#the end goal here is printing on fabric and making like. a patch for my jacket. bc it's a BIT small to do for a tshirt but also maybe that

[ectonurites]

will definitely be printing more of these as i work out the kinks with the registration, but here's what i was workin' on here

[harryseyebrows]

Hazoff Babies’ First Christmas Card

How about some Christmas in July? Because I’m horrible at finishing things and this is far overdue. 2.3k of pure fluff. Not an ounce of angst or suffering in sight. General warnings: mpreg, male nursing (squint and you’ll miss it), super tacky niche dialogue. Thank you to Sara @pinkzayn for proofreading! 

“Shit, do you think both of them are gonna fit in the box?”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, H, but they’re pretty small. Recently squeezed out and all that.”

“Jeffrey, they’re almost five months old. I feel like we keep having to buy them new clothes, because every day something else doesn’t fit them anymore.”

“They’ll fit. We just might have to… stack ‘em a bit. Like baby Legos. Infant Jenga.”

Harry ignores him. He’s not being very helpful right now, but perhaps it’s for the best. Harry wants this done right so he’s gonna do it himself. So he stands there for a moment, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed at the gift box he bought months in advance for this very purpose and internally curses his past-self for not having the foresight to buy a bigger box. He glances between Jude and Eli on the floor having tummy time, completely fascinated by some red Christmas ribbon, and the box in question, sizing them up and trying to figure out how he’s going to arrange them for a good shot.

It’s their first Christmas card. It’s important. Anyone who has ever said a simple “Hello” to Harry on the street is getting one of these cards, not to mention all of Harry and Jeff’s family and friends that are chomping at the bit to get their hands on one. He gets it; they’re very cute, and he is more than happy to show them off at every available opportunity, especially when has creative control.

Jeff hasn’t said a word about Harry rearranging the living room or the outfits that he’s picked out, but Harry suspects Jeff thinks he’s a bit crazy.

“Okay babies,” Harry says while kneeling down to get their attention, even though it’s often hit or miss. It doesn’t stop him from narrating everything. He wants them to feel like they’re involved in the process. “We’re gonna do a trial run. Who wants to go in the box first?”

Jude is still very interested in his piece of ribbon, scrunching it up in his little fist and trying to put it in his mouth, giant wet drool patches all over it, bright red turning maroon. Eli, however, looks up at Harry with wide eyes, his head wobbling about in that way that babies do, and gives Harry a gummy smile.

Harry picks him up first and kisses all over his chubby face and neck to hear him shriek with delight. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry catches Jeff smiling at them from his spot on the couch.

“All right, chunks,” Harry says to Eli, knee-walking over to their Christmas tree and the box in front of it, which is wrapped in glittery red wrapping paper and filled with stuffing and cushions, a soft white blanket artfully laid over top to conceal it all. “We’re gonna put you right… here.”

Eli isn’t bothered by being put in the box or Harry rearranging his limbs. He just gives him another smile when Harry tickles him.

“You’re so happy today,” Harry coos. “I can’t wait to see what kind of meltdown you’re gonna have later, because there’s no way this can last. Just wait until your pictures are done, please.” Eli starts to ignore him halfway through, gaze drifting to a stray fuzzy on the blanket.

“Please don’t jinx it,” Jeff groans.

“Mm, we’ll see.”

Harry turns his attention to Jude, who has apparently found a fallen fruit puff that is who-knows how old, and decided to eat it. Harry just sighs and picks him up.

He gave up on being neurotic about those sorts of things a while ago. He was driving himself nuts, making sure they didn’t eat or touch anything they’re “not supposed to.” Jeff is more laidback, and happy to let them eat dirt if they want to. “It’s good for them. Builds up the immune system,” he’s said more than once, much to Harry’s horror. Now, though, a carpet-puff isn’t the end of the world.

On Harry’s shoulder, Jude immediately grabs onto Harry’s shirt and puts his face in his neck when Harry starts to kiss him. He’s much more cuddly than Eli and Harry takes full advantage of it.

“Okay, darling. You’re next. Into the box you go.” Harry places him carefully so he’s not squishing Eli, but it’s difficult because they’re both so wiggly. It takes a bit of maneuvering so that they look moderately comfortable, making sure that they won’t accidentally hurt each other.

Thankfully they both fit. It’s a little bit of a tight squeeze, and Jeff was right; they are stacked a bit like Baby Jenga. But it’s okay. It’ll work. Now all they have to do is get them changed into their picture-taking outfits and have them fall asleep. Harry tells this to Jeff who just gives him a look.

“Why don’t we just change them and take it while they’re awake?”

Harry raises his eyebrows and gestures at the babies with a hand. “Do you really think we’re gonna be able to get them to cooperate long enough for a picture with both of them looking?” To illustrate his point, he snaps his fingers and uses his higher-pitched voice, “Boys. Hey, look at Daddy. Over here--”

Eli looks for a brief second, turning his head in Harry’s direction before going back to sucking on his own fingers, while Jude ignores him entirely, more interested in his brother’s onesie, pulling on it with all of his strength to try and bring the fabric to his mouth. The doctor told them he’s probably starting to get his teeth, even if it seems a bit early. It definitely explains the drool.

“Okay, point made,” Jeff says, standing up to grab Jude and laying him over his shoulder, patting him on the bum a couple of times.

