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userholland · 2 years

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between the lines | frat!tom

finals week is here and you’re an emotional wreck, to say the least. not only is your schedule jam-packed, but there are things going on in your life as well. you need to cram, you need to meet due dates and frankly, you could use a drink to get through it all. the night you go to a frat party, you see a cute and familiar face that you have to see every time you go to the small bookstore and he’s behind the cash register.

PAIRING : frat!tom & college!fem!reader

GENRE : college, book shop, love at first sight, dramatic love confessions, wedding date, & a long (too long tbh) slow burn

WARNINGS : tom being sarcastic but cute, lots of fluff + corny dialogue, toxic parents and divorce, a light/tasteful make-out, cursing, drinking, trust issues, both reader and tom being bibliophiles (annotations & recommendations blah blah), etc.

WORD COUNT : 13.9k

A/N : mostly, inspired by an another great idea @venomsilk gave me <3 🧸🌤 🍰 dedicated to her. this is for her valentine’s celebration (a few months late, oops. but school / mental health checks happened so respectable hiatus on this fic) and i was so happy and excited to write it tbh ! i've been more into the romance ya novels lately so i really wanted to give this fic a lot of love and filled it with inspiration from books i've read. pls rec me some bc this summer i want beach reads. anyways adore and appreciate my venomsilk besthie so much. bear with me in this fic, but hope everyone enjoys ! also this header is originally from here! i just added the shredded border

𑁍 masterlist 𑁍

Books. They were a common comfort you turned toward in times of stress, sadness or simply something to make the time go by on the bus ride to campus.

The small bookstore, that you often went to on the weekends, was unique. Most books were donated or found, then there was a small selection of brand new editions on the circular table when you entered the shop.

From the tall shelves filled with fictional adventures to the big, voluptuous, and green plants decorated around the front window, everything about this place was perfect. But, the dark, curly-haired cashier with a soft smile was a bonus to your shopping experience.

Every time you approached the counter, heat would suddenly radiate from your face and your heart fluttered when the boy rose his head to meet your eyes. Sometimes, you caught him reading a classic novel, other times, he was taking his time to finish homework when the store didn’t have but one or two people browsing.

His name is Tom, once overhearing one of his co-workers call him Tommy. You didn’t know anything about him, but it fit his charming yet approachable appearance. He wore a bunch of flannels with the sleeves rolled up and a solid color tee to match underneath, the occasional baseball tee or henley if the temperature in the store was too warm.

You didn’t mean to giggle the time you walked up to him and his cheeks were bright pink from how hot it was inside compared to the coming winter chill changing the fall weather.

Once or twice, you wondered if he remembered you. It sounded egotistical, questioning your importance to some stranger, but you couldn’t help it. He gave you recommendations or comments on the books you purchased, persuasive enough to burn a bigger hole in your pocket for decent literature.

The way he smiled and giggled when you had small talk, all from asking each other how your days had been. If it was a selling tactic he used; it was working.

Some days, romanticizing simple interactions like this made life less lonely and stressful. Tom was simply a crush; just another cute guy you could think about when you think about your future and the little fantasies in between your daydreams. It was nice for a bit and then you snapped back into reality, concentrating on your studies and looking forward to getting a degree.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Tom took advantage of the lazy afternoon shift between his classes.

There were little to no customers, free time to study and complete silence unless he turned on the music over the speakers throughout the store. While the minimum wage didn’t seem worth it, Tom much more preferred working at his Aunt and Uncle’s bookstore than to getting ripped off from writing English essays for his “so-called” fraternity brothers.

As he sat at his post behind the register, comfortably wearing his black Carhartt jacket, with his head lowered so his brown curls hung down. He unknowingly pouted as he made bright-red corrections on his rough draft for one of his final papers. Even though Tom had three to four other final papers of his own to do, he was doing essays for other people.

His final paper for his Advanced English Romanticism class was way more important and frankly, all he wanted to do was pass with high grades, but earning money for next semester’s tuition by easily bullshitting Shakespeare’s literature theories or creating basic fictional, short stories for people who were barely sober 12 hours out of the day made his eyes wander to the rough drafts in his worn backpack.

The ink imprinted his, sloppy but small, handwriting on the side of his hand, and the end of the pen had a few bites when he was re-thinking his sentences and paraphrasing.

Suddenly, the bell above the entrance door rang, not phasing Tom to look up since people came in and out, but he glanced up when he noticed the familiar color of the jacket you wore. He had seen you a few times, wearing that same navy blue jacket with a red and black stripe going down the sleeves.

A gloss filmed over his bright-brown eyes but looked away once you walked toward the back, admiring the books placed perfectly around the best-sellers table at the center of the store. You were the same, pretty girl who wandered around the stop for an hour, maybe two, seeking a book and nothing else.

Each one that came to Tom’s counter was a different genre from a worn-out classic or a fairly used historical fiction– it intrigued him so, he’d list a few recommendations. After a bit of, what he considered, flirting, you left with a big smile until two or three days passed and there you were again, searching and reading in between the numerous aisles.

“Think fast!”

Tom already flinched, but a soccer ball thumped against the side of his head and he immediately pressed his palm on his temple.

“Jesus…” Tom hissed under his breath, his eyes giving a dirty look toward his friend, “A ‘hello’ would have sufficed.”

“What? You’re not happy to see me?” Harrison grinned, holding the ball under his arm.

Tom quickly retorted, “Why are you bothering me at work?”

Harrison tilted his head.

“Because I cherish every second we spend together…” He smiled before rolling his eyes, “What do you think? We have a meeting at the house in twenty minutes. C’mon, no one is even here, it’s your family’s store and you can leave when your manager is on his phone in the back office–”

Tom opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyes shifted to you, past Harrison’s figure, watching as you flipped through another book on the same shelf; a hardcover version of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Basic, but not a bad read. Tom thought.

“Who’s that?” Harrison asked, “She’s pretty.” He glanced over his shoulder, but you had no idea that the two boys were glaring as you concentrated on the text.

“No one.” Tom said in an annoyed tone, messily pushing his books and paper into his worn-out backpack.

The rosy pink tint of the apples of Tom’s cheeks made Harrison slowly smile, “Oh, Tommy. You’re squirming. Is she an ex? Hookup? Maybe TA?”

Tom sighed, “If we leave now, I’ll still help you with your sports management paper tonight.”

Harrison nodded, “Geez, she must be someone if you make that threat.”

You couldn’t help but lift your head at their commotion, watching Tom lead the way. Harrison trailing behind with his duffle strap on his shoulder and spinning the soccer ball in his hands, but your glances connected as they passed. Being the brother he is, Harrison announces, “He has a thing for you! Big ole crush! Do you have his number-”

Tom pushed on Harrison’s back hard, forceful enough to get him through the door. He wanted to avoid you noticing the bright tint red painted on the apples of his cheeks from the embarrassment he couldn’t escape.

Your heart was in your throat, a warmness spreading throughout your body from the attention. Half-smiling, you looked back down at the book in your shaking hands. While it wasn’t your first choice, this happening made you want to buy it to remember this moment.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

The feeling of falling shocked your nerves, jerking your head up to make sure you were still in your seat. You hadn’t noticed you fell into a catatonic state, blankly staring at your laptop with little to no brain function. The brightness of the small screen gleamed against your face, making you blink your eyes a few more times before hearing the multiple cracks break in your back.

This was being a university student. More specifically, an English major.

As much as you loved a hardcover book, money thought differently. Instead of flipping through thick pages with a smell that comforted you, those same texts flashed on whatever device you could afford it on.

The biggest misconception of being an English major is that you like to read everything and anything. Completely wrong. You liked to read the books that were like a warm hug after a rainy, cold day or made you weep until mascara burned the corners of your eyes.

The details you paid attention to within the novels you kept close are the reason you loved to read. But, classics and sonnets that you were forced to analyze to write papers about what they mean bored you mindlessly, wondering why picking English was even an option when it’s just reading a language you know.

You turned to your tall bookshelf, perfectly placed in the corner of the room, and books of various sizes overflowed it like a garden. Some rest on the top of it after you ran out of room on your shelves.

Each had their own story as to how they were placed on the old wooden ledges; buying them brand new from bookstores, finding worn-out classics from the thrift store or they were collecting dust in your parent’s attic. But, lately most had come from the Joel & Anne’s bookstore–you blamed Tom.

Just as you wanted to pick up The Picture of Dorian Gray, a notification popped up in the corner of your laptop’s screen. It was a brief email from your professor, granting an extension to the midterm paper due for those who requested it and you couldn’t have been more revealed.

Thank God, you thought.

The pace of your heart slowed down, the cracking of your spine as you straighten your back at your desk.

Falling on top of the fluffy comforter of your bed, your body’s muscles relaxed. The tension disappeared from your chest as your heavy eyes fluttered close. In and out of sleep, the buzz of your phone caused your head to quickly rise. Half-awake, you leaned up to grab it then plummet back into the soft sheets.

“Since there’s an extension for your paper, does that mean I’ll see you at the Delta Epsilon ABC party tomorrow?” Your best friend, Lillian, texted.

“ABC?” You typed with a furrow brow.

“Anything But Clothes.” She replied with a tongue emoji.

Reluctant, you wanted to say “no” and take the extended due date seriously, but from how stressed out the paper was making you, a party didn’t sound like a bad idea.

You sealed your lips while typing, but once you sent “What should I wear?”

After Lillian pitched a few last-minute ideas, you exited from your text messages then placed your phone on the bedside table. Rubbing your dry eyes, you get back up to turn off your lamp and other lights.

As you stroll to the desk, you trace your finger over the trackpad of the laptop to exit from the email. Surprisingly, you forgot about the already-opened browser of the book you’ve been hunting down for your paper. You were so exhausted, you spaced out in those few minutes to probably forget about it.

Shakespearean plays were the subject of your paper, researching for hours on end about this ancient man’s entire collection and existence. His missing years, his creation of words we still use today, anything that pinpointed a significance in the English language was stored somewhere in the paper your fingers cramped to write for the past week.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Tom downed the last Red Bull from his mini fridge, compressing the aluminum can in his hand then throwing it in trash. There it sat with the other empty cans and overflow of crumbled drafts.

He couldn’t remember the last time he blinked today yet his fingers were typing any of the words coming up in his head. The sixty bucks he was being paid for it was his only motivation to finish the last lines about the rise of the Roman Empire.

Shockingly, it wasn’t as difficult as told to him– but usually, it’s the people who don’t pay attention in their classes that find it hard and in their way. At least if he did it, there were rewards other than a high grade.

As Tom pressed tab to indent, he thought of how you smiled at him. He hoped it was him and not Harrison being cocky from what he said. He pondered what would happen if he stayed, walking back to you and saying that his attraction was true. But, Tom was more confident in his mind and he couldn’t actually imagine seeing you after how embarrassed he felt from Harrison’s announcement.

“Hey!” Harrison said as he knocked on Tom’s open door, expecting nothing but what he saw– Tom’s ass glued to his desk chair and the bright, white screen of his laptop staring back at him.

Tom turned his head, rolling his eyes at the blonde, blue-eyed devil, “Come here to make any of my other of my secrets known to the public?” He continued to jot down any last corrections on the paper he’d been working on for hours.

Harrison chuckled, jumping onto Tom’s bed, “It’s not like you were going to say anything to her if I didn’t, now she knows. ‘You’re welcome’ would be the correct answer, Mr. English smartass.”

“See, you’re saying ‘you’re welcome’ when I didn’t ask for your help in the first place. She’s just a girl that comes to the store a lot and I just…” Tom shrugged, tossing his pen down, “I happen to notice her.”

“Happen to notice?” Harrison scoffed. “Dude, you were staring at her so hard at her that I thought your eyes were going to pop out. Blink once in a while so if this girl does notice, she doesn’t think you’re creepy.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “She’s not some girl, her name is Y/N.”

Fuck. Tom thought, now realizing how much he corrected Harrison out of habit.

Harrison instantly smirked, “So, you know her name too? What else are you hiding so I can brief her in on it… but more subtle this time.”

“H, why are you in my room at one in the morning?” Tom asked with furrowed his brows.

“You’re going to the ABC party, right? You’ll be there, participating for once, and having fun. Maybe getting high or laid will loosen you up. ”

“I can’t, I have these papers to finish for the guys who will be partying downstairs all night and if I’m lucky, I can get paid double if I ask them for their fee while they’re drunk.” Tom smirked.

“C’mon. One party! It’s a few hours out of the whole semester… Before you have to go back home for the holidays and do nothing but watch Christmas movies and read books for pleasure.”

Tom replied with silence.

“Maybe you could invite Y/N. It could be a nice romantic gesture that your books talk about, right?”

“So, invite her to a party where everyone is wearing anything but clothes and shit-faced within the first hour.” Tom took a pregnant pause, “Yeah, I’ll pass on that.”

Harrison knew not to pry anymore, not planning to give Tom shit for wanting to do well in school. Unlike most of the trust-fund raised kids, Tom paid his dues from paycheck to paycheck. Maintaining high grades wasn’t only for his pride, but his academic scholarship that discounted his tuition.

He admired Tom for his natural work ethic despite it interfered with his social life. Luckily the other brothers saw Tom as an asset, but it was for their own selfish reasons. Harrison was a month younger than Tom, but still felt protective of him as if he were an older brother.

“Okay, well. I have a ‘Beware of Dog’ sign if you want to use it as shorts tonight.” Harrison winked before leaving to his room.

Tom chuckled, but his smile slowly turned into a frown. The desperate need to earn cash for his two semesters’ tuition consumed him the past four months, realizing that this term was practically done and he had done nothing else but work.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

You could say that having caution tape wrapped around your body was ironically hazardous. The plastic was constricting, too afraid to bend over or you may fall and never get back up. While it was cute in thought, you looked in the mirror from head to toe and knew this could end in disaster.

With too many intrusive thoughts, you were about to change back into your grey sweatpants and grab an oversized shirt from the dryer. But, just as you took a last glance at your reflection, Lillian came right through the front door and sported a dress made out of bright green and white condom wrappers fastened together with tape and safety pins.

It was totally Lillian.

You furrowed your eyebrow, “Did you walk all the way here wearing that?”

But she ignored your comment from the stun of seeing you actually wearing a costume.

Lillian gasped, “You look hot! That caution tape was a good call.”

“I feel like this tape is going to fall off at any second.” You groaned, grabbing your college t-shirt from the basket on top of the dryer, but Lillian held your wrist.

“What are you doing?” She retorted.

You sighed, “Changing into something that lets me breathe and walk.”

“Oh, don’t be a party pooper. It’s only a few hours.” She said as she walked to the mirror, fixing her strawberry-blonde waves. She pushed them from the front of her body then behind her shoulders, wondering if the prominence of her collarbones made a difference.

“A few hours of guys asking me what’s underneath this caution tape.” You mumbled under my breath, and she moved you in front of the mirror.

“Y/N, I made a promise to you at the beginning of the semester to make sure you have an amazing last year of college… and I always keep my promises.” She said, her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you glanced at your absurd outfits in the mirror, “And you look too good to not go out...”

You chuckled, “Are you pouting?”

“Depends, does it guilt trip you want to go to the party more?” Lillian jeered, giving you a light squeeze around your waist.

You scrunch your nose, “Only a little.”

The two of you pre-gamed with a fruity, alcoholic seltzer, which barely gave any buzz, then ventured downstairs to the Uber waiting in front of your apartment building.

As Lillian snapped photos of herself from the lighting of the warm streetlights passing by, you noticed Joel & Ann’s bookstore in the darkness. It made you think of what Tom might have been doing tonight, wondering what his life was like outside the store.

You blushed thinking back at the fond moment of his friend shouting he liked you, keeping your head up for most of the day. As harmless as it was, it lingered in your mind and turned into scenarios of how you would enlighten that comment.

Would you make the first move? or has he already and you didn’t notice? Overthinking didn’t help, but you needed to come up with something good to respond to it whenever you’d see him again.

Once you arrive on Fraternity Row, the Delta Epsilon house was anything but quiet. Everyone was following the rules of the party, wearing anything but clothes in different and creative ways.

A brunette passing by wore a makeshift dress, the sparkling Christmas wrap tailored with tape to fit around her slim body. Another guy wore paper-mache shorts made from Superman comic book pages— even a couple of girls sporting the same outfit idea as Lillian which didn’t make her happy.

