#edited to add sparkles and fix colours

[trash-gobby]

Summary: Getting sick of being stuck inside over the summer Steve allows Robin to rope him into hanging out with the gang at the Hawkins Community Pool. There he contends with chaotic yet oddly compelling recent addition to their ever expanding group, Eddie Munson.

A/N: This isn't the edited version so I will be going back later and fixing things after getting back from vacation. So bear with my mistakes and feel free to let me know where I can improve :D

The ending is pretty abrupt, but I probably will edit it once I get back from vacation to add more detail. I just really wanted to get this little fluffy story out there this month while it was still summer. Please let me know what your thoughts are in comments and if you want to see me write more stuff like this in the future! Hope you enjoyed :D

Word Count: 7.7K

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson X Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Nancy Wheeler, Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Will Byers, Jane "Eleven" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair

Link: Stranger Things

Steve Harrington POV, Robin Buckley POV

⚠️ Warnings!: Very brief and not detailed mentions of bullying

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It had been a long summer punctuated by even longer bouts of blistering heat. It felt like the world had turned into one big oven to the town of Hawkins. An oven which was as humid as it was sunburn inducing. Many of the residents were parked either in front of a fan, air conditioning, or under the shade of an umbrella with a tall cool glass of lemonade.

In the wake of this heatwave the most popular option for the young adults, teens, and families of the town was the community pool. It provided at once a perfect social watering hole and at the same time a full proof way to cool off. 

Its sparkling chlorine coloured surface was a temptation which couldn’t be resisted by even the most timid of potential swimmers. Kids in bright neon water wings were being helped by their older siblings or parents in their process of learning to swim on their own. Their sunscreen slathered faces plastered with expressions of apprehension or excitement.

The older kids would take turns dunking each other under the water and trying to spray water in each other’s faces while hawklike lifeguards kitted out in their red tank tops and short-shorts. There would be periodic whistle blowing and stern glances when the rowdier of the groups of youths took things a step too far.

The past summer Hawkins community had managed to invest enough money in order to set up a poolside snack bar. There they served all the amenities for the summer season; jumbo hotdogs which you could douse in condiments to your heart's content, all different flavors of soda and juice, buckets full of ice cream that would sell like hot cakes, and even anything you could humanly manage to deep fry. The perfect greasy calorie fillers to gorge upon lying under blankets on the plastic foldout beach chairs before falling into a food coma. Listening to the slapping of feet on the beige concret of the poolside and splashing of swimmers.

Shading his eyes with his hands as he walked out of the changing room, Steve took in all the atmosphere of the bustling community pool. He’d been egged on by Robin to come along with the rest of the gang instead of staying home in his room with the AC turned all the way up. It was a much more pleasant prospect to be out with everyone instead of being stuck staring at the same four off-white walls.

So, here he was. All decked out in maroon short swimming trunks, towel slung over his shoulders lazily, with a pair of raybans to protect his eyes from the penetrating sunlight.

He wanted to kick himself for forgetting to bring a water bottle in his hurry to pick Robin up from her shift at work. The last thing he needed was to buy the overpriced drinks from the snack bar. 

Scanning the area Steve noticed some familiar faces by the poolside. Max and El were sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dipped in the cool water chatting away. Their hair partially dry from the chlorinated pool water. 

Not far off in the water were three of the other members of their little group. Lucas, Mike and Will were splashing about in the water, playing what looked like a very improvised version of water polo. It seemed like they were trying to find an excuse to nail each other with water rather then scoring any kind of goals.

Steve noticed where they’d made their little camp with their beach towels draped over chairs.

For a moment he hesitated, wondering if perhaps he should wait for Robin who was still in the changing room, but ultimately decided it would be smarter to score some chairs for both of them. From what he could see, there weren’t that many left. The joint was jumping, so he’d better move fast.

There were two that he could see far off on the other side of the pool that he was sure he could handle dragging over to the others on his own.

Taking one last look over to the women’s changing room door on the off-chance that Robin would materialize, Steve sighed and started his way around the large ovular shape of the pool to the unoccupied chairs.

The coarse concrete texture rubbed against his feet as he dodged around a couple of kids who’d decided it was smart to start chasing each other. It was a near miss which ended with one of the lifeguards blowing his whistle aggressively and calling out for them to stop running.

Kids being kids, they simply slowed down to a fast walk and giggled to each other as if the lifeguards warning was a small joke and not a threat which could end with them being kicked out of the pool.

It reminded him of an easier time before the madness and unpredictable events that had unfolded in his senior year. He’d flown through adolescence with an unflappable sense of who he was and what he wanted out of life.

He’d thought he was the picture perfect archetype of the star athlete, the winning golden boy who always gets the girl. And he had gotten the girl, and lost her.

The whole process had thrown him out of his comfortable headspace, causing him to step back and think. Steve was able to consider the kind of person he was, the kind of man he wanted to become. Becoming a surrogate parent to a bunch of tweens was not something he’d expected.

That thought caused to instinctively look back over to the group he’d become too accustomed to over the past three years. He couldn’t have asked for a stranger yet cool group of kids to have ended up babysitting unintentionally. He still hadn’t spotted Dustin, making a mental note to catch up with him when they eventually ran into each other.

Picking up the pace and turning back to face his target of the chairs, Steve found himself colliding with someone. 

The person he’d run into jumped back and Steve’s eyes locked onto their own, a deep dark brown glittering with energy.

Immediately Steve felt his stomach flip-flop in a way he couldn’t really explain.

“Jeez Harrington your in a hurry,” Eddie Munson chuckled. He was the most recent addition to their seemingly ever expanding circle of friends. Steve took in his comical hawaiian style shirt which was completely unbuttoned to reveal the pale sunscreen lathered skin underneath and dark swim trunks. Appropriate attire for the environment which they were both in. 

Steve found his eyes lingering longer than they should have on the body of the other man, looking away feeling a slight flush of heat reaching his cheeks.

At first Steve had been unsure of how to feel about Eddie, with his wild and unpredictable nature, his eccentricities and charisma that lead him to be targeted by the Hawkins residents. From the wild accusations which were being thrown around, he didn't know what to expect when first meeting the guy.

Knowing that he was one of the people Dustin respected most had made Steve even feel a bit intimidated by him. A part of him still did, but for reasons he felt had changed. It felt silly, there was no reason to feel intimidated or insecure like he did now around someone like Eddie Munson.

“Hey, sorry man I didn’t see you,” breaking eye contact, Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“I noticed,” there was a pause right after Eddie stated this where in which Steve wrestled to figure out what to say next. 

He couldn’t figure out why he always felt tongue-tied around the other man. He hadn’t had this issue with any of the other guys before, he’d always been able to find something to say.

“Yeah, uh, Robin told me you guys were gonna be down here and asked if I wanted  to join. And I thought, how could I resist the temptation of seeing Dustin attempt to pass the deep end test.” Ah, yes, Robin. Steve was kicking himself for not seeing this plan sooner.

She’d been giving him sly looks and making comments about him and Eddie since she’d caught on to his often flustered behavior around him. She’d kept inviting him to hang around for what Steve assumed was her own cruel amusement at watching him suffer while Eddie would chat away.

“Right. That makes sense. Umm, I was just getting chairs.” Steve replied, pointing over to the still unoccupied seats just a couple steps away.

Eddie looked over his shoulder, allowing Steve to look back over, finding himself drawn to the comical way in which he'd attempted to apply the sunscreen to his face. There were still clear white streaks around his nose, and some along the area of his chin.

Adorable. He thought to himself, chuckling a little. No he can't say adorable can he? That's weird, right? It's not weird to think Eddie looks adorable. He'd definitely found some of Robin's attempts of flirting with Nancy adorable. So this counts as something like that.

"Something funny?" Eddie was looking at him again, an eyebrow quirked in a slightly bemused manner.

"No, no, just remembered something funny." Steve tried to recover from the awkwardness which he was clearly injecting into this interaction.

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime. However, if you still want to grab those chairs we need to move now. I spot a couple who's about to snatch them up." Eddie was correct. Steve spotted a couple who were beelining it towards the unoccupied seats, swim bags in hand.

"Right, your right," Steve was happy to have a brief reprieve from the awkwardness of the conversation as he and Eddie moved quickly to grab each of the chairs. 

They were quite light so he was able to grab one and hold it with one arm no problems. Eddie however had opted for the much stranger and, well.. Eddie-like approach of holding the thing over his head like it was a trophy he'd just won in a sports match.

"What?" He asked, smiling at Steve with one of those wild and engaging smiles of his.

"Aren't your arms going to get tired doing that?" Steve said, pointing to the chair.

"Look, I know these pool noodles I have attached to me don't look like they could lift even ten pounds, but I'm not as weak as you think." He punctuated this by starting to rise the chair up and down as if lifting a weight above his head comically exaggerating the action. Typical.

"Alright man, do you want to get these over where there are some umbrella's. I could use some shade," Steve looked over to an area with an open enough space under some umbrella's. Close enough to the others that he could say hi, but far enough that it didn't look like he was hanging around with a bunch of kids for the whole day.

"Sounds like a plan." Eddie replied before starting alongside Steve on their way over to the empty spot in the shade.

Steve looked at Eddie out of the corner of his eye as they walked side by side in silence. He desperately wanted to find something to talk about, anything to fill the silence.

"Have you seen Dustin? I didn't see him with the others," Steve asked, finally finding something to fill the silence.

"Yeah, he's getting some grub for us, at least I hope he is. The line is kinda slow right now," looking over, Steve spotted the familiar curly head of hair under a baseball cap which marked Dustin out from the crowd of people in line. He was near the front, but it looked like the older man at the front of the line was taking his time to decide what he wanted to pick out.

“Yeah, you might have a bit of a wait. Do you think you're gonna go in for a bit before he gets back? Work up an appetite.” Steve suggested looking over at Eddie. His carefree typical expression faded a little at the edges as Steve asked him this.

“Umm, ha, you see... I’m not that much of a swimmer,” Eddie admitted as they finally reached their shady destination.

“Really? You seemed good enough back when we had to go through that tear in the lake caused by Vecna.” Placing down the chair, Steve sat on the edge looking up at him.

“That was a life or death situation. I think I was just going off of instinct, not really taking in what I was doing,” Eddie placed the other chair alongside Steve's before sitting down.

"I really suck at swimming honestly. I sink like a rock whenever I get into any kind of water. It’s really freaky man. It totally wigs me out." There was a genuine tinge of fear to his voice, as Steve studied the other man's face. 

Looking far off as if he is recalling the horrific experiences on that little lake which made him afraid to try diving back into the water again. He had been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as he explained himself.

"So you came to a pool, to sit in the shade wearing swimwear and not go swimming?" Steve probed further.

"Well, I might hang out in the shallow end, I don't have to actually swim to enjoy the pool," Eddie said begrudgingly to this line of questioning.

"So, you don't want to learn how to swim at all? Just spend your whole time hanging around in the kiddie end of the pool?" chuckling lightly, Steve could see a bit of pinkness starting to spread along Eddie's cheeks. What he didn't expect was what the man would say next.

"Why don't you teach me then Steve? Why don't you show me how to swim?" There was that mischievous grin again, with an edge of challenge in his tone.

Now it was Steve's turn to blush. He could feel his cheeks getting hot slowly. Why was this happening to him? It wasn't like helping a friend out with something like learning to swim was weird. Friends did that all the time for each other right?

Eyes scanning the crowd Steve spotted Dustin making his way over with two large drinks and a tray of fatty foods balanced in his arms. A precarious system in which anything could fall at any second, his face twisted into an expression of deep focus.

This gave Steve something else to focus on as he rose from his seat to help the boy before he dropped everything on the concrete poolside. Hurrying up to him, Steve saw the boy's focus turn to him for a second, cracking a wide grin. "Steve! I wasn't sure you were coming."

"Well, here I am," the older man said, carefully taking the tray from where Dustin had precariously balanced it on his arms. It was jam packed with chili cheese fries and jumbo hot dogs with a very excessive amount of condiments spread on them.

"I don't think you have enough relish," Steve joked, causing Dustin to chuckle slightly as the two of them started to make their way back over to the still seated Eddie.

He was leaning forward with his chin perched on his hand, watching them as they made their way over. He seemed more relaxed now that Dustin was there. The young boy had always been a breath of fresh air, someone who could always keep the status quo between everyone. A peacemaker.

"Here's your coke," Dustin said as he handed Eddie the large glass cola bottle. The condensation of droplets on the surface showing how cool it likely felt in his hand.

The craving to get his own cold drink was starting to overcome him. Looking back over his shoulder at the lineup, he could see that it had only ended up getting longer, with Lucas and Will now also waiting to get something greasy to eat and thirst quenching to drink.

