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itneverendshere · 6 months ago

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LOOKIN' LIKE MOTIVATION - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT. pairing: sports physical therapist!reader x hockey player!rafe; friends to lovers.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud.

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you.

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made.

And he made a lot of those.

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan.

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots.

It was refreshing.

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain.

It was from trying to resist the need to say something that might actually cross the line.

But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes keen, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s.

Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard.

“Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. That look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.”

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year in college.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about.

Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you chastised, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, m’focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you.

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise.

He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful.

It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, he couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend.”

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, then adding most absolute out of pocket suggestion. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, biting his tongue not to add the unfortunately’. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to ignore how much your rejection hurt his feelings.

"No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing straighter. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a earth shattering smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But he was hard to read when he wanted to be. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting.

Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And he had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up.

The words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest did that stupid thing where it almost stopped. Not in a good way.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“C’mon sweetheart, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know.

Protectiveness instantly swelled inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden from you, saved it for the ice. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words trapped in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. The kind of emotion he only felt when his team was being robbed by referees or losing.

He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you pleaded quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe rebutted, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made you want to cry even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted. He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently held your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he reassured you, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, not giving you a chance to doubt yourself again. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand slowly rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes practically glazed with love sickness as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant peck to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away.

He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone.

But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened. He could wait. He’d wait forever for you.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice.

As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety started to mess with your head. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You were going to miss him.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point.

But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart.

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“Y’know sweetheart,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the not so subtle excitement in his tone.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal.

He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step. A friend maybe.

“I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

“I’m just doing my job,” you shook your head, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you admitted, unable to keep your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing like a school girl. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply.

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more.

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch.

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back.

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair.

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

"Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge.

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

"God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out.

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it.

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of."

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

"Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high.

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

"You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you, drowning in affection. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #hockey!rafe

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wriothesleybear · 10 months ago

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Based off of this magnificent fanart

~warnings: a lot of fluff and romance, a bit suggestive in Wrio’s part, fem!reader. Word count: 1.6k

~a/n: I couldn’t get over the fanart of Wrio and Diluc as firefighters and I just had to write about it. It’s my first time writing for Diluc so I hope it’s ok. This is also in honor of getting a body pillow of him. It’s so beautiful and I sleep much better with it.

Firefighter!Wrio who you met when he rescued your cat from a tree. You couldn’t help but swoon from the image of this large, buff, muscled man holding a little kitten in his arms. You thank him and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He was about to ask you for his number when he got called for another emergency. You meet him again when your cat gets stuck in a tree again. He feels slightly guilty for being thankful that your cat got stuck again so you two could meet again. After he hands you your cat back, he smiles down at you and asks you for your number. You blush and give it to him.

Firefighter!Wrio who is the type of boyfriend to tease and flirt with you. He has a playful and chill attitude outside of work compared to his focused and serious attitude at work. He likes to carry you a lot, either bridal style or throws you over his shoulder to get you into a giggling mood. It always cheers you up when you’re feeling down. Loves tickle fights. He will actually chase you around the house until he catches you, dragging you to the couch so you two can snuggle. Once he’s got you in a cuddle hold, there’s no getting up for a while.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves kisses and make out sessions. While you’re busy doing something, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses down your neck until you decide to drop what you’re doing and give him your full attention. He enjoys when your fingers slide down his body, nails lightly scratching his skin as you admire his build and muscles. He really likes it when you pepper kisses on his scars.

Firefighter!Wrio who is a mixture of a golden retriever boyfriend and scary dog boyfriend. The golden retriever portion is due to him doing anything for you and being needy for affection. He’s always touching you in some way and follows you around the house like a puppy. The scary dog boyfriend is due to him looking scary to those who don’t know him. The piercing, scars, and large build sort of intimidate other guys from approaching you or bothering you. Little do they know, he’s just a golden retriever boyfriend who wants affection and cuddles. He is very protective as well.

Firefighter!Wrio who is great with kids and animals. He lets kids decorate his items with stickers because he can’t say no to them. If it makes them happy and smile, then who is he to take that away from them, he’ll deal with the onslaught of stickers. He sometimes thinks about what it would be like if it was your kids that were covering his things with stickers.

Firefighter!Wrio who loves to lay on your chest while your fingers rake through his hair. It helps him sleep better after a long stressful day. He acts a bit off when he’s had a hard day. He doesn’t really like to talk about the bad work days because he doesn’t want to spread the negativity to you but you can tell when he’s had a bad one. You don’t try to push him to talk if he doesn’t want to so you just open your arms for him and hold him. He can feel the weight lift off his shoulders when you hold him. It lets him know that it’ll be okay and that you’re always there for him even when you don't verbally say it or not.

Firefighter!Wrio who exercises on his free time. You love watching him work out and he likes your attention on him. Your eyes focus on his muscles as they flex when he does pull ups. Droplets of sweat slide down his sweat slicked skin, causing his skin to glisten in the lighting. While lost in your daze, you’re snapped out of it when he leans down in front of you, a hand positioned on each side of you on the bench, and he makes a flirty comment like “Darling, you’re drooling a bit. Am I really that mesmerizing?” as he gives you his signature teasing smirk. He’ll then offer you to join him in the shower. It turns out to be a very long shower that involved more than just washing each other’s body.

Firefighter!Diluc who you met when he saved you from a small kitchen fire. You were trying to bake something and it didn’t work out, therefore, it ended up in a fire. You felt so bad and embarrassed but he just reassured you that these happen a lot so it’s no big deal. He looks at the burnt pastries and points out that you accidentally put the temp up too high for too long causing the fire to occur. He sees the shameful look on your face and gives you a gentle look and some reassuring words on not to give up on baking. You smile and thank him and he swears his heart skips a beat at your beautiful smile. He’s unable to think about it further as he’s called away for another emergency.

Firefighter!Diluc whose heart skips a beat again when you show up at his firehouse later that week, gifting him some pastries you made as a thank you. You joke and say that they should taste better than the burnt ones you made last time. He covers his face to hide the slight blush that begins to cover his cheeks as he accepts your gift. You two exchange numbers as friends until it develops into something more.

Firefighter!Diluc is the slowburn type. You two start off as friends first, hanging out and all that until romantic feelings begin to blossom between the two of you as you get to know each other more. When he's sure you feel the same, he gathers the courage to ask you out on a date. He gives a small smile when you say yes. His shoulders relax and his heart is racing a bit more when he finally hears that you feel the same.

Firefighter!Diluc who is the protective type of boyfriend that spoils his s/o. He loves spending time with you doing mundane things. Cooking, having movie night, reading together, shopping, etc. You two could be doing the most boring activity and he’d still enjoy it because all he cares about is being with you.

Firefighter!Diluc who is a great cook and enjoys cooking/baking with you. He gives cooking advice and hugs you from behind while you cook. He says it's easier for him to help and supervise what you’re doing this way, but in reality, he just wants to be close to you as much as he can. He’s more than happy to taste test your cooking creations. (Plus he helps to make sure you don’t accidentally start another fire again). He thinks your concentration face is adorable.

Firefighter!Diluc who gives you a passionate kiss before he leaves for work. Neither of you ever know what could happen so he wants to make sure that you know how he feels about you in case it’s the last time you see him. He keeps pictures of you and him together in his work locker. It comforts him when he misses you and gives him the courage and strength to make sure he comes back home to you.

Firefighter!Diluc is the type to not discuss his work at home as well. He wouldn’t want to burden you with stress and worries. When he’s had a bad day, he’s pretty good at hiding it, but you’ve learned to read his cues that show he’s not doing too well mentally. You immediately drop everything and guide him over to the couch where you let him bury his head in your neck as you hold each other close. His hold is tight around you, but not constricting. You give him words of comfort while rubbing his back and playing with his long, beautiful red hair. He basks in your affection and comforting touches, inhaling your scent which helps calm him down as he nuzzles into your neck.

Firefighter!Diluc who lets you play with his hair. You have a blast trying multiple different hairstyles on him while he relishes in the feeling of your gentle touch on his hair. After a long day, when you two take a relaxing bath, he appreciates it when you take the time to wash his hair. It’s a rewarding massage that helps him relax and feel sleepy. He swears you have magical hands by the effect you have on him. All you have to do is touch a part of his body and he melts into your touch.

Firefighter!Diluc who loves holding hands with you. The feel of his warm, calloused hands compared to your gentle, soft ones. Your touch is like heaven to him. He prefers leaving kisses on your hands the most. Please cup his face. He’ll absolutely melt right then and there and give you anything you want. He also likes resting your foreheads together. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you close as you cup his cheeks, leaning your forehead against one another and gaze into each other’s eyes. He thinks it’s the most intimate and romantic thing you two do.

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #diluc x reader #diluc headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #wriothesley fluff #diluc fluff

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befemininenow · 2 years ago

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Are you a trans girl or non-conforming and would like to try out feminine clothing? You may want to check this out.

Say you found this dress online and you really love the overall style of it. Great! If you’re like me, you would say “F it! I’ll buy the dress and I’ll wear it how I like!” and move on with your life. That should the end of this guide, right? Except, there is one little problem: not everybody thinks this way. Those who look for the best matching outfits aren’t just searching to fit their style, color, or personality. It also has to do with their body type. If you’re in that situation, this guide may help you out.

Body shape

Believe it or not, there are many different types of body shape (up to 10). However, the most common tend to be the following (in no order):

Rectangle- Even distribution on shoulders, hips, and waistline

Pear/Triangle- Wide hips, well-defined waist, small shoulders

Hourglass- Near-exact hip and shoulder measurements, thinner waistline

Inverted Triangle- Broader shoulders, narrower hips, little waist definition

Apple/Round- Broad shoulders and big bust, thin legs and hips

Many transgender women have the inverted triangle body shape due to several factors such as genetics, bone structure, and age. However, your body shape may also change over time due to a rebalancing of hormones, body fat, and even lifestyle. While you can’t change your bone structure, you can change your body definition through exercises.

Body proportion

Here is something you may find useful if you’re looking to customize your look. Body proportions are unique to every individual and play a factor on clothing and to some extent, accessories such as jewelry. For instance, you may find the skirt you bought looks either too long or short. There are a few areas where to measure your body proportions such as wrist length or neck size. But the best way to improve your dress type is by following the “golden ratio rule” of dividing your body into three:

The way this is read is you’re either one-third top, two-thirds bottom, or you’re two-thirds top, one-third bottom. Once you get more knowledge, you can go upwards even eighths! But for now, the focus is on these two outcomes.

The two-thirds top, one-third bottom words well with long dresses:

while the one-third top, two-thirds bottom works well with more casual clothing:

Body measurements

Now that we got a few problems out of our way, it’s time to figure out what measurements you have. The best way to find out is by using a mirror and a soft measuring tape for body. Measure all the crucial parts of your body, which are the waist, hips, shoulders, and bust. This will determine the type of body you have and have a better idea on what length you will need to try out your clothing of choice.

Shoe size

One thing very important about an outfit is choosing footwear. Although you can use your old Converses with your flared jeans, you’re certainly not going to use them with a ruffled dress. You’re definitely going to want heels or flats! Unfortunately, women’s shoe size are not exactly the same as men. But don’t give up! Fortunately, there are women’s size conversion charts that help you choose what shoe size you need.

To find out your measurements on your own, grab at least two blank pieces of paper, a pencil or pen, and a measuring tape. Place your foot firmly forward and carefully trace around the outer area of your foot. Repeat this with your other foot. Once finished, grab your measuring tape and measure from your highest point to your lowest on both sheets. Measure the width as well. If both feet measure close to 10.5, your women’s size is a 12. However, due to a difference in manufacturing based on shoe brand, as well as shoe type like pumps, the average recommended size is at least 2 inches above your actual size. For those living in other countries that don’t use the US measuring size, I left a chart that shows all the possible measurements you may use to convert your shoe size into women’s size.

What to wear based on body type

Since not all clothing is made for everyone, it’s time to list what is considered the “ideal” clothing choices based on body type. Note that these are opinions from my source’s authors. IMO, the pictures below each suggestion are a better opinion. Your are free to choose your type of clothing.

Rounded or apple shapes fit best with monochrome colors and make the person look more “fit”.

Pear or triangle shapes look more balanced with decorative accessories on top while keeping the bottom more plain.

Rectangle shapes tend to have more volume with a waist belt while pleated pants give more volume on hips.

Hourglass shapes look best when wearing bodycon dresses and cardigans to emphasize volume in their waistline.

Inverted triangle shapes pull off the wide leg pants and fitted top combo the best.

