#like fucking no wonder tom was my favorite. why r his eyes like that

[alchemiccolored]

HIHIHI TYSM FOR REBLOGGING MY BEEJ DESIGN THAT GENUINELY MADE ME SO HAPPY I STARTED STIMMING /vvvvvvpos

lmao YEAH!!!! fun design i love giving bj more monstery bits!! he is trans <3

[warningsine]

favourite succession episodes?

My favorite episodes are—naturally—the ones that cause me the most pain. Either they tear me apart emotionally or they terrify me with their spot on sociopolitical commentary.

It's hard to watch a democracy crumbling in such plausible ways when you take a look at what's happening around the globe, you know?

Anyway, my top 10+1 episodes are:

All the Bells Say (Season 3, Episode 9). The back-to-back epic betrayals and tragedy (Shakespearean, Greek, Roman, Jacobean — you name it) have bewitched me body and soul and I love them. And the cinematography? Some frames look like Renaissance paintings.

Connor's Wedding (Season 4, Episode 3). Honestly, this episode is why I watch television. Now excuse me while I sob.

America Decides (Season 4, Episode 8). Give Kieran all the trophy awards for managing to make Roman so loathsome and disgusting when 5 episodes earlier he had me crying like a baby because of how pitiable his character was. "Succession" had always made it clear that these characters are awful yet human. That being said, I love how this particular episode focuses on how complicit they all are (Jess, Greg, Hugo, Gerri, Karl, Frank, the dude that takes the "pending call" decision) and how it makes you hate the Roy siblings for damning an entire nation. Kendall? Unlike Roman, he knows right from wrong and how terrible of a father he is, but when it comes down to it, he's a spineless coward. Shiv? Believes that she cares for the world (democracy, misogyny, racism), but is actually a huge hypocrite. When her country is about to succumb to fascism, the first thing she can think of is to double down on her deal with another amoral and abusive billionaire. She cares more about sticking it to her brothers more than anything else.

This Is Not for Tears (Season 2, Episode 10). Everything about this episode is perfect: the music, the script,the direction, the acting. I'm a Shiv stan, but Tom's "I wonder if the sad I’d be without you, would be less than the sad I get from being with you" absolutely breaks me. Logan mentioning the Incas and Kendall Judas kissing him before fucking him over? [chef's kiss]

With Open eyes (Season 4, Episode 10). Sad to see you go, happy that you chose to keep your legacy and not drag, beloved show.

Church and State (Season 4, Episode 9). Please respect my privacy while I cry. There was Roman's heartbreaking breakdown of course, but what really got to me was Marcia touching Kerry's hand and then telling Shiv that Logan hurt all of them. Hiam Abbass is there for 5 mins and unsurprisingly manages to steal the show.

Nobody Is Ever Missing (Season 1, Episode 10). When the series turned from capitalist satirical drama to tragedy of the highest caliber was when it really won me over. "You're my number one boy" indeed.

What It Takes (Season 3, Episode 6). Like Shiv said about Jordan-Peterson-meets-Trump Mencken, it's terrifying to watch a “YouTube provocateur” whose vibes are “aristo-populism … ‘rape is natural, it’s all red pill, baby'" gain power.

Chiantishire (Season 3, Episode 8). Dickpicgate, comedy gold. Hearing your mother tell you that it'd have been better if she had had dogs instead of you and that you'd make a terrible mother too? Harriet Walter, the actress that you are.

Tern Haven (Season 2, Episode 5). I love season 2. I love the Pierces. I love Rhea. I love Nan. Holly Hunter and Cherry Jones should have been regulars is all I'm saying.

Dundee (Season 2, Episode 8). "L to the OG" way before "R to the IP" took place.

--

Honorable mentions:

Tailgate Party (S4E7). That Tom/Shiv balcony scene... Give Snook all the awards.

DC (S2E9). When Shiv manipulated and silenced that victim of sexual harassment and abuse, showing us her true colors. When Rhea proved that she had something resembling a moral backbone after all. “This doesn’t feel right" indeed.

Rehearsal (S4E2). Because the last thing that Logan said to his children was, "I love you, but you are not serious people."

Honeymoon States (S4E4). Had not expected this episode to be so funny and yet.

Too Much Birthday (S3E7). Always a pleasure to watch Kendall fall apart and the 3 siblings backstab and be awful to each other.

Which Side Are You On? (S1E6).

Safe Room (S2E4).

The Disruption (S3E3). For Snook's acting after Kendall interrupts Shiv with Nirvana's "Rape Me" and Kendall's cowering in the server room after Shiv published that letter about him. Jeremy Strong's acting says so much even when his character doesn't utter a word.

The Munsters (S4E1). Greg's "Where are your kids?" was pure savagery. Logan should have been given some aloe vera for that burn. No, but how dare Brian Cox make me feel bad for the fallen king? It's "Breaking Bad" all over again.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted To You

Part VI: Hold On Loosely

Summary/Author’s Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG. I MISSED FRANKIE SO MUCH. also. Holy shit, I love you guys. Part I -- has been my first fic to reach 500+ notes and that is just bananas to me and also wild that it was Frankie that did it. He deserves all of the love. 

So, for those who have seen the movie know what is about to happen. But it might not be in the way you think. We get a little bit more Reader and Pope interaction and someone mentioned wondering about her relationship with Benny and I was like Oh perfect timing for this then...Enjoy. Gif credit to @pascalplease 

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope’s Sister!Reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ Language, TOM (yeah he moved up), No one fucking listening to Frankie, Frustration, Intense situations, FUCKING murder, pining/longing, getting slightly turned on by Frankie piloting again--don’t lie we all do it, Frankie distress, blood/injuries

Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V (bold means smut**)

[MASTERLIST]

--

“What’s my name?!” he yelled over the wind of the helicopter behind him.

“I-I don’t know,” She hugged her own body, clutching the duffel bag to her chest and looked at him with uncertainty. The wind blew her dark hair around her face and she made it a point to put herself between her younger brother and the man in front of her. 

“Your buddy back there--” he swung his arm around and pointed. “What’s his name?” She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. “I can just go ask him!”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Now,” he touched her arm and she had to fight not to shrug him off. He dipped his head and his tone was condescending. “When you two finally had sex--and you rolled over and said, ‘what’s your real name’--what’d he say?” 

“That never happened!” She shrugged him off then and snarled at him. “He told me you served together...and that you were honest.”

“Why’d he say that?” Tom leaned back in mild surprise.

“Because I asked if he trusted you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you cheating him…”

The chopper had landed on the Peruvian border just like Pope had promised. They had dropped off the informant and her brother and although you couldn’t hear what was being said, you could tell by Tom’s dramatic body language and the disgust on her face that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Your brother handed her their cut of the money and touched her face tenderly as she held onto his arm and they said their goodbyes. 

Tom stormed back onto the helicopter and sat down, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. You couldn’t help but think that he reminded you more and more of a child throwing a tantrum instead of a hardened military veteran leading a mission. It was as if he knew you were staring because he opened his eyes and looked at you. You averted your gaze quickly. 

Pope cleared the threshold of the copter and took Benny’s seat as the younger man went up to take his shift with Frankie in the cockpit. Your brother put his headset on and opened his arm so you could lean against him and hug his side. 

“You liked her, didn’t you?” you asked him, looking up with your head on his chest.

“I’m just glad she’s safe.” He said vaguely and you knew not to push the subject. He rubbed his hand up and down over your arm as if to warm you up and you let out a sigh of contentment. 

“She’s lying,” Tom’s voice crackled through the coms on the headsets and both you and Pope looked at him. 

“No, she’s not.” Pope said firmly and glared at the other man. 

“You know what we should have done?” Tom let his thought remain unfinished and you felt your brother tense under your arms. Your stomach dropped as you realized what Tom meant. Before either of you could say anything, Will spoke up, always the voice of reason.

“That’s one you wouldn’t come back from, brother,” he said. He was leaning back against a few of the duffel bags with his arm propped up to keep his side un-strained.

The four of you were quiet for a long time, each mulling over Tom’s words in your own way as the chopper whirred around you rhythmically. The dark sky was crystal clear and you watched as the city below you slowly started to disappear and give way to the dark tops of the trees. 

“You still doing okay?” Pope asked and you nodded. 

“I’m exhausted,” you said, trying your best to stifle a yawn with his shirt. “But I’m worried if I sleep I’m going to wake back up in that mansion.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud, but, however ridiculous, it was the truth. Every time you closed your eyes, it was as if you were back in that room, tied to that chair. The darkness that enveloped you wasn’t from sleep, it was the goddamn blindfold being put back over your eyes and it made your heart start racing as panic built in your chest. 

“Hey,” Pope said, dipping his head to look at you. “You know I was going to find you no matter what, right?” He gave you another squeeze. “I wasn’t leaving this fucking jungle without my little sister.”

You released a heavy breath and laid your head back against your shoulder, smiling slightly and forcing your mind to remember that you really were safe. Before you could start to drift off, you opened your eyes and leaned back enough to look at him. “If I promise to try and sleep, will you go check on Frankie?”

Pope chuckled and rolled his eyes before succumbing to your request. “Yes. You rest and I will go check on Fish.” As he got up, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over you before moving towards the cockpit. 

"The weight drags when we get into higher altitudes so I want to keep it under 5,000 feet until we hit the Andes. We'll hit the ocean in four hours." Frankie's voice came through the com on your headset and you suddenly felt better. Tom's voice came through confirming that they had heard him and understood. 

Four hours. Four hours and you would be headed home. After everything, it seemed like such a small amount of time and with Frankie at the helm, there was nothing to worry about. 

--

When you woke up, it was because you were shivering. The main hull of the helicopter had dropped a considerable amount as it flew through the night and started to rise in altitude the closer it got to the Andes. Your brother was still gone but his jacket was pooled in your lap where it had slipped down off your chest. Both of the Miller brothers were sleeping peacefully and you were glad that Will had finally managed to get comfortable. 

You sat up and slipped your headset back on so you could hear what they were saying. Standing up and stepping into the cockpit, the view out of the front of the aircraft was breathtaking. The mountains were huge, rocky crags that were covered in bright, white snow that reflected the sun off of its smooth surface. 

"I'm gonna try and head for the two peaks I saw on the map. If we can aim for that valley it will be easier," Frankie said.

"Roger," Tom replied and both men looked up as you stepped over the threshold and put your hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said quietly, giving a small smile as you gave his arm a squeeze. 

"It's beautiful," you said, clearing the sleep from your voice and nodding ahead of you. There was a clear divide between the lush, green trees on the mountains below and the drastic change in altitude that allowed for the snow to accumulate. 

"It is," Frankie nodded, reaching forward and flipping up a small switch before putting both hands back on the joy stick. "You finally rest?"

"A little," you said. You pulled your headset down to rest on the base of your neck so you could lean forward and kiss his cheek gently. He kept his eyes ahead but the action made him smile, making the small lines at the edge of his eyes crinkle. 

"Can you cut the domestic bullshit please?" Tom said, gruffly. "How steep do you think that is?" He pointed to the nearest peak and Frankie looked at him sternly. 

"It's about 11,000 feet. We can't make that. I gotta find another way." Frankie shook his head and readjusted his grip on the controls. 

"That's the quickest way to the ocean from here. You should go for it."

Both you and the man to your left looked at Tom in surprise and annoyance. Who was he to call the shots like this? This wasn't a matter of choice, this was a matter of if something was possible or not. You put your hand on Frankie's shoulder as the helicopter started to rise up the side of the mountain. 

Frankie dipped his head to look up through the windshield, glancing down at all of the controls and watching as the lights started to flash in warning. You looked over your shoulder as Pope came up to stand behind you and watch what was happening. 

"Alright, baby," Frankie said softly, talking to the aircraft. "Alright, baby, come on now." 

He caressed the controls like he had caressed you. His fingers were familiar with them, what made them tick, and how best to move each dial and joystick. Frankie had always flown with a meticulous care that never failed to impress you--it was his favorite thing in the world. His heart lived in the sky and you loved that about him. A loud and rapid beeping drew you from your thoughts as the control panel started blinking red and orange.

"We're redlining man," Pope spoke up behind you as he pointed to the sensors. 

"It's close though," Frankie grit his teeth and cursed under his breath. "It's too much weight. It's too much fucking weight. We're never going to make it."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, sternly.

"It means we're losing fucking money."

"You wanna leave 50 million dollars in the middle of the jungle?"

"You wanna get to the ocean?" Frankie snapped finally, his voice not leaving any room for argument from Tom. The other man glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder to address Pope.

"Alright, go do it."

The idea that Tom controlled what he imagined to be the fate of the money, but in reality it was all of your lives, was complete insanity to you--especially because he seemed to be so flippant about the importance of the latter. You looked over your shoulder as your brother lowered the hatch on the back of the aircraft and a bitterly cold wind filled the cabin. The Miller brothers started shoving duffel bags filled with money out into a free fall down to the snow covered landscape of the Andes. 

The immediate beeping of the control panel quieted down and Frankie gave an approving nod. “That's feeling better.” He dipped his head lower, leaning forward in his chair as if the movement would help the craft in its painfully slow ascend over the mountains. “Come on. Come on.”

You held your breath as Frankie crested you over the top of the mountain and, just like he promised, there was the ocean. The sun glittered off the water as it rose in the sky and you felt a sense of relief that was comparable to how you felt when Frankie had cut you loose from your bindings in the mansion. Both times he had brought you a sense of safety that made your heart stutter against your ribs. Then the beeping came back. The aircraft paused for a brief moment before it dropped into a free fall.

Your ass hit the metal floor hard and your stomach twisted into knots like you were on a roller coaster. Santiago’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you up against him as the copter shook and the metal screamed, alarms going off from multiple places on the dashboard. 

“What the fuck are you doing Catfish!?” Will yelled as he gripped the handle above his head and put a hand over the bullet wound on his side. 

Frankie’s voice came through the headset, calmer than he most likely felt. ”One of the gear boxes is blown--I don't want to go into a spin.” You all continued to fall in the air down the side of the mountain and his voice became strained as he gripped the joystick and tried to balance it out. “We might be in trouble here. I'm losing altitude--we should land. We should land now.”

“Crash land here we all die!” Tom yelled, looking at his pilot with wide eyes.

“I'm trying to get her back to flat--”

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom barked behind at the rest of you.

Frankie flew back down over the canopy of the jungle, the snow giving way to the lush green of the treetops as he tried to maneuver towards the village that you all had seen during your first initial climb. Benny leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he gripped the handle closest to him. You could feel your brother’s heart hammering against your back, but on the outside he remained calm for the sake of the rest of his crew. 

“I can't land this with the drop bag under us. We should lose the money and maybe we don't die.” Frankie turned and looked at Tom. The man glared at him but remained quiet. The fact that now, looking certain death in the eyes, Tom decided to shut his mouth, pissed you off. And apparently, it did Frankie as well because without Tom’s permission he looked over his shoulder and yelled over his mic on his headset. “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Fuck this,” you mumbled as you pulled Santiago’s arm from around you and scrambled to your feet. 

You had been on flights with Frankie enough times that you knew what the external load release looked like. It was the only fucking leaver on the wall, after all. You leaned over Benny and grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. The cargo doors in the floor opened slowly but the canvas net bag full of duffel bags stayed securely attached to the bottom of the helicopter. 

“Frankie! It’s not working!” You called out to him and he glanced back at you again.

“There's a manual override on the cargo hook!” His voice was full of worry as he told you to stop. “Let Benny do it--fuck!”

He cursed, watching as you ignored him and leaned over the open door to find the manual override. The wind from the blades and the altitude whipped your hair against your face and you grabbed onto the rope, feeling for a trigger mechanism of some kind. You cursed as black smoke billowed from the top of the aircraft and obscured your vision. The giant metal release was on the other side of the net and was way out of your reach. 

“Spot me!” You turned and yelled at Benny as he fell to his knees beside you and you ripped off your headset.

Benny nodded and helped you lower yourself through the hatch and onto the rope. He gripped your arm as you extended your leg and landed a firm kick with your booth onto the latch. When the bag fell, the helicopter gave a jolt as the weight shifted and Benny toppled through the hatch with you. You screamed as you heard Pope call your name and you looked up to see that the only thing that connected you to the copter was Benny’s grip. 

“Benny!” Will lunged for his brother and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. The ground was coming closer and closer as Frankie tried to level out the craft and land it in the middle of the field. 

“I can’t hold us both!” Benny yelled back at the blond. “We gotta jump!”

“No!” Pope reached through the hole in the floor but Benny was right. He didn’t give them any time to argue as he let go of the edge of the hatch and the both of you dropped the last twenty or so feet to the ground. 

You hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind from your chest. Bits of dirt flew into your mouth as you gasped and covered your face with your arm. As the helicopter touched down, dirt and debris whipped around in the air and you squinted to try and see through it all. The blade on the tail caught the dirt and the whole craft jerked sideways as huge chunks of metal flew directly toward you and Benny. 

“Get down!” He grabbed you and shoved you back down onto the ground covering you with his body as it continued to spin and jerk. The metal groaned, the blades squealed and all you could think of was if Frankie was still in control of it or if you were all just holding your breath and waiting for it to be over. 

Black smoke and chunks of upturned earth continued to fly long after the craft came to a stop but the blades still slowly continued to turn. Benny moved his body off of yours and helped you stand as you both took off running towards the wreckage. 

“Santi!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Here!” Your brother called back as Will popped the door open and they both started to climb up out of the sideways craft. “We’re fine!”

“Fish!” Benny yelled as he got to the front and your heart stopped. Both Frankie and Tom were not moving as fast as Pope and Will. The glass of the windshield was shattered, but still hanging in the frame and Benny quickly raised his knee and kicked it free in giant sheets.

Tom crawled out onto the grass and coughed, fresh blood coming from an abrasion on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Help Fish.”

As soon as Tom was out of the way, Benny got down and leaned in, grabbing the other man by the forearms and hauling him out onto the ground. 

“Frankie,” you breathed, running the rest of the way to him. Benny moved to the side as you approached and you threw yours arms around him tightly.

Frankie squeezed you tightly, before leaning back to hold you at arm's length. He dipped his head to look you in the eyes as he gripped your upper arms and shook you slightly. “What you thinking--what the fuck were you thinking?!”

You watched as blood slowly dripped down a fresh, large gash on Frankie’s upper cheek, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He couldn’t look away from you. His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving and even though his words were harsh, his tone didn’t hold any anger--it held fear. Your eyes burned and your chest felt tight, and the moment he saw it reflected on your face, his resolve crumbled and he pulled you back against his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me, baby,” He confessed as he pressed his lips to the top of your head and shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck.” He shook his head and looked up at the man standing behind you. “Thanks, Ben.”

Benny nodded as he helped Will jump from the door of the helicopter and Pope crawled out behind him, with his rifle clutched in his hand. He started tossing gear down to the ground and they passed around backpacks and guns. Frankie let you go reluctantly as Pope hopped down to the ground and handed him a new bulletproof vest. 

“They’re gettin’ into the fucking net,” Tom cursed and the rest of you looked up to watch as people from the nearby village had flooded the site where the bag had dropped. Sure enough, they were using tools and machetes to rip through the thick ropes of the drop net and get into the duffel bags. 

”What’s the plan here?” Pope said, propping his rifle on his arm and looking around.

“We’re getting that money back over the mountain and to the ocean,” Tom said, fastening his vest and grabbing his own weapon. “Benny, cover us from that treeline there.” He pointed to the right. “Fish, I want you at that vantage point over there.” He pointed to the left and then continued. “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they could have guns already trained on us from those watchtowers over there.”

“We got working coms?” Will asked and Tom shook his head.

“No, we’ll use hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can--we’ll signal when we think it's secure.” Tom looked to each of them to make sure they understood before nodding once. “Move out.”

As they all started to move in their assigned directions, Frankie moved his rifle to one hand, so he could take yours with his other. “You’re coming with me.” 

You didn’t argue, not wanting to leave his side regardless. You desperately wanted to inspect the cut on his face, but you knew while he was tasked with watching the back of Pope and Tom, Frankie wouldn’t dare think about himself. You could ask, but he wouldn’t let you, so what was the point? He moved you both up the hill and squatted low into the tall grasses of the field, pressing his right eye to his scope for a minute to make sure he had a shot lined up if he needed it. 

As you both watched the retreating forms of Tom and Pope walk towards the farmers, Frankie glanced at you. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches mainly,” you shook your head and looked down at your palms and arms. “That’s it. You’re bleeding, though.” You nodded towards his face.

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, like you knew he would. “Don’t do anything like that again.” His voice was flat and you fought the urge to snap back at him. The adrenaline had been high for you both, the last thing you needed was to fight with the man you currently needed most. 

“We both are going to do what it takes to get home--”

“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a badass--”

“Don’t pull that macho bullshit with me--”

The two of you glared at one another and then his face broke into a small grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about you being stubborn before looking back through his scope. You knew he was just worried. Was it reckless to do what you did on the drop net? Absolutely. But this entire trip had been nothing but the five of them risking their lives for you, and you were tired. Tired of being the reason that everyone you cared about in this fucking jungle was in constant danger. So, when Frankie told you to be smart, it was because he just wanted you home. He just wanted you safe. 

You stayed quiet as you both watched the scene unfold in the field below. Both Tom and Pope were talking with their hands, gesturing, and speaking quickly. Hearing what was being said wasn’t necessary, their body language was more than enough, this talk wasn’t going in their favor. 

“Pope, what's he reaching for? Is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke with his gun against his shoulder as he used the hand that wasn’t on the trigger to press the button on his radio.

No response.

“Pope, do you cop-”

“Frankie,” you touched his shoulder as you remembered the coms were dead from the crash.

Frankie leaned back and glanced at you before looking to his radio and cursing quietly. Pope had his arms out in a defensive position, speaking quickly over Tom who had his hand on his gun. This was bad. This was very bad. Frankie adjusted his grip on the rifle and his body went still. Tom pulled his gun and it was as if everything before you happened in slow motion. 

The villagers yelled and Tom used his handgun to fire into the chest of the one nearest to him. Then again and again. Blood blossomed to life through their clothing and they dropped to the ground. The second one of them took another step forward, Frankie pulled the trigger, doing what he was trained to do--protect those on your squad. 

His rifle echoed and ricocheted back on his shoulder and the man who had stepped towards Pope dropped just like the three before him. You watched as the other men gave the order for the villagers to get back and the screaming continued. Benny ran down the mountain and Frankie stood but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place as you saw Tom raise his gun at the unarmed man, now struggling to breathe, on the ground. You may not have liked him to begin with, but now you knew--Tom was going to get all of you killed. 

--

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[myfeetkeepdancing]

Blurred Lines  |  Tom Holland x Male!Reader

Words: 2198

Request:  hello, if the requests are open (because I really don't know where I can see that) and if it's not too much to ask, you could do one where Tom is trying to learn some lines for a movie but as he has dyslexia (something I discovered from a photo on Instagram), Tom becomes sensitive so the reader helps him with that, then Tom cries and the rest I leave it to you as you want😅

-----

With his back to the door, Tom sat behind his desk. From the doorpost, you watch dark clouds gather above him. You could sense the frustration hanging about him—his chin resting on a tightly clenched fist. Once in a while, his other hand laced through his curls. Murmuring inaudible things to himself. Gaze stuck to the pages with endless lines for his next project. The fact that Tom didn't learn his lines on the coffee table or in the corner of your big, cozy couch was a definitive red flag. Usually, he would be all around the house. Practicing his lines, sharing his thoughts. His enthusiasm dragging you into enacting his favorite scenes with you. But not this time.

You take careful steps into the room, taking a seat beside the desk. "I've made you tea." Sliding the cup slowly across the wooden surface, resting your chin on the palm of your hand, quietly observing Tom, letting your presence sink in.