Steve placed the large tray of food between the two deck chairs, making sure to keep it out of where the plastic of the tray would be in direct sunlight. Although Steve was pretty sure it wouldn't melt, considering how cheap and flimsy it was, he didn't want to take his chances.

"So, what have you guys been up to?" Dustin took Steve's seat in one of the deck chairs, leaving him standing before them, sun beaming down hotly on his back.

"Eddie was telling me about how he doesn't know how to swim, and yet he still decided to come to the pool," Steve chuckled before noticing Dustin looking over to Eddie incredulously.

"Eddie ca-" cutting Dustin off mid-sentence, Eddie hopped out of his chair, scraping it loudly against the concrete. "Yeah, Steve-o here is gonna show me the ropes."

Moving to stand next to Steve, he slung one of his around the younger man's shoulders playfully. "He's gonna make sure I keep my head above the water."

"Right..." Looking between the two men, Dustin had an expression of skepticism. Steve would have paid more attention to the way the boy was examining this little exchange if he wasn't already focused on the feel of Eddie's bare arm against the skin of his shoulders and neck.

Warmed by the heat, and smooth against his own skin, Steve could feel the way Eddie's fingers danced over his upper arm, playing a rhythm that only he could hear. All he could do was stand there and feel this, for a moment. It was as if this sudden contact had fried his ability to say anything.

Trying to come up with what to even say next, he saved the trouble. Finally popping out of nowhere, was Robin, clad in a baseball cap which looked like had seen better days and a comfortable one-piece she'd had leftover from when she'd been a part of the Hawkins swim club.

She had the hindsight to actually bring a water bottle with her to keep hydrated along with her towel which was folded under her arm.

"Am I interrupting something? What are you guys talking about?" She seemed amused looking at Steve and Eddie in the way she always did when she saw them together.

"We were just discussing how Eddie can't swim apparently," Dustin said in what sounded to Steve, like a possibly sarcastic tone. But he wasn't sure, for all he knew it was the heat getting to him before he'd gotten the chance to cool off in the water.

"Really. I had no idea you couldn't swim," Robin, looking over to Eddie, her eyebrow quivering in questioning amusement.

"Well, you know, we all have our shortcomings. Anyway Steve and I should get into the water. Isn't that right Steve?" Finally letting go of his shoulders and taking Steve's towel into his arms, throwing it onto his unoccupied seat. Eddie then proceeded to take off the shirt he'd been wearing.

"What about your hotdog man? the buns are gonna get soggy." Dustin  asked. At this Eddie walked over, placed the shirt on the chair and picked up Steve assumed to be his hotdog, taking a massive bite before placing it back down in the little paper holder it had been in. 

"Shee, I hag hawth," the older man stated while fighting to chew the large dog he'd just about horked down half of. It would have been impressive if it didn't look so gross with his open-mouth chewing.

"Charming," Robin placed her towel on the same chair Eddie had thrown his before sitting down and stealing one of the fries from its carton.

"Show, awh we gonna do his or nawt," Eddie turned to Steve. The corners of his mouth smeared with a ketchup, mustard and relish combo.

"What? I can't understand what you're saying," Steve chuckled at this odd display. The other man held up a finger as if to tell him to wait a moment while he took his time to finish chewing.

"What I was trying to say was, are we gonna do this thing?" He said after swallowing the last bit of dog down.

It was quite the display, but somehow Eddie made quick work of it. Steve was concerned that perhaps he would end up giving himself a stomach ache before they'd even done any real swimming. "I guess. Let's start in the shallow end and practice there."

“Great! Let’s do it.” Bringing his hand down heavily on Steve’s shoulder, Eddie guided him along to one of the pool ladders.

First down the ladder Steve lowered himself quickly in order to adjust to the sudden cool water. Goosebumps rising on his skin, and a shiver running up his spine, he lowered his head and plugged his nose before ducking under the water in order to adjust to the temperature.

It was cold as it always was in the Hawkins Community pool, but in this heat wave it was a godsend. It also worked well to clear Steve’s head. He was really doing this. Spending time with Eddie one-on-one, teaching him to swim. It made his stomach flip in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d snuck into Nancy’s room at night to study with her a couple years back.

God why was he like this? Where was this coming from? He’d never felt this way about anyone but Nancy, and wasn’t it weird this feeling was coming up around another guy he’d only just started noticing the existence of this last year? Wasn’t it weird these feelings were for a guy at all?

He didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about feelings, especially the ones he was feeling for Eddie right now, made his head spin round and round.

Surfacing back into the bright sunlight he released the air he’d been holding, lazily treading water. Opening his eyes, Steve had to blink away the slight sting of chlorinated water that had gotten in his eyes. Looking back up to where he’d just been on land, he could see the sun outlining the body of the other man.

Framed by the light, Eddie’s skin shone bright. Steve could see from the slim curve of his waist, up the soft skin of his abdomen to his mostly bare chest, all the way to his smiling face. It was the kind of pale color which would cook in this weather, the kind which barely saw the light of day buried under a leather jacket, jeans and various metal band t-shirts. Even the way in which his hair, curly and dark accented by everything else about his body, stood out made Steve feel like he was looking up at something, someone otherworldly.

Making his way gingerly down the ladder, Eddie tested the temperature with his foot, flinching back away from it when he finally registered the coolness of the surface.

“Dude it’s freezing,” he whined comically, causing Steve to bark out a laugh that was one part humorous and another part packed with the anxiety of seeing the other man shirtless. “Don’t be a baby, just slide in quickly and you’ll adjust to it.”

“That’s what they all say,” this retort came as the metalhead once again tried to lower himself slowly, succeeding this time in getting one leg fully in before and wincing at the cold in a way which felt way too exaggerated for the situation at hand.

Sighing, Steve swam slowly up in front of the ladder, holding up his hand to Eddie, who looked down at it skeptically before making eye contact directly with the other man. “Take my hand, I’ll help you in.”

“Why does this feel like a trap?”

“What do you think I’m gonna do Eddie, drown you? In broad daylight? With children watching? And lifeguards?” Placing the hand he wasn’t using to keep balance on the ladder on his hip, Eddie quirked a brow looking down at Steve, but still seemed reluctant to take his outstretched hand in front of him. “I don’t pretend to know what’s going on in that devious mind of yours Steve Harrington.”

“Devious,” Steve put on a face of mock-affront. “The only devious person here is you, the amount of shit you get up to. Besides, if I had wanted to drown you, I would have done it back at the lake when we went through to the Upsidedown.”

“Touché, but I still am not convinced this isn’t a trap.”

“Just give me your hand,” Slowly Eddie reached out and took Steve’s hand in his, still keeping free hand wrapped tightly around the plastic handle of the ladder. “Okay, now reach out and take my other hand. I’ll help you in.”

Tilting his head to the side, Eddie gave Steve a look that clearly communicated, I-hate-this-and-yet-you-are-making-me-do-it-anyway, before finally releasing his other hand from the ladder and reaching for Steve.

However, as he was about to grab onto his other hand, Eddie seemed to trip over himself, legs twisting.

As he fell, his free hand shot out quickly to the other man’s shoulder, placing his body weight on Steve. This caused them both to fall backwards into the water, droplets splashing as they both flailed in order to keep balance.

Neither of them were hurt and that’s what mattered. Eddie was in the water, his finger digging into the skin of Steve’s shoulder, his other hand clasping hard onto his. He was so close, basically in the other man's arms. Their eyes were both locked on each other, the intensity making that heat from earlier rise up to Steve’s cheeks.

“Are you okay?” his voice cracked and he wanted to hit himself for how nervous and silly he sounded.

“Better now… that I’m in the water,” the metalhead replied, shaking his damp hair slightly to knock some strands from his face. His eyes felt probing, looking for something in Steve’s face, causing him to smile in response.

It felt natural to him, like smiling was easier than letting things feel awkward or getting annoyed at the whole situation. If he thought about it, smiling at Eddie Munson after such a display or ridiculousness was the most natural thing in the world, and clearly the other man felt the same.

“What are you smiling at?” The statement would have seemed more aggressive if he wasn’t already clearly cracking a smile of his own, returning the one Steve had on his face.

“You’re just a drama queen Eddie,” they both chuckled at this. “A clumsy drama queen.”

Eddie adjusted, placing his feet on the bottom of the shallow end, nudging Steve in the process for his little comment. “Me, the drama queen?! If I’m the drama queen then you're the drama emperor.”

“Ha-ha, sure," rolling his eyes, goofy smile still on his face, Steve felt Eddie let go of his shoulder.

The strange feelings which Eddie’s touch brought were missed as soon as his hand was absent from the other man’s shoulder. Those fingers. Calloused from plucking and strumming his guitar strings. Knuckles scarred from the battle he had with those bat demons in the Upsidedown.

They were the hands of someone who was a dreamer, filled with stories in each whirl on his finger pad, and each line in his palm; and from what Dustin had told Steve, a fighter. Someone who would stand up against impossible odds, like battling a million bat demons to save people who mattered to him. Fighting for a town of people who never saw him as anything more than a menace. 

Steve tried not to look down to where the water was distorting with ripples, Eddie's lower abdomen. There were the only blemishes to his otherwise unmarked torso. Those were the deep scars where those batlike creatures had bit, stabbed and slashed at his flesh when he’d faced them one-on-one.

That idiot, I told him not to be a hero. But at least Eddie was alive. Steve was thankful that he’d gotten back in one piece with his life. Being able to hug his uncle who had thought he was dead in the “earthquake” which had rocked the town, and clear his name so that the police and town would stop hounding him.

It wasn’t perfect. People still stared at them all on the street, whispered about their group when they thought no one could hear. Even DnD had been banned from Hawkins Middle and High school. Residual effects of the witch-hunt and panic.

“Earth to Steve, you gonna let me go anytime soon,” the singsong tone of Eddie’s bemused voice broke through his thoughts like a shard of glass.

“What?” Steve hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto Eddie’s other hand which he had taken initially.

Jesus, he’d completely forgotten about that. He was so distracted by all the other things which were going through his head. Letting go of Eddie’s hand, Steve shifted back to create a comfortable space between them.

“Sorry, umm, uh, right,” clearing his throat, shifting around nervously and trying to look anywhere but into the eyes of the other man, Steve tried to compose himself. He hoped Eddie couldn’t tell how flushed his face was becoming, from a slight pink to now probably a very visible red.

God he could tell Eddie was staring at him, waiting patiently for him to get his shit together enough to actually start doing anything. “Well, umm, we should probably start with getting your feet off the bottom of the pool and figure out your form.”

“Alright, how do we do that?” Steve assessed Eddie for a moment as he asked his question, trying to get his mind away from all the other things running through it.

“How do you feel about having your head underwater?” Steve hoped that he didn’t mind, it would be easier that way. Dealing with someone who’s anxiety extended to being under the water would make the process of teaching a challenge.

“I don’t mind as long as I can see the bottom. I like knowing there is a bottom.” Eddie began, pointing to the deep end. “Even there it’s not so bad because you can see through all the chlorine to the bottom. In the lake it just feels like it goes on forever. Even in the day it’s too dark and murky to see anything for sure. It feels like something could reach up and grab you. And don’t get me started on the plants growing at the bottom and how they brush against your feet.”

Shuddering at his own words, it was obvious Eddie’s displeasure with the environment of the lake he’d lived alongside a couple of months prior. The fact that he’d been so scared to sail out on it to escape the jocks hunting him and later dive to the bottom in order to follow Nancy and Robin to save him, made Steve appreciate the other man more. He may call himself a coward, not a hero. Someone who would run away from danger, but not when he’d swum to the bottom of that lake, not when he’d gone through the gash at the bottom into another unknown and equally terrifying world.

“Alright, that helps. Let’s get your head wet and do some work with those arms and legs.”

______________________________________________________________

It was amusing, the perfect setup even. Watching the two boys in the water brought a smile to Robin’s face. She’d been pushing for them to do something like this, and now they were. Spending that one-on-one time which would make Steve finally wake up and smell the cute-metal-head-coffee. It was clear to anyone with common sense that Eddie was into Steve, and Steve in return oblivious to this was definitely also into him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to Robin or himself.

Here he was now helping Eddie learn to get his feet off the bottom of the semi-shallow floor, circling them in a way to keep him above water without touching the bottom. Steve was earnest in his attempts to help, moving around Eddie and explaining the way to move while adjusting his arm movements for treading water.

Robin was no genius, she’d never claimed to be, but she wasn’t buying the whole Eddie-Munson-can’t-swim-for-shit persona he was putting on. It had to be an act, and of course gullible Steve would totally fall for it. With all those mixed emotions how couldn’t he. It was a way for them to be close, giving Steve an excuse to be a helper, another hero role stopping the poor other guy from drowning in the future. 