You hold back a laugh, “Well, at least your wrappers are green. Hers are purple… and Trojan.”

“Ugh, now I’m gonna blend in.” She pouted her glossed lips, “C’mon, let’s go see where the drinks are.”

The music played loud enough that you could feel the bass vibrating your teeth. Lillian hooked your arm around hers as she pulled you toward the bar set up in the corner of the dim lit room.

Everyone managed to commit to the theme of tonight, impressed by the sustainability people reached like wearing a dress made of streamers with your university’s colors or pants made out of cardboard beer boxes. The surprises and creativity seemed limitless tonight, but there was no one who caught your attention.

“Are you looking for someone?” Lillian asked as she poured brown liquor into her plastic cup, spilling a bit on the counter when she shifted the pour into your cup on the counter.

“Kind of.” You mumbled, “You know that guy at the bookstore that I talk about? Tom?”

Lillian giggled, “Oh. The guy you practically stalk.”

“I don’t stalk him.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve just never spoken to him other than giving him money for a book and your literature small talk.” She joked, but it sort of hit a nerve. You almost wanted to prove to her that you could talk to him, you were just nervous as to what to say past your total amount and tax.

“Okay, but you don’t have to put it that way.” You pouted, but she handed you a drink.

“Well, you can forget about bookstore boy, and we can have a little fun tonight. Cheers!” She diverted your attention to your cups, pushing them together before she took a long sip.

You watched her, but didn’t drink with her. Instead your eyes shifted around the excited crowd, but no luck in finding your crush with brown curls and shiny brown eyes to match. You twisted your lips and took a small sip of your bitter beverage, squeezing your eyes shut as it burned the inside of your throat.

“What is that?” You hissed.

“I don’t know, but it gets you loose.” Lillian jokes, hugging you quickly before she pulled you to where everyone was dancing… or what could be described as dancing. It was more like drunken movement between strangers while flashed by neon colors in sequences.

Trying to dance with Lillian in a restraint costume didn’t help until there were two taps on your shoulder. You quickly turned around, acquainted with Tom’s blonde friend— just dressed in shorts made out of the big cloth from Twister.

“Hey! You’re the cute girl from the bookshop, right?” Harrison chuckled.

“Yeah! And you’re the best friend of the cute guy at the bookstore?” You confidently said, raising your eyebrows.

Harrison shared the same expression, “Cute?” He smirked, “I bet he’d love to hear that if he were down here… Hey, why don’t you do him a favor and try to get him down here to have fun.”

“Why? Where is he?” You asked over the music.

“Upstairs in his room, working on his papers… C’mon, I bet he’d be happy to see you.”

Harrison winked at you before turning back to the girl he was dancing with, tipping his head back to down his beer. When searching for Lillan, you saw her dance with some of your shared friends by the unlit fireplace.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

With the door cracked open, Tom listened to the muffled music below as well as the occasional conversation passing by to find an empty room. The bright light from the lamp on his desk shined against his paper. Although you remained silent, Tom took a quick sip of his to-go coffee and blinked his tired, dry eyes a few times.

After two light knocks, Tom assumed it was Harrison, once again, asking him to come downstairs, but instead his heart shot up to his throat when he saw you standing in his doorframe. He was even more surprised seeing caution tape wrapped around your body like a tacky, shiny dress.

“Hey! Hey, nice to see you… especially with your new look.” Tom jeered.

You giggled, “I could say the same, never really see the bottom half of you.”

The two of you shared a warm laugh before Tom shyly asked, “What- What are you doing here?”

“My friend sort of invited me at the last second, then your friend told me that I should come up here and try to urge you to come downstairs… possibly in a costume.” You trailed.

Tom licked his lips, “I appreciate it, but I’m working on some papers tonight. I want to get them done before tomorrow morning”

“A few papers over a party in your own fraternity?”

He hummed, “Well, papers I write for ten dollars a page. Paid in cash or credit… usually.” Tom smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do I even want to know the other options?” You joked, slowly walking further into the room.

His blush was hard for him to hide, so he lowered his head down to hide the rosiness on his cheeks when he stood up to stretch. As Tom reached his arms over his head, the end of his shirt lifted a bit and you could see his v-line that disappeared past the band of his Calvin Klein boxers.

Making you blush in return, you rub the back of your neck and look at some of the posters lazily taped on his dull, baby blue-colored walls. Shockingly, not one model from Playboy or Sports Illustrated was staring back at you in a tiny string bikini, rather there were posters of his favorite bands, a few classical authors by his bookcase and distressed movie posters of The Empire Strikes Back and Jaws above his full bed.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess.” Tom tossed a few t-shirts on his bed in his hamper by the door.

He said that, but it was probably the cleanest guy’s room you ever saw. Besides the clothes scattered around, the bed was made and his desk was fairly organized. There was even a trash can–with a trash bag to line it.

“Mess? I wish my room looked like this half the time.” You jeered, walking over to his bookcase, “A bookcase says a lot about someone to me.”

Tom chuckled, leaning on his desk, “And what does mine tell you?”

You awkwardly sat down on the end of his bed, trying to cross your leg over the other. You tried not to show that the plastic coiled around your body was uncomfortable, but one wrong move and you thought that you may expose yourself to Tom at any second.

“You okay?” He asked, “I don’t want to assume, but you look very tense.”

“Wow, it’s that noticeable.” You joked back, Tom chuckling in return. “Yeah, it wasn’t my idea to come tonight so, I got stuck wearing this.” You added, running your hand over the material.

He could see the pout on your face, maybe even a bit of embarrassment, so he suggested, “Do you want to change? I can give you something to wear. Not as much plastic, but more comfortable.” He joked.

Your face heated as you stood up, watching him pull clothes from his drawers. He grabbed a dark-blue Tottenham sweatshirt with a faded logo and baggy, gray sweatpants with your university logo embroidered by the hip.

“Here, hope these are okay.”

“Trust me, anything but this dress is fine.” You grinned, taking them from him. Your hand grazed his, making him gulp as you pulled the clothes to you, “Do you mind if I change in here?”

Tom raised his eyebrows, not realizing he wasn’t responding until he nodded, “Yeah! Yeah, I can just turn around.” He reassured, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched around his room, trying to fixate on any small object.

Like the vinyl player in the corner on top of the rack, something he bought out of being impulsive. At the time, his dad had given him some old records that he had found in the attic from spring cleaning, music that was popular when he was Tom’s age. Tom stopped listening to them after–

“Well, I certainly look the part of being a frat dude.” You jeered, turning for him.

“I think you look pretty...”

Way to sound creepy, Tom thought.

“Pretty nice!” He quickly added, trying to save himself from embarrassment.

You smiled at his shy compliment before glancing at the papers scattered around his desk, “So, what are you working on?”

“Uh, themes in Frankenstein. It’s actually my final paper.”

You arched your eyebrow, but admired how he had three different drafts and all of them were marked in red. As you leaned further down to read, Tom quickly shuffled the papers, “It’s not really my best. I’ve been through every book talking about Mary Shelley and her reason for this book... It’s pretty scandalous if you ask me.”

God. He was so dorky, it almost made him charming.

Just as you were going to say your joking comment, the music got louder downstairs and you two could feel the heavy vibration of the bass through the carpet.

“Is your paper the only reason you’re up here by yourself?”

“Well, technically you’re up here with me so, am I really by myself?” Tom shrugged.

You chuckled, “Don’t deflect.”

Tom licked his lips, letting out a long sigh, “I just need enough cash to cover tuitions, and saving up for grad school too. My family has gotten tied up in money and my friend, Harrison, said that he could help me be in a frat and I could make more connections. So, I’m not really here to have fun, more like just doing what I can to make some money and add to my resume.”

“I know we just met, but… Can I give you some advice?” You sighed.

He naively nodded, his eyes turning glassy.

“You need to have some fun while you’re still in college.” You giggled, not meaning to sound mean, but you didn’t have to touch Tom to know he was a tense guy.

Tom responded with a nervous chuckle, “I’ve had… fun. I have fun. This party theme just isn’t really for me.” He protested.

“Well, I can’t disagree with you there.” You grinned, glancing at your now-cozy outfit, “Then what do you want to do tonight? What’s your fun thing?... other than reading the Mary Shelley scandal.”

His eyes searched around the room, then hummed, “It would be nice to have some peace and quiet… maybe work on my papers–”

You interpreted, “Okay, no, no. You’re not working on any papers, it’s about having fun. So, let’s go somewhere you think is fun.”

He smirked which made you think that he had a good idea, rather he said, “We can go to the bookstore.”

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.

You leaned against his desk, “Really? How?”

“My aunt and uncle own it.” He smirked.

“Ah. So, you’re like a bookstore nepotism baby. How lucky.” You grinned, cringing at your own jokes on the inside. But, it’s not like flirting was either of your fortes.

“Some kids get into movie premieres and have luxury cars, I have books and the cat that hangs in the front window until he goes back to his owners across the street.”

“I always wondered if that was your guys’ cat.” You smiled.

Tom nodded, “His name is Milo and he loves eating our plants and sleeping on the classic novels.”

You shared another light laugh before you said, “What are we waiting for? Get your jacket on.”

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Once you took a step outside the house, the night breeze felt cool against your sweaty skin. The fresh air was a relief to your lungs once you walked out of the humid-filled frat house, like you had forgotten how clean it could smell outside.

Although the bookstore was a few blocks away from campus, Tom made you comfortable as he made you. Both of you weren’t sure if there were feelings, but there could be since your interaction isn’t ending with you leaving him behind a counter.

Tall street lights guided the way, and the only people passing were stumbling from the few bars lining your college town. There was little small talk between you two on the way, but Tom stopped in front of a convenience store, one he frequently went to if he wanted something to snack on during his shifts.

He walked toward the door, opening it, “You want anything?” He asked.

You nodded, walking in as he held the door open. The two of you walked into the small store with white walls and bright lighting over all the aisles. He walked around the chips and candy, heading to the big freezer with the familiar ice cream brands around the case.

The two of you gazed over it, smiling at the variety of choices like two kids. You couldn’t remember the last time you picked from the freezer– probably before you were even given an allowance. You were seeing another side of Tom, one that was a bit goofy when the stress faded from his character.

“Which one do you want?... I think I’m gonna get a cookie sandwich.” He hummed.

“No way. The strawberry shortcakes with the oats? Or the gelatos? Way better options.” You giggled.

He chuckled at your wit, “Okay, you pick for me. I pick for you. Does that sound fair?”

“Hmm…” You smirked, sticking your hand out, “Deal.”

Tom smiled as he shook yours, both your fingers trailing when you pushed open the glass case.

“Okay. Turn around…” You said, circling your finger to signal him to face back.

The curly brunette rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face, taking a slow turn around with his arms crossed. He stared at the rack of colorful packed snacks, reading the brands and flavors.

You grunted as you shoved the sliding window, then grabbed an ice cream bar of your choice. Putting it behind your back, you tell him, “Okay, your turn.”

Tom smiled to himself, seeing you try to conceal your ice cream bar under the hoodie as you headed toward the counter. He could hear your exchange with the cashier before Tom grabbed an ice cream bar out of the freezer, quickly closing it and hiding his pick behind his back.

“I hope you got me something good.” You teased, facing him and your hands behind your back holding the plastic convenience bag..

He sweetly chuckled again, “I think I did okay… I think you should be worried.”

“Ah, are you hard to please, Tom?” You continued to jeer with him.

All he could do was turn pink, chuckling out of embarrassment like an elementary boy in school. There was a glimmer in his brown eyes and you weren’t sure if it was from the bright lights in the store, but it made your heart pang at how innocent and sweet he appeared.

The two of you walked outside, sitting on the bench under the awning of the convenient store. There was a space between you as the bags crinkled when both of you reached into them. Counting down, you pulled out your ice cream bars for one another and it left you both with smiles and light laughter.

“Great minds think alike.” Tom grinned.

Both of you held the same ice cream bar, still exchanging the treats and opening them. As you ate on the bench, there was silence– but it was comforting silence. Better than surround sound music and drinks being spilled everywhere, preferring the sound of crickets and watching some stray cats walk by the alleys.

You tried to prevent any drops of ice cream getting on the hoodie he let you borrow, leaning out as you bit down and it made him chuckle.

“It’s okay. It’s an old hoodie.”

“Yeah, but, I don’t want to be a slob.” You grinned, trying to ignore how nervous you felt.

“Here, I got it.” He said, leaning over to wipe your chin with a napkin.

You glanced into his eyes again as he came close, holding your breath.

“There, now you are a presentable member of society again.” He jeered, putting the napkin in his wrapper before tossing it in the bin next to the bench.

The two of you stand up together, pulling and adjusting your clothes before continuing the venture to the bookstore. Street lights shined down on the red brick sidewalk, and a few cars passed by as they headed toward the center of town as you both walked further out from the noise of the bars and partying.

Chirping from the crickets was peaceful and the rest of the way was lit by the full moon, making you glance at the glowing orb high above the clouds and surrounded by the stars. The shine reflected off your eyes, smiling at the breathtaking sight but unknowing to you, Tom was glaring at you.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He trailed, not taking his eyes off you as he shyly grinned.

Tom wished he had spoken to you sooner, not knowing how to express right then and there how he had some sort of feelings for you.

You turned back to him, “Are you okay?”

Embarrassed, he quickly nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Great.”

You grinned back at him, “Good.” you said before the two of you continued to walk to the bookstore.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

The soft warm glow shined on Tom’s back as his keys jingled when he unlocked the front door.

“You got it?” You ask him, watching him turn the key both ways until there was a click.

“Yeah, it’s pretty old so-”

Tom pushed enough of his weight with his shoulder against the door, opening the seal the door created from how cold it was outside. He half-smiled before walking into the dark room and you followed close behind him.

With how many times you’d been in this store, you could bet Tom that you knew the layout better than him. You carefully stepped around the racks of books, leading to the counter before you heard a loud thump.

“Ow!” Tom hissed under his breath, instantly rubbing his knee from cutting the corner too hard.

“Are you okay?” You giggled.

“Lovely.” He groaned, rubbing away against his soon-to-be bruised skin.

He turned on the reading lamp on the counter, the warm glow against his freckled skin. You noticed how he was able to smile with his eyes, the crinkling next to them when he laughed or smiled. Although you didn’t mean to observe that, it was hard to not notice. He radiated some kind of shine in the way he carried himself– at least from what you gathered.

“So, I’m sure you have some weird stuff behind here, huh?” You teased him, squatting down to look at the shelves.

“Nothing weird, but I hoard books… without telling anyone.” He admitted in a low tone, scratching the nape of his neck.

There was a collection of books down here filling up two rows, most of them had bright tabs on the sides to indicate some annotations between pages. The books ranged from recent autobiographies and novels to ones with broken spines and the names of classic writers on the covers.

You came back up, “I think you have a problem.” You jeered, smiling at him.

“As if being interested in literature is a problem.”

“...Touché.” You nodded, “Do you like working here?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He trailed, “It kills time, it’s quiet.”

“As opposed to going home?” You asked out of curiosity. He was sort of like a guessing game. One clue led to another, intriguing you as you went down this mystery path of a person.

“Uh, I don’t… I don’t go home anymore.” He nervously chuckled, “Haven’t been for a while.”

Heat burned his cheeks and neck, not realizing he was venting in the moment.

“Sorry to hear that.” You gently replied and sensed his discomfort as he looked down.

Tom hummed, “It’s alright. I feel less lonely here.” He shrugged, picking at his fingernails before looking into your eyes.

“Well, now you have me so… it’s a little less lonely than that.” You smiled, scrunching your nose. “...and that may have been the corniest thing I’ve said ever.”

“Yeah, just a little.” Tom nodded, and a sweet chuckle followed, “But, thanks.”

He had a bit of a twinkle in his caramel-toned eyes, and his jaw was incredibly sharp. When he looked away, he’d clench his jaw and you noticed how tense he seemed.

Tom smiled, blushing a bit before he pushed the book on top of the counter toward him. It was an old copy of Pride and Prejudice that he found on a top shelf a few weeks ago. He re-read it three times, and each time felt like a different experience. He rarely annotated, but Tom genuinely loved reading this book and wanted to write down any thought he had about it.

“A favorite?” You asked him.

“Can you tell?” He chuckled, passing it to you.

