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fatima aamer bilal, from we were put on this earth desperate, hungry and willing.

[text id: you get nervous when someone holds your hand, you wonder if they can feel the rot.]

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Send “finally meet you” for a starter where our muses are long-distance friends meeting in person for the first time.

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Ellie takes a couple more deep breaths, a way she's learned to manage her stress, or in this case, she uses it for frustration specifically.

"I don't think so...," she shrugs, "It's not like I deleted it, so it's not in the recycling bin, couldn't find the newest version in my recent folder...," she thinks over any more options. "Ice cream sounds good," she nods, even if she feels like a toddler who's trying to be talked down from a tantrum.

She is so grateful that her boyfriend is trying to help, even if he can't fix it; to her, all that matters is that he cares. "Then after that, I can just start where it left me," she explains, more so to reassure herself that it would be okay.

Avery listens. He knows the pain of deleting your work, but it's usually an essay or something for him, not something he cares about.

A frown falls on his lips and he presses a kiss to her temple. "There's nothing we can do?" He asks and looks over her at the computer. His eyes search for a button that will magically fix everything, then sighs when he doesn't. "Do you want me to get you ice cream?" The ask comes with a gentle brush of her hair. "I have those strawberry sorbet bars too?"

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Ellie jokingly rolls her eyes at Alex's guessing game. She shakes her head in amusement as she tries her best to hold back a wider grin when Alex beams at her when he's right.

"Aww, cute," she smiles as she tries to picture a tiny David prancing around Alex's childhood home. She loves it when she gets these tidbits about Alex's life, knows she could probably sit and listen to him talk for hours about his life and his family. She always does her best to piece the scenes together in her mind from stories and photographs. Though she especially enjoys learning more about him, she could easily find herself content just listening to him talk about literally anything.

She smiles, she's definitely not opposed to slow dancing, though she pauses, "Probably? I think I blacked out a little once I got past Wham and Mariah," She thinks over her playlist. "Are there romantic Christmas songs?" Besides the one that recently played, of course. Most of the Christmas songs she could recall off the top of her head were about Jesus or Santa in some form. "I mean, I guess Santa Baby counts, and that one where it's a duet and everyone thought the guy was being a creep..." She thinks it over as she arranges the cut cookies onto the sheet pan.

Ellie looks over the bit of dough left, which she thought of adding to the next batch they'd mix. "Oh...well, we have a little extra then," she shrugs with a smile. When learning to bake, she tended to make extra due to the worry that she might mess up, plus, "A little snack," she uses a spare fork to grab a bite of raw cookie dough. She grabs another forkful and holds the utensil in Alex's direction.

Ellie scoffs as the little bit of flour hits her face, moving the fork away. "No snack for you, actually," she bumps his hip and uses her free hand to flick more flour at him in return. "Sure do," She grins. "Well, I do know that I'm not really one. Think I'm a selective enjoyer too," she copies his words from earlier. Once the tray is loaded with cookie cutouts, she steps away to slide them into the oven.

“maybe? ohh, so i am right, yeah? did i guess that one correctly? is it WHAM!?” alex’s features light up all at once, a proud, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the most famous christmas tune, last christmas, comes on and begins to pour through the speakers. “did i ever tell you that my youngest brother, david, had the biggest crush on george michael growing up? he was about six years old, putting on his fanciest clothes and walking around the house, singing father figure.” laughing at the memory, it’s one of his favorite. his childhood was far from perfect, but there was no such thing as a dull day at the nilsens’ household. “what else did you put on this playlist of yours? anything romantic? something we’ll be slow dancing to while the cookies are in the oven?” he taunts, but his cheeks turn pink and eyes begin to sparkle at the idea of spinning her around the room with thousands of multicolored lights twinkling in the background.