Harry grabs Eli and all four of them head to the twins’ room to put them in their Christmas outfits. Harry probably spent too long in the store agonizing over which things to buy, but ultimately decided on simple red and white-striped cotton pants, navy sweaters with red trim, and tiny white socks. They’re awful about keeping hats on, so he opted to not buy the little Santa hats he wanted to get, even if he still thinks they would have looked adorable.

He still feels very pleased with himself when they’re both dressed and laying on the changing table side-by-side.

“You two look very handsome. Don’t they look handsome, Daddy?” Harry pulls Jeff in with an arm around his waist.

“They get it from me,” Jeff elbows Harry gently.

“Oh, so you’re not gonna whine about how they’re my clones today?”

“That’s only when they’re acting up.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks.”

Jeff rubs his shoulder. “We ready to get this show on the road?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get Eli’s bottle ready.”

“Do you think it was a good idea to get them changed first? Shouldn’t we have waited?”

“We’ll be careful. They have bibs.”

“If you say so,” Jeff says, sounding dubious. Harry gets it; they’re messy little eaters, and while they might be heavy sleepers, he’s not sure they’d be able to stay asleep through having their clothes changed. If worse comes to worst, they always have wet wipes they can use to clean up any spills and dribbles. Or Harry can just arrange them to hide any stains.

Jeff takes the boys back into the living room, having mastered the art of the Two Baby Grab, one in each of the crooks of his arms.

With Eli’s bottle done, Harry grabs bibs and two cloths before sliding his shirt over his head and dropping down onto the couch next to Jeff, trading the bottle for Jude.

The boys are happy to be fed, both of their eyes fluttering shut after just a couple of minutes, making happy little noises and flexing their fingers in contentment. Harry watches as Jeff attentively wipes Eli’s mouth if any milk starts to escape and turns his attention to Jude when he feels wetness rolling down his own chest, using the bib to catch it before it can get on Jude’s sweater.

They do a decent job at managing any potential stains. By the time the boys are done, there’s not a single drop on them, and Harry’s initial goal has been met: they’re sound asleep.

The lighting is good right now, the sun not to bright or shining directly into the window, so after burping them through their snooze, Jeff and Harry place the babies in the box, adjusting the blanket just so. They arrange their little bodies so that their limbs are tucked close, their chubby, slack faces angled towards the camera.

Standing behind the tripod, Harry fiddles with the camera settings for a few seconds before snapping away. Jeff seems content to let Harry do his thing, but stands by in case he’s needed, dutiful and attentive. The boys don’t stir much, only the occasional twitch or jerk. After a couple of minutes, Harry is satisfied with the pictures he’s taken and he’s eager to upload them for editing. He already has a plan for the prints; a simple, understated decorative border, matte finish, off-white envelopes. His favorite pen and Christmas stamps are all ready to go for when the cards arrive, and people should be getting them within the next two weeks at the most.

But before he can do any of that, he and Jeff should put the boys in their respective cribs. The box can’t be very comfortable, even if they do look adorable, cuddled up next to each other.

“You happy with the pictures?” Jeff asks, gingerly holding Jude against his chest.

“Very. You should be thankful you have such a talented photographer for a husband.”

“True, but I think humbleness is your best quality.”

They put both boys down and keep their bedroom door cracked before heading back into the living room. Harry disassembles his tripod and grabs the memory card from his camera.

On the couch with his head in Jeff’s lap and his laptop on his thighs, Harry goes through the pictures, clicking around to find the best one.

“Which do you like better? This one or this one?” Harry asks Jeff.

“Uh, they look identical to me, but the second one? I guess?”

“Good answer. That’s the one I was leaning towards.”

With a few tweaks and a quick crop, he uploads their selection onto the cardstock website and places the order. Everything is done and it all went successfully. He’s genuinely surprised, but pleasantly so. His good mood probably warrants a kiss, he thinks. So Harry puts his laptop on the coffee table and urges Jeff to lie lengthwise on the couch with him, tucking their knitted throw around them. Harry rubs his socked feet against Jeff’s ankles, head resting on his shoulder.

Jeff tits his face down obligingly when Harry pouts his lips out dramatically, and Harry can’t help but laugh into the kiss. It ends up with them pressing their half open mouths together, exchanging warm puffs of air, but it’s lovely all the same.

No matter the trials they’ve been through, it still makes Harry’s heart clench that they get to do this, get to be unabashedly happy around and with each other. Things aren’t always easy these days, but moments like this make it seem like it can’t be that bad.

