#A bit of tea staining this time instead of colored pencils

[splinteredthoughts]

6 days…

[anonofseasons]

Hey!! Can you do 1 and 5 for Vivian and 8 for El?

Sure! 1. What is the character’s go-to drink order? Vivian doesn't drink liquor much. He might be persuaded to share a single glass of wine with his husband, but he learned early on that alcohol and magic--as a precaution--are better off not mixed. So he's a tea drinker instead. He mostly goes for herbal blends, but he likes matcha green tea too. As for the herbal stuff, there's always chamomile tea in the house. It helps the boys sleep, and Viv is partial to it. He also likes any citrus ones, like lemon and orange spice. 5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances?

Oooh, this is a good one and requires some thinking. Especially when Viv doesn't like to publicly cry and he holds back even in private. There is a point where he cries in a future chapter (a little bit), but before that? Hmmm... So Graham can get sick, and occasionally, he hasn't fared well. I imagine there was a point where he was bedridden years before the current events of the story--some illness that seemed worse than usual. It probably required antibiotics and allowing a doctor into the house. He cried at his husband's bedside and held his hand. He does love him, even if he's rubbish at showing it sometimes. 8. Describe the place where they sleep. This is such a cute thought, thank you for asking this one! El has a double bed. Graham designed it alongside El. It has been painted robin's egg blue! He has a quilt made of various white and pastel colors, most of his cotton and linen sheet sets are light blue or pink, and he has a few wool blankets that are either green or yellow. He sleeps with a polar bear. It's been through a few washings and isn't quite white anymore, and Vivian has had to add some patches where it is worn down. It is missing an eye (Viv gave it surgery so that it won't lose stuffing, although he did plump it up with more before mending it), and has a light blue eyepatch. His set of nightstands matches the bed, as does the dresser. He got the whole bedroom set custom made by his daddy, and Graham loves going the extra mile. The bookcase is painted to match, but it has a basic design because it is buried in books. The nightstands have matching lamps with blue bases and cream shades. He has a little wooden box he made--with a wood stain--that has a sliding lid, and he puts a cotton handkerchief in there for cleaning his glasses, which are also stored inside. It has silly little patterns engraved on it. Swirls and the like. His bookcase holds only his favorites. Everything else goes downstairs in the main library. Little trinkets he has collected over the years decorate the shelves in front of the books. That includes an ammonite fossil he collected, as well as little presents his family has made him. His rug is blues and cream with fractal patterns. He has a desk for reading and studying, and it's basic much like the bookshelf. It's fairly small. It has another lamp, this one silver with a blue lampshade. He has collected lots of little boxes to sort out his pens and pencils neatly inside the desk drawers. The chair that goes with it is also made by Graham, who went a bit fancier and painted it to match the room. It has an upholstered seat (blue) that has had to be patched a few times and also reupholstered entirely once. I keep imagining he has a few old stuffed animals on the bookshelf's top, along with a few on the dresser--places Beau can't reach, or he'd steal them. Most of them don't match any actual animals... For some reason, I imagine him as a small child, drawing his own weird monsters and Vivian making the plushies to match the images. El has a closet, unlike Howie and Beau, who both have wardrobes. (They had a choice, and both of them decided that small wardrobes packed with clothes couldn't possibly hold monsters, but closets? No thank you! They'll pass on the monster den.) El doesn't have anything under his bed, for that matter. The same cannot be said of his brothers. :')

[forestwater87]

Chapter 15: Grand Gesture

Summary: GRAND GESTURE: He or she must be willing to put it all on the line now or risk losing the one thing they need to become whole-hearted. It’s life or death now.

CW: Smut in the last third of the chapter. Questionable quality.

Summer 2017

“Fuck!” Gwen felt her center of gravity shift as she leaned forward, overbalancing on the rickety chair she’d been using to reach the ceiling. It tipped perilously on two legs, then lost the fight with physics and sent her sprawling with a crash that shook the dozens of tiny papers taped around the room. She hit the ground with her hip and the side of her face, one of them making a disturbing crunch sound and both shooting bright white pain down her entire right side. “Shit!”

She was halfway to her feet, wondering if the crossed-eyes dizzy feeling was from lack of sleep, hitting her head, or marker fumes, when fingers closed around her upper arm and she was hauled upright. “Gwen! Goodness, are you okay?” David let go of her, his gaze roving around the room as he took a step back. “What happened in here?”

She looked around, taking a deep breath and noticing for the first time in hours the thick perfume of tacky glue and paint, as though David walking in had turned her senses back on. It was done, mostly. Well, no — it’d never really be done, but it was enough to prove her point.

She hoped.

While she was panicking, David had wandered over to the center of the room, ducking to avoid a string of origami animals dangling from the ceiling. “Is this for camp?”

“Yes — I mean, no, it’s from camp, and maybe we can reuse some of it but no, it’s . . . not really . . .” She’d planned this, during her mad crafting frenzy: how David would come home, wonder what she was doing, and she’d carefully tour him through everything — or maybe she’d let him get on with his morning routine while she added a few more things, made it just a bit closer to perfect.

But his presence had pulled her to a halt. She’d been like a shark all night, afraid to stop moving or she’d die, but now that he was here she felt drained, the giddy, terrified adrenaline that’d been keeping her going evaporating in an instant.

Though hey. At least she had a good reason to be tired, for once.

He frowned at her discarded supplies strewn carelessly around the room. “Are these from Art Camp?”

The question jolted her into action, and she stumbled forward jerkily, like the Tin Man without oil. “Yeah, but I already took it out of my paycheck, it’s fine. I’ll go shopping tomorrow for new stuff.” She wanted him to hear what she really meant, what she was trying to put together through exhausted babbling: that this was important, that it was worth sacrificing sleep and money for, that she loved him and she respected him and she wanted him to know that.

Finally, finally, he turned his attention to the walls. “Gwen, what is all this?”

“It’s you,” she blurted out, then winced and rested her forehead in her palm. “No, that’s not — it’s — some of the stuff you’ve taught me, look . . .” She took his hand, her nerves trembling at the brush of his fingers against her own, and pulled him toward the doorway. She’d made a messy semicircle around the room, right to left like a supermarket. Dropping his hand, she took a step back, steepling her fingers like she was praying and pressing them to her lips with another steadying breath.

She had one chance.

“Okay,” she began. “So . . .”

---

Gwen looked like she was on the verge of falling over, listing dangerously to the side as she led him across the room. There were feathers in her hair, and scraps of paper; she was speckled with color, marker and paint and even a smear of glitter glue on the tip of her nose, the pads of her fingers nearly black with a rainbow of ink that stained his hand as she held it. It was obvious she hadn’t slept, even more obvious that she desperately needed to.

But her eyes were bright even if the circles under them were dark, and she thrummed with an energy and animation David hadn’t seen all summer.

And he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her, not when it finally felt like she’d returned to him.

“— song you taught me last year,” she said, and he felt a flash of guilt that he hadn’t been listening. She tapped the paper she’d stuck to the wall, the lyrics of his Camp Campbell song scrawled across it in uneven lines. “All the camp activities, remember? At least the most important ones.”

(It was really just the ones that fit best into the rhyme scheme, but he didn’t correct her as she moved on to a second piece of paper.)

“This is a list of all the facts about nature I’ve learned since I started here,” she continued, gesturing. This one was crammed so tightly with writing that he could barely read it, bullet points snaking in all directions and increasingly smaller handwriting as it moved down the page, until finally Gwen had started attaching sticky notes to the wall below and around the list. “I had to keep going back and adding things as I thought of them. I know I’m forgetting something, but I can’t —” She gestured around her head in a classic “scatterbrained” motion, chuckling weakly. “I’m kind of all over the place right now.”

Next: a bullseye, a pencil stuck point-first into the wall. “I couldn’t really shoot an arrow,” Gwen explained, “but remember that summer you taught me archery? I’m still pretty good at it — we went to a shooting range for Claire’s birthday last year and I was the only one who hit the target every time.”

Next: a messy drawing of a forest, a little stick figure kneeling next to a moss-covered rock. “That one time we got lost in the woods trying to find a good place for bug-catching, you got us out because you knew how to find north. You’d be pretty great in a zombie apocalypse.”

Next: a sheet of black construction paper poked through with holes, hastily taped to the back window so light from the lamp outside shone through in little pinpricks. He leaned closer and realized that they were in the rough shape of the constellations visible above Lake Lilac. “I didn't know much about stars and shit outside of, like, horoscope stuff — I mean, in the city you can’t even see them — but you always pointed out which constellations and planets were out during the summer and now I know them all too.”

And on, and on. Scale models of the crafts and activities they’d done at Camp Campbell, nature facts, and on one wall she’d tacked up a typewritten letter to the Director of Admissions at Queen’s University Belfast. Skimming it quickly, it looked to David like an application.

“I was trying to get into their Environmental Science program. I wrote about Sleepy Peak Peak and Lake Lilac,” she admitted, looking almost embarrassed. “I got in. And I mean, they’re not the best program out there, but they’re still in the top 300 worldwide so that’s pretty cool, I guess —”

“Belfast?” He leaned in closer, confirming that he’d read correctly. “Isn’t that in England?”

“Yeah.” She looked impressed, and he suppressed a weary smirk; yes, he did know a bit about the world outside of Camp Campbell. But she surprised him by adding, “I had to look that up, actually.” She shrugged. “Guess I should’ve just asked you, huh?

“Anyway, that was a couple years ago. I didn’t go, obviously,” she added, responding to his unspoken question. “International travel’s a bitch. I needed a scholarship, and my grades weren’t good enough. I think I only got in at all because of my letter.” She gestured at it, not quite meeting his eyes. “Which I never thanked you for. Or most of the stuff I’ve learned from you. I’ve been . . . kinda taking all that for granted. So, uh . . . thanks, David.”

He wanted to tell her she was welcome, that she didn’t need to thank him at all. That sharing these things with her had been the highlight of his life since they’d met, even if it hadn’t seemed like she cared about any of it. But there was a lump quivering dangerously in his throat and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

After a second she cleared her throat awkwardly and led him over to a row of stick figures hanging from the ceiling. “Some of these are from Yoga Camp,” she said, pointing at a few of the ones contorted into uncomfortable shapes, “but also all that other stuff you do. Like smile exercises —” and yes, one of the stick figures had a big pink smiley face, “— and breathing techniques and stuff. I use those sometimes when I’m having a panic attack. They really help, even if smile exercises still make me feel like a dumbass most of the time.”

The decorations started to get more abstract as they made their way around the room, simple crafts and trivia giving way to colorful scribbles and symbols, representing things he’d said to her about her relationship with her parents, her love life. “You have really good advice, you know that? You could be the next Dear Abby or something, seriously. I think that’s still running.”

(It was; he read it every morning with his pre-breakfast tea.)

“These get worse, sorry . . . I was getting tired.” Gwen jerked her chin up at a wobbly butterfly — or was it a bird? — dangling over their heads. “I use your advice about hummingbird-ing all the time. With writing, mostly, but sometimes at work or something, too.”

He gently reached up and touched the bird’s feet, watching it spin in a lazy circle. Technically the idea had been his mother’s, a way to avoid burnout by flitting from one project to another and adding just a little bit to each, instead of devoting all energy and resources to one thing and slogging through until it was done. The whole idea was part of his ethos of being a counselor — wasn’t Camp Campbell a place to get a little taste of everything, after all? He remembered explaining it to Gwen during her first week at camp, just over five years ago.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that she’d actually remembered.

He didn’t think she remembered any of this.

But the evidence was all around him — on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, dozens of examples, mementos of the tiny moments that meant everything to him. Immortalized, remembered, in increasingly sloppy handwriting and doodles.

In the corner was a bright red card that looked familiar. David moved over to it and laughed in recognition: it was one he’d sent her after her first or second summer at Camp Campbell, when he’d seen on Facebook that she was looking for work. He tugged it off the wall, careful not to damage the cheap cardstock, and smiled down at the deer wearing a plaid hunting cap, which he’d made out of tissue paper and markers (he’d gotten much better since then, thanks to a few years of Decoupage Camps).

‘Good luck on your job HUNT! I know you’ll slay the interview!’

“I’ve kept that for years to show my friends,” Gwen said, making him jump; he hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him, but she was close enough to nearly rest her head against his. “I felt like it really captured the kind of guy you were.”

Her breath prickled the side of his neck, and he distracted himself by opening the card — ‘oh deer, is this joke going on too long? I feel like it’s overkill!’ — noticing how worn the crease was, like she’d opened and closed it hundreds of times. “Does it?”

He felt her shake her head without having to face her, stray wisps of hair that’d escaped her ponytail tickling his cheek. “Not even close.”

Unable to resist, he looked back at her over his shoulder, and she took his arm, turning him around the rest of the way. He thought she was going to kiss him — she was close enough that he could see a smeary glue thumbprint on her cheek and what looked like half a smiley-face sticker in her hair — but she just took the card from him, setting it carefully on the couch before taking hold of both his hands. Her expression was grave, shining faint with hope, and between the craft debris and her naked earnestness, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

“There’s more,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward the far wall, “and I’ll let — I want you to look at it, but . . . I just had to tell you, I’ve been taking you for granted and it’s not right. I’ve been pretending I still think of you as this —” Pulling one of her hands away, she picked up the card again, her fingers shaking so the deer’s toothpick antlers clacked together, “— sweet, silly, kinda childish David, who belongs with someone sweet, and silly, and kinda childish. And I tried to be that and . . . I mean I sucked at it,” she said, breaking off with a weak laugh, dropping her eyes to their joined hands. “And it . . . kind of broke me. But I didn’t even think to ask if that was what you wanted, because I thought I knew what you needed, and that was — so, really fucked.” She looked back up at him, her eyes dancing with purple fire, her grip on his hand tightening. “And I — I don’t, you know so much that I don’t — I could fill the entire cabin with stuff I’ve learned from you, this doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

She paused, like she was waiting for him to interject, but David felt like he’d been turned to stone, paralyzed and unblinking while his brain whirled.

“But none of it matters if it doesn’t show . . . if you don’t know —” Her voice cracked, and she dropped his other hand, pressing a fist to her mouth. “— h-how amazing you are, how much you matter to this camp and to me and . . . and I didn’t know people could actually be happy 'til I met you. I mean, I guess I knew technically, but not that it was a real thing people actually were. But you figured it out. You’ve known what you wanted since you were a kid and then you got it and I’ve never done anything without second-guessing myself a million times but you just did it, and it meant making so many decisions about your life that could’ve turned out wrong but they didn’t because they were the right ones for you. And you knew it. You always have.” She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, crying in earnest now. “You’re a marvel, David. I should’ve said that every fucking day. And I know it’s probably too little, too late, but I’m sorry. For not telling you and — and for everything.

“And I . . .” She swallowed hard, taking a few heaving breaths before continuing, and he knew she was trying to hold onto her composure even as tears poured down her cheeks, “I don’t know what you wanna do. With — with us, I mean. But you’re right, I haven’t been a good girlfriend to you, and if you don’t want to . . . if you want me to leave right now or after the summer ends or if you just wanna be friends or whatever , that’s fine. A-and — if you do . . . y’know . . .” Her face crumpled, her shoulders curling in on themselves. “I love you so much,” she managed, her words harder to make out through damp, hiccuping breaths. “Whatever — whatever you want — I — I — I trust you.”

Understanding pierced his chest, a small pinhole that allowed light to pour, warm and white, into his heart.

“I trust you.”

David hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hear those words until that moment.

He stepped forward, plucking the card from her hand and tossing it onto the floor (he could make her another one, dozens if she wanted, hundreds) and tilting her chin up so he could kiss her. Her cheeks were wet under his palms, her mouth salty and acidic with the taste of not-quite-morning breath, and each brush of his lips against hers was broken by her pulling back to drag in a sobbing gasp, her mouth moving clumsily like she was as close to fainting from exhaustion and emotion as she looked.

It was, without question, the best kiss of his life.

He broke away to press his forehead against hers, sliding his hands from her face to cup the back of her neck and closing his eyes. “I love you too, Gwen,” he murmured, his heart fluttering at the giddily-incredulous, teary laugh she gave in response. “And I think you need to go to bed.”

She leaned back, and the bleary confusion on her face was so precious he rose up on his toes to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Huh? But what about . . .”

“I’ve got some stuff to think about,” he said, then gestured at the crafts she hadn’t shown him yet, “and look at. And after that . . . we should talk. But it won’t be a very good talk if you fall asleep,” he added with a laugh as her eyes drifted closed.

She opened them halfway, just enough to glare at him, but the effect would’ve been more intimidating if she hadn’t been swaying slightly. “’m fine.” The adrenaline that’d been keeping her going was clearly wearing off fast, and David was a little worried she wouldn’t make it to bed, that he’d just find her unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “You didn’t sleep either,” she accused, pointing at him with a finger stained silvery with graphite.

Goodness, he loved her so much he couldn’t stand it. “I had a nap.” Not a long one, but he was used to not sleeping much. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“It’s already the morning,” she complained, but like a sleepy robot she turned and shuffled back toward the front of the cabin. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and shower and stuff. So I look less like a sludge goblin.”

“You do that, Gwen.” He waited until the bathroom door had clicked shut before turning back to the mess she’d made of their living room. It was almost hard to tell the difference between what was art and what was trash left over, there was so much of both; it looked like an explosion had hit a crafts store.

Gwen wasn’t someone who put a lot of effort into things she didn’t care about. It was one of the most frustrating things about having her as a coworker, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love how unabashedly honest she was, how he could read her feelings just by looking at her work.

There was the soft sound of tape unsticking and one of the decorations sagged, a corner curling away from the wall and drooping down. He pushed it carefully back into place and fumbled for his phone, setting it to camera mode.

This was worth remembering.

---

Gwen was positive she’d never be able to fall asleep; how could she, when things were still so up in the air? But she wasn’t twenty anymore, and after the exhaustion and emotional turmoil of the last few hours — days, weeks; hell, if she was being honest it’d been years since she’d truly felt well-rested — and despite the anxiety buzzing inside her skull she was out in moments.

Soft fingers in her hair drew her back to earth, and when she opened her eyes David came into focus, crouching next to her bed so they were at eye level. He smiled as she blinked at him, warmth and sunshine he probably didn’t even know he was emitting. “Goooood morning, Gwen!” he chirped, his voice way too loud for how close they were, and she winced. “Sorry,” he added, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Habit.”

“It’s fine,” she said, because she’d missed his morning bellow so much more than she could ever miss having non-punctured eardrums. She sat up, clumsily swiping at her face to double-check for drool or errant eye gunk. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?” He hopped onto the bed, making her and everything else on the mattress bounce. He was being so . . . normal, like all the drama last night had been a dream.

Fuck it. They had some hard, painful conversations coming; she could enjoy a little bit of normalcy while her brain booted back up. “Good,” she replied, yawning. “I mean, tired, but I’m always tired so —” Her blood chilled, and suddenly she was wide awake.

There went normal. All because she had to remind him of what an unloveable disaster she was.

But when she looked back up he didn’t seem annoyed. He leaned against the wall, stretching his legs out so they dangled off the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” She scoffed before she could stop herself, and his gaze flicked up to hers, taking her breath away. (God, how she’d functioned for almost four years without feeling more than a flicker of attraction to this man was unfathomable.) “Really. I want to know what’s going on with you.” His hand landed on her knee, light as a bird but blazingly warm even through her blankets. “All I want is for you to let me in.”

A swell of emotion swept up from somewhere in her chest, causing her eyes to prick with tears for the thousandth time. She looked away and sniffed as discreetly as possible — which wasn’t very, she assumed, since he immediately reached over and handed her a tissue from the pack he kept stashed in his pockets. “I mean, if you want me to complain, I can do that,” she muttered, tamping down another flow of tears through willpower. “I can complain about fucking anything.”

David’s laugh made her turn back toward him, because it didn’t have a trace of sadness or pity or anything she’d expected. It was so purely, entirely delighted , more than even he could fake, and he was looking at her like she’d said something surprising and wonderful.

“You really like it,” she blurted out, unable to hide the awe in her voice. “That I’m like this. Whiny and —” she waved vaguely “— bitchy, and whatever.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head and her stomach plummeted. But as she took a breath to respond he shifted closer, gently cupping the back of her neck so he could tap his forehead against hers. “I love it, Gwen. I love everything about you.”

A laugh burbled out of her before she could stop it, and she pulled away to hide her face. “Oh my god. You bastard. You’re so cheesy.”

His fingers closed around her wrists, tugging her palms away from her face. “I love you,” he said, kissing the skin she’d covered with her hands — the tip of her nose, each cheek, her top and bottom lip, her eyebrows.

“I love you, too.” She could already tell that if he was going to keep saying that to her she’d spontaneously combust, because this was all too cute and romantic and lovely and she still didn’t fully understand how this was happening, why he didn’t hate her.

But she’d promised she wouldn’t question his decision, whatever it was. She owed him that much.

His smile faded slightly, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows. “What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied automatically, and when that only made him sigh she added, “I said I was going to trust you,” hating the note of defensiveness in her voice, because of the two of them she didn’t have much grounds for righteous indignation.

“Then trust me with how you feel.” It should’ve sounded too much like a cliche, something she’d tease him for, but he was right and they both knew it.

She’d put him through hell by not telling him the truth, and they both knew that, too.

Gwen closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax. Things were — they seemed okay, didn’t they? Almost normal, but better, because all her ugliness was out there for him to see and he knew about it and he didn’t seem to mind. And wasn’t that something she’d never thought she’d ever actually find? “I don’t get it,” she admitted, her voice sounding small and stupid. “I keep feeling like . . . like I tricked you somehow. Like I didn’t explain well enough why you shouldn’t want me, because if you really got it you wouldn’t be here. Not because I think you’re stupid,” she added quickly, desperately, “because I don’t, really! But — but even smart people can be . . . I don’t know, manipulated?”

The confusion in her voice made her pause, sit back. Manipulated? That couldn’t be right, could it? She wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone, and she was pretty sure you couldn’t manipulate someone by accident.

