#hopefully i will draw the other half at some point but this really took it out of me and looking at it makes me angy so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), slow burn, underage alcohol content, virgin! tom and virgin!reader, protected sex (if tom can wrap it, so can you), just the fluffiest smut i've ever written tbh, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v,

Summary: A boy you met in the playground has a far greater effect on your life than you could have imagined.

Word count: 12k

A/N: Ugh, hopefully this signifies the end of my writer's block. Thanks for hanging in there, gang! Enjoy my first Tom fic <3

Age 4

You sit on the roundabout cross-legged, indignantly pressing your hands into your cheeks. You look over at some of the other kids, playing with their friends. You wish you could have friends here too. Even though your parents took you here on holiday, and there’s loads of stuff at the holiday park specifically catered to kids your age, the most they’ll do is bring you to the park for half an hour or so before dragging you along to all the stupid, boring things that they want to do.

A boy with curly hair that sticks out in all directions and brown eyes that glisten when the midday sun hits them saunters up to you. “Hiya. Are you waiting for anyone else?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. You and your friends can have it.”

“Oh, I’m here by meself, too! Well not by meself, me mam’s here too, but I thought we could take it in turns!” He outstretches his hand, “I’m Thomas!”

You snort out a laugh. “Like the tank engine?”

“Shut up,” he frowns, making you giggle again.

“My dad’s friend’s name is Freder-eder-ded- Fredrid- Frederick, but we just call him Fred ’cause it’s easier. Maybe I can call you… Tom.”

His eyes light up. He has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. “I’d like that. Tom. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Your voice is weird,” you point out.

“Shut up!” he repeats. “Yours is the weird one.”

"Well, I've never heard one like yours before so that makes it weird. Now c’mon, you can spin me first,” you tell him, and with that, he wraps his hands around the metal pole of the roundabout and runs as fast as his tiny legs will take him.

Age 13

Another year, another caravan holiday. The older you get, the less tolerance you have for your parents’ boring excursions. But you absolutely love the downtime in between where you’re just at the caravan park. Because it means you get to hang out with your best friend.

As sad as you are to see your tradition go, of the pair of you picking out postcards for each other to spend all your holiday pocket money on to send to each other throughout the year, you are very excited to show him your birthday present since the last time you saw him.

“Hiya,” comes a familiar call from behind you as you sit at the roundabout that you first met Tom on. You run to him, with his arms outstretched wide, flinging your own around him as soon as you can reach him. His face buries into your cheek as you hug each other, his laughter filling your ears. “Got summat to show ya,” he says as you’re still embraced before pulling away.

“Oh, I have something to show you, too!” you grin, both of you fumbling through your pockets before you both brandish your mobile phones to each other.

With excited gasps, you recite your own numbers that you've memorised to each other, and immediately text each other, despite being feet away. You read your messages on each others’ screens as though it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come across.

The two of you walk down to the beach together, babbling on about school life and home life and everything in between life. You notice that Tom goes quiet after a little while, which isn’t like him. You sit down on a log you’d both claimed a few years ago, and Tom picks up a branch from the ground near it and starts drawing absent-mindedly in the sand. You ask with a frown, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah!” he lies, but you glare at him.

“Liar,” you shove him, and he laughs softly. “You think I can’t tell by now? What’s really wrong?”

He sighs, “Well… You know my best mate, Jake?” You nod. “Well, he got a - got a girlfriend last year.”

“You make that sound like that’s the worst thing in the world,” you laugh.

“Obviously it’s not,” he pulls a face at you. “But, like… I’m gonna have to… Kiss a girl at some point soon, aren’t I? It’s all Jake asks of me these days.”

You giggle, “What, is someone still afraid of getting girl germs?”

“No!” Tom elbows you in the side. “I’m...Worried I’ll be shit at it.”

You roll your eyes, “Nobody expects you to be good at it right off the bat!” Tom keeps looking at you sadly and you sigh. “What, you want to practise or something?”

Tom's eyes widen, then he nods slowly. “If that’s okay with you...”

You shrug, “I haven’t had any experience either, so...” you trail off. "I'll probably be shit, too."

“R-right, w-well,” Tom stammers, “I think I- I come over like this, a-and...” he leans towards you, resting a hand on your hip. He leans in close to you, tilting his head both ways. You try and match his movements, but at the last minute his nose crashes into yours and you both laugh nervously.

You try to play it cool, try to breathe deeply in case he can hear your heart thumping too. You’re so close to him right now you can see the little dip left by the dimple that forms when he smiles. The specks in his eyes that glow in the sun. Tom has been the love of your life - but you can’t say that, you’re only 13, you’ve barely lived.

You hold his jaw in place and move to him. His lips are smooth, warm, full, simply invigorating. He doesn’t respond at first, and you feel like kissing just his top lip probably isn't right, but after a few pecks from you he starts to kiss back. Feeling him push out to you makes you crave even more. He carries on with even more fervour until he suddenly stops, pulling back and whipping his hand back into his lap. He mumbles a “thanks” and goes back to poking the sand with his stick.

Your chest feels as though it’s made of lead. You excuse yourself and run all the way back to your caravan, heading straight to your bed and sobbing into your pillow. Of course he hated kissing you.

You do everything you can to avoid Tom for a while. You immerse yourself in everything your family wants to do, constantly asking what they’ve got planned to go out and do, emphasis on the go out bit. You switch your phone off so as not to be distracted by his texts. You rarely leave the caravan.

It’s only on the second-to-last day that your parents basically kick you out of the caravan for the day. Despite them giving you plenty of money to play in the arcade with, you find yourself sitting on one of the swings in the playpark, rocking yourself back and forth absentmindedly.

You don’t notice Tom approaching you, you’re too immersed in trying to think of anything else but him. He clears his throat to get your attention. You notice he’s breathless and red in the face, like he’s been sprinting. With a heavy heart, you nod at him in acknowledgement. “Hiya,” he starts softly.

“Hey.” you reply bluntly. You don’t mean to be so cold to him, you don’t want to be - but you have to be.

“You’ve been mad distant lately, are you all right?” Tom asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Nope, I’m half left, see,” you wave your left hand in the air half-heartedly and Tom chuckles.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.” He chews on his lip before continuing, “Is it because of how I kissed?” You think about whether or not to answer honestly when he continues sadly, “Was I really that bad at it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, you were fine. I...I’ve been busy with holiday stuff! Parents, you know how it is.” You're lying through your teeth, but what did you expect? For Tom to also fall for you as soon as your lips connected? Of course not.

“Right,” Tom breathes out a sigh of relief before continuing, “but you normally don’t go along with that, if you can help it… Does that mean you don’t want to hang out with me any more?” His voice falters back to sadness.

“Well, no,” you blurt out before you can think of something else. Damn. You didn’t want to outright say no because you can’t keep making yourself feel like this. But you look at his smile, at the dimples that you could place on him from memory, at his eyes lit up like a Christmas display, at how his freckles dance up his cheeks, and all of that flies out the window.

“Good! Because - Well, it’s a bit stupid, I know, but they’re doing a thing in the entertainment hall tonight, since it’s most kids’ last day here before school starts, a-and I...I was wondering if...” he starts wringing his hands together.

“You’re worried you’ll look like Billy No-Mates if you turn up without a date and you don’t know any other girls here well enough,” you state simply.

“There’s… More to it than that,” Tom scrunches his face up.

Of course, what you’re unaware of is that Tom is terrified he’s lost you for good. That him being so nervous about being too eager to kiss you that he had to stop himself has been too obvious and ruined your first kiss and that he’s lost the girl he loves. But he won’t admit that. He’ll let you believe whatever you want as long as he gets to spend time with you again. As long as he gets to watch the sparkle in your eyes dance when you laugh, and the little twitch of the nose you do right before you start to think deeply about something, that’s all he wants back.

You, blissfully unaware of this, shrug in defeat, “Sure. It’ll be nice to catch up over the last few days, I guess.”

Tom grins, “Alright, sound! I mean, I doubt we’ll really be able to catch up at the dance, but...We could always grab dinner together at the restaurant bit beforehand, just me an’ you?”

“Sounds good,” you press your lips together and nod. Tom grins and waves goodbye as he leaves the park, leaving you to curse yourself. You’re just letting him walk all over you - to you, Tom is now your first friend, first kiss, first dinner date, first dance date; you feel like to Tom you’re just a test dummy.

Age 16

You knew he had a girlfriend, now. He’d phoned you about Ruth in the early days of knowing her, and despite everything, you’d talked him into asking her out. He deserves that happiness, even if he can't get it with you.

She had seemed really interested in getting to know you, too, at first. Tom was always telling you that she’d been asking questions constantly about you, and that he couldn’t wait for the two of you to meet. “My girls,” he’d always say. Your heart would soar 50 feet into the air just to plummet a hundred at those words.

Phone calls became less frequent as months went on. After you’d sent over your Christmas card and present to him, as per your tradition, you only got back a card that had your name written at the top, and “- Tom” at the bottom. Not the “Love,” that would always come before it. Not the little kiss he’d always put underneath his name. That really stung.

What was once a constant stream of texts from wishing each other good morning to goodnight every day for the last 3 years becomes occasional, which becomes non-existent. He doesn’t even text you on your birthday.

You beg and you plead with your parents to not go on the annual Cornwall holiday. Anywhere but. You’re 16 now, that’s plenty old enough to stay at home on your own. You’d be more than happy to have a neighbour check in on you regularly and spontaneously. Or a family member. Even your worst enemy, just - not there. Not facing him. And besides, you’re almost certain he won’t be alone with his parents this year.

And you’re right. She’s hanging off of his arm all the while the other regular teens crowd around them. They’re all just as much your friends as they are his. But this year you don’t feel welcome around them.

And it’s not just jealousy on your part. You’d even tried to be friendly. You’d practically skipped up to the both of them on your first day, after a lot of mental preparation, to a judgemental stare from Ruth that started from the moment she laid eyes on you, to the moment you left her field of vision. It burned especially strongly when Tom hugged you in greeting, even if you could have gotten a more meaningful exchange with a Lego figurine, with a just as emotionless, "Hiya."

It hurts when you end up seeing Ruth and Tom together and she’s the one who notices and suddenly drapes herself over him. It hurts more when it’s him that sees you first and he takes her by the hand and simply runs off with her.

It hurts the most when you catch them kissing on your log. Once again, 3 years later, you’re running from that beach to your caravan and you’re curling up in your bed crying your eyes out. Except, this year’s trip won’t end in a dinner where he feeds you his chips just because you didn’t ask for any with your meal and he wants to make sure you don’t nick all of his. It won’t end with a DJ asking everyone - and he means everyone - to make their way to the only slow-dance of the night, and Tom goofily dancing in ultra slow motion as he eventually encourages you to do the same. It’ll end in him doing that with her, while you sit and eat whatever your parents can make out of whatever’s left in the fridge and fight back the tears you haven’t yet cried while in the privacy of your own room.

It makes sense, after all. Tom being your first love, he was always destined to be your first heartbreak, too.

Age 17

You hear a moan fall into your mouth, you feel a hand grip on your arm. Another rests on your thigh. Your hand moves up to his hair, burying deep into his soft, brown curls. Except it doesn’t. It barely scrapes through the cropped, straight hair of your boyfriend.

You’d so loved that the guy on the other side of the classroom in your college class had noticed you, had asked you out. Your parents love him, your friends back home love him. And, as it had turned out, he’d even been holidaying at the same caravan park you always do. It’s just that while your family normally goes at the end of the summer break, his goes at the start. Your family let you go with his this year instead, which you’re thrilled about. Hopefully you can create memories with your boyfriend in Cornwall with absolutely no trace of Tom, who’s surely only going to be there in the last week, like always.

You don’t believe it when you see him and her in the distance, outside the window. You think you must be making it up. There’s no way. It’s only fleeting, so you shake it off and try to focus on being in the moment with your boyfriend. He takes you by the hand, leads you to your bedroom for the next week, sits you both on the bed and starts kissing you intensely. That’s when you start imagining him as Tom, again. This is exactly the opposite of what you wanted to happen.

Later on, when you’re on your way to the arcade, you spot an old friend from past trips. She excitedly greets you, states her surprise over seeing you so early in the summer, and tells you that she works here now. She tells you of a staff party that’s happening in one of the luxury chalets. It’s apparently a tradition, first weekend of every summer holiday period, the staff club together and buy it out for a weekend. She invites you both along, and you gleefully accept.

You speculate all week about what your first house party is going to be like. What being drunk for the first time is going to be like. Your boyfriend laughs at you every time. "You're hilarious. I can't wait to see how sloppy you get."

That makes you nervous. How much alcohol does it take to get you wasted? You were hoping to make sure you stayed of enough sound mind to remember it all. Would you really inevitably get "sloppy" and embarrass yourself?

When the party's finally in full swing, you're insistent on sticking to cans of soda. Your boyfriend frowns at you, demands to know why you're suddenly so shy over drinking after it being all you could talk about. You tell him you just need to build up to it, that it's a first time which makes it a big deal. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about first times and walks away.

You frown at that. There's only two main things about you and firsts. The fact that you and Tom may never share any more, which you've never discussed with your boyfriend; and that the first time the two of you had tried going beyond kissing, he'd called you…

No, you're not thinking about that. He said he's sure it's something you'll get over, and once you are, he'll be ready for you. You just need to try and rein it in for yourself. Did he resent you because you hadn't managed to keep it under control yet?

Your brain is swimming when you hear the one voice you'd simultaneously been waiting for and dreading. "Hiya!"

Taking a deep breath in and putting on a brave face, you feign surprise. “Oh my god, Tom! Hi! What are you doing here?!”

“Well, Ruth had made friends with one of the girls that works here, Jade, and she invited us - well, Ruth, but, y’know, we’re sort of a package deal,” he laughs awkwardly. “Um, so, what are you doing here?”

“Hayley works here now, an’ all! Remember her?”

Tom laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t surprise me in the slightest. ’Member how she was always the first to volunteer to get on stage?” You both laugh loudly before faltering into a weird silence. “So, found your tipple of choice, yet?” he asks, gesturing to the plastic cup in your hand.

“Oh!” You shake your head. “Not yet. I wouldn’t even know which one to start with. I’ve, uh, I’ve never really drank before.”

Tom chuckles, “Hey, me neither! Was gonna play it safe and go for a beer. Fancy indulging in my first one with me?”

“We’ve shared enough by now, haven’t we?” you ask with a small smile.

“So,” he starts as you both head into the kitchen. “You never really explained why you’re here this early.”

“Didn’t I? I’m here with my boyfriend and his family,” you explain.

Tom’s face falls, though you’re too busy navigating your way past everyone at the party to notice. “O-oh… Boyfriend? Is he… Y’know, good to you, an’ that?” He asks, his energy suddenly depleted.

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s great. Dunno where he is at the moment, but I’ll have to introduce you both while we’re here,” you nod.

“Definitely! I’ll let Ruth know you’re here, she can say hi to you an’ all.” Tom thankfully doesn’t notice your eyes rolling as he studies the drinks now in front of you both. Tom looks over his shoulder at you and jerks his head at the kitchen counter. “Pick our poison, then.”

You shrug, “I dunno, you said beer? Let’s go with that.”

Tom nods, grabbing a couple of bottles and an opener, clicking the lids off and handing one to you. “To us, eh? Finally growing up.”

WIth a defeated smile, you clink your bottle against his and you both take your first sips. Tom immediately pulls a face of disgust, which then turns to intrigue. He looks over at you and laughs as you stand there, looking as though you’ve squeezed an entire lemon out onto your tongue. “Maybe we’ll get you something sweeter. ’Ere, how about one of these flavoured vodkas? Stick some of that in with your Coke.”

You and Tom stay and chat for the best part of an hour, catching up on everything. It’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long while. Certainly this whole week. But then he talks about finding Ruth and for the first time all night, you think about where your boyfriend could be.

You take a lap of the cabin. And another. And another. Each time more and more anxious. Calling his name out is getting you nowhere.

And then you see a flash of him getting pulled into another room. You don’t see the other person. Their arm is especially slender, their painted nails gripping his shirt as he grins down at them. You stare at the door as it closes, in pure shock and horror.

Your ears ring until you eventually hear a faint, but familiar, “Hiya, what’s going on with you? You’ve been up and down like a bleedin’ yoyo!” Tom notices your lack of response and frowns. “What?” As you still don’t answer, he follows your line of vision and points, “In that door?” Your lip quivers and his face steels. “Right.”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion and high speed all at once. Tom swinging the door open. His, “You better not be who I fucking think you are, mate.” Him getting pinned against the wall by your (as of right now) ex. Tom spitting in his eye to get dropped. Your boyfri- ex-boyfriend’s, “Is she as fucking disgusting with you as she is with me?” as Tom tries to walk away. Tom’s face absolutely seething as he turns back around, strides up to your ex and punches him square in the face.

Finally, you find it in you to scream at Tom to stop, and then turn to your ex. “The actual fuck is wrong with you?! Acting a victim just because I was catching up with a friend while you were chatting girls up in the same fucking house?!”

“You know what? Fuck this. Make your own way home. Bitch,” your ex snarls as he pushes past you to the front door as he storms out of it.

You hear a, “What the fuck happened to you?!” and see Ruth approach with her new friend, a girl with just-above-shoulder-length hair. Ruth’s looking at Tom’s red knuckles in horror.

“I’m fine, babe, honest. It were just… That dickhead was feeling up some other bird while…” He gestures weakly at you.

Ruth presses her lips together and nods, “Right. So you’ll punch a guy for her, yeah?”

He groans, lolling his head back. “C’mon, Ruth, don’t be like that now, please. You know I’d do the same if it were you. Or even Jake, or any one of my friends, alright? Don’t mean nothin’.”

“Yeah, well. Think I’m gonna sleep over at Jade’s tonight, anyway. Wanna see how the staff live,” she explains, gesturing to her friend.

Tom looks a little dejected, but he shrugs it off. “Alright, it’s your holiday, too. Have fun. I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?” She nods, and he goes up to kiss her. You look away, wincing. She scowls at you as she walks past you to leave.

Someone else in the crowd snorts, “Don’t you think that’s a bit fucking dodgy?”

“What is?” Tom asks, turning to face them.

“Accusing you of cheating on her with a ‘friend’ and then conveniently sleeping over with a friend of her own?” They fold their arms to raise their eyebrows in suspicion at Tom.

He merely shrugs, carefree. “Exactly. It’s perfectly normal to just have friends, alright?” He sounds a little exasperated at that, holding his hands up. “It’d only be dodge if I were also up to no good. But I’m not, because I know that it’s okay to just hang out with a friend every now an’ then.” He looks at you and shrugs. “Listen, don’t worry about tonight. Mum and Dad had us in a twin room, anyway, I can pull the beds back apart again if you need a place to sleep. Till then, we can stay here, long as you like. Alright?”

You nod gratefully, pushing out a whispered, “Thank you.”

You hug him tightly and he gives you just as much back, rocking you gently from side to side before rubbing up and down your back and offering, “So, how’s about we go back and demolish all the vodka and coke in that kitchen, yeah?”

You awaken in a single bed, next to another single bed that has a stirring Tom in it. He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes awake, “Hiya.”

You groan, “Of all the first encounters we’ve had, I’m begging you to have looked into how to deal with our first hangovers.”

He snorts with laughter. “‘’Fraid not. Looks like we’re suffering together.”

