#slow aging ingredients

[cosmatsuk]

7 Age defying natural ingredients.

Credit. www.cosmats.com

There are several food ingredients that are believed to have age-defying properties. Here are some examples:

Berries: Berries such as blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries are high in antioxidants, which help to fight off free radicals and reduce oxidative stress, which can contribute to aging.

Dark chocolate: Dark chocolate is also high in antioxidants and has been shown to improve blood flow and lower blood pressure. It may also help to protect the skin from sun damage.

Nuts: Nuts are a good source of healthy fats, which can help to improve skin health and reduce inflammation. They are also high in vitamins and minerals, such as vitamin E and zinc, which are important for healthy skin.

Green tea: Green tea is rich in antioxidants called catechins, which have been shown to reduce the risk of age-related diseases such as Alzheimer's and Parkinson's disease. It may also help to protect the skin from UV damage.

Fatty fish: Fatty fish such as salmon, mackerel, and sardines are high in omega-3 fatty acids, which can help to reduce inflammation and improve brain function. They may also help to improve skin health.

Turmeric: Turmeric contains a compound called curcumin, which has anti-inflammatory properties and has been shown to improve brain function and reduce the risk of heart disease.

Leafy greens: Leafy greens such as spinach and kale are high in vitamins and minerals, such as vitamin K, which are important for bone health. They are also high in antioxidants, which can help to reduce oxidative stress and inflammation.

Overall, incorporating these age-defying food ingredients into your diet can help to promote overall health and well-being and may help to slow down the aging process

[wonryllis]

the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. est around 20k or more

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

releasing. very soon!! .. progress update tag

park sunghoon was hot, he was a walking greek god. was single and wore these fitted suits that had you weak in the knees. if that wasn't hot enough, park sunghoon also had the cutest baby girl you had ever come across and it just made him hotter than he could ever have been.

"hey, um .. is ji—" sunghoon stands at the threshold of your open apartment door, one hand holding his creased blazer and the other rubbing at the back of his neck. embarrassed and shy at having to show up at yours looking like a mess after work because his daughter ran off while he was busy on a call and taking out her school bag from the backseat. and because everytime his daughter ran off, it was to the pretty girl next door who gives away sweet cookies all the time.

"is jia here? yeah she's in the kitchen," you answer, smiling soft and knowingly at the worried guy who barely looked like a dad. he worked in a corporate editorial, out before eight in the morning just as you prepared ingredients for your bakery. taking his daughter along to school, her excited voice resonating through the halls talking about how they were going to play with clay in class. around seven in the evening you'd hear her again, this time alone as she would skip over to your door because dada was too slow.

on weekends it'd be impossible to ignore the ruckus they made playing around, sometimes inviting you over for lunch because sunghoon apparently made too much and jia wanted to share her dada's delicious food. on some occasional weekends when he'd be called in to work for a few hours, jia would promise him to stay home and behave only to call you through the landline the moment he'd step out the door. and you would text sunghoon to come over to yours after work, his daughter munching on the new flavored cupcakes you made, unbothered about her dad and his scoldings.

"come on in, i made some almond lime tart, you could give me some feedbacks along with jia. you know she always says it's good and i can never know if it's actually good," sunghoon can't help but chuckle at that, slipping off his shoes by the front and walking inside. his eyes following your figure with a fond look as you tend to his daughter delicately, and might he admit— even more so than him.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids; cue that one time jia was crying her eyes out after school and he had no idea what to do to comfort her, knocking at your door frantically and having his mind blown at how quickly you figured things out and calmed her down.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids, you treat them both so well, always ready to help him out with jia, giving them sweet treats every other day and most of all— you're fucking pretty. way too pretty for him to handle.

FIRST TAGLIST (open.) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @aaa-sia @niniissus @tobiosbbyghorl @imjakes-wifeofc1 @youresolivlie @eun-cherry @kimsunoops @aiden2001 @brownsugarbaybee @pockettwinzz @bangtancultsposts @diorikis @heelvsted @crimnalseung @iselltulips @yzzyhee @woniebae @river-demon-slayer @lovingvoidgoatee @antonsgirlfriend @kpopslover @bugcattie @slut4hee @yunjinswifee @woniefull @nanaheex @soobs-things @dammit-jjk @starlvcieszsq @mnxnii @skylaly @mintdsunoo @uyuchoco @anittamaxwynnn @rikiwaify-blog @kill4jl @ggparkjh @sstephenzz @judeduartewannabe @jungwoneez @aye2611-blog @hybeboyenthusisast @minjaexvz

[fixomnia-scribble]

WOW.

Scientists found an amazingly well-preserved village from 3,000 years ago

Text below, in case article access dries up:

LONDON — A half-eaten bowl of porridge complete with wooden spoon, communal rubbish bins, and a decorative necklace made with amber and glass beads are just a handful of the extraordinarily well-preserved remnants of a late Bronze Age hamlet unearthed in eastern England that’s been dubbed “Britain’s Pompeii” and a “time capsule” into village life almost 3,000 years ago.

The findings from the site, excavated in 2015 to 2016, are now the subject of two reports, complete with previously unseen photos, published this week by University of Cambridge archaeologists, who said they cast light onto the “cosy domesticity” of ancient settlement life.

“It might be the best prehistoric settlement that we’ve found in Britain,” Mark Knight, the excavation director and a co-author of the reports, said in an interviewThursday. “We took the roofs off and inside was pretty much the contents,” he said. “It’s so comprehensive and so coherent.”

The reason for the rare preservation: disaster.

The settlement, thought to have originally consisted of several large roundhouses made of wood and constructed on stilts above a slow-moving river, was engulfed by a fire less than a year after being built.

During the blaze, the buildings and much of their contents collapsed into a muddy river below that “cushioned the scorched remains where they fell,” the university said of the findings. This combination of charring from the fire and waterlogging led to “exceptional preservation,” the researchers found.

“Because of the nature of the settlement, that it was burned down and its abandonment unplanned, everything was captured,” Knight added.

“As we excavated it, there was that feeling that we were picking over someone else’s tragedy,” he said of the eerie site in the swampy fenland of East Anglia. “I don’t think we could smell the fire but the amount of ash around us — it felt close.”

Researchers said they eventually unearthed four large wooden roundhouses and an entranceway structure, but the original settlement was probably “twice as big.”

The site at Must Farm dates to about 850 B.C., eight centuries before Romans came to Britain. Archaeologists have been shocked at “just how clear the picture is” of late Bronze Age life based on the level of detail uncovered, Knight said.

The findings also showed that the communities lived “a way of life that was more sophisticated than we could have imagined,” Duncan Wilson, head of Historic England, the public body responsible for preserving England’s historic environment, said in a statement.

The findings unearthed include a stack of spears, possibly for hunting or defense; a decorative necklace “with beads from as far away as Denmark and Iran”; clothes of fine flax linen; and a female adult skull rendered smooth, “perhaps a memento of a lost loved one,” the research found.

The inhabitants’ diet was also rich and varied, including boar, pike and bream, along with wheat and barley.

A pottery bowl with the finger marks of its maker in the clay was also unearthed, researchers said, still containing its final meal — “a wheat-grain porridge mixed with animal fats” — with a wooden spatula resting inside the bowl.

“It appears the occupants saved their meat juices to use as toppings for porridge,” project archaeologist Chris Wakefield said in the university’s news release. “Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with ruminant meats such as deer, suggesting these ingredients were combined to create a form of prehistoric honey-glazed venison,” he added.

Skulls of dogs — probably kept as pets and to help with hunting — were also uncovered, and the dogs’ fossilized feces showed they fed on scraps from their owners’ meals, the research found.

The buildings, some connected by walkways, may have had up to 60 people living there all together, Knight said, along with animals.

Although no intact sets of human remains were found at the site, indicating that the inhabitants probably fled the fire safely, several sheep bones were found burned indoors. “Skeletal remains showed the lambs were three to six months old, suggesting the settlement was destroyed sometime in late summer or early autumn,” according to the university’s news release.

Ceramic and wooden vessels including tiny cups, bowls and large storage jars were also found. Some pots were even designed to nest, stacked inside one another, Knight said — evidence of an interest in aesthetics as well as practicality.

A lot of similar items were found replicated in each home, Knight added, painting the picture of completely independent homesteads for each family unit rather than distinct buildings for shared tasks — much like we live today.

Household inventories often included metal tools, loom weights, sickles for crop harvesting, axes and even handheld razors for cutting hair.

The roundhouses — one of which had almost 50 square meters (nearly 540 square feet) of floor space — had hearths and insulated straw and clay roofs. Some featured activity zones for cooking, sleeping and working akin to modern-day rooms.

The Must Farm settlement has produced the largest collection of everyday Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in the United Kingdom, according to Historic England, which partly funded the 1.1 million pound ($1.4 million) excavation project.

The public body labeled the site a “time capsule,” including almost 200 wooden artifacts, over 150 fiber and textile items, 128 pottery vessels and more than 90 pieces of metalwork. Some items will go on display at the nearby Peterborough Museum next month.

Archaeologists never found a “smoking gun” cause for the fire, Knight said. Instead, they suspect it was either an attack from “outside forces,” which may explain why the inhabitants never returned to collect their possessions from the debris, or an accidental blaze that spread rapidly across the tightly nestled homes.

“Probably all that was left was the people and what they were wearing; everything else was left behind,” Knight said of the fire.

But the preservation has left a window for people to look back through in the future. “You could almost see and smell their world,” he said.

“The only thing that was missing was the inhabitants,” Knight added. “And yet … I think they were there — you certainly got glimpses.”

[emacrow]

Alfred gains an unique apprentice after his arm got fractured.

Most of the batfam has been causing a ruckus in the Wayne Manor for the past 4 months that even Alfred was feeling a bit worn out.

To the point that his personal favorite market friends suggest getting a trainee, or a ward to help him out epecially because Alfred isn't getting any younger, no matter how well he took care of his own health.

Helda got herself a ward herself, a sweet little girl, name Ellen who help her keep the lil Duckling candles shop in order especially after her hip surgery went through, and will be taking over for her considering helda had no descendents, but Ellen make her feel young again.

Alfred merely delined, but ended up getting the card still by persistented friends. A card with a purple GrandFather clock symbol and a number on it. He left it in his draw as he was not rude enough to throw away.

Then came the prank war 13 on June 15th in the Wayne Manor that Alfred accidentally ended up being targeted by pure coincidence which ended with him with a fractured arm..

Both Bruce and Alfred was majorly disappointed with how far escalated the prank war went that got immediately stop when the batfam saw Alfred gotten injured during it.

Except now Alfred is stuck for 6-10 weeks without using his right arm until his personal doctor said it ok to take the cast off then have a arm sling..

Alfred was immensely stubborn for 3 days, 3 days of trying to do all his duties.. before he gave in..

And called the number on the card, and received a lovely blue letter with a couple of oddly specific paperwork on a type of help he need, what is your age, your job occupied, have any illness or arthritis, needs in case of meta or superpower sudden surprises appear, how dangerous is your and your family lifestyle, etc

By the time he finished the paperwork and hand it sent back in the return blue letter. It was by day 5 on a Friday when he received a letter back, stating that that a ward been selected and will be coming from Amity Park to help him.

Alfred was expected a teenager, but a 7 year old boy with blaring light blue eyes, starlight like freckles, black hair with a medium space designed suitcase and a very old and worn out bearbert plush on top of it.

"Good morning, You must be Mr. Pennyworth, and I'm Danny." Danny beamed a soft smile with the eyes of wisdom and understanding. Alfred pause for a mere second before a soft smile bloomed and open the door wide for him.

"Hello there Danny, do come in. Alfred said softly as he watch danny a bit with curiosity.

Would you like a snack before we start the day?" Alfred ask as he escorted danny to the kitchen to help him with today breakfast along with a list of the breakfast dishes with ingredients.

"That ok, what would you like to help you do, cut the vegetables, stir the pot, help lift the food into the oven, or clean the dishes, because you aren't going to try and do that all with a broken arm, right?" Danny said as he look at today breakfast list, going to the sink and cleaning his hand thoroughly first before touching any fresh ingredients already put out while Alfred pick the frying pans, cups, dishes and utensils for the batfam.

Alfred notice right away that danny was floating a bit to pick the heavy large pot full of marinated food from the fridge that was supposed to be on the stove for slow brothing for later today dinner, considering alfred couldn't well take it out himself since his arm was broken..

Smiling softly to himself that it was a good idea to have a ward of his own as he teaches danny the best techniques to make a Benedict.

New post here

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 5. the dinner

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Everything seems perfect until it all unravels. Emotions come to a head and the big lie is revealed.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, alcohol use, eating, flirting, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity, one use of 'daddy', big ol' emotional argument (lots of mean and hurtful things get said)

WC: 9.5K

Series Masterlist

By some miracle, you didn't end up getting sick, although it took most people in town a full week to recover from the flu. The infirmary was packed every day and Nick regularly expressed his endless gratitude that you chose to work for him. Maria and Tommy isolated as best they could in their home out of fear their daughter would get sick. When the townspeople slowly began to recover, they were itching to do something, so they decided to host a dinner.

One thing you hadn't done in ages was bake. You used to do it often, something you found rather soothing and rewarding long before the world went to shit, so you decided to make something to bring to dinner. After exploring your pantry, you discovered you had the right ingredients to make a simple pie crust, so you got to work mixing and rolling out the dough, getting so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear Joel walk through the front door.

When he heard you working away in the kitchen, he walked softly towards the entryway and leaned against the frame to admire you. He crossed his arms and smiled to himself when he saw the bits of flour smeared across your cheeks and your hair a little disheveled, your appearance not a concern to you as you worked.

It was the sweetest thing he had seen in a long time. He almost felt bad when you suddenly sensed his presence and looked up, disrupting your flow.

"Don't mind me," he said with a smirk before strolling over to the table to sit. "Whatcha up to?"

"Making a pie," you told him as you pinched some flour between your fingers and scattered it over the counter. You picked up the sticky ball of dough and sprinkled that with a bit of flour, as well, before grabbing the rolling pin. "Thought it would be nice to bring something with us tonight."

Joel nodded and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. "That's nice of you," he said before taking a bite, "I'm sure they don't expect us to bring anythin'. They're just bored outta their minds and lookin' for someone to play with their kid for a while."

"Hey! I need those!" you scolded when you heard the crunch. He paused his chewing and looked down at the apple in his hand before stretching his arm out to you with a grin.

"Here you go," he said, mouth full. You laughed and shook your head before focusing on the dough once again.

"Keep it," you said, "I'll still have enough."

He leaned back in his chair and watched you diligently roll the dough out until you achieved the level of thickness you desired and then laid it gently in a buttered pie pan.

"Can you help me peel?" you asked when you came over to grab the bowl from the table, and he couldn't resist reaching out to dust away the flour from your cheek. You looked at him in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"'Course I'll help," he said, standing up to grab two knives from the drawer. After giving yourself a moment to recover from his unexpected touch, you joined him at the counter, placing the bowl between you both as you began to peel in a comfortable silence. It had been almost two weeks since you saw Ben outside the tailor, and although you always looked for him whenever you walked to and from work, you never crossed paths with him again. You had been hoping to corner him to try to get more information before confronting Joel, but you had no such luck. So, with a deep breath, you cleared your throat and focused on your apple before speaking.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he replied, his brows pinching together as he carefully worked his knife around the apple in the palm of his hand.

"Can I ask you a question?" you asked as your pulse began to thrum faster in your throat.

"Sure," he said, still laser focused on his task.

"Who are the Fireflies?"

His hand slipped and he dropped the apple and knife, pulling the pad of his thumb into his mouth with a hiss. You gasped when you saw a few drops of dark red blood on the cutting board and put your knife down before grabbing a somewhat clean towel and handing it to him.

"Is it bad?" you asked, taking a step forward to try and see his injury before he wrapped it in the towel. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'll live," he said, studying the cut for a second before applying pressure again.

Still, you rushed to the linen closet to grab the first aid kit and brought it downstairs. "Rinse it under the water," you instructed him before opening the bag and rifling around. He did as he was told and watched you pluck out a bandage and a small bottle of antiseptic. "Show me," you said, and he held his hand out to you so you could examine the cut. He studied you up close while your attention was focused on his thumb, taking in every feature on your perfect face and inhaling your familiar, comforting scent while you bandaged him up. If this was what it took to get you close to him, then he was ready to injure himself every damn day.

"You're good at that," he murmured, flexing his thumb when you were all done. "Learnin' a lot from Nick?"

You packed up the first aid kit, avoiding his heated gaze. "Yeah, I guess so," you said, turning back to your apples. Ever since Joel caught the flu and you helped nurse him back to health, it felt like there was a shift in the air between you. He was more brazen with his touch, like when he wiped the flour from your cheek, and while you never asked him not to touch you, your feelings for him were complicated. Until you could figure it out, you had been trying your best to not allow yourself to get caught in his orbit.

It was proving to be more difficult than you expected.

"Why don't you go sit down, I can finish these up," you said, your eyes cast down on the apples. You felt him regard you silently for a moment before he pushed off the counter and went back to his spot at the kitchen table. It was obvious what he was doing. It was the exact opposite of what you were doing. He was trying to create a charged moment, and you were trying to avoid them.

"You didn't answer my question," you said, and his energy immediately shifted.

"Where'd you hear 'bout the Fireflies? From Ellie?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. You looked up at him, confused.

"Ellie? No," you replied, shaking your head. "I ran into Ben a few days after our visit. He thought you had already told me about them and seemed a little skittish when I didn't know who they were."

You watched him closely, refusing to look away as he tried to mask his anger, but you could still see it. His jaw tensed and his uninjured hand clenched into a fist in his lap while you waited for an answer.

"So?" you prodded, cocking your head to the side. His nostrils flared for a second before he took a deep breath and turned his head away.

"The Fireflies were the group the three of you had joined before comin' to Jackson," he began. You tried to focus on peeling your apples but you were working incredibly slow, not wanting to miss a single word. "You were with 'em for a couple years. They had a decent setup, kept you all safe. Better than the QZ."

"Okay," you said slowly, picking up another apple. "So it was a community like this one?"

He huffed and shook his head, "Not exactly. More like an army. They're a revolutionary group. They rose up against the military and took over QZs with the promise of givin' control back to the people, but..." he trailed off and scratched his beard. "Wasn't all that simple. They killed alotta people in the process, and in the end, civilians still suffered. Didn't end up matterin' who was in control when both sides were just as violent."

"Oh," you said softly, setting your knife down, "so I joined because of what happened to my family? Because the military killed them? And then I ended up killing innocent people, anyway?"

Joel shrugged and stood up. "Like I said, we all made decisions the best we could with what we knew at the time. You didn't know any better. Nobody did."

"Did you join them, too?" you asked.

"No," he said, pressing both palms flat against the counter as he looked at you.

"So why did Ben seem to think telling me about the Fireflies would cause a problem with us?"

His mouth pressed into a thin line and you saw the suppressed rage flicker across his eyes again. "Fireflies ain't exactly well received by most people," he said, "lotta people here had family that was hurt or killed. Innocent bystanders caught in the middle of a war they didn't start."

You swallowed nervously, apples long forgotten as you braced yourself for your next question. "Did the Fireflies hurt someone you loved?"

Joel's gaze dropped to his hands and he clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell you. He should have just fucking spit it out and told you everything, but at the last second, he chickened out.

"No."

And you may not have known him as well as you did before the accident, but you knew him well enough now to be able to tell when he was lying. You tried to hide your disappointment by picking your knife back up and getting to work.

"Are there others?" you asked him, and he lifted his head up, "other former Fireflies who live here?"

"Aside from you three? Just Tommy."

Your jaw dropped in surprise and your eyes snapped up to him once again. "Tommy?"

"Mhmm, just for a little while. You didn't know each other before Jackson," he said, anticipating your next question. "Fireflies are a big group. Spread out all over the country."

"Oh," you said softly, looking back down at your half peeled apples which were slowly becoming brown on the edges. You began peeling again, faster now, as you thought about everything he just said while he watched you carefully from the other side of the counter. You weren't sure what else to say. It felt like he was telling you the truth, but you still had a hunch he was leaving something out.

"Y'know, it's a miracle I didn't eat half that damn pie before we got here," Joel said teasingly as you walked up the porch steps to Tommy and Maria's house. "Whole house smells like Christmas now. Drove me crazy all afternoon."

You smiled and smoothed down the blue blouse you found tucked away in your closet. It wasn't a top you could envision yourself working in, it looked a bit too nice for that, so you thought dinner would be a perfect time to wear it, combined with a dark pair of jeans that were relatively clean and only slightly frayed on the bottom. At the time, you thought it was cute when Joel came downstairs with his hair slicked back and his flannel tucked into his jeans for once, but when you walked into Tommy and Maria's and found the house to be filled with four married couples from around town, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"I didn't realize anyone else would be here," you murmured quietly next to Joel as you slid off your coats.

"He mentioned they may invite a few others but I didn't think this many," he told you, taking your coat and hanging it up before looking around. They had two tables covered in linen pushed together in their dining room which was alight with candles and sprigs of pine and holly spread around the middle, giving the room with a warm and romantic atmosphere. You swallowed nervously and all of the sudden, the evening felt too much like a date.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy's voice rang out from the kitchen, startling you out of your reverie. "Glad you could make it," he said, tugging Joel into a hug before giving you a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Um, here," you said, holding out the pie, "didn't want to come empty handed," you explained with a little smile. Tommy's eyes lit up when he took the pan from you and gave the pie a quick sniff.

"Damn, smells good, Sugar," he told you, his cheeks already rosy from the liquor he had been working on before you arrived. He shot Joel a playful look as he headed into the kitchen, handing Maria the dessert. "Your girl can bake, Joel. Lucky man."

The tips of your ears went hot and you looked away uncomfortably before Joel could catch your eye.

"I'll get us a couple drinks," Joel said, ignoring Tommy's comment, much to your relief. "What'dya want?"

You glanced around the room and what the other women were drinking before shrugging and suggesting wine. He followed Tommy over to the living room where they kept their liquor locked up and away from their toddler, who was gleefully playing with another woman you didn't recognize. Popping your head into the kitchen, you spotted Maria all by herself working on dinner.

"Maria," you said with a smile, and she turned around with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, I'm dying here, can you help me?"

"Of course," you said, rolling up your sleeves. "What do you need?"

She put you to work right away, chopping up vegetables and dumping them into boiling water before helping her thicken a sauce she was making for some pasta. You were just about to taste test the product when Joel and Tommy joined you in the kitchen with the drink that he promised.

"Smells so fuckin' good in here," Tommy said loudly before taking a generous sip of whiskey and giving Maria a quick peck on the lips. Joel put your wine glass near you on the counter and you shot him a thankful smile before bringing a spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. You winced and scrunched up your nose and Joel chuckled.

"It's missing something," you explained, putting the spoon back down as you examined the spices available to you while Maria was instructing Tommy on doling out the appetizers.

