#Top 20 food allergies

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[35gofbeansprouts]

😤 oh my god every semester i forget about the hour long drive to uni and when i remember it always fucking kills my interest

it takes me like 2 hours just to become functional after i wake up so a 2 hour class takes up like 4-6 hours of my day and its so tiring and i get nothing from it even like socialising or SOMETHING fun and nice its purely exhausting and i keep thinking my interest in my degree will help but it never does

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

[soon-palestine]

Palestinian Territory - The Israeli authorities continue to enforce their ongoing arbitrary blockade of the Gaza Strip, refusing to allow humanitarian aid and necessities that are essential for survival—such as cleaning and personal hygiene supplies—into the Strip. This comes amid the spread of infectious diseases and on top of the precarious living conditions faced by the approximately 2.3 million Palestinians in the enclave, constituting a perpetuation of Israel’s comprehensive crime of genocide, which began on 7 October 2023.

Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor emphasises that the consequences of Israel’s intentional worsening of the humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip, by blocking people’s access to cleaning and personal hygiene products, medical equipment, and sterilisation supplies, are dire. Nothing justifies subjecting the population to conditions that can cause widespread death, including by causing the spread of serious skin diseases and and infections, including hepatitis.

Israel continues to systematically and arbitrarily deny hygiene supplies and equipment to all Gaza Strip residents, exacerbating the catastrophic health crisis that Israel has caused there. This crisis has been made worse by the population’s forced, widespread, and repeatedly occurring displacement, as well as the lack of personal hygiene supplies and disinfectants in shelters and camps housing hundreds of thousands of displaced people. Israel continues to prevent and obstruct the entry of the most basic supplies into the Strip, creating conditions that are ripe for the spread of infectious diseases, water pollution, and the absence of sanitation services, as Israeli army forces have destroyed these facilities.

Since the beginning of the genocide nearly, Israel has arbitrarily closed crossings into the Gaza Strip, blocking the entry of humanitarian supplies and the flow of food and water. These actions have resulted in a dangerous accumulation of crises that directly threaten the lives and health of the Gaza Strip’s residents, most notably due to their lack of access to food, clean water, medicines, medical supplies, sanitary tools, and cleaning supplies.

Aya Kamal Ashour Abed, a 20-year-old displaced mother of two at the Deir al-Balah Preparatory School for Girls in the central Gaza Strip, spoke with the Euro-Med Monitor team. “We are more than 30 people living in this classroom for about nine months,” she stated. “A few months ago, we numbered roughly 70, but after some of the displaced individuals relocated to tents outside the school, our numbers dropped somewhat.

“We only receive cleaning and personal hygiene supplies in small quantities every two or three months, despite the fact that our number is very high and we require them constantly,” Abed continued. “Sanitation supplies, like tissues, soap, and shampoo, are extremely expensive [or] even nonexistent in the markets.”

Added Abed, “A bar of soap, for instance, now costs 30 shekels (roughly nine USD) while a bottle of shampoo costs 90 shekels (roughly 25 USD). We do not have anything to eat, so how can we afford these amounts for basic hygiene?”

Abed, who was displaced from her home in the Jabalia refugee camp in the northern Gaza Strip following its bombing last October, said that her two sons had become afflicted with allergies and bacteria, for which she is unable to provide ointments because they are unavailable in UNRWA clinics. “I showed my son to the doctor, and he told me that his entire body is seriously infected with bacteria due to poor hygiene,” Abed told Euro-Med Monitor.

Obtaining sanitary pads—which are pricey and hard to find in local markets—is one of her biggest challenges. “Even though my children’s diapers are completely unusable, I have to cut them into tiny pieces and use them as sanitary pads,” Abed explained. “During my period, I also have to use a single pad for the entire day, which has led to numerous infections and rashes.”

Approximately 680,000 women and girls in the Gaza Strip are of reproductive age. These individuals lack access to menstrual pads and other essentials, and also face other challenges such as inadequate access to water, toilets, various hygiene products, and privacy. Additionally, they must use contaminated or unsterilised materials, which puts them at risk of developing infections that can lead to infertility and uterine cancer.

Since Israel has cut off electricity to the Gaza Strip, there is a growing risk to all residents caused by waste accumulation and sewage flooding of roads and markets due to the inability to drain it. Israel has destroyed most of the Strip’s vital infrastructure, including sewage networks, and forced over two million people—the majority of whom have been displaced more than once—into shelters and tents that lack the basic necessities of life, personal hygiene, and health care.

Forty-two-year-old Mohammed Saad Abu Haitham said that his family of eight, which resides in a tent in the Mawasi neighborhood of Khan Yunis in the southern Gaza Strip, is severely impacted by the lack of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and bar soap. Due to its scarcity, soap is unusually expensive and therefore difficult to purchase.

“We do not have the money to buy enough meals for our children, so we cannot buy cleaning materials and soap in light of their high prices and the lack of availability,” Abu Haitham told the Euro-Med Monitor team. “My spouse and kids’ hair has been infected with lice, and we all have skin diseases as a result of not washing and not using enough soap and shampoo.”

Food dyes are used instead of traditional dyes for making liquid soap and sterilisation products, which have not entered the Gaza Strip in months due to the Israeli closure of the crossings and the imposition of an arbitrary siege. These alternative and primitive cleaning products are made locally, are unsafe, and are generally insufficient in both quality and quantity when sold in the markets of the central and southern Gaza Strip.

Tens of thousands of cases of skin diseases, including eczema, have been reported to medical facilities as having cropped up in shelters and camps for displaced people living in tents. This is particularly concerning for women, as eczema often appears on the hands of people working to clean food utensils using antiquated and dangerous materials. Meanwhile, reports from the United Nations indicate that skin rashes and skin infections, especially among children, are sharply increasing in the Strip.

The Israeli authorities have placed an arbitrary and oppressive siege on the Palestinian people there, squeezing them into a tiny area with exceedingly limited resources; denying them access to food, clean water, and other necessities; and leaving them exposed to extreme heat.

The right to dignity is an internationally recognised human right that protects people from humiliation, among other forms of unethical treatment. It is meant to ensure fairness by providing the means for people to live in dignity, as well as other fundamental needs and rights, like the right to health and the right to water and sanitation. These rights are essential to maintaining human dignity and preserving the lives of the populace.

The only way to guarantee the rights of Gaza Strip residents is to put an end to Israel’s crime of genocide, lift the arbitrary siege on the Strip, and rescue what remains of the currently uninhabitable region. Delays will either cause the region to irreversibly deteriorate, or incur significant costs in terms of civilian lives and health.

The international community is required to guarantee the entry of humanitarian aid into the Gaza Strip, including the entry of non-food essentials needed to respond to the dire circumstances faced by the Strip’s entire population. Euro-Med Monitor stresses that swift and effective action must be taken to safely deliver aid to civilians across the entire Strip, including the northern section, which is particularly isolated right now. Additionally, the international community must prioritise providing adequate supplies of personal and family hygiene products, as well as products for menstruating individuals, plus sexual and reproductive health care services to prevent and mitigate further harm to women and children in particular, and the entire Palestinian population in general. These actions are mandated by international human rights law and relevant international obligations.

Pressure needs to be put on Israel, as the occupying force, to maintain sanitation facilities and services in the Gaza Strip, as well as to guarantee the safety of the technicians charged with repairing and renovating water lines and their various sources. The main water pipelines that enter the Strip need to be restored, particularly those that enter it from the north.

In addition to ensuring the entry of enough fuel to operate the Gaza Strip’s water and sanitation infrastructure, including desalination plants, water wells, and mobile toilets, it is crucial to exert pressure on Israel to permit the entry of materials required for repair work and rehabilitation of civilian infrastructure. These services are essential to the civilian population’s survival in the Strip, and will protect them from the threat of further health disasters.

[pirateprincessjess]

For 20 mill, would you consider going vegan for 5 years?

Yeah absolutely. I’m not vegan but I eat a ton of vegan food because I have a deadly dairy allergy, and vegan food is always safe for me to eat. If I went vegan for 5 years that would mean that I’m not at risk of dying from my food for 5 years, and I get 20 million on top of that?! This deal rules!

[creations-by-chaosfay]

An automatic payment is going through on Monday, and it'll leave us with $20 until July 1st. It's not enough because we need a few things.

Kitty litter - Cacoa needs both her litter boxes flipped. They have about two inches depth each, and it needs to be twice that.

Laundry - we use the laundromat to wash our clothes, and dry them at home. I have just a week's worth of underwear.

Food - our fridge is getting bare. My husband is diabetic and nearly out of food he can safely eat. One of my medications causes constipation and watermelon is the single greatest treatment to fix and prevent it (I take supplements and hydrate all day). Oh, and we're nearly out of protein options.

Fuel - we need to put fuel in the car; currently we have half a tank of gas.

Medication - Medicare won't cover two of my allergy meds because they're cheaper over-the-counter. I'm out of one and nearly out of the other. Without my allergy controlled, my asthma gets significantly worse, and I develop sinus and ear infections. Those infections require antibiotics, and I have a long list of antibiotic allergies.

Please consider purchasing my work. It starts at $0 for digital downloads, and everything in my shop comes with the option to pay more.

I have several options for donating if you're more comfortable with that. For PayPal, you need to mark it as a gift.

This won't be so bad once my husband has a job, but thus far no luck. I won't be opening commissions; burnout is too close, and my hands and wrists are a wreck right now.

Any help is welcomed right now. I have small quilts, quilt tops, original paintings, stock and resource material, and tutorials in my shop.

Thank you!

[hoe4sports]

“Take care of Clara” p2

Jessie Fleming x reader

A/N: Mentions of anxiety. Angst. Read part one for context. I’m having a writes block so please give me your request <3

You wanted to scoop her up in your arms and remove her from the situation. Honestly, you felt like you were stuck in a freeze. Clara was 20 meters in front of you standing next to her chewing on her finger as if there was no tomorrow. You could feel your own heart start to pound in stress. Clara wasn’t a bad kid, but she was a kid with a heavy backpack and that backpack needed to be carried by adults with strong shoulders.