She chuckled, impressed with this clear display of smarts on Eddie’s part as she leaned back on the deck chair with a couple of fries she’d snatched from Dustin’s tray table of food. To any outsider she’d have looked like one of those large orange cats sitting plumply satisfied after a meal in the shade.

“What are you so happy about?” She was taken out of her little fun observations by the voice of the one person who could change Robin’s mood with the snap of her well-manicured fingers. 

A few steps away in a buttercup yellow sundress, which although understated was still lovely on her, Nancy stood, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her hair was swept up into a messy updo, allowing a few strands of her permed hair to escape, framing her face. Robin took this in gulping down the food she’d been chewing, feeling that sensation of self-consciousness take over.

“Fry?” She asked, quickly bending down and picking up the cardboard fry box and offering it to Nancy.

“Thanks,” Nancy looked at her with one of those quizzical yet bemused expressions she usually gave Robin whenever she did something strange. Or at least something which maybe to an outsider would seem strange. The little idiosyncrasies, ticks and trappings of who Robin was had started to grow on Nancy, or at least she hoped they did. It was sometimes hard to tell if that was true.

“You see something interesting?” Nancy asked, looking around before her eyes settled on the two men in the pool, Eddie flailing and Steve being splashed in the face with water while trying to avoid getting slapped in the face.

“Ah, I see. That.” Her face cracked into an even wider grin, one that lit up her face in a way that made Robin yearn to have her look at her that way. She did sometimes, but not enough. Was asking for that to be always too much? “What the heck are they doing?”

“Well, Steve is teaching Eddie how to swim. Obviously.” Robin quipped.

“It looks more like Steve is trying to drown him.” Nancy wasn’t wrong. From what Robin could see, Steve was poorly attempting and failing to show Eddie how to correctly perform what was either a front crawl or the doggy paddle. He was supporting him while the man tried to get his bearings in order for the other man to move his arms and kick his legs in tandem. Instead the display made it look like Steve may be attempting to push Eddie under and be done with this little charade.

If only she’d had a camera, then Robin could capture this moment in order to shove it in both their faces later. Although only Steve would be truly embarrassed, Eddie would probably want a copy framed.

Walking around the chairs, Nancy joined the other woman sitting on the end of her deck chair. Robin stiffened at the closeness and the way each other's shoulders were touching, the frilly strap of the sundress against her bare shoulder. 

The smell of her shampoo was not one of those overpowering artificial floral scents, it was more like a minty cucumber. Something organic and fresh that matched the weather and the tone. Robin stored it away in her mind, something she was sure would pop up again in one of those daydreams which would barge into her head uninvited. “I didn’t know you were a part of the swim club.”

Robin was brought out of her pining by this little declaration, noticing Nancy’s eyes looking down to her suit. She felt a bit of color come to her cheeks considering that the other woman had been checking her out in order to notice such a detail. “You noticed that little detail. It was a short-lived venture.”

“Really? How so?” The thoughts of how the past had shaped her experience, Robin wasn’t sure she wanted to get into the details. The rumors and the whispers of the other girls, the way they looked at her like she didn’t belong. How honest did she really want to be about those details?

“It just wasn’t a good fit. Sometimes you're just not cut out to be a jock. I just fit much better as the art club kid.” It felt honest enough without giving too much away. It wasn’t like it mattered. All the things which had bothered Robin were in the past. Those girls had gone on to College, University or at least off somewhere else.

“I guess we all figure out what we’re really into with time and searching.” Nancy caught Robin’s gaze and held it for a moment, smiling. There was more than one meaning to this little statement, at least it felt that way Robin saw it.

“Well, I hope we both find what we’re looking for soon,” Robin smiled, offering the other woman a fry from the box which she took gratefully.

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry about looking long.” And there it was. One of those smiles which Robin had been hoping would be directed at her. This one was just for her this time.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop doing that! AGH!” Steve dodged out of the way once again, the sting of chlorine causing him to flinch and lose his balance.

Moving from his flailing bizarre position Eddie started treading water messily, spraying water around. They had created their own little space in the pool where most other swimmers didn’t even want to attempt going. At least most had been understanding about the fact that Eddie was learning and sucked at taking instructions. It was like teaching an elephant how to walk a tight-rope. Impossible.

His long hair soaked and sticking to his face, Eddie shook his head like a dog spraying even more water in Steve’s direction causing him to shield his eyes. “How’m I doing?”

“Do you even listen to anything I’m saying or do you just take everything I say as a suggestion instead of an instruction?” Steve kept his tone somewhat light, but it was clear from his expression he was annoyed. Eddie only saw this as something amusing. The more annoyed he got, the more worked up, the less seriously he seemed to be taking this little makeshift crash course.

“You know, I was considering it more like an interpretive statement then something to be followed,” It was such a silly nonsensical thing to say that Steve merely sighed, standing nearly chest deep in the deeper part of the shallow end.

Moving suddenly, Eddie moved smoothly from his messy treading to a front crawl, that while not perfect was clearly better then Steve had expected. He was shocked by this, as the other man made his way up to him, grabbing his shoulders for purchase in order to come up into a standing position. “ See, it’s not like I didn’t pick something up that you were showing me.”

“That was… Way too good to be the first time you’ve tried that.”

“Maybe I just have a good teacher.” Steve’s feeling of skepticism was growing. The expression of mischievous grin plastered on Eddie’s face felt oddly telling. 

That’s when it finally started to sink. He felt like a moron. A completely gullible idiot. How could he not have seen the signs in Eddie’s form, the way he told the story about diving into the lake. If he’d been dumped into that lake while being chased, how had he gotten out of the water? Eddie had to swim since he hadn’t used the boat to get back to shore. He had to swim in order to make it to the bottom of that lake.

“You asshole.” He said, face burning with embarrassment.

“What?” Eddie was holding back laughter now, watching the realization having passed over Steve’s expression.

“I’m going to drown you if it’s the last thing I do,” he said, pushing the other boy into the water, watching Eddie laughing hard as he hit the water and swam backwards away.

“What Harrington? I thought you’d be happy seeing me finally figuring the front crawl out.” His words were clearly sarcastic and his eyes glittered with mirth.

“You completely wasted my time, I can’t get those thirty minutes back you know.” Steve yelled before, splashing a wave of water in the direction of Eddie’s stupid grinning face. The mischevious metalhead ducked under the water, disappearing briefly from view under the disturbed water before it registered he was heading in the other man’s direction.

Quickly Steve was yanked down under the water, not rough enough to have really made him get pulled under. He let himself be pulled. He was gonna get Eddie back. He would.

Adjusting to the sting of the chlorine, blinking his eyes against the new atmosphere, he was finally able to make out before him the situation he was now in. It was oddly peaceful under the water. A contrast to the wild and active world above. Everything felt like it was floating in slow motion, shimmering with the refracted light of the sun piercing down around them both.

Eddie’s hands were gripped loosely to Steve’s wrists now. Looking up, he locked his gaze with the man, and felt his heart stutter. His hair hung in the water, floating around him and framing it perfectly. He looked like what Steve imagined a merman who’d come from the deep to tempt sailors into the deep would look.

His expression was even more shocking, making Steve realize just what he was feeling in that moment. What he’d been feeling about Eddie since he’d finally gotten to know him. The look was piercing, a small smile, more soft than his other more cutting comedic expressions, eyes exploring his face for something he hoped would be returned. 

Moving slowly, with more apprehension and anxiety than he’d ever experienced with any of the girls and women he’d ever had feelings for, Steve reached his hand out of Eddie’s grip. Letting his fingers linger in the water close to Eddie’s face, he wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right, but he was already committed, already halfway there and entranced. Gently, he ran his fingers over the soft skin of Eddie’s cheek, down the line of his jaw before breaking contact.

It was such a small intimacy, but significant. It was opening a door which couldn’t be closed, crossing a line which couldn’t be backed behind again. A dare, a risk, Steve was willing to take.

Strange that such a small thing can have so much meaning behind it. A little gesture which can ignite a whole new world. He could see it in Eddie’s eyes. The initial shock at his touch was written on the man's face. Steve tensed for a moment, expecting something like disgust to follow this. That Eddie would pull away, tell him he wasn’t into him like that.

However, that’s not what happened. Not at all.

Instead, he leaned in, and under the cover of the bottom of the deeper end of the shallows, Eddie kissed Steve. It was a private intimate moment, a perfect second where what they had both been thinking about one another had been confirmed.

His lips were soft, softer than what Steve would have thought. His shock was eclipsed by the sensation, and his desire that this moment would never end. He had really wanted this, more than he could have ever expected, more than he’d wanted it with anyone else he was shocked to realize. Eventually though, they would both have to come up for air.

Pulling back, Eddie’s hair brushed gently against Steve’s cheeks, their faces inches from one another. It was like they were looking to be sure that what had just happened was something they’d both wanted, and from the clear expressions of exhilaration on their faces, it was clear that this had been mutual.

Moments later, they broke the surface, treading water lazily only a couple inches from one another. Beads of water ran down their flushed faces. They both looked at each other unsure what to say or if there was anything they could, which would feel appropriate in that moment.

It had felt to Steve like hours had passed in that moment. He hadn’t wanted it to end, let time just freeze there forever, where it had felt so warm, so right.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed out the words more than said them. His expression reminded Steve of someone who’d been told he had won the lottery and then some. An expression of pure happiness. He was sure his expression mirrored the same. “I mean wow… I wasn’t sure at first you even liked me at all.” 

His expression was self-conscious, genuine in Steve’s eyes, and he supposed he understood why. Eddie-The-Freak-Munson was not the nickname of someone who had gotten much luck with intimacies, especially those of someone like Steve. He’d been a golden boy and Eddie had been the opposite.. Ostracized.

“I guess I’m more nuanced than you thought.” Steve joked.

“I always thought there was something going on in that head of yours. I just didn’t know it involved me,” Eddie responded, wiggling his eyebrows comically. In response Steve gave him a playful shove. “Don’t think I’m still not gonna get you back for wasting my time.”

“I can’t wait. If you still want to drown me, we should take this party to the lake sometime.” The suggestion was definitely an offer for a date. Though Eddie said it playfully, in the jocular manner he often said things like this. Steve knew this time it would be a date. Just the two of them, and for once he was gonna take him up on the offer.

#eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie #ronance #eddie x steve #robin x nancy #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #erica sinclair #maxine mayfield #el hopper #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #jane hopper #stranger things #stranger things fandom #stranger things netflix #trash gobby fics #fruity four #the fruity four

[rlxtechoff]

#IFTTT #Blogger

[snorpy-fizzlebean]

Mwah

#art #steven universe #my art #su #fanart #amethyst #peridot #amedot #they’re gardening #well not really #hiding in the greenhouse for smooch time #lesbian #trans #queer #queer artist #lgbt #gay #edited to add sparkles and fix colours

[duskholland]

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won��t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #hockey!tomfic #tblr....please let me in the tags...? please?

[shriekingllama]

Editing tutorial(ish)

(Very short and simple (?))

So first things first thank you guys so much for all the love on my most recent posts, it means the world to me 🥰

I received multiple asks about how I edit and edit the hair and hopefully with this rundown I’m able to explain it a bit (note: I do change my editing a lot of the time so I don’t edit the exact same way every single post)

Keep in mind that English is not my first language, so there will be some spelling errors

Okay!! Let’s start

What do I use:

Procreate 

Reshade (my own personal preset)

Brush set for Procreate by @strawberrymilktrait​

Before

This is my base. Here I have not edited anything, the only thing I used here is reshade (obv, the game isn’t like this by it self :((( )

Step 1: jawline

With this screenshot in particular you can’t see it that much but the first thing I start with is the jawlines. I either fix some glitches with my mxao shaders or I just make it darker.

When I have a side profile as a screenshot I make a jawline since my simmies usually don’t have one lol

Step 2: highlights

Highlighting!!! Honestly one of my favourite things to do. I basically highlight everything, nose, cupid’s bow, eyes, teeth, jewellery and jaws (not in this screenshot but usually)

Step 3: sharper line work

You probably won’t see a big difference right away, but trust me this one is important! In this step I focus on things like the lashes or eyebrows. Usually they are not as sharp as I want them to be and they become a bit blurry. I redraw them on top and since I usually find that a bit to sharp, I gaussian blur the layers 2 - 3 %

Step 4 - 6: HAIR

So there is this huge obsession with hair editing in the sims community and I for sure as hell participate. Hair editing is one of my favourite most hated steps during editing my screenshots. I just become very perfectionistic and I get tired of myself. 

The first thing I do is put a base layer on the hair. I usually don’t like the way the hair moves “naturally” and if I don’t blur that out, I get weird jagging lines through the hair I drew. So I basically create a new canvas for the hair.

