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cleverhottubmiracle · 16 days ago

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We independently evaluate all recommended products and services. Any products or services put forward appear in no particular order. if you click on links we provide, we may receive compensation. As the song goes, “Nobody does it better”. But which James Bond movie really does it best? Across almost six decades there have been 24 films and six actors, each an essential entry into the history of 007. And how do you rate a Bond film? The style? The action? The villain? The girl? The car? The gadgets? The cheeky one-liner? The answer is all of the above, of course. But the good news is, you don’t have to rate the Bond films, because we’ve done it for you. Here’s the definitive ranking of Bond, James Bond. 24. Die Another Day (2001) Pierce Brosnan’s final outing took Bond to Iceland for an adventure that will leave you cold: it’s quite simply the worst Bond film ever made. After bringing Bond into the ’90s, Brosnan’s tenure descends into a parody of the franchise with this computer effects-heavy farce – Bond drives an invisible car, kite surfs on a tidal wave, and fights a diamond-encrusted henchman (yes, you read that right). Plus, an ear-splitting dance theme by Madonna. The Style: Wintery vibes with a double-breasted guards coat over grey pinstripe The Car: Erm, invisible The Gadget: A weaponised surfboard The One-Liner: “Saved by the bell,” Bond quips after saving himself from plummeting to his death by hanging on a giant bell 23. Diamonds Are Forever (1971) After stepping down for replacement 007 George Lazenby, Sean Connery returns for one last go as 007 – chasing down Blofeld to Vegas for murdering his bride in the previous film. Connery is stodgier and more obviously wearing a toupee than ever before (certainly not the sex panther we’ve become accustomed to) but it’s also very daft: cartoon baddies, a silly fight with some ladies, and arch-nemesis Blofeld disguising himself as a middle-aged woman. The Style: Connery switches up his regular tux look with a navy velvet dinner jacket The Car: A speedy Ford Mustang The Gadget: A magnetic ring that guarantees a jackpot on the fruit machine every time. Handy in Vegas The One-Liner: “Plenty O’Toole… named after your father, perhaps?” 22. Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) It’s another low entry from Brosnan, this time as he takes on one of the series’ worst baddies – a futuristic media mogul who thinks typing menacingly fast is a substitute for the classic laser up the double-Os. Brosnan was a great Bond – the look, the charm, the knack for innuendo – but somehow the nineties-ness of his era has dated even worse than the Carry On Bond era of the seventies. The Style: He’s strictly casual in the film’s big motorcycle chase – baggy blue linen shirt and dark chinos The Car: A remote control BMW 750iL The Gadget: An explosive Omega Seamaster watch The One-Liner: “You always were a cunning linguist, James,” says Moneypenny, while Bond beds a language tutor. Quite 21. Thunderball (1965) The first real misfire of the Bond series sees Connery go deep for a slow-moving, never-ending underwater battle (though you have to love Tom Jones belting out the word ‘Thunderball’ at the top of his lungs). But never one to let a nautical theme slip by without taking advantage, Bond rocks some of the best beachwear of his 50 plus-years on the big screen. No Bond did beach duds like Connery. The Style: Cuban collar shirts and blue swim shorts The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: An actual jet pack The One-Liner: “I think he got the point.” After skewering a man to death with a spear gun 20. Octopussy (1983) Roger Moore’s Bond heads to India on the trail of a plot involving a bomb and bogus Fabergé eggs, and finds himself in a floating palace populated entirely by beautiful women (*raises eyebrow naughtily*). It’s enjoyable nonsense until an overlong chase on a circus train, which regrettably ends with Bond dressing up like a clown. Alright, he’s in disguise but it’s still ridiculous, Mr Bond. The Style: A clown costume. Yes, really The Car: A Tuk Tuk rickshaw for Bond’s unlikeliest car chase The Gadget: A one-man submersible disguised as a crocodile The One-Liner: “Having trouble keeping it up, Q?” 19. Quantum of Solace (2008) Daniel Craig’s debut Casino Royale played around with the Bond formula, but Quantum of Solace rejected it completely. The film had production problems and was being rewritten while they filmed it. There’s solid action – especially a nosebleed-inducing punch-up on some scaffolding – but it’s not much of a Bond film. The villain is at least quite timely – an evil environmentalist Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), who plots to keep Bolivia’s water supply to himself. The Style: A brown mohair tonic two-piece from Tom Ford The Car: Aston Martin DBS V12 The Gadget: A special MI5-ready smartphone with facial imaging and top secret access The One-Liner: “You must be furious,” at an intern who’s angry with herself for succumbing to his bedroom charms 18. A View To A Kill (1985) Everything about this is wrong: Roger Moore’s Bond at a creaky 57-years-old but still seducing the young ladies; Grace Jones being terrifying as ever and seducing a creaky 57-year-old Roger Moore; and the flare of Roger’s trousers flapping in the wind as he dangles off the Golden Gate Bridge. But you can’t argue with the Duran Duran theme tune, Christopher Walken on maniacal villain duties, and the sheer joy of its silliness. The Style: A grey suede blouson with a grey and white striped shirt and grey flannel trousers The Car: A commandeered Renault 11 taxi The Gadget: A gold ring with an in-built camera The One-Liner: “Well, I’m an early riser myself.” Course you are, James 17. The World Is Not Enough (1999) Brosnan takes on Renard, a baddie who can’t feel pain because of a bullet lodged in his brain (honestly, where do they find these guys?). After his much-celebrated debut in Goldeneye, this is Brosnan’s third Bond film and second best effort overall. It’s best remembered for an action sequence around the brand-spanking-new Millennium Dome and Denise Richards as Dr Christmas Jones, the world’s most glamorous nuclear physicist. The Style: The Broser pulls out the linen again for a cream herringbone two-piece, worn with a blue Oxford shirt. The Car: A BMW Z8 The Gadget: X-ray specs for “checking concealed weapons” The One-Liner: “And I thought Christmas only comes once a year.” 16. Moonraker (1979) Bond takes a cue from the success of Star Wars and goes into space. It has one of the series’ most iconic action sequences – Bond battling metal-toothed assassin Jaws on cable cars dangling 1,000ft over Rio De Janeiro’s Sugar Loaf Mountain – and for the most part it’s classic Roger Moore-era fun. Until Bond has to wrestle an unconvincing python and rockets off into space for a laser battle. The Style: Banana space suit with matching Converse The Car: A gondola that converts into a hovercraft The Gadget: Wrist-mounted dart gun, which fires cyanide darts The One-Liner: “He’s attempting re-entry, sir,” says Q, as Bond navigates his rocket back into the atmosphere/Dr Holly Goodhead. 15. You Only Live Twice (1967) Bond fakes his own death so he can go to Japan undetected and investigate the mysterious disappearance of two spacecraft. What he finds there is the most Bond villain thing of all time: his arch nemesis Ernst Stavros Blofled – here played by Donald Pleasance – in a hollowed-out volcano base, complete with a rocket launch-pad and piranha-infested pools. It’s formulaic stuff but also Connery’s last great moment as Bond. The Style: Tan linen sports shirt with camp collar and brown linen trousers The Car: A Toyota 2000 GT convertible The Gadget: A gyrocopter called “Little Nellie” The One-Liner: “Just a drop in the ocean,” after an enemy car plunges into the Pacific 14. Spectre (2015) After all the deep soul-searching of Skyfall, Spectre took a huge step backwards. It looks sexy as hell, not least for Daniel Craig’s steamy pairing with Léa Seydoux, but Spectre is surface-level adventure: girls, fights, and car chases. It also tries some clumsy reverse engineering to make the new Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) Bond’s sort-of brother and longtime nemesis, even though Bond only just met him. The Style: Several Tom Ford O’Connor suits, including a tasty blue shark skin The Car: The Aston Martin DB10, specially built for this movie The Gadget: Smart blood, which MI5 uses to track Bond The One-Liner: “Well, get on with it then,” he says, about to be tortured by Blofeld. “Nothing can be as painful as listening to you talk.” 13. For Your Eyes Only (1981) Everyone agreed that Moonraker, with its laser space battle and rubber snake, was a bit OTT. So Roger Moore went back-to-basics with the most serious, Fleming-like film of his tenure – a straight-up espionage thriller which sees Bond hunting down a missing communications device. It’s famous for having Roger’s darkest moment: he kills a baddie in cold blood by booting him off a cliff. The Style: Padded Bogner ski jacket over a navy v-neck knitted jumper and white rollneck The Car: A rather unglamourous Citroën 2CV, which Bond is forced to escape in The Gadget: Identigraph machine for creating computerized mugshots The One-Liner: “He had no head for heights,” he says, after the baddie plummets to his death 12. Man With The Golden Gun (1974) In his second outing as Bond, Roger Moore pulls out one of his greatest skills as a super-spy: wearing the absolute hell out of a safari suit. Bond also goes mano-a-mano with Christopher Lee, playing three-nippled assassin Scaramanga (that’s the man with the golden gun, if it wasn’t obvious). Britt Ekland turns up the seventies sexiness and the final duel – which sees Roger traipsing through Scaramanga’s psychedelic funhouse – is a joy. The Style: A swish double-breasted grey suit with a blue chalkstripe The Car: An AMC Hornet Hatchback. It somersaults in the air to the sound of a slide whistle The Gadget: A prosthetic nipple so Bond can disguise himself as Scaramanga The One-Liner: “I am now aiming precisely at your groin. So speak or forever hold your piece.” 11. The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) Roger Moore’s third adventure has the best opening 15 minutes of any Bond film – Roger (well, a stuntman) skis off the 2,000ft Mount Asgard and reveals a Union Flag parachute, before Carly Simon belts out the epic Bond ballad ‘Nobody Does It Better’. From there, 007 travels to the Pyramids to fight Jaws, rescues a nuclear submarine, and smooches KGB Agent Triple X (Barbara Bach). That’ll be the spy who loved him, then. The Style: A dinner suit with extra-wide lapels and generously flared trousers The Car: A Lotus Esprit that turns into a submarine. Naturally The Gadget: A ski pole that doubles up as a rifle. The One-Liner: “What do you think you’re doing, 007?” exclaims M, upon finding Bond and Triple X in a compromising position. “Keeping the British end up, sir.” 10. GoldenEye (1995) Brosnan’s debut was a big hit and the nineties nostalgia is strong (partly thanks to the classic N64 game). There’s big action as Bond bungees down a 700ft dam and joyrides a tank – plus, the lethally sexy Famke Janssen as thigh-crushing villainess Xenia Onatopp. It tries to examine 007 for being a misogynistic dinosaur, but in hindsight, the bum-pinching cheekiness of this lads’ era Bond has more in common with Roger Moore than it realized. The Style: A Brioni suit with finely detailed navy birdseye pattern. Accessorized with a massive gun The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: Ball point pen with a class-4 grenade The One-Liner: “One rises to meet a challenge.” Alright 007, we get the idea 9. The Living Daylights (1987) After the campy froth of Roger Moore’s later years, it was time for a change of tone. Timothy Dalton steps into Bond’s shoes for a darker, grittier performance that’s more in line with the 007 from Ian Fleming’s books – though there’s still some excellent silliness when Bond slides down an icy mountain on a cello case. Eighties pop maestros A-Ha provide a hearty synth banger. The Style: A tan wool gabardine suit. A classic cut but without the tie for casual vibes The Car: Aston Martin V8. Very nifty on ice and with a rocket launcher The Gadget: A key ring that releases gas when you whistle Rule Britannia The One-Liner: “Whoever she was, it must’ve scared the living daylights out of her.” 8. Live & Let Die (1973) Roger Moore’s debut is still his best, though arguably it’s also the least politically correct of all the Bond films (which is saying something). Bond goes to the Caribbean to take down a corrupt dictator in a tale of voodoo and heroin. There are great moments – a killer speedboat chase, killer sharks, Bond hopping along crocodiles like stepping stone – but the real clincher is Paul McCartney’s belting theme tune. The Style: An all-black ensemble – polo neck and trousers with a one-shouldered holster The Car: Forget the car, it’s all about the speedboat in this one The Gadget: A magnetic Rolex with built-in buzzsaw The One-Liner: “There’s no sense going out half-cocked.” 7. Skyfall (2012) Bond celebrated his 50th anniversary onscreen by delving into his own psyche for an existential wallow. It’s the deepest, most thematically layered of all the films, as 007 reassembles the pieces of his formula for a fusion of old and new Bond. Javier Bardem’s Silva is a classic villain rebooted – a secret agent-gone-bad, deformed from cyanide and out for revenge on Judi Dench’s M. The Style: Bond goes rural – a Barbour jacket, tonal colors, and scarf The Car: The classic Aston Martin DB5 from Goldfinger comes out of the garage The Gadget: A simple gun with handprint-recognition tech The One-Liner: Silva slides his hands up Bond’s legs and tells him there’s a first time for everything: “What makes you think this is my first time?” 6. Dr No (1962) The very first Bond film is a masterclass in style: Bond’s perfectly-worn threads, the pristine sands of Jamaica, and Ursula Andress’s emerging from the sea in that iconic bikini. Connery is sexual magnetism personified as Bond, taking on the robotic-handed Dr No, who plans to sabotage a US space program. The Bond formula we’re now accustomed to isn’t quite there, but it’s got the key elements: the exotic locations, the sex drive, and the dastardly villain. The Style: Powder blue playsuit. Big look The Car: Sunbeam Alpine The Gadget: Bond’s signature weapon: the Walther PPK The One-Liner: “Bond, James Bond.” The original and still best delivery 5. Casino Royale (2006) Bond was in dire need of a reboot, so Daniel Craig’s debut, based on Fleming’s first novel, was grittier and more realistic, shaking (but never stirring) the Bond formula. It begins with a blistering action sequence – a punch-up atop a 100ft crane – and it’s gripping to the end, with Bond entering a high-stakes poker game to bankrupt Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), moneyman to the terrorists, and falling in love with Vesper Lynd (Eva Green). The Style: A three-piece Brioni blue pinstripe suit The Car: Aston Martin DBS The Gadget: A defibrillator in the glove compartment. Just in case you get poisoned The One-Liner: When asked if he wants his vodka Martini shaken or stirred. “Do I look like I give a damn?” 4. From Russia With Love (1963) Bond slips into league (and bed, naturally) with a Russian defector and must keep a decoding machine out of the hands of SPECTRE. Connery looks flawless and there’s nerve-shredding tension as he fights nails-hard henchman Red Grant (Robert Shaw) on a train. This is more a straight-up espionage thriller than a Bond-style adventure, but it’s still a slick, sexy piece of filmmaking almost 60 years later. The Style: Grey glen-check suit with a trilby hat The Car: Bentley Mark IV The Gadget: An attaché briefcase containing a folding rifle, knife, and a gas bomb The One-Liner: “Well, I’ve just been reviewing an old case,” he says, sleeping with his previous target 3. Licence to Kill (1989) Dalton teased a darker side in The Living Daylights but goes full Fleming for this swearier, more violent take. After parachuting into pal Felix Leiter’s wedding for best man duties (OK, Bond might he darker, but he’s still a massive show off), Felix has his legs fed to a shark by drug baron Sanchez (Robert Davi). Bond goes rogue for a revenge mission. LTK was too dark for fans at the time, but it’s a shame that Dalton didn’t make more Bonds. The Style: A baggy, loose cut dark blue shirt and trousers The Car: Bond ditches the cars for a convoy of Kentworth trucks in the film’s rollicking chase scene The Gadget: A bomb and detonator disguised as a tube of toothpaste and pack of cigarettes The One-Liner: “I’ll do anything for a woman with a knife.” 2. Goldfinger (1964) More than 50 years later and this is still the gold standard. This is peak Connery – sexed-up, impeccably dressed, and dripping so much charisma that someone should be mopping up after him. The film crafts the formula – the car, the saucily named lady (Pussy Galore), the cartoon henchman (hat-throwing menace Oddjob), the soaring theme tune – that would define almost every Bond film thereafter. The Style: Ivory dinner jacket paired with red coronation The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: Shoe with a honing device in the heel The One-Liner: “Shocking, positively shocking,” after electrocuting a villain to death 1. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969) George Lazenby is remembered as a one-off misfire, but OHMSS is Bond’s greatest creative triumph – a stylish, sometimes psychedelic slice of ’60s genius. Lazenby is no Sean Connery (or even Roger Moore for that matter), but he’s a hard-fighting physical specimen and adept at the cheeky one-liner. Traveling to the Swiss Alps for a showdown with Blofeld, Bond throws convention off the mountaintop and even gets married – but his bride is shot in the final seconds. A daring and tragic masterpiece. The Style: A Prince Charlie jacket, wool waistcoat, decorative jabot, and Black Watch tartan kilt The Car: Mercury Cougar XR-7 The Gadget: A mobile safecracking device The One-Liner: “This never happened to the other guy,” he says, having to fight off some villains just seconds after taking over from Connery. Source link

