Koh!tom Holland X Reader Angst - Tumblr Posts

moonlight pt. 3

a/n: i almost forgot to update this, but someone reminded me of it. there will be a part 4. i want to end this on a happy note... maybe...

warnings: angst, squealing girls, literally nothing else

! previous part !

masterlist

King of Hell, Tom Holland, Brought Back A Mystery Girl To His Abode?!

Mystery Woman Caught Leaving Tom Holland’s Kingdom In The Early Morning!

Tom Holland Cheating On Girlfriend, Y/N? Are They Over?

I scrolled through the list of never-ending news articles, unsure of believing them. I knew how Tom was with women, so why wouldn’t he go to the pub and take a girl home?

The last time I saw Tom was 8 months and 3 days ago but who’s counting, the day I left him. In those 8 months, I started my own little café: La Vie Au-Dessus. It was Heaven themed, with pastel-coloured flowers and blue skies with touches of gold representing the sun. The seats in the café were floating and looked like clouds. The café was a safe haven for myself, so I spent the majority of my time there. 

I opened the café earlier today because I rarely slept long due to the heaving nightmares I’ve gotten ever since I came back to Hell. I was able to enjoy myself with a cappuccino and chocolate croissant while watching the sun reveal itself over the horizon. An array of colours burst throughout the sky, reminding me of the serenity of Heaven. 

A group of people spilt into the café, breaking my haze. 

“Have you heard? Apparently, Tom Holland is going to be here later!” A girl in the crowd said. 

“Tom’s going to be here soon!” Another girl said, causing the whole group to erupt in a fit of squeals.

Worry fills my mind. If these girls knew who Tom was, then would they know me? 

I quickly scramble out of my seat, keeping my head low as I walk to the back. The girls don’t seem to notice my presence and continue to swoon over Tom. They all take a seat near the windows, waiting for the man of their dreams to arrive.

I rested my forearms on the sink, trying to calm my heart rate. My heart beating rapidly, my breath hitches, and warm, wet droplets roll down my face. I hadn’t realized I was crying until now. I quickly wipe off the tears when I hear a girl come up to the counter. I brush my apron off and try to look decent, as if I wasn’t just crying.

“Good morning, how are you?” I asked, plastering on a fake smile.

“Good, can I get two espressos, two macchiatos, one flat white, one chocolate crepe cake, and two raspberry, rose, pistachio, and vanilla macarons? Thanks.” The girl said, constantly looking behind her to see if anyone entered the café.

“So you would like two macarons, two macchiatos, one flat white, one chocolate crepe cake, and two raspberry, rose, pistachio, and vanilla macarons?” I reassured. The girl nodded, “Would you like to buy a dozen macarons instead for only $30?” I recommended. 

“Is it cheaper?” She questioned.

“Yes, by $6,” I replied, “Would you like three of each macaron or would you like to add two other flavours?”

“Just give me three of each,” the girl hastily said.

“Alright, that’ll be $64.57, including tax. Will that be cash or credit?” The girl mumbles credit and pushes the card into my hand. After she paid, I quickly prepared the coffees for the girls.

My head was down, making the two macchiatos when I heard a breakout of squeals. I jumped in shock, steadying my hand to prevent the drink from spilling. Afraid to turn around, I stayed put, forgetting to breathe. 

“Oh my god, it’s Tom! Tom! Harrison! Can we get a picture with you?” The girls screamed.

“Of course, darling,” that voice: smooth like butter, filled with compassion.

I couldn’t help myself. After months of not seeing him or hearing his voice, something inside me snapped. I started to sob. I placed down the cups gently, speed walking into the ladies room. I let my tears flow freely until there were none left to shed. I looked into the mirror, noticing my swollen, red eyes. I turned on the faucet, washing off my face. Though I didn’t look any better, the tear stains on my face had disappeared. I walked out, restarting the now-cold macchiatos. 

“Excuse me, darling,” Tom said, my back still facing him, “if you aren’t too busy, may I order?”

Sucking in a deep breath, I gather up all courage left to turn around. “Of course,” my breath hitches when I saw the loose brown curls dangle over his forehead.

“Y/N?” Tom is speechless.

“Hi, Tommy,” I say nervously.

He grabs my hands for over the counter, locking eyes with me, “Can we talk? Alone?”

“I-I don’t kno-,” I stammered. 

“Please,” his voice sounds desperate.

“Fine,” he lets go of my hands, allowing me to lead him to the isolated hallway. As we stood there, he reconnected our hands, “What?”

