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Hey, it’s me again. For the part two of ‘her blood-stained bodysuit’ where the reader is still upset about tom expecting to high of her, the next morning tom noticed it and try make it up to her..? Something like that... or you can make it your own way 😊 thank you in advance

her blood-stained bodysuit pt. 2

❧ prompt: all you wanted was to help your mobster boyfriend. you never expected your plan to go all wrong and result in failure. when you return home with blood soaking your suit and drying in your hair, how does Tom react?

❧ pairing: mob!tom x assassin!reader

❧ genre: angst, fluff

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, slamming a glass cup onto a counter (?), mentions of insecurity

❧ a/n: i got a backup laptop babies! it’s not actually mine but i’m going to get mine fixed soon :)) hopefully this part lived up to your standards, anon. i tried to make it angsty-er than the first part since someone reposted it saying it wasn’t as angsty as they expected. i didn’t find it as an insult because i took it more in a constructive criticism way. anyways, enjoy!

part 1!

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You flinched awake, placing a palm at the side of your head. Your eye shut in pain, letting out a shaking breath. You looked ahead of you, stabilizing yourself, before using both of your arms to push yourself up into a sitting position. Beside you, you heard the sheets rustling and felt movement beneath them. You froze in your spot, turning to face the sleeping figure.

Tom laid peacefully, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. His steady breathing filled the radio silent room. Flashes of the night before filled your mind, Tom’s voice ringing in your ears. 

“It’s so unlike you to be so reckless.“

“I expected you to know better.”

You let out an audible huff, forcing your aching off the bed. Your blistered feet touched the cool floor, relaxing your tense body. Quietly, you made your way to the bathroom with an occasional limp. 

Looking yourself over in the mirror, you took note that you looked like a mess: (h/c) hair a tangled mop, dry, cracked lips, and bruises littered your figure. You winced at the sight and began towards the shower. 

Stepping into the warm, fog-filled cubicle, you sighed as the warm water relaxed your tight muscles. Your arms wrapped around your torso, holding yourself as your hair flattened against your scalp. You let a hand fall to your thigh, fingertips dancing along the hem of your waterproof bandage.

Sighing, you stepped into the empty gym. You closed the door behind you, pulling off your large, black jacket. You placed the piece onto the bench, sitting beside it to put on your black tennis shoes.

The gym was a sad room at those hours. The hours when everyone was still asleep or slowly awakening, when the rising sun was concealed by the overwhelming fog. Through the teal-tinted glass, the opaque light in the room was faint, shadows hiding in the corners of the room. The air was still, an occasional shift when there was the slightest of movements. 

A chill ran down your spine, as you shook, and goosebumps slowly arose from your soft skin. Rubbing your arms for warmth, you grabbed the black hair tie and pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail.

You worked hard for the next couple of hours, pushing yourself over your limit. Occasionally, you stopped when you felt a sharp pain in your thigh or your vision spun you off balance. 

After another shower, you made your way into the kitchen, smelling of fresh soap. You grabbed a glass of water, chugging the cup in one go. You leaned against the island of your kitchen, staring out the large window and at the gorgeous scenery of trees. 

“I’ve done everything I can to be the top,” you spoke, quietly, “Where did I go wrong?” 

“G’morning, darling,” Tom’s groggy voice filled your ears, as you felt him place a gentle kiss to your temple. 

You flinched back at the sudden contact, strangely alert to your surroundings. 

“Sorry. Did I touch your wound?” A concerned hand came up to your face, gently moving your hair behind your ear.

Shaking your head, you moved towards the stove, thinking about ways to improve yourself on the field. Just as an idea popped in your head, his voice came up again. 

“It’s so unlike you to be so reckless.“

“I expected you to know better.”

Your head snapped up, and you looked behind you. “What’d you say?” You asked with a venomous tone.

“I just asked if you were feeling better, love,” he walked up to you and placed an arm around your waist, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Maneuvering out of his grasp, you replied, “Yes, I’m fine. I don’t need to be babied, Tom. I just have a lot going on in my mind.”

Concerned, Tom pushed further, “You know you can tell me anything.”

Frustrated, you harshly put down the glass in your hand, almost shattering it against the counter. 

Tom flinched.

“Look, I’m just really tired and sore and frustrated, right now. If you could just leave me alone for a few minutes, maybe I’ll feel like putting up with you later,” you snapped, walking out of the room, leaving him no time to speak.

As expected, he followed after you, wondering what had gone wrong. He thought back to the night before, trying to remember if your attitude could possibly be a symptom of the medications you took. Shaking his head, he reflected the argument the pair of you had.

That must be it, he nodded to himself.

Unknowingly, you lead him to the gym, but when he tried to pull the door open, the glass wouldn’t budge. From within, he heard your gentle grunts and soft breaths, leading him to the conclusion of you exercising. Thinking to the injuries you had returned with, he began to worry and panic for you and your health.

What were you thinking? What if you injure yourself further? Why aren’t you prioritizing your health? Tom thought, growing frustrated, mostly at himself.

His fist banged on the glass, head spinning with negative thoughts, “Darling, you need to let yourself rest. You’ll only hurt yourself more if you push yourself over your limit.”

You heard the faint murmur of his shouts but decided to ignore it. If you were stronger, you wouldn’t be in the position you were in: a limp in your walk, ache in your thigh, and an occasional blur to your vision.