“Fantastic,” you whine as you throw yourself to lay on your other side.

Age 18

Even now that you’re legally an adult, that caravan park in Cornwall never evades you. You’d wanted to go on one of those big pre-university holidays to Spain or Greece like most 18 year olds do, but too many plans kept falling through and things kept going wrong and so, in order to catch some kind of break, you end up giving into your friend Hayley’s offer to stay with her for the holiday period. The friend that works there.

The staff living quarters are identical to the rest of the caravan park, with the exception of a common area with a bonfire. As you’re carrying your suitcase past it, you spot her. Again. Of course. You await the disgusted glare she’s about to give you, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the slightest. Hayley catches up with you, notices, and nudges you, “You know, she’s actually a lot more chilled out now that she’s with Jade instead.”

You double-take so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. “She’s wi- You mean, with?” Your friend nods. “Aww. Well, good for her, I guess.”

Once you’re in the caravan, you take out your phone and tap through to yours and Tom’s text history. You read back the last text you’d had from him, almost a year ago:

Hiya. Hope you’re alright, and you got on the train okay. Listen, I know I said all that guff about us just being friends, and I know that’s what both of us have always been, but Ruth’s proper upset about it. It was really good to see you again, but I don’t think we should talk while this is still fresh. Safe travels.

You wonder why he never thought to text you even after they’d broken up. Did he even want to hear from you again? You bite the bullet and text anyway:

Hey, stranger! Heard about you and Ruth. Sorry to hear it. Hope you’re doing well.

Hiya, yourself! Yeah, thanks, I’m holding up. Better for us all, really. How’d you hear, if you don’t mind me asking? x

Saw her at the caravan site and she didn’t give me evils, lol.

YOU’RE HERE?! :D x

Yeah!

Wait, when you say *here*...

What caravan are you staying in? x

One of the staff ones, 159. Why?

He doesn’t text back as quickly after that, so you instead start fixing up some lunch for you and your friend. She goes down to the shop to pick up something for the two of you to drink, and while you have the caravan to yourself, there’s a hurried knocking at the door. You assume Hayley told her bosses that she’s got someone living with her over the summer - she does have one of the ‘luxury’ two-bed caravans, after all - so there should be no problem with you answering it.

You don’t even get a good look at who it is before you’re being swept up in their arms and backed into the caravan, but you recognise that scent, that grip, that swooping feeling in your stomach. That laughter in your ear, followed by the greatest word in the English language, “Hiya.”

“Oh my god! What are the chances that you - oh my god!” You yell excitedly as you see him in his uniform. He twirls himself from side to side with a proud smile to show it off. “You got a job here, too?!”

He grins, “Yeah!” but it falters. “’Course, it would’ve helped if I’d’ve known my ex was dumping me for someone else who works here before I accepted but,” he shrugs, “swings and roundabouts. Speaking of! They’ve got rid of our park.”

You gasp sorrowfully. “What? No!”

“I know! They’re redoing the whole thing,” he pouts.

“I mean, to be fair, it was getting close to becoming an actual death trap,” you point out. “Last year, I don’t think the roundabout even actually spun anymore!” You both laugh as Hayley returns.

“Oh! Alright, Tom! See you’ve found my fugitive for the next six weeks.”

“Sure have! Can I nick her for a bit, though? Got some catching up to do,” he looks at her hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

She looks between the two of you before grinning, “Yeah, why not? I can make my own lunch, away with you both!”

“Have you not had lunch yet, then?” Tom frowns as you both walk down the steps of the caravan.

“Mate, I literally just got here,” you gesture to your car as Tom falls into a pile of giggles.

“Alright, mate,” he nudges you with his elbow as he mocks you. “How’s about we take full advantage of my new staff discount,” he waggles an ID card between his fingers, “and go get you your own chips for once?”

“You remembered!” You cackle. “And they’re way tastier when they’re not mine.”

All through your meal, as you catch up, there's a very large elephant in the room that Tom isn't addressing. After a post-lunch walk ends up taking you to your log, the bittersweet punch that hits your chest finally has you speak up as Tom sits on the log, sprawling his legs out in front of him: "Why didn't you ever text?" Tom presses his lips together as he takes a deep breath in and out. "I know… I know you said that Ruth didn't like you talking to me, and while that was shit, I kinda get it. But… Why didn't you…?"

"Reach out after we broke up?" Tom asks, bending his knees to rest his elbows on as he rubs his face with his palms. "I don't fucking know, is my honest answer. I thought about it, if that helps. Probably fucking doesn't," he mutters. "I just… Assumed you'd hate me for letting a girl come between us."

"Well… A little," you admit, finally sitting down next to him. "Hate you more for assuming I'd hate you, though." Tom shoves your shoulder as he laughs softly, and you chuckle quietly, too.

"Let me make it up to you?" he asks. "Dinner at my caravan later?"

You groan, "Please tell me you've learned to do more than put tinned spaghetti on a slice of uncooked bread."

"As long as you eat it like a sandwich, ain't nothing wrong with it," he beams. "But, just for you, I'll make it proper special, yeah?"

"Ooh, like a date? Do I have to dress up?" You tease, and he laughs loudly.

"I distinctly remember you wearing jeans on our first date, so you've set the bar pretty low there."

You look at him in mock offence, "Excuse you! Those were my smart jeans that had the sequin dolphins on them! I felt like a little celebrity in those," you reminisce.

"You can wear what you like, just… Maybe no bedazzled fish this time, eh?" He glances over at you side-eyeing him and interrupts you before you can start correcting him, "I know, I know, dolphins are mammals, actually." He collapses into a fit of giggles, losing the accent he's using to mock yours as he squawks at you trying to push him off the log entirely.

"Can't believe you remember that, and all," you smile fondly.

"Of course. Still got that toy one I bough-" Tom interrupts himself, but you silently encourage him. "I, uh, we had a school trip to the aquarium. An' they had a - a little gift shop there, they had these toy dolphins. I bought one to give you years ago, but I just… Never got round to it."

“Ruth stopped you?” you guess, and he pulls a face in response. You copy him, “You’ll just have to give it to me when you come visit me in Nottingham, won’t you?”

He sits bolt upright. “You what?!”

You giggle, “I got into Nottingham. For uni, I mean.”

“Shit, that’s huge! Grats!” he pins your arms to your side in a quick squeeze. "An' there's a bus that goes straight there from Derby, so there'll be no escaping me!"

Your eyebrows knit together, "You not staying here year-round?"

He shakes his head. "I was gonna, when I first applied for it, but then… Well, things have changed now, in't they?"

You giggle, "I'll finally get to see your house for real!"

Tom gasps excitedly, "Shit, yeah, and Mum'll be dead happy to see you again!" He slaps his knees and stands up, "Right, well. This ain't getting me back to work, is it? Gotta make sure I clock off nice an’ early." He offers his hand out to you. "Wanna get up too, or are you staying here?"

You take his hand and let him pull you up to standing. "Nah, I better get back to Hayley at some point. Text me whenever you want me ’round, yeah?" You ask, trying not to grin stupidly at the fact Tom doesn't let go of your hand right away.

"Will do. In a bit, yeah?" he asks with a smile, holding your hand out to him for just long enough for you to speculate whether he was about to kiss it before letting it go, instead.

As you head straight back up the path next to the log, he goes across the beach for a minute, making his way to the other side of the park where he needs to be instead. You return to caravan 159 to see Hayley sprawled across the sofa, watching the tiny TV. She jumps up excitedly when she sees you. “So, how’d it go?” You explain that you have dinner planned with him tonight, but that you’re not certain what level of date to consider it. Hayley helps you go through the clothes you’d packed, but they were all either too casual or too going-out-y, outfits you’d planned for nights out at bars and nightclubs. Not exactly dinner-with-an-old-friend attire.

Hayley takes you by the hand to her room, where she starts pulling out dresses and holding them against you. You laugh, “Hayles! These are your show outfits, I can’t wear them!”

“Why not?” she frowns. “We’re the same size, I still get to choose which ones I wear every night so I’ll have plenty of options. And Tom and that never come and watch, so he’ll be none the wiser.” She waggles her eyebrows, wiggling the dress in her hands from side to side. “Come on,” she drawls the last word, stretching it out. “You know you want to.”

You snatch it from her and scoff, “If I take this, will you stop?”

She grins wickedly. “Not until you’ve shown me what undies you’re gonna wear, too!”

You feel your face grow warmer as you shake your head, “And what does that have to do with the price of fish?!”

She cackles, “You know.”

“I know nothing, remember? I’m still yet to… Y’know,” you falter. Hayley doesn’t quite know the full extent of yours and Tom’s friendship, only knowing that you’ve both been coming to this park as long as she has. She doesn’t know that there’s ample ammo for her to tease you about tonight, and you put all your energy into calculating everything you’re about to say to make sure you don’t slip up. That’s the last thing you need.

“Is that why you’ve got these?” she asks with a giggle, already back in your bedroom and scooping up a pair of lace panties with her finger from the packing cube you’d assigned for underwear.

Your face now a furnace, you chase after her with a, “Shut it!” as you snatch them away. “They’re for if we ever go… Y’know, out anywhere. Sometimes it just gives you a little boost to wear a cute matching set, know what I mean?”

She grins, “I know, I’m just yanking your chain. Wear what you want, as long as you look good doing it.” Her voice gets quieter as she heads back into the main room of the caravan, until she calls out loudly, “So, where is he taking you, do you know?”

“He says he’s going to cook for me,” you state as you press Hayley’s dress to your front and look in the mirror. “Yeah, said he’ll text me when it’s ready.”

Hayley suddenly reappears back in your doorway looking fearful. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah! Why shouldn’t I be?” you ask with a frown.

“You ever seen Tom’s cooking?”

You shake your head. “Not since we were about 14? And all he could do was heat up tinned spaghetti and dump it onto bread he didn’t even think to toast. But he said he’d do better, and that was four years a-” Your face falls at her expression.

“Babe. He was literally eating that for dinner yesterday when we called for him to come sit round the fire,” she tells you with raised eyebrows.

“So… I should… Just go there as soon as I’m ready?” You ask, nodding slowly, and Hayley mirrors you. She shows you from the window which trailer is Tom’s, and lets you finish getting yourself ready.

After showering, getting dressed - including the set of underwear that Hayley teased you about, even though you definitely don’t plan on having anyone else see it, it’s definitely just to give you the little boost of confidence you need - and applying as much make-up as you feel comfortable putting on for tonight - you give Hayley a quick hug, though she has you pose for some photos first to “commemorate” how good you look in her dress. She’s quick to usher you out of the door afterwards, though, telling you where she’ll bury her spare key so you can get back in (“If you get back in tonight,” she adds with an exaggerated wink as you roll your eyes at her and walk out) and pointing out one more time where Tom lives.

You knock on the door tentatively, but the muffled country music you can hear from the other side tells you that Tom probably can’t hear you. You try the door and it opens easily, allowing you to see Tom dancing around the tiny expanse of his kitchen, singing under his breath as he takes a handful of spaghetti out from its packet and throws it into a pot of boiling water as though it were a part of the way he’s dancing.

Your phone still clutched in your hand, you go to position it in a way to start recording him, but he catches you. Instead of looking surprised, he simply beckons you over with one finger. Walking across to him, as he’s still singing and swaying, he holds his hand out, to which you give him yours and he twirls you around. “You look amazing,” he smiles at you breathlessly.

Trying not to get too flustered, you quickly reply, “You scrub up alright, yourself!” You gesture to him, looking down at his dress shirt and - “Oh, so when I wear jeans to have dinner with you, I get ridiculed, but -”

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh,” Tom shushes you with a smile, pressing his finger against your lips, which you laugh against. “How come you’re early then, eager beaver? Didn’t even need to tell you where I live.”

“Hayley told me. Warned me to come over and make sure I don’t get food poisoning or something,” you giggle, and Tom gasps, holding a hand to his chest.

“That cheeky cow!” He jokes before draping his arm over your shoulders and aiming you towards the stove. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve been cooking not just one, but two options. See, I couldn’t remember if you ate meat or not, so I’ve got some… Broccoli spaghetti dish on the go on this side, and then there’s sausage and rice in this big pot here,” he points out.

“At least none of it came out of a tin, good boy,” you smirk as you take a spoon from the utensil rack on his counter and start stirring the spaghetti around to make sure it all starts cooking. You continue stirring the different pots, asking Tom if there’s anything more to be done, but he simply carries on singing along to what you recognise playing now as Take Me Home, Country Roads, taking another utensil off the rack from where he stands behind you to sing dramatically into the handle as he side-steps back and forth around you. “Can’t believe you actually listen to this stuff,” you muse, shaking your head softly.

“What’d you mean?! It’s decent,” Tom pouts.

“Tom, my granddad listens to Jim Reeves,” you point out.

“Then your granddad’s got excellent taste, don’t he,” Tom grins before putting his hands on your hips. Your heart skips several beats as he gently pushes you out of the way. “C’mon, now, let me dish up. You go sit at the table, yeah?”

Your heart soars again when you see there’s already knives and forks laid out, as well as a candle off to the side. Tom soon follows, holding both plates out to offer to you. You pick the one you prefer and set it down in front of you. Tom puts his down on the other side of the table, fishing a lighter out from his back pocket to light the candle between you. “Shit, I forgot to pour the - d’you like wine? If not, I’ve got some Coke I can put in a wine glass to look dead fancy,” he calls from the kitchen area, where his head is buried in a cupboard.

“You’ve got wine glasses?!” You ask incredulously, leaning around to look at him. “I don’t even know you anymore!”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, throwing you a sarcastic smile before holding up the wine bottle. You signal your response and he fills up both glasses accordingly. “Bought ’em to impress a girl, dunno if it was worth it yet, though.” Everything inside you feels like lead again. Of course this wasn’t anything more than platonic. As he hands you the glass, he waggles his eyebrows, “Well? Was it?”

Relieved that you had nothing to worry about after all, you grin, “Am I supposed to be the girl you’re trying to impress? Even though I’ve watched you eat worms?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes his seat again. “It was one worm and it was because shitty Damien dared me, alright?” He defends with a smile, and you laugh. “And besides, I was six! You were no saint back then either, how many times did I eat figurative shit because a certain someone kept tying my shoelaces together?!”

“I can’t believe you never even realised when I was doing it, too,” you clutch your stomach as you sigh, coming down from the raucous laughter his memory had caused you. You offer your glass out to him, “Here, to old times, eh?”

“And new,” he smiles softly, clinking his glass against yours.

Conversation never runs dry between the two of you as you finally catch up properly over everything in the past three years. You laugh, you tease, you reminisce fondly. After dinner and a store-bought dessert that Tom still puts effort into looking fancy, the two of you retire to his sofa to watch whatever’s on TV.

You deliberately sit so that there’s a little distance between you, not wanting to be presumptuous, and so when you try to sit comfortably, tucking your feet begins you, your rest your head on the back of the seat, ending up with your head just shy of brushing against Tom’s arm. You can sense him looking at you in your peripheral, and look over at him in question. When you make eye contact, he flashes his eyes at you and jerks his head to the side, silently offering you to shuffle up next to him. You do so, moving until your head ends up resting on his shoulder. He drapes his arm around you, holding onto your arm and squeezing it gently.

After a few minutes, you tilt your head up to look at him again. The faintest hint of stubble peeks through his skin, illuminated by a movie you’ve seen so often you could recite it, but it makes Tom laugh nonetheless. Eventually, he’s the one that catches you staring, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

You push yourself up on the couch a little to get a better look at his face. His gaze never leaves you, but he’s looking a little lower than your eyes. As he looks up at your eyes again, he licks his lips. “Tell me now,” he starts quietly. “Tell me to stop, an’ I will.”

You softly shake your head. “Why would I do that?”

Grinning with a sigh of relief, he reaches up to hold the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s a long one, starting out soft but pressing harder as it carries on. You sit up on your knees to angle yourself better, holding his face in your hands so as not to break the contact with him as your lingering pecks continue, but he quickly - considering it was blindly - taps one of your legs to insinuate that he wants hold of it. You shuffle around until he can grab your ankle to pull it until you’re straddling him.

Your arms rest on his shoulders as you keep kissing him. God, you never want to stop kissing him. The hand not still holding your head snakes between you to rub at your jaw, gently massaging it open to slip his tongue between your lips. You let out a whine involuntarily and curse yourself - your ex hated noises like that - but Tom only pushes you closer to him, humming into the kiss.

Finally, the two of you break away from each other, gasping heavily for air. You catch each other's gaze and share the same ear-to-ear smile. His pupils are blown out and his already plump lips look bigger and redder than ever. You have the urge to take the lower one between your teeth, despite not knowing if he’s into that.

Before you can do anything, he’s pulling you close again, though not to kiss your lips. Holding the back of your neck deliberately, he guides you down to start kissing just below your ear. The sensation you feel from it is like no other, and you find yourself whining and whimpering even more. The sounds only encourage Tom as he finds a sweet soft spot at the side of your neck and sucks on it especially hard. You didn’t expect the low moan to roll out of your mouth, nor did you expect that to cause Tom’s hips to buck up against you.

He stops suddenly, his head whipping back to look up at you. His pupils are blown to almost the size of his irises. “I, um… I’ve never… Sorry, I… Fuck, I dunno how to say this without sounding weird…”

You smile softly at him, playing with the curls behind his ears. “It’s okay. I haven’t, either.”

His face softens. “Then everything’s as it should be, right?” He smiles up at you, his hands moving to hold your hips. Something about his touch coupled with where you are makes you want to grind against him, and so you do, holding the back of his head to pull him close enough to rest his forehead against yours. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallows again. “We should probably move this to the bed… Right? More room an’ that.”

You climb off his lap and hold out your hand. He stands and takes it, leading you to the door between you and his bed. He wrenches the door open, then pulls your arm with enough force to send you crashing against him, chest to chest, before his hands find your jaw again to bring it up to resume kissing you. You giggle against his lips, “What happened to the bed?”

Tom presses another peck onto you. “Missed kissing you already,” he grins back against yours. Neither of your hands stop moving around, exploring each others’ bodies, until you can’t bear not feeling his skin against yours a moment longer.

Moving to run your finger along his buttons, you look at him expectantly. “Can y-… Do you want…”

With his trademark smile, Tom’s gaze never leaves yours as he undoes a few buttons before grabbing the back of his collar and throwing his shirt off completely. Entranced, you stroke all over his torso before tracing invisible lines between each of his freckles. Kissing every part of you that he can reach, he eventually pipes up, “Sort of feeling underdressed here.”

You look up to grin at him, “Actually, I think you’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah, course you would,” he smirks as his hands slide up your back to the fastening of your dress. He flashes his eyes at you, a silent request, and you nod. He slowly pulls down the zip until the dress, which you were able to just slide over your head anyway, falls off of your body and pools at your ankles. Tom leans back, looking you up and down as he takes you all in. You’d feel very exposed, were it not for the look in his eye. “Fuck me,” he exclaims under his breath. “You are fucking phenomenal.”

Smiling bashfully, you pull him back towards you by the belt loops of his jeans. “Now who’s overdressed, eh?” You ask as you press yet another kiss to his lips.