In your mind, you were trying to work up what you were to tell Clara, let alone what you were to tell Jessie when you had to see her after the game. It felt like someone physically was taking your stomach and twisting it with their bare hands. Like someone had injected adrenaline straight into your heart. Like your vision was blurred with allergies.

Jessie squatted down to Clara’s level, and you could see her talking to Clara. Clara was slowly nodding at Jessie as she spoke. Jessie pointed out to the field as Clara once again nodded. Then, out of nowhere just as you were about to move to get your daughter, you see Clara nodding before grabbing Jessie’s hand before they start to walk out with the rest of the girls. Your little girl looked so small on the big field next to Jessie. The camera crew were walking across the line of players filming them, and just before the got to Jessie; she picked Clara up. You could see them on the big screen and it made your heart swell to a size that didn’t feel like it would fit in your body. The pride topped itself when Jessie said something to Clara and Clara giggled as she waved her little hand to the camera causing the crowd to go “aaawwww” in sync. The feeling of pride was spreading across your body and tears started to pile up in your eyes. The joy of seeing your daughter on the field next to your girlfriend meant the world to you. You thought about how sister would’ve been beaming with pride and joy, and you made sure to snap a picture of them on field during the league song. You wanted to cherish this moment forever, like there was no tomorrow.

The song ended abruptly, and you suddenly felt uneasy again. How was Clara gonna deal with having to be carried off the field instead of by running with the other kids like she had wanted to? God, the disappointment would stick with her for weeks on end. You placed your phone in your pocket as you got ready to grab your daughter. When you looked up from placing your phone inside your pocket, Jessie and Clara were already making their way towards you. But Clara was not being carried. She was holding on to Jessie’s hand while running next to her with the most precious smile you had ever seen. Her little eyes beaming with pride as she ran next to your girlfriend. Her infectious laugh was spreading to you as she came closer to you making you smile as it calmed your heart down.

You squatted down as you opened up your arms to your daughter who came running the last few meters to you with Jessie next to her. Her frame threw herself at you while she giggled like she never had before. The little girl go hoisted up onto your hip as you looked at Jessie for a second who blew you a kiss as she ran out to the other girls while waving to Clara. “Mommy! I did it! I went on the big field with Jessie!” Clara squealed in excitement as she clapped for herself. “Yes Claramell, you definitely did” you said as you kissed the top of her head while walking with a staff member to the friends and family section rather than the section for the mascots.

The game went on, and Chelsea went on to win 3-2. Jessie was standing in the right corner of the box as a last minute corner was called for. Jessie got lucky and was able to smash the ball in with her left food before the crowd erupted in a collective cry of joy. Clara clapped as the camera focused in on Jessie’s face. Two seconds after Jessie’s face was filmed; she tapped her heart twice and pointed to the drawing on her arm made by Clara last evening. Clara of course noticed it, and it lead her to giggle again.

—

“Jessie!” Clara screamed as she ran across the hall to Jessie’s arms. “You won!” Clara giggled as Jessie tickled her. “Yes, C, we won! ” she said as she smiled towards you. “Big girls gets medals for winning” Clara said as she wiggled herself out of Jessie’s grip before skipping over to grabb her little heart shaped bag out of your hands. She pulled out a folded together drawing before turning to Jessie and folding it out. “It’s you and me and mommy and a ball and a big medal on the big field!” Clara explained as she pointed to the drawing. “You have pink shoes, like me!” She said as she pointed to the neon pink shoes she had drawn onto Jessie’s feet causing Jessie to giggle. “Maybe I need to get pink shoes like the ones you have?” Jessie asked before Clara nodded rapidly. Jessie grabbed the drawing and thanked Clara before hurrying into the warderobe to do the debrief with the team.

-

After the match, Jessie met up with you in the parking lot. Clara had fallen asleep in her car seat after talking about how she wanted to be like Jessie when she grew up and how she was gonna work just as hard as Jessie. It wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Jessie was the one for you and Clara. Clara hadn’t really spoken to other adults than you, your bestfriend and occasionally your parents. It was all a part of the anxiety issues she’d suffered from since birth.

“Baby, you played so well!” You said as Jessie embraced you into a hug. “Thanks love, where’s Clara? Is she okay?” Jessie asked as she peeked into the car to see a sleeping Clara. “She fell asleep rambling about how she wanted to be like you, I don’t know what you did but you have certainly won her over” you said as you once again could feel the tears pressing. Jessie shrugged before you both got into the car to go home together. “How did you do it? Get her out on the field? I am not sure that I wouldn’t be able to get her out there” you asked as your eyes moved to the rear view mirror to see your beautiful daughter safe asleep in her car seat with her little Fleming jersey on with her bunny in one hand and her little heart purse in the other. “I told her about how even adults can feel anxiety” Jessie said before sipping on her bottle. It seemed like Jessie didn’t think it was a big deal, but for you however; it was a huge deal. “I think that Clara really likes you, you know” you mumbled as you kept driving trying not to seem to eager, but a part of you wanted Jessie to move in with you and to be a family. Jessie smiled as she yawned and touched your thigh. The ride home was fairly quiet with both Jessie and Clara being tired. As you pulled up to your apartment building, you looked over at Jessie who was admiring the picture of Clara you had on your phone. “I’d really love for us to be a family” you said quietly as you almost swallowed your own words to the point of them being inaudible. Jessie didn’t seem to hear it as she was already heading out to carry a sleeping Clara into the apartment. On your way in; in the escalator the two of you stood in silence only to hear Clara’s light snoring from Jessie’s arms. Jessie looked over at you just before the doors to the escalator opened up;

“I’d really like us to be a family too, if you’d let me stay here with you both. I promise that I’ll care for her like my own and I’m gonna find the perfect ring for you, baby.”

[creative-caramel-coffee]

MAKE ME ADMIT (RANDOM) STUFF

(PG 13 list with random and funny topics. Reblog for your anons to ask you.)

1. Top 5 stupidest ways you have ever gotten injured

2. Top 5 weirdest places you have fallen asleep

3. Top 5 dumbest scars you have and why/ how you got them

4. Whats an odd item that brings you comfort

5. If you could say one sentence to the whole world what would it be?

6. If you were a plant which would u be?

7. If you were an animal which would u be?

8. What 5 things would you take with you to be stranded on an island (nothing that helps you escape tho)

9. If you could have superpowers what would u want to have?

10. pen, pencil or typing?

11. Weirdest pet peeve

12. if you were a ghost who would u want to haunt?

13. Dumbest thing you have done just for kicks

14. most niche hobby you have

15. Weirdest pet you’ve ever had (the more exotic the better!)

16. Least fav colour?

17. Winter clothes or summer clothes?

18. Hoodies or sweaters?

19. Iceblock or icecream?

20. Sea turtle or land turtle?

21. If you could keep any animal as a pet what would it be?

22. How many poisonous plants can you name without googling (no cheating!)

23. Fav toxic/ poisonous / venomous plant / animal / food

24. If you could bring one person back to life who would it be (dumb answers only!)

25. Name of your childhood toy (if you had one)

26. Least fav food

27. Allergies? (Bonus points if they are weird or unusual)

28. Lest fav flavour

29. How do you take your coffee?

30. if you could put wings on any animal which one would it be and why?

31. If you could pick a species to go extinct which one and why?

32. Rename three animals

33. if you could pick someone dead to haunt you who would it be?

34. stupidest reason you ever got in trouble (as a kid or as an adult)

35. Best thing you ever pulled off and got away with

36. Longest you have ever gone without sleep?

37. Earphones or headphones

38. how much money would it take for you to kill someone?

39. Best excuse you ever used and got away with

40. Dumbest lie you ever told.

41. Stupidest thing you believed as a kid

42. What food would you be happy to eat for the rest of your life

43. Food dislikes (more obscure the better!)

44. Top 5 weirdest things you have eaten (food edition)

45. Top 5 weirdest things you have eaten (non food edition)

46. Fashion style

47. If you could do anything for a day what would you do?

48. Funniest childhood crush story

49. Have you ever had a nosebleed and where was the worst place its happened

50. Ever broken a bone? Which one and how.

[ooglyboooglybitxh]

Since y'all asked😭:

𝐍𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

mom!shuri, mom!reader reader & shuri’s child

contains: HOLY FLUFF, a little bit of angst, kissing mentioned

🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳

————————————————————

[]: Born: Nahir M/N Udaku, July 23, 2022, 4 pounds, Sex: Male, Blood Type, AB positive, Allergies: None

[]: He has Y/n’s long frizzy hair and Shuri’s face. Like if you were to look at both of them side by side you’d think they’re twins

[]: He can eat spicy shit, i mean it comes from his Dominican and African side. So he aint really phased by it

(A/N: bro the other day my mom flamed me for not finding anything spicy and she said: “Thats bc your nigerian mf, you are from africa” 💀 and idk really eat african food fr so i wouldn’t know if it’s spicy or not😭)

But anyways💀 back 2 the headcanon

[]: If he wakes up before Shuri and Y/n he’ll climb out his crib and get on the bed and start bothering them until they give him his needs. He’ll tug on Y/n’s hair and hit Shuri.

[]: he LOVES Riri and Riri ADORES him. If Shuri and Y/n need a break she’ll always be willing to take him unless she’s busy.

[]: He will NOT go to sleep without his turtle plushie and if the turtle’s being washed he’ll probably be willing to sleep with one of his spider man plushies but usually Y/n washes his plushies together at the same time. So he won’t go to sleep until their done washing.

[]: he LOVESSSSS baths especially when he gets to use the bubbles, oh yep- its a wrap he’ll be in there for about 20 mins tops. after his done getting his bath he’ll play until he has to get out.