Here I recreated the hair again, I use around 2-3 colours lighter than the base and just draw strands (You’re probably like; OKAY BUT HOW DO YOU DRAW THE STRANDS?!! and then I’ll say; IDK OKAY I JUST DO SOMETHING UNTIL I’M HAPPY WITH HOW IT LOOKS) Great advice, I know.

After drawing the strands I add highlighting strands and call it a day. Honestly the highlighting strands make it look 1000x better.

LAST STEP

I just add some sparkles in the end and VOILA that’s it really.

Will this help you? Meh probably not and I’ll work on a better editing tutorial in the future, but this is it for now. Feel free to ask questions and I’ll answer them the best I can <33

#editing #the sims 4 editing tutorial #sims edit #ts4

[aelloblu]

Chiaki Abe || Sailor Sylvia

This Lovely Lady belongs to Sylvia of the Otaku Senshi Alliance, a lovely lady I had a lot of fun doodling her ideas. She was one of my first Colouring Book Edits for the longest time, getting into the swing of it. I do very much regret the boots. They're so off SM style, that lace... Arg! One day I might fix it....

╔═══════ ∘◦⛧ﾐ◦∘ ════════╗

Chiaki Abe || Sailor Sylvia

╚═══════ ∘◦ ミ⛧ ◦∘ ═══════╝

Belongs to Sailor_Sylvia

:Mission:

Chiaki was a quiet girl in Nagano stargazing when a meteorite fell to Earth. Hoping to add it to her collection she followed its trajectory except instead of a smoldering rock at the heart of a crater there was a strange vase, depicting the likeness of a silver clad woman and a crescent moon. It bewitched Chiaki, causing strange feelings and memories to rise up inside her.

But suddenly a woman stood over her! She claimed to be Alabaster of the Eclipse Syndicate, dedicated to finding relics of the Golden Kingdom and selling them to the highest bidder. That vase was too powerful for a little girl so she better hand it over.

Suddenly a cat landed between them and dropped a pen. “Transform Sailor Sylvia!”

Now Chiaki is more than a little girl! She’s the Sailor Suited Guardian of the Stars, Sailor Sylvia. With her mooncat Pandora and the Moon Compass she must track down these strange relics of her past.

Each step leads her closer ‘the haul to end all hauls’. What is this Silver Crystal, why does the Moon Compass want to go to Tokyo and who is this Dark bidder who will do anything to get both?

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Civilian Form

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

:Name & Meaning:

Chiaki Abe. Chiaki means ‘a thousand lights’ and Abe means ‘Peace.’ She is the ‘Peace of A Thousand Lights’

:Age & Birthday:

Fourteen, born October 4th. This means her star sign is Libra and is ruled by the air element and ruled by the seventh house. It means that she builds relationships with others easily!

:Appearance:

Chiaki has pale creamy skin and silver-lilac eyes that sparkle with adventure. She pulls her long royal purple back into wavy purple pigtails that cascades past her waist. She’s outdoorsy and often dresses in sky colours. She is never without her prep-pouch filled with a compass, matches, a snack and camera because you never know what you’ll find.

:Personality:

Chiaki has an active and enthusiastic appreciation of nature and loves to share its beauty with others through her photography. She is often pestering her fellow Scouts with her photo albums or getting them to pose for the perfect group picture. Her favourite thing is to hike beyond the city to capture the night sky in all its glory.

Along with her photography she likes to draw star charts, practicing amateur astronomy and astrology which she will also talk the ear off anyone who will listen.

:Likes:

Chiaki loves fresh air and open skies. If she isn’t camping, she spends her free time in the local parks snapping candid shots of the flora and wildlife. She hates cooking but her favourite meal is packet mac and cheese, with extra, extra cheese! She also has a sweet tooth for anything chocolate and there’s nothing better than a fire roasted s’more with sticky marshmallow and gooey chocolate running down her fingers.

She also spends her free time taking pictures. Her digital Lanon camera is a battered thing she takes everywhere and while she treats it rather absently, the memory cards inside are priceless which she protects because the memories are irreplaceable.

:Dislikes:

She isn’t a fan of crowds, she hates being squished and jostled and too much noise means you can’t hear her speak! She also hates avocados.

:Hobbies:

Chiaki's true love is the stars. She likes to perform amateur astrophotography and uses those pictures to chart their paths. The reason is she’s also a fan of astrology, but not those cheap newspaper horoscopes she scoffs at. Her first question when meeting new people is ‘What’s your birthday?’ Using her photos she calculates the degree of ascent, the rising of Jupiter in the House of Aquarius to plot out her week. Most people laugh, but sometimes they’re uncannily accurate.

:Family:

The Abe family is a relaxed family house, normal in every way.

Her father Tadaaki (brightness) works at a local observatory as an engineer helping with local satellites and from him Chiaki gets her love of the stars. She constantly teases him, begging him to borrow a satellite… just for a minute or two… for her astrophotography but he never has.

Her mother Ichika (A thousand flowers) is a lecturer at a college specialising in meteorology and weather, helpful for when Chiaki plans her camping trips.

She also has a little sister named Hikaru. Chiaki is very protective of Hikaru and Hikaru looks up to her big sister. She’s preschool and she likes to borrow Chiaki’s photographs and tries to redraw them.

:School:

Chiaki first goes to Vale Garden Private School, then transfers to TA Girl's Academy with Rei. She excels in physical education and is part of the photography club. She isn’t so good at maths and home arts so prepare for smoke in the kitchen and sowing herself to her knees!

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Relationships

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

:Friends:

In Nagano her best friend is Nariko who prefers to spend her time in doors, but gets left behind when her family moves to Tokyo where she meets the Inner Scouts.

Although Chiaki is friends with all the Sailor Guardians most of her time with Rei. The priestess has a greater spiritual connection but Chiaki seems more lucky. The two sometimes compare star charts and fire readings to plot where the enemy will strike next. She’s a little too quiet for Chiaki but together they work as a team.

After the defeat of Beryl, Tokyo was attacked by the Black Moon Family where she met Chibiusa, Usagi’s daughter from the future. Both being full of curiosity and energy they got on well.

However her friendship with the Inners was tested when the Outers arrived. The Inners viewed them with suspicion but as her own planet lay between the Inners and Outer systems she felt it was her duty to extend the olive branch. She was frustrated by their willingness to sacrifice others for some ‘greater good’ that they didn’t understand, but knew their intentions were not selfish.

On the other hand she didn’t like the Starlights at all! Her hackles were raised and didn’t like them butting in on Sol System territory. She especially distrusts Seiya who’s always trying to impress Usagi and muscle in on Mamaru while he’s away.

:Love Interests:

Although she won’t admit it, she has a crush on Kaito who works the front desk at the Crown Parlor Arcade. He’s so serious and aloof, if only he’d smile more!

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Sailor Sylvia

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

:Guardian Starseed:

Her starseed comes from the asteroid Sylvia, which thrived during the Silver Millenium. Ironically one of its biggest exports was avocados.

:Realm of Influence:

Stars, Astrology

:Past Life:

During her past life she was Princess Chiaki, heir to the throne of Sylvia and a brave protector of the Silver Kingdom. She followed Princess Usagi to Earth where she met Cuprite, a spy in the name of the Golden Kingdom. Although very serious, she’s sure he has a different side to him. He’s very curious about the Moon Kingdom.

:Animal Guide:

An advisor to Princess Chiaki’s mother, Pandora was sent with Luna and Artemis to help find Sailor Sylvia. She’s a siamese cat, taller and more angular than her friends and more active in a battle, often skittering through the fray for a better view. She didn’t live on the moon and is considered blunt and unmannerly compared to Luna and Artemis.

:Important Items:

The Sylvia Transformation Pen, a royal purple pen with the symbol of Sylvia on it.

The Moon Compass which reacts to relics nearby however when there are none it’s silver arrow points to Tokyo.

:Henshin Phrase:

Sylvia Power Makeup!

As she holds her pen in the air a dark, gauzy veil filled with a nebular of stars sweeps around her body which is filled with all the beauty of the night sky. As the veil clings to her body it glitters with stars before forming her fuku. Finally she stands with her hands on her hips prepared to fight!

:Guardian Challenge:

"I am the Pretty Guardian Who fights for love and for freedom! I am Sailor Sylvia! In the Name of Sylvia, I’ll snuff out your light!"

:Guardian Fuku:

Sylvia wears the Sol fuku with royal purple as her primary colour and lilac as her secondary. Her earrings are star shaped studs with chains that dangle from them like a comet trail. Her boots are shortheeled and laced to midshin.

:Weapon:

After she receives her power up she commands the Sylvia Star Net which she uses to capture and subdue her enemies.

:Attacks:

Sylvia Star Ascension

Sailor Sylvia twirls, gathering starlight on the tips of all her fingers before flicking them at the enemy in a hail of energy, crashing to earth like a meteor shower.

Sylvia Bright Luminance

Sylvia brings her fingers together, pointer and thumb like a picture frame. She winks cheekily and sends a flash of light to blind the enemy… and anyone else who can’t cover their eyes fast enough.

Sylvia Astral Web

Sylvia gains the power up of the Sylvia Star Net. With a sweep of her arms the silvery net pitted with glowing stars at their anchors which captures the enemy and then bombards them with a furious nebula of starlight.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

#sailormoon #sailor moon #sailormoonoc #sailor moon oc #sailormoon oc #otakusenshi #otaku senshi #sailorsylvia #cuprite #Pandora #otakusenshialliance #bssm:novalie #awesome otaku senshi

[rwby-diaries]

Happy birthday Ruby!

Our most adorable shooting star is up! Ruby was born on October 31st (kept from CRWBY canon)! She came into the world just a pink little thing, and she stole everyone’s hearts with just one look. Her family loves her so much and so do we!

Line Art by: @bosiphas

Colour by: @data-plays-viola

Ficlet by: @lameclub

Edited by: @bosiphas @yang-diary @data-plays-viola and @thetopazvulpix

Ficlet under the cut!

“Happy birthday Ruby!’’ Different voices all cry out in unison as Ruby stands there with her eyes big and wide.

“You guys shouldn’t have!’’ She says awkwardly - causing Yang tomorrow her eyes and smirk in her direction.  

“Jaune spilled the beans, didn’t he?’’

Ruby scoffs loudly, “Whaaat? How could you possibly assume that our good, kind-natured friend Jaune--’’

“You don’t have to defend me, Ruby. It’s pretty obvious,’’ Jaune says while scratching the back of his head with an embarrassed smile. Weiss rolls her eyes as she walks over, taking Ruby’s arm and leading her in the other direction.

“You can count yourself out of the next surprise party,’’ Weiss says with a pointed look back at Jaune. Ruby giggles before turning around to better keep up with her friend. They begin to approach a round table not that far from them - causing Ruby to let out a giant gasp.

The table is decorated with many different trays of sweets and baked goods - carefully placed in order of colour and type. Ruby turns back towards her friends.

“You didn’t have to do all of this!’’ she says with a big smile on her face as her eyes well up with tears.

Nora giggles, "Ren spent the last two nights making sure every cupcake was perfect, didn't ya buddy?"

Nora finishes the question with a poke to Ren’s ribcage and a smile. Ren looks down at her with a puzzled look on their face, "You only turn 15 once - I don't see why I should hold back." Yang shakes her head as she leans on their shoulder with a smirk.

“We aren’t making fun of ya bud! No need to be self-conscious about the amount you made.

“Anyways,” Yang adds with an even bigger smirk, “Nora’s bottomless pit she calls a stomach will probably eat half of this in like an hour.”

Ruby giggles as she takes a single cupcake and, without an ounce of hesitation, bites into it. The sweetness burst to life in her mouth, causing them to hum in appreciation. “Oh! This is so good Ren, maybe the best thing I’ve ever eaten!’’ She exclaims as she quickly devours the rest of her sweet.

Yang whistles, “That’s a bold statement - considering we grew up around the self-proclaimed 'Best Cook in all of Remnant' - Uncle Clover.’’