You skimmed the pages, running your fingers over the different colored post-its sticking out. His handwriting was a bit small, but you could make out what he noted and you found it incredibly cute. You smiled to yourself as you read through them, and Tom hoped there was nothing embarrassing in there– not that there would be but he was already nervous around you.

Just as you got to the last page, a picture fell out and you turned it over to its front. The frame was cardboard with the Disney logo on it and the picture was of Tom and his parents. Sporting a Mickey Mouse baseball cap, he showed a huge smile and held a melting ice cream. His mom and dad were smiling too, his mom with her arm around his small structure and Tom gulped.

“Are these your parents?” You asked.

“Yeah, I was wondering where I left that picture.” He smiled, taking it from you.

You watched him grin at it, but the smile slowly faded the longer he glanced. It didn’t seem so much reminiscing, but feeling more sad. He didn’t want to get down on himself, but he put the picture underneath the counter.

“It’s cute. My parents never took me to those kinds of places growing up, but I was never the Disney princess lover either.” You pouted.

He chuckled, “What? You didn’t want a Disney prince? Something like Prince Eric?”

You hummed, “You do resemble a bit of Prince Phillip.”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms, “The boring one?”

“Okay, okay. Maybe Prince Charming… you look like you can treat a girl to a dance,” you teased.

“The one time I slow danced was at my prom in year 13 and I remember stepping on her feet most of the night.” He told, trying to deflect your compliment

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, please. Now you’re being dramatic like a prince.” You grinned at him.

Hesitantly, you moved your hand toward his face and pushed back the curls laying on his forehead. Your fingers carded to the back of his head, feeling his soft coarse hair and his brown eyes sparkled. It was a bold first move, but you wanted to know if this intense crush was too good to be true.

All this passes through Tom’s head is “do it”, his instincts scream. Kiss her.

You brought your hand back to his cheek, and you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him. Tom slowly moved his hands up your sides, pulling you closer to him as the two of you continued to makeout. He lightly pushed you against the counter, your bodies pressed together as he tasted your cherry-flavored lip balm.

With your foreheads against one anothers, Tom pulled away to take a breath, but it caused you both to let out this warm giggle. Just as you were about to kiss again, there was a sudden knock on the door along with the doorknob jiggling.

You quickly ducked under the counter while Tom stood there, trying to fix his hair as well as rub the lip balm off his mouth. He saw his uncle walk through the door, turning on the lights and Tom’s embarrassment flooded his body.

“I thought we were getting robbed. The silent alarm went off a few minutes ago.” His uncle told him, pretty light-hearted once he saw it was Tom.

“No, it was just me.” Tom gulped, glancing down at you hiding under the counter.

“Good, good. Why are you here so late? Your mom told me you had some party tonight.” His uncle trailed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It was getting… loud and I just left to get some air. Work on some papers.”

You could audibly hear his uncle sigh, then say, “Is this because of… the divorce?”

Tom sealed his lips, it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now– especially since you were unknowingly in the room. Although divorce was a common thing, it was different going through when you’re already grown up and that was Tom’s struggle. He knew his parents had underlying issues, but he didn’t think he would get sat down and told his parents would separate their lives then and now.

“I know, it’s hard. But, you have to talk to someone about this. We don’t want you… hiding away, missing out on opportu-”

“I’m not, I just… wanted to be alone.” Tom shrugged, trying to grin and bear it.

His uncle didn’t want to get more into it since Tom was still going through it, but he nodded.

“Alright, make sure to lock up when you’re done. See you tomorrow, kid.” He sweetly said before he walked back out, the bell above the door ringing. Tom was only left with a bright red face, and a sudden racing in his heart. It’s like he realized how lonely he had made himself to be rather than people avoiding him altogether.

Coming from under the counter, you dusted off your shirt at first. You didn’t want to immediately face Tom, sensing there was a bit of awkwardness created. He rubbed the back of his curls, but you finally broke the silence.

“Sorry, my lip balm kind of… got all over your lips.” You joked, taking your thumb to wipe the smudge of gloss from his chin.

Tom smiled, but nodded, “Well, I’m more sorry you had to hear that, but it’s no big deal. I don’t know why my family has so many issues.”

“I think they’re just genuinely worried about you. I mean, you don’t seem much of the talking type.” You confessed.

“It’s ironic. They don’t ask about any of this stuff until I just don’t say anything at all. Maybe, I just want to be left alone and be able to think about how the only two stable people in my life just choose to not be with each other anymore.” He trailed, trying to humor himself.

You could tell he’d been hurt by people before, but this was something he was expecting. It was still shocking, but he chose to close everyone off.

Tom thought if he didn’t have to talk about these feelings, they’d go away. But, by telling you, basically a complete stranger, how he felt— his hurt was more on the surface than he thought.

“Well, you don't deserve to feel this way.” You told him with honesty, rubbing his tense shoulder, “If I can promise you one thing.”

There was a bit of comfort in that. At least someone acknowledging his feelings over their own.

“Thanks.” He grinned.

“Please, you’re one cigarette away from being Holden Caulfield. I felt like I needed to step in now… because he was the worst.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “He witnessed worse.”

“Well, luckily he’s a fictional character. Meanwhile, you need to worry about how you feel, and not be so… scared of thinking the world is going to get you.” You trailed, running your hand from your shoulder to the back of his curls.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

A week and a half breezed by and all you did was hang out with Tom at the bookstore, the library, or his room at his fraternity house. Occasionally, Harrison would pop in, trying to tease him, but also try to get to know you since Tom cared about you. It was actually a bit cute the way Harrison would pinch at Tom’s cheek, trying to make him flustered in your presence. You could tell he cared about him too.

Once your finals were finished and Tom was paid for his essays, it was nice to hang around the bookstore without the added tension. You could hang out for hours and read books in the cozy corner of the store, near the cat by the window and the sunlight would kiss against your skin. Sometimes Tom would get lost in the mesmerizing scene–like being with you meant more than fate. Something like he read in novels.

The sun was starting to set when the two of you entered the pizzeria where Harrison worked. Both of you nodded your heads over at him behind the counter before finding a booth by the window.

“Look at him in his cute apron.” You teased, sliding into the booth.

“Trust me, he thinks it’s a magnet for girls. I wouldn’t let him know.” Tom chuckled.

Although you and Tom were having a fun time, you hadn’t talked about the kiss you shared. Not that it wasn’t on both your minds, but felt better left unsaid than having to figure out what’s going on between you two and ruining this blossoming friendship. It already took long enough to talk to each other outside the bookstore, neither of you wanted to taint that.

“So, do you have any plans for the weekend?” You asked him.

Before Tom could answer, Harrison slid next to him already sporting a cheeky smile and wiped some flour on Tom’s cheek from his apron.

“What are you two gossiping about, huh? Or just miss me?” Harrison winked at you, but Tom wiped the flour off his face.

“We just wanted to grab a slice.” Tom cheeks tinted pink, feeling as if he’s being embarrassed by his dad.

“Calm down, Tommy.” Harrison smiled, “You’re too easy to mess with sometimes.” Harrison jokingly retorted.

You giggled, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna go and order.” You tell them before getting up, heading to the counter.

The two boys watched you walk up to the counter, beaming at the cashier as you made small talk before ordering. Tom’s look glistened, sparkling when he kept his eyes on you and Harrison snickered at his doe-like gaze.

“So, you guys made out and nothing happened?”

It was no lie that Tom regretted venting Harrison–moments like this reminded him of that.

Tom gulped, “I think what’s going on is fine.” He lied.

“Fine?” Harrison asked, “You’ve been crushing on her for weeks and she obviously likes you too.”

“You can’t know that.” Tom trailed.

“She’s been to the bookstore everyday to hang out with you, going out to dinner, spending time at the house and you know no girl likes hanging out there, look at the bathroom for God’s sake, it’s disgusting. No woman willingly stays there unless she’s basically in love.” Harrison explained.

Tom nodded in disagreement, “I don’t think she… likes me. I’m not gonna mess up just talking to her.”

“You’re not. You just need to figure out how to make the right move.” Harrison stated before quickly asking, “Hey, you got invited to Steven’s wedding, right?”

Steven was one of the alumni of the frat house and a close friend of both the guys. Tom was a “baby-faced” freshman when they met and was still teased to this day for looking so young.

“Yeah. I did, but I don’t know if I’m going. It’s kind of far.” Tom trailed, scratching his nail against the table.

Harrison smiled, “No, you should go and Y/N is your plus one. Bam, matchmaking.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Yeah because a two hour car trip would really make me less awkward and weird.”

“You need to be a little hopeful. It’s not like your strangers anymore. You guys hang out at the store for hours with no problems. C’mon, she’d love it. It’s a nice countryside wedding and lots of our friends will be there so it’s not like you’ll be the odd one out. Introduce her, and maybe find some romantic spot to makeout, huh?”

Tom thought Harrison was a bit in over his head, but trying to make him see the other side of his pessimistic thoughts. Tom liked you, you like Tom. The problem was finding the moment to say that outlook to each other.

He twisted his lips, “How do I even ask that?”

“You’ll know how to say it when the moment comes… which seems like right now.” Harrison smirked.

As you walked back with a table timer in your hand, already wanting it to vibrate with your order since you were starving. You slipped into the booth, noticing both boys getting quiet which made you giggle.

“Am I interrupting something private?” You teased them.

“Actually, we were talking about a wedding we’re going to next weekend.” Harrison immediately said.

Tom wanted to sink into his seat.

“A wedding? Aw, that’s nice.” You smiled, “Who’s wedding?”

“Our friend, Steven, is getting married and I think Tom wanted to ask you something…” Harrison insisted.

Tom’s eyes widened, but Harrison quickly said, “I gotta get back to work. I’ll bring your food right out.” He flashed a cheery smile, something Tom wanted to slap off his face if he could, before leaving you two to talk– more like Tom improving what to say.

The feeling could be compared to dropping a baby into the deep end, trying to teach them how to swim and all Tom could do is internally panic.

You thanked Harrison before facing toward Tom’s pink-tinted face, and you tilted your head with a cheeky smile, “Something to ask me?”

He sighed but nervously smiled, “Not to impose, but… I was wondering if you wanted to… go with me? To the wedding. I know it’s last minute and all, but I would really like you to go… with me.”

You giggled at his shy question, “I’d love to go with you, Tom. It sounds like fun.”

There was a relief in the air for Tom, not thinking you would accept so quickly and with an assuring smile.

“ Really?” He still asked.

“I don’t know why you assume the worst of me. Maybe being your wedding date will change that. Weddings always give people a bit of optimism” You chuckled, tilting your head at his shy expression.

A light chuckle left his lips, “Remember, optimism isn’t my thing. Then our personality equal us out.” He joked.

“Exactly why I’m the perfect wedding date. I make the conversations and you hold your drink and nod. It’ll be adorable.” You grinned back as heat radiated from your cheeks.

Tom can’t hold back his smile once you look out the window. His eyes traced your jaw then up your perfect cheekbones, trailing to your eyes as the streetlight reflected off the irises. He feels that moment again where he could confess everything he felt for you right there in front of everyone at the pizza place, a small amount of courage whispering in his ear to do it. Just to say it out loud.

“Here’s your complimentary garlic bread, love birds.” Harrison interrupted as he placed the plastic basket on the center of the table.

“Thank you for your incredible service.” You jeered at the cheeky blonde.

Tom laughed off his sudden thought, nodding at Harrison before you two started talking about the wedding plan since you were going now. The rest of the night was hanging out and eating together, talking about the future with classic rock playing over the old speakers in the restaurant.

There was a coziness that radiated the more you were vulnerable, even showing through being more relaxed while sitting in the booths. You felt like you could tell him anything and for once not have to think twice about what you revealed or said. No one could compare to Tom and you wish you could tell him that.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

A breeze brushed past your face as you waited outside your apartment with your bags. You were sat on the front step, waiting for the two boys to pick you up on this nice summer day. Tempted to text them for a time of arrival, the door opened behind you and you glanced up to see Lillian.

“I went through the back only for your roommates to tell me you’re already waiting outside. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.” She jeered as she sat next to you on the stoop.

You sighed, “Sorry, I’ve been hanging out with Tom.”

She chuckled, “Of course. I’m not surprised. It’s been this way ever since you ditched me at the party-”

“I didn’t mean to di-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Lillian giggled, putting her hand on top of your knee, “I know you really like him.”

“I don’t… like him that much.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone could actually get your attention away from books or studying so, I like to call it fate that you met at the party.” She teased and scrunched her nose.

You rolled her eyes before turning your head, seeing the car come down the street and you quickly stand up. As you brush off the back of your pants, Lillian picks up one of your bags and the two of you slowly walk up to the curb. Once the car stopped, the two boys got out and Tom immediately greets you with his pearly smile.

“Hey Tom, Harrison, this is my friend, Lillian.” You introduced them, gesturing your head.

“Hey there.” She greeted both of them, moving her hair behind her shoulders, “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

“We promise.” Tom grinned, lowly chuckling before he took your bag she gave to him.

After giving a goodbye hug Lillian, you slid into the backseat of the car. You sat on the left side so you could sit diagonally from Tom’s view, already creating terribly awkward scenarios in your head for what this two hour drive may be like.

What if we don’t talk at all? What if I’m in over my head? What if this isn’t real or what I thought? What if this whole trip was going to be a big mistake?

Tom was pondering the same, but he tried his best not to doubt his own feelings. Especially after the, what Harrison would call, pep talk he gave him on the way to your building. Nevertheless, it made Tom especially when he already knew he was being incredibly shy, but knew Harrison meant well.

“Alright so, I found out Cami Bernet was coming and I wanted to stay in her room so… It’s just the two of you sharing the hotel room, yeah?” Harrison announced, making you and Tom share a sudden glance.

“I don’t mind…” You trailed, your eyes shifting.

“Yeah, no problem.” Tom quickly added.

Harrison smiled at your reactions, “Don’t worry, there’s one bed and a pull out couch.”

Tom’s face beamed a light pink, making him turn his head toward the window. But, you did the same by turning your face to see the street passing by as you were leaving town. Harrison couldn’t help but smirk to himself at how antagonizing he could be yet trying to be a perfect matchmaker.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Toward the end of the drive, you laid down in the backseat wearing the cozy hoodie Tom stuffed in his backpack. With your head sunk into your pillow and your legs curled up, you looked as comfortable as someone could on a road trip. A few times, Tom glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were okay when there was a sudden bump in the road, but you also looked cute nuzzling your face into your pillow.

Once you arrived to the hotel, you stirred in your daze as Harrison pulled in front of the huge front doors. Two valets walked up to the car, one on Harrison’s side then another by the trunk. As Tom got out, he quickly opened the back door and lightly shook your leg.

“Hey Y/N, we’re here.” He softly spoke, giving his hand for you to hold.

You blinked a few times, but lazily smiled as you wrapped your hand around his and pulled yourself up from the comfortable position you lied in. You pulled down your hoodie when you got out of the car, grabbing your bag on the floor while watching the valets take the rest of them to put on a luggage cart.

“Jesus, Tom. What’s in this?” Harrison asked as he gave Tom his duffle.

“A few books, some shoes…” He trailed.

“You brought books to a vacation wedding? How adorable.” Harrison teased him as he gave the valet his keys before entering the hotel doors.

You giggled, “What literary fix did you bring on a two day trip? Romantic novels, I bet.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s just my genre.” Tom chuckled, his eyebrows raised at his comment.

The entrance to the hotel was grand, to say the least. There were two large, revolving glass doors trimmed with gold that entered into the main lobby with renaissance art against the woven wallpaper. Both your heads tilted up toward the ceiling, admiring the pale murals along the lavish lights.

You could only hope to get married at such a beautiful place in the future, and you were pretty optimistic that you would find someone for that to happen.

Harrison faced the two of you walking toward him, noticing the way you glared at Tom and your eyes looking so bright. Although he was still looking at the scenery, your eyes were just on him. It made Harrison smirk, but turn back to the hotel front desk manager.

“Thanks.” Harrison grinned, taking the key card. He turned to Tom, “Here’s your key. Don’t be too loud and rowdy. This is a classy place.” He teased, seeing Tom already turn a tomato red.

You snickered, “Thanks, Harrison. You guys planned doing anything?”