Or maybe you could; she hadn’t always paid a ton of attention to her psych classes in college.

“I’m sorry,” she managed after a few deeply uncomfortable moments of silence. “I’m trying, I promise, but I understand if . . . you know. Whatever.” (She still hated saying it, especially now that it seemed like it might not happen. Breaking up with David was hard enough without having to say it.)

He put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side and kissing her temple. “Thank you for telling me, Gwen.”

“You’re not mad?”

She felt him shake his head as she rested hers on his shoulder, scooting down to make up for their (lack of) height difference. “I wasn’t really mad when I came back this morning,” he said, “even before I saw everything you’d made. I had some time to cool down, and I . . . started thinking, I guess.”

Gwen wanted to look up at him, but she wanted to soak in his warmth more so she nuzzled into the curve of his neck, inhaling the smells of floral detergent and piney-woodsy cologne left over from the day before. “About what?” she asked, like there could possibly be more than one answer. Like maybe he’d been pondering the sociopolitics of Malaysia or something.

He let out a little huff of laughter, and she knew without looking that he’d glanced up at the ceiling in a slow blink (that he insisted was less rude than rolling his eyes outright, even though it was just as obvious). “You. Everything that’s happened this summer — and before it.” His shoulder shifted slightly under her cheek, a shrug aborted halfway through so she’d be comfortable. “Things started making more sense after everything we talked about tonight. Like the day we . . . well, when you told me about that gentleman you . . . almost took home.”

“He wasn’t a gentleman, he was a douchebag,” she interrupted, immediately feeling like an asshole. But David chuckled and squeezed her closer, like he enjoyed her company even when she was being annoying (which he did; somehow he actually did) and she let herself relax against his side, believe that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

“I’ve thought about the stuff you said a lot since that day. Mostly the parts that made me feel the worst.”

She flinched. “I’m so sorry —” she began, but he cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.

“I have trouble with . . . rejection,” he continued, sounding embarrassed. Like that minor character flaw even came close to the millions of ways she was fucked up. “I — I guess you could call it ‘abandonment issues’? But at first, and for a while, all I could hear were the ways you didn’t . . . seem to want me around anymore.”

“But I did —”

“I know.” Another soft kiss, and she wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or himself. “I know that now. And I think, knowing that . . . it made what you said sound different.

“You were drunk — I know, you downplayed it, and it wouldn’t have excused . . . but your judgment was still impaired. And you didn’t kiss him. Thinking back, it didn’t even sound like you really wanted to. Did you?” She shook her head, not willing to look up at him because no matter how gently he tried to frame this she still felt like it was her fault. “And I just couldn’t stop thinking, how if this had happened a few years ago you would’ve told that story so much differently. If we were still just friends, maybe. You would’ve stormed into the cabin raging about how some jerk had ‘put his mitts all over you’ —”

Gwen couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, pushing away from him and resting her head in her hands. “That can’t be how you think I talk!”

“It was an edited version,” he admitted, flushing. His smile was wide enough to illuminate the room, catching and refracting the dreary dawn light. “Please come back?”

She snuggled into his outstretched arms, her heart panging at the plaintive note in his voice. She wrapped herself around him, legs entangled with his and arms squeezing his waist; she’d missed him just as much. “Your impression of me is really bad,” she said with an uncontrollable giggle that made her feel like she was fourteen.

“I’ll work on it.” For a moment he just held her, soaking in the relief of being together and being okay. (At least, that's what she was doing.) “Why did it bother you so much?” he asked after a minute or so. “It doesn’t . . . well, it just doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

“I guess — yeah, maybe not, technically anyway. But you’d just visited and saw how terrible my life is, and I was having an even harder time being a less-shitty version of myself . . .” He made a soft noise, almost pained, and pulled her closer. “So when this asshole showed up and was, like, exactly the type of guy I usually go for, it felt like . . . I don’t know. Like the universe was telling me we didn’t belong together. That sounds stupid. Never mind.” She pressed her face against his chest with an embarrassed groan. “Pretend I said something that doesn’t make me sound like I write horoscopes for a living.”

“I like horoscopes!” he replied, because of course he did. After a moment he added, “Thank you for telling me. It . . . helps confirm some things I was thinking earlier, when I left. Because what you said, and what you’ve been saying for a long time . . . I’ve been hearing it the way that’d hurt me the most, but I think you meant it to make me hate you.” He paused for a second, then added, “Do you think I’m right?”

Gwen shrugged, feeling more than a little like one of his campers receiving an aggressively pacifist talking-to. “Yeah. I don’t . . . like myself all that much.”

“I’ve noticed.” And David pressed another kiss to the top of her head, like he was rewarding her for being honest. Or like he just couldn’t help himself. “You haven’t treated me very well lately, Gwen. And I was — am very unhappy about that. But I don’t think it holds a candle to how you treat yourself.”

She wriggled away enough to sit up and look at him, frowning. “So you’re, what? Willing to come back to a shitty relationship because you feel sorrier for me than for you?” she demanded, even though it would’ve been smarter to just not say anything and enjoy his pity while she still had it.

But again, she said she’d be honest. And the true Gwen was kind of a bitch.

His smile turned sad, and he carefully tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear. “See, that’s what I mean. You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt.” When she frowned, not understanding, he took her hand and began playing with it, wiggling her fingers and twining them with his. “I understand better, now. How you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. And I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a kid, or — or stupid, or whatever. I know you don’t really think that,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue. “There’s a whole cabin’s worth of proof in the living room that you don’t really think that. That’s why I wanna try again. Miscommunications, misunderstandings . . . those are fixable. And now that I know what’s been going through your head, I don’t think you’ve done anything I can’t forgive.”

Her eyes filled with tears — again, and she was going to die of dehydration if she didn’t get ahold of herself — but this time she couldn’t resent them too much, not when it felt like she was brimming over with hope that was eager to burst free. “What’re you saying, David?”

He shifted back, turning so he was sitting cross-legged facing her, and took both her hands in his. “I keep . . . trying to find a way to say it,” he admitted, looking down at their twined fingers and flushing pink, “because ‘do you want to be my girlfriend again?’ is maybe too middle-school, but ‘dating’ sounds too casual, and —”

Gwen pulled out of his grasp and closed the distance between them, straddling his lap and taking his chin in one hand. His face lifted toward her before his eyes did, darting from her chest to over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze. She wound her free arm around his shoulders, sliding her fingers into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. With the hand cupping his jaw she gently swiped her thumb across his lower lip, slightly chapped but still warm and softer than it looked, each breath skating across her skin feather-light and making her skin prickle. “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his, holding back a laugh — or maybe a sob, she wasn’t quite sure; the emotions roiling inside her were too much to separate between happy and sad. “Whatever you’re asking, yes, I want it.”

She felt his smile spread under her thumb before he brushed her hand away, tilting his head so he could kiss her. “Good,” he murmured with a breathless chuckle, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I mean, I was pretty sure you’d say that, but still — that’s a relief.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You idiot.” Her blood turned to ice, and she pulled away from him, stricken. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t she be anything but herself for five minutes? “I didn’t mean — !”

David smiled, far more fondly than she deserved. “I know, Gwen.”

Groaning, she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m trying, really I am.”

“Don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back until she was upright, looking down at him again. “Please don’t try so hard to be what you think I want. Just be you.”

“Right.” She forced her shoulders to relax, tilting her head back and rolling her neck until it cracked. “I’m . . . gonna have a hard time with that. ‘Just me’ is kind of the worst.”

“I know you think that,” he said, pressing his half-open mouth to the hollow of her collarbone and making her shiver. “And I’ll keep reminding you until you don’t think it anymore.”

She managed a weak chuckle, leaning into his lips as he moved up her neck. “Good luck with that.”

His answering laugh rolled over her skin, warm and teasing. “Haven’t you heard, Gwen? I like projects.”

Jesus. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tugged him upright, taking a moment to appreciate his gasp that wasn’t just surprise. “I love you,” she said, loosening her grip and kissing his forehead, petting away the furrows her fingers left in his fluffy red hair.

His expression softened. “I love —” he began, and Gwen tightened her hold on his hair and pulled back, just so she could watch his eyes flutter shut and his breath catch, “— y-you too.”

Dragging her palm down the side of his neck, she settled her thumb on his throat, feeling his pulse flutter rapidly, and bent to kiss him again. She hadn’t necessarily meant to turn it into anything, just wanted to feel his lips against hers, but her fingers tightened involuntarily in his hair and he moaned, and it was a lit match dropped down her throat to a stomach full of gasoline, a whoosh of heat blazing to life in the pit of her belly. “David,” she breathed, not so much because she had anything to say but because she needed to say it, to roll the sound of his name around in her mouth, let it melt like chocolate on her tongue and infuse her whole body with sweetness.

“Gwen,” he said, and she thought he was doing the same thing, saying her name just because he could, but then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pushing her away, gentle but firm. “Gwen, wait, we should — talk about this —”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Okay. Sorry.” She sat back, her face warming. But as she settled her weight more firmly in his lap he jolted; and if she’d thought she was embarrassed it was nothing to the way his already-flushed cheeks flamed pink, spreading in blotches up to his hairline and the tips of his ears, down to disappear underneath his bandana. He stammered out an apology, avoiding her eyes even as his cock twitched, like bashfulness could disguise how hard he was against her. She quickly rose back up — the last thing she wanted was to make him feel ashamed, or pressured; everything between them was as tremulous and new as the first time — but realized almost instantly when David squeaked that this just shoved her chest in his face.

She hovered there for an awkward second, the two of them staring at each other in mortified horror. Then his whole expression wavered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before quickly flattening into a thin line, and the break in his composure took hers out too. She snorted, and they both burst out laughing. “I’ll just sit over here,” she said through giggles, rolling off his lap and settling on the other side of the bed with her feet curled under her so they were no longer touching. He made a small sad sound like a squeeze toy deflating, and Gwen rolled her eyes and stretched out one leg until her foot brushed his knee. “Here, hold my foot if you’re that lonely. It’s practically holding hands.”

His eyes widened, hands closing around her ankle and setting it on his thigh with something like reverence. “Thank you,” he murmured, gently tracing the outline of her foot with his fingertips. “That was very sweet, you know.”

God, she was blushing, wasn’t she? She had to be. “Yeah,” she agreed, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling as he kept playing with her foot like it was a toy doll. “Felt weird, too. I kinda wanted to insult you or something, just to balance it out.”

He smiled, wiggling her big toe like he was playing that little piggies game she used to do with her nieces when they were babies. “That’s my Gwen.” And he sounded pleased, almost proud, like she’d done something wonderful.

But that was David; even though sometimes he was completely oblivious, sometimes he noticed and appreciated the tiniest, most inconsequential things. That’s my David, she thought, her heart swelling like it was going to burst. “You wanted to talk about something?” she reminded him, waggling her toes to get his attention.

“Oh! Right.” He gently took her foot and set it on the bed next to him, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. “Sorry, I was getting distracted, and that was the whole point of you moving over there.” (He said it with a pout, like she’d gone to Spain instead of just out of arms’ reach.)

“I thought the whole point of me moving over here was so you could cool down, tiger,” she teased. But when he didn’t respond except to flush darker, his gaze firmly on a fraying edge of the pillowcase in his arms, something weird and hilarious clicked in her head. “Oh my god, are you into feet?”

“No!” He lifted his head to give her a tragically betrayed expression. “Not a weird amount!”

She grinned, poking his thigh with her outstretched foot. “What’s a weird amount?” she asked.

He shrugged, not quite able to maintain the kicked-puppy look when a smile kept trying to break through. “I don’t know. Watching people in heels step on fruit. I don’t like that sort of thing, I’ll have you know,” he added defensively, and for a second Gwen was sure he’d stick his tongue out at her.

“Sure, but you’re into them enough to know those videos exist.”

“I think I’d like to go back to you being nice to me,” he muttered, and she felt a stab of panic before he gently patted her ankle and met her gaze with a slight smile. Like he knew what she was thinking.

So she shoved past her nervousness and said, “But I thought you wanted me to be myself. And as myself, I can’t believe you never told me you were a foot guy!”

“I’m a you guy. And . . . you know. All of you. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah, but the feet are a thing, huh? At least a little bit.” When he didn’t answer she laughed, shaking her head. “So do you, like, want a footjob or something?”

“I really don’t.”

“How have we been dating this long and I didn’t know about this? What other freaky sex things are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said, hugging the pillow tighter. After a moment he looked away and added, “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“David.” She leaned forward, waiting for him to look at her and see in her expression just how ridiculous that was. “You can’t get weirder than I am. You know that.” When the color in his face receded just a little bit, and his eyes flicked back toward her hopefully, she sighed and attempted to dredge up one of the strangest kinks in her vast library. “I’d totally fuck Drogon.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “From Game of Thrones? So would I- Iiiiiii mean, s-so would most people.”

“No, not Khal Drogo, Drogon. The dragon. Not like a humanized version, either — just full lizard.”

“Oh.” He smiled a little, almost a smirk, and Gwen felt distinctly, lovingly judged. “That does make me feel better. Thank you.”

“No problem. And tomorrow I’m gonna go into town and get a pedicure, just for you.” She wiggled her toes at him, grinning. “I’m thinking something slutty, like hot pink.”

“Gwen!” He shoved her foot away, laughing. “I was trying to have a serious conversation before you started talking about — about slutty toes and dragons!”

She cracked up too, falling over onto her side and nearly toppling off the bed. “Slutty toes,” she repeated breathlessly, and it took a few minutes to recover; every time they tried to make eye contact they burst out laughing again.

“Okay, okay.” Gwen finally sat back up, trying in vain to smooth her hair out of its mass of tangled bedhead. “I’m sorry, you were trying to say something serious. What’s up?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, fingers knotting in her blankets until his knuckles were white. “It’s just . . . it was starting to seem like we were going to — um, you know. Be intimate.”

She resisted the urge to tease him for his word choice. “I was open to it, yeah.”

“M-me too! That’s why . . . well. Okay.” He took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face, and Gwen noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything,” she said, shifting closer so she could put her hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He nodded, patting her hand before brushing it away so she didn’t feel rejected, and once again she felt a rush of love so intense it almost brought tears to her eyes. He could be so simply, effortlessly kind, without even thinking about it. “I do. At least, I think I do. I- I mean, I know I do, but it’s hard to . . .” He waved his hand around his head like his thoughts were scattering birds.

“The night before we . . . well. Ended things.” He flinched at his own words, and she felt the same pain flicker over the surface of her heart.

It’s okay, she reminded herself, wishing she could sweep him up in her arms and block out all the bad memories she’d put there. It still hurts, but we’re going to be okay.

Like he’d been thinking the same thing, David stretched out his hand to find hers, squeezing her fingers. “I said I didn’t want to,” he continued in a rush, “you know. Be together like that. And you . . . seemed to get mad — at me. And then the next day you broke up with me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath that had tears behind it, and she tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, opening his eyes and giving her a slightly-watery smile. “I’m okay. But I just need to know . . .”

“God, no,” she jumped in, taking up the thread of his question as it trailed off into nothingness. “David, no, it had nothing to do with — I freaked out, but I was already — I mean, I was gonna fall apart over anything, it didn’t have to be that. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” She couldn’t stand it anymore, so she pulled his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles because she wanted to respect his need for space but she had to touch him or she was going to die.

He swallowed, watching their joined hands for a moment before looking away. “You — that really hurt me, Gwen. I just needed to tell you that.”

All the anger he’d thrown at her in the past several hours, all the pain and frustration, and it was those small, matter-of-fact words that slashed her heart in two. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

She hated apologizing — it always felt weak, or dangerous, or something. Like it was an opening for someone to hate her even more, like she was handing them a weapon to hold over her head for the rest of her life. (It was why she hated receiving them, too; she could be spiteful and vindictive as anyone, but it was uncomfortable watching someone flay themselves in front of her.)

But with David . . . it didn’t feel like she was giving him leverage when she told him she was sorry. She wasn’t scared he’d hold onto it and throw it back in her face someday. She wasn’t resentful of him, and she wasn’t worried about how he’d react.

She wasn’t anything but truly, genuinely sorry.

And he didn’t brush it aside, act like she had no reason to apologize the way she’d half-expected. Either she hadn’t been giving him enough credit, or he’d grown up while she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a little of both. But whatever the cause, he just stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and nodded, a ghost of his smile returning for a second. “It’s okay,” he said, looking at her like she was — god, like he loved her. “Hearing it helps.”

She wasn’t sure if he needed more than that, but she wasn’t going to let a single doubt linger in his mind. “Seriously, David, you can — I won’t ever be mad at you for saying no, ever. For any reason, or no reason or . . . whatever. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay.”

“I — um, I had a reason.” He spoke fast, his eyes wide like he’d surprised himself. Still, he pressed his lips together into a flat line and met her gaze, clearly nervous but just as clearly not intending to end the conversation until they’d said everything they needed to. He was so brave. “I should’ve mentioned it at the time, but I guess I was scared.”

Gwen snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I can relate to that.”

He rewarded her with a small, soft smile before continuing, “The thing is, everything had just been so gosh-darned strange between us, and it felt like you were avoiding me all the time — except when we were together like that.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It sounds silly, but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe that was . . . all you were interested in me for.”

Her stomach sank. “And then when you said no, and I freaked . . .”

David nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed again. “Yeah,” he murmured, looking away. “It — it sure felt like you only wanted me for that one thing, all of a sudden, and when you couldn’t get it . . .”

“I dumped you,” she finished, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, David.”  

“I was a little nervous to tell you to stop.” He pulled his hands from hers so he could fidget, twisting his long fingers together. “Earlier — just now. A minute ago. So we could talk. I — I know it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t stop thinking you might get mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad,” she replied, her hands shaking with how badly she wanted to hug him. (And god, what a change from their normal paradigm, that she was the one who had to hold herself back from a hug.) “I mean, I was, but never at you. I was mad at me, for screwing things up. I — you’re right, I was avoiding you, or avoiding talking to you, I guess. Because I didn’t know how to talk to you, how to act so you wouldn’t find out that I’m . . .” Her throat closed, thick and gummy with tears, and she took a deep breath and swallowed them back. “Rotten,” she finished, which was a stupid, melodramatic word but it felt right; it described the way she still felt despite everything, squishy and overripe and putrid. “It was getting harder to hide, once we were together all the time. And when we were fucking —” She couldn’t tiptoe around the words like David, not when she could just say it and watch him flush red. Even her rotted heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled. “It felt like I didn’t have to try so hard. I couldn’t be amazing, but I could make you feel amazing. And if I could do that . . .” She sniffed, looking away and wiping her face clean. “I thought I was letting you know how much you mean to me,” she admitted, the realization coming right on the heels of the words. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t — add that to the list of things I suck at — but when you didn’t want to have sex, it . . . I took it really hard.”

Her face was turned away, so his hand on her shoulder made her jump. “It felt like I was rejecting the only thing you had to offer,” he guessed, his voice soft and sad but no longer on the verge of tears. “Gwen . . .”

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head like she could rattle her self-pity out of her head. “That was just me being stupid, I know that. More importantly — seriously.” She looked back at him, at his beautiful open face, at the way he was watching her like she could possibly have something to say that mattered. “It’s never been about sex with you, David,” she said. Felt the encroaching tears yet again and decided to ignore them. If they came, they came; they weren’t going to stop her, because it was the most essential thing in the world that he knew, that he believed her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is really good —” He chuckled, blushing exactly the way she’d hoped he would, and it gave her a little glowing spark of strength, “— but it doesn’t even come close to being what I love most about you. None of that stuff —” She gestured toward her bedroom door, and the mess of crafts cluttering their common room. “— comes close. It’s — everything, a billion other things I don’t know how to explain or describe or show you but I love you, so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone and it scares me, and — I’m rambling. Sorry.” She shrank back, feeling like an idiot again. “I just wanted you to know that. It . . . we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ever, and I’ll never be mad at you, or disappointed, or anything like that.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” He was quiet for a minute, and she felt the tension ratcheting up in her shoulders with each long, spiraling second. Part of her wanted to snap at him to just say something, finish the damn thought before he gave her a heart attack, but that was her anxiety and regret talking, and she never wanted to take her own issues out on him ever again.

(She probably would, considering what a mess she was. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on purpose.)

“You’re right, though.” David’s voice was a surprise, as was the soft laugh accompanying his words. He was sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling like he could see through it to the fading stars and brightening sky. His gaze dropped to meet hers, and he immediately looked down and away, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. “We are pretty darn great together.”

A massive weight dropped from Gwen’s chest, rolling away like a stone. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then, to test the waters: “I taught you well.”

It worked; he turned back toward her, his shyness replaced with half-serious indignation. “I like to think some of it was natural talent!”

“Ehh,” she teased, holding her hand out flat and seesawing it back and forth in a “so-so” motion. “Pretty sure enthusiasm was doing most of the heavy lifting in the beginning there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a disbelieving scoff. “Well, I never!”

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. What a dork. “Y’know, I should say we were insanely good. But I dunno, for all I know you’ve totally lost it.” Shaking her head mournfully, she quickly glanced over to make sure he wasn’t actually offended.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes growing wide before narrowing. “I haven’t lost anything!” he snapped, and — oh, the playful irritation in his voice made her stomach twist. Not in the awful sick way she’d been tied up in knots earlier, but with a flush of heat that took her breath away.

Managing a smirk, she laid back on her elbows, a warm glow of satisfaction blooming in her chest as his gaze dropped to her stomach, to the narrow strip of skin where her camisole had ridden up. She waited until he dragged his eyes back up to her, dark and intense like the ocean in a storm, then grinned at him.

“Wanna bet?”

His face lit up — or, not quite. Because his smile was bright and warm as sunshine, but underneath the tenderness was a sharp competitive edge that he almost never turned on her. It was almost intimidating, but the shiver it sent down her spine had nothing to do with fear. “Always,” he replied.