For a much more comprehensive guide for each body type, I highly recommend reading The Concept Wardrobe’s guides. It gives more details on what to wear and how to choose the best combinations. Link is provided here: https://theconceptwardrobe.com/search?query=body+frame

Tips on what to wear

Now that you reached this point, I’m pretty sure you’re excited to try out what your heart desires. However, before you go out and buy that two-piece dress, I recommend researching and observing the type of clothing women wear today. Believe it or not, people will judge based on your way of dressing, from background to social status to age. A simple look like bodysuit and jeans may look perfect on you and blend you in with the girls, but something like a hot pink bodycon will make you stand out, and most likely not in a good way. So how would you choose something that blends you in with society, but also be comfortable at the same time? Here are some tips and pics:

Find clothing that “feels” feminine. In other words, buy clothing that “feminizes” your body, such as tops that make your shoulders look shorter, wrap dresses that make your waistline shorter, and skirts that make your hips look wider.

Find the best colors based on skin tone and hair color. For instance, try out warm colors such as orange if your skin tone is warm.

Dress sexy, but never go too revealing. Seriously, have some respect to yourself. But if you really want to go out wearing, for example, a two-piece outfit, wear one that looks stylish and flatters your body in a great way.

Use accessories that fit and blend well with your body. Large jewelry goes well with larger frame, small jewelry fits with smaller wrist, and so forth. Don’t forget the purse! It is absolutely necessary now that you’re wearing pocketless clothing. Choose one that fits your taste and needs.

Bras and undergarments are necessary to wear now. As you further into your transition, your breasts will start growing and it will become more difficult and uncomfortable going out braless. Start out with a brassiere, then move on to a fitted bra as they become bigger over time. As for down there, I would use boy briefs as they’re similar to boxers. Although HRT will cause it to shrink, it does not make it disappear. If you must hide it, use a gaff or a tuck, but do not use chastity belts (Seriously, stay away from that unless you’re really into that thing).

Optional: use waist shapers or corsets to slim down waist. Hip enlargement pads will also give your narrow hips and butt much needed volume. Breast forms can also give you an idea how big you want them in the future.

Fashion sense

But the most important part of choosing clothing as a trans girl is to wear whatever suits your taste.

For instance, are you more into the traditional and simple feminine aesthetic? Cottagecore may be for you:

But what if you’re the rebellious type that prefers to defy tradition? Well, maybe the alt-girl fashion is for you:

Maybe you’re the type that changes clothing based on season. So if you’re a summer-season type of girl, you’re definitely going for an outfit like this:

How about if you’re into the gym? Clearly your goal is to be like this:

Are you into business casual? There’s also a pic for that:

(The girl in the pic is also transgender! Her name is Suzi Hunter, better known as The Sphere Hunter.)

But we also can’t forget cosplay, either!:

(Cosplayer is Eden the Doll, a trans woman cosplayer! Picture belongs to Geo Leon.)

You’re probably the party type who loves some action:

Casual wear can also be tasteful and attractive too:

There’s so much to pic, but each style says a lot about what type of woman you are.

Where to buy clothing

If you’re interested in finding the right clothes for you, check out places that are especially gender-inclusive. As I’m based in the US, clothing stores such as Target are a good start while higher-end chains such as Nordstrom and Macy’s may have a better variety to choose from. If you’re a thrifty shopper, your local outlets, discount stores, and thrift shops have a surprising amount of great clothing for affordable prices. Although online sites like Amazon, Shein, and Zara have affordable and appealing clothing, many of these brands also have ethical concerns that overshadow their reputation. Dubbed “fast fashion”, they are a source of scrutiny among fashion fans and I would personally avoid them if possible. If you really need something affordable and new, I highly recommend purchasing through discount and thrift stores.

If you’re in need of safe undergarments, check out Urbody. They have clothing suitable for trans people, non-binary, and other identities, varying from binders to tucked leggings. They are founded by trans and non-binary people and use ethical practices and living wages for their workers. If you’re interested in checking their site out, here is the link to their page (I am not sponsored by them): https://urbody.co/

Conclusion

The whole point of this guide is to help you pick the proper clothing and accessories as a newly-out girl. I made this guide since there doesn’t seem to be many that are detailed. Keep in mind I’m still learning about female clothing as I am still in the first stages of transition myself. If anyone would like to add more info that is missing or provide any corrections, please reblog and add more helpful tips as it would help trans girls, trans women, non-binary, and anyone else that desires to wear affirming clothing. Please refrain from using any hurtful language if you’re doing so. Thank you and hugs!

Links to sources:

https://www.healthline.com/health/women-body-shapes#why-shape-fluctuates

https://www.thestylatude.com/post/the-most-common-body-shapes-for-women-and-how-to-find-out-yours

https://theconceptwardrobe.com/build-a-wardrobe/inverted-triangle-body-shape

https://www.thestylebouquet.com/2020/02/17/5-most-common-body-shapes-for-women/

https://dressedformyday.com/how-to-discover-your-body-proportions/

https://gabriellearruda.com/how-to-dress-better-female-body-shape/

https://m2fguide.com/how-to-pick-clothes-if-youre-transgender-or-crossdressing/

https://feminizationsecrets.com/mtf-clothing-tips/

https://www.instagram.com/p/CHBk9v0J_WO/

https://www.transgendermap.com/social/clothing-accessories/

https://apexfoot.com/shoe-sizing-chart/

https://www.glamourboutique.com/crossdresser-fashion/guide-male-female-shoe-sizes-33255#:~:text=Minimize%20the%20chance%20of%20having,11%20in%20a%20women's%20shoe

#transgender #mtf #fashion #how to #gender affirming #trans #clothing #feminine #genderfluid #quick #guide #helpful #tips #trans woman

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lkblackham · 13 days ago

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Wow. I... I actually finished this page. I'm pretty amazed with myself.

For those who don't know, this is the first page of a long and angsty fan comic I'm fooling around with (no title as of yet) centered on every Veilguard fan's *favorite* fanfic topic: okay seriously what was everyone (but more specifically, your chosen LI) doing when Rook was stuck in the Fade, and what was the actual immediate reaction when they got Rook out? Because I love Veilguard, but they were really speeding towards the end at that point and glossed over a lot of great story stuff.

This is also me exercising my long-atrophied comicking muscles. I thought it would be fun (and faster) to do a webtoon-style comic, and I did like playing around with the artsy panel separations, buuuuut it turned out to NOT be faster, so I think Imma switch to a boring old comic book style format next page. Additionally, I think I wanna turn it into a little book zine thing and I have no TIME to edit comics meant for scrolling into comics meant for print. This is supposed to be *fun*.

I DID have so much fun doing this, and it's really getting me through my thesis writing, so I'm going to continue clinging to this for dear life. My Tumblr is just fully a Dragon Age fan page now and I think that might be just what it was always destined and/or doomed to be.

#digital artist #digital art #digital illustration #artist #character art #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #dragon age veilguard fanfiction #da4 emmrich #da4 spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #fan comic #da the veilguard fanfic #emmrich the necromancer #dragon age emmrich #emmrich x rook fanfic

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eybefioro · 15 days ago

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I was part of the #EveryFrameOfEden!! @gomensframes (go follow them it's awesome 💛)

This is frame 365! You can watch it (Slow and Fast version) or visit the website :D

(Timelapse and ramblings under the cut as usual!)

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

I. Am. So. Happy.

Doing this was fucking awesome. I hope I can do it again!!

So, you will see me tracing over at first. I did because I wanted to get the general placement of everything as close as I could, so I wouldn't be out of place with the frame before and after me – but everything else I did by myself. I know that doesn't sound like something special, but it is for me, bc this was the first time that I tried doing something more... huh, realistic? Not cartoonish? Anyway, it was something new, and for a first time I think it looks very good.

(BTW I know this is not realistic, but is as close as I ever got as painting something that way)

I had soooooo many ideas before I settled on this one. Making a punk fem!Azi with a snake earring, demon!azi, another princess angel cake, a cartoonist biblical angel with many eyes in various cartoon styles around, making an azi that is being built by many different floating parts, and so on... but in the end I went for a statue!Azi.

The idea was that Aziraphale really tries to be stern and "perfect" and angelic, be this statue, but he can't help but slowly let his inner self show. Everything around him is as monochromatic as him, but inside him there's a whole universe, a uniqueness that he shouldn't have.

That was cool in theory but then... making it work was hard.

I am not good at shadow and light. I understand it in theory but I don't have that much practice, and less so with making it look "realistic". But I thought. "I am basically copying the frame, what can go wrong?"

FAMOUS LAST WORDS.

This was so difficult to make it look nice 🤣 It was even worse bc I decided to make CURLS and FEATHERS. YALL. if you ever need proof that I torture myself here it is.

I had to zoom in and slowly built every part of this, trying to give it volume (and failing) only using the grey scale and gosh. I had a enormous admiration for artists like @/theonevoice (that go for a realistic look) before but now I... I don't even know.

I soldiered on, thinking that it was looking horrible 90% of the time and it worked. So. Yeah. It was an incredible exercise and I learned A LOT LOT. I figured stuff out as I went, and even if I am complaining, I loved it. It was great to see it coming together, and to slowly understand more how this works.

I also have to thank @elenthyaolyenths AGAIN because she's an actual angel. I was talking to her about this and asking for advice and (together with enduring my ramblings) she also made me think more about what I wanted to do, and suggested to increase the amount of cracks and that was just *perfect*. Thank tou so much Elen you're awesome 💛💛💛 (I still can't believe you're my friend and that you're so willing to share your knowledge with me aaaaa)

Maybe I should draw more Aziraphales in the future, I still like many of my initial ideas for this one :D

#every frame of eden #everyframeofeden #fanart #good omens #good omens fanart #fanart i guess

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meixstar · 9 months ago

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WORKING OUT WITH NANAMI PLEASE!

❥ Synopsis You want to get stronger? Nanami might just be the best person to help you with that.

❥ Pairing Nanami Kento x fem!reader

❥ Content explicit content! 18+, Minors DNI, foul language, working out afab!reader, teacher!reader, dom!Nanami, unprotected sex, Nanami is kinda mean, creampie, implied mutual pining, masturbation (m! receiving), vaginal sex, clitoral play, slight breeding kink, slight hate fucking at first, pet names (pretty girl, darling) dirty talk, fingering, oral (f! receiving), Nanami loves eating possay, doggy style, missionary, aftercare, Nanami being a gentleman, kissing/making out, praise, degredation if you squint, ripping clothes, teasing, porn with plot

❥ Word Count 3.4k

❥ A/N HELP THIS IS MY FIRST SMUT I'M SORRY IF IT SUCKS I'M REALLY EMBARRASSED RN BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT Anway I have no idea about working out and how to write it?? so I hope this was okay and doesn't suck too bad c: Thank you for your request!

PS i'm sorry if the requests are taking too long :( i'm not really used to writing this much lolol but i plan on doing them all, and I'm really excited about SatoSugu fluff that someone requested :D

!NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Sweating It Out

"Faster. If you want to land a critical hit on your opponent, you have to charge at them like you mean it." Nanami's voice echoes through the courtyard of the school.

"Search for their weak point," He tightens the tie around his neck as he steps closer to her body on the ground. "You need to work on your form and condition." a quiet sigh leaves his lips as he helps her up from the floor in one swift motion.

You brush the dirt off your sports clothes and look up at him with a slight pout. "Easy for you to say," the back of your hand wipes across your cheek to get rid of the remaining grime. "I don't even know how I got this job in the first place." a soft chuckle escapes you.

A hint of amusement flickers across his stoic face. "Modesty becomes you. You're better than you think." his eyes scan your face for a moment. "We've still got a lot of work to do if you want to improve those reflexes of yours. If you're comfortable with it, I would help you do some simple work out back at my apartment." he gestures towards the parking lot, where his car is waiting.

"And by work, I mean actual physical exercise, not just tossing around excuses." Nanami remarks smugly, making your lips part in surprise. "Wha- I'm not 'tossing around excuses', thank you very much." The audacity of this stupid, attractive man. You let out a playful huff and fix your hair. "Although I do find it rather surprising that you would invite me to your place."

Nanami chuckles, the low sound and smooth "Formalities aside, I'm willing to make an exception for you. After all, someone needs to whip you into shape." his gaze lingers on hers, a subtle spark of attraction evident beneath the surface. "Shall we?" without waiting for an answer he starts walking towards his car.

"Hey, I would say I'm in pretty good shape.. physically wise." you remark teasingly with a soft chuckle as you follow him towards his car.

You get greeted with the sight of a raised, skeptical eyebrow from him. "Is that so? Then perhaps we'll focus on refining your technique instead. You can't rely solely on brute force. Strategy and finesse are just as crucial." he opens the passenger door for her, his movements fluid and courteous. "Besides, I have a few.. exercises in mind that might put your physical prowess to the test." Nanami's tone remains formal, but a hint of suggestiveness creeps into his words.