“Right,” he grins mischievously, pushing you back so that you fall onto his bed, “you get down there.” Giggling, you shuffle back towards his pillows, lay back to rest on your elbows and watch him unbuckle his belt. He notices and starts humming an unintelligible song that he goofily gyrates to, pulling his belt out and waving it around. You roll around laughing as he continues putting on the most Tom-like striptease for you. Once he’s kicked his jeans off, he clambers onto the bed, crawling up until he’s hovering over you, his face not even an inch from yours. He tilts his chin up until the tip of his nose bumps past yours and trails up your bridge, before bringing it back down and rubbing it against the tip of yours again, side to side. “Never thought this day would come,” Tom admits softly.

“Me neither,” you reply back in the same tone. “Never been more glad to be wrong.”

Letting a laugh slip between his lips, Tom nods, “Me, too.” He kisses your nose before looking down your body, letting his fingertips brush against the cup of your bra. Your breath hitches at his proximity, and he looks back at you to grin, “You sure you didn’t think this was happening?”

You pout, “It’s just nice to know that I look sexy, that’s all!”

“Fuck, yes, you do,” he growls as he leans back down to kiss you, his hand gripping your covered breast. You push yourself up and he pulls back, eyebrows knitted, as you reach back awkwardly to try and unfasten your bra. With another smile, Tom reaches over and takes over, fumbling a few times before eventually getting there. Impatiently, you move your arms to throw your bra aside, not caring where it lands, and Tom’s immediately transfixed on your naked chest.

You reach up to place a finger beneath his jaw, pushing it back up closed, and giggle as soon as you move it back and his jaw drops yet again. He reaches down to grab both of them, one in each hand, and a gentle rush of euphoria sweeps through you. He kisses you again, timing the press of his lips with the squeeze of his hands.

One hand moves from massaging your breast to slowly slide down your torso. This is it, where everything comes to an end. You await with bated breath, hoping he'll just rest his hand on your tummy while he kisses you, or something. But his hands dip lower, and just as you feel him lifting the elastic of your underwear, your hand flies to his wrist, gripping tightly. He stops kissing to look you in the eye, confused concern on his face. "Y'alright? Wanna stop?"

You swallow hard and shake your head. "It's… It's okay, you don't have to - I can- want to take care of you."

The concern in his expression grows. "This is a two-way street, love. If you don't want it, I'm not having it, either."

You pout, "No! It's not that I don't want it! I- I do, so bad, I just…" You sigh. "So, the reason I've never gotten anywhere yet in this… Department, is because I… I tend to… Produce… A lot. And I get that that's, y'know, gross, so… You don't have t-”

Tom interrupts you by taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly. “You.” He says before kissing you again. “Are far from that.” Another kiss, and then his brow furrows. “You mean to tell me that dickhead -?” His eyebrows then raise in realisation. “When he asked if you were… ‘Disgusting’ with me, last year…” You nod slowly, and Tom turns his nose up. “Fucking wanker. Thank fuck you’re mine now, eh?” For years, you’d been used to your heart soaring just for it to drop. You feel that sensation reverse, the heavy weight of your ex’s insults flying off of you at Tom’s words, smiling back at him as his adoring eyes look down at you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You slide your hands onto his shoulders with an, “Always was, really."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, taking one of your hands into both of his, holding the palm out to kiss it.

You bite your lip into a smile. "I, uh… Whenever me and my ex did used to… Try, the only thing that could get me going was…" You falter, looking up at him as he keeps kissing down your arm.

"Was what, angel? Didn't catch that last bit," he grins against your skin.

You giggle, "It was you, okay? Prick."

Tom buries his face in your neck, his mouth working the tender skin just below the mark he’d already left until you let out another moan, to which his hips roll down to grind against yours. With just two thin layers between you, you feel his thick member spread your lower lips beneath the lace of your underwear, and you instinctively rub yourself up and down his length, your legs wrapping around him. “Here, guess what,” he mutters into your ear.

“What?”

“I could only ever get off thinking of you, an’ all.” You feel his teeth against the shell of your ear as you can hear the grin in his voice. “So, does that mean…” He snakes a hand back to the elastic of your panties, working his fingertips beneath them, “That all this is for m- ohhh, fuuuuck,” he moans breathily as his fingers slide down into your wetness. “You get this turned on, just by me?” He asks, and you nod quietly, still not sure how to respond. He looks at you adoringly. “I must be pretty fucking fit, then, mustn’t I?” he asks, another, more arrogant, smile just pulling at the corners of his lips, and you laugh.

“You’re such a dickhead,” you scold, but honestly, it’s a massive comfort to you knowing that even in this most tender of moments, the dynamic of you and Tom isn’t lost. This feels good, natural, right. No need to fear anything. No need to worry. It’s just you and him. Like Tom said, as it should be.

“Oh, I am?” he asks teasingly, his expression growing more mischievous. “Even when I’m doing this?” He runs his middle finger down between your folds until it slides easily inside of you, guided by your wetness. You drop your head back into his pillows, moaning louder than ever and bucking your hips against his finger. “Fuuuck,” Tom groans, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Not too wet?” you ask quietly, and he pulls his finger back, sucks it clean while looking you dead in the eye, and then makes quick work of pulling your underwear off of you.

Sinking down to lay between your legs, he sighs dreamily. “Absolutely not.” He laps all around at the mess you’ve already made noisily, cleaning you up before tracing his tongue carefully along your slit. Just as it brushes over your clit, your breath hitches and the whine underneath it lingers. Tom looks up at you, his big brown eyes warm and safe watching your reaction as he first sucks on the sensitive area, and then laps the tip of his tongue back and forth against it. Your hand flies into his hair as you moan and you feel his lips turn up against you.

Tom blindly finds your free hand to reach up and connect his fingers with yours, a tender bond as his other hand spreads you apart. Angling his head slightly, you watch his tongue fly quickly against you, his own moans echoing yours as you push his face against you, desperately craving more, you don’t quite know in what sense, you just want pleasure, you just want him. You feel yourself gushing around him and you start to feel a little tense. Feeling the change in you, the hand holding yours squeezes, a reassurance.

He once again happily cleans up after you, muttering unintelligible sweet nothings inside of you as he does. You lock eyes with him again as he resumes sucking on your clit, moving to slide two fingers inside of you. While you certainly feel more full, it doesn’t hurt as much as you were warned it would, thanks to your… Overproduction. Instead, you feel a sensation you’ve never felt before. Stronger than you’ve ever even felt whenever you’ve pleasured yourself. You keen against his fingers, moaning and whining as he gently encourages you, “Fuck, yes, angel, that’s it… Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing around my fingers… Gonna cum all over my fingers, yeah? Do it, baby, cum for me.”

As though working on his actual command, you feel a rush through every nerve in your body, one that pushes its way from your core, spreading along your spine until it arches, across your arms until you’re grabbing the sheets, through your legs until they bend in the air above you. Not wanting to be loud enough to be heard throughout the whole park, you bite through your lip as you let out a long, high-pitched moan throughout your release.

Tom doesn’t surface for some time as he drinks you in, finally re-emerging with shining lips and wild eyes. Wiping the excess of you off with the back of his hand, he crawls back up your body to kiss you, practically pushing your entire self into the mattress. “God, you are fucking incredible,” he grins against your skin as he moves to kiss your neck, this time just under your other ear.

“I can’t even pretend the same’s not true of you, a certain something’s betrayed me, there,” you joke, and he chuckles under his breath, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Be honest with me, though. It wasn’t… Too much, was it?”

“Not in the slightest, babe,” he whispers into your ear as he presses gentle pecks along your jaw and to your lips. “I’d happily stay down there and eat you out all night long, but…” He pushes himself up to kneeling, palming himself through his boxers as he looks at you hungrily. “I am fucking aching to be inside of you,” he admits. You go to reach out as well, but he bats you away with a soft smirk, “I’m already certain I’m not gonna last long at all, sweets, give me some credit.”

“I don’t care how long you last,” you smile wistfully, watching him climb off you and slide his boxers off, hypnotised by the way his cock springs out as the elastic waistband drags past it.

He glances over as he takes a condom out of his drawer and smirks, “Take a photo, won’t ya, it’ll last longer.” You’d react, but you’re still enamoured watching him roll it down his length.

He gets back onto the bed, lining himself up at you with a look in his eye like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. You feel his tip pressing into you and gasp, your lips forming a near-perfect O before spreading out into a smile. Tom mirrors you as his hands find yours, holding them both just either side of you as he pushes in. You certainly feel the pressure of him sliding in, but it’s far from painful. His eyes study your expression with concern, obviously anticipating you to be in pain as well, but you give him a reassuring smile and a nod as he starts pulling out and pushing himself back inside of you again.

His fingers and his tongue were enough to drive you wild earlier, but nothing on this earth has ever made you feel as good as him thrusting into you. He starts off slow and gentle, but your body yearns for more. As you start to buck your hips up against him, he once again rubs the tip of his nose against yours, stroking his thumbs along the sides of your hands as he shushes you. “Patience, sweets,” he soothes. “We’ve got all summer to fuck like rabbits… But tonight, I just wanna make love to you.”

Too euphoric to filter anything you say now, you breathe out an, “I do.” Tom looks at you, his expression a mixture of deliberation and elation. You beam widely, “You may be a dickhead, but I fucking love you.”

His smile practically touches his ears as he cradles your face with an, “I love you, an’ all, you big twat,” before leaning down to kiss you passionately, moaning against your lips with every thrust. As you lose yourself in the embrace, you feel Tom slip out from you. Again, you start to worry yourself, but Tom’s assuring stroke against your cheek as he simply guides himself back in and returns to kissing you with just as much fervour puts those fears at ease.

You feel the crescendo of another orgasm looming just as Tom’s expression starts to change, as well. Wanting nothing more than to climax alongside him, you try and hurry yourself along a little by rubbing your clit in circles. His pace slows as he watches you, entranced, though your body craves him more than ever. “Fuck, please, Tom, don’t stop,” you whine, and he groans as he resumes rocking his hips into you again.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” He asks you breathlessly. “Keep going, baby, keep showing me how you touch yourself, fuck, that’s it.”

“’M gett- fuck, I’m already close again, Tom,” you moan, and his motions lose any sense of rhythm, just trying desperately to release.

“Me too, sweets, I’m - fuck, I love you,” he groans as he snaps his hips harshly into you. That final press hits just the right spot inside of you and you feel yourself come apart for him yet again, squeezing around him as you ride your second wave of the night.

As you both come down, he presses soft kisses all over your face, down your neck, as far down your chest as he can reach while staying inside you until he finally pulls out. “I’d help you out again, but, uh, I think you’re probably a bit sensitive down there by now,” he grins, leaning up to kiss your forehead. “Let me go get rid of this thing and get you a towel, alright?” Unable to move, talk, or even really think, you simply nod at him, which earns you another breathy chuckle and another peck to the top of your head as he walks off.

He returns within a minute, and insists on gently patting you dry, the tenderness in his eyes matching his touch. You eventually muster enough energy to reach over to him and card your fingers through his curls. He leans into your touch, smiling over at you as you mutter, “I love you, too.”

“D’you know, I’ve never been happier to hear anything else.”

Once you’re all cleaned up, he lays next to you, and you lift yourself up to let his arm rest beneath your head. Curling up against his chest, you let him envelope you, enjoying the comfortable silence until he pipes up, “That was fucking amazing. Like, I knew it’d be good, but… You hear all these things about your first time. And I was always scared with Ruth that I’d mess up somehow, or I’d kill the mood, you know how daft I am. But it was all just… Part of it, weren’t it?”

You press your head into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was always scared of the same, and then, well…” You gesture down between your legs.

“’Ey,” Tom scolds, reaching down to grab your wrist. “No more of that. It’s just the way your body works, yeah? And your body is fucking perfect. I’ll never stop proving that to you.”

And he really doesn’t. When you had first disclosed to Hayley that you were a virgin, the previous year when you’d come with your ex, she’d told you, “Sex is like Pringles; once you pop, you just can’t stop. At least, I think that’s the Pringles thing.” You’d always laughed that off, but now that it’s happened to you, it really is true. You wake up to it, you’re at it as soon as he’s finished his shift, just before you go to sleep. And then there’s the rest. Passing him while he’s working to sneakily grab, pinch or slap his ass cheek as you walk past, only for him to get his own back by “innocently cuddling” you from behind while also pressing himself against your own ass just once before placing a single kiss to your neck and running off. Your personal favourite is knowing all you have to do is send him a racy photo of you proving that you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, and knowing that if you look out of the window you’ll see him running across the caravan park at top speed, leaping over any obstacle to then practically fly into his caravan and tackle you onto his bed.

You still try and maintain staying with Hayley for as long as possible, but with her being the evening entertainment, and her telling you that she was banning “all hanky-panky” at her place, that didn’t leave you with much else to do to spend your evenings than to hang out in Tom’s caravan with him, anyway. Not that she minded. Even when she would insist on a you-and-her day, it would mostly be to gossip about Tom, anyway.

There’s a few days when you start to wonder if perhaps Tom only wants you around for sex and nothing else. That all gets easily explained away when eventually Mother Nature clocks in for her monthly shift. You warn Tom that nothing can happen for the next week, and that you’ll probably just stay at Hayley’s again to avoid any stained sheets or exposure to sanitary products, but Tom remains as joined to your hip as ever. He buys heating pads, pain relief, snacks and drinks, extra products, anything you may need, happily letting you curl up in his lap in an attempt to soothe the cramps. A few days in, you even open up to him that you’d had doubts that he was only interested in getting into your pants, which results in many days’ worth of constant reassurance whenever you’re with him and texts of affirmations when you’re not. He certainly doesn’t turn down the gratuitous blowjob you give him as a result of being so patient on a night you know Hayley’s working especially late, though.

The last weekend of the last week of you being in Cornwall hits you like a brick wall. You’re constantly getting emotional, which only spikes every time you so much as look at Hayley or Tom. Tom reminds you that you’ll only see him in a couple of weeks anyway, once you move up north to university. And Hayley makes you both promise you’ll come back to Cornwall at every chance you can.

Tom meets you and your family in the car park of your uni halls, already waiting to help you move in. Both of your families have dinner together while yours are still in town, and as they part, they joke that the next time they’ll see each other is at your wedding. With your ex, even trying to plan to go to the same university together seemed daunting and unnatural. But you laugh along with Tom, safe in the knowledge that your collective parents’ joke is 100% truthful.

Age 19

After a year of university, you decide to move out of your dorm and into a place with Tom. Your first housemate, you love to remind him, though that spikes up a slightly more awkward conversation while cuddled up on the sofa. “So, we were first for a lot of things.”

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of our thing,” Tom teases.

“Piss off,” you scoff, elbowing him in the side as he laughs. “I mean, we were for pretty much everything, but not where it counts. You weren’t my first boyfriend, and I wasn’t your first, either. So, like, in terms of the way our relationship goes on through the years… I dunno, just sucks a bit that that’s like one of the only things we don’t have now.”

Tom deliberates for a second. “The way I like to see it,” he starts. “I consider you my first for a lot of sort of extraneous things, little things that add up to make us, us. But in terms of our relationship, it’s easy enough to explain.” You look over at him in confusion, and he takes the opportunity to take your chin between his finger and thumb to grin at you, pulling you close to mutter three words to you before pressing a long and sweet kiss to your lips: “You’re my only.”

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

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taeghi · 9 months

Text

kim sunoo : the soulmate trope

"can i help you with something? or are you just stalking me?" "i- uh, i- you're my soulmate!"

summary : in a world where everyone is given a necklace that connects to their soulmates, you’re getting fed up with not finding yours, until you are forced to take another bus route for once and bump into a pink-haired stranger who just so happens to have a necklace that is similar to yours. if only he would wear his necklace outside of his sweater you’d be able to confirm.

word count : 9,000 :)

genre : very short/mild smut! fluff!

☆read the other volumes?

if you had a dollar for every time that you felt like an outcast in life, you'd be a billionaire.

throughout your entire life, you have always been different. to the point where it was pretty noticeable to everyone around you- to everyone that saw you even for the first time.

your school years have always been difficult due to your unfortunate outcastedness. but part of you expected it to be. if you weren't like everyone else in a social setting then of course you would stick out- whether that be in a positive or negative way.

you could handle being the 'misfit' at school. sure, it annoyed you on certain days- like when you were younger and everyone in your class continued to tell you that they would 'play with you tomorrow' at recess- but when it became tomorrow, they would say the same thing to you.

in your high school years, it got a little worse when actual attraction started to set into your puberty minds, and the male vs female gaze started to partake in the majority of everyone's self decisions.

it got a little exasperating when you felt isolated while being with your own family, especially in the world you live in.

when a child is born into your special world, they're immediately taken to the head counsel to be christened. they're prayed over for multiple minutes as president catiana speaks to the emperors above, her hand becoming possessed by them as she draws out the form that they have deemed as their destined shape that connects them to their soulmate.

the shape, whatever that may be, is immediately taken to the lapidarist to create the shape into a rock form before welding it onto a chain necklace for the new child to wear for their entire life. at some point in that child's life, they will find another person that bears the other half of the shape of their necklace- meaning that they have found their soulmate.

no one except for president catiana knows who or what the emperors are and why they have given everyone in your world a present that connects them to their soulmate, but no one really questions it. the tradition of soulmate necklaces is an ancient tradition that runs as far as anyone has looked back on.

you've heard multiple soulmate stories- from in history class, some from your friends, and some from your parents. you've heard that sometimes a person never finds their soulmate- leaving them to hopefully find another person who hasn't found theirs to date or marry- or to die alone; unloved.

your parents had found their soulmates- each other- when they were fifteen during their first year of high school. they've been inseparable since and have given you a valuable, role model-like relationship to look up to as you grew up.

when you were younger you had hoped to find your soulmate around the same age as your parents did. you remember being excited on your first day of high school- hoping to find your soulmate as quickly as your parents did in their first years.

when your first year of high school ended and you were still single- alone- you were a bit disappointed but told yourself to not give up as you still had three more years of high school left to find your soulmate at a young age.

during your second year of high school, multiple students in your school had found their soulmates- linking their necklaces for fun in front of everyone in the cafeteria to show off. the rounds of gasps and awes that took place your second year because of the number of soulmate couples being completed were cute at first- but as they continued into your third year of high school you couldn't help but feel annoyed and frustrated- jealous even.

soon, now in your last year of high school, when you have started to accept that you were an outcast and still had no sign of your soulmate- you were pissed off.

it seemed like you couldn't catch a break from all the happy, soulmate couples.

at school, they were filling the cafeteria, couples basically sitting on top of each other in pure love and happiness making out and laughing while you sat alone in the corner with your disgusting cafeteria food.

then, when you went home, your parents were constantly openly loving each other, holding hands, kissing, years old inside jokes that they only understood- something that you once found cute was now just pure exhausting to watch and listen to.

you didn't like your necklace when you were younger- the despise feeling you have for it following you along as you got into your teenage years.

your necklace's main component was a gold circle with a simple face on it that seemed to be smiling from ear to ear- if it had ears. on the right side of the circle were around ten triangles that seemed like spikes at first when you were first given it when you were six years old.

you remember holding the necklace in your hand when your parents gifted it to you on your birthday. you couldn't help but feel so attached to the necklace, not expecting yours to look so abstract and cheery looking.

"this is mine?" you asked your parents who were looking at you so anxiously, excited to see your first reaction to being a step closer to finding your soulmate.

your parents nodded, "do you want me to help put it on?" your mother asked, standing up when you agreed. you watched your parents' excited expressions in the mirror reflection as your mom fastened the chain around your neck. "there." your mother stood back.

your small fingers brushed against the necklace for the first time on your neck, "what even is it?" you asked with a tilt of your head, still not believing that it was your necklace.