Harrison nodded, “I’m meeting Cami by the pool then we’re gonna go back to her room before the rehearsal dinner. What about you guys?”

“I actually saw on their website that there’s a historical library on the second floor, a bunch of old collections.” You turned, “Tom? Interested?” You asked him with a beaming smile across your face.

Tom glanced at Harrison, who also was smiling, then back at you, “Yeah, of course. Sounds fun.”

“Wow, you guys really know how to get out of your comfort zone. Have fun with that.” Harrison, obviously sarcastic, stated before leaving to meet Cami.

Quickly, the two of you took the large, carpeted staircase on the second floor and followed the signs that directed toward the library. It wasn’t as fancy as the hotel, but it did look pretty old from the traditional style of the room.

You looked up at the high ceiling before heading toward the back shelves of familiar British authors. Although most of these titles triggered him back to all the essays he was paid to do his last year of college, he glared back at you completely mesmerized by the complete collections.

“Look, Williams works. All his romanticism in one set. I bet that’s like a dream to you.” You smiled to yourself, flashing back to your late night ramblings over the phone about literature. You never thought you’d meet anyone with a bigger opinion on themes of romance– and Tom was pretty convincing in his arguments. Truly adorable when you he went on his tangents, just wanting to listen to his soft voice all day.

Tom traced his fingers along the spines of the books before selecting one to read. He breezed through the pages, noticing the pictures within the text before he glanced up and didn’t see you straight on.

“Y/N?”

“Over here!” Your voice echoed.

He followed the sound of your tone then seeing you sitting in a comfortable nook that overlooked the beach and pool area.

“I found the best seat in the house.” You jeered, pulling your legs to your chest with your back against the wall of the nook.

Tom joined you, sitting down on the cushion within the space and facing you from the opposite side. The natural sunlight came through the window beautifully, so much so that he was already in the reading mood.

You grin, “I bet a bunch of writers came here and just wrote their hearts out.” You said as you looked out to the calm ocean.

“Or where a lot of people hid from their brides.” Tom jeered.

You rolled your eyes, then crawled over to his side. You instantly curled up next to him, your head against his chest as the two of you glanced at the page of the book together. Tom didn’t expect you to get so close, but he wasn’t complaining.

Within that time, you learned that Tom is the fast reader between you two. Dorky enough, you were a bit envious of that. Everytime he tried to turn the page to tease you, you’d quickly put your hand up to stop him and plea that he stop moving his eyes so fast.

About thirty pages in, Tom hadn’t realized he was flying through the pages with how in depth he was of the text. He turned his head and saw you fell asleep, smiling down at you and not knowing the short car ride really tired you out. He didn’t move though, he wouldn’t dare to with how peaceful you appeared. He chuckled at your light breaths, napping against him with your hand at the center of his chest.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

A few minutes later, you woke up in Tom’s arms and almost sprung up from the embarrassment.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I passed out.” You chuckled, lifting out of his arms.

“No, it’s okay. I was just reading away.” He shrugged, showing that boyish smile that made your heart race.

The two of you came to the conclusion that you were starved, so you thought of the only bougie thing to do on a wedding weekend– ordering room service. Giddy and smiling, both of you went one of the three huge elevators in the hall and headed to the eleventh floor.

When you entered your room, your luggage was lined up by the door. Neither of you wanted to gawk, but it was probably one of the more fancier places either of you stayed in your lives.

There was a deep tub in the bathroom and robes hanging on the door as well as a king-size bed with an incredible ocean view and balcony. The sofa was in the corner with the mini-fridge next to it, making you curious as to what else they could offer.

“Do you think if we take from here Harrison will kill us?” You asked Tom, opening the small fridge door.

“Kill, no. Strangle? Maybe.”

You giggled, but saw a few sodas and healthy snacks. As you checked out the selection, Tom walked back to the bathroom and turned on the light. His eyes widened to a bottle of champagne on ice set on the counter. There was a tiny card next to the bucket that said: Happy Wedding Everyone! From us, to you! XO The Bride and Groom.

Holy shit, how much was Steven paying for this. Tom thought.

“Wow, that’s for us?” You asked peaking from the doorway.

“I say that we toast. It only seems right.” Tom trailed as he checked the label on the bottle.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward of a night as the two of you dread. Thank God.

Tom already popped the cork, making you hurry back with a bit of a pout on your lip.

“Well, couldn’t find wine glasses but I did find hotel coffee mugs. Much more sophisticated.”

After pouring both cups at least half, the two of you sat on the balcony to admire the scene. The view from your hotel room was beautiful, as if it was a green screen. The sun perfectly setting below the shorelines and the winds blowing the tall grass in the dunes. It reminded you both that it was the summertime; a period of time to relax and destress from the fast pace environment of school and warm up from the previous harsh winters.

There was a freedom in the air, almost confusing from how much time you suddenly had.

“This is definitely the kind of view I want for my wedding.” You trailed, a bit mesmerized.

Tom nodded, “Really?”

“Yeah. A beach wedding is romantic… well, until it gets windy, but I know I’ll get my planning down.” You said before turning to him, “Where do you want to get married?”

His heart skipped a beat, “I’ve never thought about it.”

You scoffed, “Never?”

He nodded, “Never ever. My dad sort of said that it’s what the woman does and the man just nods and agrees.”

“God, your dad sounds like a joy… No offense.” You quickly corrected yourself.

“He’s always been like that. Then I wonder why they didn’t work out.” Tom tried to humor himself.

Your lips went to the side before saying, “Hey, that’s their issues. It doesn’t fall on you or anything. I personally think they did do a great job at raising their son. He turned out pretty okay.” You grinned, holding your cup with both hands.

Tom smirked, “I can agree with okay.”

When he looked at you, it’s like he had this crush on you for years. He thought for a moment that maybe if he believed in his gut feeling, there could be a chance with you. He couldn’t keep backing out each time he wanted to ask you that simple question.

You wondered the same just a few feet away from him. You didn’t want to think so highly of yourself in his perspective, but the thought of getting over this crush would make you feel nothing but regret.

Something was there. The word for it was unknown at the moment. Ultimately, it was now or never.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

In the early hours of the day, you and Tom found yourselves in a rush to get ready. As you tried to do your makeup in the bathroom, Tom was in the main room looking in the long mirror while trying to perfect his black tie. He wore a nice navy blue suit with a white button up, feeling like he was playing dress up since he never went to many fancy occasions other than important fraternity meetings.

“How are you doing in there?” You asked him, contorting your face to make sure there were no creases in your concealer.

“I remember why I wear clip-on ties.” He mumbled as he pulled at the end of the tie, but the knot was too crooked by his collar.

As you put down the brush, you grabbed one of your earrings and tried putting it on as you walked out to see where he was at. You saw how he struggled to figure out what shirt to where, seeing the two other unbuttoned ones on the pull-out coach he slept on last night.

“Here, let me try.” You trailed, standing right in front of him so you could align the tie. Tom glanced at you, your eyes focused on the centering as your fingers moved the knot around to get it just right. He gulped with how close you were to him– the last time being when you two had a short make-out before being interrupted. If he kept thinking about it, the more red his cheeks would get and he tried to let his mind go somewhere else.

“There, that’s better. A wedding date has never looked so handsome.” You teased, patting down his tie on top of his shirt. He nervously chuckled, both of you sharing a shy smile before you touched his gelled curls to fix the stray strand of hair by his forehead.

“Now, how do I look?” You asked him, dramatically posing with your hands on your hips. You wore a knee high dress, a pale blue that complimented Tom’s shade of blue where it still matched.

“You look beautiful.” Tom complimented in complete awe.

Heat rose your face, genuinely flustered, “Good, we should probably head down there… before Harrison can think of any comments to throw our way.”

“You’re right.” Tom groaned.

Well, Harrison’s insinuated comments were well in his head anyways so, you two got a few of those before the three of you headed to the wedding venue outside by the beach. Harrison briefly mentioned Cami, not getting into too many details which was for the best (at the moment).

The three of you took your white fold-out seats toward the middle of the left side, Tom and Harrison pointing out Steven’s family in the front row. You picked up the pamphlet that sat on the chair, the cover showing a professionally taken picture of the couple.

Smiling, you read through the brief summary of the ceremony and Tom kept giving you short glares. He really couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked, especially in the warm sun and beautiful setting around you all.

Once everyone gathered, the wedding started and eventually everyone stood up for the bride’s entrance. You saw her already tearing up, almost making you want to shed tears as well, but you held it together. It was nice to see this woman so happy and you didn’t even know her– you just knew she was happy.

All went well and thorough, everyone awing at the ring bearer and flower girls, but then the vows came and there was nothing but silence.

“I promise to love you today as much as I did yesterday, as much as I will tomorrow and years to come.”

Both you and Tom got shivers up your spine, relating those words. You glance down at Tom’s hand resting between his legs, watching him pick at his nails, and you carefully placed your hand on top of his wrist. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, a shy smile to show his bit of embarrassment. You quietly giggled, squeezing his hand before bringing your hand back to your own lap.

Tom let out a shaky sigh, gulping and thinking his tie was now strangling his throat.

The ceremony would end in a beautiful kiss before the bride and groom left back down the aisle. Everyone slowly moved over to the reception which was only a few feet away under a huge white tent. The cake was set as well as the food and free bar, everyone, including Tom, able to loosen their ties and even take off their shoes to dance.

“That was really nice. Anything like you want at your non-thought of wedding?” You jeered at Tom, walking next to him.

He nodded, “I took a few mental notes. But, my eyes may have been concentrating too much at what color pink the bridesmaid dresses were.”

“I was thinking between a light flamingo or cotton candy.” You scrunched your nose.

With booze and food being passed around, all the wedding guests were having a great time. With the sun set and the fairy lights beaming around the tent, everyone was having fun and embracing the bride and groom’s special day. Their first dance together was sweet, applauded and wooed before the real party started.

Hooked on A Feeling by Blue Swede began mid-verse, making everyone laugh at how random the song was. People linked together, swinging back and forth with happiness painted on every face.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked Tom, getting up from your seat and giving your hand out to him.

He nodded, “I’m good right now.”

“C’mon. One dance.” You pouted, “Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Maybe later.” Tom chuckled, turning a bit pink.

That was one thing he forgot before the trip– how to dance with rhythm in his step.

“I’ll warm you up and maybe makeTom realize he’s missing out.” Harrison jeered, stepping in to take your hand.

Tom dazed in pure awe of you sway back and forth with Harrison. He wasn’t envious, confident knowing that his bestfriend wouldn’t do that to him, but just being able to see you gracefully dance was like seeing an floating angel glide on clouds. Harrison spun you a few times, throwing your hand back in laughter just from the positive atmosphere.

A minute or two passed in the song, and Tom leaned his arm on the back of his seat, grinning at your smile, but you suddenly made eye contact across the room.

He blushed as you and Harrison walked back over, hoping he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself.

“It’s your turn.” You smiled, taking his hand and Tom got out of his seat. Harrison purposely cheered for both of you loudly, making a scene to tease Tom, but he was happy that Tom was happy. Brown Eyed Girl started playing when you both planted your feet and instantly grooved to the fast beat. Sure, the songs were kind-of cheesy, but it’s expected at a wedding and all you could do was embrace it.

You two merged into the dancing crowd, everyone happy and spinning around as well as kids jumping around between their parents. You wrapped your arms around Tom’s neck, both of you moving and swaying and people passed by singing some of the lyrics. Even Steven and his bride cut in, making everyone cheer for them and laugh.

Once the night calmed down, with kids and older folks heading to their rooms, slower songs played for the guests still enjoying their time. As nice of a night it was, you looked out at the beach from afar and Tom was nursing his drink next to you.

“Do you want to… go see if we can sit on the beach?” You hesitantly asked, wondering if it was cheesy.

Tom nodded, “Sure. Yeah.” He half-smiled.

You both walked together from the wedding tent, heading down the unlit path. Tom grabbed one of the folded blankets displayed in a bin for people who wanted to sit on the beach any time of the day.

As you two got closer to the beach, Tom couldn’t help but notice everything going on. The moonlight, the leftover pink petals and rice in the sand, even dolphins fins going by within the waves.

No one could make this up as the most perfect moment to ask someone out. Tom cracked his knuckles, the two of you listening to the crash of the waves against the shore, before he stuttered out his words.

“D-Did you have fun tonight?” He shyly asked, not looking at you.

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun. I’m glad you invited me…” You trailed.

Okay, this was the moment. Tom thought, This is when you tell her.

He gulped, but you spoke before him.

“Are you okay?” You furrowed your brow.

Tom cleared his throat, “Yeah! Yeah, I just… I want to tell you something.”

You giggled at his sudden shyness, getting closer to him, “What’s going on?” You grinned, but a bit concerned. You couldn’t gauge if his tone was happy or upset.

He didn’t want to take a completely dramatic pause, but there wasn’t enough air in the world for his lungs to feel like they were working. His tongue felt dry, his skin felt cold, holding his breath until it just all slipped out.

“I really like you and… I haven’t been able to figure out how to say it. I read these books about love and what it is but, I couldn’t think of anything to say for shit.” Tom chuckled, his neck and cheeks heated, “But, now I know that I want to be with you and I’ve known that ever since you came into my life wearing some caution tape and gave you my hoodie… I think that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

He couldn’t believe he admitted it out loud, feeling a bit faint from letting it all out at once.

You chuckled in relief, “I like you too, Tom. We’ve spent so much time together and you’re so fun to be with that I’ve been tripping over myself wondering if you felt the same.” You thought your heart was in your throat and butterflies bursted in your stomach, “I didn’t want to be that weird girl who just thinks she’s in love with the cute guy at the bookstore she spends too much time at during the day.”

Tom gulped, surprised by your response, but he had to catch his breath again when your eyes met again. The moment was still a bit awkward, not knowing what to say next, but you bite your bottom lip, “I think this is the part in books and movies where we kiss and ride into the sunrise on your beautiful steed.”

He cracked a smile and leaned in, his hand against your cheek before your lips met. You would be lying if you said you weren’t dying for this kiss to happen. Like that end at any sappy romance novel you read for pleasure, they always ended in these kind of passionate and satisfying kisses. Although you didn’t think those type of scenarios were real, this was enough to make you start believing.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Your eyes fluttered open, surprised by the sound of the waves still crashing onto the shore and salty but gentle breeze brushing across your face. You two must have fallen asleep from how tired the night made you between the dancing and drinking, but you weren’t complaining instead smiling at the coincidence.

A few moments later, Tom would stir from his sleep. He didn’t believe how loud and close the waves were, but his eyes fluttered open to you sat up and looking out at dawn. The wedding arch still stood between the soft sand of the beach, both of you watching the glowing sunset begin its descent under the horizon.

Another cold breeze set the relaxed mood even more as you two sat there admiring the start of the morning. Tom stretched his back, both of you comfortable with the silence between you two. Feeling refreshed and happy, you turned your head to Tom and the orange light made his brown eyes shine.

“Yesterday happened, right? It wasn’t just an amazing dream I had.” Tom joked, turning to smile at you.

“Truly real. Nothing fictional about it.” You smiled.

Tom placed his hand on your cheek, cupping your skin softly before placing his lips on yours. Your smile faded as your noses brushed together, your heart fluttering as you paced your sweet kiss. It was your happy ending that no book could write.

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fics #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female!reader #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #college au #bookshop au #one shot #frat!tom #tom holland au #tshwritersnet

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empatheticsociety · 3 years

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A Class Of Clairvoyant MINI

*Click Images if the resolution is Low or Blurry*

Artist Involved: @tae-kun/@sosamariposa/@varakis

Want to buy the Full-Length Comic and support a Black-Owned Business at the same time?

CLICK HERE to donate to our Kickstarter.

Each donation comes with rewards such as: Free Shipped Physical Copies, Enamel Pins, Posters, and Free Commissions from @afro-ami and @sosamariposa

This link will also show brief summaries of the rest of the cast with more dope art showing off the chaos of this comic series.

Please Like. Share and Comment your Favorite Character! Our Kickstarter is hitting its last few days so any Support is Greatly Appreciated!

What Is Class Of Clairvoyant?

Class Of Clairvoyant is a Fictional Comic set in the early 2000s in a newly announced and mysteriously hidden town. This town is surrounded by an almost never-ending forest filled with weird creatures and unexplainable anomalies; constantly plaguing and disrupting this peaceful yet eerie town.