"Lemme try," he said, rounding the corner to stand next to you. You handed him the spoon and he held up his whiskey. "Hands are full," he told you teasingly, and you rolled your eyes with a grin before dipping the spoon back into the sauce and lifting it to his mouth. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon, closing his eyes and making a soft noise at the taste. Your knees suddenly felt weak and your face felt hot as you struggled to compose yourself before he caught you.

He opened his eyes slowly and ran his tongue over his upper lip to capture the remnants of the sauce and you had to resist the urge to swipe your thumb over his mustache to gather the rest. It made your breath hitch in your throat and you forced yourself to look away, mentally cursing your body's reaction to him.

"Lemon," he said huskily, then took a sip from his glass while still staring down at you. Your eyes drifted up to his and you saw that look again. The one that made you feel too many things at once: nervousness, excitement, pressure, confusion. So you took a deep breath and squeezed past him, having no choice but to brush up against his chest.

"You're right. It needs lemon," you said, finding one in the mess on Maria's counter and slicing it in half before squeezing it generously over the sauce. Joel leaned against the counter, one arm caging you in from behind as you worked. You tried to ignore how close he was but you could feel his breath on your skin and it was causing your pulse to race. Fortunately, Maria came to your rescue.

"How's it going?" she asked, and Joel pushed off the counter, stepping back to give you both some room.

"Good, I think the sauce is done," you told her, and after she gave it a little taste, her eyes lit up.

"So good!" she said, clearly pleased. You felt your cheeks heat up before gesturing towards Joel.

"Thank Joel. He thought of the lemon."

Maria shot Joel a smile and thanked him as he tipped his glass in her direction before taking another sip. "Happy to help, ladies," he said.

"Go enjoy the party, I got it from here," Maria told you, shooing you away.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"Yes, I'm sure! I'm just going to plate everything and we're good to go. Help yourself to some appetizers before they're all gone," she said, turning her back on you as she started pulling down serving platters.

You picked up your wine and took a sip, hoping to quell some of your nerves as you let Joel lead you into the living room where the party was in full swing. Tommy had his daughter balancing on his shoulders as he talked to a couple men, their wives at the other end of the room in the middle of a lively conversation. You chewed your lip, glancing back and forth before you took another sip and looked up at Joel.

"Guess I'll go see what's got them all worked up," you told him, nodding your head in the direction of the other women.

"You sure?" he asked with a frown. "Don't want you feelin' uncomfortable. We can stick together if y'want."

You shook your head and stepped away. "I'm fine," you told him before forcing yourself to join the other women. As you approached, you gave the women a friendly wave to catch their attention and they beckoned you towards them with open arms. They all seemed to be around your age range, give or take, and very friendly as they took the time to re-introduce themselves to you. You politely listened to them talk about their kids or jobs while you sipped your wine and nodded along. When three of the women became engrossed in a story about their children and school, you felt yourself begin to zone out. The girl standing next to you, Hannah, caught your eye and smiled.

"Do you have any kids?" you asked her, and she shook her head.

"Not yet. I don't think we're ready, you know?" she said, glancing over your shoulder at her husband. "But one day I think we will. How about you and Joel? What are your plans?" she asked, then her eyes went wide with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. That was a dumb question, you probably don't... ah, I'm such an idiot," she said, and you laughed.

"No, you're not, it's fine," you assured her as her cheeks began to flush.

"I guess I just keep forgetting about your accident. That was so rude of me," she said, "I see you guys together all the time and it seems so normal."

You glanced over your shoulder at Joel, watching for a moment as he laughed heartily at something one of the other men said. "Yeah," you told her, turning back around, "I can see why you'd think that."

Her gaze drifted between you and Joel for a moment before she lowered her voice and took a step further away from the other women. "So you still don't remember anything, huh?"

You shook your head sadly. "Nothing. At this point, I'm not expecting anything to come back. I'm just trying to start over."

She nodded solemnly and took a sip from her wine. "How's it going with you two?" she asked, tilting her chin in Joel's direction. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Same old questions, different person.

"Okay, I guess. He's been incredibly patient," you said, "but I think he is still holding out hope that my memory might come back and we'll just pick up right where we left off."

Hannah gave you a sympathetic look right as Maria approached with a big smile stretched across her face. "Dinner is served!" she announced to the room before bending down and stretching her arms out for her daughter.

Everyone began to scatter as couples rejoined and headed towards the dimly lit dining room. Joel appeared by your side, his hand hovering over your lower back as you waited for the other couples to take their seats.

"Havin' a good time?" he murmured, and you gave him a tight smile before nodding. Joel pulled out one of the two remaining chairs for you and you whispered your thanks when you sat down, then he pushed it back in before taking his own seat. He relaxed and stretched his arm across the back of your chair while he listened with amusement to Tommy drunkenly telling a story that had carried over from the living room.

"The table is beautiful, Maria," you told her, leaning away from Joel a bit. "It's so cozy and warm, you really outdid yourself."

She smiled as she bounced her little girl on her knee. "Thanks. We were just itching to do something, you know? We got a little cabin fever, I think."

You felt Joel's thumb brush lightly against your spine, making you shiver. But when you glanced over at him, he was still caught up in listening to Tommy and you wondered if those little gestures were intentional or if it was muscle memory.

Once everyone began to eat, Joel dropped his arm from your chair and you found yourself missing the warmth that radiated from him, confusing yourself even more. Sometimes you just wanted to hit your head against the wall and rattle your memories loose so you could stop feeling so conflicted. If you were this confused, you couldn't imagine what Joel was feeling. Although, at that moment, he seemed to be perfectly content as he stood up with Tommy to get another drink.

"Y'want any more?" Joel asked, nodding to your glass but you shook your head.

"Maybe later," you said, and when he caught your eye he gave you a quick wink before following Tommy back into the living room.

"So, how's it going at the infirmary? Still like it?" Maria asked, drawing your attention back to her.

"Yeah, I do, actually. That was a good idea, I've been meaning to thank you," you said, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin. "It feels good to stay busy and I'm learning a lot."

"Well, Nick always speaks so highly of you. Especially after that nasty flu worked its way through town. He said you were a godsend," Maria told you while simultaneously handing her daughter a steamed carrot.

"She was. Worked her tail off all week then had to deal with me when she got home," Joel said as he sat back down with a soft grunt. You smiled at him, grateful for the compliment.

"If he's anything like his brother when he's sick then I'm sure you've earned sainthood status," Maria said to you, making everyone laugh.

"Hey, what're you sayin' 'bout me down there?" Tommy slurred with a grin from the other end of the table. You were fairly certain Maria answered him with some sharp remark which made the table laugh again, but you couldn't exactly remember because Joel dropped his hand to rest on your knee and you suddenly couldn't think straight. Your skin felt hot under his touch, even through your jeans, and you could have sworn the whole room could hear how loudly your heart was pounding in your chest, so you anxiously grabbed your wine glass and finished the rest in one gulp, hoping it would steady your nerves.

You could have asked him to move his hand. You could have made an excuse, gotten up and used the bathroom, but you didn't. You remained perfectly still, allowing his hand to rest on your leg as you tried to focus on the conversation at the table. Because although your mind was saying one thing, your body was always reacting differently.

If you had known what would have ended up happening that night, you would have done something in that moment. Maybe if you had, it would have changed everything.

Instead, you sat there and didn't say a word. You just politely listened to everyone talk with Joel's hand still on your leg while your body and mind waged a war nobody could see.

When Maria stood to hand off her daughter to Tommy and clear the table, you joined her, finally ending Joel's grip on you. The other women stood while the men attempted to help but got shooed into the living room. When all the ladies were alone in the kitchen, Maria pulled out a jar of apple flavored moonshine that she told you all quietly she was hiding from Tommy because it was her favorite before passing it around for everyone to have a taste.

It was strong. Each of you had to stifle your coughs into your hands, which erupted into giggles and eventually caught the attention of the men, so you all did your best to distract them after they curiously poked their heads into the kitchen so Maria could hide the jar once again.

In retrospect, the alcohol didn't do you any favors. Your head was swimming a little by the time dessert was served and you found yourself inadvertently leaning into Joel's shoulder as everyone complimented your pie and he watched you adoringly while you waved off the praise.

The food was amazing, but combined with the drinks, you found your eyelids growing heavy as the party moved back into the living room and Maria took her daughter to bed.

"I think I'm going to get some air," you told Joel while everyone else got comfortable.

"You alright?" he asked, examining your face closely. You nodded.

"Just getting tired," you explained as you took a step towards the door, but he immediately put his glass down.

"Why didn't you say so? We can go home."

"No, it's okay-"

"You've been workin' so hard lately. You need your rest. Go get your things and I'll tell Tommy we're headin' out," he said, refusing to hear another word. And as much as you didn't want to tear him away from the party, you had to agree with him. The past couple weeks were physically draining and it definitely seemed like the exhaustion was catching up with you.

Once Joel announced your departure and everybody bid you good night, you each grabbed your coats and slid on your boots before heading outside. The brisk night air was a shock to the system and it helped wake you up a bit on the walk home. Joel wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked, holding you close to him, enveloping you with his warmth and when you inevitably reflected on that night, you would remember that moment as one on a long list of ways you were sending him mixed signals because you didn't pull away. Because as confused as you were about your feelings for him, you couldn't deny the attraction you harbored. And maybe it was partially your fault for not being stronger because you knew, you fucking knew Joel's feelings for you were far deeper than yours that night, and yet you still didn't step away.

When you arrived home and Joel fumbled clumsily with the door, you giggled, making him grin and his eyes light up at the sound before finally shoving the door open and flicking on a light. You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your boots with a sigh, the faint smell of apple pie still lingering in the air. You were happy to be in the comfort of your own home and eager to throw on your pajamas, but Joel led you into the kitchen first and poured you some water. You couldn't help but smile at how reminiscent it was from when he was sick and you did the same thing for him, so you took it and made sure to drink the whole thing while he watched with a pleased expression on his face.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?"

The glass was still pressed against your mouth, the last drops of water just swallowed, and you froze. Slowly, you lowered the glass to the counter and shook your head, unable to look away from his heated stare.

"Well, you did. Lit up the whole place. Prettier than all the other women," he said, fighting to remain still and not pull you into his arms. But he was losing that battle.

"Thank you," you said softly, forcing yourself to look away. It didn't deter him.

"I mean it. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Talkin' 'bout you," he said, watching your face heat up as he blinked slowly. "Lookin' at you," he added after a quiet moment, and you laughed softly while you crossed your arms protectively over your chest.

"Joel..." you began, not even sure what you planned to say so you opted for staring blankly out the window just so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"What, baby?" he murmured, taking a bold step forward and pinching your chin with his fingers. You dragged your gaze back up to him just to find his dark brown eyes all wide and filled with hope and tenderness as he stared down at you, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, clearly displaying his intention but you still didn't step away. Your body wouldn't let you move.

"We're both drunk," you told him, trying to remain rational. Trying to stay clear-headed.

"Not that drunk," he quickly countered, his eyes still roaming your face, his fingers still pressing into your chin and you could feel your heart flutter wildly. Why on earth couldn't your mind catch up with your body?

You sighed, partially from the exhaustion, partially from the inability to properly express yourself but he took it to mean something else. He heard your sigh and thought you were finally giving in. That you were finally going to let him kiss you. Because why else wouldn't you have pulled away?

He leaned forward, his eyes slid shut, and although you should have known it was coming, it still surprised you. Your eyes stayed open wide as he inched towards you and finally at the very last second, you tilted your face to the side, causing him to press his lips against your cheek instead.

You felt his reaction before you could see it. His lips immediately tensed against your skin and his breathing stalled. Then his hand dropped from your chin and he leaned back, eyes no longer warm and inviting.

You tightly pressed your lips together in shame. "Joel, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he said quickly, cutting you off and backing away.

The hurt was evident across his face, although he tried to hide it by averting his gaze.

"I just don't think I'm there yet," you said after a long, tense moment. "I'm trying-"

"Yeah, I know," he replied harshly, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen. "I know you're tryin' to force yourself to love me. It's gotta be real hard, I get it," he spat, his voice so cold it made you shudder as he shoved his boots back on.

You choked back a sob as you watched him grab his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know," was all he said before flinging the door open and storming out, leaving you all alone in the entryway with tears slowly streaking down your cheeks.

What an absolute fucking idiot he was.

What was he thinking? That you would magically find him attractive again? Love him again? That he was worthy of your time and care and attention? After everything he did?

You didn't know, of course, but what else could it be, other than fate? Or karma? Or whatever it was, coming back and erasing all your memories of him to set things right? Because did he ever really deserve you in the first place?

No, definitely not. Not after everything he did.

His legs carried him blindly to the Tipsy Bison. It was a quiet night, and maybe had he been in the right frame of mind, he would have been surprised. Most of the town was cooped up the past couple weeks, under normal circumstances he would have thought it would be busier, but at that moment in time, he didn't care. He only cared about one thing: he needed to forget.

He motioned for Seth and he nodded in acknowledgment before pouring him his usual whiskey and setting it down. Joel snatched it up and immediately downed it with a wince before pushing the empty glass towards Seth.

"Another, please," he muttered before burying his face in his hands with a groan. Seth eyed him suspiciously before pouring his second drink and setting it back down on the bar.

Joel let the glass sit there a few minutes while he stewed in his anger. He wanted to blame you, but he couldn't. Not really. He knew it wasn't your fault but, fuck, he just wanted you back. He was so goddamn lonely that it made his chest hurt. He rubbed it absentmindedly before picking up his glass and forcing himself to take a slow sip. He had already drank too much at Tommy's and if he didn't want to wake up with a massive hangover, he had to slow down.

"Hey, cowboy," a familiar, flirty voice suddenly said from beside him. He tilted his head to the side and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

"Angie."

She smirked and pulled up a tall barstool, scooting her way up with a little grunt that made his stomach clench as he watched her maneuver in her tight jeans.

"What's got you so blue?" she purred as she took a sip from her drink and crossed her legs, her foot coming dangerously close to touching his calf.

"Who said I was blue?" he asked gruffly before taking another swig of whiskey.

She laughed softly and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Kind of hard to miss," she said, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him expectantly.

His eyebrows furrowed at her but she noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched and she bit her lip playfully.

"C'mon, what's the matter? You can tell me, baby," she cooed, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Don't call me that."

Angie pouted and leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear when she whispered, "Oh, that's right. How could I forget? You prefer daddy."

"Knock it off," he growled, turning away from her and ignoring the stirring below his waist, but it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.

She rested her delicate hand on his forearm and his muscles twitched, but he didn't move. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed being touched. And in that moment, any touch would do. She smiled and slid her hand up his arm slowly, and he let her, his eyes fixed somewhere in the opposite direction as he tried with all his might to ignore it, to fight it, to stand up and fucking leave, but he couldn't do it.

"So tense," she murmured in his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can help with that, y'know." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his lap and had Joel's eyes been open, he would have seen Seth's eyes widen in surprise before looking away. "We're real good at it, remember?" she continued, her fingers inching towards the seam of his jeans. But before she could reach between his legs, his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Stop it," he said weakly, forcing his eyes open to glare at her, but she just smiled sweetly at him and pulled her hand back.

"I need to use the restroom," she said, her voice sultry. "You remember where the ladies' room is, right?" she asked with a wink before sliding off the stool and swinging her hips as she strolled down the hall towards the bathroom. He groaned and rubbed his face roughly.

He wasn't sure how it happened. He wanted to blame the whiskey, he wanted to blame you, but at the end of the day it was all on him when he found himself shoving open the door to the women's room and crowding Angie against the sink, his mouth crashing down on hers hungrily.

It was only one tiny minute of weakness. When he realized his mistake, when he remembered her lips weren't anything compared to yours, when her noises were not the noises he wanted to hear, her touch not the touch he craved, he immediately stopped kissing her, pulling back and cursing under his breath.

Angie looked at him, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed, then took a step forward but he held up his hand.

"No," he said a bit too loudly, the whiskey making his head swim as he stumbled backwards towards the door. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"C'mon, Joel. When are you going to realize she's not coming back? You need to move on," Angie said sweetly. Too sweetly. "You deserve to be happy," she added, and he frowned when the enormity of what he had done dawned on him through his drunken haze.

"Stay away from me," he warned her, reaching for the door and yanking it open.

"Fine. But just remember: you followed me in here!" she shouted after him as he disappeared down the hall. He snatched his coat from his barstool and jogged towards the exit.

He had to get home.

The carpet should have been worn to the floorboards by the time Joel finally came back. You had been pacing around the living room, chewing on your fingernails nervously as you replayed the entire evening in your head. The guilt was fucking suffocating you. You couldn't help but feel like you were partially to blame, but you would have broken his heart if you let him kiss you without fully understanding how you felt first, and he didn't deserve that. Maybe once he cooled down, he would understand.

When you heard his slow, heavy footsteps walking up the porch stairs, your heart leapt into your throat. The door creaked open slowly, as if he expected you to be asleep and he was trying to be quiet, but when he closed the door and saw you standing in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself, his face contorted into a grimace.

"You're still up," he said, voice a little raspy as he hung up his coat.

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you began, "I'm just so confused. I'm still trying to work out my feelings but I don't want to rush into something and risk hurting you."

He swallowed and hung his head in shame, unable to look at you.

"Please don't apologize," he whispered, but you kept going.

"Of course I'm going to apologize. I sent you mixed signals and I ended up hurting you anyway."

"I did somethin'," he blurted out, and you froze mid-sentence, waiting for him to elaborate. Silence filled the room, your eyes drifted around aimlessly before you sunk down onto the edge of the couch and tucked your hands under your thighs.

"What did you do?" you asked, your voice wavering when you realized he still hadn't looked you in the eye.

He took a steadying breath and propped his hands on his hips, his face still angled shamefully towards the floor. "I kissed someone else."

His words hung heavy in the air, your deep, ragged breaths the only sound filling the room as your tired mind tried to make sense of what he just said.

"What?" you finally asked, voice deathly quiet. He forced himself to look at you now, his dark eyes brimming with tears.

"It was a mistake-" he began, voice thick with emotion, tongue heavy and clumsy between his teeth, but you stopped him.

"Just now?" you asked incredulously, your stomach turning sour. Fighting the nausea back down with a harsh swallow, you spoke again. "You tried to kiss me, I shot you down and you just... went out and found someone else?"

"That's not what I left to do, it just happened-"

"Who?" you asked, your gaze stony as you continued to stare at him, anguish and regret flickering across his face.

"Does it matter?" he tried weakly, softly, but it just pissed you off even more.

"Yes," you hissed, slowly standing back up on now shaky legs. "Who, Joel?"

His throat bobbed and he shifted his weight and when he mumbled Angie's name, you saw red.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you whispered, quickly closing the gap between you and shoving him hard against the chest, causing him to stumble back in shock. When he looked you in the eyes, all glassy and cold and distraught, his blood felt like ice in his veins.

He was losing you.

"Please, lemme just explain-"

"What could you possibly have to say?!" you exclaimed, your body growing hot with rage. Hands shaking so badly you had to cross your arms to hide the tremor. "I was taking too long to fuck you so you went out and found a sure thing?"

"I didn't fuck her, but I could've!" he yelled back, an angry vein popping out of his neck at his sudden outburst. Your eyes went wide and you took a step back in surprise. He didn't know why he was yelling. He knew it wouldn't help, but he just snapped. "I never once pressured you to sleep with me! I gave you your space an-and respected your boundaries," he was flailing now, his thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to make sense. "But I'm a human fuckin' being and I got drunk and I was lonely and I made a fuckin' mistake! And I'm sorry, alright?!"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You're lonely," you repeated, the words like poison on your tongue, and he frowned. "What about me? I'm lonely, too! You know what the first question is out of everyone's mouth ever since my accident?" you asked, glaring up at him, anger rolling off both your bodies. "They ask me how you're doing. You! Like this was some tragedy that only happened to you! But I lost fucking everything in the blink of an eye!" Tears began to burn the backs of your eyes now but you pushed on. "My world literally turned upside down in an instant and everyone just kept waiting for me to get with the program, including you!"

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head angrily, "I never pressured you to do anythin'!"

"It's the way you look at me!" you cried, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "You don't even realize you're doing it but you keep looking at me, expecting to find the woman you fell in love with but she's gone, Joel!"

You both fell silent, staring at one another, shoulders heaving as you each sat with the weight of your words.

"I don't care," he finally said, lowering his voice. "I still love you. I told you that first day. What we got is rare and special and I'm not givin' up on us."

"Then how could you go kiss someone else the first time there's a bump in the road?" you asked, tone hurt and dejected, then you turned and headed up the stairs.

"I told you, it was a mistake," he pleaded, following you. "I'm so sorry... wait, what're you doin'?" he asked when he realized he had followed you into your room. You were snatching clothes from the drawers and tossing them onto your bed, and that's when he really began to panic.

"I can't stay here," you said, disappearing into the bathroom. His vision narrowed and his legs became weak as fear flooded his veins.

"No," he whispered, but you didn't hear him. You were busy gathering a few toiletries from the bathroom and tossing them on the bed along with your clothes, but when you walked past him to get a bag, he grabbed your arm.

"Don't do this," he begged. You yanked your arm out of his grip and stepped back, glaring at him and he realized in that moment he would rather have you there screaming at him for the rest of the night than not have you there at all, so he kept talking. He kept pushing.

"Y'know, for someone who says she doesn't have feelin's for me, you sure seem to be pretty pissed off," he glowered, and your eyes widened. That's it, he thought, let me have it. "If you don't want me, if you don't give a shit 'bout me, then what the hell does it matter if someone else does?"

You gasped, his words like a punch to the gut. Like a blade to your heart. Without thinking, your arm swung back and your palm cracked loudly against his cheek, stunning you both into silence.

He wanted to rub the spot, to help soothe the pain with the tips of his fingers, but he resisted. Instead, he let his cheek redden so you were forced to see what you did.

"You think I don't give a shit about you?" you seethed once you found your voice, palm stinging at your side, eyes flickering between his eyes and his cheek.

"Sure seems that way," he countered, and your jaw clenched angrily as the next round of tears began to well up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you yelled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "How dare you. You made me give a shit about you, you asshole!"

You shoved past him and headed down the hall to the spare room in search of a duffel bag, but Joel was hot on your trail. If he let you leave, he would never get you back.

"The hell does that even mean?"

You whipped around, making him stumble backwards, your eyes wild and bloodshot. "You told me you would make me fall in love with you again! This whole time we've been getting to know each other, building up our relationship and you think after all that, after everything we've shared, that I don't give a shit about you?"