"we think it's a sun." your dad spoke with a smile, making eye contact with you in the mirror. "or- at least half of a sun."

"your soulmate probably has the other side of the spikes, y/n!" your mother clapped cheerily. you quirked an eyebrow at your mom's theory, not believing that someone is just walking around with a string of ugly spikes around their neck- you felt kinda bad for them if they were.

you thought that as you grew older maybe you would grow more of a connection with your necklace- but you didn't. in fact, you believe the opposite happened.

you realized early on in your life that you hated the way gold jewelry looked on you- the ugly sun around your necklace contrasted so awful against your skin- no matter what anyone else had told you. your earrings, rings, and bracelets were always silver. you felt prettier with the paler colour of your jewelry.

you also quickly learned that you were not a morning or overall day person. you preferred late nights and everyone close to you referred to you as a night owl. you loved staying up into late hours of the night- when it was quiet and you felt like it was only you in the world for once. it was only you awake late at night so you wouldn't feel like an outcast for at least a few hours.

you could tell that your parents were getting slightly disappointed the more you aged that you hadn't found your soulmate around the same age that they had. of course, there was no 'set age' that you had to find your soulmate, but it seemed like they wanted you to fall in love as young as they did so that you could cherish your soulmate for as long as possible.

you've begun to feel so much pressure to find your soulmate, whether it was on purpose or not, that you feel like you could care less if you found yours or not. you didn't see the big deal anymore, not with watching all the 'love' around you at all times.

"have a good day at school, y/n!" your mother called from the kitchen, poking her head around the corner in time to see you open the front door.

"i'll try." you groaned, not wanting to leave the house anyway.

"don't forget to smile, y/n! your soulmate could be just around the corner!" your mother pointed to her own pretty smile.

you forced an overexcited, sarcastic smile on your face in response, making your mom laugh in response as you left your house.

you grumbled to yourself as her constant reminders that you need to find your soulmate, or that your soulmate could be lurking anywhere. you were getting tired of all this soulmate talk that you wanted to rip your hair out. you even mentally cursed your soulmate for taking so damn long to find you.

you kicked a stone that was on the sidewalk as you made your way to the bus stop, needing to let go of some of your frustration in at least the smallest way possible. you watched the small rock fly and hit the bus stop post against the sidewalk. looking up at the familiar sign that you've stood beside for the past four years, you realized that there was a paper taped against it.

as you got close enough to read it, you realized that it was a letter explaining that the city was getting rid of the bus you had taken every single day away and that the people who used the bus would have to take another one.

"oh my god," you grumbled, kicking another stone in frustration and pulling out your phone to find another bus route to school. "my luck is just awful, isn't it?"

luckily, another bus stop wasn't too far from your now old one. still, you'd have to walk farther than usual, but at least you'd still be able to be at school on time.

your wait for the new bus wasn't long as you made it there just in time for when the bus pulled up. unlike your old bus stop, where it was just you that got on at your stop, there seemed to be a lineup of students your age waiting to get on the bus.

the new bus was a lot more crowded, and you struggled to find an empty spot to sit in. there seemed to be half of the students that went to your school on this bus. you had to push yourself through people (who all gave you a dirty look) to get to the back of the bus.

as you reach the stairs at the back of the bus, there’s a boy standing there blocking your entrance to it. he’s wearing all black that matches his black hair- and even with the crowded bus- you practically falling all over the place as the bus driver starts to speed off- you still think to yourself how much the colour black doesn’t suit him.

his face is rounder with pretty high cheekbones and his light rose coloured lips are pulled into a scowl as he stares out the bus window. his wired headphones are tangled down his chest as you have to look up at him to see his face completely.

the bus makes a harder turn and it sends you flying forward- hitting the shoulder of the boy that you were just examining. you manage to catch yourself on the railing of the stairs before you full-on face planted onto the dirty bus floor. you turn around to apologize to the boy that you had rammed your shoulder into- but quickly get intimidated when his scowl is already staring directly at you.

you mumble an apology to him quickly, turning around to move to the empty spot you found. your eyes land on him again once you’re sat- his eyes are boring into yours as he watches you sit down finally.

you shrug your shoulders at him when he doesn’t turn around- almost asking what is it that he wants and you mouth the words “i’m sorry” to him again. the boy only shrugs in return and looks away from you towards the window again, watching as the bus continues to drive almost crazily around the city.

you feel uncomfortable for the rest of the bus ride. you felt like you weren’t able to take your eyes off of the boy with the mean scowl, every few seconds you felt the urge to look over at him again.

with each look you would notice more and more about him: like the few freckles that were scattered over his face, the pretty gold earrings in his ears and the way his fingers would tap against his thigh to the beat of the music he was listening to with his headphones. if it weren’t for the frown on his rosy lips and his eyebrows furrowed together underneath his black bangs then you would’ve thought he was quite the happy guy.

the thought of how much the black hair cascading around his face doesn’t suit him crosses your mind. neither does the frown- and you briskly wish to see what his facial features looked like when he smiled- thinking that it would probably brighten up the fatigued and tired bus that you were on.

the boy got off at the bus stop before the stop at the school, making you wonder if he went to your school or not. you had never seen him before- but had a backpack on and looked around your age. you watched him walk on the sidewalk- the scowl never leaving his face- until the bus started driving again and he was out of sight.

as you walked to your first class of the day you couldn’t get this weird feeling off of your chest and the thoughts of the mean boy from this morning out of your mind. you didn’t know if the two symptoms you were having were connected or not- but they were annoying and you wanted them to stop. you hoped that your class would make you stop feeling this way as you sat down in your usual seat.

“what’s up with you?” yuna’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. you’ve been friends with yuna since your freshman year and she’s always been very blunt since you’ve known her.

“what?” you question, taking in how her small figure was turned backwards in her seat in front of you so she could look at you.

with her eyebrow quirked up, “i said hi to you and you ignored me and you’ve basically just been staring off into the distance zoning out for the past five minutes.”

“oh.” you realize that you have been thinking about the encounter with the mean bus boy again- thinking about how you’ve never been so intrigued with someone before.

“yeah, ‘oh’, what’s wrong?” yuna tilted her head, knowing you like the back of her own hand since you’ve grown so attached to one another during your highschool days.

“nothing really,” you feel like you respond honestly, because the mean boy on the bus this morning was truly nothing (at least it was at the moment). yuna gives you the look that she always gives you when she knows that there is more to the story than what you are saying.

“morning, everyone!” your teacher interpts your conversation, making yuna give you one more suspicious look before shes turning in her seat again to fast the front of the class. “so today, we will be going over the basics of the history of soulmates- a quick soulmates 101 if you will.”

you tapped your pen against your notebook for majority of the class as your teacher went over things that you felt like you’ve known since you were a child. soulmates were such an important and big aspect in your society that you’re sure everyone knew about the topics and facts that the teacher was going over. for a second you questioned yourself as to why you even took this class- but remembered that it was because it was an easy A.

“now, does anyone know what exactly happens when you meet your soulmate?” your teacher asked the class, when no one raised their hand he continued with a soft smile on his older face, “great things happen,” he nods finally. he turns to the board and writes on it ‘what happens?’ “when you meet your soulmate you may feel as if you have known them for much longer than you have- as if you’ve known them your entire life.” the topic peaks your interest as you actually listened, wanting to know more for when and if the time ever happens for you, “divine timing might start to take place- as in everything else in your life will start to come together for you.” :

“and in some cases you’ll even find that telepathy can occur if you are truly meant to be together- they’ve figured that this specifically happens when you’ve spent multiple past lives with your soulmate.” :

yuna turns around to look at you, her usual big eyes are in squints as she stares directly into your own.

“what are you doing?” you ask her quietly to not disturb the class.

“are you getting any specific words in your head right now?” yuna asks, her eyes continuing to be closed in sharp slits.

“um, no?” you tilted your head confused.

“damn, i wanted to see if you were my soulmate.” yuna’s eyes returned to normal and her lips formed a pout.

you laughed at her, “maybe in another life, yun.” your friend winked at you and turned back to her notebook, scribbling the words the teacher had written on the board into her notebook.

“you could possibly feel like time is never ending when you first talk to your soulmate- and that you have everything in common with them- like they truly are your other half.” you teacher drones on about what happens when you meet your soulmate for a little while longer- making you think if you have ever had any feeling like the ones he was mentioning.

of course you drew a blank when you tried to apply them to any interactions you’ve ever had- plus you were pretty sure that i fyou ever meetyour soulmate you would know the second you’re standing right in front of them.

even when your soulmate class finishes, you find yourself thinking about the mean bus boy and about what happens when you meet your soulmate. you couldn’t get the stupid boy out of your head- but you figured that it was because you had left a bad impression on him, not meaning to upset him by literally being thrown into him on the bus- but then you wondered why you even cared about the impression you had left on him, it’s not like you’d ever see him again…

he was standing on the bus the next day.

as soon as you started walking down the aisle of the bus you could feel that he was close- you scanned the bus for him at the same time as you were scanning the bus for an empty seat to sit at.

you almost didn’t recognize the boy today as he no longer had black hair covering his forehead- but pink hair instead.

you sat down in the spot directly behind him. you weren’t sure if he even noticed you today as he was staring down at his phone- the scowl still sprawled on his face as he looked the screen.

with his new pink hair, you thought about how much more it suited him. he looked prettier than ever and you felt more drawn to him.

you felt your hands start to get clammy as you realized how close you were sitting to him and how you were staring at him like a possible maniac.

you got the same feeling that you had felt the day before- like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. you had to keep forcing yourself to look away from him.

it didn’t take long of your obvious staring for him to catch on. from his standing position he turned his head to the right slightly, looking right at you with the same scowl on his face that he seemed to always have. direct eye contact with him seemed to get you out of the weird trance you were in and turned to look out the window again- feeling your cheeks turn warm at the thought of being caught.

when you glanced at him in the corner of your eye again after what felt like a minute (a very long minute) he was turned back to his phone again, not paying any attention to you, making you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

the now pink haired boy pulled the wire to request for the bus to stop at the next bus stop- which was the same stop as the day before- the one that was just before all the other students got off to go to school.

and maybe your constant urge to stare at the boy did some good for both of you and the universe because you caught the way he dropped his wired head phones on the bus floor as he was about to step off of the bus.

without even really realizing you jumped up, letting out a rushed ‘hey!” to him, you bent down to pick up the headphones when another pale hand reached down with you. your fingers laced in the wires and brushed against the warm hand at the same time. as you looked up you realized that the boy was picking them up with you.

you saw his pink bangs first as they covered his forehead and eyes again, and then when he moved his head upwards you made eye contact and realized how retty his eyes actually were- also hwo close your faces had suddenly become.

you stood up before him, looking away from his face and lower to his hoodie. as he stood up a few seconds after you, a silver jewelry caught your attention in his hoodie. it was hard to see but you could recognize the spikes from anywhere.

they were the ugly spikes that were also on your own necklace.

you couldn’t have been more sure of it if you tried- they were the same spikes that you’ve never seen on anyone’s soulmate necklace before.

but his was silver as yours was gold.

a heavy feeling settled in your chest at the recollection of what your own looked like- as if you had somehow been able to forget the jewelry that you wear everyday. you hadn’t realized you were still holding onto the other side of his headphones as you both stood in front of each other.

“uh, thanks?” the boy spoke to you, a disturbed expression on his face when you wouldn’t let go of his headphones.

“oh- sorry- uh- you’re welcome.” you almost stuttered out, letting your fingers drop the side of his headphones that you were holding.

the boy nodded with a tight lipped smile and turned on his heel to exit the bus completely. you stood in shock at how soft his voice sounded- so different than how his usual facial expression would have made him sound like.

you stood in the same spot, staring at where the boy once stood as long as it took for him to step off, the bus doors to close and for the bus to keep driving with the boy nowhere in sight.

the boy’s voice played in your head for the entire day- it blocked out every other noise and it was all you could think about.

the mean bus boy’s voice was pretty- just like everything else about him.

you didn’t see him again for a while.

everyday you took the bus that week you were getting more and more upset each time you stepped on the bus and he wasn’t there. everytime it got to the bus stop before the schools’ you got upset that no one was requesting the stop and getting off.

there was no mean bus boy with pink that had an awful scowl on his face and twisted headphones that he blasted music and tapped his fingers on his thighs to.

there was no boy that potentially, possibly, might have been your soulmate.

you cursed yourself for not doing something when you noticed his necklace- for not asking if you could even see it clearer.

and if you weren’t giving yourself enough shit for not doing anything when your possible soulmate was standing right in front of you- yuna was definitely giving you shit- cursing at you in the middle of the hallways making all the other students glare at you two for being too loud.

yuna asked you to describe the boy to her- hoping that maybe she knew him. but she only gave you a disappointed face when she couldn’t think of anyone that matched that description.

so not only did you not know the boy's name or age- you didn’t even know what school he went to.

by friday- a full week of not seeing your potential soulmate, you had given up all hope on him and yourself.

the weekend was dreadful. the days went by fast as you slept through them- but the nights were restless.

you usually liked staying up throughout the hours of the night- where it was silent and peaceful and it was only you awake in the house. the neighbourhood fell into a peaceful slumber while you stayed awake with your thoughts racing.

your heart felt like there was a hole in it and you couldn’t describe the feeling in any other way besides that.

on monday you felt like shit. your sleeping schedule was even more out of whack than it usually was. you didn’t bother showering from the amount of sleepiness in your body that had taken over. you went to school in the same sweatpants that you had slept in all weekend.

the wave of uneasiness that started to smother your entire being was a nuisance to you and to everyone else around you- yet you had no idea as to what had specifically caused it.

you trudged your way onto the bus on monday mourning, your own headphones wrapped your fingers this morning as you sat down on the bus listening to music- trying to distract yourself from how tired you were.

your heartbeat started to pick up pace as you sat down. it felt like sheer panic was coming over your body as you simply just sat on the bus with no one directly around that morning. your hand covered your heart, trying to calm it as you took a deep breath.

in the corner of your eye you saw a shade of pink that look all too familiar to you.

in a millisecond you whipped your head to the side to see it clearly.

there, across the aisle from you, sat the boy- the mean boy with the scowl that you couldn’t get out of your head for the past week and a half. and he was already looking at you.

it was somehow silent on the bus as you both stared at each other- different songs playing through both your headphones. you couldn’t tell if the bus was moving or not as you didn’t dare break eye contact with him- thinking that if this is truly your last time seeing this boy then you wanted to remember each hazel flake that was beautifully set in his eyes.

you don’t know how long you both stared at each other- but you cursed yourself again for not realizing he was beside you when you sat down.

when he reached his arm up to pull the wire to request the bus to stop, your heart sank as your eyes pulled apart. you watched him as he made sure his headphones were wrapped around his fingers today as he got up- obviously not wanting to drop them again as he got off.

the sheer panic you felt minutes before had returned and you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t let this boy disappear from you again- especially not after all the shit you had gotten from yuna the week before.

before you could process your thought process- you jumped up and stepped off the bus at the boys’ usual bus stop- the one before the school.

you mentally damned the school as you wanted to know if the pink-haired boy in front of you was your soulmate or not. you watched him walk to the right- away from your school- for a second, wanting to create some distance between you guys. you were sure that the boy was not expecting you to jump off the bus after him as he didn’t turn around once- his eyes glued to his phone again.

you sigh but watch his figure wander down the sidewalk toward your school. until he stops at the store right outside the school gates. he walks inside, and the bell on the door jingles as he enters. you rush to the window, wanting to catch a glimpse of him inside.

he's the only customer in the store as you watch him scan the drink aisle. you wonder for a second if he'll pick his favourite drink and let you in on his preferences.

you see him close the fridge door, a drink in hand as he starts to walk up to the cashier. you struggle to see what he has picked until he places it on the counter for the worker to scan.

and of course, it's the absolute worst drink you have ever tried.

the lemon-flavoured juice that everyone raved over that you hated. the bottle was wrapped in yellow paper with cartoon pictures of limes, suns and bees.

the boy smiles at the cashier as he finishes paying and grabs his rink to leave. you see that his smile pulls at his cheeks and eyes, making his eyes turn to slits. there's a pull at your chest when you see his smile- like his smile can suddenly drag you into him and pull you around.

The bell at the door makes you realize that you're still on your tiptoes, perching against the window to look inside. you quickly turn on your heel, so you're body is faced away from the door, and you make it look like you've been leaning against the store's wall for some time. like it's a natural thing for you to do.

you turn around again when you think he's walked further enough to not notice you. you can see his pink hair walking in the direction towards your school, his yellow drink swaying by his side as he holds it in his hand. you can see his white head phones looping up to his ears as he looks down at his phone as he walks. you muse yourself and wonder if his music taste is just as bad as his drink preference.

you start walking to school after him, lost in your own thoughts about him as you stare at the back of his pink-haired head.

suddenly, the boy stops and spins on his heel, a glare on his face as he stares at you.

you didn't realize how close you had gotten to him from walking almost absentmindedly. so now, you were only a meter apart from one another. his glare against your sheepish smile.

"can i help you with something? or are you just stalking me?" his voice rings out so melodically that it almost makes you forget that you need to respond. when you don't answer his eyebrow quirks up, "i mean you followed me off of the bus, waited for me outside the store, and is now following me to school."

"right! i- uh," you shake your head, trying to get your thoughts together, "you're my soulmate!" not exactly the way you wanted to tell him, but you can't go back now.

the boy's face drops slightly as he takes in your own surprised appearance. there's no longer a glare on his face, but hesitance and curiosity. he pulls out his headphones in one tug, and lets them tangle in his hand as he speaks. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," you start to reach into your shirt, pulling out the gold necklace you've always hated. "i think ours match."

the boy examines your necklace, not moving an inch closer than the meter you were standing at. you could see his mocha eyes swirl over the spikes with a hint of recognition, before darkening to a glare again.

"i don't think so, mine's silver." he shakes his head in disagreement.

"well, let me see yours." you speak quickly, scared that he'll somehow disappear in a second. you see him hesitate, before he reaching into his hoodie and pulling out his own necklace.

you step forward, wanting a clear sighting of the necklace instead of the small glimpses you've caught on the bus. when you step closer you instantly smell his perfume and you wonder if he can smell yours.

the silver charm hangs in front of your face, now that you're up close you can see that the awful spikes you've always thought were distasteful are one-hundred percent identical on his. you reach out and grab it so it stops swaying. the boy takes a small step back at your movement, but allows you to hold his charm. "let's just check anyways." you tell him and he doesn't respond, only watches in silence as you bring your charm to his.

in an instant, your gold sun and his silver half-moon click together. the top and bottom spike fit each other perfectly, despite being different metals.

a small gasp leaves your mouth as the charms become one. not taking your eyes off it as they hang together in the air, successfully holding you and the boy together.

you're unable to read the boys face as he examines your connect charms. his mocha eyes are almost glazed over as he stares.

as you two stand there, connected by metal, it's like both of you are waiting for something, anything, to happen. a sign of some sort to finalize that you are soulmates. but instead, it's just some girl and some boy, standing on the sidewalk, probably late to school.

in an instant, the boy is removing his charm from yours. your necklace falls flat against your chest now that it's not being confined with his.

"what do you think?" you ask him quietly, hopeful.

"i guess we're soulmates."

"it was so awkward, yuna!" you cry as you put your face in your hands.

