#best rated shower filters

[aqualiseshowerfilter]

The Ultimate Guide to Shower Filters to Remove Toxic Chemicals

Discover the secrets to healthier showers with our comprehensive guide on shower filters! Learn how to remove toxic chemicals, combat hard water, and improve hair and skin health. Dive in for expert advice and make every shower a rejuvenating experience.

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[narcoticv3nus]

Lust for Life ꨄ Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kinktober Day III: Vibrator

summary: your new cute boyfriend finds your hidden stash tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, praise, a bit of degradation, fluff, kyle being the best bf ever, vibrators, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v, squirting, cursing, use of pet names, author does not attempt at accents wc: 3.2k a/n: this one is a little shorter just because the last one was very long but i still hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

As the evening descended, you found yourself sprawled out on your plush, velvety couch, wholly engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite TV show. The warm, golden rays of the setting sun gently filtered through the sheer, billowing curtains, casting a soft, ethereal glow across the room. Outside, the air was cool and crisp, carrying the unmistakable scent of autumn and hinting at the imminent arrival of colder weather. The changing seasons provided the perfect excuse to nestle indoors, surrounded by comfort and warmth, and fully embrace much-needed relaxation.

Kyle, your charming new boyfriend, phoned you just moments ago, inquiring if he could drop by for a visit. You've been in a blissful relationship for a few months, savoring every moment. Kyle embodies everything you've ever desired in a partner: he's compassionate, considerate, giving, and understanding. But he was also fun, and the sex was great. He was so attentive and in tune with your every need.

Of course you said yes.

You straightened up as the front door swung open. Kyle stepped inside, his athletic figure framed by the warm evening light. He wore a short white tank top for the summer, accentuating his sculpted arms and loose-fitting basketball shorts that swayed with his every movement. His skin glistened with a fine layer of sweat, indicating that he had just returned from a workout at the gym.

His radiant smile spread across his face as his eyes lit up upon seeing you, revealing a perfect row of pearly white teeth. Dimples formed on his cheeks, adding to the charm of his infectious grin. His captivating beauty was unmatched, leaving an indelible impression impossible to ignore.

“Hey baby,” you said warmly, striding to kiss him. He smiled as his lips met yours, his hand reaching up to keep you at a distance.

“I'm all sweaty,” he acknowledged with a soft chuckle.

“I don't care,” you grinned, gazing up at him. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I do,” he laughed. “Do you mind if I use your shower?” he asked, his eyes roaming over your figure as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Of course,” you answered, walking back towards the couch before lying on your side. You watched with rapt attention as Kyle removed his shirt and approached your room.

After seeing your expression, he promised, “Thanks. I'll be quick. " You hummed in response, unpausing your show as the door to your room clicked shut.

Through the thin walls of your home, you could hear the signature creak of the shower door hinge turning, followed by the steady percussion of water cascading down and meeting the smooth surface of the shower floor.

As you watched the show before you, the relaxing symphony of the shower’s white noise lulled you into tranquility.

When Kyle eventually stepped out, you could tell something was different. Yes, he had changed into a new pair of clothes, but his expression seemed off.

“You okay?” You asked, reaching for him as he drew near.

“Yeah, just had a...” Kyle paused, then cleared his throat lightly. “A surprise in the bathroom.” He smiled warmly, attempting to deflect the sudden tension in the air. A gap of silence filled the air, your heart rate spiking. “I found your stash,” he said, keeping his tone playful and casual as he sat beside you on the couch.

“My stash?” You questioned with a confused chuckle, your gaze leaving his as you tried to recall what he could be referencing. Then, it dawned on you.

Oh. you thought, That stash.

As your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, you felt a wave of embarrassment washing over you, causing your face to grow warm and your eyes to drop in discomfort momentarily.

You felt Kyle reach for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Your collection...under the bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to alleviate your embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to pry; I just tripped over the box on my way to the bathroom.” He looked into your eyes, sincerity shining through. “Everyone has their ways of unwinding. No judgment here.” He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, “But maybe next time you might want to find a better hiding spot, yeah?”

His dimples deepened with his teasing smile, attempting to lighten the mood while acknowledging his discovery's intimate nature. Internally, you appreciated Kyle’s openness and understanding. It made you see him in a new light, and you were more drawn to him. He silently vowed to respect your boundaries while embracing the opportunity to learn more about your needs and desires, whether shared or private.

"Well," you began, feeling a slight knot forming in the pit of your stomach as you struggled to find the right words. Your throat felt parched, and you could almost sense the weight of each syllable as it hung in the air.

“As long as you're not mad.”

Kyle shook his head slowly, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Why would I be mad?” He asked gently, his voice low and reassuring.

“It’s not like I’ve never seen one before,” he admitted, trying to ease your discomfort with a dash of humor.

“Some guys don't like it, I guess,” you said, your skin growing hotter. Images of Kyle holding your toys flashed in your mind: him looming over you, his once charming smile forming into a smug grin as he held it to your clit, overstimulating you, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of your overspent body. You shook the thoughts from your head.

“They think only they should make their girlfriend feel good.”

Kyle tilted his head slightly, observing your flustered state with curiosity. He took a deep breath before responding, sensing the tension in your words. “Well,” he began, his voice calm and steady. “I’m not like some guys.” He looked down at their entwined hands, squeezing yours gently.

“I believe in giving pleasure as much as receiving it. I’m glad you have your ways of taking care of yourself.” He lifted your chin, meeting your eyes with a reassuring gaze. “And I’d be more than happy to help you with that, too.” Kyle’s smile softened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss, hoping to show you that your vulnerability was attractive rather than off-putting.

“Yeah?” His words excited you, and you couldn't help but lean in closer. Your hands gently rested on his shoulders as you kissed him back before pulling away, eagerly searching his gaze.

He smiled against your mouth as he trailed his fingertips along your jawline, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his touch.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his voice husky with anticipation. He leaned back, his gaze roaming over your face, taking in your beauty and vulnerability. “What do you say?” he asked, his voice low and filled with promise.

As he looked at you with anticipation, you quickly nodded, a smile spreading across your face. You took his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers and gently squeezing him, urging him to stand up. Your heart raced excitedly, and you couldn't help but bite your lip, trying to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions surging through you.

Kyle rose to his feet with ease, your warm hand in his, your excitement a palpable force between them. He followed your lead, allowing you to guide him to the bedroom. Kyle took a deep breath behind you as you gathered your toys, trying to steady himself. Kyle stepped closer, reaching out to gently trace the curve of your waist with his fingers.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered in your ear, his voice husky with want. “I want to make sure I do this right.” You shivered against him, and he pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist protectively.

“Do you think…” you began, your voice trembling. Kyle has always been gentle with you, consistently loving and caring, never wanting to cause you pain or discomfort. He was soft and sweet, especially at the end, prioritizing your needs over his own.

“You could be rough this time?” You fiddled with his fingers, unable to meet his gaze.

Kyle paused at your words, his gaze dropping to your entwined fingers. He had known you to enjoy gentleness and care, so your request caught him off guard, but it also intrigued him. He could tell you were nervous, your body trembling slightly against his, but he saw the longing in your eyes.

He tilted your chin up with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with understanding. “If that’s what you want,” he said firmly. “But only if you trust me.” He let the weight of his words sink in, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation. He didn’t want to push your boundaries; he desired to give you pleasure.

“I trust you,” you promised, your voice small but heavy with desire.

Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips; you savored the taste of him before he pulled away. He looked behind you at your stash of toys, and you could feel your chest twisting with anticipation. He reached for one of the vibrators, turning it over in his hands and examining its sleek design.

“Show me what you like,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You nodded, looking down at the wand in his hand, which he held so casually. You quickly began removing your clothes, starting with your shirt before shucking off your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. Hesitatingly, you took the toy from his hands before sitting back on your bed and staring at him.

Kyle’s eyes darkened, taking in every curve and crevice of your body. “Go on,” he said, his tone becoming more authoritarian. As he spoke, the velvety smoothness of his voice etched itself inside of you, twisting and curling until it was delicately wrapped around your soul, stealing your breath away.

You inched back even further before pressing the device’s button before releasing. Quickly, the wand buzzed to life, vibrating slowly in the palm of your hand. You looked up to him, suddenly feeling shy.

Sensing your apprehension, Kyle kneeled in front of you, his hands resting gently on your thighs, caressing the soft naked skin. His eyes fell from your face and landed on your chest. He inhaled, one hand reaching forward to cup your breast. You let out a small sigh at his touch, a whimper getting caught in your throat as his thumb brushed over your perk nipple.

With his other hand, he pulled yours toward you, urging the vibrator in your hand to press against your nipple.

“There,” he breathed, pressing it further as you whined at the sensation. “Sensitive?” he grinned. You stared down at him, his big brown eyes captivating you, enchanting you. You nodded silently, your other hand reaching out to touch him.

As Kyle watched you, his eyes filled with intensity, his free hand slid down to trace the waistband of her underwear. Studying for your reactions, he waited for your permission, his gaze flickering to meet yours, silently asking if he could explore further. When you nodded, he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, teasing your clit lightly.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to hear you say it and know he was pleasing you.

“More,” you pleaded, your breath coming in unevenly and your panties dampened with your arousal. “I need more, please,” you whined. It felt good, really good. But it wasn't enough.

With a low groan, he pushed your underwear aside and slipped two fingers inside your warm, wet heat. He curled them slightly, hitting the spot he knew would send you spiraling. Your hips rocked involuntarily, meeting his rhythm. He watched your face contort in ecstasy, your eyes fluttering closed and your mouth forming silent pleas. He wanted to devour you, to taste your sweetness and hear you scream his name, but he held back, savoring this tender moment of vulnerability between you.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes!” You keened, pressing the moving wand against your clit. Your hips were bucking wildly.

As your breath grew heavier, he increased the pressure, his fingers moving faster. He could sense your impending climax building like a wave about to crash over you both. Just as you were teetering on the edge, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Your moan vibrated against his mouth, sending shockwaves through him.

You reveled in the moment's intensity, your bodies moving together in perfect sync. Kyle broke the kiss, his gaze locked onto yours, watching you ride the wave of pleasure. He felt your inner walls tighten around his fingers, your orgasm rolling over you in shudders. Your cries of release were music to his ears. Kyle smiled softly at you as your body relaxed against the bed. He removed the vibrator from your grasp and set it aside, trailing gentle kisses along your chest and abdomen.

His fingers remained inside you, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. Kyle leaned up, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered sincerely. You blushed, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him into another kiss. He groaned as your nails scratched his scalp and shifted onto the bed, dragging you up further, barely breaking your kiss.

His tongue moved in sync with yours, sucking on your tongue and your lips as he took your wrists in his hands and placed them above your head.

“Keep these here, okay?” He commanded gently, his voice a soft rumble as he smiled down at you. You nodded your head in complacency, whimpering as he took your legs in his hands, pulling you closer and wrapping them around his waist. He quickly removed his shirt and pushed his pants down his thighs, his cock springing forward, erect and standing at attention. It bobbed against his lower stomach, already leaking pre.

His hand curled around the base, his smile dark as he looked down at you, flushed and submissive, with your hands obediently placed above your head.

“Such a good girl.” he purred. “Being so good for me.” You whined in response, your eyes glued to his twitching cock, already imagining how it's going to feel once it's inside.

Grabbing a pillow from above you, he placed it under your hips, supporting you with added comfort.

You swallowed thickly as he picked up the toy, switching it back on. He examined it for a moment before looking back down at you. “Don't worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

With another press of a button, the wand began vibrating faster, the buzzing growing louder in your ears before he pressed it against your clit, adding a bit of pressure before dragging it down your folds, teasing it over your hole before pulling it back up.

Wanton moans uncontrollably escaped from deep inside your chest, your legs kicking out at the sensitivity. “Wait, Kyle,” you pleaded, your body squirming, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.

“No,” he answered, his eyes narrowing. “You asked me for this, remember?”

You tried squeezing your thighs shut, but he held one open, holding it to the surface of the bed.

“Put it in,” he commanded, his eyes looking to yours, his brow lifting when you didn't move right away. “Go on,” he reminded you, acting utterly unbothered by your inebriated state.

You whimpered but obliged, wrapping your hand around his veiny girth, sliding your hand across his tip to collect his essence, and dragging it back down to coat his cock for an easier entry.

As you guided him forward, he shifted his hips, leaning closer in his impatience. Once his tip caught, he didn't give you a single warning before he pushed forward and filled you up completely.

“Yeah…” he breathed, wholly entranced as you sucked him in with zero resistance, your gummy walls hugging his cock, clenching and unclenching as it beckoned him forward.

“That's it,” he smiled with an added groan, pushing his hips to the hilt, tossing his head back as you both moaned in unison. “Hold it steady,” transferring the toy back to you, he reached underneath your thighs and lifted until your ankles were resting by his ears.

At this angle, his tip was nestled right up against your sensitive spot, causing you to nearly scream when he immediately began battering his hips against yours, fucking you deep and rough just like you asked.

It wasn't long until you were cumming again, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you succumbed to the white-hot pleasure coursing through you.

“Yes! Fuck!” Kyle shouted as your pussy clamped like a vice around him, causing his hips to stutter. “God, your fucking pussy feels so good,” he whined, his eyes squeezed shut as his thrusts picked up in pace, losing their rhythm.

“One more…” he panted, his hand curling over yours, pressing the button once more until the wand buzzed at full speed. You practically screamed in response, pushing at his abdomen with one hand, trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure.

“I can't,” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Yes, you can, c'mon,” he growled, slapping your hand away. “Be a good girl; you can take it.”

You had no choice but to lay there as he fucks you until his pace slowed into deep grinds, circling his hips as his cock knocked around inside. His hand that was on your thigh pressed down against your lower stomach, applying just the proper amount of pressure as you neared your third release of the night.

“It's too much!” You squealed, your hands clawing at his forearms, trying to ground yourself to something. “Wait! I'm gonna pee!” You tried to warn him, kicking your legs out to try and get away, but he didn't budge.

“You're not gonna pee, baby,” he let out a breathless laugh, coming out of character momentarily. “Just trust me, remember?” his stoic gaze turned gentle once more before he pulled back, fucking into you at a much faster pace, chasing his high.

“Let go for me, c’mon.” he panted, his eyes screwing shut as his mouth fell open, expletives falling from his in deep shudders, sweat dripping from his brow and down his face.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, tossing your head back with a silent scream, arching your back almost painfully as clear liquid sprayed onto his abdomen and drenched the sheets below you.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, watching as you squirted all over him, some even reaching his chest as you pussy practically pinched him. “Fuck I'm gonna cum.” was all he said before thrusting into you one final time, shooting ropes deep inside of you with a groan that almost sounded painful.

“Turn it off!” You sobbed, trying to lift the device away from you. You gasped in relief as he took it away, tossing it somewhere onto your bed before he leaned over your body, taking your face in his hands as he kissed you.

You turned away with a whine, desperate for air, as he chuckled breathlessly. “Fuck that was good.” he sighed, pressing kisses to the column of your throat as he eased your legs back down onto the bed. You don't think you could've replied even if you wanted to.

“One more?” he teased, laughing at the pointed glare you shot at him.

“C’mon,” he grunted as he lifted you into his arms, walking towards your bathroom. “How ‘bout a bath?” he said, kissing your temple.

A bath doesn't sound bad at all.

main masterlist, rules

[daengtokki]

𝐵𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 9.7k

rating: fluff -`♡´-

Part 1 of 4 5

MASTERLIST

˚☽˚.⋆

The lines around his mouth deepen. His hand jumps up to cover it as his lips finally break open to make way for a tiny laugh. He replaces his hand with his coffee cup, sipping around a shy smile. “Thank you.” But he shakes his head a little when he says it.

You catch a glimpse of the braces he’s instinctively trying to hide.

/ / /

It’s half-past eight and you’re already an hour behind. Work got hectic, and then the surprise meeting really threw you off balance. Tonight is not the best night for a date. A blind date, actually, set up for you with nothing but love and the very best of intentions in mind by your friend and co-worker. And if you’re being honest with yourself, one of the only close friends you’ve made since moving far from home. She’s your best friend, really. Choonhee even helped you find your job here in Korea.

Now that you think about it, maybe this whole date idea was to take some of the weight off of her. The two of you spend most of your time together. She teaches you how to cook all of your favorite dishes, helps you keep your finances in order. She’s always there when things get a little too overwhelming. You don’t blame her for wanting to find you more friends.

You feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

“Please please also be running behind,” You mumble to yourself.

Meet him at the cafe in an hour

A sigh of relief. You look at yourself in the mirror. Time to shower. Time to overthink what you’re going to wear.

It’s just a casual thing, she said. No dressing up. Just wear what I’d wear if I were hanging out any other time with any other friend. That really didn’t make things easier, though. You try to remember what she did tell you about your date, but it wasn’t much:

Tall, but not too tall. ‘Taller than you’ is what she said, actually. Nice eyebrows. Kind of a smart ass if you know him well enough. He’s funny…she really emphasized the fact that he has an interesting sense of humor. His hair is currently blond, or it was the last time she saw him. ‘He looks cute blond’, also her words. And ‘he did it for work’.

What does that even mean? You didn’t bother getting any other information out of her. It’s going to be uncomfortable and awkward no matter how much you know, but you forgot to ask how well he spoke English. It doesn’t matter now. You just hope there’s enough overlap in language to make it through an hour or so.

____

At 9:40 (you’re late) you jump out of your taxi and try to orient yourself. You’ve been here before, but not much, and not lately. And it’s busy because of the holiday. You suddenly regret every decision you’ve made today. Maybe it’s not too late to cancel and get yourself back home and under the blankets.

Buzz buzz

Are you there? He’s waiting near the door, but didn’t want to go in without you because it’s a little busy

Oh, that’s kinda nice. At least he’s thoughtful. Or maybe he’s just anxious. Your heart is still beating out of your chest and you can feel how hot your cheeks are despite the chilly air. You start your walk toward the cafe, about a half a block down. There are far too many people loitering on the sidewalk; waiting for rides, talking in tight little groups, phones out and taking videos of friends. You squeeze yourself through until you get to the tables set up outside. Also full of people.

You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. Seven seconds in, five out. Right? It helps a little, so you open your eyes and take a cautious look around. There are so many people that could potentially be him, so you try to filter out the blonds. There are a lot of kinda tall blonds, but only one by himself. And he isn’t really blond. This guys hair is a light soft brown. The way the warm lights bounce off of it does make it look lighter, though.

He’s right by the outer doors of the cafe, back against the wall with one foot flat against it. His raised knee is swinging back and forth like a metronome. He’s bobbing his head a little as he stares down at his phone. It lights up his face, but most of it is covered with a black mask. And then, almost as if he feels your eyes on him, he looks up and right at you. His hair bounces down around his eyes a bit, and he shakes his head until he gets it out.

You hold the eye contact, but you forget how to react normally for a moment. You assume she told him about you and a little about your appearance, so…

He puts his phone in his pocket and waves, a little reluctantly, a little unsure. You’re not the only foreigner here, and definitely not terribly distinctive looking. But you’re certain you’re looking at the right person.

You wave back and smile.

He stands up straight and takes a few steps toward you, hands in the pockets of his jacket now. He takes them out almost immediately, though. Maybe he’s nervous, too.

He nods to you. His hand combs through his hair, but it bounces back exactly how it was before he touched it. “You’re late.”

You blush a little and your heart is thumping again. The mask is making it difficult to read him. That’s not how you were expecting him to greet you, and you really weren’t expecting somebody that looked like him

“I’m kidding…I’m kidding.” Now you can hear the lightness in his voice. It’s almost melodic, the way he speaks. He pulls at his mask a little to adjust it. “I just got here a few minutes ago.”

“Oh!” You try to hold his eyes with yours, but his gaze is a little intense. “Okay good…yeah it’s a little crazy out tonight.”

“It is busy,” he agrees with a little nod. “But we can go inside if it’s not too crowded for you. To get warm.”

His hands are back in his pockets again.

“Yeah, if you’re good, I’m good.”

It’s almost too warm inside the cafe, but it’s roomy, thankfully. The large amount of people are spread out nicely. The lights are turned down low, and the atmosphere is almost bar-like. The biggest difference is the smell of coffee and the soft voices. The music is familiar; something you would listen to in your free time.

He waits for you to catch up. You fall behind without realizing as you adjust to your surroundings.

“It’s nice in here,” he says, “what do you like to drink?”

“Just a regular latte.”

“That’s all?”

You nod at him, and he orders for both of you. It’s a good opportunity to see him in the brighter lights here at the counter. His long legs are in a pair of well fitting (but not too tight) black jeans, cuffed just enough that you see a bit of his ankle peeking above his white and tan sneakers. His jacket is light blue denim, and the hoodie underneath is white.

He half turns to look at you, and his eyes narrow in a way that let you know he’s smiling. It sets off butterflies in your stomach. You’ve barely spoken to him and you haven’t even seen his whole face, yet here you are, feeling like you’re falling.

“They’ll bring our drinks to us. We can find somewhere to sit.” He waves you toward him, and you follow as he leads you to the most out of the way table he can find. You’re thankful for the semi-privacy here.

There’s not much time to start a conversation, but you look at each other briefly. His gaze is a little intense from above his mask, but soft. His eyes are big and shiny, and he doesn’t look away from you. It feels like he’s searching for something to say.

A few moments later, a young girl arrives with two drinks. When she walks off again, he finally takes off his mask. Carefully he unhooks it from one ear, then the other, and folds it neatly into his pocket.

He’s better looking than you were expecting.

The smell of fresh coffee and the look in his eyes makes you feel a little…woozy. You wonder if he looks at everyone like this. It’s getting so warm in the cafe. You shake yourself out of your top layer before wrapping your hands around the warm mug.

Your force yourself to look up at him again. “Choonhee told me almost nothing about you. She didn’t even get your hair color right.”

“To be fair, I change it often.” He lifts his straw to his lips. Iced coffee. “She told me a lot about you.”

“Yeah? What did you she tell you? I may have to correct a few things.”

“No,” he laughs and shakes his head. “She said you were…nice, cute, funny, smart.”

You try not to dispute his ‘cute’ claim. Either he means it or he’s just being nice. Both are fine right now. “She did mention that we have similar personalities, but I don’t know exactly what she meant.”

“I think she must have a type when it comes to friends.”

His English is nice; very smooth. Only occasionally does he make a mistake with cadence. But it’s hardly noticeable. His voice is sweet and soft, and very soothing to your ears. You hope he keeps talking all night. Things will go much easier for you that way.

“She told me you were kind of a smart ass.”

Seungmin laughs at that, throwing his hand over his mouth when he does. “Only if you deserve it.” He drops his hand back to the table and then around his drink

The two silver rings he’s wearing glint a little in the light. One is thin and plain, the other is much wider, and the shape is a repeating row of G’s. You somehow recognize that G. It’s a Givenchy G.

“Is this real or a knockoff?” Gently, you take his hand in yours to get a closer look, and then realize how silly of a thing that was. Sometimes you forget to show restraint. You’re very American.

He doesn’t pull away, though. He doesn’t seem to mind you taking his hand in yours without warning. “It’s real. It was a gift.”

“Silver looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” He drops his eyes from you to your hands still clasped together. He says nothing, just waits until you let go to pull back.

“Oh…gift, that reminds me.” He digs in the pocket of his denim jacket and pulls out something small and white. Before handing it to you, he looks it over and smiles. “It’s silly, but I got you this...”

“You brought me something?”

Seungmin nods and passes it across the table. When you grab it, it’s soft and fuzzy. It’s a keychain. You’re definitely blushing and you’re 100% certain he can see the pink rising up from your neck and into your cheeks.

“I don’t know if you have a favorite, but Choonhee said you like dogs. I like dogs, too. Pochacco is my favorite.”

“Thank you, Seungmin.” You stare down at Pochaccos face and squeeze him. Then you hook him onto the keys hanging from your bag. You keep holding onto him, though.

He smiles again, much bigger than before. And this time he doesn’t cover his face with his hand. You see his braces this time, and it makes you smile. You obviously shouldn’t stare, but it’s hard not to. They look cute on him.

An oooh comes out in a whisper and you didn’t mean it to, but it’s out there now. You can’t take your eyes off of his mouth, and now you’re wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Oh…uhm.” Seungmin keeps smiling, but now his lips are back together. “Did she tell you I still had my braces?”

“No, she didn’t mention it.” You lean into the table more so you’re closer to him. It’s not a very big table. “She told me very little, I guess she wanted me to be surprised.”

“Hopefully no…bad surprises.”

“Nothing bad yet.”

The smile on his face becomes a little more reserved, but it’s still very much there. “How is your coffee…are you hungry?”

“It’s good,” You pick it up and take a sip. He’s been too distracting…you can’t even remember if you’ve taken a drink yet. “I am a little hungry, but I’m not much of an eater on dates. I’m usually too nervous.”

Seungmin nods, seeming to understand your reasoning. “Please let me know if you change your mind. We can get something.”

You nod back, “so how do you know Choonhee?”

“She used to work with me, where I work now.”

“Oh, where do you work?”

He seems to hesitate for a moment, look around, fidget with his drink. Then he looks at you again. “I work for JYP Entertainment.”

He works at one of the biggest entertainment companies in South Korea. And Choonhee worked there, too.

“I had no idea she used to work there.” You sit back in your chair and fold your arms over your chest. “That’s kind of a big change from what she does now.”

Seungmin nods, “in atmosphere, maybe. She was a tutor. You are a teacher, yeah?”

You nod, “yes, I teach English. Sometimes music, as a substitute.”

The table shakes a little as he moves closer. He can’t get much closer, unfortunately. “You teach music?”

“Not often, but yes. I take it you like music?”

“Yes, very much. Do you sing?

“Yeah, a little.”

There’s a little smirk on his lips as he finishes off the last bit of iced coffee. He shakes the remainder of his ice as he stands. “I’m going to find the restroom, I’ll be back.”

Before he leaves, he shakes himself free of his denim jacket and hangs it neatly across the back of his chair. You nod and watch him walk away. It’s difficult to keep your eyes off of him, but as soon as he disappears into the restroom, you pull out your phone. It’s buzzed three times since you’ve been here.

Have fun!!

Did you find him?

You don’t have to answer these btw, I’ll assume you haven’t answered because you found him and immediately fell in love

You unlock your phone and begin typing a response. “Yes, we found each other.” Send. You think for a moment, but her reply comes through before your next message.

Well!?

“He’s cute.”

You’re gonna fall in love, just give it a minute

From the corner of your eye you see him walk by the table. You look at him; he looks at you and waves, but his mask is back on. You think for the smallest moment he’s skipping out, but he’s only heading to the counter again. You watch him and your phone at the same time.

Buzz buzz

He likes you

Oh, he must have sent Choonhee a message in the restroom. He likes you. You’ve barely known each other thirty minutes, so he can’t possibly like you that much. But you like him, so maybe he does…

He returns with two small plates and sets one of them in front of you. The other is his. “I heard they have very good pastries here, so I thought we should try one.” He removes his mask and goes for a taste.