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norajworld · 16 days ago

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We independently evaluate all recommended products and services. Any products or services put forward appear in no particular order. if you click on links we provide, we may receive compensation. As the song goes, “Nobody does it better”. But which James Bond movie really does it best? Across almost six decades there have been 24 films and six actors, each an essential entry into the history of 007. And how do you rate a Bond film? The style? The action? The villain? The girl? The car? The gadgets? The cheeky one-liner? The answer is all of the above, of course. But the good news is, you don’t have to rate the Bond films, because we’ve done it for you. Here’s the definitive ranking of Bond, James Bond. 24. Die Another Day (2001) Pierce Brosnan’s final outing took Bond to Iceland for an adventure that will leave you cold: it’s quite simply the worst Bond film ever made. After bringing Bond into the ’90s, Brosnan’s tenure descends into a parody of the franchise with this computer effects-heavy farce – Bond drives an invisible car, kite surfs on a tidal wave, and fights a diamond-encrusted henchman (yes, you read that right). Plus, an ear-splitting dance theme by Madonna. The Style: Wintery vibes with a double-breasted guards coat over grey pinstripe The Car: Erm, invisible The Gadget: A weaponised surfboard The One-Liner: “Saved by the bell,” Bond quips after saving himself from plummeting to his death by hanging on a giant bell 23. Diamonds Are Forever (1971) After stepping down for replacement 007 George Lazenby, Sean Connery returns for one last go as 007 – chasing down Blofeld to Vegas for murdering his bride in the previous film. Connery is stodgier and more obviously wearing a toupee than ever before (certainly not the sex panther we’ve become accustomed to) but it’s also very daft: cartoon baddies, a silly fight with some ladies, and arch-nemesis Blofeld disguising himself as a middle-aged woman. The Style: Connery switches up his regular tux look with a navy velvet dinner jacket The Car: A speedy Ford Mustang The Gadget: A magnetic ring that guarantees a jackpot on the fruit machine every time. Handy in Vegas The One-Liner: “Plenty O’Toole… named after your father, perhaps?” 22. Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) It’s another low entry from Brosnan, this time as he takes on one of the series’ worst baddies – a futuristic media mogul who thinks typing menacingly fast is a substitute for the classic laser up the double-Os. Brosnan was a great Bond – the look, the charm, the knack for innuendo – but somehow the nineties-ness of his era has dated even worse than the Carry On Bond era of the seventies. The Style: He’s strictly casual in the film’s big motorcycle chase – baggy blue linen shirt and dark chinos The Car: A remote control BMW 750iL The Gadget: An explosive Omega Seamaster watch The One-Liner: “You always were a cunning linguist, James,” says Moneypenny, while Bond beds a language tutor. Quite 21. Thunderball (1965) The first real misfire of the Bond series sees Connery go deep for a slow-moving, never-ending underwater battle (though you have to love Tom Jones belting out the word ‘Thunderball’ at the top of his lungs). But never one to let a nautical theme slip by without taking advantage, Bond rocks some of the best beachwear of his 50 plus-years on the big screen. No Bond did beach duds like Connery. The Style: Cuban collar shirts and blue swim shorts The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: An actual jet pack The One-Liner: “I think he got the point.” After skewering a man to death with a spear gun 20. Octopussy (1983) Roger Moore’s Bond heads to India on the trail of a plot involving a bomb and bogus Fabergé eggs, and finds himself in a floating palace populated entirely by beautiful women (*raises eyebrow naughtily*). It’s enjoyable nonsense until an overlong chase on a circus train, which regrettably ends with Bond dressing up like a clown. Alright, he’s in disguise but it’s still ridiculous, Mr Bond. The Style: A clown costume. Yes, really The Car: A Tuk Tuk rickshaw for Bond’s unlikeliest car chase The Gadget: A one-man submersible disguised as a crocodile The One-Liner: “Having trouble keeping it up, Q?” 19. Quantum of Solace (2008) Daniel Craig’s debut Casino Royale played around with the Bond formula, but Quantum of Solace rejected it completely. The film had production problems and was being rewritten while they filmed it. There’s solid action – especially a nosebleed-inducing punch-up on some scaffolding – but it’s not much of a Bond film. The villain is at least quite timely – an evil environmentalist Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), who plots to keep Bolivia’s water supply to himself. The Style: A brown mohair tonic two-piece from Tom Ford The Car: Aston Martin DBS V12 The Gadget: A special MI5-ready smartphone with facial imaging and top secret access The One-Liner: “You must be furious,” at an intern who’s angry with herself for succumbing to his bedroom charms 18. A View To A Kill (1985) Everything about this is wrong: Roger Moore’s Bond at a creaky 57-years-old but still seducing the young ladies; Grace Jones being terrifying as ever and seducing a creaky 57-year-old Roger Moore; and the flare of Roger’s trousers flapping in the wind as he dangles off the Golden Gate Bridge. But you can’t argue with the Duran Duran theme tune, Christopher Walken on maniacal villain duties, and the sheer joy of its silliness. The Style: A grey suede blouson with a grey and white striped shirt and grey flannel trousers The Car: A commandeered Renault 11 taxi The Gadget: A gold ring with an in-built camera The One-Liner: “Well, I’m an early riser myself.” Course you are, James 17. The World Is Not Enough (1999) Brosnan takes on Renard, a baddie who can’t feel pain because of a bullet lodged in his brain (honestly, where do they find these guys?). After his much-celebrated debut in Goldeneye, this is Brosnan’s third Bond film and second best effort overall. It’s best remembered for an action sequence around the brand-spanking-new Millennium Dome and Denise Richards as Dr Christmas Jones, the world’s most glamorous nuclear physicist. The Style: The Broser pulls out the linen again for a cream herringbone two-piece, worn with a blue Oxford shirt. The Car: A BMW Z8 The Gadget: X-ray specs for “checking concealed weapons” The One-Liner: “And I thought Christmas only comes once a year.” 16. Moonraker (1979) Bond takes a cue from the success of Star Wars and goes into space. It has one of the series’ most iconic action sequences – Bond battling metal-toothed assassin Jaws on cable cars dangling 1,000ft over Rio De Janeiro’s Sugar Loaf Mountain – and for the most part it’s classic Roger Moore-era fun. Until Bond has to wrestle an unconvincing python and rockets off into space for a laser battle. The Style: Banana space suit with matching Converse The Car: A gondola that converts into a hovercraft The Gadget: Wrist-mounted dart gun, which fires cyanide darts The One-Liner: “He’s attempting re-entry, sir,” says Q, as Bond navigates his rocket back into the atmosphere/Dr Holly Goodhead. 15. You Only Live Twice (1967) Bond fakes his own death so he can go to Japan undetected and investigate the mysterious disappearance of two spacecraft. What he finds there is the most Bond villain thing of all time: his arch nemesis Ernst Stavros Blofled – here played by Donald Pleasance – in a hollowed-out volcano base, complete with a rocket launch-pad and piranha-infested pools. It’s formulaic stuff but also Connery’s last great moment as Bond. The Style: Tan linen sports shirt with camp collar and brown linen trousers The Car: A Toyota 2000 GT convertible The Gadget: A gyrocopter called “Little Nellie” The One-Liner: “Just a drop in the ocean,” after an enemy car plunges into the Pacific 14. Spectre (2015) After all the deep soul-searching of Skyfall, Spectre took a huge step backwards. It looks sexy as hell, not least for Daniel Craig’s steamy pairing with Léa Seydoux, but Spectre is surface-level adventure: girls, fights, and car chases. It also tries some clumsy reverse engineering to make the new Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) Bond’s sort-of brother and longtime nemesis, even though Bond only just met him. The Style: Several Tom Ford O’Connor suits, including a tasty blue shark skin The Car: The Aston Martin DB10, specially built for this movie The Gadget: Smart blood, which MI5 uses to track Bond The One-Liner: “Well, get on with it then,” he says, about to be tortured by Blofeld. “Nothing can be as painful as listening to you talk.” 13. For Your Eyes Only (1981) Everyone agreed that Moonraker, with its laser space battle and rubber snake, was a bit OTT. So Roger Moore went back-to-basics with the most serious, Fleming-like film of his tenure – a straight-up espionage thriller which sees Bond hunting down a missing communications device. It’s famous for having Roger’s darkest moment: he kills a baddie in cold blood by booting him off a cliff. The Style: Padded Bogner ski jacket over a navy v-neck knitted jumper and white rollneck The Car: A rather unglamourous Citroën 2CV, which Bond is forced to escape in The Gadget: Identigraph machine for creating computerized mugshots The One-Liner: “He had no head for heights,” he says, after the baddie plummets to his death 12. Man With The Golden Gun (1974) In his second outing as Bond, Roger Moore pulls out one of his greatest skills as a super-spy: wearing the absolute hell out of a safari suit. Bond also goes mano-a-mano with Christopher Lee, playing three-nippled assassin Scaramanga (that’s the man with the golden gun, if it wasn’t obvious). Britt Ekland turns up the seventies sexiness and the final duel – which sees Roger traipsing through Scaramanga’s psychedelic funhouse – is a joy. The Style: A swish double-breasted grey suit with a blue chalkstripe The Car: An AMC Hornet Hatchback. It somersaults in the air to the sound of a slide whistle The Gadget: A prosthetic nipple so Bond can disguise himself as Scaramanga The One-Liner: “I am now aiming precisely at your groin. So speak or forever hold your piece.” 11. The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) Roger Moore’s third adventure has the best opening 15 minutes of any Bond film – Roger (well, a stuntman) skis off the 2,000ft Mount Asgard and reveals a Union Flag parachute, before Carly Simon belts out the epic Bond ballad ‘Nobody Does It Better’. From there, 007 travels to the Pyramids to fight Jaws, rescues a nuclear submarine, and smooches KGB Agent Triple X (Barbara Bach). That’ll be the spy who loved him, then. The Style: A dinner suit with extra-wide lapels and generously flared trousers The Car: A Lotus Esprit that turns into a submarine. Naturally The Gadget: A ski pole that doubles up as a rifle. The One-Liner: “What do you think you’re doing, 007?” exclaims M, upon finding Bond and Triple X in a compromising position. “Keeping the British end up, sir.” 10. GoldenEye (1995) Brosnan’s debut was a big hit and the nineties nostalgia is strong (partly thanks to the classic N64 game). There’s big action as Bond bungees down a 700ft dam and joyrides a tank – plus, the lethally sexy Famke Janssen as thigh-crushing villainess Xenia Onatopp. It tries to examine 007 for being a misogynistic dinosaur, but in hindsight, the bum-pinching cheekiness of this lads’ era Bond has more in common with Roger Moore than it realized. The Style: A Brioni suit with finely detailed navy birdseye pattern. Accessorized with a massive gun The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: Ball point pen with a class-4 grenade The One-Liner: “One rises to meet a challenge.” Alright 007, we get the idea 9. The Living Daylights (1987) After the campy froth of Roger Moore’s later years, it was time for a change of tone. Timothy Dalton steps into Bond’s shoes for a darker, grittier performance that’s more in line with the 007 from Ian Fleming’s books – though there’s still some excellent silliness when Bond slides down an icy mountain on a cello case. Eighties pop maestros A-Ha provide a hearty synth banger. The Style: A tan wool gabardine suit. A classic cut but without the tie for casual vibes The Car: Aston Martin V8. Very nifty on ice and with a rocket launcher The Gadget: A key ring that releases gas when you whistle Rule Britannia The One-Liner: “Whoever she was, it must’ve scared the living daylights out of her.” 8. Live & Let Die (1973) Roger Moore’s debut is still his best, though arguably it’s also the least politically correct of all the Bond films (which is saying something). Bond goes to the Caribbean to take down a corrupt dictator in a tale of voodoo and heroin. There are great moments – a killer speedboat chase, killer sharks, Bond hopping along crocodiles like stepping stone – but the real clincher is Paul McCartney’s belting theme tune. The Style: An all-black ensemble – polo neck and trousers with a one-shouldered holster The Car: Forget the car, it’s all about the speedboat in this one The Gadget: A magnetic Rolex with built-in buzzsaw The One-Liner: “There’s no sense going out half-cocked.” 7. Skyfall (2012) Bond celebrated his 50th anniversary onscreen by delving into his own psyche for an existential wallow. It’s the deepest, most thematically layered of all the films, as 007 reassembles the pieces of his formula for a fusion of old and new Bond. Javier Bardem’s Silva is a classic villain rebooted – a secret agent-gone-bad, deformed from cyanide and out for revenge on Judi Dench’s M. The Style: Bond goes rural – a Barbour jacket, tonal colors, and scarf The Car: The classic Aston Martin DB5 from Goldfinger comes out of the garage The Gadget: A simple gun with handprint-recognition tech The One-Liner: Silva slides his hands up Bond’s legs and tells him there’s a first time for everything: “What makes you think this is my first time?” 6. Dr No (1962) The very first Bond film is a masterclass in style: Bond’s perfectly-worn threads, the pristine sands of Jamaica, and Ursula Andress’s emerging from the sea in that iconic bikini. Connery is sexual magnetism personified as Bond, taking on the robotic-handed Dr No, who plans to sabotage a US space program. The Bond formula we’re now accustomed to isn’t quite there, but it’s got the key elements: the exotic locations, the sex drive, and the dastardly villain. The Style: Powder blue playsuit. Big look The Car: Sunbeam Alpine The Gadget: Bond’s signature weapon: the Walther PPK The One-Liner: ��Bond, James Bond.” The original and still best delivery 5. Casino Royale (2006) Bond was in dire need of a reboot, so Daniel Craig’s debut, based on Fleming’s first novel, was grittier and more realistic, shaking (but never stirring) the Bond formula. It begins with a blistering action sequence – a punch-up atop a 100ft crane – and it’s gripping to the end, with Bond entering a high-stakes poker game to bankrupt Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), moneyman to the terrorists, and falling in love with Vesper Lynd (Eva Green). The Style: A three-piece Brioni blue pinstripe suit The Car: Aston Martin DBS The Gadget: A defibrillator in the glove compartment. Just in case you get poisoned The One-Liner: When asked if he wants his vodka Martini shaken or stirred. “Do I look like I give a damn?” 4. From Russia With Love (1963) Bond slips into league (and bed, naturally) with a Russian defector and must keep a decoding machine out of the hands of SPECTRE. Connery looks flawless and there’s nerve-shredding tension as he fights nails-hard henchman Red Grant (Robert Shaw) on a train. This is more a straight-up espionage thriller than a Bond-style adventure, but it’s still a slick, sexy piece of filmmaking almost 60 years later. The Style: Grey glen-check suit with a trilby hat The Car: Bentley Mark IV The Gadget: An attaché briefcase containing a folding rifle, knife, and a gas bomb The One-Liner: “Well, I’ve just been reviewing an old case,” he says, sleeping with his previous target 3. Licence to Kill (1989) Dalton teased a darker side in The Living Daylights but goes full Fleming for this swearier, more violent take. After parachuting into pal Felix Leiter’s wedding for best man duties (OK, Bond might he darker, but he’s still a massive show off), Felix has his legs fed to a shark by drug baron Sanchez (Robert Davi). Bond goes rogue for a revenge mission. LTK was too dark for fans at the time, but it’s a shame that Dalton didn’t make more Bonds. The Style: A baggy, loose cut dark blue shirt and trousers The Car: Bond ditches the cars for a convoy of Kentworth trucks in the film’s rollicking chase scene The Gadget: A bomb and detonator disguised as a tube of toothpaste and pack of cigarettes The One-Liner: “I’ll do anything for a woman with a knife.” 2. Goldfinger (1964) More than 50 years later and this is still the gold standard. This is peak Connery – sexed-up, impeccably dressed, and dripping so much charisma that someone should be mopping up after him. The film crafts the formula – the car, the saucily named lady (Pussy Galore), the cartoon henchman (hat-throwing menace Oddjob), the soaring theme tune – that would define almost every Bond film thereafter. The Style: Ivory dinner jacket paired with red coronation The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: Shoe with a honing device in the heel The One-Liner: “Shocking, positively shocking,” after electrocuting a villain to death 1. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969) George Lazenby is remembered as a one-off misfire, but OHMSS is Bond’s greatest creative triumph – a stylish, sometimes psychedelic slice of ’60s genius. Lazenby is no Sean Connery (or even Roger Moore for that matter), but he’s a hard-fighting physical specimen and adept at the cheeky one-liner. Traveling to the Swiss Alps for a showdown with Blofeld, Bond throws convention off the mountaintop and even gets married – but his bride is shot in the final seconds. A daring and tragic masterpiece. The Style: A Prince Charlie jacket, wool waistcoat, decorative jabot, and Black Watch tartan kilt The Car: Mercury Cougar XR-7 The Gadget: A mobile safecracking device The One-Liner: “This never happened to the other guy,” he says, having to fight off some villains just seconds after taking over from Connery. Source link