“more dough? how many cookies are we making? enough to share with the big foot when he comes for us, huh?” he squints at her over one of his crooked snowflake cookies, flour smudged on his cheek like war paint that he refuses to wipe off. “oh, you’re playing a dangerous game, eleanor jade. first mariah, then WHAM! what’s next? michael bublé crawling out of the pantry?” he chuckles, flicking a bit of flour in her direction again. just the right amount of it actually reaches her face, enough to let her know the war’s not over yet. “and for the record, i’m not a hater. i’m more of a… selective enjoyer. i prefer these non-haunting december tunes.“ he bumps her hip again, grinning, just trying to provoke her to retaliate at this point. he’s not trying to make room for himself, he’s just testing her patience like an annoying teenager. “besides, you just love the fact that i’m suffering, don’t you? and i’m sorry but are you implying mariah carey has actual fans?”

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Hocus Pocus (1993) dir. Kenny Ortega

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🤐 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴. 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 (+ 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦) 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦.

🕊️ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

01. gently brushing the other's hair out of their face to tuck behind their ear. 02. wrapping a blanket around their shoulders from behind. 03. brushing tears off of their cheeks. 04. reaching out hesitantly before resting a hand on their back. 05. placing a cup of tea or coffee in front of them. 06. sitting beside them while they are asleep to watch over them. 07. sharing silence with them. 08. pulling them into a tight hug. 09. writing something quietly and passing them the note. 10. fixing a piece of their clothing carefully.

🔥 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

01. staring at them in silence for a long moment before walking away. 02. slamming a door shut without explanation. 03. packing their things up, slowly and deliberately. 04. breathing sharply through their nose and refusing to meet their eyes. 05. cleaning something obsessively in silence.

🥀 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

01. running their thumb over the others bottom lip slowly. 02. standing just a little too close, enough to feel each others breath. 03. grazing their knuckles along the other's hip or thigh in passing. 04. undoing the top button of their shirt while holding eye contact. 05. leaning in like they're going to kiss and then pausing shyly. 06. sliding a hand under their chin to tilt their head up.

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Do y’all ever read your partner’s reply and it’s just… so beautiful, so well-crafted, you really just have to sit back, and read it a couple more times, and wonder how in the heck you got so lucky to write with someone THIS talented??

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🌿 * 𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 : 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎-𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜.

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 : what grief does your muse carry quietly, and how do they cope when no one is watching? 𝐨𝐚𝐤 : what gives your muse strength when everything feels uncertain? 𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 : what soothes your muse's mind when they are overwhelmed? how do they manage stress? 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : what memory does your muse hold onto most tightly, and why? 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐡 : when was the last time your muse had to start over, and what did they leave behind? 𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫 : what traditions or values does your muse consider sacred? 𝐢𝐯𝐲 : who or what has your muse clung to and why? 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 : how does your muse protect the people they love? 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 : what parts of your muse are considered hard to love, and how do they deal with that? 𝐟𝐨𝐱𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 : what lies has your muse told to protect themself or someone else? how far are they willing to go? 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐬 : where does your muse feel most safe, what does that look like? 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞 : what does endurance mean to your muse? 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 : how do they express longing, especially for something or someone that they think they cannot have? 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐞 : how does your muse heal - physically, emotionally, spiritually? 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 : what does joy look like for your muse? how do they let themself feel it? 𝐚𝐬𝐡 : what has your muse lost that still haunts them? 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 : what inner wounds does your muse hide? do they hide it behind humour or confidence? do they hide it at all? 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚 : what does love mean to your muse - how do they show it? how do they want to receive it? 𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐬 : when your muse needs clarity - who or what do they turn to? 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐧 : are there any details from your muse's childhood that sticks with them - good or bad? 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐨 : how does your muse handle change and adaptability - are they flexible or resistant?

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Ellie smiles and giggles softly at Alex’s disdain towards even mentioning the possibility of going on that ride again. “I appreciate your dedication, but I think I’m done with that ride too. I don’t know what that kid was thinking, but once is enough for me.” She’s pretty sure she’ll lose her lunch if she gets on that ride again. The first time was fun, and she didn’t suffer like Alex, but she could tell she would next time. “Ooh, we’re so getting old,” she nods in agreement. Then again, she’s not sure if she had the tolerance to do what that kid did when she was his age.