"Thanks..." He mumbled with his eyes stuck to the paper. Not paying you any attention. Watching him retrace the same line over and over again with his finger. A big draw of breath moves his hunched and depressing pose. "You know…" The mutters in a downcast tone you already dread hearing. It's gut-wrenching to see Tom like this. Quiet and turned to himself. "... I'm not-" Releasing a long sigh of frustration while shaking his head. Swallowing half his sentence. As sharp as his jawline already was, it sharpened even more as his jaw clenched hard. Struggling to regain his temper. His feet tapping the floor unimpeded. With a quick turn of his head, he eyed the door you came through. Rushing from his seat to close it. Just a tad bit too harsh as it collided with the frame. The loud slam resonating through the room and into the hallway. Poor Tessa. You only manage to catch a few fleeting words as he utters something about a draft before returning to this seat. His figure more hunched and leaning into the desk.

"Tom…" You try to reach him again. "What's bothering you?" With one hand, you slowly rub his shoulder.

By now, you got to know Tom well. You have to let him fume, release his frustrations. There were never personally directed at you. But stressful times could bare down hard on him. And even Tom had his limits. His sleep became irregular, mood swings to the extreme. And self-esteem at an all-time low. Tom became sensitive to so many things. Irritated by the simplest things. Sounds, simple gusts of wind, beams of light, reflections off surfaces. Stirring your coffee with a spoon could set something off. Everything was distracting him. The only remedy was allowing him to vent.

"It's just…!" He snarls, throwing his pencil to the wall. "I can't do it!" His voice boomed. Full of rage and frustration. Slamming his fist onto the paper, as if to punish it. "The words!" Tom wheezes while his nostrils flares angrily. "I have four more days, two of which are travel." He hangs back in his chair. Raking his fingers through his curls in frustration. "And I can't get these fucking lines into my bloody brain." Knocking a few papers from the stack with an aggravated swoop of his hand. He continues to avert any sort of contact with you. Staring at the ceiling while combing his fingers through his curls. They were unkempt. Tom didn't even bother to. A mess. That's what he was. His shirt was wrinkled, litter all-around—cups and wrappers from candy. Tom's shirt hangs loosely around his frame, his shoulders hanging low.

You re-seat yourself on the chair. Allowing your eyes to run across the lines. But before you are able to utter another word, Tom's ramble continues. His emotions finally let loose because of one thing. His eyes connect with yours. You stare into his eyes for a moment. Captivated by his pain. His misery. You only respond with a small smile—a reassuring one. Words wouldn't help.

"I won't!" He yells out. "I… just, I... can't do it!" Rubbing his hands across his face, shielding them from you. His breathing is heavy as everything else turns quiet. Just the two of you. He seemed so conflicted, shaking his head. Mumbling things to himself. "Everyone expects so much from me… and -and…" His voice suddenly breaks, seeing his chest heave up and down. Slow sobs begin to rack his frame. "I… can't." Tears start to stream freely down his cheek as you take his hands away. They tremble uncontrollably. Revealing his red teared up eyes. "I can't do it (Y/N)." He said while his whole body was taken over by the shaking from his sobs.

"Poor thing." You manage to get out as lump formed in your throat. "C' mere." Pulling him towards you, taking his shaking body on your lap, as he locks his arms around you. Burying his face against the side of your neck. Slow sobs turn into long sorrowful wails. Paused by moments of him recovering his breath. "It's going to be alright." Stroking your hand along his back. "It's ok, Tom…" Whispering soothing words into his ear.

"T-The words… they j-just d-don't stick." He snickers, clinging onto you for dear life. Seeking safety and comfort. Like a terrified infant. Rocking him slowly to and through. He felt broken. All his defenses washed away into tears. And you let him weep, howling at his insecurities. It's difficult to make out words as he continues to sob in between hicked breaths. "One moment they dance, the other they make no sense." Hugging himself tightly against you. "It takes so much energy. I… I can't do it." He weeps. "I just can't…"

"That's ok." Combing his curled up locks of beautiful brown hair with your fingers. You press a gentle kiss behind his ear. Tom was all warm to the touch, your shirt all wet and moist from his tears. The sobs trembling his frame to his very core. "Hey…" You whisper. "Listen…" Trying to get his attention as he slowly begins to calm down. Pushing the strands of brown curled hair from his forehead. Planting a kiss there. "Let's take a break." Lifting his face by his chin. Tom's gaze full of sorrow and misery. "Clear your mind. Find some fresh motivation, renew your energy, and start over."

"But, there's simply no time." No more tears came, but his lip jutted out, trembling.

"I'm here for you, Tom." Stroking your hand through his luscious curls. Feeling his breathing slow down. The tension in his frame subsiding. "I'm going to help."

"B-But... how?" Rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, being all runny. "I… don't know how."

"Hop in the gym. Release your frustration." You give him a reassuring smile, pressing your lips on his. "It'll help."

"Are you sure…?" Looking at you with big sad puppy eyes. "Don't you hate working out…?"

"I'm not going to." You chuckle. "You some time alone. I'll be here. I'll help you."

For a while, he said nothing, rising to his feet, standing there, digesting the information. His head hanging low. Gaze plastered to the floor. The exhaustion evident on him, as he weighed up the words. He looked hollowed out. "Ok…" He nodded, followed by a long weary sigh. Dragging his feet across the floor. With that, he disappears from the room. You turn your attention to his script. Highlighting his lines, putting on straps of paper, and more. It pained you to see Tom like this. But this time, you were prepared. Moments later, you hear the sound of progress. Sporting equipment being used vigorously, a boxing ball getting punished, and heavy weights slamming up and down.

"Babe!" Tom rounds the corner into the living room. Eyes glued to his script. "How'd… you-?" Reading through the many edited pages. "This is amazing!" To your relief, you see that cute smile returning to his features. Tom finally being himself again. Outgoing and joyful.

"Once you feel like it, let me hear your lines." You say with a growing smile. His happy response made the whole place light up again. The darkened mood finally gone from the air. "I've got plenty of space on this couch." Giving him a wink while opening a spot for him. The L shaped couch had this perfect spot in the corner. Cushions and blankets, space to stretch your legs. From day one, it's been a battle who sat there first.

"You're a lifesaver, you know that?" Jumping on the couch, thanking you with a long deep kiss. Before curling into your embrace between the blankets and cushions. His back snuggled up tight against your chest, allowing you to put an arm around his torso. "How did you figure this out?" He asks, pulling the blankets back into position.

"I knew it hindered you. I've seen you struggle before. But I wasn't aware how much more it affected you on set."

"I'm not proud of it." He sighs. "But please understand I wasn't trying to hide that from you on purpose. I... just didn't want you to worry."

"It's alright." Resting your head against his. "I'm just glad Harrison told me." Feeling all dreamy and happy Tom was himself again. "That's why I took a sort of course on it."

"Are you... for real?" He turned and raised himself on his arms, hovering mere inches away from you. A look of wonder painted across his face.

"I am, I've got the certificate lying around here somewhere." You said with a stretching smile. Actually feeling a bit proud of it. "I did because I wanted to get a better understanding of it all. The differences and variants and all that. But most importantly, how to help someone who has it. To help you. To lend you a hand. Give you tips and tricks. Because for me, it's been incredibly difficult to see you struggle. I've felt helpless for long enough."

"Darling." Tom lying on top of your chest, dragging himself upwards to kiss you. "That's incredible. But how'd you manage that besides the rest you do? You already have so little time for yourself. If you'd ask-..."

"Tom, I know you. If I'd ask you... you would have said no. I mean… you can be quite stubborn." Booping his nose with your finger. "You're a hardworking guy. You can take on the whole world if you need to. You played in the biggest movies with the greatest of actors. And turned into one. You became a role model for an entire generation. You're at the top of your career." Combing your fingers through his lovely brown curls, sighing dreamily. "And you deserve every bit of it. Yet there's so much weight on your shoulders. The eyes of the world are on you all the time. So, if there's one thing that hinders you from doing the things you love. I'll do anything to help you with that."

"Oh my God, babe..." His eyes sparkled with life, staring deep into yours with adoration, joy, and pride. You pull him closer to you. Feeling so comfortable together. Watching him, sucking on his lower lip, eyes slowly turning red, rubbing his face with one hand. Slow and steady, a small tear began to roll down his cheeks. You manage to catch it with the pad of your thumb before Tom connects his lips with yours. A passionate and loving kiss, deepening it by the grace of this hands on your cheek. "That is the sweetest thing you ever said to me." Crossing his arm on your chest, head on top, swaying with the heaves off your breathing.

"Tom, what does it say about a person, who faces his personal dilemma every single day, head-on, so he can do the thing he loves doing most?" Pressing a kiss on his forehead. "That takes guts. Determination. And a ton of it as well. I admire that in you. I really do."

"Shit..." Pushing the tears from his eyes. "I… I never knew you thought of me like that. I feel even more terrible about today. I'm so sorry." Kissing your lips in rapid succession.

"Don't stress it, we all have our off days." Pulling his soft lips back onto yours. "Even Spiderman."

"Tell me, love, what's your secret?" Snuggling closer to you. "You're always so calm. Always smiling. You radiate peace. How do you do it? It's like you don't have bad days."

"It's because of you, Tommy. I have you…"

"That leaves me with little to top that." A smile of pure joy and pride beamed onto you. "You're really special to me, you realize that?" He is cupping your cheeks with both his hands, leaning into you, and taking your lips onto his. Following into a long, tender kiss to strengthen his words. "I love you so much."

"I'll always be there for you, Tom." Feeling a small tear roll down your cheek. "Always."

The brown-eyed boy's gaze was so intense, so unbroken. Full of love. "I'll be with you." He whispers back. "Till' the very end."

[im-the-punk-who]

Hey, I was wondering if you have a book rec

!!

Okay so in full disclosure, I have a really hard time reading books. My brain sometime around six years ago just decided that wasn't its style anymore, so I don't read a TON. A lot of these aren’t going to be recent releases. However, here are a bunch of books I would absolutely recommend checking out! I tried to include a variety of genres but I have uh.....five bookshelves in my apartment so if you're looking for more of a certain genre let me know!

Theatre:

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett

These are my two favorite plays - they're both absurdist, humorous, and have some fun things to say. They’re both by old white guys but like....I love both Tom Stoppard and Samuel Beckett DEEPLY and they have all of my love and respect.

Non-Fiction/Educational:

Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria by Beverly Daniel Tatum - this is considered a 'classic' on the psychology of racism, and was particularly helpful for me as a white person in arming myself against 'reverse racism' thoughts and in dissembling my own prejudices. This is mostly a rec for other white folks, but Tatum also addresses 'having the courage to sit at the black table' as a way of claiming your own identity outside of the stereotypes the dominant society expects of you.

Daring Greatly by Brene Brown - Okay listen I just really REALLY love Brene Brown, she is a therapist most famous for her TED talk about Vulnerability and this is just...listen I really like to read this book when I am sad and feel like shit because it makes me feel strong. I reread this book at least once a year.

Imagined Communities by Benendict Anderson - This is an absolutely fascinating read on the rise of nationalism. It’s a bit dry and wordy, but the ideas and use of history as propaganda, spinning the story of a nation to pit it against or on the same side as other nations, and the ways in which these tactics shaped cultural history is just!!!! Amazing.

Gay New York by George Chauncey - This is just one of the most informative and interesting reads of queer history in New York that I’ve ever come across. It’s one of the ‘must reads’ of queer history and has so many interesting tidbits that I have to recommend it. It’s a bit old(published in 1994) but I still find it relevant and interesting to read.

Personal Fiction/Autobiographical Fiction

White Girls by Hilton Als - I went to a reading of this book when it first came out. It was so much fun and so eye-opening for me as a baby queer in NYC that I bought the book there. I wanna be really clear that Als does not pull punches and a lot of people don’t quite like it, but I love Als’ style of writing. The stories and essays in this book are amazing and funny and heartbreaking and informative of queer experience - particularly black queer experience - that I always feel like...honored? to experience through writing? This is one of those ‘you’re gonna suffer but you’re gonna be happy about it’ reads - it can be hard to face because of how very hard the pills are to swallow but like....gosh I just love this book and it’s interesting and hilarious and great.

Confessions of an Economic Hitman by John Perkins  - this is my tin hat favorite. It hits....ugh. This is one of those books that came out and like every government agency freaked the fuck out over it. It’s an interesting look into the quote-unquote dark underbelly of capitalism; how and why countries manipulate each other through economic policies. Super interesting read with a nice style of prose.

The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to become the Smartest Person in the World by A.J. Jacobs Okay so full disclosure I have not finished reading this, but I’m far enough through to rec it. This book chronicles the author’s attempt to read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica from front to back, and it is just as kooky and hilarious as it sounds. I am very incredibly and deeply offended this author stole both my schtick and my initials, thereby preventing me from doing this exact thing. I read through the phone book in its entirety when I was three. I had it in me. Anyway, this is basically the author just listing weird interesting facts he’s read about and connecting them to his daily life, but it’s a fun read, and you learn a lot of totally useless facts, which is absolutely my jam.

When Skatboards Will Be Free by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh - HI I LOVE THIS BOOK. I’ve read it maybe three times over. It’s so fun and interesting. You may notice that a lot of the books I rec are very absurdist in their humor, and this is no exception. This book is full of the dry wit and just weird goddamn shit you could only expect from the child of a revolution that never came. You want to read a book about someone who Went Through Shit? Read this book. It’s funny and heartbreaking and just. AHHHH. Seriously I cannot recommend this enough.

Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosch - FIGHT ME ON THIS. I love this book.....so much. Yes it’s technically a comic book but the stories are so INTERESTING and hilarious and full of exactly the dry absurdist humor I eat the fuck up. Also! Allie Brosch recently released a sequel of sorts called Solutions and Other Problems that I recommend without even reading it.

Poetry

Pansy by Andrea Gibson - IF YOU ARE NOT READING THE POETRY OF ANDREA GIBSON WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. I cried seven times reading this book. There are only like 14 poems. Please please read this to break your own queer heart :)

Bloodsport by Yves Olade - This is a tiny book full of absolutely devastating poetry. Most of it has to do with the grief of relationships, but like....gosh I love all of Olade’s stuff. (Also!! This is available as a pay-what-you-wish pdf!!)

Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón - This book focuses a lot on the author’s experiences of loss, and knowing that loss is going to happen. I’m completely devastated every time I read this.

Science Fiction/Fantasy

The Bartimeaus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud - So what if I am a dumb millennial I love this series. It’s another dry and deadpan humor, with weird additions and Stroud’s use of footnotes to absolutely crack me the fuck up means I gotta rec this. I just gotta. Four(I think?) books following the deeply unlikeable Nathaniel and his Djinn Bartimaeus, who just wants to eat humans and have a deeply enjoyable enemies to lovers plotline with his arch rival.

The Magic's Price Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey - Okay I know I’ve recced this before. I will rec it again. This was the very first series I ever read that featured a gay protagonist and I was. Devastated? Reformed? I latched onto Vanyel Ashkevron and I am never letting this depressed emo boy go. Try me, I bite. Seriously, this book was released in the 80s and yet it is still relevant, I still cry - god i LOVE this series SO MUCH. And, MERCEDES LACKEY actually invented unbury your gays, sorry I make the rule on that one. :) Also there are magic talking horses??????? Seriously please read this series I love it so much.

Fire Bringer & The Sight by David Clement-Davies - This is another series that was absolutely formative in my baby lexicon. These are books about magical animals and their inner societal workings and both books address the ideas of good, evil, darkness, compassion and good will, and destiny. I am obsessed with these books, they are some of the most interesting of the genre I’ve read, and so incredibly intricately written. LOVE these books.

Vampire Earth Series by E. E. Knight - The Witcher before it was cool. Sort of but like...there are schools of Cat, Bear, etc and it has COOL VAMPIRES I LOVE THSI SERIES. Basically, earth has been taken over by a race of alien ‘Vampires’ and follows a human involved in the resistance. The writing in this series is...wow. It’s so intricate and interesting and involved. I own the whole series because I love it so much, including the after-series hardback novels. I’m so messy and I love it.

Kindred by Octavia Butler - You know how people are like ‘YOU SHOULD READ OCTAVIA BUTLER!!’ ? You should absolutely do that. This novel is mindblowing and interesting and the pace and narrative are so so so interesting. Heartbreaking, god, horrific. Butler is an amazing writer and this novel, while my personal favorite, is not by any means the only of her books I would recommend. STORIES. STORIES!!!!!!!

Fiction

The Ballad of Barnabas Pierkiel: A Novel by Magdalena Zyzak - This book is so fucking good. It’s imaginative, funny, intelligent....it’s honestly one of the best fiction novels I’ve ever read. Again, dry, absurdist humor, this book sort of reminds me of Terry Pratchett’s style of writing.

The Call of the Wild by Jack London - This is a classic, a true classic. The social commentary of this book is so so good, London’s style flows and, personally, as a dog and animal expert, the anthropomorphisation of Buck and his fellow animals is just so well done. I love this book, it���s quite an easy read, and I reread it at least once a year.

Rolling the R's by R. Zamora Linmark - Okay. Okay okay!!!!!! I gotta take a deep breath about this one. This book is. Yuh. This is a bit younger leaning than the other fictions, focusing almost entirely on high school level characters, however the experiences and commentary is just so so good. Focusing on a diverse group of characters growing up in Hawaii in the 1970′s, this book addresses the intersectionalities of gender, sexuality, race, immigration, education, and how we define who we are. I’m obsessed.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles - A heartbreaking novel about war, innocence, adolescence, and how we hide from our truths. It’s...so good, this book hurts me a LOT okay. The prose is phenomenal, the story is poignant, and it feels like I’m ripping my own heart out with a fishhook every time I finish it.

The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan - This is one of those books I half recommend because it’s so good, and half because of the deep wealth of knowledge it presents the reader. The author’s use of her own culture is just....goddddddddd. Intricate and interesting and so delicately included in the narrative that you can feel the love the author has for it. It’s a long read and it took me almost a month to get through reading every day, but god. It’s so soft and amazingly written I both wanted to read it all at once and take my time with it. This is another one that deals with the duality of humanity and how we connect with one another. Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!

P.S. Your Cat Is Dead by James Kirkwood Jr. - I love this book I love this book I LOVE THIS BOOK. It’s fucking hilarious, entertaining, I literally laughed out loud at every single chapter. Hilarious and poignant and surprisingly deep, this book literally follows the journey of a man in which literally everything that could go wrong does. It’s fucking hilarious.

I hope that helped and gave you some new books!!! <3

[murswrites]

Insane ⎯ John Shelby One-shot

Pairings: John Shelby x Solomons!FEM!Reader Fandom: Peaky Blinders MASTERLIST Word Count: 1.7k (ish) Warnings: Cursing, drinking, description of puking  SUMMARY: When you and your best friend go out for a drink at an unfamiliar pub, you run into John Shelby. A man who you just happen to “hate”.  Request from @encounterthepast​: If requests are still open could I go for John with "He’s driving me crazy” and “Have you totally lost your mind?” ... ? Thank you!! (Also I'm loving your social media AU)

A/N Hi! Thank you for requesting!!! It means a lot & I’m glad you’re enjoying SBE <33 I’m really proud of this? I actually thought about what I was going to do b e f o r e writing it... which is new to be quite frank. Y/F/N means “Your friend’s name” & Y/F/E/C means “your friend’s eye color.” I tried to keep them gender neutral since I made the reader female :D, enjoy!

Y/N Solomons was a name many knew. It was one many feared, except for John Shelby, of course. That sarcastic little fuck was always flirting and trying to hook up with Alfie Solomons’ sister. The fear that surrounded her, was due to her brash and no-nonsense attitude. Y/N, apparently wasn’t that way when she was young, she was sweet and wholesome. The war changed her, many say. But Alfie and John knew otherwise.

The fact that they were in the war beside (not literally) her, gave them a perspective many didn’t have. Alfie hadn’t wanted his little sister to be a war medic, but she was adamant about helping. The war didn’t change her, for say, it just caused her to grow up at an alarming rate. She went from the ripe age of twenty-four to practically forty in those long four years during the war. Being in your twenties usually meant partying and doing illegal things.

For Y/N, it was quite the opposite. She went through so much, trying to save so many lives, and losing so many due to the lack of supplies. It was hard, but she made it through by becoming numb to it all. And John Shelby seemed to be the only bloke able to get through her stoic surface. Managing to make her irritated with a smirk or snarky compliment. 

“Look, it’s that angry woman.” John would sometimes say, or he’d say something that held a double meaning. “I bet you like being in control everywhere, love.” The pet names were annoying enough as it was. Y/N hated and loved the attention in a strange way. She never got the attention of men anymore, it surprised the younger Shelby boy. Y/N’s beautiful, everyone knew that.

Everyone also knew that she was Alfie’s sister and that often scared men away. But not John, John’s adamant. He’s insistent that Y/N has feelings for him too. So he tries, for months he tries to woo her in any way possible. Little does he know that it is in fact working. Y/N took a long time to master appearing unamused and uninterested. It was hard work, but holding her angry resting face became a habit, a mask… hell, even protection.

Showing no emotions gave her an advantage. When all others showed everything with their faces and body language, she was left to read them like books. John Shelby was one of those people, he was young and she knew that. Along with reading him like a story, she could tell that he wasn’t pulling her leg. That he actually found her to be interesting and he wasn’t interested in forming a contract between them too. One to mutually benefit the Solomons’ and the Shelbys. 

Y/N wouldn’t lie, he intrigued her. How he blatantly flirts with her even with Alfie present. It entertained her, watching Alfie lose his shit over harmless flirting. “I don’t like that boy one bit.” Alfie often spat out while stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

—

 “He’s driving me crazy,” You mumbled while holding your head in your hands. Y/F/N and you were out drinking, it had been a long day with Alfie moaning and complaining about everything under the sun so Y/F/N thought it’d be nice to forget it all for one night.

Y/F/N turned to you, a drink in hand, and raised an eyebrow, “Alfie?” You chuckled, that was a reasonable question. All damn day, your brother had been cursing up a storm and complaining about everything in sight. 

“No, John fucking Shelby,” The annoyance in your voice was clear as their eyes widened. You haven’t ever openly complained about John’s pestering, perhaps it was the alcohol pushing your thoughts out. You picked up the full glass– it was whiskey, Irish, your favorite –and downed it in one go. “Always askin’ me out and fucking flirting with me… it’s annoying as fuck.”

“Maybe if you sleep with him, he’ll stop?” The slap you sent to Y/F/N’s arm startled them, your eyes were cold and hard.

"Y/N Solomons doesn’t lie with any man, especially not a fucking Shelby.” You spat your words out bitterly, tapping your glass on the counter to let the barman know you’re empty. The bar that the two of you sat in, wasn’t the usual place you chose to forget in. It was dark and kind of gross. But that didn’t matter, the alcohol was making your brain fuzzy, that was what mattered. All that mattered was that John’s taunting was forgotten.

But it seemed like the original plan was stunted, the many memories of John giving you a cheeky grin or saying something obscene surfacing in the presence of the shitty alcohol. “Now that’s not a very nice way to talk about me.” Immediately, at the sound of hearing the bastard’s voice, you groaned loudly. 

“Just my fuckin’ luck. Where are we Y/F/N?” Their Y/F/E/C eyes looked toward the floor sheepishly, they planned this. “Of course.” The sound of your voice made your best friend flinch, expecting an outburst. John Shelby stood behind your chair, you could feel his presence easily. Since he often made an appearance during the meetings between Alfie and Tom, you saw John frequently. It was annoying, not enjoyable. 

You turned in your chair at the feeling of John’s hand on the back of it, raising an eyebrow in question. “Why, you’re at The Garrison, love. Best dam pub in Small Heath.”

“That’s debatable.” Y/F/N muttered under their breath. John calling you love was a normal occurrence, something he often did. You never paid any mind to the flirtatious comments that often left his lips. For some reason, tonight, the name caused heat to spread throughout your body. Your nose, ears, and cheeks felt warm. The thought of John seeing the blush oddly worried you. As if seeing you react would only entice more flirting. 

The pub was growing hot and you suddenly felt the urge to vomit. You quickly grabbed your purse and practically ran from John and Y/F/N, clutching a hand over your mouth on your way out. Thankfully the night air of Small Heath was cold and bitter. It helped you as you nursed the vomit from your bowels violently. It felt like you puked for hours before you walked away from the bush and leaned on the brick wall in an alleyway. 