"Well-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I took care of you when you were sick. I sat next to your bed for a full week, waiting for you to fall asleep, making sure you had everything you needed," you said, your voice growing quiet as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. "You told me about your daughter. I told you about my brother," you whimpered, your voice cracking on the last word. Joel's face fell when he finally realized how broken you were, the full weight of his actions realized. "How could you say that to me?" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks hot and wet in your palms. Your head ached. Your heart ached. You needed this to end.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," he told you, stepping forward and pulling you into his arms. You only let yourself melt against his broad chest for a moment before you sniffled and pushed him away. Turning around, you snatched the bag from the ground and stormed past him.

"Tell me how to fix it," he pleaded as he followed you back into your room.

"You can't."

His head was pounding, throat scratchy and dry as he watched you pack from the doorway, his chest tightening with each article of clothing that passed through your hands.

"Please. Stay. I-I-I won't even talk to you if that's what you want, just please stay."

You paused, your eyes squeezing shut as you silently cried over your bag. "You want me to stay, Joel?" you asked, voice trembling, and even though weren't looking, he nodded.

"I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly, and you opened your eyes. Reaching for your journal, you flipped it open to a well worn page and tossed it on the bed. He frowned at it, confused, but stepped forward and picked it up.

"Then tell me what you lied about."

His eyes scanned the page, reading the four words over and over. Joel lied to me. No context, but he didn't need any. He knew.

You could see the conflict in his face as he tried to figure out a way around it.

"The truth. Or I'm gone," you said firmly, and when his eyes flicked up to yours, you saw fear.

He slowly turned around, the journal held delicately in his massive hands, as he sat down onto the edge of your mattress.

"Okay."

The shock made your tears slow to a stop.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he repeated, his tone somber as he stared down at your journal in his lap. "What's the difference now, anyway? You already hate me."

I don't hate you, you thought, but you remained silent.

"If I tell you, you promise not to leave?" he clarified, and you thought about it for a moment. What if it was something really bad? But you knew you wouldn't get the truth out of him any other way, so you nodded. You figured if you still left and ended up becoming a liar, then at least you would be even.

"I told you 'bout the Fireflies," he began, and you got the feeling the story was going to be long so you sat down on the bed.

"Yes."

"You, Ben 'n Lisa were all part of a group out in Salt Lake City," he said, his gaze pinned on the journal. "In a hospital. Doin' research."

"Research? I don't know anything about-"

"You weren't doin' the research. The three of you were just guards. Patrolmen. There were doctors there, and they were lookin' for a cure," he continued, then took a deep breath before lifting his chin and staring at a fixed point on your wall.

"Did they find one?" you asked, remembering that first day when Joel told you about the outbreak. You had asked him at the time if there was cure and he said no. That couldn't be the lie, could it?

"Well, they were close," he said, his brow pinching together. "This next part is somethin' that's gotta stay in this house, y'hear me?" he asked, finally turning to look at you. "Y'gotta promise me that no matter what you end up thinkin' of me, you can't tell anyone 'bout this part."

You didn't want to make that promise. Why would you, after everything he had put you through? But, still, you found yourself nodding slowly, then his next sentence knocked all the air from your lungs.

"Ellie's immune."

Your lips slowly parted as the shock coursed through you, your eyes slowly drifting down to the comforter. Your mind was blank except for Ellie's immune, Ellie's immune playing on a constant loop.

"It's why you didn't write anythin' else, I reckon," he explained, holding up your journal. "Didn't want anyone to find it."

You slowly began to put the pieces together. A research hospital. Ellie's immunity. They were close to a cure.

"The Fireflies thought they could use Ellie to create a vaccine," he said after a long pause. "And I took her to 'em. Took her right into the lion's den," he said with a dry chuckle. "Didn't realize til after they took her that they would've had to... kill her to get what they needed."

Your eyes darted up to meet his again as you listened, entranced.

"Nobody knows, okay?" he said, his voice wavering a bit. "Only Tommy. No one else can know. Her life depends on it, d'you understand?"

You nodded, still unable to find your voice, so he continued.

"When I realized what they were doin', that they would have to kill her, I just..." he trailed off and scratched his chin, looking away, eyes distant. "I lost it. It's the only way to describe it."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I killed alotta people," he said, voice cold and detatched, "alotta fuckin' people. Whoever got in my way, I just... didn't think twice. 'Til you."

You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting you were somewhere in that hospital.

"Me?" you squeaked.

"You didn't see my face," he said, his voice beginning to shake. "None of you did. The three of you were together. You surrendered. Had you face down on the ground with your hands behind your head. Told me you were plannin' on ditchin' the Fireflies anyway. That you wouldn't come after me." His hand trembled in his lap and he made a fist.

"You weren't the first ones to say that to me, but you were the first ones I let live."

You pressed your palms into your face, trying to quell the ache behind your eyes as you rocked gently back and forth on the bed, heart thundering in your chest, blooding pumping too fast. The exhaustion was too much. You could hardly make sense of what he was saying.

"You almost killed me," you said, more of a statement than a question, your voice muffled through your hands.

"Yeah." He watched you carefully, trying to read you, desperately searching for some small glimmer of hope underneath all your rage and confusion.

"Then what?" you forced yourself to ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He ticked his jaw to the side and looked away.

"Then... Ellie 'n me came here. Started over. Tried to forget," he sniffed, pulling at a loose string on his shirt. "Then the three of you showed up couple months later. Scared the fuckin' shit outta me, but none of you seemed to recognize me."

"Because we never saw you," you said, and he nodded.

"I didn't speak to you for over a month. I was so scared you'd recognize my voice or somethin', but I just couldn't stay away from you," he said, his eyes softening now. "Then that night at the bar happened. When you came up to me and-"

"Yeah, I remember what you told me," you replied, not eager to relive that story at the moment.

"Then the rest is history. We started messin' around. You didn't know who I was for a few months, then I finally told you."

"After you were already fucking me," you said coldly, and he winced.

"After I fell in love with you."

You sat back and rubbed your eyes. You had so many questions. What was your reaction when you first learned who he was? If you stuck around, you must have seen something in Joel that made you feel safe. Why did he spare you? Was it only because you couldn't identify him? And how much did Ellie know?

"Please say somethin'," he begged after a few tense, quiet minutes.

"What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your shoulders sagging forward, limbs too heavy. "You want me to forgive you? You want me to say I understand?" He shook his head but you kept talking.

"You spared my life just to break my heart."

He turned away from you as his face crumpled. "I'm gonna fix it," he said, his throat tight and voice thick as he fought off the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. "I'm gonna make it right, if you just-"

"Can you go, please?" you asked quietly, "I have nothing else to say and I'm fucking tired."

He looked over at you but you refused to look up, your puffy eyes fixed blankly on the floor. His gaze drifted to the bag and clothes littering your bed and he asked, "Are you stayin'?"

You didn't answer. You just slowly stood up and flung your comforter back, some of your clothes falling into a heap on the floor but you didn't care as you crawled into bed and turned your back to him.

Begrudgingly, he stood. His eyes flicked around your room nervously, his fingers fidgeting at his sides while he chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to come up with the right words to say.

"Go!" you sobbed from underneath your blankets, hiding from him the tears that were soaking your sheets.

So, he left. Not because he wanted to, but because he caused you enough agony for one night, and as much as he wanted to stay and beg on his knees for forgiveness, it would be the selfish thing to do. Instead, he went to his bed and stared at the ceiling, barely sleeping the entire night because his body jerked awake at every little creak the old house made, wondering when he woke up, if you would be gone for good.

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A/N: Yes, there will be a happy ending 😘

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Collagen craze drives deforestation and rights abuses

For the first time an investigation has linked collagen powder to violence against Indigenous peoples in Brazilian forests

The stench arrives before the lorries do. They are carrying skins that were stripped from cattle carcasses days ago. Flies are everywhere.

The lorries’ destination is Amparo, a small industrial town in São Paulo state, southeastern Brazil. Here, Rousselot, a company owned by the Texan business Darling Ingredients, extracts collagen – the active ingredient in health supplements at the centre of a global wellness craze.

But while collagen’s most evangelical users claim the protein can improve hair, skin, nails and joints, slowing the ageing process, it has a dubious effect on the health of the planet. Collagen can be extracted from fish, pig and cattle skin, but behind the wildly popular “bovine” variety in particular lies an opaque industry driving the destruction of tropical forests and fuelling violence and human rights abuses in the Brazilian Amazon.

An investigation by the Bureau of Investigative Journalism, the Guardian, ITV and O Joio e O Trigo has found that tens of thousands of cattle raised on farms damaging tropical forests were processed at abattoirs connected to international collagen supply chains.

Some of this collagen can be traced all the way to Nestlé-owned Vital Proteins, a major producer of collagen supplements championed by the actress Jennifer Aniston. Vital Proteins is sold globally – including online on Amazon, in Walmart stores in the US, in Holland & Barrett and Boots in the UK and in Costco in both countries.

The investigation – the first to connect bovine collagen with tropical forest loss and violence against Indigenous peoples – found at least 2,600 sq km of deforestation linked to the supply chains of two Brazil-based collagen operations with connections to Darling: Rousselot and Gelnex, which is in the process of being acquired by Darling for $1.2bn. It is unclear how much of this deforestation, which was calculated by the Center for Climate Crime Analysis, is linked to Vital Proteins.

Continue reading.

[arlerts-angel]

Could I get a sex on the beach with a cherry on top for Rin Itoshi? :) 💕

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍹 ⋅ 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐏 !

⟢ ingredients: 18+! mdni. ノ rin itoshi x fem reader ノ pwp ノ college au ノ hate sex ノ unprotected sex (piv) ノ cowgirl ノ creampie ノ rin is mean :( he literally doesn't touch you lol ノ bimbo-esque reader ノ some degradation: variations of slut, brat, whore ノ physically ambiguous reader ノ

⟢ wc: ~550

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈'𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 was not an easy task. in his mind, everyone in his vicinity was beneath him — nothing but lowly pissants who make the mountains that he moves.

and when you did manage to get his attention, it wasn't very long... nor was it pleasant, but you had it, and that's what you wanted.

he'd scoff and act irritated beyond belief, like he was doing charity work to give you his time of day. you didn't care, though. you were determined to fuck rin itoshi.

"rin!! got a minute?" you ask, knowing his answer will be...

"i certainly don't have time for your shit..." you say in unison. he glares at your grin.

"tch. you're an annoying brat" he sighs, looking down at you with a bird's eye view of your cleavage. he grows increasingly irritated at the sight of your skimpy uniform, yet turned on by your physique.

his cheeks grew bright red and warm, and he hoped like hell you wouldn't notice both his embarrassment or the excitement in his pants.

nothing gets past you, though.

"what's wrong rin? you've never seen tits before?" you taunt with a devilish grin.

"don't talk to me like that. it's trashy. though i should expect nothing less from you" he quips.

"oooh! fiesty today!" you giggle, feeling a pool of arousal growing in your panties.

"shut up, slut" he groans exasperatedly.

"mmm keep going rin, i'm close!" you moan playfully.

"fuck's sake..! you're so desperate. if i fuck you will you piss off?! he asks annoyedly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"oh, absolutely" you reply with a smirk.

he grabs your wrist tightly and drags you to his on-campus apartment. his cock silently begging to be freed from the confine of his pants. he slams the door behind you then slams himself down onto the couch.

"you want to fuck so bad? fuck me yourself then, slut" he spits as he takes his cock out of his pants. his tip is red hot and dripping with precum.

"take a fucking picture, it'll last... wha– are you drooling?! tch" he grumbles.

you sit yourself down on his pretty cock, studying his face and moaning as you adjust to his size.

"mmm rin!" you moan, rubbing your clit while slowly moving your hips.

"you're this fucking wet? i haven't touched you... filthy slut" he hisses as his cock is enveloped by your tight cunt.

his eyes flutter and roll back as you slam yourself up and down his length, earning a few grunts and groans of pleasure. you grin and squeeze his cock tighter. "shit... just like that, right there" he groans and grips the cushions.

"nngh! rin! 'm gonna cum!" you cry out, feeling a jolt of electricity strike your clit as you reach your orgasm. your pace slows as you recover.

rin groans as he feels your cunt pulsing around his cock, then again when your pace quickens. "fuck..! ugh-!" he groans as his cock twitches one final time, then dumps his load deep inside you.

rin catches his breath while you gather your belongings. "as promised, i'll stop bothering you now" you grin.

"right, and don't even think about telling anyone about this, got it?" rin scoffs while he cleans himself off.

you nod, then see yourself out.

support banner by saradika-graphics

note: this is my first time ever writing bllk/rin itoshi smut so please let me know how this was 🥺🤲 also forgive me if i'm rusty, i feel like i haven't written in ages !!

[strbymacaroon]

Silent Love: Master-List!

Master-List:

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹ ૢ་༘࿐ Synopsis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

Yet, the tables seem to turn when he comes knocking on your door asking for your help. For something in exchange, of course.

Under one agreement, that is.

CW: Alternate Universe - College/University, Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

.・-: ✧ :ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹ Reader here on Ao3 ⊹༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter One: 14k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ New Roommate(s)

“… “I can’t deal with your sobbing when I’m trying to go to bed because he broke your heart again.” It’s the reason you're moving out, actually. That's being mean, it isn’t the reason why you’re moving out. But, it definitely is one of them…”

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Two: 9k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Sexual Tension

"...Maybe you imagined the whole thing, you were up really late and could’ve been sleep deprived. You can’t, right? That’s impossible, you’re not crazy. Besides, if you’re not imagining it, Yuuji had to have heard, right?..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Three: 11.7k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Fake Dinner Date W/Feels

"...You yell at the door. It’s way to fucking early to be dealing with this shit, why couldn’t he bother you in the afternoon? You glance at the clock on your counter, the numbers ‘2:57 PM’ glaring back at you, oh shit. Okay, fine, maybe it is time to get up..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four: 26.6k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Project Week

"...You weren’t necessarily dreading this moment, but you aren’t looking forward to it. Things are just back to being silent between you two. Now, you have to follow him around like a lost puppy..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Five: 10k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ "Good Guy."

"...You feel your stomach drop. Sukuna presses his lips together, his eyes moving up and down your frame, before naturally looking at the women besides him. He can see your expression sour from the corner of his eye, and it makes his stomach turn uncomfortably..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Six: 27.1k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Forgiveness?

"...Uruame nods, placing the things on the table. “Of course, I’m here for Sukuna.” They place the final item, and you quickly observe they’re the ingredients for cookies..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Seven: 34k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ A Lovely Night

"...“Shit! Sukuna why didn’t you—“ If possible, your stomach twists even harder. The space next to you is empty, void of any form of existing life other than a messy pillow. You feel your eyebrow twitch, before punching his pillow. That fucking lying ass son of a bi..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Eight:

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Epilogue...

[chanandlersstuff]

Bubble and Moose.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.124

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and a slow burn. If you squint, there's a "steamy" part.

Author’s note: Hello again, thanks for the paitence. My life has been a little ecthic lately and I'm sorry this took this long. There's still a second part to this part and a final part. With that being said, hope you like it and have a nice day.

gif credit @hayden-christensen

← Previous part // Next Part →

May 2020, definitely not a coworker's relationship.

After their birthday gifts were exchanged an invisible barrier seemed to be taken down, they started to talk more frequently, it didn’t matter who called who, the other answered right away. 

In the beginning, it started with her brainstorming with him about Anakin’s journey to Darth Vader because according to her, who better to tell me what seemed right than the guy you portrayed him?, but he certainly didn’t mind if he got to listen to her rambling sweet voice asking and answering herself in seconds. In the process, they leant a little in their favourite episodes of The Clone Wars Series and it was funny seeing two grown-ups discussing over Facetime a child series but they had fun and spent days. 

At some point, the brainstorming stepped into the background and movies, plays, books, series, and all kinds of things started to be recommended. His favourite moments of those facetimes were when she got passionate about what she would have done in the movies they saw, when she did all that technical talk and her face lit up, started gesticulating more and talked quickly, sometimes too quickly for his fascinated-by-her brain to comprehend. Fascinated in professional terms, not at all in the sentimental.

If someone had been looking at him while he looked at her, they could have witnessed the soft smile on his lips, how slowly he blinked and how attentive he listened to every word that left her mouth as if she was telling him the answer to cure world hunger. 

But it was just the two of them talking for hours by a phone screen, while in reality, they were dying to be next to the other on the sofa talking face to face, close enough to touch but without really doing it for fear of being too much.

It was a normal day, which meant that their breakfast routine remained but with the little twist of being in quarantine. Her phone was resting on something and he, from his sofa with the cup she gifted him in hand, had a clear view of her moving around her kitchen making coffee and pancakes. It was intimate, so intimate that it overwhelmed him a little but at the same time made him happy. 

“How’s Canada?” She was mixing her ingredients.

It took him a few seconds to answer, too distracted by the flour in her cheek and the need to pass the screen to wipe it himself. “I wouldn’t know,” He took a sip of his tea “I'm not there.”

She looked at him frowning, and the mixing stopped. “What? I thought you were quarantined in your house.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t know you, I would think that you were one of those people acting as if all this mess is a sick joke.”

He laughed at her irritated face. How can I take that face seriously when it’s too damn cute and, on top of it, has flour on it? “I would never, you know that.”

“I know, that’s why I said If I didn’t know you.” Add ‘duh’ to the phrase and she was calling him dumb. “Are you paying attention to me, Starboy?” She asked with her hand on her waist, like a mom when she was mad at something.

Yes, I can only focus on you when you are present and even when you are not, you are the only thing I can think about. “Yes, Little Miss, so drop that tone.” He was about to take a sip of tea but smiled, and giggled when he saw her rolling his eyes at him. “Don’t do that either.” And just to infuriate him, she rolled them more exaggeratedly. It’s too early in the morning to go to that place, Hayden, so don’t do it. Plus you would not be able to come back. Keep it professional. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I'm here in LA.”

The bowl almost fell from her hands and her mouth was opened in surprise. “You’ve been here this whole time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Bri and her mom live here so I’m staying here to be with her and not see her over a screen. It’s tedious.” It’s tedious seeing you over a screen too, but it would be more tedious to not see you at all.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She nodded while pouring the mix into the pan. “But that’s sweet of you. You are a great dad, Hayden.” It came to his notice that she said his name only in important/serious matters and when she wanted him to know she was telling the truth.

And oh how he loved it when his name rolled out her lips, how he would like to hear it in the most unprofessional, not pg-13, scenarios and tones. Drop it, Hayden.

Mid May 2020, clearing doubts and new beginnings.

He was alone in his house, Briar was with her mom and although he tried to read, watch a series and even designed something for his patio, nothing could take his mind out of her. She plagued his mind more frequently at that point and the last time they Facetimed was a couple of days ago.

Fuck it. He was calling her. Her contact name was ‘Little Miss’ staring back at him, no picture. It rang for a few and when he was about to hang up her face came up. 

She was looking at the side, her profile in clear view. Airpods, messy hair falling into her face, eyebrows frowned, mouth a little agape and his eyes got lost in how she licked her lips before talking. What would they taste like? Was she talking to him? Was she talking with someone else? Was he interrupting? Was she with someone else? 

“Hey.” Her tone was cheerful. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” He nodded, still with his eyes locked on her lips. “You?” She was looking at something away from her phone, making funny faces. “I called at a bad time? I can call you later.”

This time she looked at him with a tiny smile on her lips. “Not that your calls bother me at any time,” he smiled at her words. “but can I call you in twenty?”

With the smile you are giving me, how can I ever deny you? “Yeah, of course. Take your time.” He nodded with a smile on his lips

“Thank you, I’ll call you right back.” She blew him a kiss and hung up before he could even react.

Was that a kiss or I’m hallucinating? Her lips looked more beautiful than normal or it was just that I hadn’t seen her in person for such a long time? He went to the kitchen to get something to drink and watch the sky to clear his mind because all that he thought about were those lips.

Time seemed to fly while he admired the sky, from the outside, but in reality, he was comparing the feeling of her lips to the sensation of touching clouds. Both foreign to and, yet, Hayden could bet all the money in his bank account that they were soft, heavenly-like, addictive and like nothing he had ever experienced in all his years of living. Not very professional of you, Hayden, thinking about your coworker’s lips.

The sound of his phone ringing brought him back to the real world and with a smile he answered. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” Her hair was still messy but with no frown. He tried to not look at her lips to be able to focus on her. “Sorry about earlier.”

An apologetic smile appeared on her lips but he shook his head. “Not at all, you were occupied?”

“Yeah,” she lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, “the kids arrived like two seconds before you called so they were all over the place.” While she was moving around the place, he caught a few glimpses here and there about her house.

“Kids?” He had one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to the side. 

“Yeah.” A smile appeared on her lips. “Not mine but something like that.” Okay, that confused him as hell and she seemed to notice it. “My niece and nephew.” 

He nodded remembering. “I’m sorry, I assume you had kids and-

He was quick to apologise but it was her turn to shake her head. Laughing. “It’s okay, Hayden.” Hearing his name coming from her lips made him smile widely. “I talk about them as if they were mine, so the confusion is expected.”

He looked unsure but she smiled at him. “So they stay with you?” She was looking up from the screen from time to time.

“Yeah, my sister and brother-in-law are doctors,” he listened attentively to her words, cheering for her trust in him “So, the kids stay with me to be safe.” and nodded. “Besides I’m the fun cool single aunt with a big house that lets them get a little wild from time to time.” She laughed at her own words.

And he did too, tilting his head back. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down in full display for her to see. When he looked back at her, he caught her just in time licking her lips and her eyes a little lost. What’s she looking at? Lost something? Her cheeks have always been that red or has it happened now? The thoughts started clouding him so he cleared his throat and her eyes travelled back to his. “It’s nice that you are taking care of them.”

“Huh?” He smirked, she giggled and he did too. The laughter of one made the other laugh harder as if they were little kids again. Five minutes passed before it died down and it wasn’t even that funny. “Oh God.” She cleared a tear from the corner of her eyes, while he chuckled. “What did you say?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “That is nice what you are doing.”

She smiled at his words. “They are the closest I have to my own kids, it’s not like I’m adopting orphans or donating piles of money to the health of my country.” In the last part, she gave him a knowing look and before he could say something she kept talking. “It’s the least I can do while their parents are saving people and risking their lives.” He nodded understandingly.

They kept talking for a little while until she had to hang up, but this time there was no kiss blown in his direction. Which made him a little sad, if he was honest. Why would you? You two are nothing except coworkers.

A few weeks passed when they didn’t Facetime as much as before because he didn’t want to interrupt her time with the kids, he knew how handful one kid was, let alone two. Plus he was trying to keep his emotions at bay, they were starting to get wild and he couldn't let that happen. But, they texted frequently, small things here and there to stay in touch, although he preferred a thousand times more seeing her face. A little contradictory, don’t you think Hayden?

He and Briar were cooking together, more like the little girl was sitting on the island while he did all the work when Facetime came in. "How hard can it be to build a kid's playground?" Her desperate voice reached his ears, making him laugh.

"Hello to you too." He teased her.

"Hi." It came all muffled by the groan that left her lips. 