[]: He has this like thing for turtles… he loves them why?. Only God knows.

[]: The first time he ever stepped into Shuri’s Lab. God this boy didnt keep still at all he kept touching everything.

____________________________________

*Nahir giggles* as he crawls around Shuri’s lab

he crawls over to the molding station and Shuri immediately snatches him away from the area

“NO! shit, here just sit by me ok?…stay” Shuri says sitting him down on the chair next to her station, trying to keep him away from dangerous things and objects around the lab.

Shuri turns back to the console now completely focused on the console. Nahir sneaks away quietly and crawls to the hallway

“Panther, Nahir is in the hallway” Griot says warning Shuri

Shuri immediately runs after Nahir and grabs him from behind

*Nahir giggles* at Shuri’s firm hands tickling him while she picks him up

“Where are you going?. Eh, little one?” she says putting her on the same chair.

She stares at him for a second slowly turning back to the console and Nahir tries to move again but Shuri catches him

“Aht Aht” She grunts grabbing him as she gets an idea

She adjusts her Kimoyo Beads to Child Mode, as she does this her child reaches for her wrist wondering what the thing is glowing on her wrist

“Ehh” Nahir whines reaching for his mother

“Hang on” Shuri reassures him

She slides the beads off her wrists and gently grabs her son’s wrists, gently sliding them onto his.

“mmm” Nahir coos becoming interested in the beads tapping on them

Shuri does know how but he opens a game after a couple more taps, thinking she would have to turn on the game for him

“Brilliant..” She says as her eyes widen

She smiles softly at her son’s quick wits figuring out how to work the Kimoyo Beads at 7 MONTHS!?.

maybe just maybe….. he’d be as smart as his mother one day. As she thinks that her smile grows wider kissing her son’s forehead.

____________________________________

[]: When ever he gets angry at Y/n he’ll nudge into her or hit her and Y/n makes a death face at Nahir. And in fright he’ll coo into her or hug her basically apologizing

“yeah thats what i thought”

————————————————————

[]: He watched Lilo & Stitch and boy he lovesssss Stitch after he watched it he was pretending to be Stitch

____________________________________

“iiiii” Nahir yells flopping around on the bed

Shuri and Y/n chuckles

Y/n checks her phone:

10:09 pm

“Time for bed mhijo” (son) Y/n says to Nahir.

“ehhh” Nahir whines and pouts

____________________________________

[]: Y/n and Nahir stay up late often to watch tv and eat snacks while Shuri sleeps through all the noise knowing it’s them causing racket.

[]: If a character in a movie is sad or something he’ll go: “aww” which is so adorable to witness 🥹🥹

[]: whenever he has nightmares in the middle of the night he’ll cry loudly, waking up his parents

if its Shuri she’ll immediately jump out her sleep and pick him up

“Shhhh its okay unyana i’m here stop crying its ok”(son) Shuri says trying to calm down her son she picks up his turtle plush and tries to give it to him.

If its Y/n she’ll grab him, lay him on her chest and rub his back.

“It's ok Mhijo“ she says rubbing his back

---------------------------------------------

[]: He hates it when Shuri and Y/n Kiss. Like he actually loathes that shit😭. If he’s near them when they kiss he’ll yell and hit the both of them😭. If he’s far away he’ll throw something at them and NOT MISS!!!😤

[]: So he has this “My Friend Miles Morales” plushie that if you squeeze that chest he talks and makes noises. He hates that shit. So Shuri notice this and when he was taking a nap she took the plushie down to her lab and removed the voice box and when he noticed the voice box was out he was so happy. And Shuri’s heart warmed over the feeling of knowing her son was so happy

————————————————————

I am so sorry if this was too short😭

tbh i don’t like writing short shit bc it just makes me feel weird like idk😭

but if yall enjoyed that PLEASE DON’T BE AFRAID TO DM ME FOR REQUESTS

but dont be spamming ma shi tho😹

-💙 @ooglyboooglybitxh

[aaakikoo]

EVEN EVEN MORE ODDLY SPECIFIC BAKUGOU KATSUKI HEADCANONS

an -> check out pt1 & pt2 ! I tried to make more this time lol. This is part 3

1. professional cooker? it’s pretty obvious but like the food he makes is immaculate??? Like, top tier kind of desserts and meals? And the man won’t open his self driven restaurant (not that he has time to)

2. Knows how to do eyeliner better than you do, different kind of wings too, don’t ask why.

3. Takes care of his nails, it’s really random but like I feel he would have certain day(s) every week where he would only cut his nails during. Also he files them and takes care of them with nail oil.

4. likes flowers, very very much.

5. Biggest bully ever during secondary school. I see many people who romanticize him during that time but like I personally feel he would be the biggest bully ever who would call other people ‘gay’ as an insult & laughs at slightly chubby people specifically girls, and says every other slur there is in the book.

6. Only wears black socks.

7. Doesn’t use products of companies who animal test.

8. Prefers gold over silver.

9. I feel like he would make you buy him clear lipglosses he can use, bc like he want to be looking pretty with shiny lips n everything, but like not too much? He only wants shiny lips so he wouldn’t ask for red or pink glosses for example. He wants to hold on to his masculinity 💀

10. Has the mentality of Arab guys. Toxic, mansplains / manhandles everything, annoying, attractive & doesn’t show their emotions bc they’re alpha bros 💀💀

11. Doesn’t like earbuds, prefers headphones.

12. Has peanut allergy, idk why.

13. Has been to every single country in the world. Except a few 😬 ifykyk

14. Super interested in politics, like very and extremely.

15. Him and his friends went through the “I’m homiesexual” era, it was cringe but fun, he would laugh at himself everything he remembers it.

16. So this might be controversial but he would never, AND I MEAN NEVER call his partner “Teddy bear” 💀💀 this is Bakugou we are talking about, he wouldn’t even call his child that, those words would never escape his mouth not even ironically.

17. A very clean and organized person.

18. Has a 10 year journal, yep 👍

19. Believes in one higher power, like god, I don’t think he would be Hindu or Buddhist more of like Christian, Jew or Muslim. He believes in only one higher power, and that higher power is different from mankind.

20. Very academically smart but very stupid otherwise.

21. Really good at ice skating ? ⛸️

22. has a big attractive sexy nose, don’t ask any questions.

23. Brushes his teeth 3 times a day. After he eats breakfast, before he sleeps & after dinner.

24. Has a black phone.

24. Has a car collection, Porsches, Lamborghinis, Teslas & limousines, etc.

25. Absolutely loses his mind if one of his many cars gets a single little scratch.

26. Loves to watch ASMR restocking videos on social medias. He would even watch a compilation of them on YouTube.

27. Cringes whenever he visits someone who have a ‘home sweet home’ carpet.

28. Loves cats.

29. Had a leather jacket, motorcycle, all girls are the same & ‘why do good girls like bad guys’ phase, he absolutely regrets his life.

30. Loves cartoon shows, his favorite are adventure time, the amazing world of gumball & we bare bears.

[arlemangel7]

Gambit xblack fem mutant reader x rogue

Cw: wedding plans, established relationship

Rogue as a bride I think she'd have a really sexy wedding dress for the ceremony, it would have a asymmetric cut out with a slit up to her hip and she have her traditional puffy eighties style hair out, pretty Natural make up nothing to busy just maybe a brownish nude lip, sharp eyeliner and some simple eyeshadow. Tear drop diamond earrings that gambit "got" yall, it was a matching set the he saw between jobs one was pink and one was yellow. So he thought "it would make a lovely wedding present for his fiancees".

You I feel like it would be a sheath style halter top floor length gown with an open low back that reached around to the sides of your sides and the edges were decorated with floral applicays, instead of a veil you elected for a cape that extended from the bow tied at the back of your neck and split in two to drag behind you on both sides while leaving the back visible. You wore a high pony tail with ends flipped out and middle parted sweep bangs simple old Hollywood style make up and the pink tear drop earrings matched your bouquet (rogue had a white and yellow bouquet).

Gambit he let his hair grow out a little bit per his wives request he tried something new one year and just let his hair grow to see how long it would get by december and low and behold it got pretty long so long that he started wearing a man Bun during missions to keep it out of the way. You both found him super sexy like this and begged him to keep it long so he made the deal that he'd do it again eventually, secretly he new that meant the wedding. After trying on a few different suits he decided on a white one with silver iridescent lapels to match not only the theme of the day but you guys as well it would he would be wearing a man Bun with the classic bangs in front and his boutonniere was a half bloomed sunflower(yellow and pink).

If it wasn't obvious already it was a spring wedding some time at the end of April so it's alittle warm but not to hot pastel but not eastery and everything was fresh and regrown, and as a side bonus allergy season was almost over so no puffy eyes and little to no sneezing it think it would be outside in a garden not to big but no super small between 20-50 people there would be a small dinner for just close family and the bridal party then the ceremony followed but the biggest reception and then the following day before the honeymoon there'd be a huge southern barbecue complete with all three of yalls cultures in food (for me it'd be southern, southern, and southern) after that yall would go on a tour through a few places out of the country as the honeymoon and come home and get settled back in the house.

As always thoughts are mind characters are not

These three have been my fav for a long time so I love writing about em lookbook come soon cause duhhh lol

Anyway signing off for now 💋💋

[crazylittlejester]

9, 11, 17? for the soft asks :)

9 Best childhood moment?

ough…. i don’t remember a whole lot of my childhood, but probably getting my dog. I love him a lot he’s my little buddy :)

11 Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

this one blanket that i have 😭 i haven’t put the top sheets on my bed since March- all i got on my bad is this blanket, a fitted sheet, pillows, and probably 20 stuffed animals

17 How do you feel best loved?

oh damn this is a tough question- i genuinely don’t know how to answer 😭 I guess whenever i get to spend time with my friends? or they send me things cos it reminded them of me? or when they like, understand my issues especially surrounding my allergies and just do little things like making sure there is food that’s safe for me if we’re hanging out or not ordering things I’m allergic to at restaurants alksjlskjsk. it just means a lot to me when they do little things like that

(sorry if none of this is coherent my brain is powering off)

[good-old-gossip]

Israel’s blocking of cleaning, hygiene supplies is another way it perpetuates its genocide in Gaza

A Palestinian mother bathes her child in a makeshift tent in the Gaza Strip (social media)

Palestinian Territory - The Israeli authorities continue to enforce their ongoing arbitrary blockade of the Gaza Strip, refusing to allow humanitarian aid and necessities that are essential for survival—such as cleaning and personal hygiene supplies—into the Strip. This comes amid the spread of infectious diseases and on top of the precarious living conditions faced by the approximately 2.3 million Palestinians in the enclave, constituting a perpetuation of Israel’s comprehensive crime of genocide, which began on 7 October 2023.

Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor emphasises that the consequences of Israel’s intentional worsening of the humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip, by blocking people’s access to cleaning and personal hygiene products, medical equipment, and sterilisation supplies, are dire. Nothing justifies subjecting the population to conditions that can cause widespread death, including by causing the spread of serious skin diseases and and infections, including hepatitis.  

Israel continues to systematically and arbitrarily deny hygiene supplies and equipment to all Gaza Strip residents, exacerbating the catastrophic health crisis that Israel has caused there. This crisis has been made worse by the population’s forced, widespread, and repeatedly occurring displacement, as well as the lack of personal hygiene supplies and disinfectants in shelters and camps housing hundreds of thousands of displaced people. Israel continues to prevent and obstruct the entry of the most basic supplies into the Strip, creating conditions that are ripe for the spread of infectious diseases, water pollution, and the absence of sanitation services, as Israeli army forces have destroyed these facilities.

 During my period, I have to use a single pad for the entire day, which has led to numerous infections and rashes    - Aya Kamal Ashour Abed, a 20-year-old displaced mother of two in the central Gaza Strip

Since the beginning of the genocide nearly, Israel has arbitrarily closed crossings into the Gaza Strip, blocking the entry of humanitarian supplies and the flow of food and water. These actions have resulted in a dangerous accumulation of crises that directly threaten the lives and health of the Gaza Strip’s residents, most notably due to their lack of access to food, clean water, medicines, medical supplies, sanitary tools, and cleaning supplies.

Aya Kamal Ashour Abed, a 20-year-old displaced mother of two at the Deir al-Balah Preparatory School for Girls in the central Gaza Strip, spoke with the Euro-Med Monitor team. “We are more than 30 people living in this classroom for about nine months,” she stated. “A few months ago, we numbered roughly 70, but after some of the displaced individuals relocated to tents outside the school, our numbers dropped somewhat.

“We only receive cleaning and personal hygiene supplies in small quantities every two or three months, despite the fact that our number is very high and we require them constantly,” Abed continued. “Sanitation supplies, like tissues, soap, and shampoo, are extremely expensive [or] even nonexistent in the markets.”

Added Abed, “A bar of soap, for instance, now costs 30 shekels (roughly nine USD) while a bottle of shampoo costs 90 shekels (roughly 25 USD). We do not have anything to eat, so how can we afford these amounts for basic hygiene?”

Abed, who was displaced from her home in the Jabalia refugee camp in the northern Gaza Strip following its bombing last October, said that her two sons had become afflicted with allergies and bacteria, for which she is unable to provide ointments because they are unavailable in UNRWA clinics. “I showed my son to the doctor, and he told me that his entire body is seriously infected with bacteria due to poor hygiene,” Abed told Euro-Med Monitor.

Obtaining sanitary pads—which are pricey and hard to find in local markets—is one of her biggest challenges. “Even though my children’s diapers are completely unusable, I have to cut them into tiny pieces and use them as sanitary pads,” Abed explained. “During my period, I also have to use a single pad for the entire day, which has led to numerous infections and rashes.”

Approximately 680,000 women and girls in the Gaza Strip are of reproductive age. These individuals lack access to menstrual pads and other essentials, and also face other challenges such as inadequate access to water, toilets, various hygiene products, and privacy. Additionally, they must use contaminated or unsterilised materials, which puts them at risk of developing infections that can lead to infertility and uterine cancer.

Since Israel has cut off electricity to the Gaza Strip, there is a growing risk to all residents caused by waste accumulation and sewage flooding of roads and markets due to the inability to drain it. Israel has destroyed most of the Strip’s vital infrastructure, including sewage networks, and forced over two million people—the majority of whom have been displaced more than once—into shelters and tents that lack the basic necessities of life, personal hygiene, and health care.

Forty-two-year-old Mohammed Saad Abu Haitham said that his family of eight, which resides in a tent in the Mawasi neighborhood of Khan Yunis in the southern Gaza Strip, is severely impacted by the lack of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and bar soap. Due to its scarcity, soap is unusually expensive and therefore difficult to purchase.

“We do not have the money to buy enough meals for our children, so we cannot buy cleaning materials and soap in light of their high prices and the lack of availability,” Abu Haitham told the Euro-Med Monitor team. “My spouse and kids’ hair has been infected with lice, and we all have skin diseases as a result of not washing and not using enough soap and shampoo.”

Food dyes are used instead of traditional dyes for making liquid soap and sterilisation products, which have not entered the Gaza Strip in months due to the Israeli closure of the crossings and the imposition of an arbitrary siege. These alternative and primitive cleaning products are made locally, are unsafe, and are generally insufficient in both quality and quantity when sold in the markets of the central and southern Gaza Strip.

Tens of thousands of cases of skin diseases, including eczema, have been reported to medical facilities as having cropped up in shelters and camps for displaced people living in tents. This is particularly concerning for women, as eczema often appears on the hands of people working to clean food utensils using antiquated and dangerous materials. Meanwhile, reports from the United Nations indicate that skin rashes and skin infections, especially among children, are sharply increasing in the Strip.

The Israeli authorities have placed an arbitrary and oppressive siege on the Palestinian people there, squeezing them into a tiny area with exceedingly limited resources; denying them access to food, clean water, and other necessities; and leaving them exposed to extreme heat.

The right to dignity is an internationally recognised human right that protects people from humiliation, among other forms of unethical treatment. It is meant to ensure fairness by providing the means for people to live in dignity, as well as other fundamental needs and rights, like the right to health and the right to water and sanitation. These rights are essential to maintaining human dignity and preserving the lives of the populace.

The only way to guarantee the rights of Gaza Strip residents is to put an end to Israel’s crime of genocide, lift the arbitrary siege on the Strip, and rescue what remains of the currently uninhabitable region. Delays will either cause the region to irreversibly deteriorate, or incur significant costs in terms of civilian lives and health.

The international community is required to guarantee the entry of humanitarian aid into the Gaza Strip, including the entry of non-food essentials needed to respond to the dire circumstances faced by the Strip’s entire population. Euro-Med Monitor stresses that swift and effective action must be taken to safely deliver aid to civilians across the entire Strip, including the northern section, which is particularly isolated right now. Additionally, the international community must prioritise providing adequate supplies of personal and family hygiene products, as well as products for menstruating individuals, plus sexual and reproductive health care services to prevent and mitigate further harm to women and children in particular, and the entire Palestinian population in general. These actions are mandated by international human rights law and relevant international obligations.

Pressure needs to be put on Israel, as the occupying force, to maintain sanitation facilities and services in the Gaza Strip, as well as to guarantee the safety of the technicians charged with repairing and renovating water lines and their various sources. The main water pipelines that enter the Strip need to be restored, particularly those that enter it from the north.

In addition to ensuring the entry of enough fuel to operate the Gaza Strip’s water and sanitation infrastructure, including desalination plants, water wells, and mobile toilets, it is crucial to exert pressure on Israel to permit the entry of materials required for repair work and rehabilitation of civilian infrastructure. These services are essential to the civilian population’s survival in the Strip, and will protect them from the threat of further health disasters.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Part 12

18+ ONLY 

Lee Bodecker x F!Nanny!Reader

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: references to smut, violence, corruption, cursing, age gap (reader is in her 20s), employee/employer dynamics, sickeningly sweet domesticity, and some angst

Author’s Note: I don't even have an explanation for how long it has taken me to get this next part out. I've had a lot of health issues I have been dealing with, but I am really starting to feel like I'm in a better place. I also was experiencing the worst writer's block I've ever experienced.

Now that this chapter is complete, I'm hoping to also post the next parts to my other uncompleted WIPs soon.

As per usual, this is unedited and if I forgot a warning, please let me know! And please reblog if you liked it!

3 Months Later

Stretching out on the soft linen sheets, you yawn quietly as you reluctantly open your eyes to check the time. 4:45 AM on the dot when Valerie begins to fuss in the other room and it wakes you up instinctively. You grumble, tossing off the deliciously warm covers, and grab your robe from the arm of Lee’s chair as you make your way from his- well your room to hers. 

“You did keep your promise,” you muse, picking her up and patting her back. “You promised last week you wouldn’t wake me up at 4:00. I see you’re already looking for loopholes in our contract, missy.” 

She immediately snuggles into you and you can’t help but love it. Feeling the warmth of her little body pressed into you as you feel her whole body relax is something you savor every time. She’s a little small for her age, but her pediatrician keeps assuring you both you have nothing to worry about. Affectionately, Lee sometimes calls her a runt even though it makes you crazy. However, it is growing on you but you’ll never admit it. 

“Shhh,” you mumble, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head, and walking her over to her changing table. Once you have her cleaned up, you take a little stroll with her to the kitchen to start with her breakfast. You shift your hold so she’s rested against your side so you have your dominant hand free to start putting her formula together. Her doctor also recommended beginning to introduce her to soft, solid foods so you also prep a little bit of a banana and soft berries to see what she’ll pick at- nothing too much cause you also want to watch for any allergies. 

