Smoked a blunt wit Keanu reeves before shit was straight gas but he was doing this really unconvincing cough idk if he was tryina make me feel better bout my weed? Like it wasn’t really strong? But I was offended
This is a new year. A new beginning. And things will change.
I want to thank you whole heartedly for embracing me and my SwIfTiE ways. I have made incredible friends i will never forget, love u to the moon and back <13 I often think I am intimidated by the fear of being average, but I think being fearless is having fears but jumping anyway.
If You’re lucky enough to be different, never change. I think that no matter what happens in life, be good to people. Being good to people is a wonderful legacy to leave behind.
Remember that being fearless isn’t the absence of fear, but living in spite of what scares you to death <13
ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT TAYLOR SWIFT HELPED US BE FEARLESS AND SPEAK NOW IN RED IN THE YEAR 1989 WITH OUR BAD REPUTATION
p.s. There’s more to life than dating the boy on the football team.
i mean you don’t have to but if i were you i’d read part 1 before i read this
Pairings: Bad Boy!Tom Holland x Reader
Warning(s)?: A N G S T Y but also F L U F F Y, ((drugs))
Word Count: ~1,900
Summary: Tom and Reader try to make the most of their last day together before he has a flight to escape from his hometown.
A/N: y'all asked for it.. so here it is!!! i didn’t proof read this at all before i posted so hopefully it’s not trash
It was a Saturday morning you woke up entangled in a pair of arms. Opening your eyes, you found that Tom was still sleeping, his face gleaming ever so slightly due to the sunlight peaking in through your blinds. You couldn’t help but admire him and how peaceful he looked, his hair disheveled and his bare chest rising and falling. Studying the various scratches and wounds on his body, you trailed your finger down his ribcage lightly. You tried not to wake him as you slowly pried one of his arms off your waist so that you could slide out from under the covers.
You walked over to your bathroom and stood in front of your mirror, taking time to inspect the mess atop of your head that you called hair. Your eyes trailed from your hair, to your face, and then to your neck, where multiple subtle spots were scattered on the side of your neck. Your lips turned upwards as your fingers grazed the bruised area, remembering the night before when Tom’s lips were attached to your skin, leaving kisses all down your neck lazily as you lied in bed on your phone.
This had been you and Tom’s relationship for the past few weeks. There were constant sleepovers, spontaneous outings, and an endless amount of kisses. You didn’t dare ask Tom what you guys were, because any type of commitment scared the shit out of him. When you’d hear him get home in the untimely hours of the morning from doing who knows what all day with his friends (he still wouldn’t tell you), you’d scurry down to your front door, ushering him inside and sneaking upstairs into your room where you would lie in bed and cuddle, kiss, or both. Really you just wanted to spend as much time with him as possible before he left for New York, and the days had snuck up on you; he was leaving today.