It’s Christmastime, their boys are asleep down the hall, and Harry couldn’t be happier. He kisses Jeff again.

~~~

Niall spots the return address in the top left corner of the thick white envelope and gets unreasonably excited. He waits until he’s back in the house to carefully tear it open, careful not to disturb what he suspects is inside.

The horizontal card is sturdy and expensive-looking. It has Harry’s handiwork written all over it, from the tasteful gold and white border, to the elegant and looping font that reads, “Happy Holidays from The Azoffs.”

However, the picture really steals the show. Niall can’t tell them apart for the life of him, so he doesn’t know who is who, but Jude and Eli look too cute for their own good in the box that Niall is sure Harry painstakingly crafted himself. The lid of said box is leaning casually against the side of it, likely placed there and rearranged until it looked perfect. The Christmas tree behind them is decorated perfectly, color-coordinated ornaments, lights, and tinsel all complimenting each other. Even the rug around the tree matches it all. The boys are asleep and look peacefully oblivious that one of their dads is a complete nut.

He’s met them a few times already, and remembers seeing them when they were very fresh and new at the hospital, but it seems like the older they get, the more they grow into their features.

“Christ they look like Harry,” he whispers to himself, holding the card up to his face. Same lips, same eyes, same eyebrows. It’s like Harry’s body said “if I’m carrying these kids, there’s gonna be no mistaking who they belong to.” Maybe some of Jeff will show up in them as they get bigger. For now, it makes Niall laugh, knowing that there are two tiny carbon copies of Harry wiggling around on earth, probably pooping or crying or doing other baby things right this second.

He doesn’t have a lot of things hanging on his fridge; just a few notes and reminders for doctors appointments, a picture that Theo drew him a couple months ago. Using a magnet, he pins the Christmas card next to Theo’s picture and thinks it looks nice there, where he’ll see it every day. He’ll have to call Harry later and give him shit for being such a dad, and for managing to have two kids that look like he produced them asexually and completely on his own.

[samingtonwilson]

8 Fights You’ve Had - Jim Kirk

Summary: couples fight, some couples make up.

Warnings: language

A/N: anyway the great animal cracker debate of the twenty-third century is my favorite part of this

1

You stared at the door and waited the polite amount of time.

Well, the polite amount of time for you— which was just the thirty seconds after you’d finished knocking.

You entered the code you’d memorized months ago against the control pad you used to struggle with when your friendship with Jim was new, and the door slid open easily. With a sigh and a clearing of your throat, you entered the dim quarters and replicated a cup of coffee for yourself— after all, his replicator was the best one on board.

Piping pastel yellow mug in hand, you took long steps to his bed. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine! Lights at fifty-percent,” you added, laughing when Jim groaned loudly and pulled his plain white comforter over his head as the lighting increased.

You pulled gently on the few strands of blonde hair that managed to peek out from above the edge of the comforter. You then tugged on the covers a bit, exposing everything above his nose. Your fingers moved from his hair to his high cheekbone, sweeping your thumb across his skin only to move a little lower to pinch the fleshier part of his cheek with force.

He hissed loudly and slapped your hand away, sitting up immediately. He placed his hand against the flushed skin and grimaced at you. “What the hell? It’s a day off!”

You hummed, holding out the cup of coffee to him. “Your voice is sexy when you’ve just woken up. All that rasp, that depth.”

“My voice is always sexy,” he mumbled, taking the cup and smirking as he brought the mug to his lips. Once he swallowed and gave the coffee back, he sighed to lean back against his headboard. “You better have a good reason for waking me up on a day I planned to sleep through.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and pushed up the sleeves of the black t-shirt you wore. “I do. So Chekov and I spent the whole night researching this television series from, like, the early twenty-first century. It’s about these residents at this one hospital, and they all tend to sleep with one another more than work on patients, and it’s so absurd,” you laughed, rolling your eyes to yourself. “Pash and I spent the whole night watching episode, after episode, after episode and it’s strangely addictive and I’m weirdly invested—”

“Is that my shirt?”

You hummed questioningly, looking down at yourself. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Anyway, the doctors—”

“Do you not own any clothes of your own?” His eyebrows were together, his head tilted, his lips fallen into a frown. His volume had increased by the time he stated with a scoff of frustration, “You don’t even ask anymore.”

Your own eyebrows came together. “Jim, —”

“It’s not like we’re having sex, or dating, or something,” he continued, shaking his head. “You should ask.”

“Okay,” you said, your eyebrows now raised. “I’ll ask from now on. I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I won’t do it anymore.”

He sighed loudly. “No, I want you to wear my shirts,” he told you, his volume still just as high.

“Is your goal to confuse me?”

He sighed again. “I want you to wear them after you sleep here, after you spend the night with me. I want you to wake me up as annoyingly as you do and I want it every single morning. I want all of that. Do you—” he sighed heavily. “Starlight, do you not see it?”

“Well, don’t yell at me about it,” you replied softly. You waited a few seconds before setting the coffee down onto the floor and kneeling on the bed.

You shifted so you were knelt before him, moving your knees to be on either side of him so you could straddle his lap. You pressed your lips to his briefly tasting coffee on him and sighing at the feeling of finally in your veins.

As you broke the kiss and he leaned forward to follow your lips, you offered him a small smile and placed a hand on his chest, drumming your fingers against the thin t-shirt he wore. “Ask me out nicely, don’t fight with me about it, and I might say yes.”

2