—

“Jesus.” John’s voice brought you from your thoughts, why was he here? “Are you alright, love?” That stupid nickname… you cursed under your breath as John took a swig from a flask. He held the silver flask out to you and you gladly took it. The taste of vomit making your stomach churn even though puking now would only cause pain.

The alcohol burned your throat, but you welcomed the pain since it tasted better than the puke. “I’m fine.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, itching to get away from the young man. It wasn’t that he disgusted you or made you want to punch him (although he often did). It was the feeling that your lack of sobriety made you feel with him standing there, with that shit-eating grin like he knew what you were thinking without even knowing.

John wasn’t ugly, you knew that, he even knew it. He annoyed you to no end, constantly flirting and trying to gain a reaction from you. The pet names, the jokes, the sinful glances… it wasn’t like you didn’t secretly crave the attention. You were beyond touch starved and you knew it was your fault. From being a blatant bitch to downright turning men down, soon they stopped trying. Add being Alfie Solomons’ sister to the mix and you’ve got the potential for a natural disaster.

Shelby’s and Solomons’ don’t mix. Everyone (not everyone. Those in the Peaky Blinders and Alfie’s boys knew)  in both Camden Town and Small Heath were aware of the icy slopes that the businesses were on. That any rock in the boat could shoot everyone off-board and into the murky water of the cut. These thoughts are the reason why you hesitated when John fucking Shelby kissed you with enough force that you had to grab the lapel of his suit coat. 

It was why your eyebrows screwed in confusion before you realized what was happening, right before you melted into his touch, you pushed him back harshly. John’s breath was ragged and fast, like he’d just been underwater. “Have you totally lost your mind?” You spoke over one another, “That was amazing.” 

John caught onto your words, his pale blond eyebrows also furrowing. “What–” 

“This would never work.” Your voice was stoic, John sighed as he realized that you retreated back into yourself. He saw the real you for only a moment it felt like, but it was a wonderful moment. When your hands held onto his suit and pulled him in. How heavenly your lips felt against his own. 

He nodded, jaw twitching, “We could make it work, Y/N. You and I– we’d be the most powerful couple in all of England.” You scoffed dryly, of course, he was thinking of business.

“And here I thought you actually liked me–”

“What? I do! No– that’s not what I meant, I meant that nothing could stand in our way, we’d be dynamite.” A laugh forced its way through your rouge lips, how hilarious… you thought to yourself. He was worried about his image and not how he truly felt. John’s cheeks were surprisingly red as he rubbed the back of his neck, this was an odd sight to see. The flirtatious Shelby boy… all meek and shy.

It made you feel powerful, like you held the strings that controlled him. You knew it wasn’t true but it was quite the sight to see, him blushing before you. All because you tripped him up with your confidence, so you did the one thing you’ve been forcing yourself to not imagine for the past few months. You grabbed the lapel once more, only this time, you were initiating the contact. 

John replied immediately by holding your cheek and neck lovingly as you two kissed passionately in the dark alleyway. The feeling was strangely euphoric, the adrenaline rush high, and your hands moving across one another’s bodies. Trying to feel every part of them. Soon though, you had to break apart for precious air. Your hair felt a mess and John’s cheeks were even redder than before, if possible. He had a smile on his face and you had half the mind to smack it off.

“You’re insane, John Shelby.” You whispered into the night, enjoying the feeling of his embrace.

“Says the Solomons girl.” John quipped back.

“Ouch.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Thunder - Chapter 1: Warm Front

gif via @hvitserkk

summary: Frankie and Luciana escape a party for some much-needed peace and quiet spent with each other, and unspoken feelings start to stir.

warnings: mentions of death, alcohol abuse, drunkenness, partying

rating: R

word count: 3.816k

masterlist

chapter 1: warm front

“I fuckin’ hate parties.”

Frankie sips his beer to hide his smile as Luciana laughs alongside him. “Yet, you’re always at them,” Luciana reminds him, sipping whatever concoction’s in her red Solo cup as she gives his bottle a flick. “And why don’t you ever use a cup? Are you ‘too cool’ for that?”

“Shut up,” Frankie mutters, biting back a smile as he nudges her shoulder. “I just prefer it ‘authentic.’” Luciana laughs as she lets out a sigh, leaning back against the corner of the wall.

Luciana’s not wrong. Even though Frankie hates parties with every fiber of his being, he’s almost always here at Benny’s frat house, finding himself unable to reject the time spent with his best friends. Over the past few years of college, Frankie’s found a friend group that’s become more like a family, unstable at times but also reliable. Tom, Will, and Benny are all people he met within his first week at school—but Santiago and Luciana have been close to his side ever since high school. Him and his four brothers have already planned to move into their next phase of life together serving their country.

Really, Frankie just wants to fly.

He always has. Ever since he was a kid, Frankie’s dreamed of being able to touch the sky. His gaze drifted upwards no matter what time of the day it was, admiring either the clouds or the stars above. His mother used to tell him he could catch a star if he got up high enough, and it would fit right in his pocket. His father used to say he could paint with the clouds, using the edge of a wing as a brush. Frankie would tell them that he’d paint his dad a portrait of their old family dog, and he’d get two stars—one for his mom and one for himself.

That was until his mother finally gave way to her condition, and his father wasted himself away with Jack and Jim Beam not too long after.

But now, Frankie’s got a new family who cares just as much about his dreams of flying. Being the “dad” friend already promised him a spot as their calm and collected pilot, anyway. Santiago always told him that he was the person who steered the group in the right direction—so it made sense that he’d do the same in the air someday. Luciana agreed with those claims. Even though she’s not going to follow the same path as the rest of them, she’s always said that Frankie needs to be in the air. He’s the only one she’d trust, she often tells them all.

So, it’s no surprise that Frankie’s once again found himself on the fringes of another one of Benny’s wild frat parties, keeping a watchful eye over his four brothers as Luciana keeps him company at his side. She’s not big into parties, either—just one of their many similarities. It’s what’s made Frankie draw so close to her, especially over the past few years at college. They understand each other like no one else does. Her and Santiago have been there for Frankie ever since his father started fading, and they practically adopted him into their family. But Frankie would never use the label “sister” on her. He doesn’t know why he can’t do it.

He thinks he might be starting to get an idea as to why, now.

Frankie looks over to see Luciana bobbing her head to the hip-hop tunes that blare out of Benny’s speakers—a firm rule for his parties: current hits only. Her brown eyes are sparkling as she watches the crowd of drunken college kids dancing in front of them, and Frankie likens the appearance of them to that of fresh honey dripping into a warm mug of tea. She has her dark hair tied back in a loose bun behind her head, and a few pieces fall around her face as her free hand tucks them away absentmindedly. Freckles adorn her nose and cheeks, and Frankie has to try to suppress the warmth in his chest when he thinks about how fitting they are for her.

Luciana soon catches Frankie’s eye, and she raises an eyebrow at him curiously. “What?” she asks, observing his close stare. She covers her mouth with her hand self-consciously. “Is there something in my teeth?”

“No! No,” Frankie assures her, chuckling a bit as he takes a hold of her wrist and brings her hand back down. “I just—” Frankie pauses, trying to think of a way to cover his ass, “—I was making sure you’re still awake.”

Luciana furrows her brow as she laughs at him. “I’m not sure how anyone could fall asleep easily here, Frankie,” she remarks, taking another sip of her drink.

Frankie tries to laugh it off, tipping the brim of his hat on his head before taking a swig from his bottle. “If I wasn’t standing, I probably could.”

“I know,” Luciana agrees, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You’re an old man stuck inside a college kid’s body, Francisco.”

Frankie wrinkles his nose at the sound of his full name. “What did you call me, Luciana?”

Luciana gasps lightly and narrows her eyes at Frankie. “Are you trying to full-name me back?”

“And what if I am?”

Luciana doesn’t get a chance to answer before Benny suddenly stumbles over to them, throwing his arms around their shoulders. Frankie and Luciana both fall back a bit at the sudden taking of his weight. Some of the drink in his cup sloshes on Frankie’s shoulder, and he holds back a heavy sigh as the reeking scent of vodka hits his nostrils. “Franksters! Luci-Goosey!” Benny greets them, his voice slurred. “What are y’all doing in the corner?”

“Minding our own business,” Frankie answers simply, earning a snort from Luciana.

“Oh, c’mon,” Benny scoffs. “You’re always avoidin’ the fun! You should go dance!”

“I’d rather watch people make asses of themselves,” Luciana asserts, gesturing to the main part of the house where some hotshot’s just tried to do a backflip—and ended up kicking one of their buddies in the face while also landing straight on their back.

“Fuck, y’all are boring as hell,” Benny whines, taking his own weight again as he lifts his arms from Frankie’s and Luciana’s shoulders. “But thanks for comin’!”

“We always do,” Frankie reminds him, slapping his shoulder in a friendly manner before he stumbles somewhere else.

Frankie and Luciana share a glance, barely able to contain their laughter as they shake their heads. That was the typical Benny interaction they’ve been waiting for, always being urged to do something other than sit in the corner where they’re more comfortable. Frankie wouldn’t change a thing about it.

“Luce, where’s your brother?” Frankie suddenly questions, looking over at Luciana with a raised brow. He’s lost track of his Santiago, Will, and Tom, and he wonders if they’ve gone somewhere else in the house.

Luciana shrugs. “Probably fucking up a nice game of pong,” she confesses honestly, causing Frankie to chuckle to himself.

It’s true—the minute Santiago gets more than a few drinks in him, he’s an absolute shitshow. Any drinking game he touches turns to chaos. Santiago already has a high energy about him, and so it gets intensified when the alcohol starts pumping through his veins. Frankie doesn’t know how he does it, and sometimes he wonders what it’s like to be the life of a party. It’s a role he knows he’ll never fill.

“Hey,” Luciana’s voice suddenly draws Frankie out from his thoughts. He looks back over to see her looking up at him with a sparkle in her eyes, one that makes Frankie want to smile instinctively. “Are you ready to get out of here? I would kill for some pizza right now.”

Frankie laughs, nodding as he finishes off his bottle. It was his only drink over the course of the hour they’d lasted at the party, and so he doesn’t have to deny her request to go for a drive as they head out to his truck. It’s a rusty red color, worn from its years of use but still going as strong as ever. The guys and Luciana have often told him that it’s a perfect reflection of himself—but Frankie doesn’t try to think about it too hard. Going in deep isn’t something he’s mastered yet.

They get into the truck, and as soon as Frankie starts it up, the classic rock station starts to play. It’s his favorite—his parents loved to blast it when he was growing up. He has to suppress the smile that grows when he sees Luciana’s eyes light up out of the corner of his eye. “Ugh, Frankie, you have the best fuckin’ taste in music,” she tells him, closing her eyes as “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac flows out from the speakers. “I swear to God. Sing it, Stevie girl.”

Frankie chuckles, taking off for the local pizza place as Luciana hums along to the tune. He looks over every once in a while to see her gazing out of the open window, as if she’s lost in her own little world. Frankie’s always admired the way she does that so easily. Luciana often escapes into the worlds of her creation, but she somehow also stays grounded to her reality. She’s always been the person that’s able to get Frankie to escape his reality if even for a little bit—and that’s just one of the many reasons why he’s so drawn to her. It’s reaching a dangerous level, and he knows it.

It’s not a conversation he’s had with Santiago yet, but he knows exactly what would result from it. Santiago and Luciana are practically attached at the hip. They’re the kind of twins that truly share everything with each other—and should his sister’s heart be placed into Frankie’s hands, he knows Santiago would be on his case all the time. To make shit easier, Frankie knows Santiago wouldn’t let that happen in the first place. Luciana is off limits in any sense other than friendship, so Frankie doesn’t even let himself get there mentally. For now.

“Thunder only happens when it’s rainin’,” Luciana joins in with Stevie’s voice, and Frankie bites back a smile upon hearing it. “Players only love you when they’re playin’.” Luciana releases a light sigh, finally looking back over at Frankie as he navigates the dark roads. “I wish it was raining right now.”

“Yeah?” Frankie remarks, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Are you a pluviophile, now?”

Luciana giggles softly. “I always have been, Frankie. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

Frankie shrugs, turning into the parking lot of the pizza place. “When have we ever talked about rain?”

“Fair point. I guess we have to do it more often.”

Frankie nods, putting the car in park and flashing her a quick smile. “I guess so.” He starts to get out of the car—leaving it running so that Luciana can stay inside with the tunes playing—but pauses as he holds up a finger and narrows his eyes in concentration. “A pepperoni eight-cut with the Italian parmesan crust?”

“You know me so well, Morales.” She offers a bright smile, one that involuntarily makes Frankie’s chest warm up as he completely gets out of the truck and heads inside. He places their order and waits for it, trying not to drown in his thoughts as he pictures himself flying high above them. He even tries his hand at daydreaming, attempting to envision himself painting his way through the clouds. He can see the world so small beneath him, putting himself in a place where he doesn’t have to think about everything he’s left there. All that would matter is keeping his eyes on the horizon and steering ahead—and maybe even capturing a star when the sun sets.

His daydream’s soon interrupted by the finishing of his order, and he takes the box with a low thank-you before heading back inside the truck. Frankie sets it on the backseat, chuckling when Luciana dramatically inhales the scent of the freshly baked pizza.

“God damn, do they make some heavenly shit here,” Luciana comments, causing Frankie to laugh harder as he starts to head back to the house. “I can’t wait to devour that.”

“That makes two of us,” Frankie agrees, glancing over at Luciana quickly as he drives on.

“Four slices for each of us,” Luciana reminds him. “It’s perfect.”

“Four?” Frankie scoffs playfully. “Last time, you could only handle three.”

“Oh, fuck off, Flyboy,” Luciana retorts. “Last time we also got garlic knots. I can only hold so much at once.”

“Sure, Luce. Sure.” Frankie laughs as Luciana swats at his shoulder, and he sees her shaking her head with a hidden smile as she crosses her arms.

They spend the rest of the drive listening to the tunes of the radio, sitting in an otherwise peaceful silence. It’s not too long until Frankie’s pulling into the long driveway of the house. It’s a respectively large space, split between the boys and Luciana. Everyone’s able to have their own rooms—save for Will and Benny, but Benny usually splits his time up between staying there and staying at the frat house—and they never let it get too crazy. Parties are always held at Benny’s frat house, which helps to keep their own home in shape. If it’s just the six of them, they’ll keep the party to themselves, but otherwise their home is like a sacred space just for their little family. Frankie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just as Frankie’s about to turn the engine off, Luciana stops him, keeping his hand from touching the keys as she shakes her head. “Let’s eat in here,” she suggests, already starting to reach back for the pizza. “I’m really feeling these songs right now.”

“I can turn the radio on in the house,” Frankie reminds her, gesturing with his thumb to the house behind him.

“Yeah, but there’s something about it coming through the truck speakers.” Luciana sets the pizza box down onto the center console, opening it and taking a slice for herself. “It just really hits deep.”

Frankie snorts, also taking a slice and folding it in half. “Alright, but if you get grease stains on my seats, I’ll have no choice but to fucking kill you.”

“You got it, ‘dad,’” Luciana jokes, and Frankie shakes his head as she lets out a laugh. They continue to eat and bop along to the songs that play, mostly accompanied by Luciana’s random commentary on the selections. “Have you ever thought about how fuckin’ creepy this song is?” she reflects when The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” starts playing. “Like, it’s a love song, but he’s basically like ‘I’m always watching you.’ That shit is terrifying.”

“What, you wouldn’t find it romantic if someone was watching you all the time?” Frankie teases her while he moves onto his third piece of pizza, pleased to find that he still hasn’t gotten a grease stain on his jeans yet.

“Hell no!” Luciana lets out a cut laugh, shaking her head as she also goes for her third slice.

“Okay, fair.” Frankie pauses to bite off a piece and chew it up, contemplating his next few words as he does so. “Then, what would you consider romantic?”

“Jesus, there’s like… so many things.” Luciana’s gaze drifts to the roof of the car as she thinks, chewing on her food as she does so. Frankie waits curiously for her response, continuing to eat as he watches her think. “I mean, for starters, you can never go wrong with pulling the gentleman card. You know, like opening doors and pulling out chairs.”

“That’s not cheesy?”

“No! If anything, the fact that it’s going out of style is so depressing to me.” Luciana clicks her tongue and shakes her head, and Frankie can tell by the way she’s narrowed her eyes that she’s thinking again. “Honestly, the most important thing is just knowing what she likes. You gotta make sure you’re playing her favorite songs and bringing her to her favorite places—without her having to tell you ahead of time. Picking up on those hints along the way is so important.”

“Noted.” Frankie finishes off his third piece after he speaks, watching as Luciana raises an eyebrow at him.

“Plan on being romantic anytime soon, Morales?”

Frankie scoffs, shaking his head as he reaches for his last slice. “No, not likely. But it’s good to know.” He shovels a bite into his mouth, hoping it’ll keep him from having to speak again. Frankie soon realizes he’s unsuccessful, as Luciana’s head has now tilted in a curious manner at him. He releases a sigh, waiting until he finishes chewing to go on. “Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to take someone up to the sky with me. Show them the clouds. Catch a star for them.” Frankie shrugs. “Just—y’know—that’s probably not something I’ll have soon.”

Luciana smiles a bit, but Frankie easily sees a hint of darkness in her gaze. “That’s sweet, Frankie. But why don’t you think you can have it soon?”

Frankie’s breath catches in his throat. Why does he think he can’t have it soon? Because he’s not ready to let his heart be taken? Because he’s so guarded that only five other people know his true heart, but still don’t even know all of it? Because he’s denying himself a painful truth? Frankie doesn’t have a fucking clue. But Luciana’s still waiting for an answer, her dark gaze glittering as she waits to take her last slice into her mouth. “Not enough time, I guess. And how can I show someone the sky when I don’t even have my piloting license yet?”

“Fair point,” Luciana agrees, finally digging into her pizza. Frankie holds back a sigh of relief, continuing with his slice as well. They finish off their servings in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of classic rock lull them into a rhythmic state of conscious slumber. Frankie’s thoughts solely drift to the words of the singers, and he pictures himself hearing the songs play as he returns home from piloting school—his mother singing along with them as he shows her his license. She would smile at him in that endearing way she always used to and playfully ask if they can play Journey on their way up when she finally gets to fly with him. I want some Journey on our first journey!, she always used to joke with Frankie. Now, he just tries not to listen to Journey at all.

His trance is broken when Luciana suddenly lets out a gasp, and Frankie feels alert for a moment until he realizes that a new song’s come on the radio. He tunes his ears in and hears the beginning instrumental of Foreigner’s “Waiting For a Girl Like You”—a guilty pleasure song of his that he’s not willing to reveal to anyone else. But it must be Luciana’s, too, because she’s looking at Frankie with excitement in her dark gaze. “This… this is my fuckin’ song,” Luciana tells him, clearing her throat as the lyrics soon come in.

“Of all songs, you chose one of classic rock’s cheesiest?” Frankie jokes.

Luciana places a hand on her chest, pretending to be hurt. “It’s not cheesy. It’s romantic. And it’s an absolute classic.”

Frankie raises his hands in fake surrender. “Alright, Luce, you got me there. Go ahead, freak out.”

Luciana narrows her eyes at him, laughing it off as she starts to let herself jam along. “Maybe I’m wrong, won’t you tell me if I’m comin’ on too strong?”

“This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I wanna be sure…” Frankie murmurs the words under his breath, hoping Luciana won’t hear it over her own singing. He would never hear the end of it.

“I’ve been waiting!... for a girl like you, to come into my life.” Luciana sings the words unashamedly, closing her eyes as she spreads her arms wide. Frankie chuckles lightly—more in admiration of her free spirit than in amusement. Luciana finishes the chorus and shakes her head, looking at Frankie with a raised brow. “I’m telling you. A fuckin’ classic.”

“Hey, I believe you,” Frankie retorts, chuckling as he releases a sigh. He looks around, seeing the dark street around them. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome in this truck. She’s gonna be begging for mercy if we don’t go inside soon.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Luciana confesses, reaching for the empty pizza box. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie assures her. “It was worth it.”

Luciana simply smiles in response, setting Frankie’s chest ablaze yet again as they walk inside the house together. They remain silent as they settle in, soon heading upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Before they part, Luciana stops Frankie for a moment, her hand reaching for his arm. Frankie faces her with his brow raised. “Thank you, Frankie,” she says softly, her dark gaze looking straight into his. “For always being there for me—and getting some damn good pizza with some hella’ good tunes.”

Frankie chuckles softly, shaking his head at her. “You don’t have to thank me, Luci. I enjoy it just as much.”

Luciana widens her smile, bidding Frankie goodnight before she disappears into her room. Frankie bites back his own, entering his room and preparing for bed. He flops down onto it with a sigh, hating the way his mind feels cloudier than usual. He’s being swept by a feeling he’s had before—but it’s starting to almost overpower him now. Frankie’s afraid he won’t be able to ignore it anymore.

The lyrics to the song are stuck in his head. It’s a torturous reminder of himself and his own heart—and that’s why he’s annoyed when the lyrics run through his mind. It feels so right, so warm and true, the words taunt him. I need to know if you feel it too. Does he, though? Because Frankie’s pretty damn certain he’s content with ignoring every feeling he has. He’s been doing it ever since his mother passed—and he’s pretty sure he can keep doing it.

But then he thinks on that chorus: I’ve been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. And Frankie can’t help wondering if that’s exactly what’s happening. As he hides himself underneath his covers to sleep, he hears distant thunder rumble outside, and he smiles for the fact Luciana will get her pluviophile moment—even if she’s asleep.

next part: chapter 2: cold front

thunder tag list: @youhavereachedtheendofpie​ @charmantbarnes​ @theindiealto​ @fangirl-and-stuff​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @maybege​ @amarvelousmandalorian​ @seawhisperer​ @mrsparknuts​ @saltywintersoldat​ @softpedropascal​ @i-hide-inside-my-head​ @sunshinepascal​

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[ollieologys]

Hey could you please write something for the reader where she is a fan of Tom and the other avengers actors and she wakes up in a different place (turns out she got teleported to a different universe) and sees Tom walking around and she goes Tom? But really it’s peter And the other avengers come and they r all confused and try to help her back to her universe im so sorry if this is hard to understand 😬

Title; Peter Holland

Summary; You never thought you’d meet Tom Holland, and you never thought you’d meet Peter Parker, either. But here you are.

Words; 4k

Pairing; Avengers x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Warning; far from home spoilers! and minor swearing because.. it’s me lol

Notes; thanks for the request! this is kinda like my summertime (with you) series, but different, so go check that out! love u lots also, lets just assume that everybody was okay after civil war and the snap hasn’t happened or anything and domestic!avengers is alive and well.

     “I literally want to strangle Mysterio. Like, genuinely strangle him.”

Evening overtook the city as you left the movie theater, smiling gently at the concession worker and thanking her for providing you with delicious popcorn. You had just seen Spider-man: Far From Home for the fifth time - this time with your best friend - and still couldn’t seem to fathom how Peter was going to handle this newfound trouble.

Thankfully, you had the internet to discuss your concerns. And, of course, how amazing Tom Holland looked in his most recent stand-alone movie. That you saw five times. Because, why not?

Your friend laughed at your protective nature and draped her arm over your shoulder, stumbling down the sidewalk to your car.

“You know, Y/N, maybe you should like - make an Anti-Mysterio blog,” She suggested with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping on your face.

“You know what?” You tested her, eyes daring. “I just might.” She laughed at your declaration and opened the passenger door. Somehow, you always ended up leaving the theater with this conversation rising. You’d been a massive fan of Tom ever since he appeared in ‘Civil War’ a few years ago, and had followed his career ever since. You had grown to love his portrayal of Peter Parker and would gladly argue with anyone who challenged his acting.