The only thing protecting this small town and unveiling its mysteries are a small group of kids with their own unique and ever-growing abilities. As they explore this town and its imposing forest, they will discover truths and secrets that will not only change them, but the world around them in ways that will literally warp their reality..

How did they get powers? Who Created this town, and Why? Where do these monsters come from and are they actually trying to harm us? What is actually going on with David's hair and will he grow BALD???

All questions that will be revealed as this comic trucks along into the future.

If you love stories like Gravity Falls, Adventure Time, ParaNorman, SCP and Owl House, then you'll love this.

We have designed this story to not only be a fun tale of Action, Mystery, and the occasional Horror. But also be a "coming of age" story, where we follow and grow with these kids as the struggle with Mental Health, Restrictive and at times Offensive Societal Norms, and all of the other challenges that comes with just growing up in an constantly evolving world

We Highly Recommend that you check out our Kickstarter if you want to see more details including small BIOs of each Character (With Comic Previews) as well as what your support will help make within Empathetic Society and what you'll receive with each donation.

Please Like and Share with any and everyone that you think would like to read or support this. Every action helps and is Greatly Appreciated.

*Thank you for taking the time to read this, and we'll be seeing you on our next upload 😁🙌🏿💖.

#empathetic society #digital art #kickstarter #comic books #comics #black tumblr #black art #webcomic #webtoon #gravity falls #adventure time #blackout #black artists #black writers #cartoons

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spicycreativity · 3 years

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Good Omens but Make It Moceit (unfinished)

I said I would do it and I tried very, very hard but it's not looking like I'm going to be able to finish because ✨mental health reasons✨

Here's what I have so far (about 8k words)

EDEN

It is a little-known theological fact that the invention of the hypothetical coincided nearly perfectly with the invention of the thunderstorm, the latter being a rather effable invention of God, all things considered, and the former springing forth from the troubled mind of Phaedaël, the angel of the Eastern gate. The first drops of rain pattered to the ground and he curved one wing upward to protect his head. Addressing his companion, he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be talking to you."

"Oh, and what a shame," cooed the serpent, who hadn't yet chosen a name, "and here I was so hoping you'd wring the details out of me."

"Oh," said the angel, considering this. He shifted uncomfortably, and made a face like he'd just been forced to swallow something bitter. "Well… What did you say to her?"

"Don't patronize me," said the serpent. He paused. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me, angel, on what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil?"

"They broke the rules," said the angel firmly.

"I don't suppose it matters that the rule was arbitrary?" The angel drew in a breath to reply, but the serpent cut him off, looking him up and down suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Lose something?"

"No!" said the angel, far too quickly.

"Oh, come on. Lying doesn't become an angel."

"It's not a lie!" the angel insisted.

"Well, then. Please do tell me what happened to that flaming sword of yours."

The rain began to fall in earnest. A thunderclap sounded overhead. The angel said, "What if you had an opportunity to help someone--"

"What if?" repeated the serpent incredulously.

"What if," persisted the angel, "someone could benefit from something you were supposed to have, but weren't really using?"

The serpent began to laugh. "Don't tell me you gave it--" he gestured into the distance-- "to them?" A few more hysterical cackles escaped his chest, but he swallowed the rest down at the anguished look on the angel's face. "Oh, relax. If you did it, it can't have been bad, can it? Angels don't do bad."

"And demons don't do good?" the angel looked at the serpent with uncertainty.

"Oh, yes," purred the serpent, "we're wicked to the core."

The angel went silent, considering this.

The thunder roared, the rain came down harder, the serpent remained, and the angel very gently lifted his other wing to keep his companion dry.

Who, after all, prayed for the Devil?

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

God (God)

Logan (Patton's overseer)

Satan (A Fallen Angel; The Fallen Angel, one might say)

Remus (Janus' overseer)

Janus (An angel who did not so much fall as back away muttering "I'm really going to do it this time; no one try to stop me")

Roman (a lover)

Virgil (an Antichrist)

Dog (hellhound, hellraiser, and sleeping partner)

21 YEARS AGO

In the Valendale Regional Military Cemetery lurked a demon.

Well, he lurked as best as he was able, given that the ambiance was all off for lurking. He had fudged the timing a little, being unaccustomed to the nature of the passage of time on Earth, and had accidentally arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunrise over Florida's eastern coast. Half the sky was a magnificent golden ocean with waves of orange and pink. The military cemetery had also been a mistake, though this one bothered him less. While he had been hoping for something a little more ancient and decrepit, he soon began to console himself by playing hopscotch on the clean, flat grave markers, delighting in the muddy bootprints he left behind him.

Besides, he liked the way 'military cemetery' rolled off the tongue.

When he inevitably got bored of desecrating graves, he threw himself down in the grass and began to look for worms and bugs with which he might decorate his uniform.

This was Remus, a Duke of Hell.

He found a worm and began to speak to it, watching it writhe around in his palm. "I'm so bored."

He spent a good few seconds coming up with a voice to use to represent the worm, then asked himself in a high-pitched squeak, "Why's that, your

Grace?"

Remus cupped the worm in his hands and rolled over, nearly kicking the basket he'd brought with him. This bothered him less than it rightfully should have, considering what was inside. He only gave a blithe "Oops!" and returned his attention to the worm. "That little subordinate of mine is making me wait!"

The worm said, "You should punish him!"

"Good idea!" Remus exclaimed, stroking the worm with his fingertip. "What do you think, should I spank him? Make him kiss my boots? Or--" He cut himself off, having just caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the near distance. Sirens had been echoing on and off throughout the night, but they were very near now. "There's my bitch!" he said with undisguised affection. He put the worm in his pocket and stood up.

The Interstate Highway System was ostensibly developed under the command of United States President Dwight D Eisenhower in order to facilitate the movement of personal use vehicles, public transportation vehicles, and self-propelled field artillery across the country. This project, as anyone who has ever attempted to traverse the Interstate Highway System can tell you, was a catastrophic failure. The criss-crossing network of freeways, highways, turnpikes, and byways is frequently backed up with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

What most hapless travelers of the Interstate Highway System do not know is that the cloverleaf interchange, one of the most commonly-used interchanges in city planning, is also the exact same shape as the sigil det in the written language of the Church of the Black Clock. Written correctly, it means "black fire upon my enemies, devour their souls!" (Note: Written incorrectly, it reads "kneel, gay men.") Every day, commuters slow traffic via their own ill-wishes on fellow drivers, granted life by the sigil. (It is a known fact that every driver on the freeway considers every other driver on the freeway an enemy).

It was one of Janus' most diabolical achievements. He was quite proud of himself, not only in the end result but in his methods. While a lesser demon might have had to go to the trouble of hands-on work: hacking computers, making bribes, and, Satan-forbid, possibly even sneaking out at night to move marker pegs by hand, all Janus had had to do was talk. He was quite good at getting people to do his bidding once he got his foot in the door.

Something Janus had inexplicably failed to account for was the fact that he, too, would occasionally need to use the freeway system. Such was the curse of Janus' great evil deeds: more often than not, they slalomed between his legs like a wily terrier and bit him squarely on the ass.

The irony snuck up on him sometimes.

Janus had dark hair and high cheekbones. His eyes and tongue were really only unusual if you looked at them twice, and he had a tendency to hiss when he forgot himself. He looked far too young, far too handsome, and far too svelte for the 1957 Cadillac Deville he was driving, bearing no resemblance at all to the sort of wealthy, elderly man who deals in classic cars.

He checked his watch, which also seemed too old for him, and glanced at the rearview mirror. Normally he enjoyed the minor thrill of having cops on his tail, but his exit was coming up and he did have someplace to be.

What he did next lacked imagination, but it got the job done: With one complicated hand gesture, he turned both officers into pigs and gently glided their cars to the shoulder. Then he turned on his blinker and took his exit.

Remus watched the police lights disappear with impassivity, bouncing on his toes. When Janus finally emerged through the wrought iron gates, having bent reality to get past them, he raised his arms and shouted, "Hail Satan!"

Janus acknowledged this with two lifted fingers. "So sorry I'm late," he said, bringing his hand smoothly upward to tip his hat, "it's just that I don't value your time in comparison to mine." The sarcastic inflection was so light the words could very well be sincere. But of course Janus always meant every word of what he'd said. (Now that's

sarcastic inflection)!

Remus gave a feral grin. Janus was his favorite subordinate. "Wanna see my worm?"

Millennia of acquaintanceship had freed Janus from the notion that he needed to be polite to Remus. The demon was as twisted as they came and nearly immune to flattery. "As much as I'd love to, shouldn't we get this over with?"

"Yeah, yeah." Remus looked around. "Hm, now where did I put the basket?"

The basket was currently sitting atop the headstone for a General T. Pratchett. Janus spied it first and indicated it to Remus with a flicker of his yellow irises, careful not to let a trace of his hesitancy show on his face. He didn't even let himself hesitate when Remus, who had hopscotched over to the basket and then back over to Janus, thrust it out to him.

"So this is really it," Janus murmured, wrapping both gloved hands around the handle of the basket. Then he began to work. "What a high honor."

"So they say," Remus said.

"Remus, be honest with me." Brief pause, just enough for Remus to wonder at the weight in Janus' voice. "Did you pull some strings to ensure I was the one who got this task? Do I owe you a favor?"

"Are you about to thank me?" Remus asked, tilting his head. Addressing the worm in his breast pocket, he said, "Listen up, this should be good."

"So you did?"

"Of course not."

Here it was. After a few seconds of rallying, his ace: "So why me?"

"You've been in the field the longest." Remus' grin widened to an impossible degree and he grabbed Janus by the lapels of his immaculate suit jacket, coming nose to nose. "Some of us think you're getting soft."

Janus smiled back, the unblinking predator's grin of a snake about to strike, and hefted the basket. "We'll see about that." And he extricated his lapels from Remus' grasp and turned to leave.

"You didn't say hi to my worm!" Remus called after him. Janus did not reply. Remus fished the worm out of his pocket. "How rude."

"The nerve of some demons," agreed the worm.

The Cadillac's speedometer hit 110. Janus fumbled for the volume knob with a shaking hand. The radio was permanently set to 98.5 The Jukebox, which only ever seemed to play Queen.

"Shit," Janus muttered as majestic panned harmonies began to emanate from his speakers. "Shit-shit-shit. Why now? Why me?"

BECAUSE, came the harmonic vocals, YOU'VE EARNED IT.

Janus bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. Communication via electronics had been another one of his ideas, hoping he'd be issued a BlackBerry or a Nokia. But no. Instead, upper management just cut into whatever he was listening to at the time and twisted it. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said, working very very hard to instill his voice with the proper amount of unctuous ooze.

THIS IS IMPORTANT, JANUS.

"Yes, my lord."

THIS IS THE BIG ONE.

"Yes, my lord."

AND YOU UNDERSTAND, JANUS, THAT IF THIS GOES WRONG, EVERYONE INVOLVED WILL BE PUNISHED. EVEN YOU. ESPECIALLY YOU.

"I understand."

GOOD. YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.

And suddenly, he just knew. A new Queen song began to play on 98.5 The Jukebox, and Janus hissed and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "What was the point of all that, then?" he demanded of Freddie Mercury.

Freddie Mercury replied, "Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm havin' a good time!"

Janus rolled his eyes and changed lanes without signaling. He had been instructed to head straight to a hospital on the edge of town. It was technically in an unincorporated community called Misty, but for all intents and purposes, Misty was Valendale. If he kept up this pace (the needle of the speedometer now closer to 130), he could be there in five minutes. Joy.

It had all been going so well, too. He'd really hit his stride in the 21st century, and now here was Hell pulling the rug out from under his shiny Armani brogues. Armageddon. What a nightmare.

In the Publix baking aisle, two angels stood side by side. One of them was Phaedaël, who had lately adopted the name 'Patton,' feeling it suited his corporation.

The other had been christened 'Loirea' once upon a time. As Heaven began to

modernize, Loirea had been the first among the angels to adapt to the changes being made. He had even taken on the name 'Logan' as a show of good faith.

Both of the angels were human-shaped, having discovered early on that it's much easier to get things done when you have limbs as opposed to flaming wheels of eyes and animal heads poking out at odd angles.

Both wore glasses. Patton's glasses were round, wire-rimmed things, of the sort usually found on kindly old librarians and stern but fair headmasters of all-boy's boarding schools. Logan's glasses were made of shiny black plastic and looked like they could draw blood if strategically applied to a sufficiently tender area.

Patton was, at the moment, holding a bag a semolina flour under one arm and awkwardly attempting to explain himself. "It's called 'cooking.' It's actually really clever, you take ingredients and combine them--"

"Why?" Logan interrupted

"Oh, uh, well," Patton hesitated, shamefaced, "it makes food."

"Eating," Logan said in such a forceful tone of dismissal that three boxes of brownie mix turned to ash behind him. "I don't understand why you waste your time."

"It helps me blend in," Patton said with a sheepish smile. Everything from his shoes to his shirt was a shade of white or blue; he'd never been comfortable dealing in gray areas.

"I see." Logan adjusted his tie. "Well, I'll let you get back to it in a moment. I just came to pass on a message: Our intel has given us reason to believe that Armageddon is underway."

"Oh," said Patton vaguely, staring at a bag of something labeled 'pasta flour.' "Oh!"

"We'd like for you to keep an eye on Janus. He's a demon; he's on a similar mission to yours."

"I, uh," Patton swallowed hard, staring right through the pasta flour, "I've heard of him."

"Good." Logan put his hand on Patton's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Patton."

"Y-yes?"

"When I say 'keep an eye on' I mean I want you to watch him. It's a figure of speech."

Patton nodded, forcing his mouth to curve into a pale imitation of a smile. Logan nodded back and vanished.

"Well," Patton said to the pasta flour, "fiddlesticks."

Brother Emile Analogical had been raised a Satanist. There is no such thing as an orthodox Satanist, but if there was, that would be the kind of Satanism that Brother Emile's parents had practiced. He had graduated with unspectacular grades, joined the Paralleling Order of Saint Botild, and promptly moved from Nebraska to Florida: more specifically, to the unincorporated community of Misty in the greater Valendale area. The climate had taken some getting used to, not to mention the long, black robes he had to wear, but he had survived the transition and found himself a good fit for the Paralleling Order.

Note: Saint Botild Comminalitus of Malmö was reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century, for reasons unclear. It is said that the Lord granted him the power to draw parallels and connections between topics; his last words are reported to have been "This reminds me of that one story about Loptr, when he--" Then his assailants lit the pyre.

At the moment, Brother Emile was thinking about the tall, dark figure stalking down the hallways at him holding a basket, likening him to a Scooby-Doo villain, the way the shadows seemed to stick to him.

"Jinkies!" said Brother Emile once the figure was in earshot.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him over the tops of his sunglasses. "Hello."

Unphased by the cold greeting, Brother Emile pointed to the basket. "Is that the fairly odd baby?" he asked in a high-pitched coo that indicated he already suspected the answer.

"No," said Janus, rolling his eyes. "It's a basket of kittens I saved from drowning. Aren't you wondering why I'm all wet?"

"You're," Brother Emile started, and Janus braced himself, fearing the last frayed thread of his patience might snap if the sentence ended with the word 'dry,' "a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?'

Janus thrust the basket at Brother Emile and did not dignify him with any answer more notable than a slight thinning of

his lips.

Brother Emile drew back the blankets and began to babble at the sleeping Antichrist. Janus took the opportunity to flee.

"Look at you," Brother Emile said happily. "Sleeping in a pic-a-nic basket, huh, Boo-boo?"

After a few more moments of cooing, babytalk, and Boomerang references, he remembered himself and found a wheeled bassinet for the baby Antichrist.

There is a game, common among carnies and street magicians in which a ball is hidden under cups and shuffled around. Unbeknownst to himself, the two sets of new parents, and all the friars at St Botild's, Brother Emile Analogical was about to become a mark.

And Hell had had nothing to do with it.

same rate, and good and evil had a knack for balancing themselves out in the grand scheme of things. And this left Janus and Patton free to pursue other passions, which somehow resulted in the two of them spending a great deal of time in each other's company.

silence. "It's not even that I disagree with you," he said apologetically. "It's just, well, you know, I'm not allowed to disobey."

his hazelnut hot chocolate. "What's a shame?"