Ellie’s jaw drops, “I’m sorry, did you, Alex Nilsen, just ask me to take a selfie?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and immediately closes the minuscule distance left between their shoulders to pose for the picture. Not wasting her chance to get a photo with him. She's happy to get something a little more posed compared to the candid pictures she'd had to sneak in the past. She grabs the plush frog and holds it up in front of the spot where their arms touch. “Of course, Tad wants to be in the picture,” she states and smiles at the camera. “Don’t forget to send it to me,” she adds with a plan to set it as the wallpaper on her phone.

“True,” she nods along to Alex’s persuasion. “I'm down for funnel cake, but we are so not actually getting on that ride again. Maybe the slow little spinning strawberries would be okay, but I think I’ll draw the line with those. I’d rather your face not become the same color as Tad,” She loves that smile of his, even if it's accompanied by a lovingly teasing joke. She often finds herself looking for ways to make him happy, saying or doing things with the hope that she can see that look on his face.

There’s a pause in their conversation after that, nothing uncomfortable, just a moment for them to revel in the presence of each other as the Ferris wheel gently spins. “Me too,” she quiets her voice to match his. She finds herself staring at his lips in the same way, eyes darting back to see his gaze on her. She could stare into those eyes for as long as he'd let her.

Ellie finds herself leaning in as Alex pulls her closer. She's been hoping for this moment for so long, waiting to ensure Alex felt the same. Without much more thought, their lips meet in a kiss, and Ellie feels her whole body light up with electricity. It's initially sweet and gentle, and the taste of lemonade lingers.

“are you serious? again?” alex echoes, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor, his stomach and heart doing the same exact thing at the mere idea of getting back on that hellion of a ride. he studies her expression for a moment longer, unsure if she’s joking, and reluctantly adds, “you know what? i’d do it for you. i’d go back there if you really wanted to, but it might be my last ride in this lifetime. just sayin’.” his voice is not without a hint of humor. he really would do it for her, would do anything to make her happy, he realizes, leaning his head back against the cool metal bar behind them, letting out a soft, theatrical groan. “please, don’t even remind me of that kid. he must have the stamina of a caffeine-addicted squirrel or isn’t actually human. one or the other. i mean, i watched him exit the ride with joy every single time, ellie. genuine joy. i came off it questioning my life choices and whether my digestive system was still intact, and he kept hopping right back on it.” it’s insanity, he thinks. “kids are built different.” there must be some truth to that because he clearly remembers the countless times he’d fallen from a tree or off his bike as a kid and somehow managed to keep his bones intact through it all.

“does that mean we’re getting old?” he playfully asks, but he’s only half-focused on the conversation now because her ankle taps his again and this teasing smile, so soft and sweet and special, like it’s meant just for him, pulls his attention like a magnet. she’s glowing in the way only she can, bathed in the carnival’s golds and pinks, laughter still on her lips, her gaze locked onto his like he’s something worth looking at. his heart’s trying very hard to forget its job is to maintain a steady rhythm, slowing down and speeding up instead. “hey, we should take a picture, don’t you think? would tad like to be included or is he afraid of heights?” he asks, pulling out his phone and switching the camera to the selfie mode. their shoulders brush again, which is unavoidable in the tight space. the contact sets off something electric in him. her skin is so warm, and smells so sweet. he wants to lean in, close that breath of space between them and finally let his mouth say what his hands and eyes and everything else have been saying for weeks. “i say we only live once,” he muses, bumping her knee lightly with his, “why deny ourselves another lemonade and more cotton candy? i’ve reached the point where i’m willing to sell my soul for another corn dog.” and run an extra mile in the morning. “oh, i wonder if they have funnel cake? we haven’t tried that one yet. we should grab one, share it and hop back on that whirlwind of a ride to make it more fun.” he’s teasing again, trying to anchor himself in the banter because it’s safe there. familiar. but his voice slips into something quieter as he glances out at the fair below and then back to her, always back to her. “i’m really glad we came here. i’m having the best time.” he looks at her again, gaze lingering on her lips for a heartbeat longer than he means to, then lifts his eyes back to hers. his arm curls around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