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ellajme0 · 16 days ago

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We independently evaluate all recommended products and services. Any products or services put forward appear in no particular order. if you click on links we provide, we may receive compensation. As the song goes, “Nobody does it better”. But which James Bond movie really does it best? Across almost six decades there have been 24 films and six actors, each an essential entry into the history of 007. And how do you rate a Bond film? The style? The action? The villain? The girl? The car? The gadgets? The cheeky one-liner? The answer is all of the above, of course. But the good news is, you don’t have to rate the Bond films, because we’ve done it for you. Here’s the definitive ranking of Bond, James Bond. 24. Die Another Day (2001) Pierce Brosnan’s final outing took Bond to Iceland for an adventure that will leave you cold: it’s quite simply the worst Bond film ever made. After bringing Bond into the ’90s, Brosnan’s tenure descends into a parody of the franchise with this computer effects-heavy farce – Bond drives an invisible car, kite surfs on a tidal wave, and fights a diamond-encrusted henchman (yes, you read that right). Plus, an ear-splitting dance theme by Madonna. The Style: Wintery vibes with a double-breasted guards coat over grey pinstripe The Car: Erm, invisible The Gadget: A weaponised surfboard The One-Liner: “Saved by the bell,” Bond quips after saving himself from plummeting to his death by hanging on a giant bell 23. Diamonds Are Forever (1971) After stepping down for replacement 007 George Lazenby, Sean Connery returns for one last go as 007 – chasing down Blofeld to Vegas for murdering his bride in the previous film. Connery is stodgier and more obviously wearing a toupee than ever before (certainly not the sex panther we’ve become accustomed to) but it’s also very daft: cartoon baddies, a silly fight with some ladies, and arch-nemesis Blofeld disguising himself as a middle-aged woman. The Style: Connery switches up his regular tux look with a navy velvet dinner jacket The Car: A speedy Ford Mustang The Gadget: A magnetic ring that guarantees a jackpot on the fruit machine every time. Handy in Vegas The One-Liner: “Plenty O’Toole… named after your father, perhaps?” 22. Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) It’s another low entry from Brosnan, this time as he takes on one of the series’ worst baddies – a futuristic media mogul who thinks typing menacingly fast is a substitute for the classic laser up the double-Os. Brosnan was a great Bond – the look, the charm, the knack for innuendo – but somehow the nineties-ness of his era has dated even worse than the Carry On Bond era of the seventies. The Style: He’s strictly casual in the film’s big motorcycle chase – baggy blue linen shirt and dark chinos The Car: A remote control BMW 750iL The Gadget: An explosive Omega Seamaster watch The One-Liner: “You always were a cunning linguist, James,” says Moneypenny, while Bond beds a language tutor. Quite 21. Thunderball (1965) The first real misfire of the Bond series sees Connery go deep for a slow-moving, never-ending underwater battle (though you have to love Tom Jones belting out the word ‘Thunderball’ at the top of his lungs). But never one to let a nautical theme slip by without taking advantage, Bond rocks some of the best beachwear of his 50 plus-years on the big screen. No Bond did beach duds like Connery. The Style: Cuban collar shirts and blue swim shorts The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: An actual jet pack The One-Liner: “I think he got the point.” After skewering a man to death with a spear gun 20. Octopussy (1983) Roger Moore’s Bond heads to India on the trail of a plot involving a bomb and bogus Fabergé eggs, and finds himself in a floating palace populated entirely by beautiful women (*raises eyebrow naughtily*). It’s enjoyable nonsense until an overlong chase on a circus train, which regrettably ends with Bond dressing up like a clown. Alright, he’s in disguise but it’s still ridiculous, Mr Bond. The Style: A clown costume. Yes, really The Car: A Tuk Tuk rickshaw for Bond’s unlikeliest car chase The Gadget: A one-man submersible disguised as a crocodile The One-Liner: “Having trouble keeping it up, Q?” 19. Quantum of Solace (2008) Daniel Craig’s debut Casino Royale played around with the Bond formula, but Quantum of Solace rejected it completely. The film had production problems and was being rewritten while they filmed it. There’s solid action – especially a nosebleed-inducing punch-up on some scaffolding – but it’s not much of a Bond film. The villain is at least quite timely – an evil environmentalist Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), who plots to keep Bolivia’s water supply to himself. The Style: A brown mohair tonic two-piece from Tom Ford The Car: Aston Martin DBS V12 The Gadget: A special MI5-ready smartphone with facial imaging and top secret access The One-Liner: “You must be furious,” at an intern who’s angry with herself for succumbing to his bedroom charms 18. A View To A Kill (1985) Everything about this is wrong: Roger Moore’s Bond at a creaky 57-years-old but still seducing the young ladies; Grace Jones being terrifying as ever and seducing a creaky 57-year-old Roger Moore; and the flare of Roger’s trousers flapping in the wind as he dangles off the Golden Gate Bridge. But you can’t argue with the Duran Duran theme tune, Christopher Walken on maniacal villain duties, and the sheer joy of its silliness. The Style: A grey suede blouson with a grey and white striped shirt and grey flannel trousers The Car: A commandeered Renault 11 taxi The Gadget: A gold ring with an in-built camera The One-Liner: “Well, I’m an early riser myself.” Course you are, James 17. The World Is Not Enough (1999) Brosnan takes on Renard, a baddie who can’t feel pain because of a bullet lodged in his brain (honestly, where do they find these guys?). After his much-celebrated debut in Goldeneye, this is Brosnan’s third Bond film and second best effort overall. It’s best remembered for an action sequence around the brand-spanking-new Millennium Dome and Denise Richards as Dr Christmas Jones, the world’s most glamorous nuclear physicist. The Style: The Broser pulls out the linen again for a cream herringbone two-piece, worn with a blue Oxford shirt. The Car: A BMW Z8 The Gadget: X-ray specs for “checking concealed weapons” The One-Liner: “And I thought Christmas only comes once a year.” 16. Moonraker (1979) Bond takes a cue from the success of Star Wars and goes into space. It has one of the series’ most iconic action sequences – Bond battling metal-toothed assassin Jaws on cable cars dangling 1,000ft over Rio De Janeiro’s Sugar Loaf Mountain – and for the most part it’s classic Roger Moore-era fun. Until Bond has to wrestle an unconvincing python and rockets off into space for a laser battle. The Style: Banana space suit with matching Converse The Car: A gondola that converts into a hovercraft The Gadget: Wrist-mounted dart gun, which fires cyanide darts The One-Liner: “He’s attempting re-entry, sir,�� says Q, as Bond navigates his rocket back into the atmosphere/Dr Holly Goodhead. 15. You Only Live Twice (1967) Bond fakes his own death so he can go to Japan undetected and investigate the mysterious disappearance of two spacecraft. What he finds there is the most Bond villain thing of all time: his arch nemesis Ernst Stavros Blofled – here played by Donald Pleasance – in a hollowed-out volcano base, complete with a rocket launch-pad and piranha-infested pools. It’s formulaic stuff but also Connery’s last great moment as Bond. The Style: Tan linen sports shirt with camp collar and brown linen trousers The Car: A Toyota 2000 GT convertible The Gadget: A gyrocopter called “Little Nellie” The One-Liner: “Just a drop in the ocean,” after an enemy car plunges into the Pacific 14. Spectre (2015) After all the deep soul-searching of Skyfall, Spectre took a huge step backwards. It looks sexy as hell, not least for Daniel Craig’s steamy pairing with Léa Seydoux, but Spectre is surface-level adventure: girls, fights, and car chases. It also tries some clumsy reverse engineering to make the new Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) Bond’s sort-of brother and longtime nemesis, even though Bond only just met him. The Style: Several Tom Ford O’Connor suits, including a tasty blue shark skin The Car: The Aston Martin DB10, specially built for this movie The Gadget: Smart blood, which MI5 uses to track Bond The One-Liner: “Well, get on with it then,” he says, about to be tortured by Blofeld. “Nothing can be as painful as listening to you talk.” 13. For Your Eyes Only (1981) Everyone agreed that Moonraker, with its laser space battle and rubber snake, was a bit OTT. So Roger Moore went back-to-basics with the most serious, Fleming-like film of his tenure – a straight-up espionage thriller which sees Bond hunting down a missing communications device. It’s famous for having Roger’s darkest moment: he kills a baddie in cold blood by booting him off a cliff. The Style: Padded Bogner ski jacket over a navy v-neck knitted jumper and white rollneck The Car: A rather unglamourous Citroën 2CV, which Bond is forced to escape in The Gadget: Identigraph machine for creating computerized mugshots The One-Liner: “He had no head for heights,” he says, after the baddie plummets to his death 12. Man With The Golden Gun (1974) In his second outing as Bond, Roger Moore pulls out one of his greatest skills as a super-spy: wearing the absolute hell out of a safari suit. Bond also goes mano-a-mano with Christopher Lee, playing three-nippled assassin Scaramanga (that’s the man with the golden gun, if it wasn’t obvious). Britt Ekland turns up the seventies sexiness and the final duel – which sees Roger traipsing through Scaramanga’s psychedelic funhouse – is a joy. The Style: A swish double-breasted grey suit with a blue chalkstripe The Car: An AMC Hornet Hatchback. It somersaults in the air to the sound of a slide whistle The Gadget: A prosthetic nipple so Bond can disguise himself as Scaramanga The One-Liner: “I am now aiming precisely at your groin. So speak or forever hold your piece.” 