His eyes found Briar's, who was giggling, and he did it too. "Now, tell me. What are you building?"

She exhaled loudly while he kept making lunch. "I bought a small kind of playground or something like that." He nodded, a little confused. "Thinking it couldn't be that hard to put together and surprise! IT IS." The pair, father and daughter, laughed again. She lifted her head from the papers in her hands for the first time and looked at him with a frown on her forehead. "Am I interrupting something?" 

He shook his head and Briar, with the curious nature of a five-year-old, moved her head to see his phone. "Hello." 

"Oh hi!" She looked surprised but with a smile on her face.

"I'm Briar Rose, and you?" The little girl introduced herself and she did too, still with a smile on her lips and a cheerful tone. "Where are you friends with my daddy?" She asked innocently. "Briar Rose!" Hayden said in his dad's tone.

But she laughed, a genuine laugh. Not like the ones he heard her give when she was nervous or uncomfortable, so he relaxed. "From work, we are working together." See?! COWORKERS! She said it herself.

The little girl nodded. "Bri, you helped me choose a present for her a few months ago, remember?" She seemed to think about it and then nodded.

"Oh, you helped him?" Briar nodded eagerly and she smiled. "I loved the flowers, they were so pretty. Thank you." She bowed her head and the little girl blushed a little.

He couldn't see her face directly, because Bri's head was in the way while she got comfortable in front of the phone, making him smile. "Really?" 

"Yeah." Just by her tone, he could see her, in his brain, smiling. "I put them on a desk in the centre of my office so everyone could see them." Those little blue eyes opened wide in surprise "Every person that entered my office that day, loved them. You picked right." and a big happy smile appeared on her face.

Hayden saw how closely Briar was looking at her, how she tilted her head to the side from time to time while they talked. "Why are you building a playground?" He looked at them from the corner of his eyes.

"My niece and nephew, Brianna and Daniel, are 6 and staying still is not their thing." He laughed, picturing himself as a little boy and understood what she was saying. "The other day they told me they missed the park."

"I missed it too, but Daddy has a swing on the patio for me," Briar told her and she opened her eyes in surprise, following along. "So I don't miss it that much."

"Well, I had a similar thinking to your Daddy's" What? Come again? "and since I cannot watch them being sad, I bought a small playground for our patio." The little girl nodded.

"In a cool, fun aunt way." He added. 

"Exactly." She laughed and the little girl did it too. "Besides, I don't want Daniel jumping out the balcony ‘cause he's bored out of his mind.” He raised his eyebrows. “I swear to you, that kid is wild.”

They laughed, the three of them. "So you bought a playground for them?" Hayden asked in disbelief.

"Kind of?" She sounded unsure and Briar laughed.

He looked at the two of them with a smile on his lips. "Do you even have the tools to set it up?"

They looked at each other and she had that irritated face that he found so cute, so endearing. A big smile appeared on his lips, unwittingly, naturally. "I'm not silly, I bought everything at once."

"Of course you did." He said under his breath found it funny. You and your like for order.  

She nodded, putting a wild strand of hair behind her ear. "In my defence," she held her finger up and he raised an eyebrow, ready to hear her excuse "It seemed like a great idea." She sounded so sure, so convinced.

"How?!" He was frowning, his deep tone a little higher than normal.

She got comfortable behind the screen and they did too, their lunch almost ready. "I ordered it the next day they told me that, and with the protocols and everything, it arrived a day after they left, which is today." They nodded. "I thought of building it myself so when they came back, in like a week give or take, they would be surprised." 

"That's nice," Briar said.

"I know. Thank you, Briar." She winked at the little girl and she tried to mimic but failed, making the two adults laugh. "But I didn't think it was that hard to build it!”

The little girl giggled, making her father, and her, laugh. “It didn't come with instructions?” 

“Yes.” She shook the papers in her hand for him to see. “and I saw a few YouTube tutorials but it's not as easy as it seems.” They laughed again. “So I was this close” she put her pointer finger and thumb a little close to measuring “to a mental breakdown when a lightbulb went on in my head so I said ‘Hey, I have a friend” Friend?! That’s an improvement from coworkers. “who's really into design and architecture and has a beautiful daughter” she winked at Briar, making her giggle “so he would know how to help me’ and that’s how we are here.” She finished with a big smile on her lips and batted her eyelashes as if that was necessary for him to help her.

The little girl looked at him with a smile, fully engrossed with all that was happening. “What do you say, Bri, should we help her?” He looked around, thinking, tapping his chin with his finger, acting as if he was weighing his options, but his beloved daughter tugged his shirt, impatient. “Yeah, daddy, help her.” Hayden looked at her, at that smile on her lips, then at Briar who was mimicking the face she had moments ago. “Okay, we will help her.”

They both celebrated, even high-five through the screen, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips, the warm feeling that ran through his body and the hope. Hope? Hope of what? Keep it professional Hayden. 

After she sent them photos of the instructions, at his request, they had lunch, over Facetime, while he looked at everything from his tablet and they, Briar Rose and she, chatted. Scratch that, Bri did all the talking while she listened closely. 

She told her about her classes, about his dad’s farm and all the animals, asked about her niece and nephew, and all kinds of topics they did. All that, while Hayden half listened to them, looked at them interact with a smile on his lips, and half daydreamed, but never once reading at the papers in his tablet, always acting as if he was. 

Stop it, Hayden, you are working together. You already went down that road and the only good thing that came out of it’s Briar, so don’t even think about it.

"Isn't that right, daddy?" Briar was looking at him but he frowned, a little lost. “She looks like Bubble.”

“As in The Powerpuff Girls?” But the little girl shook his head.

The brunette was thinking of any recent character his daughter saw that could resemble her. She was wearing a green flannel shirt, too big for her, that matched her skin tone, her hair held up messily, making it seem like she had a pixie cut and lighter, by the light that was hitting on it, and glasses, he noticed she was wearing them more frequently. I like how they look at you. Really? Not very professional of you.

“Bubble like the fairies movies, Daddy. The one we watched the other day, remember?” He was really trying to remember what movie she was talking about because they watched too many. 

But she seemed to realise what she was talking about. “Tinkerbell?” Briar nodded eagerly.

“The one with big glasses, wearing green, that's always building something and it's funny." She explained. "Bubble!"

If he remembered correctly it was a male fairy and his name wasn't Bubble. "Oh, the one that was in love with Tinkerbell?" Briar nodded again. "Bobble.”

"Bubble." The little girl corrected, but even though it was wrong, she nodded.

Haydey found it extremely cute, and funny, the resemblance his daughter found in her. A little magical, mythical, figure a little bit clumsy, extremely passionate about his work and art. Briar Rose wasn't that far from reality, they were similar but at the same time, she was like no one he ever knew. 

"Bubble." He tasted it on his tongue and it suited her just fine. 

She laughed, shaking her head "I'll take it" and arranged her glasses. "But, if I'm Bubble, you, my friend" Again with it. she pointed at him "Are going to be Moose." A smug smile appeared on her lips, his little girl laughed and he did too, amazed at the name.

"Moose?" He asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "You are Canadian and tall as a door. It suits you just fine."

"Fair enough, Bubble." She smiled, proud, with her chin held high. "And me?" Briar asked, not wanting to be left out, looking at both of them.

"Can I?" She mouthed, her eyes connected with his, asking for permission, and he nodded. "What you say about 'Princess'?”

Hayden knew she would love it. "Yes! I love it!" The little girl danced in her seat. They looked at each other, she was frowning but he gave her a smile, to reassure her it was alright and she nodded.

June 2020, planning dates and weird texts.

Saying their relationship was becoming something more was an understatement and that put him in a tough spot. They were more than coworkers, that much was for sure. They were friends? Probably on her part, but Hyaden had feelings he felt he should not have. Feelings? I know nothing about that. That’s very unprofessional. Feelings he would not speak about. Feelings he would deny and bury deep inside him because it was unprofessional. So, the only rational reaction he came up with was to distance himself a little, but not too much. They still talked over text and Facetime, but the last ones were from time to time, weeks in between them, not as often as they used to. 

He and Briar were watching some movie, comfortably lying on the sofa, his little girl with her feet on his lap really engrossed in the movie ‘Anastasia’. A recommendation the little girl got as soon as ‘Bubble, what movie should we watch now?’ left her lips. When she found out that her daddy’s friend made movies, she was over the moon, asking for movie recommendations left and right, almost like Hayden did on one of their facetime at the beginning. 

This was one of those times when they were texting about God knows what. Sometimes they had separate conversations while texting each other like they were having their own monologues on the same chat. 

I've never understood why people in movies used to send boxes with people inside as a gift

He frowned at the text, tilting his head to the side. 

Huh?

WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Type or what?

The three dots appeared and seconds later the response came. 

Not that gore

But you know, like when someone jumps out of a cake

Like a surprise 

His frown deepened.

What movie are you watching?

Singing in the rain

A smile appeared on his lips. 

You have something for musicals, don’t you?

Shut up, Moose

He couldn't contain his laugh and Briar shushed him. “I’m watching the movie, daddy.” The little girl complained. 

“Sorry, sweetie.” He smiled at her, not that she paid attention to him, and looked back to his phone. 

You definitely have something with them, because I’m watching Anastasia and that’s on you

It’s a great movie, Bri is going to love it

He nodded, watching how invested his little girl was with the movie. 

She already does

And you are not even trying to deny the musical part

They are my guilty pleasure, shut up

He chuckled, tilting his head back. Who would have thought? 

So……

People jumping out of boxes/cakes are not your thing I gather

Of course not, like that's scary as hell. 

He laughed, again. 

Don't laugh

A frown emerged on his face, a little surprised.

How did you know I was laughing? 

‘Cause I know you

Those words made him smile, proud of such thing.

And people laugh when I tell them about my unusual fear

For some reason, it didn’t seem right to him that someone laughs at her fears, no matter how small or foolish they seemed. 

I promise not to laugh

Tell me about it

It was true, he wanted to know about it. About her. 

Why would someone do something like that? 

Why would someone want the birthday person to have a heart attack for the scare?

Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?

No, it’s common sense

Sure, Bubble, whatever let you sleep at night

Certainly not that idea 

Call me when that happens, we will take care of it together

The together part put a smile on his lips. In a friendly context, nothing more.

I will

To put your mind at ease, I promise to never send you those kind of things 

Thank u

He could see her with a smile on her lips, that kind, sweet, smile so characteristic of her. 

A couple of days later they were Facetiming, he called because he missed her voice but he was trying to mentally keep his distance. It was like a battle was being held inside him. I miss your voice, but saying it out loud may be too much. It may change everything and I don’t want that. I’m not prepared for that.

“Are you okay?” Her voice brought him back to reality.

The brunette nodded “Yeah, why?” with a frown on his forehead.

She shrugged, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, I-” She seemed to think about her next words and he raised his eyebrows, curious about them. “It’s gonna sound lame, but I feel like we don’t talk as much as we did before.”

The sadness Hayden saw in her eyes, even through his screen, made him heartache, but he knew she was right. That wasn’t what I wanted. No, don’t look at me like that. Please. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He was quick to apologise but she shook her head. “I have lots of things in my mind.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. It wasn’t at all my intention.” His eyes could see her manicured hand on her chest and a little frown on her eyebrows. “I meant it as, I know this whole staying-at-home thing is taking a toll on people and their mental health, so if you want to talk about it, or don’t, just know I’m here, Hayden.” The sincerity in her tone took him aback, but it shouldn’t have. 

One time, he made a fleeting comment about his mental health after finishing Star Wars in 2005, trying to make his advice more clear for her. Hayden didn’t think that she would remember it, but it seemed he was mistaken. She remembered everything that came out of his mouth. The donations to Canada, his love for architecture, an embarrassing story about his childhood, his birthday, every little detail. So why wouldn’t she remember that little comment? 

The sudden trainwreck of emotions inside him almost made him choke. “Thank you, Bubble.” There wasn’t a need for words, his eyes told her everything with how shiny they were and the smile on his lips was so soft, so sweet.

A sincere smile appeared on her lips, but she shrugged again. Taking a little off the emotion and seriousness of the moment before it became too much. “You would do the same for me.”

“Of course.” He said not missing a beat.

“So you don’t need to thank me.” She winked at him and that simple gesture made him feel lighter.

They stayed like that, talking for hours, making up for the lost time, enjoying seeing the other faces and hearing their voices. He moved from his studio to the kitchen, ready to start dinner for one, while she was still seated in her patio with her book on the same page she was when he called. 

As she watched him move around his large kitchen, she couldn't help but become entranced by his movements. The allure of his every gesture left her feeling a little lost in the moment. “What are you cooking?”

He scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “Pizza.” She giggled when she saw that the tip of his nose was full of flour. “What are you laughing at?”

“You look cute with your nose full of flour.” She said in between laughs. 

He rolled his eyes but blushed at the compliment. "Well I can't clean it right now so, focus on something else other than my handsome face." He teased her.

"It's going to be a very hard task focusing on something else." She followed his lead. "Your beauty is very distracting." Was she teasing me back? Or was she telling the truth?

"Haha, very funny, Bubble." He kept his face down, looking at what he was doing for her to not notice the blush that started creeping to his cheeks.

"I'm hilarious, I know." She moved her hair back, with a smug face. And he laughed but rolled his eyes. "Back to the pizza."

"Yeah, back to the pizza."

"You pick a few skills from Little Italy, I see." She got closer to the screen to watch what he was doing.

"First of all," he raised a finger full of flour "I was a very good pizza aficionado before the movie-"

"Show-off" She faked a cough.

He rolled his eyes again, trying not to laugh. "But, yes. I picked a few things up." He mixed the sauce.

"I wouldn't know, I have never tasted it." She had a tiny smile on her lips and her eyes had a particular shine. Or maybe it's the light from my house playing tricks with me.

"Maybe when all this pandemic is over, I can cook for you." He said looking at her, what he was doing was long forgotten, his attention solemnly on her.

The smile on her lips was breathtaking mixed with the warm light of the sun on her patio made the image burn in his brain. "I will like that very much." 

His heart was beating furiously inside his chest. "It's a date then? I'm having a heart attack, surely. There's no other explanation.

She nodded, with a tiny blush on her cheeks. "It's a date." A bright smile, teeth and all.

Well, so much for keeping it professional Hayden.

July 2020, seeing you shine. 

The night was darker than normal and more humid than usual in July. Not a sound could be heard in his house, besides the one caused by the weather. The hot summer weather was starting to bother him a little so the storm that was rising outside made him happy.

Miss Bubble

You up?

Confused as hell, he looked at the hour. What was she doing up at three in the morning? Was she alright? Something happened to her? Was she in danger? All the possible bad scenarios were occurring in his head, so he called her. 

Pick up, Bubble, pick up. Not long passed before she answered him. 

“Are you alright?” Those were the first words that left his mouth when her face came into view. 

She nodded “Yeah, you?” confused.

The brunette frowned. “Yeah. Something happened?”

“No. Why?”

“Cause you texted me at three in the morning and I thought that something had happened to you, so I got scared.” He explained. 

She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. “Sorry about that, I truly didn’t mean to.” An apologetic smile appeared on her lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, it’s really sweet.”

“Are you okay?” His heart was still beating furiously. 

“A little guilty but 100% fine.” She gave him a tight smile. Hearing she was right relaxed him, all the muscles in his body loosened. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nono, I was already up.” He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his feet on the little table there and resting his phone on the thigh, cigarette in the other hand. “Why are you in the dark, though?” He squinted his eyes to look at her better.

The sound of her sitting comfortably could be heard. “I love thunderstorms and being in the dark makes them more beautiful.” You are beautiful, even in the dark. “What about you?”

He smiled at her “I'm enjoying the peaceful silence and the sound of the rain.” and took a drag of his cigarette.

“I can call you back some other time, at a decent hour.” She quickly said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

She could see him shaking his head, thanks to the warm light that was illuminating his face. “No, no. It's okay.” He reassured her with a smile. “We can enjoy this together.” Again with the ‘together’. “you, your thunderstorm and me, my silence.”

A massive thunder illuminated the sky and he saw the big smile on those lips. “I would love that.” She was smiling because of me or because of the thunder?

“Great.” He smiled, getting comfortable.

Who knows how long it passed where his gaze took turns looking at her and then at the water falling against his big window. Her doe eyes were looking in the distance, her lips curving in a smile every time a thunder made everything tremble. The light it provided made her, in his eyes, illuminated, and shine. A few times their eyes connected and a tiny smile appeared on her lips. 

Unknowing to him, she looked at him every time she felt his eyes move from the screen. Fascinated by how the cigarette smoke danced around him with the warm light that was reflecting on his face and making his hair look golden-like and his eyes had a particular shine. The artistic part of her wanted to be there, on her knees in front of him, in the angle she was from her phone, with her precious video camera in hand recording every second of him smoking that damn cigarette. 

It dangled over his large fingers, but it never quite felt, on the way to his lips. Oh, those lips. They wrapped around the filter part and he hollowed his cheeks, making his bone structure more prominent. How would it feel to trace his face with the tip of my fingers? Maybe, just maybe, to finish off killing her, he exhaled the smoke through his nose tilting his head back. How can he make something so deadly as smoking, so hot, so alluring? Her eyes traced his neck, the veins there. Where is his weak spot? Can I find it with my lips? 

Hayden felt her stare on him, how she was tilting her head from side to side the whole time he took a drag, slowly, just to tease her. When he moved his head, just a little bit to see her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating normally and started a fucking race. Her cheeks were flushed, even in the dark he could see it. Her lower lip was caged by her teeth and the need to free it made his hands itch. When he finally reached her eyes, oh those eyes, pupils dark and intense, lost in him, lost in desire.

If her eyes were dark, the blue in his was long gone too but that didn’t stop him from looking her up and down. The grip she had on the blanket around her was so tight that her knuckles were losing colour. The fine strip of her pyjama top was falling from her shoulder, leaving him free access for his eyes to trace the journey from her clavicle, to her neck to the jaw. He gulped at such a display of skin, feeling like a horny thirteen-year-old, Will I ever have the privilege to feel her skin with my lips?, like he travelled back in time and was one of those men that get horny by a glimpse of an ankle.

Their eyes finally met and it was like someone left hell and heaven gates opened. They were on Facetime but the tension, the burning sensation, around them was real. They both felt it. But at the same time, they were sure that giving in would be like touching the sky. It would be a sin I would be glad to commit.

Hayden said her name in a low and husky tone. His tone is going to be the death of me.

"Hayden," she replied, trying to keep her own voice steady, but failing miserably. Whisper my name in my ear with your soft tone. Shout it at the top of your lungs too. 

That simple gesture of saying the other’s name made the tension grow stronger. Their hearts were racing, they were heavily breathing.

He leant closer, and brought her closer, more like his phone screen, to say something. What are you going to say, Hayden? That you want to cross the line so far with her so damn much it would look like a fucking dot if you look back? That you know it’s unprofessional the feelings you have for her? That those eleven years between you two are going to be the death of you? 

She swallowed hard, ready for whatever he was going to say. Are you ready to admit that you have been dying to kiss him, tangling your fingers in his hair, since the first day you saw him? Are you going to tell him that only by looking at you he makes you weak on the knees and that you have to mentally restrain yourself to not giggle and twirl your hair?

There was only one thing that was running around in their minds. Not physical, because there were plenty of those in their heads. God, I wish you were here with me, I wish I had you right here in front of me so I could kiss you. Show you all the things I feel for you but that I’m too cowardly to tell. 

A very loud thunder broke the bubble they were wrapped in and brought them back from the tunnel they were getting themselves into. He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling of his house, taking a deep breath, while she arranged her hair and sat straight. “Look at the time.” What, Hayden? Are you an idiot?

“Yeah, it’s-” She cleared her throat too because her voice sounded breathless “It’s getting late.”

The brunette nodded, agreeing with her. “Yeah, yeah.” Truth be told, it was like five-thirty in the morning. 

The two fools bid goodbye, saying that they would be heading to bed and that they would call some other time. But instead, they stayed sitting in their respective houses. Going over and over again what happened. How they almost gave in in the heat of the moment.

September 2020, you never cease to amaze me.

If the sweet moments were too much before, the sexual tension of that July night was something that went out of their hands. 

Since that call, Hayden’s brain has been playing tricks with him almost every night. Dreaming all sorts of things with her, it was divided between the nastiest of them and the most domestic too. Railing her watching the Eiffel Tower, leaving love bites all over the visible, just for him, parts of her body and then taking a walk on the French streets hand in hand, or having coffee in the morning and cleaning the foam off the tip of her nose and then kissing it.

Dreaming of her never failed to leave him wishing for more, praying for more. After a very vivid, specific, hot dream where he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the eyes for a good couple of days, he had to put space between them. So the facetimes were a big no because the dream kept repeating in the back of his mind, every day, and looking her in the eye would make a mess of him.

But now, after nearly two months, he was more than happy to look at her beautiful face. Eager even. Why? Curiosity got the best of him and he had googled her, just to see her work and ended up watching a movie of hers. To say he was fascinated, and amazed was understandable. Hayden always knew she was incredible, but the way he ended up at the edge of his seat, wanting more of her art, was something that didn’t happen every time he watched a movie. 

 She answered right away, her glasses on the bright of her nose. “Hi.” 

“You…you…” she looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “you are a work of art.” Coming up strong I see. The truth in his voice, in his eyes, came from his heart.

Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips “What?” and a little laugh escaped them.

“I just watched one of your movies and…and…” she looked like a deer caught in headlights “and it’s amazing.” A smile adorned his lips. “You are amazing.” 

She dropped what she was doing and looked directly at him. “You really think that?” 

“Of course.” Sincerity laced in his tone. “I think that since I met you, sorry if I never told you, Bubble.” The way she looked down, hiding her cute smile, made his hands itch to lift her chin to be able to see it in person.

“A little reminder from time to time, wouldn’t harm you know.” She joked, making him laugh.

“Sure, I’ll remind it to you.” He winked. “But not all the time, we wouldn’t want you to be a show-off.” It was her turn to laugh about it. Her sweet laugh was music to his ears.

Hayden turned into a fan of hers, bombarding her with questions left and right about what inspired her, why things were how they were in the movie and every little detail about it. And she happily answered it, giving him her complete attention.

The title ‘Little Miss Director’ was too small for her, actually, it didn’t fit her at all. In his eyes, and surely in the eyes of everyone who met her, she was a great director, a splendid artist worthy of awards. It didn’t matter that she was young. The brunette was eager to see her in her element, in the field guiding the team so that the vision she had for the script, which she was putting sweat and tears into making, would come true.

“Ewan’s words did not make you justice, nor to your work.” 

She frowned. “What did he say?”

“Basically, that you were amazing.” She giggled, nervously, blush creeping to her cheeks. “But nothing more, I tried to pry details away but he didn’t slip, not even once.” He joked and a true laugh escaped her lips. A proud smile plastered on his face by the fact of being able to make her laugh.