While driving her home, you daydreamed what meeting Tom would be like. Maybe you’d be vacationing in London - freely roaming the streets and searching for anything familiar when suddenly you bump into his chest and spill your coffee. You’d apologize profusely, bending down to pick up the now empty cup, and your fingers would touch, and he’d fall in love with you instantly. Tessa would cuddle at the edge of your shared bed, you’d follow him on press tours, and he’d introduce you to his family. Your best friend would be your maid of honor. Everything would be just perfect.

“Uh, hello? Y/N?” She snapped in front of your face, and suddenly you jumped and gripped the steering wheel. “What?” You questioned, looking at her.

“I said goodnight, you little shit,” she laughed, your face still puzzled as you returned from your land of dreams. She opened the car door, leaning down to give you a final wave goodbye. You waved with a smile, wishing her sweet dreams before driving home.

You made sure to quietly close your front door - the resident just beside your apartment always slept early, and he hated loud noises waking him up - and slowly stripped yourself of the trash from the movie theater before falling into your bed. The clock read a quarter past eleven.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, the notification sound of your phone went off. You groaned, tossing and turning to get to the sleep-depriving device. Your annoyance turned to joy as you saw Tom had posted a picture on Instagram, which turned out to be a selfie from the set of Far From Home. Your heart swelled, admiration for the actor filling your chest as you drifted to sleep. 

The next morning, your routine hadn’t changed much. You got ready for the day with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your social media to catch up on what had happened while you were asleep. Surprisingly, no messages showed up. You hadn’t thought much of it, though. It was a calm Sunday - your friends were most likely asleep still.

While you didn’t work on weekends, you decided to bring yourself out of your house and into the city that was New York. Just for a short stroll, you told yourself. You’d take the Manhattan-bound train and eat at your favorite cafe, or perhaps go visit your friends. Either way, you wanted to get out of the house. Daydreaming was always better while you were in motion.

While sitting on the train, you scrolled through your playlist of seemingly endless songs and waited for your stop to be announced. By now it was just past one, and you couldn’t choose a song to listen to. Even so, your regular Sunday morning changed drastically when you finally decided a tune and looked up from your phone.

There stood, quite literally in front of you, Tom Holland. He wore a plaid dress shirt with a navy blue sweater over it, white earbuds sat still in his ears, a Jansport backpack over his shoulders. You wondered why no one else on the train noticed, or why he was here so casually. 

Your stop was announced. You stood, and amazingly, Tom got off the train as well. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, the crush you had developed over him quickly arising, and you remembered how your dream of meeting him was nothing like this. Suddenly, you realized you had just been standing there and watching him make his way up the stairs and into the streets.

“Fuck,” you whispered to no one in particular. “Okay, relax. Just go ask for a picture and try not to die.”

You whispered quiet encouragements to yourself up until you tapped his shoulder. 

“Uh, yes?” Tom turned to you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You mouth ran dry, fumbling with the phone in your hand. It was almost as though you had forgotten your name. “I was wondering if I could get a quick picture with you?” Your voice was soft and polite, eye contact unbreaking. He wasn’t with family or friends, so there was no harm in asking for one picture, right?

Seriously, how was New York not freaking out over the fact that they were breathing the same air as Tom Holland?

He looked at you, confused. “I’m sorry,” He started, turning fully towards you. “I think you have the wrong person.” You shook your head, looking down. Now, you weren’t one to pry - especially on your celebrity crush - but was he genuinely trying to play off the fact that he wasn’t an actor belonging to one the of the largest franchises to exist?

“Tom Holland, right? You’re an actor for Marvel.” You stated questioningly, doubting yourself. Maybe he was a lookalike.

“No, I’m not,” He says, clarifying your confusion. “My name’s Peter.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times and shake your head. Had he just said his name was Peter? “Peter?” You repeated him, glaring lightly. “As in Peter Parker?” His eyes widened slightly. He sized you up, possibly to see if you were some sort of threat, but his senses hadn’t gone off in any way. 

“How do you know that?” He demanded, his voice grew to become defensive. In an instant, your heartbeat had no longer sped up from the fact that you were standing in front of your celebrity crush, but rather from the concept that he might not be your celebrity crush. Of course, that was a long reach. If this were Peter Parker standing in front of you, you were undoubtedly dreaming. Then again, everything felt so incredibly real. Lucid dreams you had before hadn’t even felt this real.

You began to consider the possibility that something happened. You didn’t quite know what - because you swear it was just confirmed that a multi-verse was in fact not real - but something must have happened. Tom – or Peter – didn’t seem to be joking when he established his real name. You began to wonder how much power you possess. Not superpower, but the power of knowledge, as you knew exactly what happens in the Marvel Universe. If you told him too much, you could mess up his entire world. 

Then you realized that sounded absolutely insane. You were definitely dreaming. Nonetheless, you needed to get out of the dream before you say something you shouldn’t. So, you ignore his question and ask your own. 

“What year is it?” You lowered your voice, careful as to not let passersby hear your unusual question. 

Peter’s face became increasingly puzzled, but he answered nonetheless. “It’s 2019. You didn’t answer my question, though - how do you know my name?”

You nodded to yourself, not bothering to answer quickly. If it were 2019, that means that Thanos hasn’t happened just yet. You were almost entirely sure that the Avengers had moved upstate, though. 

“Listen, Peter,” Your voice took more initiative as confidence flooded your system. You were almost sure you were dreaming, but you knew exactly what you needed to do to wake up. “I need you to take me to see the Avenger’s upstate. Like, right now.”

His mouth parted, shocked. Questions and ideas poured into his mind, and he looked side to side before stepping towards you. “How do you know my name, and who are you?” He questioned you more, and the proximity to him allowed a blush to form on your cheeks.

“I promise I’ll answer your questions if you just take me to where I need to go,” You promised.

He refused. “I’m not taking you anywhere.”

You sighed as he turned away. You knew he wouldn’t merely forget you, probably do some research on who you are and find absolutely nothing, so you chased after to him and pulled his arm toward you. He opened his mouth to say something before you interrupted.

“I know you’re Spider-Man.” You whispered.

His eyes widened more, and he checked to see if anyone had heard you. Then, he stepped backward and let out a nervous puff. “I-I’m not Spider-Man.” His voice sounded the exact same as to when he told MJ the same thing, and you mentally laughed to yourself. He was the cutest boy on the planet. Or, in your dream. Or in fiction. You weren’t quite sure.

“You don’t have to lie. I’m not gonna say anything, trust me,” You thought back to Mysterio and glowered at the thought. That dick. Then, you thought back to Mysterio’s claim of the multi-verse. Peter loved that theory, you remembered, and he accepted it with open arms. Even if it was made up, you knew it would be the only explanation to get him moving. Nonetheless, Peter was hesitant to accept you as anything but a threat. Despite his senses quiet as ever, you still knew his only secret, and he didn’t even know who you are. 

“Please,” you begged, your voice wavering. He could feel your sudden fear. “I don’t think I’m in the right place, and I need your help getting home.” Peter’s face softened as you spoke. No matter what, he always wanted to help people. You seemed to already have the ability to hurt him, but you didn’t, and your heart ached at the idea of how trusting he was. Even so, you felt grateful for his help.

With his new-found information, he walked with you back to the subway, and you began your journey to was what you assumed his apartment. You quickly realized you would have the pleasure of meeting Aunt May - but you decided to introduce yourself formally. You didn’t want to freak him out or anything. 

You told him all about your life. Where you lived in New York, where you went to school, how much you loved your best friend and how much of a fan you were of him. You decided not to talk much about Tom Holland - you thought about how you would feel if someone described your life as merely a movie they watched whenever they felt like it. Peter listened intently, taking note of your unusually quick heart-beat and flushed cheeks as he sat just next to you. 

He walked you up to his apartment, and you soaked in the scenery as best you could. After all, it wasn’t every day something like this happened. Even if you didn’t quite understand what this was. Peter told you little about himself, but you didn’t need much anyway. 

He pushed the door open softly, calling out a greeting to May. She popped her head out from the kitchen and waved. “Hey, Peter, I thought you just left?” She asked, stepping out in full as she noticed you. “Oh? Who is this?” She asked. You stood in awe of the apartment - everything appeared the exact same as it had in the movies. Peter answered for you, noticing you examining the apartment.

“This is Y/N, she’s a new transfer student from school, and we ran into each other.” He lied easily. Probably from all the practice with lying about being Spider-Man - even if May knew now. 

“Actually, May, we aren’t staying long. I’m gonna introduce her to Happy.” Peter stated, looking back at you for reassurance. You quietly nodded your head with a smile as your gaze shifted from Peter to Aunt May. She indeed was a beautiful woman. 

“Oh, oh, okay,” She smiled, nodding her head back to you and moving back into the kitchen. Peter brought you over to the couch and sat with you, pulling out his phone and calling Happy. You sat beside him quietly, heart calmed. Everything felt so real. The feel of the couch, the smell of Aunt May’s cooking, and Peter’s Queens accent flowing through your mind. 

You overheard Peter telling Happy he needed him here as soon as possible - describing the situation as ‘dire’ and ‘urgent.’ By now, Happy took Peter seriously, and soon enough, you were in the back of an infamous Audi and driving two hours to upstate New York. 

Peter sat on the opposite of you in the backseat. You hadn’t talked much - not past introducing yourself to Happy and smiling knowingly as he briefly greeted May. Peter didn’t make much conversation, either. You hoped he wasn’t too concerned with trusting you so quickly. He should work on that, in your opinion. Before it’s too late.

Eventually, you were given a guest badge by the receptionist and soon stood in an elevator with Happy and Peter. Soft elevator music played while your shoulders barely grazed Peter’s arm. He looked at you silently, and you returned his look with a smile that whispered: thank you. 

The moment the doors opened, your heart drop. 

In all their glory, the Avengers were sprawled across the living space as though they were one giant family. Natasha and Steve sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn as their attention laid on the movie in front of them. Bucky and Sam sat on the floor, talking amongst themselves quietly. Bruce and Tony were on the other side of the room in the kitchen as they engaged in conversation. Pepper and Wanda seemed to be preoccupied with something on a 3D table but occasionally glanced at the TV. Thor was there as well, even with his brother Loki, and they watched the movie intently as though the plot was more intriguing than being a literal God.

They were entirely domestic. 

Your eyes seemed to be blown out of their sockets. Not only were you in the presence of superheroes and Gods, but you were in a completely different universe than what you expected. Peter noticed your tensed form and laid a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” He whispered comfortingly. “You’re fine. They won’t hurt you or anything.”

You nodded, a frown formed on your face. Despite your worries, Peter’s comfort helped more than you had expected. A blush rose to your cheeks again. God, was this really the time for your inevitable crush on Peter Parker?

Tony turned as the three of you stepped out of the elevator. He noticed Happy and Peter first, greeting them with a warm smile before his eyes landed on you. His smile faltered slightly - he was confused. “Who’s this?” Tony asked, motioning towards you with the butter knife he held in his hand. The Avengers turned at the question, and you swore you almost passed out. You gasped lightly as Peter grasped onto your hand.

“This is Y/N, she needs some help.”

You sat quietly in the conference room just down the hall from the living room. You and the rest of the Avengers sat around the oval table, most eyes on you and Peter.

“So, you’re from another dimension?” Rhodey confirmed, his arms crossed skeptically. You nodded slowly, looking at Peter for reassurance. He nodded with a smile, and instantly, you felt at ease. “I think so,” you said, even though you were lying. This was clearly a dream - not another universe, or dimension, or Earth. “Honestly, I think I’m dreaming.” You admitted, the admiration of the world’s greatest heroes sitting in the same room as you flowing through your chest.

The team stayed quiet, questioning the truth of your words. Even though they had heard of unusual circumstances, you showed up out of nowhere. Trustworthy wouldn’t exactly be the word they used to describe you. You knew that, they knew that, and everybody knew that.

“Listen–” you started hesitantly, hoping they’d listen. “I know that I’m a stranger, and you have no obligation to help me, but I really want to go home. I don’t know how I got here, or why I’m here, or anything else - but I do know that I’m not meant to be here right now and that you guys are the only ones who can help me.”

The team looked amongst themselves, and not even Tony - the most talkative - spoke up. Your stomach dropped in fear of rejection, and for the first time since you had woken up, you were genuinely afraid that this was your fate. Unexpectedly, Steve spoke up.

“Y/N, we are obligated to help you - and we will. You did the right thing by coming to us,” His voice was stern, but a soft smile rested on his face.

Nat spoke up next as Bucky and Sam nodded in agreement. “Steve’s right. You’ll get home safe, don’t worry.” Your smile widened at that, and you gripped Peter’s hand tight and quietly thanked him as Bruce and Tony began to speculate how to get you home.

Hours passed. You explained over and over how your day went before you went to sleep, what you were doing before you went to sleep, and how your morning went when you woke up. Peter was beside you the entire time, and eventually, the team broke off to take breaks while Bruce continuously worked on getting you home. Despite wanting to keep your knowledge of their lives quiet, you couldn’t help but bond with the heroes as you sat amongst them comfortably. 

While you hadn’t had much alone time with any of the, you managed to give them words of encouragement you knew would benefit them further down the line. You told Bucky that he and The Winter Soldier were not one and that no matter what anyone said, it wasn’t his fault. You promised Steve that it’s okay to move on in life - not mentioning a name, but he knew what you meant. You went along in almost a circle formation and uplifted the team the best you could.

You had gotten attached, and a part of you felt sad imagining leaving.

It had gotten late. Just five minutes after eleven, and the team was ready to go off to bed. Though the group jokingly protested, Peter suggested you stay in his room for the night. There was a bed-like couch in his room anyway, and he had no problem sleeping on it. You protested, insisting he take his own bed, but he refused. Eventually, you complied and allowed yourself to relax. 

Just as everyone planned on going to bed, Rhodey spoke out with an idea.

“Wait, you said that you woke up here, right?” You nodded in response, glancing at Peter before shifting your eyes back to Rhodey. “So why don’t you just go to sleep at the time you went to sleep last night, and then you’ll wake up back home?” The team, not for the first time that day, responded with silence. You nodded your head slowly, looking at Bruce to see his reaction.

“Well,” Bruce stated, “It’s worth a shot. I’m not getting far in my research anyway.”

You agreed to try it out, noticing it was almost time for you to fall asleep. Luckily, you could feel yourself tiring out. “If this works, thank you all for being here with me. I’ll miss seeing you - I mean, I will, but not– you know what? I’ll just leave it at that,” You laughed, as did the rest of the team, and as they all departed for the night, they either patted your back or hugged you full on. 

Peter showed you to his room, and you appreciated how much quieter it was upstate than in the city. You sat on the edge of his bed, watching as he pulled a spare blanket from the closet and took a pillow from the bed. 

“Peter,” You muttered, your body exhausted. You suspected it was your atoms acting up from being in a different universe. Possibly - this still may very well be a dream. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” He asked, turning toward you. For a moment, you didn’t respond. Peter looked at you, expectantly. Deciding to break your rules slightly, you stood and walked toward him. Your eyes met his, and your heart exploded in your chest. He was so cute, especially in the moonlight. 

“I just want to say thank you,” Your voice was merely a whisper, and while he responded that it was no problem, you weren’t finished. Your heart ached as you thought about what was possible to come for him. After seeing how the Avengers were with each other, you weren’t entirely sure if the timeline would play out the same anymore, but you knew that Peter would eventually face obstacles alone and he’d need someone there for comfort. It was naive to think you could be that person, but you wouldn’t mind leaving an everlasting mark on his conscious. 

“I want you to remember that everything will be okay.” Slowly, you stood on your toes and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. Even with the minimal light, you could see the blush on his cheeks matching your own. You smiled and almost felt yourself tear up at the thought of never having this experience again. Not many girls back home could say they kissed Peter Parker. 

Peter smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I don’t know you very well, but I’m happy I met you.” You hugged him back tightly, feeling his warm body against yours and doubted that this was ever a dream. Nothing could feel this real and be a dream, and so while you finally let him go and lie down in the bed that he insisted you take for the night, you smile to yourself.

Your phone dings, but you don’t check the notification. Instead, you look out onto the field and slowly close your eyes - a part of you wishing to go home, and another begging to stay.

You were awoken to the sound of a new notification, and the bright light of the sun streaming through blinds. A groan left your lips as you tossed and turned. Eventually, you grasped the phone beside you and scrolled through the number of notifications you had.

All of them were missed calls from your best friend, your family, and hundreds of text messages. You sat up abruptly, taking in your surroundings and calling out for Peter. You quickly realized from the honking horns and the small room that you were back home, and from the sudden amount of notifications, you realized that you were just back where you needed to be.

Thoughts swarm your mind. You wondered how long you had been gone, and you felt terrible for how much concern you most likely caused your friends and family when suddenly you thought back to the night before and allowed a smile to grow on your face.

“I kissed Peter Parker.”

-

Notes; honestly that was really long and not very romantic, but I hoped you enjoyed anyways

general taglist:

@devin-marie , @imagine-lovebug , @nedthegay , @magicalturmoil , @poc-gotbang , @zabdisamor , @romance-geek , @hollandshearteyes , @jackiehollanderr , @etudaire , @spiderperalta , @mapreza1

peter parker taglist:

@really-lucas , @exquisitebts , @pastelastronomy24 , @eridanuswave , @snowxbarryxendgame , @s-ecret–garden , @obsiidio , @lost-in-translating , @awokenfandoms @estate-euphoric , @night-girls-world , @notanicekid , @guccixuxi ,

[blissfulparker]

Highschool Sweetheart→p.p.

Parings→Peter Parker x reader

Summary→you write little notes in your yearbook about each person. But what does peters say?

Warnings→fluff

A/n→this was originally a concept post. Someone sent this in and this is the cutest! I forgot who sent it because the person did come off anon so if you’re out there let me know so I can give you the credit for the idea! Update! Their @ is @softstefcn

“Ned we need to do something!” Peters voice cracks as he scoots his desk closer to Ned’s during algebra. Ned perks up and looks at his best friend with a distraught look.

At the end of the year, just about every student bought a yearbook. A large hardcover book with all the high school memories in it. You had one just like everyone else, although you were treating yours differently. You and Betty joked around, you made notes on students you knew. You drew on flashes face, ‘rich brat who is Spider-Man’s fanboy’. Or how you doodled all over brads photo, ‘once a dork, now kinda hot.’ He knew you had to have written one about him.you two were friends and had written one about MJ and Ned, so there was definitely one about him.

He even heard you giggling about it with Betty at lunch the other day.

“What about peter?” She giggled and you look up with wide eyes.

“Our peter?” You asked and Betty nodded as she flipped to a picture of pete.

“Peter Parker...”

Was all he heard before ned rudely interrupted his spying that day and now it hasn’t left his mind.

“What?” Ned looked up and peter looked back over to you.

“(Y/n)’s yearbook. I need it.” He says and ned grows a soft smirk.

“Oh, I see. You wanna write your phone number. That’s cute peter but a little cliché—“ He starts and peter shakes his head.

“No, no, (y/n) and Betty wrote something about me and I wanna know what they wrote.” He looks over and sees you work on the problem. Your lip between your teeth, that meant you didn’t understand yet we’re too scared to ask the teacher for help. He knew your body language very well.

He wanted to know so badly, he wanted to know if you wrote anything about liking him. Or maybe you wrote something about how much you hate him. He needed to know.

“You want to take her yearbook so you can see if they wrote something about you? Of course they did.” Ned says and peter peeks up with a soft smile.

“Do you know what they wrote?” Peter asks and ned shrugs.

“No, but in chemistry I over heard her giggle while she wrote something down and it started with ‘peter Parker...’ that’s all I heard. I don’t know what they wrote but I know they wrote something.” Ned says and peter goes down.

“That’s What I heard at lunch too! Please, I need to know. I wanna ask her out but I don’t know if she likes me.” Peter says and ned rolls his eyes hearing the same conversation as usual when it came to peters little—huge—crush on you.

“Then ask her if she likes you. It’s kinda obvious that she does. That pink skirt you told her she looked good in? She wears that all the time because of you, Betty told me.” Ned says going back to the math problem.

“She does that?” He smiles thinking about you in the pink skirt. “Anyways, I need my hands on that book.” He says and ned puts his paper back in the folder knowing he’s not getting anything done.

“Peter, I get it, you want help from a man who experienced love...” Ned starts and peter furrows his Brows.

“That’s not what I wanted—“

“Just ask to sign her yearbook, I’ll distract her, then when you see what she wrote and I’m sure it’s not terrible. Then ask her on a date to that coffee shop she likes.” Ned gives him advice and peter sees how it’s not that bad.

“Okay, next period in history?” Peter asks and ned nods as the bell rings as if its on cue.

Peter has never been more excited for history. He takes a seat at his desk and taps his foot eagerly waiting for you to waltz on in holding the midtown high yearbook.

There you were, blue sweater and blue jeans, the outfit was simple but peter looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

“(Y/n)!” Peter smiled as he walked over to your desk.

“Hey pete.” You smile and he looks down at the book.

“Can I sign your—“ He starts but then the last bell rings.

“Parker, take a seat.” The teacher spoke and peter sighed as he made his way back to his desk and sat down in the metal chair. Instead of listening to the teacher he spent his whole lecture looking at you, the way you took notes and the way you would bite your lip when something confused you. He wanted so badly to know what was written in that book about him.

He watched as the worksheet went out as it was now his time to get his hands on that book.

“(Y/n)!” Peter started but quickly brad came in front of him seeming to be wanting the same thing. Peters jaw clenched as he walked over to ned.

“Ned! I need your help!” He whispered and ned looked over to you who seemed a little too friendly with brad.

“Oh right!” Ned smiles as he gets up from his desk and makes his way to start talking to you. Ned inneruped brad and with the sly movement of his hand, he pushed the book over to peter.

Peter signed his name with a small note on the last page before quickly flipping to the ‘pa’ last names.

He skimmed though all of it until he found his awkward year book picture surrounded by hearts.

‘Peter Parker, the prettiest and sweetest boy I know.(also really suspicious)’

was written in black and silver sharpie and it made peters heart flip. You thought he was pretty, wasn’t exactly what he was going for but he looked at other people’s and no one else had Hearts around their pictures and it seemed to be everyone of peters pictures had hearts, you had drew little hearts around the field trip to the stark tower around peters picture.

‘My sweetest pumpkin boy!’ Made peters heart flip as you wrote ‘pumpkin’ as an inside joke from the eighth grade when aunt may made all of you carve pumpkins and peter ended up doing yours to try and show off. That was before he acted weird around people.

Peter grew red and then all of the sudden the last bell rang. You stood up and peter handed you back your yearbook.

“Oh, you signed it?” You asked and he nodded. His beet red face made you nervous, he looked nervous which made you nervous.

“Yep, my signature is under Ned’s.” He smiles akwardly and you nodded.

“Okay...I was wondering if you did the worksheet for math? I need help and you’re the only—“ you start and peter can’t help the word vomit that comes next.

“I think you’re really pretty too!” He squeaks and your mouth falls open and you start to feel embarrassed. He saw what you did to his pictures, like a fifth grade girl, drawing little hearts and love notes around your crush.

You liked peter, a lot, any time you’d try and ask him out he’d get weird and quickly run away. You thought maybe he didn’t like you but he did it to a lot of people. He’d just look down at his phone or look down at his arms that always seemed to have goosebumps even in the hottest weather.

“W-what?” You ask as you start to move out of the classroom.

“You wrote that you thought I was pretty, I think you’re pretty too.” He blushes hard and you smile. You don’t really know what to say, you’ve imagined peter asking you out, hell you’ve dreamed about it every night. But now that it was happening, you feel like you don’t have the right words.

“I—uh...was just playing around!” You grip the book right to your chest. You and peter step off to the side. Peter can’t get his eyes off of you, his eyes locked with yours no matter how hard you try and break eye contact.

“I think you’re pretty, handsome? Whatever. I just didn’t think you liked me.” You tapped your finger nails against the book.

“Why would you think I don’t like you?” He asks and you give him a dumbfounded look.

“Because everytime I try and talk to you alone you run away, it’s kinda rude pete. Actually, it’s really rude—“ something in peter snapped, his heart pounding as he leaned in and pressed a quick peck to your lips.

Your eyes are wide, forgetting what you said before. You felt peter Parker’s lips against yours. The boy you had a crush on sinice middle school kissed you.