"Great, can't wait.." you groan in exhaustion, not noticing his suggestive hint. Your head rests against the window of his car while you wait for the arrival to his apartment. Trees, pedestrians and other cars move by in a blur as you look out the clean window.

His eyes glance at her briefly, a fleeting glimpse of amusement crossing his features before focusing back on the road ahead. "I suppose you should conserve your energy then. We'll be getting started shortly." Nanami's voice remains steady, betraying no emotion, but his grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly as he accelerates onto the highway.

He emerges from the driver's side, his suit jacket fluttering open to reveal his crisp blue shirt underneath. "Please, come in." his hand gestures towards the entrance as he leads the way inside to his apartment. "We will start with some stretching exercises. I have a few routines that will help improve flexibility and balance." his tone remains professional, but his gaze lingers on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"In that?" you point towards his clothes. "Scratch that actually, I'm the only one doing this, aren't I?" a sigh escapes you. You put down your bag on the floor and stretch your arms above your head.

Nanami pauses, one hand resting on the doorknob as he turns to regard you. "Ah, good point. Don't worry, I will change into something more suitable and join you." his gaze travels down her form, lingering on her curves before snapping back up to meet her gaze. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." With a brief nod, he disapears into the bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

So here you were, alone in the apartment of your colleague who you have been crushing on for a year now. Totally fine, right?

You slap both palms of your hands against your cheeks and shake your head. Trying to distract yourself, you walk around his living room, taking in the minimal decorations. Your head turns towards his bedroom door as he re-emerges from the room, now clad in some sweatpants and a tight fitted shirt, showcasing his toned physique.

"Now then, shall we begin with some light cardio to loosen up your muscles?" his tone remains formal, yet a hint of anticipation underlies his words as he approaches her, his eyes locked on hers. "Alright, but don't be too hard on me - again." you chuckle and wait for his instructions.

"I assure you, I will push you to your limits but not beyond. Now, let's start with some jumping jacks. Twenty reps, please." he stands with his arms crossed, watching her every move with an air of authority, my gaze scrutinizing her form.

"Ah.. seriously? Isn't that like some high school stuff though?" you sigh and get into position as you start doing jumping jacks. His expression remains stern, unyielding to your protests. "High school or not, it's essential to build a solid foundation. You'd be surprised how many experienced practitioners neglect the basics. Focus on your form, and don't slacken your pace," he takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he monitors your performance. "Focus on my form? With jumping jacks? Okay then.."

Nanami observes her movements, his sructiny unwavering. "Not bad. However, I detect a slight imbalance in your landing. Remember to distribute your weight evenly between both legs. And keep your core engaged." his voice remains firm, yet measured, as he provides constructive feedback. "Yeah, yeah.." you answer and keep your lips pressed into a thin line.

"I suggest you adopt a more receptive attitude. This isn't a trivial matter. Proper form is crucial to avoiding injuries and optimizing performance. Try again, and this time, heed my corrections."

"Why do I feel like a student all over again?" you sigh in slight annoyance and stop your jumping jacks. "Fine, fine."

He gives you a curt nod, acknowledging your efforts. "Better. Much better. Your posture has improved, and your footwork is more precise. Not, let's move on to the next exercise. We'll focus on building your strength now." he gestures towards the adjacent room, where various pieces of equipment are set up. "Please proceed to the pull-up bar. I'll demonstrate the proper technique."

You glance around the room, taking in various fitness gadgets in surprise. "Wow, Nanami.. didn't expect you to be that type of man. You know, the type who is so obsessed with working out." you let out a playful hum.

"This is not about personal indulgences. A well-equipped training area is essential for optimal results." he leads the way to the pull-up bar, his movements efficient and purposeful. "Now, pay attention. The key to a successful pull-up lies in engaging your latissimus dorsi muscles," Nanami begins to demonstrate the correct form, his words punctuated by precise motions.

"My what now?" you mumble to yourself in utter confusion. Your gaze drifts towards his working form, hungry eyes lingering on the veins popping out on his forearms every time he pulls himself up. Just then he halts mid-pull-up, his eyes locking onto yours with a faint glint of amusement flickering within. "Latissimus dorsi. The largest muscle in your back. Focus, please."

He releases the bar, dropping back down on the ground with ease. With a scoff you cross your arms over your chest, "Whatever, let me give it a go, Mr. Know It All." you joke lightly and grab onto the pull-up bar before lifting yourself up slowly. Nanami stand back, observing your form with a discerning eye. "You're managing to engage your lats somewhat, However, your grip could be wider, and your body straighter. Allow me to assist."

Nanami approaches her, his big hands closing around her waist as he adjusts her position, his fingers splayed wide. "Feel the stretch in your back, and maintain control throughout the movement." his voice stays calm, but the intimate proximity of your bodies sends a spark of pleasure shooting through his body. At the same time you bite down on the inside of your cheek as his strong hands grab you.

You feel grateful that your back is turned towards him, this way he can't see your cheeks turning a soft pink. "Aren't you straightforward?" you chuckle.

Ignoring your words, Nanami's grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly. "Focus on your form. One more rep, please."

"Yes, Sir." an innocent hum leaves you as you begin to pull your body back up the pull-up bar, letting out soft breaths now and then.

His fingers seem to linger on her skin for a moment before releasing her. "Proceed to the mat. We will work on some grappling techniques." With a soft thud, you let yourself go from the gadget. "Grappling? So you can kick my ass again? Just what I want," she sighs and takes her place on the mat.

"Grappling is an essential aspect. You can't always count on your cursed technique. It requires strategy, agility, and control. Let us focus on some basic escapes and submissions." he assumes a neutral stance opposite her. "Let's begin with a simple wrist lock escape. Observe closely, and replicate my movements precisely." he extends his arm, offering her his wrist.

"Bla bla." you abruptly grab his wrist and twist it to push him down onto the mat with a controlled thud "Easy," a satisfied smile forms on your face. "Good initiative, but poor execution. You relied on brute force rather than technique." he pulls himself out of your grasp and rises to his feet, brushing off imaginary dirt from his clothes. "Again."

"This sucks.." you sigh and run a hand down your face in frustration. "Can't we do something fun instead? Like, fuck I don't know, chess. Would be way more fun than this." you grimace before grabbing his wrist once more to push him down and lower your body to sit on his back to hold him down.

Nanami remains composed, unfazed by her antics, as he lies beneath her, his wrists still clasped in her grasp. "You can have fun some other time." his tone maintains its formal quality, despite the unusual position they find themselves in. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe we've digressed sufficiently. Let's refocus on the task at hand. Release my wrist." he issues the command calmly.

You glance down at the side of his face with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Hm.. no." You feel his body tense beneath you, his muscles coiling in anticipation. "I see. It appears you're blurring the lines between playful banter and actual combat. I suggest you clarify your intentions."

"You could just roll over and pin me down with ease, Nanami.. Why haven't you done it yet if you are oh so irritated about my antics?" you tease him softly and lean your head closer towards his ear.

In just a moment his body is springing into action as he swiftly flips them over, pinning her beneath him. "Satisfied? Now, shall we resume the lesson, or would you prefer to continue exploring.. other avenues?"

You feel your body growing hot under his intense gaze, "Other avenues? Please, do tell." you wrap one leg around his waist to pull him closer, feeling his growing hardness press against your inner thigh making him grit his teeth ever so slightly.

"Hm, it seems you require a demonstration of the consequences of testing boundaries." he leans closer, his lips inches from yours. This is no longer a lesson for combat, but a display of discipline."

"Aren't you tough? All bark and no bit-" your taunts gets silenced as he claims your mouth in a firm kiss. Out of instinct, your press your chest further into his, deepening the kiss in the process. A soft moan of desperation leaves your mouth that gets swallowed by his own.

Nanami's tongue probes the depths of her mouth, his long fingers maintaining a firm grip on her waist and wrists. He breaks away from the kiss, his breathing heavy. "Now, shall we proceed to the next stage of this.. lesson?" he rocks his hips into hers, eliciting a quiet gasp from her. "Cut the teacher crap, Nanami." she breathes out hotly against his wet lips. "As you wish, but you will receive exactly what you're asking for." With that, he sweeps her up in his arms, carrying her towards the bedroom.

He deposits her on the bed, his tall form towering over her as he looks down at her flushed and desperate expression. "Undress. Now." his tone brooks no argument, as he begins to shed his own clothes with deliberate slowness.

Her eyes wander over his now exposed body, lingering on his cock that leaks with pre-cum already. Out of reflex, she runs her tongue over her kiss-bruised lips, making him flex his fists for a moment. "Mh.. I don't wanna," she bites back a smirk.

"Very well. If you insist on playing games, I will play too." With a swift motion, he reaches out and rips the shirt open, baring her torso to his hungry gaze. "What the fuck! I loved that shirt, aw." she pouts up at him with furrowed brows before glancing back at the now broken fabric on the floor.

Nanami raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'll buy you a new one, and also.. no bra? Naughty girl. Must have slipped my sight." he remarks, his gaze roving over her bared skin, eyes lingering on her perky nipples exposed to the cool air in the room. "Now, will you take off the rest of your clothes? Or should I do it for yo-"

"No, I'll do it myself this time." you scoff lightly and stand up to pull your leggings down, seeing Nanami's eyes following your every move. "Fuck.." you hear him mutter to himself - and god, was it hot to see him loose his composure. "Turn around and bend over, let me see all of you, pretty girl." A pleased hum escapes your lips as you do just that. You bend down over his bed, the soft sheets brushing against your skin, and the smell of him filling your nostrils.

"Mmh.. you know exactly how to tease me, don't you?" Nanami reaches out, his hand reaching out to run over the contour of her ass, the touch feather-light, while his other hand reaches down to stroke himself slowly. "Look at you," he whispers, his breath caressing the skin just above the waistband of her panties. "I can already see how wet you are. Is that because of me? Hm, pretty girl?"

You only manage to get out a weak nod accompanied by a soft whimper as he lets out a throaty chuckle. His fingers hook into the waistband and slowly peels her panties down, revealing her soaking pussy to his eyes. He settles onto his knees on the floor behind her. "Been craving your pussy so often, gosh.." he moans softly as he keeps his gaze fixated on your entrance while fisting his own arousal.

With a glance behind you, you see the scene unfold with hooded eyes. Just that alone makes your pussy clench around nothing. "Nanami.. don't tease me, please."

"I won't.. fuck, I won't." he breathes against your wetness, making you shiver before his tongue slides into the slick folds of your pussy. "Mmh, pussy tastes even better than I imagined." You stuff your face into his sheets as you feel his hot tongue run through your folds. "Oh god- hah,"

His hand leaves his cock, solely focusing on her pleasure as he holds her hips in place. "You like that? You like my tongue inside you, licking your sweet little cunt?" his voice muffled against her flesh, as he works her into a frenzy while his own hips desperately buck against his bed to relieve some tension. "Ohh, fuck.. Your tongue feels so fucking good!" she sobs into the fabric of the bed.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my face." he let's out a soft groan as he redoubles his efforts, desperate to drive her towards orgasm as he slowly enters two fingers inside her pulsing cunt.

She desperately pushes back against him, needing more. "Hah.. Nanami, please- fuck me already." His eyes flash in excitement, ceasing his oral assault as he stands back up to his full height. His angry red tip glistens with pre-cum, his hands running along her cheeks. "Turn around for me. I want to see your pretty face when you come."

And you do just that, laying down on your back as you glance up at him. He gently grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him as he lines his hard cock up at your entrance, poised to thrust deep. You impatiently wiggle your hips, wanting him to finally take you. You've been waiting for a whole year, after all. So if he doesn't start fucking you right this inst-

"Hah!" You throw your head back with a high-pitched moan as he slowly thrusts forward, his cock sinking deep into your pussy, filling you to the brim as he groans in satisfaction. "Fuck.. so hot." he mutters, hips drawing back before plunging forward once more, setting a slow yet deep pace. "Is this what you wanted? That I fuck you?" he grunts, his strokes growing more frenzied, his cock throbbing inside you.

The only thing that you can do is grip the sheets beside you and hide your flushed, pathetic face in them, frantically trying to hide your arousal.

His chest presses against hers as he leans forward, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her in place. "Don't hide from me, Darling. Look at me." he demands, voice rough with exertion as he continues pounding into her. "Watch me as I make you come," his other hand snakes around to grasp her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze as he himself drives towards climax.

Her eyes are unfocused as she gazes up at him, her mouth falling open as he fucks into her deep. "Oh f-fuck.. ngh, your cock feels so good!" she bites down on her bottom lip, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks with every thrust.