She nodded. “At this point, I think he’s as proud of me as my dad.” They laughed.

“He is!” The brunette reassured her. “Crazy proud.” 

“I adored him.” She confessed and he nodded, feeling the same for the Scottish.

You adore me too?  “And he always said that you are a well-deserved award winner.”

She opened her eyes big, “Yes, I have a few.” and mumbled.

At that point, he was comfortably seated on his sofa, hand supporting his head and his attention fully on her. “I know.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I may or may not have googled you.” He admitted hiding his face, a little ashamed. Perfect, now she would think I'm some creep stalking her. But her sweet laugh reached his ears.

“Please tell me how unflattering the pictures are?” She asked, still laughing. “I’ve never googled myself.”

He shook his head. “There’s no pictures of you.” She frowned. “Which I found odd for someone who has three Spirit Awards under her belt, one feature film nominated in Cannes and one Caméra d’Or.” He had a proud smile on his lips and she blushed but with a smile so big it closed her eyes. “Absolutely amazing.” He clapped at her and she blushed harder. “I’m crazy proud of you too.” While I’m at it, why don’t I tell her that I have a 13-year-old boy crush on her? Make myself 100% embarrassed.

Maybe it was the lighting in her house, maybe it was his imagination, but Hayden could swear she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Hayden.” The brunette nodded. 

They talked a little more about the awards and the technical aspects of the movies she made. “One thing I still don’t understand is” she raised an eyebrow, curiously “How a face like yours isn’t plastered all over the place?”

“Is that a compliment?” Her head tilted to the side. 

“Of course it is,” he said, nodding. “You are absolutely beautiful.” Subtlety is not my thing, clearly.

It was like he was trying to see how many times he could make her blush in a single conversation. Because those words made her red like a tomato, to the point she could feel how warm her cheeks were. “Thank you.” And he bowed his head again, happy to compliment her. “The photo thing is because I try to blend in as much as possible,” he frowned, “which is easy, when what all the people are most interested in is taking photos of the young models and big actresses there.”

He tried to rack his brain thinking of what young models or actresses had that she hadn't. And the answer was nothing. She was beautiful, like a breath of fresh air, fashionable and had a smile that could light up any room. But behind everything physical, she was funny, artistic and intelligent like no other. Hayden was pretty sure his words came up short if he tried to describe her. 

“Besides,” her voice brought him back, “I wanted to be taken seriously at that time for future works, so if there wasn’t a picture of me it was better.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be judged by my age, which people tend to do.” She pursed her lips. “No one would hire me to do a movie if they found out I was that young when I started. Not that the no pictures stopped them, because when they saw me in person a few backed down from the offer, but I fought tooth and nail for my art, my work.”

The scene in the first reading table came to his mind. “You still do.” She nodded. “That’s why you ran after standing your ground in the incident with the writer that time?”

She nodded. “He was rude as hell, not the first time that a male writer was rude to me, but the condescending way he said it boiled my blood.” She remembered, shaking her head. “I had to get away from that room before I lost my mind.” That was why he hadn’t found her when he looked for her. “But, back on topic, I like having a low profile”

He nodded, “Yeah that’s a feeling I can resemble.” She raised her eyebrows for a few seconds. “I like my private life.”

“I totally agree, like I will not make my life a circus for all the media to pick apart.” They were both nodding eagerly, happy to be thinking the same thing. “I mean, I'll pose if it's strictly necessary, otherwise I'll avoid it like the plague.” She said laughing.

He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What you mean?”

She shrugged. “All the flashes and screams, being the centre of attention, the madness, I don't know, it gives me anxiety.” He knew what she was talking about. “And I like being behind the camera, I’m much more comfortable there.”

It was a little criminal to him that something as beautiful as she liked to be hidden from the lenses, away from the world to witness, but a tiny part of him, the selfish part, loved being one of the few who really knew her, or was starting to do. 

At that point, the list of things Hayden noticed about her turned into a notepad. The things he kept learning about her day after day, text after text, facetime after Facetime, meant a lot to him. The trust she had in him made him feel special.

Next Part →

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[just-jordie-things]

home run - inumaki toge

word count: 5.5k warnings: swearing, idk anything about baseball so it’s mostly made up summary: toge helps coach you on how to play baseball before the big game for the exchange event.  you can’t stop flirting with each other.  (unestablished relationship!) more info: aged up characters! jujutsu tech is a college, still usual first and second years a/n: remember when i said this edit had me in a chokehold well i wrote this forever ago for myself and the toge loving bbies :) ___

When it was announced that the second portion of the Jujutsu Exchange Event would be held via baseball game, (y/n) visibly paled.  So much so that she’d been instantly teased by one of her underclassmen for her obvious discomfort.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to play baseball!” Nobara threw her head back as she cackled obnoxiously.  “It’s the easiest sport!” 

“Kugisaki don’t be rude” Megumi grumbled, kicking his friend in the ankle as punishment for laughing at her superior.  He seemed to be the only one who cared about such formality.

The group of them, the first years and second years, had been heading back towards the building for a lunch break in between events.  She dragged her feet along the path, wishing time would slow down and stop altogether before she had to step foot on that field.

“I know how to play,” (y/n) defended herself, but her hold on the strap of her sheath tightened with her anxiety.  “I’m just not good at it” She admitted in a quiet voice.

“That’s okay! We’ll try to give you an easy position then!” Itadori offered kindly.

She gave the boy a weak smile, grateful for his positive attitude, but still feeling the pang of embarrassment.

How she sucked at such a simple game was beyond her.  Had it been a proper duel, she would be an excellent candidate.  Swinging a sword- or nunchucks or spear or axe- came easy to her.  Which she was able to demonstrate in the first part of the event.  She’d scored quite well for her school, even when outside forces interrupted the fun and games and things had gotten real very fast.

But when it came to swinging a bat and hitting that dumb little ball, she whiffed it almost every time.  It was humiliating, knowing she had the strength to cut a head clean off a body, but couldn’t play a game that was mostly catch.

Her pace slowed until she lingered behind the rest of the group, who were busy assigning positions for the coming game.  If the ground swallowed her whole for the next few hours, she wouldn’t complain.  

“Tuna tuna” 

Lifting her gaze she found Toge stopping in his tracks as the rest of their classmates headed up the stairs without them.  Even with his collar zipped up, she could see he was smiling at her, undoubtedly pitying her helplessness.

“Put me to sleep, Toge,” She sighed dramatically, to which he chuckled.  “I’m serious,” She mutters at him.  “This is going to be so embarrassing, I wish we could’ve just done something else.  Like archery” 

He shrugs his shoulders, before glancing back at their friends again, seeing they were already headed inside, and apparently hadn’t noticed their separation from the group.

He turns back to her again, and tilts his head for her to follow him.  She does so without question, partially because she didn’t want to sit through an awkward lunch where the group planned what position would be easy enough for her to handle, but partially because she had taken such a liking to him that she’d follow him anywhere he tried to take her.

This wasn’t new.  Since the day they met the two of them had been close, hitting it off like they were old friends reunited.  His cursed speech never proved to be an obstacle, it hadn’t taken long for (y/n) to understand him as if onigiri ingredients was her foreign language choice in grade school, and she made an effort to always ensure they were having proper conversations that she’d have with anyone else.

Well, not entirely.  She didn’t exactly flirt with everyone else or whisper with hushed giggles with everyone else, but you get the point.  They clicked.

It doesn’t dawn on her where he’s leading them until they’re approaching the baseball field, and when they do, she lets out an exasperated groan.

“Toge, no” She whines, giving him pleading eyes to spare her from more embarrassment.

He rolls his eyes back at her, and grabs her by the wrist to drag her along the rest of the way when she tries to plant her feet and stay put.  She could go boneless and let him literally drag her, but she stumbles and follows along anyways.  Perhaps once he saw how terrible she truly was at the sport, he’d give up on helping her practice and ditch her out here.

Although she knew this couldn’t possibly be a real possibility.  He wasn’t capable of doing such a thing.

“Salmon!” He cheers when he finds that all of the equipment for the event had been prepared, helmets and gloves sitting neatly on the bleachers, and a tall basket of baseball bats ready to be used.

He pulled one out, smacking the head of the club in his other hand as though to analyze it, even though they were all brand new and had never been touched.

He looks up at (y/n) with a grin that just barely peeks out of his collar.  She frowns back at him.

“Don’t do this to me,” She pleads.  “I thought we were friends” 

He laughs again, and tosses her the bat without warning.  At least her reflexes are sharp enough that she catches it without difficulty.

“Salmon!” He cheers for her, and she shoots him a more deadly look.

“I can catch things,” She mutters, turning her gaze to the bin of baseballs and the gloves lined up on the bleachers.  “It’s the rest that I’m shit at” 

He scoffs at her in disbelief, but he had yet to see the proof.  (y/n) chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched him select his own bat, and then nod at her to follow him to the plate.

If she ran away, he probably wouldn’t chase her down, she figured as she followed him up to the white rubber base- just as untouched as the rest of the equipment.  She dismisses the idea just as quickly as it crosses her mind though.  She wasn’t capable of ditching him, either.

Toge gestures for her to stand a bit in front of him as he takes his stance at the plate.  She does so, holding the hilt of the bat loosely as she rests it on her shoulder.  He continues to gesture for her to understand what he’s doing.  First it’s to his feet, spread evenly but not too far from one another, just enough to keep his balance solid.  Then he bends his knees the slightest, probably to give him a good range of motion.  She could understand this much.

Then he holds his bat out towards her as he carefully maneuvers his hands around it’s handle.  His grip tightens, and then he looks up at her expectantly, as though asking, got it?

She nods back at him wordlessly, and then he goes back into straightening up his stance.  Her eyes track every movement with intense precision, wanting to commit every detail to memory.  From the angle that his left elbow rests at, to where he holds the bat just behind himself, ready for the swing.

He raises his eyebrows at her, which she doesn’t notice right away since she’s too busy studying everything about his stance rather than his face.  She could almost hear the teasing voice behind the look he’s giving her.  Good, right?

“Mustard leaf?” He asks, in that exact tone she’d heard in her head.

“Yeah yeah, I got it” She nods.

He nods back at her, and then slowly goes through the motion of a swing, so she could clock every detail.  After he finishes the follow through, he repeats the motion properly, swinging the bat with full force.  Enough so that she can hear the aluminum cutting through the air.

He asks his question again when he’s done, and again, she nods at him.

“Yeah, I think I can handle that,” She says.  “Should I pitch for you?” 

Toge shakes his head and waves his hand for her to come up to the plate.  When she stops just in front of him, he giggles, and drops his bat to the ground so he can reach out and take hold of her shoulders, so he can properly guide her to the base.

Despite the way her face heats up when he keeps his hands on her as she tries to copy the way he’d just been standing there, she doesn’t mind feeling a little shy about it.  Feeling shy around Toge wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as having him teach her this simple sport.

In fact, it was never embarrassing to be reduced to a blushing mess around him.  It happened too often for her to feel any shame in it, but it helped that she often brought the same behavior out of him, too.  She just couldn’t see his pink cheeks when he’s standing behind her, mumbling unintelligibly as she took her stance.

She’s certain of herself once she raises the bat behind her shoulder, almost knocking him in the head, but Toge swerves and hopes she doesn’t notice.

“How’s that?” She asks with confidence.

His hands fall from her shoulders as he checks her over, and he winces behind his collar.  His lack of response has her looking over her shoulder with a frown.

“Really?” The confidence is zapped out of her straight away.

He chuckles, and shrugs his shoulders with a small smile as if to ease her worry.  Then his hands are on her again, guiding her arms to the proper places where she’d have the best range of motion.  The toe of his shoe taps the inside of her left foot, silently prompting her to slide it out just a bit further.  She follows the instruction until he raises his hand.  Then he gives her a beam and a nod of his head to confirm she was positioned just right.

“You’re sure?”

“Salmon” He reaffirms.

He steps back then, twirling his finger around in the air so that she could show him her swing.  She looks unsure, but she lets out a breath and lets her body follow through as naturally as she could.

She feels good about it, but she doesn’t know any better.  When she looked over to Toge again, he had just unzipped his collar, ready to cheer when she swung just fine.  Instead, he wears what she would call his polite smile.  It was his friendly way of displaying something wasn’t quite right, but he was too nice to critique harshly.  (y/n) frowns back at him.

“That bad?” She asks quietly when he approaches her again.

His smile brightens and he shakes his head at her.  He was far too nice to her.  If Maki was training her, she gladly would have laughed in her face before barking out orders on how to shape up.

Toge hand waves about, telling her to take her stance again.  This time her footing is just right, and he beams proudly at the improvement.  She manages a smile back at him, his silent praise giving her a little more confidence in learning.

He does a little circle around her, making sure everything is as it should be.  There’s a pause in his step just behind her, where she’s holding her bat.

“Bonito flakes” He pats his hand over once of hers, and she fixes up her grip on the handle, then turns to look at him.

“Like that?” She asks, not sure of what her mistake had been.

It must not have been fixed, because he reaches his hand to hers, gently fingers prodding at her hand in silent instruction until she loosends her hold.  He quickly raises his hand away again, giving her a thumbs up.  Her grip was still secure, but her knuckles weren’t white with tension now.

After that, Toge comes behind her again, poking at the top of the baseball bat before giving her an affirmative nod to take a swing.

She does as told, slowly of course, so as not to smack him in the face on her follow through.  He stops her before she even finishes, his hand patting her shoulder so she’d fix up her stance again.  Third time was the charm, and her posture and hold are perfect as she straightens up.

“Tuna” The quiet instruction to pay attention is whispered in her ear as he takes a small step closer so that he could guide her properly through the swing.  

One hand lays over hers on the handle of the bat, and the other slides around her opposite arm until it stops at her elbow.  Her face is so hot now she wishes she was wearing one of those dumb helmets to at least hide it a little.

He guides her through the motion slowly, his hand on her elbow wobbling a little.  It takes her a second to catch up, but she realizes he’s telling her that her swing was uncoordinated.  She nods in understanding.

Before she gets the chance to take her stance again, he’s already guiding her back to the proper position, his eyes studying her grip carefully to be sure everything is in order.

He’s so close now that she can feel his soft breaths on the back of her neck, and baseball is quickly becoming the furthest thing from her mind.  The hand that is resting on hers is so soft but so firm in it’s hold, making sure she didn’t strengthen or loosen her grip in the slightest.  If she shuffled back even an inch, her back would hit his chest.  It’s unbearably hot today, she’s grateful she thought to tie her hair up so it wouldn’t stick to the back of her neck, but she has half the mind to close those last pesky inches of space between them.

“Mustard leaf?” Toge’s hand pats at her elbow, beckoning her to pay attention.  He must’ve noticed she’d zoned out.

“Sorry,” She mumbles, snapping back to reality.  “You’re being distracting”

She’s scolding him, he can tell in the tone that she doesn’t mean it to be one of her more usual flirty comments.  Nonetheless, Toge preens, grinning down at her, even though she was trying to avoid looking at him.  It was hard, seeing as he was right there, and even standing behind her he was tall enough that he could see a blush creeping up her cheeks.

This time, rather than let her swing on her own, he moves her through the motions himself.  It’s horribly slow, especially when her swing reaches it’s apex and he’s pulled even closer from the motion.  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she struggles to keep her focus on paying attention to her form.

“Salmon” Toge gives her a smile as he finishes guiding her through the follow through.  He’s certain she has the technique down now, but when she looks at him, her expression is defeated.  His brows furrowed in confusion.  “Mustard leaf?” 

“This isn’t going to work,” She huffs, lowering the bat until it almost hits the ground.  “It’s too..” She trails off, waving her free hand around in a sporadic motion.  “Too much!” 

He seems to catch her drift, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles at her.

“Don’t laugh at me”

He sticks his bottom lip out at her in a dramatic pout.

Her brows pinch together before drawing upwards, pleading with him not to mess with her more than he already had.

“I’m sorry I’m not getting it!” She cried, her leg bouncing with her irritation.  “But you’re the worst teacher!” 

“Bonito flakes!” He took offense to the comment, and (y/n) gave him a deadpan look.

“You know what I mean,” She says in a quieter volume.

He tilts his head and feigns a confused expression, just to watch her blush and squirm.

“You’re being a jerk you know” She tells him, her eyes locked on his even when he walks closer and grins in her face.  He’s waiting expectantly for her to explain what he already knew.

He flustered her.  It wasn’t the first time, and most certainly wasn’t the last.  But truthfully, Toge hadn’t been aiming to flirt with her.  He just wanted to help her out with her swing.  Seeing her blushing and flustered was just an added bonus.

She’s the first to surrender.

“Okay fine,” She lets out a heavy breath and raises her bat again.  “Show me one more time, then you can pitch for me” 

Toge’s grin is plastered on his face as he repositions himself again, but this time she swears he’s standing just a little closer than before as he guides her hand and elbow through her swing.

He lets out a low whistle when he draws her back again so they can practice through it one more time, even though (y/n) was certain now that she had it down.  She starts to pull away, but before she can tell him that she thinks she has it now, he tuts at her and drags her back towards him.  This time her back does hit his chest, and she doesn’t protest again.  

Even though her footing is all off, and there’s no way she could deliver a proper swing when his chin is tucked against her shoulder where her bat should hover.  He’s close enough that he can see- and hear- the heavy gulp she swallows.  He giggles at her before pulling away the hand he had on her elbow.  He lets out a small mumble of an onigiri ingredient she doesn’t quite catch because his breath is hitting the crook of her neck and he’s just so close that she feels dizzy.  He brings his hand up to her neck, knuckles skimming over the nape and then along the junction of her shoulder so he could pull away the few strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail.

She giggles at the ticklish feeling, and he forgets that he’s supposed to be coaching her as he raises his fingers to brush over the spot again.  This time she tilts her shoulder as she laughs again, a jerky motion as the muscle reacts on it’s own accord, but it brings his face closer to hers as she does so.  He laughs to himself just from hearing her giggles as he continues to tease the sensitive spot.

“Toge!” She tries to shove him away, but he’s quick to drop his other hand from where she had a hold on the bat, wrapping his arm around her front and holding her hip firmly so she couldn’t wiggle away from him.  He laughs almost too joyfully as she continues to giggle and squirm in his hold.  “Toge! Qu-quit it!” She stammers over the relentless giggles he forces out of her, and it seems to only spur him on further.

She’s reduced to broken gasps between her fits of laughter, and the bat falls from her hand before she realizes.  Even when it bounces on the sand and rolls across the ground she doesn’t pay it any mind, too busy using her free hand to try to grab at his arm and get him to loosen his hold on her.

Her attempts are futile.  His hold on her is firm, and even when she gets a good grip on his sleeve, he retaliates by keeping her snug against him, and then lifting her off the ground altogether.  Her feet kick and scramble, somewhat from the lack of ground beneath them, more-so from the way her body reacts to his continued tickling.  Both of her hands are now occupied by gripping onto his arms to keep her anchored somehow, but even in the delirious state he’s sinking her into, she knows he wouldn’t drop her.

Eventually Toge’s laughing at her too much to care about continuing to tickle her, even though he took great amusement in it, he was now entertained enough by having her in his arms, even if she was kicking at the air for him to put her down.

She’s shouting his name between bursts of giggles that still escape her like after shocks.  The sudden bout of goofiness from him is a little lost on her, but even as she hollers at him to put her down, her threats are empty.  She sinks into his hold and accepts whatever fate he has in store for her.

Her head tilts back until it hits his shoulder, and she can just barely peek up at him.  His face is split with a grin, lavender eyes hooded and dazed as he gazes back down at her.

Toge’s never needed words to flirt with her.  Sure sometimes his texts had certain incriminating emojis, and the notes he’d pass her in class were also damning evidence of his affections.  But (y/n) could feel all of that coming from him just from the way he looks at her, like right now.  He had an intense gaze, and she was sure that if she was brave enough to not break away from the eye contact, that she could penetrate his mind and read his thoughts directly.

Finally, he sets her down, his grip on her loosening, just as her hands on his forearms did once she had her feet on the ground again.  She giggles at him, giving him a cheeky little smile as she turns to properly face him.  Her hands take hold of his wrists as she ensures the proximity between them doesn’t shift too much.  

Logically they should get back to perfecting her swing, the lunch break would be over soon and the game would begin shortly after.  Not that logic is able to cling onto a single thought in her starry eyed stupor.  She looked up at him like he was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen, softening before him in her gaze and the smile on her lips.

She had been patient, at least she thinks she has.  She’s enjoyed the little game they’d been playing, the lingering touches, the flirty remarks met with longing gazes.  Their mannerisms were anything but platonic, and if anyone were to snatch their phones they’d scramble to delete their messages with each other.

But it had been quite some time of this game as she’d affectionately referred to their… whatever this was.  And her patience was wearing thin waiting for him to make a move.  She didn’t know what he was waiting for, she was certain that she’d made her position clear.  Especially now, clinging onto him and staring up at him expectantly.  It was just the two of them, and they were so close, it wouldn’t take much for him to just fucking kiss her already-

Toge’s movements are quick as he pulls his arms so his wrists fall out of her hold, only for him to squeeze her hands quickly before moving past her.

“Tuna mayo” He beckons her to follow him back to the plate, but she’s stunned in place for a minute.

Did he really just brush that off? She shook her head as she went back to home plate, picking up her bat and tapping it against the ground to shake off the excess sand that had clung to it when she’d dropped it.  Had she not communicated well enough through her eyes? She’d stared at him with her best ‘kiss me now!’ look.  Her brow furrowed as she watched Toge grab a glove and baseball from the leftover equipment.

He jogs out to the pitcher’s mound, giving her a thumbs up and an affirmative cheer.  With a determined look on her face, (y/n) straightens up her stance, her hands curling around the handle on the bat until muscle memory took over and she found the correct hold on it.

Toge throws a perfect pitch, his movements clean as his long limbs work in harmony to send the baseball hurtling towards her.  Her eyes never leave the ball as she tightens her grip, takes the smallest of steps forward, and swings.

The crack sounds so loud the aluminum trembles in her hold from the harshness of her hit.  Even Toge’s impressed enough that he’s frozen as his eyes follow the flight of the ball over his head.  He was confident in her ability, after some coaching anyways, but he wasn’t expecting such a solid swing.  Had Jujutsu Tech gone the cheap route and got wooden bats, he was certain this one would’ve been ruined.

As if having the same thought, their eyes simultaneously rip away from the ball’s trajectory towards the outfield, and they look at each other expectantly.  

They both break into a full sprint in opposite directions.  (y/n) drops the bat haphazardly as she takes off for first base, and Toge’s racing to the outfield in the hopes of miraculously catching the ball before it lands.  However, it’s already begun it’s descent so the odds are slim to none.

(y/n) knows she should keep her focus on running and hitting all the bases properly, but she can’t help but throw her head over her shoulder to keep an eye on Toge.  He scrambles to grab the ball just as she’s touching second base.  