You pick yours up and carefully tear it in half. It’s filled with chocolate. “Oh, did you get the chocolate one, too?”

As he’s biting into it and making a mess, he nods. The flakes stick to his lips as he chews, and he carefully tries cleaning them off, but it’s a challenge. It’s cute. You can’t help but think of going over there and cleaning him off yourself. But you shake away the thought and stop staring.

——

“Seungmin…” he hands you your fresh coffee and leads the way out of the crowd. It’s dwindled a bit, but not by much. “It’s a nice name.”

“It’s so common, but I guess that’s not really a bad thing.”

“You look like a Seungmin.”

“Oh, is that a good thing?” He laughs.

You mmhmm him through your sip of coffee and purposely brush against his arm. He gave you his denim jacket to wear. You told him you weren’t cold, and it was no big deal, but you’re secretly grateful you have it around you. His scent is subtle on it; it’s nice.

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you look up at him, but you can’t see well in the dim light. You can just make out the silhouette of his nose and mouth and chin. He licks his lips after another sip of coffee. “It’s nice here.”

You walked from the cafe and ended up at the edge of a large public park. It’s lit up and cozy, but a little chillier now that it’s gotten much later. There are still plenty of people milling around, though, mostly couples and groups of teenagers, but it’s not too crowded.

There are seats and tables here, so he leads you to a spot under some decent lighting and a working outdoor heater. It’s comfortable enough, but mostly it’s nice having him more to yourself. He’s looking down at his hands as they spin his coffee cup. A hot one this time.

Big dark eyelashes hide his eyes from you. Lips are closed tight like, he’s deep in thought. He looks at you then, as if he feels you watching. The lights makes them look wet, like maybe he could cry at any moment. But his cheeks lift as he smiles. His lips stay closed tight, but the corners of his mouth twitch a little as he fights an even bigger smile.

He feels familiar, but you can’t figure out why. Maybe you’ve seen him before. He’s the kind of good looking you’d see on tv or in a magazine, but he also looks like your cute childhood crush all grown up. So now you suddenly wonder what business you have being in front of him. Did Choonhee really think this was a good blind date?

Maybe for you. Seungmin could probably have anyone he wanted.

“You’re very handsome.”

The lines around his mouth deepen. His hand jumps up to cover it as his lips finally break open to make way for a tiny laugh. He replaces his hand with his coffee cup, sipping around a shy smile. “Thank you.” But he shakes his head a little when he says it.

You catch a glimpse of the braces he’s instinctively trying to hide.

“How long have you been here in Korea?” He asks. He can’t keep them hidden while he talks. Well, he could, but you’re sure he’s aware of how silly it would look if he held a hand over his mouth for the entire date.

“Two years…not very long,” you keep yours eyes on his eyes…or on his hands as they fidget with his cup. “I think your English is better than my Korean.”

“Is it?” Seungmin raises his eyebrows, and his face lights up. He bites down on the corner of his lip, making your eyes wander to the metal glint when he flashes his teeth. “Thanks.” He rubs a little at his mouth, probably fighting the habit of covering it again.

You want to tell him to relax; that his braces don’t distract from the rest of him

Seungmin sits up a bit and looks around. A few people have walked by since you sat down, but not many. There’s music playing from somewhere nearby, but you can’t tell where it’s coming from. It’s a soft song you’ve heard many times on the radio at work.

You want him to tell you everything he can about himself, but you don’t want to scare him off. It’s been less than two hours, but you can already feel yourself attaching—falling for him—doing what you always do with anyone who gives you the type of attention Seungmin is giving you tonight. He’s only had eyes for you all night, but occasionally he looks around and gets quiet…a little uncomfortable.. The first date nerves have mostly subsided for you, but maybe they haven’t for him.

“Are you still hungry? We could find somewhere to eat if it’s not too late.” He seems to be searching your face for an answer before he continues. “If it’s not too late to eat, I mean,” he looks down at the time on his phone, “it’s a little late.”

It’s nearly eleven. It is late for you, technically. You’re usually up early, unless you don’t have to be. Maybe he’s an early riser as well.

“It’s not too late, not during the holiday.”

____

Seungmin gets the two of you a ride this time, and you head a few miles closer to the city. There’s so much space between you in the backseat of the car, but he has his body turned toward you as he speaks. He seems to be texting on his phone between your conversation, but it’s the first time he’s been on it all night, aside from getting the car.

“I go here very often, so they know me.”

Pochacco is in your lap. You fidget with him as Seungmin speaks and types at the same time. “I’m glad you like him.”

____

The mask is back on his face as he leads you toward the restaurant. It looks busy from the outside, but the open design makes everything feel calm and quiet. As you’re standing there waiting, you feel his fingers graze against your hand. Your fingers twitch back against his.

A young man, you assume he is one of the hosts, walks over to you and bows. “We have your table ready for you.” He looks at Seungmin, and then to you before gesturing to follow him.

You walk off to the right and a little further beyond the packed bar. There are a fair amount of people in this slightly more private area, but nobody pays much attention as you follow Seungmin and the host to your table.

“What are you hungry for?” Seungmin removes his mask again. “Everything here is very good.”

“I’m not very picky, and I’ll try anything at least once. As long as there are no intestines.”

“Gopchang is not my favorite, but I have a good friend who makes it very well.”

You scan the menu. There’s a surprising amount of dishes listed. “I think I would like to try whatever your favorite dish is.”

“How do you feel about sharing something?”

It’s a cute suggestion and it catches you by surprise. He keeps doing all of the things that make you feel stupid and in love.

“We can both pick something and share them, or share one dish���if you want.” His smile grows a little as he speaks.

You like watching him become more comfortable as the night progresses. Hopefully your calm is making him calm, because you feel much better now than you have the entire day.

“Yeah, let’s share something.” Whatever makes you feel closer to him. One dish between the two of you is the obvious answer. “We should have your favorite.”

“I hope you don’t like spicy. I can’t do spicy.”

“No, I don’t need spicy. Maybe some kimchi, though. I like to try the kimchi everywhere I go.”

Seungmin smiles at you without holding himself back. “Yeah, we should have some kimchi, and Jjajangmyeon as well.” He nods and picks up his tea, but doesn’t take a drink. Instead he looks at you with curious eyes. The edge of the glass sits lightly against his lower lip.

You feel a little flutter in your chest just from looking at him now. “You should smile like that more often.”

“No,” He says it bluntly but playfully. “Maybe in a few months when they’re finally off.”

A little wave of sadness washes over you, but passes quickly. “You can smile for me, I like it.”

The buzzing of a phone interrupts you, but your eyes linger on his softening face for another few seconds. It’s Choonhee needing an update. You don’t want to be rude and you definitely don’t want to be distracted from working on figuring him out—or making him smile more.

But then another text message dings. It’s not you this time. Seungmin reaches into his pocket and glances quickly at his screen. “Should we answer her?”

____

You only reply to Choonhee’s text after your order has been placed and Seungmin excuses himself from the table.

“Yeah, all good still”

He LIKES YOU

You feel goosebumps break out all over your skin when you read her reply.

“He’s a little bit of a mystery. How did you meet him? Why didn’t I know you used to work at JYPE??”

You send the message, hoping you get an answer before he comes back. But a reply doesn’t pop up until a few minutes after he’s returned and food is brought out to the table.

Seungmin begins splitting the food between the two of you. “You can answer her, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m not worried about it. I’ll text her later.”

It doesn’t hurt to glance down at the message, though. All it says is “Kim Seungmin likes you (ง¬᎑¬)ว”

You give the air in front of you an irritated sigh.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin stops as he’s fixing his food. His brow wrinkles a bit with concern. It’s very cute. “Did I give you too much?”

“No no, I wasn’t sighing at you, Seungmin.” You pick up your chopsticks and situate your food in front of you, but wait for him before you dig into what looks like very good kimchi. “I just…looked at Choonhee’s text. She drives me crazy sometimes.”

“She also drives me crazy. She was very persistent about us meeting each other.”

“She wouldn’t let me say no.”

You both take a bite of food together.

“She’s very lucky it’s a holiday and I could get time away, though she probably would have kept pestering me.” He takes another bite, watching you curiously as you do the same. “Did you want to say no? You didn’t want to come?”

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

He’s funny. “I didn’t, only because I don’t really like blind dates. I don’t like going into anything…blind.”

“That’s understandable. I did want to come, but also I didn’t, because dating for me is difficult and sometimes awkward for the other person. But a while ago I told Choonhee I wanted to make more foreign friends. She doesn’t forget things.”

“Does work keep you very busy?” Now seems like the time to really pry. “Is that why dating is so hard?”

“Work is very busy, yes. I feel like I have to be on 100% of the time, and it can be very exhausting.” He takes a big, messy bite of food, then covers his mouth as he tries not to giggle through it. It takes him a few moments before he can speak again. “That’s one reason why it’s difficult.”

“I am glad I came, though.”

“How is your food?” Just as he asks, the server returns to the table with another plate of food. “Oh, I got us something else.”

“More? I don’t know if I can eat what we have here now.” Your eyes widen at the sight of this new plate of food. “Oh!”

Seungmin laughs and serves you a few pieces of gopchang, “sometimes it takes a few tries before you really appreciate something.”

You gingerly pick up a small piece of intestine and examine it. It jiggles weirdly at the end of your chopsticks. “Okay, so I’ve never actually tried it before.”

“Eat!”

You take the bite, hold it in your mouth for a second, then chew.

“No?”

You swallow hard, then shake your head at him. “No.”

“Well, at least you tried it.” He pulls the plate back toward him and takes a few bites. “Eat some kimchi and get the taste out of your mouth.” He laughs at the grimace still stuck on your face.

“It might take more than that,” but you do, and then a long drink of your tea. Your phone buzzes again.

“Tell her that…we have decided to just spend the remainder of the holiday together. And that she shouldn’t worry about us.”

Your face gets hot, even though he’s definitely just goofing around. When you look up at him he’s calmly eating, looking down at the messages that popped up on his own phone.

“I think she’s having fun with us.”

“This time it’s Chan Hyung checking up on me. He is a worrier.”

“That’s sweet of him. Did you tell him you’re in good hands?”

Seungmin nods and laughs, “I did.” His eyes catch the light and sparkle at you as he leans closer across the table. “He will worry until I’m back home, though.”

“Do you live with him?”

“I’m at my parents house for the holiday, but normally yes. Well, nearby. I have three roommates. And the other four, including him, live together. But basically we all live together.”

Each time you ask him a question, the answer makes you a little more confused than if you hadn’t asked anything at all. You sit back in your chair and let out a long sigh, fold your arms across your chest. “That’s a lot of roommates.”

“I’m so used to it, we’ve been together for a while now.”

“I’m gonna run to the restroom, I’ll be back.” You grab your bag and your phone. Seungmin gives you a nod.

Once you manage to find the bathroom, you have a seat on one of the squishy chairs and pull your phone back out. Choonhee’s last text message is still on your lock screen…

Kim Seungmin likes you (ง¬᎑¬)ว

You start typing…

"I can’t seem to figure him out. He’s so sweet and easy to talk to, but why is everything about him so…"

So what? You’re not even sure where this message is going.

"…he’s different?? He’s TOO sweet, too good looking. Help me out here."

Now you wait for a reply, hoping she’s glued to her phone so you’re not stuck in here for too long. Two girls, maybe a little younger than you, walk in while you wait, and both look at you directly as they pass by. One lingers on you and heads to the mirror to fix her makeup, the other disappears into a stall. You keep your eyes on your phone, but you still see her watching you from the corner of your eye.

Buzz buzz

Why are you so paranoid? You better trust me.

You push the call button and wait for her to pick up.

“Annyeeoong!”

“I am not paranoid! You threw me into this and now you’re picking on me.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pick on you!” She laughs, though.

“Every time I ask him something, I’m more confused,” you lower your voice as the two girls walk by and leave the bathroom.

“Did you google him? I gave you his full name.”

“No, I haven’t googled him. Why would I google him? Is that a joke? Who wears designer jewelry and has seven roommates?” You’re whispering, but trying to convey your irritation at the same time.

She laughs again.

“I have to get back out there before he thinks I got lost.”

“I’m glad you two like each other!”

“BYE”

Now all you can think about is figuring out who he is before you lay eyes on him again. But do you want to know now? Maybe later would be best, well after you’re home safe and the pressure is gone. The last thing you want is to make everything awkward.

But you’re very good at making things awkward.

A few seconds later you pull up the browser on your phone and type out his name. Why is she setting you up with someone you can google in the first place?

K i m S e u n g-

You stop and stare at the screen. No clues pop up in the auto search. It’s a very common name, but…

You finish. You hit ‘go’.

It loads quickly, and the first thing that pops up is his face. HIS face. Seungmin’s sweet face. Only his hair is much darker in this photo. But it’s him. The weird feeling of falling hits; you feel a little lightheaded. You thought he was a little odd and a little too good to be true, but this…

“Oh my god, you set me up with an idol.”

Another person enters the bathroom and you jump. They pay no attention to you, thankfully.

“And he’s five years younger than me.”

A deep breath in, and a long slow breath out. You’re back on your feet and out of the bathroom. Can you even remember where your table is? Yes, there it is. You see the back of Seungmins pretty head…he’s on his phone, texting it looks like.

Another nice, deep breath. Why the hell did she set you up with an idol? You’re not surprised you didn’t know who he was, though. You don’t listen to much pop music; even the kids at school haven’t introduced you to this particular group. The name doesn’t sound familiar, anyway. You have a few confiscated photocards in your desk drawer. You’re sure he’s not one of them, but you can’t wait to get back to school and check now.

You walk back over, calm and cool and not like you were just losing it a little in the bathroom.

“Welcome back!” He smiles as you sit and puts his phone away.

Now you look at him and realize just how good looking he is. Of course he’s an idol, what else could a face like that be? And he’s a main vocalist. He sings. You…kind of sing.

“So, Seungmin…”

He answers with a soft hmm? as he chews his food.

“Do you sing? Or play anything? You said earlier that you liked music.”

He nods and smiles, swallows his bite, “I sing, yes! And I like playing guitar and piano, but I don’t do that as often as I’d like.”

“I would love to hear you sing.” You say it sincerely, because you mean it. His speaking voice is so nice, you’re certain his singing voice is even more beautiful.

“I would love to hear you sing!” He adjusts himself in his chair like he’s trying to get himself closer to you, but there’s nowhere else to go. His face is somehow brighter. “We should do that…we should sing.”

“You wanna sing with me? I doubt I can sing as well as you.”

“We don’t know that!”

You rest your chin in your cupped hands and smile at him. He smiles, too. You think his smile might be your favorite thing about him. “I do know.” But there’s so many things to like.

“Oh,” his head cocks to the side a bit. Another thing you really like, and he does it a lot. He’s staring through you and it feels like he’s hearing every thought that’s currently flying around your brain. “You know?”

“What I don’t know is…” putting it into the right words is difficult for some reason, and your tone of voice has accidentally come out a little cold. You don’t want to come off as rude or ungrateful of his company. You like him, but it’s suddenly become a little bit weird, and very complicated. “I just don’t feel like we…” you stop again to think. You suddenly feel really stupid for talking at all. “I guess I just don’t understand why you seem to…like me.”

All of your insecurities have suddenly jumped to the front of the line, and it’s clouding your vision. The things you were so happy about before are now being pushed down by your own stupid, stupid thoughts.

“Hm?” Seungmin’s face falls a little. He’s sitting still, and for the first time, he’s stopped eating. He can really put away a lot of food for being so slender. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, Seungmin. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just having-“

“Second thoughts.” He says it matter-of-factly; no inflection.

Everything you say now is coming out all wrong. The words in your head and the words coming out of your mouth aren’t matching up. Your heart is starting to pound, and you feel warm, but not in a good way. Not in the cute, blushy way Seungmin was making you feel before.

“Would you like me to take you home? I can get us a car. Or I can get you a car.” He wrings his hands and reaches for his phone.

“No, no don’t do that,” Your chest feels tight and your words almost get caught in your throat. You stop and think about your next words, because right now you’re not doing a great job of speaking. “I’m sorry, I’m really not very good at this. Dating, talking to people, getting my thoughts out properly.”

Seungmin puts his phone down on the table, thinks for a moment… “I do like you. But I haven’t been very honest, so I am very sorry for that. I would like to be honest with you, if you’ll stay.”

You look down at your lap and realize you’ve been squeezing Pochacco the entire time. You release him, run your thumb over him. “Yeah, I do wanna stay.”

His face his confused, innocent, and soft all at once as he stares at you. There’s a little concern there, as well. You can tell he’s wondering what happened in the few minutes you left the table. He also might be nervous about telling you who he is.

He clears his throat and takes a drink, preparing himself to tell you what you already know. You hate making him do this here.

“I know you’re an idol. You don’t have to explain anything.”

Relief washes over his face, and then slowly, realization. “Is that why you’re upset? You left the table…you were okay before that. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I was just trying to figure you out. And I understand why you were hesitant about it.” You keep your voice as soft as possible, as steady as you can manage. You’re not angry at him. How you could you possibly be mad at him while he’s looking at you like that? “Maybe we can go back to before, when I didn’t know...”

“It’s so hard meeting people genuinely…people who don’t already know who you are.”

There’s a long silence between the two of you, and looking up at him again suddenly feels impossible. You stare down at your blank phone, almost hoping a text message will come through. Something needs to break the tension.

Nothing happens.

You almost feel like crying. Your throat tightens and your eyes start to sting from not blinking. “Can we go somewhere else?” The words finally come out of you. “Somewhere with less people.”

“Yeah, we can.”

____

It’s much colder now. And it’s late; well after midnight. You weren’t expecting the date to go on this long. In fact, you had the night planned for yourself once you got home. A few episodes of the drama you’re currently watching, and maybe a drink or two. Warm, under a big blanket.

But now you’re suddenly starring in your own drama.

Seungmin stands in front of you, blocking the slight breeze. You let out a big yawn.

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you out so late.” He steps a little closer when a gust of wind whips by.

“You’re not,” you try to smile at him, but your face feels a little numb. “I can leave whenever I want to, right?”

“Right.” He nods sharply. “Thank you for not leaving.”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you back to my apartment?”

“Huh?” His mouth hangs open a little.

“I don’t know anywhere else where we could be alone.”

“Uhm, well, it would be a little inappropriate I guess. But I wouldn’t mind if you asked.”

A car pulls up to the curb next to you.

____

The apartment is not ready for any guests, especially not the celebrity variety. You left a mess on your way out—clothes all over the floor, dishes in the sink. But maybe it’s not as bad you’re imagining. This will strictly be a living room visit. And it won’t be long.

“This feels so strange.” He says as the elevator door slides opens on the 5th floor.

“What does? Going home with someone?”

“Yes.” Another blunt answer. His tone is still playful, even after what you’re putting him through. He follows you until you stop in front of your door and fumble with your keys.

You look back at him as you push open the door, “I won’t keep you here long, I promise.”

It’s not as bad inside as you were imagining. You shake his jacket off and hang it above the not-so-neat row of shoes inside the door. Seungmin slides his off and places them next to yours. “I can make you more coffee if you’d like.”

“Sure, if you’d like me to stay that long.”

“Sit.” You point to the couch and head to the kitchen.

Halfway through your work, you notice him leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. He watches silently. You pretend you don’t see him. Above you the fluorescent light buzzes and flickers a bit. It’s the only light in the kitchen right now. The warmth of the apartment and the smell of coffee brewing brings you back down to earth a bit, and you desperately need that before you start talking again.

Seungmin speaks up first, though. It startles you.

“I’m not really allowed to date.”

“What?” You take both mugs in your hands and walk closer to him.

“I mean, I am…but they prefer we don’t. At least not for a while. I would probably get in trouble if anyone recognized me while we were together earlier.” He takes his mug from you and holds it under his nose.

“Why?” Your mind snaps back to the girl eyeing you in the bathroom. You didn’t even think about it until now.

“Well, I didn’t get permission, for one thing. And it helps with keeping the idol illusion alive if we’re not seen with others like that.”

“I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

He waves his hand at you, pushes away your words. “It’s okay. I get into trouble all the time.”

“Do you?”

Seungmin nods and smiles as he sips his coffee.

You grin at him.

Now that you’re alone together, finding the right words might come a little easier. The tv is on, volume low, just to break the dead silence in the room. He’s sitting back comfortably on your couch with his coffee to his lips, and his legs loosely crossed. You can’t help but watch them as his foot bounces.

Meanwhile, he’s looking at you with soft (maybe a little tired?) eyes. “You have me to yourself now.” His voice is a little tired, too. It makes him sound flirty and…well, you don’t wanna think about that too much.

A nod is all you can manage before speaks again.

“I like this one.”

“You like what?”

“This drama. I finished it recently.”

The silence is a little less tense now, but the room still feels heavy. “Did you really come out tonight to find a new friend?” You’re sweating. The heat is probably up too high, you need to open a window or something.

“Did you?” Now he’s sitting up a little and he pushes the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbow.

It’s nice to see more of his skin. “No.” You watch his hands as they rub the denim on his thighs. “I should open a window, it’s a little warm in here.” You can feel his eyes on you as you walk to the other side of the room. It makes you nervous. You push the curtain aside, unlock the window, and slide it up.

The rush of cool air is exactly what you need. Your hear your phone buzz on the side table where you threw it. You pretend you don’t notice it when you get back to his side.

“Choonhee wants you…” he almost sings it. He must know you have no other friends.

You imagine one of the conversations between Seungmin and her; Choonhee would say something to make you sound so great and fun, but you don’t like putting yourself out there and making new friends, so you need little push now and then.

Which is entirely true.

“It’s not her,” you lie, just to throw him off for a moment.

“Oh, is it your next date?” His tone is so flat and dry, but the look on his face tells you he doesn’t really think that. Or maybe he’s not sure, and he wants to be sure.

Instead of answering, you just let your eyes linger on his while you pull open your messages.

Well? Are you home yet? Don’t make me worry

”Yes, I’m home. 'Kim Seungmin (ง¬᎑¬)ว' is here too”

Three bouncing dots pop up the second after you hit send. Probably the fastest she’s ever replied to you.

YOU TOOK HIM HOME WITH YOU??!!

And then another…

ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)

And more…

( ˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)ε｀●)

◠◡��(´ ͡༎ຶ ͜ꞈ ͡༎ຶ `)◡◠◡

"OKAY STOP IT", You finally reply

Okay okay sorry but you took him home with you???

”I felt weird asking him, but yes. I also felt weird being out in public when I found out who he was”

OH you knoooow. Okay. Just don’t do anything to him, I kinda forgot to mention he’s a bit younger

”Yeah, I figured that out on my own”

He’s a good boy

”Okay I’m done talking to you tonight”

You throw your phone on the table next to you.

Seungmin readjusts himself so he’s facing in your direction. “Have you watched Hometown Cha Cha Cha?”

There’s far less space between you and him now. His cheeks are pink. It’s still too warm in here.

“I have, yeah. Sorry, I can’t adjust the heat.” You don’t even know why you mentioned the heat. His closeness is throwing you off. You can feel his breath on you.

“I’m okay, this hoodie is just too cozy.” He pushes the sleeves back down and opts for removing it completely. He pulls it off very easily, but the back of his shirt pulls up along with it for a brief moment, showing you a little skin. He catches it quickly and shakes his head to fix his hair.

“I have a song in that one.” He says as he neatly rolls it and places it on the arm of the couch.

“You have a what?” Now you’re distracted my his thin black t-shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders.

He catches you staring at not his face, “a song…in that drama. You heard it I’m sure.”

“Oh, wow…you’re right, I’ve definitely heard you sing, then.” You grab the remote again and scroll until you find YouTube. It takes a stupid long time to load (“you have bad wifi up here” — “thanks, I know”) but once it finally does, you start typing his name into the search bar.

“The song is called Here Always. Your search will be full of lots of other weird things if you only search my name.”

“Oh, how weird?” You search anyway and investigate. “Vlogs…are these official idol vlogs?”

“Yes,” he laughs at that. “I’m filming one right now while on holiday. I didn’t bring my camera with me, though.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be in your vlog.”

“They’re usually pretty boring anyway.”

You search properly now, throwing the title of the song next to his name. You plan on watching those other videos later.

When you look at him, he has his hands cupped against his cheeks, and he sinks down in the couch a little.

“Are you being shy? You really don’t come off as the shy type.”

“No, I’m fine.” He giggles and relaxes a little.

Now you sit back against the couch, close enough to him that your arms are lightly touching. The video you choose is a clip compilation from the drama, so he at least won’t have to stare at himself as you listen.

Without realizing it, you manage to sink further into your seat as the song plays, and by the time it ends, your cheek is pressed firmly against the fabric on his shoulder. He hasn’t moved, though. So you don’t move. His body is warm and he smells nice, so why should you move? You decide to just stay put and let YouTube choose the next video.

The description says Love Poem, KINGDOM EP8. You can read the names, written in Hangul. Eunkwang, Seungmin, Jongho. You’re pleased with yourself, because your reading comprehension is not as good as it could be.

A soft sigh dances over your ear. You look up, trying not to disturb him too much. Seungmin is sleeping soundly, head back against the couch. You hate to wake him, but he definitely cannot spend the night here.

You want to hear more of his singing, though, so you watch it, and then another, and eventually you lose track of how many Seungmin compilation videos you’ve seen. Group interviews, Seungmin fancams. You almost forget you’re watching videos of the guy who’s sleeping next to you.

But it’s gotten so late. You carefully sit yourself up on your knees and look down on his sleeping face.

“Seungmin…” you whisper. He doesn’t move. His mouth opens a little as he lets out a deep breath, and you can just make out his front teeth against the light pink of his lips. “Seung-“

His eyes open slowly, and he lets out a long, drawn out hmmm before closing his eyes again.

“Hey, you gotta wake up,” you go to place your hand against his forehead, but stop yourself. “Neoneun il-eonaya hae.”

“Your Korean sounds nice,” he opens his eyes again and watches you set your hand back down on the top of the couch. “Say something else.”

You think, not knowing what to say now.” Uh…uhm, neo janeun moseub-i gwiyeowo boyeo.” You speak carefully, maybe a little too carefully, but Seungmin smiles deeply and fully.

And then he laughs a little. A very sleepy laugh. “Gomawo.” He sings out the o at the end little, making it sound even more informal than it should be. “I’m awake. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m glad you’re comfortable. But maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time?”

“You can stay.”

“I can stay?”

You nod, and a brief moment of boldness runs through you. You pick your hand up again and set it against his forehead, pushing his hair up and out of the way. He lets you touch him without protest, in fact, he seems to relax even more under you.

His eyes close, but after a few second, he opens one a little to look at you. “Well?” He says.

“Well…what?”

“I thought you were going to kiss me.”

Your whole body heats up, and you quietly suck in a breath, but you keep your voice from showing how much that knocked you off balance. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

His head moves back and forth a little like he’s thinking about it, and that forces you hand up further into his hair. “Only if you want to.”

You do, so when he closes his eyes again, you carefully lean in and hover just above his lips. You’re not sure when you’ll see him again after tonight, so you want to take in as much of the moment as possible. His eyes open again, and he stares at you. They slowly move down your face until they find your mouth. You quickly close the space and he returns the kiss eagerly, but very gently.