Before she could respond he’d pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her just above her calves; a quick tug forward and Gwen was pulled flat on her back, dragged down the bed until her body was sprawled out beneath him. He let go of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and bending down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, bending her knees so he was caged between her legs and arching her back to bring as much of her skin against his as possible. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so — her furnace, her own personal sun, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. When he abandoned her mouth in favor of trailing long, suckling kisses down her neck she pressed her lips together, biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

“You could’ve —” A gasp, too sudden for her to swallow it back, and she felt David’s satisfied smirk against the base of her throat as he bit down again. “— given me a concussion, you asshole.”

He hummed in assent, his lips skating up to her ear and his tongue lapping at the sensitive spot just behind it. “I know,” he said mildly, “but I didn’t.”

He gently took her earlobe between his teeth, and she couldn’t help the strangled noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Grabbing his hair again, she dragged his mouth back for another kiss, enjoying the shudder that rolled down his spine and made him tremble everywhere his body was touching hers. For a few dizzying minutes she held him there, barely allowing either of them to draw breath. His mouth was blood-hot, warmer than even her fevered skin, and she didn’t know exactly where she wanted it because she wanted it everywhere — against hers, his tongue lapping at the roof of her mouth and making her shiver; around one of her nipples, his teeth catching on the pebbled skin; sucking bruises into her inner thighs, closing around her clit, dipping inside her cunt, her asshole, along the sensitive strip of skin between the two. She wanted him to kiss her places that weren’t even close to erotic but she knew would burst into flame if he so much as brushed his lips over them: the bone jutting out from her ankle, the ticklish spot inside her elbow, wherever the fuck he wanted to press the gorgeous wet heat of his mouth she wanted to let him, because from the very first kiss he’d been good, better than he’d had any right to be but time and experience had worked their magic and now his mouth could ruin her; without even trying he could reduce her to twitching, shuddering goo.

“Take this off,” she gasped, not sure if she meant her clothes or his because she was wriggling out from under him and trying to remove both at the same time, her fingers clumsy and shaking with how badly she needed to touch him without any fabric in the way. She struggled to her knees, practically yanking her camisole off and throwing it across the room before hooking her fingers in his belt loops and dragging him close enough for her to undo the buckle. “Come on —”

“So I won?” He laughed breathlessly, untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, smugness making him unfairly graceful like he was trying to show off.

“Sure, whatever,” she muttered, because who cared about some bet when he was kneeling half-naked in front of her? They’d had silly, jokey sex but that was not this, not when he was so beautiful she was having trouble looking directly at him, hair mussed and lips damp and swollen and pink blooming in blotches under the light constellations of freckles across his skin. He looked debauched, flushed and obscene even with half his clothes still on, and there wasn’t room in her brain for humor when all she could feel was clawing shaking need. She dropped onto all fours, leaning down to trace the hard outline of his cock with her tongue, and even through his shorts he was burning warm. He sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse spiking under her mouth, and Gwen couldn’t resist closing her lips around the shape of his erection, breathing in the salty-ammonia smell of precome and feeling her mouth water. “David,” she began, but there was no end to that sentence so she lifted her head slightly, bit the delicate ridge of his hipbone where it peeked out from the waist of his shorts, caught him as his hips stuttered forward. She kept him steady, one hand splayed across his lower back, as she rose to her knees without lifting her mouth from his skin: over the barely-there softness of his stomach (no werewolf six-pack here, despite his lean strength), tongue swirling among the faint red hair below his belly button, following the curve of his ribs, just barely brushing one nipple — he made a small, strung-out noise in the back of his throat, almost despairing as she moved on up to his neck — until she found his lips again, dragging him into a bruising, breathless kiss.

When she pulled away David’s smile was gone, drawn out of his mouth and leaving him panting. “Okay,” he murmured, soft and almost reverent, but before she could figure out what specifically was okay he hauled her forward like she weighed nothing, capturing her lips for a second before trailing down her throat, pausing at a sensitive place above her pulse point and biting down hard, sucking the skin between his teeth.

Pain bloomed under his mouth, rippling out into shockwaves of cold-hot pleasure, and when he bit her again she couldn’t hold back a moan. “You’re gonna — leave a mark,” she gasped, gently shoving his head away and running her fingers over the damp skin. It was already tender, and judging by David’s expression, contrite and amused and darkly heated, it was going to be a hell of a hickey. “I can’t hide this!”

“I’m sorry!” he tried, but it wasn’t close to convincing when he couldn’t hide his grin. His eyes drifted down to the mark again and he licked his lips, expression growing dazed for a moment before he snapped back up to look at her face. “I can make you a bandana, if you want. Just until it fades.”

“Fucker.” Gwen laughed, not so much because it was funny but because it was him, and she loved him more than she could possibly stand. Tired of the overheated, confining clothes she was still wearing, she shimmied out of them, tossing her pajama shorts and half-soaked underwear without bothering to see where they landed. “Come here,” she said, pressing her legs together and shivering at the wet slide of her inner thighs and labia, a thousand nerve endings sparking to glistening life. “You can make it up to me.”

She swore she could almost see his mouth water, his gaze dropping between her legs as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am,” he said — and they’d never tried that before, but judging by the way his cock twitched and his eyes jumped sheepishly to hers, it was something he’d thought about a lot. Filing the information away for later, she held out her hand and pulled him closer when he took it, resting her forehead against his. It took just the slightest shift in the angle of her head to kiss him again so she did it without thinking, her hand sliding between their bodies to curl loosely around the outline of his erection.

He gasped shakily against her mouth, his hands fluttering up and down her waist like he couldn’t decide where to touch her. One of them dropped to her ass, a light, almost hesitant touch, and she rewarded it with a soft groan; he made a weak noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer, kneading her ass before slipping lower, between her legs. The heel of his hand brushed teasingly against her clit as he pressed two fingers into her, and she mimicked his pace, gliding her palm down the length of his clothed cock and relishing the way his fingers twitched against her inner walls.

He fingered her like that, slow and steady, for — she didn’t know how long. Lost track of the strokes that sent warmly buzzing tendrils up her spine, lost count of the breaths gasped raggedly between their lips, of the kisses that melted into one another until she wasn’t entirely sure where she was, she was hyper aware of the heartbeat pounding in her clit and every too-gentle drag of his hand but numb to literally everything else that wasn’t right here, wasn’t David —

“Fuck,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder with a shuddering sigh. She turned her head and lapped at his throat, sucking his skin into her mouth and biting down hard enough to make his fingers jolt inside her, pressing against her g-spot for one delicious moment. “God, I -- please, David, just make me come, please --”

Another shiver, another twitch of his fingers that took her breath away. “Okay,” he said, his voice strangled and hoarse. He pulled out of her and sat back on his heels. “Lay down, all right?”

Yes, yes, whatever he was thinking was 100% all right with her. She almost kneed him as she scrambled into position, but her embarrassed giggle evaporated as he lowered himself onto his elbows, scooching her up the bed like she weighed nothing and settling between her legs. Alarm cut through her arousal, her mind immediately trying to calculate the last time she’d showered, let alone shaved --

His eyes flicked up to hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I know,” he replied before she’d even opened her mouth. “I promise, I really want to.”

Oh, god. She covered her face to muffle a squeak, flopping onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m that predictable, huh?”

David hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating up the inside of her thigh. “Only with some things. Other times you surprise me quite a bit.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the top of her mound, his tongue dipping into the V formed by her lips and just brushing her clit — a teasing touch, his mouth moving away even as she lifted her hips instinctively. “I’m surprising?”

“You are,” he said, the camp-counselor cheer in his voice making what he was doing feel even more obscene. He traced the line of her cunt with his mouth before gently fingering her open. “The first time you did this, for example. That surprised me quite a bit!”

“This?” She knew exactly what he meant — her stomach still dipped and swooped at the memory of kneeling on the floor of his shower, the heady rush of confidence and vulnerability she’d felt looking up at him with his cock at her lips — but she tilted her head back with a sigh and breathed, “Pretty sure I’ve never eaten you out before. Not that I wouldn’t be into that, just saying.”

He gasped and spluttered, pulling back to wipe his mouth and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes, then coughed, tapping his chest with his other hand. “Excuse —?!”

When he lowered his head to cough again and take an unsteady breath, Gwen sat up on her elbows, not sure if she should be amused, worried, or mortified. “Oh my god, please tell me you did not just choke on cunt juice!”

David gave her a disgusted look, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “There had to be another way to word that,” he said, as primly as he could while still struggling to catch his breath. “But — um, you didn’t…w-was a joke, or…?”

“I meant it,” she admitted, “but I get it if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured either way —”

“No — I want to.” He looked startled by his own words, and immediately dropped his gaze, smoothing his palms down her thighs like he could disguise how his fingers trembled. “Sometime. If — if you do.”

Gwen let the awkward silence linger for another moment, not quite sure how to move forward. “Good. That’s…something to put on the to-do list.”

“Y-yes. Okay.” He did meet her eyes then, brightening. “See, you did it again!”

She frowned. “Did what?”

“Surprised me.” He leaned over her body to tug her into a slow, sweet kiss. When she pulled back to breathe he cupped the back of her neck, holding her close and brushing his nose against hers. “You’re an adventure every day, Gwen,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I’m a real goddamn roller coaster,” she grumbled, shifting her hips upward in a blind search for his touch. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking ride me already.”

David laughed softly against her mouth before turning his attention to her jaw, throat, collarbone — a damp, shivery brush of his tongue against her skin moving down her body. “Well goodness, Gwen, now I’m confused.” She both hated and loved the smug, teasing tone he got whenever her composure cracked. “I could make love to you,” he continued, nipping the skin just below her bellybutton and making her jump, “but I thought you wanted me to do this first.”

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, catching her with an arm behind her back as she arched toward the maddening wet heat of his mouth. Lowering her hips back to the bed with infuriating tenderness, he paused, resting his cheek on her inner thigh and looking up the length of her body. When she met his eyes he smiled, pausing to press a chaste kiss to her leg before returning her gaze.

“What do you want, Gwen?” And he asked it untauntingly. Seriously. Like he wanted nothing more than for her to tell him what to do, and like he’d do it without question.

His sincerity was going to be the death of her, she decided with a groan, burying her hands in her hair and shielding her face from his view with her arms. “Fuck. I don’t know. Everything.”

When it came to David, she always wanted everything.

“That’s a real swell coincidence, then!” He traced the seam where her hip and leg met, then dipped down, dragging his fingertips through the wetness smearing her thighs before swiping them up to circle her clitoris. “Because ‘everything’ is exactly what I’d like to give you.”

She barely had time to absorb the statement before his mouth was on her again, sliding the hood back with his lips before swirling his tongue beneath it and around the exposed clit. It was almost too much, too sensitive, bordering on painful and if he stopped she might actually die; she knotted her fingers in the flimsy sheets to keep from pushing his face harder against her, vaguely aware that she was mumbling nonsensical pleas, an incoherent litany of “oh god yes please fuck don’t stop” —

He didn’t. Without lifting his mouth he braced one hand under her knee and pushed it toward her chest, bending her leg and using two fingers of his other hand to enter her. It took him a second but when he found her g-spot he pressed up hard, stroking with the same rapid pace of his flicking tongue. It was more pressure than she was used to, strangely achy but pleasurably so, and it was impossible not to writhe under his touch as the need to come coiled tighter, dragged her higher, kept her suspended on the brink for a frustrating, dizzying, electrifying moment that stretched like a rubber band…

Then it snapped — a dam breaking, a wave cresting and finally letting gravity take over — and she curled forward with a sob of relief, pleasure rippling through her limbs and turning her bones to liquid, trembling through the aftershocks.

The shift from overwhelmingly perfect to just plain overwhelming was a split second. “Nngh, stop, stop —” She pawed weakly at his head, just barely smacking the edge of his fringe with her fingertips, but he lifted his mouth from her with a look of concern. “You’re fine,” she added quickly, struggling to catch her breath and shivering from the buzz of overstimulation, “s’just too much.”

David nodded, relieved, and sat back, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Wow,” he murmured, eyes wide and awed. “Wowzers. Gwen, have you ever done that before?”

She sat up, frowning. “Come like a train? Like every time we — whoa.”

The sheets between her legs were wet. Not damp, wet like she’d spilled a glass of water (and cooling rapidly, she realized with a grimace, shifting to avoid the blotchy patch). Presumably the same wetness dripping down David’s chin.

“Oh my god.” She groaned, hiding her face in her hands like if she couldn’t see it, it would disappear. Or feel it slicking her inner thighs. “And uh, not really,” she finally muttered, a belated answer to his question. “Once or twice, but you’ve really gotta work over the g-spot to make it happ --” She glanced up just in time to catch his expression, a flash of recognition mixed with pleased sheepishness. “Which you were.” David quickly looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and flushing pink. “On purpose?”

“I -- I’d read about it, that’s all!” he said, meeting her gaze defensively. “I knew it was, well . . . a thing. That some wom- people can do. And I was -- I’ve seen -- I was curious!” Gwen tried to stifle a laugh and failed, turning it into a choking snort, and he blushed even darker. “I know I should’ve just asked, but I couldn’t figure out how to say . . .”

She waited for him to finish the sentence, but when it became clear he had no intention of doing so, she injected as much demented cheer into her voice as possible and chirped, “‘Golly gee, Gwen, could I try making you squirt sometime?’”

Her imitation of his voice was passable -- she’d spent enough years making fun of him to get good at it -- and though he turned his head away she was positive he rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t know if that counts as bad language or not.”

“Oh no. It’d be so shocking if I said one of the no-no words.”

He chuckled, trying and failing to disguise it as a sigh, and climbed out of bed, tugging the rest of his clothes off. (As he picked up his shirt and wiped his face clean, Gwen quickly bent forward and sniffed the damp spot on the mattress. A little like saline, mostly like nothing. Good to know.)

“So how often do you trawl the internet for sex tips?” she asked, grinning. “Or -- god, tell me you’re not checking out books from the library.”

“Of course not!” He looked horrified at the thought. “And . . . sometimes. More often, after we started dating. I . . .” He paused, looking like he was reconsidering the rest of that sentence, and joined her on the bed to lean back against the headboard. “The time you visited, when I -- used my mouth on you for the first time.” (And what was it about his delicate tiptoeing that made it sound so much more filthy than if he’d said it outright?) “I thought -- or, well, I hoped . . . anyway, I did a little reading. Online, obviously. Just in case.”

So that was how he’d been so goddamn good right off the fucking bat. Always prepared, her boy scout. “Well, I appreciate it,” she said, and sat up, throwing one leg over his lap and draping her arms around his shoulders. “Can I please fuck you now, Mr. Greenwood?”

He sucked in an unsteady breath, his cock twitching up against her; the tip of his head slipped between her outer folds, making them both gasp. “C-condom,” he breathed, his voice raspy and uneven, and she scrambled off his lap before she could give in to the voice in the back of her head insisting they didn’t need to stop and get anything, he was right there , if she’d angled her hips right he could’ve been inside her already --

Her fingers were shaking as she retrieved the foil packet and brought it over, letting him take it with relief. (There was no way she wouldn’t have ripped it, with the way her whole body was trembling like the room had dropped ten degrees.) She watched him roll the latex down his cock, unable to tear her eyes away from how beautifully flushed it was, precome beading at the tip and slicking the inside of the condom.

God, she needed him inside her. Immediately.

David caught her with a breathless laugh as she vaulted back up onto the bed, curling his fingers around her hips and holding her steady. “Careful,” he murmured, and she rolled her eyes, fumbling blindly between her legs to line him up. “Have I- hhha --” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut with a sigh as the head of his cock pressed into her, “t- told you how beautiful you are?”

Gwen frowned. It was kind of hard to focus on the question when her body was fluttering and pulsing as it adjusted to the welcome intrusion. “A lot?” she guessed, sinking down the last few inches too fast and bottoming out with an electric shock of pain and pleasure. “Fuck.”

“No. Not like that.” He slid one arm between their bodies, parting her folds to see the way she stretched around him. “I -- think you’re so pretty,” he managed, gently tracing her inner labia with his fingertips. “I like your colors. And how we -- um, contrast.”

No one had ever told her that her cunt was pretty before. It was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David would do. And he was right; his cock looked so pale against her, where she faded from shocking pink into a dark purplish-brown that lightened as it blended into her normal skin tone. There was something about it that reminded her of a sunset -- which was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David made her think.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pressing her forehead against his and raising up a few inches, “and I love you so much.”

“I — love you too.” Suddenly he froze, his eyes widening and his grip tightening around her waist, keeping her from moving.

“David? Everything okay?” God, he wasn’t having some kind of terrible flashback, was he? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this.

His eyes flicked up to hers, and a wide, sunny smile spread across his face like spilled honey. “This is just like the first time.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then it hit her: this was like the night they’d first had sex, from the position to the location to the dizzying, giddy strangeness of it.

God, he was perfect.

“Sort of.” She pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his head to the side so she could reach his neck; he whimpered and twitched twice, each pulse against her inner walls taking her breath away. “Except I know you way better now.” She punctuated the statement by licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat, then sucked a mark right beside his Adam’s apple, where it’d be safely hidden by his bandana. “All your weak points.”

“I—” He swallowed, tilting his head obediently as she trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses up to his ear, “d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She just hummed; that wasn’t worth dignifying with a real response, and the vibrations against his damp skin made him shiver. Instead she toyed with him: tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue, nipping at his earlobe with just a hint of teeth, exploring the delicate area around his ear and neck she knew so well, had staked her claim to a hundred times before.

David’s breathing quickened, roughened, and she had to tighten her grip on his hair to keep him from squirming. Her hips weren’t moving but his were, minute jolts she was positive he couldn’t control. “Gwen,” he gasped, “please, I -- hhit's too much, I can’t --”

“Could you come like this?” she asked, fighting to keep her own voice level. She could feel his pulse pounding in his cock and in his throat, under her lips; her clit throbbed in response, a metronome perfectly attuned to him. “Without me even moving? Or just . . .” She squeezed her internal muscles, clenching around him in a quick staccato pattern, and lapped her tongue against his neck in time.

“Nnno. Or -- yes?” His fingers tightened around her hips, a helpless spasm. “I don’t know. It’d . . . be torture.”

His voice was so low, wrecked, and Gwen’s stomach went into a dizzying, delicious free-fall. “Good,” she said before she could stop herself, think it through and reject it as sounding weird and freaky. David successfully pulled back from her, his eyes wide and blown out with arousal, and he looked so beautiful she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I want to torture you sometime. Nothing you’re not okay with -- and not now, but . . .”

“Yes,” he breathed, and the word was barely out of his mouth before his hand curled around the back of her neck and he was dragging her mouth to his, a kiss made of teeth and desperation with words gasped out against her lips: “yes, god, whatever you want Gwen please I love you --” His other hand slid to cup the curve of her thigh, urge her up onto her knees so he could fuck her properly, pull her back down to set a rhythm that bordered on frantic.

She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she braced her palms against the headboard for better leverage to ride him faster, harder. “Told you,” she teased, biting his lower lip hard enough to drag a breathy whine from him. “Weak.”

That made him moan, drawn-out and broken, and he slipped one hand between their bodies; curling it into a loose fist, he splayed his index and middle fingers just enough for her clit to glide between them, adding an extra jolt of friction every time she moved her hips. Gwen gasped, clutching at his back with one hand as her second orgasm coiled tighter at the base of her spine.

She bit his shoulder because she could, because she had to, because he’d like it and because it was that or scream loud enough to wake the entire camp. “Fuck, god, David --”

He shuddered and buried his face in her hair, his breath hot with a stream of pleasured mumbles beginning and ending in her name --

Gwen didn’t know which of them came first. It didn’t matter, really, because they dragged each other over the edge. His cock was almost painfully hard, unyielding as iron as her muscles tightened and fluttered around it, and the sudden snap upward of his hips as he came nearly knocked her breathless.

She was going to be sore tomorrow. Or . . . later today. She turned her head and mouthed at David’s neck, relishing the sweet-salt taste of his sweat, and let him hold her up as they caught their breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered belatedly. David huffed a weak laugh into her hair, stroking her back with a touch that was light and ticklish. “But we’re sleeping in your room tonight. I don’t wanna deal with the wet spot.”

Yeah, she was going to be sore, and exhausted, and facing a hell of a cleanup both in her bedroom and outside of it.

David groaned and gently pushed her upright, sliding out from under her and taking her hand, like she was a camper who needed to be ushered back to bed. “Phone,” she bleated, weakly reaching for it as they walked past, and he paused to pick it up for her, and in that second she loved him even more, more than she’d ever thought possible.

Worth it.

[trashcankitty12]

Helia Headcanons

Helia Scofield, nephew of Saladin; Master Artist in the making.

Don’t let his soft demeanor and pacifistic leanings fool you; Helia’s up for the fight if he’s needed.

(All headcanons are mainly for my verses: Left and the New Company of Light. Fair warning.)

-Helia was born to Harley and Hannah Scofield.

-Hannah, Saladin’s twin (and the elder twin, thank you) is an illusion-based witch who works with her Great Uncle’s army. She’s a commander of the Pegasus Unit of the Callistan Army, and unlike her brother, tries to keep herself out of trouble.

-Harley’s more of a gentle soul who enjoys art and runs an art gallery in Callisto.

-As you can imagine, his parents, though loving to him and though they did love each other at one point, have had many disagreements about their lifestyles and what would be best for the family.

-Harley was more pacifistic while Hannah preferred to ‘face things head on’. (Both have great strategic minds though, and… Tended to use them against each other.)

-At a young age, Helia showed potential for magic. Hannah and Saladin tried to help hone his potential skills as a wizard, but the best he could do was simple spells to make himself faster and stronger than normal and to send magic notes. (And a few other minimalistic spells. He couldn’t do anything fancy like his mom and uncle though…)

-It didn’t really bum him out too much though. In fact, it was partially a relief that he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting someone with his magic if his feelings or concentration went out of control. And he had an easy way of keeping his utensils nearby while he was working.

