he'd never have to use it on you.

As you walked past one of the cells your arm was grabbed and pulled against a wet and rusty cell bar, you screamed, surprised to find out you'd been grabbed by one of the inmates.

Tom immediately whipped around as you were being pulled against the cell, your arm was in the cell up to your elbow as you used your other hand to grasp onto one of the cell bars, using it as leverage to try to pull your arm back. Tom rushed towards you and pulled a gun out of his waistband. When he approached you he had placed a hand on your shoulder and aimed between the bars of the cell and right at the decaying, yet living man's forehead. Tom shot the man right in the center of his forehead, killing him instantly and releasing you to practically fall over onto Tom. Tom had a grip on you still and looked down at you. "You alright?" He asked, his chest heaving from the sudden adrenaline rush, just as yours was. All you could do was nod in response as Tom put his gun back in the waistband of his pants, you hadn't even seen it there and your ears were still ringing from the loud shot.

"Take care of this mess. I have her." Tom informed the guards and to which they nodded. Tom kept his arm around you as you both left the basement, so you wouldn't be grabbed again, your cheeks were practically red at this point, being so close to him and after what had just occured. He shot someone for grabbing your arm.

You noticed a stinging pain on the way back and looked at your arm that had been grabbed. Your wrist was sure to bruise but you noticed a gash-like cut was running from the bottom of your wrist nearly to your elbow. "Oh god." Tom said as he looked down, sensing your movement. Then Tom took a turn, and you knew it wasn't back to your padded cell.

Tom took you straight to his office and swung the door right open. He had let go of you and rushed to his desk as you tried to keep the blood from dripping all over his floor with your cupped hand, which was now gaining a steady stream and dripping off of your elbow. Tom then rushed back over and you noticed a large bloodstain from your gash that had leaked onto his shirt while he had you against him. Your face became redder out of embarassment but your attention was drawn away when you felt your arm sting and you hissed.

"Sorry." Tom muttered. He almost froze, he'd never said sorry to anyone, sarcastically yes, but genuinely, no. He had to shake it off and work fast to get this bleeding to stop. Tom worked quickly and soon wrapped plenty of bandages around your arm. You were certainly feeling better now.

You gulped as you looked at his shirt again. "Uhm." You began, immediately catching his attention. "Your shirt.. I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to-" Tom looked down at where you'd pointed at. There was the large bloodstain he hadn't even noticed, but he didn't get angry. In fact, he was glad that maybe the shirt reduced a greater loss of blood.

"It's okay." He said as he lifted his head slightly to look back at you. "It's just a shirt." He simply said, it wasn't like he wasn't used to having blood stained shirts anyway.

You felt a little at ease with his statement. The feeling of the throbbing coming from your arm was in the back of your mind as you stood there, quietly.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.