Ruby blinks for a few seconds before she laughs in response. “Listen, both are on the same level as the other - actually this reminds me of my 13th birthday,’’ Ruby says happily as she finds herself becoming more distant and lost in thought.

~~~

"Uncle Qrowwww!" Ruby shouts as she jumps onto his arms; he catches and holds her up with ease. "I can't believe I get to spend my birthday with both you and Uncle Clover!" Her eyes sparkle as her legs dangle back and forth mid-air.

"How was the ferry ride from Patch? Hope it wasn't too scary to travel on your own." Qrow questions with a head tilt which only causes Ruby to scoff in response.

"You're talking to a future huntress here, Uncle Qrow - a little boat ride wasn't gonna scare me," Ruby says with a big smirk on her face before she continues "Besides I barely ever get to see you guys these days and no way was I going to spend my birthday alone!"

Qrow chuckles as he affectionately ruffles their hair. "Oz decided to let me have a free weekend. Coincidentally, Mr. Tin Man  felt the same for Clover," he smiles as she jumps back down to the ground.

"Tin man?"

Before Qrow could respond to her inquiry - the front door swings open and another voice is heard. "So, our favourite lil' whirlwind is here already?" Clover says with a smirk as he leans on the doorframe. Ruby lets out a squeal as she zips across the front lawn and practically leaps into her uncle's chest, knocking the man back a couple of feet.

"Uncle Clover, it's been so long!" Ruby cries out as they hug him tightly and Clover smiles warmly down at her. As she drops back down and takes a step back, she can barely contain her excitement, frantically patting her legs. Clover takes a few seconds to recover from the intensity of Ruby's hug, then looks down at her with a proud smile.

"I swear you've grown an inch or two since I last saw ya!" He exclaims with a short gasp - inspecting them closely.

Ruby giggles, "It's actually just my new boots," she explains as she shows them off proudly which causes Clover to whistle into admiration. Ruby pauses for a moment and gestures for their uncle to come closer, the other doing just that, as they stretch up to his ear in a stealthy fashion.

"But if anyone else asks - I finally had my growth spurt." Ruby whispers.

Clover takes a second to process that before he snorts and stands back up, "Your secret is safe with me munchkin." He finishes with a wink and ruffles their hair.  Ruby let's out a playful grunt as she frantically goes to fix her hair back to the way she liked it just as Qrow approaches from behind them.

"I'm gonna pop these bags up to your room, squirt, and then I hafta check on your birthday surprise," Qrow explains as he easily picks up and carries in her assortment of different backpacks and cases. "Why dontcha join your uncle in the kitchen?" He suggests with a smirk towards Clover - who beams brightly in return. Ruby nods enthusiastically and takes hold of Clover's arm.

"Yesss come on Uncle Clover, time's a wastin!" They cry out as they tug Clover in the direction of the kitchen which has her uncle laughing warmly; allowing for his nibling to drag him in the direction she wanted to go.

"We'll see you soon babe - shoot me a text when everything's ready!"  Clover shouts back towards Qrow and the other nods in agreement.

As the duo separated themselves from Qrow - they enter into the kitchen. The whole room was rather neatly kept - totally unlike Ruby’s kitchen at home, which often fell victim to plates and dishes piling up, especially if it was just Ruby and her dad.

On the table in the middle, there was a variety of different baking utensils and ingredients - all neatly sorted and ready to be used. Ruby gasps loudly as they sprint into the room, admiring her surroundings with great excitement.

Clover trails in not far behind the other and chuckles softly, "I was going to have the cake and everything else ready for you, but I remembered how much you love to bake, so I waited to make the cupcakes."  He tells them while watching the young kid take in the sight before them with big eyes.

"Always! Just because it's my birthday doesn't mean I don't want to make badass cupcakes-" Ruby stops herself when she realises what she let slip past her mouth and clears her throat. "Doesn't mean we can't make awesome cupcakes," they correct themself with an innocent smile. Clover rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore that in favour of wanting Ruby to enjoy her birthday.

"Anyways! We should get started - would you like to do the honours?" Clover says as he passes her the bowl of butter and Ruby nods in a dramatic fashion. As she dumps its contents into the mixing bowl before her, her uncle pours some casting sugar in before presenting Ruby with the whisk.

"Use it wisely, young one." Clover says.

Ruby gasps while taking it carefully and nodding, "I won't let you down good sir." She tries to keep up the serious demeanor but she couldn't contain the giggles that were building up deep down. As they begin to whisk the ingredients together, Ruby starts to ponder on a few things.

She was excited beyond belief about spending her birthday with her uncles - it was a rare sight when both of them could attend. But… there were small things that were nagging at Ruby and refusing to let go. Their sudden quietness immediately catches her uncle's attention, who then turns to face her.

“Something on your mind?” Clover asks in a gentle tone - completely surprising Ruby who lets out a tiny yelp. It didn't take her long to recover from that sudden question as Ruby looks down at the mix and sighs.

“I'm happy to be here with both you and uncle Qrow but… It's my first birthday without Yang.” Ruby speaks very quietly as she slows to a halt and their hair falls onto her face - hiding her true expression. Clover watches with soft eyes as he lowers himself down to her level.

"I know how hard it must be with Yang being on that school trip and your dad being busy," Clover starts in a gentle tone while pushing Ruby's fringe back once more, "but trust me when I say you're going to have a great birthday with the most awesome surprise."  He gives her a big smile as the words seem to do the job of cheering her up. Ruby's expression lights back up and they wipe their eyes

"Thank you Uncle Clover," she says with a lopsided smile. Clover laughs as he kisses her forehead and stands back up - the pair returning to their tasks.

"So uncle Clover - a birthday surprise huh?" She asks with a sly smile.

Clover glances down for a moment before chuckling to himself, "You got that right." He doesn’t elaborate further, simply gesturing for her to stop the whisking for a moment. As he adds a small tablespoon of vanilla extract, while Ruby's curiosity reaches an all time high.

"I wonder what it could be - maybe a mega awesome present-"

Clover laughs, "Ruby I know you have long figured out I'm the weak link when it comes to surprises," he says with a side glance down towards the kid.

Ruby giggles. "Yeah I found out when you accidentally told Yang that dad was considering the motorcycle license-"

Clover hushes them with a small laugh, "Which your dad never ever lets me live down."

"But I promised your uncle I wouldn't breathe a word of it - so will a simple reassurance that you will love it suffice?" Clover asks.

Despite the desire to know brewing deep down within Ruby - she understood this was something super important to keep a secret. With a sigh, she finishes her whisking and nods in agreement. Clover pats her on the head

"Not much longer now," he says while taking the bowl away.

"Now remember - 15 minutes in the oven or you'll burn them!" Ruby calls as Clover goes to fill the pre-prepared cupcake pan with the batter.

Clover scoffs,"You're talking to the 'Best Baker in all of Remnant' here Ruby. I ain't about to let these cupcakes burn on my watch!"

After the batch has been fully cooked and decorated, Clover's scroll finally dings on the counter loudly. Ruby's head perks up.

"Is that Qrow telling us everything is ready?!" They ask while frantically patting the table.

Clover laughs, "Let's see." He walks over and picks the device up. After being silent for a few seconds, the man looks back up and smiles. "We have to head out back."

Ruby follows behind her uncle enthusiastically - as he leads them down the hallway.

Excitement was thrumming all throughout Ruby's body as they got closer and closer to their destination. About a dozen different scenarios were rattling around in their head at once - but they just couldn't come to a solid conclusion. Was it a new cape? Maybe they're getting a super cool motorcycle too?! Clover stops before the backdoor and turns to Ruby.

"Close your eyes buddy," he tells her with a big smile. Ruby did exactly as she was told and soon after did they feel Clover gently take their arm and begin to lead her forward.

Ruby could feel the cool breeze of the outside world as they were continued to be led by her uncle - the shuffling of feet could be heard too. After a few seconds, Clover orders her to stop and she does just that.

"Can I open my eyes now?!" They exclaim, growing more impatient by the second.

Clover laughs, "You can now."Ruby's eyes flutter open. After taking a moment to adjust to the sudden sunlight - Ruby focuses her gaze right ahead of her, letting out a huge gasp at the sight before their eyes.

"Happy birthday Ruby!"

Different voices yell in unison, coming noth only from her Uncle Qrow, but also from her dad and sister, standing next to Qrow with huge matching grins. Ruby begins to bounce on the spot before jetting across the grassy garden.

"Oh my gosh!" They yell, tackling all their family in one swift motion, everyone being knocked to the ground by the force of it. Everyone laughs wildly as Yang and Tai embrace Ruby.

"You said you guys couldn't make it!" They say with tears in her eyes and Yang swiftly wipes them away, a soft smile on her face.

"You didn't think I'd miss your big birthday bash, did ya sib?"

Tai nods, "I decided to get off work early and Yang finished up her Huntsfolk Observation Trip quicker than expected." The trio finally stand back up and Tai his head tilts in Qrow's direction before continuing.

"Qrow managed to pull some strings to make sure we were all here," he says with a smirk.

Yang scoffs, "I had to make sure these old timers were doing your birthday right." She gives both Tai and Qrow a smug grin. Tai playfully jabs his daughter in the ribs and Yang snorts in response.

Ruby's face lit up - not sure how to react. Tai's face softens for a moment as he turns back around to pick up an item he dropped when they fell, picking up a small book with a pink bow neatly placed on top of it.

"I wanted you to have this. We all spent the last week getting all the pictures printed and organized." He explains in a quiet tone while placing the book into Ruby's hands.

Ruby stares at it, seeing the words 'Ruby's Birthday' printed on the top stirred emotions deep down. Everyone crowds around them with supportive looks which encourages Ruby to open the book, letting the pages fall open somewhere around the halfway point.

As Ruby looks down at the page, she could see Yang holding their baby self with the help of Tai, her older sister’s eyes wide with wonder.

"Yang insisted that she held you the moment she laid eyes on you," Qrow chuckles fondly.

Yang gives a quick snicker in response, "I just knew how awesome my baby sibling was the moment I saw them," she says while ruffling Ruby's hair and the other pushes her off with a smile.

"What is it with all this hair ruffling today?!" Ruby asks with giggles sprinkled in between words.

As they flip backwards to the previous page, they see two pages of Qrow and Clover holding them as a baby as well.

"Clover of course, had to make a luck pun," Qrow says with a smirk in his husband's direction and the other stuck his tongue out playfully.

"So nothing much has changed between now and then?" Ruby points out which causes everyone else to laugh alongside them. Ruby turns the page further back towards the front of the book, seeing a picture of Tai.

"I remember when your mother went into labour - I quickly ran back into our room to specifically get that shirt," Tai explains with a short laugh, pointing at the red ‘#1 Dad’ shirt in the picture.

Clover scoffs, "You were planning that gag ever since Summer became pregnant too."

Tai waves him off “I’m the embarrassing father - I have an image to maintain!’’ He laughs and Ruby snorts in response  - looking up at her dad with happy eyes. After a moment, Ruby’s attention once again falls back to the book before them - as they flip to the first page of the book and Ruby finds herself growing silent.

Tai looks down at them with sad eyes as he places his hand on her shoulder "She wasn't scared at all when she was pregnant with you - I was more frightened than her." That comment has Ruby look up to her dad with a sad smile as she let him continue.

"She did everything in her power to make sure you were brought into the world safely and surrounded by love," he explains as everyone around them watched on in a wistful way "Your mom loved you so much Ruby. Every moment she spent with you was everything she could've hoped for."

That was what brought on the tears - as Yang and Ruby both found themselves starting to cry. Everyone  then closed in for a group hug. Nobody moved for a few moments, just choosing to instead enjoy each other's presence in total serenity.

"One last thing," Yang says with a smile as she pulls back and taking out a small camera. "Every year me and Ruby take a picture together for their birthday," she explains as she gestures for everyone to squeeze together "And this is the first time we've all been together in a long long time."

Yang places the camera on the nearby picnic table and sets a timer "Everyone says cheese!" She cries out while rushing over just in time as everyone screams out that word excitedly. The camera clicks with a flash and everyone starts to giggle. Qrow gives Ruby a quick pat on the head.

"Now let's dig into some birthday cake, shall we?" He suggests and Ruby gasps loudly.

"Birthday person gets the first slice!" She exclaims as she zips over in a burst of petals.

~~~

“That’s such a sweet story Ruby,’’ Pyrrha says with a warm smile on her face and placing her hands on top of heart in a fond manner. “Would you like to take a picture with all of us?’’

That question easily catches Ruby’s attention as her eyes go wide, “Oh my gosh yes! I’d love nothing more,’’ they say while jumping on the spot and clasping her hands together. “It’ll show off our awesome costumes too. I dont have one good birthday photo in Halloween costumes, and I’ve almost always had a Halloween birthday.’’

Weiss raises an eyebrow “Ruby, you were born on Halloween, every year is a Halloween birthday." Yang hushes Weiss with a playful push.

“You can survive one night without making a sassy remark Ice Queen,’’ she teases which obviously irritates the other but after a moment, Weiss takes in a deep breath and seemingly composes herself.

“Does anyone have a camera then?’’ Weiss asks.

Everyone looks around at each other before shrugging and Nora groans, “Where’s Velvet when ya need her.” . Blake’s head perks up as she takes out her scroll and gestures to it.

“It’s not as traditional, but I think your scroll could work.’’ She says with a small smile.

Yang’s face lights up “Once again - Blake is here with the big brain,’’ she says with a wink which in turn causes Blake’s cheeks to flush red and she looks down at the floor with a tiny smile. Ruby takes out her device and beams brightly.