It lasts much longer than you expect it to. He sits up and cups your cheek in his hand as he finds a better position, but it only lasts a few more seconds after that. He pulls away slowly and wipes at his lower lip as he watches you.

No words come to mind, so you just keep quiet and look at him.

“Was that okay?” Seungmin asks. He’s all braces, and the apples of his cheeks are flushed.

“Yeah, that was okay,” You have to force yourself not to go for his mouth a second time. “I’ve never kissed someone with braces before.”

He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but he still smiles behind them. “Was it weird?”

“No, it wasn’t.” You lean in, move his hand, and kiss him again.

When you pull apart, he rakes his fingers through his hair and relaxes sideways against the couch so his body is still turned toward you. You quietly look at each other; you wish you could read his mind. All that’s going through your head is that this is it. This is all you get. You probably won’t see him again.

Not that he’d purposely ghost you; he doesn’t look the type. But his lifestyle doesn’t seem to allow for the type of relationship you want. You’re way too clingy for this.

“How often do you come home on holidays?”

“Not often enough,” he looks at you like he now knows what you’re thinking. “I’m sorry.”

You place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. And then a phone goes off.

“Oh it’s me,” Seungmin takes his phone from his back pocket and looks at his screen, “I’m sorry, I have to answer this.”

“It’s alright, go ahead.”

He gets up from the couch and answers the call. You can tell from Seungmins tone and language that whoever it is is older, probably one of his roommates, most likely the same one who texted him hours ago. You try not to pry, but it’s impossible not to listen in this small apartment, and it’s useless to ignore when you’re only getting half of the conversation. Your brain just naturally wants to fill in the rest.

“….mos han geo…mianhae…”

He turns and faces you, gives you a shy smile.

“Na jigeum jib-e ganeun jung-Iya”

A few more exchanged words and he ends the call. He returns to the couch, but doesn’t sit again, so you stand with him. He grabs his hoodie and throws it back on without a word, but he does look at his phone again.

“Do you have a ride home?”

Seungmin smiles warmly at you and steps closer, “yes, I have a ride on the way now.”

You assumed he did. He probably has people ready to wait on him at anytime of the day or night. You assume. Honestly, you have no idea what an idols private life is really like. Except for this date, of course.

“I should head down to the lobby, it shouldn’t take long for them to arrive.”

“Can I go with you? To wait in the lobby, I mean.”

He’s halfway to his shoes when he stops and turns to you, “yes, I would like that.”

____

It’s chilly down here, but it’s empty and quiet. You sit closely together on the sofa while he shows you a video on his phone.

“They always steal my phone for livestreams and videos, so I have so much on here.”

The video was taken by one of the other members in his group, because Seungmin is in this one. They’re backstage goofing off with each other, eating, taking selfies, taking photos of each other.

“When is this from?”

“Three months ago. We were in Busan.” He goes back to his album and pulls up a photo he took of himself and another member. “This is from the same night.”

“I like your makeup here,” you zoom in on his face, and then back out. “You have very pretty eyes.”

He smiles and rubs his shoulder into yours a little.

“Who is this with you?”

“That’s Chan, the one who just called me. He’s our leader, and he takes his responsibility to us very seriously.”

“Well, I’m glad he cares about you so much.”

Just as he locks his phone, a notification comes through. His ride is pulling up in front of the apartment building, and it’s time for him to leave.

“Seungmin…” you stand with him and walk toward the doors. “I know you’re probably very busy, but would it be okay if I kept in touch? And I understand if that wouldn’t work.” You feel very bold just bringing it up, but if he doesn’t, you’ll be left wondering until Choonhee finds out for you. You need to know now.

“I don’t think we’d make very good friends,” he laughs and grabs your arm gently, tugging you a little closer.

You pull him the rest of the way into a hug and hold him there for as long as possible. “We wouldn’t.”

“Goodnight. Thank you for not leaving in the middle of our date.”

You squeeze him a little tighter, thinking about how you’ve never had a first date where you actually had difficulty letting the person leave.

“Wow,” when you finally let him go he stares down at you, “nice hug. I will get your number from Choonhee, and I will text you. If that’s alright.”

“You better.”

“Goodnight.”

He turns, walks through the doors, and disappears into the back of a car. And then he’s gone.

You wait there for a few more moments before heading back up the elevator and into your apartment.

His scent is lingering in the warm room. You close the door behind you and turn to kick off your shoes. His denim jacket is hanging on the hook in front of you.

[goodomensafterdark]

GOAD Writers Guild presents- Naked Truths: A Streak Week Fic

Written by espresso_six_shots on our subreddit

Do you enjoy roommate AUs? Crowley being a horny idiot? Nudité? Well, have I got the fic for you!

Rating: Explicit

TW: implied/referenced homophobia

Summary: When Crowley discovers that both he and his flatmate, Aziraphale, enjoy spending quality time naked in their flat, he’s rather proud of himself for coming up with an arrangement he thinks will suit both their needs. After all, they’re adults. They can handle a bit of casual nudity…right?

Excerpt: As soon as Crowley opened his eyes he could tell by the slant of the summer sunlight filtering through his curtains that it was earlier than he wanted it to be. He liked sleep. It was one of his preferred activities on his days off, and after getting in late last night after a long drive, he had been looking forward to a lazy Sunday in bed. But he was hot.

Crowley felt the sweat on his skin as he shifted in the sheets. It got awfully warm in his bedroom over the summer, and if he hadn’t been in the habit of sleeping in the nude, he would have woken up even sweatier. He slipped out of bed and stretched his long limbs, spine cracking pleasantly as he walked across the room to peer out the window. He could tell already it was going to be one of those stifling, humid days that made going outside an altogether disgusting experience. Fortunately for him, he had nowhere he needed to go, and the flat all to himself.

His flatmate would be out of town for several more days visiting his family, like he did every July. Crowley and Aziraphale got on alright, despite having nothing in common other than not being able to afford rent in central London on their own. They had been living together for about a year and a half, and even though Crowley had to admit it was the best living situation he’d ever had, it was still nice to be alone in the flat every now and again. It meant that he didn’t have to put a stitch of clothing on his overheated skin before wandering into the kitchen for his morning coffee. He had no doubt that Aziraphale wouldn’t approve, so he never let on that he liked to hang around the flat naked when he was home alone.

Crowley padded down the hall, thinking he’d perhaps have a cool shower and then enjoy the day on the sofa binging Netflix in the nude, but when he reached the kitchen he realized he probably wouldn’t live long enough to make that a reality. His heart stopped in his throat, time slowing to a crawl, when he saw that he was, in fact, not alone in the flat.

Continue reading on AO3

[ieatmoonrocks]

Waiting Room

Inspiration pic:

About:

Is an open-concept one-story house, furnished and decorated to fit my style.

Initially located in a seemingly endless body of shallow water, in perpetual sunset.

Has an extreme time ratio, one year here is one second in any other reality.

All realities I shift to include the safeword "sunset" which when said with intention to shift brings me here.

I am always aware that my WR exists in every reality and never forget how to get here

I initially am the only being in this reality.

It is extremely safe here.

I can't accidentally shift away, I must use the front door.

Anything I mentally script in cr shows up on a page in my scripts here.

The house "resets" when I leave, cleaning and restocking itself.

Features:

The bed is massive and extremely comfortable

There's a storage cabinet with various objects I might need

The wardrobe fills itself with any clothes I want

The living room has a tv where I can watch anything I want, including "movies" of events from any DR

The living room also has a bookshelf that has any book I want on it, including books that tell me the secrets of the universe.

The kitchen is fully stocked with the best appliances and ingredients.

The dishwasher instantly cleans dishes and teleports them back where they belong

There's a cup that is always full of whatever drink I want at the perfect temperature

The front door has a screen that connects to my laptop so I can choose from realities.

The bathtub and shower have all the fancy products and endless hot water.

There is a high quality speaker system throughout the house

The back porch has a hot tub, hammock, and dining table.

There's a front deck with a few plants.

Objects not meant to break are unbreakable and don't malfunction

And of course endless free utilites

Phone:

Is connected to pretty much everything.

Sends and receives information to the laptop, controls the speakers and tv.

Has access to any song/ show/ movie/ podcast/ etc. I can think of, even has stations for each reality.

Connects to food preparation appliances, and will alert me when the food is cooked enough/ prepared for the next step.

When cooking there's options to fast forward or even instantly cook to that steps satisfaction.

Smart alerts - phone is aware of my proximity, as well as how much attention I am paying to the phone, and adjusts how the alert is sent.

Can order any prepared food I want and have it appear on porch table.

Can order additional objects which will appear on or next to the porch table.

Can look up any book from any reality I want even with ultra specific details and then ‘send to bookshelf’ causing a copy of the book to appear on the bookshelf.

Can look up and save different environments in my phone library, and set the outside environment to match.

Can add additional items or rooms.

Indestructible, infinite battery, infinite memory, amazing speeds, stays clean.

Has access to whatever social media I want from any reality. has the best feed in all social media.

Has a library that contains records of all versions of myself in each reality, section of most interesting versions of self.

Can send info to my mirror to project certain versions of myself which then changes my physical appearance in the WR. Can edit DR apperances.

Can "invite" copies of people from my DRs, who show up at the front door.

Laptop:

Receives and sends info to the door screen and phone.

Archives all visited realities, auto generates info pages/ scripts from details received from door screen.

Has a program that works similarly to A03 ~

Can script random realities or offshoot realities, details can be filtered for/against. Pages of realities are generated with a list of ‘tags’, opening the page lists more in-depth information, that is searchable.

Realities can be saved to the main page. on the main page realities can be rated or flagged as no-go (these are unavailable in the door screen). keeps track of manually added likes/ dislikes, also generates suggested likes/ dislikes based off of traits in common between visited realities and my rating of them.

Can give summaries of what changes in between parallel realities when one thing is changed.

Has a section of good script suggestions that never end.

Contains a section per script of “mentally scripted” points that can be added or dismissed.

Has programs for designing characters, rooms, images, etc. that are very easy and intuitive.

Records daily journals of all visited realities (yes even WR), as well as videos that can be watched as any sort of genre.

High quality overall, unlimited memory and processing.

Has any video game from any reality I want, with no load times, high speed , all the good stuff.

Me:

I can eat as much food as I want, the food/ drink disappears once it hits my stomach. (Alcohol still gets me drunk though)

I don't need any digestive bodily functions to survive, and therefore no need to use the bathroom.

I don't get a period.

Drinking/ others have absolutely no negative effects on me, and doesn’t effect my immediate or long term health.

I know where everything is located in the room. I can never lose/ misplace anything, especially my phone.

I never spill anything.

I'm very creative (script ideas, reality names, writing).

All the patience!

I can never get lost in this reality. I never stray too far from the house, and I always have my phone when I go exploring which will point me back, otherwise I pretty much always know my way back.

I can’t get hurt or sick or die, including environmental damage like sunburn, poison, etc.

I don’t have any mental illnesses.

I don’t care about any of my stresses from other realities. I see them objectively.

I'm extremely smart, great at analysis, great memory.

I have perfect senses.

My appearance upon arrival is that of whatever reality I came from.

+1 Brownie Point if you read to the end :)

[raccoonfallsharder]

comfort collection masterlist

navigation | fanfiction masterlist

rating: varies | no use of y/n | rocket x reader | oneshots | word count: varies. maple sugar & pumpkin-spice for your autumnal reading pleasure...

𖡼𖤣𖥧.ೃ࿔*:･ cold hands, warm thighs | spice | comics | 5,122 words. 𖥧𖤣༉˖°‧₊˚ ⋅ mitten aesthetic | fluff? | mcu | november 25 ₊⋆ ☾༄˖°.･₊ ⊹⋆ bookshop at the end of the universe | smut | eidos | november 30

cold hands, warm thighs. 𖡼𖤣𖥧.ೃ࿔*:･ spice | no use of y/n | gn reader | oneshot | word count: 5,122.

the best thing about landing on cold planets is the warming-up part afterward. for @/leresq. WARNINGS/CONTEXT: comics-based (mostly ewing; dash of skottie young). just like, a ton of midgrade smoulder. implications of sexual activity. mentions of space-princesses of multiple genders (including you). rocket calls reader sweetheart 3x. [COMPLETE 11/18]

He suddenly realizes he’s making a show of it — of being cold. Doesn’t bother to comment on the worse-chill in his ears, focusing instead on briskly rubbing the hands you can see. Conning you. And sure enough — predictable — you tsk again when you turn back toward him, your eyes all worried and fastened on his dark hands. There’s the scuffling sound of chair-legs against the metal floor as you pull out your own seat and station yourself across from him: gently grasping his wrists with your fingers and rubbing your thumbs along the inner wells of his palms, pressing your lips and your breath first to his knuckles, and then to his pulsepoints.

mitten aesthetic. 𖥧𖤣༉˖°‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ fluff | no use of y/n | gn reader | oneshot | word count: pending. when knowhere breaks down in the thneed system, you receive an unexpected visitor. aka, it was a dark and stormy night when a stranger came to your door. for @/leresq 𖥧𖤣༉˖°‧₊˚ ⋅ mitten aesthetic | november 25.

The gust of stellar wind that blows past you —- filtered through bone and manufactured atmospheric shielding — is so cold it burns, and tiny shards of ice bite your face and throat. At first, you peer into bitter darkness, eyes searching at your own level — only to feel something crash into your knees, buffeting you back as it bursts into your little home. “Close the frickin’ door!” the invader barks without looking up, flurrying past you, almost faster than the winds themselves. You obey instinctively, back pressed to the now-closed panel and eyes wide as you take in the three-foot-tall bundle of wet wool and fur. He skirts your makeshift blanket-fort and mattress, kicking off his boots as he goes, pressing dark-clawed fingers against the soft glow of the radiator. 

bookshop at the end of the universe. ₊⋆ ☾༄˖°.･₊ ⊹⋆ rating tbd | no use of y/n | undecided reader | oneshot | word count: pending. an unexpected ice-meteor shower crosses paths with knowhere. luckily, your bookstore happens to be open for wayward space travelers looking for shelter on their way home for the bar. eidos-game vibes. for nonnie. ₊⋆ ☾༄˖°.･₊ bookshop at the end of the universe | november 30.

brown animated leaf garland by @/bernardsbendystraws

acorn, green & yellow tree, and red & teal autumn-themed dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics

sweater divider by @/cafekitsune

red heart divider by @/saradika-graphics

teal lace and red leaf garland dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

skinny teal heart, light blue, and pale mint-star support banners by @/saradika-graphics

dark teal mdni & support banners by @/cafekitsune

moodboards by me! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[punkypiscesell-writes]

chapter 13

Joel Miller x gn!/f! reader

series masterlist  -  chapter 12

summary: Summer is the season of love, which also means that you’re officially dating Joel.

rating: explicit

chapter warnings: soft!Joel, lots of fluff, hidden relationship, insecurities, anxiety, some angst, some drinking, nightmares, Joel gets down with a cold at one point which results in reader caring for him, kissing, shower sharing, no shaving in the apocalypse, smut, dry humping, handjobs (both receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up folks!), reader uses they/them pronouns, has breasts and language around other body parts for them is neutral, no physical descriptions other than reader has hair (no specifics), construction corner stories with Joel Miller, small town dynamics, no use of y/n

notes: Well, here we are, the last chapter! Definitely took me longer than expected, I got nervous while writing. Please be kind to me, it’s been a while since I last wrote smut. Happy reading, more notes at the end 😊

word count: 34.8k

divider by cafekitsune

You wake up in your own bed. It seems empty with only you in it, a little cold and too wide. You rub at your eyes and giggle at your thoughts. What else is your bed supposed to feel like? Joel hasn’t been here, and you’ve only spent one night with him in his bed.

Your lips still feel a little sore from his kisses, the ones that were soft at first, more passionate the next, lingering and following your lead, demanding your attention after that, prying them open and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

No, you don’t mind at all that your lips are still sore.

When you came home yesterday, your home was empty. No Gwen or Clara in sight. Only signs that someone had been here were littered around the house. A blanket that was on the floor. A couple of plates and glasses in the sink. A cardigan and a pair of socks on a chair in the corner of the living room.

The door to Gwen’s room was open and her bed was unmade, the duvet nearly slipping off it. The impressive amount of pillows she has collected were scattered around the mattress. Your room seemed oddly lonely when you went in, like it belonged to someone else.

Gwen doesn’t come home later that evening either. Now that it’s the morning of a normal workday, you wonder if she’s going patrolling or not. You guess you’ll find out when you get to the stables.

You brush your teeth with your eyes closed, leaning against the bathroom sink. Sleep is dragging your body to get support from anything steadier than your legs. The water that you splash against your face wakes you up more, as does the sun that filters in through your bedroom window when you find something to wear for the day.

Considering the heat has only increased in the past couple of days, you’re going to assume it’s going to be a hot day. Going for a short patrol with Clara means riding through the cooler forest, but it doesn’t mean that you’re going to miss getting horses ready for others as well.

You hook your knife in the back of your jeans, find a clean t-shirt to wear and head downstairs to fill your backpack with a water bottle and some crackers. There are some strawberries in the fridge, something that wasn’t there before the party last week. You eat them for breakfast. They look like they’ve seen their best days anyway.

The town is still restful when you walk to the stables. You see someone sitting on their porch drinking something from a mug and they wave at you as you pass by.

You can smell someone cooking something savory and you notice an open window facing the street.

Small birds sing high up, chasing each other in a playful game before they settle to sit on a branch in a garden. You hear some horses neighing in the quiet of the town and as you get closer to the stables, the sounds of some of them being released to the field clatters loudly in the peacefulness of the early morning.

You hang your backpack and pick up the patrol list to check which horses are scheduled to go out. Gwen’s name isn’t there, but you do see Jade taking her usual spot with Joel again.

One of the new stable workers, an older teen, greets you in a chipper voice as he gets saddles out and you help him get the first horse ready. You let him do the work and help if he needs it, but you’re impressed by how fast he has learnt everything he has been taught so far.  

You walk the saddled horses out front one by one when the first patrollers arrive. Willow is the last horse you’re saddling, the brush in your hand travelling across her coat with firm, but gentle strokes as you tell her about the plan for today. There’s plenty of people out already, their chatter and friendly laughter echoes in through the open doors.

You hear his footsteps first. His heels dig against the floor every few steps, then they’re once again even and confident, leading straight to you. A grin spreads across your lips before you can feel his warmth towering behind you, his hand pressing gently against your shoulder.

“Morning,” Joel mutters into your ear, his mouth just inches away from your cheek. You lean into him just the tiniest amount, to keep yourself working, but to also make him know that you like this. His touch, his delicateness with you, this quiet moment when everyone else is outside, their voices like traffic in your ears.  

“I didn’t see Clara yet,” the hint of a pleased tone in his voice makes you curious.  

“And why were you looking for her?” You don’t really need to ask it. You already have an inkling on why he’d be checking the group for her.  

“Just so I could come and say hi,” his lips brush against your ear, his whiskered moustache tickling your skin. His breath makes goosebumps rise on your neck.

“Someone might walk in,” you remind him, turning your head to look at the slow smirk that stretches across his face. Your hand drops from Willow’s shoulder for you to meet Joel better.

“You like it,” he whispers. His eyes drift to look at your lips, back up to your eyes, in a silent question if this is okay. You look over his shoulder towards the doors, as does he, before you pull him in and kiss the upturn of his lips.

“You going to have lunch at the hall today?” He asks and leans back, but his hand doesn’t leave your shoulder. His fingers are inching towards the back of your neck. You can already feel their warmth at the neckline of your t-shirt. Every few seconds his fingertips dig lightly into your skin, looking for the contact.

You nod and almost have time to open your mouth to ask if you’ll meet him there, but you hear another set of footsteps against the floor. Joel’s fond smirk switches into something that resembles cooled panic that he tries to cover with a tight smile.

His hand falls from your shoulder and smooths down your back, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. He takes a step back and stuffs his hands into his pockets for you to get back to work. Your cheeks heat up and the imprint of his warmth ghosts over your side.

He knew it. You kind of like the sneaking around. The fact that you can keep this only between the two of you before people start talking.

It's not that you don’t want people to know about you two. Without the town gossip and people whispering about you two, your newly realized relationship just seems much simpler that way.

You don’t want to make this a big deal, something that you’ll reveal to everyone in a huge way. This part of getting to know each other is only for you, not for anyone else. They’ll find out about you and Joel eventually anyway.

“Morning!” Clara singsongs in a tone you’ve never heard. You have to turn around to see that it’s actually her. She beams at the both of you with her dimples out, her eyes sparkling and her skin glowing. “Just wanted to come and see if you’ll be ready soon.” She is watching you but her eyes drift to Joel and narrow in a way that says she knows exactly why he’s here with you when no one else is around.

“Yeah, give me ten minutes,” you tell her and get back to work, forcing yourself to focus on the brush in your hand and the horse in front of you as she calmy stands and leans into your touch, her tail swaying from side to side slowly.

“Okay, I’ll get the guns.” Her voice doesn’t match the sentiment of her words and you snort at that when you hear her walking away.

“I should go back out there as well, Jade’s probably waiting,” he says, but his hand reaches for you again, a little tap against the side of your hip.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” He smiles and nods, and a quick kiss lands on the side of your head, leaving you with a softness that takes your mind off the work you’re supposed to be doing.

You do it anyway, with more care than before while your thoughts swirl with fervor of these new sensations and joy. It’s a commotion of new feelings that you haven’t had a chance to explore before with anyone.

How wrong you were when you at some point thought what fun was only to realize much later that it was far from fun, or even something you wanted. This, with Joel, is fun. Your hands feel hot when he’s nearby. A tingling sensation spreads from your stomach to your toes. You’re nervous in a way that doesn’t make you want to run away, but to lean into it.

How long you’ve waited to feel something like this. How on earth is it even possible to find something like this in the apocalypse.

Clara is talking with Jade and Joel when you walk Willow out, your backpack securely strapped to the saddle.

“There you are!” Clara hollers at you and people turn to look in confusion. Your brows rise and eyes widen with bafflement. A snicker escapes your throat when Clara rushes you to join her. The new stable worker is making sure everyone’s walkie talkies are charged while a patrol leader gives last minute instructions.

“You’ll do the cliffside route, check the lookout at the ravine, that okay?” She asks you and Clara. You take a rifle from her and check it before you strap it against your shoulder. You both nod at her and mount your horses, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Ready?” Clara nods and starts to lead you towards the gates. Joel rides next to you and you match your paces. People around you are talking about the bonfire and how the days off were much needed afterwards.

There are a couple of younger teens waiting by the gates, watching you all leave with innocent admiration. Joel veers towards the other way, getting further away from you.

“See you later,” he tells you, just you, before he takes off in a gallop with Jade.

The cool forest welcomes you in, and you’re a grateful visitor. The branches shield you from the scorching sunlight. You keep your senses open.

You listen to Willow and Clara’s horse’s hooves drive against the soft ground. You smell the freshness of the greenery around you, sweet and earthy, comforting, and humid at the same time. You see birds and small animals run away from your way, sitting close by and watching you move through their home.

Your skin feels the summer heat all around you and sweat sticks to your temples and the waistband of your jeans against your back. Clara is humming something in front of you and she bops her head in time with the tune.

“You’re in a good mood,” you tell her. She laughs a bubbly laugh that is a new sound you’ve heard from her.

“Everything’s pretty great right now.” You couldn’t agree more.

“I had no idea you’d be interested in Gwen?”

“I didn’t really think she had even noticed me.” You listen to Clara’s musings, interested to find out more.

“We’re so different that I thought she was completely out of my league. But then Joel told me that Gwen had asked him to help her get to know me so I –“

“Joel told you about it?” Even if he was playing a little matchmaker between the two, it seemed too perfect for him to just stay quiet.

“Yeah, a while ago already,” she scoffs like she can’t believe you had no idea. “He didn’t want to be part of some elaborate scheme, but we managed to make it work.”

“You sound like you were planning a robbery or something,” you chuckle, and she turns in her saddle.

“We both were in it to encourage each other,” and she winks at you like you know exactly what she’s talking about. When you don’t respond in a way she expects, she does a double take, her face twists with confusion.

“You do know what I mean right?” You shake your head, and she chortles in surprise.

“Because you and Joel had agreed to give each other space, he didn’t want to always look for you and ask how you’re doing. So, he asked me to ask you and maybe then tell him. And he was being all double agent-y for me and Gwen.” You listen to her ramble on, the thought of Joel asking about you regularly bringing heat up to your cheeks.

“He said he had asked you about me…” You wonder out loud. Knowing the extent of it makes sense now but it’s easy to say that in hindsight.

All the hints were there. You just didn’t want to understand them to be Joel looking after you, caring about you in the way that he has done this whole time.

“Of course he did. I’ve never seen a man that smitten with someone.” You don’t need to answer her. How is it that people around you have been seeing it all, but you’ve wanted to turn a blind eye and hide behind your worries and thoughts that you’re not enough.

You get to the lookout and get into a small cabin overlooking the ravine. There’s a pair of binoculars on the table next to the patrol book where Clara writes your names and an all clear with a little smiley face next to it. You pick up the binoculars and look at the mountains, at the forest, at a nearby town that looks deserted. And you think you can see Jackson as well but you can’t be sure, it’s so far away.

“So, you and Joel are a thing now?” Clara asks nonchalantly, but it’s obvious she wants you to spill the details. You smirk at her and can’t contain the laugh that flows out of your throat.

“Something like that.” Even admitting it gets you to avert your eyes from her. Talking about this, being with Joel, gets you shy, something you can’t say you’ve felt before. Being shy about someone is stunning and wonderful and a little scary, but you lean towards the joyful emotions.

“Finally,” she sighs and she lifts her eyes up like she wants to thank some higher power. “I’m glad the pining is finally over and you two are getting somewhere,” she sighs. When she notices you looking, the fake desperation melts into a playful grin.

“Hey, if you’ve noticed us pining over each other, how come I’ve never seen you pining after Gwen?” You question, walking behind her to get back to the horses.

“Because I know how to hide it, unlike you.” Your groan gets her to giggle. You mount Willow and start your way back into town, following a shallow creek through the forest, basking in the fact that Clara knows exactly how you’re feeling. You don’t have to hide from her because she is experiencing the same happiness as you are.

You look at yourself in the mirror, checking that you don’t have anything between your teeth and that your clothes look okay. The same clothes that Joel has seen many a times, but it doesn’t really matter. People don’t have that many clothes here anyway. What matters is that you feel good, especially since you’re nervous out of your mind.

Ellie is out with her friends, Joel made sure that the house is all for himself this evening. You suggested you’d cook together since you’ve heard stories of his notoriously bad luck in the kitchen. You’re still not great yourself but two bad cooks can’t make one worse cook, right?

You take a bag and fill it with the things you agreed you’d bring for the dinner, remembering to take the bread that you got especially for this occasion.

Your first official date.

