Seize it (mob Tom x reader)

Chapter 10: dont feel good

Why the fuck was I thinking of Tom?

Liam's lips pressed softly to my neck, and I put my hand on his head and threaded my fingers in his hair. He nipped at the skin, letting out a low chuckle when I moaned softly. I grabbed his chin and turned his head so that his lips were pressed to mine. He didn't waste much time before he grabbed my hand and dragged me to a fairly unpopulated area of the club. Within seconds, he had me pressed up against the wall and his lips against mine. One of his hands was on my hip while the other was reaching around to squeeze my ass.

Fuck, I needed this.

I was also super drunk and horny, so that was all factoring in.

I finally used enough self restraint to pull away from him and catch my breath. "My drink," I breathed out, pointing to the bar. "I need another drink."

Liam laughed. "Alright. Let's go."

We went back to the bar where my drink was waiting for me. I sat down on my stool and drank it all too quickly. If I wasn't careful, I'd probably get alcohol poisoning. "How many drinks have I had?" I asked the bartender, blinking away the blurriness that had come to my eyes.

She laughed. "If I've been keeping track correctly, four tequila lemonades and a shot."

"Oo," I cheered, downing the rest of the drink. "Liam, you wanna spot me another?"

I turned to look at Liam, only to find that he was gone. My jaw dropped as I looked back and forth, searching the club for the handsome man I had been dancing with. "That motherfucker!" I said, loud enough for the bartender to turn to me. I looked at her, positive there was anger in my eyes. "He ditched me!"

"Your boyfriend?"

"What?" I said. "No! No the hot guy I was dancing with."

"Ah, it's probably for the best," she said with a shrug. "Cheaters never prosper."

I scoffed. "It's a lot more complicated than that, believe me." The girl raised her hands in defense, and I asked for another drink.

"I think I better cap you at four," she said with a slight laugh.

"Aw, damn," I said, sliding her my empty glass. "Don't be a killjoy."

"A killjoy," she said, amused. "I'm probably saving your life."

"Don't flatter yourself."

I stood up from my stool and steadied myself against the counter. "You're not driving, are you?" she asked.

"'Course not," I said. "Catchin' a taxi."

"A taxi?"

"Mhm. Don't wanna wait for an Uber."

"You'd get home sooner if you ordered an Uber now than trying to flag down a taxi in this area at this hour."

"I'll take my chances." I paused. "Or maybe I'll take the bus."

The bartender laughed. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I said.

I headed outside, having to push my way past quite a few drunk people blocking my way. Eventually, when I got outside, I breathed in the New York smog and smiled. "Mm, I am tired," I said aloud to myself. "Better snag a taxi." I stepped over to the sidewalk, waving my hand in the air to get a cab's attention. None were stopping, and I was starting to get frustrated. Across the street, I noticed more cabs were picking people up than on my side, so I figured I'd cross over and try my luck there.

My legs felt like jelly as I started to walk, and I wasn't even slightly aware of the car speeding at me. Just before it was too late, someone grabbed me and pulled me back to the side of the road, holding me close to them in a protective manner. By the time the car had passed, I noticed it had been a taxi. Annoyed, I turned to the person who grabbed me and put my hands on my hips. "Excuse me," I said firmly, "that was my ride." It took me about a minute longer than it should've to realize that the guy who grabbed me was Tom. He looked at me with anger clear in his -currently extremely dark- eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, keeping a grip on my arm.

"I'm trying to go home," I said, "but you made me miss my ride."

"I gave you explicit instructions not to leave the house," he said, "and you ignore me and go to a bar?"

"You're not the boss of me," I slurred, smacking my lips and blinking harshly.

"In this scenario, I am," he said back. "I'm just looking out for you."

"You're trying to own me," I retorted, stabbing my finger against his chest. "You think-" I hiccuped. "You think just because you're, you're handsome and, and fucking toned as hell and, and you make me want to do, do really really inappropriate things with you that you can, you can own me?"

I noticed then that Tom's hair was wet, fluffy, and unstyled. I wondered what he had been doing before he so rudely came to run my life. Had he been showering? Naked? I reached my hand up and ran my fingers through his hair. "Your hair is so soft," I told him, my original anger subsiding. "Fluffy and brown. So unfairly cute for such a scary mafia man."

Tom sighed. "This is by far the most idiotic thing you could've done," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

It really wasn't often that I got drunk. Still, I knew what it felt like, and I knew there was something different about how I was feeling then. I felt more dizzy than any other time, and my head felt heavy, like I could hardly keep it up. My previously jelly-feeling legs started to shake, so I grabbed onto Tom's shirt to hold myself up. "Tom," I said. My voice didn't even sound like mine. I felt like there were cotton balls in my mouth. What was happening? "Some-fin, some-fin's wrong." I smacked my lips and felt my eyes start to close.

"(Y/N)?" he slapped my cheek slightly. I forced my heavy eyelids open, feeling immense panic settling in my chest.

"What's hapning?" I asked, feeling tears spring to my eyes as they struggled to stay open.

"Shit," Tom said. "Shit. Okay. Shit. Let me get you home. I need you to try and keep your eyes open for me, okay?"

"Can't," I whimpered, unable to hold myself up anymore. Tom hooked his arms under my knees and picked me up bridal style and ran over to where he had parked his car.

"Try and talk to me, okay?" he said, setting me on the passenger seat and buckling me up very quickly almost like he was panicking. "Just keep listening to my voice." My chest felt heavy, panic settling in even more than before. I felt like I couldn't breathe no matter how hard I tried to gulp air. It was almost like my body was on sleep mode, but it didn't want to be.

Tom was talking, but none of his words were registering. I knew he wanted me to respond, but I didn't think my mouth was connected to my brain. I was telling myself to talk, but my mouth wasn't cooperating.

All I was really aware of was Tom's hand on my thigh and how comforting it was. This was a side of Tom I hadn't seen, and I wasn't even sober enough to appreciate it. All I wanted was to hold his hand in mine, but I couldn't even keep my head up. "Tom," I mumbled, trying to turn my head to look at him.

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