“I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been doing? You look gorgeous, as always. God, I’ve missed you so much,” he exhaled.

“Why are you here?” I asked, remembering about the recent news articles.

“I didn’t know you worked here, I swear. Haz and I just wanted to visit this café,” Tom confessed.

“Actually, I own this café. Also, I know about your recent affairs. Don’t think I wouldn’t have noticed, it’s everywhere on the news,” I ripped my hands out of his. 

“I didn’t think you cared. I was drunk, I-I wasn’t thinking straight. Please, I’m sorry,” Tom pleaded.

“Maybe we really weren’t meant for each other. Maybe I was wrong. I can’t do this, not anymore. I held onto hope for so long,” tears pricked my eyes.

“No, no! Just give me one more chance. I promise I’ll do better this time. Please,” tears started to shed from his own eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice breaking. I pull away, leaving Tom in the hallway as I retreat to the back to let my fresh tears fall.

! next part (coming soon) !

bilateral contracts

❧ synopsis: a relationship turned contract... or has the relationship always been a contract? no longer does it matter, just kiss and make break up

❧ pairing: koh!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: semi-angst, suggestive

❧ warnings: break up, mentions of hickies, make-out session with a bit of escalation, plot twist (?)

❧ a/n: if you get it, you get it. also this came out shorter than i expected, but i liked how it turned out so i didn’t want to change anything lmao. listen to kiss and make up when reading this <3

masterlist                     prompt list                     add yourself on my taglist!

It started with the thundering echos in the room then ended with the inaudibly loud sound of hearts shattering. 

Now, you were resting on a cool, marble bench, breathing in the fresh, must-filled air. The chilled material of the seat ran a shiver down your seat, causing the heat from your anger to depress. 

Lately, you and Tom weren’t getting along as you used to. Constantly, you were being reminded—by Tom—that you knew what you had “signed up for” when you began dating him, ever the cliche. Had you known that you were dating via contract, you would’ve never accepted the offer; you would’ve rejected the offer whole-heartedly, as it is known, contracts can’t—and don’t—last forever.

Tom, on the other hand, went back to hoarding himself with work and planning out large events—usually for his own enjoyment. Being the king, after all, meant luxury and bliss, albeit the load of work and duty. 

Maybe the great lord feared by all was being selfish; maybe the young maiden who put her heart out on the line for said lord was insecure. It all narrowed down to a “maybe.” One thing that was certain, though, was the maiden’s love for herself.

Contracts aren’t unbreakable. They can be discussed and terminated. Besides, even if you “break” the contract now, you technically wouldn’t be the first.

With fast steps, you composed yourself, preparing for the risk you were about to take. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you also knew it was plausible. Your pride and self-love wouldn’t back down just by a simple glare or bark. 

Pushing the doors open, you stepped into the room, head high and shoulders wide. It felt as if the atmosphere had some confidence booster hidden in the air. Tom was already staring at you with peculiar eyes, silently asking you what you were doing.

You were tired of talking, letting useless words slip from your lips. You no longer wanted to hear any feeble “sorry’s” from either him or you.

Thus, without any words, you stomped over to his desk, pulling him by his collar and smashing your lips against his. You could feel him stiffen in your grasp, shocked at the sudden action and its roughness.

Pushing him back onto the desk, you looked him into his chocolate-brown eyes. Your hand laid flat on his chest, fingers skillfully unbuttoning his dress shirt. You attached your lips to his bare neck, sucking dark marks filled with ill-intents onto to supple skin. You could feel the brunette begin to relax under your touch, allowing you to continue. 

His hands touched you in such a familiar yet foreign way, touching you like he’s touched nobody. The soft pads of his fingertips trailed, bruised, and gripped onto every centimeter of your perfect body as if he’s been starved of touch for decades.

It was as if both of you could see and feel what was coming.

Pulling away, you slipped your clothes back on, leaving Tom tousled where he rest. A haze in his eyes told you that he was out of his body, floating in the clouds. Using his dazed moment to your advantage, you declared, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Before he could collect himself to think straight, you’ve already escorted yourself out of the room, leaving his door wide open to give him a show of you with your bags and luggage—walking away with a light sway of your hips—your figure dissolving into nothingness as you gained more distance. 

Tom didn’t chase after you like a dog on a leash. He let you leave without reluctance or doubt. After all, why would he? Everything had worked out in his favor.

The contract is now terminated ended.

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