You also start a pot of coffee for yourself and Lee once you have her settled in her high chair happily babbling away, some real words she has picked up mixed in between. Her favorite word she has really clung to is still her first word: Dada. Lee still is unsure of it, but you see the way he looks at her when she says it. Sure enough, it beckons him from the room almost instantly. Immediately, the doting begins even as early at 5:20 AM. Deny it he very well may, but Lee Bodecker is a girl dad whether he likes it or not. Though, all signs point to that he very much does. 

“My two favorite gals,” he grins walking into the kitchen. First, he looks to Val, pretending her stare makes him stop dead in his tracks and fall to his knees to begin kissing all over her face as she sits in her chair, making her erupt into her fit of giggles. 

“Morning bug,” he says to her finally, getting up off his knees. He winces at the minor damage his daily stunt causes. He plays it off well, you must admit. 

“M’lady,” he says, bowing to you at the waist. You scoff as he reaches out to kiss your hand. You knew no one else would ever believe he would behave this way. He was right when he said inside the house was your oasis. It was the truest definition of domestic bliss you could imagine, a secret happiness you allowed yourselves to share behind closed doors. This house has become a safe haven, where you were both free of outside opinion and the harsh realities of your situation. You don’t know the full extent to the situation Lee is in, but he is getting out for Val’s sake, and know for your sake as well. You don’t want to know, too happy with how things have gone to pop the bubble you both have made. 

The nature of your relationship is still unclear. Lee treats you- well like his wife, yet has never even been able to take you on a date. He also still signs your paychecks, which feels wildly inappropriate given the new developments, but neither of you want to have the discussion. He discreetly leaves the check for you to find when he is gone, and neither of you discuss it. You know it needs to happen, but you both fear ruining how things have been. 

You’ve fully moved in, very much complicating the situation. That was a very ugly fight with Julie, and you agreed she had every right to be upset. You have been helping her find a new roommate. She’s still upset, and vehemently is against your choice, and you can’t blame her or be mad in the least. You know what you did was a really shitty thing to do. You already weren’t coming home for several consecutive nights without keeping her in the loop, and then you spring on her that you’re moving out. 

She’s the only person you trusted enough to tell about the current situation-ship. She is very much against it, voicing her opinions very loudly as you packed your things a few weeks ago. You agreed, and didn’t fight back. You deserved it. You saw how your infatuation had caused riffs in your friendships. Things are still being worked out, and all you can do is everything to show her you can be a good friend, and hope for her full forgiveness. 

Lee kisses your temple, and ushers you to sit at the table while he begins breakfast. He sings softly to himself, trying his best to sound like Sinatra, as he navigates the kitchen on his quest to make you “the best eggs the world has ever seen.” 

“I need your love so badly, I love you, oh, so madly. But I don’t stand a ghost of a chance with you,” he mumbles offkey, mindlessly, and you look to the window above the sink to watch the orange and pink light of the sun take over the room. 

“If you surrender just a tender kiss or two, you might discover that I’m a lover meant for you.” The crackle of eggs as they hit the hot pan on the stove disrupts the mellow calm of the morning for a moment, but eventually it fades into the ambiance of the room. 

“And I’d be true, but what’s the good of scheming. I know I must be dreaming,” he sings, his voice cracking how it does in the morning. 

You know no one would ever believe you if you had told the world Lee Bodecker was like this behind closed doors. Affectionate, attentive, silly, domestic… Whatever is the best word for this morning. You bring the mug of coffee Lee has poured for you to your lips, the warmth from the mug radiating into your palms as you take a sip. Your eyes scan the newspaper that's scattered about the kitchen table and get a sense for the headlines. 

“They need a new Sunday school teacher,” you mumble casually glancing at the classifieds. From her highchair, Valerie blows an excited bubble of spit as Lee plops scrambled eggs directly onto the tray in front of her. There’s no point in trying for a bowl- she still is in the habit of tossing those on the floor. Her little fingers work to pick up the pieces, sometimes with too tight a grip, and feed herself. 

“Oh yeah?” Lee responds, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other tips the pan over your empty place to deliver your eggs. He adds some to his own plate in the place setting on the other side of Val’s high chair. He grabs the toast for the two of you out of the toaster and places the dish between you both. 

“Yeah,” you muse, grabbing a slice of toast. You start adding a slice of butter, waiting to see if he’ll pick up on the conversation you feel it might be time to have. 

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” he asks, as he sits down. 

“I’m not sure,” you say, “I mean, Lee- I need to be honest… It feels weird, I mean, correct me if I’m wrong- but, I don’t think you should pay me to be Vallie’s nanny anymore. It feels like we’re more than passed that now… right?”

He sighs, and you know he has felt the same. He looks relieved that you have brought it up first. 

“There’s something I need to take care of first,” he responds. “I think you should go for it. I agree this arrangement shouldn't be transactional anymore- it surely hasn’t felt like that in a really long time. I want this to be something better than that- you deserve that and so does she. I just need to tie up some loose ends. Then, we’re going to be a proper family, if you want that. Let me do the right thing.” 

“Are you pro-”

“No, ma’am, do not even finish that sentence,” he shushes you. “Don’t talk nonsense like that. You’ll know when I am doing that. It won’t be in a messy kitchen next to a toddler drooling over scrambled egg next to us. I’m just saying- I got to take care of some stuff. I think we’re on the same page. I just need a little time and then we’ll be situated in a more normal arrangement.” 

“Yes, sir,” you joke, picking up the section of the paper with the job listing. 

You continue to flip through the paper and Valerie continues to make a mess with her breakfast- occasionally taking a bite. Lee walks back and forth from the bedroom back to the kitchen to the living room in a loop getting ready to head to the station. Everything is in the wrong place and inconveniently nowhere near each other. He grumbles about the detail he’s needed for today, and how he thinks unfortunately he’ll be home late. He kisses your lips and Valerie’s head, mumbling about how he just wants to get home to his girls. Pressing another hurried kiss to your temple, he promises to make it home as soon as he can. 

Lee hated that he needed to lie to you. He justified it because he knew for your own protection, you couldn’t know where he was going and who he was actually meeting after his shift ended. When 6 o’clock rolled around, he got into his cruiser and shuddered, thinking about the meeting that was in for him. 

By some miracle of God or whatever higher power, Lee has been granted in his lifetime a reason to finally get out of the shady deals he’s previously dealt. He never meant to get tangled up in this. It was one favor that snowballed into others, and soon enough he's deeper than he ever thought he would have ever been. He knows he’s not innocent, and no one to blame but himself for the mess he’s caught up in. Part of him regrets not turning himself in. But he can’t do that, especially now, with that little girl sleeping soundly back at home. He can’t let her lose someone else. Even if the someone else is just as rotten to the core as he is.

He needed to get out. Pay his debts and start this life with both his girls with a clean slate. The last time he drove to this bar, he was here trying to get his mind off of you. Before he knew how it felt to wake up next to you, before he knew what it felt like to have your arms around his neck, before he knew how it felt to be inside you and how tight you feel around his- 

He has to get this over with as soon as possible. 

He walks in, and a member of Brown’s crew is sitting in the usual booth, nursing a whiskey. Lee averts his gaze when he sees Cherry sitting at the bar chatting up her next customer. He wants to pretend she doesn’t exist, and it never happened. It hangs heavy on his chest. You weren’t together, but the weight of his guilt feels like the highest infidelity. Brown sent a man named Wayne Hendrix to meet with Lee. Leroy Brown never came out for a meeting- his time far more valuable than anyone else. 

Lee recognized Wayne immediately. He grits his teeth, knowing this meeting is not going to go as smoothly as he would like. Wayne, much to Lee’s unlucky misfortune, was arrested by Lee on multiple accounts before he was sheriff. He knew Hendrix held a deep, unrelenting grudge on the past arrests. Hendrix did five years in prison because of Lee, and Lee knew that’s exactly why Brown sent him. 

“Wayne,” Lee said with a tip of his head, settling into the booth. 

“Bodecker,” Wayne practically spits, venom oozing from each syllable. 

“I’m not going to run for reelection,” Lee states, opting to just rip off the bandage. 

“Like hell you ain’t,” Hendrix laughs- a deep belly laugh that echoes through the whole bar. “Brown tells you when you run and when you don’t. What do you suppose you’re gonna do?”

“I want to settle my debts,” Lee says, standing firm to Wayne’s dismissive lecture.

“This ain’t how any of this works, pig,” Hendrix muses, swirling the remaining brown liquid in his glass before finishing it off. “Leroy don’t let anybody go. You ain’t ever out of debt to him. You think you can just write a check and suddenly you’re free of all your responsibilities and obligations? You gonna what- ride off into the sunset with that little plaything you got? Brown is just gonna lie down while you two are off playing house? Playing mommy and daddy?” 

Lee’s knuckles are white, and his nails practically draw blood from his palms as his fists form. His jaw is locked and he is doing everything in his power to swallow down the pure rage that boils his blood. It’s taking all of his strength to not lunge across the table. He could kill him. He takes long, steady breaths focusing on the chill that runs down his arms that releases the tension. He cracks his neck, and lets himself have a second to relax. Feeding into this is exactly what they want. They want him to lose his control. 

“I think it’s best practice to keep this discussion separate from family,” Lee suggests coolly, “You don’t bring up my girls, and I won’t bring up yours.” He watches as Wayne shifts uncomfortably in the booth. He watches as Hendrix’s eyes avoid his gaze. Wayne is very much aware that Lee not only knows his wife Maura from Church, but also his three daughters. Lee holds the upper hand if they are going to have a pissing contest on who knows more about whose private life. “I doubt Meg, Hannah and Marjorie want to know what their daddy gets up to when he misses their recitals.” 

“Listen,” Wayne spits, slapping both palms on the table, knocking over his glass. Both men ignore it, as it rolls off the table and crashes to the floor. “Leroy is going to offer you an out. It pisses me off to have to tell you about it. The only joy I’m getting out of this is the sweet knowledge that you’ll die trying.”