You were drifting in and out of sleep for a while. The lights being at seventy-percent kept you from succumbing completely.

You didn’t call for them to dim, though. You didn’t make a sound. The action would have been too taxing. The volume you needed, the clear tone, the slowly enunciated words, it was all too much for your body to handle— especially after the ten hours in the medbay you spent patching up clumsy red shirts covered in steam burns.

You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, either. You’d gone through the day with a single apple and two large cups of coffee in your system, not finding time to eat anything else earlier and not finding the energy when you’d reached Jim’s quarters. You only collapsed upon the bed, sighing very heavily as you cuddled up against the far more plush mattress and much, much softer bedspread.

You heard the door slide open and wished you could sink into the bed further, maybe be swallowed by it whole as you heard Jim sigh loudly and throw his boots aside. Each sound rang in your ears and knocked around in your skull painfully.

He fell into the bed in a similar fashion to your collapsing two hours ago. But, instead of taking one of the spare pillows and snuggling it into his chest like you had, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your back into his chest.

He hummed in contentment as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and pressed his lips there.

You sighed out and felt your body relax as his warmth spread through the uniform you didn’t bother taking off. “Can you call for the lights to be at zero?”

Unbeknownst to Jim, it’d taken all of your energy to say that simple sentence and he asked, “Can’t you?”

“I’m too tired,” you grumbled into your pillow.

He snorted. “It’s just a few words, starlight.”

“It’s not about how many words it is— it’s the volume,” the frustration in your voice was evident, your eyes opened a little more now, stinging at the harsh light. “Just do it.”

“I’m tired, too.”

“Fine, Jim.”

Though his arm stayed around you and his lips stayed close enough to your skin that you could feel his frown, neither of you called for the lights to turn down. Somehow, the two of you managed to sleep through it and threw a few cranky words at one another about the dangers of pettiness when you awoke.

3

You sat in the well-cushioned chair in Leonard’s office, your feet atop his large desk and crossed at the ankle. You narrowed your eyes, widened them, and narrowed them again. You tilted your head— left, right, down. You took a breath.

“You’re being excessive.”

You clicked your tongue, still focusing with the sharpest of gazes rather than looking at him as he sat across from you in a far flimsier chair. “I’m giving this the attention it deserves.”

Jim reached over and sifted through the remaining cookies in the bright red and yellow carton, his eyes zeroing in on the lion printed in the upper left corner. He shook his head, he was sticking to his guns. He knew animal crackers better than the best of them. “It’s a horse.”

You glanced at him rather than the cookie held between your index finger and thumb, sighing at the determination in his wide, childish electric blue irises. “It’s a giraffe, Jim.”

He clicked his tongue. “It’s a horse.”

“Your IQ level might say you’re a genius but that doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

“Sorry, all I caught from that sentence was that I’m always right,” he said with a wide grin, reaching over to brush your feet from the desk. When your feet landed on the floor with the clunk of your boots, he sighed and sat back in his seat. “It’s a horse.”

You nodded sarcastically and frowned just as dryly. “Oh, really? It’s a horse? Then why is its neck so long?”

“It’s not that long!” he shouted, shaking his head again. “Barely above average.”

“Yeah? And you know the average length of necks when it comes to animal crackers?” you snorted. “It’s also a zoo-themed box. What kind of zoo has horses?”

“Don’t be close-minded on what animals zoos have.”

“Don’t be rude and call this giraffe a horse just because her neck is a little bit shorter— that’s probably offensive, or something.”

“Oh, is it?”

The two of you barely acknowledged Leonard as he stepped through the door, only really noticing him when he took the cookie from your hand and popped it into his mouth. As he promptly chewed and swallowed, he sat down and raised his dark eyebrows at your incredulous expressions. “What?”

“You ate the cookie!” Jim yelled, his jaw clenched. “We were trying to figure out what animal it was.”

“Well, I’d figured it out already— it’s a giraffe.” You paused for a moment. “I mean, it was a giraffe.”

“It was a fuckin’ cookie,” Leonard stated, his Southern drawl warm in the drafty medbay. His tan skin was creased from exhaustion, from outrage at your toddler-like behavior— but his hazel eyes were alive. You knew he secretly loved it. “It was supposed to be eaten ‘n I ate it. Y’all are sittin’ here, arguin’ like fools. Move on, you giant babies. It was a hippo.”

As if perfectly in-sync with one another, you and Jim shouted, “No, it wasn’t!”

4

You were pacing in front of the bed, your fingers in your hair so you could pull on the ends when the frustration hit you even harder. There was a sheet wrapped around your body, your fist gripping the fabric to hold it above your otherwise bare chest.

When you almost tripped over the cotton for the third time, you sighed and stood still. You stared at Jim with wide, angry eyes and a deep frown. “I mean, is this what we are now? A fucking cliché?”

He sat with the comforter pooled below his waist, his back against the headboard so you had to actively distract yourself from gawking at his naked torso for too long. “Starlight, —”

“Like, you’re hogging the covers now? You’re pulling them onto your side? You’re hogging them like some, like some—”

“Cliché?” he guessed. He was fighting a smile as he watched you start to pace again.

“God! Hogging the goddamn covers, finishing my fucking sentences! Didn’t you make me coffee this morning?” you asked, your voice loud and outraged. “Oh my God,” you halted your steps and your palm met your forehead. “You told me I looked beautiful after sex even though I probably looked like I was just run through a prehistoric car wash. Jim!”

“What?” he asked, a laugh laced throughout. “What are you even angry about here?”

“You took the covers like a fucking cliché, you blue-eyed monster!”

“So are you mad at me taking the covers or about me being a cliché?”