"You're going to take every last drop of my cum. You're going to milk me dry and beg for more, aren't you?" he coos into her ear. "I'm going to fill you so full of cum you will be dripping with it for hours.." his hand let's go of your chin, reaching down to rub your swollen clit in slow circles with the pad of his thumb. "I can feel you clenching.. are you close? Want you to come all over my cock, can you do that for me?"

Without even giving it a thought, your toes curl and your back arches up into him as your orgasm washes over you with a loud whine. Nanami hisses when your pussy tightens up. His cock surges deep one final time before erupting in a torrent of cum, flooding your hole with his seed.

He collapses forward, his chest heaving with exhaustion as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close.

You both lay there for a few minutes, catching your breaths. You feel him slowly pull out of you, making you both let out a soft gasp. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" his thumb runs over your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. "I hope I wasn't too rough-"

You interrupt him with a kiss, this one far more gentle than the others. "I'm fine, it was perfect. But.. you can make it up to me with dinner?" you glance away nervously, scared of rejection after what just happened.

What if he only saw this as a one time thing? You did rile him up quite a bit, maybe that was just him being a man. But is Nanami really that kind of man? Perhaps he doesn't even like you and this was hate sex? Plus, you both are colleagues. That would be really unprofessio-

"Of course, is there a specific place you would like to eat at?"

Oh.

♡ fanart from @ilameys on twitter ♡

♡ divider by @benkeibear ♡

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godbirdart · 1 year ago

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Looking at your recent commissions, those backgrounds are soo pretty!! Do you have any tips for backgrounds? I always struggle with them :>

aAA many many thanks!!

backgrounds can absolutely be a struggle but they don't have to be! they just require a little more creative planning~!

whether it be a commission or a personal drawing, if I'm building an elaborate art piece i focus on establishing the background First.

the background is the stage for your character! planning the background first will make it easier to tailor the character's actions and how they interact with the environment around them.

planning the background first can be the difference between your character standing awkwardly front and center with the setting going on behind them, or actually participating in their environment.

if i'm super stumped for background ideas, i browse stock image sites to get inspiration. sometimes it helps to doodle on an image to generate some ideas - kinda like you're playing with JPEGs like dolls.

that said - while i'm pinpointing WHAT i want to draw, i keep the ideas loose. i don't want to focus on the itty-bitty details until i've got the overall aesthetic and layout in mind, as i might get inspired to add something in later!

THUMBNAILING

if you're planning a big piece it can be helpful to break it down into something bite-sized before you go all in and start lining or painting. these are "thumbnails" - fast little sketches that establish the scene in a way that doesn't consume a lot of time or effort. it's also great as a little perspective exercise as a treat.

here i decided i want to draw a character walking home in a back alley street. with these photo references in mind, i can plan a layout and how the character will act in the scene. is this a candid shot? are they posing cutely? are they looking down at us in a tense way? there are many ideas to be had!

after you've chosen the layout / vibe for your idea, you can scale up your thumbnail to your preferred canvas size and start fleshing out the details. be sure to keep referring to your reference images to get additional ideas, such as storefronts, items, props etc!

3D MODELS

If you're trying to create a unique environment that photo references simply cannot help you visualize, 3D models exist! This gives you that ability to rotate / scale things for better visualization. Clip Studio has a vast catalogue of 3D models to download For Free that you can fiddle around with. i know there are many 3D builder sites out there as well, though i've never made use of them so i'm afraid i cannot recommend any off the top of my head. hell, you can even use the Sims game to design a setting and go from there!

also if anyone is going to come into my house and say 3D models are cheating: they are not. using a 3D model to better grasp an angle or get a better idea for perspective is not cheating. using 3D models to help plan the environment in your art is not cheating. they are no different than brushes; these are tools made to HELP YOU. use them!

PERSPECTIVE

perspective and angles can make a HUGE difference in the art piece. there's nothing wrong with static long shots! if that's what you want to draw, do it!! there's no right and wrong here!

but if you're finding your work to be a little robotic and stiff, slap an angle in there. consider an overhead view. these same techniques are applied to photography and film! nothing wrong with wide shots, but every once in a while it can help to throw in a dutch angle.

if there is one note i'd like to leave off on, it's that your backgrounds do not have to be 100% accurate-to-life to be Good. unless realism is something you're really striving for in your style, don't feel compelled to nitpick every brick and leaf in your art. us artists can tend to over-prune our work until our art looks a little bare and soulless. flaws can give your work character, and that's often a lot more appealing than how accurate the scale ratio between background building A and building B are [again, unless you WANT to go for that realistic look then you can fuss over those details all you like].

i hope this helped a little! MY APOLOGIES FOR MAKING IT SO LONG AH

#art advice #art tutorials #godbirdart #long post

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alexa-yukiyu · 8 months ago

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If you think about it really hardthe strawhat with an baby on board might be sick.

But there is a death threat when the child wants to play with Luffy and luffy accidentally throwing the baby too high. But sanji would be a good caretaker with the food getting the babies needs in foods, if the child is allergic to this ortat, Robin is instantlythe mother nobody can change she would benthe best mother in the world. Zoro is great with kids (watch episode 318). Imagine the baby napping with him or sttig on his back while he exercises. Brook and Franky would be the uncles to spoil the baby with toys and clothes, gifts you name it. Usopp and Chopper are the baby siblings, playing with baby and jokes all around. Nami is the sister that protects the baby when their dangers (well, they all do, but she is in the scaredy cat trio) like pulling the baby close and running away.

Any changes, thoughts?

Oh you are spot on right there anon, Luffy is great with kids, just like ace as we saw with Tama and Momonosuke and how he protected her. But just as before just because he is good at protecting the baby and getting on the same wavelengh dosen’t exactly mean the child is gonn aleave unscathe. Luffy is capable of trying to give the baby some meat, if he decides to share it I mean. He dosen’t mean any harm he just dosen’t know, one thing he would be the to go to person is being blunt Id imagine when the kid is older he would go all the time to Luffy, as silly as he is he is also really blunt jusg as we see when he tells people when they are being annoying or crybabies no matter who they are so the kid can count on Luffy to not sugarcoat things just the blunt truth but also give them support. Fun big but honest brother. Totally capable of chucking them to high, but not to worry the crew is always there to save the kid! Hopefully…

Sanji just like you said would be great tending to the kids nutritional needs, we all know he is more than willing to adapts to not knly the needs of a person but also their preferences so no matter what kind of things the kid liek he is ready to provide. Because of his backround I also think he would be more in tune to the feelings of a baby and be good person to go to when they are emotional or just need someone to cry to when they are a little but older

Robin just has that motherly aura, can’t tell me otherwise, like Sanji I think because of her backround she would be more understanding of a child and the emotions they can bring. He has a few years under her belt and because of her background working with someone like Crocodile and all those people she is incredibly patient and is unlikely to loose her cool on the face of a baby’s high demands.

Zoro we know he is great with kids, my man took care of those triplets with style, like did you see how he gave that one baby his milk? Man is cool even under that situation. Not only have we seen him with actual babies but have you seen his relationship with Chopper? Get this man his adoption papers pronto. And despite how he is with Sanji . With a baby I feel liek he would have the patience of a saint, just the baby tossing and turning and he simply shifts or puts him back on hid lap endlessly, to the point that he does it unconsciously, his instincts won’t let that baby fall even if they were napping upside down. Hear me out kn those exercises, I know he is mostly into weights but if he ever does a run, just strap the baby in and you got a weight vest. And he takes the baby on certain weight exercises because the movements are akin to rocking.

Now Brook, you might have seen this one coming but lullubies, baby has got A nap buddy, their oen personal chef and their own personal concert what more can you wish? The baby might not understand what he is saying but you can bet that he will be making skeleton jokes everytime he is on baby duty and the baby will just laugh along because of his laugh ( he thinks they are laughing at his jokes so he keeps them going)

Now listen not only is Franky one of the cool uncles, my man can pull up all kinds builds for the kid, need a new craddle? Leave it up to him, need a new crib? You got one with the latest technology in the blink of an eye. Listen he tried to give the baby soda but after getting screamed at explained that a baby cannot have soda, you can bet the baby will have a Soda stuffie to replace the lack of real Soda. Baby’s gonna have a superrrrrr good laugh with him.

Ussop, like Franky will make sure the baby has everything available, he builds the baby all kinds of fun toys for them to play with; not only that but he gaves a detailed explanation on everything he does, baby will leave with a new toy and a course on construction. He can easily make that baby laugh with his goofy attitude too, rest assured that when the crew disembarks into dangerous territory you will have Ussop’s full disposition to stay behind with the baby.

Chopper has two modes, first one just like you said is being on the same wavelength as the baby. If Chopper is ever nowhere to be found, the crew knows to check the babies room, chopper is often napping with the baby with both of them hugging and cuddling eachother. Don’t count on him to be there when baby needs changing though, that nose of his won’t be able to take it. Second nose is doctor mode, a baby is really vulnerable and won’t be able to communicate what he’s feeling and Chopper is always ready to make him all better and provide the best care the baby could get.

Big sister Nami won’t let baby have anhthing but the best, you know why baby is always dressed up in what seems to be better clothes than the rest if the crew? Yep that comes from rich big Sister Nami. Baby has an outfit for every occasion, not only that but on everystop you can be sure that if Nami dosen’t come back with a new clothing item then she is returning for a new plush toy for the baby. On calm days when everything is quiet you can hear from the deck Nami playing some silly game like peekaboo with baby Strawhat

Lastly we have Jinbei. Him and Ussop often pair up to tell the best of stories they can tell, Ussops crazy stories combined with Jinbei’s calm voice is an audience pleaser. Wether it is an action story to entertain baby strawhat or a bedtime story he’s got it. When there’s a swimday you can bet that it’s Jinbei’s time to chain, they might just be a baby but they will have the time of their lives either way when jinbei is on duty

Overall baby strawhat is leaving the highlife

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tackytigerfic · 2 months ago

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tacky! if you’re not fed up with talking about it: what was your macro process for first watch of the night, soup to nuts? wondering about how you broke down outlining, drafting, editing. was it different in scope from your ordinary process, or just scaled up?

soup to nuts, baby (i had to google that, it is one of those delightful phrases that we don't use here and i'm hopelessly charmed by it).

thanks for the ask, pal. i'm always interested in people's processes myself, particularly since I came to writing so late (late 30s) and have never approached it formally. i do read an awful lot and that i think is my main influence and teacher (less so in recent years but am trying to get back to incessant reading). i have also been trying to read more works in translation and to revisit classics too, as well as try more formally inventive works. this i struggle with as i'm a bit basic when it comes to reading, i like the segue 'twixt page and brain to be seamless so it's like i'm absorbing it rather than thinking about it, while ofc a more experimental style does often necessitate thinking about it. My partner (approvingly) described my original work as a 'stylistic blank' (the cleaner the better i say) and that's exactly what i like best to read - though it's always a pleasure to be dragged by the throat out of my comfort zone too.

I would always have described myself as a pantser - I never outline, never do writing exercises or character work or beat sheets or whatever (i'm quite resistant to a very structured formal approach). every fic i ever write starts with the germ of one very specific idea - a cameraflash-quick image of a scene, a piece of dialogue... whatever it is. and then i usually start to write at the start and then work my way through.

This one was fairly similar in approach, initially. I opened one doc for loose note-taking — it's where i jot down any ideas i had for scenes, any snippets of dialogue, anything I'd need to remember. I then started writing the fic itself - in this case, I actually skipped through and wrote out of order, not that I knew what order things were going to go in, as such - but I just wrote any scenes I had thought of that felt interesting to me, and skipped a lot of the world-buildingy scenes or the sort of "texture" scenes, the ones that construct a sense of the world they're in and the relationships they have. I then found myself in the position of having to go back and write those bridging scenes, and make the connections (which in some cases did not naturally fall into place) - it was not easy, and I wish i had taken a more linear approach to the writing, in retrospect.

So by the end, some scenes in this fic were written in 2021 and some in late 2024, which means that when I finally finished the rough first draft, the writing quality was patchy, the pacing was off, and some plotty stuff really didn't make sense. That's when the real hard work started.

A few people had looked over very early scenes, but the bulk of the fic was written with no input from anyone else - just three years of writing it into a vacuum without any sense of perspective. Showing it to my alpha/beta people was so nerve-wracking. they read it at different times, which was great as i could concentrate on their feedback one by one, and all three of them had different suggestions (as well as lots of overlap ofc). It was extremely helpful to see what made sense to them, and what they liked - but more significantly, what bits they went 'what the fuck' at, or which bits all three of them had issue with (i'm thinking of the ending here, i really had to kill some darlings there when all three were unanimously just like... tacky no). i had different docs for all three of them, and i worked off one master doc, deciding which changes i wanted to incorporate and how i wanted to approach them. plot stuff was a HUGE issue. the writing quality could be smoothed out - but i'm not a plotty writer and sadly this fic has A LOT of plot. so i needed to work on that. i also have some wolfstar (including a sex scene) which i was nervous about, as i have never read any wolfstar.