11. The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) Roger Moore’s third adventure has the best opening 15 minutes of any Bond film – Roger (well, a stuntman) skis off the 2,000ft Mount Asgard and reveals a Union Flag parachute, before Carly Simon belts out the epic Bond ballad ‘Nobody Does It Better’. From there, 007 travels to the Pyramids to fight Jaws, rescues a nuclear submarine, and smooches KGB Agent Triple X (Barbara Bach). That’ll be the spy who loved him, then. The Style: A dinner suit with extra-wide lapels and generously flared trousers The Car: A Lotus Esprit that turns into a submarine. Naturally The Gadget: A ski pole that doubles up as a rifle. The One-Liner: “What do you think you’re doing, 007?” exclaims M, upon finding Bond and Triple X in a compromising position. “Keeping the British end up, sir.” 10. GoldenEye (1995) Brosnan’s debut was a big hit and the nineties nostalgia is strong (partly thanks to the classic N64 game). There’s big action as Bond bungees down a 700ft dam and joyrides a tank – plus, the lethally sexy Famke Janssen as thigh-crushing villainess Xenia Onatopp. It tries to examine 007 for being a misogynistic dinosaur, but in hindsight, the bum-pinching cheekiness of this lads’ era Bond has more in common with Roger Moore than it realized. The Style: A Brioni suit with finely detailed navy birdseye pattern. Accessorized with a massive gun The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: Ball point pen with a class-4 grenade The One-Liner: “One rises to meet a challenge.” Alright 007, we get the idea 9. The Living Daylights (1987) After the campy froth of Roger Moore’s later years, it was time for a change of tone. Timothy Dalton steps into Bond’s shoes for a darker, grittier performance that’s more in line with the 007 from Ian Fleming’s books – though there’s still some excellent silliness when Bond slides down an icy mountain on a cello case. Eighties pop maestros A-Ha provide a hearty synth banger. The Style: A tan wool gabardine suit. A classic cut but without the tie for casual vibes The Car: Aston Martin V8. Very nifty on ice and with a rocket launcher The Gadget: A key ring that releases gas when you whistle Rule Britannia The One-Liner: “Whoever she was, it must’ve scared the living daylights out of her.” 8. Live & Let Die (1973) Roger Moore’s debut is still his best, though arguably it’s also the least politically correct of all the Bond films (which is saying something). Bond goes to the Caribbean to take down a corrupt dictator in a tale of voodoo and heroin. There are great moments – a killer speedboat chase, killer sharks, Bond hopping along crocodiles like stepping stone – but the real clincher is Paul McCartney’s belting theme tune. The Style: An all-black ensemble – polo neck and trousers with a one-shouldered holster The Car: Forget the car, it’s all about the speedboat in this one The Gadget: A magnetic Rolex with built-in buzzsaw The One-Liner: “There’s no sense going out half-cocked.” 7. Skyfall (2012) Bond celebrated his 50th anniversary onscreen by delving into his own psyche for an existential wallow. It’s the deepest, most thematically layered of all the films, as 007 reassembles the pieces of his formula for a fusion of old and new Bond. Javier Bardem’s Silva is a classic villain rebooted – a secret agent-gone-bad, deformed from cyanide and out for revenge on Judi Dench’s M. The Style: Bond goes rural – a Barbour jacket, tonal colors, and scarf The Car: The classic Aston Martin DB5 from Goldfinger comes out of the garage The Gadget: A simple gun with handprint-recognition tech The One-Liner: Silva slides his hands up Bond’s legs and tells him there’s a first time for everything: “What makes you think this is my first time?” 6. Dr No (1962) The very first Bond film is a masterclass in style: Bond’s perfectly-worn threads, the pristine sands of Jamaica, and Ursula Andress’s emerging from the sea in that iconic bikini. Connery is sexual magnetism personified as Bond, taking on the robotic-handed Dr No, who plans to sabotage a US space program. The Bond formula we’re now accustomed to isn’t quite there, but it’s got the key elements: the exotic locations, the sex drive, and the dastardly villain. The Style: Powder blue playsuit. Big look The Car: Sunbeam Alpine The Gadget: Bond’s signature weapon: the Walther PPK The One-Liner: “Bond, James Bond.” The original and still best delivery 5. Casino Royale (2006) Bond was in dire need of a reboot, so Daniel Craig’s debut, based on Fleming’s first novel, was grittier and more realistic, shaking (but never stirring) the Bond formula. It begins with a blistering action sequence – a punch-up atop a 100ft crane – and it’s gripping to the end, with Bond entering a high-stakes poker game to bankrupt Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), moneyman to the terrorists, and falling in love with Vesper Lynd (Eva Green). The Style: A three-piece Brioni blue pinstripe suit The Car: Aston Martin DBS The Gadget: A defibrillator in the glove compartment. Just in case you get poisoned The One-Liner: When asked if he wants his vodka Martini shaken or stirred. “Do I look like I give a damn?” 4. From Russia With Love (1963) Bond slips into league (and bed, naturally) with a Russian defector and must keep a decoding machine out of the hands of SPECTRE. Connery looks flawless and there’s nerve-shredding tension as he fights nails-hard henchman Red Grant (Robert Shaw) on a train. This is more a straight-up espionage thriller than a Bond-style adventure, but it’s still a slick, sexy piece of filmmaking almost 60 years later. The Style: Grey glen-check suit with a trilby hat The Car: Bentley Mark IV The Gadget: An attaché briefcase containing a folding rifle, knife, and a gas bomb The One-Liner: “Well, I’ve just been reviewing an old case,” he says, sleeping with his previous target 3. Licence to Kill (1989) Dalton teased a darker side in The Living Daylights but goes full Fleming for this swearier, more violent take. After parachuting into pal Felix Leiter’s wedding for best man duties (OK, Bond might he darker, but he’s still a massive show off), Felix has his legs fed to a shark by drug baron Sanchez (Robert Davi). Bond goes rogue for a revenge mission. LTK was too dark for fans at the time, but it’s a shame that Dalton didn’t make more Bonds. The Style: A baggy, loose cut dark blue shirt and trousers The Car: Bond ditches the cars for a convoy of Kentworth trucks in the film’s rollicking chase scene The Gadget: A bomb and detonator disguised as a tube of toothpaste and pack of cigarettes The One-Liner: “I’ll do anything for a woman with a knife.” 2. Goldfinger (1964) More than 50 years later and this is still the gold standard. This is peak Connery – sexed-up, impeccably dressed, and dripping so much charisma that someone should be mopping up after him. The film crafts the formula – the car, the saucily named lady (Pussy Galore), the cartoon henchman (hat-throwing menace Oddjob), the soaring theme tune – that would define almost every Bond film thereafter. The Style: Ivory dinner jacket paired with red coronation The Car: Aston Martin DB5 The Gadget: Shoe with a honing device in the heel The One-Liner: “Shocking, positively shocking,” after electrocuting a villain to death 1. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969) George Lazenby is remembered as a one-off misfire, but OHMSS is Bond’s greatest creative triumph – a stylish, sometimes psychedelic slice of ’60s genius. Lazenby is no Sean Connery (or even Roger Moore for that matter), but he’s a hard-fighting physical specimen and adept at the cheeky one-liner. Traveling to the Swiss Alps for a showdown with Blofeld, Bond throws convention off the mountaintop and even gets married – but his bride is shot in the final seconds. A daring and tragic masterpiece. The Style: A Prince Charlie jacket, wool waistcoat, decorative jabot, and Black Watch tartan kilt The Car: Mercury Cougar XR-7 The Gadget: A mobile safecracking device The One-Liner: “This never happened to the other guy,” he says, having to fight off some villains just seconds after taking over from Connery. Source link

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chilimili212 · 16 days ago

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oliviajoyice21 · 16 days ago

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson. “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more. Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress. “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop — and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

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smallheathgangsters · 4 years ago

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Drugs and Problems | T.S.

A/N: i realised i just really started to dislike writing romantic stuff involving tommy. but i loooove writing about him in any other situation, especially him and Shelby!Sister! so, i really do hope you enjoy this little drabble.

Tommy Shelby and Shelby!Sister

Word Count: 709

Requested by: @sighonahurricane

Type: angst

Summary: Tommy and his sister had a long day. They end up in his office, drinking whiskey. Until Tommy mentions a name he shouldn't have.

Tag List: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @tranquility-or-chaos @zodiyack @slytherinicequeen @livingforbarnes @siriuslyshewrote @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyblindersengland @lucillethings @callmesunshinexx @simonsbluee @anyasthoughts @sophieshelby

Tommy’s rough hand gripped the Irish whiskey, pouring two drinks. One for his sister and one for himself. It had been a long day. A very long one. When his eyes had met the clock after putting the last folder into the top drawer of his desk, it had shown eleven o’clock at night. Then, he had noticed that there was still light outside his office. His sister had also been working late.

“Finn doesn’t seem to be very happy about your interest in Isaiah,” Tommy murmured, taking a sip from his whiskey, while handing the other glass to Y/N.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “He should be glad that I chose to go after a Peaky Blinder and not some communist like dear Ada.”

Tommy raised both his eyebrows and took another sip instead of replying anything to that.

“Plus, I don’t think Finn will ever be my biggest concern.”

“Who then?”

She swirled the liquid around in her glass. “Well, let’s be honest. Finn won’t be able to tell me what to do and who to meet up with.”

Tommy nodded slowly, showing her that he was listening.

“Unlike you, Tom. As much as I would hate and try to rebel against it, you’d make my life a living hell if I were to see a guy you did not want me to see,” she finished.

“Perhaps,” he partially agreed.

She sighed, leaning against his table, and bringing her glass to her lips. “You don’t think so?”

“I’d like to believe that I’m not the most commanding brother.”

“Who, if not you?” she laughed, amused at his words. “Arthur? Who hasn’t even noticed that his baby sister started meeting up with men?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. He rarely laughed at her silly remarks. It just wasn’t his type of humour.

“I was talking about John.”

Immediately and almost unwillingly, she gritted her teeth. Hard. This had been the first time Tommy had mentioned his name after his death. The first time hearing his name come out of her brother’s mouth.

She remained silent. Whenever and wherever his name had been said, her limbs stopped working and there were no words left for her to say.

“He was always very concerned for your future and who you would share it with,” Tommy continued, clearly not realizing that his sister was not partaking in the conversation anymore.

Her eyes wandered to the wooden floor, knuckles turning white around the whiskey glass. And as much as she tried to suppress her breath that was getting heavier with every minute, Tommy eventually seemed to notice her getting awfully quiet. “Y/N? Everything alright?”