“I like—“ He starts but you lean in and kiss him like he did you. Peter let his hands find the side of your arms pulling him closer to you.

“Hey! You two!” Mr. Harrington pointed and you immediately pulled yourself away from peter. “Go home.” He said as if he was tired of catching teens makeout in the hallway.

You have a soft smile on your face as peter is still holding your arms.

“Uhh, you said you needed help with that worksheet from math?” He asked and you laughed s little before letting your hand touch his cheek and then finding His hand and walking down the hall.

“Let’s go, loser.” You smile as you hold peters hand down the hall.

“We should go to your favorite coffee place?” He suggests and you smile knowing that either Betty or Ned told him to tell you that.

“Sure, you can help me and kiss me all you want over a hazelnut latte.”

Perm taglist: @lynnbeaan @actorsdamn @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @ironspiderguy @mdgrdians ns @dreamymeliorism @roaringgoodshow w @built4broadway @strugglinggryffindorkid @1mychalia1 @grace-sully @didanyonesaybuckybarnes s @embrace-themagic c @thebonanamuffin @thellamalord @flowerchild8341 @cade-james @random-stupid-stuffs @joyfulspider @sad-broken-crayon @mylinkmyrules @carry-on-ms-believer @queenmissfit @skeletalwolfcat @gingerpeachyy @condy-wants-a-cookie @dennythepooh @zon-chan @fandom-fangirl07 @gabriels-gumdrop @whatam3ss @jamaicaa-blakee @thetributethatvolunteered @o-brienwrites @smexylemony @spn-worm @fucking-reddie @stranger-marvel @darlingtholland @sylvirstars @supernatural-strangethings-1980 @pvnk-bivch @spideyyypeter r @lubrielx @authorpocketcow @swoozi224 @abunchofmaraudersfluff f @redridingthroughthehood @sammyskyler2000 @usuallyweepingnacho @tom-hollands-eyelash @capandbuck @delicately-written @emmyfignewton @spidcr-man @laramitk @captianbuckyy @kira-marieee @hazthosterfield @emilyle23 @tomshufflepuff @freakofnature444 @keepingupwiththehollands @ballarinaphan @1-800-chosen-jacobs @screamsss-in-fangirl @peachy-parkers @stevieboyharrington n @peterunderoos96 @ximaginx @vlogsquad-wannabe @im-sorry-it’s-a-secrect-blog @ohh-Anna @im-a-smol-sweet-potato @shawnftjacob

[milkcartom]

Unlikely

Part 1

Agent!Tom Holland x Agent!Reader

Summary: After taking a break from the agency for a year, Tom Holland returns to test if he is still the best agent there is. But he didn’t expect to go back to square one where he is required to be partnered with the newbie, Y/N Y/L/N.

Warnings: a little violence

Disclaimer: the name of the organization is Anonymous but it is NOT related to the existing one (I made this fanfic before knowing about anonymous and couldn’t think of another name for it) so yea HAHA hope u don’t mind

—————

“I didn’t need one the last time I was here!” Tom argues in an aggravated tone, clenching his fist in an attempt to stop himself from pouncing on the man before him to get what he wanted. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to breathe the same air as him, or even breathe at all.

Anthony, the head of the whole organization, keeps his calm demeanor and crosses his arms over his chest while leaning back against his chair, “You know the rules, Holland. Once you come back, you gotta have a partner. Lucky for you, your partner isn’t too much to handle.”

“How long until I can go solo again?” Tom sighs in defeat, raking a hand through his curls and not giving a single fuck if his partner wasn’t much to handle or not.

“Twelve months.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tom scoffs and rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips, “Make it six.”

“Nine.” Anthony says, holding in a groan at how big Tom’s ego was.

“Seven.”

“Nine months and that’s final.” Anthony states, clasping his hands over the table separating them.

“Seven months. Take it or leave it.” Tom says in a daring tone, laying his hands flat on the table and leaning forward, taunting his boss.

“Lea—“

“Remember, Mr. Pierce,” the brunet cuts him off, “I was the best in the whole team. If you lose me again, I’m never coming back to do your dirty work.” His lips curl into a sly smirk, knowing fully well that he was absolutely right.

Anthony glares at the man in front of him, unable to think of something to counter his words with. Tom was the best, and wants to make sure that he still is. He was the most intelligent, cunning, skilled, and distractingly charming agent Anthony has ever met. Nobody could quite live up to his level. And judging by Anthony’s response, Tom confirmed that he still is indeed the greatest.

“Seven months. Deal.”

———

“Your partner’s in Olivia’s, doing their very first mission.” Anthony says from the other side of Tom’s earpiece.

“The restaurant?” Tom asks, buttoning up the white polo with ease despite the sharp turns Jon would take to get there in time, “That’s why you made me dress up?” He asks, looking down at the snappy suit he was required to wear to match the ambiance of the location.

“Yes. Any complaints, Agent Holland?”

“None, Sir,” Tom assures him, “Just a little tight on the crotch, but I can pull it off. I’d look good in anything.”

Jon rolls his eyes from the driver’s seat, “We’re almost there.”

“All right,” Anthony begins after hearing Jon, “Remeber your alias, Agent.”

“Peter Scott,” he states, tossing the black tie to the side, thinking that it wouldn’t match the vibe he was going for, “and I have a reservation with Sam Jones in function room A.”

As if on cue, the vehicle comes to a stop. Both Tom and Jon step out of the car and make their way to the entrance of the restaurant, keeping their backs straight and chins up. As they entered, the large place was packed with customers undoubtedly richer than Anthony himself. Chandeliers adorned the ceiling while small candles lit the round tables.

Jon spoke with one of the waiters in almost the same suit as Tom, before they were ushered to function room A. Tom couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the judging states being sent his way, but he masked it with excitement for being back on the job.

Once they reached the room, the waiter left. But not without giving the pair of them suspicious looks. Tom brushed it off and anticipated to meet his partner. Sure, he dreaded the fact that he had to share his missions, but he was up for the challenge.

Jon slides the door open before stepping inside, revealing a round table in the middle with a man and woman on opposite sides. Tom followed, the aroma of expensive food and cheap perfume fanning his face. The two people avert their gaze to the men in suits, evidently surprised at the sudden entrance.

“Sam,” Jon says, clearing his throat, “It’s time to go.”

Tom eyed the male carefully, thinking about what he was going to do next or what his mission was about, automatically assuming that he was his partner. But his mind quickly changed once the man spoke with such confusion and fear.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You sigh from across the table, “I’m gonna ask you again, and this’ll be the last time I’ll be nice. Give me the case. Don’t waste my time.” You were supposed to end the mission half an hour ago. It was simple, get the case in exchange for money. But the man before you wanted a little more than just a meetup.

“Over my dead body.” The man spat, glaring at you and clutching the black briefcase close to his chest.

“Suit yourself.” You shrug, swiftly picking a porcelain plate, only to slam it hard against the side of his head.

The man fell limp, his face planting flat on the table as pieces of porcelain sprinkled on his sides. Smiling victoriously, you get up and dust off he invisible mess on your mauve velvet dress.

“How’d I do?” You ask Jon, him being one of your favorite trainers in the agency.

“Your client still has the case.” Jon says, gesturing at the unconscious body close to you.

“R-right,” you nod, making your way around to take the case from him, “Sorry.”

You were more excited than you’d like to admit, given that this was your first mission. After months of training, today was your day to prove that you were actually ready. You were too ecstatic that you forgot about the reason you were here, which was to get a case with deck of playing cards inside, where one contained a chip that had codes for something Anthony didn’t feel the need to say. You were skeptical, of course, but you were too scared to ask.

As you were prying the case out of the man’s grip, the same waiter from earlier barges in the room with a handgun. He had heard what had happened and did the only thing he thought was right.

“Nobody move! Hands in the air!” He shouts, his voice shaky, “Who-who are you guys?”

Jon raises his hands up, signaling Tom to do the same. But the brunet instinctively attaches his hand to his own gun, making the waiter aim his weapon at Tom.

“Let her handle this.” Jon tells him, and Tom sighs in defeat, mirroring his actions.

He keeps his gaze on you, the both of you making eye contact for a split second. You do a double take, mesmerized at how handsome he was before you wonder why he was there and why he looked awfully familiar. But you shake your head out of the trance to focus on the waiter, your grip on the bread knife tightening, waiting for the best time to strike.

“I said hands in the air, lady!” He practically screams, but you still didn’t budge. You waited for one of his hands to be free.

Right when he brings one hand to wipe the sweat off his face, you use all your arm strength to throw the knife and perfectly aim it at his hand, the silver utensil stabbing his palm. Jon was quick to slide the door shut to muffle the waiter’s shrieks. He drops the gun to the floor as you strut towards him to pick it up and gently tuck it inside your purse. You kneel down in front of him, setting the briefcase next to you, before you pull out a device that wipes people’s memories.

“So sorry about your hand,” you say in a fake caring tone, pointing the silver device on his face and clicking the button. A white light flashes for a solid second and you close your eyes at how bright it was, before placing it back inside your purse. The man looks dazed and he stares at you with a blank expression as you say, “You were stabbed by that man on the table. Take him to the cops when he wakes up. My two colleagues and I were never here.”

He repeats your words, his eyes still on yours, and you smirk. You’ve always wanted to do this part of the mission, mostly because it made you feel like a vampire. You stand up, taking the the case in your hands and walk over to the two men, your smile wider than you’d like it to be.

Tom looks at you like he was trying to figure you out, crossing his arms over his chest. He was stunned but did his best to hide it. You didn’t have to stab the waiter, but you did. You didn’t have to break a plate over his head, but you did.

“Shall we go?” You ask in a giddy tone, handing the briefcase to Jon.

Jon nods once, containing the proud smile wanting to form on his face. There were a few things he’d correct you on, like your form and how you handled the situation, but for now, he lets you celebrate.

The three agents soon leave the restaurant without anyone else being suspicious, confidence beaming out of one of you. Once all of you were safe inside the vehicle, you anticipated a simple praise from Jon, but he told you something you didn’t quite expect.

“This is Tom Holland, by the way,” he says, beginning to drive to the secluded compound, “Your partner.”

“My what?”

“He’s your—“

“Why?” You cut him off, “No offense,” you say to the boy next to you, “But why?”

“It’s part of the contract, Agent Y/L/N. If you’ve read it.” Jon says and Tom snickers.

You ignore him, “But it said that I’ll only have a partner after a year.”

“You’re required to have a partner for a year until you go solo.”

“But I already went solo! I can handle it!” You argue and Tom couldn’t help but compare himself to you.

“That’s because there were no available agents until now,” Jon then instructs, “Now, you two, get to know each other.”

You sigh in defeat and adjust your position to face Tom, crossing your leg over the other as you did so, “Y/N Y/L/N, twenty-one years old, graduated from- hey,” you stop midsentence, your mind finally recognizing him, “Oh my god, you’re the best agent everyone’s been talking about.”

“That’s me.” Tom nods and you turn your head to lean closer to Jon.

“Do you really not trust me enough that you partnered me with the best-freaking-agent?"

Jon chuckles breathily, "Like I said, he's the only one available."

"Well," Tom interjects, "the feeling's mutual. You don't want me, and I don't want you.”

[crispyimagines17]

“GOSSIP GIRL: Summertime Madness“ (Chapter 2).

Summary: Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite. Things begin to stagger at the Upper East Side with the return of Alana Howarth and the unexpected arrival of Timothée Chalamet, a European handsome boy and rising ruler who has come for Alana; ignoring that NYC already has an heir and prince in its realm, Tom Holland. Secrets, romance, drama and lots of champagne are our daily bread. You know you love me, XOXO.

Originally based on: R’s & CrispyImagines writers’ idea.

Written by:  @crispyimagines17

CAST:

Tom Holland

Timothée Chalamet

Noah Centineo as Noah Humphrey

Kiernan Shipka as Kiernan Archibald

Disclaimer:  This fiction is set on our days (2019). Gossip Girl is now all over social media, Twitter and Instagram being the best sites to find hot tea. Also, for those who may ask what happens with Serena, Blair, Chuck, Dan, Nate and the original cast, they’re now grownups who set the reign and have left it for new generations.

Author’s Note: Just enjoy it while it lasts, guys. Thank you to all those supportive souls who sent their good vibes via ask or DM <3 especially to Napofthesoul, your words really meant a lot, sweetie. 

Previous Chapters: 1: “New York, New York”

Masterpost

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Morning, Upper East Siders. Time to wake up from bad dreams and face a new day. Though, if you’re a queen just arriving at your realm after time abroad and with two royals fighting for you, looks like things could get uglier in the morning.

Her eyelids hesitated to open at the touch of sunrays coming from a window. Her body was paying off yesterday’s red wine glasses. But she didn’t regret it after thinking about the dramatic performance at the terrace. If anything could’ve calmed her late nerves to see the two men in the same city, and much worse in the same place, that was wine.

“Oh shit”

Alana exhaled loudly as she sat up on the bed at a slow pace for not worsen her nausea. Her hand stretched out to reach her phone. The clock read 10 a.m. It was a miracle her mother hadn’t sent Mishka, her maid and Dorota’s nephew, to her bedroom yet.

But as if thinking of her called her up, Mrs. Howarth and Mishka opened the door seconds later.  

“Oh Alana, I almost forgot you were here.”

“Thank you for that, mother.” She rolled her eyes.

Margot eyed from head to toe at her messy daughter for a second before taking her attention back to her smartphone.  

“Dress up. We’re running late for the Holland’s annual golf match”

“Mother. I am not going.”

In a single move, Alana stood up from bed to face her mother with a frown. But the cold woman cut her off.

“You are. End of discussion.”

“I agreed to attend your last night’s party. But this is much more”

Her vibrant blue eyes stared straight into her daughter’s as she kept her phone inside her purse.

“You wanted to be back, don’t you? And your grandma’s Charity Foundation would not rise again if you refuse to attend events and show your deep interest on getting more investors.” Margot made a brief pause, but nothing came out of Alana’s mouth. She smirked at her silence. “I’ll be on the limo. Hurry up”

The Howarth girl did as told unwillingly, not before unlocking her phonescreen; one lost call and 4 messages from Timothée. Nothing from Tom. Alana pursed her lips. Maybe her long-time friend understood the message and made peace.

Or at least that’s what she hoped.

* * * * * * 

The sun shined bright and clear. A perfect Saturday morning for those lucky souls with no strings and ready to live. Veuve Clicquot Garden looked just as she remembered. It felt so Upper East Side. It smelt like money.

As soon as a waiter approached her, she asked him for a glass of wine. It might be 11:00 a.m., but Breakfast at Tiffany’s with orange juice wasn’t a possibility.

“Oh Alana, my dear.”

“Mrs. O’Brien!”

An elegant grandmother with certainly more class than the British Queen herself stared at her and pulled her into an embrace. The woman who, as her godmother Blair Waldorf, had thought her everything she needed to know about life and this sick elite society.

“My darling, you look wonderful!”

“And you look younger, if I may say so.” Alana exclaimed with a joyful smile over her face.

“Oh, enough” She giggled. “So, what have you been up to, Lana?”

“Europe, recently. But I’m back now. What about you?”

“South Sudan. There’s a terrible situation happening for children there.” The old woman briefly fixed her eyes in the ground with a sad expression. “But of course, the Holland’s believe things can get managed with Golf Match so, shall we?”

Both approached the lunch table to pick some fruit and Alana stayed in silence for a couple seconds until Lilian O’Brien spoke again.

“Christ, I used to enjoy these events very much.”

“Now you don’t?”, Alana frowned as she followed her inside the white tent.

“I still do, dear. What changed was that I don’t only care for my social status anymore, I care about others too.”

Alana seemed to be deeply digesting her words as she nodded. But her analysis was interrupted by a curly mass of hair stepping into the garden followed by the Bass family; Chuck and Blair.

“May you excuse me?”

“Go, Lana. Go”, the old woman nodded gently in a soft attempt to encourage the young girl.

“Was truly a pleasure, Mrs. O’Brien”

Until that very instance, Alana hadn’t paid attention to the music playing in the background because her ears were used to Frank Sinatra’s voice. But when Timothée’s eyes met hers, Etta James’ voice invaded her and suddenly, the scene looked taken from a romantic comedy film.

‘This gotta be a fucking joke’, Alana whispered to herself.

Meanwhile, the European man wearing the latest Berluti’s white design walked towards her. Perhaps aware of the song’s effect, because his steps seemed to be perfectly synchronized with the tune.

“Morning, sunshine.” Timothée said with the same charming smile that made her knees weak.

As soon as he stood before her, Alana thought they’d be dancing or passionately kissing as in an Audrey Hepburn’s films. But they didn’t. A helicopter landing sound interrupted the magic moment, bringing both souls back to reality. Etta James’ voice had faded giving way to Nina Simone’s strong classy style.  

‘Am I in Broadway?’

The It-girl frowned sarcastically at the coincidence. The helicopter’s door opened, and Dominic Holland greeted with one hand before helping his wife to step on ground.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Hollands.”

Claps showered the iconic family. Tom was the last to step down. And for Alana’s surprise, his eyes fixed on hers for a millisecond until he turned his head at the crowd welcoming him. Although she tried not to, a part inside her kind of broke when he looked away this time.

But Timothée noticed it; she had blinked twice and finished the glass of wine in one gulp right after Tom joined his family for the magazine picture.

And Chalamet only scowled at his adversary with pursed lips as he posed for the cameras. 

* * * * *

The golf match had begun with the Holland boys playing the first holes. Tom won every single one of them. He was good at this; polo and golf were his favorite sports.

Alana and Timothée were sitting along the Bass. At first, they sat there because of Blair, but then she learned that Timothée had followed her because of Chuck. Although Chuck Bass wasn’t anything else than just her godmother’s husband, it shocked her the fact that Timothée had never told her he was related to him.

And she wondered why he’d hide it.

“Well, it’s Chuck’s turn to smack golf’s yard”

Blair Waldorf said with that elegant smile of hers as Bass moved the chair to let his wife stood up. She picked her purse and looked at her goddaughter.

“Your godfather Nate is coming, dear. Tell him to wait for us.”

“Sure, Aunt Blair.” Alana nodded forcing a smile.

Alone in the table, the two millionaire youngsters shared a brief moment of awkward silence filled only by the crowd sound and murmurs of polite laughs in near tables.

Timothée doubted on say something but his heart couldn’t bear her strange behavior, making him sip his drink and swallow hard.

“Are you okay, Alana?”, he inquired in a more worried tone than he’d liked.

The Howarth girl frowned nonchalantly as she brought a vegetarian pressed Italian little sandwich into her mouth and chewed on it carefree before answering.

“I am. Perfectly. Just wondering when were you going to tell me you’re a Chalamet-Bass?” She asked still in a nonchalant mode as if talking about the weather, without facing him. “He’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t it?”

He turned his torso and laid his arm over his chair’s back to completely look at her.

“He’s not, they invited me. And I knew you’d be here.”

His voice was softer this time. Alana kept sitting straight as she glanced the garden, whatever but his eyes.

“When you messaged me last night asking to see me and talk, I never expected you’d go for my godmother’s help.”

“Even she can tell why I am in New York.”

“Bass Industries is a good reason.”

Timothée leaned just a few inches closer to her.

“I didn’t mention him because we said ‘the past is in the past’”

Alana shut her eyes in contained frustration for a second before turning her head to meet his eyes.

“But he’s not past. He’s present!”

“So is Tom Holland.” He said in the same calmed velvety tone as before.

Her whole face went pale with the mere mention of his name and her lips parted yet speechless.

“He told me everything at yesterday’s party”, Timothée continued.

Neither of them uttered a word for a few seconds. The sound of applauses and shouts of celebration for the winner echoed from behind.

Alana’s weak expression was replaced by a serious one. She looked away and grabbed her purse.

“Then we’re even.”

“It’s not that”, Chalamet began to elaborate but she cut him off right after standing up from her seat.

“You know? I really wanted this thing between us worked out”

And she walked away of the white tent in that elegant way of hers, praying that he wouldn’t follow her.

But he did, meeting her just halfway to the lavatories. Again, they were face to face. His eyes were almost watery, and the desperation now reflected over his persona.

“What you wanted me to do if not come here? Can you imagine how I felt? You left 2 days after graduation!”

Her eyes almost went watery too at the sound of his broken voice seeking for answers. Though, she swallowed the lump in her throat and crossed her arms over her chest with pursed lips.

“And so, what?”

“Never really got a chance to talk things out”

“We’ve got nothing to say, Timothée.” She responded forcing a smile with pain in her tone as a tear fell down her cheek. “You were always out in parties to ‘find producers’ for your director’s debut in film business”

“When you learned about my crazy past and reputation, I told you I was about to leave it for my Art… And for you”

“And you did?”

“I tried.” Timothée looked away, smoothing his hair back with one hand in an attempt to hold tears inside before locking eyes with Alana again. “But…”

Though, as soon as she heard the same word that had begun past fights between them, Alana exhaled loudly and showed a tired expression.

“Sure, Chalamet. Now please, stop. Let’s be friends and that’s it. Carpe Diem.”

“Don’t come me with the Carpe Diem thing. I’m here because…”

“Timothée, please. We tried a couple of times, and all went to trash. Just…”

But she added no more. Instead, her body turned to follow her heels somewhere far from there.

Timothée sighed as he let her go this time, not being aware that a pair of brown eyes were glued on him with rage injected on them.

****

Tom had won against Chuck Bass. Everyone cheered and congratulated his victory, even some old men in their 60s patted his shoulder after uttering “great match” with a satisfied smile.

In his way to join his family at the white tent, he recognized Alana’s figure walking in the middle of the garden and then being stopped by a man in white suit. Tom had to narrow his eyes to confirm the identity of who his mind already knew; Timothée Chalamet.

He tightened his jaw when he saw Alana leaving the scene with a shadow of pain on her very feature and got to restrain his desire to hit that black wavy head.  

****

Spotted at Veuve Clicquot Garden: Tom Holland lifting a golf club to hit not a ball but a curly head. Current Match Play; Timothée 1 - Tom 0

****

Alana touched-up her eyeliner with a powder shadow and used the corner of the makeup sponge to remove any evidence of the smeared eyeliner made by her late watery eyes. She stared at herself in the mirror as she took a deep encouraging breath. She hated the fact she got to ran into the toilettes and hide there from Timothée. ‘What a child I am’.

The Howarth girl took one last glance at the mirror before opening the door back to the garden.

She hadn’t walked three steps when her chest crashed against someone���s back.

“Sorry, am…”, Alana began to apology.

The young man turned around to face her and a genuine smile crossed his face when he recognized her.

“Lana?”

“Harry?”, she smiled too.

Harry Holland, one of the Tom’s brother twins she used to babysit in the building when their parents were away.

They immediately pulled each other into an embrace.

“God! Good to see you”

“Me too. Look how handsome you look”, she eyed him from head to toe.

“And you, pretty as always”, Harry imitated her.

“Where’s Sam?”, Alana’s eyes looked for the other twin behind Harry’s back.

“Probably eating every dessert available”, he giggled. “Come join us”

****

The table Harry leaded her to was filled with the Holland family and her parents, the Howarth.

Just seconds before Alana took a seat, Chuck and Blair appeared. And while he was excusing for leaving early, Blair approached to Alana close enough for her to hear her warning;

“Drama’s not over, A. Just don’t explode here, darling. For your own sake.”

The elegant couple left. Alana showed a polite smile and nodded, not sure what her godmother referred with ‘drama’. Though, she found out a second later when Margot Howarth, her mother, placed her hand on top of Alana’s over the table.

“Alana, here you’re. We were just talking about you”

Indeed, everyone’s eyes were glued on her with big smiles drawn across their faces. Even the twins and little Patrick were happy.

“Europe must’ve been exciting”, Elizabeth Holland, Tom’s mother, said interlacing her fingers over the table as she genuinely smiled.

“It was great, of course.” Alana answered as she grabbed the glass of wine the waiter offered her.

“We’re glad you’re back, dear.” Elizabeth looked at her husband, Dominic, who nodded graciously.