She squeals with delight when he makes a break for home plate, and tries to push herself to run faster, but she’d already decided to give this run of the bases her full power, seeing as it was just the two of them.

He’s gaining on her when she crosses third, and a string of laughter escapes her from the anticipation.  It’s not a real game, but her competitive nature had been tapped into as soon as she struck that ball, and now all she cares about is winning.

As home plate nears she can feel Toge getting closer.  She doesn’t dare look at him again, instead opting to do whatever it took to get her on that plate before he can.  Her heart is racing, she’s panting for air, the sun is beating down impossibly hotter, but she doesn’t care.  She’s about to take the win.

Toge has other plans, darting around her and coming up on the plate with more speed than before.  She gasps in offense at his drive to take this from her, but it sparks that competitive fire in her again, and she comes up with a faster plan.

With as much momentum stored as possible, she drops to the ground.  She falls with grace but hits the sand unceremoniously.  The course grit is uncomfortable on her skin as she slides across the ground with the force of her body weight.  Her dominant leg is outstretched, foot angled outwards in the hopes of touching that damn white plate before he can.

She cheers in premature victory when she feels the brush of solid rubber against her sneaker.

The pride is short lived when she feels another foot collide with hers just as the rest of her body is sliding over the plate, and before she can stop herself, she’s effectively tripped Toge right off his feet, and he’s falling to the ground.

They both barely let out a yelp in surprise before he’s crashing into her.  He just barely braces himself with his palms hitting the sandy ground on either side of her head, so his full weight doesn’t hit her, but she’s still properly knocked the wind out of him.

The look of shock on her face fades away as she begins to giggle.  The corners of her eyes crinkle and her smile only grows wider as the giggles grow louder.

“I did it!” She cheers loudly, even though his face is inches away from hers.  “I hit a home run!” 

“Bonito flakes” Toge mutters, and she’s not sure if he’s cursing for her knocking him down or if he’s correcting her because technically in a real game that wouldn’t be a home run, but she doesn’t care.

She ignores his indignation completely.  Her hands shoot up, grabbing either side of his unzipped collar, earning a startled look in response from the sudden impact.

Her eyes light up, and Toge blinks to make sure he’s reading this look right.  The way her lashes grow heavy as her eyes flicker in between his a few times, before lowering to rest on his lips.

His lips? She’s looking at his lips? 

In her moment of not paying attention, his own gaze lowers, mentally tracing the soft edges of her smile.  He thinks he’s quick when he brings his line of sight back to hers, but she’s staring right at him again, and her smile is brightening, having caught the glance.

“Just kiss me already” 

She’s barely finished the command and he’s obeying it like she was the one who bore the snake eyes and fangs.  Leaning down the rest of the way so quickly his hands shuffle in the sand to fix his center of gravity before his lips slant over hers.  She kisses him back instantly, and with fervor, her soft lips moving against his in a quick pace.

Once Toge has a good balance, he shifts so that he only needs to hold himself up with one hand, so that the other can gently cradle her jaw.  His fingers skim over her neck before resting in her hair.  He’s getting sand all over her skin, but she’s already covered in the stuff from her showboating slide to home plate, so he figures she won’t mind.

She hums in delight as her own hands begin to travel.  The sound is heaven to his ears, and his nose prods against hers as he moves to deepen their kiss.  She’s tracing over his shoulders and then the nape of his neck before diving into the soft strands of platinum blonde that aren’t even damp.  Seriously, didn’t they do the same amount of sprinting just now? He didn’t break a sweat? 

The thought makes her let out a little chuckle, and their kiss finally breaks when she does.

Toge’s brow furrows at her in the slightest, wondering what she could find so humorous, but she looks so pretty like this- laughing, beneath him, with kiss swollen lips that were his doing- that he doesn’t even mind.  He just admires her while she blinks a few times to ease her vision to the sunlight.

“It’s nothing,” (y/n) mumbles when she sees the faint confusion in his expression.  “Was just startin’ to think you’d never make a move” 

Toge chuckles back at her, finding some humor in the comment.  He’d been waiting for her, she was the one with all the flirty remarks after all, but he won’t complain.  He could tease her about it later.

He leans back so she could sit up properly, and takes her hand to help her up to her feet with him.  She begins to awkwardly brush the sand off of her clothes, but quickly realizes it’s no use and gives up.  They share a laugh at her weak attempt to dust off.

“Have you guys been out here this whole time!?” 

A distant holler steals their attention, and their classmates are making their way to the field.  Toge frowns at the realization that their alone time was over, and now they had to gear up for the finale of the Exchange Event.

(y/n) notices the sour look, and squeezes his hand to bring his attention back to her.

“Hey, how about another game?” She suggests with a glint of excitement in her eye that should make him nervous, but he nods eagerly.  “If we win this game, we can hang out in my room after,” She suggests, and then her cheeks turn pink.  “And make out some more?” She adds in a softer tone, the confidence in the offer evaporating as soon as she’s actually saying the words out loud.

Toge’s face lights up as he nods in agreement to her rules.

“What!?” Panda’s voice booms and echoes throughout the field, and was likely heard even past that.

Toge and (y/n) share a wince.  They’d conveniently forgotten about Panda’s enhanced hearing abilities.

Judging from the curious looks from the others and Panda’s erratic movements as he spoke, it was clear that he was telling everyone else what he’d overheard as well.

“Cheer for me when I hit a home run?” (y/n) beams at Toge, who nods back at her happily.  He raises his hand, sticking his thumb and pinky out before shaking his hand in a ‘hang loose’ motion.  A simple action he did often to show support for his friends.

“Salmon” He affirms.

“Okay, I’ll cheer for you too” She says sweetly, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, before making her way to their approaching friends, eager to tell them about her success with baseball.

They were more curious about the bases she hit with their resident cursed speech user rather than the actual bases of the game.  

… then again, so was she.

___

a/n: breathe if u want me to write a part two where they celebrate winning the game teehee

xoxo ~ jordie

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Living with Alfie Solomons

Warnings: Fluff, angst, references to religion and violence.

Domestic Alfie Headcanons

Alfie owns many different properties all over London and Margate. To your shock, only two were in Camden. One was what you could only describe as a “bachelor’s apartment,” which strongly resembled his office with the addition of a lumpy mattress. He took you to see what he considers his “home,” a one-story brick house surrounded by the lush green of the English countryside. Alfie had built this home after deciding, “Me and stairs, right, we ain’t made for each other.” The home also comes with a sweet little guesthouse behind it for his mother to live in. At which point he had a short rant about how his aging mother refuses to move in and still lives in her tiny flat in Camden. 

When he’s not being a “baker,” he does like to do some baking. Real baking. Bread, pudding, cake, pies, you name it. He likes having to measure his ingredients, put on the perfect temperature for the perfect amount of time. He likes to collect cookbooks too, and will have a gleam of almost childlike delight when he finds one he doesn’t already possess. 

Alfie has a tendency to develop very strong interest in a very specific thing and then drop it months later. He retains all he’s learned from it, but it can be a bit annoying as he will fill the house with his latest obsession. A short list of obsessions he’s developed are: American cowboys, jewelry making, stamps, coin collecting, eastern meditation practices, and Italian opera. 

You had to get used to his slight OCD involving things in his home. Everything has a place, and he gets very grumpy if you move something, a spoon for instance, and he can’t immediately find it. 

Children in the neighborhood are equal parts frightened and delighted by Alfie. They think he’s funny but intimidating. He gives out money and gifts to the Jewish families of Camden, and the children know that. Your dear man will huff and puff about the kids bothering him… but also throw them a coin or a sweet when he’s in the mood. Alfie is sort of like Santa Claus and the Boogeyman at the same time to them. After you started living with him, these children started to follow you around the neighborhood to ask questions about him. Some are quite tame, like “Does Mr. Solomons like cake?” or “Is Mr. Solomons your husband? Will you have lots of children?” while others are, “Did Mr. Solomons kidnap you?”

Relationship Headcanons

Mr. Solomons is quiet in his moments of romance with you. He likes to cup your cheek in his palm and touch his forehead to yours. Trace your face with his thumb as if to memorize it by touch. He places slow kisses on your cheeks and lips, gentle and almost reverent. His world is very brutal and without loyalty, you become his sanctuary. He sleeps best with you in his arms or laying directly on top of him. If you need to get up for any reason, expect a lot of complaining in at least three different languages from Alfie. He hates to be left alone in bed now that he’s had you. 

Thomas Shelby had no idea Alfie was married, until Alfie felt like telling him. Tommy now knows far too much about you. And you know far too much about Thomas Shelby. The first time you meet in person is very awkward.

Alfie is the sort of person that likes quality time and good conversation. He likes to go on strolls with you on the beach of Margate when his knee isn’t too painful. Going to the museum or a library are all tip-top dates in Alfie’s opinion. However, his favorite place to take you is back home. Home is where he can make you dinner and listen to you laugh at his strange stories. He loves to banter and bicker with you. You are one of the few people to make him laugh. Everyone at the port knows when Alfie’s had a nice evening with you because he comes to work in such a grand mood. Newer employees have to be warned not to get too comfortable, as he could come in like a bull if you argued that morning. 

He has a bad habit of dropping surprises on you. These surprises normally revolve around security and protection. Alfie will buy or arrange things for you and then completely forget he did it until you storm into his office asking for an explanation. For some reason, this man won’t admit these things are for self-defense. He just acts like it’s perfectly normal to take your lover out to a gun range or teach her how to stab a man between the ribs. He’s just being a fun, quirky man! 

A marriage proposal is never far off, he’s just waiting for you to convert. If you do not want to convert, prepare to be a secret. He is a religious man and he treasures his faith. Alfie will never forsake you (though he may jest) for not believing what he believes. His reason for hiding you is simple, his mother. Mrs. Solomons wouldn’t speak to her son if she found out he was living with an unwed gentile! 

That said, Mrs. Solomons adores you before and after you marry her son. She’s a delightful old Russian woman who is constantly ordering Alfie around. Mainly, she tells him he glares too much, and he needs to give her a grandchild soon. 

You were surprised by how touchy he is behind closed doors. In public, you could pass for an employee with how distant he is before marriage. After marriage, he likes to walk with arms linked. As a married couple, it is more appropriate to be seen touching each other and he takes full advantage of it. As a matter of fact, he’s almost clingy. He’ll call the house from his office and make up an excuse to talk to you. 

[kazekagevi]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: dark themes, mention of suicide attempt, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam, reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, Jake Sully appearance, random Human!OC's, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You settle into your new home at High Camp. You have a conversation with the Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully.

A/N and Disclaimer: If anyone would like to be notified/tagged in future updates, please comment on this post! Forgive any present tense inconsistencies.

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

Your adrenaline plummets. You rest for hours without interruption. 

The room Max has put you up in is nice, but you know it’s too spacious to be permanent. You lie comfortably on a lumpy couch. Sometimes the dim lights flicker, there’s a constant mechanical hum, and the blankets are scratchy, but you nap peacefully for the first time since cryosleep. It’s homely. You need this moment of respite. 

Hours later, you wake to the smell of something fragrant cooking. You’re so hungry that you feel nauseous. 

As badly as you want to leap from the couch and venture into the kitchen, you lie still. You continue to cherish this time to yourself—you’re unsure when you’ll get such an opportunity again. 

You let the events of the past week wash over you like a tidal wave. Tears come and go, just like mental flashes of the faces of the many women and allied wardens long gone. As demoralizing and dehumanizing the experience was, you became a tight-knit family because of it. Your pain is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before—as much as you miss them, you know they’re better off dead than being torn apart and transformed into the RDA’s breeding machines. It leaves a tart feeling in your mouth: it’s upsettingly bittersweet. 

Wading through the water of your thoughts and emotions is treacherous. If you swim too long, you know you’ll drown. 

You push away the blankets, then fold them neatly. You swipe beneath your tear ducts. After standing by the door for ten minutes, you gain the courage to place your palm over the entryway censor. You make it two steps out before you’re stopped. 

You’re startled by a woman’s whistle—it’s reminiscent of a catcall. She leans against a doorframe with a toothpick between her canines. She’s human. She’s stocky and muscular. The woman wears a navy-blue jumpsuit and combat boots. You can tell her hair was once jet black, but it’s starting to grow in gray. “Welcome, new girl,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply sheepishly. You introduce yourself—first name only. 

She does the same: “I’m Mia.” 

You shake hands—you note that her palms are very calloused. Mia must be involved with hands-on labor. 

“Listen, I don’t like to beat around the bush,” says Mia. She leans in closer, like she has a secret to tell you. “You need to shower,” she confesses, this time much quieter. There isn’t a lick of malice in her tone. “Like, immediately.” 

You appreciate her honesty, but your cheeks flush. Mia pulls a chuckle from your chest. “I know,” you reply feebly. 

And so, Mia takes this moment as an opportunity to give you a proper tour of the human’s facility at High Camp. You’re going to be living there, after all. 

Admittedly, there isn’t much to see. Together, you stroll through the science shacks and a few vacant laboratories. You meet a few more scientists. You return to the two flex rooms, like the one you napped in; Mia shows you the barracks and bunk beds, the link units, and the kitchenette. Norm is cooking what he describes to be his very own fusion recipe: a soup that combines both human and Pandoran ingredients. In passing, you apologize to Norm for spitting on him, again—you’ve already apologized four times, but once more couldn’t hurt. He makes it abundantly clear that everything is well between you both. 

“I would do the same if they captured me,” Norm confesses. “Much worse, in fact.” 

Your tour ends at the showers. Mia leaves briefly, then returns with a towel, a new bar of soap, a plastic hairbrush, a few garments of clothing, and a toothbrush and paste. “This is all we have right now,” Mia explains. 

It’s more than enough, you think. 

Tears well in your eyes at the sight of these items; although necessary for most humans, to you, these things feel like a luxury. 

“There’s hot and cold water knobs. The hot water alone won’t last long. Try to maneuver the knobs to use hot and cold at the same time,” she says with a short demonstration. Warm water spits out of the shower head onto the tiled wall in front of it. You hold out your palm—it’s bliss. 

You’re solaced. You thank Mia one last time. She takes her cue to leave and gives you some privacy. 

---

Despite the lukewarm water diminishing to icy-cold after only a few minutes, you spend a long time in the shower. You wash your hair. You scrub everything, at least twice. Your pruned fingertips feel foreign angst the metal knob—you haven’t been allowed a long enough shower since your past life on Earth. 

The clothes Mia left for you don’t fit quite right. The pants drag on the floor and aren’t secure around the waist; you take a step, and your trousers pool at your knees. You have no choice but to create a makeshift belt with spare twine and an aptly-sized piece of elastic from Mia’s sewing kit. As you weave the components together, you realize her sewing kit doubles as her first-aid box. She must use the same thread to stitch seams on fabric and cuts on skin. You take this opportunity to gently reapply scar ointment and new dressing to the stitched slash beneath your collarbone. 

The tanktop she gave you, on the other hand, was made for someone with slightly smaller anatomy. In comparison to the pants, it fits skin-tight snug. Luckily, the undergarments are trouble-free. 

When you re-enter the common area, everyone is there. It’s down-to-Earth, you note—the thought makes your lips curl into a smile.

You spend a few moments observing. Most of the scientists look like regular people. They’re plain. Modest, simple. There’s nothing particularly special about any of them, barring their bright smiles. People involved with the RDA don’t smile like that. 

It isn’t long before the “plain scientist” exception enters via the airlock entrance. 

At first, you think he’s naked. You instinctively cover your eyes with your palms to give the guy some privacy. You faintly hear him yell something out the door through the glass—you can’t discern any of it, so it must be in Na’vi. You peek through your fingertips. 

Once the front airlock closes, the human male removes his oxygen mask, hangs it on a hook by the entrance, and presses his hand to the entryway scanner. He strolls in casually, like he owns the place. The young man wears nothing but a loincloth and carries an old leather satchel. Painted, blue streaks mark his body in horizontal stripes. 

It clicks for you quickly—he sees himself as one of them. He wears his loyalty to the Na’vi. It’s… admirable. 

When he speaks again, he greets Max in English and makes an inside joke with Norm that flies over your head. He chucks his bag onto a nearby stool and smoothes his hands over his ash-blonde dreads. 

Inevitably, you’re curious to know more. Your thoughts buzz with questions—instinctively, you’d like to interview him. 

“Food’s ready!” Norm calls. 

That’ll have to wait. 

The room descends to orderly chaos. A scientist you’ve already forgotten the name of is gathering silverware. Another gives everyone a bowl or mug. Metal chairs scrape across the floor as people line up in front of the kitchenette. Mia is adamant about having her mug, which is bright pink with a broken handle. Norm serves stew with a metal ladle. Someone else passes out dethawed bread rolls from the walk-in freezer. 

They make jokes in passing. They ask each other questions. Occasionally, they bicker, like when one of the scientists scolds Norm for giving him too big a portion. They’re a family. It’s lovely, you think. 

Then Mia calls your name. “Please,” she says, “join us!”

The room quiets down. You briefly make eye contact with the semi-nude young male. He’s around your age—maybe a year or two younger. 

Entering the common area takes only a sliver of bravery in comparison to the courage you had to collect in order to survive thus far; it’s still scary, nonetheless. You gulp. 

You’re provided a bowl. Norm serves you a heaping portion of soup. Max pours you a glass of water from a large pitcher at the end of the table. You’re offered two dinner rolls—just this once, Mia says. People move their chairs to make room for you. Your heart swells. 

“This is-” Mia begins. 

Your interruption is far from rude—you introduce yourself instead. First and last name. 

---

Dinner runs its course. It began with juvenile questions; the community simply wanted to know more about you as a person. They never banked on someone taking one of the empty bunks. They were all being used as precious storage. What’s your name? Where did you come from?

The spotlight is uncomfortable—blinding, even—but you squint through it. You want to interview these people, but it’s your turn instead. 

When some of the scientists begin asking about the RDA, however, the group rears towards an unsettling interrogation. What was it like? they ask. How many were there? Could you spare any details on the escape plan?

With every intrusive question, you intake another mouthful of the fusion stew. It tastes funny, like a bad pun or cringey joke; but you’re too hungry to care. 

“Did you ever see the General?” The human male whom you now know as Spider asks. “She was short. Blonde lady, resting bitch-face. General Ardmore?” 

Mia snorts. Norm clasps his hands together. “Alright, everyone. I think that’s enough,” he states. "Let's not overwhelm the newcomer."

The scientists look at each other, humbled and slightly ashamed. They give you apologetic stares and quiet redresses. 

Max offers to do the dishes. He knows he’ll regret this act of selflessness, but he does it for you. The rest of the scientists leave their empty bowls at the table and retreat to the barracks. Mia pats your shoulder before exiting with the others. 

You turn to Norm once everyone’s left. You hold out your bowl. “Can I have some more?”

---

You’re on your third helping of soup and fourth glass of water when there’s a series of raps at the door outside the airlock. For a split second, you’re back in your cell. You’re reminded of your least favorite warden’s early-morning roll calls. 

You flinch—your body instinctively jerks. But you don’t realize this until you’re swiftly saving your water glass from falling off the table. You rub your brow with the back of your head; you can’t break two things on your first day. 

“Is it him?” Max asks Norm. Max is elbows deep in soap suds and dirty dishes. He starts scrubbing faster. 

“Think so,” Norm replies. 

Who’s him? You’re left to wonder as you scrape the bottom of your soup bowl and take your final bite; there’s no more stew left. 

Norm stands from the table and strides over to the airlock. “Come in!”

You nearly twist your neck trying to turn around before the door opens. 

A tall, blue humanoid enters. He has to crouch when breaching the threshold—the door frame is just too short. It’s the first Na’vi you’ve seen since your interaction with the Na’vi in the forest; spare for Grace, the one in a glass tube full of liquid in the common area. 

For a moment, you think this Na’vi is the one who saved you. But as they grab a respirator mask and enter once the airlock is closed, your assumption is proved to be false. 

The Na’vi nods to Norm. “Good to see ya, Max,” the male Na’vi says, peering into the kitchen. Notably, his English is fluent; but above that, his accent is strangely commonplace among humans. Nothing like the Na’vi from the forest. 

Max peers at him over his shoulder. “You too, Jake,” Max calls back. 

Your eye twitches. You face forward. Your visage pales. 

“Let’s talk about all of this for a moment,” Norm tells Jake Sully. He agrees. Their footsteps get quieter as they walk away from the common room and round the corner. Max dries his hands with a dish towel and follows them. 

You hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation while you chug another glass of water. 

“You’re sure?” Jake Sully asks. “Completely positive?”

“There’s no way,” one of the humans responds. “When she thought she’d been recaptured by the RDA, she tried to slit her wrists. A spy wouldn’t do that.”

Someone adds something to that point, but it’s indiscernible. 

“You’re right,” replies Jake. 

There are footsteps again. You keep your head forward. 

Max clears his throat. “You have a visitor,” Norm says. 

You push away the empty glass and bowl, then rise from your seat at the table. Your eyes meet pale yellow—the same shade as the other forest Na’vi’s irises. 

Jake opens his mouth to speak. “I’m-”

“You’re Jake Sully,” you interrupt. He’s like a myth come to life. During your imprisonment, the girls and wardens talked about him nonstop. He’s a Pandoran celebrity. 

Your face turns crimson. It’s one thing to interrupt Mia, but it’s another to interrupt the goddamn Olo'eyktan, the leader of his people. Not just any, but Jake Sully in particular. You’re mortified. 

You’re unsure how to greet him properly. Should you kneel? Your body scrambles to do the right thing—you bow, curtsey, and offer your hand to shake all at once. 

Jake Sully breathes into the respirator around his neck, veiling a small chuckle. He takes your hand and shakes it gently; due to his size, his engulfs yours. 

“Have a seat,” he says. You do.

Jake Sully can’t possibly fit in any of the chairs, so he defaults to sitting on the floor. “I may be asking for a lot,” he says. “But in order to grant you asylum here, I need to know everything.”

He is asking for a lot. You’ve been through nothing but hell. Your face heats up just thinking about the things you’ve witnessed. You don’t want to relive it. Maybe Norm stopped the others earlier because he knew this was coming. 

As you look into Jake Sully’s eyes, you know malignity isn’t his intention. It quite literally has nothing to do with you, actually. You know that the Olo'eyktan’s job is to keep his people safe. That’s Jake Sully’s motive. He has to know you’re safe. It’s a two-way street—in order to grant you safety, he must be able to ensure his own. 

---

You relay your history on Pandora thus far. It takes over an hour to get through everything. It doesn’t help when Jake asks a dozen questions, and tangents branch off into more tangents. Half-way through the conversation, however, you already know you’re earning his trust. You pinpoint the exact moment, in which Jake admits the reason he joined the RDA and decided to come to Pandora when he lived in a human body. 

It’s just the two of you now—Max finished the dishes a while ago and Norm left because he needed rest. 