“Jim!”

“Or is it about me finishing your sentences, or bringing you coffee, or calling you beautiful after sex? Which you are, by the way-- all the time.”

You groaned loud enough to have it echo off the walls. “Stop asking questions. I need to leave— sleep in Nyota’s quarters, or something.”

He couldn’t stop his smile as you walked towards the door. “At least put some clothes on first. I know how you feel about someone else knowing about our sex life.”

“I fucking hate you,” you called out as you switched course to the closet.

He hummed out a sigh. “And I love you.”

5

You sat atop the biobed in Exam Room 1, swinging your legs as you watched Leonard and Jim exchange a few choice words. You were leant against the wall behind you, your hands folded in your lap so you could pinch the blue fabric of your uniform.

You switched upon whom you focused based on which one of them spoke. It was like watching a tennis match— at least until you decided to intervene. “Not to ruffle any command gold feathers here, but I agree with Len.”

Leonard motioned towards you and widened his eyes at Jim. “There you go.”

Jim, with an agape mouth and incredulous sigh, shook his head. “Starlight, you’re not serious.”

You traced the darkness underlining his eyes, the more sullen nature of his cheeks, the borderline transparency of his skin, and the slouching of his posture. “I’m completely serious, Jim. You look six seconds from death— you need to sleep.”

“I’m the captain, this is my ship,” he pointed out with great emphasis. “I can’t just take a day to sleep when there are crewmembers injured because I flew us through a highly magnetized nebula and zapped the gravity.”

“It’s been three days,” you stated, shaking your head. “We’ve got less than twelve crewmembers left in observation, and that’s just a formality at this point. Everyone’s okay now— except you.”

“No bones are broken, I’m okay.”

You looked at Leonard for help and when he sighed with a flare of his nostrils, you clicked your tongue. “Jim, you haven’t slept for longer than two hours in three days.”

“I’m worried, I have every right to be worried!” he argued, his voice shaking the walls of medical waste bin bolted to the wall. “It’s my ship!”

“For fuck’s sake, we know it’s your ship!” you yelled back. “You can have Spock take over for a day!”

“Or, better yet, you could have Sulu take over for a day,” Leonard added, catching your eye as you peered at him questioningly. “He’s got a real fire in him.”

“You can’t take my side?” Jim asked after a few moments, pulling your attention from your fellow doctor. “Just this once?”

“I’m always on your side. No matter what,” you sighed out. “And, because I’m on your side, I think you need to get some rest. Sleep is just as important as anything else— especially when you’re the captain.”

When he opened his mouth to speak, you clicked your tongue once more. You spoke more forcefully now, “No. Get to our quarters, change out of that godforsaken uniform, and sleep. Hell, hibernate if you have to, okay? Leave.”

Leonard snorted once Jim had left, his arms crossed over his chest so the blue of his shirt rumpled at his chest. “Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t just date you myself.”

“We’re not sexually attracted to each other and I happen to really like sex,” you shrugged.

6

You were avoiding him. You spent the day hauled up in your favorite exam room, only leaving to check on your lone patient. You didn’t dare venture to the mess hall, Leonard’s office, Scotty’s makeshift office, or anywhere else you could run into him.

Every time you saw or thought about him, images came flooding in. His hands on someone else, his lips on someone else, his eyes staring at someone else in the way he’d only reserved for you. It made something in your chest stutter, something in your blood boil. You wanted to break something.

You walked into your shared quarters cautiously so as to avoid his questioning gaze. You kept your eyes on the replicator, taking careful, counted steps towards it and immediately calling for a cup of coffee.

“Any special reason why I’m being iced out?”

You sighed and gritted your teeth at the sound of his voice. You didn’t reply.

“Did I do something?” he asked, nervous laughter in his words. “Because it sure seems like I’ve done something.”

You stayed silent, picking up the coffee and taking a very, very long sip. You didn’t care that it burned your tongue.

He laughed again, you could almost feel his voice shaking. He rose from the couch and made his way to where you stood. When he was close enough, he set his hand on your shoulder only to have you shrug him off.

He sighed. “Starlight, don’t freak me out like this.”

“It’s irrational.”

“That’s okay. Just tell me what it is. And look at me, maybe.”

You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your cup rather than meet the blue eyes you felt betrayed by. “I’m mad at you. You hurt me.”

“H-How? What’d I do?”

“How the hell could you look at someone else like that?” you asked, finally meeting his confused, but bright blue eyes. You couldn’t help your high volume. You thrust your mug into his hands. “I can’t believe you would kiss someone else, and touch someone else, and —”

“I didn’t do any of that!” he shouted back after several shocked moments of silence, watching you as you walked towards the bed. “I wouldn’t do anything like that to you!”

“Yeah, well, I had a dream that you did.”

He scoffed incredulously, his eyes wide and his mouth forming a scowl. “You’re mad at me over a dream?”

“I’m not mad at you! I just keep seeing it!”

“You’re yelling at me over something that isn’t real?”

You almost growled, unzipping your boots and tossing them aside. “I’m not yelling at you!”

“Then what do you call what you just did?”

“Passionate speaking!” you contradictorily yelled, reaching behind yourself to undo the zip of your uniform. 

You sighed after a beat of silence passed. “What if you get sick of me and it comes true? It’s bound to happen! We’ve been together for, like, two years now—”

“Year, ten months,” Jim corrected.

“See? I didn’t even know that!”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. He reached for you and wrapped his arm around your waist. When your chest was pressed against his, he sighed out. His eyes seemed to shine even in the dim lighting. “I’m not going to get sick of you. I am sick of how much coffee you drink, but never sick of you. Okay?” 

You sighed and nodded.

“Good. Now, take your dress off.”