-Helia was in a junior sword fighting league as a kid, something his Uncle Saladin and his mother were very proud of. (Though his father thought it reckless and dangerous and ugly… Even if there was a sort of elegance to sword fighting when done right.)

-He also participated in art clubs at his school and did his to earn high marks in elementary and middle school. (He tended to be a daydreamer and often spaced out in class, especially if the subject was boring to him. Which became another argument for his parents.)

-When he was about 12/13, his parents decided to divorce. Hannah relocated and deployed to serve in Magix at the Callistan Embassy (and to be closer to her brother). His father remained in Callisto.

-He was actually happy that they finally divorced, thrilled to never have to hear one of their ‘we’re not really arguing, just having a heated discussion’ sort of fights. Having to decide where to live and what his plans for the future, however, made him sick.

-His social anxiety was through the roof anyway, and on top of all of this… His art took a bit of a dark turn and so did his poetry.

-How dare his parents fight each other and then demand he choose? How dare they implode on him like this?

-(Faragonda and Griffin were honestly the best people during this time. And so were his childhood friends. They helped him keep his cool and realize what he wanted and how to go about talking to his parents about this stuff.)

-Helia left the sword fighting league, he never really enjoyed it anyway except for the moments he was benched and could sketch the matches. And he decided to stay with his father and enroll at the Callistan Art Academy. His mother was so proud that he wanted to follow his dreams, and agreed to weekends and holidays.

-(Honestly his parents were just happy that he was talking to them again instead of pushing them away. They were so worried, they even went to therapy so they could try and do better for Helia.)

-Helia stayed in touch with some of his sword fighting league friends and kept up with his childhood friends when he went to the Art Academy.

-He loved showing off his new works and talking his friends into being models for some of his works. (One of his favorite portraits is of his best guy friend posing with his new weapon after being accepted into Red Fountain.)

-His parents did move on from each other. On his dad’s side, he has a stepdad and a lovely younger stepsister who adores him. (And he has a half-brother on the way!!)

-His mom remarried a fellow soldier, Monroe. And Monroe has two children of their own; Seneca and Marie. (Older stepsisters… They’re loud and boisterous, but they mean well and Helia enjoys watching them pose and give him fashion shows to help out his own work.)

-Though he was only at the Academy for a short time, Helia discovered many things about himself. (And made friends with the Princess of Linphea who had gotten in despite her age. The fairy is truly gifted in making topiary art.)

-He loves his charcoal brushes and using colored pencils when doing sketches. Something about the way it moves on the paper just makes him so happy.

-And he does love to paint, though he’s not much for water colors. (And never ask him to do a digital piece. The last time he tried working with a tablet, he nearly got electrocuted. Granted, it was probably a one-time thing, but he took it as a sign.)

-Poetry is second love, aside from sketching and painting. He loves being able to verbalize his feelings and put the words down that he can feel inside. Its one of the few ways he feels he can truly connect to people, since it’s easier to write down the words instead of saying them. (Though he has done poetry readings from time to time.)

-Between portraits and landscapes, Helia prefers landscapes. And he’d really gotten into architecture drawings before he left the Academy.

-Because his parents were often busy when he was a kid, he found he had useful skills to ‘adult’ while at the Academy and on his own for the first time. (He can cook fairly well, at least, you know what you’re supposed to be eating and it tastes pretty good. But he’s no Chef Langdon.)

-He was great at keeping his room spotless and clean. His workspaces however? Not so much.

-Over half his wardrobe is stained with either paint or charcoal or clay.

-(Yes, he can do pottery. Just not very well. In fact, it usually looks pretty shit, but hey, he tried.)

-After seeing the news about what happened in Magix and how his uncle’s school was destroyed and the people he cared about nearly died, Helia decided to transfer. (Which took a lot of convincing with his dad and the Dean of the Academy and Saladin.)

-But once he was in, he was in. And when given the choice about his weapon, he went with one his mother loves to use, the laser-string gloves. Great for restraint and for quick weapon-recovery in battle without potentially causing further harm.

-Add in his ability to make himself stronger, and he can wield that glove with the confidence of a sword fighter.

-He quickly clicked with Timmy once he joined their squadron, despite the two having different views of technology.

-Helia was Riven’s roommate though, and while their personalities didn’t compete with each other, they didn’t completely get along either. (Riven reminded Helia of Hannah with his ‘let’s just face it’ ways and Riven felt Helia wasn’t much of a hero if all he did was restrain instead of fight.)

-Of course, as time went on, Helia and Riven do have respect for each other, and have many inside jokes that came from their time living together.

-Helia quickly found he was one of the ‘advisors’ of the group, with everyone coming to him for advice. He was flattered, sure, but dudes… Just because he managed to get what he got, doesn’t mean he knows how he did it.

-Aside from training with his gloves, he’s good using a whip and decent with a sword. Bows and arrows/anything needing aim isn’t his strong suit. He’s also not the best at giving reports on how things went on their missions, which is why that task gets delegated to Sky or Riven.

-He trained as a medic too, deciding that while he wouldn’t be the best in a fight, he can help with the aftermath. And his squad kind of needed a medic aside from Timmy and Brandon…

-Helia may not enjoy fighting, but he’s not above doing what’s necessary when the people he cares about are in danger. There have been plenty of times, not just when saving the Magical Dimension, that Helia has risked his life and limbs to protect his friends.

-One such incident was a survival trip to the Marshlands of Amanal. Brandon never would have made it home in one piece if Helia hadn’t thrown himself at the hippogriff. (And he somehow managed to befriend it afterward. No, he has no memory of how he did it.)

-Helia tends to be a stress-sketcher. Worried about a test? Doodles on his notes from class. Worried about an upcoming mission? Sketchbook in hand. Relationship issues? Sketchbook.

-Oh! He’s a great pilot too! Helia has a great sense of direction and has grown up around the ships, so he knows how to work them. (Now, if you want to know what makes them tick or how to put them together if they fall apart, ask someone else. Preferably Timmy or Riven.)

-Helia has a whole stash of teas. A collection, if you will. (Something that he blames Faragonda for, but hey, it’s not the worst habit ever.)

-After all the traveling he’s done thanks to Red Fountain, Helia sort of understands better why his mom and uncle loved their military days so much. Seeing new places, learning new things, enjoying new foods… It’s quite an existence. (If you can look passed all the fighting and wars and invasions…)

-Yes, Helia does yoga. He also enjoys dance. (And with friends like Layla, Musa, and Nabu, he never has to do it alone.)

-Some of his favorite people to sketch: Flora, for her grace and beauty and the way she seems to just breathe life into natural settings; Sky, for his posture and presence and ability to always appear in charge; Layla, for her strength and grace and how every body of water seems to be at her command; and finally, Timmy and Tecna, As a couple, those two just radiate this feeling of joy and it just… How can you not want to sketch it?!

-(Kiko is also a favorite sketch subject. The little rabbit just has so much personality!)

-This may come as a shock to people, but Helia enjoys horror movies. Preferably the psychological/thriller-based horror movies. It’s the way they capture human emotion and it’s just so poignant and interesting. He wants to learn how to convey such feelings in his work.

-Between his parents, you’d think Helia was closer to his father… In actuality, he’s closer to his mother.

-His mom enjoyed doing things and showing him things and just getting him to be more active and curious as a child.

-His father was more of a watcher. An observer-type. Always looking for something awe-inspiring for his next piece. (Something Helia and Harley bond over now. And laugh at, from time to time.)

-Helia enjoys swapping sketching ideas with Bloom and Stella, looking to see what they’re up to and how they can try and work off of each other.

-(And he has done some physical character sheets and layout ideas for Tecna’s video game idea to help her see her vision more clearly.)

-Helia doesn’t play a lot of video games. They’re just not his thing… But he does have a soft spot for the Sims series after Bloom introduced him to it, and he enjoys this maze creation game that a Solarian gaming company came up with for phones (level 200!!!).

-He swears more than people think he does. It’s almost comical how shocked people are when they meet this ‘sweet and soulful guy’ and then he drops a few ‘f’ bombs while working on his projects. (Not just ‘f’ bombs either… Dude gets creative with his curses. Even Riven’s impressed.)

-Helia didn’t go to Earth with the others, instead taking up a job offer on Callisto to help with remodeling his great uncle’s barracks. (And now, the castle itself… He’s so honored it’s his designs in the works.)

-However, he does visit from time to time. It makes him a little sad though, seeing Earth the way it is. All the pollution creating cars, the strange fashion, the way people seem to disregard each other. It’s so sad.

-When the ‘saving the Magical Dimension’ stuff stops, Helia’s hoping to join with his father’s art gallery and to build on his portfolio of projects. (He knows he already has a few jobs waiting for him, like Stella’s coronation portrait for when she becomes queen.)

-He just hopes his works inspire and touch people the way they do as he works on them.

[alkhale]

Typetober Day 12: locked here for forever

pls don’t kill me, I wanted to do the whole new chapter but i’m not totally done with changing some things up at the end and I’m on a time crunch because i’ve got crap to finish for school and two more essays to vomit out (hahaha, but good thing i can type a lot, right!?! ;-;) please take these meager offerings of the teaser for the next chapter instead

Story: Locked Here for Forever (Blurb of Chapter 3)

Fandom: One Piece, Modern AU, Memos Modern AU

Pairing: Dark!Sabo/Oc/Dark!Ace (Rated NSFW but this blurb is okay)

(locked here for forever)

Hoku cradled the mug of hot tea in her hands, watching the murky red color swirl as steam wafted up. There was a faintly sweet smell to it, noting something different from just apples. Herbal?

Sabo had told her there was already a pot steeped for her if she wanted it, some nice brand from some place she forgot the name of he was starting to like apparently. 

She thumbed the bits of graphite still staining the curve of her hand. She watched it smear under her thumb, graying her skin. It was a familiar look, the same way Hoku liked to feel the hard, chipped and flaky feel of paint still lingering on her skin. A bit of slow music was coming from the stereo behind her, filling the silence for her comfort. Ace’s taste? It seemed they had remotes to control all sorts of different parts of the apartment. Luxury places like this do it differently. She hadn’t seen a single normal light switch since walking through their door.

Hoku sat alone beside the dining table in Ace and Sabo’s luxurious apartment, the sleek, shiny material she didn’t know the name of showing her unreadable expression right back at her. The high ceilings and sheer size of the nicely decorated, well furnished apartment made the feeling feel much more powerful. Sitting here beside this table, Hoku felt a bit small

But she didn’t really know how to admit that she was glad to have a second to herself either. Do I really need it? I’m fine, right? She felt fine. Ace and Sabo had offered to come out and see her off if she had to leave right away, but she’d ushered them on, telling them they could go… clean up and shower or whatever they might need.

She’d wait.

“Wait in the dining room for us then,” Sabo had said, smiling warmly at her, exactly the same way he smiled at her in the cafe.“Or the living room if you want to make yourself comfortable. We’ll be finished in just a bit, alright?”

It’d been a bit hard to keep her eyes focused on him when Hotaru was still in the room as Sabo adjusted his robe, tying it off at his waist. Hoku remembered the surge of uncertainty rising up in her chest as she gently held the drawing between her fingers, not knowing whether or not she should say something to Hotaru or just keep her mouth shut. If this had been a normal shoot or session, she’d have thanked the models and started up small talk if the mood struck, but this wasn’t exactly… a conventional shoot.

Hotaru had been wrapped up in the thick duvet, sitting on the corner of the bed and looking away from them as she scrolled through her phone. The slender curve of her neck, pointedly turned away from the three of them, had pushed Hoku to decide she probably should just keep her mouth shut. But she’s the one who wants this, right? Maybe she wasn’t expecting… no, no, Sabo said she knew I’d be female… she’s probably more comfortable with that… maybe it’s just awkward?

Hoku could understand that. She tried to rationalize it. Of course it’d be a little awkward. This wasn’t exactly an everyday request for a portrait of a beloved pet or family member. Hoku was just working, after all, there wasn’t any reason for them to talk beyond that.

Still though. Hoku glanced Hotaru’s way, unable to help herself. She doesn’t seem very happy that I’m here.

“Hoku?”

Hoku jumped, turning quickly back to Sabo. He’d smiled back at her, easy and polite as he gestured for her to move toward the other side of the room—on her way to the door. “I suppose we can talk more in a second. Ace and I won’t take long.”

“Unless you want to join!” Ace had shouted from somewhere down the hall with a chortling snicker. Sabo rolled his eyes and Hoku snorted, carefully rolling up the drawing she’d finished and handing it to Sabo.

“Here,” Hoku had handed Sabo the drawing. “We can talk more after. Let me know if she has any questions.”

Sabo has smiled, eyes crinkled at the corners, full of warmth and appreciation. It’d made Hoku suddenly think there wasn’t any reason for her to think of anything else after all.

(She was just helping out.)

A bit of sweat rolled down the side of her neck now. Hoku reached up and rubbed it away, smoothing out a little crick in her neck while she was at it. Her hair was pulled back into that messy ponytail, a few stray strands sticking out. A small bag of her supplies sat beside her on the table top, drawing her attention.

That hadn’t been so bad. She just needed to not think about it. Yeah, that’s just about it, right? To not put much more thought in the aftermath—it was done with now, and it was nothing more than a commissioned job. This was definitely different from anything Hoku had done before, but it was a good chance to experience something new. Step outside her comfort zone a little to find something new about herself. This is nothing but a good opportunity. 

Hoku glanced back to her pencils.

She imagined her hand sliding across the paper to the sound of breathy moans. To the quiet sound of skin sliding against skin. Of—

“Sabo. Sabo, please—”

“We should give her a hand.”

“Did you like that—”

“Do you like it?”

Hoku jumped, knees smashing into the underside of the table. The very same tea almost sloshed out as well had she not moved her hands to try and scoop it back into the cup. She almost screamed, but only managed a startled, wheezing gasp instead. 

Sabo looked horribly apologetic, pressing fingertips to his lips in a wince at her reaction. 

Tea. Hoku’s mind automatically supplied, maybe for her sake. Tea. He’s talking about the tea.

“Good,” Hoku said intelligently. “Tea. Tea good.”

Ace broke out into a guffaw behind Sabo. The other brother quirked a brow at Hoku, looking hopelessly amused. Water dripped down the ends of their tangled locks, rolling across Sabo’s neck and disappearing into the line of his robe.

Hoku offered them a bit of a constipated smile.

Bonus:

“You ever think about getting laid?”

Law stared at his soup as though the liquid had just parted its lips and asked him the question itself.

He stared at it longer, for good measure, making sure he wasn’t seeing things after running an almost 72-hour shift non-stop dealing with both a nasty, unfortunate pile-up and some crazed stalker lashing out at his victim in a near fatal stab wound.

Law slowly turned his head to look at the young woman beside him. Hoku didn’t even blink, calmly moving her spoon through her own soup—she wasn’t much of a soup person, save for a few different dishes, but Hoku was usually always willing to try anything once, and she was even more willing to cave and eat something if it was for the sake of the other person.

She didn’t even look that tired, despite how late into the night it was beginning to be—and sporadic as Hoku’s schedule was, she always tended to get a little tired around this time before ignoring it in favor of work if she had any.

No, wait, aside from that—Hoku had just asked him a question. Not the soup. Hoku.

Law pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, rubbing the tired lines under his eyes before he refocused on her, brows furrowed and lip curling downwards in—in something.

“Do I what?”

Maybe he’d heard wrong.

“Sex,” Hoku said again, changing the vocabulary up a bit. “You ever think about it sometimes?”

Law stared at her for what might have very well been more than ten minutes to his frying, failing brain. He opened his mouth, closed it, jaw setting to the side as he tried to focus on Hoku’s face and make sure he wasn’t seeing double—make sure he hadn’t actually been gassed by one of the new anesthesiologists.

“What?” Law said, because no, it seemed the 72-hour shift had killed a bit of his cognitive process off after all.

Hoku brought the spicy beef broth to her lips, taking a long slurp.

(more to come soon! ty for your patience!)

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Finding Us Chapter 21

Alright! Here I am at last with another Tim chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it. 

AO3 Link

~

Tim couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up in his chest at the idea of progress in the stalker case. It fueled his desire to keep moving in other directions, while he waited on Damian to finish his sketch he dove back into work on the Alkali case.

Currently, he was trying once again not to backseat hack as Barbara was finally digging through the Alkali’s files. After their trip to the physical location, Babs had used the access gained through Stephanie to create her own back door and they’d sat on that for a little while to make sure no one found it.

It was early the morning after Damian’s encounter with the creepy man and Tim was in the belfry standing over Barbara’s shoulder because there was nothing to currently do on the stalker case. Tim hadn’t recognized Damian’s sketch of the guy he’d seen, and so they were waiting on facial recognition to grab his identity. The kid’s sketch was definitely good enough for the system to pick something up, they just had to wait.

“Have you found anything interesting yet?” he asked, trying not to bounce on his toes.

“Lots. Nothing we’re looking for. Though, there is a guy here who’s last name is Bandersnatch, which is pretty cool.”

She was teasing, but Tim could also hear the note of warning in her voice. When she found what they were looking for she’d tell him, and he shouldn’t keep pushing. He sighed, and turned to step across the room, over to a mini fridge installed for snacks.

“Want a soda?” he called.

She shook her head, “It’s too early for that, toss me a tea.” she answered.

He grabbed a bottle of tea out for Babs and a can of orange soda for himself and moved back over to the computer.

“Thanks for helping on this.” he said, handing her the tea, then cracking open his soda.

“Of course, the sooner we get these guys the better.”

Tim agreed, and sipped at his soda while he played a matching game on his phone in an attempt to both distract and stop himself from tossing advice Barbara’s way. He got stuck on a particularly difficult level and found himself totally lost in it for a while, trying again and again to win. It made the waiting a lot easier, even if he also kind of wanted to toss his phone out the window and watch it crash at the bottom of the building.  

“Got something.” Babs said at last.

Tim looked up bleary eyed, blinking away red diamonds and orange squares. It took his brain a moment to register what she’d said before he stood up, the chair shaking.

“Great!” he hurried over to look at the screen again, “What’d you find?”

“Well, under the private files I found some that were locked with a password, after cracking that I found these.”

The file she’d opened was filled with unreadable text.

“It’s encrypted?” Tim asked.

“I think it’s some kind of cypher. See it follows a sort of pattern. Nothing too overt or easy like a caesar cipher. It’s got to have a key.”

Tim hummed, she was right, the text was filled with letters and numbers and broken up in a way that looked like lines of real text, if they’d been in any kind of legible order.

“Well then we’d better get to cracking it.”

They worked for a couple hours trying to figure out what cypher had been used, and testing various codes to no avail. Eventually they decided to give it some time to breathe, and their brains time to think of new ideas. Babs forwarded him the files so he could keep looking over them later and Tim left her to work on other projects.

As he was leaving, he found Cassandra waiting for him down at the base of the Belfry. She was eating a cinnamon roll like it was a doughnut.

“Hey.” she said, handing him a cup of coffee, and shaking her wrist and the plastic bag hanging off it.

Tim took the offered cup, then tugged the bag off her free hand checking inside. A second cinnamon roll sat tucked into a nest of napkins. He fished it out, careful not to spill his drink then copied Cass, taking a huge bite out of the side.

It was still warm, and the taste of cinnamon and sugar danced across his tongue in a way that made him think of home. Of early Saturday mornings with Alfred, stirring together a bowl of butter, sugar, and cinnamon so the man could carefully spread it across dough. Or of Bruce dropping off a few in his room, ruffling his hair, and telling him he should probably finish his homework before working on another case.

“Ready to head back?” she asked.

He washed down the bite of bread with some coffee and nodded, “Yeah, I think Babs and I have done all we can. How’re things back at the manor?”

Cass shrugged, “Everyone is still waiting on the results of the search, so they all split up to work on other things.”

They moved to the car Cass had brought to pick him up in, it was one of Bruce's many cars, black and not too fancy. Tim held a hand out for the keys and after an eye roll Cass dropped them in his palm.

“I drove here.” she argued.

“You drive too fast for me and my coffee.” he replied.

“Fair.” she shrugged.

As Tim pulled away from the clocktower, still munching on his cinnamon roll Cass pipped back up.

“Can we stop at the craft store?”

He glanced at her, “Sure, but why?”

“Damian wanted some more colored pencils. He sent a list and asked me to stop if I had time.” She tugged a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it to show him.

A detailed list of colors, brands, and what not to buy’s filled the page in Damian’s neat, tight, handwriting. Tim was surprised to find a little picture of a dog at the bottom of the page, it wasn’t as detailed as Damian usually did, and smiling for some reason.

“He drew it as a thank you, and promised to make me a better one with the pencils.” Cass said, catching where Tim’s eye had fallen, then she added, “Eyes on the road.”

Tim flicked the turn signal on the car to indicate he needed to go left, towards the craft store Damian frequented, “Why didn’t he come if he wanted to restock?”

Cass shrugged again, and folded the paper instead of crumpling it back up. She set it in her lap, fingers tapping on the paper with gentle tip taps.

Damian rarely missed a chance to get his own art supplies. He was as picky about them as Tim was over film or lenses for his cameras. Sure it was just a few replacement pencils, but even those Tim knew Damian would linger over for an hour if he was left to it. He wondered briefly if his mild concussion had anything to do with staying home. Maybe Alfred had told him he couldn’t leave? But no, it had been days at this point, he was probably cleared at last for most activities.

Maybe it was because he knew Cass was headed to pick up Tim.

He tried not to think too hard on that thought. They hadn’t really talked much lately. Both had been busy with their own things, and besides that, they didn’t really talk a lot to begin with. He’d thought they were doing better, but at the same time Tim knew they weren’t.

Tim reached out to snatch his coffee and take a sip from it. Now that he thought about it, maybe they were doing better after all. Damian had called him by his first name the night before. And he’d gone looking for clues as to Tim’s stalker. A queasy feeling bubbled up in Tim’s stomach. He’d been quick to dismiss Damian’s attempted apology back when they’d been at the mall, and now he was starting to wonder if he'd been really trying to mend that bridge. T im loved the idea of having a little brother, and way back when he'd first met Damian he'd been happy to have one, for all of two seconds. Still, sometimes he thought they had found that perfect spot of being siblings, and other times it felt like there was a gaping hole between them. Especially lately.