Clouds hang low on the sky, promising rain later. You can smell the moisture in the air and the coolness clings to your skin. You see only a few people out and it’s still early afternoon. As if it’s the quiet before a storm, everyone staying home not even trying to dare the rain that will settle over Jackson later.

You think you’d stay home as well, your eyes feeling heavy from the low air pressure, if it weren’t for the date and the nerves that roll under your skin.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door, steeling yourself for the impact Joel has on you every time. You saw him yesterday yet it seems like you’ve been apart for days. He was a little tired, a little off, but he brushed it off as nothing a solid night of sleep won’t shake off after covering for someone who had been under the weather.

When the door opens, you don’t see him smiling that darling grin to you. Instead you see a happily grinning Ellie, surprised that you’re visiting.

“HI!” She beams at you. You look over her to see the hallway empty, no sign of Joel anywhere. Did he forget? You didn’t get any messages from him that he’d want to cancel. An anxious thought crosses your mind and lurches in your stomach. Did you mistake the day?

“Did you bring food for Joel?” She asks, reaching for the bag in your hands.

“Uh, I—” You don’t get a chance to come up with anything to tell her when you hear Maria cheerfully calling out your and Ellie’s names.

“Hi!” She speedwalks over to you, almost out of breath. She’s carrying a basket in her hands, full of all kinds of ingredients.

“So sweet of you to bring Ellie and Joel food,” Maria squeezes your elbow with a smile on her face, pressing you to get in. You’re even more confused when you see a few different plates and small casseroles on the kitchen island brimming with goods, sweet treats and hearty stews, as you set your bag down.

Ellie plops down on a chair, a book in front of her and a small stack of cookies piled on a plate. She acts like nothing is going on, already deep in the story she’s reading.

“Why won’t you go check if he needs something,” Maria urges Ellie.

“Do I have to? The last time I checked he was sleeping,” she groans and lowers her voice to keep it between you three. Maria nods. Ellie takes her time leaving the kitchen, biting a piece off her snack and marking the spot where she wants to continue her reading.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t reach you in time,” Maria whispers urgently into your ear. You hear a door open and close upstairs. “Joel’s down with a cold and I was supposed to come tell you but I got busy with finding replacement for his patrol route and Matilda has been fussing the whole day, I’m so sorry.” She talks so fast that you barely manage to keep up. She glances at the stairs. Ellie is already coming back down. That one step creaks under her foot.

“You don’t have to stay here, don’t worry about it. I’ll prepare something easy for Ellie to warm up and store everything else away,” she whispers the last words with time running out and leans back just when Ellie rounds the corner into the kitchen.

“He’s out cold,” she sighs and comes back to her book, opening the page that she dogeared.

“I can help,” you offer to the pair. Ellie shrugs her shoulders, but her eyes linger on you for a while longer while a smile spreads on Maria’s face.

“Okay, I could use some extra help since it looks like I won’t be getting it from inside the house.” Her words aren’t all directed at you, the sarcastic tone making Ellie lift her eyes from the book and looking at the two of you.

“You talking about me?” She plays innocent so well, knowing full well that Maria definitely means her. “I would, but you already have someone offering to cook with you. As they say, too many cooks…” She cocks her head and goes back to her story. She visibly gets swallowed into reading and she doesn’t react when Maria scoffs next to you and mutters, “teenagers,” with a headshake.

She gives you vegetables, some of the ones you brought, some from her basket, and you start to chop them up while Maria portions the thick stew and potato casseroles into smaller containers. You’re meticulous while you cut everything into similar sized pieces. Maria hums a song that you know well enough to nod your head along to.

“How has the patrolling been?” Maria asks you and you tell her how you’ve come to like it. Not that you’d do it all the time instead of being at the stables with the horses, but as a once-a-week thing it’s fitting. 

“Have you seen anything weird while out there?” Ellie perks up and keeps her hand between her book, her attention now on you.

“Nothing too weird. A few infected here and there. Oh, once we did see a stalker that had grown into the wall. It was at this old store in one of the towns to the west of Jackson,” you remember, thinking back to the moment when Clara walked in through the door of the former coffee shop and you stood there, watching as nothing was moving. But the clump on the wall got you both on your toes, knowing exactly what it was.

“What did you do then?” Ellie closes her book completely. You keep on dicing carrots carefully to not slice your fingers.

“We took a step back and Clara shot it before it had the chance to attack. Of course, that got some other infected on our tails, but it was nothing we wouldn’t be able to handle.” You spare a glance at Ellie who’s blushing cheeks are a clear giveaway of her excitement at the story.

“How’s the patrol training going?” You shoot back and Ellie rolls her eyes. “That bad?” Maria gets interested as well and it’s no wonder. A member of the town council is always intrigued to find out an honest opinion on how the new patrollers are trained.

“It’s not bad, just boring.”

“How’s it boring?” The words leave Maria’s mouth in a defensive tone as soon as Ellie has finished answering and immediately Ellie loses the edge of her teenage feistiness.

“I mean, we learn important things, we just haven’t had the chance to do any of the fun things.”

“Fun things like going out on patrols and maybe end up in a sticky situation like at the library last year?” The air starts to get thick with that motherly care that is a bit too overbearing to handle. You grind your teeth together and focus on the task under your hands.

“I just think I’ve learnt more in my personal sessions than at the patrol training.” You put even more effort into not looking at Ellie and especially Maria. You don’t want to be in the middle of this conversation at all.  “We’re going to be going out there some day, I want to know how to take those motherfuckers down.”

“Language,” Maria warns but sighs, maybe in resign, maybe in acceptance, maybe understanding what Ellie means. She’s not sheltered, she has been out there.

Of course she would think it’s boring to be sitting around tables, listening to someone telling you where the different routes are and why they’ve chosen them. She has never come across as someone who likes to learn by sitting, but by doing it herself.

“And how has that been going, is Ellie a good student?” You’re forced to take part in the conversation. They’re both expecting to hear your additions, but for completely different reasons.

“Ellie is a great learner. Fast, listens, takes all the advice I give her and if she doesn’t understand something, she asks more questions.” A smile grows on Ellie’s face the more you compliment her and by the time you’re finished, she’s radiating pride. Maria on the other hand has narrowed her eyes and is considering your words.

“And is she ready for the next part of patrol training in your opinion?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Ellie’s shoulders drop and she opens her book again, disappointed in your review. “I think you’re still too young and too inexperienced. It’s different to be going out there than practicing against a dummy.”

“Yeah I know,” she grumbles and sighs like it’s the last thing she wants to say about that. Maria on the other hand seems pleased, a little too pleased. Like a mother who has just proven herself right.

“What has been happening with Matilda?” You change the topic and that gets Maria to chuckle and her cheeks round with her smile. She tells you all about how she’s crawling everywhere, putting everything into her mouth, ready to explore anything and everything.

“One day we were sitting in the garden, and she picked up a leaf and waved it around in the air. She was laughing the whole time and ended up carrying the leaf around until Tommy put her down for a nap.”

You listen to her and giggle at her stories about the baby, imagining her small hands grabbing at things and getting to know this life that she is now living. How easy it is still for her. How she gets to be a baby enjoying the joys of a leaf or tasting new things, either real food or things that definitely shouldn’t go into her mouth.

You pour the vegetables into a pot and keep chitchatting with Maria. It’s a relaxing day, simple in its quietness. Maria is friendly with you but you wonder if she knows why you came here in the first place. Has Joel told Tommy, and then maybe he has told her, that you two are exploring something new as well.

The way she looks at you at times with a knowing smirk on her face, you get a sense that she has a clue about why Joel had to radio her to ask her to find you, tell you he’s under the weather and you have to meet some other time. Would you have stayed home if she had caught you earlier?

“Oh shit,” Maria mutters under her breath and you immediately turn to her to check if she has somehow hurt herself even though she’s only writing down what is in each container in the fridge and some simple instructions for Ellie to heat them up.

“What?” No sign of her being hurt, but the look on her face and the rushed last scribbles on the paper tell you that she is either late or has forgotten something.

“I have to get going. Tommy is replacing one other patroller and Tilda doesn’t have a babysitter.” She caps the pen in her hand and does a onceover of the room. Ellie is still reading her book, the last cookie almost eaten on her plate.

“Will you feed her? I don’t trust that she knows how to finish the soup.” Maria’s dark eyes are pleading, the rush in her moves reaching your earlier jitteriness and pulling them to the surface.

“Of course, go, we’ll be okay.”

“Thank you!” She pulls her shoes on and sends you a wave. “Bye Joel!” She half yells from the door when she opens it but she doesn’t stay to hear if he answers. You turn back to the soup, waiting to hear his voice. There’s only silence.

“You don’t have to feed me, I know how to feed myself, thank you,” Ellie croaks by the table, her eyes still glued to her book. She’s almost at the end, turning the pages one after the other, the soothing slide of the paper almost like gliding wings that flap once every few minutes.

You noticed Maria’s phrasing as well. Like Ellie wouldn’t be a teenager who can stir the pot and check the time when the soup is supposed to be done. She can take care of herself. You turn to her and see her lost to the book. Maybe she wouldn’t be stirring the pot if you left her on her own. She certainly wouldn’t be checking the time every few moments while reading.

You stay to finish the soup like you promised, tasting it and adding herbs you think would go well with the other ingredients. This is an improvement in your cooking skills, and in no time the food is actually tasting like something you’d be proud to serve to others.

“Do you think Joel would be able to eat?” You ask and hear Ellie closing the book. You turn to her and see her staring at the cover, like she can’t believe what she just read.

“Ellie?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’ll go check,” she stands up a little stiffly, shaking her head. You hear the stair creak when she climbs them. His bedroom door clicks softly but their voices are so quiet they don’t drift downstairs. You open the doors of the cupboards, looking for some sort of bowls, when you find deep plates with blue edges and the glazing cracked and dimmed with time.

“I hope you didn’t make the food.” Joel’s voice is rough, gravelly, low and as deep as ever. It sounds like his throat is burning and talking isn’t something he’d like to be doing.

“Thanks a lot. I could’ve helped you know,” Ellie argues back, but her tone is playful, full off good natured mock. Joel attempts to chuckle, but it ends in a cough that rips even through your lungs and chest, reminding you of times when you were sick and couldn’t contain the violent coughing that snuck up on you whenever you thought you were about to get better.

“Luckily Maria came over so we were able to cook, and Ellie could focus on her book,” you tell him as soon as you see him stepping into the kitchen.

He stops dead in his tracks, leaning his palm against the door frame. He looks like he has slept for hours, but still needing more. His t-shirt is worn, clinging to his shoulders but has lost all the integrity the fabric once had.

You’ve never even thought about seeing him in sweatpants but here he is, and they hang low on his hips, the soft material loose around his legs, much different from his usual dark washed jeans. His curls are sticking all over the place, matted against his forehead on the other side.

His face looks a little pale, and his eyes look like he can’t really focus on you properly through his fever and congestion. The sides of his nose are irritated and as if on cue, he sniffles.

“Please, sit, so you can eat a bit,” you offer, and he does as you tell him. He blinks softly at a loss for words. He slumps on a chair and Ellie settles next to him, reaching for her book and reading the back cover like she still can’t believe what she finished reading.

“Mmm, smells good,” Ellie compliments when you hand her a plate. Joel can’t seem to take his eyes off you. He’s somewhere between the feverish haze and reality, trying to decide if you’re really here.

When you give him his plate, his fingers brush against yours and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from grinning like this is the best day of your life.

How on earth did this man become something that could make your stomach do a flip every time he looks at you, your heart race every time he talks with you, your skin flame when he touches you, even if it’s just a simple caress of his fingers.

“Maria brought all these herbs she says help with colds, I added them all just to be sure they’d work.” You sip at your soup with a spoon and see the corner of Joel’s mouth rising slightly.

He leans his forehead against his knuckles and eats the food you prepared. He might not even taste it, but you don’t mind. You just want him to eat, for him to get better.

“It’s nice, herby, but nice,” Ellie wonders out loud and you have to laugh at her choice of words.

“Herby, that’s a word I’ve never heard to describe a food.”

“Now you have,” she smiles proudly. She scarfs down the soup fast, like she had forgotten she was hungry and just now remembered it. She takes a bit more, eating slower this time.

You see Joel has closed his eyes. His whole upper body is slumped, drained of all his energy. But he keeps eating, steadily lifting the spoon in his hand to his mouth.

Ellie takes your empty plate as a sign to sigh, “Thanks for the food, it was good!” She stretches and stands up, taking the book with her. “I’m going into the garage,” she announces and leaves with your small okay hanging in the air. Joel sets his spoon down and lifts his tired gaze to meet yours.

“You shouldn’t have come. I don’t want you to catch this.” His voice breaks after the first word and the rest come out in a quiet wheeze. He coughs and rubs his chest with his palm.

“it’s okay, I’m glad I was able to help.” His soft stare makes your avert your glances and reach for his empty plate. “I’ll clean up here, just rest up,” you tell him, and he nods while closing his eyes again.

He looks like he could fall asleep immediately. His feet are heavy in the stairs and you listen for the click of his bedroom door. There’s none. He left the door open. You put the rest of the soup into a container and into the fridge. You try to copy what Maria did, writing down a little note with instructions on how Ellie can prepare it as leftovers.

When the dishes are drying on a towel next to the sink, you hear only silence around you. The kitchen gets lit up with an occasional sunbeam streaming in through the windows, until it’s covered by the blanket of clouds again.

You set up on a task. You look through all the kitchen cupboards in search of any painkillers that could help with Joel’s fever. The ones you find are in a white bottle with the expiration date passed a couple of months ago. You wonder how someone is still able to make medications. At the same time it also doesn’t surprise you.

You look out towards the garage and see the lights on. You fill a glass and take the painkillers, padding up the stairs, careful on the step that whines under your foot. When you step into Joel’s bedroom, you see him sprawled on his bed on his stomach, already sleeping.

His window is open, and a calming breeze sways the curtains around it. A few raindrops tick against the windowsill and you end up closing it after you’ve set the water glass and meds on his nightstand, right next to the pictures of him and Sarah.

You sit gingerly on the bed next to him and touch his forehead. It burns against the backs of your fingers. He takes a deeper breath through his mouth and you realize he can’t breathe through his nose at all. You comb your fingers through his hair delicately and run your fingertips against his hot scalp. He stirs awake slowly, his eyes squinting open.

“I brought you something that might help with the fever,” you talk quietly, knowing well to keep your voice low to soothe the frail shape he’s in. You pull your hand back and rest it on your lap but notice the hint of disappointment on his face. He swallows a painkiller and settles back down, seeming determined to stay awake a little while.

“I really hope you won’t catch what I have.” He doesn’t even try to force his voice to work with him, settling on whispering the words through his sore throat.

“It’s probably the same cold that people have been having since last week,” you tell him. Your hand is itching to bring it back on his skin again, to touch him even for a little while. “I’ll be fine, you just focus on resting and getting better.”

You don’t have to think about touching him for long when he nudges the side of your thigh and lifts his hand to rest it on your knee. He moves his thumb back and forth like he’d need to comfort you even though he’s the one who needs to be cared for now.

“Sorry our plans got ruined.” His eyes are half lidded and he’s already drifting off.

“Don’t worry about it, we have plenty of time.” His mouth turns into a soft smile, and he nods, looking at you once more before he lets himself close his eyes. His breathing gets heavier and when his hand eases off your leg, you know he has dozed off. You quickly, just for a couple of strokes, run your fingers against the back of his neck, touching the curls there, before you pull your hand back and stand up to leave.

The rain is falling in big droplets when you get home.

“You’re back early!” Gwen calls from the living room, folding laundry.

“He’s down with the cold,” you tell her and plop down on the couch next to the piles of laundry that she has already neatly folded.

“I got you a couple of cookies,” you offer her and her eyes light up.

“Must be my lucky day,” she chuckles and unwraps one from the tea towel you borrowed from Joel.

It takes Joel about a week to get better. By the time he gets back to work and is feeling like a human again, someone else has already caught the cold. It spreads around town steadily and you always know when someone has gotten sick from the faces at the stables at an hour they don’t usually come there and prepare for patrol duty with much less enthusiasm than the regular patrollers.

And then there are the containers of food from the dining hall taken out in small batches to the people who aren’t feeling well so they don’t have to worry about cooking. Everyone is pulled into different directions as they have to help out around town more actively to fill out for those who are recovering at home.

You work more hours and volunteer at the green houses a couple of times when you hear they’re having a bit of trouble to stay on top of everything. You end up picking carrots and washing them one afternoon with a regular, whose hands are exceptionally fast at brushing most of the soil off them, cutting the green tops off and then dunking them in water to reveal the bright orange underneath. Later you carry some of the carrots and all of the tops to the dining hall where they use them all in few of the dishes planned that week.

When Joel gets back to work, it also means stolen glances, a smile here and a brush of hands there, a quiet “What were you up to last night?” murmured when there’s other people around, or a bolder “I wish you could come over later,” when you’re sure it’s just the two of you walking side by side after your workday is done.

It just seems like there’s no chances. Either Ellie is spending time at home, Gwen is at yours or then there isn’t enough hours in the day to have a bit of quiet time together without people looking. You’ve seen a few suspecting eyes following you at times, especially the eyes of those who love a bit of town gossip, but you don’t let them get to you. You’re just enjoying the unhurried thing that is blooming between you and Joel.

You decide you won’t plan your date until after the situation with the flu has calmed down when Joel doesn’t have to fill in for anyone and you don’t have to be doing longer days at the stables. It feels like an endless, dragged-out seduction.

Everything, even the most mundane things he does, become things that you think about in detail later. The way his hand brushes against Old Beardy. How he holds the door for you, making you walk past him with your arm pressing into his chest.

How he stands a little closer whenever you’re next to each other. How he smells. How he looks at you with a permanent glint in his dark eyes. How he sounds when he greets you in the morning or how he talks to you, telling you about an idea he had, when he saw something that reminded him of you or when he answered your most random questions.

“Pet peeves huh? I don’t know if I have any,” he shrugged and watched as people passed by your table at the dining hall. He shook his head, and you followed his gaze to see Hutch slinking towards the doors, clearly trying to get out of there as fast as possible. “I can’t believe Hutch really thought he could be considered for the senior patroller position now that Andy is retiring. That man is too full of himself.” You smiled to yourself, getting an answer anyway.

“My first memory? Must be with our pops when he took me to a concert when I was about three or four. It was an outdoor thing during the day. But I remember it being a hot, incredibly humid day and he held an umbrella over us to shield us from the sun.”

“No, you don’t want to hear in detail what me and Tommy got into when we were boys. Let’s just say there were a lot of invitations to go places after curfew, our parents were confused where some of the liquor bottles disappeared from the liquor cabinet and our dad’s truck was in a lot of use, sometimes without him knowing. That’s all I’m telling you.”

It all feels like too much and you can’t hold back anymore. There’s a feeling that spills agonizingly slowly but it’s still spilling, and every time you’re around him the feeling gets a little stronger.

Then there are the times when it’s just the two of you and he wraps his arm over your shoulder and brings you into his embrace, your face pressed against his neck and your hands caress his broad back up and down, like you’re memorizing it with your palms.

You might bring him a record you listened and thought he might like, earning a kiss that sinks from your lips deep into your belly and lingers there even hours later. And he might come over, checking over hinges that he already checked before or pipes that are in pristine condition after he already checked those too.

It’s all just excuses to meet him, to have him near away from others. But they’re also fleeting, short moments, when you’re not sure when you’ll be interrupted and your senses are on high alert for hearing footsteps outside or the door opening.

You’d just want more, so much more. And it starts to feel like when that chance arrives, you might not be able to contain yourself. To hell with going slow, you’ve waited long enough.

Round two of your attempted first date. You’re sitting on your living room couch, waiting to leave, but the time is moving at a snail’s pace and the more you watch the clock on the wall, the more it seems like it has stopped altogether.

“I suggested Maria and Tommy to have a date night and let Ellie take care of Matilda while they’re out,” Joel told you a few days ago while you were out on a walk. You wanted to get some honey and Joel offered to come with you. It ended up in you walking around the town for a couple of hours.

“And they didn’t suspect anything? Don’t they have a regular babysitter?”

“No, that didn’t get them suspicious. They have their weekly dates anyway, but the girl who usually comes over has the flu so she can’t come. When I asked if Ellie could stay for the night, that’s what made them realize I have something going on.” You were almost holding his hand, your fingers brushing every few seconds, reaching out to hold for a little while before you saw someone else on your way.  

“You can tell him you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he leaned in closer, and you slowed your pace to catch what he wanted to tell you, “I just like having you all to myself.” You scoffed and pushed him away, his playful cackle only firing up your own laughter.

“Be careful what you wish for,” you reached for his hand again and held on tightly while he smiled adoringly.  

At least Maria had agreed while Tommy had apparently been a good little brother and tried to get Joel to tell them why he’d need the house to himself. There’s no doubt that they know already, and Maria had gotten Tommy to stop questioning Joel.

Now you had no reason to be nervous Ellie would suddenly pop in and disturb the first time you’re getting to spend time together, just the two of you, since the summer party. It’s been too long.

Your foot taps against the floor and you tuck your hands under your thighs to keep from fiddling them as well. You’re wearing one of your better shirts and jeans that have become your favorite in the way they feel on you. You’re gnawing on your lip, the skin tender under your teeth. You might be drawing blood soon if you keep it up.

“Why are you sitting here doing nothing?” Clara asks when she gets down the stairs. She looks just as you imagined: eyes still bleary from sleep, her large t-shirt creased and rumpled, and she stretches her arms back to get some blood circling in her shoulders and neck. You hear a soft crack of her joints before she sighs contentedly.

“Nothing, just waiting.” You force your foot to stay down against the floor, but when she sits next to you, the incessant tapping starts again.

“If I weren’t still half asleep, I’d think you’re dressed a bit better and you’re not just going out to get some chores done?” The questioning tone is just a cover for her knowing look and the grin that takes over her face. “Have you been on a date with him yet?”

“Nope!” Gwen’s cheery voice bursts from the stairs and she practically flows into the living room, plopping herself down next to Clara, their bodies pressed tightly together.

“Why not?”

“That’s a question I’ve been asking this whole time as well,” Gwen fills in for you since you can’t get a word out of your mouth.

“Maybe they like the sneaking around?” Clara asks from Gwen and at the same time makes you feel like you’re invisible.

“You might be right. But still, they should put a bit more effort into it,” Gwen looks at you with a perplexed expression on her face, her brows drawn together, her mouth pinching in a way that she does every time she’s not sure about something.

“Okay, that’s enough. We just haven’t had the chance with work and Ellie being there all the time and you being here all the time,” you raise your hand to quiet them but when you listen to yourself, you realize how much it all sounds like just a bunch of excuses.

Maybe they are. Maybe going on a date with Joel is making you more nervous than you’ve considered.  Even the thought about going out on a date, making this whatever it now is more official, it’s nerve wracking. The stakes are higher, it’s not just you and Joel circling around the truth that you like each other anymore.

“Maybe we should be at my place more,” Clara blurts out and squeezes Gwen’s knee.

“But José is always there, that grump,” Gwen shakes her head, and they sigh in unison.

José, Clara’s housemate, has his own circle of people and his own things he likes to do. He works at the repair shop dealing with things people bring in from their patrols or item runs. You’ve been to the shop a few times and every time you’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff in there, some being repaired and some being used as spare parts.

That’s where you got your record player as well, and you have to admit, those people working there know what they’re doing. José isn’t one of those people who is interested in making a lot of new friends even though he’s always courteous with everyone. The times you’ve been to Clara’s, you barely see him, and he has given her free reign to do whatever she pleases with the place they share.

“Maybe we just have to kick him out from time to time,” Clara reasons and they seem happy with the decision. You just know it’s not something that is going to happen often.

People should be allowed to be at their homes as much as they want, even if someone is newly dating and want to spend all their time with their special someone. Just like you’ve been home when Clara has come to see Gwen or made yourself scarce when you know they want to spend time just with each other.

“No,” you groan and finally stand up. “We’ll figure this out, of course you’re here as much as you want.” You glance at the clock on the wall. Five minutes until the time you thought you’d leave. You try to pace yourself when you start to put on your shoes but it’s a quick task.

“Look at them, can’t get out the door fast enough,” Clara teases you and Gwen’s soft laughter fills the air.

“You have a nice day!” You wish them.

“You too, make sure to get som—” Gwen doesn’t have enough time to finish her sentence when you slam the door shut and rush towards the street away from your house.

Your heart is flapping in your chest nervously and your cheeks are tingling with heat when you think about Gwen’s words. You did kind of mentally prepare for anything that could happen. You probably wouldn’t say no if the mood is right.

You push the thoughts out of your mind as you walk the familiar streets to Joel’s house. There’s a sense of ripe summer in the air. The late morning sun is high in the air, hot against the parts of your skin that are exposed.

Trees look deep green. Some leaves even have a tint of yellow already on them. You hear the buzzing of bees in a flower bush in someone’s front garden as you walk by it, the late summer flowers blooming brightly. The air smells dusty, dry, a little fresh from the wind carried from the mountains.

You get to Joel’s in no time, early from what you agreed to. You take a deep breath when you walk up the few stairs to his porch and wait for your hand to steady before you knock his door. You hear his steps on the other side and your stomach twists with nerves one last time until he opens the door and he’s standing in front of you.

He drains all your nerves in an instant and a smile splits your face in relief. Why were you even thinking this was somehow a big deal? You’re not tiptoeing around your unresolved feelings anymore and it’s such a relief.

You get to see his warmth, the comfort he offers under that rough exterior that studies everyone before he can trust them. You get to witness the delight on his face, that calming balm of his quietness.

But he’s not alone. Your eyes drift to look at the young toddler in his arms, smiling and holding onto the neck of Joel’s t-shirt. His smile drops a little when he notices you looking at Matilda.

“I’m sorry, Tommy just brought her in. Him and Maria are now both sick with the same damn flu and they asked if I could take care of Matilda until at least tomorrow so they can rest up properly.” He bounces Matilda in his arms and his voice softens when he looks at her.

Her springy curls sway around her head and her few toothed grin meets his like they’re in an agreement of what is happening.

“I asked Ellie to come and tell you about the change of plans when she went to Dina’s—”

“You told Ellie about us?” Your tone sounds much more jittery than you thought it would.

“I told her that you were supposed to come around to get the mug you left here a few weeks ago.”

“That’s such a weak excuse,” and once again the anxiety that tries to bubble over melts into easiness.

“I know, I think she saw right through me. I think she’s suspecting something anyway already.” His apologetic smile makes you snicker. “Do you mind if we do a raincheck?”

“No, not at all. I could also stay?” you offer, and his eyes brighten.

“You sure? It wouldn’t be what I had planned.”

“I don’t mind, I think it could be fun to spend the day just us three.” Your words make a golden smile spread slowly on his face, like you just told him the magic words. That there’s an “us” and a sense of family that you want to take part in.

“Of course, if it’s fine with her?” And you look at Matilda, like you’re expecting her to answer.

“Matilda, what do you think? Can they join us?” He asks and she watches him with her wide, dark brown eyes, before she lets out a giggled coo. “I think she says it’s okay,” he smiles and lets you walk in through the door.