"why? what exactly happened?" your best friend asks you as you sit in class, supposed to be working but are too consumed with the events of earlier this morning.

you lift your head slightly as you speak so she can hear you, "it was just so- so awkward! and silent! nothing like what i've heard it's suppose to be!"

"like what?"

"like, like magical! there was certainly no magic, no sparks, no- no, nothing!"

"well that's weird." you groan at your friends words, putting your face in your hands again. "so what are you going to do?"

"i don't know, yuna!" you wish you could disappear, all of this soulmate business almost too much for you. "i told him i'd see him on the bus tomorrow and then ran off."

"you ran and left your soulmate on the sidewalk alone?" yuna exclaims, amusement in her voice. it only makes you groan again, not caring if your classmates were glaring at you for the noise.

"i don't know if he's my soulmate!"

"well you thought he was your soulmate before, and you said he thinks your soulmates! isn't this all you ever wanted, y/n?" yuna asks you, rubbing your back.

"no it's not!" you sit up, "when i found my soulmate i wanted it to be a undoubtedly, love filled moment! like in all the soulmate-finding stories i've heard! not, whatever happened this morning."

"was it really that bad?" yuna grimaces as she asks.

"he asked me if i was stalking him!"

"oh."

you groan and put your head down onto your desk, closing your eyes. you hope that when you open them again you would wake up from this awkward nightmare.

"what's his name, anyways?"

"oh my god," you close your eyes tighter, "i didn't even ask my soulmate his name!" yuna's laugh echos in your ears, and you can't help but compare it to how soft his voice filled your ears earlier.

the next door, you dread stepping onto the bus. you make your way to your usual spot, keeping your hood up and eyes locked on the floor. with every stop getting closer to his, you feel your heartbeat pick up. even though you tell yourself to calm down, you feel more and more adrenaline fill your body. when the bus stops at the designated stop, you refuse to look anywhere but your lap, no longer wanting, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy with pink hair.

a body sits next to you, their thighs almost brushing against yours. it's then that you smell a perfume so similar that it draws you to slowly pull your head to the person beside you. you gulp when you lock eyes with the mocha ones you seem to so desperately fall into.

without a word, his hand reaches out to you. you glance down and see the white headphone he's offering you. your eyes following the wire that leads to the other one, placed into his own ear.

you take his headphone offer, popping it into your ear and are instantly listening to music.

it only takes a second of you realizing shawn mendes is singing in your ear to make you groan out in disgust.

"what?" the boy's voice asks you.

"just, shawn mendes? really?" you crinkle your nose up.

"what's wrong with that?" he defends himself and shawn.

"i just hate pop music."

the boy tilts his head to the side, "then what music do you like?"

you shrug, "rock music. like the who, queen or even ac/dc."

now it was the pink-haired boy's turn to crinkle his nose up in disgust. "really?" he takes the headphone out of your ear when you nod and pops it into his other ear, blocking you out.

you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and looking out the window, watching how the city moves when the bus drives by. you start to think to yourself about how could the boy beside your be your soulmate.

it was awkward between you two. you seemed to have nothing in common. there was nothing magical that happened when your charms connected. you were struggling to comprehend what you two could even have a conversation about.

when the bus made its final stop at the school and there was not another word spoken between you two you thought that this would probably be the last time he even sat with you on the bus.

but then, the pink haired boy turns and says almost slyly over his shoulder, "my name's sunoo, by the way."

if your ears didn't seem to cut out all the other noise and voices on the bus, you would've missed it.

"i'm y/n."

the pink-haired boy, sunoo, gives you one last look before he's stepping off the bus, getting lost in the herd of students and the noise returns to your ears and you wish it wouldn't. you wish you could only hear his voice for the rest of your life.

you want to question why he's sitting beside you the next day on the bus. but instead you question him as to why he's handing you his phone.

similar to the day before, he's sitting down beside you without a word and handing you something. you furrow your brows together, looking between his phone and him.

"your number." he speaks impatiently. your lips form an 'O' as you nod and enter your number, double checking that you put in the right number before you're passing his phone back to him. you watch in the corner of your eye as he adds your name to the contact. he presses on the emoji keyboard, his fingers hover over them, before he ultimately saves it as it is and locks his phone.

you wonder all day if sunoo is going to text you today, or tomorrow, or never. but, your pondering stops when you get a text during last period.

unknown : meet me outside by the front gate when school's over?

me : sure

it's not hard to find sunoo after school. his pink hair standing out in the large crowd of students going home. you smile at him once you're standing in front of him.

"do you like ice cream?" he asks you, your ears sound like they're popping and only his voice can be heard.

"yes."

"let's go." he turns on his heel, starting to walk down the street towards downtown, where all the shops and markets are located. you struggle to keep up with him at first, as he so easily glides through all the students.

when he finally stops, you see a giant sign "Kim's Sweet Shop" and you know exactly where you are.

"oh! i've been here before!" you say to him, a grin on your face full of recognition.

"really?" sunoo asks you, turning to look at you, "my parents own this shop."

"no way! i use to come here all the time when i was younger!"

"hm," sunoo hums, "maybe that's where i've seen you before."

"what do you mean?"

"well, when i first saw you on the bus, i thought you looked so familiar but i couldn't put my finger on where i've seen you before."

"oh, i didn't think you even noticed me on the bus."

sunoo shrugs, "of course i did." when you narrow your eyes at him he speaks, "you're beautiful." when you feel your cheeks light up a colour that matches his hair, you're glad he continues, "c'mon let's get some ice cream. and you better not like some gross flavour like pistachio."

"hey! pistachio is good!"

sunoo only groans in response.

when your ice creams are finished, and you both argue about who's favourite flavour is grosser, you let sunoo walk you to a park down the street. all the kids have gone home for dinner, so you and sunoo are alone at top the jungle gym. your mouths are full of sugar as you look out onto your small town, settling down for the friday night.

"i listened to a queen album last night." sunoo breaks the silence between you.

"did you?" you sit up at the news. "and what did you think of it?"

sunoo smiles gently, "it was alright."

you try to hide the happiness that fills your stomach alongside the pistachio ice cream you finished. "well, i can tell you now that i'm not listening to a shawn mendes album for you!"

"hey! what's your problem with shawn?"

"my problem is that he sounds like every other pop singer!"

sunoo gasps, placing his hand on his chest, "i can not believe you just said that!"

you roll your eyes, "well send me some more pop albums besides shawn's and i'll try not to hate them."

when the fall wind picks up, you let sunoo walk to you home.

the walk is full of laughter and teasing as both of you struggle to walk more than a meter without nudging the other for 'walking weird'. you cheeks hurt from grinning when you step onto your street and you realize your afternoon with sunoo is over. it went by so fast.

it's silent when you step onto your porch step. the porch light shining over both of you so you're not left in complete darkness. you twiddle with your hands in front of you, wondering how your night will end now that sunoo is going home.

"so what do you think?" the pink-haired boy asks you.

"about what?"

"about us being soulmates. do you really think we are?"

his question lingers all around you. you can't deny that it's been something you've been debating for weeks now. you feel like you can still find ways to argue if you are not. but after this afternoon, you find it hard to.

"i think we are."

even though he tries to hide it, sunoo's smile takes up his face as he looks down at the pavement, kicking nothing with his shoe. "me too."

there's happiness around you as you bid each other a good night. you watch him walk down your street until he turns and he's out of sight. your ears feel like they're popping when he's gone. your parents don't ask questions when you walk inside, only saying good night as you happily drag your body upstairs to your bedroom.

your body feels lighter when you lay in bed, but you know you still won't be able to sleep for hours. your insomnia mixed with love is a better feeling than your insomnia mixing with anxiety. you smile to yourself when you catch yourself saying the 'L' word.

you roll over onto your stomach, not caring about the time when you text sunoo saying how much fun you had tonight, and to thank him for the ice cream. as soon as you press send, your body collapses into a deep sleep.

the first thing you see on your phone when you wake up at noon is a text from sunoo from hours earlier:

sunoo : you really need to fix your sleeping schedule. sunoo : wanna hang out later?

you realize that you texted him the night before at three in the morning before passing out. and then you realize that you need to get ready to hang out with sunoo later.

the next weeks are filled with things you could only have imagined before. sunoo and you started by showing each other your favourite places around town. which seemed to be very different from each others.

you took him to the museum where you frequented. showing him your favourite paintings that you have basically memorized. you told him how you wanted one of your art works to be in this museum one day. he didn't seem to understand your love for this museum in particular, but he didn't say anything and just let you pull him around for hours until he was sure he's seen even every nook and cranny of the building.

he took you to his favourite cafe that was probably the busiest building in your whole town. you always tried to avoid this place, but sunoo assured you that it was the best. you didn't like all the noise in the place, but every time sunoo spoke it made it better since it only seemed like you and him in the cafe. you sat the table while sunoo bought every snack that he deemed to be the most delicious thing on the earth. and even when you only took a bite of it since you didn't like it, sunoo didn't seem to care. he only laughed at the ridiculous face you made while tasting it.

you started meeting up in the halls at school during class hours, laying around on the stairs together until you heard someone coming. you sat closer and closer to each other on the bus every morning, annoying the others who were still half asleep with your laughing. sometimes sunoo would surprise you on a saturday morning with a pistachio ice cream cone from his parent's shop, urging you to eat it before it would melt.

when sunoo told you he wanted to take you somewhere special, you thought it would be another cafe. but it turned out to be the roof of his parent's shop.

you were scared at first, but when sunoo reached his hand out to help you up, it didn't seem too bad after all.

sunoo sat beside you, his pink hair fading into the sunset above you. he looked beautiful. his tan skin milking the sky of it's golden and pink hues. his mocha eyes contrasting so perfectly. and his gorgeous smile, taking up his whole face every time you made him laugh.

when you decided to lay down on the rooftop, sunoo followed you. the gentle wind would surround your bodies, making you closer together for some warmth. when sunoo's hand circled yours, you didn't shy away from the heat it provided.

on either sides of you was the sun and the moon. the sun ready for the sleep, and the moon ready to take charge for the night, watching over everyone as they slept. you turn your head to the side to look at sunoo, giggling when your noses touched from how close you were.

"i'm glad you're my soulmate," sunoo's voice speaks, and the rest of the world goes blank.

"why?"

sunoo rolls his eyes at you but responds, "because you're funny, caring, understanding. everything that's perfect."

you smile, "understanding? i'm not sure i understand your love for shawn mendes though." you laugh when sunoo nudges your shoulder with his own, "but thank you. i'm glad you're my soulmate, too."

suddenly, you feel a burning on your chest, right where your charm lays. and you know sunoo feels it too from the way his hand not connected with yours lands on his chest. your eyes meet his mocha ones and you can't seem to look away. the charm burns your skin more intensely until your face is right in front of sunoo's. and you give in.

as soon as your lips touch the burning stops and you feel yourself being tugged closer together. your charm interlinks with sunoo's as you kiss so you're connected in more ways than one. you feel perfect like this. the way you can taste, hear and feel sunoo. even with your eyes closed you can see him flawlessly, the way he always is.

when you both pull away, you gasp as your eyes meet your connected charms.

"oh my god," sunoo says, taking his charm from yours to look at it. your charm hits your chest before you grab it. "it- they,"

"they changed." you finish for him. examining the once gold, sun charm now turn into a silver sun. the ugly spikes you hated are softer as they surround the sun's face.

you glance towards sunoo's whose face is just as confused as your own. his silver moon is now gold, and his spikes too are softer, more round as sunoo's fingers trace them.

sunoo lets out a sigh, "thank god, because i really hate silver."

"i really hate gold." you smile at him, laughing when sunoo pulls you in for another, one of many, kisses.

from that day on, sunoo and you don't shy away from anything, despite your differences. sure, each other's parents are confused on how both of you are soulmates since you are so different, and maybe sometimes you are, too. but you don't let it bother you.

the love you have for each other is something that you know only the two of you have in this large world. you're lucky enough to find your soulmate in the small town you grew up in. there seems to be no worries with sunoo, time, pace or future is something you know you can handle as long as sunoo is beside you. he's someone you know that will never judge you, even your hatred for shawn mendes.

so when sunoo's hand slips into his sweatpants he let you borrow, you don't shy away from him. you place your hand over his boner that's so noticeable under his sweats. sunoo groans, surging towards your body and resting his head in your shoulder as he continues to circle your clit.

"fuck," sunoo pants in a small whimper.

you're sharking your head, your other hand coming up to cup his face. "feels so good, already." your lips start to move against each other, getting lost in the pleasure both of you are feeling.

both of your movements speed up, trying to get the other one to feel just as good as the other. a low whine escapes your lips as your fingers dig into his pink hair that you love so much.

sunoo grunts, using all of his power to continue to circle your tiny, swollen clit. "you're mine, right, y/n?" you feel too good to answer with words, your hips moving in sync with his fingers, so he takes your nod as an answer.

both of you can feel your orgasms approaching. neither of you stop, or want to stop. focusing on the other reaching their high.

"fuck, sunoo!" you gasp out, a small squeal falls from your lips as you feel your body tense. the charm on your neck burning the skin under it as you feel a fire take over your body. you feel your cheeks burn to match sunoo's hair as you feel the coil building in your stomach snap.

"shit, baby, i-," sunoo lets out, biting onto his lower lip before he feels his cock twitch and empty into his boxer. your hand doesn't stop jerking his cock over his clothes until he moves his hips away, retracting his hand from your panties at the same time.

you both catch your breaths, the heat from your charms cooling as you come back to your senses. you both laugh as you make eye contact, out of breath but so, so happy. because everything with sunoo is happy.

and even though you and sunoo don't have everything in common. and your soulmate love story isn't like everyone else's, kim sunoo is still your soulmate, you are his.

and you wouldn't want it any other way.

taglist : @asyleums @wonrkive @fluerz @bitchychildmiracle @gyulune

@ taeghi, 2023. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)x

#enhypen #sunoo #sunoo enhypen #smut #enhypen smut #fluff #angst #soulmate #soulmate au #the classics #enhypen sunoo #series #pwp #fanfic #au

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skywlshes · 2 months

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Buckle up folks. It's time for musical jewelry box Skywishes (and baby Flower Flash!)

I do not remember exactly how my obsession with mlp started as a kid. What I know is I had Serendipity from McDonald’s, i had watched Dancing in the Clouds on Teletoon and at some point I got her as a present and she was my very, very favorite.

To the point where I took her everywhere with me, except from school. One day when I was about 7, I took her with me to my grandmothers funerals, which occurred pretty far from home, and when I came back, I realized I had left her there. My mom called the funeral home, but my Skywishes was nowhere to be found; I was devastated. I would draw her on cardboard and pretend I still had her with me to play with my other ponies.

Because we only knew her french name from Dancing In the Clouds, Dancilia, my dad could never find her on the web. Nothing would show up for Dancilia. But after a year and a half, he found her on ebay, from Hong Kong, and on Christmas that year, she was gifted to me!

I really, really wish I still had the video. My house burned about a year later and I think we lost it at this moment, but my mom was recording me as I unwrapped my present. It was such a beautiful moment. I cried, i screamed out of joy, jumping and running around the house for a good five minutes. I don't think I'll ever forget that.

Though I still wonder what happened to my OG Skywishes! I think she might have been at a park nearby. Hopefully another little girl picked her up. As for my Christmas Skywishes, we cleaned her after the fire and she's at my parents in my bedroom. I bought a MIB Musical jewelry box to unbox in 2018, and this one is from 2020.

So what about it? It has to be my favourite set ever. The music box tune is so cute, and I love how the box opens up with the magnet! And the jewelry is adorable. (12/🦄)

#g3collection #g3 mlp #G3

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juliasgoodusername · 1 year

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Ley Lines Map for All the Gansey-core Girlies

Have you ever wished there was an interactive map that not only graphs the ley lines described in TRC, but also has layers full of possible spiritual points, arranged in loose categories and sloppily curated by sheer force of mental illness?? Okay baby here you go:

FAQ under the cut 😘

Was this necessary?

Genuinely it was not. My investigations uncovered that Maggie Stiefvater does not really care about geography, nor does she remain consistent about the ley lines, so I can't even really say that it's book-accurate.

Example 1 - There are multiple understandings of ley lines. Some are circles, patterns, connect the dots, etc. but TRC goes with the definition of "perfectly straight" lines "that crisscross the globe" (The Raven Boys Chapter 2, Chapter 15). One of the big three lines connects Boston to St. Louis (The Raven Boys Chapter 22). And the main line also passes through Boston (see example #2)! But half of all the Pynch drama in Call Down the Hawk specifically blames Boston/Harvard for not being on the ley line. Hello?? It's on TWO of them!

Example 2 - Maggie makes it clear that the connection between D.C. and New York, which also connects to the UK and Pilot Mountain, is the main line that Glendower's squad traveled on (The Raven Boys Chapter 7, Chapter 22). The weird part is how after defining this line, all of Adam's ley line adventures place it directly along the Shenandoah National Park/Blue Ridge Mountains (Blue Lily, Lily Blue Chapter 2 + many other quotes I don't feel like looking up). There's no way to connect the DC-Pilot Mt line to Shenandoah, but I can totally see how Maggie Stiefvater would think it connects when looking at a flat map.

So yeah. It doesn't really matter, but thanks to my research we can CONFIRM that it doesn't really matter. You're welcome.

So why did you make this?

For fun...it wasn't exactly worth it. But by sharing it with y'all, hopefully no one else will make the same mistake.

What about line #3?

The third line never has specific connection points in the books so I basically made it up :) but I narrowed it down to 2 candidates, with my chosen line based on Ronan's mention of the "Pando thing" in Greywaren's epilogue.

How did you decide on/find points?

Honestly it was a lot of vibes. You can read in the description of the map how I started from certain resources, like all the stuff in the books, and other people's Google maps. My big discovery was realizing that UNESCO World Heritage Sites covered a lot of territory between history and nature, but before that I was literally googling things like "strange places Kentucky" and pouring through articles. If a place seemed weird and magical, I added it.

Yes this took forever. Easily 3x as long as the 300 Fox Way floorplan, if not longer.

Is this map complete?

I had other ideas for things I should add to it but I got tired, so nah.

You've put down everything from urban legends to alien sightings, but why don't I see many hauntings on the map?

Blatant author bias; I firmly don't believe in famously haunted houses! The vast majority of "haunted" places operate as tourist attractions, so if I took them at their word I'd have to also log Disney World for being the most magical place on earth, wouldn't I? Also Re: I got tired.

Can I copy this map / add to it / use it for reference?

Please please please please

I found a typo

I bet you did! I'm not even proof reading this post bestie.

#now you can plan your trips to a local ley line just in time for st mark's eve 🙏#trc #the raven cycle #trc unraveled

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recurring-polynya · 3 months

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Writing/Art Update 1.9.2024

Bleh. I was holding off doing this update, hoping I was going to be able to report that I had finished That Stupid Scene that I have been working on since before Christmas. I had so many thoughts in my head while I was cooking dinner and then, when I actually sat down to write, they had departed. Maybe they'll be back tomorrow.

In any case, I did make a huge amount of progress this week. It was hard! I had a lot of writing time, which was nice, except that I spent a lot of it staring out the window or clicking on my other browser tabs, which is always very irritating. However, I did manage to get most of it written, and it hit all the bullet points I needed it to. I basically just have to wrap it up and transition into what happens next. It shouldn't actually be that hard, I'm just tired and I'm not sure I can swing it right now. It's a big scene, too-- I clocked 4,375 words on it this week in addition to the 900 I already had, so it's probably going to be about half the chapter.