Once i finished all the edits, i then did one more read-through myself. I've never edited on such a significant level before. my other two longer fics were written for fests, usually in a scramble to get them done on time — this felt expansive in a way i couldn't have imagined allowing myself to be before i was in it, but as i was working it didn't feel necessary to try to force myself into speed i couldn't hope to achieve or maintain.

@sweet-s0rr0w and i had a really happy morning organising the chapter breaks, and then i had to decide on a title and write a summary. tagging was easier as i had my friends to advise.

another big difference to previous processes is the posting schedule. now i'm posting a chapter every two days, i spend the day between posts working on the upcoming chapter one more time. in all but one chapter i have made quite a few changes immediately prior to posting, which just goes to show that the work is shaping itself as it goes. It's been fascinating to me how putting the fic out into the world is giving me a sense of perspective, creative distance, and dare i say a tighter control over the narrative now that it's not just in my head anymore? so i do think any tiny remaining wrinkles are more satisfyingly flattened than i could have ever hoped for.

so in short, this work is different in scale, ambition, and process in almost every way to anything i've ever written. I can't imagine i'm likely to be able to pour myself into something so profoundly ever again, tbh. it took me by surprise, but it's been the most creatively satisfying thing i've ever done. having people finally reading it (and so generously too) is like getting a very special gift.

Regrets? Being the slowest writer in the world, being too perfectionist (not that i think it's perfect in any way, just i wanted it to be the best i could make it, when it probably would have been grand if it was ehhh fine, you know?) Also, i think i could probably have refined the pacing a bit more. We're on chapter 7 now and six months have passed, so basically the last three months of the fic take place over the last 14 chapters 🙈 But that's because this is where most of the romance and plot develops, so it makes sense that it would take up more space. And i do firmly believe that fics should be a bit self-inulgent, so why not stretch out in the parts i'm most interested in writing?

tagging @citrusses @maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w who i can never thank enough for the work they did to get me to this point. everyone already knows what brilliant writers all three are - what a lucky bastard i am to have had their insights and advice.

#jeez this was a fun lookback #thanks yikes #feels like i'm offering up my crayon scribbles to one of the old masters tbh #considering how you've been knocking my socks off with your fics #i really appreciate the opportunity to look back over the process now i'm out of it #tacky's fth #drarry #first watch #rowing and chatting

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macabr3-barbi3 · 11 months ago

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dream a little dream (of me)- chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/138625708

Chapter 1 is here! And Chapter 3 is here! (psst chapter 4 is here!)

Same tags as chapter 1: Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rough Sex, Dreamwalking, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor

It’s truly amazing what a regular sleep schedule can do for someone. Within days of starting to sleep in Alastor’s room, life in Hell just felt… better.

And Alastor was tolerable, in his own way. There was no mention of the deal that you had made, and if anyone noticed you spending the evenings in his bedroom they didn’t question it. It was the same every night- you would knock, he would invite you in, and you would engage in the tiniest of small talk before he shepherded you to the bed he had set up for you in the bayou dimension. It was always made, the sheets comfortable and soft and warm as you laid your head down and fell into dreamless sleep. You were keeping to your end of the deal, unable to resist the siren call of actual rest in favor of sneaking to Alastor’s side of the room to see what he dreamt of these days.

You wondered about his end, and what he had promised if you stayed out of his dreams like you agreed- like you were doing. “Whenever you would like,” he had said, but you didn’t want to just- proposition him. That felt improper and scandalous. For the time being you were content to just accept the peaceful relaxation that the bayou realm offered you.

You quit the retail job that you held after about a week and accepted Charlie’s offer to find something to do in the hotel- you were designated to the Resident Events Coordinator, which basically meant that when Charlie got it in her head that everyone needed to go on a field trip somewhere, you were in charge of booking, paying invoices from the Hotel budget, and making sure everyone was accounted for and following the rules when you got there. In theory, anyway- you’re pretty sure Charlie came up with the job on the spot but you hadn’t actually gone anywhere yet, no field trips taken or tasks for you for a couple weeks now.

That seemed like it was going to change as Charlie squealed your name from the front office and asked you to join her. Poking your head tentatively into the room, she has a bunch of papers spread across the desk, Vaggie in the chair next to it with a hand to her temple. She shoots you a smile before her eyes return to the carpet, muttering something in Spanish under her breath.

“What’s-”

Charlie is bouncing with excitement as she sings, “I have a resident event for you to coordinate!” She gestures to the papers on the desk with wiggling fingers. “I’ve been doing some research and while it's been found that just regular stuff in a familiar setting is all well and good and helpful, doing things like trust exercises or just hanging out in an un familiar setting can also be really great! So Vaggie and I looked into some stuff and we decided ooonnnnnn….” She trails off and gestures grandly to Vaggie, who looks up from her dead stare at the floor.

“Camping. Yay.” Her enthusiasm is noted, but when Charlie pouts at her she smiles and pulls some jazz hands. “Sorry- camping! Yay!”

You offer your own smile even as your heart drops. “Okay, cool! What do I need to do?”

Camping would mean everyone sleeping in the same area- you had gotten so accustomed to a regular night’s sleep that you weren’t sure if you could stay up an entire night to avoid falling into anyone’s dreams. Alastor probably wouldn’t come with the group- he didn’t seem like camping was his style- so you wouldn’t be able to rely on that. You hoped that going back to the energy drinks for a night or so wouldn’t irreparably damage your new internal clock.

Charlie launches into a spiel about what was needed of you- reserving the campground, making sure that there were plenty of smores ingredients handy, snacks and things to grill and bottled water all in ready supply. You would need to get the list of rules, a map of the area, tents, and did you know how to start a fire?

“Babe, you’re the Princess of Hell. I’m pretty sure you can start a fire just fine.” Vaggie looked at her girlfriend with an air of amused frustration.

“Well yeah but I want it to be authentic! No magic on the camping trip- not even from me.”

You look up from the notepad Vaggie had handed you before Charlie got too far into it, catching up on everything she had listed off. “No magic- got it! Do you have a particular place in mind?”

And the demon was off again, listing off nearby wooded areas that offered camping and everything the group might need. Looking at the list of items you had accumulated, you figured that this job would be actual work and not just something Charlie gave you for a title- you wondered if Vaggie had to talk her into letting someone else handle the intricacies of outings so she didn’t burn herself out.

You spent the rest of the week finalizing everything, only being met with a small groan when Charlie informed the group of what would be happening on Friday evening. Niffty seemed excited- “lots of wild bugs,” she said with a crazed look in her eye, and you made a mental note to call the campground again to ask if ‘murder of bugs’ was something that was allowed- and Angel and Husk just seemed to resign themselves to their fate. Alastor had raised an eyebrow and said he would see if his ‘schedule could allow him to attend,’ so he was most likely out.

You had only managed to acquire three tents- one for Charlie and Vaggie, one for Husk and Angel, and one for you and Niffty. You had no intention of sleeping in it- you would wait until the smaller demon fell asleep, which she always did swiftly and deeply, and then spend the night sipping caffeine and manning the fire to keep everyone warm while they slept. When you came home on Saturday you would return to Alastor’s room and catch up on the rest you would be losing.

You arranged for the delivery of everything to the campground ahead of you all, and were pleased to see all of your materials where they should be when you arrived. It felt good to be able to do something for the group, and to help Charlie like this and take some stress off her plate. You started sorting through it all, handing out sleeping bags and designating Husk to management of the food items when you hit the first snag.

“Uhhhh…” The box containing the tents had two that were regular sized- big enough for two people while still remaining in the confines of the campsite as you set them up. The last appeared to be a child’s tent- large enough for Niffty on her own but certainly not for the two of you. That threw a wrench in your plans, as you were sure that no one would go for the idea of you sleeping outside on your own.

“Oh no!” Charlie looked over your shoulder and saw the predicament. “That won’t work for the two of you- wait, you can share with Vaggie and I! There’s enough room in there for three, right?”

Fuck.

“Maybe,” you agree hesitantly, but it wouldn’t be as easy to sneak out of the tent with two of them, one being a former Exorcist Angel with a penchant for nightmares that woke her up. And just laying there pretending to sleep would probably result in you actually falling asleep- and also, it was a little weird to share a tent with a couple, right?

Vaggie frowns as she finishes setting up hers and Charlie’s tent. “I don’t know, hun- there’s not much room in here, I’m not sure if three people will fit.”

Charlie goes to inspect the tent. “Well, we would be pretty close but I think it would be okay!”

You start to wave your hands in denial. “That’s okay guys, really- I still have a sleeping bag, I can stay by the fire-”

The resounding chorus of “NO!” from the group is touching, it really is, but not helpful to your current struggle. Husk is adamantly insisting that if anyone sleeps outside it should be him, Angel is complaining about the possibility of not getting to share a tent with Husk, Niffty is- chasing bugs on the outskirts of the site, completely unconcerned with the issue at hand.

There’s a crackle of static and Alastor emerges from a shadow, casting a glance over the group. “Hello everyone! Are we having trouble already on our little camping trip?”

“Alastor.” Your heart thumps in your chest- maybe he could conjure another tent for you, do some of his magic to put a pocket dimension inside of it like the bayou in his room. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”

“It seems that I was able to free some time up to join you,” he says, then looks at the tents that have been set up. “What seems to be the problem?”

You can’t fight the surge of irritation. “I messed up the order somehow. We got two normal sized tents but the last one is only big enough for Niffty which is who I was supposed to share with- I should have sprung for another one in case you did show up, now that I’m thinking about it.” You bring a palm to your forehead. “God, that was stupid-”

“Nonsense! Why, you can share with me, my dear.” With a wave of his hand the tents are moving, repositioning to make room for a red tent that appears in the middle of the others. It’s larger than the other two, causing Angel to let out a whistle, and the relief that rushes through you is immediate.

Husk doesn’t seem to agree, and Charlie and Vaggie are both looking at you with trepidation. “Now hold on,” Husk starts. “I’ll share with you, Al. There’s no reason the little lady should be stuck in there with you.”

“Why Husker, I’m offended! Do you think I would behave improperly? I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.” He gestures to the tent. “It is more than large enough for the both of us- arguably a better position for her to be in than sharing with one of you, smushed in like sardines.”

Vaggie cuts in. “Why don’t you take mine and Charlie’s tent and we can share the big one with her-”

“Vaggie,” you interrupt her. “It’s fine! I’m okay sharing with Alastor. He’s right- it is a bigger space, there will be plenty of room for us both, and I don’t want to intrude on you and Charlie.” You flash her a smile. “Everything will be okay- it’s just for one night.”

The woman groans but gives in. “If you’re sure you’re okay with it, fine. But!” She adds, pointing at Alastor. “Charlie’s rules. No more magic.” Alastor hums in agreement and the rest of the plans for the evening go without a hitch.

There’s a nice nature walk through a nearby trail, a brief stint of swimming- unplanned and unauthorized, since you specifically told Niffty it wasn’t allowed beforehand- and an easy dinner made by Husk over the fire that Niffty started. Smores are concocted and consumed before you all tell scary stories together, putting an end to it before Alastor could have his turn- no one wanted to open that can of worms, as it were.

Everyone started to turn in, including Alastor, until only you and Husk were left out by the fire. He overturned a bottle of water on the flames to douse them, a flickering ember all that remained as he sat on a log next to you. “You’re really okay sharing with him, kid?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m a fully grown adult, Husk,” you remind him, and he doesn’t even look sheepish. “But yes, I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Angel would throw a tantrum if he was denied being able to sleep so close to you.” You throw him a wink, and with this, at least, he blushes.

“Yeah yeah,” he mutters, “whatever. Just… you let me know if you wanna switch. Any time. I’ll wake up if you come to our tent.”

“I appreciate it,” you say with a smile, knowing it won’t be necessary. If Alastor had put another pocket dimension in the tent you would sleep soundly, no need to switch with anyone or stay awake. “Have a good night, Husk.” You go your separate ways, waiting for him to duck into his and Angel’s tent before entering the one you would be sharing with Alastor.

There’s no bayou waiting for you- just a large bed in the very center of the space, Alastor tucked under the covers with a book in his hands. “Ah, there you are, dear!”

You enter the tent and close it behind you. “I was just cleaning up a little with Husk. Um- I don’t want to sound, you know, picky but-”

“Hmm, were you expecting the bayou from my room?” He sighs like its a great inconvenience. “Yes, I had planned to bring it to being in the tent or at least getting a second bed but alas- Charlie did insist on no magic!”