He pulled into the store’s parking lot not even realizing they’d made it there, his body on autopilot. Cass cheered as she climbed out of the car, and Tim stayed quiet.

When he looked up at the storefront he figured it out.

He might be jealous. Of the squirt.

Maybe it wasn't their past that was bothering him so much lately, but their present. Tim thought he'd shaken off those feelings in regards to Jason and Damian, but maybe he hadn't. Even in the wake of the family’s eyes turning on him Tim still couldn’t stop thinking about how Damian seemed to draw everyone in all the time. Dick, then Jason, Bruce with his fretting after they’d gotten hurt. It was--it was like he fit in a way Tim couldn’t quite imagine himself fitting again.  Like they were both the same piece, and there was only one spot left on the puzzle, and Damian had swooped in just in time to fill it. Even now, he felt odd about the attention. Like the moment everything was done his family would stop looking at him again. Stop seeing Tim, because he’d messed up. He’d failed to be the one to fix everything and he no longer deserved to be seen.

“Tim?”

“Coming!” he said, locking the car door.

Inside he was hit with the smell of paint and paper. The whole place was a kaleidoscope of colors and supplies crammed together in a space that should have felt cluttered, but instead actually seemed homely. He followed Cass to the pencils and held each as she selected them, reading Damian’s list carefully, then making Tim double check “ just in case” .

He thought they’d be in and out, but once they’d found Damian’s stuff Cass insisted on browsing. Tim followed her, feeling a bit like Titus pattering after Damian as he instructed the dog on something very un-dog-like and soon his arms were full.

Cass had added extra packs of less high quality colored pencils, crayons, thin markers --not thick, because apparently those didn’t trace well-- and made him pick out a coloring book. She selected one full of animals, and Tim picked one that was more abstract. Like black and white stained glass. He and Cass locked eyes on an adult swear word coloring book and both grinned.

“For Jason?” Tim asked.

“And one for Dick.” Cass grinned.

Soon they’d selected adult coloring books for the whole family. Some simply because they knew they’d get a laugh out of them, and others from the knowledge of the recipient getting genuine delight from it.

By the time they left, Tim was feeling better. His day brightened even more when Cass hooked an arm through his at home, and dragged him into the living room.

“We are going to color and watch She-Ra.” she declared.

He could have argued and said he had work to do. But he knew Cass would tell him a break was good. And wasn’t that what he’d just told Babs? He could have fallen into other cases or dug out his 3Ds to play some Animal Crossing. But the best idea in the whole world right then was sitting on the floor and coloring with his sister, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

He filled in two whole pages, first lined with marker --Cass had been right about the thin ones-- then colored in as dark as he could with his own box of colored pencils. At some point the sounds of She-Ra had been turned down as he and Cass chatted about everything.

She told stories of an adventure with Steph. He talked about Mindbender and how weird it was to have Jason in the house again. Then about how cool it was to have Jason in the house. Cass told him about a ballet she’d seen. All of it, whether it was little nothings or big changes, ebbed and flowed to the scritch scritch of pencil on paper, and legs folded up or kicked into the air.

At some point, Alfred brought in cocoa and water. Then sandwiches. Dick breezed through and gasped over his book, stopping to color in all of an F before getting bored and breezing back out. Jason cackled over his book, and then genuinely thanked them for thinking of him. Damian collected his pencils, didn’t complain about a single one, and stared at his own book of animals to color like it was made of gold before tucking it under an arm and scurrying away.

Bruce stayed the longest, lounging on a couch to add his own commentary between theirs, infrequent, but enough to say “I’m here, I’m listening, I love you.” before he too was called away. He planted a kiss on each of their heads before leaving.

It was Stephanie who broke up the peace. Showing up like a tornado, and stirring them from settled spaces into laughter. They traded pencils for controllers and fired up Smash Brothers for a wholly different, but still perfect, adventure.

There, surrounded in waves by his family Tim wondered if he’d been wrong earlier. If maybe the puzzle had room for all of them. And every time someone new came in, it just expanded and made room for them. He certainly felt like he fit in, and it was really nice.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary:  Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own  path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

=

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite  perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that  touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter​ 

[you-did-well-moon]

Sf9 reaction to s/o on their period

Type: fluff uwuwuuwu

A/n: oh god, fun fact, I got my first period on Halloween. I think I laughed too hard and it just- Moving on. I don't have a lot of cramps, but when I do, they’re bad T-T. I remember rolling around the floor screaming “I don't want to be a girl anymore” while my mom watched from the kitchen. She then told all my aunts. ahaha actually moving on now. On to the reaction. Don't be afraid to talk to me or to request - Moon

Youngbin

Youngbin strikes me as the type of person to make sure he really wants a relationship with someone before confessing, so you’re basically his ride or die and he’d do anything for you. That being said, congratulations, you have this boy wrapped around your finger. Your boyfriend is now your personal maid. He’s the type to make you feel good. Your tummy hurts? He’s trying to make it better by massaging it. You're suddenly upset with him because of a mood swing? Youngbin will take it like a champ smiling softly at you and crushing you into his arms while wondering how you can be so cute while pouting at him for accidentally leaving your favorite cup too high for you to reach. Youngbin already showers you in compliments, but he always manages to take it up a notch while you’re on your days of the month. Youngbin will surprise you with cute little things like a bath with a bath bomb and rose petals, your favorite flowers, or proposing to bake a cake together and making a mess of the kitchen. 

“Your pants don't fit because your tummy is bloated babe. It’s normal. Just wear some sweatpants. You look beautiful either way”

Inseong

Every time, Inseong will be a bit awkward with you. Not because you’re on your period, but because he wants to do nice things for you. He’s just worried he’s doing too much or that he’s being clingy. Eventually, (after some reassurance from you because he will end up talking to you about it) he’ll grow comfortable trying to take your mind off things by doing sweet random gestures. If you’re craving something, you’ll find it on your bed by the end of the day with a sticky note accompanied by a cute pick-up line on it. If you’re on your way to work/school, Inseong will send you a text to check your gallery where you find silly selfies he took while you were probably getting ready. He will make you lay your head on his lap with tinted cheeks, and he'll read to you even exaggerating some of the dialogue parts to make you laugh. If you’re having a particular bad day, you will get met with Inseong’s unsure smile with a blanket fort behind him and your favorite movie ready to play on his laptop.

“Eh? Those cookies on your bed? Me? No no, you got it all wrong. It was probably Casper trying to make one of the most angelic people in the world show her lovely smile again”

Jaeyoon

Jaeyoon’s energy will literally sky rocket every time you're on your time of the month. Homeboy is probably preparing jokes for you two weeks prior to your period (yes, he will keep track of your period that's just how much of a boyfriend he is). He loves seeing his girl laugh, and he wants you to spend the week your mood usually gets bought down happy. Especially because of him. This dude will not be afraid to tease you. Nothing about your period like staining the bed. He teases you about things he’s always teased you about like tripping on nothing. If you’re having a particularly bad day and Jaeyoon’s lighthearted teasing gets to you, he won’t hesitate to smother you in kisses. If you’re still mad at him, he’ll follow you around pouting and acting cute for your forgiveness. You of course, give in. Something cute I think Jaeyoon would do is sit you down, your hands clasped in his and his forehead pressed against yours holding eye contact with you making you tell him all the good things that happened in your day. He’ll give you a little kiss for every good things you tell him.

“Come on y/n, you know I didn't mean it when I laughed at the toilet paper stuck to your shoe. I can't have your cute little butt slipping because of toilet paper. I know! I’ll impersonate Dawon when he accidentally ate nail polish for you.”

Dawon

Did someone order a koala? That’s basically what he becomes every time your time of the month comes around. He’ll act a bit clingier than usual (okay maybe a lot), but if you ask for space, he won’t falter in taking a step back and letting you breathe. The only reason Dawon goes into koala mode when you’re on your period is because he wants to be there in case you need/want something. Honestly, he’ll probably do something stupid like draw on your face while you were taking a nap. He will be whiny the rest of the day when you scold him. In his defense, he thought you could both laugh about it when you eventually did get up. He makes it better by letting you do something he normally doesn't let you do because he gets flustered and blushes a lot. He lets you cuddle him trace and touch his tattoos with a limited time offer of cuddles (it's not that limited). Of course you've seen his tattoos a hundred times before, but he’s usually asleep for it. In turn, he will trace lines across the slopes of your face mumbling how his day went against the crown of your head.

“What do you mean you have to go to the restroom? The restroom can fit two people. Ouch- okay I’ll get off of you just come back ASAP. I don't think I can take being too far away from you for too long”

Zuho

Juho will make sure you’re having the time of your life the whole time you're on your days. He invites you to his studio where you have crazy dance parties singing and rapping to one of his songs while you dance around with colorful wigs and other wacky accessories.  He plays stupid games with you like paper rock scissors sticking out his tongue at you when you lose but still handing you his last Skittle. If you don't want to go out, that's perfectly fine for him too. He snuggles up to you on the couch while watching a scary movie spilling popcorn everywhere and screaming in an unbelievably high pitch. He’s just trying to make your period as not miserable as he can. He becomes even softer for you (if that’s even possible). He lets you play with his hair or put crazy makeup on him. Although he may look grumpy while in the process, he goofily laughs posing ridiculously when you tell him he looks pretty. He’s even letting you distract him in the studio tickling you when you grab his attention for too long.

“I never thought I'd look this good in long pink hair. You got the lyrics wrong but I'll let it pass since you’re cute.. and I love you”

Rowoon

Seokwoo usually teases you a lot, but he eases up on it when you’re on your period.He will bring you tea and pills when you’re having cramps watching worriedly as you curl up in pain. He runs his hands though your hair softening the crease between your eyebrows and shushing you softly when you whine out in pain. He will push you to eat saying the healthier your body is the better you will feel after your period ends. He contentedly smiles watching you fondly when you eat what he made. He will bring you outside and make you play something simple such as catch telling you he read on the internet that moving around will help ease up the pain in your lower abdomen. He is very patient with you when you get overly sensitive over something listening to you talk waving your arms around while internally thinking of how cute you look crying at Finding Nemo. He then eventually herds you to the bed telling you take a nap tucking you in and leaving a kiss against your forehead rubbing his nose against yours playfully before leaving to shower promising to join you later.

“Come on love, let's take a nap. I promise you’ll feel better when you wake up. See your beautiful self later babe, rest up”

Taeyang

Taeyang will also be one to tease his girlfriend, but he will change up his teasing. Instead of teasing you to annoy you, he'll do it more to bring up your mood and make you laugh. He pinches your cheek and calls you cute. Actually, you didn't advise him when you were on your period until you were sure the relationship was serious. When you first told him, Taeyang was a bit awkward, but he quickly shook it off smiling and nodding asking if you needed anything. Knowing how sensitive you can get during your time of the month, he’ll get a bit protective (not overbearing) of you. If a member teases you, he sends them a small sharp glare. He will make sure you don't watch that movie that makes you cry every time. He will make sure you spend your days while on your period as relaxed as you can. Taeyang would take you on walks with beautiful flowers and plants along the path smiling as you take everything in beaming in delight. He will stay at home with you playing his guitar while conversing about random topics with you.

“This isn't the first time you've seen those flowers jagi, yet you still stop to look at them every time. You're too adorable for your own good sometimes angel”

Hwiyoung

Hwiyoung will be the member who will be the shyest when you first tell him you're on your period. He’ll probably also freak out the most when you start curling in on yourself because of some painful cramps. He probably runs around the house looking for something that can help you until you eventually tell him what kind of pills to get you and to heat up a water bottle. There’s nothing to worry about, he will definitely be more prepared for next time. He will constantly ask you if he can do anything for you, and he gets a hang of what helps you out the most. Hwiyoung spends a lot of time with you goofing off and playing around. He draws with you purposefully giving you a big nose while drawing you and cackling when you lightly throw a pencil in his direction. Something you guys would probably do is intentionally get movies many say are bad and laugh while watching them. When you fall asleep on his shoulder tired of the day’s activities, he will fondly gummy smile at you before gently shaking awake to go to bed.

“What do you mean your uterus is murdering you? Is that normal? Oh- please don't cry. Tell me what I can do to take the pain away love”

Chani

Early in the relationship, when you first tell him about your period, he will observe you quietly. He just wants to see how he can help you out, so he doesn't do anything wrong when he’s trying to take care of you while you’re on your days of the month. After getting a good look at what he can do to help you out, he will be more active around you when you’re on your period. He will take many naps with you softly singing you to sleep and resting your head in the crook of his arm lightly running his hands up and down your arm. He will act cute only for you when he sees you’re having a hard time. He sits next to the bathtub when you’re in the bath he prepared for you, and he even massages your shoulder before throwing a towel at your face telling you to finish so you could go watch some movies. He’s playful with you chasing you around your apartment spinning you around when he catches you. He smiles warmly at you and chuckles lowly when you give him those puppy eyes asking if you can go to the corner store to get snacks. He just ruffles your hair agreeing a second later.

“So what if this is the fifth nap we’ve had this day. We both need our rest. Now go to sleep and dream of me”

[muilkyu]

Treasure's Types of Dates

🐷 Hyunsuk

"This would look so good with the new shoes I got last week." Hyunsuk gushes while picking up a pair of shades.

"Hyunsuk, that's amazing, but my feet hurt now. Can we leave now?" You whine. 

"Just one more store babe. I saw this dress the other night that would look adorable on you," he says. Then he walks away, spotting a different pair of shades that he just needs.

Thrifting dates are a must for both of you

You both drag each other to underground fashion shows when you can

If you are staying home you decide to have a runway date with both of you just playing around with different types of styles 

For lazy nights it's just face masks and a Netflix movie party

🐼 Jihoon

"Tilt your head to the left!" Jihoon yells from across the field of wildflowers he's crouched down eyes squinted holding his camera trying to get a good picture, "Extend your foot. A little more! Okay perfect!" 

The sky is a beautiful orange shade that compliments the wildflowers and your sundress. Jihoon was right about this being the perfect place for a photo. 

"Okay. You look gorgeous. Come look," He says again. You make your way over to him looking at the photo. He really does have a talent for photography. "These are my best ones yet. I don't know if it's the sun or the model I should be staring at more."

Jihoon likes to visit places where you can get a pretty picture

He finds the best cafes for dates. Even though he wants a picture before you can eat which can take forever

You often travel outside of Seoul to see even more of Korea

You got to Busan often for your dates just spending a day walking around and enjoying the city

🐯 Yoshi

"If you fall I will catch you."

"I trust you, but I also can't take the chance of that happening," You say placing a foot on the skateboard. It's staying still for right now, but any second it also could move forward, "Just hold my hands and guide me." 

Yoshi was 100% determined to teach you how to skate. Even though you told him you had no interest in skating. When he told you he wanted to teach you his face lit up so you agreed.

The type that wants to share his hobbies with you so that's usually your date idea 

Yoshi likes to make you laugh on dates 

You don't do too many dates at home unless you are playing a game or something

Sometimes you spend time helping him make art which leads to a big mess and paint staining both your cheeks and clothes

🐨 Junkyu

"We have been here before," you point out as Junkyu lays out a blanket on the grass.

"I know, but it gets even prettier every time we come back." He says laying down on the blanket.

"Don't you think we should go somewhere else next time? We have been to the Bank river on just about half of our dates."

Junkyu shakes his head patting the blanket, "Nope. Now let's lay down and watch the clouds."

Not the best at planning dates at all

You can tell he tries however so you let it slide

Dates are usually more relaxed than exciting

When you want to have full-on fun he makes you do something 'crazy' aka roller coasters

🐹 Mashiho

"Bend your elbow a bit more so you can aim properly," Mashiho says pushing your wrist back.

"I won't make it either way." 

Mashiho smiles, "Exactly why you have me as a teacher. Now bend your knees and shoot." 

You do as he says. You watch as the ball hits the back of the rim and then slowly falls into the basket. 

"You did it! I told you I was a great teacher."

Dates with Mashiho are always playful

You end up either playing a game outside or shopping for cute toys and plushies around Seoul

You pick up hobbies together that interest you both 

You rarely go out to eat or order food for dates, but when you are getting food you stop at a bakery for sweets

🦁 Jaehyuk

"We will take whatever the chef recommends," Jaehyuk tells the Waiter. He's decided to bring you to a very fancy restaurant, definitely one that you don't deserve to be at, but he insisted. 

"This is all so amazing Jae." You say looking around. You're sitting right next to the window which allows you to look out into the Seoul nightlife.

"I know right. I've always wanted to eat here and now I can with you it makes it all that more special."

Fancy dates. At nice restaurants and cafes. 

He likes to pamper you when you go out together so he doesn't hold back

All of the money he has saved up goes towards making you happy

A true romantic at heart he loves to spoil you and make you feel loved

🤖 Asahi

"Which color should I use for the flowers?" You ask digging through the pencil bag of markers. 

"Why are you adding flowers on my self-portrait?" Ashai questions. He's still sketching he's very focused on his drawing. 

"I know, but I went above and beyond and gave you a background. I should get extra points." 

He chuckles at that remark, "I'm highly doubtful you can beat me, but you should do pink."

Homeboy dates 

You end up trying to cook homemade pizza which turns out horribly so you just order in

One time he built a fort and you snuggled inside with a movie marathon and hot chocolate 

🦊 Yedam

"We should get green tea and a banana nut muffin," Yedam suggests as he looks over the menu. You're at your favorite cafe that's just down the street from your dorm. Yedam suggested you have a study date today which is exactly what you agreed on. 

"I want a muffin, but order a different drink. I'm not in the mood for tea." 

"Okay," he circles the option on the menu and sets it aside. A worker will walk past soon and pick it up. He unzips his bookbag pulling out a binder and a workbook ready to work, "What are you going to study?"

"I think I am going to start on my Language Arts report. I just need to decide on a topic." You say pulling your laptop out from your tote bag. 

Yedam smiles, "I can help you with that."

Study dates happen often because grades are important to you both

Sometimes you end up at a Karaoke bar because you would be a fool to not love his voice

You walk around in parks often just looking at the scenery and enjoying nature

🐰 Doyoung

"Are you sure you should be adding so much salt?" 

"I'm only adding a little bit. Trust me It Will taste amazing." Doyoung smiles. 

"After your strawberry jam disaster, I don't think I should trust you." You say looking down into the pot at the bright red liquid boiling. 

Shrugging off the comment Doyoung reaches for the sesame oil adding a teaspoon, "It will taste fine. Now can you please set the table?" He pushes you towards the table so you leave him to his work.

Doyoung is a wildcard for dates

At times he will bring you to a restaurant for a nice dinner

At other times he will insist on cooking something

Sometimes he finds really weird places for dates such as going to a token food market or he books a ceramics class

One time he tries to teach you a dance one can only imagine how that went

🐏 Haruto

"So what do you have planned for me today?" You ask pulling off your crossbody bag hanging it on your chair. 

"I was thinking we should watch a horror movie." He says. 

You laugh, "No seriously what are we gonna do?" 

"I am serious we should watch a foreign film together and eat popcorn." 

"Are you sure this is a good idea? The last time we watched one you wanted to be the knight in shining armor, but I had to walk you home." You point out recalling the memory from a few months ago. 

"I promise I can handle it. Let's pop some popcorn."

Spoiler Alert: You only made it 15 minutes into the movie before you had to turn it off. You ended up watching Wreck-It Ralph instead.

Haruto doesn't really plan for dates be just goes with the flow

Most nights you just enjoy the presence of each other talking for hours 

Haruto seems quiet but when he is comfortable he loves to sit and talk with the people around him

🐺 Jeongwoo

"Why did you tell me to wear pants?" You ask as you meet Jeongwoo. 

He just smiles, "With what I have planned you'll be happy you wore pants." 

-

"You're not going to win!" You shout while running after Jeongwoo. He's decided to bring you to an indoor jumping park. The floor is filled with trampolines and there are sections for different games. 

He has a head start already making it to the jumping area, "Hurry up. I want to beat you in dodgeball."

Jeongwoo has a lot of energy so most of the time he has you moving around when you meet to go out. 

Sometimes you're screaming your lungs out on a roller coaster other times you're racing him just to see who will win

When you want to just stay home your still moving around either just singing and dancing till you can't anymore or eating ice cream and watching YouTube

🐮 Junghwan

"There is a zombie behind you!" Junghwan shouts. He's right next to you, but he still feels the need to shout. 

"Kill it more me I'm still smelting the iron!" 

He shakes his head, "No you do it I have to go look for more diamond." 

"Wow, you're not gonna protect me from a zombie. I'm gonna take all the diamonds and leave you then." You say turning your character around to kill the zombie. 

"I was just kidding. I'll kill any monster that tries to hurt you."

Video Game dates at home 

You both enjoy taking each other down or working together to meet a goal in a game

When your not gaming for a date you just walk around Seoul till you find something fun

Him being from Iksan he's only really looked at bits and pieces so you just walk to you find interesting shops and stores

-

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed!

[occasionally-writing]

You Are Strong

A/N: Phew, I worked on this most the afternoon. I am not sure if m’gonna write some more for the rest of the night. I need to take a little break to refresh myself! But, this fanfic is part 2 to the one I released yesterday, which was called, “You’re Not Weak” So if you wanna understand this one, read that one first <3 I hope you guys like it!!!

Summary: King decides to bring Ram back to his own dorm instead of his condo. It is there that King gets to observe what Ram does to calm himself down and also gets to join in on those said activities.