“What is it?” Lee urges him to continue. 

“You have Leroy’s word, you and your whole family are granted immunity and your debts are cleared. You just need to kill Deckard.” 

You’re asleep on the couch when Lee gets home. It’s well after 2am, and he feels sorry you must have forced yourself to stay awake as long as you could to make sure he got back safe. He places his hat down on the coffee table in front of you, and haphazardly takes off his tie on his way into the kitchen. He could cry when he sees the plate covered in foil that’s waiting for him. He notices there’s exactly one slice of cake left on the stand in the center of the table. In the frosting, it looks like you wrote “Lee” out with a toothpick, saving the piece for him. He walks back into the living room, and drapes the blanket from the back of the couch over your peaceful frame. He’ll let you sleep a little longer while he puts the food in the fridge. He’ll have it all tomorrow. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers softly, rubbing your shoulder to wake you gently. It’s no good. You are completely unaware in your deep sleep. He sits on the coffee table, moving his hat out of the way. He lets himself watch you for a few moments, enjoying the way you look. You’re just so serene, and he knows you never believe him but you always look so beautiful like this. He loves seeing your whole face soften, and the way your cheek presses against the pillow.

 “Let’s go pretty girl,” he says, even though you won’t hear him. Although he’s been up for around twenty hours, and he’s weak from the full work day and his unfortunate complicated night that follows- he scoops you up in his arms without a second thought and carries you into the bedroom. He’ll tuck you in, and pull you close and he’ll let himself sleep soundly knowing you're protected in his arms tonight. He hears Valerie’s soft snores from her bedroom, and that is the final permission he needs to let his heavy eyelids rest. 

There’s much to be done in the morning, but Lee sleeps tonight knowing all of his jobs are done. 

Taglist:

@demirunner

@littlemissthistle

@charmed-asylum

@msgodofmischief

@kcmarvel333

@oitommothetease

@hogwartsahist0ry

@letsfly-andbe-free

@iamlee1

@buckistan

@every-when

@swndmans

@lostgirllulu

@swiftieandthewintersoldier

@whatinthestyles

@maryelizabeth13

@thehuntresswolf

@charmed-asylum

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@everything-is-all-clear

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@Angieonthatbeat

@saiyanprincessswanie

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@poemsforparker

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[thebesthealthcareprovider]

Eyes on Dubai: Your Friendly Guide to Finding the Perfect Eye Doctor

Hey Tumblr fam! 👋 Let's talk about something we often take for granted - our eyes! 👀 If you're in Dubai and on the hunt for an eye doctor, you're in luck. This dazzling city isn't just about sky-high buildings and fancy malls; it's also home to some top-notch eye care professionals. Let's dive into everything you need to know about finding an eye doctor in Dubai!

Why Dubai for Eye Care?

Dubai isn't playing around when it comes to healthcare, especially eye care. Here's why:

🏥 State-of-the-art eye clinics and hospitals

👨‍⚕️👩‍⚕️ Internationally trained eye doctors

🔬 Cutting-edge diagnostic tools and treatments

🌐 Multilingual staff (because let's face it, medical terms are hard enough in one language!)

Types of Eye Doctors in Dubai

Before we go further, let's break down the types of eye docs you might encounter:

Optometrists: Your go-to for vision tests and glasses/contact lens prescriptions.

Ophthalmologists: These are the big guns - medical doctors who can perform eye surgeries and treat complex eye conditions.

Pediatric Ophthalmologists: For when the little ones need eye care.

Finding Your Perfect Eye Doctor Match

Choosing an eye doctor is like finding the perfect pair of frames - it needs to suit you! Here's what to look for:

Qualifications: Check their credentials and specializations.

Experience: How long have they been in the eye game?

Technology: Do they have the latest eye-examining gadgets?

Language: Can they explain that weird eye chart in a language you understand?

Location: Because nobody wants to travel across Dubai with dilated pupils!

Reviews: What are other patients saying? (But take it with a grain of salt - every eye is different!)

What to Expect at Your Eye Appointment

Nervous about your visit? Don't be! Here's a sneak peek:

Chat about your eye health and overall health (yes, they're connected!)

Visual acuity test (the classic "read the letters on the chart" test)

Refraction assessment (this determines if you need glasses or contacts)

Eye health check (they'll take a close look at your eye structures)

Dilation (optional but helpful for a thorough examination)

Common Eye Issues in Dubai

Living in Dubai comes with its own set of eye challenges:

Dry eyes: Thanks to AC and desert climate. 🏜️

Digital eye strain: From all that screen time. 📱💻

UV damage: The sun here is no joke! ☀️

Allergies: Dust can be a real pain for your peepers.

Taking Care of Your Eyes, Dubai Style

Here are some tips to keep your eyes happy in the city of gold:

Wear those stylish sunglasses - UV protection is a must!

Use artificial tears to combat dryness.

Follow the 20-20-20 rule: Every 20 minutes, look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds.

Eat eye-healthy foods (yes, carrots are good, but so are leafy greens and fish!)

Don't skip those regular eye check-ups!

The Future of Eye Care in Dubai

Dubai's always ahead of the curve, and eye care is no exception. Keep an eye out (pun intended) for:

Advanced LASIK procedures

AI-powered diagnostic tools

Telemedicine options for eye care

Innovative treatments for age-related eye conditions

Wrap Up

There you have it, folks! Finding an eye doctor in Dubai doesn't have to be daunting. With world-class options available, you're sure to find a doc who'll help you see this beautiful city even more clearly.

Have you had any experiences with eye doctors in Dubai? Any funny stories or helpful tips? Share them in the reblogs - let's help each other out!

Remember, your eyes are precious - take care of them, and they'll take care of you! Here's to clear vision and healthy eyes in the dazzling city of Dubai! ✨👁️

[surglace]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀     𝐢.     𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔     —     𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱   𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧     ,

     —   ⁺   𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿   𝒾.   ,

𝐢.     𝒔𝒖𝒓 · 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆     /  sür   gläs  /     adjective   &   adverb     .     𝐨𝐧   𝐢𝐜𝐞   ;   referring   to   activities   performed   on   an   ice   surface   .     𝐴𝑁   𝐼𝑁𝑇𝑅𝑂𝑆𝑃𝐸𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑉𝐸   𝐼𝑁     ;     the  weight   of   a   secret   in   a   locker   room   ,   the   haunted   echoes   of   A   GUILTY   CONSCIENCE   ,   the   EROSION   OF   INNOCENCE   beneath   the   skates   of   ambition   ,   the   slow   thawing   of   a   FROZEN   HEART   when   faced   with   the   WARMTH   OF   TRUTH   ,    the   chilling   realization   that   ice   preserves   more   than   just   skate   marks   .

     —  ⁺   pinterest   ,   playlist   #1   ,   playlist   #2   ,   wanted   connections   playlist   .

penned   with   love   by   vienna    ,    21+    ,    est   .     please   do   not   interact   unless   you’re   a   part   of   the   group   .

click   below   for   more   information   .

𝟎.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔   .

𝐵𝐴𝑆𝐼𝐶   𝐼𝑁𝐹𝑂𝑅𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁   ,

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋   𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄:   felix   grant   langdon     𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄(𝐒):   fee   (but   not   a   huge   fan   of   it   ,   only   family   calls   him   fee)   ,   langdon     𝐀𝐆𝐄:   twenty - seven     𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑:   cis - man     𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒:   he / him     𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂   𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:   biromantic     𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋   𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:   bisexual     𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇:   december   20   ,   1997      𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇:   lincoln   city   ,   oregon      𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘:   white

𝑃𝐻𝑌𝑆𝐼𝐶𝐴𝐿   𝐴𝑃𝑃𝐸𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸   ,

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌:   damian   hardung     𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑   𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑:   blonde     𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑   𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄:   medium   length   ;   short   on   the   sides   ,   slightly   longer   and   slicked   back   on   top   /   often   styled   with   a   slight   side   part   ,   or   combed   back   for   a   polished   ,   sophisticated   look    𝐄𝐘𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑:   blue     𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃:   lean   ,   muscular   ,   athletic     𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓:   6'     𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓:   312   lbs     𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒:   n/a     𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒:   left   nipple    𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄:   henleys   ,   slim - fit   chinos   ,   nike   air   force   1s   ,   polo   shirts   ,   baseball   caps   ,   bomber   jackets   ,   crew - neck   t - shirts   ,   cargo   shorts   ,   vans   ,   sport   watches   ,   windbreakers   ,   lightweight   hoodies   ,   dark - wash   jeans   ,   converse   chuck   taylors   ,   aviator   sunglasses   ,   fleece   jackets   ,   denim   jackets   ,   joggers   ,   loafers   ,   duffle   bags   ,   quilted   vest   /   color   palette   is   classic   ,   versatile   :   navy   blue   ,   white   ,   gray   ,   burgundy   ,   khaki   ,   olive   green   ,   denim    blue   ,   red   ,   black   ,   beige     𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋   𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍:   thoughtful   and   introspective   expression   and   gentle   ,   approachable   demeanor   ,   with   a   broad   smile   that   exudes   warmth     𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒:   a   sprinking   of   freckles   across   nose   and   cheeks   /   well - defined   and   angular   jawline   ,   giving   the   face   a   strong   ,   sulpted   look   that    enhances   that   chiseled   appearance   /   posture   is   generally   relaxed   and   open

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐿𝑇𝐻   ,

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋   𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:   none     𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:   undiagnosed   adhd     𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒:   seasonal   allergies     𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒:   3-5   hours   at   night   /   occasional   insomnia   and   restless   sleep   due   to   stress     𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒:   generally   healthy   due   to   his   athletic   career   ,   but   will   indulge   in   comfort   food   during   stressful   periods     𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐄   𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒:   regular   and   intense   ,    uses   exercise   to   manage   stress     𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘:   usually   3-4   ,   carries   guilt   ,    stress   ,   and   is    emotionally    sensitive     𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘:   highly   sociable   ,   well - liked    ,   charismatic     𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘   𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄:   hot   natured     𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:   relies   on   exercise   and   physical   activity   as   a   coping   mechanism     𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆   𝐔𝐒𝐄:   minimal   ,   potentially   experimenting   in   social   settings   but   no   dependency     𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋   𝐔𝐒𝐄:   engages   in   social   drinking   ,   especially   during   events