God damn this demon and his selective rule following. “Right. Well, at least you know why I’m not sleeping. I won’t have to pretend- do you have another book I could read?”

“Not sleeping? Darling, there’s room here.” He pats the bed next to him, grin wide and amused. “I insist- I promise I’ll behave.” His smile did not give you much hope to that.

“If you’re the closest person to me, then- what about our. Um. The deal?” You can’t stop yourself from entering his dreams if he’s close to you, let alone in the same bed.

He tilts his head. “You have my permission. It is one night only, as you told Vaggie. Sleeping anywhere else would drop you into the dreams of another, and even if I had been able to conjure another bed you would still be closest to myself. You may as well be comfortable.” He pulls down the corner of sheets opposite him, and you have to admit that it looks inviting.

You approach and climb under the covers, careful to keep a reasonable amount of space between yourself and Alastor as he waves a hand and the lights go dim. “I thought you said no magic,” you mutter, only a little bitterly. He chuckles but doesn’t respond, and soon the sound is replaced with light, even breathing as the Radio Demon slips into sleep.

You fight it as long as you can, but you end up joining him, the world going black before you re-materialize in a familiar place.

Alastor’s room. He’s sitting in an armchair near the fire, reading the same book he had been. He looks up at the inquisitive noise you make. “I figured you needn’t feel so guilty about intruding if there was nothing intimate to see,” he says, flipping a page.

“I appreciate that, thank you.” You take the seat opposite him, watching the fire dance before you both. Its quiet, comfortably so, the only sounds the faint breathing of you both and Alastor’s page flipping.

You watch him for a while, since there’s nothing else to do. You lightly trail his body with your eyes as he relaxes into the chair, traveling up the lines of his legs to his chest, the subtle musculature of his arms and flexing of tendons when he turns a page, his fingers dexterous and strong. You think about the last time you had been in his dream- how those fingers had been inside the dream version of you but you never got to experience it yourself, not really. You’d come into it right at the end to be speared on Alastor’s length, wet and ready despite not being part of the preparation yourself. You wanted-

“Something on your mind?” Your eyes snap up from his hands to find Alastor watching you, shit eating smile on his face as he watched you basically ogling him.

“N-no!” You scoot the chair back from him, your face twisting in confusion as it's pulled right back into position and then even further, a shadow racing out of your peripherals after it drops your chair right in front of Alastor’s, knee to knee. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“You know,” he says conversationally, “you’ve not yet taken advantage of your own benefits of the deal, dear. You’ve been quite compliant in staying out of my dreams- I think that warrants a reward, don’t you?”

He’s leaned into your space, inches from your face, eyes darting down to your mouth. “A- a reward?”

“Indeed.” He closes his book and it vanishes with a twist of his wrist, freeing up the hand to brush under your chin. “You’re free to choose something else if you don’t wish to ‘cash in’ on my end of the deal. Though… you do remember what it was, don’t you?” He trails a clawed finger down your neck, brushing your hair off your shoulders and continuing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Not hard enough to scratch but not so light you couldn’t feel it at all.

“I remember. You said… whenever I wanted.” Your face is red, your brain muddled as you take in the scent of him so close to you- you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“The exact wording, sweetheart, was that I would allow you to cum on my cock whenever you’d like.” His hands dart out to circle your waist and drag you into his chair, grinding up against you as the seat transformed into something more like a chaise, reclined and wider. “Is that what you would like now?”

“Fuck, I- wait, fuck,” you manage to stammer at the feeling of his erection under you, and you find yourself rolling your hips along with him, chasing that feeling. You lose yourself in it, your mouth open while you gasp through the pleasure, and no sooner have you had the brief thought of wishing you didn’t have to remove your body to take your pants off than the article of clothing has disappeared. “What-”

“Magic in dreams doesn’t count, I rather think,” Alastor says, and he shifts you to one side in his lap to get a hand underneath you and slide a long finger into your slick warmth. “It seems that you can do it as well to an extent.”

“Well that’s pretty cool,” you mumble, and when you throw your head back with a moan he latches his teeth onto your neck, a light pinch that he sucks and then soothes with his tongue.

“Indeed; one learns something new every day!” He traces his mouth down your shoulder, over your collarbones and back up to suck at your skin again, his fingers working steadily inside you as he adds another in, to the second knuckle. “For example- I have learned that you taste and feel even better than that figment of dreams that I created.”

You let your head fall forward, press your forehead to Alastor’s. “High praise,” you say, and he laughs at you. “I knew you would- oh fuck- ” He changes his angle, crooking his fingers upwards into the sweet spot inside your body, the pressure unrelenting and causing what little control you had right now to spill out of your grasp like the whimpers that poured from your mouth.

He adjusts, leaning back fully into the chaise. He releases the grip he has on your waist to snap his fingers, and with a clink his belt has removed itself from his pants and curled up neatly on the floor. A second set of fingers slides between your bodies to undo his fly, the thumb of the hand inside you brushing against your clit as he works to remove himself.

You’re panting, the air hot between your mouths as he uses your arousal to slick himself, pushing at your entrance. “Don’t you ever take these clothes off?” You ask irritably, wondering if you could use your newfound ability to vanish at least his shirt as you grip it in your fingers desperately.

“Not here I won’t- we must leave something to be discovered in real life, don’t you think?” His shirt still stubbornly buttoned across his chest, he extracts his fingers from your body and grips your hips to pull you down onto his cock. The whine you let out would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so goddamn good to have him fill you, nowhere to go to escape the pressure and the pleasure of it.

You plant your hands on his shoulders as he slides in to the hilt, and when you look at him his eyes are dark, cheeks flushed despite the smirk on his face. “That’s… that’s no fair,” you say, and you can feel the way you clench down around his length. “You’ve already seen a-all of me.”

He lets his hands run up your sides and under your shirt, claws leaving gooseflesh in their wake as he brings them up to brush against your nipples, drags them across your skin to gently rake down your back in the most delicious way. “That hardly counted,” he murmurs, bucking his hips up and watching the way that he slides in and out of the grip of your cunt. “This is merely a fantasy, dearest. I won’t be truly satisfied until I can say that I have claimed all of you- dream and reality, body and soul. Just to see your naked flesh is nothing to me.”

He digs the claws of one hand into your thigh, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to drag you down closer to his face, the ache of it only sending you towards orgasm faster as he grinds up into you. “I want you flayed open with the ache of needing me,” he groans, and uses his grip on your neck to force you to meet his eyes. “Here and in the real world. I want to fucking own you in every possible dimension, every possible way- tell me I can, darling. Tell me I do-”

Like last time, Alastor demanded verbal confirmation of your submission to him. “Fuck, yes,” you cry out, cutting him off, and as he pulls you in to lick into his mouth you find the strength in your legs finally, rising and sinking back down on his cock as he thrusts into you from below. It’s impossible to feel this good- you can’t possibly survive this, you think, as your cunt grips down tighter every time he glances off that spot inside of you. “Please, Alastor,” you whimper into his mouth. “Please, let me cum- I’m yours, I’m yours-”

He bites down hard on your lip, the skin breaking and blood pooling in the space where your mouths have joined as you hit your peak the same time Alastor does. He releases your lip with a drawn out groan while he fills you, grinding your hips down into his with a force that can only be describe as desperate . It doesn’t end; as you tip over the razor’s edge and drench his lap in your release you moan with the feeling of tightening on him, the sound devolving into a whimper as you clutch weakly at Alastor’s shirt when the wave finally crashes and leaves you limp in his arms.

“Hm.” When you bring you head up to meet his gaze he has a wicked smile on his face, pulling out of you with an embarrassing sound coming form between your bodies. One of his ears flicks to the side before righting itself. “Sounds like you might have some explaining to do to our friends, chérie.”

“What do you-” You don’t get a chance to finish your thought before he pushes you with a finger to your forehead, and instead of hitting the other end of the chaise you slam hard into the bed, covers fluttering around you as you fight them off with the force that you’ve landed with.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Husk is standing at the entrance to the tent with his arms crossed, Angel Dust peering over his shoulder with interest.

You clench your eyes shut, remembering that Alastor had only conjured the one bed- this was going to be awkward. “Fuck, I-”

“Yes, my dear, you’ve even given me quite the startle.” Alastor’s voice comes from across the tent- in a different bed than the one you had both fallen asleep in. A glance down reveals that you are in your own sleeping quarters, tucked under a soft comforter on your own side of the large space.

You glare at him and he keeps his eyes wide, feigning innocence.

Charlie pops her head into the tent as well. “We heard noises,” she said. “It sounded like you were in pain. Is everything okay?”

You were going to fucking kill Alastor.

“It was… just a dream,” you tell them, and Alastor’s smile splits his face in your peripheral vision. “A nightmare. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Vaggie places a hand on Charlie’s shoulder from outside the tent. “We’ve got to get started with breakfast if we’re gonna leave on time, babe,” she says, then stands on her tiptoes to look at you over Charlie’s shoulder. “If you find yourself having nightmares come let me know- I have some stuff that could help.” She vanishes, off to try to start the campfire back up the way Niffty had done accidentally the night before.

Husk is glancing between you and Alastor, and one of his eyebrows raises. “You know what? Not my damn business. Come on, Angel.” He leads the spider away as well, and Charlie gives you a wave with her worried look before the tent is zipped back up and you’re alone with Alastor again.

“You-”

“What an interesting development,” he says, suddenly in the bed with you again- perched on the side of it, having shifted through the shadows in only a moment. He reaches a finger out and brushes it along the side of your neck. You hiss at the feeling, a sharp pain following the feeling, but he’s up and out of the bed before you can say anything else. He waves a hand, and a mirror appears in the space between your beds. “Have a look, dear, then come join the rest of us! What would we do without our event coordinator to lead us back to the hotel?” He doesn’t even use the door, just sinks into the floor and is gone.

You swing your legs out of the bed, only a little irritated to find that once again your legs are shaky. You make your way over to the mirror, and you see what Alastor had seen, probably what Husk had seen as well.

A split lip, and a still weakly bleeding bite mark in the shape of Alastor’s smile.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #what is wrong with me lol #my stuff <3

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 6 months ago

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hi! so i started reading when christ and his saints slept (your recommendation, it's great btw) and wow george really dropped the ball on the dance cause what is this going on. like older sister against brother?? why would that work George??

i've seen tb make arguments that the usurpation set women's rights back for centuries, and that seems kind of silly cause the rule of (bloody) mary i still led to the rule of elizabeth i. personally, i think the issue of women's rights has more to do with the lack of queen dowagers and regents which are more common in real history but less in asoiaf who use their power of being mothers of the king to advocate for women, and lay the groundwork (e.g. margaret beaufort, nurbanu sultan, anne of austria, etc)

but, also what are the greens meant to do because if viserys did not settle inheritance for his sons (through heiresses) whilst he lived there's no reason why rhaenyra would do it when she's queen.

for me the greens have three options : take the throne through conquest, ask for a great council (they have vhagar they can make demands), or three literally die.

like as much as i am green supporter if i was rhaenyra and i peacefully ascended to the throne and my half-siblings who are brothers with sons of their own well, they just have to die ottoman style, because allowing them cadet branches undermines her own and in the end you get a house bourbon supplanting house valois situation (something catherine de medici committed war crimes to prevent); you can't let them leave because well 6 dragons outside of targaryen control — you might as well be asking for trouble ; send them to the citadel —well two are married to each other, one has vhagar with clear anger issues, the other has tessarion and can just leave when he wants and, not even talking about the kids with their own dragons.

the truth is the greens can't just sit and do nothing. if viserys doesn't want the trouble of his sons ,and wants rhaenyra has queen then simply don't remarry or do you your duty to the sons that you have sired.

reading christ and when his saints slepts its actually comical how house targaryen don't have mistresses and they began to have them when the dragons are dead

this was a long rant but the greens don't have much options especailly cause their living in an environment where sons inherit before daughters. i would ask how would you make the story more compelling and logical causing reading penman the dance is not.

also, big can of your writing ofcir and akab are holding me down since hotd has been feeding us crap.

Anon I've had this reply sitting in my drafts and should have answered ages ago, so my apologies for the late reply!

I'm so glad you're reading When Christ and His Saints Slept. It's my go-to recommendation for historical fiction about the Anarchy, and Penman in general is just my absolute favorite historical fiction writer. I hope you continue the series that follows Matilda's son, Henry II, his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, and their brood of children.

You're right that the greens didn't have many options if they wanted to stay alive. The show has downplayed that aspect this season but Alicent's sons and grandsons would always be a challenge to Rhaenyra and Jace's rule. You only need a basic understanding of the world to see that they were in an impossible position. Ultimately, Viserys is the one who destabilized his succession and deserves a lot more blame than the show is willing to give him.