“Have you been around babies before?” You’re taking your shoes off and when you straighten back up, Matilda is looking at you with curiosity. She’s still holding onto Joel and his shirt, but it seems like she’s also interested in you.

“My little brother, but it was a long time ago,” you tell him and give your hand to Matilda. She grabs at your index and middle fingers, her small hand squeezes them with power. Joel doesn’t answer you and when you glance at him, he wipes the sadness from his eyes and replaces it with gentleness.

“Would you like to hold her?” You smile at her, and Joel gives Matilda to you carefully, watching how she’s going to react when you secure your arm around and under her. She fiddles with the collar of your shirt, then reaches for your earlobe.

“Yes, that’s my ear.” Joel chuckles. Before you turn from him, you recognize softness on his face. The kind that tells you how seemingly small this moment is but actually means so much more. The one that you bring up from your memories when you look back in time. When you want to remember something specific. A feeling or a touch or a voice, anything that is part of a bigger picture.

“We were about to go explore the garden. You mind going out there already?”

“Sure.” You’re offering Matilda your hand again while she holds onto you for support. Joel follows behind you into the kitchen and towards the backdoor.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” he waves you to go on already and you do as he tells you, stepping out on the back porch in your socks. The garden isn’t filled with a lot of plants, flowerbeds, or some useful plants, but there are some bushes by the fencing and dandelions and daisies push in gentle bursts of color through the green straws of the lawn. There’s a big barrel of water under the rain gutter, some yellowed leaves floating on the surface. The next time it rains, the barrel is going to overflow.

“Would you look at that,” you tell Matilda when you get closer to a batch of small white flowers, recognizing them immediately against the dark wood of the garage. “Would you like a taste?” You don’t really mind walking on the dry grass in your socks when you get closer to the small, round, ruby red wild strawberries that peek around some of the white petals. You kneel on the ground carefully and pick one between your fingers.

“You want it?” You ask her and offer the berry to her. She closes her whole palm around your fingers and brings them to her mouth. She munches on the sweet strawberry slowly, wide eyes watching as you pick one up for yourself and have a taste. Just like you imagined; deeply sweet, fresh, and gently tart which follows the sweetness in a pleasant wave.

“What did you two find?” Joel asks behind you and before you stand up, you pick one of the bigger strawberries between your fingers. His hands are full with a couple of tall glasses and a sippy mug for Matilda. There’s some sort of juice in them, the water lightly pink.

“We found some treats,” you smile and offer the berry to him. He leans back a little, checking what you’re trying to give him. His eyes shift to look at you and he pauses. A hint of mischief sparkles on his face, on his smirking lips under his dark, salt and pepper mustache.

He bends towards your hand and while still having his eyes glued to yours, he takes your fingers in his mouth. His tongue catches the berry between your fingers and licks against the pads. Your chest lurches with warmth that travels steadily down your spine and between your hips.

“Mmm, sweet,” he says while chewing on the berry. He sees right through the glassy look in your eyes what he just did to you. He’s pleased with himself, encouraged by his move.

“You’re a little…” you mutter under your breath when you sit on one of the plastic chairs he has on the porch, around a small garden table.

“A little what?” He sets the glasses on the table and gives the mug into Matilda’s hands. You cover her ears, but it wouldn’t matter anyway, since you only mouth the word “shit” to him and get a hearty laugh as an answer. You take a sip from your glass and taste the mellow fresh sweetness in the water. More strawberries, much more subdued, but still there.

“So, what had you planned for our date?” You ask him when you’re quietly enjoying the birds flying across the sky and settling on the tree branches around the garden. The gentle breeze that is warm and at the same time a little cool.

“Hmm?” He drinks while he watches you over the brim of the glass.

“You said earlier that you had something in mind for our date, what was it?” He lowers the glass and runs his finger against the edge. There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

He’s not trying to pull away from you, or make you feel like he can’t even look at you in the eyes. You realize it’s because admitting what he had planned for your first actual date is making him a little shy, self-conscious even.

“Nothing special, I thought we could’ve eaten something, relax, maybe watch a movie, I don’t really even know.” He finally looks at you and you see desperation on his face. “I don’t know what I was planning, it’s been a while since I was on a date, and it didn’t include an apocalypse. There were more options then.”

“I think that sounds like a pretty solid plan,” you admit. “Now we just have this little friend with us,” you sway Matilda slowly from side to side with you. Joel looks at you two with adoration.

You can’t really believe that softness could be directed equally for you as well, but when he looks you straight in the eyes instead of Matilda the whole time, you have to admit that it’s not just the toddler on your lap who gets the attention.

You have to glance away from him and hide the bubbling smirk that splits your lips apart and pulls your cheeks round.

“So, what do you want to do today?” He squints his eyes.

“Tommy told me that Matilda takes a nap at around two and goes to sleep at seven, other than that we’re free to do whatever we want.”

“We could still have that date then,” you say it more like a statement than a request.

“I think you’re right.” He watches you two marveling at the world around you, pleased that you suggested to stay.

You end up playing with Matilda on the lawn, helping her walk around and explore what the small world of the back garden has to offer. She finds a beetle that you place on her hand and all three of you watch the gleaming shelled insect crawl against the plumpness of her palm.

Joel introduces a white, fluffy dandelion to her. He blows the seeds off it, and you follow them gliding through the air with Matilda like he just did a magic trick. He gives another dandelion to the one-year-old and tries to instruct how she can blow the seeds away.

She ends up shaking the flower in the air and the pappus fly off in every direction. She reaches for the ones on the ground. You reach for the one that Joel tries to pick from his eyelashes but doesn’t quite manage.

“Are you going to ask me to make a wish?” He lifts his brows at you in question.

“I didn’t know you could treat a dandelion fluff like a lash?”

“I think you can, especially since you picked it off my eye.” You hold it out for him. He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment before he opens them again and looks at you, not letting you go until he has blown the fluff from your fingers and it flies off.

“Oh no no no,” he suddenly gasps, and you know immediately to check up on what Matilda is doing. She’s still sitting right next to you but pushing a small daisy into her mouth. You take it from her hand gently and replace it with your finger.

“Here,” you give the flower to Joel. He looks at it between his thick fingers before he tucks it into the front pocket of his t-shirt. Later, when you’re back inside and Joel has gone upstairs to tuck Matilda down for her nap, you find the flower on the kitchen counter, in a glass of water.

“I’m glad Tommy gave me some leftovers they had, otherwise you’d have to endure my cooking,” he tells you when he comes back downstairs.

“It really can’t be that bad. If I can learn how to cook, so can you. We were about to cook the last time too.”

“Trust me, it can and I would’ve trusted you more in the kitchen than myself. I might be improving, but I still have my moments.” He sits down next to you on the living room couch. You’re facing him, your legs crisscross on the leather cushions.

“Okay, what’s the worst you’ve ever done?”

He thinks for a moment, puffs out his cheeks before he lifts his other leg on the couch as well, leaning against the armrest, “I once burnt eggs when I was boiling them.”

“How does that even work?” You laugh. It can’t be a true story.

“It was a long time ago. Sarah was still small and she asked me to join her for a tea party she was having with all her stuffed toys.” Your smirk softens into wistful gentleness. You can imagine him being with his daughter, sitting in a circle with all her toys, sipping from a small cup she probably prepared for him with imaginary tea, asking if he wants sugar. And he would’ve said yeah and she would’ve plopped an imaginary sugar cube into the cup. 

“I only remembered that I had the eggs on the stove when I could smell something burning.”

“That is pretty bad.” There’s a curl on his forehead that you reach to push back. “What about here, tell me you haven’t done the same again.”

“I was making some roasted vegetables with a recipe Maria gave me. Managed to undercook them, but they were still burnt.”

“I don’t believe you!” At least you’re not that helpless in the kitchen even though you’ve also had a few questionable moments while learning to cook.

“That’s between me and the oven.” He grumbles with a grin. You sigh and listen to the quiet between you two.

The afternoon has turned cloudy, and the light coming in through the windows is shrouded in the grey of the rain clouds rolling in.

You hear the rumble of a distant thunder. It matches with the rumble in your head. How you’re here without anyone coming between you now. It’s just you and Joel. He touches your knee with his fingers, demanding your attention back to him.

“What are you thinking?” His voice breaks into a faded rasp of his throat, a remain of the cold he had. He shifts closer until he’s close enough for you to smell him, to have him in your personal space. He touches your arm and runs his fingers up and down your skin.

“How I really don’t need a fancy date, or big plans. I just want to spend more time with you.” He looks down but he doesn’t hide the crooked smile that draws smile lines next to his eyes.

“So, this is an acceptable date for you?” You manage to nod through the goosebumps that he lifts through your skin. His touch sparkles in your veins.

“Do you remember what you said to me a few days ago, when we met up at the dining hall for lunch?” Your question makes him draw in a breath and look up towards the corner of the ceiling. He squints his eyes until realization passes through them.

“Yeah?”

“Could you make it a question, if you want?”

He studies you before he clears his throat, “Would you like to stay the night?” There’s a slight vibration in his voice, something you recognize as him getting shy again. You don’t blame him. You feel the same way for making him ask you.

It was just a throwaway sentence he said when you were having lunch after work. It still stayed with you. It bounced around in your head when you were sitting at the same table with his patrol friends. It rushed into the forefront of your thoughts when you felt his hand guide you out the door, just a brief touch against the small of your back. You heard it in your ears when he went the other way, and you watched his descending back. And you couldn’t take it out of your head for the rest of the day. It only got louder as the evening went on.

I wish I could ask you to come with me and stay the night.

He chuckled after saying it, until you noticed him observing you and how you’d react, testing the waters if it was too much. Your encouraging grin made him loosen up and he seemed more relaxed after it. Like he had thought about saying it for a while, to see what you’d say back. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t trust your voice to not break.

“Yes,” you tell him and he can’t contain the smirk that squints his eyes.

You end up heating up the dinner Tommy had given Joel earlier. It’s good, much better than you could ever imagine doing yourself. Joel has Matilda on his lap as he feeds her. Some of the food ends up on Joel’s shirt as she flings her arm around and the spoon Joel is holding flies against his chest, every time to the same spot.

Rain starts pitter pattering against the roof and windowsills at some point. When you’re done eating, you watch Joel climb the stairs while pulling the shirt over his head, revealing the base of his spine. The strong muscles on his back flex as he walks, stretching his arms over his head.

You busy yourself by playing with Matilda, but she has lost interest in the picture book you’re trying to show her and the building blocks that are on the living room rug. She keeps fussing and when the thunder claps somewhere closer, she whines and searches for comfort from you.

“It’s okay, just a bit of thunder. You’re safe here,” you soothe her and take her on your lap while you sit on the floor. When Joel gets back downstairs in a new t-shirt, the roar of the rain is only getting stronger. It gets dark quick and all three of you end up sitting on the floor, trying to distract Matilda from the thunder outside.

You see Joel eyeing the guitar a few times and when Matilda gives a helpless cry, he reaches for it and tunes it with experienced fingers. He starts to play a tune and Matilda quiets immediately.

You sway her to the song and to your surprise Joel opens his mouth and starts singing. For a few seconds your movements stutter until you manage to collect yourself, immersing yourself in listening to him sing.  

It’s a song you know well. You remember hearing it on the radio before the outbreak. It played on repeat and started to get almost annoying. Now it’s comforting and the lyrics come back to you quickly. You don’t mind that you’re not the strongest of singers, you still join Joel. You keep on singing song after song, almost making it a game of do the both of you know the song and the lyrics.

The rain keeps on hitting the roof. Matilda leans against you heavily, clinging to you while twisting in your arms. She has been mimicking singing for a while, babbling along the music. Now it seems like she’s not interested anymore, only getting grumpier by the minute.

“She’s going to be a musician one day,” he coos at her, scooping her up into his arms.

When he takes her upstairs, you feel her sleepiness wash over you as well. You follow him up to his bedroom and see him put her to sleep in his bed. He turns to you when you touch his shoulder and you both end up watching Matilda fall asleep.

“Would you like to have something else to sleep in?” Joel whispers, opening his dresser as quietly as he can. He picks through the neatly folded clothes, offering some soft, worn sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. When you come back into the bedroom wearing his clothes, he looks at you a little longer, long enough for you to start questioning if you’ve worn something the wrong way around.

“No, you just look cozy,” he smiles, but the look in his eyes says he’s not telling you something. “You want to go downstairs, watch a movie?” And you nod.

You don’t really care what movie you’ll watch. It’s furthest on your mind at the moment anyway. You go through the small pile next to the tv and choose one that you know but can’t remember if you ever saw it. You let Joel handle the setting up and settle on the couch with your legs pulled up.

You leave him enough room to sit comfortably, but when he sits next to you, he chooses to be as close as possible, your feet tucking under his thigh. His own clothes, a cozy getup he changed into as well, feels warm against your feet.

His proximity is making you forget about the movie and even when you watch the tv screen, you have no idea what’s happening. You wiggle your toes unknowingly against the underside of his leg and he moves his arm slowly. So slowly that you wonder if he’s going to maybe scratch the corner of his eye or fix the worn-out collar of his charcoal t-shirt.

Instead his fingers nudge your ankle, wrap around it and pull it free to rest your leg over his lap. You look at him from the corner of your eye, what he does, how gently he lays your leg, and then the next, over his thighs and settles his palms over your knees.

“This okay?” He mutters. You don’t mean to sound so weak but the squeaking yeah gives you away. He smirks but keeps watching the movie.

When his fingers almost absentmindedly circle your knees, lay on top of them for a moment before he squeezes them softly, then rubs them up and down, you’ve lost the ability to focus on the movie completely. You don’t even hear what they’re saying. You see the actor’s mouths moving and scenes changing, but you drift to watch Joel instead.

He's watching the screen intently. His brows furrow slowly, then relax again. A quick smile fades into focus as he follows the plot of the story.

“I’m not part of the movie,” he says after a long while. You almost jump at hearing his voice, the low breathy sound making you turn your focus back on the film that is suddenly much more brutal than before.

Maybe it’s a horror rather than a crime drama you thought it was. His hands stop moving on your legs again and squeeze the tops of your knees in a way that demands your attention.

“I’m trying to focus here,” you truly are trying, but it’s hard to jump into the story after you’ve missed almost half of it.

“Hmm, what’s happening?” He’s teasing you. He sees straight through you, the little act you’re trying to pull off.

“This main guy, I think he’s trying to solve this series of crimes with his new partner,” you piece together.

“Uh huh, and what did they figure out about the crimes?” He’s leading you to a corner where you can’t get yourself out of.

“Okay, I might not be completely on track on what’s been happening, but I’m trying to.” His palms are heavy against your legs. He slowly presses his fingertips into the softness of them.

“Don’t worry, I’m completely lost as well,” he admits, pulling you away from the movie completely. “I have better things to focus on,” he smirks at you, making you shake your head.

“Would you like to tell me what you really thought about my borrowed clothes?” You challenge and he dips his chin against his chest and takes a deep breath.

“Something selfish.”

“Tell me.”

He lifts his gaze and licks his lips once before he speaks again, “That I could see you wearing my clothes again, that maybe someday I’d see you without them.” Your cheeks and neck start to burn instantly when he says it. It’s a thought that has crossed your mind as well.

You lean your head against your palm, the warm glow of the floor lamp surrounding him in an orange haze.

“Maybe that day will come sooner than you think.” You shake the shyness out of you. He raises his brows in question, in silent disbelief that it’s not a selfish thought at all. “I’ve thought about it, if we could… maybe… try more things out.” He turns his eyes towards the movie with a smile on his face that doesn’t match with the mood of the flick at all. Someone is crying uncontrollably on the screen.

“You’d want that with me?” His hands seem to press even more into your legs, like he was holding back before. Almost as if he wasn’t sure he could touch you fully and kept his hands hovering over you, testing out what you’d do with him demanding that physical touch from you.

The more you’ve spent time with him, after every conversation and small touch, a hug and all the kisses you’ve shared, the more you crave for him to be closer.

“Yes, Joel, I’ve thought about it a lot,” you chuckle with a scoff, as if it would be a surprise.

“You thought about sleeping with me a lot?” His tone makes you actually laugh and you have to quiet yourself down to not wake up Matilda when you nod at him.

“Okay,” he blinks a few times and you see a faint blush painted across his cheeks, wonder and a hint of relief glinting in his eyes. 

“Would you like to sleep with me?” The question seems silly when he turns his whole upper body towards you, his big palms rounding around to the backs of your knees, massaging the muscles softly.

“Yes,” his answer leaves no questions, his voice gravelly, his eyes dark and deep, his fingertips needing you to understand that you’re not alone in thinking about having him in your bed.

He pushes his fingers deeper into the backs of your knees, splaying towards your thighs and you can feel him pulling you gently towards him. You don’t have to be asked twice, already reaching for him when he leans in to press his mouth against yours.

The kiss is a practiced dance by now, hungry yet sweet, soft and heated enough to get your insides vibrating with desire. You grab at his shirt, then the back of his neck, his hair spilling between your fingers when you want him closer still, while his attempts at having you pressed against him come clear from the arms that wrap around you.

It’s a fumbling mess of limbs, all lustful and hasty, so much so that you start to giggle into his mouth after his tongue has passed through your lips and pressed against yours. You fall backwards, pulling him with you until he’s laying on top of you, still holding you in his embrace, but now trying to decode what you’re laughing about.

“Sorry, I was just thinking how I’ve never felt this way, never even done anything like this.” You feel his body go rigid over you, a look of confused stun on his face.

“I thought you had had someone—”

“I don’t mean that I haven’t had sex, I mean that I’ve never been with someone who I really like, let alone made out with someone on their couch.” His expression melts into a soft, adoring smile that is not hard for you to repeat on your own face.

He kisses your cheek once, then the other, then the corner of your mouth, before planting his lips against yours once more and deepening the kiss into one that is full of his thirst for you. His beard scratches delightfully against your skin. When his tongue breaches your mouth again, swiping against yours, you hear the silent whimper erupt into his mouth from your throat.

It’s almost too easy to lose yourself against his body, feel your legs wrap around him, feel like there’s too many clothes on you.

“Not tonight,” you manage to gasp out when he kisses the underside of your jaw, tasting what it’s like to kiss you there.

He nods, “Not tonight,” agreeing to keep this as the limit. His mouth travels back up to yours and you devour his kisses.

It doesn’t take much effort to remember that you’re not alone in the house. Especially after you hear the sad cries from upstairs behind the closed door of Joel’s bedroom. He stops immediately and looks up, unwrapping his arms around you. The dark, silver speckled curls on his head are fluffed around his head, just as you imagined they’d be, and his neck looks red in the dim lighting.

“I’ll go check on her,” he stands and stumbles forwards, leaning against the couch. You take a deep breath and watch him round the corner to the stairs, adjusting his sweatpants before he steps on the first one. The movie is still on, just pointless noise in the background. You turn the tv off as a chase scene begins.

It’s late already, and the rain is still slapping against the roof and the windowsills. You hear almost silent whispers from upstairs and decide to follow them, turning off lamps as you go.

“It’s okay, just a bad dream, shhhh, go back to sleep,” you hear Joel shushing and see him combing his fingers through her hair.

“She okay?” You ask him from his door. He nods and smooths his hand down her front again and again. After a while Matilda’s breaths come out slowly, sleep taking her away once more. He sits on the edge of the bed with his thighs apart and you fit right between them, standing in front of him while brushing his curls from his forehead.

“You want to go to sleep as well?” You ask him when you see his eyes, bleary dullness seeping into their brightness. He nods and sighs deep when your fingertips massage the base of his neck.

“I might have an extra toothbrush,” he offers, and you take it gladly.

When he turns the lights off, and you’re laying on his bed with Matilda securely between you two, you close your eyes. You listen to the small child breathing and every time she makes even the smallest of moves, you end up checking if she’s okay.

You’re not the only one sleeping with one eye open as you soon meet Joel’s watchful gaze in the dark. He reaches his arm towards you, under his pillow, and smooths his fingertips across the side of your head.

“Thanks for staying today,” he says so quietly that you almost have a hard time hearing him.

“It was a good day.” Matilda coos in her sleep and immediately the both of you look at her, make sure she’s still fast asleep.

The darkness of the night is like a security blanket, wrapping the three of you in softness that will keep everything bad away. There’s no infected, no people who would harm you, no grief and lost loved ones, just you, Joel and Matilda on this bed, in this moment.

It makes you think about the past. The nights when you were in the same bed with your siblings, in the security of your family. “Did you ever sleep like this with your daughter?” You ask Joel and listen to him inhale, but not exhale. The longer you hear him holding his breath, the more you start to think that it might’ve been a mistake to bring Sarah up.

“Yes,” and he exhales, finally, long and deep, out of relief that he can reminisce a moment like that without being overcome with the usual pain that will never leave his side. Like a ghost who likes to play with him, let him live without overwhelming grief for while and then one day pour it all on him like a cold shower.

“She was good at sleeping in her own bed, a calm sleeper. But she had a few ear infections when she was about three, one after the other and she was in pain.” His breath hitches in his throat and he takes a pause. When he continues, his voice is rough even through his whisper. You wish you could be closer to him, but you can only hold onto his outreached hand and squeeze it to let him know you’re there.

“She could only sleep when I made circles against her back. I didn’t sleep at all those nights, I just wanted my baby girl to be better. To be pain free. And if me rubbing her back helped her, I didn’t mind losing sleep.”

You nod in the dark. You don’t have to respond to him, not really. It’s a response when you listen to him and let him tell you about her in his own terms. it’s a response when you run your fingertips against his firm forearm and the soft hairs, over and over until your skin feels tender.

Matilda makes a soft, displeased sound, but doesn’t wake up. She only turns her head to the side and smacks her lips a few times. Your eyes have gotten used to the dark by now and see Joel’s hand moving over Matilda, tucking her shirt down gently before rubbing her belly in slow circles.

“I used to soothe my brother like that when he was a baby, fussed in his sleep,” you remember. The sounds he made echo far away in your memory. “We used to sleep in our mom’s bed after she passed, all three of us, because we were scared something would happen to our brother.”

You took turns staying awake with your sister. You just watched your siblings sleep and, in a way, it brought you immense comfort knowing they were okay. No matter how tired you were, you still happily did it. You didn’t want to lose them too.

“When did she…” and he’s not asking about your sister.

“When my brother was born.”

“I’m sorry.” You squeeze his arm in thank you. There’s so much heartbreak, so much grief in this one bed. But there’s also comfort, there’s familiarity in this bed.

There’s care and honesty, in all its cold reality. Another long pause, another while when you listen to Matilda sleep but by now you know that Joel isn’t sleeping either. It’s not from hearing his breathing stay the same, not slowing down, not getting deeper as it would when he does sleep.

It’s also from the way his fingers still caress your head from time to time, almost like he wants to make sure you’re there.

“When our mom and dad fought sometimes, they usually saved it for the night. Me and Tommy shared a bedroom for a while when we were still young boys. We came up with a game to play whenever we could hear their voices through the wall. To name kids in school who’s name started with the same letter. We got through the alphabet three times before our parents told us they were getting divorced.”

“And you’d always name the kids?”

“Nah, that got boring by the second time. We ended up just listing names we knew.”

“That’s so silly.”

“I know but it got us through those nights.”

“Yeah,” your voice drowns into a sigh. Kids would do anything to feel safe, to distract themselves from whatever upset them. It’s that resilience that you’ve seen through your whole life.

When the silence falls, it’s a silence that doesn’t get filled again until the sun is rising after the heavy rain during the night. Matilda is still sleeping when you get up and say goodbye. No one sees you and Joel at the porch, the way he kisses you quickly, but softly, your hands tangled together, still hanging on when you take steps down towards the mailbox.

It creeps upon you once again. The feeling. A mix of anxiety and panic, slowly building throughout the day until you’re going to get lunch and you feel like you’re not yourself anymore. It came out of nowhere, you try to convince yourself, even though you know it wasn’t nothing. The thought you had last night and what you went to sleep with. It was a weird one anyway.

During the day you had gone to one of your now regular short patrols with Clara when you came across a cabin you hadn’t checked over in a while. Clara knew about it but even she hadn’t been there since there hadn’t been any movement in the area for ages. This time you decided to have a look. You were close by anyway.

Immediately when your feet touched the ground and Willow was secured on a nearby tree, you felt uneased. Something was tugging at you to not get closer to the cabin, that there’d be something you didn’t want to see.

It was confirmed when you heard the first clicks and groans of a clicker. Two to be exact. It was easy to take them out but when you were going through the backpacks that were left on the inside of the front door, your stomach sank.

“I think they were trying to reach Jackson,” Clara said and picked out a note that was in one of the pockets.

“We got tipped off about a safer place to live in. We saw it already from a cliff where we couldn’t get down from. All it took was one infected and we were both bit. We were too afraid to use the gun we had. I’m laying next to Alec and he’s already twitching, crying that he doesn’t want to die. What can I do when there’s nothing else to do? Should I kill—” Clara didn’t finish the letter when you turned around and walked out, your chest tight and your breath coming out in forced puffs.

“You okay?” Her hand dropped on your shoulder, and you had to collect yourself for a moment before you nodded and said, “I will be.”

“We should carry the bodies further away from the door, so they won’t start rotting right next to it.” You did it in silence and you took it as a job that had to be done. No feelings, no emotions, not two people who had died scared.

When you were riding back into town, you couldn’t shake the thought of the two from your mind. That’s how the fear of losing what mattered to you flooded in. That you’d lose your home in town, that you’d lose the people around you. That you wouldn’t be safe.

When you saw Joel later at the dining hall, you were relieved to know he was okay, and his patrol had been uneventful. You know it would take a lot to lose it all, but the seeds of fear were already sprouting. And the couple was still with you.

You see Joel leaving again for patrol with Jade. It’s a dreary day, full of that late summer gloominess promising that fall was already on its way. You watch him ride out wearing his light, caramel colored jacket and see a last glance your way before he disappears from view.

You work in a haze and the longer the day goes on the more you feel like you’re detaching from yourself. Everyone around you, your friends and their easy conversation, feels distant. You get to the dining hall and you leave yourself behind.

Your skin crawls and your head tells you things you’re trying to convince yourself aren’t real. You’re looking at yourself from afar, hearing others through a jar, and you can’t focus on anything. The panic is all consuming, forcing you to act in a way you don’t want to.

You keep your distance, make yourself small, stare into space and try to force food down your throat. You’re returning your empty dishes when Joel catches up with you.

“Are you okay?” You don’t know what to tell him. You stare at him and you’d want to talk, but your brain and mouth have lost their connection.

“Has something happened?” His fingers brush against your arm. You pull away and smooth your hand over the spot he touched.

“I’m not sure. I just need a bit of time on my own today.”

He nods and whispers, “Okay,” but the worried look in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You don’t know why you tell him that you want to be alone either. You don’t. It’s the anxiety talking, wanting you to isolate from others.

The wind picks up in the evening. You’re in your room, doing nothing, already buried under covers, just watching the branches on the other side of your window swaying violently in the cool breeze.

