Girlboss, Gaslight, Gearshift

Tommy just wanted friends. That's it.

A normal college life, maybe some café study sessions, late-night fast food runs-you know, the basic "white girl day in my life" aesthetic.

So when he signed up for a "stress management club," he thought he was getting yoga mats and meditation playlists.

Instead, he got an invitation to an underground street racing organization run by people who treat brake fluid like holy water.

Now he's knee deep in engine grease, illegal races, and criminal records.

And to finish it all off...Tommy doesn't even have his driver's license.

(Can be found in ao3 as well)