I've had a feeling for quite some time that I had not actually budgeted enough space in the outline for the back half of this fanfic. The thing is, though, it is nearly always the case that an extra chapter manages to sneak in somewhere along the way. I decided to just leave the outline as it was, and that way, if an extra chapter appeared, then my pacing problem would sort itself. That...may be happening. I am not entirely sure. I'm in sort of a weird place where I simultaneously feel like I am very close to done and also very, very far away from being done. Hopefully, in the next week or two (that is, when I finish Ch 7), that will sort itself out. Either that, or I'll just keep writing chapters, like Zeno's fanfic. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen. I will die.

Ugh, I want to post. I am wallowing in the pit of it's been so long since I posted, I feel like I have literally stopped existing, and I keep getting dumb urges to "just take a little break and write a short one" (note that I do not actually have any ideas towards "a short one", it's 100% urges only). Anyway, I definitely do not want to do that, because I want to finish this one very, very badly, and it's taking long enough as is. What I should probably do is polish up Chs 5 and 6 and send them to the beta, but that would require coming up with a name for the art museum that I placeholdered a bunch of times in Ch 5. I actually named it in Ch 1 and then decided I didn't like it and needed to rename and I just haven't yet.

Speaking of names, I've also fallen into It-Needs-a-Title Madness, where I start to go Actual Nuts because I can't think of a title for this stupid fanfic. I forgot that in addition to staring out the window, I spent a lot of time looking through the lyrics of songs on my Ductwork playlist and googling for, like, "phrases with injury" in them. I hate this. It's such a waste of time and yet I do this every time. Why can't you pay someone $10 to name your fanfic for you? Can I just call it "Ductwork"? Does it even matter? (it does matter. I regret every terrible title I have ever slapped on a fanfic in a fit of "Fuck It, We Post")

In other news, I drew all seven days last week (the theme was fruits and vegetables). I took yesterday off, but then I drew a can of soup today, which was hard. It's cool. The people in art club are very nice. I am really hoping to draw a Rukia for her birthday. I have never drawn a bankai Rukia, and I'd like to give it a shot. I bet it would be a lot easier if I could resist doing a full body shot, but somehow, I always do a full body shot. We'll see!!

#writing update #art update

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hyunjinhoee · 2 years

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Pistachio Flavored

hellooo its been long tbh- but i hope you all like this one <3

hyunjin x fem!reader

genre:- fluff

Warnings:- slight cussing

Word Count: 1.0k

"Fuck", You groaned fanning yourself, annoyed by the sweat that covered your body. You hated summers solely for the extremely hot days where you were forced to take bath three times a day. It was unusually hot which was just a cherry on top to the fact that your air conditioner had decided to stop working on the day you needed it the most

Cursing once again, you roll of your bed grabbing your purse, locking your door pretty sure that a cold, sweet ice cream would hopefully make your mood better

Walking into the nearest ice cream parlour, you were quite shocked to see that there was barely anyone present except a dark haired man by the counter exchanging some words with the man working next to him. You took a step in, a small bell rang announcing your arrival as the attention of both the men turned to you

"good afternoon, miss", the dark haired man greeted, faking a smile, "slow day huh", You stare at the menu displayed just above him, "I mean it was on the news to stay in", He shakes his head as you meet his eyes, slight blush covering your cheeks due to you being embarrassed not being aware of the warning.

"I'll have one pistachio flavo-"

"who the fuck eats pistachio ice cream?"

"excuse me?-"

You clicked your tongue as the dark haired man in front of you rolled his eyes. "Cup or cone?", he doesn't try to hide his disgust, "cone", you fold your arms unimpressed by his behaviour, "only when I thought it couldn't get worse", The man sighs, a fairly visible disappointment in his voice

"Oh I am sorry, I don't like your basic chocolate and vanilla, Hwang Hyunjin", You answer him back addressing him by the name on the batch pinned to his shirt. "Well at least they don't taste like shit", He scoffs, "you might as well eat mint chocolate", He doesn't hold back pissing you off than you already were, "I don't really know what your problem his but please just give me my ice cream", though you were ready to argue you chose to be mature unlike him

Hyunjin rolls his eyes once again as he puts on gloves, taking out one cone out of the transparent glass box. "single scoop?", He bats an eye at you and just to annoy him more, "one scoop of pistachio and one scoop of mint chocolate"

"might as well murder someone at this point", He hands you the cone, a small smile on his face as he somewhat liked your teasing, "oh yeah, you", You take a lick of your ice cream, handing him the money, "don't worry its for free", Hyunjin shakes his head as you stare at him

Ignoring his personality, he looked quite appealing with plump lips and his long dark hair tied up in a half ponytail with two strands falling just above his lips complementing his face. "I know, I'm good looking but please its creepy", he smirks bring you to reality as once again blush covers your cheeks out of embarrassment

"Narcissist bitch", You roll your eyes, turning away walking out of the parlour, "uhm excuse me?", a voice calls you from behind as you notice it was the other person working with Hyunjin, "uhm he was asking your name", the fox eyed employee breathes your lips curve into a small smile, "Y/N"

---

It's been a month since you started to visit that specific ice cream parlour every day just to annoy Hyunjin by ordering the same flavoured ice cream you did when you both first met. You two became friends with a few similarities you both shared such as passion for drawing and music but he was also an impressive dancer who belonged in a quite popular dance team. His talents and passion made you more attracted to him than you already were. You had started develop feelings for him, craving to spend more time with him and waiting for his texts as you both stayed awake all night entertaining each other with strings of a little bit flirty texts

"hey princess, again with your same order", Hyunjin smirked as you walked in, "what happened?", he looked at you once you didn't reply to his fun greeting, "I had this one interview today and I fucking screwed it up", You buried your face in your palms trying not to break down in front of him

"here have your mint chocolate and that fucking pistachio and wait for two minutes cause my shift is over", he handed you your cone as you sat there waiting for him to come out.

"it's not the end of everything, Y/N", He brushed off a strand from your face tugging it behind your ear, awakening the butterflies for you lost the count of. "But-", You licked your ice cream, "-I really wanted this", you pouted as he chuckled, "and you might, you never know", he tried to be optimistic as you smiled appreciating his efforts

Your gaze met his, your eyes unconsciously averting to his lips as you got your frequent urge to place your lips against his, curious about how it would feel. As if being able to read your thoughts, Hyunjin leans in a little making sure that you don't feel uncomfortable. His lips brush against yours teasing you a little but he slightly pulls back trying to read your reaction. Satisfied with you not pulling back or saying anything against it, he finally presses his lips against yours allowing to savour the taste you were waiting for since the first day you met him. He guided the kiss as your lips moved matching the rhythm of his. His one hand sliding around your waist, he pulls you closer deepening the kiss making you smile in between.

He pulls back as he smiles back at you, a hint of pink blush covering his cheeks

"pistachio doesn't taste that bad after all"

#hwanghyunjin #bangchan #felix #hyunjinoneshot #skzoneshots #seungmin #smut #skzsmut #straykids #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #skz #kpop imagines

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enarei · 9 months

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I didn't speak to my father at all for the better part of 5 years, and then when I did for the first time, after being outed against my will to him. he attempted to leverage that to force me to be closer to him again. which I don't think is innately cruel, I mean, it's hard to draw a line between coercion and just hanging a prize in front of their eyes, at least in your view. but this was funny to me because the first thing he said to me, as I'd been outed, after ignoring him for the past half decade, was send me an email calling me a stupid person for thinking I could become a woman. I'd dropped out of school and he tried to condescend me with a biology lesson by explaining what chromosomes are. it was something like 4 paragraphs long, and actually fairly well written for the most part. you could tell he really put effort into it. which I think is amazing just in the face of still being the most unecessarily cruel thing to say to someone you're attempting to reconnect with. but like. yeah.

I basically said this to him, and continued to ignore him, to which he eventually relented. the next time he tried to contact me, around 2018, when I was trying to get on hormones, he started telling me about this sex reassignment surgeon he'd met in the next state over, and how he was convinced I could move to their like, in-patient clinic and do an interview with other transsexuals (he specifically used that word instead of the much more common travesti or just trans) to hopefully have *the surgery* by the end of the year. I hadn't even started hormones at that point. I didn't even like, ever talk about any of this with him, he just decided I wanted a pussy and he was going to reconnect with his stupid dropout son by giving him one. think this was one of the very first in person conversations we had that wasn't just like, arguing about the reason we were estranged, actually.

I just think it's funny because like. it's not necessarily wrong to assume a trans person wants to change their genitals, sex reassignment was probably the most popular form trans women (or trans people in general) took in mainstream discourse that wasn't inherently mocking of us after all. but for how curious he is with other things he took so little interest into why I was doing this. why would someone that was raised as a male choose not to behave as a male anymore, at least in some contexts, when it is so very humiliating and frowned upon. you know? I feel that if I met someone who just completely disregarded rules that exist in society, rules that I didn't even fully understood could be broken, and I was like, willing to compromise on my instict to be prejudiced against them, because I really want them in my life, I would at least remain a little curious about it. cause we speak now. we've spoken for almost three years at this point. and not once has he asked me a single question about it.

I don't know. my parents weren't very religious and although I deeply hated both of them for completely disregarding my bodily autonomy in different ways, I expected more of a disruption from finding out their child is transgender. because I was still implicated in all this shit growing up. I was still, not physically violently, but still very sternly, steered towards not acting too effeminately in front of other people, I was told to dress a certain way, and the fact other parents would freak out when I hung out with their daughters was never met with much empathy for me. this is just like, a problem, but it's uniquely just my problem, which has now been solved, and everything else is fine. "cis children", like my brother, grow up in a completely normal environment, the way one of two mutually exclusive identities is imposed on them from birth doesn't have longstanding implications on their psyche, their ability to express certain things, to not become suicidal. it is not strange to them that they're treated in starkly different ways, for being men or women. or even that they felt compelled to get married when my mother got pregnant, that divorcing was impossible and put immense strain on both of them. somehow none of those things are really problems to be examined under the same lens as your son becoming your daughter, even though they complain about it a lot. it's just incredible to me how a group of people can be so clueless and uninquisitive about what's going on around them. perhaps cis people aren't cis because they're not trans. it's just a label for people that are fucking stupid.

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papermonkeyism · 1 year

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For the new year, I wish I'll get to hang out with people again.

This past year has been, frankly, pretty miserable, specially since early summer-ish when my DnD group went on a months long break. Wasn't the first one, nor the last one, but definetely the worst one. Don't really have other friends locally, aside from one old school mate.

Honestly it's been pretty bad ever since the start of the pandemic when we stopped hanging out outside of DnD sessions and my fave coffee places closed down along with couple of my fave restaurants, and I just... Stopped having a social life, but now it's so much worse. As said, I have one (1) friend outside of the group I sometimes go shopping with, and one of my DnD buddies hangs out with me maybe once a week to borrow my laundry machine for couple hours, and they are probably the only reasons I haven't broken completely so far.

But neither of them are storytelling people the same way I am, so I'm kinda holding back when we hang out, as I can't really go all in with my special interests on them.

Downsides of being socially awkward introvert.

The summer break from roleplaying was a trigger for anxiety and maybe the worst creative block of my life so far. As someone who basically thinks with a sketchbook it was pretty fucking stressful not being able to draw anything for several months!

I crave creation and storytelling, but my brain is made of goo. Like imagine if someone came and asked you to pick a water from a pool and hand it to them? But it's liquid! Can I get a cup or something, but they just scoff. You got hands, right, just pick one up and hand it over. So I'm just left trying to scoop handfuls of wet and grabbing nothing. Kinda how it feels.

Started marathoning Crit Role to distract myself from the worst of it and to have at least some kind of creative energy in my life, and consumed what must be over half a thousand hours of role playing. At least that was fun!

And when nights started stretching and seasonal depression started to creep into my already not-doing-good brain I started my routine of evening walks because at some point I was legitimately going stir crazy enough to explode otherwise.

It's also been my first full year of joblessness in a long while. I was already having hard time by the end of last year, because my brain has difficulty handling full time jobs for long stretches of time, and ten months in a row not being able to recharge was starting to weight on me, so I had made a plan to get my brain sorted out with the ADHD diagnosis and hopefully medication before applying for jobs again, but turns out the process took the entire year, and then some, and I still don't have the meds yet. I have been given the thumbs up on them, but turns out me stressing for the better part of a year has triggered blood pressure problems (runs in my family, so honestly probably just a matter of time, but it's still very inconvenient to happen right now), so I have to sort that out first before it's safe to try stimulant medication.

And then there was the death in the family and a close friend's cancer diagnosis (fingers crossed!) and I just haven't had a great time, you know.

January's going to go into medical stuff in the hope of getting the ADHD meds, so maybe I could one day grab those thoughts again. The unemployment office is also pestering me again, so we'll see how that'll go.

I think I'll see if I can make myself a regular at the new cat cafe in town. Cats make everything better. Also looking forwards to actualizing a tattoo plan or two! Springtime is coming too, eager to continue my evening walk routine with returning sunlight. And I really, really, really need to create something again.

So here's for what I sincerely hope to be a better year than this past one! Cheers.

#shut up paper

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tytach · 1 year

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Happy holiday truce @justalitlecreacher! I'm your gifter for this year~

Once again I apologize for getting your gift to you so, so close to the deadline. The ending still needs a bit of editing, but I'm too tired to look at my screen without seeing every words in double ^^' And you deserve to have a nice gift with a clean ending, so I'll deliver your gift in two parts. I hope that's ok with you!

I went with your second prompt: Jack and Danny bonding; mayhaps another camping trip.

Enjoy!~

Danny was looking dispassionately through the window, head resting in the palm of his hand, gaze lost in the ever blending rows of trees that lined the road. He sighed for the up-tenth time, sensing the draw of the portal growing fainter and fainter the further they drove away from Amity Park.

"Come on Danno, it’ll be fun," Jack chimed in, ever the enthusiast.

Danny hadn’t had a say in this ordeal. His dad caught him breaching curfew one too many times and, for some obscure reason, had come up with this camping trip as a punishment.

"If you say so," he grumbled.

He didn’t mean to be rude, but he couldn’t help the bad temper. It irked him to leave Amity Park for so long, even though he trusted his friends to hold the fort while he was gone. He couldn’t really explain where that feeling was coming from, but it left him with a bad after-taste in the mouth and a strange buzzing in his core.

He rubbed at his chest irritatedly.

Couldn’t his dad have come up with a normal punishment? Like no video games for a week? Like every other normal parent would have?

The only silver-lining in all this was the promise he had managed to wriggle out of his dad.

No ghost hunting.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about his safety this week-end; at least nothing more than his dad’s regular carelessness.

Jack’s eyes briefly left the road to focus on Danny, his fingers drumming on the wheel. He was not oblivious to his son’s mood; he just didn’t know how to deal with it. He hadn’t for a while.

Short of having a better solution to lighten up the atmosphere, he turned on the radio, inserted a CD he fetched from an old dusty case and, soon enough, country music filled the vehicle.

The familiar tune brought a smile to Jack’s face. They used to play these songs every trip they took when the kids were younger, and the whole family would always sing loudly to the lyrics. He automatically joined the chorus out of habit, finding joy in the memories it brought.

Danny resisted the urge to put his headphones on and tune him out. It would just be two days of this.

Just two days.

________________________________________

Slowly, practical asphalt roads turned into bumpy dirt tracks. The last half hour of the trip was spent cutting through the forest on paths barely large enough for the GAV. With his dad’s questionable driving skills, Danny was glad he was already dead.

They eventually arrived in an empty clearing a couple hours before sunset. Despite being here against his will, Danny wasn’t above helping unload the GAV —especially if that gave him the opportunity to make sure his dad had kept his word. While Jack was busy mounting the tent, Danny looked around the modified van, searching for hidden weapons his dad would have brought regardless. He was relieved to find none.

They kept busy setting up camp, barely exchanging words other than giving directions to each other. This was fine with Danny. Occasionally though, Jack would point to something he found funny, or tell a story he was reminded off. Danny would acknowledge him, but he didn’t see the point of continuing the conversation beyond that. Jack didn’t seem to mind.

He really started to feel the awkwardness when they settled around the fire for dinner.

With nothing else but the food to busy their hands and minds, Jack tried to open a proper conversation with his son.

"So, Danno. What have you been up to lately?"

Danny raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean?"

Jack stuck a raw sausage to a stick and brought it to the fire.

"We barely talk anymore. What’s new in your life? Any new video games? A new cool place to go in town? …A girlfriend?"

Danny refused to acknowledge that last suggestion.

"Er… the Nasty Burger has a new burger with twice the meat and four different types of cheese," was the first thing he thought about. "It’s pretty good? We’ve been ordering that a lot with Tuck lately."

Jack looked at him with interest.

"Oh really? What types of cheese?" He prompted.

Danny shrugged.

"I don’t know, it’s cheese."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, you make it sound pretty good," Jack commented. "Maybe I’ll try it one day."

"You should."

The conversation lulled to an uncomfortable silence.

Jack turned his sausage, watching it cook slowly, while Danny munched on his own.

Jack wasn’t stupid. Sure, he was often lost in his work, and he tended to be oblivious to what most people apparently tended to notice naturally; but that didn’t mean he was unobservant. He just picked up on details no one paid attention to.

Like the fact his son had grown progressively more distant in the last two years. Oh, Danny did try to act like it wasn't the case; but he couldn’t fake the missing glee that used to fill his eyes. That’s what had first given away the fact that something had changed in his life. Something big.

Jack had a few theories, and he feared any of them were true. But it was his duty as a father to try and help his son, no matter how much it implied he had failed his child.

He took a deep breath.

"Listen Danny, I—"

Danny got to his feet abruptly, effectively interrupting him.

"You know what we forgot? The ketchup! I’ll be right back!"

He was gone before Jack could tell him the bottle was right next to him.

Not long after, the Fenton Ghost Detector beeped in his pocket.

________________________________________

Danny flew as fast as he could, following the pull on his core. He couldn’t believe a ghost followed him all the way here.

No, scratch that— actually he could. With his luck, there was no way this wouldn’t have happened the night he didn’t bring a thermos with him. He silently cursed himself for his negligence.

Danny flew in circles in the general area he could feel the ghost being, until he spotted a young boy moving slowly through the darkened forest.

Huh, not one of his regulars then.

His irritation receding, he approached the boy carefully.

"Hi," he greeted in a warm tone.

The boy turned to him. He looked to be around seven, and was dressed in clothes that were definitely not from this century, nor the last one. Yet he barely had any glow to him; if it was not from his floating bare inches above the ground and Danny’s ghost-sense, he could almost have been fooled into thinking he was talking to a living, breathing child.

"Hi!" The boy replied, seeming genuinely relieved to see Danny. "Can you help me?"

"Sure! What do you need?" Danny smiled at the wandering soul.

He wasn’t used to that kind of clientele, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to help.

"I’m lost and I think I broke my ankle, I can’t walk. Can you help me find my dad?"

The boy’s right ankle was indeed all twisted. Danny didn’t point out that it didn’t stop him from moving around; the kid probably hadn’t realized what had happened to him yet, and Danny knew better than to bring up that kind of subject.

"I can’t stay for long, but I can search with you for a bit if you want," he offered, knowing full well that the boy’s dad had probably passed a long time ago.