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10 Things I Hate About You (1999) dir. Gil Junger

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Ellie smiles softly, he wants to do this for her, it’s just one sentence but it makes her melt. The tendency she has towards independence is dampened at his sweet words. She can tell there’s very little she can say to stop him, not that she wanted to now anyway. She doesn’t know how to respond to his next words, instead choosing to take a drink of her tea. Dealing with things like this on her own is force of habit at this point even if she isn’t doing a good job at it right now.

Her eyes follow along as he goes over everything he’s brought. Ellie nods as she looks over the different colored Gatorades, “Those are all good ones,” she comments truthfully, but even if she doesn’t like one of the flavors, she has no plans to complain, not when he’s doing so much for her. If not for him she'd probably still be rotting away in her bed. As heavy as her body felt, she hadn’t been able to fall back asleep since she’d woken up but found it hard to do much else except lay there. “Too hot to nap,” she mumbles as she takes another bite of soup.

She frowns lightly, “Alex,” had her cheeks not already flushed for from being sick they sure would be now. She isn't used to this, being cared for like this. She had other friends, but they'd just sent 'feel better soon' texts. His name was not said to scold but instead to show appreciation, well maybe there is a little bit of a scolding mixed in there since she figures he's either missing out on pay or wasting pto.

"Luckily for both of us, sneezing is not one of my symptoms, I would love to see that performance though" the weak smile returns to her face as she pictures Alex feign death. She works her way slowly through the soup and tea, thankfully, the liquids soothe her throat and fill her stomach. “Chicken noodles perfect,” she reassures him, “It's my mom’s go to too,” well it was when she was really little, and they'd lived together at least.

When she reaches the bottom of the bowl, she sets the spoon inside then proceeds to slowly finish off the tea. Apparently, she realizes as she finishes, she's been neglecting the comfort of tea, even makes a mental note to add some to her grocery list. When she's done, she sets the mug by the bowl then slides herself off the stool. The warmth and wooziness return as her feet hit the floor, though she can tell it's been reduced at least a bit by the soup and tea. "We can run the dishwasher later," she suggests. Fortunately, the sink isn't filled with dirty dishes since she'd ran a cleaning cycle last night.

alex doesn’t say anything right away. he just watches her for a moment, the unreadable expression on his face softening with sympathy at the edges as he assesses the situation. it’s not good, but could always be worse, he thinks, taking note of her voice, how hoarse it is, her eyes look a little glazed, and her skin’s got that warm, flushed look that tells him she’s running a fever without having to use a thermometer. still, she’s somehow so disarmingly charming that he simply can’t bring himself to be upset she didn’t call him right away and actually tried to brush him off. he slides a mug of tea across the countertop and toward her, earl grey with lemon and honey, and then sets about unpacking the bag of things he brought without making it into a performance. tissues, electrolyte drinks, advil, a couple of those useless theraflu packets, cough syrup.

“you say that like i didn’t want to do this for you,” he says, pulling off his jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. “you’re allowed to let people take care of you, ellie. you don’t have to suffer in silence, you know?” it’s said without judgment. not pushing, just simple truth. when she inquires about the drugs, his mouth lifts into a crooked grin. it’s a good sign, her iconic sense of humor hasn’t left her yet. he taps the bottle of cold and flu medicine with the back of his knuckles. “daytime stuff, nighttime stuff, cough drops that taste like candy, and those zinc lozenges that are probably a scam but i brought them anyway. plus gatorade. in, like… three colors.” he opens the fridge and starts stacking them inside.