“Don’t every mention him again,” she almost whispered, not lifting her gaze.

Tommy sighed. “Talk to me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could escape the situation. To simply lower her eyelids and disappear. Unfortunately, life did not work that way.

“Please?” he added, though making it sound more like a question than a request.

She exhaled deeply, before pouring the rest of her drink down her throat. “Neither one of us is drunk enough to have this conversation.”

“What in world are you talking about?” Tommy asked, confused.

She let out a fake laughter. “Really? You are the one that can’t express any sort of emotion without some kind of drug in your veins and I am just really not ready to talk about him just yet.”

“Y/N, calm down.”

An order.

Suddenly, Tommy had turned into the boss again.

He wasn’t her sister anymore. He was her boss. Telling her how to act, how to behave.

“I’m more than calm, Tom.”

“You need to start confronting and most importantly, accepting what happened. Alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems,” he preached in his most monotone voice.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? Isn’t it you who drowns all his sorrows in alcohol and what was it called … opium?”

Angrily, she slammed her glass down on his desk. “You’re a fucking joke, Tommy. Start practicing what you preach before coming at me like this ever again.”

And before he could defend his words, his sister had stormed out of his office, leaving the door wide open for him to watch her stride away.

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders drabble #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #shelby!sis #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby #arthur shelby #finn shelby #ada shelby #ada thorne #michael gray #isaiah jesus #polly gray

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it.

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions.

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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destinyc1020 · 2 years ago

Note

I know I shouldn’t worry about next year, but I am. In 2023, all of Tom’s peers have back to back huge movies coming out. Florence has Oppenheimer and Dune. Zendaya has Challengers and Dune. Austin has Dune and more than likely an Oscar nomination lined up, and Timothee has Dune and Wonka.

With all four of them in one film as well… you already know people can’t keep his name out their mouths, and no matter what people claim constant negativity online that perseveres can start to affect your image on the outside.

Meanwhile, if The Crowded Room is released this year he will have to only hope for an Emmy nomination later on in the year to keep his name afloat through all that noise. I really hope The Crowded Room is released in early February with weekly episodes.

WHAT on earth is in the water this week?? 🥴 Chiiiile….I swear… 🙄

Zendaya winning another Emmy last week really has some ppl feeling some kind of way I see. 😏 👀

FIRST of all, none of the aforementioned actors you listed (i.e. Zendaya, Timmy, Austin, Florence, etc.) are competing with Tom. Not in the least. They are all just minding their own business and stay busy working, plain and simple.

Second, no media outlets care about fan “worries” or even stan wars like this. Silly stuff like this is not going to “ruin your reputation” or rob you of an Oscar nomination. So, there's no "noise" that needs to be "drowned out". 😒

Now a huge public SCANDAL might ruin your chances, but silly fan drama on twitter or internet blogs?? Pleeeaaaase….🙄 Tom already has a great reputation in the industry, and silly fans flapping their gums or punching their keystrokes to post negative stuff on Twitter isn't going to change that.

Tom is doing JUST FINE. Idk why some of you fans have made it your full-time job to worry about Tom’s career 24/7?? 🤷🏾‍♀️ It’s really weird.🥴 I literally don’t know of any other fandom that worries 24/7 about the career of their fave like this lol. Plus, have you all just forgotten about the Fred Astaire biopic film? Why do you all keep forgetting this movie?? 🤔 Tom has a big huge project (the biopic) coming up in the eventual future after he finishes TCR. One that might even get him an Oscar nomination. Plus, he might even get an Emmy nod for TCR.

I just don’t see where all of this constant worry from his so-called “fans” is coming from honestly. Literally NOBODY you mentioned above is competing or even trying to compete with Tom. Look, I’m happy for any actors/actresses who are doing great things in this business! 😃 It’s not an easy industry to be in. You hear “no” a LOT. It can even take a toll on your mental health and self-esteem after a while. But no offense, but what others are doing have no bearing on Tom or his future career. So PLEASE…Stop trying to compare him (or his career) to others.

There’s a saying that when you compare yourself to others (or pit people against each other in this case), you only set yourself up for disappointment.

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randomvarious · 2 years ago

Photo

Today’s compilation:

Elvira Presents Haunted Hits 1988 Novelty / Comedy / Pop-Rock / New Wave / Rock & Roll / Dance-Pop / Hard Rock

Getting in the festive spirit with this weird set of classic, spooky tunes that was presented by the one and only Elvira, whose persona answers the age-old question of, "what if Morticia Addams, but sex-crazed 80s Valley Girl?"

Now, judging by the album cover here, you might think that this CD was intended for adults, but, *essentially*—though not entirely—this is actually something you throw on for a kids' Halloween party. It has a lot of those totally inane 50s and 60s novelty songs on it that kids are bound to love and sing along to. But those same tunes are also bound to drive those kids' parents absolutely mad. Like, you know that Chipmunks' "walla-walla-bing-bang" song? That's not on here, but imagine a bunch of songs like that one, like Sheb Wooley's "Purple People Eater" or The Ran-Dells' "Martian Hop," taking up a sizable chunk of this CD. It’s fine to hear those songs every once in a while, but a bunch in an hour? Not desirable! Those tunes might've been viewed as silly, zany, and enjoyable 60-plus years ago, but they are downright grating, annoying, and not remotely funny anymore.

But for Elvira, this all makes sense in a way, since she earned her fame as the host of a TV show in LA that presented old B-movie horror flicks; sort of like a horror version of Mystery Science Theater 3000, but without the wisecracking silhouettes that provide commentary. Most of this CD consists of campy horror songs that came out in the same era as the movies she presented.

And it's really not all bad either; there's still some good Halloween fun here: "Monster Mash" the "Ghostbusters" theme, Screamin' Jay Hawkins' shock rock standard, "I Put a Spell on You," and even a song by the pioneering horror-goth-punk-trash-rockabilly band The Cramps. Plus, a pretty obscure tune that's a bit of a reach for a Halloween-themed album, but is nonetheless a nice and raucous late 50s R&B and rock & roll hybrid gem called "King Kong," by a guy named Big "T" Tyler.

But that handful of tunes unfortunately isn't enough to make this album worth your while.

P.S.: I put a big caveat up there when I said that this CD was for kids. It's only for kids if you *don't* put on the last song, Elvira's own "Full Moon," which campily showcases her horny horror schtick in a really bad, very 80s way.

P.P.S.: Some trivia! Here's the lady who plays Elvira (yes, Elvira's just a character), Cassandra Peterson, on the album cover for Tom Waits' 1976 album, Small Change, which came out before Peterson developed her famous persona.

In fact, she was actually a Vegas showgirl before she became Elvira. And she also had an uncredited role as a dancer in the 1971 James Bond film, Diamonds Are Forever, too! Such a unique career.

Highlights:

Bobby "Boris" Pickett - "Monster Mash" Ray Parker, Jr. - "Ghostbusters" The Marketts - "Out of Limits" Big "T" Tyler - "King Kong" Screamin' Jay Hawkins - "I Put a Spell on You" The Cramps - "I Was a Teenage Werewolf"

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

An Irregular Romance ★ Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Summary: Over five years ago, Harrison followed his heart (a.k.a. you) to drama school, and the day he asked you out was the day he discovered you had a boyfriend. He thought that part of his past was behind him, but then he was cast as Leo in The Irregulars and you were cast as Bea. Romance and shenanigans ensue as he tries to navigate the resurrection of his crush on you.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: spoilers for The Irregulars, swearing, drinking (reader gets v drunk at one point), cheating boyfriend + “open relationship” drama

Masterlist in bio

*Gif is not mine

A/N: inspired by harrison literally saying he followed the girl he liked to drama school but she didn’t like him back; the drama school is the brit school (idk if that’s what he was talking about but age wise it works better); also darci is 18+ in this fic bc it just fits better to make her around their age; plus i had to re-post this bc the tags didn’t work so rip

also just like to say a massive thank you to @duskholland for proofreading this for me :) you’re the best! this fic would be missing 90% of its commas if it wasn’t for you lmao

❁❁❁❁❁

Harrison had been buzzing with excitement all week. While he knew for sure that he had landed the role of Prince Leo in The Irregulars, he had no idea who the other cast members were. His agent learned from Netflix that they’d announce the cast on Saturday, so now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the news as he drank another pint with his good friends.

“Anything yet?” Tuwaine asked, refreshing his Twitter timeline.

“Nope.” Harrison said with a shake of his head as Netflix’s Instagram page remained unchanged as another minute went by.

“Maybe they’re announcing it at midnight.” Tom shrugged, trying to be useful to ease his friend’s nerves.

“Everyone would be asleep.” The blond replied before taking another long drink of his beer.

“Well, congratulations whenever they officially announce it.” Harry stated, standing up with his empty glass. “Next round’s on me.”

The conversation began to wander off, and Harrison found himself deep in thought, pondering his mysterious, new castmates. Would he like them? Would they like him? Were they big names or no names? Were they people he had screen-tested with (because, truthfully, he only screen-tested with a few girls, but even then, he didn’t screen test with all of the potential actresses)? As he got stuck, trying to think of someone he’d actually liked when they screen-tested together, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tom yelling.

“It’s up!” Tom held his phone in the middle of the table as he, Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry, who was now back with more beer, looked over the cast. A sense of pride soared through the group at Harrison’s picture and name being on the official Netflix page for The Irregulars. Harrison read over the other names, wondering if he knew any by happenstance. Just as he recognized one name in particular, Tom spoke up.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t that the girl you fancied in drama school?” Tom asked with a smirk. His smirk seemed to widen as Harrison blushed a deeper shade of red.

“No, no, no!” Harrison grumbled, taking out his phone to look over the post for himself because maybe, if he looked from his own account, the cast would magically change. When he looked at your name and picture right beside his, realization hit him. He slumped over, putting his head down on the table regretfully.

“I’d nearly forgotten about Haz’s girl that wasn’t his girl.” Tuwaine joked.

“Wait, what girl?” Harry questioned, out of the loop.

Perhaps the stupidest but best choice Harrison had ever made in his life was following you, his biggest crush, to drama school. Why his mother even let him chase after a girl like that was beyond him; he thought she should’ve advised him against it, but with the whole “follow your heart” attitude, his mum was his biggest supporter. He did his best to impress you, to get you to notice him, but you were unfazed by him. The day that he finally got the courage to ask you out was the day that he learned you’d had a boyfriend for the past two months.

Though he didn’t get the girl in drama school, he actually enjoyed it, and look where he ended up now— a new Netflix show was on the horizon for him. Despite the fact that he was (and still sort of is) crushed and embarrassed by the fact that you (very kindly) rejected him five years ago, drama school turned out to be a blessing.

“Harrison, here,” Tom laughed as he clapped his friend’s shoulder as Harrison still didn’t lift his head from his pitiful position, “thought he’d pursue acting because Y/N wanted to be an actress. He didn’t realize that in order to get her attention, he’d have to actually talk to her.”

That was enough to make Harrison lift his head, eyeing his friend questioningly. Cutting Tom off, he defended himself, “What do you mean? I did talk to her.”

“Right— you’d have maybe one conversation with her every three weeks.” Tom turned back to his brother, “Anyway, Haz finally asked her out and, turns out, she’d been dating this other guy for months.”

“Whatever. I only asked her out because you and Tuwaine shoved me into her. Maybe she doesn’t even remember me.” Harrison pulled out his phone to check over Netflix’s Instagram, wanting to see for himself the new cast again. When he opened the app, it notified him of all the new followers he had gotten, and, with one glance at the list of names, one account stood out to him.

‘@yourusername started following you’. Harrison let out a sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any further.

“She works fast.” Harry teased, looking over the blond’s shoulder.

“We’re co-stars now. She probably followed everyone else too.”

As if on cue, a new notification came through his Instagram— ‘@yourusername sent you a message’. With bated breath, he opened it to see the message that confirmed his worst fear— you remembered him.

‘Hey stranger! How have you been?’

❁❁❁❁❁

With every passing day, Harrison’s excitement for this new big project grew… but so did his dread about seeing you again. He wasn’t entirely sure now as to why his gut was filled with butterflies mixed with anxiety just thinking about you. You were only ever nice to him, both before and after he asked you out. It all led him back to the same conclusion that he still had a thing for you, but yet again, maybe it’s just life that your first real crush always has some power over you.

As he walked down the strangely long hallway to the conference room, he adjusted the collar of his letterman’s jacket. Today was the big day— the first table read for The Irregulars, and the first day he’d be confronted by you after all these years. Just on the other side of this door, his co-stars and the main production crew were waiting. Everything was real now; production would start in just a few days.

With one last nervous breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the room. People were chatting as they sat around the large conference table, which had small name cards at each seat. Harrison’s eyes found you almost immediately. You were locked into a conversation with your co-star, Darci, seated to your left for the table read. To your right was one of the last available seats, and Harrison’s name was on the little card on the table. All hopes of being unnoticed by you were instantaneously gone as he took his seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You said to Harrison with a laugh, and he was instantly reminded of how that laugh basically drove him to where he was today.

“How long has it been?” Harrison asked, trying to play it cool like he hadn’t been rehearsing this day in his mind for the past several months.

“Far too long.” You smiled.

As the last few people trickled into the room, introductions flew around the table as everyone met their new coworkers. After a cold read-through of the script and a few words from the show’s creator, the table read was deemed over. Just when Harrison thought he was free to forget about your existence for a few more days, you pulled him aside.