First, you’re looking at the window with the bedside lamp on, and the next moment you’re waking up with your face mushed against the pillow, gasping for air, the lamp still on, complete blackness swallowing everything on the other side of the framed glass.

Some of the twigs are scraping against it, sounding like hinges whining in the room that now feels too big and lonely. Your heart is racing from the nightmare and all your limbs are restless.

In the dream you were in the forest, doing a patrol on your own and you were scared out of your mind. Why you were alone is a mystery to you, but you were, and you were trying to get through the route as fast as you could.

You heard something, a rustle in the thick of the trees. you couldn’t see anything. The longer you were in there, the more you felt like you were being hunted. By what, you don’t know, but the feeling was so fierce that you decided to head back into town.

You stopped for a moment to check your map and then you heard it, footsteps clear as day, getting closer at a fast pace. You got Willow to gallop as fast as you knew was possible, but the more you ran away from the sounds, the more it seemed like you were getting lost. And the more you got lost, the more tired Willow got, and she started to slow down.

It wasn’t until you saw her hooves disappearing into the ground when you knew you had to get off her before the ground would swallow you both. She was letting out panicked screams that made you want to rip your own ears off.

You jumped off and watched Willow disappear into something that resembled quicksand. You felt such strong grief that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Then you realized it. She still had all your equipment strapped to her saddle and now you had nothing you could defend yourself with.

You ran anyway. You were still being chased. Your legs weren’t moving as gracefully as they could though. They were stiff and aching, only slowing you down. You wondered where you could hide, if you even had a chance to get away.

You saw a shallow ditch and made the decision to lay in there until whatever was after you had passed. You tried to cover your mouth to hide your panting, but it only got harder when you couldn’t breathe freely.

You heard shots somewhere, echoing, close enough for you to know that you had to keep on moving. As you scrambled to your feet, you saw a shadowy figure getting closer, already reaching for you. Your feet suddenly started working properly again.

You ran so fast that it felt like you were flying effortlessly. Your feet barely touched the ground and they got you away from danger. You saw a cabin between the trees, the windows shone in a warm, inviting glow.

You reached the door and you yanked it open, grateful that it wasn’t locked. You shut the door and got relieved immediately. The cabin didn’t look like a cabin at all though. It looked like you had stepped into Joel’s house.

It was bathed in a golden glow and comforting sunlight that embraced you immediately. You walked in slowly when you heard someone crying in the living room. You peeked in and saw Ellie sitting on the couch. She looked hopeless, her eyes empty and her skin grey, aged what seemed like years over one night.

She looked at you and immediately your stomach dropped when you knew what her face was telling you without her having to spell it out for you.

You massage the center of your chest when you’re trying to calm yourself down from the nightmare.

“It was just a bad dream, it wasn’t real,” you repeat to yourself and try to get yourself to believe it. The feeling just doesn’t go away. The dream felt too real. It stuck under your skin.

You have to move. You pull on whatever clothes you find even when your skin protests the layers with discomfort. You feel your insides crawling and your hands are shaking when you tiptoe down the stairs and start to pull on your shoes. When you get outside, you almost take off in a run while the panic from the dream is still lashing in your head. You just have to make sure he’s okay.

The wind whips around you and you pull your jacket over your neck to keep the cold away. You push yourself forward. Panic and relief mix together when you see Joel’s house. Your legs feel like lead when you reach his door.

You knock on it. Nothing. It only scares you more when there’s no noises and the house stays dark. You end up banging your fist against the wooden surface until a light flickers on and you see it through the windows at the top of the door.

Joel opens the door with sleep heavy in his limbs and eyes. He’s still holding the door open when you wrap your arms around him in desperate need to know he’s real and you’re not in a dream. He wakes up slowly to close you against his chest to really understand how distraught you are.

“What has happened?” His voice rasps in your eats, barely above a whisper when he forces his vocal chords to work.

“I had to make sure you’re alive,” you realize how weird it sounds.

“Why would you have to make that sure?”

You shake your head and loosen yourself around him until you can see his confused eyes, “Just a bad dream I had.” He watches you for a moment, but then drags you into a crushing hug which makes you feel his heart beating strong through all the layers you’re wearing.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You breathe against him, breathe him in, surround yourself with the comforting notion that you haven’t lost him.

“Let’s go to bed.” He pulls you in and closes the door.

He waits for you to get rid of your outer layers and walks after you on the stairs, making sure you get up safely. You’re still shaking with sudden bursts of shivers that run through your whole body. He gets you something to wear and helps you change from the mixed clothes you wore to get to his.

A t-shirt, a sweater, jeans, socks that don’t match. You don’t mind that he is the one undressing you and then pulling the soft fabrics over your body. It’s reassuring when his warm fingers sweep over your sides or open your jeans and help you pull them down just to get your legs into the sweatpants he offers you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks when you’re in the dark again, his front wrapped around your back. The pressure of his body against yours is like an anchor, keeping you settled here with him, grounding you and finally getting you out of the bad dream.

He caresses his thumb around your palm as you cling to his arm. You tell him about the dream, about the fear you’ve felt since yesterday. Telling him about them, sharing them with someone isn’t as bad as you first thought it would be. That it would paint you in shame or fear that he might think you’ve lost it.

Instead, he listens and hums at the right time when you take a pause. His breath fans across the back of your neck and he tightens his hold a little more. When you’re finished, you take a deep breath and relax against him, finally falling asleep again.

You wake up in an empty bed. It’s early, the sun is rising, and it’s still windy. It howls against the roof and through some invisible cracks in the house. You pick up your sweater from the back of the chair in the corner and pull it over your head.

You know exactly what has been making you feel so anxious for the last couple of days, and it wasn’t the infected couple at the cabin. When you open the door to the landing, you hear Joel’s deliberately quiet voice. “We still up for a movie night then?”

Ellie doesn’t answer for a while. When she does, it makes all the air in the house go heavy. “Could we not? I’m having a hard time today with all the…” the pause is filled with whatever it is that they’ve been through together.

“Okay.” Joel sounds pained; you can tell even when you don’t see his face. “Can I ask what you’re thinking about?”

You wonder if she’ll tell him. You don’t have to wait for long until you hear her mumbling, “I was with Tilda yesterday. She was playing with her wooden cars, and I kept thinking that if there was a cure, she wouldn’t have to go through what I’ve gone through.”

“She won’t. Jackson is different from a QZ, and we’re getting more secure by the day—“

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Ellie. You might think it’s simple—“

“It actually is simple.”

“Could you let me finish?” She doesn’t say anything else, you just hear him taking a breath. A chair drags across the floor.

“It’s not simple because I’ve heard all this time that there’s no cure. No matter what anyone says, it was never guaranteed to be successful. This world is shit, I know, but I’d much rather see you grow old, do some actual good in this world, than die for something that could’ve been for nothing.” Something clicks against the table, and you hear the chair scraping against the wooden floors again. You hold your breath as you listen to them talk.

“Like I told you once, it wasn’t time that healed the wounds.” Joel’s voice is muffled. A string of suppressed sniffles keep him talking. “You’re much more than the bites or the mission. You’re a person, with dreams and a life worth living. You’re not a test subject whose only purpose is to die. That’s no one’s purpose. You deserve so much more than that guilt you’re feeling. I understand it well, but you can’t let it eat at you.”

You lean against the wall. That’s it isn’t it? Why they were traveling together, why they were in the wild. She is somehow the cure. And that’s also the reason why their relationship can be so strained.  

“If I could change the past, I would. And if I was faced with a situation where I knew you were in danger, I would always choose to save you. It’s not a question I have to even think about.”

“What if I’d want for you to not save me?” Her voice is weak, thick with the wetness of her tears.

“I’d make sure you’d know what you’re putting yourself through, and I sure as hell would do my all to change your mind. But they didn’t give you that choice either, did they?”

A pause. “No, they didn’t.”

“I’m not going to tell you to forget it or to not listen to yourself. But have you thought about my suggestion?”

“I’d need to tell her. Do you think she’d keep it to herself?”

“I think she’s obliged to not tell people’s business to anyone.” She doesn’t answer him anymore. What did they go through? Where did he save her from? You don’t know what to think or how even start unravelling all the questions you have in your head. You’re unsettled and your stomach twists. They don’t want people to know, that’s for sure.

“Do you have plans with your friends, Dina?” He asks conversationally, trying to guide her thoughts towards a different path.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to Dina’s later.”

“She has become a good friend to you, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah,” her quietness is much more telling than her answer. There’s something more there, but she’s not ready to tell Joel about that.

You balance yourself against the banister and take a step, then another down. You should remember there’s that one step that always creaks under your foot. Now that you’re trying to sneak down, of course you forget about it, and the sound screeches in your ears. It gives you away immediately. You close your eyes and silently curse at yourself.

“Someone here?” Ellie’s confused tone makes you take the rest of the steps more confidently. No reason to hide now.

“Uuuh,” you hear Joel stammer when you peek around the corner.

“Morning.” You have to clear your throat and you offer her a small smile. She tilts her head, first eyeing you, then at Joel, before she gasps out a “huh”.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something?” They both look hesitant, waiting for you to say something.

“What did you hear?” Joel’s question is much tenser than you thought. A tone you haven’t heard from him in months.

“Probably most of it,” you admit as he turns his back to you.

“Well, Joel probably has some explaining to do later then.” Ellie’s words are more for him than you and they make you uncomfortable. Like you’ve stepped in the middle of a fight even though no one is fighting.

She eats her breakfast porridge and narrows her eyes, “It doesn’t matter. I’m much more interested to hear what’s happening here anyway.” Ellie’s tone changes with a snap of her fingers as she waves her spoon between you and Joel. She raises her brows and waits for either of you to tell her something. You glance at Joel and see him pull his shoulders back.

“They came here last night to talk with me.” He turns back to face you. He’s clearly trying to seem unbothered by the smirk on Ellie’s face and what she’s seeing in front of her.

“Uh-huh, and then you just stayed over?”

“It was really late so…” She nods at your answer and busies herself with her food. She’s linking it all together in her clever brain. “You two are a thing, aren’t you?” Another quick glance at Joel and you see him shift on his feet, leaning against the kitchen island.

He rubs the bridge of his nose before he looks your way. He’s asking you. What do you want to tell Ellie? What are you ready to tell her?

“We’re… yes.” You confirm and see a small smile on Joel’s lips, a slight blush on his cheeks as he waits for Ellie’s reaction.

“Nice,” she just says and you’re both taken aback by her sudden silence.

“What? No teasing? Any questions?”

“Nope!” She pops the P and the calm look on her face is nothing but an indication of something brewing in her mind.

“Okay then.” You step closer and take an apple from the counter. Joel hands you a knife and you start taking the fruit apart. It’s tart, pulling your mouth into a thin line when you eat a slice. The first apples are always like that. A bit more time hanging on the tree, and it would be perfect. Ellie finishes her plate quickly and sets it into the sink.

“Joel? Dina’s tonight, movie night some other night?” The earlier conversation begins again. You’re almost ready to see him disappointed, but instead there’s deep sadness laced with determination. He nods once and Ellie’s expression softens. “This weekend, if you don’t have plans already?”

“No plans, it’s good.”

“Good! And hey, we still up for knife training on Saturday?” Ellie turns to you, and you nod with your mouth full.

“Great! I’m out!” She is already at the doorway when she turns around, a wicked glint in her eyes. “And just so you know, Joel, when you keep your bedroom window open, I’ll hear everything into the garage.”

“Ellie!” He barks out immediately as she finishes. She cackles and you hear the front door open.

“Buh-bye lovebirds!” She yells before she’s out. Joel groans but the smile on his face says he wouldn’t have expected anything else from her.

“How are you feeling?” He directs his attention back to you. You’d want to bring up what you heard. It just happens that he’s eager to get you talking about anything else.

“Better. Being with you helped.” His eyes soften and you see his shoulders drop with his breath. You drop your gaze to the apple and knife in your hands. “It didn’t come from nowhere you know.”

“What you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking about my siblings more after we took care of Matilda that one night. And when me and Clara came across those infected, they reminded me of my brother and sister and how we also wanted to just get to a safer place. I miss them, I miss them so much.” Getting it off your chest is a relief.

His brows furrow and he considers something for a moment before he opens his mouth.  “Do you have work today?”

“No, why?”

“I want to show you something. Let’s eat before we get going.” He doesn’t give you any clues on what he wants to show you when you fill your stomachs. He also doesn’t give you any time to ask him about his earlier conversation with Ellie. He leaves you waiting by the front door as he has to grab something from upstairs.

He’s still keeping his mouth shut when he tells you to wear something warm and comfortable when you walk to yours for you to get changed. The first clue where you might be headed comes when you get to the stables, and he asks if you could take a couple of horses to go outside the walls.

Beardy is there but Willow is not so you take one of the other mellow natured horses. Joel gets himself a gun and you’re on your way. You follow him into the forest where the trees are swaying and falling leaves are flying around.

“It’s not a long hike,” he tells you when you ask once more where you’re going. “You’ll see,” the warmth in his voice assures you and you keep on going, riding with the wind. He keeps ahead and the longer the silence continues, the more you want to hear what really happened with Ellie. What got them together in the first place. If she’s infected.

You hear water rippling somewhere close by and the sound gets stronger as Joel keeps you riding towards it. Through the yellowing trees, you hit a clearing and a stream, flowing over rocks. You didn’t even know there was one so close to town but here you are, on the pebbled shore of it.

It’s shallow and bright, you can see the bottom through the murky water. You get off your horse and listen to the flow of the water, and the wind hissing like its doing a duet with the stream.

“What is this place?” You ask and see two small piles of rocks on the edge of the water, standing sturdy. He follows behind you to the cairns and you stop right in front of them.

“We were out for patrol once last year and rode through here. I ended up coming back on my own and found this place to be…” He takes a breath and when you look at him, there’s a smile on his face. Not a joyful one but a wistful one. He blinks a few times and looks up towards the trees and takes one more breath. “I come here when the grief gets too unbearable. When I just need to take a breath and remember.”

You get it then. Why this place is perfect for it. Why he’d prefer a place like this. It’s not too far from town, but far enough to get a bit of distance. The water is like a balm, carefully soothing and present at the same time.

You lean down and dip your hand in the stream. It’s cold but warmed up by the sun enough so that you can hold your hand under the surface. You start picking out stones. Flat, evenly shaped, different sizes. You gather them in your palms and stand back up.

You don’t want to build your own cairns next to the two that Joel has built. Those are his, they need their own space. You make your way a little ways away and find a rock that feels heated. You start piling the rocks carefully, one after the other, water dripping from them and then drying in the wind and the sun.

Joel is watching you work carefully while you take your time deciding which rock to use next to make the steadiest pile. When you place the last stone, you sit next to the cairns, your little gravestones. The other is a little taller than the other, just like your siblings were.

The water streams effortlessly, offering a constant white noise. There’s something melodic about it, how the water ripples against the rocks closer to the edge of the stream, slow and calm. And then in the wider parts it flows freely, making more noise, yet still gentle, shallow enough for you to walk through it if you’d wish.

“You know,” you start and hear Joel’s footsteps stop behind you. He has some rocks in his hands too, not flat ones like you had collected but smooth, round ones that the water has shaped. You stare back towards the stream and let Joel settle next to you, his side against yours.

“My sister went to a music summer camp when we were kids. She was so excited about it. I remember her packing her bags weeks beforehand and our dad had to remind her that she’d still want to use the clothes before she left. She and her friends were into this one band so much that they wanted to learn to play instruments to start their own band too.”

“Only my sister ended up learning how to play in the end, the others didn’t have the patience for it. In the QZ she entertained me and our brother with music, either singing or playing this busted up guitar that was always out of tune. It made all the songs she played sound a bit creepy.”

You laugh at the memory. You remember a specific song that you used to love but hated when your sister played it with the junky six string. Your brother on the other hand thought it sounded extremely funny, especially when your sister sang it in the right tune.

Joel smirks at your recollection and you feel at ease talking about it here. You don’t think you’d feel the same way if you told him the story in town. There’d be no wind to carry it away from you, or space for you to feel like you’re not being suffocated by how much you wish they were still alive.

“I wasn’t able to say goodbye to them. I had to leave them there and I never got to say goodbye,” you choke out. Joel’s hand presses immediately against your back and rubs along it, up and down, repeatedly. You sway with the motions and catch your breath.

“There was a time…” he has to clear his throat before he continues, “when I thought I had lost Tommy. And then Ellie. But the times when I was able to say goodbye, it didn’t necessarily make it easier. They’re still here every day, in other ways.” You lean against his hand and his face is soft when you glance at him. “What I mean to say is that saying goodbye doesn’t have to be the end. It’s the part of being alone, when you can’t share anything with them anymore, that gets to you. The fear of not having anything worthwhile. That is the worst, not the part when you lose them.”

“Wise words,” you mutter and smile at him. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He’s right. You know exactly what he means and why he’s telling that to you. He has come to realize them himself.

The words are comforting, but they’re also so far from what you’re thinking. You don’t want to lose more people, or at least without them knowing how much you care about them. Your siblings knew you loved them, but you didn’t tell it to them enough. Now that they’re gone and you have the beginnings of a new family around you, you don’t want to keep guessing if they know how you feel about them.

“I think you should have this.” He reaches into the back of his jeans and hands you a gun. Your sister’s gun. “It belongs to you.” You hold it in your palms like it’s an ancient artifact, ready to turn to dust if you hold it any other way.

“Thank you,” your voice breaks. You put the gun in front of you, next to the shorter cairn. You don’t know if you ever want to use the gun. It doesn’t feel like yours anyway. It almost feels like you should bury it here. Then again that would be foolish. Who knows if there’ll be a time when you’re going to need your own gun.

You lean back a little so you can see Joel’s face better. He’s looking at the stream. There’s delicateness in his expression. Happiness. He notices you staring, the dark brown of his eyes catching the sunlight, turning deep amber.

“What?” He chuckles and it’s almost on the tip of your tongue. The real thing you’d like to tell him. The thing that comes slowly, gently into your mind. Something that has been brewing for a long time. Has allowed you to wait but never disappeared. There’s also the other thing and he knows instantly what you want to talk about when he senses the subtle change in your mood.

“You want to know about Ellie.” His voice drops low. He inhales, getting ready to tell you whatever you want to know.

“She’s…” You don’t know what word would be the best to use here.

“Immune,” he fills for you. It’s impossible. There is no possibility for anyone to survive if they’re exposed to the cordyceps. He can read your speechlessness in so many ways. Amazement, horror, disappointment, hopefulness, all battling in your head for the number one spot. It’s the fifth option, confusion, that takes the throne.

“Tess and I were tasked to bring Ellie to the Fireflies who were working on a cure. It was supposed to be a simple drop off that turned complicated.” You listen to him with more questions popping up. Is he sure she’s immune? How was she infected? Did he know her already? Why was he the one bringing her to the fireflies?

“What happened then, did you find them?” You ask instead. The other questions can be answered later.

“Yeah.” He looks away. That’s the part that weighs him down. You’re waiting to hear more and he’s not sure if he should tell you. His better judgement says he should leave it at that, but the side that wants to be completely honest with you is taking the better of him.

“They ran tests on her, and they believed she was infected at birth. The infection thinks she’s cordyceps, that’s why she’s immune. She was bit but she can’t get sick. They wanted to make a vaccine—”

“But cordyceps grow inside the brain.” He turns to you, the pain visible on him. It radiates off him with a crushing force. “She would’ve died, wouldn’t she?” He swallows visibly.

“I saved her.” He doesn’t need to say more. The words hold a lot of violence in them.

Saving her means there was no possibility to even try to make a vaccine. Saving her means that Joel had to take her out of there with any means necessary. Saving her means that he broke what Ellie thought was her purpose.

You know he lied to her about what had happened, he told you that. What it also means is that Joel took away her choice. But so did the Fireflies, it seems.

It’s clear he’s not in any way ashamed of his actions. Whatever he did to save her, that is not the problem for him. It’s the fact that Ellie has a hard time forgiving him for lying and taking her out of there. He shakes his head slowly, pleading you for something.

“I couldn’t leave her there, not when she became more than just something that we had to smuggle out of Boston. I wasn’t going to lose her when I had the means to do something about it.” It hits you hard. The selfishness of his actions instead of thinking about the greater good.

You could turn on him, tell him that what he did was wrong. But would you have done differently if you were in the same situation? Would you have stood by and let someone rip your family apart?

Your eyes water when you realize something. In a way you did let it happen. You watched your siblings get murdered. If someone gave you the choice, you’d go back in time and save them too. But you can’t, you can only love with them in your memories.

You press your palm against the side of his face and force him to look at you, “I’m not here to judge you. I want you to know that I understand why you did it. No doubt about it. I would’ve done the same.” He crumbles under your support. He presses his forehead against yours and hugs you into him with devastating gentleness.

“Does anyone else know?” You ask him and pull away enough to comb your fingers through his hair.

“Tommy and Maria. I’ve told Ellie that it might be good for her to talk with someone about her survivors guilt, but she’s not sure if she wants that. It would mean she’d need to come clean and we agreed that no one else can know.”

“You mean Diana?” He nods. “If Ellie wants, I could go with her to get her started, if she needs some support. But I’m sure Diana would be happy to help her.” Joel closes his eyes and sighs deep in relief.

“Thank you,” he whispers. It’s such a deep expression of gratitude that it expands over everything. For listening, for understanding, for offering help, for not turning him down, for being forgiving. All wrapped in a neat package that is so incredibly overwhelming.

“I really like you,” he whispers and breathes you in. You bow your head down to lean it against his neck but also to hide your face. The feelings you have for him are much more serious than just liking.

The moment to tell him is fleeting though and the longer you stay quiet, the more it feels like the right time has passed. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck and you press your lips against his pulse point.

“I really like you too.”

“Well hello there partner!” Gwen greets Joel when she sees him sitting in the kitchen with you.

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles, but goes back to eating the leftovers you had in your fridge from yesterday. Clara follows behind her looking sleepy, a lazy smile on her face.

“Were you napping again?” You ask them, looking at the couple. They just nod and get a glass of water to share.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Gwen is already perking up, tying her hair up and the ends of her hair swing in the air when she wraps them on top of her head.

“We didn’t really have a plan,” you glance at Joel who shakes his head and looks as lost as you.

“We’re headed to the Bison, want to come with?”

Tension builds between you and Joel. You keep your eyes on him, waiting to hear an answer, to see a flash of something in his eyes, to notice if his shoulders relax or tense up. He’s waiting for those same reactions from you. He’s feeling it out and what might be going through your head.

You shrug your shoulders and lift your brows, “I think it could be fun.” He nods with a smirk that tells you that he has been thinking about this too. When you’re changing in your room, looking for a shirt perfect for an evening at a bar, he’s leaning against the dresser.

“You sure you want to go?”

“Why, you don’t want to?” That’s not what he meant. He cocks his head and looks at you under his brow.

“Just wondered if you’re ready to go public.” You find a sweater in the drawer and pull it over your t-shirt. He reaches for you as soon as your head emerges through the neckline. His fingers brush off the hair that falls on your forehead.

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t. Are you?”

“I am, just wanted to make sure,” he smiles easily. That feeling that you’ve been mulling over in your head comes back. The comfort you feel around him is all consuming. But it’s just a feeling, not something you can easily put into words.

It’s like when after a long day you get to lay in your bed, and you feel your whole body relaxing.

It feels like fresh sheets and your pillow being cool against your cheek.

It feels like when you’re doing a mundane thing you’ve been wanting to do for a while, but it takes a bit of time, and you finally can immerse yourself in it.

It feels like a shower that washes away the day and leaves you completely clean and refreshed.

It feels like a good dinner that you can eat in peace and enjoy at your own pace.

Small things that you don’t even think about that often but then end up reminiscing about.

The four of you walk to the bar together, a gentle drizzle misting the air. Joel and Clara are trailing behind you while you and Gwen plan what you’d need to do in your garden before the first cold nights roll in.

She’s interested in planting some potatoes and onions next year, so you need to do some research on how to prepare the small plot she has already designated for the plants. You hear Clara and Joel laughing and look back, catching Joel’s glinting gaze.

The Tipsy Bison is full. It’s only luck that Clara notices a free booth. There are still glasses on the table, and someone comes to take them away and wipe down the surface when you sit down and claim the worn seats for your small group.

“What would you like?” Joel leans down with his good ear towards you.

“Whatever you’re having.” He raises his brows at that but doesn’t question your choice. Someone brings you a new batch of complimentary potato chips, fresh and still warm, and you thank them.

You watch your company ordering your drinks. Gwen is also choosing something to snack on, checking over the short list of what they’re offering tonight.

An older man appears in front of you, smiling kindly and you return it. He asks you something, but you have a hard time hearing him over the people chattering all around you.

“Are you alone?” He repeats. The words take a while to register, but he takes your silence as an answer. “It would be nicer if you gave the booth up for a group, it’s a little inconsiderate to hog it all to yourself.” His tone changes immediately and the friendly smile comes off as passive aggressive more than kind.

You’re just about to answer him, even though you’d like to be spikier than just “my friends are getting drinks”, when Joel appears behind him, two tumbler glasses in his hands.

“Excuse me,” he slips next to you and places the amber drinks on the table. You can smell it immediately, the creamy aroma of whiskey.

“There a problem?” Joel focuses on the man, his arm falling to rest behind you on the back of the seat. Gwen and Clara join you, tall glasses of cider and a bowl of fries in their hands. They look at the man, all of your eyes on him as he stands there awkwardly.

“No, nothing, sorry, enjoy your evening,” he mumbles and you barely catch it.

“What was that about?” Gwen sips from her drink and licks it off her lips.

“He thought I was taking up space from a group.” You take the tumbler in your hand and tilt it against your mouth, tasting the drink that you’re going to be nursing for the rest of the evening.

“That’s so like you, isn’t it?” Clara’s sarcasm makes you chuckle.

“Yeah, I should’ve just thrown my feet on the table and told you to leave me alone.” You see Joel rolling the bottom of his glass against the table. He’s relaxed, sitting with his thighs open, his knee knocking against yours under the table. You see the man with his group of friends, all older men, all staring at you. And Joel. You recognize a familiar face in the group. Carl, the town gossip.

“I think the rumor mill is officially churning,” you say mostly to your glass as you sip on the bitter, smoky drink. Joel leans forward, his arm falling to your lower back. He is also watching the group, his glass against his lips.

“Who says it hasn’t been churning for a while already?” He cocks his brow, and you notice his eyes drifting across the whole bar. It’s not just the group of men who have their attention on you. There are people glancing your way, patrollers mostly, who you’ve seen at the stables and who Joel has been doing the same shifts with. Some you’ve even had lunch with.

“What’s happening?” Clara asks, Gwen leaned against her side. They’re joined at the hip, watching you both like they share the same body.

“I think people are noticing that we’re out on a double date,” you smile awkwardly when you see a couple of women staring at Joel, then whispering animatedly with each other.

“At least some of our friends can now stop asking about it,” Clara laughs, but her remark gets you only more interested.

“Asking what?”