“figured you probably have a favorite one but i didn’t want to make that call and bother you, thought you might have been napping or something.” he glances over his shoulder at her, voice softer now. “you’ve got me all to yourself for as long as you need, okay? i took a few days off at the library, and no germs are gonna scare me off. don’t forget i’m the oldest of four. i know the drill.” a beat passes. a goofy grin overtakes his features. “but if you do sneeze on me, i reserve the right to dramatically fake my death later.” he returns to the kitchen island, leans against it across from her, arms folded. watching her quietly now, but not in a way that presses. just being here. “do you even like chicken noodle? i only got it because that’s what my mom used to make when i was sick as a child, but i’ve heard any soup is good for you,” he says gently, “and don’t worry, i’ll run the next pharmacy heist if you need round two, but this should last us a few days.”

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//a surprise for @qverdia It had taken a week to get all the proper ingredients from the bakery and a few extra shifts in the barn to get the money for said ingredients but here it was, a small cake, frosted to the best of Ellie's abilities. She'd even managed a box to keep the desert safe from insects. She could have used her winnings to buy a cake and had some professional from the capitol bake it, but she wanted the capitol to keep their noses out of this. Plus, a homemade cake feels more fitting, even if the layers are a little crooked.

It was late, the sun lowering ever closer to the horizon, her and Abi had agreed to meet at their favorite spot atop a lakeside cliff. When she gets close enough to see those familiar brunette curls, she smiles. "Happy Late Birthday Abilene Hoover," she speaks just above a whisper as she gets closer. Then she lifts the plate from the box to reveal the cake and pulls a lighter from her pocket to hold over the top, "I couldn't get my hands on a candle in time," she gives a sheepish look as she flicks on the flame.

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"Nope, I think I grabbed everything" she shakes her head, fortunately all the important things fit into a section of her bag. She did, however, wish she'd packed more clothes. A week's worth of clothes means nothing if they were to be in danger like that again. There's blood in quite a few spots on her shirt and a hole in her shoulder where the bullet met her skin. "Do you need to go back for something? We can try to get back to the park after we get washed up," She wouldn't mind returning to that chaos if it meant grabbing something important to Trent.

She leaves unimportant things on the floor of the car, figures it's easier to carry what she needs in a bag than to have her hands full. Plus, she can keep her hands free to help Trent. When she stands and shuts the door she can't get over the sight of him walking, albeit it's more like a stumbling shuffle than full footsteps. "Okay...," like Trent's gait, her voice is a little wobbly, she wants to sound more confident in Trent but it's hard.

She shuts her door then clicks the lock on the car a couple of times as she meets Trent on his side of the vehicle. She holds his arm to make sure he stays on his feet, gives her an opportunity to at least help make the landing softer if he ends up falling. "Let's," she agrees as they make their way steadily towards the possible stream.

"Maybe I should've just driven the car closer...," she comments as they work through an unsteady patch of ground. "Or checked to make sure there's an actual stream first..." she adds.

After a while she hears it, finds the will to smile as they see the water steadily winding through a gap in trees.

Trent hasn't processed any of it, too good at living in the moment, the now's as far as his mind can reach. Thinks he'd get too upset if he wandered outside of it. 'Cos they weren't zombies or aliens from out of space, or people sick with something that makes 'em act crazy. Nah, they were run of the mill American citizens armed with the second amendment. "Cool. I should'a packed up my whole place. Did you leave anythin' important back at the park?" He asks, and it would be stupid to go back, but they could, if she needed to.

He hobbles out of the car, gingerly grabbing his duffel bag. He's pretty familiar with the tells of his body, the instinct to go into shock before it realizes it can heal itself. Meditation's the name of the game, or anything that will get his heart rate down. Trent squeezing onto the car handle, a good indicator that his body's in no way relaxed. "Uh-huh. We just gotta go slow." His eyes are closed, which probably looks real concerning for Ellie, but he carves out the moment to takes several concentrated inhales and exhales.