Word Count: 2176

While he thought about taking Ram to his own condo, King hummed as he thought against that and changed his destination, heading towards the Engineering Dormitory. Sure his condo was quiet and could probably help Ram’s over-sensitivity to everything around him, but Ram had only been there one time and it wasn’t for long. He knew that the boy would be more comfortable if he was in some place that was familiar to him and his dorm room would have to suffice. Noticing the change of direction as King grew silent, Ram eased the earphone back in his ear and kept his eyes towards the ground, vaguely aware that King was leading him back to his own dorm instead of heading to the senior’s condo. Keeping his grip on Ram’s arm soft, King glanced back every once in a while to make sure Ram was doing okay before they finally made it to the brick building that was the dorms. Still keeping quiet, King slowly pulled Ram a bit closer as he walked them in, deciding to stay out of the elevator since it was an enclosed space and he wasn’t sure if Ram was ready for that sort of thing just yet. 

“Mind if we take the stairs, Cool Boy?” King asked, just making sure his conscience was right, grinning softly when he saw the soft nod Ram gave him. Squeezing his wrist to make sure Ram knew that he understood, King continued to lead them up the stairs, feeling the soft taps of Ram’s thumb on his hand, letting him know which floor to stop at.  Hitting the second floor, King felt Ram moved and before long, he was the one being led towards the junior’s dorm room. Hitting the end of the hallway, Ram could not be happier as King’s headphones muffled the noise around him as he finally got to his room, shakily grabbing the keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. Pulling King in and shutting the door behind him, Ram took in a deep, shaky breath and removed the earphones, handing them back to King as he dropped his bag ungracefully on the floor, moving towards his bed as King pocketed his headphones. “Okay...are you okay now? If so, I should go so you can have your alone time. Remember though, Cool Boy, if you need anything, don’t be afraid to text me, yeah?”

Swallowing the lump that was still in his throat, Ram watched silently as King waved and turned to exit. Clenching his bed-sheets, Ram bit his lip and quickly shot up, reaching out and grabbing the back of King’s Engineering vest tightly, making the senior yelp and halt all his attempts of leaving. Blinking at the floor as he felt the tremble of Ram’s hands, King slowly turned and eyed Ram who was keeping his gaze on the floor, a slight flush filling his cheeks as he realized what he did to make King stay. Frowning softly, King reached out and gently took Ram’s wrists in his, rubbing his thumbs against the undersides, trying to show through his actions that it was okay. Letting his eyes finally meet King’s Ram hoped that his silent wanting for the senior to stay could get through just by the pleading gleam he had in his eyes.

“Do...do you want me to stay?” King asked, keeping his voice soft as Ram nodded, the gesture barely there but still enough for King to see his answer. Taking in a deep breath, King let out a hum to show that he agreed before he let go of Ram, moving to take off his shoes and placing them down next to Ram’s when he did the same. Gesturing King further in the room, Ram slowly stepped towards the couch and sat down, waiting for King to do the same as he pulled the coffee table closer. Leaning over the couch, Ram picked up his backpack and opened it, trying not to pay attention to how much his hand was still trembling. Watching him silently at first, King leaned back when the junior pulled out a work packet for the class he was currently missing and set it down on the table, digging through his bag for the pencil King had gifted to him. “Cool Boy...you don’t need to do that right now...why don’t you relax a little before focusing on doing classwork?” 

“...” Pausing as he took in what King had told him, Ram closed his fist around the pencil and stared at the packet on the table, not really sure what he wanted to do if he was being honest. Noticing the way he was struggling to decide, King licked his lips and reached out, gently wrapping his hand around Ram’s wrist, pulling it out of the bag as he took the pencil out of his grip. Not saying anything when he saw that Ram was using the pencil he had given him, King bit back a satisfied grin before he placed it on the packet, leaving it there as Ram moved to let his bag drop to the carpeted floor. Pulling out his phone, Ram pulled up King’s name and texted him, turning his eyes to the side when King’s phone pinged and the senior checked his message. “What should we do then?”

“Well...what do you normally do to relax? Just do that and I’ll follow your lead,” King hummed, leaning back against the couch with a soft smile. The last thing he wanted to do was make Ram do things that he wasn’t comfortable with, so he stayed quiet as Ram slowly pushed himself off the couch and moved towards the kitchen area of his dorm, setting up the tea kettle before he leaned back against the counter. Brushing his fingers through his hair, King stood up and followed Ram into the kitchen, humming the song that he had the younger boy listen to as they were making their way towards the dormitory. Listening to the humming as King still next to him, close but not close enough to touch, Ram closed his eyes and shyly lessened the distance, pressing their shoulders together as the warmth of the senior spread through his chilled body. “What kind of tea are you making?”

Turning around so he could open the cabinets above them, Ram pulled out a plain yellow box with a picture of a white flower decorated on the cardboard. Showing King the box, Ram watched as he grinned and held his hand open. Handing to him, Ram leaned back against the counter again, keeping their shoulders pressed together again as he listened to King ramble on about how this tea was right for calming anxieties, stress and how it can help with insomnia. Seeming to realize that he was rambling, King bit his lip as an adorable blush began to stain his face. About to text him that he was truly listening, Ram paused as the tea kettle began to whistle, telling both of them that it was ready. Jerking his chin towards the cabinet next to the fridge, Ram moved to turn off the burner as King picked out two mugs for them. Noticing a black mug with a silver lineart of a wolf, King picked that one for Ram while he got himself a mint green mug that reminded him of one of the plants he had in his condo.

“Let me pour the water! Please?” King asked as he placed the mugs on the counter, waving his hands around as he noticed Ram try to lift the hot kettle by its handle. Freezing up at the urgency King had in his voice, Ram allowed the senior to take the kettle, standing back as he watched King pour the water in the mugs. Deciding to let himself put the teabags in, Ram tried to steady his hand as he dunked them in, letting them sink to the bottom of the mugs before he pulled out a spoon and gently stirred, letting his eyes settle on how the water changed to a dark color and the smell of Chamomile filled his nose. Letting out his own sigh at the smell, King shuffled closer to Ram as the boy took the spoon out and placed it in the sink so he could wash it later. “How about you go change into something more comfortable? I’ll set this stuff down on the table and let it cool while you do that!”

Biting his lip as he thought, Ram knew that King was probably right so with a sigh, Ram spun around the older boy and moved towards his room. Watching him disappear, King let out a snort and picked up the mugs carefully, walking them back into the main area of Ram’s dorm, setting them back on the table as he sat down on the couch. Leaning back, King stared at the turned off television until a sound of shuffling feet caught his attention. Peering up, King bit back the embarrassing squeak he wanted to let out as he took in Ram. The gel must’ve been quickly washed out of his hair since his bangs were down and partly over his eyes. Letting his eyes lower down Ram’s form, King took in the way he was wearing a shirt that seemed to be too big on him and just a pair of boxer shorts that barely peeked out from underneath the shirt. Not to mention the boy was carrying a black and grey checkered blanket around his shoulders that was still being dragged against the floor. Noticing the look King was giving him, Ram swallowed the nerves he could feel growing in his throat and began to fidget, shifting on his feet, left to right. Shaking his head to dismiss what wanted to slip from his lips, King smiled softly and patted the spot next to him. 

Rubbing his eyes as the sunlight peeked through the open windows, Ram walked towards King and threw the blanket on top of his senior, who sputtered and shrieked in shock. Covering his lips to hide a growing smile, Ram walked around the room, shutting the curtains so that the blinding sunlight wasn’t making his eyes hurt before he flicked the light switch off, making the fluorescent lighting turn off and bathing the room in a muted darkness that helped ease the unnerved feeling that was making his whole body itch. Pulling the blanket off his head, King blew some of the bangs out of his eyes as he observed the way Ram was making everything perfect for his current state of mind. Moving to sit next to King, Ram shakily grabbed the remote and turned on the television, turning on Netflix before he handed King the remote, letting him choose whatever he wanted to watch. Taking the offered remote, King searched through all the sections of Netflix while Ram fixed the blanket around them, scooting a bit of closer to King until their thighs were touching and the blanket could sit comfortably around the both of them. 

“How does a Disney movie sound? Hmm...but which one?” King asked, tapping the remote against his knee as Ram reached forward and brought his tea close, taking a careful sip of the still hot beverage. Knowing that Ram would like something with dogs in it, King squinted his eyes as he was stuck between Fox And The Hound or Oliver And Company. Choosing the latter, King placed the remote between them and grabbed his tea, leaning back against the couch as Ram felt his tense body finally relaxing as the beginning credits for Oliver And Company and the tea filled his senses. Noticing this, King hid his pleased smile behind the mug as he took a sip, letting out a contented sigh as the tea warmed him from the inside. Peering to his side, Ram tightened his hold on the mug and slowly slid, falling against King’s side. “You okay?”

Nodding softly, Ram took another sip of his tea and kept his eyes on the movie, trying not to pay attention to the way his cheeks were filling with color and how King was observing him. Squirming a little, King freed one of his hands from his mug and slowly laid his arm over Ram’s shoulder, pulling him a little closer as he fixed the blanket around them. Rubbing Ram’s back, King settled back again and moved his gaze to the movie, not seeing the way Ram was smiling into his mug as he finally could feel the deep rooted paranoia that he woke up with fade to something just a bit more bearable. Snuggling closer to King’s warmth, Ram slowly linked their ankles together and settled, relaxing himself in his senior’s warmth as the first song to the movie played, bringing a soft smile to both their faces as they pressed against each other, the warmth of the tea and King’s body lulling Ram into a silent sense of comfort.

[somethingpoeticiguess]

Ohshc Au Idea

- Ohshc Au where they all go to art school (both performing and drawing and stuff y’know (is it called visual??))

- Sort of like the same vibe as that show on Netflix called Backstage

- The school would be one of those super prestigious art schools like the Juilliard of their universe

- Tamaki would obviously be there to study piano

- he’d spend hours in the practice rooms and all of the other pianists hate him because he’s got some sort of superhuman power when it comes to booking practice rooms before anyone else

- Kyoya would be vocal performance with a minor in Broadway type acting (help I don’t know the actual terms)

- here I go again rambling about my Kyoya can sing headcanon that I will go down with 

-Babey boy would probably be known as one of those people who can sing anything throughout the school

- Everyone from school can tell his voice apart from everyone else’s

- like if they walk past a practice room and hear him singing inside they can tell instantly that it’s him

- like picture this: a senior is giving a freshman a tour of the college and they walk past the practice rooms and inside practice room 3 the Freshman can hear someone singing in the best voice that they have ever heard. The freshman says to the senior with starstruck eyes “Who’s that??” “Ahh” the senior says “That’s Kyoya Ootori, he’s kind of a legend around here”

- Hikaru would be a Shakespearean type actor

- Like he has whole ass monologues on the tip of his tongue at any given moment

- He’s a super good actor however he can’t sing for shit so he could never be in a musical

- He’s secretly jealous because Kyoya can sing so well

- They’re secretly jealous of each other

-Kyoya wishes he could act as well as Hikaru and Hikaru wishes he could sing as well as Kyoya

- Kaoru would be the one to take over their mother’s business and would study fashion and clothing design 

- Even though Hikaru is the eldest he had no interest in the family business and decided to pursue acting instead 

- Luckily for the Hitachiin family Kaoru took to clothing design from a very early age

- He makes clothes for the rest of the hosts on a regular basis

-He makes all of the clothes that the hosts wear for their performances and art galleries and whatnot

- The drama department loves him because he makes all of their costumes

- Mori would be a sketch artist, a painter, and a sculptor

- He’d basically do everything in the art department from drawing to welding metal figures

- he doesn’t talk much so he communicates through his art as cheesy as that sounds

- He constantly has either paint on his clothes, clay under his nails, or both at the same time

- People in the general public are slightly concerned when he opens his bag and they see a blowtorch inside

- His metal sculptures are littered all across campus

- Some of these sculptures include but are not limited to: A giant replica of Mary Poppins, Patti Lupone (Kyoya legit cried when he saw this one), and a giant metal spider that the students have so aptly named Kenneth

- Kenneth lives on top of the Art building 

- Despite the fact that he’s an art student he really loves showtunes and gets really excited to see/hear Kyoya sing them

- Honey is a culinary arts student

- His specialty is (obviously) desserts

- He makes the prettiest cakes and the most delicious meals

- He has to stand on a step ladder to make those giant wedding type cakes

- He constantly smells like a bakery... like constantly

- Haruhi is a violinist

- she treats her violin like a baby. She even keeps it in the child seat part of the cart when she goes to the grocery store

- She goes to the school on a violin scholarship 

- She plays a cheap violin she got from a small music store when she was ten with her birthday/Christmas money that she had been saving for years 

- The way she plays that cheap little violin you’d think it was a super nice expensive one 

- She’s mostly self taught

- When she was young she couldn’t afford lessons so she taught herself to play

- She only began to take lessons when she got to high school

- I imagine when she isn’t playing classical for school her playing sounds a lot like Ada Pasternak

- Ada Pasternak Video: https://youtu.be/YQSzk44hBmk

- when they don’t live in the dorms they rent a fairly large house that they all live in together (like that house that Sam Golbach, Colby Brock, Corey Scherer, Aaron Doh, Devyn Lundy, Jake Webber, and Elton Castee lived in together) 

- Tamaki has a whole ass grand piano in his room 

- Nobody’s really sure how he got it in there

- He also has a keyboard that he brings around the house for jam sessions with the other hosts

- They have jam sessions in the living room

- Tamaki brings down his keyboard or he plays the little theatre piano that sits in their living room

- Haruhi brings down her little violin that she loves with all of her heart Kyoya would sing with them

- They’d do stuff like that Ada Pasternak video I put earlier in this post except instead of Haruhi singing it would be Kyoya

- Mori’s room legitimately would not be a bedroom

- It would be an art studio with a Mori sized bed in the corner and a theatre style clothing rack next to it

- he has like four easels all around the room and a desk covered in drawing pads, pencils, ink markers, colored pencils, oil paint, and random multicolored stains

- In the middle of the room he has a raised platform with whatever sculpture he’s currently working on sitting on top of it

- He has a shelf with all sorts of supplies in it

- He has like three different blowtorches, a huge array of paint brushes, different sharp things for his clay sculptures, hammers, a bunch of books on the history of art, and a dirty paint and clay covered apron with random burn holes in it

- Kyoya has like a whole arsenal of throat coat teas and herbal things in his room as well as a kettle and a hot plate

- In the corner he built a small room that only has room for one average sized person to go inside and coated the inside with sound proof padding and that’s where he practices belting and other different vocal techniques 

- Kyoya absolutely loves their giant bathroom

- The acoustic qualities make him really excited he loves to sing in there 

- Kyoya, Tamaki, and Haruhi sometimes jam in their fantastically acoustic bathroom because they are attracted to good acoustics the same way a moth is attracted to a bright light

- Hikaru has a whole library of scripts in his room

- like his bookshelves are just overflowing with scripts from all the plays he’s been in 

- Some books on Shakespeare and the ins and outs of acting are scattered around the bookshelf too but it’s mostly scripts

- On his desk he keeps the script from the show that he’s currently in right in the middle of his desk with a pencil cup in the corner full of pens and highlighters 

- He has a huge bulletin board in his room filled with pictures from different shows and different print outs of his favorite monologues and whatnot

- Kaoru’s room is similar to Mori’s in the sense that it’s barely a bedroom at all

- He has a small bed and a small dresser and the rest of the space is filled with his work

- He has a huge desk that is covered in scraps of fabric, scissors, and measuring tape

- He has a HUGE pin cushion in the corner that would be an absolute hazard if it fell to the ground

- Above his desk is a giant bulletin board similar to Hikaru’s except his is less of a collage and more of an idea board

- It’s full of sketches for new designs and has the occasional magazine clipping or inspirational quote

- Honey basically lives in the kitchen 

- His room only has a bed and a dresser and a few ginormous bookshelves

- on these bookshelves are countless numbers of cookbooks

- 90% of what’s on these bookshelves is actually just regular notebooks and journal type things full of recipes that Honey has come up with himself 

- The kitchen is HIS domain none of the other hosts ever use it other than to get the occasional glass of water or snack here and there

- They basically eat gourmet every night

- He cooks all of their meals and uses them as his guinea pigs 

- Luckily for them 99% of the time his food is absolutely delicious

- Their house is full of just bits and pieces of what they do

- Mori’s artwork decorates the entire place

- The centerpiece for their table is a bouquet of metal flowers that Mori made

- His paintings decorate the walls and some of his sculptures sit as decorations in some of the different rooms

- There is sheet music literally all over the house

- nobody bats an eye when hey find the crescendo piece of a classical violin song on the kitchen table

- or when they find the lyrics to a classical opera song jammed in between the couch cushions

- Kaoru will often use Haruhi as his model for his dresses 

- he’ll have her put on a tank top and bike shorts and literally build a dress onto her body and by the end she’s walking around the house in a whole ass Victorian style ballgown

- God help their house if Kyoya gets sick before a performance

- The amount of throat coat tea he consumes is absolutely unreal

- He has a little table with shelves behind it in his room with a tea kettle and a hot plate on it

- on the shelves behind it are boxes upon boxes of throat coat and herbal tea and a whole arsenal of mugs

- The house always smells like cooking food because Honey lives in the kitchen and is always cooking something or other

-When it doesn’t smell like food it smells like burning metal because Mori is always working on some sort of metal sculpture with one of his countless blowtorches 

- This boy legit keeps a fire extinguisher in his bedroom in case he sets something on fire with said blowtorch

- Christmas season is absolutely wonderful in their house

- Tamaki and Haruhi are playing Christmas songs

- Kyoya is singing them

- Honey is making all sorts of festive dishes (You should see him on Thanksgiving he goes absolutely ham (pun intended))

- Kaoru is making festive outfits

- Mori makes each and every one of their Christmas decorations

- and Hikaru is practicing his lines for the production of A Christmas Carol that he’s in every year (This is his fourth time playing Scrooge!)

- But all in all this is a house where creativity flourishes and they all boost each other’s creativity to the max

- and of course they all graduate and become extremely successful and stay close knit forever

BONUS:

- Renge is also a vocalist she performs with Kyoya very often

- Kasanoda is a ballet student

- People are surprised he does something so graceful and elegant because he looks scary but when you really think about it it fits his personality 

- Nekozawa is a poet (Edgar Allan Poe 2.0)

[lovelyfictional-imagines]

Learn You Again (The Thirteenth Doctor x Reader)

Hi guys! I’m terribly, terribly sorry for being gone so long. You’ve all been so understanding with me. I appreciate you more than I could ever express.

I originally intended to write this for Twelve as a sort of birthday present to myself(The 25th is my 19th birthday), but I’m a little into Jodie Whittaker. Like, oh my god she’s absolutely gorgeous and I love that little half smile she does. I based height differences off of myself, I’m about 5′4 and she is 5′6, not much taller, but I’d still have to lean up just a bit to kiss her. Not that I’ve imagined that or anything.

This probably isn’t even a somewhat accurate depiction of her, but I tried.

ANYWHO.

This is a little present for me and anyone else who may feel this way.

I hope you enjoy. I also hope this is a good way to ease back into writing again.

Until next fic,

- Ashley 

Word Count: 1, 348

What I listened to while writing: The Trapeze Swinger - Iron & Wine

Gentle tinkling like laughter floated on the dry, cool breeze. On the weathered porch, a young woman loosely clung to a tattered blanket around her shoulders, swaying like the tall brown grass in the yard. Above, the stars reared their shy heads behind wispy clouds, and the moon hid still. She breathed deeply, steadily, rhythmically.

It had been a month now she’d been alone. Dropped off in the house of her dreams, with all the time in the world at her disposal. In that time, she’d completely scrubbed every inch, from the corners of the attic to the soot stained fireplace. She’d come to learn mostly where the worn floorboards creak, which toilet threw fits, and that some days the oven simply refused to roar to life.

When she wasn’t working on her abode, she would sketch. Or read until her mind became distracted, and she’d begin another book. On sunny days she’d walk down the worn trail to a little pond she’d discovered while exploring, dip her toes into the freezing water, then run back with childlike glee. Other times she’d pack a small lunch and lay in the dead grass, eyes to the sky for hours.

At first she’d been grateful for the reprieve, almost glad to have time to herself. But after a few days of curling beneath layers of quilts and comforters, she’d realized just how lonely sleeping alone truly was. When she’d been so accustomed to curling into her owlish old man, of intertwining her bare legs and sock-covered toes into his, that waking up to the sun’s distant presence peeking into her window had begun to disappoint her. Once she’d beg the Doctor to bring them back to the exact moments before dawn so they could sit in awed silence, now she almost resented the sun because he wasn’t there to watch it with her.

Something had felt strange, of late, when her preoccupied thoughts would halt to think of the Doctor. He’d changed in his absence, somehow. Deep in her chest, she could tell, after much consideration. The question struck her in the dead of night, when she’d been lying awake in front of the fire: what if he wouldn’t be the same Doctor he left as?

For days she sat on the edge, attempting to reign in her thoughts from surrendering to worry, to fear, to her almost crippling anxiety.

That night she found her best pencils, her sturdiest paper, and drew different facial features until the sun made its grand entrance, coming to laugh at her. Page after page, eyes and lips and noses were everywhere in every shape she could recall.

Graphite smeared across her knuckles and fingers, on her cheek and forearm she’d pressed into her drawings when sleep found her at last. Around noon she woke, set the kettle on and went out to chop wood. After striking up another fire, having a few cups of tea that warmed all the way to her bones, she made her way into the attic. Rummaging through boxes of memories belonging to someone else, someone she’d never know, she found small pots of paint and carefully tended brushes.

“May I take these?” She whispered, voice hoarse from disuse.

And in that moment, a gentle breeze fluttered through her hair, and she took this as a sign of approval.

With that she clambered back down the stairs, cradling the supplies with almost divine reverence. Shutting the chipped door to her room, she set them down onto her unmade bed, and began tossing blankets onto the floor. Using her feet, she pushed them back into the extended nook of the bedroom. Time had seemed to slow, and every movement she made felt heavy, lethargic almost.

Instead of stopping, (Y/N) reached into her nightstand and withdrew a few thick, unscented candles. Her fingers fumbled for a moment as she attempted to strike match after match. On her fourth try, she managed to light one, breathing life into the candles and setting them on the rough windowsill.

Returning to her original train of thought, she retrieved her sketchbook and the paints.