“What?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Take your damn dress off and let me show you how not sick of you I am.”

7

Jim walked into his spacious shore leave quarters with a smile stretching his full lips. Having just come back from watching a football game with Leonard he truthfully didn’t give two shits about, he expected to be greeted with a smile and a kiss— not with the smell of melted cheese. But he wasn’t one to complain about that.

He entered the kitchen and inhaled deeply, standing beside you and bumping his hip against yours.

You clicked your tongue and pressed the back of the green spatula to the sandwich on the pan. You only sighed. You needed it to take less time.

He didn’t seem deterred by your resistance to his company. “What kind of cheese did you use?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Whichever one was in the fridge.”

He could have sighed at your monotone voice. “Did you use butter on both sides? It turns out better if you use it on both—”

You gritted your teeth and slammed the spatula down, hearing the items in the drawer below clank and shift. You felt a burning in your eyes and a pinching in your throat. “Honestly, why don’t you just do it?”

He watched with his mouth agape as you pushed past him and slammed the door to the bedroom. He took a breath and turned a knob to switch the stove off. He removed the sandwich so it was set on a plate and placed the pan into the sink. Stray water droplets sizzled against the hot pan and he listened to it as he walked down a narrow hall to the bedroom, plate in hand.

He knocked on the door twice. Though you told him to go away, something about your voice made him open the door. His chest tightened at the sight of you sitting on the bed, your knees at your chest and your forehead placed atop them. He heard your shaky breath and sniffles, sitting before you with a deep breath. 

“I won’t push you,” he said as he tore the sandwich in half and took an audible bite of the crispy bread. “But,” his voice was thick with his full mouth, “you should eat this. It’s good.”

You shook your head. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Well, half is still yours.” His fingers encircled your ankles, he jostled them a little. “If you tell me who did this, I can kill them. I’m a captain of Starfleet, so I have access to weapons you wouldn’t even believe exist.”

You laughed despite yourself, placing your chin on your knees instead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Jim wiped the tears from your skin and tilted his head with a small smile. “Tell me who I’m killing.”

“I don’t need you going to prison for killing a family that basically disowns me each time they see me. S’not fair for me to lose you, too.”

He sighed and tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “I love you. You know that, right? More than anything.”

You nodded. Your eyes were unable to wave from the dilation of his pupils, the glassiness of his own eyes. “I really don’t deserve you.”

He frowned. “I think that’s a matter of opinion. Stop arguing and eat-- or I’ll finish it all myself.”

8

Knowing your tendency to forget numbers, Leonard thought it was remarkable you didn’t lose count. You knew it down to the hour.

You could hear the hissing of the door as it slid shut behind Jim, the groaning of the couch as he flipped three times, the deafening scrubbing of a toothbrush as you stood beside one another in a bathroom too small, taking turns spitting into a sink too shallow— it all replayed in your head, over and over. It replayed in your head like clockwork, alerting you that another hour had passed.

One hundred eighteen repetitions were too many repetitions, but you did nothing about it. You simply averted your gaze when he stepped through the medbay doors, simply occupied yourself with something so uninteresting in comparison to the ever-changing blue of his eyes, simply told yourself you could handle another repetition if it meant you’d be giving Jim the space he needed, giving him the space he deserved.

You’d apologized. You told him you wouldn’t do it again— you wouldn’t give yourself the chance to do it again. After all, arguing about burnt popcorn and not speaking for nearly five days felt excessive.

But there was something deeper there, you just knew it. It lied in the absurd and petty nature of this popcorn argument, it lied in the unnecessary nature of his sudden possessiveness, it lied in the near constant remarks he would pass each time you expressed uncertainty for your future. You just couldn’t see what it was.

However, you did take it too far this time. What started off as a simple argument about popcorn ended with your voice cracking as you yelled about his arrogance, about his confidence that really came from dumb luck. You told him his judgement was flawed and selfish, that he really just chased glory.

Obviously, you regretted the words as soon as you said them. You were frustrated, and had been for some time because of the uncertain cause of all your sudden fights, but that was no justification. You knew that.  

The walk to your quarters seemed to stretch on for eons. You avoided eye contact with any and all crewmembers that passed you, you even waved off a conversation with Uhura, who looked at you with nothing other than concern.

You cleared your throat as you entered the code you’d memorized years ago, watching the door slide open as if in slow motion. You threw your PADD aside the moment you stepped into the room, tossing your communicator in the same direction.

Jim glanced at you and paid you no other attention.

“Jim?” you called, your voice as small as you felt. “Have you— I’ve given you enough space, right?”

When he doesn’t reply, you across the room and kneel before the couch he was seated on. You took his hand and wiggled it around, finally catching sight of the blue eyes that grounded you even in space. “Because I’m really tired. And I want to talk to you. And I want to kiss you, and I want to know that we’re okay. It’s been five days.”

He kept his eyes on you but did nothing more.

You sighed. “I’m sorry about what I said. There’s no excuse for it. You do scare me sometimes when you do things I don’t understand, but I know you have your reasons. I don’t— I just don’t understand how this all blossomed from burnt popcorn. I don’t like fighting with you and I don’t know why we’re fighting so much.”