Mrs. Holland was truly happy for her return because she couldn’t stop smiling. She had always appreciated her.

Margot sighed, imitating everyone’s smiles but with a hint of pride in it because was her daughter the main subject, just as she always loved her to be.

“Can you believe? Harry and Sam’s Cotillion is this Friday as your cousin Cass’”, she said raising her eyebrows as if surprised.

Tom arrived, being welcomed with more cheering from his brothers. He took a seat as far from Alana as possible, which was just two seats difference; Patrick and Sam were in between.

“Remember when Alana and Tom went together to Cotillion?”, Elizabeth added with a nostalgic sigh.

“Time flies isn’t it?”, Margot did the same.

“I know… Just think about it. In a blink of an eye, our sons will be getting married”, Mrs. Howarth gathered her hands as in an applause while raising her eyebrows thus drawing a ‘cannot wait’ expression in her feature.

Dominic Holland, who had been chatting along Marcus Howarth about today’s golf match, joined the conversation.

“Alana would be perfect to wear the family ring”

He patted her wife’s hand joyfully. Margot, Elizabeth and Dominic glanced at them with a satisfied smile given, perhaps, by the picture created in their imagination of a perfect wedding.    

“Oh she will.” Margot stated. “They’ve been friends since childhood”

This was what Blair warned her about. Tom and Alana uncomfortably sipped two or maybe three times their drinks as if a mirror stood between them. She wished her wine was scotch, while he wished his brandy was vodka.

A heavy environment settled between Tom and Alana’s bodies right after their parents celebrated their fantasy. Even Patrick felt a little weird being‘third wheels’ in this situation.

Harry noticed it too. And the twins made everything in their hands to change the subject back into the next season’s event, suggesting a polo match.

Alana only recognized gross sounds of what was discussed next. Her eyes were blank, realizing that her return wouldn’t be as easy as she thought it’d be. The Holland’s comment made her think of her latest nightmare; her life could change so fast if she married Tom. She’d basically sign herself up for the same traditional life she ran away from; she’d become a socialite woman caught up in the system.

So, the It-girl fumbled her phone out of her Cartier purse and dialed a number she knew by heart. Her thumbs moved fast over the keyboard and clicked the ‘send’ icon.

*****

Start buying those dancing shoes, kids. Looks like we’ll be going to the chapel soon.

****

Hours later, New York City lights announced the beginning of nocturnal life affairs. The city that never sleeps. And less if you’re in the Upper East Side.

After Timothée received Alana’s text, he arranged a reservation for what he saw as a special occasion at Le Bernadin, one of the top six most exclusive restaurants in New York.

Alana arrived there on time in an elegant blue dress. He was already waiting for her at the table and helped her seat by holding back the chair like a true gentleman.

“Thought we’d go somewhere more… private”, her eyes traveled around the place.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Le Bernadin is excellent”, she slightly frowned.

“Not that. I mean, sorry for today’s”, he cleared his throat and showed her an apological smile.

“I’m sorry too. I was maybe a little too harsh with you about the… Chuck thing”

“But you were right about the hiding thing.” He started in such an honest tone that it sent chills down Alana’s back, freezing her on her seat. “I don’t wanna hide anything from you, Lana. That day before our graduation when we broke up and you told me I never committed to our relationship; I couldn’t sleep trying to see it from your perspective. And you were right. After our lovely summer when road tripping all around Western Europe, I pretended to forget my reputation and begin from scratch when it was clear that could never happen. Then parties came and we split for a month because you weren’t used to that part of me. Art class joined us again, you were my date for several parties more and it seemed to work out this time. I just don’t know where it went wrong…”

Timothée stopped to take a deep breath and calm himself, cause up to this moment his tone had changed revealing the true desperation behind his words.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Alana was perplexed. She never imagined herself in that situation with him; at least not outside her dreams. On the contrary, she prayed not to see him ever again, convincing herself that her decision to leave Europe would make things easier for both. Yet he had found his way back to her quite earlier than expected.

Now she sipped her drink to brush away the lump in her throat when the sudden memory of their fights, the nights alone, and their breakup flooded her mind.  

“You left me no choice.” She looked away and sighed as she tried to hold the tears inside. “Remember one of our first talks when I told you about how it made me sick all the socialite stuff and its hypocrisy? Well, I was so happy you weren’t so involved in that sick game… New York seemed just a far bad dream.”

The mere memory of a hopeful time made her so nostalgic, that her brain got to remind her to take a deep breath. She turned to face him.

“But when your parties began, I said ‘let’s give it a chance’, though something inside didn’t feel good. Even when that wasn’t the socialite, yet there was a similar sensation with my past. And when our Netflix and cuddle nights became YOUR party nights as soon as some old buddies of yours arrived at your flat, leaving me there ALONE… I just couldn’t handle it no more. I wasn’t ready to deal this new thing.”

Tears flooded her eyes inevitably. And she couldn’t help herself on a few tears from sliding down her cheek. Timothée’s heart ached by watching her in that state. A state he promised he’d never be the cause of, yet he was.

He approached her slowly, sitting at the chair right next to her.

“We could’ve sorted it out together”, Timothée whispered as he cupped her face in his hands and wiped away the tears running down her cheek with his thumb.

“You weren’t there. Your friends needed you.” She avoided any eye contact for her own sake.

“Nothing, listen to me, nothing is more important for me than you.”  

Their watery eyes finally met.

“I’m scared. I just don’t…”

But before she could finish her sentence, Timothée passed his hand around her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Her blood ran cold at first but then she succumbed to the moment.

Once they pulled away, both stared deep at each other for an instance before he showed a glint of mixed hope and shyness.

“I’m scared too. I’ve never felt this way for anybody. Didn’t even believe it was possible but seems like Hollywood doesn’t exaggerate.”

“Timothée��”

“I want to try again, please”

“There are no third chances”

“For me, Alana. Do it for me, for us. If you still have feelings for me, even the weakest one, give me a chance, and I’ll prove to you that we aren’t supposed to be apart.”

“I don’t know… How”

“Me neither but we can take a leap of faith, together.”

“A little faith, trust and pixie dust”

Alana giggled and Timothée joined her. The atmosphere between them slightly changed and both hearts felt less heavy. She bit her lip and gave him a slight nod.

“Okay”, she nodded.

“Okay?”

Relief washed over Timothée’s aura, drawing a big smile across his face. One of true happiness.

“We’ll take it slow”, Alana continued as she got contagious with the hopeful ambience between them.

“At our own pace.” Timothée added.

“And won’t let our past get in the way.”

“Promise. I’ve left all behind.”

He stated. And everything seemed as if taken away from a fairy tale the couple had written themselves, making her forget that such a thing cannot be at the Upper East Side.

****

The moment Nate Archibald’s daughter stepped into the Howarth’s penthouse as she had done countless times back in the days, Mishka knew something was going on.  

Kiernan Archibald was Alana’s best friend ever since kindergarten, and she never arrived without a reason.  

It took no time before the girls gathered at Alana’s room, and ate macarons with champagne.  

“You know? When I saw you the day you came back, I almost faint.”

Kiernan had her legs crossed in the air and her abdomen over the bed as she ate another macaron with a smirk.

“Yeah, if it weren’t for Mishka you would’ve hit your head very bad”, Alana giggled while resting her head over her pillow, also on bed.

“Thank heaven I didn’t”, Kiernan joined her giggles and incorporated herself to see her friend better. “Now, tell me about your dinner with that European king.”

“Well, you’re updated with the whole situation”, Alana exhaled loudly as the yesterday scenes came to her mind. “Tom and Timothée already met and my mother is dreaming of her daughter being a Howarth-Holland”

Her friend made an “upps” face as she sipped her champagne glass and bit a strawberry.

“The thing is we decided to give us a new chance.” Alana continued with a hopeful grin drawn across her face.

“Timothée and you?”, Kiernan raised her eyebrows.

“We said we’ll take it slow but-”

Before the Howarth girl could explain, the Archibald heiress cut her off while locking eyes into her friend’s.

“Hey, you like him. If you feel good with him and your gut’s telling you to go for it then go for it”, her hands emphasized her words by opening both as if showing her the answer to her question.

“That’s the matter, Kiki. My gut is out of service or something”

“Wait what?”

Alana took a deep breath, though she knew it was almost impossible to avoid Kiernan’s inquisitive look.

“Listen, what I feel about Timothée is very special. He’s so damn charming and smart and funny. He’s very observant and caring.”

“But?”

“But… That night at my welcoming party when I saw Tom, something inside me kind of winced. And when he spoke to me… Uggh, it sent shivers down my spine”

Kiernan was open-mouthed, processing the situation.

“Oh Lana, you’re in such a trouble.”

Seconds later, she raised her glass at Alana for an impromptu toast in honor of whatever thing came. After both finished the last champagne drop, Kiki added;

“Just give it time. The answer will come to you, A.”  

****

Have you been so busy that you’ve forgotten what time of year it is? Couture, quadrilles and cutthroat competition. That’s right. It’s time for Cotillion. 

****

Cotillion was a just as Alana remembered. If not better, but she doubted that. She got to admit, when she was Queen the rules were fancier.

Harry and Sam Holland walked towards her as soon as they saw her coming inside.

“Hey, Lana”, the twins said at the same time.

“Guys, look how handsome you’re!”, she smiled as her eyebrows raised in surprise.  

“Hugo Boss himself said that too”, Harry added and chuckled.

“So, you’re escoting my cousin Cassandra huh?”

“Yeah”, Harry blushed at the sound of her name.

“Take care of her, Harry. And yourself! The Howarths are not easy girls.”

She patted his shoulder, wishing him good luck.

“That’s a fact”, Harry nodded but went pale as soon as he realized she was a Howarth too.

Sam opened his eyes and glanced at his brother with a “bro, wtf” look. He just screwed it up.

“Well, enjoy your night guys”, Alana blinked and forced a smile before walking somewhere else.

Despite her efforts, she couldn’t help the nostalgia vibe that surrounded her; looking at the prep-school girls excited and nervous for their presentation, the boys wearing tuxedos and trying their best against the current king. Everything reminded her the Cotillion she and Tom attended to; they had been the best couple ever since the legendary Blair and Nate or even the unexpected Jenny and Nate one.

At first, she expected the nostalgia would fade away when her brain noticed this wasn’t her Cotillion. But the more she walked around the place, the more it seemed like time had never passed. Every face around her was a face she was familiar with. And she got a weird feeling that they weren’t because of Cotillion but for her; to see with their own eyeballs she was back in New York.

Kiernan was the bell that saved her from getting an anxiety attack.  

“Ugh, people always sticking their noses where don’t belong”, the Archibald heiress said as if she had read Alana’s mind.

“Did it say on Gossip Girl that I’d be here?”, Alana inquired with a tired expression.

“Uhm, nope. But it did say about Cotillion and cutthroat competition. You know she likes pun, A.”

“What about that clean slate? She should leave me alone”

“New York missed you”, Kiernan shrugged. “No sign of T.H?”

“Not yet and praying to keep that way.” Alana said in a serious and a hint of worried tone.

Both friends were about to sit when something in the crowd caught their attention. Every young soul there began muttering and pulling their phones out.

“What’s going on?”, Kiernan wondered.

The answer appeared just after her words. There were they; Tom Holland accompanied with Serena van der Woodsen and Dan Humphrey’s son, Noah Humphrey.  

Every single phone camera pointed at them.

*******

Spotted: An elite family reunion. Don’t you love Cotillion surprises?

******

Noah Humphrey immediately recognized his friends and walked towards them.

“Look who’s in town!”, he shouted opening his arms.

“Gosh, Noah!”, Alana smiled as both pulled each other into a tight embrace.  

Meanwhile, Kiernan and Tom saluted each other by their last names. “Archibald”, “Holland”. She didn’t like him after what happened with her friend, and he just imitated her attitude. Though, Alana’s best friend sacrificed herself and put her dislike apart to take him as far as possible from the Howarth girl.

“Holland, why don’t you tell me where’s Sam? He’ll be escorting my sister Nicole”, Kiernan hold him from his arm forcing him to follow her.

“Sure, he is. Noah?”, Tom locked eyes briefly with Alana and looked at his best friend.

“I’ll stay here.” Noah nodded.

When their bodies disappeared in the crowd, Noah turned back to face her.

“So… Europe, huh?”, Noah giggled. “Was quite a bomb when you left.”

“I know! Everyone keeps telling me about it”, Alana responded aiming to be sarcastic but instead sounding irritated. “Sorry. It’s just so… overwhelming”

“That’s the UEA… And that guy at the airport didn’t help you with the gossip either”

“What do you mean?”, she narrowed her eyes.

“Well, his presence made your return the big hit wondering who he is? Or what is he doing here?”, he looked at her with inquisitive eyes, almost as powerful as Kiernan’s.

“None of their business.” Alana pursed her lips.

“Seriously, Lana. Do we have to care about him?”

“Wha- No! Clean slate, remember? It’s not like the old times.”

“The good old times”, Noah chuckled by the memory of countless party nights. “So, he won’t be here long?”

“Noah, where’s this coming from?”, Alana frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

“From a caring friend.”

He said that truly, but she didn’t see it the same way.

“Oh tell that to someone who knows you less than I do, Humphrey.” She scoffed. “If this is one of Tom’s strategy then I don’t care”

No answer came out of Noah’s mouth. Alana rolled her eyes.

“I’ll go for a drink”, she stated walking away from a friend for the second time in that night.

*****

Once at the bar table with a drink in hand, Alana smoothed her hair back with one hand while letting out a frustrated sigh.

“What does a beautiful woman like you alone?”, a voice asked her seductively from her back.

“Timothée, you came”, she turned to see him standing in an elegant black suite.

“Of course, sweetie. As soon as I read your text, I rushed here.”

“Thanks, wanna join me on preparing my cousin?”

“Sure.” He followed her through an aisle. “What’s this Cotillion stuff?”

“Oh, well is like a social presentation party. It was supposed to be symbolic, but girls take it very very seriously. A battle for power.” She raised her eyebrows ironically. “Cass is not quite the Queen, but my mother forced me to be her mentor”

At the end of the aisle, a door leaded to an elegant room with teen girls in expensive dresses and makeup covering every inch of their bodies waited for the moment.

When Alana entered, every teenager gasped and made way for her to walk comfortably. She frowned at their reaction that back in the days would’ve been completely normal for her. Two seconds later, she found her cousin.

“Cass, you’re perfect!”, Alana complimented her.

Cassandra Howarth was three years younger; therefore, three years less experienced and more pretentious.

“C’mon you don’t believe it”, she got her arms over her hips and not noticed the young man standing behind Alana.

“Harry Holland is your escort, and you’re a Howarth. It’ll be enough for these people.”

Cass stared at her outfit in the mirror and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. The odds are on my favor, you’re my mentee, Blair Waldorf was your mentee… I’ll be fine”, saying this more to herself than for Alana.

A bell announced the Elite Women presentation ceremony was about to begin. The teenagers rushed to the door.

“Good luck”, Alana waved a goodbye.

Timothée and her stood near the stage as a good mentor would do.

The rest of the iconic elite group were seated near the bar, waiting for the show to end. Tom was quite edgy, like a caged tiger deciding whether to eat the iron bars and scape or stay in captivity. Kiernan sipped her mojito, and while she did, she saw through the glass how he made up his mind as he clicked once something on his phone and then kept it in his jacket pocket.

Alana saw that too, though turned her gaze at the stage and swallowed hard.

The Archibald heiress narrowed her eyes suspiciously; she didn't like his attitude one bit. But before she’d approach him, another event caught her attention.

Different ringtones echoed at the same time and every young witness grabbed their phones out to check the notification.

It was Gossip Girl.

Did anyone notice something strange when Alana returned? No paparazzi. Apparently, Europe wasn’t aware of who you are, A. But don’t worry, an anonymous soul has proper manners and sent some details about her big little adventures. Please, shall we enjoy the reading? Cause Gossip Girl goes Europe.

First things first. It was true she ran away from that indecent kiss with our King Tom… But our Queen found a new King in those tiding European lands.

Timothée Chalamet, ladies and gentlemen. If Carlo Magno had a successor, that’s definitely Timothée.

He showed her his Empire, and found love while they did. Just look at these wonderful FRANCE and CARIBBEAN magazine covers.

But then, uh oh. Is that Matty Healy and Alana on MUSIC ICON cover? 

Looks like our Queen just expanded her horizons with flying colours. Monte Carlo and Mallorca are her new capitols.

And the party won’t start ‘till New York walks in.  

“Fuck…”, Kiernan muttered under her breath as she looked for Alana’s whereabouts.

But, it took no effort to find her; cause people around her had moved aside, forming a circle with Timothée and her as the center.

Alana was puzzled. It was until Timothée handed her his phone with the Gossip Girl’s latest tweet that she understood what was going on.

For an instance, the whole world fell over her chest impeding her to breath. She stared at Timothée with eyes wide open and a shadow of confusion casted on her very feature as Gossip Girl’s last words resonated in the back of her head.

And that’s when her inner voice reawakened. She clenched her jaw, swallowed the venom she just received and holded Timothée’s hand, walking away from that circle.

Perhaps Alana Howarth returned days ago, but the Queen had just woken up. The bitch Queen was back.

Kiernan recognized that glint in her eyes when she reached her friend halfway from the door. And Noah knew it too. Even Tom knew it.

“We’re leaving, see you K”, Alana brushed past her as the valet boy opened the door for the couple.

Timothée followed her from behind, still holding her hand. He was shocked by her brusque change.

Kiernan just nodded.

And, although Cotillion representatives tried to dissipate the atmosphere, Alana left more open-mouthed witnesses than those in Valentine’s Day.

****

Outside, the show continued.

“That’s fucking it”, Alana shouted with anger cracking her voice. She fumbled her phone out her purse and dialed a number. “Geof, meet me at the front door in 2 minutes please”

“I brought my car”, Timothée interrupted.

“Forget it, go home.” She added before hung up.

The valet boy drove Timothée’s Jaguar and the couple got inside. As soon as they were there, he exhaled loudly and fixed his eyes on her.

“So…”, he started. But received no answer.

Silence reigned in the car for a couple of blocks, when a semaphore made them stop. Alana stared at him with a playful grin across her face.

“You know baby? There’s no need to take it slow. Just…”

But before she added something else, she wrapped her hands around his neck and crashed her lips against his; pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

“Are you sure?”, Timothée asked in a soft voice.

Both lovers wrapped their hands and stared straight into each other’s eyes.

“More than ever”, she smirked.

Timothée pulled her in for a second kiss but it was brief this time.

A satisfied smile spread across his face and Alana raised her head as only Queens know when a solemn phrase is about to be said.

“If you can't beat them… Join them”

*****

A, you left America a star. But after your exploits in Europe you’ve come back a supernova. And yet nothing explodes without a fuse. I wonder what —or who— lit yours. Perhaps we all know the handsome answer to that.  Just careful with the fire, kids. You might get burned.

You know you love me, XOXO

Gossip Girl.

---------------------

TAG LIST: (tagged those who asked but feel free to let us know if you want to be removed or added)

@clairesrainbow; @noobmaster63; @claryaki; @silverscreenkid; @vogueworthy-barnes; @persefoneaurispa ; @izdevett ; @mae-petite-etoile ; @tpwkalwayshs; @meliketozier; @aliceinwhateverland; @justcallmenameless; @kathrynisadogperson; @loricwizardbluetoastedcake; @vintageroses1014516; @im-not-edgy-im-just-pretentious; @xlilmultiimaginesworld; @sunnygubler; @agentcvrters; @adorablehumanbeing; @goingwiththewind; @rachel-mc11; @candycxorn; @bruvberta; @justficsandstuff; @wonderwoman292; @ncrediblelove; @napoftheesoul

[hollandroos]

Run To Me | Sequel to Blow A Kiss, Fire A Gun | Prologue!

PART ONE IS OUT AND HERE!

{Y/N} - I apologise if the read more doesn’t work on the origional post!

The therapist stared the small girl down. Little brown curls littered her forehead like springs as she fiddled with the teddy bear in her hands. It was a little bit tattered at the edges, a certain spot of fur matted together but it was the little blue bear that she’d had since birth, the one that hid at the bottom of her junior school bag because she refused to go to school without it… some days. Some days she preferred the small, white and slightly creepy looking cat that she’d carry around by the tale.

Her hands. Red, raw, bloody. Your own daughter, falling apart right before your very eyes.

“Rosie?” The therapist asks, trying to come to eye level with your daughter but it was difficult. Despite her blabbering on about how independent (without actually using that word) and brave she is, she struggled to even look into the eyes of a stranger.

“Rose?” You whisper, bobbing your knee up and down to get the small girls attention. “Can you talk to the lady please?”

“I don’t want to be here.” She mumbles, bottom lip falling into a pout. “I wanna go home.”

You take one of her hands in your own, thumb gently running over the little pink and white hello kitty band-aids. She doesn’t seem to notice, looking at the pile of kids toys that sat in the corner of the room.

“Harper just wants to help you like she helps me.” You try to prevent your voice from shaking and almost fail too if it weren’t for a quick side eye from the therapist. “She’s nice, sweetheart.”

Your daughter was never difficult, on edge definitely and you partially blamed yourself. She’d been bought up seeing you hide in a shell both of your old self and one of pure fear and terror, merely smiling and sometimes not even leaving the bed. On those days your daughter would lay next to you, a rerun of teen titans or how to train your dragon on Netflix. She surely heard your screams in the very middle of the night and saw you freak out whenever she was too loud.

“No, mum.” Your daughter looks up, her glassy eyes finally off of the teddy bear. She begins wriggling around in your arms, the small girl grunting as she fails down your lap. “I wanna play with the toys.”

You were unsure but eventually sigh, letting her go. The near-five-year-old jumps down, little legs making their way towards what children would call ‘Heaven’. There were lego pieces and board games and the odd Rubix cube but your attention was directed towards her little hands, the size of a large tomato but that didn’t worry you, what did was the fact that her hands were the color of one.

The therapist coughs gently, leaning forward in her seat. “So from what you’ve shown me I definitely see signs.”

You weren’t surprised, not even batting an eyelash. “What can we do from here?” You ask, foot tapping gently against the carpeted floor, a nervous habit.

“There’s nothing you really can do, neither can I considering her age. Rosie is young, this could easily just be a phase.” She almost shrugs it off casually, black glasses slipping down her nose and she was quick to shove them up again, eyelashes hitting the frames.

“So you just want me to-” You begin, with no success.

“You can bandage them, give her toys to play with and keep her nails short but that’s about it for now-”

“You want me to let my daughter keep doing this to herself? To sit back and watch?” You feel your eyes prickle and Rosie seems to ignore your sudden outburst. Either she was listening carefully as she often did, focusing despite your knowledge or she was completely oblivious, focusing purely on the game pieces.

A wave of anger washes over you, as well as fear and guilt. The system was screwed up, sure, but you didn’t know how bad until then and there. Your hands trembled, afraid that you couldn’t stop this, you couldn’t be the mother Rosie needed.

“There is nothing I can do. I’m sorry, I know it must be hard but you can help, even just by talking to her about what she’s doing.”

You grit your teeth, hands clenching around the arms of the chairs. If you gripped them any harder you fear the wood breaking off, snapping beneath your fingertips and causing a magnitude of splinters.

Rosie listens, wondering why the two adults were talking about her while she was in the room. The little girl was notorious for picking up things she shouldn’t and at that moment she was trying to decipher what they were saying and why her mum looked like she was about to cry.

Her chubby fingers toy with a Rubix cube and while she had no idea what she was doing, she adored the bright colors. However, they clashed with the pink and white that decorated her hands. The hello kitty ones were her favorite, definitely better than the wiggles band-aids that’d been forced on her last week by the teachers at school.

What was wrong with her?

{ Tom }

“I don’t care what you have tomorrow, We need to have a fucking meeting.” Tom spat into the phone, face red hot with anger. “Your girlfriend can fucking wait. This is important.”

His hands gripped the very roots of his hair, anger racing through every phone as the man on the other end tried to get out of it. Tom couldn’t completely blame him, he’d do the same if he was about to lose his head.

