Prince Albert in every episode of Victoria: The Queen’s Husband (1x06) “But ever since I arrived in this country, I have been judged by people who know nothing of my true character. They laugh at my clothes, they sneer at my accent. I have seen cartoons when I am drawn as a sausage. So I have decided if I am to be held up to scrutiny, it should be for something I believe in.”
Hi guys! This is just a meet-cute about the reader and Tom meeting for the first time in a ceramic art studio! There are a few bad words, but other than that, it’s pure fluff! I hope you like it!
Color Me Yours
The only thing that had led Tom into the painting studio had been his boredom, but since he spotted the prettiest of all pretty girls wandering down the aisles in search of paints, he decided to stay put. Desperately seeking paints, brushes, or anything else that could be used to start a conversation with her, Tom began meandering through the studio.
“Have you decided what you want to paint sir?” An employee’s monotonous voice asked dully from behind him, forcing Tom to stop his pacing.
“Uh, yeah.” Tom mumbled, grabbing the nearest ceramic figure to him, which evidently turned out to be a tremendously large coffee mug. “This,” he said questioningly.
“Wonderful. Paints are over there,” the employee said, pointing at the left half of the studio before walking off.
“Helpful.” Tom grumbled beneath his breath as he rolled his eyes. At least he was pointed in the proper direction, while the girl seemed completely lost. Tom stopped to look at her for a moment, lost in how the light flickered off the glossiness of her hair. He observed that she was shy, like she was prepared to ask someone for help, but as soon as they got closer to her, the courage would evaporate on the tip of her tongue and she would just stare at her shoes. Tom decided that he’d help end her search for the assorted paints.
“Hi,” Tom started, feeling a tad bashful himself, “you look a little lost, are you alright?” The words his brain was attempting to get his mouth to say were failing, sticking to the roof of his mouth like cheap bubblegum. Her eyes just looked so kind up close, and her skin looked soft, but not as soft as her petal colored lips. “I mean, you look totally alright, but like do you need help finding anything? The employees here don’t seem to keen on helping anyone.”
Her eyebrows raised and her cheeks flushed and Tom cursed himself. He wouldn’t blame her if she asked him to fuck off.
“Actually, do you happen to know where they keep the paint? I’ve been looking for a while, and I think I might be blind? Or maybe just dumb,” She trailed off, twiddling her thumbs, but Tom felt a resurgence of confidence lick through him when he saw her glance up and down his frame, before her cheeks began to heat up again.
Candidly, the young girl knew exactly who stood in front of her. His name was Tom Holland, and he was a beyond amazing and attractive actor who happened to be playing the coveted role of Peter Parker in Spider-Man: Homecoming. She had first spotted him in The Impossible, and had harbored a small crush that transfigured into a massive one when she saw him again in Captain America: Civil War.
She could barely believe that they happened to be in the same art studio, let alone the fact that he was standing in front of her looking nervous and offering to aid her on her quest for paint. She wondered if there was a non creepy way to let him know that he was quite possibly the love of her life.
Tom scoffed, “M’sure you’re not dumb darling, you’ve picked the most intricate design in the entire shop. Besides, I doubt the employee even told you where to find the paints. He just kind of of,” Tom gestured with his arm to the left half of the store, “claimed paint was over here, but I’m kind of doubting it now. We can go look for it together?”
She smiled and nodded before stepping forward to walk through the store next to Tom. “You know,” the girl started before she could stop herself, “I think you’re going to be the best Peter Parker that Marvel has ever had. Sorry if that’s an odd thing to say, I just think that you’re really neat.” She mentally hurled her body off a cliff, why couldn’t she have any sort of chill? She had binge-watched Sex and the City, she should know how to be a cool girl by now, but instead, she had to rebel and be just so her. It was beyond irritating.
Lucky for her, Tom had never found a statement more endearing than the one currently hanging in the space between them. “That’s so sweet, darling, thank you so much. I’m kind of nervous that a lot of other people don’t think so,” Tom could tell that she was internally scolding herself, so he did his best to soothe her worries. “Furthermore, when’s a pretty girl telling you that she thinks you’re neat a bad thing?”
She looked away as he smiled down on her, and she fiddled with the fairy figurine in her hands.
“Well, we’re having a difficult time locating that paint, huh?” Tom sighed, ruffling a hand through his curls.
“Yeah, what the hell? I don’t think that we’re both stupid and blind,” she trailed off, spinning around in a slow circle to get a better bearing on her surroundings. “It’s getting a tiny bit ridiculous. Like, they must’ve purposely hid the paints or something,” she wondered.
“You know what? Stay put and I’m going to go drag that guy over here and make him show us where they hide their damn paint.” Tom said, promising to return with an employee or some clearer directions on where they could find the colors.
“The shop is called Color Me Mine,” Tom pondered out loud, “How is anyone supposed to color anything theirs if they don’t know where the fuck the paint is?” Once he finally received step by step directions, he rushed back towards the girl who stood waiting for him in the left wing of the painting studio.
“You wouldn’t believe it but I know where to find it!” Tom called, coming to a shaky stop in front of her, reaching to hold her shoulders to steady himself.
She rejoiced immediately, taking a hold of his hands and literally jumping with glee. “Thank goodness for you, Tom! Thank goodness!”
Tom felt like a hero, and he smiled when he thought of how happy making her happy was making him feel. He wondered if she had a partner at home who was making her happy, but that was overshadowed by his embarrassment that he’d forgotten to ask for her name.
“Of course, darling, but while we’re on the subject of names,” Tom didn’t think that he could be any lamer, “what’s yours? Can’t keep calling you darling forever,” He chuckled, smiling down at her.