Jake avoids your eyes every time you mention something particularly harrowing about your imprisonment. You’re as precise as you are descriptive. Towards the end of your testimony, he looks at his feet for ten minutes straight, while you reiterate the prison break. He can’t say much in response. He acknowledges that the ordeal must have been horrific. 

“Sounds like something out of this old dystopian novel,” Jake mutters. “I think it was called The Handmaid’s Tale.” 

Lastly, you tell him about the Na’vi in the forest who saved you. 

“Do you know him?” you inquire. 

Jake nods. “I do. His name is Neteyam.” He chooses not to elaborate. He omits the fact that Neteyam is his first-born son, next in line for his title. 

“Neteyam,” you echo. 

Jake nods again when you mimic his pronunciation. It’s not bad, he thinks. Not as bad as Neteyam said, when his son was harping on your horrible accent after bringing you, a human, to High Camp on his ikran. Something Jake never thought he’d see. 

“I’d like to thank him,” you say. “He saved my life. How do you say thank you or show gratitude?”

Jake rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should spend a week or two or three here. Take some time to yourself before you consider leaving the science shack and interacting with my people,” he says awkwardly albeit bluntly.

Your brows furrow. His tone of voice suggests there’s no room for protest. 

“Spider, Norm, Max, and everyone else will teach you the ways of the Na’vi,” Jake says. “They all speak the language fluently. And if you want to interact with and live amongst my people, then so will you.”

You nod. You consider telling him the very reason the RDA chose you and your talents—that that was exactly what you came to Pandora to do. “So I will,” you reply simply. 

“If you see us, then we will see you,” Jake says in Na’vi. 

You catch none of it, but nod confidently anyway. He scoffs. 

“Good talk,” Jake says lastly. He takes another breath through his respirator, then leaves through the airlock, just as he came. 

---

A/N: Feel free to leave any and all comments on this chapter! The exposition is almost done, just hold on a little longer! The exposition continues in the next part, but Neteyam will make an appearance, I pinky promise!

Next part is projected to come out a week from today, Tuesday. I will try to keep a consistent posting schedule.

Thank you all so much for the kind comments and notes thus far! <3

[autisticlancemcclain]

this is how it continued

———

This is how it ends.

———

This is how it ends.

———

This is how it ends.

———

This is how it ends.

———

Lance tries for weeks to make it end.

The words crawl up like bile in the back of his throat. Keith, he tries to say, time and time again, we need to talk. And when he manages to push through the stinging burn and say them, breath turning to dust in his lungs, Keith crooks his finger under Lance’s chin and meets Lance’s eyes and replies, just as quietly, Of course, sweetheart. What’s wrong?

And every time Lance is faced with the softness in his dark eyes, the steady way he holds his gaze. And every time something inside him cracks, desperate and howling and selfish after being deprived so long, and his bravery dries up like a tiny stream in the summer heat. And instead of saying When did you start loving me, Keith, ‘cause you woke up one day and decided we’d been together for ages and everyone thinks you’re crazy his chin trembles and his eyes burn and he cries, again, and tells Keith of the months without him.

Every day I’m sorry I left you behind, Keith whispers into the heat of Lance’s skin, and every time in response Lance knows, I do not deserve this from you. And the desperate howling selfish part of him grows stronger and stronger.

Lance needs to make it end.

———

He cannot make it end publicly.

It’s too…messy for that. It has been too long now. He hasn’t counted the days but he knows what it looks like right before Keith screams himself awake, now, knows how to press his cold hands to the side of his neck and the curve of his ribs to startle his dream-self into thinking kinder thoughts. He knows how the chip on Keith’s right front tooth feels on his tongue, his knuckles, his shoulder. He knows that Keith showers with his eyes shut out of years of habit of showering in the dark and fearing the sting of the soap.

Rarely do they stop at a hotel. Usually they sleep in shifts, staying in space for days at a time instead of resting every night. It’s horrible and cramped and makes everyone cranky, but it brings them home faster. After everyone is fed up of air travel, which never takes long, they often stop somewhere small and uninhabited and out of the way – a moon, a burgeoning planet, a long-abandoned one. Whatever is closest. On those nights, the nine of them, plus the animals, will stretch and enjoy the fresh air, if there is any, maybe watch a setting sun. And then they will make a fire and cook rations or a real meal, if they can find ingredients and Hunk or Lance have the energy. And after everyone has eaten and conversations have long begun to slow, after teeth have been brushed and faces have been washed, after their friends have nodded off one by one, Keith will push their bedrolls together to make one, spread a blanket over the two of them, and hold Lance close; without question, without hesitation. And he will be out in moments, gently snoring along to whatever alien crickets are crooning into the night, and Lance will trace the shape of his face under the light of the dying embers and forget to be guilty. He will feel safe in Keith’s hold like he does not feel anywhere else and his feet will be warmed between Keith’s thighs. He will fall asleep with a smile on his face.

———

Five months into their journey, Coran says: “I have an announcement to make.”

“What’s up?” Pidge asks, swinging her feet from where she sits sideways in her chair, hair a mess, face buried in the not-quite-DS they found a few planets back. Lance smiles and rolls his eyes.

“In the next quintaint, we will be approaching Deruyn. The Deruy were close friends of the Alteans, eons ago, and the Chancellor has extended to me an invitation to reacquaint ourselves. If you’re all amenable, my dears, we have been invited to stay in the guest wing of her royal quarters for a week.”

Lance straightens up, rubber band ball he was toying with slipping from his grasp. He hears it bounce several times behind him before an abrupt stop, and then a very angry moo. He winces.

“Sorry, Kaltenecker.”

She huffs, clearly still miffed.

Everyone is talking over each other, eyes bright and excited through their video connections. Coran looks pleased, watching them all chatter. Lance catches his eye and smiles at him.

A whole week in a royal wing…and a real royal wing! Nothing like the paladin quarters they lived in on the Castle. They bedrooms will be huge, probably; fancy and ornate. Maybe a canopy bed and pillows comfier than Lance can even fathom.

And baths. Lance hopes there are big, deep baths he can almost swim in.

“You look dreamy.”

Keith’s amused voice startles him out of his daydreaming, although he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. Everyone else is still chattering on, bubbling with excitement — no one is looking at him.

“I am,” Lance admits. He puts a hand to his forehead and sighs, more dramatically than necessary, pleased when it brings the expected reaction of Keith’s fond little smile. “There might be baths, Keith. Real baths. And oils and soaps and soft towels. And pillows! And a queen-sized bed!”

Keith’s smile turns teasing. “What you need is an Alaskan king.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Keith’s laugh has gotten rumblier since his space whale growth spurt, that’s the only way Lance can explain it. It’s softer and darker and suggests smile lines around his eyes he didn’t have before. Every time Lance looks at them he imagines them getting deeper and wider.

“Been a while since we’ve been somewhere with a real bed, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotta make sure they don’t book us two separate rooms again,” Keith huffs, crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I still don’t know what that was about.”

Lance’s mouth goes dry.

I do, he should be saying. I know exactly why there were two separate rooms booked for us. In fact I can guarantee it will happen again.

But he is a coward. And the words die somewhere in his belly, before they can come anywhere near his throat.

———

It takes time to reach Deruyn. Some of this is because Shiro read the map backwards and set them back two days. (“I’m dyslexic!” he had defended, to their booing and whining. “There is not booing and whining to dyslexia! Do you boo and whine a lisp? No! Let me live!”)

By the time they finally manage to drag their poor, exhausted Lions to the sizeable planet, everyone’s excitement is so palpable Lance doesn’t need an emotional bond to feel it.

“Fresh air,” sighs Allura.

“Good food,” seconds Hunk.

“People to talk to that aren’t you fools,” agrees Pidge.

“A mattress,” Keith adds, and shoots Lance a wink.

Despite himself and rolling mess of feeling in his stomach, Lance flushes.

Coran accepts a call as soon as they’re within radio range, greeting a narrow-faced, pink-skinned woman who must be the Chancellor. Immediately they delve into a conversation that Lance doesn’t even pretend to follow. He recognizes Coran’s tone from the many times his mother would strike up a conversation with an aunt or uncle or any guest at all as they were leaving the house — this conversation could be hours long. His eyes glaze over, sliding away from his Lion’s display to take in the planet in front of him.

Deluyn is large, that much is obvious. It’s hard to scale something with such magnitude when it’s so close to your face, but if Lance had to guess, he would place it somewhere between Jupiter and the Balmera. It has no rings but the whole planet seems to glow, slightly, although Lance can see no clear source for it. The colours visible from orbit are entirely alien to him, so he’s not sure what is water, if anything is, but from the angry look of the planet’s poles, the dark green things are clouds.

What feels like a million hours later, but it probably only around fifteen minutes, there’s a click as the Chancellor and Coran end their call, and they are urged forward into landing. As they get closer to the landing strip, Lance notices dozens of children sprinting along the barrier, holding signs and flags and cheering. He grins, twisting his hands tighter around Red’s controls, hanging back just slightly from formation to give himself space to move. Then he yanks the controls to the side, feeling Red roar as she whips around in a tight circle, flames rolling down her back. The children jump up and down, fists raised, mouths open in shouts of joy. Several of their grownups watch with wide grins, too, necks craned to watch Lance spin around.

He pulls back into formation after a couple of tricks, sliding smoothly in between Black and Blue. His heart rate ticks up, and suddenly his undersuit feels tight, itchy. He squirms in his seat. When Shiro’s face pops up to relay landing instructions he flinches, and immediately hates himself for the hurt look that eclipses his friend’s face.

“…Lance?” Shiro asks softly, confusion lining his voice. He looks like a kicked puppy. Lance is a monster.

“I’m just jumpy, I’m just jumpy,” he assures, forcing a smile and holding it there until Shiro’s shoulders relax. “You know. So excited to see where we’ll be staying.”

“Yeah, me too! Coran even said they have this massive sauna they’re really famous for. I can’t wait. I miss what saunas do for my skin. And, plus, having our own rooms will be nice.” His excited grin turns sly. “Well, most of us will have our own room.”

Lance’s heart pounds for a totally different reason. “Okay thanks Shiro bye —”

He reaches to cut the connection but Shiro stops him, laughing.

“No, no, wait, I’ve got landing instructions. Their staff is limited so we gotta go one at a time, okay, stay in your Lion once you’re parked in case you need to adjust…”

Thankfully it’s nothing too complicated. Keith lands first, and Lance next to him, then Pidge, then Allura, then Hunk. Once they’re all parked and confirmed by ground control, they’re cleared it exit, none of them taking their time.

Well, everyone else disembarks pretty fast. Kaltenecker remains and stubborn pain in the ass as usual, and Lance is stuck trying desperately to drag an 800 something pound cow that has absolutely no desire to work with him. “Kallie,” he begs, tugging uselessly on her leash, “you dumb ass fucking animal. Please. I am begging you. I put up with your farts in the cabin for days on end, which has got to be shaving years off my life. The food I feed you could be better but in all fairness, I’m getting the same slop you are, so. Maybe cut me some slack.”

She doesn’t even moo at him.

Lance tries bribery.

“Say, you want good food? I bet they have good food on this planet. Nice, sweet, fresh grass. You love grass. You want grass? Please come on, Kallie. Everyone else has already left and I’m going to die of embarrassment if I’m the last paladin left, doing the walk of shame with his stubborn cow behind him. The jokes will write themselves. I’ll have to quit and join a travelling circus, and then who will put up with you? Remember that Allura wants to turn you into hamburgers.”

Clearly hamburgers were the wrong thing to mention, because if cows can glare, Kaltenecker does. She even has the audacity to huff her cow breath at him and drag them both further into Red. Red, who is a traitor, does absolutely nothing to help and is in fact laughing herself sick, loudly, in Lance’s mind.

“I shoulda left you in that damn mall,” Lance grumbles, not meaning it. He sighs and collapses against his cow’s side, closing his eyes. Just his luck. The rest of his friends are gallivanting about a fancy-dancy castle as guests of honour, and Lance is babysitting a methane machine. “I’m gonna have to sleep here tonight, aren’t I.”

“Well, I hope not.”

Lance yelps, jumping to his feet. Unfortunately, in his haste, his boot hooks around Kaltenecker’s hoof, and since she is still unmoving, he goes sprawling. Fortunately, Keith got stranded in a space whale for two years and took Prince Charming classes, or something, so he catches him.

“You’re such a nervous wreck,” Keith says fondly, leaning down to kiss him instead of letting Lance stand like a normal person. (Not. That Lance. Is necessarily complaining. But for prosperity’s sake, and everything, keeping a man in a dip for too long is just undignified, Keith, you should know that, you graduated top of your class from Fairytale University. So. Pull yourself together.)

“Am not,” Lance protests. He sighs as Keith adjusts his hold on him, patting around blindly until he finds the edge of Keith’s braid and undoing it. He slides his hands in that thick hair with a relish as soon as it’s free, making Keith chuckle (but, wisely, not say anything, because the one and only time he commented Lance avoided him for two days out of pure embarrassment).

“I sent the rest of the team on when you didn’t come out. Figured Kaltenecker was giving you trouble.” He meets Lance’s eyes and grins, dark eyes mischievous and sparkling, and Lance is seriously going to walk off a bridge because who authorized that, who, who approved the combination of big dark eyes and a crooked grin and a face that promises trouble. Huh? The fuck’s up with that. “Figured I could help.”

Lance manages to find a shred of dignity within himself and steps slightly away. “That’s great, Noble Kent, but last I checked you couldn’t drag an 800 pound heifer either, so.”

Keith nods. “‘Course not. Brought Kosmo. Here, boy.”

The wolf poofs to existence at Keith’s side, barking excitedly. He bounds up to Lance first, expecting his usual barrage of kisses and head scratches (which he gets), then gets all shy as he walks over to his crush. Kaltenecker looks over at him and no lie rolls her eyes, looking away again. Kosmo, however, is undeterred, barking happily before blipping them both out of existence.

“She is never gonna love you, dude,” Keith says, shaking his head.

Lance snorts, taking Keith’s offered hand and heading down Red’s ramp (finally). “Wouldn’t it be weirder if she did? I think we’d have to break them up. Like, ethically.”

“Could be a Donkey and Dragon situation.”

“Shut up. It ruins my perception of you every time I’m reminded you’ve seen Shrek.”

“You’re perception of me,” Keith repeats, musing. His right eyebrow twitches, and it’s too small to see at arm’s distance, but Lance knows a tiny scar ripples there, from when he was fourteen and got it pierced in defiance of Shiro. “What is your perception of me?”

Lance keeps himself steady. He puts one foot in front of the other and keeps his left hand held in Keith’s. There is nothing interrogating in Keith’s tone, he reminds himself, although maybe there should be. When he looks up Keith’s eyes are open and curious and something else he doesn’t know how to name.

“You’re honest,” he says quietly. He means to say more, has a list he could probably recite bullet by bullet, but he doesn’t.

“Honest,” Keith mutters to himself. “Huh.”

Lance swallows. He doesn’t know how he could possibly explain the weight to that. Keith is committed and brave and talented and beautiful. But more than that he is truthful. Does he see? Does he know?

An empty landing pad passes remarkably slowly when two people walk in silence. There are crafts of all kinds and tarmac upon tarmac. Eventually, though, they start walking somewhere a little more crowded; thin, reedy people resembling the Chancellor waving to them as they pass. Lance would stop to ask for directions, but the giant castle is kind of hard to miss, so they just walk in the direction of it hope their armour will do the talking for them.

Keith catches a richly dyed ribbon blowing by as they pass through a crowded market, trapping the fine thing between his fingers as it passes between them. It’s a strange and familiar colour, walking the line between indigo and deep violet. He glances around for a stall that might be selling them, and when he can’t find one, he turns to Lance and says, “Hold out your arm.”

Lance does. Carefully, Keith unlatches his vambrace, tucking it under his arm, then peels up his undersuit to lay bare his wrist. His tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly in concentration as he ties it among Lance’s dozens of string bracelets, right above his blue Moana watch still counting the hours back home.

“There,” he says proudly. “Looks good on you.”

Lance reaches up and kisses him until neither of them can breathe.

———

They know they will be teased when they finally meet with their friends at the castle.

“Let’s not,” Keith suggests, nodding at the guards who move to let them past.

“I’ll find out where our room is?” Lance says.

Keith nods. “Yeah, we’ll need that.”

“‘Kay, wait here. Don’t be obvious, or Allura will smell drama and come running.”

He’s jinxed them by saying anything at all — no sooner do the words leave his lips does Keith tense up, screwing up his face in an attempt to appear neutral but resembling instead someone who is trying very hard not to sneeze. Lance manages not to laugh, squeezing his hand once before darting off, choosing a random corridor and going with it.

Thankfully, he manages to find a person who holds a clipboard and walks with a purpose, so he assumes they know what they’re doing. Double thankfully, they do, and not only direct him to their rooms but press a labeled map into his hands. It even has a schedule on the back for mealtimes and room cleaning, which is something Lance totally forgot existed. He runs back to Keith quickly, careful to avoid the kitchen and the armoury — places he’s sure his friends will be.

Keith is earnestly inspecting a mounted sword on the wall when Lance returns. His nose is maybe an inch from the polished blade, probably less, honestly. Lance bites his lip to hold down a snicker and takes a picture, intending blackmail, but it ends up being the perfect shot — his hair is slightly wavy from the braid he wore earlier, and there’s a cute scrunch to his nose, not to mention his squinted eyes like he’s wishing for reading glasses. It becomes Lance’s background almost without him meaning to.

“C’mon, nerd,” he calls, smiling as Keith startles. “I got a map and someone is gonna meet us there with a key. I wanna check it out, get a move on.”

Keith does indeed hurry over. “I’m so glad they got it right this time. One room! No need to debate over it.”

Lance falters. He’d been so caught up in the excitement of the room and then Kaltenecker and then…Keith, he forgot. They’re not what Keith thinks they are, what Lance has been pretended to be.

“Right,” he manages, mouth suddenly dry. He desperately tries to shove the enthusiasm back in his voice, forcing his face into a smile when Keith looks back. “Right, yeah, that’s so much less of a pain.”

There is indeed someone with a key when they get to the room. The door is light, in both colour and material, and although his feelings are still heavy and conflicting, his excitement wins out. Keith takes the key, thanking the attendant, and a small voice in the back of Lance’s mind whispers this could be them some day, on Earth, with a key of their own. He does his best to ignore it.

“Ready?” Keith asks.

“Please oh please let the bed be bigger than Red’s cabin,” he responds.

Keith snorts. Slowly, out of what must be a desire to torture Lance, he slides the key into the lock and turns it. Lance doesn’t hesitate before shoving it open.

“It is bigger than the cabin!” he shouts, and wastes no time running up and onto it.

He practically sinks into the mattress, so soft it’s like it’s made of hopes and dreams. The blankets are the fluffiest things he’s ever felt in his life. And the space — he stretches out as far as he can, fingers to toes, and not a single limb comes even close to the edge of the bed.

The mattress dips beside him, and a hand slides along the back of his neck.

“This is you before you notice the big canopy.”

Lance lifts his head immediately. He fights back a very undignified squeal when he does, indeed, see a gossamer blue canopy hanging softly from the high ceilings.

“And the windows too, sweetheart. Floor to ceiling, like you like ‘em.”

Lance scrambles to his knees to check. They are. And the view is breathtaking.

“And the bathtub? Is it huge and clawfooted?”

Keith ducks his head, smiling, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll go check, you grandma. You take your armour off.”

He listens for Keith’s footsteps, waits for them to go from carpet to tile, waits for the “Yep! Claw foot!”, waits for the sound of rushing taps even though he didn’t ask, even though Keith didn’t offer. He turns on his back and stares as the canopy, inspecting the padded wooden roof structure from which the gauzy curtains hang, tracing its sturdy edges and even corners.

Keith makes him feel so warm.

He’s felt a lot of cold, in a lot of places, for a lot of his life. Part of it is the stupid anaemia that he gets to live with. Part of it is stuff he doesn’t like to think about. But Keith comes in with his warm hands and warm smile and stupid big warm heart, and Lance is thawed in every frozen inch of him. It’s good. It’s so good.

He wants it so desperately.

He comes when Keith calls, stripping his armour along the way. Keith is waiting for him in the bath when he gets there — and it is huge, close enough for them to both sit comfortably without brushing so much as a toe against each other, but of course Lance settles his spine against the curve of Keith’s chest the second he slips inside the steaming water. The room smells of sandalwood and lilac.

“You are so important to me,” Keith murmurs, seemingly at random, pressing his lips along Lance’s stretched neck, following the arch of it as he tips his head back to rest on Keith’s shoulder.

Lance’s breath sighs out of him, rising and mixing with the steam. He lifts a shaking hand to twine it to Keith’s, squeezing. Their joined hands are wet against his chest. Together they rise, up and down, up and down, up and down, with every shaky breath.

———

They giggle like teenagers, sneaking into the kitchen well after dark and well after most of the castle has finally gone to bed.

Neither has wanted to face the team’s teasing just yet, or even the team at all, really. Their room can’t be called a room so much as a small apartment — bookshelves lining the wall that Keith had been eyeing for hours, a massive wardrobe, a beautiful velvet sofa, even a small icebox. Neither of them have said it but it feels, implicitly, like their own little space, their own little commune, beyond the privacy of a hotel room. It feels like somewhere they could live. They’re billions of miles away from Earth and anywhere Lance could consider home, but it’s nice to pretend, and neither of them is ready to hop back into reality — or Hunk’s roasting — quite yet.

(It is not what Lance’s mind is pretending. In no world could they ever live in a castle like this. It is foolish to spend his time fantasizing about a future they will probably never have, a home they will never build. The guards stationed at every door should break Lance’s fantasy. But he has always been very, very good at pretending.)

“Just grab some of everything,” he whispers to Keith. “We have actual room cleaning, remember? We can have some dirty dishes, no one will mind.”

“There’s certainly space for it,” Keith agrees.

In minutes the two of them have piled almost more than they can carry. They’re much slower on the walk back, but no less giddy. As soon as the door is locked shut behind them, they’re sat on the bed, even though eating on a bed is disgusting and usually Lance would never permit it, and stuffing their faces.

“Oh my God, this thing tastes like strawberries. Here, try.” Keith holds up a juicy looking silver fruit, Lance leans over to bite it. It does taste like strawberry. He dusts off his hands and crawls over to chase the taste off Keith’s tongue.

“Strawberries get you going?” Keith mumbles, and Lance grins and says, “Something like that.”

They have more food than they can possibly eat and they eat until they can barely move. The rest they wrap up and stick in the icebox.

He can feel Keith falling asleep, head getting heavier, so he pats him gently on the hip and whispers, “Come on, get up, at least get ready first. Wash your face.”

Keith groans. He squishes his face further into Lance’s belly, making him squirm and laugh, and mutters something he can barely here. “Hnnngh. You first. I’ll catch up.”