The silence was all that could be heard through the other end of the phone between heavy, nervous breaths and the mobster already knew that he had this one in the bag.

“I can try-”

‘Try’ wasn’t good enough, nowhere near it for the mob boss who had already been pushed past his breaking point by the same client multiple times. He was ready to get his hands dirty again, paint the town red and grey and make those that deserved it fall to their knees.

Tom turned towards his desk, fingers clenching around the cool gun, the metal making goosebumps arise. “You will be there or I swear to god-”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be there.” Wilson muttered, pursing his lips together in defeat.

Tom almost laughed at the nerves that were visible through even the phone. The guy's voice shook with fear. 

Tom hung up the phone, slamming it down on the desk in pure anger. People that messed with him and his business didn't get off the hook easily and this guy was no different- the fact that he thought he was made Tom’s blood boil. It made the wheels in his brain spin with different possibilities and ways he could show the client who the boss was in this situation.

“He’s coming?”

“He’ll be there.”

-

Words: 1524

Warnings: There will be violence, sexual references, and possible smut. (no guarantees) This story will also focus around both Y/N and her daughters struggle with mental illnesses so if you’re not okay with talks/symptoms of PTSD and OCD disorders the this won’t be for you.

Notes: Angels, I think you all deserve this fic after waiting so long. As someone with an OCD disorder (not the one that’ll be portrayed in this series), I’m so excited to delve into mental illness in fiction and do my best to portray it properly and just expand my horizons.

- There are a lot of dad/mafia series, so if this seems similar to yours then message me for credit.

Posting day: Tuesdays. 

PLEASE LEAVE FEEBACK!

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[b00bconnoisseur]

60 questions for @not-my-brain

1. selfie.......Ugghhhh ok. Imma take one rn

Ok here u go (yes thats a bmth shirt)

2. what would you name your future kids?.....Ooo hmmm well when i was a kid i really liked the names disney, and mesiah. I didn't know at the time that mesiah was another name for god i think lol. I liked it cause of handlers mesiah. I still do. Ooo and maybe Tj too

3. do you miss anyone?......Yeah. My friends on Pinterest from a year ago. My friend lucas. Stan lee. Bob ross. My cousin who died from cancer some years ago. Snape. Sirius. Lupin. Tonks. Dobby. *continues to name every unfortunate death in hp*

4. what are you looking forward to?.......SE-YA next month!! Its the south eastern young adult festival at this college. You can have meet n greets with authors and alot of stuff its the besstttt

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?......DEFINATELY. @dirtysocke @mysisterlooksforthisaccountsobye @cristal-kyd1280 @sammchenry my friend lucas and @septembersbloom. ^^

6. is it hard for you to get over someone?..... What like...romantically? Or like a death? If romantically uhhh idk it took over a couple weeks but im ok now. Ive never had another relationship so idk. If death oof yeah idk maybe. Ig it depends on how much i knew them idk. Like when my nanny (great grandma) died i was sad for days (is that alot?)

7. what was your life like last year?.....Sucky af. Still is. But the highlights of my life last year was getting and making friends on tumblr, going to the tøp concert and going to warped tour, volunteering at the library, going to seya and meeting some of my favorite authors, reading, changing and improving my art, listening to all the bands i listen to now, getting into more fandoms, going to a friends house for the first time

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?.......Yes lol. Some years ago when i couldn't find smtn id be so annoyed and pissed id start crying. I dont now but still lol

9. who did you last see in person?.......Hm ig family doesn't count....? Wait do u mean a friend? If so uhh my friends rebekah, anika, and Judah at a TAB meeting at the library sometime last month.

10. are you good at hiding your feelings?......I think so? Like i mean I can hide whenever i get my....time of the month from my mom (talking abt stuff like that with her makes me uncomfortable) and i hid a breakup. And other p big stuff too. So imma say yeah

11. are you listening to music right now?........*pops on earbuds after reading this* yee im listening to bitch lasagna by pewdiepie xD (do i have the best spotify playlist or what?)

12. what is something you want right now?.......To hug @mysisterlooksforthisaccountsobye but SOMEONE has to live so far away

13. how do you feel right now?........Happy that my earbud still works cause they got washed in the wash yesterday....oops. Its not my fault. I told my dad to remind me to take it out of my jacket pocket before they threw it in but noooooo he forgot

14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you?.......Uhhhhh fuck idk it was probably from my lil 4 yr old bro sometime last week. Other than him (hes my favorite sibling) i dont let them hug me too much

15. personality description.......Nerdy. Fangirl. "Emo". Tomboy. Hotsause obsessed. Book lover. Music lover. Black. Blue. Harry potter. Introvert. Fall. Sports. Values friendship. Loyal. Uhhhh i cant think of much lol

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t?.......*sigh* yes. Yes yes yes. Theres some things abt me, or my life really, that i havent told anyone on here or my irl friends that i sooooo want to so bad but i haven't cause i feel like they'd feel bad and pity me and i don't want that

17. opinion on insecurities........I dont really understand this one. Everyones insecure abt something. Is this askin like if i think its ok or not? I say its ok. Im insecure about literally everything about me. My face. My personality. My socialness. My art. What i do. What i say. Basically my whole body. The things i feel good abt are my books, music taste, and my friends (ily fuckers)

18. do you miss how things were a year ago?.........Hmm this time around a year ago....idk its sorta the same but all the stuff i mentioned abt my year from last year didn't happen yet so nah tho my life sucks rn its better than this time last year

19. have you ever been to New York?........Nooo but i want too soo baddd i wanna visit @septembersbloom !! Im coming for ya soon gramps *does the eye watching thing* my dads been to nyc before tho cause he does construction and he had a concrete job to do there. It was a 23 hr drive for him

20. what is your favourite song at the moment?........Uhhh idk!!! So hard! Maybe.....the whole thats the spirit album by bmth ;)

21. age and birthday?.....15 yrs of age and September 27th 2003 (whats yours brainy? I'll put it on my calendar)

22. description of crush......Its weird idk im not sure if its a genuine crush or not but uh....They like hp :).Thats all u get

23. fear(s).......Losing my best friend @dirtysocke and my other friends. Death. Failure. Momo chasing after me then killing me slowly keeping my eyes open to look her dead in the eyes while i die

24. height......5'6 call me short and I'll fuck u up with THIS *pulls out trusty potato peeler named now steve* dont test me boi

25. role model......Hhhhhhhh so many! But uh gosh one of them is @superraedizzle (youtuberrrr) and vexx and bob ross and da vinci and aaaaaaa so many

26. idol(s)......First person that immediately comes to mind is @sammchenry cause he's super cool and he's really nice and his art's reallyyy good (if u havent seen it w-w-what are u even doin with your life?) And he has a great sense of humor and *continues to ramble about why samms the best*

27. things i hate.......Dabs. Transphobes. Homophobic ppl. Basically any hate on the lgbtq+ community. Bullies. The ship starker. Umbridge. Snape haters

28. i’ll love you if….....U you'll eat pizza, draw, and rp harry potter with mee

29. favourite film(s)......Fantastic beasts. Every hp film. Twilight. The maze runner 1-2. The hunger games. Spiderman homecoming. Kingsman: secret service. Into the spideyverse tho i havent seen it yet

30. favourite tv show(s)......Inkmasterrrrr. B99. The mick. The middle. Uhhh idk mostly ink master xD

31. 3 random facts........Ive never had shrimp. I had a beta fish for over a year once. Im eating pizza crust rn

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?.......G i r l s. I have all girl friends irl and one boy. And on tumblr it seems like i just meet girls? Likei agree with @cristal-kyd1280 its like alot more gals then dudes here. But i do have some guy friends on here too. But mostly girls

33. something you want to learn.......TO DRAW ANATOMY DAMMIT

34. most embarrassing moment........Every moment of my lifes an embarrassing moment. Idk of i can pick a "most" embarrassing one. But one time i i sent my crush (now ex bf) a hey fuckface and like some hearts or whatever for an ask game that meant like "i have a crush on u" "youre adorable" etc and said Hewo but i did it all anonymously. But he confronted me askin if i sent it cause im the only person he knows that actually says hewo lol. Then later on i finally admitted i really liked him and well y'all know the story after i think. Unless you're new

35. favourite subject.......A R TTTT OFC

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?........meet my friends on tumblr. Get into mtsu (college i wanna go to) and study art. And go skydiving

37. favourite actor/actress........favorite actor uhhhhhh probably thomas brodie sangster or tom felton and my favorite actress? Hmmm idk maybe evanna lynch (luna lovegood)

38. favourite comedian(s).......probably kevin hart lol he's p funny

39. favourite sport(s)........basketballllllll and football

40. favourite memory........uhhhhh idk?? One oh my favorite memories was when we went to see tøp in concert

41. relationship status.....single as a pringle

42. favourite book(s)......harry potter and the order of the pheonix. Harry potter and the half blood prince. Simon vs the homo sapiens agenda. Divergent. Maze runner. Twilight. Fangirl. Fallen. Red queen

43. favourite song ever.......TOO HARD DONT MAKE ME CHOOSEEEEEE

44. age you get mistaken for.........16 and 17 sometimes lol

45. how you found out about your idol........i was watching someone on yt and superraedizzle always poped up in my feed and my mom turned on one of her vids cause she always saw her vids too now ive seen most of em i love her. Id heard of vexx but never watched him and i was watching a collab from anthony miller art and shrimpy and i checked out shrimpys channel and was lookin at comments and alot of ppl said his art is like vexxs so i checked out vexx. At first i was like eh ok. Now i cant click fast enough when he posts a vid. And i actually fpund out about bob ross from my grandpa on jan 20 2017 when trump was getting sworn in or whatever. We turned on pbs and my grampa told me to look and bob ross was on and i was IN. I loved it. I even started watching full episodes on YouTube of the joy of painting after that. Wonderful man. My first painting i ever did i think was when i followed one of his tutorials xD (i didnt know it was popular at the time)

46. what my last text message says......."ok your turn"

47. turn ons.....uhh nerds ig idk um book lovers, music lovers, art lovers, potterheads, idk and nice ppl

48. turn offs......jerks. Homophobia. Idk ig whatever i said in things i hate

49. where i want to be right now......uhhhh idk wait didn't i already answer this? Ok this ones different ig so uhh with my friend lucas

50. favourite picture of your idol.....oh shit...favorite? Idk xD i have a fave of vexx but not of rae or bob. But heres pics of them any way

51. starsign......a libraaaaa boiii

52. something i’m talented at......drawing and speed reading. Thats about it lol. Oh and procrastina

53. 5 things that make me happy.......ooooo art, my friends here on tumblr, books, harry potter, and music ^^

54. something thats worrying me at the moment.....if my friend thinks im being annoying

55. tumblr friends......hhhhh so manyyyyyy. @dirtysocke @mysisterlooksforthisaccountsobye @cristal-kyd1280 @chinesewaffles2 @kingantlion @queen-baelin @sammchenry @septembersbloom and more

56. favourite food(s)......green beans, pepperoni pizza, and vanilla madelines

57. favourite animal(s).......basically any reptile. Puppies. Cats. Any animal really but my #1 are snakes

58. description of my best friend.....well she's a tiny bean (5 feet) and she has dark hair, she wears glasses, she doesnt take shit, she's in love with Josh dun, she's awesome, funny, nice (YES youre nice jackie) and shes the best friend ive ever had. Oh. And she has a weird obsession with spaghetti

59. why i joined tumblr.......well i heard abt it on Pinterest over a year ago but didnt want it. Then @mrfastbass-deactivated20181231 on DeviantArt said he got tumblr so i made one then followed him and figured id just post art and that's it cause i thought tumblr was boring as hell when i first got it. Now im p much obsessed with it

60. ask me anything you want.......go ahead brainy shoot. Give me smtn good

[samdukewieland]

Stuck Inside Media Diary Week 6

It was during this week that it dawned on me just how many movies I’ve watched since when I started keeping track of it. Then I got to wondering how long I keep this going-it’s kind of a bit, but also not one totally. I guess as soon as I go back to work and no longer spend my days playing PlayStation for hours on end and there’s no longer The Ticket to listen to for the day, that’s when it stops. Got real close to breaking the streak this week, which is probably the most harrowing thing I’ve been through in about 7 weeks (for the record, Week 1 was not documented as there was not much to document).

Sunday, April 26

Mad Men, “The Mountain King”, ��Meditations In An Emergency” [Season 2 Finale], “Out Of Town” [Season 3], “Love Among The Ruins”

California Don Draper/Dick Whitman is a real nice sweet spot that Mad Men taps into this season, or at the very least it comes across as much more interesting than the adventures of young Dick Whitman. It’s, obviously, the most honest we see Don/Dick whenever he’s around Anna and makes you realize just how much work he puts himself through to not be honest to anyone or himself. But to see Jon Hamm go between both characters really knocks you back on your ass-Draper is a pretty surface level “showy” character display, at least in the first season, and I’m glad they decided to flesh him out now like this, by giving the audience something that isn’t so wooden or warn out (wooden is usually an insult, but take it to mean like a gorgeously polished oak table or redwood or something else you could stare at for hours). That ending with him and Betty at the kitchen table is an incredible showcase for both of them (I used to be very dismissive of Betty, but I realize now that that was super unfair and dumb of me! so it’s been kind of eye opening re-watching this and realizing that January Jones was/is actually really good)

Season 3 is probably my favorite season of the show, from what my brain can recall and it really hits the ground running. You can feel the energy radiating off of it (when they were writing it they had already won their first Emmys and were already looking highly favored to repeat success in season 2).

Plot Against America, “Part 5″

Beef House, “Army Buddy Brad”, “Prunes”

Three Busy Debras, “A Very Debra Christmas”, “Cartwheel Club”

People really underrate Adult Swim and Cartoon Network, especially when you find yourself with an awkward amount of time before watching something at a scheduled time. Just nice li’l 15 minute (barely) long episodes before The Last Dance, that’s nice. Also I think the last time I talked about Debras I compared it to Stella which I stand by, but I’d also throw in Strangers With Candy and Pee Wee’s Playhouse. So if you like that kind of stuff.

The Last Dance, Parts 3 & 4

Dennis. Rodman. The downside of these episodes is that they go fully into the time jumping aspects that it didn’t do as heavily in the first two installments. I also think they might play better if they ran right after the first two parts, rather than have that week long simmer. That’s like the most critical thing I can say about them, and it really just boils down to “I want more now.” Love that Isiah Thomas has no shame in being in the doc, despite just being taken to the dome by e v e r y o n e featured in it. Probably the best example of “no such thing as bad press”-it should be taught in business school or wherever agents go to school.

Monty Python’s Life Of Brian, Jones 1979 [as of now this is available on Netflix]

This was, somehow, a big blind spot in my Monty Python catalog. I think I very quietly went through a contrarian phase of “Monty Python isn’t that funny” somewhere in college, probably a li’l in high school too. It’s definitely been a thing I’ve been worried about re-visiting (I can’t remember the last time I watched Holy Grail, which I considered a religious text) and wanted to keep at arm’s length. That was very uninteresting and there is nothing at all interesting in me admitting that this movie’s really fucking funny; I was cackling when they bring out the huge stone during the stoning scene. The alien thing, while I respect in a purely “well, we don’t know how to get from this point to this point with it ‘making sense’ so let’s just go all the way to nothing”-stance, I’m just pretty allergic to anything Gilliam (I’m guessing) thinks of as incredibly clever. Life Of Brian: good!

Monday, April 27

Parks And Recreation, “Tom’s Divorce”

This feels like a very underrated episode of Parks, not in the conversation a lot, which feels like an oversight. I also just realized that it’s a Harris episode, so that could be why I am trying to champion it right now. Honest, I didn’t know until two minutes ago.

Mad Men, “My Old Kentucky Home”

Mmmmm. There’s an image from “Old Kentucky Home” of Roger Sterling that is still so shocking and I’m using a great deal of restraint to not post it above (because it’s super-duper racist), but I am still in awe that a buddy of mine from college used/uses(?) it as a cover photo on one of his social media accounts. IF only I could be so bold as he, or Roger Sterling in black-face. 

The Virgin Suicides, Coppola 1999 [as of now this is available on Prime]

Grew up in a pretty anti-Sofia household from at least one of my undisclosed older brothers. I was told very early on that she is overrated and not very good at what she does and I just never investigated to see if that was true or not until...well I guess last Monday night. Baby’s first Sofia Coppola movie, babe. Talk about a mood! I liked it, I think? Yer kind of a weirdo-guy if you really latch yerself onto loving The Virgin Suicides, but I guess I didn’t realize how much of the movie has Kirsten Dunst or the other sisters not talking before I saw it. Or that James Woods is a pretty convincing sad/quiet/weird guy (as tempting as it is to say that this is the last good thing James Woods was good in, the correct answer is Recess: Schools Out-maybe John Q ((I haven’t seen it.)) I wonder how many conflicting feelings Josh Hartnett inspired in teenage girls between 1999 and 2001. Great job, Sofia, sorry I’m late to the party and for the pre-conceived notions that were lodged into my stupid brain.

Tuesday, April 28

Mad Men, “The Arrangements”, “The Fog”

Attaboy to “The Arrangements” for giving Carla Gallo work (tsktsk for not finding a way to use her more). “The Fog” is pretty mediocre Sopranos karaoke episode; not great, but not as bad as I remember it being. The Betty being hazy sequences aren’t as long as I recalled them to be, so that was nice. Plus all the Gene stuff....man, I don’t know.

The Manchurian Candidate, Demme 2004 [as of now this is available on HBO]

Jonathan Demme is easily the most underrated director of his time, especially when it comes to shifting genres and putting such an overwhelmingly human touch to everything he works on. This is probably the movie that has the least amount of that, but it takes these wild swings and chances that you can’t help but respect the hell out of what you’re watching. It’s maybe the weirdest Denzel role I think I’ve ever seen, but he’s so good in it, but that’s just kind of the standard in Demme movies. What’s the worst performance you’ve ever seen in one of his movies? Is there one? I’ve never seen the original Manchurian Candidate so I don’t super know where or what this one lacks, but it’s so strange that it has made me want to go back and watch it again to try and understand or just watch the choices that Demme makes in this movie. How about Streep!

Joe Pera Talks With You, “Joe Pera Gives You A Piano Lesson”, “Joe Pera Watches Internet Videos With You”

I know I harp on this a lot, but it’s just so wholesome and I guess I’m just shocked that anything this wholesome could have Connor O’Malley’s prints all over it. I say that as an admirer of both things, but just can’t wrap my head around the two come together.

Wednesday, April 29 

Something Wild, Demme 1986 [as of now this is available on HBO]

This movie’s incredible. I knew absolutely nothing about it going in, other than it was Demme and Jeff Daniels (every time I saw the poster, my brain just registered Melanie Griffith as Catherine O’Hara, because that’s who it looks like at a glance). I was floored, I couldn’t believe a movie like this existed and I just hadn’t seen it (though, to be fair, I can’t imagine a person who doesn’t love Jonathan Demme going out of their way to see this in 1986, let alone 2020). And I’ve got some apologizing to do to Melanie Griffith after being pretty underwhelmed by her in Working Girl, I loved her in this. I also can’t help but wonder who has had a worse life (in the face) because of cigarettes, Ray Liotta or Al Pacino? If you want actual good discussion on this movie, I can’t implore the Blank Check episode with Scott Aukerman where they talk about it (there was also nothing more, personally, of a relief than hearing them talk about how it reminded them of a David Lynch movie and After Hours, thoughts I also had while watching, but am by no means enough of a Lynch-head or have seen After Hours enough to confidently throw that out in the open without someone else saying it first).

Thursday, April 30

Mikey And Nicky, May 1976

About once a year Criterion does a 50% sale and lately I’ve tried to take advantage of that (having a disposable income really lends itself to doing this). This was a movie I knew nothing about, other than Peter Falk was in it and ya know what, I really like Peter Falk. I wasn’t expecting an all-night movie, I was barely expecting a crime/mob movie, but it technically is. It’s about so much more: cowardice, male-friendship, our weaknesses and shortcomings as people, Ned Beatty being pissed about driving around New York City and getting lost. I’ve thought about it a lot since watching it and I’m glad that I own it and can re-visit it whenever I want.

Parks And Recreation, “Christmas Scandal” & “Special”

Joe Pera Talks With You, “Joe Pera Has A Surprise For You”, “Joe Pera Helps You Write An Obituary”

When you just look at these titles on paper (or screen, rather) without actually seeing them, it’s a pretty good setup as a joke. However, this is when the season and show takes a very melancholy turn that’s incredibly moving. (I think he might’ve actually lost his grandmother between seasons-very possible I have this wrong, I just know the character was based on her)

Friday, May 1

Mad Men, “Guy Walks Into An Advertising Agency”

Man, this episode.This is an all-timer on every level; not an ounce of fat on this one and maybe one of the funniest things to happen on this wonderful show.

X-Men: Dark Phoenix or, uh, just Dark Phoenix, Kinberg 2019 [as of now this is available on HBO]

Incredible that people in charge of an X-Men movie decided an actual team that should be depicted in this movie was Mystique (team leader, lol), Cyclops, Jean, Nightcrawler, Hank/Beast, Storm and Quicksilver. I mean yeh, this thing is really bad, potentially worse than Apocalypse, because that at least tried to have a personality. Though the train sequence here does have some redeeming qualities to it, so it might have the edge-I couldn’t tell you a single set piece from Apocalypse other than Oscar Isaac’s beautiful mug being caked in blue make-up (lol). Also, I gotta admit, mad respect to Kinberg for the incredible bait and switch with making Jessica Chastain look enough like some kind of mixture between Cassandra Nova and Emma Frost where you’re expecting her to be either of them and not just a shape-shifting alien.

Joe Pera Talks With You, “Joe Pera Shows You How To Do Good Fashion”, “Joe Pera Shows You How To Pack A Lunch”, “Joe Pera Talks With You On The First Day Of School”

I obviously want more episodes of this show, but if there were ever a perfect collection of stories, it was this.

Saturday, May 2

Top Chef, Season 17 episode 7

Tough, tough loss for Eric [insert Tom Colicchio “there’s always Last Chance Kitchen”] who I really admire and absolutely loved last season, I wish he had not gone on All-Stars this year, gained a couple more years, polish his technique and come back on the next All-Star season and sweep the floor. No shame in this loss though, because half of the competition this week was pretty dumb, though this was good build-up for Restaurant Wars, which the producers seem to always have hanging above their head as fan favorite and they feel like they need to throw Poochie in there.

Mad Men, “Seven Twenty Three”, “Souvenir”, “Wee Small Hours”, “The Color Blue”, “The Gypsy And The Hobo”, “The Grown-Ups”, “Shut The Door. Have A Seat”

I don’t know if I necessarily advise watching 7 episodes of Mad Men like I did this past Saturday. However, I think you’re kind of hard-pressed to not want to just keep the tap going on this one. Incredible stretch of episodes for January Jones and a real proper introduction to Henry Francis, probably a character I should hate, but have a lot of affection for. He might be the most sincere character on the show, which makes him pretty endearing. “Shut the Door. Have A Seat” is also one of the best getting the gang together sequences/movies I think I’ve ever seen. This is also a real, real tough stretch for Don, humanity wise, between his handling of poor Salvatore and his dealing with Betty once he finds out about she and Henry. Great season, great stuff.

The Death Of Stalin, Iannucci 2017 [as of now this is available on Netflix]

Despite knowing (possibly) an embarrassingly low amount about Russian history, I dug it. Felt like the joke was probably on me partially, because of how little I know about Russian history, but is that gonna make me not enjoy watching Jeffrey Tambor in Hank Kingsly form bounce off of Steve Buscemi, Simon Russell Beale, Michael Palin and Jason Isaacs (holy shit, Jason Isaacs in this movie)? Nah. Though, be warned because this thing is probably ripe for your cousin who goes out of his way to tell you stuff like “well Doctor Strangelove is satire, that’s why it’s so genius.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Thunder - Chapter 3: Humidity

summary: Frankie, Luciana, and the boys head to a bar for the night, where the boys get a little too drunk and the other two start to give into rising tensions.

warnings: drunkenness, sexual themes

rating: R

word count: 3.789k

masterlist

chapter 3: humidity

Frankie may not like parties, but he’s always game for a good night at their local bar. Mulligan’s has been the home of many of Frankie’s favorite memories—especially the wilder ones. Of course, he’s never the one at the center of the action. His memories come from his perspective standing at the bar or in a corner, laughing at either Benny or Santiago making an idiot of themselves. Many of those memories come along with Luciana’s laughter in the background, whether she’s standing next to him or joining in the fun. Luciana will let herself be a little looser at bars than at parties, and Frankie doesn’t mind. She never lets herself get out of control.