She leaned into him and told him her name, secretly thinking that Tom Holland calling her darling forever wouldn’t be a bad thing either.
Tom spoke her name out loud, enjoying the way her name lingered in the air. “Well, shall we color them ours?” He asked, motioning to the fairy she held in her arms.
After the pair had decided on colors, they sat down together and began to talk, paint, and wander back to the clandestine cabinet that held all of the art supplies the studio offered to customers.
Right now, she and Tom had decided to compete in a battle of who could paint the prettiest item. She had stuck her oversized purse in between them to shield their designs. Although her bag was large, it only covered up what they were painting, so Tom and the girl’s eyes met over and over again.
They were engaged in a game of work uld you rather right now, and they were had making each other laugh so hard that they’d been given angry looks from bothered patrons.
“Alright, darling,” Tom had slipped back into the habit of calling her darling, not that she minded, “would you rather live inside ‘The Shining’ for a week or have the only film that you’re able to watch be ‘Misery?’”
“Oh my gosh! Getting to exist in the same universe as ‘The Shining’ is a complete dream come true! But, to specify, you’re referring to the King novel and not the shit film, right?” She smiled ear to ear, glad to have finally met someone who adored horror flicks the same way that she did.
“You’ve gotta be joking?” Tom said, looking away from the coffee mug in front of him that was about a step away from being completed, “The film was revolutionary for me when I watched it! How could anything Kubrick touches be shit?” He asked, eyes wide and brows raised.
“Well, to start, how old were you when you first watched it?” She teased.
“That’s absolutely besides the point!” Tom dismissed, laughing while he swirled his paintbrush through his final coat of paint.
“You were a kid, huh?” She smiled, her own fairy had been completely painted for a while now. “Have you even bothered to read the book?”
Tom opened and shut his mouth before cocking his head to the side and shaking his head.
“Exactly! If you decide to read it, you’d discover why Stephen King despises that film as much as he does!” She tried to sneakily glance over her purse-wall to see Tom’s progress.
“Hey, hey! You’ve been caught! No peeking, love, besides, I’m about three brushstrokes away from finishing!” Tom knew that what he was about to do was bold, but he hoped it would pay off. The mug he had originally just picked up to have something to hold had been painted into a gift for the girl across from him. He only hoped that it wouldn’t come off creepy and desperate, instead, he was hoping for cheesy and sweet.
“Not that I don’t believe in King’s genius, because I do, it’s just the film is a classic for a reason!” Tom said, finally setting down his brush. Poising the big question, Tom placed his hands on her bag, “Ready for the big reveal?”
She bit her lip and blushed as Tom’s brown eyes stared into her own. Settling her hand onto her bag too, she nodded. “Okay, on three?” Tom began the countdown, and by the count of two, all the hairs on his arms stood up, completely electrified.
When they reached one, they yanked her purse into the air, Tom moving it to the side of the table to clear the view of each other’s work.
The fairy she had painted was beautiful, dressed in soft pinks and greens, lively enough to make her way home to Pixie Hollow if she so pleased. When Tom looked at the fairy’s painter, he decided that she too was magical enough to belong in a fairy’s garden.
The mug he’d painted for her was a simple baby blue with a dark blue trim. He’d painted pink hearts along the handle, but the boldest part of the mug was the phrase he’d carefully drawn on. In messy, black cursive, the letters looped together read,
Color me yours?
And on the inside of the mug, he’s painted even more pink hearts and with the smallest of brushes, he wrote,
Breakfast at 10?
When she didn’t say anything, Tom began to panic. “Is it awful, oh gosh, I knew I shouldn’t have-,” but before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off.
“No, No! I’m sure that she’ll love it! It’s adorable!” Her insides her melting into a pile of goo, she wanted to believe that she stood a chance with Tom, but whoever was receiving this mug clearly was the only lady for him.
Tom stopped automatically, hands frozen and mouth dropped open, he couldn’t believe that she thought the mug was meant for someone else. “It’s, she’s, no-, darling this is for you. I want you to love it.”
He watched realization mist over her eyes and she let out a loud giggle, clapping a hand over her mouth and hiding her face.
“Oh my gosh, I’m such a doof,” Tom slid over to her side of the table, laughing as he extended an arm around her frame, pulling her to his chest. “I cannot believe I ruined that. Let me make it up to you, I have a copy of ‘The Shining’ in my car, borrow it, please, please, please.”
“You’re so silly, darling! Of course I made it for you! Granted, yes, the line was weak, but I figured you’d know that it was for you because we’ve spent the last hour and a half together at Color Me Mine!” Tom’s hand circled her lower back, “Alright, I’ll borrow the book if you meet me for breakfast and accept my mug, once it’s baked in the oven and dry.”
She leaned away from his body to meet his gaze, “Okay. I’ll consider you colored mine.”
The next morning, over strawberry and nutella crepes and belgian waffles to share, Tom spent the entire breakfast ranting about how enlightened he was now that he fully realized the genius of Stephen King, and how grateful he was for their chance encounter at Color Me Mine.
I feel like there is so much dislike in this fandom for Q’s wardrobe and his cardigan in particular. I’ve read fic, after fic describing it as anything from hideous to garish. So I’m going to explain it to you from a costume and fashion perspective. and hopefully convince you Q’s clothes only really look comparatively ugly or eccentric next to Bonds rather old fashioned stayed wardrobe.
This contrast is a deliberate move on the part of the costume designer. Q is of course supposed to be the antithesis of bond. Where Bond is hard; Q is Soft: his outfits always have some tactile element to them. Where Q is a young man from the world of IT where business casual is a must. Bond is an older man from a military world where uniformity even in the shape of Tom ford suits is de rigure.