His eyes are heavy when they open, but he pushes a smile. Tired, but okay. "Let's go have a picnic." He jokes, but that's basically what this is, only with a little more blood and a lot more pain.

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ADAM BRODY AND ADDISON TIMLIN as NICK TALMAN AND MARA CHANDLER in STARTUP S03 E06 "Authentication" (2018) dir. Timothy A. Burton

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MALCOLM IN THE MIDDLE 4.04 Stupid Girl

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Ellie does her best not to laugh as Alex complains about his troubled relationship with that ride. "Aw man, I was really hoping to go on that again," she teases knowing full well that she probably couldn't handle another go either. Especially with the amount of food and drinks in her stomach now. "I still don't get how that one kid went on like five times in a row," she comments. While sitting at a picnic table with Alex she'd seen the middle-schooler leave the ride then get right back in line a ridiculous number of times. She could never.

Fortunately, the other rides hadn't been so jarring, and she'd enjoyed the games they played. She cherishes that plush frog Alex had won her in ring toss and already lovingly named it Tad. "I have no clue what you're talking about sir," she replies with an attempted innocent smile as she gently kicks his ankle again.

Ellie's gaze stays on him as their chair raises some more, as nice as the view is ahead of them, once she's got her eyes on him she can't find the will to pull away. She smiles softly as he brushes a curl into a place behind her ear. She hopes he can't feel her pulse rise as his hand passes that spot of her temple, hopes she's doing well at hiding the desire to kiss him then and there. "Mhm," she agrees. "Exactly what I was thinking," she agrees. To stay in this moment forever is all she could ask for. Just her and Alex in their own little space. Her and her sweet, witty, caring, handsome Alex.

"Uh yeah I was serious," she gives him a look like obviously. "Though I think I'll have to stop after that unless I want to go through a sugar withdrawal tomorrow," she adds. "Even if the cotton candy smells so good," she sighs.

“this is my favorite ride ever,”   alex muses,  breathing a sigh of relief.   the ferris wheel is a breeze compared to that one demonic rollercoaster that almost stripped him off dignity and the corndog he had for lunch.   he’s still recovering from it.   “that other thing spun like it had a personal vendetta against my equilibrium.”   the truth is,  if ellie hadn’t looked so thrilled,  he might’ve collapsed straight onto the pavement right after.   as he sinks deeper into the seat,  trying to keep his long legs from occupying what little space’s left for her,  he can feel relief wash over him.   the kind that only comes after hours of walking,  half-screaming half-praying through rides,  and trying not to hurt his pride at the ring toss booth (he did win her a tiny stuffed frog,  even if it took way too many tickets).   

when he feels the nudge at his ankle,  his mouth curves into a crooked grin.   “i’m sorry,  ma’am?   trying to kick me off already?”   he teases,  turning his head to catch a glimpse of her in the golden light.   his chest tightens because she’s just so beautiful,  with her rosy cheeks and sunburned nose and twinkling eyes.   he brushes a strand of hair off her cheek and tucks it behind her ear.   and when she makes that soft,  content little comment about how she could stay here for the rest of the night,  his heart skips a beat.   it might not be a big declaration,  but there’s a weight to it.   a warmth.    “yeah,”   he agrees quietly,  nodding his head for emphasis,   “feels like one of these moments that make you wish life had a pause button.”   he wishes he could press it now and stay here forever.   the thought of kissing her crosses his mind,  and not for the first time today.   “wait,  were you serious about the lemonade thing?   ‘cause i am.   think i’m really gonna power through two more and another corndog after this,”   he adds after a second,  just to keep things from getting too serious too fast.   but there’s still something soft in the look he gives her.   a silent echo of what she didn’t say.   he wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else either.