"Everybody squeeze in - I’m pretty short,’’ she says loudly and everyone begins to crowd in around them, all trying their best to get in level with the camera. With a bit of effort, Ruby manages to hold the scroll as high she possibly could and she gives a big smile.

“Everyone say cheese!’’ She yells and everyone screams that word at the same time.

A flash on the scroll lights up the room before Ruby lowers it down - inspecting the picture that was taken. As they look at the photo, tears begin to well up in their eyes and she sniffles lightly.

Yang glances down with a fond look on her face and pats Ruby lightly on the head, “All good Rubes?’’ Ruby wipes her eyes and nods frantically.

“It’s everything I could’ve hoped for.’’

#rwby #rwby v8 #rwby volume 8 #ruby rose #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #yang xiao long #clover ebi #qrow branwen #weiss schnee #Blake Belladonna #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #team RWBY #team JNPR #fair game #fairgame #rwby fic #rwby art #rwby rewrite #rwby rewritten #post #canon #bo

[zakkura]

Pairing: Cloud x Zack, slight Aerith x Tifa. Warnings: None. Extra: Hybrid AU. EDIT: I forgot to add that I gathered inspiration by the many beautiful gifsets of ZackSoldiers, so please go and follow them!

ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾 ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾

Aerith couldn’t help but laugh at the scene before her.

Placing her basket of flowers on the kitchen counter; she put her hands on her hips as she watched her daft overgrown German Shepard hybrid wiggle his backside as he stared out of the window with noises of glee leaving his lips.

“I take it that pretty blonde is out for his afternoon stroll again?” she asked and Zack jumped slightly as he had clearly been far too into his own world.

“I didn’t think I’d be attracted to a Spaniel,” Zack grinned widely causing his owner to simply roll her eyes with a playful smile.

Aerith approached him with her hand held out, fingers delicately stroking his fluffy black ears which, in turn, made the hybrid push into her touch.

A loving gesture that Aerith had learned meant he had missed her whilst she was out trying to sell her bouquets.

“I don’t know why you haven’t invited him over yet,” Aerith snorted at the small blush on Zack’s tanned skin, “I thought you and Cloud were friends of some sort?”

“Well...I think he thinks that I’m stupid,” he cringed inwardly as their one of two interactions flashed in his mind, “I might have pretended to know about the book I saw him reading...I um...I just spoke utter crap,” he let out a pained whimper and hid his face in her shoulder.

“Aw Zacky,” Aerith cooed and held him tight, her cheek against the top of his head, “everyone behaves like a fool in front of the person they like; it’s natural,” she pulled back and blew a playful raspberry against his cheek.

“I tell you what,” she pulled Zack over to the couch to get a little more comfy, “I will go and invite his owner, Tifa, over and say to bring Cloud with her as a sort of friendly get together,” she giggled, “what do you think about that?” she let out a yell of surprise when Zack threw himself on her and cuddled her with such strength that she was certain her ribs were about to break.

“I love you!” he howled; tail thumping on the couch.

 ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾 ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾  ᵔᴥᵔ  🐾

Aerith was tempted to film what she was seeing right now.

She had never seen Zack so nervous before; so nervous that he was pulling at the hairs on the tip of his tail.

When the Hybrid’s head shot up suddenly, she knew that he could tell Cloud was at the door and she bit back a laugh as she gestured for him to open the door.

Zack nodded, determined but jittery and pulled the door open so quickly that he was nearly punched in the face by Tifa who had her hand up in the motion to knock on the door.

“Hello!” Tifa chuckled and Zack offered the top of his head to pat, which she did and almost squealed at how soft his ears were, “you must be Zack,” Zack nodded with a small smile as Aerith held his hand to try and make him less nervous.

But that quickly fell apart when he spotted the other canine standing behind Tifa, his hands covered by the sleeves of his plain black jumper that was deliciously stretched over his chest; enough that Zack could see how in shape he was.

He quickly tried to catch his own tail as it started wagging faster, his ears twitching with interest.

“This is Cloud, but I think you might know that already,” Tifa threw a wink his way, moving over to Aerith who greeted her with a tight cuddle and a kiss to the cheek.

“Hi,” 

Zack’s heart thumped hard against his chest at the sound of Cloud’s voice.

It was a lot softer than he remembered but he gathered that was because he was most probably anxious going by how the blonde was biting into his bottom lip, skin looking sore and picked at.

“Hey!” Zack barked and moved without thinking; grabbing both of Cloud’s hands and shaking them happily whilst Cloud just stared at him with wide blue-green eyes.

“Zack, calm down,” Aerith pressed gently.

It took Zack a moment to realise how forward he was being and he jumped backwards.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” he murmured feeling silly as he flushed a deep red.

He had never ever been the type of person to blush and get nervous in front of people so everything that was currently happening was like trying to speak for the first time.

When everybody had settled, Aerith and Tifa in the kitchen and the Hybrids in the front room, Zack was starting to become more comfortable with the more Cloud started to open up to him.

He couldn’t get over how handsome the other man was, how sweet it was whenever he moved his head and his long blonde ears swayed with him, how whenever he spoke about learning to ride a motorcycle his entire face lit up and his eyes seemed to sparkle with enthusiasm.

Oh he was in trouble.

Even more so when both of their tails settled down on the couch they were sharing and just so happened to land on top of one another making both of them blush.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Cloud laughed quietly as he peered at the older man through his bangs, he went to tuck his tail back around the other side of him but was quickly stopped by Zack grabbing his wrist gently.

“I’m fine with it,” he nodded to reassure him, “if you are, I mean...” he let out a small whimper as he struggled to form sentences together without stuttering.

“I’m fine,” Cloud responded with a brilliant smile that nearly knocked Zack sideways, “your tail is so soft and poofy,” he giggled and paused as he wited for Zack to signal it was okay for him to touch his tail.

It was quickly granted and Cloud practically dived to touch it making shivers ripple up and down Zack’s spine.

“This is a little easier to talk about, huh?” the teasing tone confused Zack for a second as his brain wasn’t working correctly under the touch of the person of his affections, “tails are easier to talk about than,” Cloud paused and met Zack’s similarly coloured eyes, “books for example,”

“Are you implying something?” Zack quizzed playfully once his head cleared, though he was now hypnotised by the way Cloud’s slender fingers sifted through the soft black hairs of his tail.

“Oh not at all,” Cloud then lifted his own tail and gestured for Zack to touch.

Hybrids did often offer their tails to people they would like to be friends or partners with, usually only other Hybrids but on the rare chance, Humans have been blessed with the offering.

Zack couldn’t help but wag his own tail as he gently slipped Cloud’s through his thicker fingers, watching as the blonde fur brushed over his tanned skin.

“Your fur is so long on your tail, doesn’t it get annoying?” he asked innocently.

“No, I think of my tail as my own personal flag,” he wiggled his tail to show his point, “do you like it?” his voice was a lot shyer than before and Zack’s heart clenched tightly as he moved closer to the blonde.

“Yes,” he whispered with a pause in his movements; debating on whether or not he should go through the one thing he really wanted to do, “I like it a lot,” he then nuzzled his head against Cloud’s.

The noise that left Cloud’s lips was something Zack was storing in his memory forever.

A mixture of a whine and gasp at the sudden affection.

Both Hybrid’s ears moved t the sound of laughter from the kitchen but their eyes never left one another, the atmosphere changing into something much more intimate.

“I watched you the other day,” Cloud whispered, swallowing loudly making Zack’s eyes follow his Adam's apple before returning back to his eyes.

“Yeah?”

Cloud blushed darkly as he nodded.

“You were working fixing the window frame on the outside of the house?”

Zack nodded watching Cloud’s lashes brush against his skin.

“Tifa wanted me to go over and offer to hold the ladder for you,” he laughed as his hand found it’s way to Zack’s ear making the German Shepard sigh and push into his touch as Cloud’s thumb gently rubbed the bottom of his ear.

“Why didn’t you?”

Cloud looked down again as his own ears moved to the back of his head.

“I had a better view from my window,” he admitted and Zack nearly groaned at the way their eyes met with heat behind them.

“Did you now?”

Cloud nodded with a whine before taking Zack by surprise and pulling him into a kiss, his smaller hands now tangled in Zack’s hair, his lips parting in relief when Zack actually responded to the kiss.

The blonde was shaking so much because of his own actions and Zack couldn’t find it anything but endearing as he helped the Spaniel onto his lap.

Cloud tasted of coffee and mints and Zack was living for it, fingers grasping Cloud’s waist tightly but not enough to hurt him.

Zack smiled when he felt the soft material of Cloud’s jumper on his cheeks, gentle fingers stroking him before they moved away from each other.

There was no need to exchange any words as both of them moved their faces into the other’s neck, scenting to show their dedication to each other.

“Well, well, well,”

Cloud shrieked as he was nearly thrown off off Zack’s lap from how quickly he stood up in shock at the sound of Aerith’s voice.

“Told you it wouldn’t take long for them,” Tifa nudged her friend with a grin making the flower girl laugh.

“What?” Zack asked with a frown but apparently the two women didn’t even hear him.

“I’m just glad they were only scenting and not mating,” Aerith replied making even more glorious laughter to come from them as they walked away from the baffled and disheveled Hybrid’s.

“Did they set us up on a play-date?!” 

#zakkura writes: zack x cloud #this is awful #hybrid au #final fantasy vii crisis core #ffvii husbands #final fantasy vii #ff fanfiction #cloud strife #zack fair #zakkura #clack #zack x cloud #cloud x zack #my writing #personal: zakkura #zacksoldiers

[camwritesbooks]

How to put GIF overlays on your edits

Anon asked: Hey! If it's possible could you tell me how to apply the sparkly overlay?

Sure! This is how I do it, I’m sure there are other ways but this is just the method I use. This tutorial is for placing an overlay over an image to create a moving GIF using Adobe Photoshop. There may be other programs you can use, but Photoshop is my go-to. I only learned this recently so I’m a beginner myself, but I hope you find this helpful! 

It is possible to place GIF overlays on top of both still images and other GIFs. This tutorial shows putting an overlay on a still image, but GIFs aren’t much different. Don’t stress if you make mistakes or don’t get it right the first time, Photoshop and GIF-making take practice!

Difficulty: medium, basic Photoshop skills are useful

Basic commands:

Ctrl+C = copy

Ctrl+V = paste

Ctrl+Z = undo 

Ctrl+Alt+A = selects all layers

Four lines > “Select All Frames” = select all your frames

Click first layer > Shift-click last layer = selects layers between

1. Find an overlay for and edit your image.

You can find sparkle, snow, etc. overlay GIFs quite easily on Tumblr or through a simple Google search. You’ll notice that these overlays have either black/dark or white/pale backgrounds rather than transparent ones - it’s supposed to be like this! We use a tool on Photoshop to remove that background later, so don’t worry. I’ll be using this spark/fire/smoke GIF:

I personally find it easier to just edit the size of the image to be the same size as the GIF. Just work out your GIF’s dimensions, create a blank document in Photoshop with them then paste and resize your image on the canvas so that your image and GIF are of equal size. Feel free to add filters or edit the colours too of your image before we move on!

2. Open your image and GIF in Photoshop.

Now, notice how when the gif opened it has all these separate layers? This particular GIF has 59 layers/frames. I would say that you don’t really want many more layers/frames than that, depends on how much patience you have. If you want to get rid of some layers, click on the top layer and press the “Delete” key, it’ll then move down to the next layer so you can essentially hold down delete until you have as many as you want (though this will cut the GIF shorter).

3. Open up your timeline.

On the top bar, click Window > Timeline. Your page should now look like this:

If it doesn’t and you don’t have all the separate frames in the “Timeline” window, don’t worry! If the centre of the timeline tab has a little drop-down box, select “Create Frame Animation” then click on it. Then, in the corner of the timeline tab, you’ll see a few little lines.

Click this, then “Make Frames From Layers”. This should get you to that first image!

4. Now go to your image, currently opened in another tab.

This is a super important step! Without it your edit won’t work, I know I made this mistake several times while I was learning. You should have the same amount of layers/frames of your image as layers/frames of your GIF. My GIF had 59 frames so I’ll be duplicating my image into 59 layers. Remember that “Layer 0″ will count as a layer too, when we convert them into frames.

Then turn this into a timeline of frames as I showed above. “Create Frame Animation” > little lines > “Make Frames From Layers”. Double check that you have the same number of frames in your image and your GIF!

5. Group your GIF layers and image layers.

Please do this - working with hundreds of un-grouped layers is the biggest headache and easily avoidable. For both the image and the GIF, select all layers (Ctrl+Alt+A) then Layer > Group Layers. Name the groups something along the lines of “Image” and “GIF” to make it easier later. 

6. Time to start bringing them together.

Create a new document with the same dimensions as your GIF/image. We’ll be compiling everything here. 