𝐴𝑆𝑇𝑅𝑂𝐿𝑂𝐺𝑌   ,

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇:   december   20   ,   1997     𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇:   02:21   am     𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇:   lincoln   city   ,   oregon     𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓:   sagittarius   sun   ,   virgo   moon   ,   libra   rising     𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓   𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒:   gemini   ,   leo   ,   aquarius     𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓   𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒:   pisces   ,   capricorn   ,   cancer

𝑃𝐸𝑅𝑆𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐿𝐼𝑇𝑌   ,

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄   𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒:   charming   ,   kind-hearted   ,   grounded    ,   loyal   ,   compassionate     𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄   𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒:   impulsive   ,   guilt - ridden   ,   distracted   ,   anxious   ,   competitive     𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒:   hair   ruffling   ,   finger   drumming   ,   posture   adjusting   ,   knuckle   cracking   ,   leg   bouncing     𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒:   the   guilt - ridden   hero   ,   all - american   golden   boy   ,   the   one   who   got   away   ,   star   athlete   ,   the   prom   king     𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐋𝐒:   archie   andrews   (archie   comics)   ,   nathan   scott   (one   tree   hill)   ,   dawson   leery   (dawson's   creek)   ,   steve   harrington   (stranger   things)   ,   troy   bolton   (high   school   musical)     𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:   esfp     𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌:   type   3   ,   wing   2     𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓:   sanguine     𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋   𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓:   neutral   good     𝐇𝐎𝐆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒   𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄:   gryffindor

𝐹𝐴𝑀𝐼𝐿𝑌   ,

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑:   richard   langdon     𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑:   isabella   langdon   (née   müller)     𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):   none     𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒:   duke   (great   dane)   ,   daisy   (jack   russell   terrier)   ,   bear   (bernese   mountain   dog)   ,   tiger   (scottish   fold   cat)​​​​​​

𝑅𝐸𝑆𝐼𝐷𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸   +   𝑂𝐶𝐶𝑈𝑃𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁   ,

𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:   samaritan   early   learning   center   ,   st.   mary's   high   school   ,   university   of   british   columbia     𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒:   bachelor’s   degree   in   sports   management     𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:   professional   hockey   player   for   the   vancouver   canucks     𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒:   upper - upper   class     𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:   ranch   in   dallas   ,   apartment   in   vancouver   ,   currently   renting   a   house   in   lincoln   city     𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄   𝐎𝐅   𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:   mercedes - benz   g - class   +   audi   q7   (vancouver)   ,   tesla   model   s   +   range   rover   sport   (dallas)   ,   1967   ford   mustang   convertible   +   jeep   wrangler   rubicon   +   porsche   911   carrera   (lincoln   city)

𝑃𝐸𝑅𝑆𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐿   𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐹𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸𝑆   ,

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑:   sunny   with   a   slight   breeze     𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑:   sky   blue     𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂:   classic   rock   +   country   /   bruce   springsteen   ,   zac   brown   band   ,   john   mayer   ,   fleetwood   mac   ,   bon   jovi     𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌𝐒   /   𝐓𝐕:   dramas   +   comedies   /   friday   night   lights   ,   parks   and   recreation   ,   brooklyn   nine - nine   ,   the   office   ,   ted   lasso   ,   forrest   gump   ,   a   league   of   their   own   ,   guardians   of   the   galaxy     𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓:   hockey   ,   soccer   ,   basketball   ,   swimming     𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃:   a   good   steak   ,   burgers   ,   anything   bbq     𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒:   dogs     𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒   +   𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:   working   out   ,   making   music   ,   running   ,   weightlifting   ,   playing   guitar   ,   hanging   out   with   friends   ,   coaching   little   league   soccer

𝐢.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕   .

felix   langdon   was   your   classic   all - american   golden   boy   .     born   and   raised   in   picture - perfect   lincoln   city   ,   oregon   ,   he   lived   a   charmed   and   comfortable   life   ,   thanks   to   his   family’s   fortune   built   on   a   legacy   of   maritime   trade   and   privateering   .        but   even   with   all   the   privilege   being   his   birthright   ,   felix   never   turned   into   a   spoiled   brat   .     his   mother   ,   isabella   ,   came   from   a   humble   background   and   married   into   the   langdon   legacy   ,   and   made   sure   to   raise   him   with   good   values   and   humility   .     so   ,   even   with   all   the   fancy   vacations   ,   luxurious   clothes   ,   endless   opportunities   and   the   five   vintage   convertibles   laid   out   before   him   ,   felix   stayed   grounded   .

felix   was   the   guy   everyone   liked   .     star   hockey   player   ,   prom   king   ,   perfect   boyfriend   ,   the   friend   who   always   listened   —   your   typical   all - round   good   guy   .     athletic   ,   charming   ,   kind - hearted   .     a   genuinely   good   guy   .

which   is   why   you’d   probably   never   believe   that   felix   used   to   participate   in   the   dare   box   game   .     he   was   …     so   not   the   type   .     but   hey   ,   peer   pressure   ,   right   ?     who   hasn’t   caved   at   some   point   ?     and   over   time   ,   he   even   wrote   a   few   pretty   wild   dares   himself   .     of   course   ,   he   never   expected   any   of   them   to   be   chosen   ,   never   imagined   anyone   would   actually   go   through   with   them   ,   especially   not   the   extreme   ones   .     so   ,   did   he   write   the   dare   that   chris   wilder   picked   that   fateful   night   ?     maybe   ,   maybe   not   .     but   one   thing   everyone   noticed   was   the   overwhelming   guilt   felix   displayed   in   the   days   following   chris’   disappearance   .     even   if   he   didn’t   write   it   ,   it   sure   as   hell   looked   like   he   did   .

𝐢𝐢.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕   .

but   life   goes   on   .

friends   drift   apart   .     friends   move   away   .     friends   disappear   .     that’s   life   .     people   come   and   go   .     people   come   and   go   ,   and   the   world   keeps   spinning   .     that’s   just   how   it   is   ,   right   ?     …   right   ?     well   …     that’s   what   felix   told   himself   ,   anyway.

and   so   ,   life   went   on   .     he   moved   away   ,   went   to   hockey   college   ,   joined   the   vancouver   canucks   ,   embraced   the   life   of   a   professional   athlete   .     the   past   ?     buried   .     the   secrets   ?     buried   deeper   .     his   friends   ,   his   exes   ,   his   enemies   ,   chris   wilder   …     all   buried   .     forgotten   .     gone   .     his   focus   narrowed   to   his   hockey   career   and   the   new   life   he   was   building   .

but   then   ,   the   unexpected   invitation   to   the   alumni   event   comes   ,   along   with   a   cryptic   facebook   message   that   brings   all   his   old   fears   rushing   back   .     the   message   hints   at   dark   secrets   from   the   night   he’s   tried   so   hard   to   forget   —   secrets   that   everyone   involved   swore   never   to   mention   again   .     secrets   that   could   ruin   his   entire   career   if   spun   out   of   context   .     so   ,   felix   has   no   choice   but   to   head   back   to   lincoln   city   and   face   his   past   head - on   ,   determined   to   figure   out   who’s   behind   these   messages   and   what   they   really   know   .

𝐢𝐢𝐢.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚   .

listen   ,   this   guy’s   got   it   all   .     like   previously   mentioned   ,   he’s   your   classic   all - american   golden   boy   .     he’s   good - looking   ,   charming   ,   athletic   ,   and   surprisingly   grounded   for   a   guy   who’s   had   it   pretty   easy   .     always   the   star   on   the   field   ,   always   the   one   who   hits   the   game - winning   shot   ,   the   prom   king   who   would   probably   give   a   tori   vega™   speech   and   go   ,   “  i   think   we’re   all   royalty   here  ”   .     basically   ,   everyone   loves   him   .

but   even   golden   boys   have   their   secrets   .     he’s   not   immune   to   peer   pressure   and   the   constant   need   to   live   up   to   everyone’s   expectations   gets   to   him   pretty   easily   .     felix   is   a   big   softie   .     he   feels   things   deeply   ,   especially   responsibility   .     he’s   constantly   trying   to   balance   mistakes   he   makes   with   the   person   he   wants   to   be   .     and   …     it’s   exhausting   .     this   white   boy   is   exhausted™   .