As for the matter of powerful women, queens regnant, and women's rights, irl history is full of powerful queen consorts like Eleanor who exercised power, defended garrisons, negotiated peace, and sometimes, as in Eleanor's case, even rebelled against their own husbands. In the Anarchy, Stephen's wife, Matilda of Boulogne, was a force to be reckoned with, besieging Dover castle and making a treaty for Stephen with the king of Scotland. When he was captured in battle, Matilda raised an army, and when her army captured Empress Matilda's half-brother, Robert of Gloucester, who was one of her biggest supporters, Matilda of Boulogne negotiated a hostage exchange and secured Stephen's release. And this isn't even a Westeros problem because we see politically powerful women who are not queens regnant in-world-- Cersei as regent for her children, Catelyn, who was basically running the war effort before Robb set her aside, and even book!Alicent, who exercised a good deal of power. In fact, somewhat ironically, show!Alicent was well set up to exercise even more power than her book counterpart. It's clear Aegon actually listened to her and valued her counsel, even seeking out her advice and guidance. Having the ear of the king is no small thing, and if she'd done anything other than belittle him she could have ended up as his most trusted advisor. Look how easily Larys moved in! But the show instead had Alicent alienate Aegon and then treated her disempowerment as if it were a function of her gender rather than a result of her inability to provide useful counsel.

So no, a lack of queens regnant is not keeping Westerosi women out of powerful positions, and you're right anon, in that HotD seems to have decided that powerful women didn't exist as consorts, dowagers, and regents even though that's not true irl or in Westeros. As for women's rights, unfortunately having a queen regnant historically has done very little for women as a whole. Royal women tended to align their interests with other royals or nobles rather than with women as a whole, that is, solidarity is formed along class lines more often than it is formed along gendered lines. We see this even in our world today, where companies with women as CEOs in fact tend to hire fewer women in lower management positions. Rhaenyra being denied the throne doesn't mean much for the average Westerosi woman, but civil wars caused by an unstable succession can make everyone's lives demonstrably worse.

#asks #sharon k penman #alicent hightower #team green #hotd critical #westerosi women

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 28 days ago

Text

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 3

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Words: ~4,600

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Humor, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Coming of Age, Body Image, High School Drama

The dim light of the Undercroft flickered against the cracked stone walls, the faint hum of bass vibrating in Sebastian’s earbuds. He lounged in his usual spot in the corner, legs stretched out, his wand twirling lazily in his hand. His phone sat face down next to him, mercifully silent. One of the things he loved most about the Undercroft was the lack of reception. No texts, no calls—just uninterrupted solitude.

Well, almost quiet.

A flick of his wand sent another crate hurtling into the far wall, shattering into a satisfying spray of splinters. The rhythmic destruction synced perfectly with the music pounding in his ears. It should’ve been enough to drown out his thoughts, but it wasn’t working.

Instead, his mind kept drifting back to you.

The duel on Monday had been humiliating. He could still hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd when his wand shot from his hand, spinning uselessly though the air and into your outstretched palm. Your expression had been cool, composed—barely a flicker of triumph as you delivered the finishing blow. The fact that you hadn’t gloated afterward made it worse somehow. It wasn’t the sting of defeat that lingered—it was the way you’d stared him down, steady and unapologetic, like beating him had been nothing more than a formality.

He’d been stewing about for days, but the duel wasn’t the only thing that had gotten under his skin.

All damn week you'd been sparring with him—not physically, though he half-wished you had been, just so he’d have an excuse to throw hexes at the smug look on your stupid pretty face. No, it had been verbal sparring, your sharp wit matching his with unnerving precision.

Tuesday, in Potions, he’d made some quip about "ridiculous Beauxbatons standards" when you corrected his stirring technique. Without missing a beat, you’d shot back with a cutting remark about Hogwarts’ apparent leniency in admitting mediocre students.

Wednesday, in Charms, he’d tried needling you again, deliberately taking the spot next to you during a group exercise. His comments had been just loud enough for you to hear, pointed barbs about your "sloppy wandwork". You’d turned to him, your wand poised mid-spell and said, “Coming from the boy whose technique has all the grace of a troll with a toothache? That’s rich.”

And then there was yesterday. Defense Against the Dark Arts. You walked into class wearing that perfectly polished uniform of yours, your crisp white shirt tucked just so, and your tie knotted with what looked like effortless precision. And when Sebastian had muttered something under his breath about Beauxbatons students being “all style and no substance,” you immediately shot back with “Better to have style than to make mediocrity my trademark.” The corner of your mouth had twitched upward, barely perceptible, but it was enough to set his teeth on edge.

And Merlin help him, the attention you were getting from other guys wasn’t helping. He’d watched Everett Clopton linger a little too long at your table in the library on Wednesday, leaning over your shoulder to point at something in your notes. And then there was Arthur Plummly, with his dopey grin and penchant for rambling, who had somehow managed to get you to laugh—really laugh—at one of his terrible jokes in the Great Hall on Thursday.

But the worst of them, by far, was Leander, who had a knack for showing up just when Sebastian didn’t want him to. Like this morning in the courtyard, when Leander had sidled up to you with his usual infuriating confidence, leaning just a little too close as he spoke. Sebastian hadn’t caught the conversation, but he’d seen the faint smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head as you listened. And when Leander had reached out, brushing a stray thread from your shoulder, Sebastian’s jaw had clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack.

A fresh wave of irritation surged through him at the memory, and he flicked his wrist again, sending a stack of books tumbling off the table with a dull thud.

The sound of footsteps approaching cut through the music in his ears, faint but unmistakable against the stone floor. Sebastian sighed, tugging out one of his earbuds. Only one person walked like that, with those annoyingly measured, deliberate steps.

“Not now, Ominis," Sebastian muttered.

“I wasn’t aware I needed an appointment,” Ominis said dryly, his voice cutting through the music. He stopped a few feet away, leaning against the wall as he tilted his head toward Sebastian. “Though judging by the state of this place, I’d say you need more than just an appointment. You need an intervention.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, slumping further into his chair. “What do you want?”

“To talk about your behavior,” Ominis snapped, his pale eyes narrowing. “Specifically, toward her.”

Sebastian tensed but kept his expression neutral. “I’ve been fine.”

Ominis let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Fine? Really? Do we need to go over all the shit you pulled this week or can we stop pretending you’ve been fine?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Ominis snapped. “The only time you’ve been remotely civil was when you invited her to Crossed Wands, and since she hasn’t shown up, you’ve been absolutely unbearable.”

“It's not like she’s completely innocent,” Sebastian said defensively. "She gives as good as she gets."

Ominis tilted his head, his pale eyes narrowing in a way that made Sebastian shift uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s only defending herself because you’re going out of your way to provoke her. And everyone’s noticed.”

Sebastian’s scowl deepened. “Everyone?”

“Don't play dumb,” Ominis said coldly. “The entire castle is whispering about how the 'great Sebastian Sallow' can’t seem to keep her name out of his mouth. People are starting to think all your jabs and sneers are just your way of hiding the fact that you fancy her."

Sebastian’s head snapped up. “Fancy her?” He let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Why?” Ominis pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Because she’s not one of those vapid cheerleaders you usually chase after?”

Sebastian’s grip on his wand tightened, his knuckles white. “Don’t be thick, Ominis,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “I’m not into… bigger girls.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. They tasted bitter, like bile rising in his throat, and they felt wrong—so wrong. But it was out there now, hanging in the air between them, and he couldn’t unsay it.

But Ominis didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He simply tilted his head, his expression carefully neutral in a way that made Sebastian’s skin crawl. “Liar,” Ominis said softly.

Sebastian bristled, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the floor in front of him. “I’m not lying,” he shot back, though the words came out hollow and weak.

Ominis snorted, the sound filled with disbelief. “You are. And for what? Because you’re embarrassed?

Sebastian flinched, his jaw clenching as Ominis’s words struck a nerve. “Drop it, Ominis,” he muttered, his voice low and warning.

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but clearly unimpressed. “You've been staring at her all week. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

Sebastian scoffed, leaning back in his chair as though he could physically distance himself from the conversation. “I wasn’t staring.”

Ominis’s lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smirk. “You were.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Even if I was staring, which I’m not, it doesn’t mean anything. She’s infuriating and entirely too full of herself, and she’s just… she’s annoying.”

Ominis tilted his head slightly, his pale eyes narrowing with an almost predatory sharpness, as though he was dissecting every syllable. “You mean she’s strong, talented, and doesn’t put up with your nonsense? Yes, I can see how that would bother you.”

Sebastian shot him a withering look. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I don’t need to twist them,” Ominis replied smoothly. “You’re doing a fine job of tying yourself into knots all on your own.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from his chair in one fluid motion. He began pacing the length of the Undercroft, his wand twirling absently between his fingers. “She doesn’t act like anyone else here. She doesn’t belong.”

“Doesn’t act like anyone else?” Ominis repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Ahhh. I understand now."

Sebastian froze mid-step, turning to glare at him. “Understand what?”

Ominis’s smirk was faint but unmistakable. “Why she’s gotten so deeply under your skin.”

Sebastian scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s what you meant,” Ominis said, his tone maddeningly calm. “You can’t stand that she’s not fawning over you, not bending to your charm or playing your games—it bothers you.”

Sebastian groaned, raking both hands through his hair as he resumed pacing. “That’s not it. She’s just... She’s so bloody arrogant! Every time she opens her mouth, it’s like she’s trying to one-up me.” He stopped pacing, gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white. “And what does it matter if I looked at her once or twice? She was probably doing something stupid.”

Ominis folded his arms across his chest as though settling in for a particularly amusing show. “Once or twice? Please, Sebastian. You’ve been watching her like a hawk. It’s a wonder you don’t walk into walls.”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, a rare heat rising to the surface that he couldn’t quite suppress. “I have not—”

“You have,” Ominis interrupted, his tone clipped but unrelentingly calm. “And you act like a complete idiot every time she’s around. It doesn’t take a genius to see what’s happening."

Sebastian hated this. Hated how easily Ominis could dismantle him with a few well-placed words. Hated how his friend’s sharp intuition made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he didn’t know how to handle. But most of all, he hated how much truth there was in what Ominis was saying.

“Are you done psychoanalyzing me?” Sebastian snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ominis chuckled softly, his head tilting. “Not quite. I find this whole thing fascinating. In all the years I’ve known you, I can’t recall a single time a girl’s managed to live rent-free in your head like this.”

“She’s not living rent-free in my head,” Sebastian shot back, his voice a little too loud to be convincing.

Ominis straightened slightly, his expression shifting from teasing to mock-serious. “What happened to all that practiced charm, Sebastian? The smooth lines, the effortless charisma? It's like you’ve reverted to the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old. Being mean to the girl you like? Really? How utterly... unevolved.”

“For fuck's sake, Ominis, I don’t like her,” Sebastian ground out, his voice tight.

Ominis arched an eyebrow. “You’re right. You don’t like her—you’re obsessed with her.”

Sebastian froze, his jaw tightening as he tried to come up with a retort. But nothing came.

Ominis chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Well, as entertaining as this little therapy session has been, I didn’t come down here just to help you sort out your love life.”

Sebastian shot him a glare, his expression hardening. “Good, because I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly,” Ominis replied dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “But no, I’m here because the rest of us are heading to The Three Broomsticks for dinner. I came to collect you.”

Sebastian paused mid-step, his brow furrowing as he mulled over the invitation. His first instinct was to refuse—he wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with Imelda’s endless teasing or Garreth’s over-the-top antics. But something stopped him, a faint flicker of curiosity gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Is… she going?” he asked, his voice almost hesitant.

Ominis’s smirk deepened, and though his pale eyes couldn’t see the way Sebastian stiffened, his tone was sharp with amusement. “Chouette? Yes, of course she’s coming. Imelda invited her, naturally.”

Sebastian groaned internally, running a hand through his hair as he weighed his options. It wasn’t as if he could avoid you forever. Still, the thought of sitting across from you, your sharp tongue ready to cut him down if he stepped out of line, made him hesitate.

“Well?” Ominis prompted, tilting his head. “Are you coming, or should I tell them you’re busy sulking?”

Sebastian scowled. “I’m not sulking.”

“Of course not,” Ominis said, his smirk widening. “You’re just… reflecting.”

With a long, reluctant sigh, Sebastian flicked his wand toward the scattered debris in the room, muttering a spell to tidy up the splinters and books he’d strewn about. “Fine,” he said, his tone sharp. “But if you so much as breathe a word about this conversation to anyone, I’ll hex you into oblivion.”