“Hey, Darci and I were going to get drinks with McKell and Jojo. You should come.” You offered, and Harrison chanced a glance across the room to where Darci was chatting with your other two main co-stars.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harrison replied. He cleared his throat before giving you a definite nod that yes, that’d be a great idea.

“Perfect.”

And just like that, the five of you made your way across town to a pub. Darci had chosen the spot, explaining that it was the best place for drinks in Liverpool, and, seeing as she’d lived there her whole life, none of you tried to argue with her.

Harrison felt a strange pit in his stomach as everyone talked and laughed over some beers, as if you weren’t all strangers a few hours ago. His eyes always seemed to land on you and your contagious smile. You looked almost exactly how he remembered you, and you still were the same happy, go-lucky girl he’d fallen hard for. It was crazy to him how quickly you gave him butterflies, how effortlessly you made him feel like a silly schoolboy all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if you thought he’d changed since his school days, too… or if you even thought about him enough to notice. So far, you’d made no indication that he was anyone besides an old friend from drama school, making him hope you didn’t remember that dreadful day.

As you and Darci excused yourself for a bathroom break, Harrison gave himself a little reminder that he was meant to be getting to know all of his co-stars right now and wasn’t meant to be focusing so intently on you. He took another sip of his beer, turning back to Jojo and McKell.

“So how do you and Y/N know each other?” McKell asked, and Jojo tried to hide his shit-eating grin behind his beer.

“Drama school, a few years ago.” Harrison replied, trying to play ignorant.

“Ah, so it’s a schoolboy crush, then?” Jojo questioned teasingly.

Harrison felt his face heat up. Jojo and McKell were practically strangers to him, and they already knew. He was cornered, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” McKell said while Jojo simultaneously replied, “Very.”

“Just ask her out.” Jojo encouraged.

“That’s the problem— I did.” Harrison replied, and both of their jaws dropped.

“No way. Did she let you down easy at least?” McKell’s voice was somewhere between a disbelieving, teasing, and pitiful tone.

Harrison scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, yeah? I mean she wasn’t rude about it, but it was still a bit awkward. She was dating this other guy at the time. He didn’t go to our school, though, so I had no clue about him.”

“That’s rough.” Jojo grimaced, before he gave Harrison a hopeful smile, “Maybe she’s single now.”

“I’ve been rejected by Y/N once— I don’t need her to reject me a second time.” He shook his head with a small laugh to conceal his embarrassment. He took a drink of his beer, hoping that would calm his nerves a little.

“Incoming,” McKell said quietly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“What’d we miss?” Darci asked as she slipped back into her seat. You remained standing to put your jacket on, both you and Darci completely unaware of the boys’ conversation.

“Nothing, just Jojo being an idiot.” McKell joked, to which his newfound friend just punched him in the arm, taking another long drink of his beer.

“I think I might head back to the hotel.” Your words were met with a collective groan from three of your co-stars— Harrison silently frowned as he sipped on his beer.

As your head was down to collect your things, Jojo swiftly kicked Harrison under the table. Harrison looked at him quizzically, sending him a “what the hell was that for” look. When his co-star just nodded his head encouragingly towards you, Harrison got the idea.

“I’ll walk you.” Harrison said, making you look over at him. Standing up from his seat, he insisted, “I was just about to head out, too.”

“Okay,” You smiled, still completely unaware of his interaction with Jojo.

After you all exchanged phone numbers and created a group chat lovingly titled “The Irregz”, you and Harrison left the pub. You fell in step together, walking along the sidewalk in the chilly Liverpool air back to the hotel that you’d all be staying at for the next few months.

“So what have you been up to since graduation?” Harrison asked you, his hands deep in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket.

“All sorts of things, really.” You shrugged with a smile, “I got a few TV roles here and there, did some modeling, but so far none of it has really stuck, so I’m hopeful that this will be a foot in the door. What about you?”

“The same as you, really, but, instead of shows, I’ve done some short films.”

“I see you’re still best friends with Tom.” You said in a teasing tone. Harrison felt an unusual, upsetting tug on his heartstring. Not noticing any change in his demeanor, you continued with a laugh, “It’s funny. I would’ve placed my bets on you being world-famous after graduation.”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your words.

“Yeah, you didn’t go to LAMDA for nothing.” You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. “Don’t be modest— I’m not wrong.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” A laugh passed his lips, any previous bashful reservations slowly fading away.

Before Harrison could say anything further, your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket and barely looked at the caller ID before sending it to voicemail. Your actions were fast, but Harrison still caught the name of who was calling, Davey, followed by a red heart emoji. And that’s when it hit him— you were still with the same boyfriend from drama school, all those years ago.

And just like that, Harrison felt a tsunami wave of heartbreak from drama school wash over him.

“Hey, Y/N!” Harrison called out as he stumbled his way over to stall you from leaving school. He had one hand holding onto his book bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were turning white, and he shuffled his other through his hair.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, concerned at how nervous he seemed.

“Yeah, um, well, tonight’s opening night for West Side Story, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I know it’s your favorite play, and it’s one of mine too, so, yeah, I thought maybe we could go together?” He was sure that he’d never sounded so unsure of himself. Truth is, he didn’t want to ask you out right now, but Tom and Tuwaine had quite literally shoved him in your direction, physically encouraging him. He felt rushed and unprepared.

When you smiled so captivatingly and softly at him, he felt his racing heart speed up even more. Was this it? Was he really going to take you on a date? He thought to himself. His hopes weren’t up for long as you spoke up, “I can’t. I’ve already got tickets for tonight. I’m going with Davey.”

“Davey?”

“My boyfriend.” You replied, a hint of guilt in your voice.

His heart shattered. The only reason he was here, at this school, was because of you, and now he just had all of his hopes for any future dates with you thrown out the window.

“You and Davey are still together?” Harrison wondered aloud as you two arrived at the hotel.

“Yeah,” Your response was hesitant and quiet. He knew why— there was that elephant in the room between the two of you.

Before he could stop himself from mentioning it, he blurted out, “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, you know.”

You paused, watching unsure as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I kinda wonder what would’ve happened if I had said yes. Davey and I didn’t even end up seeing West Side Story, anyway, so I wonder if you and I would’ve ended up any differently.”

It wasn’t much, but his heart sped up ever so slightly— so you had thought about him, even in the dating context. Harrison couldn’t think of a response (his brain repeated “fuck Davey, ask her out again”) fast enough as you stopped at the front desk. You mumbled something about needing some towels, and Harrison took that as his cue to just continue walking. He bid you a quick farewell, wanting to escape to his room as fast as possible.

Nothing you had said tonight had been particularly flirty, but he still rewound the events in his head because maybe he missed something. As he laid down in his bed that night, his mind drifted off with thoughts of you, wondering just how he’d manage to pull off these next few months without falling for you all over again.

Over the next several weeks, his predicament only seemed to grow. Spending so much time with you (and your other three co-stars) just made Harrison wish even more that he’d asked you out sooner in drama school, and having to spend most of his screen time gawking over you added to it further. Maybe it was another school boy crush, or maybe it was intense method acting— either way, he definitely liked you.

Ever since he read the script for episode four, he knew that eventually your two characters would become romantically involved. He would’ve felt giddy over the thought (because his eighteen-year-old self would’ve died at this opportunity), but whenever he thought of the scene, he was reminded about your boyfriend. Harrison wasn’t the type of guy to hate his crush’s boyfriend, but something just didn’t seem right about Davey.

Harrison was lying on his hotel bed, reading over the episode’s script for what must have been the fifth time through that afternoon. It was Sunday, the day before you’d both film Leo and Bea’s kiss. With a beer on his side table and an array of highlighters beside it, he was set. As the words started to run together, and his glasses began to feel uncomfortable on his nose, he heard a knock at his door.

“Coming!” Harrison called out. Setting his script aside, he rolled off the bed. He was confused at who could possibly be at his door, but, figuring it was someone from set, he had the decency to slip on a white t-shirt, opting for not answering the door in nothing but grey sweats. He was thankful for his last-minute decision as he opened the door and was met with you on his doorstep. Smiling at you and leaning on the doorframe, he let out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to rehearse tomorrow’s scene.” You offered with a friendly smile on your face.

“Right now?” He asked, glancing back into his room to decipher if it was clean enough or not.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” You replied, subconsciously stepping back. “Is someone here?”

“What?” Harrison looked at you, confused before it clicked what you thought, “Oh, no, no. There’s no one here. I was just rehearsing, too.”

“So is that a yes then or-?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, come on in.” He opened his door fully, allowing you to step in. He chivalrously closed the door behind you. “Would you like water or anything?”

“Can I have a beer?” You asked, spotting the one on his nightstand.

“Sure.” Harrison nodded. While he got you a beer and grabbed his own half-consumed bottle and script, you settled on the couch with your pages in hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he handed you the beer, and you took a sip happily. “You know, I’m honestly so jealous of you this week.”

“Why?” He asked with a laugh, thrown off guard by your confession.

“You get to do all the palace scenes again.”

“I also throw myself off a balcony.”

“But still.” You insisted. “Leo really needs to sneak Bea into the palace just so I can have one of those extravagant ball dress scenes. I just want to feel like a princess, and I feel like it’s what Bea deserves.”

Harrison looked at you admiringly for a moment. “You are a princess.” His face dropped as soon as he realized he’d said his thoughts aloud. Coughing, he tried to cover it up, “I mean—- you were kind of princess-like in episode 3, right?”

“Smooth.” You laughed, but didn’t press the situation. Your phone began to ring, and Harrison watched as you rolled your eyes, declining the call and ultimately silencing your phone.

“Spam call?”

“More like clingy non-committal somewhat boyfriend.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. You hadn’t mentioned Davey in the past few weeks— not that Harrison was complaining, but he just assumed you were private about your personal life. “I thought you and Davey were on good terms?”

“We are? I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a sip of your beer.

“If you’re not comfortable with the topic, we can just rehearse-”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it with anyone. Before I came here, he asked about having an open relationship while I’m away, and I told him no. And the last time we talked, we got into an argument and that was a couple days ago. I’m not ready to talk to him, and at this point, I’d much rather talk to you than him. It’s very frustrating that he wants to have an open relationship, but he still expects me to be at his beck and call. It’s like he’s looking for someone to substitute me, but I can’t have a life of my own. He wasn��t the most supportive of me taking this job in the first place, too.” You paused, with a small shrug, “I know you’re probably thinking I should leave him, but I can’t. We’ve been together for 5 years. I don’t know anything else at this point.”

“I get it.” Harrison said softly, hesitantly resting a comforting hand on your knee. “He was your first love. It makes sense that it’s hard to move on.” He felt his own heart sink at his ironic words. After all, you were his first love.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my first love.” You said softly, placing your hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Plus, at this point, I wouldn’t even say I love him.”

A silence fell in the room. Harrison really didn’t know what to say now. He would have told you to leave him, but you already knew that, so what was the point in him repeating it? Besides, it was your relationship, and you needed to make the decision for yourself… or let Davey make it for you.

“Let’s go through the scene, yeah?” You asked, changing the topic. You dropped his hand to pick up your script again.

“Right.” Harrison mumbled to himself, flicking through the pages to the scene.

You glanced around his hotel suite for a moment, looking for something similar to a bridge rail to lean on. “Should we use the kitchen counter? As the bridge rail?”

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The two of you got up, scripts in hand. Harrison stood to your right, just as the stage direction had called for. There was some space between the two of you, enough room for Harrison to shuffle closer to you later, as scripted.

“You’re not on your own, Beatrice. You must remember that.” Harrison said to you, leaning on the counter but looking over to you with his icy blue eyes. “You’re very different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

“You have something about you.” He started, awkwardly.

You cut him off, “Like a smell?”

“No, like a quality.” He chuckled softly before continuing, “I don’t know what it is, but I really like it.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to.” He smiled at you, his confidence slowly building as the scene continued on. Harrison stepped closer to you until he was right beside you, leaning sideways on the counter. “And I’m not saying you don’t smell, by the way. I’m just saying that that’s not the thing.”

You laughed, turning your head away from him in disbelief. “You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to mentally hype himself up for what was about to happen, but also taking a moment because it was scripted for Leo to be nervous. “Well, uh, I suppose I have to kiss you then.”

You turned to him, smiling coyly. Slowly, Harrison closed his eyes and leaned in. His heart started racing faster as he felt your breath fan against his face before his lips finally found yours. It was gentle and hesitant, everything that it had been scripted to be. As much as he wanted to keep kissing you and keep tasting the sweet strawberries of your lipgloss, it had to end. He pulled away after a moment, and you seemed almost breathless as you opened your eyes to see him again.

“I meant it when I said you’re not on your own.” Harrison looked at you with more hesitancy this time, but he still kissed you with the softest passion. The script said that Leo and Bea kiss and continue to kiss for a few seconds; Harrison wasn’t counting, but he was sure this kiss was longer than it was meant to be. Again, he found himself dreading its inevitable end. If there was one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it’d be this… well, this amongst other things with you. His stomach started to stir with guilt as he remembered Davey; you were still technically in a relationship, open or not, arguing currently or not. But then it clicked with Harrison, you weren’t pulling away— no, you were fully kissing him back.

Before he could pull away and end the scene with his last few lines, a knock came from his door. Regretfully, he stepped away from you. He didn’t meet your eye as he went to answer the door while you read over the script on the counter. Flustered, he opened the door.