Go to your image - the base. Click the little lines > Select All Frames, then click the little lines again and choose Copy Frames. Go to the blank document, click the little lines, then choose Paste Frames. A pop-up will appear.

We’ll always be choosing “Paste Over Selection”. 

7. Add the GIF.

Go to the GIF and repeat the Select All Frames and Copy Frames thing from the previous step. Go back to your document and choose Paste Frames. It’ll seem like the GIF frames have covered over the image ones, but don’t worry, we’re about to fix this!

Beforehand, just check that a) all frames are selected and b) in the layers panel the “GIF” group is selected. Then, in the layers panel, pick the drop-down menu that probably says “Pass Through” at the moment and change this to Screen (or Darken or Lighten, it depends. If Screen doesn’t work try one of those two!). 

Hopefully, the background of your GIF has now disappeared and your page looks like this (click the play button at the bottom to watch the GIF through):

8. Save it the right way.

This is pretty easy but it’s just important to note that this is how you save it rather than just “Save As”. Click File > Export > Save For Web (Legacy). Set all the options to be like this and watch your GIF through just to check that it’s right:

Then choose “Save” and save it wherever you wish!

Completed GIF:

#editing tutorial #ps tutorial #editing #photoshop #long post #oof worked hard on this #i hope it's helpful!!

[alexbfmp]

Evaluation

Section 1: Media and Techniques

For my final major project, the main medias and techniques used to create my outcome was mainly using a variety of fabrics from lycra/ stretch net, high quality velvet to lurex sparkle ribbons alongside with many different beads and sequins with added glass hot fix crystals in multiple colours and sizes. In regards to the other elements visible in my outcome, I used a lace front synthetic wig which was styled with heated tools, hair pins and hairspray alongside a full kit of makeup to transform my face into the ‘glam’ drag look. The techniques I used were heavily reliant on sewing both machine and by hand for the actual construction of the garment but also for all of the beading work completed by hand with a few extra add ons as well. 

Researching into the different styles of heavily beaded and elaborate garments definitely helped me out during the designing and idea generating process to understand where I wanted to take my project too as well as look at artists who used particular styled themes like ‘Art Deco’ patterns within their fashion looks and how often I can see them still used in modern day. I feel like having these insights were an advantage to me for this project allowing myself to take the idea of using different patterns to create something that still had a retro style feel but keeping it fresh and modern.

Section 2: Purpose / Theme / Context

During my FMP the physical development of the garment was a lengthy time process involving many hours of hand sewing and meters of thread as well as sore hands and neck! The most difficult problems I occasionally came up against was while I was beading and occasionally the thread got caught or tangled together due to the length of thread needed. In some cases, I could easily untangle the knot but in others, it meant I had to cut the section off and start all over again. Another problem I came up across was how I was going to create a large back piece that would be added on to the garment. My original plan which i started to work on, was to bead a big panel of the same heavy velvet fabric as the rest of the dress but i soon found that it would be far to heavy and weigh down the dress which would of resulted in pulling of the fine mesh top portion of the bodice - potentially could cause ripping. In the end, I decided to use a lightweight tulle mesh fabric gathered and attached on the back covered with crystals. Although it wasn't my intal vision, I had to adapt in the best way I could. 

The point of my work is mainly a personal way to showcase and express my true self when I am at my happiest and feel the most confident but also to express my personal love for creating garments and transformations. I feel like anyone can be who they want to be and that should be expressed and celebrated. The ‘Palettes and Patterns’ topic was a great theme for me to use within my work to include within my garment as you can create so many beautiful pieces with patterned and different colour combinations fabrics but it takes it to another level when creating the patterns themselves in a custom way for my desired look, allowing me to be the happiest I can be with the result. 

If I was able to push the FMP further in other ways, I would probably try to include more detail within my piece as it is or create the same design/ concept but use already beaded/ fabrics with sequin patterns on to make up the base of the patterns, then work back into areas which would have made bigger impacts and saved time but definitely could be a method used in the future for further outcomes or projects in my life.

Section 3: Outcome

I am very pleased with my outcome and personally, I feel like it has met my aim and reason in how it is showcased in my displayed images. I feel like it is clear to see my original theme within the outcomes but also takes them to another level of me as an artist expressing myself.  I feel like my presentation and poses in the final outcome images definitely draw the attention to me and the outcome, showcasing all of the detail and effort put into the piece. 

Having a plain white background behind definitely allowed the outcome to be the main focus point and not distract the audience view from anything else. I was considering to possibly edit backgrounds behind but in the end, I felt like it would take away from the contrast between the outcome and its surroundings The audience viewing the outcome, I hope will be able to respond well and not think anything negative against myself being in drag in the outcome, but should just focus on the detail and the high, refined standard of all the elements together.

Section 4: Evaluation methodology

Throughout my FMP the process of evaluating my work was completed by weekly blog updates and evaluations which showcased the process and journey of my project as a whole but also allowing viewers to see an insight into how something heavily detailed and elaborate is made with all of the components as well as my progression/ thoughts along the way. 

Feedback from my tutors also helped me be confident with my work and happy with what I was creating with the direction I was taking. Although I had a plan as to what I was creating, feedback from my tutors and some class members helped in areas of decision making to see what looked right/ worked and what didn't. 

[elfmp2021]

Using Wire-frame and Perspective Development

I uploaded an image onto illustrator that I had found on pexels.com. I decided to use this image of a gaming controller as it links to my theme, it is different form of escapism that was mentioned during my peer feedback. 

I placed the image on a separate layer so that I could use it as a template to trace. I used the paintbrush tool to create a continue line around the entire shape. To create the wireframe effect I selected the entire section, used object > 3D and then extrude and bevel. 

I used the wireframe on each main part of the gaming controller, above is a screenshot of the settings I used to create this effect. 

I had to rearrange parts of the controller as the angle of the wireframe covered some areas of the inner design. 

I then exported the image as a PNG using the artboards and a transparent background. This meant  that I could easily upload this onto photoshop and add to the design.

I then started on the base of my design, for this I used a new Adobe illustrator page and created a perspective grid. I did this by selecting view > perspective > one point perspective. 

I began placing rectangles to each side, I did this bey selecting which side I wanted to place them using the small grid on my top left. I felt as if the colours were too bright and the design seemed to be too sporadic.  

Therefore I decided to change the perspective back to a two point to experiment different options. I used different shades of grey with the darker on the bottom to show depth. I preferred this as a background as it was more simple and I could incorporate other elements around it.

I also decided to add a drop shadow to give a more 3D effect, this also makes the perspective stand out. I then saved this as a PNG also, so I could upload it onto photoshops easier. 

Using Adobe photoshop I uploaded all of the PNG files that I had saved from illustrator. I also tried to create a background using the contrasting colours of red and blue with a circle to represent the sun and to create an angle of light. However I felt as if the colours were too bold and distracted away from the main theme. 

I removed the rectangles and and created my own gradient background using the paint brush tool, I decided to use this instead of the gradient tool as I had more control over the placement of the colours. I used quite muted pastel colours so that the wireframe and perspectives would be the main focus. 

I felt as if the gaming controller was out of place and floating, to fix this I copied and pasted the wireframe to reveal two half at different ends if the page. Not only did this fill the page it also made a more interesting layout. 

Using the layer style > bevel and emboss I added a pinkish tint to the game controllers to match the direction of the sun. This gave a more realistic effect as I could edit the appearance depending on where the circle was placed. I also added a running figure PNG which I found online, this adds to the theme as it represents a character in a game. 

After I had copied and flipped it to create a shadow, I added a blur to the PNG running person and lowered the opacity to give a more effective shadow. I also added a blur around the circle/sun by using the layer style panel.

Above is the final outcome of this task. I feel as if the layout is interesting and the shadows create are effective and give a more detailed design. The colour scheme is muted futuristic design that I feel most games are based off on. The only issue is that the design has areas that feel empty, this could be filled with a form of typography, however overall it is simplistic rather than overwhelming. 

Kidmograph Research 

The images above are examples of work by Kidmograph, he is a motion designer, visual artist, illustrator and art director. Primarily he creates GIFS/ short videos, this could be something small like a sparkle or something more complex like the scenery moving and changing. 

His work uses a retro sci fi theme and colour scheme. I was particularly influenced by this in my own work, I was also influenced by his use of large centre point such as the sun, as I have used this in my own version. 

#development #experiment #research

[scifimagpie]

Diversity Isn't Enough: The Importance of Radical Inclusion

Hello hello! Well, a friend of mine has now been to 78 agents and gotten as many rejections. Surely, this indicates that the book is simply Not Good Enough, right? That's the thing. I've read it, and the book is excellent. Featuring a character with PTSD, who is both gay and from a mixed heritage background, it's full of funny moments, intelligent thought experiments about robotic consciousness, and has a very solid mystery through the core. The cast is populated by well-rounded and differentiated characters - of mixed abilities, genders, ethnic heritages, and sexualities. And in this setting, their societal and work crew composition is pretty normal. So in addition to featuring a robot love story and a murder mystery, there are plenty of moments where the night crew assembles, and a deaf character sits at a table with a young hijabi clinic worker and her mechanic girlfriend, and two divorced people who remain friends, as well as the main character - all so they can play cards in the park, out of the sight of a nearly omniscient AI. The thing is, while audio-visual projects - which often spring from book series these days - such as A Wrinkle in Time, American Horror Story, Sense-8, American Gods, The Adventure Zone, Welcome to Night Vale, Penumbra, Who Fears Death (Nnendi Okorafor), Steven Universe, Blackish, Dear White People, Master of None, Switched at Birth, Fresh off the Boat, Luke Cage, Dark Matter, The Expanse, and Westworld include cast members of many shades, there's still a focus on able, attractive, mostly straight people - not to mention that in more than a couple of these, white characters still end up dominating front and centre roles. Yes, this is getting better, but there seems to be a genuine fear of addressing the (surprisingly large) populations of trans and genderqueer, aromantic or asexual, Deaf, visually impaired/blind, and visibly and invisibly disabled people. Not to mention that a lot of these populations intersect. I personally know plenty of people who are people of colour, genderqueer, and disabled. I've read articles by a surprising number of genderqueer, mentally ill people of colour. Add present and former sex workers to the mix, and you have a pretty good sampling of humanity.

So what's the problem?

The problem is that these diverse shows, which are not radically inclusive yet, are only the tip of the iceburg. Producers and studios and publishing houses tend to hire just one or two people to demonstrate their wokeness, and keep the rest their content steaming along as though it's business as usual - teen YA love triangles, stubble-covered male power-fantasy thrillers, gritty sex murder mysteries, soft and juicy chick lit, spicy supernatural sex romps, and tooth-gritting fast ship space porn.  I've edited these books, read them, and enjoyed them - but the fact remains that the market's determiners keep orienting themselves to what they think is a safe bet, an easy seller. We still live in a world where an alternate history series where the South won was greenlit by HBO. So yeah, Nnedi Okorafor's series is getting a production deal, but so is a slavery fantasyland series. So is Ready Player One, too. A Minecraft book by Max Brooks is at the top of the bestsellers right now. So yes, diversity's making inroads, but The Problem Is Not Fixed. Radical inclusion, i.e. just treating people like people, and writing stories where non-white, non-able, non-cisgender, non-heterosexual, non-Christian people are allowed to exist and be in starring roles is absolutely revolutionary. 

Ready Player What, now? 

For those not familiar with RPO, it's basically a pop culture slurry of references; another Teenage White Boy Saves The World book, with virtual reality, and somehow he's the only one who knows Stuff About the Eighties - and Steven Spielberg is attached. You'd think he'd pick a more challenging project or have better taste, but no, fanboy fantasy it is. The biggest problem is that people think Ready Player One is like, subversive somehow? Or self-aware? But it absolutely isn't. It's sincere. Max Brooks is one of the guys who launched the zombie craze--he's very good at commercial writing, to the extent that he's actually a Name, but yeah, he's not exactly known for challenging or artistically mold-breaking projects. And all of this would be fine, except that it, and the dozens of imitators who crop up to try and skim that flavour, crowd out the more innovative and interesting projects.

Is this another Commerce vs Art rant? 