“You’ll fall asleep,” Lance scolds, but he gets up first anyway. When he glances behind him he sees that Keith has at least managed to put one foot on the ground, so maybe he really will get up and put some pyjamas on.

Lance snorts. Yeah, right.

He takes his time and pokes around the bathroom, having been too preoccupied to do so beforehand. There’s a stack of fluffy towels and cloths on a shelf, and even a couple rough ones for exfoliating. In a cupboard lies dozens of soaps and oils and creams and a million other things, labelled in that same holographic translator stuff the Olkarions use so Lance can read them easily. He is impressed by the wide range of selection — he’s been slowly rebuilding his skincare collection, and will indeed be looting at least half of these bottles to complete it. There’s enough stuff here to do a whole soak. Nice.

Then he turns towards the sink. And he stares.

And he starts to cry.

Laid out exactly as he likes it is his stuff from his pack. His toothbrush, his primary face wash, his hair brush, his lotion, everything. In order of how he uses it, with the sink in the middle, and everything an appropriate distance from the sink so he doesn’t soak the whole counter trying to reach for whatever comes next in his routine. A setup his has perfected over many years and has had genuine conniptions over misplaced steps and wrong orders. Something inane and stupid and that only matters to him.

Of course Keith has noticed, of course Keith has memorized, of course he has replicated.

Lance is a horrible, horrible person.

This is has to be how it ends.

“Keith!” he shouts, and the man comes in running, half groggy and robbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s in a t-shirt and boxers.

“Lance?”

“My brush is — in the wrong place.”

Keith inspects him carefully. “You’re crying.”

“Because the brush is in the wrong place! I keep it in the same spot, I like it here, you know I like it here, why is it —”

He interrupts himself with a great, heaving hiccup, so large it shakes his whole body, and he’s furious with himself, with his shaking hands, with the careful look on Keith’s face.

This is how it ends.

This is how it ends.

This is how it ends.

“This is not where my brush goes,” he insists again, desperate to keep his voice steady, desperate to make it angry.

“Okay,” Keith says simply. He walks over and pulls the brush gently from Lance’s hands. “Where do you want it?”

Lance tries to breathe in. His chest shakes and shudders, poking holes in his voice. This isn’t working. Why isn’t it working?

“No, you’re supposed to — I’m being unreasonable.”

“You’re upset about something.”

“Something stupid.”

“Okay. I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”

“No, you can’t — I’m not —”

The rest of his strength leaves him.

This is how it ends.

This is how it ends.

Why can’t he make it end.

Slowly, Keith reaches out to grab his hands. Lance lets him, like the coward he is.

“Come to bed, sweetheart. You’ve had a long day. You need to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispers, defeated, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps them shut as Keith guides him to the giant bed, as he pulls back the covers, as he crawls in and waits for the sound of the light switch to be flicked off, of the tiny creak of Keith’s weight as he joins him.

For a long moment Keith is quiet. Long enough that Lance would assume he’d fallen asleep, except that he still sits upright, except that his hand has slid under Lance’s shirt, and his thumb traces a line across the small of his back, over and over again.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he whispers.

A new tear slips hot down Lance’s face.

This is how it ends.

He knows, or at least he must suspect. Maybe he realized his mistake some time ago, and has been waiting for Lance to fess up, to explain why he went along with Keith’s mistaken affection in the first place. Why he used Keith, confused as he was, for his own selfish needs.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. He can’t bring himself to turn around, to sit up, to meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith’s hand doesn’t so much as twitch. “What for?”

“For leading you on.”

That certainly gives him pause.

“Leading me…on?”

“Yeah.” Lance sniffles, dragging himself upright and away from Keith’s affectionate hands, huddled against the massive headboard. “You came back…confused. I don’t know. You thought we were in love. I wanted it, so I let you. I’ve been manipulating you.”

“Lance…” Even only in the silvery blue moonlight streaming in from the windows, Keith’s face is unmistakable, obvious; strong brow creased in worry, head tilted in confusion, face pulled with something like desperation. “Lance, we are in love. Aren’t we? I love you. And you love me, I know you do.”

Lance shakes his head. His tears make his face crumple and he knows how ugly that makes him look, so he hides his face.

“No, I made you feel that way, I didn’t correct you back then and it’s habit now so…”

He trails off. Keith doesn’t respond. He wonders if he’ll stay the night, bed surely big enough for him to sleep without touching Lance at all, or if he’ll have to go get a new room.

A tiny, tiny part of Lance’s brain recognises the irony in that and wants him to laugh. But the steady breaking of his heart keeps it at bay.

“…Back at the tarmac,” Keith says what feels like hours later, startling Lance out of his skin. He looks up at the man with wide eyes, having half-convinced himself he was already gone, and Keith meets his gaze determinedly. “Back at the tarmac, you said I was honest. Did you mean that?”

Lance swallows.

“Yes.”

Keith holds his gaze, looking for something, then nods, having found it. “Believe me then, sweetheart.” He crawls forward, slowly, as if he is afraid Lance will startle away from him. That fear is what startles Lance out of his stupor, out of his guilt, out of the dread that has been building in his stomach for months. He hasn’t seen that kind of fear — the fear of getting too close — on Keith face since he came back. And never does he want to see it again. He throws himself into Keith’s arms, too hard, hard enough to hurt, but Keith catches him and holds him and squeezes just as painfully tightly. “I love you, star of my skies.”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” Lance croaks, and Keith laughs, wetly and beautifully. “I love you too.”

“Good.” Keith kisses the top of his head. “Good.” He exhales, long and shuddering; relieved. “God, I spent two years waiting for this exact moment.”

The statement strikes Lance as odd. “This exact moment.”

Keith tenses. Lance tenses, too, and immediately he relaxes again, breathing steadily until Lance matches him.

“On the space whale, time was…stretchy.”

“You mentioned.”

“Two years I lost.”

Lance tightens his hold. “I know.”

“Most of it was survival camping, really, but there were these visions, sometimes. For Krolia and me. Our pasts. You guys, in the present.” He takes a breath. “Our future.”

Somehow, Lance gets the feel he’s not talking about his and Krolia’s.

“Our future?”

Keith’s breath tickles his neck. Lance doesn’t dare move. Goosebumps pimple his skin and he lets them, shivering, warmed.

“Yes. So much, all the time. More than anything else we saw. Just — tiny snippets, here and there; your face when you sleep, your fingers on a bow, you dragging me on a surfboard and a million other places I woulda followed you to anyway.”

One of his hands slides down Lance’s ribs, fingertips light enough to make him shudder, and rests, cupped open at his hip. “I saw this,” he admits. “Not — the whole conversation, or why, but my hands on you, in this bed, in the moonlight. It kept me going.”

Lance closes his eyes and tries to imagine. Stuck in a strange place where days don’t seem to pass with a stranger who claims to be his mother, watching visions of himself in the future, over and over again.

“No wonder your head was all wonky.”

“Yeah.”

“You’d already been with me. For two years.”

“For twenty. Thirty. Seventy.”

“…That’s a long time, Keith.”

“God, I hope so.”

Lance smiles. “You gonna stick with me that long, hotshot?”

“Like glue, darlin’.”

Lance looks up and, sure enough, Keith’s eyes are closed, face slack. He’s clinging onto consciousness with every bit of strength in his body, things like keeping his accent in check losing priority. Lance settles again against him, guiding them gently so they lie comfortably against the pillows, and breathes out, slow and long.

“Tell me about our future.”

“House on th’beach,” Keith murmurs. His words are slow and pulled apart. “Stone’s throw from your mama’s.”

Lance traces sleepy circles on his skin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Little boy with hair like yours followin’ every little thing you do.”

His breath hitches. He hadn’t thought about that — hadn’t let himself think about it. It’s dangerous, for more than one reason.

But tonight they’re safe. Under the silvery moonlight, with a bed three times bigger than they are, nothing can touch them.

“What about a little girl with your smile?”

“You got it.”

Lance’s smile is warm and giddy, tucked into Keith’s arm, etched there like it’s permanent. “Good. Goodnight, mi alma.”

“Night, baby.”

This is how it stays, forever and ever and always.

[temmtamm]

couldddd you POSSIBLY!.!!.!!! do a gravity falls yandere platonic ford which any age with a son!reader? Maybe around the age of 14 or younger. IF NOT THATS COMPLETELY FINE!

or if not that maybe a platonic yandere teen ford and stan with a younger brother?

Hii pookie!!

Friendly reminder once again, I do not do gender specific asks/headcanons!! Check my Gravity Falls ‘Asks Open’ post if anyone has any confusion on what I will/wont do!

As for a parental Ford…let’s see..

Well, at least in my opinion, Ford probably wouldn’t take that care of a child. He can barely take care of himself, let alone a kid.

But, if we are talking after the portal and everything, then I think that might be different.

Once again, Ford doesn’t have much of any parental bones in his body, but he does display more care and affection for the twins than I think he would’ve before the portal. I feel like he had matured and grown a lot through all the dimensions he had been in, and was able to recognize how poorly he was raised.

So, let’s say your home life wasn’t as great either, whether it be something as simple as your father being emotionally constipated, or your family just fights more than ‘normal’ ones, Ford WILL draw parallels to your home and his.

And Ford, after all he has learned, doesn’t want another person to wind up like him; craving validation and praise from others, to the point where he—I mean, you, seek it out from dangerous sources.

So…Ford starts hanging around you more.

He’s very…subtle with it. He knows kids, especially teenagers don’t care for adults getting all up in their business, so he tried to take it slow.

He didn’t expect how closed off you were, however. Your walls were completely up…So, he had to take some extra measures to get some details out of you.

Y’know the fun fact about all the weirdness in Grvaity Falls?? It means that there’s a lot of bugs that can repeat what it hears—So, it wasn’t that hard to sneak one of these copyroaches into your home and listen in on it repeating all that was heard in the home.

All the nasty fights, all the lonesome crying, all the times you’d gush to yourself or your friends on call about your special interests.

Don’t worry, he’s a good dad, he’ll let you keep SOME privacy…Just, a very, very, VERRYY small portion of it.

Slowly, you two start to bond more and more with him becoming more of a father figure to you with how he seems to always know what’s troubling you and the answers you need to hear in that moment…Not to mention, with him not being great with emotions, he tried to win your love with acts of service, such as making you dinner, saving the shoes you like on his DVR, and letting you spend the night at the shack when your parents fight.

Soon, he started to notice you staying at the shack more and more.

And more and more…He couldn’t help but grow discontent with the way your family treats you.

As said before, it doesn’t matter how small the issue is, if Ford had it his way, not a foul word should be spoken in your vicinity. Haven’t they already done enough damage to this child?? Do they want you to grow up in a broken home?!

In fact…He doesn’t think they’re fit to be parents. Not even in the slightest!!

He would be so much better…He’d actually take care of you, and he is smarter than any school they have been putting you in for that matter—All those kids are just so cruel to you, even if you don’t know it yet.

That…actually gives him an idea.

“So…anything happen at school today, champ?” Ford mumbled in his usual low, raspy voice as he scrubbed at the dishes in the sink, his apron still tied around his waist from cooking.

“Uh…Ford?” He didn’t even bat an eye or look up at you as you started to feel queasy, pushing the bowl of soup away from you at the dinner table. “I think the vegetables in this went bad…I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Ford just let out a good, hearty laugh. “Don’t be silly, I made it with all fresh ingredients. Have a look for yourself. Only the best for you.”

You could feel your stomach start to churn and growl, with the sight that greeted you when you looked down at your bowl not making you feel any better.

Was that an…eye?!

…

It’s the same shade as your mother’s.

“O-Oh god..” You bit down on your lip, bile starting to creep up in the back of your throat at the sight…and that’s when the melatonin had started to kick in, making your vision grow spotty. It was hard for Ford to find a dosage of that where it was not only over the required limit for a young teen, but also able to be hidden in food. He did it though. Better that than rat poison for his little baby.

“Aww, oh no? Are you having a stomach bug?? Don’t worry, I’ll make it all better.”

That’s the sick part. He genuinely believes it’s better locked in the shack for you. Why wouldn’t it be?? He’ll spoil you with all the care and love a child deserves, not to mention he will be sure to intellectually stimulate your brain as well.

You’ll see. He’ll be the perfect father for you.

[reveluving]

make it double (headcanons i) ; phillip graves x reader x jeff sadecki

warnings: s~mut (minors DNI!), mentions of injuries, past bullies have NOTHING on the three of you, overall, loads of fluff!

a/n: main fic is still in the works, and just so you know, I've made quite satisfying progress! I love them too much, so have some headcanons as a little gift from me to you! I recommend reading this before continuing, they take place anytime after the main fic! & pls don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» interested in more of the series? find it here & here!

smut includes: mm4f relationship (no incest), phil & jeff are soft (+ occasionally mean) doms, mentions of phone s~ex, dirty talk,praise kink, unprotected s~ex (p in v), dp; blindfold, cunnilingus, nipple play, spitting & licking, risqué polaroids, aftercare—the whole shebang!

You or Phil refusing to return to Wiskayok without the other. If you have to stay back a day or two to finish your work, Phil is staying too, and vice versa. No question. You'll help each other out, even if only the two of you remain in the office. His office is a dream; overlooking the city at night as you'd chat and banter and make out. 

Jeff never forgets to order your favourite milkshake at the town’s diner, whether for takeout or if you're coming over a little later. He doesn't even ask, he just gets it for you. 

You and Phil helping out or hanging out with Jeff at his store every once in a while. Jeff doesn't let it happen often, because the business can get pretty slow and he doesn't want to bore you. But when you do stop by, the day passes faster and if it really is just the three of you, you take the opportunity to be freaky in the storeroom.

Phil taking your hands in his and feeling them whenever he's sitting next to you. If they feel particularly dry/rough, he'll instinctively take the travel pack of moisturizer out of your pocket, warm the cream between his palms before rubbing it onto your hands.

Cooking nights! On days when it's Jeff's turn to work the kitchen, you tag along. He trusts you with most of the duties, but nothing more than cutting and preparing the ingredients when it comes to Phil. You don't mind it though, it still gives you all the chances to ogle at their arms whenever they roll up their sleeves. 

Phil can cook to some degree, though he’s not as versatile as his brother. And as siblings, they’d argue over the smallest things, though they’re never serious… most of the time. You, on the other hand, find it hilarious, seeing Phil trying to defend himself (“they’re good ‘nough!”) while he goes back and forth with his brother over the pettiest things like poorly chopped veggies (“are you kidding me?!”)

But we can’t not acknowledge Phil’s barbecue skills! From the well-seasoned proteins to the heartiest sides, rest assured, your plates of smokey goodness are in good hands, regardless of your diet!

+ Each time they walk past you from behind, expect them to steal a few kisses; on your lips, shoulder, the nape of your neck, or cheek!

Grocery shopping! Mama knows all of you don't need to go, but she prefers not to separate any of you. Imagine if you're having a hard time picking between two cereals, so you ask the brothers’ opinions. Despite the one-year age gap, they have and use their ‘twin’ telepathy to simultaneously agree on the one they know you'd respond more positively to.

If you know/picked up a new language, please know that the brothers will take advantage of it. Immensely. Phil has already asked you to translate certain words out of the blue, or even documents! He says it’s ‘for work’ but really, he just wants his ears to be blessed by your voice. Say a few sentences and ask him if he’s taking notes or jotting them down instead of listening to you like an audiobook.

Similarly, Jeff buys you novels of the language in question and listens to you just like an audiobook, but in his humble opinion, better. Fret not, he makes sure to read the reviews of the books before buying, so you enjoy reading them just as much as he and his brother do listening to you.

If you return from your latest mission with an injury, then Phil dresses your wounds while Jeff buys you the necessary antibiotics/medicine.

+ Mama makes your favourites and will not listen to your protests. Be careful though; if she finds you doing any heavy-duty activities, be prepared to receive the Southern scolding of a lifetime.

Because Jeff likes to shave off his facial hair completely, whereas Phil prefers to keep his stubble, you have different routines for the two! While they usually take place on different days, if they happen to clash, they play this little game over who gets your attention more. A little peck on your shoulder, and you're turning around to shoot Phil a playful glare. Or a quick touch of the small of your back, and you're playfully swatting Jeff’s hand so his brother wouldn't leave with a bald patch.

They adore each and every pleasurable reaction you display. Still, one of their absolute favourites is when you try to hide yourself by turning your head to the side as one brother eats you out, circling their tongue on your clit. Encouraging you to suffocate them with their hands gripping your legs. 

In contrast, the other holds you from behind, licking a stripe between your neck and shoulder, either, growling, making fun of your little moans, or whispering the nastiest words known to man into your ear. Unless you use your safeword, don't even think about running away from their arms.

Putting a blindfold on you and making you guess which brother is sucking on your neck, running their hands down your stomach or even kissing up your leg. Each time you get it wrong, they either tug at your tits, bite down on your neck just a tad harder or slap your inner thigh. Anywhere but your pussy.

Risqué polaroids; a classic mention in my works! Phil already has a few, his favourite is the photo of you sitting on his office chair in nothing more than a lacey lingerie, your face partially covered with your hands and one of Phil’s Rolex watches loosely clasped around your wrist. Because Phil had requested you in such, it was only fair to allow Jeff to decide as well. 

So, after weeks of thinking, he opted for you draped in one of his dress shirts, posing with your face half-hidden in a pillow. Like his brother, the sacred polaroid is hidden in the deepest slots of his wallet.

Phil has shown him the other polaroids, too; the kinds that would give their Mama a heart attack if she ever got hold of it. Since then, taking pictures of you has become a thing whenever you fool around behind closed doors.

Jeff sending you videos of him playing with his cock whenever you're out of town the same way Phil does if your deployment requires your team and his to split up. Jeff’s videos usually begin where he’s mid-pumping, head tilting back on the bed while Phil’s is moving his hands up and down ever so slowly as he slurs out your name, looking directly into the camera with an intense stare as beads of cum leak out little by little.

+ Bonus if you spot a polaroid of you in the video/call!

Aftercare with the two is a dream; soft kisses around your body, sweet reassurances and praises in your ear, and more. When one tends to you, the other fetches the necessary, be it damp towels, a refreshing cup of water, or even pillows and blankets. 

Even if one has an emergency to attend to, the other will stay and keep you company—God forbid if both sides of you grow cold. Nothing is more valuable than seeing you extra comfortable, even in your most vulnerable state. 

Becoming the talk of the town after a few of Mama’s friends shared the time they visited her house and saw photos of the three of you recently framed and decorating the wall/coffee table. Some find it cute, already considering you high school sweethearts despite no explicit confirmations of your relationship. Some despise it, but nobody dares to voice it out unless they want Phil to catch word of it.

Absolutely surprising the familiar faces around town when they actually see you, be it your friends like Crystal, who squealed and pulled you into a hug when you bumped into her, or foes like anyone who pestered and looked down upon you for somehow being close friends with the brothers at the time. 

Funnily enough, the boys enjoy the latter just a little more compared to the former since it gives them the chance to show you off. Rub your strength and successes in their face without even doing much other than treating you the way you deserve.

+ Imagine one of those ‘POV you’re at the airport, passing by international students’ videos but the three of you are the ‘snazzy’ (or read: doing something better with your lives) students and the bullies just stand there tearing up in shame BYEEE

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

a/n: i love these three + mama so MUCH????? FAWK ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

MiD taglist ♡ : @unicorngirly1 @teddy2510 @ashableketchup

[i-cant-sing]

I feel like big brother dabi frequently checks little sister reader out from her preschool so that they can do stupid shit together and he can one up his siblings on who spends the most time with her

He does! And it's not him "checking her out" as much as it is "luring her out" or borderline kidnapping her, but he's done it so many times now that Enji officially gave your school the green light to let the "brooding, scary villain" take you.

The bigger the age gap between you two, the more softer he is towards you. Like in this scenario, Dabi is like 20 something, while reader is barely 5.

As soon as Dabi picks you from school, he's taking your pink bag and hanging it on his shoulder while letting your small hand hold his two fingers as you both walk, all while humming when you tell him about your day and how you learned what a "verb" is.

He'll take you to a convenience store first, to get you something to eat. And sure, mama Rei always makes the yummiest meals with the best organic ingredients and papa Enji always take you to Michelin starred restaurants and gourmet ice cream parlours, they still can't beat the addicting taste of cheap convenience store junk food, which is all Dabi can afford at the moment. And the best thing is, he doesn't say no. You want two ice creams? Fuck yeah, he'll get 4! That's just a fantastic idea and he won't say no to it.

Then later he'll tae you to a park, where you'll be playing more by yourself than have him play with you. However, you can't play with other kids either without his permission. If you see kids your age at the play ground, you'll have to come to Dabi and ask if you can play with them. Sometimes he'll say yes, mostly he says no. That's when you have to huff and guilt trip him with your small voice and complain how no one ever plays with you (because everyone is busy) and now Dabi is sitting in the sandbox at your pretend restaurant while you serve him a sand cake. (On the inside, he's crying because his inner child wants to give you all the love and affection and everything he never got)

After playing, you're tired and looking like a complete mess, so while you sit im Dabi's lap taking huge gulps from your water bottle, he's combing your hair with his hands and tying it into pretty braids with cute bows (that he absolutely does mot carry around with him and no, those are not your pink hair ties on his wrist. That's fashion), all while he's narrowing his eyes at you as you're inhaling your water.

"Hey, slow down, brat. You'll choke and I won't save you."

If he has time, he'll take you to McDonald's and get you a happy meal, not getting himself one cause again- he's poor. But he will steal your fries though, and your drink. Not that you mind. No, no. You love sharing your food with Dabi, in fact, you'll probably be feeding him with your own hands.

"Here comes the plane, Dabi! Say ahh!" As you poke his closed lips with a fry.

Sometimes you'll ask about his scars. You're still too young to understand it all, and you being a curious kid, you often ask about his appearance. With gentle hands, you'll be tracing his staples and burn marks, asking if they hurt.

He'll shrug. "They used to, but not anymore." But maybe his tone wasn't convincing enough, or maybe you just needed an excuse to your Hello Kitty bandaids, but you're pulling them out pf your bag and placing them haphazardly on Dabi before kissing each boo boo to "make the pain go away".

You don't notice the misty eyes of your brother while you're kissing his burns.

Before the sun sets, Dabi is taking you back home (or else Rei will have his head), and you're so tired that you fall asleep while he's carrying you, drooling slightly on his shoulder as you mumble about Dabi and him being the best (which he obviously recorded to piss off his siblings. Shotou and Fuyumi are 1000% convinced that this was a deep fame and not you).

He'll tuck you in bed, maybe kiss your forehead before leaving. On his way home, he's looking through all the photos he secretly took that day of you,and there are even some very shaky, badly taken photos of him by you (because you wanted to take photos of your big brother too🥺) before Dabi settles on the one picture where he's looking ominous (but his eyes are soft) and you're in his arms, all giddy and happy.

New wallpaper 🥺💖