"Thank you!" The boy smiled as he resumed his trek. "The forest is very big."

Danny nodded.

"That it is. What’s your name?"

"Allaster. You?"

"I’m Danny."

Danny floated next to him as they passed slowly through the bushes, calling the boy’s dad with him.

But as the minutes passed, Danny realized he couldn’t bring peace to Allaster. At least not at this time of the night, and definitely not while his ghost hunter of a dad was waiting for him not too far from here. If he found out about Allaster… He might not have any weapons with him at the moment, but Danny was sure that wouldn’t stop him from turning the weekend into a ghost hunting trip nonetheless. And thus despite his promise.

He decided to bite the bullet.

"Allaster, I need to warn you."

The kid ground to a stop, his attention returning on Danny.

"I came into this forest with my own dad. If he finds you, he could hurt you really badly. You need to leave."

Allaster’s eyes clouded over.

"What?" He asked, his voice small.

"Just for a couple nights," Danny insisted.

The kid shook his head vehemently.

"No!"

"Please, I don’t want you to—"

"My dad told me that if I got lost, I had to stay right where I was so it was easier to find me. I can’t leave! I CAN’T!"

And with that last shout, he vanished.

Well, that had gone well. Danny ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. He should have known better than to ask a ghost to leave its haunt.

Hoping that the kid wouldn’t reappear before their trip was over, he flew back towards the camp.

________________________________________

Danny landed behind the GAV. In a flash of light he turned human and hurried back towards the fire.

"Sorry, it took so long, I really couldn’t find the…"

Danny stopped suddenly.

"…ketchup. Dad?"

The camp was empty, a burnt sausage resting over the dying fire. His dad was nowhere to be seen.

He started looking around the camp, inside the GAV, in the tent.

Nothing.

He was mildly starting to panic when his dad emerged from behind the trees, closing the zipper of his hazmat suit.

"Wow, that was a big one," he laughed, before sobering at the sight of Danny’s state. "You ok, Danno?"

Danny chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling very stupid.

"Yeah I’m ok," he said, rubbing his neck. "I just thought— you know, with all the ghost attacks that maybe…" He didn’t need to elaborate further.

"Careful Danno, you’re starting to exhibit symptoms of chronic Amity Parkers," Jack winked. "But I’m glad to see you’re staying alert."

He put a new log in the fire, and just like that, they resumed their awkward dinner.

________________________________________

Danny didn’t sleep well that night. It wasn’t because of his dad’s overly loud snoring —although that clearly didn’t help.

Danny couldn’t stop shivering, assaulted as he was by a constant chill. His breath kept fogging.

He could feel Allaster roaming the forest.

At some point he sneaked out and went looking for the kid, to no avail. Allaster didn’t want to be found.

He just hoped it would last until they left.

#2022 holiday truce #danny phantom #dp fanfic #danny fenton #jack fenton

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menaceadored · 2 years

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Pretty In Pink | Ronance

Summary: Nancy Wheeler is alone in her bedroom, her mind filled with thoughts of freckles and blue eyes. Of long, ring clad fingers. And suddenly she's breathless. Flushed pink from head to toe.

Word Count: 2288

Tags: 18+, implied sexual content, pining, closeted nancy wheeler, heavy use of the word pink, pre-ronance, post-season 4, unfinished work

A/N: i actually had a plan for this one and would like to add to this at some point. however, this has been sitting in my drafts, untouched for at least a month. so, for now let's call this part 1 and i'll come back to it later (hopefully). clearly you can see where it's headed

Nancy Wheeler is alone in her bedroom, door closed and curtains drawn. The only light in the room comes from her two lamps, one on either side of her bed. The dim lighting paired with the pink of her walls casts her bedroom in a soft, rosy hue. She’s dressed in pajamas, a matching set. The pearl white buttons are done up completely on her pastel pink top, her chest adorned with flowers in a circular pattern. The matching shorts fall just below her upper thigh, much shorter than anything she’d wear outside the privacy of her bedroom. Her curls are damp where they’re piled up in a high ponytail atop her head, having just showered before settling down. The shorter curls of her bangs have slipped loose and frame her face in an endearing way.

She feels warm and comfortable, her skin soft from the heat of the shower and she finds herself sinking deeper into the comforter. She’s laying on her stomach on her bed atop the pink and blue bedding, a book in her grasp and her feet, dressed in white socks, kicking aimlessly into the air behind her. Her eyes skim over the same sentence in her book once more. She’s finding it difficult to focus on the words on the page, a pleasant yet distracting electricity thrumming beneath her skin.

She’s propped up on her elbows, one of her hands holds up the book, the other is focused on her mouth. Her thumb absently tracing her bottom lip, pulling it down and releasing it every so often. At this angle, if she thinks about it, she can feel where her nipples catch on the fabric of her shirt, her braless tits pressed into the bed.

She doesn’t think about it. Not yet.

Wants to draw it out for as long as she can stand it. Tease herself before she finally gives in. So for now, her thumb traces her plush pink lip.

But clearly she’s having no luck reading.

She’s kept a bookmark between the cover and first page and she takes it now, placing it between the two pages, successfully marking her spot. She might be struggling to read the book now, but she’ll return to it later. She gently closes the book and places it off to the side.

With the book discarded, she crosses her arms atop her comforter and buries her head in them, just resting there for a moment. Her feet cease their kicking and her legs go lax against the mattress. She feels as if she’s sinking deeper into the warmth of her comfortable bed and if she weren’t so desperately horny, she imagines she could fall asleep, just like this. But no, that’s not what she wants.

So, after resting for a moment, she begins to slowly spread her legs, bringing her lower half up to rest on her knees. Completely spread out. She imagines how she looks. Face and chest pressed into the mattress, her back arched, her bottom elevated. The tiny pink sleep shorts she wears do little to hide what’s beneath them and she allows herself to imagine what she’d look like if she took them off and resumed this position.

She hasn’t even touched herself, but she can feel herself dripping beneath her shorts where she wears no panties, just soaking the taut pink fabric between her spread thighs. A part of her feels like she could get off from this alone, just from the thought of being observed like this. She imagines ring clad hands reaching out to her, long fingers covered in freckles. Imagines them just barely grazing the swell of her ass before moving where she really wants them, a ghost of a touch over her shorts where they press into her soaking-

A full body shudder overtakes her. Too much. Too soon.

She sits up on her knees then, deciding to change positions once again. Her face is red and warm from her previous thoughts and from being buried in her arms. The heat continues down her chest, so she decides to undo a few buttons on her top. Once she’s finished undoing the top three, she lies on her back, resting against the collection of pillows she has gathered at her headboard. She catches her breath, staring up at her ceiling at nothing in particular.

Her hands rest by her sides on top of the comforter. She resists the urge to touch, resists the urge to press her thighs together. Decides to unbutton her shirt the rest of the way. Her fingers, the fingernails trimmed short and painted a pretty pastel pink, much like her pajamas, move slowly over the last of the pearly white buttons. She undoes them one by one, allows her wrists to graze her nipples over the fabric of her shirt as her hands travel down. Her breath catching at their sensitivity. But for now she doesn’t stop to touch.

When all of the buttons are finally undone, she pulls the shirt open. Lets either side of the fabric fall away, displaying her tits to the empty bedroom. She lays her hands back in their previous position on either side of her, flat on the bed. By now the urge to touch is much stronger. Her fingers curl into the fabric of the comforter below her. She’s cooled down now from her shower and with her shirt open as it is, she becomes aware of the chill in the air.

Her nipples are hard.

The lighting in the room brings out their natural flush where they sit atop her pert breasts. She wants to pinch them, roll them between her fingers. Better yet, she wants someone else to. A spark shoots up her spine at the thought, eliciting another sharp intake of breath. Patience.

Nancy knows who she wants to imagine, who she’s been imagining ever since spring break. It’s sort of a secret she keeps with herself. Only allowing herself to admit it in the privacy of her bedroom, on late nights like this. When she allows herself to give into the want, touch herself where she so desperately needs, her mind filling with images of one person in particular. Of freckles and blue eyes. Of long, ring clad fingers.

Of how she wants them to touch her.

Robin.

Somehow the girl, with her gangly form and anxious babbling, has charmed Nancy in a way she’s never been before. It doesn’t make any sense. And yet, she wants her. She wants her in all her awkward clumsiness and ramble. And she wants her in every sense of the word. She wants her romantically, wants to keep her, spend as much time with her as possible, never leave her side if she can help it.

It is embarrassing.

They aren’t even together. Have only been friends for a few months now. And, though a part of her suspects, she doesn’t know for sure if Robin likes women in that way.

She doesn’t know if she likes women in that way.

And yet, she wants her.

And on nights like this, she wants her in a very particular way. In a way that leaves her breathless. Flushed pink from head to toe.

Now that she’s finally allowed herself to think the other girl's name, she’s brought back to the emptiness of her bedroom. Only now, she lets herself imagine it’s not so empty.

Maybe, Robin would sit at the foot of her bed, her gaze meeting Nancy’s own before falling to her exposed tits, her gray-blue eyes filling with want.

In reality, she can’t imagine a scenario in which she’d find herself laying nearly topless on her bed while Robin sat at the end, just looking at her. But this is a fantasy. In her fantasies, she can do whatever she wants. Can kiss girls. She can even have sex with girls. And she doesn’t have to explain herself or these feelings. Because in a fantasy, in the privacy of her bedroom and the privacy of her own thoughts, it doesn't matter if the fantasy makes sense or not because the only one who knows about it is her.

So she pictures Robin sitting at the foot of her bed, looking at her. She’d probably be wearing suspenders or a tie with whatever outfit she’s wearing. The details don’t matter so much. But Nancy briefly lets herself imagine grabbing onto the tie and pulling Robin down, her lips meeting her own in a desperate kiss, her tongue slipping into her mouth and-

But she’s getting ahead of herself. Wants to take it slow until she can’t.

She allows her thighs to squeeze together, gives herself just a little to wane off some of the need. She inhales, sighing deeply, she’s already so sensitive. Doubts she’ll last long when she finally touches herself where she really wants.

Her eyes slip closed, finds it easier to picture it this way.

She imagines Robin’s eyes meeting hers again as she starts edging her way up the bed on her hands and knees. One of her hands hooking under Nancy’s left knee and pulling it up into a bend as she reaches her. Sliding into the space between her legs, spreading them open.

Nancy brings her left knee up like she’s imagined Robin doing, spreading her legs as if making room for the other girl. Her sock clad heel digs into the bedspread.

“This okay?” Robin asks, because of course she would. She’d be so attentive. And Nancy nods, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes up at Robin through her eyelashes. Robin’s hand moves from its place on her knee, fingers applying pleasant pressure as they come to rest on Nancy’s hip.

Nancy follows the line up her thigh where she imagines Robin’s fingers would touch. When she reaches the jut of her hip bone, she kneads the flesh there in slow circles, the simple motion filling core her with pleasant little tingles.

Robin’s other hand comes to rest on Nancy’s nape and it’s now that Nancy allows herself to pull Robin down by her tie, her other hand slipping into Robin’s hair. Their mouths meet, Robin’s pillowy pink lips meeting Nancy’s own. Her tongue slipping in effortlessly alongside Nancy’s.

Nancy’s other hand comes up, her index and middle fingers tracing her bottom lip as she imagines Robin kissing her. She imagines Robin would taste almost sweet. Imagines if she ever got the chance to kiss the girl, she’d crave the taste of her lips almost as much as she craves her touch.

Robin pulls away, her eyes closed for a moment as she regains her breath. when they finally open, her gaze is needy. Nancy watches as her eyes drop to her tits once more before returning to her own just as quick. “Can I touch you?”

“Please.” The word is breathy as it falls from Nancy’s lips, already gasping just from kissing the other girl.

Nancy utters the word aloud to her otherwise silent bedroom and for a moment, she opens her eyes, embarrassed. She lets her right hand fall from her lips, falling to rest on the pillow beside her head. The fingers on her hip cease their kneading, curling into the rosy fabric of her sleep shorts. Her eyes slip closed as she sucks in a slow breath, releasing it in a grounding sigh.

She turns her head to look at the hand resting beside her. Just looking. She watches as her hand falls to rest on her shoulder, eyes tracing the movement as her fingers glide across her skin. They make her way down across her collarbone, pressing into the dip there for a moment, before continuing on down. Her touch is featherlight as her fingers drift over the valley between her breasts. Coming finally to rest on the jut of her ribs, her blush colored fingernails scratching lightly over soft skin there.

Her other hand moves up from her hip, coming to rest parallel to the other on her ribcage. She scratches her nails lightly over either side of her ribs, causing what feels like tiny sparks of electricity go off beneath her fingertips. She brings her fingers to a close, meeting in the dip between her abs, just resting there. She watches the rise and fall of her chest for only a moment before her eyes drift shut once more.

Robin smiles softly at her plea. Her hands come to rest on Nancy’s ribs, just below her breasts. The fingers kneading into her skin. Her gaze is locked on her tits now, only breaking to meet Nancy’s every so often. She looks a little nervous. And Nancy realizes she probably hasn’t done this before. Not with a girl. Not with anyone. The thought is sort of thrilling.

“Tell me… Tell me where you want me to touch you.” Robin says, blue eyes wide, almost innocent. Nancy feels her expression shifting into a grin. The energy in the room shifting. She’s more than happy to take the lead.

Her hands move to grasp at Robin’s, fingers curling around her wrists. “Robin.”

Robin looks at her then and Nancy hums, pleased. “I want you to touch me here,” she moves Robin’s left hand up to her breasts. “And when you’re ready…” With her fingers still circled around her wrist, she moves Robin’s right hand down over the plains of her stomach and lower, catching briefly on the waistband of her shorts until their hands come to rest over her clothed pussy. “Here.”

She watches as Robin’s eyes grow even wider, her face flushing furiously. “Are- You’re sure?” Nancy can’t help but chuckle. She’s so sweet. Nancy nods assuredly, “Positive.”

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unclefathersantateddy · 4 months

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The year wrapped questions.

1. 5. 10. 13. 16. 17. 23.

don’t worry about getting stuff wrong that’s normal.

also merry christmas eve!!

1. How many works of art have you made this year?

Oh wow! I have no idea, I'm gonna go count. Okay so there was approx 160 drawings in the burger book! And approx 70 in my digital art folder from this year! And approx 30 posca pieces! So approximately 260!!! (Not including any study doodles, sticky-note doodles, phonecall doodles, etc). Not too shabby I'd say!😄

5. [Answered in prev. ask!]

10. What inspired/motivated you this year?

Oh boy, this is a BIG question for me this year!Honestly this time last year I was pinnacle depression. Was half a year away from a degree but was DEEP down the spiral. Couldn't do any work, but also couldn't allow myself to enjoy anything. Came to the realisation that something had to change, otherwise nothing would change. It started out as forcing myself to drawing something, anything, make a mark on the paper, any old mark. And with that, it got easier. Bit by bit. Day by day. Having a set activity at some point during the day, then got everything else wanting to shift and move into place. I started to find myself wanting to work, so I could, play? If that makes sense? My reward system started healing. I went from wanting to feel anything to wanting to feel accomplishment. Not necessarily from uni work, because that was a Bigger Task™, so drawing gave me a smaller sense of it, a small feeling of accomplishment everyday! And that is when I started to feel drive/motivation again. It's been a year and now all my uni work is done! It's gonna be marked in the spring and hopefully I graduate in the summer! I'm no longer stuck between not being able to work OR play. And it all started by forcing myself to draw a silly lil scribble every day!😄

13. [Answered in prev. ask!]

16. What piece was the quickest to create?

Hmm, I don't really look at my timelapses to know how long each (digital) drawing takes. I did a Jimmy Pesto At/Jr sketch a few days ago I did in a few minutes that I was really shook about lmao. But other than that the only thing I can think that might count is this load of 10-sec exercises I did when I first started drawing regularly!

17. What piece took the longest to create?

Hahah you know it actually might be a Fresh Meat!au piece. I'm gonna say the FM!restaurant gif as it was my first time drawing the restaurant exterior and my first time animating on CSP, so lots of trial and error on that piece!

23. What WIP(s) are you taking into next year with you?

Ideally none! I'm hoping to get them done as I'd rather go into the new year with fresh ideas ready to be created! I have a list compiled of drawings that vaguely spark joy so I'm excited to see what I can do with them! :D

#bobs burgers #bob's burgers #bobs burgers artists #bobs burgers fanart #bobs burgers art #bob belcher #louise belcher #linda belcher #gene belcher #tina belcher #asks

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aziraphales-library · 2 years

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Hello! I really like fics where Crowley and/or aziraphale have a kid at some point in history. I only know of two fics like this. The Melanie Crowley cinematic universe and the fic where Ariadne is their kid. Do you know of any more? Also please no plot points revolving god; I can’t take the deus ex machina! Thank you so much! Fics by morgaine2005 and malaisgeres

You should check out our plentiful #kid fic tag, and in particular our #original children of aziraphale and crowley tag for lots of fics like this. I have some more now, though some do involve God; we’ve recommended quite a few now so I’m attempting to not just rec the same fics over and over. Take ‘em or leave ‘em...

A Demon’s Daughter and His Angel by Campdpi (T)

Based off of the story by the awesome and wonderful Sherlock_holmes_whovian_for_David called When Crowley said he was asleep for a century he lied (or how Aziraphale realised angels can get jealous) . With the authors permission, I started this story.

This takes place after the events of the story it’s based on. Aziraphale and Crowley’s daughter Sam get to know each other. It’s my very first fan fic, and hasn’t been betad so hopefully it turns out okay!

Part 1 of A Demon, His Angel and His Daughter series

Middle Ground by paperviolins (E)

God placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, “we don’t have the time for me to explain fully, I am sorry. I am giving humanity a gift and I want you to deliver it, but it is not only a gift to humanity. It is also a gift to you. Think of it as a sort of apology for all I have burdened you with,” She smiled and squeezed his shoulder lightly before letting go, “stick strong to your beliefs, Crowley. Believe in yourself, and Aziraphale, and humanity. Protect what you think is right and stand firm in your ground. It will be a rough road, but I have Faith in you.”

God looked back up at the stars and took a deep breath.

“Beyond all else, keep creating beauty in this universe.”

Ineffable adoption by orphan_account (T)

"Angel, what´s going on?" Well, that was actually a really good question. If he was being honest, Aziraphale had no idea. He looked up. "I think I´ve just accidentally adopted a child."

our dove, our perfect one by blackeyedblonde (E)

“Well, it wasn’t last week, it was twenty sodding years ago,” Crowley says, reaching again for his coffee mug, miraculously piping hot and topped off with a quickness. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden about kids? This is—weird.” He flaps his free hand through the air and makes an odd face. “Uncharacteristic, really. Can you do exorcisms on angels? I may need to make a few calls.”

Aziraphale draws in a steadying breath and then lets it back out again. His shoulders drop, his feet are firmly planted flat on the floor in his slippers. He folds the crossword section in half with a perfect crease and looks up at Crowley sitting across from him.

“I think I’d like to have a baby,” the angel says.

Part 1 of Dove Verse series

When Life Gives You Lemons by KaytheJay (T)

Everything is great. Aziraphale and Crowley are adjusting to their new life after the-end-that didn't. What they don't expect is their sixteen year old daughter getting pregnant.

The Birds and the Bees for Ineffable Idiots by DarkAngel2891 (T)

Crowley doesn't know how reproduction works. Aziraphale is at a loss for words. Whatever the two where expecting it wasn't this. God ships Crowley and Aziraphale.