Stepping onto the treadmill, you dialed the speed to 5 miles per hour to start as a warm up. Within a minute, you pushed yourself to a run at 6 miles per hour, then to a sprint at 7. You were panting for air, sweat dripping down your face.

 You could still hear Tom’s protests, angering you further. 

Unsatisfied that you could still hear the noises in your environment, you brought the speed up to 7.5 miles per hour, a sharp pain slowly becoming more and more noticeable in your thigh. The blood that rushed to your ears drowned out anything and everything you didn’t want to hear.

Barely any time had passed when the faint pain in your leg began to feel like someone was constantly pressing on your wound. Additionally, your head was pounding, and your vision was growing blurrier by every passing minute. 

You brought a hand up to your forehead, fingers pressing into your temples, attempting to massage the pain away. Unfortunately, the pain stayed, and if anything, increased tenfold. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, arms grasping at the hand supports of the treadmill.

Before you knew it, your vision turned black, and the sensation of your body getting thrown into the air was all you felt before you went unconscious.

-

After too many attempts, Tom was able to successfully break the lock of the gym door. Hearing you continuously and vigorously increase the speed of the conveyor belt made him move in haste, leading to his multiple failures. He was too worried about your wellbeing to think straight.

As he stepped into the room, he saw your hands fall limp by your side, and your body rocked to the side, off balance. With wide eyes, he ran to your slipping figure before you could make contact with the hard floor.

“Darling? Love? Are you alright? Please answer me,” he cried, looking at the pain-etched face of yours.

Not receiving a response, he quickly stood, carrying you bridal style in his arms and back into your shared bedroom.

-

You rolled your head to the side, hearing a rustling beneath you. Your body felt overheated, aching to feel even the slightest of breezes.

As you began to move your leg to kick the thick duvet off your body, you flinched in pain, reflexively grabbing said leg to support it.

“Don’t move. You’ll only make it hurt more,” a gentle voice explained from behind you.

Consumed by your pain, you hadn’t even noticed you were tucked in your bed, back in your shared bedroom. 

The familiar brunette you had spent the day trying to ignore protruded from the shadows, eyes quivering and shining with tears.

“What happened?” You asked, throat oddly hoarse.

“You overworked yourself. You fainted whilst running,” he explained, “I was so fucking worried, darling. I almost lost you,” he shook his head, “No, I could’ve lost you, but I didn’t. I’m so lucky to have opened that door before you hit the ground.” A few tears began to leak out of the inner corners of his chocolate eyes as he thought of the scenario of him not saving you in time.

“It’s all my fault,” he let out a loud so, “If I hadn’t said that you weren’t good enough or that you were too reckless, you wouldn’t be here,” he placed a hand onto the bed, “in this wretched bed, resting as you are now. Your thigh wouldn’t be bleeding out, right now, if I hadn’t insulted you out of frustration and worry. I wasn’t—” he hiccuped, “I didn’t have my head on straight. If I did, I would’ve been more generous and not passive to you. You were only trying to help me, and all I repaid you with were insults.”

Pitifully looking at your boyfriend, you moved a weak arm to his hand, tugging him down onto his knees. You patted his curled locks, giving him the best smile you could muster.

“I know you were concerned for me, but what you said really hurt me. You know how,” you thought for a proper word for a moment, “insecure I can be about my abilities in this field. There’s so much— too much competition in my industry and having to keep up this perfect, high-leveled assassin façade is taking a toll on my mental health.”

Tom’s eyes shook with despair. He never knew you felt this way. He’d never want you to have to deal with your hardships alone.

“But, because of you, I’ve been trying my best and pushing myself over so many of my limits to make me the best I can be. I mean, you’re one of the most powerful mobsters to be, so it would only make sense if I were one of the most successful and strongest assassin, right?”

Shaking his head, he cried, “No, not if it means breaking yourself apart and tearing your morale into pieces.” He grabbed both your small hands, enclosing them in his. He looked straight into your eyes, sniffling away his tears, “I don’t care whether you’re number one or number 3 billion. All I care about is your happiness and wellbeing. I want you to live your best life with me. I want you to feel like you can trust me and come to me whenever you need me because I am here. I will continue to be here through thick and thin. I love you. Not because you’re one of the most skilled assassins, not because you’re someone I can flaunt to others, but because you are the most beautiful, talented, intelligent, lovable person I know. I wouldn’t exchange you for the world.” 

This time, Tom’s eyes didn’t sparkle because of his sorrowful tears, they twinkled because of his love and adoration towards you and only you.

“I-I love you, too, Tommy, and I promise that I’ll come to you whenever I need you,” you placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You can also come to me anytime as well,” you blushed.

“Thank you, love,” he tilted his head, smiling, thumb stroking the blush on your cheeks.

“Thank you, bubs, for having my back and understanding me and putting up with me.”

Pulling on his arm, you dragged him into bed with you to cuddle. He stumbled as he focused on avoiding touching your injuries.

That night you fell asleep in each other’s arms, an unbreakable bond connecting the two of you. You understood him, and he, you.

All left of that tragic night from before had dissipated into nothingness, except for her blood-stained bodysuit.

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Severely injured peppino vs severely injured noise who's falling over crying first /j /j /j

(First fanart I've drawn for someone on tumblr 🙏🙏)