“It has become a bit of a game for some patrollers to ask Joel if he’s seeing anyone, that’s all.” Joel groans next to you. He has already downed half of his drink and the swig he takes lessens the amount even more. A couple of his fingers hook into the back of your jeans and rest against your skin under your sweater. You smile at him a little wider, interested to find out more.

“What do you usually tell them?”

“Oh, he’s so creative every time,” both Gwen and Clara laugh in unison, their voices blending together as if they’ve been laughing a practiced, tuned melody, like a song, for years.

“I’m not looking for anything right now,” Gwen starts, teasing Joel with her tone of voice.

“It has nothing to do with what we’re doing today,” Clara continues, bringing her hand up to point her finger at him, “It’s personal!” She laughs a little harder.

“My personal favorite is when he says, ‘let me come back to you on that one’,” Gwen finishes. Your cheeks ache from smiling.

“Are you done?” He asks them, pulling at the loop on your jeans lightly. You turn to him immediately. Your palm falls on the side of his thigh and stays on it, having an effect on him that you didn’t necessarily expect. He freezes, a light tint of pink on his cheeks, and he inhales until his chest puffs and he’s watching you like you could break him, then and there.

“I think you have to come up with another answer now.” You earn a low chuckle from him which he washes down with the rest of his whiskey. He raises his brows in question when you tap your hand on his thigh. “I’m getting another, want anything?” You all just shake your heads.

“I’m going to be drinking this until tomorrow,” you raise your glass at him and take a sip. He’s still laughing when he pushes his way through the mass of people around you.

You’re the talk of the evening and people keep noticing you and Joel sitting tightly together. Every once in a while, when your focus drifts from your company to the people around you, you catch someone looking your way.

Some smile, some try to hide that they even noticed by looking anywhere else but you. Some are more brazen and openly stare and then talk with their friends. Why this is such a big deal is a question you can’t figure out an answer to.

You and Joel being a couple shouldn’t make people talk, but they do. You don’t understand it at first, until you’re listening to Joel tell you about his plan to fix the roof of the dining hall with Tommy and some other people before winter.

He has become a prominent part of this town. His brother is married to one of the elected officials here. Joel is the one who doesn’t like to share too much about himself. He’s a mystery to some and they want to know more about him when he doesn’t give them anything. You on the other hand have cracked the code and have gotten close with him. You arrived here together and now you are together. It’s almost romantic.

You stroll through the dark town with Joel’s arm around your shoulders. The drizzle has evolved into a few bigger rain drops falling around you. The air is cool, the petrichor fresh and earthy. Your steps match when you walk up to the porch. He only leans on you heavier as you open the door.

You flick the lights on and take your shoes off in silence. He’s already waiting to see your face again when you straighten back up. One good thing about coming to yours instead of going to Joel’s? When Gwen says she’s going to Clara’s for the night, the whole house is completely empty, and no one can surprise you.

Not like that one time when Ellie barged in through the kitchen door looking for snacks and you were perched up on the kitchen island, Joel standing between your legs. He was pulling you to cling to him and you were both so lost in the kiss that Ellie had to clear her throat to make herself known to you both.

Now you won’t get a 16-year-old telling you to clean the tables after yourselves. Not that you wouldn’t anyway but still, nice to not be lectured by a teenager.

“Want to get up?” You’re already leading him up by the hand, he just follows with more eagerness. In your room, you turn the bedside lamp on, bathing the deep blue walls with a golden hue that makes him look like a dream.

Maybe it’s also the whiskey that is warming you up from inside out, but his hand in yours, pulling you towards him as he sits on your creaky bed, feels like embers, radiating through your skin and into your bones. He smiles up at you with such delicateness that it makes something spill inside your brain and the pit of your stomach, swooping in a way that makes you shiver.

Joel’s smile fades a fraction, and he inhales deliberately, moving his hands to your hips. You tangle your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, combing through them in comforting circles. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“What do you mean?”  

“When I didn’t tell people that I was seeing someone.” He holds you a little tighter, swaying you lightly until your knees lean against the mattress, his thighs pinning you in place.

“I’m not hurt. Besides, we wanted to keep it between us.” You lean down, your fingers pulling at his roots to make him look up, “Now it’s different.” Joel smirks and you feel his hands moving. You think he’s going to loop his fingers into your jeans belt loops again, but you thought wrong.

He hooks his fingers to the waistband, his knuckles digging into your skin. You let out an unexpected shriek when he pulls, pulls so ardently that you end up falling against him, pushing him on his back.

His laugh is deep in his chest. You want to hear it again, you want to hear him laugh more often like this, unhurried and quiet. It’s a laugh he does only with you when it’s just the two of you.

You scramble onto your knees, straddling him easily with your palms against his chest. Your seat only makes you want to feed the flames that lick along your spine, up and down with heat that forces you to take a shuddering breath.

Joel’s palms land on your thighs. It’s not just you. He lifts his hips just the slightest, trying to make himself more comfortable, but it only makes you feel the hardening length press against his jeans. You smile and experiment by grinding down gently, the outline of his cock pushing against the seat of your ass.

He sighs. His eyes look black in the half-light. You watch him, feel him through your clothes. He has no idea what he does to you.

“What would you like to tell them then?” You ask and make another experimental grind down, earning a groan that buzzes through your veins.  

“That I’m—” another grind, “very much—” another breath, “seeing someone.” You adjust your weight on top of him, but he moves his hands onto your hips and holds you still, “You got to stop that, otherwise I’m going to have a big problem.” You chuckle and lean down. You kiss him lightly, watch him close his eyes and lean into the touch of your lips.

“Maybe I don’t mind,” and you push down, once again feeling his cock straining against his jeans. Joel grinds his teeth together and breathes harshly through his nose. Your need to feel him is almost agonizing. Your brain can’t keep up with your lust, the almost irrational want that pulses between your thighs.

“I want you,” you kiss his lips, then the clear patch of skin in his beard on his jaw, mouthing at the coarse whiskers up to his temple that doesn’t carry the weight of his past, and bring your lips to his good ear. “I want to,” you confess.

His fingers dig immediately into the flesh of your hips. Your heart hammers inside your ribcage like a bird fighting inside iron bars. His hands round to your ass and move you in a way that he has all the ability to force you down against him, punching a whine out of you.

“Kiss me,” Joel says into your ear, and you fulfil his wish in an instant, your lips pressing together in hunger. He doesn’t waste time being coy. Instead, he licks his tongue along the seam of your lips, asking permission to invade your mouth.

You’re lost in the way he asks, then demands to gain access to you, and you give without questions, happy that he takes the lead when your mind is turning hazy with your desperate need to get touched.

He pulls you down again, meets you in the middle and presses against you more forcefully. You moan into his mouth, unable to hide it, not that you’d want to anyway. It’s like music to him after all.

You feel Joel’s hands moving slowly, the other to your lower back, the other rounding between you to, until he can press his hand between your thighs through your jeans. You separate from his lips, just to catch your breath, but then to stare into his hungry gaze, drowning you in him.

“This okay?” He whispers and you nod, breathing through your mouth. His hand moves again, this time up until his fingers rest on the button. “And this?” He pops it open, and you nod again, whisper a litany of different versions of yes.

The zipper slides down smoothly, his hand following until he can slip his fingers inside and press against the soft cotton underneath. He groans when he feels what you’re trying to satisfy. You didn’t grind down against him just because you wanted to feel his hard-on or because you got encouraged by causing it.

You’re chasing a release, and you want Joel to help you. You’re only getting more aroused the more his fingertips tease you. And the more he does it, the more you feel like your head is going to explode from the pleasure that travels between your legs up to your temples and clenches in your chest. You can’t help but whine against him, moving your hips to get him to ease the fluttering deep inside you.

He pulls his hand slowly back. He can’t stop now, not when he has you pliable on top of him. You wrap your hand around his wrist and squeeze lightly.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe out and the man has the audacity to chuckle. You loosen your grip, only for him to turn his hand around and hold yours for a moment.

“I was going to ask you if I could take care of you?” His eyes glint with that lustful glint. His fingers brush against your skin on top of the waistband of your underwear.

“Yes please.” He catches your upper lip between his lips, smiling into the gentle gesture. 

“So polite.” You lift up and Joel helps you wriggle out of your jeans, pulling them over your ass, down against your thighs and releases you from them one leg at a time. You’re a giggling mess when you fall on your side so he can help free your foot, and then the other, but those giggles are quickly replaced by a gasp when Joel grabs at your ass and brings you firmly back on top of him.

His fingers run around the edges of your underwear, until his hand finds its previous position at the waistband over your belly and dips under the fabric. He guides his fingers through the curls, and you gasp as he finally touches you. He lures out whimpering moans from your throat and catches them with his mouth.

You can feel his fingers coating in your arousal, circling and exploring, dipping in just the slightest to get you to want more. You lean your forehead against his neck and try to keep breathing.  

Joel’s lips brush against your ear. “This good?” Your head swims as he pushes one finger in and your deep muscles flutter at the intrusion. You roll your hips against his hand. His palm presses against that sweet spot.

Your shaky breath pleads for him to give you more. He’s enjoying this as much as you do, sighing gentle moans into your ear and against your clothed collarbone. He takes his time pulling his finger out, then pushing back it, teasing you until he pulls out again and coats another finger in your slick.

When he works them both inside, it is so much more. It’s not news that Joel’s hands are big and his fingers are thick. It’s completely different to hold his hand and tangle your fingers with his than when he’s working them into you.

They breach you deeper and Joel, gently twisting, bending them in a come hither, makes you spill more slick onto his hand. You slot your lips with his and keep your hands tangled in his hair. Your knees press into the soft mattress as you grind your hips down. Sweat starts to bead on the small of your back as you chase the wave of pleasure.

Joel presses his hand against your ass to push your hips down, his fingers sinking in deeper. Every time you fall down, your tongues rolling together in a sloppy kiss, you can feel his hard length against the inside of your thigh, right next to his hand.

You’re consumed by the intense pleasure that throbs through your center, into your belly, up your spine to the base of your skull. You’re electrified and it’s only his hand, rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you. He craves for your to drip onto his fingers in a growing urgency as you’re racing towards your release.

You can hear the lewd squelch of his fingers in you. You can her your own moans pulled out of your lungs. You can feel his hand digging into your ass, driving you down onto his hand. His fingers stretch you to the knuckle. Those are all you get to experience, but his voice is what passes through the haze of immense lust.

“I can feel you, I can feel you’re about to cum. You’re doing so good, just a bit more. I’m here, cum on my fingers.” It goes on and on as Joel encourages you, whispers with low groans that are only telling you how much he wants to feel you cum only by his hand. He scissors his fingers against the most intense place inside you while his palm rubs against the tenderness on the outside.

“Joel, I’m gonna—” but you don’t get a chance to finish the sentence when the sparkling ecstasy shoots through you and collapses you on top of him. Your release forces out a wailing moan that you bite into his shoulder. You squeeze your eyes shut as you shudder against his chest. Joel keeps stroking your back, his fingers slowly losing their pace, until he’s gently pulling them out.

“I got you,” he murmurs into your ear. As the orgasm finally eases up, lifting the fog of pure starvation off your brain, you hear yourself giggle.

“Fuck that was good,” you exhale and lift your head to look at Joel. He’s disheveled. He didn’t only make you cum, he also got pleasure out of it. He brings his wet hand against your ass and grabs at it gently before he wipes his fingers and palm on the fabric of your underwear. You’re lulled by his breathing, his gentle hands, the slowing rush of blood. Dopamine and oxytocin make you feel like you’re high on him.

A heatwave sweeps over Jackson suddenly after a couple of days of rain. It starts humid, draining all the moisture from the ground until it becomes dry and still, hanging over the town without any mercy. The sky is cloudless and the sun shines day after day. You have to keep your curtains closed during the day and all the windows open during the night to get some air circling through the house.

You were supposed to go help Diana with organizing their cold cellar to clear room for new jars of apple conserve they’re going to have in a month or two. She ended up asking you to come another day for Brenda had started to go through their attic and make space for a home office there. How Diana didn’t have it already is a mystery to you, since having a few clients meant she had to see them somewhere where they could have peace and quiet.

Instead, you take an extra shift at the stables. You help Dan carry new hay piles into storage and fill the sawdust containers with a new load you get from the woodworking shop. Your skin is covered with a sticky film of sweat and dust, pleading for you to have a shower. You could leave already. Your stomach is telling you that it would be a great time for some snacks as well.

Dan leans his arms against one of the stall gates and tries to wipe some of the sawdust off his arms but only manages to spread it around with his dirty hands. “Would you be a dear and stay for a while longer? A couple of people are still out but they should be coming back soon.”

“Yeah, okay.” That’s how you end up welcoming Jade and Joel back in and take their horses while they go return their guns and sign themselves in. They’re both looking a little grave, their foreheads pinched and mouths in tight lines.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him when he gets back. You slip your hand into his and watch his shoulders relax with a sigh.

“Someone had been in one of the lookouts, left us a pile of infected.” He’s worried about it, no doubt about it.

“And nothing else, no explanation who it was or anything?” He helps you brush down the horses.

“They had taken all the food that was stored there, but nothing else.”

“Maybe it was just a traveler or two, people passing through who didn’t want to come into town?”

“I truly hope so.” His tone is like a slap in the face.

There are bad people out there and sometimes they might get too close to Jackson as well. If they empty the food storage in a lookout, it’s the smallest, most inoffensive thing they could do.

If it means there are people watching the town, planning something, making note of the patrols and their watch spots, that could possibly mean trouble.

The thought gets under your skin, the nagging creepiness of it. You’re getting too secure here. You’ve noticed the feeling before too, that false sense of safety.

Jackson seems impenetrable, but if there’s a strong enough group trying to attack or do harm to one of the infrastructures, they could cut the town off its resources. It could in the end determine your survival.

“Hey,” Joel notices you working slower, the brush in your hand going over the same spots again and again. “There’s nothing to worry about. We didn’t see anyone, there was no signs of any ill will, it probably was just some people passing through.” His hands sweep down your arms and make you focus on him.

“They had done our work for us. I’m not complaining about that.” You smile and try to let it go. It’s just the reality you live in.

“When we’re done here, would you like to get something to eat at the hall?” You ask and get back to your task. He’s quicker than you, helping by taking the equipment you used to their right places, cleaning as he goes.

“I really need a shower.” He fans his dark green t-shirt against his chest. It’s obvious he too would like to get cleaned, especially when you observe the darker patches on his shirt, sweat wetting the fabric on his back, neckline and under his arms. His face is shiny, and his temples are beading. When you’ve released the horses onto the green grassy field that is now turning yellow in the toasty sun, there’s nothing else for you to do.

To you he looks irresistible this way. He walks over to you, going over his backpack. You smell the heat of the sun, earthy forest, and salty sweat on him. They surround you with the reminder of what happened in your bedroom a couple of days ago.

Joel doesn’t seem to understand the attraction, “Oh c’mon, my shirt is sticking to my skin. I need the shower, I promise you.” He takes his backpack and shoulders it effortlessly. “There’s not much to see here anyway,” he chuckles. His hand sweeps from his head to his soft belly, trying to point out that he wouldn’t be incredibly sexy to you.

You shake your head. You pick up your water bottle and take his hand to lead him out of the warm stables. “I think there’s a lot to see.” He inhales and turns his eyes away from you. He immediately gets flustered by your words and doesn’t know how to take them. You don’t think you’ve ever made anyone react that way and it makes you beam at him and tug him to your side.

“Do you know if Ellie’s home?”

“No clue.”

“If she’s not, I’ll stay over. You hungry?” He rubs his hand over his stomach, and you can hear the grumble of his insides begging for some sustenance.

“What if she’s there?”

“Then we’ll see what we can come up with.” He narrows his eyes at you, sensing there’s a plan brewing behind your words.

You don’t want him in on it yet though. It all depends if he has the house to himself. Your hand on his arm gets wet with sweat almost instantly when you walk towards his place. You release your hand off his arm and try to think about cool things to stave off the heat. There’s no luck though. When you reach the house, your back is hot, and your temples are pushing out moisture.

“Ellie?” He asks as soon as he opens the door. No answer. He takes his shoes off and walks around the downstairs, checking every room. You hear the backdoor open and his questioning voice echoing from the garden.

When Joel reappears, he has a piece of paper in his hand. “She’s with friends, staying the night at Dina’s.” He shakes the note between his fingers. You start to take your shoes off. Perfect. You grin at him, alerting him to know you’re definitely planning something.

“What are you scheming sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” You close the distance between you two, wrapping your arms around his neck. He gives you a short kiss. You can taste sweetness on his tongue, honey? “I like the ring of it,” you admit, wanting to taste him again.

“What have you eaten?” He sniggers and pulls back. His fingertips keep you firmly in place against him.

“Jade had some jam with her for the patrol, had it with bread.”

“Okay, stop, don’t mention anything else.” The emptiness of your stomach can’t handle even the thought of the treats he had while on patrol.

“So, does this mean you’re staying over?”

“If you want?” Both of your questions are pointless. You want to spend time together and he’s not going to say no to you.

“Yes, I do.” Another short kiss, but it makes your thoughts swirl and swell in your head. It has to be partly because of the heatwave that is making your brain feel a little uncontrolled, but the bigger reason is Joel and the thoughts you’ve been indulging since his visit to yours.

He played you like a guitar, making you cum once more in the dark of the night, pressed against the mattress, his skillful hand pulling pleasure out of you like he knew exactly what buttons to push. Having that experience with him and the memory of the night popping into your thoughts at random make you want to squeeze your thighs together in search of even a little relief.

You haven’t had the chance to return the pleasure. He didn’t complain, he was too eager to give you what you wanted without getting any himself. You just haven’t had the chance to spend time together without someone somehow always getting in the way.

Even though it has been just a couple of days, it feels like too long of a time to leave him waiting. What you know instead is that you want to see him fall apart just like he made you fall apart.

“I just have to shower.” He’s already detaching from you, pulling his hands back and even in the heat of the house, cold spreads to the places where his hands are retreating from. He takes a step back, and another, turning away from you and up towards the stairs.

The whole idea that you’re thinking about, you feel it slipping away the longer you watch him walk up the stairs. This is the only time you can suggest it. He pauses when he hears you hum, his brow raised in question when he turns back to you.

“I could join you.” You didn’t mean it to come out like a statement, an absolute that will happen no matter what.

Joel stares at you, and you see a hundred expressions on his face, crossing his features until giving room to the next one. Confusion if he heard right. Disbelief of hearing you suggest it. Questioning if you really meant it. Realization when he sees that you definitely meant it. Joy from having you here with him. His eyes darken with lust because he’s going to have you in his shower.

He returns to you. His chest presses flush against yours. You feel the warmth radiating off him, only egging on the bubbling want in your belly.

“You want to have a shower with me?” He can’t help himself when he asks the question. It’s endearing, how careful he is, making sure that you’re certain of what you’re requesting. He wants to be on the same page with you, with where your boundaries lay, and what you want to do with him. Be it just a simple touch or then this. You’ve been easing towards this for months now and you couldn’t be surer.

You look at him straight in the eyes, there’s no questions in your head about what you want. “Yes, Joel. I want to have a shower with you because I want to see you and I want to get you off if you let me.” A sigh escapes through his parted lips. You could drown in him right here at the base of the stairs when you’re still fully clothed. He takes up so much space with his broad shoulders, his deep brown eyes, engulfing you in his presence and scent.

He brings his hands to your arms and runs them up until they’re both on your shoulders. He massages them gently, his digits digging into the tight muscles. He notices this, the stiffness on the other side. He gives it even more attention as his other brushes against your neck, drifts up to your jaw and keeps you under his spell.

“You’re killing me,” his voice is rough and it catches in his throat. Your smirk makes him shake his head slowly from side to side until he presses his forehead against yours. It’s easy to kiss him, tilt your head to give him access to reach your lips. It’s languid and deep, your hands pressing into the softness at his sides and grasping at the muscles in his lower back. You could stay here, but you want more, and he knows it. He wants it too.

Joel walks you up the stairs and leads you into the small bathroom in his bedroom. The window is open. Luckily the sun has passed this side of the house and air that is streaming in is a little cooler.

“You want to undress yourself, or do you want me to do it?” The question makes you giggle. It’s somehow incredibly serious, gentlemanly question, but he says it in the most unsure way.

“You can do it.” He takes a deep breath before his hands are on you. He’s careful peeling you out of your clothes, his hands pausing every time more skin is revealed. You notice how he keeps his breathing deliberate while taking in your body.

“This doesn’t have to lead to anything, you know.” Last, he pulls off your top, leaving you only in your underwear. Even though it’s too warm for comfort in the house, a shiver still runs down your spine as you’re standing in front of him, the smallest pieces of your clothing covering you.  

“I know.” You set his hands down by his sides, and smile at him. Nervous tingles are pinching you from inside out, but they’re not bad nerves. The kinds that make you want to hide or make you act in a way that would make you otherwise cringe. These nerves are exciting and the best thing? You’re not alone. “Your turn.”

You start by taking his t-shirt off. You get Joel to lift his arms up and pull it over his head. Your hands linger on his skin, down from his messy hair to his neck, to his shoulders and chest. Your touch is so light that it makes him shudder against your palms as he follows your movements with extreme interest.

There are old scars on his skin, healed and lighter against his complexion. And then there’s a wound on his stomach that looks fresher, the lines darker and jagged. Your fingers touch it, go over the healed edges and sown together skin.

You open his jeans, and he helps you pull them down. Joel is already hard. You could see it through his jeans as well. But with him only wearing his briefs, it’s even more noticeable. What you’re doing is new. You’ve never thought about undressing someone, you were always the one getting undressed. There were no questions asked about what you might like. Now you’re in control and it’s a new position for you to take.

It makes you shy. You drop your head against his shoulder and he wraps his arms around you immediately, his hot skin branding you with kindness. You don’t know how to deal with the emotions going through your head.

They’re messy and you’re having a hard time grasping them, to understand that you have a say in what is happening here. You chuckle, not because it’s funny, but because you don’t know how else to release that energy inside of you.

“I’m a bit on edge,” you admit to him, and the words come out of your mouth stiffly.

“Tell me about it,” Joel encourages. You end up swaying slowly in place, like you’re dancing to a tune neither of you can hear.

“I don’t know what I’m doing even though I know what I’m doing. I’m here with you and I trust you and I’m not just as a piece but a person. And…” You sigh and rub at your eyes before you lift your head to face him, “Your dick isn’t the first one I’m seeing but I feel like it very well could be.” That makes him laugh, the sound vibrating out of his throat in comforting little bursts.

“Maybe…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and index fingers, lifting it so he can touch his lips against yours lightly, “it was never like this before.” It’s such a simple thing for him to say, but it’s so much more impactful because he’s right.

This is different because you’ve never felt like this about anyone. You stand here, glued to him, his arms around you, comforting you, encouraging you to take that leap and let yourself enjoy yourself without your past dragging you down. That’s exactly what you want to do.

You glide your palms down Joel’s back and hook your fingers into the waistband of his briefs. He shivers when you pull them down. You drag your fingers against his firm cheeks. Goosebumps follow your touch. He steps out of them, and his eyes are sinful.

You’re drowning in his dark golden irises as he finally pulls your underwear off as well, takes your hand and leads you into the shower. It sprays cool water over your overheated body.

You map out his freckles and moles, bones and muscles, scars and dimples. Your mouth waters as you let yourself admire his hard cock that sways with every movement he makes. It’s thick, and long and it hasn’t gotten the attention it needs.

He watches you, tries to solve what you want to do next. Your wicked grin gives you away. You touch your fingers against his stomach and drag them down, through the coarse hair that leads to the base of his dick. His mouth parts and he sighs out a moan when you run the outside of your fingers against his length.

“Turn around,” Joel orders and you do as he says. He washes you with the same soap you have in your shower. His hands caress you all over.

He stands close. His erection brushes against your skin from time to time, but he’s not looking for relief, not yet. He half kneels behind you, and you clench your hands into fists as you wait for him to touch you.

“Move your feet,” he tells you and wraps his hand around your other knee. You shuffle from one foot to the other and spread your legs a little wider.

He washes them, from your ankles up to your calves, the backs of your knees, your thighs, digging a little more forcefully into the softness of them, until he splays his hands on the creases under your ass. His fingers curve to the inside and hover close to the fluttering that is asking for attention.  

Joel doesn’t give it to you though. He’s playing with you, just like you played with him. He runs his hands up over your bottom, to your lower back. His thumbs massage the softness right at the base of your spine. He stands up and you feel him kiss the small of your back. His hands round around your stomach and brings them up under your breasts, settling there.

You lean your back against his front. “So beautiful. Can I touch you here?,” he murmurs into your ear. His fingers touch your nipples feather light and leaves them pebbled. You only manage to hum out something that resembles a yes, relaxing against his broad chest while his hands explore your breasts.

His length presses against your ass and you give it a tentative grind. It settles between your cheeks. The moan that slips out of his mouth into your ear is enough to make your head spin and your heart skip a beat.

“My turn,” you tell him and turn in his hold. You take the soap and let the piney suds foam on his skin. You start from the back of his neck and ears. A smirk is plastered on Joel’s lips and he can barely keep his eyes open as he enjoys your hands on him.

You spread your hands over Joel’s chest, under his arms, dig them into his ribs where he involuntarily barks out a laugh. You press your tongue against your teeth to contain the impulse to do it again. Instead, you want to explore his body more.

You caress your hands up and down his back and glue yourself against his front. You tilt your head to the side while copying his smirk. He gasps as you softly run your hands over his ass. His cock twitches against your belly and your thighs tense at the feel of it. You let the water wash the soap away from both of your bodies and turn the shower off to not waste the water more than you already have.

You bring your other hand back to his front and keep it pressed against his skin. “This okay?” You slowly creep closer to his hard-on. He breathes out a yes and leans his palm against the dripping wet wall, his other hand gripping to you tighter to keep you close.

His back muscles flex under your palm. Joel tries to keep his eyes open, to see you, but he can’t when you wrap your hand around his length and give it an exploring stroke from the base to the tip. He groans, breathing hard against your face. Your hand moves lower, palming at the heaviness of his balls, rolling them gently in your grip.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he huffs out, thrusting into your hand as your fingers wrap more tightly around his cock. You roll your wrist around, moving up and down the velvety skin, your thumb stroking the head and catching the weeping precum.

You’re so close that it smears against your belly, dripping down your front with the water droplets sticking to your skin in the humid bathroom. You reach for his neck and attach your lips on it, gently sucking and lapping at his heated skin as you go. His beard prickles against your cheek and leaves it tender.

You work your hand around the head gently, applying more pressure the lower you move, teasing him with your touch. He finally opens his eyes, hazy and dark. Shuddering breaths rock through his chest as you pick up the speed. His cock twitches in your hold and he bucks his hips.

“I won’t be able to hold much longer,” Joel’s voice comes out strangled, rushed, his breathing hard and whimpering. You mouth at his whiskered jaw and turn his head with your hand in his hair to meet your lips in a bruising kiss.

You feel yourself clenching the muscles in your pelvis, feeling the throbbing arousal between your legs getting stronger as you listen to Joel and watch him lose control. He moans into your mouth right before it goes slack. You feel his cock twitch in your hand, his cum spills over your fingers and into your palm, slicking your way as you stroke him through his orgasm, gentle to keep his pleasure going.