𝐢𝐯.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕   𝒂𝒏𝒅   𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕   𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔   .

based   on     uno   reverse   +   so   high   school   by   taylor   swift     ,     “   and   in   a   blink   of   a   crinkling   eye   /   i'm   sinking,   our   fingers   entwined   /   cheeks   pink   in   the   twinkling   lights   /   tell   me   'bout   the   first   time   you   saw   me   /   i'll   drink   what   you   think   and   i'm   high   /   from   smoking   your   jokes   all   damn   night   /   the   brink   of   a   wrinkle   in   time   /   bittersweet   sixteen   suddenly   ”   .     stella   and   felix   ?     total   high   school   romance   cliché   .     intense   ,   overwhelming   ,   and   undeniably   …     codependent   .     she   fell   first   ,   but   damn   ,   he   fell   harder   .     and   oh   ,   how   he   fell   .     it   was   the   kind   of   love   that   burnt   hot   and   bright   and   …     way   too   quickly   .     the   kind   of   love   that   consumed   him   whole   ,   that   made   him   feel   crazy   alive   .     the   kind   of   love   that   was   doomed   from   the   start   .     it   was   young   love   at   its   finest   ,   all - consuming   and   beautiful   ,   but   with   an   expiration   date   stamped   on   it   from   day   one   .     (   taken   by     @stellaiem     )

based   on     guilty   as   sin?   by   taylor   swift     ,     “   what   if   he's   written   mine   on   my   upper   thigh   only   in   my   mind?   /   one   slip,   i'm   falling   back   into   the   hedge   maze,   oh,   what   a   way   to   die   /   i   keep   recalling   things   we   never   did   /   messy   top   lip   kiss,   how   i   long   for   our   tryst   /   without   ever   touching   his   skin   /   how   can   i   be   guilty   as   sin?   ”   .     they   knew   each   other   ,   of   course   .     same   circle   ,   same   parties   ,   same   inside   jokes   .     they   were   friendly   ,   sure   ,   but   nothing   more   …     until   they   matched   on   some   dating   app   .     and   …     the   hooking   up   started   .     thing   is   ,   felix   was   still   very   much   in   the   closet   ,   so   no   one   knew   they   were   hooking   up   ,   and   there   was   …     a   thrill   to   it   .     a   secret   fling   with   a   cool   guy   ,   right   under   their   friends’   noses   .     it   was   all   stolen   glances   ,   coded   signals   ,   texts   like   ‘ janitor’s   closet   ,   5   mins   ? ’   ,   breathless   make - out   sessions   …     but   then   came   the   night   of   chris’   disappearance   ,   and   they   were   together   moments   before   it   all   happened   ,   and   …     felix   felt   guilty   .     feels   guilty   .     for   it   all   .     for   being   with   him   ,   for   the   dares   ,   for   everything   .     now   ,   years   later   ,   they’re   both   back   …     back   in   town   ,   back   in   each   other’s   lives   ,   back   in   that   secret   relationship   of   theirs   .     and   it’s   fun   .     my   god   ,   tae   is   fun   to   kiss   .     but   the   guilt   …     the   guilt’s   still   hanging   around   too   .    (   taken   by    @taejvns     )

based  on     we're   having   an   all   night   revival     ,     felix   and   peter   ...     they   were   inseparable   .     they   grew   up   on   the   same   block   ,   were   best   friends   from   the   start   .     and   yeah   ,   were   athletes   in   different   sports   ,   sure   ,   but   were   always   together   !     and   ...     leaving   lincoln   city   was   tough   for   felix   ,   but   leaving   peter   was   tougher   .     phone   calls   and   facetime   helped   ,   but   it   wasn't   the   same   ,   especially   with   peter   serving   in   the   army   .     now   ,   though   ,   they're   back   .     back   together   ,   and   it's   like   no   time   has   passed   at   all   .     like   they're   still   those   teenagers   ,   racing   each   other   down   the   street   ,   talking   about   life   ,   love   and   everything   in   between   .     and   now   ,   with   felix   back   for   a   while   ,   he's   even   helping   out   peter's   little   league   team   .     they're   back   where   they   belong   ,   best   friends   on   the   same   block   ,   picking   up   right   where   they   left   off   .     (   taken   by     @masleys     )

based   on     touch   tank   by   quinnie     ,     “   he’s   so   pretty   when   he   goes   down   on   me   /   gold-skinned   eager   baby,   blue   shirt   out   the   laundry   /   he   tells   me   he’s   gentle   when   he   wants   to   be   /   so   i   think   he   wants   to   be   gentle   with   me   ”   .     this   one’s   a   classic   with   a   little   twist   :     friends   with   benefits   ,   but   they   were   also   friends   with   benefits   back   in   high   school   .     now   they're   sorta   rekindling   that   flame   ,   but   felix   is   all   grown   up   at   27   .     he   has   a   career   ,   a   house   ,   a   goddamn   ranch   ,   pets   ...     all   he’s   missing   is   a   partner   .     and   he’s   trying   to   act   more   romantic   with   your   muse   ,   but   they   can   totally   shut   it   down   btw   !     (   love   myself   a   good   rejection   plot   SJSJSJS   )   .     he’s   just   showing   that   he’s   not   that   silly   high   school   boy   anymore   ,   and   that   he's   willing   to   be   more   if   your   muse   is   too   !

based   on     no   body,   no   crime   by   taylor   swift     ,     “   no,   there   ain't   no   doubt   /   i   think   i'm   gonna   call   him   out   /   she   says   /   "i   think   he   did   it   but   i   just   can't   prove   it"   /   no,   no   body,   no   crime   /   but   i   ain't   letting   up   until   the   day   i   die   ”   .     …   you   know   how   felix   felt   really   guilty   after   chris’   disappearance   ?     well   .     your   muse   noticed   .     y/m   is   convinced   felix   wrote   the   dare   .

but   also   ...     high   school   friends   ,   high   school   exes   ,   high   school   rivals   ,   high   school   teammates   ,   high   school   friend   he   kept   contact   with   ,   high   school   crush   ,   flings   ,   recent   hook-ups   ,   past   and   present   neighbors   ,   a   recent   tinder   date   .       check   this   playlist   for   more   plots   !

𝐯.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆   𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔   .

felix   is   bisexual   !     in   his   late   teens   ,   he   had   his   first   experience   with   a   guy   at   summer   camp   .     it   was   a   bit   short   and   sweet   fling   ,  but   it   helped   him   understand   himself   better   .     he   never   really   told   anyone   when   he   went   back   to   st.   mary's   ,   though   .

felix   is   musically   inclined   !     he’s   not   just   a   music   fan   ;     he   plays   guitar   ,   piano   ,   and   drums   .     he   first   picked   up   the   guitar   as   a   teenager   ,   trying   to   impress   a   girl   at   school   .     but   over   time   ,   it   became   his   way   of   doing   his   own   thing   ,   a   form   of   self - expression   .     now   ,   he’s   even   writing   his   own   songs   and   picking   up   other   instruments   just   for   the   fun   of   it   .

felix   loves   sports   !     apart   from   hockey   ,   he's   also   a   big   fan   of   soccer   ,   swimming   and   basketball   .

felix   loves   animals   !     he's   got   two   dogs   in   his   ranch   in   dallas   :     duke   ,   a   great   dane   ,   and   daisy   ,   a   jack   russell   terrier   .     and   he's   got   a   bernese   mountain   dog   named   bear   and   a   scottish   fold   cat   named   tiger   in   vancouver   too   .

felix   works   out   when   he’s   stressed   !     physical   exercise   is   his   go - to   stress   reliever   .     whether   it's   hitting   the   gym   for   a   weight   session   ,   going   for   a   long   run   ,   or   shadowboxing   ,   working   out   helps   him   clear   his   mind   .     physical   exertion   allows   him   to   process   his   thoughts   and   emotions   more   effectively   .     and   i   can   just   imagine   him   in   the   middle   of   an   argument   ,   suddenly   going   “   i   need   to   go   to   the   gym   ”   and   taking   off   JSJSJS   .

felix   has   undiagnosed   adhd   !     he's   always   been   a   ball   of   pent   up   energy   ,   always   found   it   tough   to   concentrate   on   anything   that   doesn't   totally   grab   his   attention   .     so   yeah   ,   he   shows   a   lot   of   signs   of   adhd   ,   but   has   never   been   officially   diagnosed   .   

𝐯𝐢.     𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆   𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒔   .

all   these   things   that   i’ve   done   by   the   killers   .     “   another   head   aches,   another   heart   breaks   /   i'm   so   much   older   than   i   can   take   /   and   my   affection,   well,   it   comes   and   goes   /   i   need   direction   to   perfection,   no,   no,   no,   no   ”   .

boy   with   the   sun   song   by   lucy   lu   .     “   so   where   to   now,   my   darling?   /   so   where   to   now,   my   golden   boy?   /   who've   you   got   to   turn   to?   /   all   your   love   is   burned   through   /   i   didn't   know   that   you   were   living   life   so   hard   on   yourself   ”   .

all   star   by   smash   mouth   .     “   the   ice   we   skate   is   getting   pretty   thin   /   the   water   is   getting   warm   /   so   you   might   as   well   swim   /   my   world's   on   fire,   how   about   yours?   ”   .

new   person,   same   old   mistakes   by   tame   impala   .     “   i   tried   but   it’s   way   too   late   /   all   the   signs   i   don’t   read   /   two   sides   of   me   can’t   agree   /   will   i   be   in   too   deep?   ”   .

making   the   bed   by   olivia   rodrigo   .     “   well,   sometimes   i   feel   like   i   don't   wanna   be   where   i   am   /   getting   drunk   at   a   club   with   my   fair-weather   friends   /   push   away   all   the   people   who   know   me   the   best   /   but   it's   me   who's   been   making   the   bed   ”   .

pandemonium   by   niki   .     “   read   the   spaces   between   the   lines   /   mind   your   own   business   while   i   grow   mine   /   no,   it’s   never   personal   /   maybe   that’s   the   problem   /   we   loosen   up   every   rung   on   the   ladder   /   serve   up   a   smile   on   a   silver   platter   /   no   one   needs   a   pillar,   just   a   painkiller   or   two   ”   .

golden   boy   by   bryce   fox   .     “   i   wanna   be   your   golden   boy,   but   i   got   a   price   you   can’t   afford   /   nobody’s   perfect   anymore,   so   why   can’t   i   be   your   golden   boy?   ”   .

end   of   beginning   by   djo   .     “   and   when   i’m   back   in   chicago,   i   feel   it   /   another   version   of   me,   i   was   in   it   /   i   wave   goodbye   to   the   end   of   beginning   ”   .

60   &   punk   by   death   cab   for   cutie   .     “   the   curtain   falls   to   applause   and   the   band   plays   you   off   /   he's   a   superhero   growing   bored   with   no   one   to   save   anymore   ”   .

called   you   again   by   lizzy   mcalpine   .     “   and   that   should   be   the   end   of   it   /   but   i   never   know   when   to   stop   talking   /   so   i   make   my   bed   and   sleep   in   it   alone   ”   .