And the two you mentioned...

A Glittering Instrument by malicegeres (T)

"Look at Satan. Created an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you're going to go on about genetics, you might as well say the kid will grow up to be an angel... No. Upbringing is everything. Take it from me." Crowley has a daughter, and through the centuries she makes him and Aziraphale question everything about themselves, each other, and their place in the world.

Part 1 of The Melanie Crowley Cinematic Universe series

Take Me Home by morgaine2005 (T)

Once upon a time, an angel and a demon came together for one night only. They created something new - and quickly hid that something away, because if either of their Sides found that something, the consequences were unthinkable.

Once upon a time, a wine god found a girl crying on a beach. She had a strange tale, a strange pair of wings, and a strange set of powers. He offered her his hand, and she took it and never looked back.

Once upon a time, an angel and a demon sat in the Ritz, toasting the world they'd just saved and their future within it. The angel looked up and saw something he thought he'd hidden away a long, long time ago.

This is a story about beginnings. About endings. About hope and choices. About finding your family and finding yourself along the way.

But mostly, it's a story about love.

Part 1 of Take Me Home and Related Tales series

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #kid fic #original children of aziraphale and crowley #mod d

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avenyl · 5 months

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Hello.

Is saying hello even appropriate at this point?

Uh, hi. I’m not back yet, I think. But I’m working on it. I’m sorry for the radio silence on literally every front but I’d be lying if I said I knew why it happened.

I just want you all to know what’s up in case that’s something you’re curious about. For those who are, read on. Those of you who aren’t, that’s alright. I’m glad to have you around anyway.

TL;DR I tell you what’s up but in like, ~700 words because I have no self-control.

I’m pretty sure my last login was sometime around February 2022. Can’t believe it’s been over a year and a half! Feels so weird to acknowledge that I’ve been away from art, something that’s been a constant in my life up until this point, for almost two years! Wow!

Those of you who saw the last of my posts already know what my mindset was like at the time. Honestly, I can’t really say it’s improved much, if any. Looking at the art I’ve put out so far makes me feel miserable, for a lack of better word. I’m not gonna elaborate on the feelings because I’m certain all of you have had them at some point. I had hoped they would vanish in time, but they did not.

I can’t tell if these feelings are related to what was going on in my life at the time (they probably are but I haven’t connected the dots yet), mostly because I don’t feel like anything particularly bad happened that could’ve boosted these feelings for me. In fact, a lot of good things happened. Some bad things happened too, as they usually do in life. So, to spare you the details:

-I met someone and we’ve been in a relationship sinch March 2022 (he’s great and we’ve been living together for almost a year now);

-I failed to graduate in 2022 but I managed to fix that at the beginning of July this year (finally!);

-I worked three different jobs in the meantime (not simultaneously) to afford rent, and those took up most of my energy;

-I’ve been on and off different meds while trying to figure out what works for me;

-A lot of family-related events happened in the year I’ve been gone and I’m sure there’s more to come;

-I’ve been reading a lot, and I honestly feel like that sort of became my outlet when drawing felt like too big of a challenge;

-I’ve become even less interested in pursuing the major I’ve been working towards so far, and I’ve decided to stop at my bachelor’s and maybe try my hand at some other profession somewhere along the line.

The last one did me in, honestly. Seeing all my colleagues and friends graduate while I sat back really took a toll on me and I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from that one for a while. The inferiority I felt regarding my art and the progress I’ve made so far combined with not being able to do the one thing everybody around me seemed to be able to do almost effortlessly and, well… it didn’t feel very good.

I believe this is what made me disappear. Honestly though, I’m not 100% sure—it could’ve been something else, and it feels weird to blame my sudden departure on something like my mental state, given that I don’t feel much different now, and I didn’t feel particularly different then. Just existing and getting by has been challenging for years.

But I feel like I might be ready to try drawing again sometime soon. I’ll probably expand my horizons a bit. Don’t get me wrong, dragons are fun and I won’t give up on those, but you’ll probably be seeing a bit more variation from me in the future. I might even give humans a go! Oh boy!

(Not yet though. But soon, hopefully.)

Lastly, I think I want to rebrand my online presence. I feel like I’ve changed quite a bit since I opted for this username, and it no longer feels like me. So, if you see a stranger on your dash, fear not! It’s probably me, trying out something new. I think that’s going to be my first move.

It’s a start. It’s more than I’ve had for over two years, and I might just give it a go. I hope to see you along the way!

#personal #art soon! i hope

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turbo-overkill · 2 years

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Hullo! Don’t know if this has been asked/answered before, but if it isn’t a bother how did you get started drawing transformers characters (assuming you remember ofc)? I’ve got a couple that I really want to be able to draw more often but there’s something about mechs that my hands just do not like. Any advice or suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

First off, I'm so sorry about how much time this took to answer. I had some issues figuring out how to go about explaining everything, but hopefully, this helps at least a bit.

I hyperfixated on Optimus Prime when I was like... 8?? I was really young, and that hyperfixation is still with me, so my brain sort of forced me to draw him and burned the process into my memory.

I, of course, started out by just copying other people's art. Very badly, might I add. It looked all fucked up and flat and the shading was off, if there even was any. But it was a start, and that's the important part.

You're gonna improve overtime, you'll figure things out and get to a point where the shapes you draw the most often, no matter how complicated, come naturally to you without much thought. If you draw something enough times, you'll understand how everything is spaced out, how the angles work, they way shadows and perspective mess with it, and you'll be able to draw it without any guidelines. But that's besides the point.

The key thing to remember about anything is that, when you really think about it, it's not much more than a bunch of boxes and spheres. Everything can be broken down into basic shapes, which is especially true for mecha, because they tend to be made up of blocky, symmetrical shapes. Yes, even Bayverse designs.

I'm gonna show you my process through this step-by-step. The way I draw differs greatly depending on whether I'm including line art in the final thing, like in this case. With that being said:

Step 1: basic shapes/sketch.

My slight redesign of TFP Arcee is gonna be helping us here.

I start off by putting down the basic shapes, which usually means boxes and circles. Remember, mecha are 3D objects. So is their armor. It wraps around their bodies while itself also being a three dimensional thing. Try to avoid making it look paper thin. Make it thick.

Next, I add in the actual details. The jump from picture 1 to 3 might seem daunting, but it's not. Arcee's forearm is a cuboid with some weird edges. Nothing difficult. The car door sits on the outer side, with its wider side facing outwards and slightly up, and a small ridge curving around the general shape of the arm and angling downwards. You can see this on the opposite arm. Her arms work similarly to Knockout's.

Step 2: Putting down flat colors and basic shading.

Flat colors → an Overlay or Soft Light layer for some nice colors → a Multiply layer with one block of shadow that gradually fades in. The last one helps you start and offers you a direction while you're zoomed in and shading small details.

Step 3: actual shading + light source:

The perfectly drawn and absolutely straight red arrow is the light source. You can see that it's pointing down at the metal, sort of from the side, meaning it's gonna hit the most on the inner side of Arcee's leg. The front part will be darker, but given the angle of the light source, still not completely dark.

I wanted the top half of her body to be really obscured by the shadows, so the legs and arms are lighter in comparison, while her midsection, chest and shoulders are very dark. In the next step, this will make her eyes, and therefore her face, stand out more.

Step 4: Light

I used a Normal layer here with a purple that sat somewhere in the middle of the saturation/brightness levels, meaning it's not bright enough to seem out of place.

Going back to what I said in the first half of Step 3, the brightest spots on Arcee's body will face up and inwards.

After that, I used a Screen layer to 1, add a glow effect around her bio lights, and 2, traced thin lights along the edges of the parts that are being hit by the light source. Also added a darker background, and something for her to sit on.

Please remember that you can start with easier designs. G1, for example, are very boxy and with little details. Great for learning how to work with 3D shapes and perspective.

#asks #drawing tutorials #yeetdraws #the full version of this drawing is coming soon btw!!#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp arcee #arcee

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artofjim · 9 months

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5 Years of Drawing: Part 1

Originally posted on ko-fi.com/artofjim

July marks 5 years since I started learning art and drawing every day. As they say, time flies when you're having fun, and time has really flown! I want to use this blog post to reflect on some things I've learned, look at some old work and compare it to current, and emphasize my gratitude for all of the support I've received in the last half decade. This is a long one so I'm breaking it into 3, but it should give you a ton of insight into my journey as an artist that brought me here today, and hopefully help you carve out your own path!

Before July of 2018, I would occasionally get it in my head that I wanted to draw. This would be prompted by seeing some cool art online, or needing a way to pass the time on trips. I'd spend money on new sketchbooks and tools, and doodle for a weekend in them. That would be that, and my sketchbooks would sit until the next time I felt like drawing again, which was no more than a few times a year. I had a little natural talent at copying proportion and detail, but there was no methodology to my picturemaking and I relied heavily on replicating others' art. Because of the inconsistent schedule and lack of interest in learning, I usually say I started drawing after all of that. Here's some sketches from before 2018.

This is a direct rip of Nate Van Dyke, with a couple additions of my own. 2014? I learned about ink and decided that was the only medium I wanted to work in.

Around the same time. Every artist has been here at some point, I think. I found some photo portraits of homeless people on pinterest probably and took it upon myself to draw them. Lots to unpack there but we should move on (please we must move on oh God). Again, I wasn't trying to learn, I was just copying photos and other art with no rhyme or reason to it, and very rarely. I just loved that kick when people would look at it and say it was good.

2018

In 2018 I was working in Tacoma and there was a great little book store called Culpepper's across the street. Jerry Culpepper had ran that store for decades, and had no great love for comics. As a result, anytime he got graphic novels in, he'd hide them in an unorganized shelf and price them way, way down. This was also true of artbooks, but I wasn't interested in those (yet). Jerry and I had an amicable relationship, with him busting my chops about the coffee shop I worked at being too expensive, and myself ironically bringing him free drip on my breaks. I remember him going into great detail explaining how "Black Panther was absolute shit! Waste of my time seeing that film!" I probably went in there once a week and dug around, spending tip money on anything that looked interesting while Jerry peered down at the titles with a furrowed brow. My love for comics started at this time, and some of the first graphic novels I bought were from Jerry Culpepper. The League of Extraordinary Gentleman and A Small Killing, both written by Alan Moore, and drawn by Kevin O'Neill and Oscar Zarate, respectively (a great place to start, if you ask me!).

Still have them! Jerry always priced books with pencil on the first page. He'd usually charge me at least 30% less than this, and shave off sales-tax if I paid cash.

I bought so many comics and bothered Jerry so often that he started giving me stuff for free (again, he had no interest for comics and was intent on filling his store with civil war history and first edition antiques). I'd pay $20 and walk out of there with an armful of graphic novels, video game concept art, Japanese editions of collected Ukiyo-E plates, published artist sketchbooks, and all sorts of odd things I wouldn't normally look for. That's the beauty of local used book stores, you cannot predict what's waiting in there for you. Those early Culpepper finds were, and still are, very influential to me. I dig through my bookshelf for them regularly. I think it's very important for creatives to have a personal, physical collection of things that inspire and interest them, because they will bury into your style way more than temporary online influences.

"Culpepper Books: here you'll find a man struggling to get the hell home with as much money and few books as possible before he retires" -Jerry, during his last week of business when I asked him for a caption

In late-2019, Jerry Culpepper got an offer to end his lease early from a big developer and decided to retire right as the pandemic started to hit, which was definitely the right decision for him. While writing this, I searched his name to see if I could find his online collection, and learned that he passed away in 2022 at the age of 70. Here is his obituary if you'd like to learn more about my old friend at the bookstore who impacted my life more than I could have realized at the time. https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/tribnet/name/gerald-culpepper-obituary?id=32332566

My last purchase from Jerry

Now that I was reading comics a lot, I became hip to Jim Lee, comic art superstar of the early 90s known for his work on X-Men, Punisher: War Journal, and countless other titles soon after. Jim Lee streams on Twitch, and one day in July I popped in to watch purely out of curiosity and ended up following along with his live tutorial drawing Wolverine. There's a recording of this tutorial here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wxoH_eZgrw I had never had drawing explained to me in the analogous way that Jim Lee did. Much of the concepts he was demonstrating are very fundamental no-brainers to me nowadays, but back then, despite drawing off and on my whole life, I had never been exposed to them. I specifically remember him relating the teeth to a can of soup, and the triceps muscles to parallel canoes. This was mind blowing to me, and sparked an obsession that is still roaring to this day. Here's my results from drawing along with Jim Lee that day.

A little heavyhanded on the spot blacks there, Jimbo...

Even though the idea of using simple forms like soup cans and canoes had been demonstrated so brilliantly by Jim Lee, I immediately went back to my old ways of rote copying. Only now, I was doing it for a few hours a day. I also started streaming art on Twitch during this time, and I'm amazed anyone watched because I was completely directionless.I was reading a lot of Frank Miller and the interest in ink was renewed, and I would just copy things straight out of comics, line-by-line. I didn't have the tools or direction to study in a more meaningful way, so I just copied and copied and copied, with no real improvement besides hand-eye coordination, and my ability to copy from image to paper.Jim Lee had also mentioned Bridgman, and I found a copy of his big book at Culpepper's and copied a few pages (poorly) before giving up.

Notes?? Why would I write down anything from the book? This is drawing!! Sarcasm aside, this was the extent of it. Whatever concepts I pulled from it, I didn't cement with mileage so it was all for not. Granted, Bridgman is not beginner friendly at all.

I also took part in Inktober for the first time in 2018, and actually attempted concept creation. I knew I was bad at drawing heads, so I decided I would twist every prompt into a helmet of some kind. Strange method. You can view the completed pieces here, if you really want to: https://www.instagram.com/p/BokqcKngdlz/

2019

In 2019, I began to become invested in history, and really enjoyed drawing historical garb. Japan especially grabbed my interest, and I bought tons of books about it from Jerry. I'm surprised I didn't try to copy more Japanese art, especially Hokusai's ink sketches. I was filling sketchbooks regularly by now, still just copying for the most part, and getting a little better at it! When I look back at those sketchbooks now, there's a common "Jim" thread present even if I wasn't being very original. I want to point out that I don't think there's anything wrong with copying references, ever, but especially as a beginner artist. The way I was doing it, though, was from a limited perspective: drawing straight to final linework and not considering anything but the 2-d image. I wish I had pursued fundamentals more, and varied my tools, but I just didn't have exposure to those things. I was still wielding a brush pen like a club on every drawing, and using expensive markers that bled through the page.

I learned about Karl Kopinski, and some of the other star artists from Super Ani, and didn't know about all of the mileage and proper practice between where I was and where they were, so I tried to just do what they were doing. Of course, KK appealed to my interest in historical costume, and I copied a bunch of his drawings in my sketchbooks. I also dug into Sergio Toppi, attracted to his painterly hatching and masterful ink compositions, and learned about Moebius. I picked up a Final Fantasy 1-7 artbook for $10 (thanks Jerry) with tons of drawings by Yoshitaka Amano in it, and tried to match his watercolors with my bleeding Copic markers. Because there was no method to my drawings beyond copying mark-by-mark, there was an element of luck involved that decided the success of each drawing. The artmaking journey, then, was just chasing that next lucky winner drawing, which is not sustainable long term! Sure, I might get lucky more often as I copied more accurately, but I wouldn't know why, and I had no lens to understand what made an image work.

Toppi copy

One of the lucky drawings

Kopinski copy

Amano copies. Notice the difference in quality between the Toppi samurai above and these; this is the element of luck I'm referring to. There was no repeatable process, just diving into the final lines and gambling on it.

Beyond that, I wanted to create, not replicate. I would watch Karl Kopinski, Kim Jung Gi, and Peter Han create worlds on the spot, with no reference, and have no idea how to accomplish that. I figured it was my poor visualization ability holding me back. All I thought mattered was drawing a lot, and drawing a variety of things. I would stream on Twitch and take requests to draw anything anyone wanted for ten minutes. I drew 20 different outfits from the Camp-themed Met Gala. I drew video game characters, Power Rangers, cartoons, and Kermit the Frog smoking a blunt. Occasionally, I'd try to draw people and places from life.

My first ever POV sketch

I knew that clothing was something academics studied, so I "studied" some drapery as well! All that meant for me was copying, line by line, a few reference photos. I downloaded Autodesk Sketchbook, a free drawing program, and tried my hand at digital art. If I wasn't just attempting photocopying, I did try my hand at some imaginative work, with a degree of realistic rendering. Here's those paintings, just so we can compare to my current paintings later.

I would paint over Bill Sienkewicz sketches, this is one of those

This funny little fellow is a Japanese God, Fukurokuju. The drapery is looking especially mushy.

In mid-2019, I decided I would challenge myself to making a comic for Inktober. I was very naive, but still took a lot of time planning for it before October started. I scripted out the pages, did some character "designs," and even worked on turnarounds. My thought was that if I took the time to figure out what a character would look like from any angle, I could just use that as reference when I needed it. This is true, and how animators do it, but I created this sheet by smashing together references and finding an image for every expression and angle I could need. I also sculpted the main character's head so I could use it as reference. I had not rediscovered the power of "form" yet, despite Jim Lee's great tutorial that started all of this, and the literal sculpted 3d form sitting on my desk.

Here's a few pages of my Inktober comic, Dog Days. I made it 13 pages in and burned out super hard, since I was working full-time still and spending at least 8 hours a day on the pages. The cyst on my wrist got massive and I was not sleeping at all. I took a break for a few days to go on a trip and just never came back to it. Surprisingly, I haven't ever experienced a burnout since then.

If you're interested in checking out the other 11 pages, they're available to Ko-Fi Members for $4.50/month, along with my other comics.

For my first comic, I am extremely proud of that work. There's a sort of energy that is now inhibited by experience and judgment. I was fearless and committed to every page, because I had no idea how long it would take me or what challenges I might face. I don't think I will or should ever finish it, because I cannot replicate that vibe.

I returned to drawing a few weeks after the burnout and dove back into Japanese historical drawings, becoming obsessed with the photos of Felice Beato, who brought photography to Japan right as it modernized. Some coworkers of mine were my first ever commissioners, asking for some work relevant to what I was already studying. The first was a family portrait taken in the early 1900s. The second was a 6 panel piece on the history of Taiko drumming. I think they spent more on the frame then what I charged them for the piece, which is hilarious to me now. I also experimented with some blacklight ink and collage, which was a nice change from all the inking I did in October.

I did these on expensive Awagami rice paper with ultra-archival Noodler's fountain pen ink. I was fooling myself into thinking that expensive materials were necessary for any sort of "professional" work, and that they would elevate it. In the end, it just made the process nerve-wracking and left no margin for error.

I will continue with years 2020 and 2021 in my next post to keep this one from getting any longer! Follow my Ko-Fi to get notified via email when that comes out, or tune into my social media: https://linktr.ee/artofjim

If you'd like to support my art career and get some goodies in return, become a Ko-Fi Member in exchange for art in the mail every 6 months, monthly giveaways, access to my comics, discounts in my shop, and more. Starts at $4.50/month, goes up for better rewards. https://ko-fi.com/artofjim/tiers Thank you to all of my members, past and current, for enabling me to pursue my greatest interest in life more comfortably.

#blog #art journey #art education #art level up #drawing #art blog #reflection #learn art #art study #art practice #tacoma wa #tacoma

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