Absolutely not. It's not that Commerce and Art are Enemies. Heck, it's *fine* to monetize the daylights out of something. Art's relied on Commerce for basically all of modern history. If it wasn't Commerce, it was religion. But - the problem is *how* those selections are done, and the way people trust their preferences to be free of bias. Which just isn't the case. It's OKAY to have biases. The problem is that we treat a certain kind of bias as objective, and it gets far, far more sway over the stories that get told than anything else. To the point where just including people is considered revolutionary and gamechanging. Simultaneously, there are so *few* of these inclusive stories that individual properties are often torn apart for being 'not good enough'. Yet meanwhile, mainstream stories with sparkling white casts somehow get a break. But including people is how you GET different kinds of stories. Now, to be clear,  I LOVE the Hunger Games. A lot. But we have a market where agents are like, 'eh, this sold, let's get ten more that are basically variations of this flavour'. There's very little willingness to risk the core of the market, and it becomes a self-fulfilling cycle of, well, crap. Like, if you go to a corner store you can buy some chips. And chips are good, I like chips, but even if you put zesty spice or cool ranch or sour cream on them, they're *still* chips. they're not zucchini chips, or sweet potato crisps, or whatever, ya know? The problem is that the market tends to focus on chips, and assume nothing else will sell...

Wat do? 

The solution is simple. Readers have to step outside their comfort zones - unfortunately, the readers who might not even read this blog are the ones I'm addressing - and writers and publishers have to band together. There is definitely a need and an audience for diversity, and moreso, radical inclusion. People often talk about 'not seeing colour', which is an issue I won't even get into right now, and complain that they want stories that are 'normal', and aren't focused on 'identity politics'. That's the most bitter irony of all - these stories exist, and they're fun and delightful. And yes, inequality issues do crop up in some of them, because of how those issues affect people's lived experiences - but a lot of the time, people across the ability, gender, ethnicity, and sexuality spectrum just want to have fun. A transgender plus-sized psychic lady who talks with the dead to solve murder mysteries? Yes. A deaf Chinese-American engineer who discovers the secret to time travel and accidentally changes the course of history? Definitely. A love story featuring an asexual mobility-impaired Indian woman and a Zulu warrior king from an alternate world? Why not? *** Thanks for returning to the nest. Leave a comment and say hi! I want to hear from you. Keep up with the new releases by getting on the mailing list. Buy my books on Amazon, and keep up with me on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and the original blog. This is the one and only SciFiMagpie, over and out!

#diversity #trans #lgbtq #hbo #stories #radical inclusion #ableism #sizeism #prejudice #science fiction #fantasy #nnedi okorafor

[alexsankles-blog]

Products to consider - SCRAM

This list is not all inclusive. I will add and edit as needed.

I understand it can be expensive to replace your products, not to mention time consuming reading every label and frustrating not to be able to locate a suitable alternative.

Many baby, organic and vegan products do not contain alcohol. 

Cheaper brands tend to contain alcohol.

You can always approach a store employee at a Whole Foods, Drugstore or Beauty Shop and ask about alcohol free products. They are usually happy to help and have likely been asked before.

If you’re wearing a SCRAM monitor you may consider products containing the following:

HAND SOAP

Dove Lavendar & Yogurt Foaming Hand Wash

TOOTHPASTE

Tom’s of Maine Luminous White Clean Mint

FLOSS

Listerine ULTRACLEAN Unflavored Access Flosser & Refills

*Also, consider a Waterpik

MOUTHWASH

Listerine Zero Alcohol

BODY WASH

Dove Go Fresh Cucumber & Green Tea Scent

BODY LOTION

Burt’s Bees Body Lotion with Cocoa & Cupuacu Butters DRY SKIN

Burt’s Bees Coconut Foot Creme

BODY OIL

Bath & Body Works Aromatherapy FOCUS Eucalyptus & Tea

SHAMPOO

HASK*

*This brand are all supposed to be alcohol free, sulfate free, paraben free but be careful of the scent you choose - some like Blue Chamomile have isopropyl alcohol (although I did use it).

CONDITIONER

HASK*

*This brand are all supposed to be alcohol free, sulfate free, paraben free but be careful of the scent you choose - some like Blue Chamomile have isopropyl alcohol (although I did use it).

HAIR GEL FOAM

Sexy Hair BLOW IT UP

HAIR GEL

BEDHEAD TIGI Control Freak

HAIR POMADE

BEDHEAD TIGI Manipulator

HAIR SPRAY

Pantene Pro-V Airspray Alcohol Free Hairspray

HAIR COLOR

Punky Colour Lightning Fast Bleach Kit

MAKE UP

Make Up For Ever Ultra HD Skin Booster

Make Up For Ever Step 1 Skin Equalizing Primer

Make Up For Ever Ultra HD Invisible Cover Stick Foundation

Make Up For Ever Pro Sculpting Face Palette

Make Up For Ever Ultra HD Concealer

Make Up For Ever Ultra HD Microfinishing Loose Powder

Make Up For Ever Blush Powder

Make Up For Ever EyeShadow Palette

Coco Chanel Lip Gloss

Two Faced Rich & Dazzling High Shine Sparkling Lip Gloss

Revlon Colorstay Ultimate Liquid Lipcolor

Maybelline SuperStay Matte Ink Lip Color

Make Up For Ever Pro Fusion Highlighter

Two Faced Diamond Light Multi-Use Highlighter

Sephora Luminizing Palette

Maybelline Unstoppable Eyeliner

Maybelline Eyebrow Pencil

Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Wiz

Smashbox Super Fan Mascara

Make Up For Ever Mist & Fix Setting Spray

FACIAL CARE

Algenist Gentle Rejuvenating Cleanser

Algenist POWER Recharging Night Pressed Serum

Algenist Complete Eye Renewal Balm

Algenist GENIUS Ultimate Anti-Aging Cream

Algenist SPLASH Hydrating Setting Mist

Algenist ELEVATE Advanced Retinol Serum

Algenist Concentrated Reconstructing Serum

Burt’s Bees Renewal Cleanser

Neutrogena Oil-Free Acne Wash Pink Grapefruit Foaming Scrub

...

CAUTION! Not all products that claim to be alcohol free are. That typically just means they do not contain a ‘drying’ alcohol.

Whatever you do, never rinse a product out over your monitor in the shower.

Remember, we are not technically allowed to possess or use alcohol while wearing SCRAM. The products above are those I have personally used while on SCRAM that may contain environmental alcohol deriviatives that did not trigger any alerts that would result in a violation. Please see my post on the different types of environmental alcohols. I am not responsible for your individual choice or outcome nor am I encouraging you to use products containing alcohol.

#scram #alcoholmonitor #alexsankles

[cake-faceshawty]

In my last post I mentioned that I had recently gotten the Queen of Hearts Palette by Coloured Raine, and since it did make it to the “Best of 2016” list, clearly I am in love with it. However, I thought I would still do a full review of the palette and show you guys a look I created with it over the holidays.

I have always loved Coloured Raine liquid lipsticks, but I am a newbie to their eyeshadows. If I’m not mistaken, they first debuted their eye shadow singles sometime last year, and while they received rave reviews in the beauty community, I just did not get around to purchasing any. When they revealed pictures of their first palette in November, I was in loveee at first sight. All the warmth and shimmery colours  just looked like perfection to me. And then I saw the swatches and reviews and I was like yassssssss – I need this in my life. So imagine my delight when my bestie gifted me this beauty for Christmas! I actually wore it twice on Christmas day – for Christmas lunch with the family and for a party that night – and I don’t think I’ve put it down since.

The Queen of Hearts palette is limited edition and retails for $50.00. It contains 12 eyeshadows: 6 matte shadows and 6 foil shades, making it perfect for creating both daytime and night-time looks. The shadows come in a sleek, black cardboard packaging. While the black cardboard does show dirt/smudges easily, it can be wiped off in seconds. The star of the show, however, is the sleeve in which the palette is housed: it is black with a gold foil tribal design that is absolutely beautiful. To be honest, I wish the actual palette had that design on it because it really is that gorgeous.

Without flash

With flash

The pigmentation of all the colours gets an A+ from me. The foiled shadows are buttery to the touch, apply smoothly and blend easily. The matte shadows are a bit on the dry side, however, they still applied superbly with or without an eyeshadow primer. Another thing I loved about this palette is how well the shadows went together: the mattes paired perfectly with the foiled shimmers, allowing for the ability to create complete eye looks without delving into another palette. The only thing missing for me was a deeper matte shade for the outer corner of the eye such as a matte deep brown or even a matte black, but missing this alone doesn’t deter from how amazing this palette is. Another plus is that every single shadow in the palette is WOC-friendly – which is often a rarity in eyeshadow palettes. Hats off to Coloured Raine for that!

Without flash (left) & with flash (right)

Crown – “Pearlescent white with gold undertone.” Do not be intimidated by this frosty, white pearl: it is such a beautiful topper on the lid that almost gives the shadow underneath a duochrome vibe. I’ve definitely been using this one – don’t sleep on it y’all.

Royal Highness – “Metallic purple-toned taupe.” Of all the foiled shadows, I’ve been reaching for this one the most! It is super pigmented and looks  beautiful on the lid with minimal fall out. I like to apply it in the centre of the lid with my finger, or with a brush sprayed with some MAC Fix + to get the most out of this metallic purple. “Dark Force” from Urban Decay is very similar, though not as shimmery.

Your Majesty – “Rich metallic copper with gold reflect.” This medium-dark copper will look beautiful on all skin tones, especially my deep chocolate ladies. This shade is perfect for a night out on the town. Shine baby, shine!

Princess – “Matte blushed pink.” I’ve probably reached for this colour the least, but this medium rose shadow makes a great transition colour. I will say though, if you have a deeper skin tone, I suggest using a primer first to get the most colour payoff. Makeup Geek Cupcake and the medium, warm rose from the BH Cosmetics Carli Bybel 14 Color Eyeshadow Palette are very similar.

Empress – “Vibrant matte orange.” Be careful with this one, because the colour payoff is crazyyy – a little goes a very long way. It is a beautiful burnt orange colour, that is great for the crease area, especially on darker skin tones. Red Brick from Mac is very similar.

Queen Mother – “Metallic plum with lavender hues.” I haven’t created a look with this one yet, but I am so ready! This frosty plum is so pretty, it is unreal. I think it will be a great colour for transitioning into Spring/Summer.

Without flash (left) & with flash (right)

  Heir – “Matte peach.” I have to say, this warm, peachy-nude has been such a great colour for a matte brow bone highlight. I also love how buildable, yet blendable this shade was. It’s also great as a lid colour for when you’re creating a neutral, matte eye look. Sandcastle from Sephora is a great dupe.

Noblewoman – “Metallic burgundy with purple undertones.” If this frosty, medium-dark red isn’t the perfect jewel tone for creating a royally perfect eye look, then I don’t know what is! It reminds me of Makeup Geek’s Curtain Call.

Royal Prerogative – “Terracotta.” This is officially my new fave transition colour for almost every and any look. It almost comes off as a flesh tone on my complexion. It’s such a smooth matte that it blends out so easily, to create the most flawless eye look. It’s similar to Swiss Chocolate by MAC as it has a warm, reddish undertone. Anastasia Beverly Hills Raw Sienna is also similar.

Ladyship – “Matte vivid purple.” With its cool toned, berry colour, this shadow is perfect as a crease colour for when you want that berry eye look without looking like you haven’t slept in weeks (like some berry shadows tend to do). I think this will be perfect for a look involving Noblewoman and Queen Mother.

Duchess – “Matte milk chocolate-brown.” This is such a perfect crease colour! It’s super opaque and blends out so easily on the lid. It has a warm, yellow undertone, so it adds some definition without being too dramatic. It’s very similar to ABH’s Fudge.

Dethrone – “Sparkling espresso with gold reflect.” Another beautiful lid colour – this sparkly red-toned brown is versatile enough to be worn both during the day and at night-time. I love to pair it with Royal Highness for a super glam look.

If you can get your hands on this palette, I highly recommend it. For this holiday look below, I attempted to recreate Jackie Aina’s Glam Christmas Makeup Tutorial. The products are listed below:

EYES

Heir on the brow bone.

Royal Prerogative above the crease/transition colour.

Duchess in the crease.

Dethrone all over the lid.

Royal Highness in the centre of the lid.

Crown towards the inner corner and in the inner corner.

Queen Mother on the lower lash line.

*I used “Activist” from the Tarte Tartelette in Bloom palette to deepen the outer corner.

FACE

Artist Couture Diamond Glow Powder in “Conceited”

MAC “Sweet as Cocoa” blush

Tarte x MakeupShayla Tarteist Contour Palette

  LIPS

MAC “Nightmoth” Lip Pencil

Coloured Raine “Raine Fever” Matte Lip Paint

Let me know what you thought of this look, and if you’ve purchased this palette or plan on purchasing it.

Outfit from http://tiaclothesgirl.com/

Please don’t forget to like, comment and subscribe! Follow me on IG at@beatsbytiff_ & @tiffanysamantha_ and on twitter @cakefaceshawty_. And if you aren’t already, be sure to follow me on Snapchat where I sometimes do little tutorials: Tiffsamlaw.

    Coloured Raine Queen of Hearts Palette Review In my last post I mentioned that I had recently gotten the Queen of Hearts Palette by Coloured Raine…

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