The first stroke of paint on the page almost took her breath away. Vivid, evocative color spread smoothly beneath the bristles. Tears sprung to her dark (E/C) eyes, and suddenly her chest clenched beneath the sweatshirt she’d thrown on. Leaning back against the wall, she allowed herself to breathe, and her sorrow slipped down her cheeks, along her jaw, dripping into her shirt.

And instead of wiping them, she continued painting. Instinctively her fingers moved, and she gave into the melancholic passion she’d repressed for weeks now.

 -

Suddenly (Y/N) jolted in her sleep and woke immediately. Outside the chimes sung, before stopping, and then continued. The oxygen in her lungs suddenly left her, and before her mind could process anything beyond her consciousness, she’d sprung to her feet. Quickly down through the hall and the stairs, discarding the house’s groaning. Skidding into the living room, she searched the landscape outside of the window, and almost screamed.

Yanking her blanket from the back of the rocking chair, she pried the backdoor and screen open. Near the pond, down the hill, the TARDIS stood in all her glory, glowing beneath the light of the moon. The dull ache of tears pressed into the backs of her eyes, her heart hammered until it sounded like a jet taking off, and her fingers clutched at a hole in the fabric until she was sure she’d made new ones. Gingerly she stepped out onto the rickety porch, turning to the aluminum chimes she’d hung on her first night alone.

(Y/N) looked up, expecting her lanky, aged Doctor with wild silver curls and attack eyebrows. Instead she was met with brilliantly viridescent eyes, feminine and glistening with familiarity as they gazed at her. Short, blonde hair framed a carefully sculpted square face, one with mirth playing in her rosy lips and pointed nose. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning in the way the Doctor always had been.

She didn’t need to ask, and she felt the Doctor knew this.

“I’m aware I may be a bit different.”

Her voice was smooth, evenly-toned, but the smile was evident in it. (Y/N) couldn’t help but grin at her attempt.

“Just a bit. I think it’s the eyebrows that give it away.”

Now she laughed, a melodic sound that reverberated in her chest, instantly filling a crevasse she hadn’t known existed until that moment. It was as if she’d stepped into a bath, warmth trickled through her body despite the crisp autumnal air. (Y/N) laughed with her, before finally stepping towards her.

Though she felt incredibly at ease, one question lingered in her mind, one she needed to ask.

“Has... has anything else changed?”

Looking down at her sock-covered feet nervously, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, she held her breath and counted to ten.

Before she reached eight, a slender hand slid up her neck and beneath her jaw, drawing her gaze back to the Doctor’s. Again, she was rendered blank, her breath and thought stolen from her. The Doctor’s face was serious, but a smirk was attempting to fight its way onto her face. Strong fingers stroked her cheek, as if trying to gauge her emotions and calm them at once.

“Of course not, love.”

Barely a whisper against her lips as she took initiative, closing the distance between them. Slender arms slid around (Y/N)’s waist, and she released the blanket to throw hers around the Doctor. Plush lips massaged hers skillfully, drawing her closer and closer to her chest.

(Y/N) leaned up, as if trying to mold into her, to learn this new body. Smaller hands drifted up into her bright hair, and laughter bubbled up through her.

“This’ll definitely take some getting used to.”

The Doctor giggled against her, falling into her neck and pressing tenderly.

“We’ve all the time in the world, love.”

(Y/N) chewed her lip, watching her lover with heavy eyes.

“Take me to bed, let me learn you again.”

[identybeautynet]

101 Beauty Tips for Girls

101 Beauty Tips for Girls There are about a million beauty tips floating around out there on the internet—but that definitely doesn’t mean we should be following every single one of them. A YouTube or Instagram account does not a beauty expert make, but when working makeup artists, hairstylists, skincare gurus and beauty editors are offering up advice, you better believe we’re listening! From secrets about how to style your hair without heat to brilliant ways to fix a broken compact case, the more beauty tips you have in your arsenal, the better you’ll be prepared to handle every situation thrown at you. Here are the things we think everyone should know. 101. “Always keep your summer makeup minimal. Minimal and sheer makeup is the way to go when it’s hot and muggy outside.” — Mary Greenwell, celebrity makeup artist 100. “The best thing to do when you go to a makeup counter is be armed with what it is you want to do.”— Raychel Wade, founder of Cheek to Chic and La Prairie’s colour ambassador 99. Use excess eye cream on cuticles. The more you hydrate your cuticles, the stronger your nails will be. 98. For smudge-proof eye makeup, take blotting tissue to remove any oil or any excess makeup from the eye area. Then, apply a small dab of cream concealer to hold things in place. 97. “A good perfume should consist of balanced blend of notes arranged in a way that creates harmonious accord.”— Alexis Bergman, P&G’s Global Flavor and Fragrance Trends 96. To prevent hair color from fading in the summer months, use a conditioning treatment weekly or bi-monthly. 95. Breakout before a big event? “Take oral cortisone a few days before the event to clear your skin.”— Ava Shamban, dermatologist and author of Heal Your Skin. 94. “In order to keep eyeliner from running and smearing, opt for liner formulas that offer stayproof wearability.”— Robin Schoen, Urban Decay Makeup Artist 93. Always allow about two fingers from your nose to where blush starts. 92. “Make sure you hydrate the skin and put on a primer.”— Jessie Powers, makeup artist and national educator for Make Up For Ever 91. “Balance out your shimmer. If you’re doing a shimmery eye, opt for a matte lipstick.”— Raychel Wade, founder of Cheek to Chic and La Prairie’s colour ambassador 90. Brush out your curls with your fingers to give your hair a more tousled look. 89. To make your manicure last, apply a thin layer of clear every two days. Pay particular attention to the free edge at the top of your nails, where chips usually happen, and apply extra clear polish there. 88. Wear white eyeliner in your water line to make eyes appear less red. 87. “Take a shimmery gloss to the center of your lips, top and bottom—this will attract light to your lips, making them look pouty.”— Katrina Barrion, makeup artist for Giella Custom Blend Cosmetics 86. For slicked back hair, use a hair serum. 85. For the perfect cat-eye, “select a thin liner brush that is tapered to the point” and use a gel eyeliner for extra saying power. — Pamela Taylor, makeup artist. 84. To make your cheek bones appear higher, use bronzer under the cheekbone and highlighter on the actual cheekbone, and remember to blend. Contouring at its finest! 83. Before you blow dry, start with a volumizing spray or light gel to give the roots some lift. Pull the brush up towards the ceiling to really boost volume. 82. For fuller lips, extend the lip line using a flesh tone lip liner. Be careful not to go overboard. 81. The #1 reason for flaky mascara is that the formula is too dry or old. Make sure to close mascara after use to help keep its moisture. To extend the life a bit, add 2-3 drops of saline solution into the tube and swirl the brush around. 80. To fake clear skin when you notice a pimple, “Apply tea tree oil as soon as you spot it”— Stephanie Flor, makeup artist. 79. “It’s easy to forget that feet can get sunburned. Be sure to apply sunscreen with a minimum SPF of 50 when barefoot.”— Dr. Leslie Campbell, DPM. 78. For acne-free skin, look for a cleanser with salycilic acid or benzoyl peroxide. 77. When choosing a red lipstick, you just want to remember to get one that looks good with your undertone. If you have a warm undertone, then go for warmer reds, and if you have a cool undertone, then go cooler. 76. Sunscreens that claim to provide “all-day protection” and “water resistance” are not reliable; don’t be fooled by these claims and reapply all sunscreens at least every 2-3 hours. 75. When self-tanning, use a tanner with a guide color. “It will give you instant color before the effect and it will show you exactly where you put the color and where you may have missed.”— Sinead Norenius, founder of Beautisol. 74. “If you’re afraid of red lipstick, I love putting it on and then blotting it off to wear it as more of a stain”— Pat McGrath, makeup artist. Another way to make it less intense? Apply with your fingertip instead of straight from the tube. 73. For the summer months, you don’t want to be caked down in foundation, so try a tinted moisturizer or BB cream instead. 72. Use blotting papers to manage oil and shine in your T-Zone, “which are also great for cleaning up around the eyes”— Rebecca Restrepo, makeup artist. 71. The antihistamines in allergy medicine dry out the skin, so skip heavy foundation during allergy season. Instead, use a tinted moisturizer. 70. To make curls last, make sure hair is completely dry before you begin with the curling iron. Also, use a heat protectant spray with hold on damp hair to keep hair protected. 69. To make a zit go away faster, don’t pick at it. The bacteria on your fingers will create more redness, and any attempt at popping will make things worse. 68. Use an exfoliator to get rid of dead skin, but limit yourself to 2-3 times a week so you don’t dry out your skin. Use a gentler scrub on your face and a coarser scrub on the rest of your body. 67. Always wash your makeup off before bed. “That morning-after look has never been a good one, for anyone.”— Rachel Adler, beauty director 66. “Too much bronzer is a nightmare for pale skin”— Jason Ascher, resident beauty expert for Barneys New York 65. Pick a sulfate-free shampoo, as sulfates can be harsh and drying on the hair cuticle. 64. If you have greasy hair, avoid directly conditioning roots and condition from your ear down to ends. 63.”When you wear a red lip it’s important that it stays exactly where you put it. Using a long wearing lip pencil to create the perfect shape and a lip color are key to having a perfect red lip.”— Kristofer Buckle, celebrity makeup artist 62. To make volume last all day, avoid running your fingers through hair. “Oil from your hands can weigh down your roots leaving your hair flat at the end of the day”— Tatum Neill, Arrojo Studio 61. Try to avoid washing your hair everyday. Constant shampooing leaves hair dry and your scalp will create more oils to compensate for the loss of moisture. Instead, use a dry shampoo and style your hair into a braid or ponytail when it’s a bit more oily. 60. Always use a moisturizer with SPF in the morning. Even in the winter! 59.”Go for a trim every 6-8 weeks to ensure you have no damaged ends making your hair look unhealthy”— Nick Arrojo, Arrojo Studio (and the man who worked for seven years changing lives on What Not To Wear) 58. Remember, clean your makeup brushes to fight against potential bacteria and breakouts. At least once a week, swirl brushes around in a mixture of warm water and mild soap, then lay flat to dry. 57. Clean out your makeup bag at least once a year to get rid of old products that may be expired or you no longer use. 56. Winter can be especially harsh on your hair leaving it extra dry. Eugene Davis, celebrity hair stylist suggests using an Avocado Oil Hair Mask. 55. If you don’t have nail polish remover, apply clear nail polish over your nail, and then wipe off. It will remove old polish. 54. During the summer, wear lip balm or gloss with SPF. 53. To add volume to clean or unwashed hair, use a dry shampoo spray. 52.Change your beauty routine for spring and summer months. Your skin needs less coverage during the spring so you can swap the heavy, winter products for lighter ones. 51.”I always think that less is more. There’s a point where you look in the mirror and say ‘Is this too much?’ and if you even have that inclination then it usually is.”— Kim Catrall, “Sex and the City” 50. When applying bronzer, “first start by applying it around the perimeter of your face and follow with a light dusting on your forehead, nose and chin.”— Mally Roncal, Mally Beauty. 49. To get curls when you have straight hair, use, “a volumizer or volume thickening agent, a curl enhancing product, light holding finishing spray.”— Vicktor Stevenson, Hair Stylist. 48.”Foundation should never be heavy.”— Aura Schwartz, makeup artist. Apply liquid foundation with a damp makeup sponge for best results. 47.”The right red will light up your hair, eyes and skin immediately, the wrong one will not.”— Poppy King, Lipstick Queen 46. To clean up the flick of a cat eye, use a dampened, pointed Q-tip. 45.To revive curls mid-day, “Take a very small amount of pomade and put it in the palms of your hands. Rub them together. Next gently smooth the pomade over your curls and scrunch just a little bit.”— Eugene Davis, celebrity hair stylist 44.”You should always go to a hair-removal specialist, where waxing, laser etc. is their main business – don’t go to a nail salon for a wax”— Cindy Barshop, Completely Bare and Bravo’s “RHONYC” 43.”A little silvery-blue eyeliner on the lower lid is very flirty.”— Dimitri James, makeup artist, author and creator of Skinn Cosmetics 42.”Use your concealer as a base on your eyelids.”— Melissa Silver, Maybelline makeup artist. Concealer will help to absorb oil and your eyeshadow will stick to the product instead of your lids, making it stay longer. 41. If you’re not a fan of liquid liner, get the look of liquid eye liner by using a gel instead. 40. Exfoliate before applying self tanner to get rid of dead skin. Tanning products tend to cling to drier areas and rougher areas, like your knees and elbows, so make sure they’re moisturized first. 39. If you straighten your hair with a flat-iron, cause less heat damage by letting hair air dry. The less heat, the better! 38. To minimize pores, use a pore-minimizing facial wash followed by a toner. Make sure the toner is alchohol-free so it won’t dry out your skin. 37. The healthier you are, the healthier your hair! Take a daily multi-vitamin with Biotin to help hair grow faster. 36.To mask split ends, use an iron to straighten ends and then apply a hair repair cream. 35.There are always cheap, natural and effective homemade beauty recipes. 34.To fix brassy hair color, use a color-depositing shampoo with purple tones. For unwanted redness, use a color-depositer with a green tone. 33. To cover up roots in a hurry, use a dry shampoo spray for your hair color. If you don’t keep this product around, use eyeshadow (in a shade closest to your hair color) for a quick fix. 32. Get a “dewy glow” using a highlighter or illuminator above your cheekbones and on the brow bone, just underneath your eyebrows. 31. To contour cheeks, use a matte powder (a few shades darker than your skin tone) with an angled brush. Blend on temples and under cheek bone. 30.When using a cream product (blush or eyeshadow), lock it in by using a translucent powder over it. 29. Get quick volume by using a root lifter, then use hairspray to set hair. This will prevent it from falling flat during the day. 28. For makeup that lasts all day and night, use a makeup-sealing product like a setting spray. 27. To help you find the right shade of foundation, choose the product you think is closest to your color and try it on your jaw line in natural light. You will be able to easily compare it to your neck’s color to see if you need to go for a different undertone, lighter or darker. 26. Try out the funky hair color trends without dyeing your hair. Instead, dust bright blush in your ponytail for the same effect. (Refinery29) 25. “Foot perspiration is typical in the summer and can lead to fungal infection and unwanted odor. Wash feet daily, and let them dry thoroughly before putting shoes on.”— Dr. Leslie Campbell, DPM. 24. Splurge on items that are important to you.”If mascara is really your thing and you fall in love with a mascara that’s $40, buy the mascara.”— Raychel Wade, founder of Cheek to Chic and La Prairie’s colour ambassador 23.”Don’t be too serious: It’s only Makeup! “— Francois NARS insists you play around with new colors. 22. To reduce unwanted shine, use a moisturizer that mattifies your skin. That way you get the moisture your skin needs without looking greasy. 21. To create a lived-in look for your hair, use thickening or sea-salt mist before you blow-dry. Follow by running a volumizing or texture cream through hair. 20. When using an eyeshadow primer, only place the primer where you’ll be adding color. 19.”Cream rouge should be the first thing that touches your cheeks when you want to project an image of healthy and pinched cheeks.”— Pablo Manzoni, former creative director for Elizabeth Arden 18. If you choose to use false eyelashes, remember to use the dark glue as it will blend in with the lashes. 17. When buying “organic” beauty products, make sure to check if they are FDA certified organic. This will prevent you from getting scammed. 16. Use a facial exfoliater bi-weekly to get dead skin of dead skin. Makeup will look better on a clean, smooth canvas. 15. After using a hair conditioning mask, follow with “a cold water rinse to close the hair cuticles.”— Ursala Stephensen, celebrity stylist. 14. To get your braid to last all day, try styling hair that’s dirty with product. This will make the style stick longer. 13. Use a clarifying shampoo once a week to get rid of any product build-up that may have occurred during the week. 12. If you have chipped nail polish, add glitter on top to disguise the look of chipping. 11. Use a pumice stone on your feet after the shower to get rid of calluses. 10. Hydrate your under-eye area with an eye cream to prevent puffiness and bags. 9. If you have light hair,”put a lotion over the eyebrows and hair-line” when self-tanning the face. Also remember to “apply it in circular motions and blend down to the neck.”— Sinead Norenius, founder of Beautisol 8. If you often find yourself being too tired to wash your face at night, keep makeup removing wipes in your night stand to prevent a runny mess or morning break out. 7. Pop 1-2 Advil before going waxing to prevent pain. 6. The best way to get rid of ingrown hairs is to exfoliate,”which rids the skin of dead cells and allows the hair to break through the surface.”— Marlena Ramoy, Bliss Spa esthetician. 5. Carrots are good for the hair. A healthy diet leads to a beautiful you. 4.”The best time to apply creams is after the shower, as the skin has been de-oiled.”— Dr. Stephen P. Bracci 3. Replace mascara and liquid eyeliner after 3-4 months. 2. To keep hair color vibrant longer, use shampoos and conditioners formulated for colored hair. 1. Use a cream or milk cleanser to wash your face. Creams are less drying than gels. Originally published August 2014. Updated May 2017. Read the full article

[simplygreenwind]

How Can Women Save the World With Reusable Pads? And how can you make them in 2021?

The number of times women shop for pads during their period should not be watered down the drain. The reality here is that women must shop monthly for toiletries in bulk to last them the whole menstrual period However, the perplexing issue about how harmful these menstrual cycle toiletries are to the atmosphere persists. Some argue that they are biodegradable because they are made of cotton. And if it isn't that bad, what about the long-term consequences? Women will use menstrual pads for the rest of their lives starting at adolescence. Disposable pads, on the other hand, are only used once and then discarded. A lifetime's worth of pads and tampons adds up quickly. As history has demonstrated, they do not end up where they should, but rather in landfills, destroying environmental channels and paths. This is also another example of why women should use reusable pads.

Reusable Pads

I was quickly drawn to reusable pads after seeing them advertised in a focused ad. They looked aesthetically millennial, eco-friendly, and came in a variety of pretty designs which attracted them to me. I choose pads over tampons unless I'm busy so I can wear them outside and my menstrual is not heavy enough to saturate a whole tampon. The thought of washable cotton pads that I could reuse made the bargain even sweeter.

There are a large number of women out there who are hoping for a better option than disposable menstrual pads. Many women have already begun to use tampons, while others have dared to use menstrual cups. If none of these options appeal to you, the safest choice for me is to use menstrual reusable cotton pads. For those that are accustomed to disposable sanitary napkins, it can seem difficult. Your tastes will shift after reading this article on menstrual reusable pads.

What is a Menstrual Reusable Pad?

Menstrual pads that can be used multiple times are known as reusable menstrual pads. They collect menstrual fluid and depending on your menstrual flow, the pad can last for around 4-5 hours. Since using the pad, wash it thoroughly and clear any bloodstains before reusing it. These fabric pads are normally made up of several layers of cotton or hemp, but not plastic. It can seem intimidating at first, but once you get the hang of it, you'll be using reusable pads in no time. It also saves you money so you don't have to throw out this pad to buy new ones.

How to Make Reusable Pads?

Step 1: Create the Pad BaseCreate a template - Start with creating a diamond shape with rounded corners. It should be about 9 inches tall (22.86 centimeters) and 8 inches deep (20.32 centimeters). When you're done, cut out the template. Increase the width of the top and bottom corners. They can have a width of around 2.5 inches (6.35 centimeters). Make use of the template to cut out two pieces from your cotton flannel - This is going to be the outside of your fabric pad, so choose anything you want. You may use a patterned or solid color fabric. You may also do one hand with a pattern and the other with a solid hue. Instead of flannel, you should use cotton thread. Lots of fun options can be found in the quilting and calico sections of the favorite fabric shop. Sew the two pieces together - Starting with the right sides facing in, pin the two bits together. Sew a 0.64-centimeter seam allowance around the piece. Since you'll be carving a slit through it, there's no reason to leave a void for turnover.  Cut a vertical slit in the middle of the piece - Be sure you're just cutting one sheet of cloth at a time, not both. Place the slit exactly in the center. It just has to be a few inches/centimeters tall to be effective. Turn the piece right-side out through the slit - Push the pad's corners into the slit you made with your fingertips. If the edges/corners aren't coming out well, use a pencil or a knitting needle to force them out. Then make use of hot iron to press the pad base. Step 2: Create the Pad LinerCreate a template - Begin by drawing a vertical rectangle with rounded top and bottom edges. Make sure the rectangle has a height of 8 inches (20.32 centimeters) and a width of 2.5 inches (6.5 centimeters). When you're done, cut out the template. Use the template to trace the liner pieces - 3–4 pieces of soft toweling are needed. Trace two more pieces from the flannel using the pattern, adding a 0.64-centimeter seam allowance. The toweling would be used to build the liner. The flannel would be used to protect the liner. The flannel should be the same color as the base pad. Stack and sew the toweling pieces together - Use a seam allowance of 0.32 to 0.64 centimeters. Using a zigzag stitch, go around the edge of the piece. When you're done, set the stack aside. This stack does not contain the two flannel bits. It makes no difference what color the thread is. This will be placed inside the liner shell. Sew the flannel pieces together to make the liner cover - This is where you get to join the flannel pieces together using a pin with the right sides facing in. Sew a 0.64-centimeter seam allowance through them. Leave no room for turning around. Instead, prepare to cut a slit into the object. Cut a vertical slit into the liner cover, then turn it right-side-out - Use the same method you used to make the pad base. Make the slit about 4 inches (10.16 centimeters) tall this time. So you'll have ample space to tuck the towel covering. Cut notches into the pad's angled corners. This will aid in the reduction of bulk. Tuck the towel liner into the flannel liner - Simply insert the towel liner into the flannel cover through the slit. Any spikes or buckles should be smoothed out. Step 3: Join the Pad Base and Liner TogetherPin the pad liner on top of the pad base - Turn the pad base until the longer axis is vertical and the slit-facing side is facing up. With the slit facing down, place the pad liner on top. Make sure it's balanced and visually focused. When you're done, pin altogether. Topstitch around the liner to secure it to the pad base - Sew a 0.32 to 0.64-centimeter seam allowance across the pad liner. Backstitch at the beginning and end of each stitch, then snip the thread as close to the fabric as possible. When you sew, remove the buttons. This can be done with a similar or contrasting thread tone. Sew another 0.5 inch (1.27 centimeters) inside the liner - Be sure you're stitching 0.5 inches (1.27 centimeters) away from the topstitch rather than the liner's side. Use the same color of thread as before. This would assist in securing the liner to the foundation and preventing buckling. Add some snaps or Velcro to the wings - You may use sew-on snaps or snaps that require a tool to set. Velcro may also be used instead. However, self-adhesive Velcro can be avoided. While it is simple to submit, it does not last long and will inevitably fall off. Plan ahead of time so the wings will close on the outside of your panties. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZtPLyj_EiA

How to Use Reusable Menstrual Pads?