Janus nodded. "Roman Dowling."

Roman was about to turn 21, and lived his life according to the belief that everyone over the age of 30 was, in some degree, an 'elder').

wanna do that."

"Roman!"

people; every social interaction, no matter how minor, always kept his body as tense as wire.

#sanders sides #moceit #this is a pastiche meaning it's not my usual writing style #basically i deliberately wrote in the style of pratchett/gaiman #just in case you were wondering lmao #anyway you can bug me about finishing it if the urge strikes you; i'm not one of those people who gets mad about stuff like that #it certainly won't hurt #i really do want to finish but at the moment im not really in a place where i feel like i can make art #spicypost #spicywrites #i guess i'll throw in some character tags #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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breathinglifeintomyoc · 3 years

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Sasusaku pt.1

Part of a fic I’ve been casually twiddling on. Not critically reviewed and I haven’t gone through to check how formatting got screwed up. Please enjoy and critique though!

If it was truly up to Sasuke, he would never return to Konoha, at least that’s what he told himself. His hand rested against the bark of a tree as he paused and watched the sun setting over the cliffs guarding the village. Still, he couldn’t quell his anticipation to see his former teammates. ‘The dobe will have such a meltdown if I’m late,’ he thought as he watched Konoha turn pink and violet, ‘Sakura doesn’t like tardiness either.’ Would they be as happy to see him as he was to see them? Naruto’s letter in response to Sasuke’s plans for a long-term return was obnoxiously celebratory, but the logistics of reality were going to be more complicated than writing a letter and Sasuke was sure he was going to become a burden on his friends. He was, and he’d be the first to admit it, a criminal who had done terrible things. Surely the people of Konoha weren't going to forget that.

“Sasuke! Sasu-ke!” Perhaps the dobe was glad to see him. “Naruto.” Sasuke replied simply, unable to keep a small smile off his face as Naruto slung his arm around Sasuke’s shoulder and walked him the last few meters to the gates where Kakashi was waiting with grinning eyes. “Welcome home, Sasuke,” Kakashi said, gripping Sasuke’s open shoulder, “It’s good to see my boys back together again!”

“You better believe it! We’re not letting Sasuke get away anytime soon!” Naruto promised loudly, “Teme, let’s celebrate with food!” Sasuke’s instinct was to deny, but he hesitated — he was hungry. “Perhaps you would rather retire to your house after your journey, Sasuke,” Kakashi suggested, catching Sasuke’s pause. As usual, very little gets past the Rokudaime. “No, food sounds fine,” then reassessing his company, he asked, “Are we expecting Sakura?” Naruto’s face fell, “No,” Sasuke’s own smile faded, “she was planning on it, but had an emergency surgery. She might catch up later,” Naruto lamented. Sasuke felt a fleeting panic before remembering that Sakura was the doctor not the patient, then a strange sense of disappointment settled on him. ‘Why? I don’t care if I see her. She’ll probably be as clingy as the dobe anyway.’ As the three men made their way through the streets to Ichiraku Ramen — where else? — Sasuke couldn’t help but feel the disconnect. The buildings were different, entirely new streets had been constructed, he didn’t recognize many of the passersby, everyone was greeting Kakashi and Naruto with reverence. There were some who addressed him, welcomed him home, even thanked him for his service in the war; he did his best to seem approachable and receptive, essentially a non-threat. Most people just gave him a wide berth, at worst they whispered to their neighbor. And the night was pleasant.

Sasuke munched quietly on his ramen as Naruto animatedly recounted the various events of the past few years, many of which Sasuke already knew from letters. Occasionally, Kakashi or Teuchi would ask a question about his travels. Sasuke even ordered a second bowl. “How has Sakura’s work at the hospital gone? I heard about her plans for a mental health program when I was in Suna.” He asked when there was a lull in the conversation. “Oh you know Sakura-chan,” ‘I really don’t,’ “She’s the best of the best,” Naruto replied. There was an uncharacteristic cynicism in his tone. “Hn?” Naruto blinked up and the broad grin returned to his face, “She just does so much for the village. More than me, believe it. She should get the hero praise. I’m a jinchuriki, but she worked for every ounce of her power. She just works too hard sometimes, you know?” Sasuke nodded and contemplated over his noodles. ‘Naruto’s more self-aware than he used to be.’

Suddenly a familiar chakra tickled his senses. His head flew up to see pink hair reflecting off the far street-lamp. His stomach jumped, would she be excited to see him? Does she look the same? Does she still feel the same about him? ‘Who cares? Why would she?’ And it was true. He deserved her hatred for all that he had done to her, not her love. “Oi, Sakura-chan!!!” Naruto ran to drag her into the ramen shop. “Slow down, Naruto! I was getting there!” Though she sounded angry, she practically glowed as she laughed and greeted Kakashi. Then she turned to him and time seemed to slow. Was he using the Rinnegan? Her smile was still the genuine one that Naruto and Kakashi had received, but she simply bowed lightly at him and took the open stool at his side. ‘Oh.’ He had fully expected a hug in her typical Sakura fashion. Some declaration of affection at least. “I’m glad you’re home, Sasuke-kun. Sorry for running so behind,” then, “I’ll have a small bowl please, Teuchi-san.” Before Sasuke could reply, Naruto butted in, “Sakura, only a small?! You normally get a medium! Did you eat before coming to see us? Is that why you’re so late?” Sakura laughed sheepishly, “Ah, no. I didn’t get to eat any food on my shift, so I don’t want to make myself sick. I’m late because of that damn operation.” Then Sasuke saw how fatigue was dragging on her; her normally impeccable posture was slouched, she was blinking often, and the circles under her green eyes were concerningly pronounced. “When did you start today?” Kakashi asked. His bowl was mostly empty, but none of them had caught him with his mask down. Sakura pondered for a moment, “Eh… seven, but I got there at six-thirty to catch up on paper-work.”

“In the morning?! Geez, Sakura! How many times do we have to tell you to take care of yourself?” Naruto turned to Sasuke, “You see what I mean now? She works too much!” Sasuke hummed in agreement and received a scathing, but playful glare from Sakura. For all that had happened and the time that had passed, conversation between Team Kakashi flowed comfortably and Sasuke felt that maybe he would be able to call this place home again.

“We’ve set up your new house so that you can move in tonight,” Kakashi said, turning to practicalities, “and we can get you back on the mission roster if you come by my office tomorrow.” Sasuke nodded and took the key from his former sensei. “I’ll walk you there after this,” Sakura yawned, “it’s on my side of town. We figured you’d prefer to be more on the outskirts.” ‘of course they did.’ “Don’t bother, I’ll find it myself,” he said. “My day has been too shitty to argue niceties with you. I’m walking you to your place.”

She was shorter than he remembered. “It’s only another five minutes or so,” Sakura said, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence that accompanied their journey. He hummed in response and the silence returned. ‘Dammit this used to be so easy. Say something!’ “I’m sorry you are going out of your way for me. You should be resting,” he decided on. It wasn’t really what he was meaning to say, but it was true. Unfortunately, this didn’t trigger the conversation he was hoping it would; Sakura simply waved her hand, telling him to not think too much about it. ‘Sakura used to talk so much,’ he thought with an emotion that was beyond his ability to identify. Sadness? Guilt? Nostlagia? He had never wanted to talk — or at least not walk in silence — as much as he did then, and that unto itself was concerning considering he rarely spoke more than a sentence to anyone. “How did that surgery go?” Sakura turned and looked up at him with the faintest smile ghosting her face, and he was shocked to find himself thinking about how nice she looked in the moonlight. “Are you making small-talk, Sasuke-kun?” He looked back to the road ahead of them. She let out a small chuckle and he lamented at another failed attempt at conversation. However, from his side Sakura spoke again, “The procedure was a success.” Her tone made him look at her from the corner of his eye. ‘But?’ After another pause, “It wasn’t meant to happen for another week. We weren’t prepared… I wasn’t prepared. My patient's condition is developing faster than it should and we were forced to act or lose them.” Sasuke nodded, “But you saved them.” He saw Sakura look up at the star-studded sky and tug at her hair. ‘It’s long again.’ “For now,” she said after another pause, “I’m headed back to the hospital once you get settled to continue my research though. I don’t know how much longer we can go without a proper prognosis and treatment plan.” He was about to protest her doing anything but sleeping when she cut him off, “Here we are! The newest Uchiha residence!” she announced cheerily, her mood completely changed. Sakura’s hands were clasped on her chest as they walked up a short stone walk-way to a small house and she watched him unlock the door. “I can show you around if you’d like or I can leave you to it,” she said as the lock clicked, “Naruto and I spent some time setting it up.” He opened the dark door and let her follow him in. She reached to his left and clicked a switch, illuminating the room. “Most of it is new,” she said as he looked around. His gaze stopped on an old green tea set on the counter, “But some pieces might be familiar.” Sasuke turned to face her properly, “Thank you.” Sakura looked down at her feet but he caught the pink flushed on her cheeks. “You’ve had a long day, I’ll let you get settled. Let us know if you need anything,” she said looking up at him with a small smile. How could she still be so good to him after everything? She turned to step back out the front door. “Get some sleep, Sakura.” He noticed the slightest falter in her perfect smile — ‘“perfect”?’. “Good night, Sasuke-kun.” And she was gone.

#sasusaku #fanfic #writing #digital notebook #i have big plans #naruto #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura

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doublerainebow · 4 years

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Artist Resources (Part 1?)

This is basically just going to be a bunch of resources I have found to be useful. I can’t say that I’ve used all of them, but I’m sure they’re all worth checking out.

I’m also gonna try to put a detailed description for most of the links so you have a better idea of what you’re getting. I apologize in advance if some of them are redundant lol

(I put “Part 1″ if in the case I make another one)

~Links to Tutorials, Tips, Resources, etc~

Another Resource List -- Leads to another Tumblr post. Apparently, the post isn’t mobile-friendly, so it’s suggested to view this on Tumblr browser. Has a bunch of other links. I’ve checked out a few of them (mainly the copyright stuff lol), and it seems that some of the links may be a bit outdated. Still, it doesn’t hurt to check out the links.

Arms and Legs -- Leads to another Tumblr post. A handy tutorial on elbow and knee placement.

Art & Game Dev -- This leads to my personal playlist of a bunch of YouTube videos. Has a bunch of tutorials and interesting videos that I’ve collected over the course of a few years lol.

Blamblot -- A website that contains resources and tutorials on comic lettering. This is primarily in reference to western comics, but it doesn’t help to take a looksie.

Commission Calculator -- Leads to another Tumblr post. Helps artists to stop selling themselves short.

Comparing Heights (hikaku-sitatter) -- A height comparer for centimeters.

Comparing Heights -- A height comparer for feet and inches.

Mouth Shapes and Lip-Syncing -- Leads to another Tumblr post. Useful for... drawing mouth shapes.

Reference Angle -- Useful for when you’re trying to map out a face from an odd angle.

Soft Proofing for Printing -- Leads to another Tumblr post. Helps when you’re trying to make prints of your artwork.

Textures -- A website full of different and mostly free textures. While this website is made for 3D texturing, it can also be useful for 2D drawings. Signing up gives you 15 free credits everyday, and you can use those credits to download some textures for free.

The Models Resource -- A website of models ripped from a wide array of games.

The Spriters Resource -- A website of sprites ripped from a wide array of games.

The Textures Resource -- A websites of textures ripped from a wide array of games.

~Links to Stock Images~

Please check out whatever policies they may have for their images before using them!

(not sure if any of them are active anymore as I followed some of these accounts a long time ago when I used to be more active on Deviant Art lol)

adorkastock (formerly senshistock)

anatoref -- Leads to another Tumblr post. Has a bunch of hand photo references

charligal-stock

HumanAnatomy4Artist -- Does contain nudity

null-entity

PhelanDavion

RobynRose

~Links to Other Artists~

Akihito Yoshitomi -- Yoshitomi is a mangaka who has tutorials on manga making. He also has an insightful series in which he drafts and draws a 30-page manga in 18 days. Remember that every artist works differently and his process may be different from another’s.

Drawfee -- Drawfee is an improv drawing show of four artists: Nathan Yaffe, Jacob Andrews, Julia Lepetit, and Karina Farek. While they don’t have tutorials in a sense, their videos explain the different processes they go through as they draw. They also occasionally provide tips, tricks, and resources in their videos. They do have another channel and a Twitch channel where they host drawing classes in addition to other fun shenanigans.

EtheringtonBrothers -- Has a bunch of useful and eye-catching tutorials called “How to Think When You Draw”.

Mark Crilley -- Mark is a comic artist, specializing in manga, who has a bunch of tutorials about anatomy, perspective, comic making, and other things.

Miyuli -- Miyuli is an artist who posts tutorials on their Twitter. Their tutorials range from anatomy to clothing to other things. They even have a few books of art tips. Currently (as of the time of posting this), their 2018 version is free for download, so I highly recommend you download that. Some tips may be outdated, but they should still be helpful.

Whyt Manga (Twitter/YouTube) -- Odunze is a comic artist, specializing in manga, that has a bunch of tutorials on manga making and drawing characters of color.

~Links to Free Programs~

Blender -- A free 3D program if you’re into 3D modeling and such. I also personally haven’t used Blender (I use Maya lol), but I know it’s a respectable program.

Krita -- A free painting program if you can’t afford Photoshop or Clip Studio Paint. I personally haven’t used Krita, but I have recommended it to a few friends and they have positive reviews about it.

Paint Tool SAI -- Okay, this one isn’t free, but it’s a significantly cheaper painting program where you don’t have to pay a subscription. It’s 5,500JPY (~50 USD). I’m not sure how well it still works on modern computers (the last update was 2016), but I still use it here and there because I love the pen tool feature it has, and it still works like a charm for me.

~General Tips From Raine~

Raine admits that she’s guilty of not following her own advice, but Raine hopes that the tips that she does know will be beneficial to someone who will follow them. She’s also going to keep all her tips under the cut so as to not make this post a huge wall of text (even though it technically already is lol)

Also, if you have some resources, tutorials, tips yourself, please feel free to send them to me and maybe I’ll make a part 2 to this post!

ALWAYS LOOK FOR REFERENCE. This should really go without saying. You can’t draw from life if you refuse to observe life itself.

If you can’t find the exact thing you need, MAKE YOUR OWN REFERENCE. Time and time again, I can’t find something exactly that I need. So instead, what I do is that I take pictures of my own reference. Sometimes I even grab a friend and take pictures of them doing whatever it is I need.

Have a mirror handy when you’re drawing. Sometimes what you need is actually right there in front of you.

Having trouble drawing something? Do some studies. Take the time to understand what it is you’re drawing. I can’t remember the exact story, but I heard that the people who were working on Tarzan were having a hard time drawing his hands. So, what they did was spend a few hours looking at hands to try and understand how they work.

IT’S OKAY TO STUDY THE ART OF OTHER ARTISTS. Just as we look to the old masters as a reference, it’s definitely okay to look at modern-day artists for reference. Just don’t go copying exactly everything that they do, or worse, trace what they do. Just don’t do it... at all.

Not every line needs to be realized. The viewer of your work will automatically connect the dots.

DO NOT TRASH YOUR OLD DRAWINGS. Please, never ever do this. Your old drawings have value to them, even if they look terrible to you. Old drawings may hold ideas for things you could do for the future. They also serve as a way to see how far you’ve come as an artist.

GETTING BETTER AT DRAWING TAKES TIME AND EFFORT. You’re not gonna get better overnight. It’ll take months, or even years, to feel like you’re a competent artist, and even then, you’ll still have room for improvement.

DON’T LOOK DOWN ON YOURSELF IF YOU’RE TAKING A LONG TIME TO GET BETTER. It’ll be better for your mental health in the long run.

Alternatively, DON'T LOOK DOWN ON OTHER ARTISTS EITHER, ESPECIALLY TO MAKE YOURSELF FEEL BETTER. You know the struggles it took for you to get where you are, so don’t go putting down other people when you’ve been in their shoes once.

KEEP DRAWING. If you’re not making an effort to get better, then you’re not going to be better. I get that it’s hard to find the inspiration to draw (I’m very guilty of this), but just keep trying. It doesn’t have to be big or spectacular. You don’t even have to post it if you’re the type who likes to post their art stuff.