You set your other hand on his knee. You had to blink rapidly, uncertainty taking up your mindspace even when his pupils dilated in that special way that made your stomach flip. “Tell me what I should do. Whatever you want, we’ll do. I’ll try not to overreact again, I’ll move out, I’ll shut up. We just— Fuck, I just need my friend.”

He looked at you plainly, simply. He took a breath and nodded once. “Marry me.”

Sandpaper in your throat, you asked, “What?”

“Marry me.”

He took another breath, deep enough to reach every point of his lungs, before continuing, “I don’t want you to move out, or shut up, or change anything. I’ve been irritated at you for not reading my mind when I should’ve just told you what I want.”

His voice was almost as soft as his gaze, his touch just as gentle as he set his hand against your cheek and moved his thumb across your skin. The blue of his eyes was clear— clear than it’d been in a while. “I want commitments, I want rings. I want part of my future,” he clicked his tongue, “I want part of our future to be certain.”

You opened your mouth, but there was no sound. So Jim nodded upwards, giving you the smile that could make you agree to anything if he’d just asked. “Please marry me.”

[lolainblue]

Presque Vu    Chapter 6

 cw: very light smut

 “Cassidy!” Raina tried not to panic as Cassie tried to explain that she had thought Raina liked Shannon after the way she had been flirting and the way she had let him chase her around the day before.  “What the heck am I going to tell him?”

   “Well,” Cassie asked, “what do you want to tell him?”

   “I…” Raina had no idea.  She hadn’t even entertained the thought before now.  She remembered the way he laughed at his own jokes, not in an arrogant way but as if he knew exactly how cheesy he was being and didn’t care; the ferocious grin that always followed, the way those strong arms of his had felt when he picked her up.  He definitely had appeal.  But how would it look, going out with him when she had just spent the night with his brother?

   “Hello? Raina? Are you still there?”  Raina realized she had to say something to Shannon, the silence was lasting too long.  

   “Sorry, I’m still here.  I’m just finishing up at work.”

   “Put him on speaker!” Cassie whispered.  Raina waved her off.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.  I thought you’d be done by now.” Shannon apologized.  “Would you like me to call back later?”

   “No, that’s okay.  I can talk for a few minutes.  I was just a little surprised.”  

   “Well, I won’t keep you long then.   I really enjoyed meeting you yesterday and I thought maybe you’d like to get together for coffee or a drink sometime?”

   The word was out of her mouth before Raina even realized she had made up her mind.  “Sure.”

   “What’s right is right and what’s wrong is wrong,” Raina’s grandmother always used to say.  She liked the phrase, not for its truth but for is comforting illusion that things could be separated into neat little categories.  There was no gray area, no complex points of view, no moral dilemmas, just simple choices you could make and move forward from without a backward glance of doubt.  The decision about whether to meet Shannon for coffee as he had suggested was fraught with the very pitfalls that phrase promised didn’t exist.  For the second time this week she was left second guessing herself, albeit for very different reasons. It wasn’t like she and Jared were doing anything even close to dating, she reminded herself; she didn’t owe him anything.  And when Saturday rolled around and he still hadn’t called, most of her doubts were just spots in the rear view mirror.

   She had lingered over getting ready.  She wanted to look amazing, look like the kind of girl people would think belonged with a hot rocker type, but it was an afternoon coffee date and as she dug through her wardrobe she became increasingly convinced those were two incompatible goals. Ultimately she settled on a bohemian print blouse, shorts, and strappy heels that she hoped at least conveyed free spirit.  It would have to do.

   Raina had elected to meet Shannon at the cafe rather than have him pick her up (at least that way she would have her own transportation if things got weird) and showed up at the arranged time only to find her date had not yet arrived.  After forty-five minutes of waiting, she had to seriously consider that she had been stood up. She was nearly ready to flag the waitress down for her check so she could escape with what little dignity she had when she finally saw him, arguing with the hostess as he surveyed the room.  Raina waved, and when he spotted her he pointed her out to the hostess with a look of triumph before coming to join her.

   “I’m sorry about that.  She was telling me you already left.” He looked at the empty mug on the table.  “I’m really late aren’t I?”

   Raina nodded.  “I have to admit, you’re not looking good here bub. I was just about to leave.”

   Shannon gave her a smile, the same one she had noted when trying to decide whether or not to meet him in the first place.  That smile was going to get her into a lot of trouble if she didn’t reign herself in. “I hope you’ll stay.  I’m really sorry.  Punctuality isn’t one of my strengths.”

   She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet.  “Okay then, sell me. What are your strengths?”

   “Huh, going to put me on the spot now?  Well, I’m funny, I’m a good listener, I’m never boring.” He bit his bottom lip, the mischievous smile never wavering.  “The rest you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

   It turned out he was all of those things,  He spent the next three hours and countless cups of coffee telling her stories of his adventures that Raina was sure had to be at least a little bit fabricated.  But he was indeed funny and interesting and listened carefully when she told her own tales, exactly as advertised.  She was surprised at how quickly the time was passing and how comfortable she felt with him. She caught herself several times before she began to reveal a little too much, before she shattered the lovely pretense of two uncomplicated people just having coffee and a laugh.  If the last few years had taught her anything it was that reality would find a way to spoil things soon enough, it was best to enjoy what she could while it was there in front of her.  So when Shannon suggested a walk on the beach after hours of sitting in the cafe (“I know a great spot.”) she quickly agreed.  