“Mum! You’re here.” Harrison’s eyes went wide, surprised to see his mother and his sister standing before him.

“Surprise!” She smiled, hugging him almost immediately. “We had to come and see you at your big job.”

“Are you not happy to see us?” Charlotte teased, and Harrison shook his head, pulling her in for a hug. As they all stepped into Harrison’s apartment, you waved from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, coming over to introduce yourself.

“Oh, mum, Charlotte, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mum and Charlotte, my sister.” Harrison introduced the three of you.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N from drama school?” Phil said with a smile, making the connection as you shook her hand. Charlotte seemed to stifle a laugh as Harrison’s cheeks heated up.

“Yes, that sounds like me.” You laughed, brushing off any awkwardness that Harrison feared was there. “We were just rehearsing our scene for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can come to set.” Phil suggested, sending Harrison an expectant look.

“I’ll have to ask. This is so, so last-minute, though, so I don’t know.” He replied.

“It’s a spontaneous weekend trip.” Charlotte clarified.

“We should get some dinner. We haven’t eaten much all day.” Phil told Harrison before turning to you, “Y/N, you should come, too. It’d be so lovely to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You trailed off, glancing at Harrison. He sent you a silent look that said ‘she seriously does want you to come… If you don’t come, I won’t hear the end of it’. “I’d love to. I just need to go change first.”

You grabbed your script off the counter, and Harrison walked you to the door. “How long do you need?”

“Like 10 minutes?” You replied, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming, or that they’d invite you to dinner.” He said quietly, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, but I do have to warn you, if my parents spontaneously drop by, they don’t know who you are.” You teased.

He let out an embarrassed groan, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“See you in ten.” You sent him a wink before leaving to your own hotel room. As Harrison closed the door and turned back around, he was met with the smirking faces of his mother and sister.

“So, is there anything you want to tell us?” Phil asked.

“We were rehearsing. That’s all.” Harrison insisted, going through the wardrobe to find some clothes to change into for dinner.

“Huh,” Charlotte trailed off, crossing her arms. “So, you wearing sparkly lip gloss that matches Y/N’s is a coincidence?”

“It’s a kiss scene tomorrow. We rehearsed the lines and the kisses, too.” He explained. With a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and his red letterman jacket in hand, he made his way to the bathroom.

“Oh, multiple kisses.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“She has a boyfriend!” Harrison ended the conversation, closing the door to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you returned back to Harrison’s room, and the four of you left, making your way to an Italian restaurant nearby. You and Harrison shared anecdotes about filming so far, keeping spoilers to a minimum until the server came with your food.

“We got in so much trouble from the makeup and hair department.” You laughed as Harrison finished telling them of how you two went on the playground last week, much to the chagrin of the crew.

“It was worth it.” He added.

“Who would’ve known you’d play a Netflix prince?” Charlotte asked teasingly, but it was clear she was still proud of his achievements.

“Look at that face. He couldn’t play anything but a prince.” You joked, and he smiled smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stated.

“Phil, I have to say, I’ve never met someone more well suited to play a well-mannered prince.” You told her, playfully pinching Harrison’s cheek beside you.

“I remember when there was a time he was revolted at the idea of playing a prince.” Phil said, her lips growing into a smirk, and Harrison knew exactly what that meant.

“Mum, no—“ He started, but you just shushed him, wanting to hear whatever embarrassing story was about to be told.

“He watched a single Batman movie growing up— and not even a good one at that, and decided he simply had to be Batman.” She explained. “Then the Christopher Nolan ones came out, and there was no stopping him.”

“Every kid wants to be a superhero, and Batman is simply the best one.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t know you had a Batman phase.” You teased.

“Phase? He still has posters and comic books and dolls.” Charlotte added.

“Action figures.” He corrected her, making you laugh at the humor of it all.

“You know, honestly, I think I still have Catwoman action figures.” You admitted, trying to make him feel better, and Phil’s eyes lit up as she remembered another story.

“I cleaned your room a couple weeks ago, Harrison, and I was surprised to see you still Anne Hathaway as Catwoman posters.”

“Do we really have to talk about that? Does this torture not end?” He groaned.

“Fine. That’s enough for tonight.” Phil let out a defeated sigh, clearly enjoying herself.

“Y/N, if you want the really embarrassing stories, you’ve got to talk to Tom. He’s told me embarrassing Harrison stories that I can’t say in front of mum.” Charlotte laughed, and Harrison’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his sister’s words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled coyly.

“Sometimes, I wonder if he forgets that I know just as much embarrassing shit that he did growing up, too.” Harrison stated, shaking his head.

The night went on with minimal embarrassment on Harrison’s end. After Phil and Charlotte went back to their hotel, you and Harrison started the walk back to your own hotel. As you walked, your hands would brush against each other’s every so often, but neither of you made any move to take it further.

“Darci’s going to be so jealous in the morning.” You said, making him laugh a little.

“Why’s that?”

“That’s her favorite restaurant in town. Plus, I just got a free meal.” You laughed. A visible shiver coursed through you as the chilly night air picked up.

“Are you cold?” Harrison asked, already taking off his letterman’s jacket.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking his offer of warmth. Your short sleeves did nothing to shield you from the cold, but he had at least been prepared enough with long sleeves. “Are you sure you won’t get chilly?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad your mum invited me.” You admitted happily.

“Me, too. Apart from all of the embarrassment I just went through, I enjoyed tonight.”

“I never knew you had a secret Batman fanboy side.”

“I never knew you had a secret Catwoman fangirl side.” He countered with a smile.

“Guess that means we make a good team, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

As you smiled at him, completely content under the moonlight, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right then, to taste the sweetness of your strawberry lip gloss again. The last bit of your walk was filled with you two arguing over Batwoman and Catwoman, two things that neither of you had ever realized you had in common before.

Harrison’s wish finally came true the next day, as you two ran through the kiss scene multiple times. It was strange at first for him, because his sister and mother were intently watching, proud to see him in action, even if it was just a kiss scene over and over again. But, with you there, he grew more and more comfortable with each take.

As a few more weeks passed by, Harrison thought that perhaps you and Davey had officially ended things, but then he heard through Darci that you had magically worked it out. Whatever magic it was, he was upset about it, and he found himself increasingly irritated at the mention of Davey.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the Davey tonight?” Darci asked as the five of you enjoyed lunch in between shots. It had been two weeks Harrison’s mother and sister visited, and now Davey was coming, much to Harrison chagrin.

“He’s only here for two days.” You explained, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Ah, so you’ll be very busy, then.” McKell teased, suggestively nudging your side with his elbow. You brushed off his comment with a laugh, avoiding Harrison’s eyes.

“We should get him to do that calzone challenge with us.” Jojo said to Harrison. Although Jojo and McKell had been rather supportive of Harrison’s interest in you at the beginning, they seemed to forget about it most of the time now— for which he was actually kind of grateful.

The conversation couldn’t go any further as the director came into the room, holding the script in his hands. The look on his face told all of you that something was up. He looked between you and Harrison before speaking, “Change of plans for tomorrow. Eileen isn’t feeling well, so we’ll film Bea and Leo’s scene tomorrow instead of her scenes.”

“But tomorrow was supposed to be—“ You started, but cut yourself short, realizing there was no point in arguing. Schedules, plans, things all change, and this was just part of the job. “Never mind.”

“Well, tomorrow will be interesting.” Darci said quietly, voicing what was on everybody’s minds.

The director left with a silent nod, and the room fell silent for a moment. You and Harrison wouldn’t dare to look at each other, both of you feeling awkward suddenly. Making out with Harrison multiple times, especially with your boyfriend there, was not something either of you particularly enjoyed the thought of.

Having to film no more scenes today, Harrison went back to the hotel with Jojo and McKell. He didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day, but he was okay with that as he wanted to go as long as he could without meeting Davey. The director had taken some pity on the two of you, asking you to come in later in the morning instead of at 6 AM like usual.

Harrison made his way down to the hotel gym, wanting to utilize his newfound free time. Normally, he’d get his daily workout in after filming, but he didn’t see a reason to not get an early start today. He didn’t expect anyone to be up this early, but as he got closer to the gym, he could hear a voice coming from inside the room, the door cracked just slightly.

“Love, I promise I’ll be back in two days.” The stranger paused before continuing, “You know I’m only here for business, nothing else.”

Curious and trying to decide if he should even enter the room, Harrison snuck a quick glance through the crack in the doorway. He felt his blood run cold as he immediately recognized the guy sitting on the weight bench. Afterall, Harrison had looked at your social media enough to recognize your olive-skinned boyfriend, Davey.

“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harrison nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice from down the hall. He heard Davey mumbled something on the other side of the door, probably having heard your voice too.

“Yeah, but I just figured I’d start my pull-ups early today.” He replied before opening the door for you, acting like he had no clue that Davey had been in there.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Davey said to you, completely ignoring Harrison. He stood from his spot at the weight bench to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you possessively.

“Davey, this is Harrison, he plays Leo. Harrison, this is Davey.” You introduced the two guys.

Davey looked Harrison up and down with his dark brown eyes and seemed to stand straighter, even though the blond was inches taller. Harrison was the first to step forward and politely outstretch a hand to the raven-haired guy before him. With a tight smile, Davey shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Davey turned back to you, “Spot me?”

“Actually, I wanted to-” Your eyes drifted over to the treadmill as Harrison got in position to start his pull-ups at the bar. Davey looked at you expectantly, and you nodded, silently agreeing to stand there and spot Davey while he bench pressed.

Slipping on his headphones and turning on some music, Harrison began his workout. He played his music loud enough to block out your conversations with Davey. Not only was it none of his business, but god, Harrison really hated everything about him already. Hearing silence between you and Davey when his song changed, Harrison spared a glance over towards you. He was surprised when he found your eyes trained on him or, rather, trained on his abdomen that seemed to stick out from his tight white shirt. Still unaware of his eyes on you, your own eyes trailed up to his arms, watching as they flexed with each pull-up. Feeling flustered by your fixed gaze, Harrison faltered a little, and your eyes immediately darted back to Davey in front of you. Harrison couldn’t help the proud smile that ghosted his lips as he continued— you were checking him out.

Harrison finished his workout and decided to get cleaned up before heading to set in half an hour, leaving you and Davey in the gym. When he left, he was surprised that you were still spotting Davey, getting no work out in like you had planned. The whole time he was getting cleaned up (and brushing his teeth repeatedly to ensure he had good breath), he just kept picturing your staring in his head. He had worked very hard to get his body in this shape, and he was very proud of himself too, but he was even prouder that you’d clearly taken notice. If anything, it almost excited him that they’d be filming this scene today. There were a few times in this episode specifically in which Leo is shirtless, but none of those scenes had been filmed— and if this scene was going to be anything like it was scripted to be, then you’d definitely get a better show than in the hotel gym.

He didn’t see you again until the two of you were on set, in full costume and makeup. He had a loose shirt on, but underneath it, his chest had been painted with blues and purples to make convincing bruises. As he went to his mark, Leo’s makeshift bed on the floor of the cellar, Harrison spotted Davey across the set, looking bored and unhappy. His blue eyes drifted over to you next, and he refrained himself from smirking as he noticed your makeup artist applying chapstick to your lips.

While you gathered your prop lantern and the lights dimmed around you all, Harrison made himself comfortable under the ragged blankets. The director called out “Action!” and Harrison closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he waited for you to come into the shot. Hearing your footsteps, Harrison stirred, blinking his eyes open.

“Bea, is everything alright?” He asked, looking up at you as you stood over him.

“Let me see your body.” You said definitively.

“Beatrice—” He started, but you cut him off.

“Show me, Leo. I want to see it.” At your words, Harrison shifted slowly, moving as if in pain. He pulled the blankets down and went to roll up his shirt. “Take your top off.”

He paused, looking at you questioningly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Groaning a little, Harrison sat up and removed his shirt. He looked at you expectantly, and you set aside the lantern before kneeling on the blankets beside him. Your hand drifted over the painted bruise tentatively, ghosting over the same abs that you had been studying just hours earlier. Harrison waited for you to deliver your next line, knowing he was scripted to kiss you after it. It felt like ages that he was waiting for you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right now. His mind went blank as your eyes found his and you leaned in to kiss him.

It was unscripted, and he was surprised, but he didn’t let his surprise stop him from immediately kissing you back. Your chapstick tasted of strawberries, just as it had the last time the two of you had a kissing scene, and he swore he was in love with the taste of it. He expected to hear the director yell cut, to hear him question why you suddenly improvised, but when nothing came, he just continued to kiss you. You pulled back, a shy smile on your face, “I don’t want you to hide your body from me anymore. It’s too nice to be hidden.”

His heart leapt as he leaned forward to catch your lips once more, this time scripted. His hands shuffled to your waist, pulling you down to lay beside him as he rolled onto his side, his chest leaning over yours. Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he savored the feeling.

You pulled back again, whispering up to him, “No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” He reaffirmed. As he continued to kiss you, his hands sensually wandered down your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. Part of him wanted to pause the intimate scene and pinch himself, just to make sure it was really happening, but he was worried if he stopped kissing you now that he’d never get the opportunity to kiss you like this again.

“Cut!” The director called, and Harrison reluctantly pulled away from you. He could’ve sworn a small frown passed your lips as he looked down at you, not having shifted off of you yet.