Try to find references from real-life. It’ll help you better understand form, lighting, shadows, etc., especially if you’re going for a more realistic kind of art style. Otherwise, finding reference from things like cartoons, anime, comics, etc. are just as good.

Try new things. Try new art mediums. Try a different art style. Switch up the way you do things. Maybe you’ll hate it, maybe you’ll like it. Who knows if you don’t try.

Watch time-lapses (or speed draws/speed paints) of other artists!

Pinterest and Google are your friends if you need tutorials or references or whatever.

If you’re offering commissions, DO NOT WORK UNDER YOUR LOCAL MINIMUM WAGE. You are literally devaluing the work you actually put into a piece.

I like to think I’m an aficionado of Photoshop, so feel free to ask me questions on how to achieve something! I’ve used Photoshop for about 11 years now and know my way around the program. On another note, I do recommend setting custom keyboard shortcuts in Photoshop because the default shortcuts are terrible (in my opinion), and because having custom shortcuts increases the speed of your workflow.

Because I’ve been seeing this a lot lately in Twitter, you’re never too old to start in art. Art is just one of those things that anyone can pick up at any age because the only thing you really need to get good in art is time, diligence, and patience.

Try not to post hi-res images of your artwork to prevent art stealers from selling your artwork in high resolution.

Always, always, always add your signature and watermark on your artwork. I like to add my signatures and watermarks in places that’ll be hard to erase or crop out. I’ve also seen people add their signatures and watermarks in creative ways (ex. on a character’s shirt). You need to protect your work in an era where people will just blatantly steal it and make profit off your work.

Tag List

@reality-is-often-disappointing

#artists #artists on tumblr #artist tips #artist resources #art resources #artists of tumblr #art tips #art tutorial #raine rambles and muses #raine can art

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stellar-imagines · 4 years

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HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝just anemic.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Aizawa Shouta ]

「Headcanons of Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki and Aizawa with fem S/O who’s exhausted, dizzy and cold most of the time and ends up fainting during a training session. Who ends up being brought to the nurse only to discover that she’s anemic. 」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

♤ The guy is super worried for you and always asks you if you need anything. When Midoriya sees that you're feeling unwell, he does everything he can to prevent the worst from happening. This cute little bean is always by your side to help you with anything and when you're cold, he's handing you his blaser andHe doesn't really pick up everything from the get go but all he knows is that you were exhausted which was probably due to lack of sleep. Midoriya might seem very annoying, clingy and repetitive but he means well okay?

♤ He seems to be hesitant with training. You have been working hard with your quirk and wanted to test out a new move. Midoriya wouldn't say no when you're looking so eager to try out this new move of yours. The green haired boy tries to convince you to just try another day when you're feeling much better but alas you were quite persistent and he gave in. He eventually comes along with you to the gym for some training. With him around, at the very least, he can watch over you.

♤ When you actually end up passing out after the training session, he's panicking and carrying you to Recovery Girl's office for treatment. When Recovery Girl revealed that you were anemic which was the reason why you've been tired, dizzy and cold most of the time. Midoriya is asking a whole ton of questions about what he can do to help you. Once you were okay to leave, this guy doesn't let his guard down and takes responsibility over your well-being.

♤ This guy is at your beck and call. He sees you shivering a bit, he's already bringing a blanket or jacket for you. When you mention about wanting to eat something, Midoriya is going to get it for you. He's super worried for you so let him babysit you for a few days until he's convinced that you've recovered. He pays more close attention to your health from that day onwards and muttering about the benefits of certain fruits or food.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

☆ Bakugou pretends not to care that you're feeling under the weather at all. But in reality, he's very concerned. The guy sees you tired while you're sparring, he goes a bit easy on you. When he sees you starting to fall asleep in class, he's taking notes for you even though he blames you for not getting enough rest and having a fucked up sleeping schedule. He starts noticing that you get a bit cold easily and he will complain about how careless you are while throwing his jacket/blazer at your face.

☆ We all know that this guy is a softie for you and always thinks that he's doing a good damn job at taking care of you, even though he was quite aggressive with it. Bakugou decides to take it upon himself to start watching over you. But of course, you ended up dragging him into sparring with you. At first, he was against it but when you pulled out the right cards — saying that he's a coward and doesn't think that he could win against you — he agreed faster than you anticipated.

☆ Oh boy, when you ended up passing out, he's already blaming himself for getting riled up and forgetting his responsibilities. Bakugou is bringing you to the nurse to get you checked. This guy stays by your side the entire time until you regain consciousness. Everything the nurse advises you not to do, he's taking mental notes of all that for you.You were told to rest for a few days to recover you strength. When he catches you training a bit, he's scolding you like mother would and forces you to rest.

☆ Even after you recover from your condition, he's still very serious about ensuring that you're healthy at all times. Bakugou is making sure that you have a healthy diet, exercise often and get enough rest every day. During training, he works you to the bone but makes sure that you have a lot of time to rest. He tends to scold you when you skip meals, consume a little bit too much junk food. This guy even goes as far as to cook for you and honestly, you're not complaining.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

♡ Todoroki is kind of dense but he notices you being exhausted and cold most of the time. This guy doesn't think too much of it and is more gentlemanly about this whole thing. When he sees you shivering a bit, he's offering you his blazer/jacket and sits next to you to warm you up. If you're tired, he tells you that you can rest or take a break. This guy just thinks tat you need a bit of rest. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do when you're feeling a little sick.

♡ When you both were training, he was a bit hesitant on letting you continue because you looked ready to give in. Todoroki suggested taking a break to regain your lost energy for a few moments. But you were quite stubborn and insisted that you were fine and that there was nothing wrong with you at all. One side of him is telling him to be more assertive and forceful for your sake. But the other is telling him that it would be rude of him to hold back against you.

♡ He's panicking when you actually pass out during training. Todoroki stands there for a while, like what the hell is he supposed to do, did you die? Are you still alive? Do you need medical assistance? Are you playing dead? It was until someone yells at him to bring you to the nurse for a check up. This guy sits patiently next to you, fidgeting a bit as he awaited for your results and for you to wake up. Todoroki is pretty worried about you and is always by your side when you're supposed to be resting in bed. He brings food for you and don’t expect anything homemade because thus guy can’t cook for shit.

♡ More observant after that incident. The next time he sees you shivering, he's a bit scared and asks if you need to go to the hospital. You know that Todoroki is looking after you but he's just making it a big deal because of that time you passed out. Whenever he sees you sick even though it was only a small sneeze, Todoroki is already bringing blankets and warming you up, asking if you feel like dying or anything. He’s overreacting a bit so just bear with him a bit, this guy is scared that if he ignores you, something might happen.

AIZAWA SHOUTA

♧ Aizawa watches over you like you're the problem child in the class. But you were both adults and he knows that you're capable of handling yourself. He knows that you're not yourself. You're always exhausted, dizzy and cold up to point where you had to bring a jacket with you to keep yourself warm. Sometimes you would ask for cuddles when the two of you are just relaxing and you crave for warmth. This guy doesn't look like the affectionate type but he welcomes cuddling.

♧ He enjoys watching you train and he actually likes getting involved with your training. You were both heroes and you both occasionally train together to improve your skills and get to know your quirk even better. Aizawa noticed the signs that you're feeling a bit under the weather but he never expected for you to pass out.

♧ He's very worried when you pass out because he has been watching over you so much and assumed that you weren't suffering from any illness. When it was revealed that you were anemic, he's super worried and blames himself a bit for not paying more attention to your condition. Aizawa ensures that he know every single little thing about your condition so he can do everything he can to help you.

♧ Somewhat similar to Bakugou, he will be scolding you for not being careful and taking of your health properly. Even so, he will always be by your side when you're resting on bed. He stays in the room together with you and does his own thing while keeping you company as you sleep. He brings you food, medicine and everything you need without you having to ask for it. Aizawa asks Recovery Girl about everything he needs to do for you. This guy has you under strict supervision and makes sure that you are always resting instead of training and tiring yourself out.

Total: 1457 words Published: 19.06.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ OMG, my assignments are killing me. And to top it all off, I have a report, poster and presentation to make for a competition uwu ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting! While Lou is suffering despite her one week break, I’m drowning in my own problems. I hope everyone else is doing better than we are.― author Natsuki

Requests are closed for now! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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joachimnapoleon · 3 years

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I was asked by @tairin to write about Murat’s personality.

This is going to be a bit long and in no particular order whatsoever.

Occasionally his personality seems like a jumble of contradictions. He never fell out of love with being a soldier, grew restless and bored during times of peace, always eager to be back in the field, but then, once there, hoping to get back home to his family as soon as possible and never having to leave them again. He became a king, and viewed his authority in Naples as absolute (or as absolute as it could be with Napoleon constantly breathing down his neck), yet he never fully shed the republican principles he eagerly adopted as a young man during the French Revolution. Bold, confident, and determined on the battlefield, he was often vacillating, indecisive, and unsure of himself in politics; yet in both circumstances he was also capable of extreme rashness, and his hasty judgments often led him to taking regrettable actions.

He was, like Napoleon, bursting with energy. He always had to be doing something. Upon taking the throne of Naples, he worked so tirelessly, day and night, trying to sort through the affairs of his predecessor and get his new kingdom in order, that for a time his wife Caroline was scarcely able to see him. This energy never dissipated, even into his forties; one English visitor to Naples in 1814 described him as "endowed with a large amount of pure animal vitality, which pleasureably expended itself in the active deeds of war, but found no sufficient vent in peace." (Cole, The Betrayers, 212)

Also like Napoleon, he could be very short-tempered; but unlike Napoleon, he never quite learned to contain his rages. When Napoleon threw one of his notorious temper tantrums complete with the hurling and stomping of his hat, it was generally done for show. On the other hand, I've come across multiple anecdotes of Murat, having to be physically restrained by either his staff or his ministers from attacking someone (one of these instances occurred during the 1812 campaign, when only the exertions of his chief of staff, General Belliard, prevented him from stalking out, armed, to the tent of Marshal Davout after the two had engaged in a bitter quarrel in front of Napoleon earlier). That being said, Murat's rages, like Napoleon's, were usually of short duration, often burning out within minutes. Caroline was well aware of her husband's temperament, and did her best to try to help him keep it in check; in one letter, she gently chides him to "calm a little your head, which gets hot so easily."

He was very opinionated, open, and frank--for better or worse. Some of his letters to Napoleon are honestly just breathtaking in their forthrightness; while as a general rule he bent to his brother-in-law's will (however begrudgingly), when provoked he was not afraid to express his discontent or disagreement with a brutal honesty which undoubtedly rankled Napoleon at times. Alone among the Bonaparte family, he spoke out vigorously against Napoleon's plan to take an Austrian bride as his second wife, and urged Napoleon to marry a Russian princess instead. When it became apparent that the decision had already been decided upon beforehand, he angrily accused Napoleon of setting him up with the intention of rendering the soon-to-be empress, and by extension the Austrian royal family, hostile to him. In short, he was far from being the groveler to Napoleon some have made him out to be.

He didn't handle high-stress situations particularly well. One theory I've read is that he suffered from psychosomatic illness, and I'm inclined to believe it. In Spain in 1808, when the people began to revolt and the situation rapidly spiraled out of his control, Murat fell ill--deathly ill, to the point where it was thought he might've been poisoned. His health experienced a similar collapse during the calamitous retreat from Russia in 1812, when he was placed in charge of the disintegrating Grande Armée. And a year prior to that, in the wake of an exceptionally bad quarrel with Napoleon over Neapolitan affairs, his mental state became so bad that Caroline kept his ministers away from him for days, and his overall health suffered throughout that summer.

His general demeanor was upbeat and happy, though I would argue that this was considerably less so during the last few years of his life. But he seems to have always at least tried to preserve a cheerful outward demeanor, and numerous memoirists have remarked on his happy nature.

He could be vain and boastful; he loved telling people about his exploits in war (and with women). He did make an effort to cultivate the manners of the nobility though, wanting to fit in as well as possible after his meteoric rise into the upper echelons of society. But he seems to have gone a bit overboard with it all. Hortense de Beauharnais writes in her memoirs that

He sought to have good manners and overdid them. One saw by his exaggerated dress and his attentions to the ladies that he wished to resemble the Villarceaux and Sévignés of the days of Louis XIV. These famous courtiers were the models he had chosen, but the rough hearty republican could not be completely hidden, and the mixture of the two opposite types of character would have been ridiculous at times if one had not been conscious of the honest, frank soldier in the background who reconciled the puppets one to the other. (The Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol. 2)

A less charitable contemporary, the Countess Potocka, whom Murat tried and failed to seduce in 1807, writes of her first encounter with him:

It was easily seen that his manners were sham, and that he usually had others. He did not talk badly, for he watched himself carefully; but his Gascon accent and some too soldierlike phrases belied the “prince” a little. He was fond of telling of his feats of arms, and talked war to us for over an hour. (Memoirs of the Countess Potocka)

He was, as even Napoleon described him, generous and kindhearted. When he became a king, he was so eager to bestow his Order of the Two Sicilies on anyone and everyone, that Caroline chided him that he must stop doing so, as it was becoming a joke in Paris. General Pépé writes of Murat's generosity in granting the petitions of the common people, describing one instance in which Murat was thrown from his horse while in the middle of receiving a petition from a woman begging for the life of her husband; after getting back to his feet and "cursing roundly in the French fashion," Murat promptly signed the petition to spare the life of the man. However, Pépé also points out that Murat's generosity and compassion occasionally worked against his own interests:

People of all classes, and even officers in the army, were in the habit of presenting themselves to the King, as he passed through the streets, with a petition in one hand and an ink-stand in the other. The good King Joachim granted those requests with too much facility, not considering that far from increasing his popularity by such conduct, he drew upon himself feelings of hatred, since the petitions so granted were for the part such as ought not to have been entertained. His too easy compliance, therefore, was calculated to awaken discontent and distrust of the efficiency of the laws. (Memoirs of General Pépé, Vol I)

He was also extremely prone to flattery (this ties into his earlier-mentioned vanity), and apt to reward and promote those of his generals who succeeded at ingratiating themselves with him but who may not have been the best commanders in the field.

He was very independent and chafed at being under the command of someone else. This was the case for the entire duration of his military career: he was discharged from his initial enlistment for apparently participating (and possibly leading) a "mutiny" against some officers; his stint in the National Guard was brief, and he wrote to condemn the officers over him for being "royalists;" in the 21st Chasseurs à Cheval, he quickly found himself at odds with his commanding officer, Landrieux, which devolved into an ugly affair with Murat going on trial before the Committee of Public Safety; he would likewise chafe under the commands of Brune and Berthier in Italy, and, for almost the rest of his life, he would chafe under the domination of Napoleon. Especially after being made a king, which he seems to have naively believed would grant him some amount of independence from the Emperor; in reality he merely became one of Napoleon's satellites, and became increasingly embittered by it.

He could be very politically naive (see 1814 and his belief that he could keep his throne by separating himself from Napoleon). He could also be extremely paranoid. His correspondence is replete with references to "my enemies." With the exceptions of Josephine and Savary, I've never come across the names of this mysterious cabal of enemies Murat believed to be actively undermining him and turning Napoleon against him in Paris while he ruled in Naples. His paranoia occasionally extended to his wife, whom he accused at least once of being in league with his enemies--this was in a letter written during another time when Murat was under extreme stress, during his failing Sicilian campaign. In 1815, his paranoia led him to abandoning his new allies, who he believed were on the brink of turning against him; so it can be argued that this aspect of his personality, combined with his hastiness, played a large part in his final ruin. (In the wake of Napoleon's escape from Elba, the English and Austrians both, out of desperation, hurried to send Murat guarantees for his throne if he would stay true to the alliance; but they arrived too late.)

He was extremely flirtatious, loved dancing and the company of women in general, sexual or otherwise. (See here for my post on Murat and women.)

He was a doting father, obsessed with his children; and an affectionate, if not always faithful, husband.

I'm probably forgetting some stuff, but I'll leave off here. Hopefully this provides a pretty good overall understanding of Murat's personality. Feel free to toss me some asks if there's anything you'd like me to expand on, I'm always happy to talk about Murat. :)

#asks #Joachim Murat #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #memoirs #history

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rolandtowen · 3 years

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Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.

Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism

[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]

Chapter One: Song

We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.

It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.

Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.

Azula.

She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.

He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.

So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.