A reusable cotton pad works in the same way as a single-use plastic pad. They're made to fit inside your underwear, snap shut, and capture your menstrual cycle. Reusable pads nowadays have a coating that prevents the clothes from staining. It also has a holder that allows you to securely put your pad on your panties. There is an added provision where you wrap an elastic belt around the waist to keep the pad in place for longer periods.

However, a reusable pad is both cost-effective and environmentally safe. It's easy to use and comes with a band and lining which is just everything you need to make it awesome. A single pad will last nearly 12 hours. It varies depending on the individual's menstrual cycle. All you have to do is put it on your underwear and wrap the band around it. It's that easy.

How to Clean Reusable Period Pads

1. Rinse and soak After removing your pad, rinse it and place it in a wet bag before you're ready to do the laundry. You may even soak the pads in water until you're able to wash them to help prevent staining. Put them in a leak-proof garbage can or bucket with some water, Castile soap, and antibacterial essential oils like peppermint or tea tree oil. 2. Wash We recommend using a simple, environmentally friendly detergent that is free of chemicals and fragrances. To avoid staining, wash with cold water. If your pads have been immersed in sweat, first run them through a rinse and spin cycle in the washer. Then, along with your pads, you can add towels or something else you like to wash. Fabric softeners can never be used on recycled menstrual pads since the conditioners will grease the tissues and minimize absorbency. If your pads get less absorbent with time, you may need to "strip" them of any detergent residue. 3. Dry To avoid shrinkage, we firmly advise hanging to dry. You can tumble dry them in a low-heat environment if you're short on time. That concludes it! Your pads will be ready to use after they have dried.

How Many Reusable Pads Do You Need?

The length of a woman's menstrual cycle varies greatly among individuals. You'll need to consider how much you refresh your period utilities during the day to estimate how often you'll need to span your cycle. We recommend using 6 to 12-day pads, 1 to 3-night pads and 3 to 6 pantyliners in total, but it all depends on your flow and how often you do laundry.

How Do I get Reusable Pads?

Well, there are several choices to pick from, but they can be costly and something you must continually replenish at the supermarket. Most reusable menstrual products, on the other hand, will not only save you money but also benefit the environment. If you like to use pads, adding reusable pads to your period arsenal will change the game. You can always check for reusable menstrual pads online. Amazon is a fantastic place to purchase them. Finally, I believe it has reached a point where every woman needs to consider switching to reusable pads. Nondisposable is usually a safer option when you consider helping yourself and keeping the world safe. Also, since reusable pads save you money, you can begin purchasing them for your flows. Reusable pads will last for years, and assuming most women menstruate for around 40 years and spend $8 every other month on single-use pads, she would have spent $1,920 in her lifetime. If she uses one pack every month, the total is $3,840. Consider what you could do for that sum of money.

Read the full article

[nightfallgoddess]

…Clary remembered it so clearly that she thought she’d never be able to forget. The blood. How red it had been. So, thick as it trickled down the wooden floor and out of her room in the New York Institute. The sight had caused her cheerful mood after her first successful mission to dim quickly, like the sun before a storm.

It had been the sight of Alec Lightwood leaning against the wall, his hands shaking and stained with the same blood that had trickled through the cracks in the wood which had caused her heart to uptake in fear. Then, it had been the sight of her mother’s lifeless and mutilated body, bathed in blood, which had caused Clary’s knees to buckle and forced her down to the floor.

She hadn’t screamed in that moment. Even then, she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t. Not even a whimper had escaped her mouth even though it had been opened to do so. Her throat had clogged up instantly, body frozen as if paralyzed and her skin had crawled with shivers. Her green eyes had stared back at her, no longer had the bright green Clary inherited from her, but rather, dim mossy orbs empty of life. 

She remembered wanting to crawl over to her body, to shake her shoulders and to beg her not to leave her when they had just gotten each other back. Clary had seen her mother’s lifeless body before, but as moments had passed and no sign of life had returned to her, that was when she had known Jocelyn Fairchild would not be woken a second time. This time, it was permanent.

Her mother was gone and the pain in Clary’s heart felt excruciating. This was what she guessed a breaking heart felt like. It felt like nothing you could ever say or do could quench the feeling of the loss and emptiness of someone you loved being brutally snatched from your life. And this was the ache Clary knew she would be feel rest of my life.

It had only happened three days ago, and now, there she was sitting on her bed in the same room her mother had been taken from her. The blood obviously had been cleaned up, but Clary could still see it…feel it almost. Its thick residue would forever be imprinted in her mind reminding her what she had lost.

She looked around the room, the place where she had found some sort of semblance of normality after finding out that she wasn’t quite human. But tonight, Clary felt more human than she’d felt in weeks. Her chest felt empty and heavy. Her eyes ached from crying. But her mind was angry, ready, for the release that she had denied it from having.

Clary walked over to the corner where sketches of the New York skyline, demons, and portraits of the people in her life were displayed in various forms of color. Her eyes zeroed onto that one sketch. Next to the small stained glass window was the half-finished portrait she had been planning to give to her mother for her birthday and that was when everything came crushing down.

Without thinking Clary ripped apart the drawing bit by piece. Her vision began to blur with the tears which she had thought had run dry, but they came even more fiercely than before. She screamed, finally letting out all the pain, all the loss the last two months had given her. It should have felt good, cathartic, but it hadn’t. Clary only felt worse because she knew it wouldn’t bring her back. That no matter how much she cried and begged to the God she barely prayed to, to bring her back, it would never happen because she was gone forever.

She heard several knocks on her door, but she ignored them because she knew that if she opened it she’d only feel worse upon seeing the look of pity on the face whoever it was behind it. They say that you never truly feel pain until you experience the loss of a loved one. When Clary had been younger she had thought that the worst pain was when she had fallen from her bike and broken her leg for the first time. She laughed bitterly. Those days seemed like absolute paradise next to the hell that she was feeling. Would it ever stop? Could she continue on with this feeling in her chest, the feeling of hurt, loss, and guilt? If only she had gone with her mother to Idris, if only she had gotten back to stop her death, if only, if only, if only. All the pain felt like she was drowning barely inches away from the surface, only to be pulled back down in the dark abys where she would see now light.

Memories of Jocelyn flashed through her head. The first time she had given Clary her first sketch book and pencils. The first time she’d taken her to see the ballet. The first time she’d come home rushing into her bedroom after being woken by nightmares plagued with monsters and demons. Who knew those dreams would one day become her reality, but this time her mother would never be there to comfort her. She was on the floor now, fingers biting in her knees as the teas continued to flow down her cheeks as she mourned her mother. A broken wail escaped her throat, fractured and unlike anything her voice had ever produced. That was the sound of heartbreak.

That was when the door opened behind her and the sound of high heels entered the room. Isabelle’s flowery scent filled the room and it made her feel dizzy. Clary could feel Izzy hesitate slight behind her, but within moments, warm arms wrapped around her, and she clung. “I wanted more time with her,” she said, her voice raw and barely over a whisper.

“I know”, he replied gently. Izzy rubbed her hand up and down her back with cautious tenderness that made Clary want to cry even more because it reminded her of how her mother had comforted her. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Clary.” She pulled away, her deep brown eyes held hers, kindly. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost someone so close me…” Izzy trailed off as if thinking of it.

“It’s my fault,” she found herself saying. The thought had been swirling at the back of her head since the death, but this was the first time she had said it out loud. She it wasn’t true. She knew she couldn’t have foreseen any of this, but what if she could have prevent it? “If I had just gone to Idris with her like she had asked me to, none of this would have happened and she wouldn’t be dead.”  

Isabelle let out a small whimper and she brushed away a tear from her cheek. “Clary,” she said gently. “You can’t do this to yourself. This is not your fault. Don’t you dare let yourself believe that what happened was anything but Valentine’s fault. He did this. He took her away from you, and he will pay. I promise you, he will pay.”

Clary closed her eyes as the words washed over her. Flashes of blood, trembling hands, and eyes void of remorse came back to her and she shuddered. She knew it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t known what he had been doing, and she could never blame him for Jocelyn’s death. But seeing him, seeing Alec there at the funeral, around the institute, she would be lying if she said it didn’t affect her in some way. He was avoiding her that much she knew and in a satisfied way, Clary was glad. Because, she needed time. She needed time to heal, to process everything, and unfortunately he was part of the process.

In time, she would be able to process everything. Clary would learn to live with the loss. She would be kind to herself, let the grief take its own course instead of her forcing herself to feel better. That would do more harm than good. No, because if there was one thing Jocelyn had taught her it was the love is the most powerful thing in the world and not even hate and evil could dim its everlasting flame.

In time she would be able to walking her room and not get flashes from that night. She’d be hear the name Jocelyn and not want to cry tears of sorrow, but rather tears of joy, because that was her name—Jocelyn. That was her mother’s name.

A mother who defied law and principal to protect her only daughter from the demons that plagued the world. A mother whose fierce determination prevented the quick succession of mass genocide from happening. A mother who prioritized her daughter’s life over her own. A mother, whose love flowed within Clary with every breath she took and would continue to take, now and until the day she died. Because death leaves a heartache that will never heal, but love leaves a legacy no one can ever steal.

[my-dear-anonym]

Sketches: Part Two: Burrmads

Masterpost

----

Warnings: Sideline Jamilton. Hints toward smut.

----

Madison returned home just before five in the evening to find the apartment absolutely trashed. The couch was knocked on it's back and had tears in the cushions. Several broken lamps, the table was beyond repair. He wasn't even going to mention the stains. To say the least, he was disgusted. He went into the kitchen and found it only got worse. He filled a pitcher with ice cold water before walking into Jefferson's room where both Hamilton and Jefferson were sleeping, completely naked and tucked carefully in each other's arms. For anyone else, it might have been an endearing sight. For Madison, well, he dumped half the pitcher on Jefferson's face, causing him to sputter awake and in turn, Hamilton as well. Jefferson shot up and Hamilton rolled onto the floor with a thud and a groan. "James!? What was that for?" Thomas demanded, wincing at his own voice, no doubt his head currently had a jackhammer pounding at his skull for each shot he took.

"The apartment is completely and utterly destroyed. I don't want to know exactly what you two did to get it that way, but you have two days to get it completely cleaned up. Everything. I want it spotless. Spotless. And while you're at it, repaint the living room."

"Don't talk so loud," Jefferson winced. "You're being mean, Jemmy. It can't be that bad."

James poured the rest of his ice water right between Jefferson's legs, making him shriek and Hamilton cringe on the floor, trying to muffle the noise with his hands. "Two days, and the walls better be a warm grey and not some shit color." Madison dropped the pitcher on Hamilton, turned, and walked out of the room for his instead, thankful to find that it, luckily, was untouched. He threw a suitcase open on the bed and soon full of a couple sets of clothes, bathroom essentials, some books, and James' art kit. As he finished packing, James pressed his phone to his ear, waiting for the person to pick up.

"Hello?" asked a groggy voice.

"Aaron. It's me, James."

The voice was instantly awake. "James! Wait, how did you get my number?"

"I stole it from Hamilton's phone about five minutes ago. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure. Whatever you need."

"Can I stay at your place for a few days? Two or three? Mine is totally trashed."

Madison could almost feel the cringe on the other side of the line as Burr imagined exactly why Madison's apartment was trashed. "Of course you can stay here."

"Thanks, I highly appreciate it. I'll be there in half an hour or so."

Burr said goodbye and hung up his phone, relief spreading through his chest as he flopped back down on the couch. He had no idea what to think when Madison just left the way he did earlier, with no word to Burr at all except a note taped to his face telling him he went home. For all Burr knew, Madison was upset to wake up and find Burr holding him the way he was. Maybe he was but his anger at Jefferson overrode his anger at Burr, he didn't know. Guess he'd find out when Madison got there. Of course, Burr was going to need to make a grocery run now. Or maybe they could just eat out. That sounded like the better option.

Burr laid there for another ten minutes before getting up and straightening everything in the apartment out, not that much had changed since Madison left. In fact, nothing had. Burr had just been lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the possible reasons behind Madison's departure until James called. He washed the cups they had used and started on dinner with what ingredients he had. Madison slept all day, so he probably didn't have dinner. Or breakfast.

Madison knocked on the door a little while later, Burr rushing over to let him in, before walking back to the kitchen, dinner still cooking. "Oh, that smells wonderful," James said, kicking off his shoes and setting his suitcase down for a moment.

"Yes, I'm making dinner, I hope you're hungry."

"Famished."

"Wonderful, go ahead and set your stuff in your room if you want, it's almost ready."

James did just that, opening up his suitcase to pull out his art supplies, settling on the couch to start the piece that he had promised Burr last night. He had his real sketchbook now and his special pencils. Burr called him over a few minutes later, setting dinner down on the table. James closed his sketchbook and tucked it into the couch, paranoid about it getting looked through, and walked over to where Burr had dinner set. "You really didn't have to go through all this trouble," James said, taking a seat. "Letting me stay here is a big enough favor."

"I seem to recall you saying you wanted to be paid in food. Maybe this is me paying you."

"You're missing the wine and tea. Chocolate is also acceptable," James replied, loading up his plate.

"I'll keep that in mind," Burr chuckled.

Madison finished eating first so he walked over to the couch to fetch his sketchbook and returned to the table, curling up in the chair, because he was small enough to do that. Burr watched as James inspected what he had drawn so far, decided it wasn't right, and erased the whole thing. Burr set about cleaning up and Madison paused to help him.

A moment later, James scooped up his sketchbook and settled into the chair Burr had been using earlier as Burr settled into the couch. "Would you like to watch something?" Burr asked.

"Sure," Madison answered, glancing over at Burr before trying to start his sketch again, deciding it wasn't right, and erasing again. This is by far the hardest thing he's ever had to draw.

"What do you feel like?" Burr asked, scrolling through Netflix.

"Absolutely anything," James murmured, focused on trying to figure out exactly what to draw. He kept changing ideas every three seconds.

"That was absolutely no help," Burr stated, closing his eyes and choosing something randomly, then he set the controller aside and sprawled out on the couch, glancing over to James every now and then as he sketched and erased, eventually sighing and setting it aside, turning his attention to the movie.

"Is it just me or is it cold in here?" James asked.

"Do you want me to get you a blanket?" Burr asked, looking over at him.

"No, that's okay," James said, getting up and lying down with Burr. "This works just fine."

Burr blushed heavily as James cuddled into him, stealing his warmth, gingerly wrapping an arm around him and tugging him a little closer, curling his body around the smaller man's, the movie completely forgotten. James tucked his head into Burr's chest, breathing in his scent. There was no way Madison was going to be able to sleep, he slept all slept all day, but he could easily just lie there for a few hours. Which is exactly what they did, relaxing into each other. Burr watched Madison for a little bit before closing his eyes and just soaking in the moment, enjoying feeling Madison in his arms.

Eventually, Madison looked up and studied Burr's soft features, the way he seemed so unguarded. Burr, unlike Madison, hadn't slept all day, and the warmth of lying there with Madison had lured him into a peaceful slumber. James smiled softly and pulled out of his arms and returned to his chair where he picked up his sketchbook again and set to work.

First was the outline, the way the body laid and conformed to the couch. Which way the head was turned and how the arms had been wrapped around Madison earlier. Then came the shape of the body around the position. How the skin stretched across Burr's defined forearms and cheekbones. How the two different sets of limbs intertwined easily, resting against each other. The flow of the clothes over their bodies. After that, James concentrated on the face, he had to somehow capture the relaxed stillness. The warmth and contented peace that hung around the entire thing.

An hour or so passed as Madison worked before Burr finally stirred. James looked up and stuffed his sketchbook away, smiling softly over at the groggy man. "James?" Burr questioned, looking for him since he wasn't on the couch anymore.

"Right here," Madison answered.

Burr looked over at him. "What're you doing over there?"

"Umm, sitting?"

Burr sat up and rubbed his face. "You know, you've shot my sleep schedule to hell."

James smirked, "Glad to be of assistance."

"So now what? It's about midnight, you and I are both awake and everything in town is probably closed. How do you normally pass the time?"

"Usually? I read, draw, or work. I don't really do much else, I'm afraid I'm rather uninteresting."

Burr got up and pulled Madison from his chair, pressing his body against him, "I wouldn't say uninteresting, I'd say astoundingly dedicated." Burr smiled as he watched Madison's face heat, sliding his hands to hold his waist. "You're a very beautiful person, James." If James wasn't red before, he certainly was now. Burr's eyes flickered down to his lips and back up. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"A date?" Madison asked, trying to calm his nerves while keeping an impossibly neutral expression.

"Yeah. You, me, a restaurant somewhere, food, wine. Some slightly awkward conversation. A date. Say no if you want, but either way we'll have to eat out tomorrow, I don't really have any food to make. Tonight's dinner was the last of it."

James smiled up at him. "A date then. And I expect to be swept off my feet."

Burr grinned. "I can do that right now."

"What-" Burr scooped James up bridal style as he shouted in surprise. "What the hell, Aaron?"

Burr laughed as he carried James into the kitchen and set him down on the counter, grinning up at him. "Look, you're taller than me now."

"Fuck off. What was the point of that?"

Burr shrugged. "Because I could, and because I'm going to make tea since there's not much else to do after midnight and I wanted your pleasant conversation." Burr filled a kettle and set it on the stove.

"How about another movie?" James suggested.

"If we watch another movie and you cuddle up against me like you did the last time, I will start kissing you and I'm fairly certain that's not supposed to happen until the first date. Isn't it some sort of code?"

James rolled his eyes. "Do you follow codes for everything? Date codes? Kissing codes? Eating codes?"

"Sex codes," Burr suggested.

"I'm almost certain there's something wrong with you," James said, pulling Burr over and wrapping his legs around his waist. "Let's watch Pirates of the Caribbean and when Elizabeth yells to hang the code, you can hang yours and kiss me. How's that sound?"

"Absolutely delightful. But I don't think I could last that long. That's at the end of the movie. I'd give it about half an hour at most."

James rolled his eyes. "So weak willed. Fine, no movie. I'll just go to bed."

"How could you possibly go to bed? You slept all day."

"I can sleep whenever, wherever. Don't doubt me."

The kettle started whistling and Burr took it off the stove. "After I've gone through all this trouble to make you tea?" he asked as he poured two cups and handed it to Madison who raised it to his mouth and blew the hot steam away.

"I shall enjoy this laboriously made tea. And then go to bed."

Burr chuckled as Madison slid off the counter and went back to the chair where he curled up and pulled out his sketchbook, waiting for his tea to cool to drinking temperature. Burr fetched himself a book and sat back down on the couch, looking up to watch Madison work every now and then. One time when he looked up, he made eye contact with James when he looked up to study Burr's face, still trying to get it right in the drawing. After what seemed like an eternity, James looked back down to his drawing and Burr went back to his book, much more curious about what exactly James was drawing.

Madison eventually started on his tea. When you're an artist, tea either goes extremely fast or extremely slow. Tonight, it was slow , as Madison was distracted by his constant sketching. He finally set his pencil aside and examined the drawing, with a small nod, he put his pencil away and took a long drink of tea before pulling out a different utensil and his high quality colored pencils. All the changes in drawing tools made Burr's curiosity grow all the more, he had no idea there were so many tools for just drawing. "Can I have a quick look?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not finished."

"So?"

"So you're lucky I'm drawing it for you at all. Be patient."

"Alright." Burr went back to his book.

An hour passed and Madison went to take another drink of his tea, only to find it cold. "How disappointing."

Burr looked up, "What is it?"

Madison looked forlornly at his cup. "My tea is cold."

"Do you want me to heat it up?"

"No, that's alright," James replied, closing his sketchbook and packing up his pencils. "I'm going to go to bed. You should too, if you want your sleep schedule to fix."

"There's no way I'll be able to sleep now," Burr replied.

"Okay. Stay here then. I'm stealing your bed."

"Wait what?"

"You're not using it tonight so I'll use it. It smells like you." James disappeared into the back of the house. "If you decide you want to sleep after all, just kick me out," he called back. James found the pair of pajamas he borrowed from Burr earlier and pulled them on before sinking beneath the covers of Burr's bed and letting sleep carry him away.

Burr sat on the couch in surprise. Did Madison really just climb into his bed? Burr didn't think that would happen for at least three more dates. But now the image of the small man curled up between Burr's sheets, clutching onto one of his pillows just would not go away. Now if he were decked out in Burr's pajamas again...oh dear lord. Burr was off the couch and walking into his room a moment later, quickly stripping himself of his clothes, all the way down to his boxers, and climbing in next to James.

"Is this me getting kicked out?" James mumbled.

"No, stay right there," Burr said quietly, pulling the blankets up and wrapping an arm around Madison, tugging him closer.

"What are you doing?" James asked.

"Do you want me to stop?"

James sat up and threw the covers off of him. "I think I'll sleep in my own bed," he said, slipping out and leaving the room.

Goddamnit Burr, do you have to be so stupid? Things were going so well but you just had to push it. Sure, they'd been cuddling on the couch, sleeping on it even, but apparently doing the same thing but just in a bed was a bit too much. God fucking dammit.

---

Suddenly debating making this a series