Ominis held up his hands in mock surrender, his expression impossibly smug. “Not a problem. Now come on."

Sebastian followed Ominis out of the Undercroft. The conversation they’d just had lingered like an annoying itch in the back of Sebastian’s mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the growing din of chatter and footsteps as students made their way out of the castle toward Hogsmeade.

Ominis walked ahead with his usual effortless grace, his posture straight and composed. Sebastian’s gaze drifted to his friend’s outfit, a navy button-down tucked neatly into dark slacks. There was always an effortless elegance to Ominis—an innate sense of poise and precision that Sebastian had long since given up trying to emulate.

He frowned, glancing down at his own attire—grey sweatpants that were just a bit too loose around the waist, paired with a faded Joy Division T-shirt. His sneakers, scuffed from countless treks across the grounds, completed the look—or rather, the lack of one.

He grimaced.

“Something wrong?” Ominis asked, his voice light with amusement.

Sebastian straightened, forcing an air of nonchalance. “No,” he said flatly. "Just wondering why you’re trying to make the rest of us look bad.”

Ominis turned his head slightly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s called making an effort, Sebastian. You might want to try it sometime.”

Sebastian grunted in response, shoving his hands into his pockets as they descended the steps leading to the main entrance. A few groups of students passed by, their laughter filling the air. His mind wandered back to you, as it frustratingly had a habit of doing lately. He remembered your sharp eyes flicking over his Smiths tee that first night, your smirk as cutting as your remark about him trying to look “deep and brooding.” He was sure you'd have another comment lined up when you saw him this time.

Soon enough, the Three Broomsticks loomed ahead, its windows glowing invitingly. The muffled sounds of lively conversation spilled out each time the door opened, and Sebastian could already make out Imelda’s laugh among the crowd.

Ominis slowed his pace, turning his head slightly toward Sebastian. “Try not to make a scene,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’ve already given everyone enough to talk about this week.”

Sebastian bristled but nodded, biting back a sarcastic comment.

As they stepped inside, the familiar scent of butterbeer and roasted food filled the air. Sebastian’s gaze swept the room, quickly landing on the group’s usual corner table. Imelda, Garreth, and the others were already there, and—

You.

You were leaning forward on your elbows, laughing softly with Garreth, your voice cutting through the warm hum of the pub. Gone was the Beauxbatons poise he was used to seeing—your usual immaculate look now replaced by something entirely different.

You were wearing an oversized band tee—The Cure, he realized with a jolt—and black jeans that hugged your figure in all the right ways, making it impossible for him to look away, even though he damn well tried. Scuffed sneakers tapped in time with the music that thumped through the pub.

And then you pushed up the sleeves of your shirt, casually exposing the tattoos inked along your forearms. Sharp, intricate lines traced the length of your skin, telling stories he couldn’t quite piece together but wanted to know. The sight sent a jolt through him, his stomach flipping in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely. Of course. Of course, you’d have tattoos. Of course, your style would mirror his own, as if you’d stepped straight out of a reflection of everything he liked.

“You’re blocking the doorway," Ominis’s voice broke through his thoughts, dry and pointed.

Sebastian blinked, realizing he’d stopped dead just inside the entrance. He cleared his throat and stepped aside, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to compose himself.

“You're acting like she's sprouted a second head,” Ominis chuckled as they made their way toward the table.

Sebastian shot him a glare but didn’t respond.

As they neared the group, Imelda glanced up first, her grin wicked. “Well, look who decided to show up. What took you so long, Sallow? Still licking your wounds from that duel on Monday?”

“Good to see you too, Reyes,” Sebastian quipped, finding a place at the far end of the table—conveniently as far away from you as possible. He busied himself by grabbing a menu, using it as a shield to block out the sight of you.

“Hello, Sallow,” came a voice from across the table. Sebastian glanced around the menu to find Leander smirking at him, pint of beer already in hand. “Fancy a drink?”

The tension was immediately palpable, a charged undercurrent that neither bothered to mask.

Their rivalry wasn’t new.

Sebastian and Leander were opposites in style but equals in presence, two sides of the same coin. Fire and Ice. Sebastian, Slytherin's star Quidditch Beater and school dueling champion, with his rumpled style and sharp edges. Leander, polished and preppy, the Summoner’s Court star, always impeccably dressed and composed. And to each other's chagrin, both knew how to charm their way into hearts and, more often, beds. It was an unspoken game between them, a constant measuring of egos and victories.

Sebastian hesitated for a moment before nodding, dropping the menu and leaning over as Leander slid an extra pint his way. “Why not?” he muttered, taking the glass and letting the cold condensation cool his fingers.

Leander took a swig of his beer, his smirk widening as he leaned in conspiratorially. “So,” he started, his tone already suggesting trouble. “What’s the deal with you two?”

Sebastian tensed, immediately knowing who Leander was referring to but feigning ignorance. “Who?”

Leander gestured subtly with his head toward your end of the table, where you were chatting with Garreth and Imelda, your laughter carrying lightly over the ambient noise of the pub. “Chouette.”

“There’s no deal,” Sebastian replied flatly, taking a sip from his pint. “Why?”

Leander raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You’ve been staring at her all week like she’s a bomb you’re trying to defuse.”

Sebastian’s grip on his glass tightened slightly, but he forced a casual smirk. “You’re imagining things.”

“Right,” Leander drawled, dragging out the word. “Well, if there’s nothing going on, I might just try my luck.”

Sebastian’s jaw twitched and Leander’s grin turned sly, his pint dangling lazily from his fingertips. “Doesn’t seem like your usual type, anyway, does she? You’ve always gone for the willowy ones.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But Merlin’s beard, Sallow. That figure? The tattoos? The piercings? Sexy as hell.” He tilted his head, the grin widening. “And sharp as a whip, too. She doesn’t take your shit for a second, does she?”

Sebastian’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles whitening slightly. He took a deliberately long sip, the bitterness of the beer doing little to mask the irritation curling in his chest.

Leander seemed to pick up on the subtle shift in Sebastian’s demeanor and leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Tell you what,” he said, his grin turning sharper. “How about a little wager? Fifty Galleons. First one to bed her wins. No harm done—it’s her choice anyway, isn’t it?”

Sebastian stiffened, though he shouldn’t have been surprised by Leander’s proposition—after all, their reputations certainly didn’t put them far above such things.

But even for Sebastian, there were lines he didn't cross. And something about the way Leander framed it—reducing you to nothing more than a prize to be won—felt wrong. Low. But that sting of pride, that unwelcome prick to his ego at the thought of letting Leander bloody Prewett swoop in unchallenged, was hard to ignore. So instead of declining, he leaned back, smirking faintly, falling back into the role everyone expected him to play.

“Fifty Galleons, huh?” he said, his tone light, almost amused. “You’re on.”

Leander grinned, thrusting out a hand. “Shake on it?”

Sebastian hesitated for half a heartbeat before extending his own hand, gripping Leander’s firmly. “Deal.”

The shake lasted only a moment, but as Sebastian pulled back, a flicker of regret twisted in his chest. If you ever found out about this, you’d probably hex them both where they stood.

But his pride wouldn’t let him back down. And besides, it wasn’t like anything would come of it. Right?

Sebastian barely had a moment to process the knot of unease in his chest before Imelda’s voice rang out, sharp and teasing.

“Oi, Sallow,” Imelda called from down the table, her tone carrying that trademark teasing lilt. “Let me guess—another edgy thrift store find?”

Sebastian blinked, momentarily thrown off. He glanced at her, then followed her gaze to his shirt, the faded logo emblazoned across the chest. His smirk flickered back into place. “Jealous, Reyes?”

Imelda rolled her eyes, turning toward you. “Chouette, what do you think? Does our dear Sebastian look like he’s auditioning for a muggle garage band, or is this more ‘serious artist’ territory?”

All eyes turned to you, and for a fleeting moment, Sebastian braced himself. You could easily take Imelda’s bait, throw a scathing remark his way, and earn another round of laughter at his expense. But instead, your expression softened slightly, and you gave a casual shrug.

“I mean,” you said with a casual shrug, gesturing to your own outfit, “we’re basically wearing the same thing, aren’t we? Not like I’ve got room to judge.”

The group stilled briefly, the surprise palpable. Even Sebastian blinked, caught completely off guard by your measured response.

You continued, your tone edged with self-awareness. “I shouldn’t have sunk to his level with those comments I made before—that was petty. It’s not like I’m the authority what people can or can’t wear… even if my read on Sebastian’s absolutely dazzling personality was spot on.”

The table erupted in laughter and Sebastian’s lips twitched, caught between a scowl and a reluctant smile. You hadn’t gone for the easy dig, but you’d still managed to keep your edge intact. It was infuriating. And impressive. Like you’d gotten the better of him again without even trying.

Garreth leaned forward, gesturing toward Sebastian with his pint. “In his defense,” he said, “he does actually listen to the bands on his shirts. Big muggle music fan. It’s honestly kind of annoying—he zones out completely with his earbuds in and taps his quill like mad when we’re trying to study in the library.”

The group chuckled, and Sebastian smirked, clearly unbothered. He raised his pint in a toast to Garreth. “Always nice to have a character witness, Weasley.”

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes sharpening with curiosity as you turned toward Sebastian. “What’s your favorite song right now?”

He blinked, the earnest question catching him off guard. He set his pint down as he considered you for a moment. “Uh... maybe 505 by the Arctic Monkeys.”

Your eyebrows lifted, and then you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re like a 2014 Tumblr girl.”

Sebastian frowned, his confusion evident. “A what?”

Realizing your slip, you hesitated, your cheeks flushing slightly. “Never mind,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to brush it off. “I grew up with a muggle mum, so I guess it’s… it’s one of those references that doesn’t really translate.”

Poppy perked up, leaning forward with interest. “What’s Tumblr?”

You sighed, clearly debating how much to explain. “It’s… kind of like a chaotic... online scrapbook,” you said, your tone sheepish. “Back in 2014, it was all about indie bands, angsty quotes, and aesthetics. The Arctic Monkeys were a big deal on there. So were flower crowns, oddly enough.”

Sebastian leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So maybe my taste isn’t so questionable after all.”

Before you could answer, proprietress of the Three Broomsticks, Sirona Ryan, swept over to the table. "Evening, folks. Same as usual for most of you, or are we branching out tonight?"

The group quickly ordered, everyone going for their favorite pub classics from shepherd’s pie and beef stew to fish and chips. All the while, Sirona nodded along, her quill scratching against the notepad. Then her gaze shifted to you, her smile softening. “Ah. There's a face I haven't seen before. What can I get you?”

Sebastian glanced up at you instinctively, watching as you smiled politely at Sirona, your tone light. “Just a house salad, please."

A salad? While everyone else was diving headfirst into comfort food? Sebastian didn’t say anything, but the choice stuck with him, a faint itch at the back of his mind.

Garreth leaned across the table, his grin sharp. “Fancy a game of darts, Sallow? Or are you scared to lose?”

Sebastian smirked, grateful for the distraction. “To you? Not a chance.” He stood and followed Garreth to the dartboard, grabbing a set of darts as the rest of the group’s chatter faded into the background.

He lined up his first shot, locking onto the bullseye. Darts was his game—Garreth was usually no competition. Tonight should’ve been no different.

But as he drew back his arm, his eyes flicked to the table.

You were laughing at something Imelda said, your shoulders shaking, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. The warm light highlighted the numerous silver rings and studs lining your ears, the strands of hair framing your face. You looked... disarmingly perfect.

His rhythm faltered and the dart veered wide, hitting the board with a weak thunk far from its target.

Garreth burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “Merlin’s beard! Did you forget how to aim?”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, grabbing another dart.

He refocused, narrowing his gaze on the bullseye. Focus. Just throw.

Then you stretched casually, arms over your head, the hem of your band tee lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. His hand twitched, and the dart flew early, landing on the edge of the board.

Garreth howled, slapping the wall. “What is going on with you? Are you trying to throw the game?”

“I’m just warming up,” Sebastian snapped, his ears burning. He grabbed his final dart, determined to salvage what was left of his pride.

Garreth stepped back, smirking. “Sure, mate.”

Sebastian lined up, blocking out the noise. Just throw the damn dart. But as he prepared to release, you glanced his way, your curious expression sending his nerves spiraling.

The dart hit the board—barely—scoring a handful of points.

Garreth clapped him on the back, grinning. “Losing your edge, Sallow.”

Sebastian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, scowling. “Just finish your turn.”

Garreth, unbothered, hit near-perfect throws, finishing with a triumphant smirk. “Better luck next time, mate.”

Sebastian waved him off, muttering about distractions, but the truth gnawed at him. It wasn’t Garreth, the noise, or even the game.

It was you.

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