As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.

He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."

Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."

Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."

Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.

"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"

Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.

"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."

Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."

"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."

Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.

If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.

So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.

And he'll try to give back what he took from her.

He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.

Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.

Song envies those soldiers.

Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.

Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.

Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.

She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.

"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"

He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."

Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.

"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."

Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.

And he was crying.

Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.

"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."

Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.

She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."

He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.

"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.

"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.

"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."

There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.

"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -

Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."

Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."

"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."

The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Can I join you?"

She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"

Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"

Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."

"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"

Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."

"And do you think I am?"

She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."

Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."

It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."

He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"

"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"

She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."

The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.

"I'm going to find Bao for you."

Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"

"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."

"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."

Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.

"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.

Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.

Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.

"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"

They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"

They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.

"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.

"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."

Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."

"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.

Song,

I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.

Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.

And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.

"Let's go home."

[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]

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dclsbaby · 4 years

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mykonos-crossed lovers (part iv) 🦋

🎶playlist for part iv

prologue

part i

part ii

part iii

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut smut smutty smut this is dirty AF please read at your own discretion

Author’s Note: to all my lovely babies thank you so much for being so patient with me as I endure one of the toughest months of my life. the reason why it had taken me so long to write was because i had uni and my mental health was at an all time low, so thank you a thousand times over to those who’ve written me to check up on how i was doing, it truly means the world 😭 after completing part 4, i felt like dom and (y/n)’s love story isn’t over yet, so a sequel is definitely something I’m considering, let me know if you would like to see that! I hope you enjoy part 4, and thank you to everyone who’s written me so many lovely things about my very first fic. i love u i love u i love u 🤍🤍🤍 xxx

Gif:

***

“She said no mate. Get the fuck away from her,” Dom interjects. You look up to him with thankful eyes. “And who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?” the blonde responds. Brave, Dom thought. “Fuck off,” he steps in front of you, allowing you to hide behind his tall and strong figure. After all this time, protecting you is still an instinct he has yet to unlearn. “You’ve got two seconds to get out of my sight, or you will get hurt,” Dom sternly says, emphasising every syllable. “Fine! Chill out mate I’m gone,” the blonde quickly retreats.

You exhale a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for the man who has brought you comfort so many times in the past. “Hey, are you okay? I’m here, I’ve got you,” says Dom as he embraces you in a hug. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds your head with one hand, and wraps his other arm around your body. You were terrified of that creepy man, you were confused from the alcohol, the lack of control is sending you into a haywire, so you are glad to be in the presence of someone familiar. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he repeats as he tries to calm your shaking body. “Thank you,” you say as you look up to him with teary eyes, with the palm of your hand on his chest, as you once again, break his heart all over again.

After a long embrace, you pull away, leaving him feeling empty.

“Let me take you home yeah?” asked Dom, and you nodded without much thought. You two make a quiet exit as he guides you out of the club, his hand on yours as you move past sweaty bodies, careful not to bump into anyone. Dom was a little drunk too, but he knew had to take care of you.

When you made it outside, you let go of his hand, a little too early for Dom’s liking. The affection, the touch were all too familiar to him, a crave he never thought he had until you let go. It was as if a simple touch had countered all efforts to move on.

You give him your address and he calls on a taxi for your two. He texts his friends as well as yours, letting them know what had happened and why it was best for you to call it a night.

Take care of her mate.

Thanks for letting us know, be safe on the way back. We’ve got her purse

***

The taxi didn’t take too long to come, and you quickly hopped into the car, followed by Dom, and gave your address. You sat by the window and leaned your head on the window screen, your fingers laced between each other as you rested them on your thighs. Dom wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, make you feel safe, to be your rock. That’s all he ever wanted in your relationship, be given the chance to be there for you. All the pent-up anger and frustration he had over you for breaking his heart dissipates. As much as it would have been a lot easier to move on with anger, he can no longer suppress his feelings for you.

Despite his desperation to hold you, he decided against holding your hand, and stayed within boundaries. He didn’t want to overwhelm you after the night you’ve had. You kept your eyes closed the entire ride back, occasionally opening your eyes to remind yourself of where you are. Dom notices this, and keenly listens to your soft breathing, and watches your chest rise.

Minutes later, you arrived back in your villa. “Hey,” he touches your arm softly. “We’re here,” he quietly says, careful not to surprise you. You slowly open your eyes, still feeling a bit delirious. It’s the same face you would make when he used to gently wake you up to say goodbye before he leaves for training, he thought.

“How long was the ride?” you ask, discombobulated, as you rub your eyes, smudging the last bit of mascara you have on. “Not long enough,” he mutters, wishing he had more time with you.

Still a bit tipsy, Dom helps you step off the taxi. You carefully place your foot down, cautious to not have your heel stuck between the concrete, and make your way towards your villa.

“You coming in then?” you ask as you turn to face Dom. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to come in,” he replies as he stood by where the taxi was. “Don’t be silly. It’s late,” you said, gesturing to him to come in.

You took out the house card that you’ve thankfully kept in your pocket, otherwise you’d be locked out. As you step into the villa, you make your way to the wooden bench by the shoe rack to take off your strappy heels. After fumbling with the straps too much, you grew frustrated as you were just too drunk to figure out how to take them off.

“I’ll help you,” Dom says as he kneels in front of you to remove your painfully annoying heels. He gently grips the back of your calf with one hand, and carefully tug on the straps of your heels with his free hand. His touch sent goosebumps throughout your legs that you hoped he did not notice. “I’ve always liked these heels,” he comments. “Mmhm,” you gave him a smile, remembering all the times he’s taken those heels off you.

“Let’s get you some water eh,” he guides you to the kitchen. You follow Dom’s lead and plants yourself on the kitchen island. He asks you where the glasses are and takes two for you and him. “Thank you,” you look at him. “For taking me home.. and for getting rid of that guy,” you said. A reminder of the creepy man made him shudder, “Don’t mention it, please,” he says, a little too seriously, with two meanings. He did not want to be reminded of another man ever being close to you.

“I’m sorry again Dom, for everything—“ “—are you though?” he cuts you off, the last bit of alcohol in his system forcing him to speak his mind. “What?” you asked, a little taken aback. “Are you actually sorry?” Dom repeats himself. “Y-yes of course I am, how could you ask that?” you were surprised at his interruption.

“I don’t know, it seems everywhere I look, you’re there, and doing something that absolutely does my head in.” he says a little annoyed, and takes a sip of his water to calm his nerves. “Dom,” you sigh. “You know I didn’t leave you because I stopped loving you-“ “-Then why did you?!” his raised voice caught you off guard, almost slamming his glass on the counter.

“We have gone through this so many times! I’ve given you every reason I have to make this easier for the both of us!” you replied with frustration. Dom reacts with a surprised face, eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. “The both of us? Nothing you’ve said has made it easier for me, so don’t ever try to speak on my behalf,” he says with offense.

You look away whilst shaking your head. “I honestly can’t do this right now Dom,” you place your hands on your hips. “I’m exhausted, totally worn out, this, us,” you point your index finger to yourself and him. “Seeing you on this trip, talking to you for the first time in months,” you sigh, “it’s all too fucking much,” you said exasperated. “I’m going to bed, there are plenty of guest bedrooms, feel free to find yourself one,” you say as you hop off the island.

“No,” Dom says, almost a demand. He pulls you back in front of him and pins you against the counter. “We are not done talking,” he lifts you and places you back onto the counter.

He is standing between your legs, with the palm of his hands on the island, palms planted next to either side of your thighs.

“I’m done fucking about, (Y/N),” he stares into your eyes. “You know how I feel about you. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave you alone,” he breathes by your face. “Once and for all,” says Dom as he gives you an ultimatum you never expected.

Dom is breathing heavily, and you could see his chest rise with every breath he takes. The tension between you two was so strong, it could be cut with a knife. You stare into his eyes as you decide on what to say. Those green, almost hazel, beautiful eyes you miss waking up to every morning, eyes once sparkly and full of life now replaced with dark, lustful ones. His pink, flushed lips from the alcohol subtly quivering in anticipation of your response. You are left speechless by his ultimatum.

Against your better instincts, you take his face in your hands and desperately kiss his lips.

To your surprise he kisses you back, with so much passion that it’s borderline aggression, and wraps his arms around your waist. His desperate arms crawl itself from your waist to your back, then your neck, pushing the back of it so he could feel your lips better. The familiar warmth of his lips sends a thrill down your spine, a feeling you have missed for the longest time. He lets go of you for a second to grab your ass and pull your body closer to his, which you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your skirt up in the process. You quickly unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt, eager to see more of him. Taking the hint, Dom rips his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere but that is that last thing on his mind right now.

He takes your face in his hands and presses his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he says as he goes to plant kisses on your neck, down your shoulders and collarbones, pressing his lips against yours once again. “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he breathes by your mouth. “Tell me you want me,” he asks from you. You sigh at the pleasure you didn’t think you’d ever feel again. You missed this. You missed him.

“I want you,” you hastily say to him, looking at his lips and then deep into his lustful yet loving eyes.

After your last syllable he kisses you again, more aggressively this time, and lifts your body up to pull your skirt off you. You help him unbutton his pants and feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him.

You and Dom move in sync, in the same rhythm, on the same wavelength. It was as if no time had gone by. The bond you have with him is one in a million and cannot be replicated with anyone else. A connection so deep it’s a blessing and a curse, with so much happiness can occur so much pain.

You desperately try to quench your thirst for one another by exploring each other's bodies, after what feels like a lifetime apart. Hands everywhere, limbs entangled, your face on his. He’s wanted this for so long. Dom has dreamt of what it would be like to be intertwined with you again. Though then it was a nightmare, as he would wake up to an empty bed. Even his subconscious wants you.

“Are you, you know?” you ask, hinting to an obvious question. “I haven’t been with anyone else,” he looks at you in the eye. You nod at him, saying “I believe you,” through your eyes, which he received. His admission got you more excited for what’s to come.

Dom pushes your bodysuit fabric to the side, and inserts a finger in you, causing you to gasp. You try to hide your muffled moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that early. “Wet for me already?” he smirks as he pumps himself. Unflattered by his comment, you decide to tease him a little.

“How about I go back to the club and find that blonde again?” you threaten him. “Nah, fuck that,” he says angrily, pushing himself inside you without warning. You let out a deep sigh as you roll your eyes at the pain and pleasure. “Holy shit,” you curse at his size, still needing to adjust to the fullness. “Tell me if I’m hurting you baby,” he whispers in your ear before planting a kiss on your neck. “Keep going,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck for support.

He slowly pulls out and pushes back into you several times, before pulling out of you completely, leaving you frustrated at the cold emptiness. He quickly thrusts himself back inside you in a quick pace, his tip hitting your core in one go. “Fucking hell,” he whimpers.

He has never felt anything as good as you, your warmth, your tightness around him, nothing could ever replicate that. His pace quickens by the second, leaving you a moaning mess. “Look at me baby,” he growls, yearning to see your face as you’re pleasured by him. The sight of you looking up at him with your eyebrows furrowed, mouth shaped an ‘o’, your chest rising, the sounds of slapping skins nearly made him finish. But that man has the stamina of a machine, and has self-control like no other, except when it comes to you. It takes every inch of him to make this moment last.

Craving to see more of you, he pulls your bodysuit strap and yanks the fabric down, revealing your breasts. Dom has always been good with his hands, he knows how to fuck you, make out with you, and play with your breasts at the same time. Desperate to feel every inch of you, he lifts your leg and rests it on his shoulder and holds your waist to push you into him as he takes control of the rhythm.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan at the change of position as you feel him hit your spot with every beat. “You feel so good baby,” he whimpers in your ear, turning you on even more and pushing you towards a high. You two are a whimpering mess, bodies intertwined, hungry for each other. A strand of his curls hangs out of Dom’s tied hair, occasionally sticking on his glistening forehead.

“Fuck baby, I’m not going to last much longer,” he says as he cranes his neck down to look at himself thrusting in and out of you. “Me too,” you whimper out. Dom’s pace gets sloppy as he is losing control. “Baby I’m gonna cum,” he cries out. “I’m on the pill,” you said. His eyes widened. “So I can-” “-yeah,” you quickly replied. “Fuck, okay,” the thought of spilling himself in you pushed him to a climax. “Shit, baby!” he releases himself in you. You gasp as you feel his juices shoot into the walls of your core. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats himself as he rests his forehead on your collarbone. “Cum for me baby,” he whispers in your ear as cum is still spilling in you. “I’m gonna—fuck!”, you moan and grip his biceps for support as you crane your neck back and roll your eyes and join his high. As you both catch your breaths, he rests his forehead on yours, planting a lasting kiss on your lips, then your forehead. You stay breathing on one another for a short while.

“Holy--fucking--shit, that was-” “I know”, you cut him off. Dom slowly pulls himself out of you, which made you jump at the sudden cold emptiness. He watches his cum ooze its way out of you and trail down your thighs. “Fuck me that’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he says in awe. “Think I just did,” you joke, earning a chuckle from Dom. He has been wanting this for so long, to hold you, feel you, and have you in his arms again. You have been longing for a touch you have missed, an emptiness you have yearned to fill.

“I would never have thought I’d be taking you on the kitchen counter on this trip, considering the circumstances,” he smirked. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, signalling him to elaborate. “I mean I knew I’d be fucking you, but somewhere normal,” he laughs as he picks up your clothes and his off the floor.

“Are you saying that I’m easy?” you asked rather annoyed, crossing your arms at what he said. “No!”, he quickly says, afraid to be misunderstood. “I meant, I’m here, on this island because of you, I planned this trip for us,” he paused.

“Remember when I showed you our plans for the summer months ago? When we were, you know, still together?” he asked. You nodded, feeling slightly guilty. “Well, I booked it that same night,” he adds. “What do you mean?” you asked confused. “When we broke up, I tried to cancel the trip, but the travel agency wouldn’t give me a refund, so I brought the boys along and called it a lads trip instead,” he replied. “Oh, I, I didn’t know you had actually planned a trip for us,” you said, looking up at him with remorseful eyes. “I wanted to surprise you, you know. We’ve both never been, and I wanted to make it special for you,” he says, giving you a smile which you matched, apologetically.

“Look babe, I know this probably isn’t the right time to bring this up, considering I’ve just fucked you on the counter and it reeks of sex in here,” he says as you roll your eyes and chuckle at the innuendo. “But if tonight has taught me anything, if this entire, petrifyingly coincidental circumstance of seeing you in Mykonos has taught me anything, is that fate wants us to be together,” he pulls and kisses your hand. You pull his hand away to tug on his loose curly strand. “I don’t want to spend another second without you by my side, I am so madly in love with you,” he reveals and mimics you as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ears. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” he looked back into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking away. “You seemed like you hated me when you first saw me again,” you shrugged. Dom’s demeanour changed a little bit, looking almost guilty. “I never hated you, granted, I probably wanted to. It’s much easier to pretend than to face reality, you know?” he asks. You knew, of course you knew. You did the same thing. “But it’s impossible to forget you, I’ve tried everything, and I mean everything to get you out of my head. Some things I admit, I’m not proud of, but I’ve never felt pain like that before, I didn't know how to cope,” he confesses. You look at him once more before looking down on your hands.

“Baby,” he takes your hands in his, “will you come home with me?” he pleads. Your body jolts at his request. “I will give you all the space in the world if you ever need it, support you in every step of the way and will only help you if you ask me,” he cups your face with his hands. “Just please, give me the chance to be there for you. I’m not asking you to need me, but let me be there, please,” he places a hand on your cheek. “I love you,” he adds. Your heart bursts at his confession. You responded by planting a deep kiss on his lips. “I love you,” you said as you caressed his hand on your face. “I’ll come home.”

***

By dawn, you’re showered, cleansed from the events of last night, tucked in bed with the love of your life. A case of the “right person at the wrong time”, resolved, as Dom breathes down your neck, holding you close to him with his arms around you, occasionally pressing kisses to your neck. To him, the one that got away came back, the empty space he had been forced to get used to was replaced by your body pressed against his. Dom steals a smell of your sweet-scented hair, reminding himself that this is his reality, and he no longer has to pretend.

A tale of star-crossed lovers reunite on a blue night in Mykonos, on a tropical escape meant to erase every trace of one another in their hearts and minds, only to bring them back into each other's arms.

***

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #football fanfiction #mclfic

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