Luciana’s gone out with her friends outside of the group a few times before, but Frankie never usually caught her leaving or coming back. She’s confessed something about it to him before: she wears different clothing when she’s with the girls, because it’s a different kind of experience. With the guys, she’s not out to impress anybody. With the girls, anything’s fair game.

This has stuck in Frankie’s mind for a reason he refuses to acknowledge.

But now, he’s curious—because Luciana’s coming into the kitchen where everyone’s gathering, and she’s wearing something Frankie would consider to be in her “with the girls” wardrobe. She has a deep v-neck lavender-colored shirt on that hugs to her body and crops just above the waistband of the cut-off denim shorts that are much shorter than anything Frankie remembers seeing her in. He tries not to make his studying of her too obvious, but he can’t help it. He’s not judging—he’s admiring. It’s showing off things Frankie never paid much attention to before. It’s not helping with everything he’s trying to keep buried within.

So, why is she wearing it?

Frankie assumes that Luciana’s probably meeting up with her girl friends at the bar. He feels slightly disappointed at the thought of it, wishing they could stand together and make fun of their idiotic friends, but he also wants her to do whatever she wants to. Frankie wouldn’t hold her back. He could try to keep up with the not-as-drunk-but-still-shitfaced Tom and Will—or stand in the corner on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life he’s done that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Frankie?” Luciana’s voice suddenly snaps Frankie out of his thoughts, and he blinks a few times before looking to the source. She’s standing a few steps away from him, waving her hand gently under the brim of his hat. “You awake? The night hasn’t even started yet.”

Frankie chuckles, tucking his thoughts away as he focuses on her amused yet concerned gaze. He makes an obvious point to look there and not anywhere else—specifically the assets she has on display. He wouldn’t want to disrespect her. “I’m—yeah, sorry,” Frankie manages to finally answer, watching as Luciana lifts a doubtful eyebrow. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?” Luciana presses curiously. Her brow then furrows into further concern, and she looks around to make sure the boys are properly distracted before taking a step closer to Frankie. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk?”

Frankie gives her a reassuring smile, feeling a warmth in his chest at her eagerness to comfort him. “I’m alright, Luce,” he assures her softly. “It wasn’t anything bad. I just…” Frankie sighs, trying to find the right words to be honest with her, “… I was wondering if you were meeting up with your other friends.”

Luciana’s face relaxes, and she shakes her head at him as she steps away. “No, we weren’t planning on it. Why?”

Frankie hesitates, trying to think of an excuse quickly. “I—.”

“You’d really miss me that much, Flyboy?” Luciana chuckles, an amused twinkle sparkling in her eye. Frankie nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

“Don’t flatter yourself like that, Luci,” Frankie jokingly scoffs, earning a punch to the shoulder. “Maybe I was hoping I’d get some time away from you.”

“You fucking asshole,” Luciana curses, pushing him backwards a bit as she laughs. Frankie also laughs gently but keeps an eye out to make sure no one’s witnessing the exchange actively. He’s satisfied to see Tom, Will, and Benny lost in their own conversation. Thankfully, Santiago’s usually the last one to come downstairs—who knows how long it takes him to gel his hair just right and put on his four layers of cologne—and so he doesn’t have to worry about increasing his suspicions.

As if on cue, Santiago walks into the kitchen, and everyone grumbles with divine-directed gratitude as they start to file out the door. The bar is on the other side of the street from the dive, and so they all decide to walk there. It’s safer for everyone and it allows them to drink as much as they want. For Frankie, the latter incentive doesn’t factor, but he doesn’t mind the walking; it always calms him.

That is, until he realizes how humid it is. It’s been a little over a week since their last storm, and Frankie wonders if the spring’s about to bring them another one. He even has to undo an extra two buttons on his tropical-printed shirt to allow himself more room to breathe. Sweat has already started to coat everyone’s foreheads, but it remains ignored as the group makes casual conversation.

Once they get to Mulligan’s, the usual routine starts to run. Frankie holds on to his reliable bottle of lite beer while the others down shots to get started. Luciana even joins in with them, and Frankie has to hide his smile at the sight of her having fun with them. He also has to swallow back the way he feels upon seeing her take them so powerfully, as if they don’t affect her at all. She’s even tougher than her brother. Frankie likes tough.

He shakes his head, looking down into his bottle. Frankie has no idea what he’s looking for. Or at least, he wishes he didn’t.

Frankie only looks back up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he meets Luciana’s sparkling gaze right away. “You should take one, Frankie!” Luciana encourages him, raising her voice over the hum of the bar’s many guests and the music playing much louder than it probably should.

He laughs and gives his head a shake. “You know me, Luce,” he responds, also having to raise his voice. “That’s not my thing.”

“Just one!” Luciana pushes, giving him a small smile. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’d only have to do one!”

Frankie sighs softly, searching Luciana’s gaze for a moment. It’s full of such fun, excitement, and hope—hope that Frankie will at least try to take a part in all of that, too. He doesn’t want to let her down. Plus, it’s not like he’s never done a shot before. Maybe he could use a little change. “Alright,” Frankie finally agrees, causing Luciana to whoop in delight. “Hit me with it.”

Luciana leads him closer to where the boys are still going, and they give a loud cheer as Frankie approaches. He tries to keep the heat away from his cheeks, putting his beer bottle onto the bar as he accepts one of the shots that’s sitting there. Before he takes it, Frankie looks over at Luciana, throwing her a wink that he wishes was more confident as he throws his head back and lets the alcohol burn down his throat. He scrunches his nose upon identifying the liquor as tequila. He thought it would’ve been vodka.

“What a fuckin’ legend, Fish!” Benny hollers from behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving his body a few shakes. Frankie laughs at his friend’s dramatic reaction, tipping his hat on his head as he reaches for his beer bottle again. “I bet you could do, like, ten of those in a minute.”

“I probably could,” Frankie agrees, placing his hand on Benny’s shoulder. “But then I’d be dead.”

Benny laughs—harder than he probably should, but Frankie knows his liquor’s already kicking in—and steps away from Frankie. “You’re hilarious, man.”

Frankie shrugs, taking a swig from his bottle as he stays on the outskirts of the group. He watches and rarely comments as they dare each other to drink more or try their luck with girls, witnessing as they slip further and further out of sobriety and start to gravitate towards the livelier part of the bar. Mulligan’s has a larger space left for dancing than most bars, which is part of the reason why the group loves it so much. Frankie’s never partaken in that. He hasn’t wanted to.

Frankie watches as his friends lose themselves in the crowd, some staying together while some split off and find some pretty thing to dance up on. That’s their way of relaxing, enjoying life, and de-stressing. Frankie has other ways, like watching his friends have fun and taking solitary walks. He can’t be as open as they are because he’s closed himself off. Frankie used to be funny and hyper. And then life caught up to him—it surpassed him.

He still hasn’t caught back up to it.

The only thing grounding him has been people like Santiago, Luciana, and the boys. His shell protects him from experiencing any further damage, but he lets them see underneath it. They understand it. They don’t try to peel it away. So, when Frankie stands here and watches his friends dance the night away like he might’ve had life been different, he doesn’t feel left out or sad. He feels… relieved. At peace. Happy that his friends won’t make him feel like he should be doing something he doesn’t want to.

But then Luciana gives his arm a tug, and he looks over to see her glancing up at him with that sparkle in her eyes—and he knows she’s about to ask him something out of the ordinary. It doesn’t anger him, though, or make him uncomfortable. He trusts her. “I love this song,” she tells him, and Frankie tunes in to hear “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC playing through the speakers. “Will you dance with me?”

Frankie’s eyes widen a bit. “Luce, I… you know I’m not—.”

“I’ll guide you,” Luciana insists. Frankie knows she’s more buzzed than usual—he can tell by the glossier texture of her eyes. But she’s still partially sober. She’s conscious of what she’s doing. And that makes him question things. “Don’t be scared.” Luciana reaches to ease Frankie’s nearly empty bottle onto the bar, taking his hand and gently pulling him in the direction of the dance floor.

“Luci, what about your brother?” Frankie starts to panic. “If he sees us, my ass is grass.” There’s a million other things going through his head right now, and he’s not sure what to do about it. His brain’s screaming at him to remove himself from this situation and think off on his own, but his heart’s telling him to enjoy this moment—like he might’ve used to.

“He’s absolutely hammered and completely invested in that blonde chick over there.” Luciana jerks her head on the opposite side of the dance floor, where Frankie observes Santiago practically falling onto the blonde who’s dancing on him. He lets out a sigh, looking back to see Luciana’s hopeful gaze.

“Alright. I’ll… uh, try.” Frankie often finds himself lacking confidence, but he’s never felt less confident about anything than he does about this. Dancing—with a girl, even if it’s one of his closest friends—is definitely not his strong point. Frankie can feel how stiff he is as he attempts to move in sync with Luciana, who’s easily able to move her body to the beat in ways that have him feeling a little dizzy. All she’s doing is standing right in front of him, and his heart’s beginning to race.

It doesn’t take long for Luciana to pick up on his rigidity, and she lets out a soft laugh as she places her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, it’s alright, Frankie,” she soothes, and Frankie can feel some of the tension roll off his shoulders at her touch. He nearly feels numb when her hands move to his hat, flipping it around on his head so that the brim’s backwards. She then places her hands on the sides of his face to pull his forehead to hers, forcing him to look into her faded yet lively brown gaze. “Relax. It’s just me—just us. Move with me.”

Frankie tries to keep himself from trembling at this odd yet comfortable moment of intimacy. He watches as Luciana releases Frankie’s face and lets them separate again. She turns around so that he’s facing her back, and she looks over her shoulder as she moves to the rhythm of the classic tune. Frankie attempts to mimic her in a masculine way, trying to drown out the rest of the crowd so that he’s only thinking of himself and Luciana. He doesn’t want to share this moment with anybody else, and if he starts thinking of the other people present, he’ll lose the tiny shred of confidence Luciana’s attempting to give him.

The rest of the bar truly disappears the moment Luciana brings herself closer to Frankie, eliminating the gap between them until she’s right up against him. With every movement, she’s brushing up against him, and Frankie’s sure now that it’s not just the exercise of the dancing that’s making his heart beat out of his chest. He doesn’t know what to do—where to look, how to act—and he feels frozen again. Luciana senses this, and Frankie hears her release another chuckle. She reaches over her shoulder with one arm to capture the side of his neck, bringing his ear to her lips as she reassures him. “It’s alright, Frankie.” Luciana pauses, using her free hand to take one of Frankie’s and gently ease it onto her waist. “You can touch me.”

Frankie swallows back his hesitance and does what she says. He lets his other hand meet her waist as well, and soon his grip on her becomes firmer. It feels natural to him. Frankie swelters in the heat of the moment as Luciana leaves her hand on his neck, her lips instead beginning to brush over the perspiring skin of his neck as they keep moving together. He never would’ve expected something like this to feel so right, as if that line between friendship and something more has been blurred for a lifetime. He never would’ve expected he’d be looking down at her like this, admiring the way she moves against his body. He never would’ve expected to be eyeing the way her shorts ride up and reveal more of the assets he’d tried to ignore before, or the view he has down her shirt from this angle.

But what Frankie truly never expected was the way she turns herself around so that her chest is pressed against his, unfastening one more of his buttons before she firmly brushes a hand over the skin there. She’s reciprocating. And that insecure part of Frankie wants to tell himself it’s because she’s had too much to drink or that those shots hit her harder than usual. But he knows that’s not true. He can look into her eyes and see that she’s still there, maybe not completely sober but still entirely aware of what’s happening. Frankie’s always thought she was beautiful—in a way he couldn’t match. He knew that one day, she’d fall into the arms of a man who was equally as attractive. Instead, out of all the people surrounding them at the bar, she’s chosen to dance with him, to give him all of her attention, to make him feel as if he’s the only person in her world.

He can’t process that. Frankie doesn’t make himself process it.

He absorbs the moment he’s in now, losing himself in her gaze as his hands draw her waist even closer to him. Frankie feels bolder now than he ever has before, and he clings to that shred of confidence Luciana’s actions have brought him. He even lets his touch fall a little lower, getting closer to the fringe of her cut-off shorts. Still, Frankie hesitates, wanting to make sure Luciana consents with everything he’s doing. Once he earns a small nod, he lets his hands fall farther, until the soft skin peeking out from under her shorts is brushing against his palms.

The temperature of the bar rises even more now, especially as Frankie hears Luciana release a pleasured sigh at the feeling of his hands against her. Her hands that have come around his neck give the hair peeking out from under his hat a tug, and Frankie tries to bite back a pleasant grunt as his grip on her tightens in response. Luciana draws herself even closer to him, her hands easing his head back down until her lips are brushing against his ear.

“Frankie,” Luciana’s soft voice begins, the tone balancing between something kind and something sensual. It drives Frankie crazy to hear her say his name in such a way. “Has anyone ever told you…” she pauses for a moment, sliding one of her hands onto the skin of his chest and rubbing over it, “…how sexy you are?”

Frankie almost chokes upon hearing the words, but instead he ends up releasing a growl as her one hand grips his hair yet again. He tightens his grasp on her ass in a way that he’s sure will leave marks for at least a few minutes, causing Luciana to hide her face in his shirt-covered shoulder as she releases a half-gasp, half-moan. Frankie doesn’t know whether to blame the liquor or some instinct deep within for the full confidence he’s now gained, especially as he whispers back in her ear. “I only want to hear you say it,” he states lowly, almost like a demand. “As many times as you want to.”

Luciana lifts her face from his shoulder, her eyes darkened so much that they’re almost black. She bats her lashes up at him, and Frankie feels a bead of sweat drip down the side of his head. “I’ll say it as much as you want me to,” she assures him, her hand running over his chest once again before she secures it to the back of his neck. Her eyelids then flutter closed, as if she’s placing herself into a daydream. Frankie brushes his thumbs over the mixture of skin and denim he’s holding in his grasp, causing her to wince in delight as she hides her face in his shoulder again. “Fuck, Frankie.”

“I know,” Frankie assures her, his lips brushing against her ear in the haze of it all. Her body has never stopped moving against his, no matter how firm his grip’s gotten or how many times they’ve spoken to each other—and it’s put Frankie in a daze. This shouldn’t feel so right. This is something Frankie didn’t even know he had buried deep within him. This is an admiration for one of his closest friends that he never knew existed—or at least, that he attempted to keep under lock and key. Now, it’s loose, and Frankie doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put it back in its cage again.

And then, just as suddenly as the long moment began, it ends. Luciana turns her head rapidly to the side, and Frankie follows her stare to see her brother and the other guys starting to head back in their direction. They separate quickly upon noticing that, and neither one of them speak as they help the stumbling men get back to the house safely.

The whole way there, Frankie can still feel himself buzzing from the excitement of what he and Luciana just shared. At the same time, he can’t stop worrying about it. Things have to change now. They can’t deny the way they just acted with each other, the things they just revealed without even having to say the words. What’s brewing between them goes deeper than friendship—even deeper than the plain admiration Frankie thought he held for Luciana, and vice versa. This was more than a “date” for milkshakes at the dive. This was more than a night spent in Frankie’s truck eating pizza and listening to classic rock. This was touching, and gasping, and confessing, and bringing each other to a feeling that’s not easy to come back from. Frankie can only hope he hasn’t ruined things for them by giving into these tensions.

He’s afraid he has up until they start to get settled in for the night. When the boys are properly distracted by completely passing out in their beds—though Bennie only made it to the couch, and needed to be dragged up the stairs—Frankie passes Luciana in the hallway and has his arm caught by her hand. He immediately stops, looking her in the eye to see nothing but the same fondness she’d shown him moments before the heat intensified at the bar. Frankie relaxes as he waits for her to speak.

“Thank you, Frankie,” Luciana whispers, trying to make sure the guys—regardless of their states of consciousness—don’t hear what she’s saying, “for such a fun night. I’m glad you loosened up. I had a really good time.”

Frankie ends up biting back a smile at her words, taking a moment to form his own in his head. “I should be thanking you for helping me to loosen up,” he retorts, earning a smile from Luciana. “I had a good time, too—a great time, actually.”

Luciana says nothing, choosing only to widen her smile and give his arm a gentle squeeze before she walks off towards her room. Frankie stares after her for just a moment, letting his eyes soak in that final view of her assets before he disappears inside his own room. He flops onto his bed and releases an airy sigh, staring at the ceiling and letting his smile grow.

Frankie wonders if this is what it feels like to finally fly, because he’s sure his spirits have never risen higher than they have right now.

next part: chapter 4: dark clouds

thunder tag list: @youhavereachedtheendofpie @charmantbarnes @theindiealto @fangirl-and-stuff @phoenixhalliwell @maybege @amarvelousmandalorian @seawhisperer @mrsparknuts @saltywintersoldat @softpedropascal @i-hide-inside-my-head @sunshinepascal @domino-oh-damn​ @thirsty-flygirl​ @awesomefandomsunited

permanent tag list: @mikahid @theforceofdarkandlight @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @lavenderl3mons @cable-kenobi

[37h4n0l]

Tagged by: @bluetheon​ Thank you, my dude <3

Rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people

THE LAST

1. drink: Mineral water, as is the case 90% of the time 2. phone call: To my aunt about the public transport strike, damn this company honestly, they keep happening exactly when I have to go somewhere 3. text message: To my aunt, about the same thing as above 4. song you listened to: Sleep inside by Lilium 5. time you cried: A serious amount and not just shedding a tear or so? A few weeks ago, alone and at home fortunately, and I don’t remember what it was about. One of my internal hissyfits, probably. Imagine being able to rile yourself up on your own so much that you cry. Just end me hahahha. 6. dated someone twice: I’m not sure how to interpret the question; I haven’t gotten in and out of a relationship with anyone, but I’ve been on multiple dates in my current one. 7. kissed someone and regretted it: Middle school something something bottle game something. 8. been cheated on: No, but I’ve been bamboozled and fucked over already, I don’t know which is preferable among the two. 9. lost someone special: I think this is about death, so no. Some people around me have died but no one special. 10. been depressed: Hahahahahhahahahahhahahahahhaha 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Several times, and since then I don’t drink heavy liquor. 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS 12. Bordeaux 13. Purple 14. Olive green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU 15. made new friends: I make friends online pretty frequently; not irl though.  16. fallen out of love: Like 3 times or so? 17. laughed until you cried: The opposite is more frequent, sometimes it happens that I’m crying or am about to cry and just summarizing the situation in my head and thinking about the fact that I’ll come out of it gets me a rush of happiness? I kept wondering what this was for a long time and now I’ve finally read about it, it’s a sort of self-instigation of your brain’s gratification centre and a lot of people can do it, nuns in particular when they show a spontaneous joy for God when asked. Random fact of the day. 18. found out someone was talking about you: I found implications of people talking about me in a very creepy and stalkerish fashion, which I didn’t appreciate. Weren’t talking smack at least...

19. met someone who changed you: No. 20. found out who your friends are: I found out that my online friends are important if that counts <3 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: My gf. GENERAL 22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: Almost of them, I’m wary of adding unknown people on fb. There are a few internet friends though. 23. do you have any pets: A cat but it doesn’t live with me :c 24. do you want to change your name: It’d be too hard to get used to even though I don’t like the current one. 25. what did you do for your last birthday: Had lunch with my family lmao. 26. what time did you wake up:  Around 8:20. 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Reading. 28. name something you can’t wait for: The next con maybe? 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: About 1-2 months ago. 31. what are you listening to right now: The obnoxious sound of cars and motorbikes outside my window. 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: He was the prof who prepared me for the SAT which I had to take for absolutely no reason; we had political disagreements but he was nice overall. Said he’d give me a B if I was in his class, but I’m not a native speaker so I get a free pass. 33. something that is getting on your nerves: Do you really need the complete list? People who thrive on ruining things for no reason Postmodernism. I am talking about postmodernism. People who insist too much when you already told them not to Book critics who review books the subject matter of which they don’t understand One person in particular People who wake you up or try to talk to you while you’re reading or listening to music 34. most visited website: This garbage site probably lmao. 35. hair colour: Blonde 36. long or short hair: Right now it’s a bad, undefinable mid-length but I might grow it out, we’ll see. 37. do you have a crush on someone: I have a girlfriend. 38. what do you like about yourself: This was a particularly tough one but probably the fact that I’m not a postmodernist. 39. want any piercings: Nah. I have two holes in one of my ears already though. 40. blood type: I don’t know the AB classification (and literally no one in my family does either) but I know it’s Rh negative. 41. nickname: Edge 42. relationship status: Taken 43. zodiac: Cancer. It’s a sign I hate, by the way. 44. pronouns: She/her 45. favourite tv show: If anime counts; 91 Days. If it doesn; ATLA. 46. tattoos: As if I need one more unchangeable thing in my life that I’m gonna take to the grave when blank slate theory has been disproven... 47. right or left handed: Right 48. surgery: Had birthmarks removed since they could become cancerous. 49. piercing: See above. 50. sport: I normally jog, I’m just slacking now in the last days of vacation. 51. vacation: Anywhere interesting? I don’t really have preferences, it just needs to be comfortable. 52. pair of trainers: I have 4 pairs of usable shoes, the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Flip-flops for home, sandals for wherever as long as it’s hot, a cheap pair Chinese of leather (?) shoes for when it’s too cold for sandals or I have to walk a lot and boots for winter. The only trainers I have are the ones for jogging, I don’t wear them outside.  MORE GENERAL 53. eating: Nothing but will soon. 54. drinking: W a t e r 55. im about to: Eat.

56. waiting for: Food. 57. want: A lot more books, a lot more time, and the one single volume of Devilman I can’t find anywhere. 58. get married: Perhaps? 59. career: No clue yet, I just hope my life won’t be insignificant and monotonous.

WHICH IS BETTER 60. hugs or kisses: Why do I have to choose?

61. lips or eyes: Both? 62. shorter or taller: I’m irritated by people who are too tall; shorter and same height is alright. 63. older or younger: Younger 64. nice arms or nice stomach: These don’t even register as sexual body parts to me. I’m gay. 65. hook up or relationship: Relationship 66. troublemaker or hesitant: Depends on the situation and the amount of conviction. HAVE YOU EVER 67. kissed a stranger: Nope. 68. drank hard liquor: Yes, and I don’t anymore. 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: Multiple times. 70. turned someone down: I can’t count it on one hand. 71. sex on the first date: Nope. 72. broken someone’s heart: I have no idea, if I have they haven’t told me. 73. had your heart broken: A long time ago, maybe. 74. been arrested: Nope. 75. cried when someone died: Nope. 76. fallen for a friend: 1.5 times. I won’t go into explaining why ‘half’. 

DO YOU BELIEVE IN 77. yourself: I fucking wish fam. 78. miracles: Coincidences, maybe.  79. love at first sight: I know it’s a thing that happens with a biological basis. Hasn’t happened to me though. I need to know I can trust people first.  80. santa claus: I AM Santa Claus. 81. kiss on the first date: Can’t see the reason why since you don’t even really know the person yet... Why not though. 82. angels: Not really. OTHER 83. current best friends name: Everyone I’m close to on Discord and none of them is prioritized over the others. 84. eye colour: Greyish blue-something. 85. favorite movie: Either The Prestige or Memento.

I don’t really have time to tag so I’ll just throw the usual homies in here. Not gonna be 20 though. @fallingintheblue @chvvva @suicidefordummies @g0re-whore @cinnanami