   Not far into the walk it became clear why Shannon had chosen that particular stretch of beach for their stroll as they ended up in a secluded little cove of sorts, out of the reach of prying eyes.  As they stopped to gaze out onto the surf, he slipped behind her, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist before lightly kissing her shoulder.  Raina shivered at the contact, an odd juxtaposition considering the heat that his touch was creating.  She wondered if she should say something about the night she had spent with Jared, (did he already know, would he even care?) but he was already settling down on the sand, pulling at her hand for her to come join him, and she realized she wanted to be done with conversations. There had been enough talking today, enough time spent in her head second guessing every move.  Shannon had the most kissable lips Raina had ever seen, and the way he had been biting them, running his tongue over them all through their conversation at the cafe had left her aching for a taste.      

   Sitting next to him on the sand now she was suddenly caught up in the details of him, the different flecks of color in his eyes as he squinted against the sun, the strong line of his jaw, the dusting of freckles along his collarbone where his shirt had shifted to the side. Tentatively she brushed her fingertips over those dark marks, finding it easier to look at them than to look into those intense eyes of his.  She felt him tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand tracing it’s way to her chin before tilting her face to him, compelling her to look at him, to see him biting that bottom lip again in the way that made her insides flutter.  With a deep breath, she surged forward and met those irresistible lips with her own. They were warm and smooth and tasted vaguely of lip balm that she had no idea when he had applied.  Even though it was a tiny kiss, a delicate beginning, she could feel it in her core, like a small yet powerful engine coming to life.  She was hooked.

   Shannon slid his hand to the small of her back, pulling her in tightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeming to shyly ask permission even though he was boldly pressing against her.  Raina wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her into his lap, losing herself in solid heat of him against her as heart thundered wildly in her chest, keeping time with the sound of the waves crashing behind them. The sand, the waves, the sun, the beautiful man against her making her toes curl under every time his calloused hands brushed against a patch of exposed flesh all felt like a dream.  The best kind of dream.  The kind you woke up from smiling and wishing you could go back to sleep just for five minutes more of bliss.  

   She wasn’t sure how long they spent like that, wet kisses and soft little moans ticking the time past, but Raina was startled when she realized her toes were getting damp.  The tide had come in while they were lost in each other.  Regretfully she broke off the embrace.

   “Oh wow,” Shannon said, quickly pulling them both to their feet.  “I guess we’ve been a little distracted.”  He was still smiling that same trouble-making grin, and he pulled her close for one last kiss. “Let’s walk you back to your car.”

   They lingered in the parking lot for a few minutes, Shannon pressing her against the side of her car as he rested his forehead against hers.  

   “You don’t have to go home you know,” he told her.  “Or at least you don’t have to go home alone.”

   It wasn’t that Raina wasn’t tempted.  Shannon’s effect on her was undeniable. But taking him into her bed when she still had no longer fresh but still not faded love bites from another man felt a bit too far a walk on the wild side for her.  Even more so when she reminded herself it was his brother that had left them there.  Better to leave a little for the next meeting. She only hoped it would be soon.

[wobbles666]

Hi, just wanted to let you know that your Guzma cosplay is great! The hoodie in particular is fantastic, easily the best one I've seen yet! How did you do the Zig Zags and emblem? Iron on fabric?

WHOOPS sorry, haven’t been on Tumblr in a few weeks ^^’

Ahh thank you very much, I’m glad to hear someone liked my Guzma ;w; Here is some info on how I made the jacket. I made it my #1 goal to get the jacket as perfect as possible (since zigzags are a pain to do) so I went to like crazy measures to do so since I was SO out of time and couldn’t find a better way to do them (There are probably tons of better ways than the way I did_

So basically, I downloaded the in-game 3D model of Guzma, stuck his texture in Photoshop, traced/redrew the part of the texture for his jacket’s zigzags, resized it so that it was as large as I wanted it to be in real life, and then printed it out/cut out what would become the white zigzags/taped them together so that I had paper templates of each zigzag (I had 8 pieces of zigzaggy paper in all, since there are 2 white zigzags to each of Guzma’s zigzags (if that makes any sense)). After I had the papers, I taped them carefully to a large piece of white felt and then just carefully cut them all out to get them as perfect as possible. Once I has all 8 white zigzags (aka the worst thing I have ever had to cut out in my whole life lol), I just pinned them to the jacket and hot glued them carefully to the jacket. I wanted to saw them on nicely but at this point in time, it was the night before the convention so I had no time :p I think it looked alright in the end though

For the patch on the back, I just googled “Team Skull Logo”, found a nice one, and put it in Photoshop and resized it to how big I’d want it to look on the jacket. I printed it, cut it out, and then traced the outline of the full logo onto black felt and cut it out. Afterwards, I cut out the white pieces out of the piece of paper and just used them as stencils to cut out white felt pieces. Then I just stuck the white pieces of felt onto the black one and sewed it together to make it look like, well, the team skull logo. Then I hot glued that onto the back of the jacket because again, I was out of time ahah 

(Sorry if any of this wall of text made no sense. Basically, I just cut everything out of felt and sewed/hot glued it to the jacket)

Also if it matters, the jacket was bought somewhere and then made shorter/brought in to look more like Guzmas (Also one of the worst times I have had sewing something xD)

Hopefully this helps T.T if not, feel free to ask more questions LOL I’ll post some pics of it to my tumblr in a sec