“Spearmint— my favorite.” You teased quietly, as if it was only for the two of you to hear. As you laughed underneath him, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would think if he knew he’d one day get to make out with Y/N Y/L/N. Even if it was just for the show, it was a sight that he’d always want to remember.

“I’ve always enjoyed the taste of strawberries.” He replied softly, rolling away from you.

The director ran you two through a couple pointers for the scene, and, to Harrison’s surprise, he even suggested Bea kissing Leo first, just like you had improvised. You reasoned that you forgot your line momentarily, but something about the way you kissed Harrison made him feel like that wasn’t the case; no, it seemed like you’d truly wanted to kiss him.

After running through the scene a few more times, the director was satisfied. While you stayed behind on set to film more scenes, Harrison returned to his hotel room. Just as he was searching his toiletry bag for some much-needed chapstick, his phone began to ring with a Facetime call. Seeing Harry’s contact photo light up on his screen, he accepted and set his phone aside momentarily. He didn’t need to wonder what Harry (and most likely Tom, Tuwaine and maybe even Sam) were calling about— he had made the dire mistake of telling his easily-excited best friends about today’s scene.

“Why are we looking at your ceiling?” Harry asked almost immediately.

“I’m, uh, looking for lip balm.” Harrison admitted quietly and smiled to himself when he found some. He quickly put it on and then grabbed his phone, heading to his bed where he could comfortably talk to his friends.

As expected, his friends let out an incoherent chorus of excitement. Sam seemed to calm down enough first to ask (more like, shout through the phone), “How was it?”

“Does she really kiss with tongue? Remember Jack used to say-” Tom started, and Harrison scoffed, hearing the name of one of their old classmates who swears he had a summer fling with you once.

“I still don’t believe him, but no, not today at least.” Harrison was honestly a bit embarrassed to admit it. You were in a relationship… with a possibly cheating moron, but still. It just didn’t feel right to talk about you in that way.

“Not today? So there could be another time!” Tuwaine shouted encouragingly.

“Is she still with that prick?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but,” Harrison paused, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for elaboration, “I think he might be cheating on her.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry questioned. “Mate, just because you fancy her doesn’t mean her boyfriend’s a cheater.”

“No, I mean I heard him on the phone, and he said he was in Liverpool for business, not for his girlfriend.” He reasoned, “I’m just very suspicious of him.”

“You should tell her if you think he is.” Sam stated, “If he isn’t, then, oh no, you’re on bad terms with her boyfriend, who probably already hates you after today. If he is, well, she’d hate you if she finds out you kept it from her.”

Harrison let out a small sigh as the others nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. Besides, she said something a few weeks about him wanting an open relationship. Maybe it’s that?”

“Okay, look, forget I asked about him.” Tom said, shaking his head, while the others looked at Harrison skeptically through the phone, “How was it to finally have your drama school dreams fulfilled?”

“Fucking heaven.” Harrison admitted with a laugh.

For the next week, Harrison resisted the urge to tell you about Davey. He wanted to, he really did, but whenever he’d finally be alone with you and mentally prepare himself for the conversation, you would always just seem so happy and content. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb your happiness, especially when it was Harrison making you happy. After Davey left, it’s like something changed within you, and Harrison had no clue what it was, but he enjoyed it.

‘You have to tell her.’ Harrison read over his most recent text from Tom again. He let out a small sigh, trying to get the courage to tell you as you sat across from him at the booth.

It was Saturday, and you two, along with Darci, Jojo, and McKell, had made your way to a club, wanting to celebrate another week down. With only two episodes left to film, you all knew your time together was starting to run low. You were all a few drinks in by now, happily buzzed. Jojo and McKell were off somewhere, probably attempting to be each other’s wingmen. Darci was telling you a story so wild that Harrison wondered if it was even true. He finished the rest of his drink and shuffled out of the booth.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” Harrison said to you two, and, without waiting for a response, he left. He made no move to flag down the bartender, leaning against an empty spot in the bar. Pulling on the collar of his blue shirt, he started to feel hot, unsure if he could handle this.

“What happened to getting another drink?” You asked him, stepping up beside him.

“Where’s Darci?” He replied, not wanting to answer your question.

“Found a friend in the crowd.” You laughed and turned to flag down the bartender. You ordered a round of shots, to Harrison’s surprise.

“Are you good?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” You nodded, but with how your eyes were glazed over the alcohol and another unreadable emotion, Harrison didn’t quite believe you. Playfully, you nudged him, “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been moping all night for god knows why.”

“I haven’t been moping.” He argued as a tray of four shots was placed in front of you two. You handed one to him and took one for yourself.

“Cheers to another week done.” You clinked your shot glass against his before both of you downed them.

As you went to grab your second shot, Harrison reached a hand and stopped you. Concerned, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Davey and I broke up— for good this time.” You admitted, and his hold on your wrist softened while he looked at you pitifully. “He told me when he was here that he went through with his ‘open relationship’ plan, even though I never agreed to it, so he’s been basically cheating on me since I left for this job. Then tonight, he drunkenly texts me, and I know it’s just a booty call. He’s done it for years, but now I actually see it for what it is. So now, my shitty boyfriend is gone, I’m finally single, and my only plans for tonight is to get properly drunk. Maybe even hookup with a stranger— god knows it’s been a while since I had decent sex.” Harrison was speechless, and you continued, a smile finding its way to your face at the end of your venting. “Dance with me after this shot?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked playfully, feeling your mood lighten once more. You winked at him, handing him a full shot glass. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on you and to keep you from drinking anymore.

After you both drank back the burning liquid, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dancefloor. Harrison had felt the alcohol that was flooding his system earlier, but the colored lights, pounding music, and countless bodies around him seemed to make the alcohol hit him harder. There was a weight off his shoulders, knowing you were actually single as you danced with him, and yet he still felt strange about his current state with you— were you truly into him or was he just the first guy you could drunkenly hook up with?

You turned to face him, a small frown on your face, “Haz, you’re being a bit of a killjoy.”

It was then that he realized, while you were fully grinding on his body, he was relatively motionless. Your hands found his, and you planted one on your hip and another on the small of your back, low enough though that it teetered being on your ass. You leaned in closer to him, letting him get a whiff of your perfume. While one of your hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, daring to even dip below his shirt, the other traced through his hair.

As you planted a kiss on Harrison’s neck, not caring at all for the dancing bodies around you, you heard him let out a strangled groan of your name. Your nails light scratched over the deep V in his hips, hooking onto where his jeans met the line.

“Should we get out of here?” You asked Harrison, your lips right next to his ear as your voice dripped with seduction. He felt his heart flip with intoxicating excitement before he was immediately reminded of the gravity of the situation. You went to kiss him, but he moved back quickly, stepping out of your reach. Pouting, you asked, “Do you not want me? After all this time?”

“No, I do.” Harrison insisted. “I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. You’re not in the right headspace for this. I don’t want to be your drunken rebound.”

“How can you be a rebound when it’s always been you?”

Harrison sighed. Oh, how much he’d love to hear that from you— sober. He was saved from having to reply when Darci, McKell, and Jojo found you two. They looked at the two of you skeptically, but Harrison just shook his head.

“I’m going to take Y/N back to the hotel.” He said as he stepped closer to the group so that they could hear him over the music.

“We’ll come, too.” Jojo insisted, even though, with his words slurred and his eyes glazed over, he was thoroughly drunk, too.

“Where did Y/N go?” McKell asked, realizing your sudden absence.

“Oh god,” Harrison muttered, and the four of them dispersed in the crowd to find you, tripping over the other sweaty bodies. Darci found you first, unable to stop you from having a couple more shots.

“No, no, you’re done.” She argued with you. You reached for the last shot that she had taken from you, but, in your intoxicated state, you easily lost your balance. Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“I don’t think she can walk.” Jojo commented.

“What gave that away?” McKell asked sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” With a small sigh, Harrison, as the most sober of the group (though he still felt fairly tipsy), proceeded to lead you out of the club.

Darci hailed a cab for the five of you, and while it was an illegally tight fit, you all made it work. You leaned on Harrison as he was pressed right up against you. On your other side sat Jojo. You mumbled softly to Harrison, one of your hands falling onto his knee, “Do you remember that year when they put up mistletoe at school?”

“Where are you going with this?” He asked you softly.

“I saw you kiss Vivian at the one outside of the gym, and I couldn’t walk in that area for three months without thinking of you. I was so jealous of her, and you just looked like such a good kisser, which I’m happy to report you are.”

“Babes, maybe stop with the drunk talking.” Darci said, because all of you could tell this was stuff sober you would never say.

Harrison looked at you in surprise— he barely even remembered when Vivian dragged him under the mistletoe, so the fact that you remembered and were jealous? And you said he was a good kisser, too. He felt a glimmer of pride overcome him.

“Ask me tomorrow, it’s the truth.” You shuffled in your seat, laying your head against Jojo’s shoulder, “Jojo, wanna know a secret?”

“Y/N, maybe-” Darci started, but Jojo cut her off.

“No, go on, Y/N.” He laughed, wanting to hear your drunk thoughts.

“Do you think I’d make a good Catwoman?” You asked, words slurring together as you grew tired.

“Catwoman? Like Anne Hathaway?” He questioned, and you hummed a ‘yes’. “Yeah, you’d make a good Catwoman.”

“Good. Tell Haz he needs to my Batman then.” Your voice was quiet, as if it was something just meant for the two of you to hear, but your voice wasn’t nearly as soft as you had thought it was, meaning Harrison and the rest of your friends were truly aware of your little drunken secret

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jojo reassured you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he glanced over your head to look at the embarrassed Harrison.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and Harrison helped you out of your seat. With the help of the others, he got you safely inside your hotel room. Everyone retreated to their own rooms, except for Harrison who stayed with you. He laid you down on your bed and went searching for your pajamas, which to his luck were stowed underneath your pillow.

“Can you change or—?” Harrison asked, holding out the clothes to you

“I’ve got it, though I wouldn’t mind you helping.” You said with a wink. As you started to change out of your club clothes, Harrison turned away from you and focused on getting out some much-needed pain reliever and a glass of water for you to have in the morning. He heard you shuffle on the bed behind him before you let out a small huff, “Hazzy, can you come here?”

Hazzy— that was a new nickname. To his surprise, you were already tucked up in bed, your previously worn clothes scattered on the floor around you. He set the water and meds on your nightstand before kneeling to your level, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do you know why Davey wasn’t my first love?” You asked quietly, your eyes beginning to droop with sleep. You reached a hand out to tentatively run your fingers over his cheek before you cupped it, smiling softly at him.

He had a hunch, but he played along anyway, wanting to hear you say it, in case he never heard it again. “Why?”

“Because you were.” Your voice was so quiet that he barely heard you, but he was so glad that he did. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you let your hand fall from his face.

“Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Can you stay tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love.” Harrison stood to his full height, and when he looked at you again, you were already asleep. He softly readjusted the blankets on your bed to make sure you were warm enough, before he made his way over to the couch. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, he settled into his bed for the night. Just like every other night lately, he drifted off thinking of you, but this time, there was an excited flutter in his heart.

The next day, Harrison woke up to you letting out a groan, loudly asking, “Why the fuck is it so bright in here?”

He slowly sat up from the couch to check on you. A smile crossed his face as you took the pain meds he’d left out and downed the glass of water. Your eyes seemed to bulge out of your head when you noticed his presence in the room. Laughing, he greeted you, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Please tell me you miraculously don’t remember anything I said last night because I remember, and I don’t want to.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry to disappoint then.” He sent you a sympathetic smile.

With a sigh, you patted the spot beside you on your bed. Wordlessly, Harrison got up from the couch and came to sit beside you on the bed. He expected you to say something, but when you were silent, seemingly caught up in your thoughts, he spoke up, “Did you mean it? When you said I was your first love?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in your reply, and you turned to finally meet his eye, “It was a very intense schoolgirl crush, hence why I hated Vivian after that mistletoe incident, but seeing you again just made me realize that it was more than just a crush. I’ve regretted saying no to you all those years ago ever since you came back into my life.”

“Well, I thought I was over my crush on you, but turns out, there are just some things time can’t change.”

A comfortable silence overfell you two again before you finally spoke up with the words that had been on your mind for weeks, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” Harrison sealed his words by leaning in to kiss you.

With no script to follow now, he felt fireworks as you kissed him back. One of your hands drifted to the back of his neck, silently urging him to continue kissing you. His hands snaked around your waist before he shifted to lay on his back, rolling you on top of him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth. He moaned at first, fully enjoying himself, before his lips curved into a smile, and he started to laugh against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. His hands wandered from your hips up to where your own hands were resting on his chest, and he casually intertwined your fingers.

“It’s nothing.” He said in an attempt to play it off, but the smile on his face told you that whatever he was thinking was hilarious to him. “You remember Jack Evans? He told everyone that you were the best french kisser in school, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

You let out a scoff before giggling to yourself, “First of all, how many girls have you french kissed from drama school and should I be jealous? Second of all, Jack was an ass who couldn’t kiss for shit, but I’ll take it as a compliment that he told everyone that.” You leaned down until your lips were just barely touching, “And thirdly, do you want to keep talking about drama school, or do you want me to keep kissing you?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, but I kinda like that you are.” He replied with a cheeky smile. “And you’re right. He was an ass.”

“And for the last one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Harrison pretended to think about it for a second before he let go of your hand to cup your cheek, bringing your lips crashing back down to his.

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #the irregulars #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x you #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years ago

Text

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23 for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it.

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues. Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place.

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back. A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

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