It’s a lot, you realize, and when he rests his head back against the wall, you see your hand coated in his release. It drips down to the floor and the urge to taste it gets the better of you.

You bring your hand up to your lips and suck a couple of your fingers into your mouth, tasting the salty warmth spreading on your tongue. He looks completely blissed out, his neck and chest flushed red, his head still leaned against the wall. His eyes open just as you pull your fingers out of your mouth, staring at you through his lashes.

“Fuck, darling,” he whispers and pulls you flush against him, your cum covered hand resting against the center of his chest. You feel his heartbeat through his skin. He kisses you roughly, pushing your tongues together.

You whine into his mouth when his fingers dig into your back and the other splays across your ass, holding you so close that you don’t think there’s not a part in your body that isn’t pressed against him.

“I can’t leave you hanging,” he’s still breathy, his hand already slipping to the heat between your thighs. But you stop him. The emptiness in your stomach reminds you of your hunger again, your head a little lightheaded. Though you’re now also hungry for him.

“You can pay me back later.” You seal your words with a kiss, knowing that you’re only torturing yourself with this. You need to space this out, not only because you need a breather, but to make this one of those nights when you’re not just rushing into things because the want is so strong. You want to feel the anticipation and you have the rest of the evening to build it up. Joel chuckles and turns the water back on, washing away the humidity and cum.

Freshly showered, in Joel’s clothes as you didn’t want to put your own from earlier on anymore, you stand in front of his fridge, staring at the shelves that are once again mostly empty.

“You might need to do some shopping,” you tell Joel when you hear his footsteps in the stairs.

“I know.” His hand comes to rest on your back, almost low enough to be on your ass, but he’s deliberately keeping his touch on the brink of appropriate.

It doesn’t matter though. You’re aching for him no matter what he does. This evening is going to be difficult for you, you know it already. And he’s doing everything to make sure of it.

Joel has combed his hair back, a lazy smirk on his lips. He’s almost pressed against you, and he keeps impossibly close when you grab the eggs from the fridge and he takes out bread for you to toast.

It takes a while for you to finish your plate. Not because you wouldn’t enjoy the food you make together or the fact that it goes cold. It’s just the fact that you forget to eat while you sit next to Joel by the dining room table.

You forget you even have anything to eat in front of you when you’re turned to him, your elbow leaned against the table, your hand resting on his thigh, the warmth of his skin apparent through his sweatpants.

You refuse to look away from him, just as he is determined to keep eye contact by only looking away shortly when he takes a bite or thinks about a specific detail in the stories he tells you about the weirdest contractor gigs he did before the outbreak.

“I had just started at a new, small company, as a builder, and we were hired to do an extension on a house, just a simple room next to the bedroom. Everything was going great. The plans were approved and we turned up at the house one morning and see there’s an outdoor patio where the room was supposed to go.”

He draws you a picture with his finger against the table, different sized squares like he’s showing you the floor plan.

“We asked to talk with the people living there and it was this middle aged, upper middle-class couple, who were confused why we were having a problem. Apparently when they were looking at the new layout on paper, they thought we would be able to work around the patio and make the extension diagonally. They had seen something like that in some magazine and got attached to it so they just accepted everything the architect was showing them, thinking they would just tell us how they wanted us to build everything the morning we got there.”

His hand falls on top of yours, peeling your fingers off him and tangling your fingers together in a slow, aimless battle of whose lap the intertwined hands could lay.

“Are you serious?” Your hands land on your lap and you wrap your palm around the back of his hand as his fingers dig gently into your inner thigh. You have to shift in your seat a little, and give him a little more access in the process.

“Yeah. You can imagine how angry they got when we refused. I hadn’t met with the architect and when he arrived to appease the couple, he was this mousy, just graduated fella who was in way over his head. A yes man.”

“And what did you end up doing?”

“We told them that it would be impossible to do the job if they wanted to keep the patio. I once saw the lady at a grocery store and she looked like she could’ve killed me with her stare. It was a wakeup call to contractors at the company to make sure the site was really what it was said to be.”

“So, they were inexperienced as well?”

“We all were, had to learn some lessons the hard way.” You scoff at the story and shake your head at how weird that all sounds. Hard to even imagine that was the reality at some point when it was such a long time ago.

Joel’s knee bumps against yours in an attempt at slotting it between yours. It’s not hard to do it and when he has you as he wants, he widens his knees, forcing your legs to open too. His clothes on you are big and they hide the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear.

It doesn’t change how Joel gets heat coursing through your center by just having his hand on your inner thigh or maneuvering you so his hand can drift better between your legs. You steal a sip of water from your shared glass and take a deep breath.

“Then there was the time when someone ordered us to transform a basement into a sex dungeon.” You splutter on the drink and have to clear your throat to get it stop itching.

“What? Did you do it?”

“Oh yeah! The woman who wanted it was very shy and gentle, incredibly kind and soft spoken, always offering us lemonade when we got there, first for the planning and then for the building. She worked at a bank and on the outside she was very conservative.” He takes the last bite off his toast and keeps you waiting for him to continue.

“There were different sections in the basement, all the walls soundproofed, foamy floors, and of course a lot of hooks in different places. The ceiling, walls, even the floor. It was dark red and I remember how she wanted us to put in lights that wouldn’t be noticeable if they were off but with them on the space looked like it lost all the mood she wanted with the colors.”

“Sounds like that was a fun job?” His fingertips brush against the crease on your upper thigh. You shift in your seat again. He grins and his eyes drift to look at your lap. When his gaze find yours again, they’re full of filth. He keeps tracing his fingertips up and down, almost managing to distract you from the story you want to hear.

“First, when we got the request, people were a little taken a back. Mind you, this was in Texas in the 90’s. Someone would’ve clutched at their pearls if they knew what someone had in their basement. We were discreet, of course. It was a job just like someone’s kitchen renovation. I thought it turned out great!” He smiles wide.

Listening to him talk about something he probably has hundreds of stories about makes you eager to listen to him for hours on end. He could be listing addresses for all you know, you’d still be as enthralled as you are now.

It’s not even the stories that he chooses to share, it’s the way he tells them. His face is so animated, his brows rising and falling, a smile here and smirk there, disbelief at some points, annoyance drifting across his features before it’s replaced by blasé professionalism. His eyes look off towards the side like he goes back in time to when each situation happened.

“What about the client, was she happy with it?” His hand settles down, his touch glued between your thighs, like a reminder of his influence on you.

“Oh, she was. But there was one thing that happened afterwards that Tommy loved reminding me of for months. To him it was the funniest thing ever.” He sips at the water, already shaking his head.

“What?” He’s baiting you to ask him and you want to hear.

“I got an invitation to a private party on my work email one morning. All anonymous and confidential, snacks and drinks included, and the phone number you had to call to confirm was hers.” You’re just about to take the last bite of your toast when you pause with the piece of bread in the air.

“Hold on, were you invited to a sex party?” Your smile splits your face into a beaming amazement.

“Yeah!” Joel laughs and it mirrors yours. He’s more enthused by your reaction than telling you the story.

“Tell me you went.” You hope he did because that is a story you definitely want to hear. The tame family man, a trusted contractor, a kind soul who was just living his life, attending a sex party at someone’s dungeon he helped build.

“Well, no. I thought about it, but no. I declined the invitation, and she was as graceful as ever about it.”

“That’s a shame, it would’ve probably been fun.”

“I did have fun with her though.” He looks away like he didn’t just tell you something that makes you burst out in giggles.

“Joel! You bedded a client?” You grab at his thigh and shake it, now interested to know more about his younger years before the cordyceps.

The edges of his mouth turn down as he shrugs, but when you force him to answer you, he gives a throaty cackle. “We went out for a few dates, but it didn’t really get anywhere. She was…” He thinks for a moment and his eyes narrow, “a bit too eager. After she found out I had a daughter, she was already planning to meet Sarah and become her stepmom. That made me want to back off.” You listen to him with a smile that starts to drop.

“Huh. I get it, she was probably a bit intense.” He nods and draws his hand finally back, leaving you cold. He takes your empty plate and stacks it on top of his. “Did you go on dates a lot?”

“No, I didn’t really think about it. There were a few women who I saw a few times, but it was never anything serious and I never introduced any of them to Sarah. It was just easier to be single considering everything.”

“Okay.” You get lost in your head.

“What okay?” He takes you by the hand and pulls you to your feet, taking you towards the stairs.

“Just thought how you probably caught a lot of eyes back then, like you do now.” That one stair creaks under your foot as he makes you follow him, your fingers loosely tangled together.

“I catch eyes?” Joel questions, pushing his bedroom door open. There’s a pleasant little draft billowing against the curtains and the room is actually cool.

“Yeah, you do,” you chuckle. Hasn’t he seen it? He’s respected, of course, but there are also people who look at him in a way that is best described as wanting.

They watch Joel move through the town, stare a little longer, lick their lips, their eyes run up and down his body when he’s near. Then there are the people who whisper when he’s around, check him out and whisper even more furiously.

You’ve seen some go to him and place their hand on his arm or laugh at what he says a little too enthusiastically. There’s always a crease between his brows and his smiles turn from joyful to confused.

“I’ve never noticed. Must be that someone has caught my eye.” He pulls you to sit on his bed and pushes you on your back.

“That’s so cheesy.” He catches the words between his lips, kissing you slow, giving you an out if this wouldn’t be what you want.

“How did we end up here?” You pull him closer. Your hand drifts under the hem of his t-shirt.

“I need a nap,” he exhales into your mouth when your hand slips into the waistband of his pants, feeling his skin and digging into it.

“And this is napping?” You close your eyes, losing the battle against the fluttering in your belly that makes your heart beat faster and your skin tingle.

“Napping isn’t always sleeping.” That makes you laugh.

“How do you want to nap then?” You challenge him, and he takes the bait.

His hand smooths over your stomach and up, covering one of your breasts and thumbing at the pebbled peak underneath the soft cotton of his t-shirt you’re wearing. You suck in a sharp breath and reach for his lips again, licking your tongue along his.

He feels you down your side, moving the fabric away from your skin. Joel pulls his lips from yours, pathing a way down to your jaw, the side of your neck, breathing hot against the shirt and finally, his hand working in unison with his mouth, revealing the sensitive skin of your breast, nipping at the softness, tracing circles around the nipple.

You hear yourself whimpering as his mouth moves to explore the other peak. Your insides feel like someone is pouring warm wax through your most sensitive areas and you can only wait to find out when you might experience some relief.

He pulls away enough to leave your hands free, but not for long when he positions himself between your legs and pulls your shirt off. That damn lustful look in his brown eyes is enough on its own to make you sigh out.

Your skin is hot but you still want him close. You want his skin against yours. You reach for his shirt, pull it off and throw it onto the floor. Joel’s mouth is back on yours. His body cages you against the mattress of his bed, his front pressing against yours and you feel his cock through his sweats again.

It tents the thicker fabric and brushes against the clothed heat between your thighs. He groans at that, his arms around your head, kissing you deep, so deep that he might make your chest burst with the fluttering throbs of your need for him.

“What would you say…” he whispers against your neck, kissing between every word.

“Hm?” It comes out more like a moan. His lips move lower. His fingers roll one of your nipples between them.

“If I would undress you and make you cum?” Joel lifts his head and you feel his beard scratching against your sternum. You meet his gaze, just as heady as yours, his cheeks blushed. His breath fans against your skin, his hands grab at your waist. His smirk appears on his pretty, puffed lips, so innocent, yet so dangerous.

“You don’t need to ask.” His mouth is back on your skin. It’s so much when he pulls the pants off you, your knees feeling weak when he settles between them.

“Look at me,” he whispers, “I want your eyes on me,” the order is clear and your jaw falls slack. His fingers run down the insides of your thighs, touching the wetness between them and spreading it back out towards your knees.

You have all the work cut out for you keeping yourself breathing more than superficial puffs every time Joel’s fingers seek and spread your arousal onto your skin.

One of his thick fingers notches against your dripping entrance, dipping in just the slightest. He repeats it, again and again, never going in too much, but enough for you to buck your hips up to meet the intrusion. He grins at that, falling slowly on top of you, locking his lips with yours. You’re at his mercy.

What feels like an eternity of him teasing you, kissing you, reminding you to keep your eyes on his, Joel pushes his middle finger in, to the knuckle, and you gasp. He’s so slow and tender that even that alone makes you want to burst.

When he pulls it out, he swirls his ring finger in the mess as well. He eases them both in. The stretch is already delicious and it’s making it hard for you to focus on him. You’re so close, his digits exploring, making wetness pour out of you with his gentle pushes and pulls. But then Joel pulls his fingers out completely and you’re left empty, disappointed, and almost cold.

You whine, and gasp out in frustration, “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” he tells you calmly. You see him bring his hand to his lips, those two middle fingers shiny with you. You can smell the salty sweetness. You follow him lick the tips into his mouth, just like you tasted his cum in the shower. It might be one of the most titillating things you’ve seen.

“Do you want my fingers, or—”

“I want you inside,” you don’t want to hear his teasing questions any longer, you just want to feel him. Joel chuckles at that, kisses you sweetly and you help him push his sweatpants and underwear down.

The tip of his cock is already weeping when it settles between your legs, getting coated in your slick. When it nudges at your entrance, you groan at the feeling, the size of it already so much. And he’s not even inside yet.

“Careful,” Joel calms the needy roll of your hips, pressing his hand across it to get you to still your movements. “Let’s take it slow."

You catch your panting and breath with him. Your hands relax against his skin and you end up caressing your nails against his back. The tender kisses that land on your face, and finally reach your lips, pull out a sigh of relief that he answers by pushing the tip of his cock in, savoring the feeling of you adjusting to the size as he stuffs you slowly.

When his hips touch yours, the tuft of hair at the base of his cock getting smeared wet, you feel him incredibly deep. The ache in your core is luscious, already spilling around him. Your muscles flutter and keep him still, until you can finally relax. He keeps kissing you, licking into your mouth in slow motion.

Gently he pulls out a little, only to sink back in, earning a whined exhale from you. “You feel so good,” he groans into your ear. You manage to moan as he pulls out more, rolling his hips in again and nudging the place where pain and pleasure combine. You cry out, all your nerve endings on fire. He does it again and forces a tear from your eye, your brain blanking on words.

“I’m here,” he tells you, rocking into you steadily. You bring your leg up to his side and immediately his hand finds your thigh, bringing it higher to drive in deeper, punching out choked whimpers from your throat with his tender thrusts. He makes you cum like that, nice and slow, until you cry out and your thighs shake around him. Your ears ring and you feel your throat vibrating. Are you talking? You’re not sure. It feels like you might pass out from the pleasure.

He breathes out a laugh and strokes sweat from your temple, “I’m not either, but thank you,” he says and you have no idea why he’s saying that. You don’t have time to think about it for long.

He doesn’t stop rutting into you steadily, only slowing to give you a chance to ride out your climax until he picks up the pace and grinds into you, spreading you open on his cock. You hear his moans and how wet you are, every move drawing out the slick sounds around him.

You reach a second high without warning, the trembling feeling pulsing through you and around his length violently. You grab at him, wrap yourself around Joel forcefully, choking out a shout. Your eyes go blurry and the aftershocks from your orgasm rake through you.

Sweat pours out of your skin where you’re connected, behind your knees, on your back, pooling on your neck. Joel is chasing his climax, rocking into you with more fervor. Your lips are almost slack against his, words spilling into your mouth.

“Just a bit more, you’re doing so good for me. You’re so good for me. Fuck you’re so tight around my cock, you want it don’t you?” You moan out a chain of yeah’sat his question. His drawling southern accent comes through softly, slow and sticky like honey in your ears.

Pleasure passes into overstimulation. His cock makes you tremble with every stroke. His head drops next to yours, his mouth against your ear, the moans from his throat reaching a crescendo with his frantic pace. You grip around him when he pulls his dick free, spilling all over your stomach. His breathing is shattered and his moans suffocated.

You’re burning, from your core to your belly, pins and needles all over your skin, shivers running from your head to your toe. Joel collapses next to you, breathing hard, your knee pinned under his legs.

You manage to open your eyes and see his disheveled, messy hair, the red blotches on his cheeks and neck, spreading to his chest, sweat misting his skin here and there. He’s watching you with hazy, dark eyes, and as he starts to catch his breath, he smiles a smile that makes you seek out for him, pull yourself around him and feel the heat of his skin against you.

“I knew hearing you repeat my name with that sweet voice of yours would get me to cum,” he murmurs into your ear, and his breath tickles the shell of it.

“I didn’t know I was saying your name,” you croak out.

“You did.” He pulls your leg over his hip and strokes his hand back and forth the tingling, hot skin.

“Why did you say something about not being someone?” He shakes under you with snickers.

“Because you were saying,” he clears his throat and inhales, “Jesus Joel, Christ Joel, Joel, Joel, God Joel, fucking Jesus,” saying it all in a pitch that could only mean that he’s trying to mimic your tone.

“Shut up,” you tell him but there’s no venom in your words as you laugh against him, shaking with him in the aftermath of your brain coming back online.

He sighs in satisfaction, and you close your eyes. You listen to his calming heart. “I mean to hear my name said like that again, sweetheart.” He kisses the delicate skin under your ear and nuzzles into you, his arms heavy around you.

The words make your stomach clench with anticipation. You fix your position on top of him, sweat and cum be damned. You don’t want to move, and neither does he. You might just stay here until someone starts to wonder where you are.

The evening falls gently with golden sun, cool breeze and the whole town coming together to celebrate the end of summer in the annual cookout. A band is playing, and the alcohol is flowing, the younger kids already taken home. Ellie is getting some of the bubbly apple mead for herself and her friends with Dina, the line long and meandering around the makeshift dancefloor.

“We can still come to your garage after, right?” Dina nods her head to the beat of the music, watching the dancing and swaying couples and groups.

“Yeah, like we agreed,” Ellie watches her friend. She smiles at her for trying to sing along to the song but not knowing the lyrics, she ends up humming and saying a word here and there.

“And you have the movies already there?”

“Yup, got them there this morning.” Dina swivels her hips side to side as the song changes and takes a few steps to move along the line. Oh Ellie wishes she’d have enough courage to tell her about how she feels, dance with her and not just pine after her, unable to take her eyes off her.

“Look at those two,” Dina points through the crowd, a bright smile on her face when she sees Joel. Ellie has to strain her neck a little to see through all the dancing figures and lift herself on her tiptoes.

When she finally sees him, she giggles at the sight. Not because you and Joel dancing would be somehow extremely funny, but because it seems that everyone is looking at you and the way Joel is leading you through the melody, smoothly gliding in a swaying circle.

You follow his steps naturally, like you two share the same wavelength without having to say a word. You’re leaned against him, your hands tied together between your chests, your other arm around him, your palm at his back. His hand is on the back of your neck, his lips against your ear.

You have your eyes closed, a dreamy look on your face. A smile plays on your lips, for he is watching what’s happening around you two, saying something into your ear every few moments.

“Girls, what can I get you?” John welcomes them and both Ellie and Dina offer him the mugs they’re carrying.

They really should’ve thought this through as carrying the full mugs back to their friends proves to be harder than first thought. It looks easy when Dina does it, carrying three mugs in her hands. Ellie on the other hand has to watch her feet and move slowly to not spill the drinks.

People cheer when the song changes to a more up-tempo one. More dancers drift closer to the band. She looks up to see your hand wrapped around his neck, your eyes glinting when you tell him something. Joel pulls back and only from the way his shoulders square, making him look even taller and broader, Ellie knows what you said to him wasn’t some small thing. You give him a quick kiss and say something else into his ear, your fingers tangling with the hairs on the back of his neck.

Ellie turns her eyes away, the sight almost too intimate to be witnessing. She’ll probably find you in the kitchen tomorrow, like most mornings in the past couple of months. At least now you have brought some of your own clothes to wear around the house. It started to be a bit too comical when you wore Joel’s clothes and either almost tripped on the pant legs or got swallowed by his shirts.

Ellie couldn’t be more grateful for you though. You were discreet when you asked her about how she got infected. You listened to Ellie tell the story about the first bite, and then about the next one at the museum. It has been hard at times, dealing with the aftermath of Joel coming clean. At the same time it’s a relief, and she can now be honest with you too.

You helped Ellie craft a small speech for Diana to convince her that even though she has been bitten by infected, she isn’t dangerous. You came to meet Diana with her, and comfortingly enough Ellie was able to stay calm and explain her situation to the older woman. Talking with her has helped a little already, only a few sessions behind them.  

And then there’s Joel. He can drive Ellie mad sometimes. He’s a reminder of her anger. Yet every time the anger dissolves because she can’t deny that there’s a lot of love between them. If she were to lose him, she doesn’t know what she’d do. She doesn’t even want to think about it because it brings too much hurt. As she looks at you two dancing, she can’t help but smile. Joel deserves happiness too and he has found it.

“Can you help me?” She calls to her friends who are finally close enough to hear her struggles. Juno and Jesse recognize their mugs and get them off Ellie’s hands, making it possible for Ellie to finally get to her group. Just as she’s sitting down, her arm jerks and her own mug sways, spilling some of the mead over the side.

“Do you know if Joel has any snacks we could get while watching the movies?” Robbie inquires, popping a piece of carrot in his mouth.

“I have snacks in my mini fridge.”

“That fridge of yours doesn’t even get cold, so no, I don’t trust that you’d have edible snacks in there,” Dina remarks. She’s not wrong.

“I didn’t check what’s in the fridge, but I’ll go ask Joel. Can you see him?” The whole group tries to get a glimpse of him on the dance floor, but with no luck. He has already left.

You brush your shoulder intentionally against Joel’s chest as you pass him through the door. You’re out of breath after walking to his so fast, and it still felt like you weren’t fast enough. He wraps his hand around your arm to keep you from going any further and spins you against him. Your chest crashes against him with a laugh.

“Ellie?” You ask as he pushes the front door closed, his attention on you.

“Won’t be here until tomorrow. But we have to close the window.” He drowns you in his hungry kisses. Just as Ellie once joked, the window in Joel’s bedroom really does carry loud sounds into the garden and consequently into Ellie’s garage even if her windows are shut.

Joel is gentle with you as always. He keeps you steady as you’re riding towards your release, filled to the brim, him buried in you in that now familiar stretch. His hands seek out your hips, your thighs, between your legs to that sweet spot that makes you shudder when he thumbs it, reaching up to run his hands over the softness of your breasts.

When you get tired, you’re so close to your quivering bliss. Your hips stutter and you have to rock yourself slower on his length. Joel knows immediately what the problem is and pulls you down to hug you to his chest. He meets you in the middle and thrusts up into you.

And later, after a moment of catching your breaths, he’s even gentler with your leg against his shoulder. He sinks into the mess he already left before, his cum and your slick smoothing the way for him to pound into you with ease.

Your legs are still shaking when you come back to bed after opening the window to get some fresh air into the bedroom. You watch the broad line of his back turned to you, barely visible in the darkness. Only a hint of light comes in thanks to the back porch light.

Sweat has dried on your skins. The sheets are still a little damp under you, and your limbs are weak in the best way possible. Joel’s ribcage expands serenely with his breaths. You feel at peace. You smile to yourself how a year ago you were nervously reintroducing yourself to Joel.

How his hand wrapped around yours was enough to make sparks crackle under your skin. Now those hands have explored so much more of you. They know you. And you know him. You have a place here, a life worth living. There’s some good in this cruel world.

Joel groans in his sleep. Instinctively you move closer to him, spooning him from behind. You lift your thigh onto his hip, your arm under his to rest your palm against his chest. You close your eyes and press your lips against the back of his neck, as a goodnight wish, as a thank you for being here with you, as a confirmation of what you told him earlier at the cookout.

You lean your forehead against the warmth and almost start to drift off to sleep when his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together.

You hear his inhale, and it gets you out of your sleepiness as you wait for what he wants to say. It takes him a few tries to get the words out, mumbled into the darkness. “Move in.”

“What?” You lift your head off the pillow like that would change what you already heard.

“You’re here all the time already. You have your own drawers here anyway. You could just bring the rest of your stuff in.” When you don’t say anything, he turns his head to see your profile.

“Okay.” Before you might’ve said you’d have to think about it. This time you don’t have to think about it, it’s an easy decision.

You feel safe with Joel, you feel like yourself with him. There’s no hiding, there’s no fear. This life is too short anyway to be thinking if it’s too fast or if you should think this through in the light of day.

“Really?” He turns in your arms more so he can properly see your face. As your eyes have gotten used to the barely there lighting, you can see him smiling.

“You make a good point. There’s no real reason why not move in.”

“Okay.” You can’t contain your laugh as your happiness spills over. He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your palm, setting it down against the steady rhythm inside his sternum.

You settle back down but can’t stop grinning. This and your words from earlier link you together.

“I think I love you.” He pulls back from you, still swaying you to the music, but now completely taken aback by your confession. There’s magic in the air tonight, you can feel it.

“I’m completely sure I love you,” you answer the question that is forming on his face. The quick kiss he gives you is sweet, but only a prelude to the kisses he would give all over you in the safety of his bedroom. Just as you predicted.

He pulls you a little closer and sighs deep. “I love you too.”

Notes: I wanted to take some time to thank you for reading this story that has been such a fun experience and a savior of some sort for me for the past months. When I started writing this it was supposed to be just a short oneshot. From there it evolved into more scene ideas and I couldn’t stop writing. I started working on this right after I finished writing a novel manuscript for my masters thesis which drained me of all my energy. I was incredibly stuck creatively and tired mentally, borderline apathetic and I needed to find myself enjoying things again. This is my first fic in years, first piece I’ve written in English in years, and I felt rusty and doubtful most of the time, and some other times I had a blast. This is purely self-indulgent, an exercise in writing and being brave enough to put my work out there again in a fandom that I’ve only been in for a year. Every note, comment and new follower has brought a smile on my face and you’ve brightened my days immensely. Thank you thank you thank you <3<3 I want to keep on writing since it has become so much fun again – I’m already working on something new which I can’t wait to share.

[redrose10]

Hey, here's the first pill to ease your anxiety

Member's fashion company is going under and only a collab can save them. Problem is, you, the Creative Director of the other company he aims to collab with, are not easy to impress.

Shenanigans ensue, where he tries to convince her to take the job

But what if the outcome is something else?

Basically OC has her Shit together and her A Game on and our poor member doesn't. 🤣

Here you go! I really hope this is okay. I know absolutely nothing about how fashion brands work. Thank you for sending the request! @sumzysworld

Tiniest little hint to some possible smut at the end

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Sir the quarterly reports are in and the company sales are down 54% from this time last year. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold out at this rate.”, Jin spoke slowly sliding the reports over to his boss, Jimin Park, also known as the the ceo of Filter, a once very popular fashion house that was slowly failing.

Jimin sighs, “I know, I know. I’m going to figure something out. We need to bring the brand back into the spotlight.”

“What about a collaboration with another brand? You know like Fendi and Versace or Dior and Nike did. Something to get people talking.”, Taehyung, one of Jimin’s top designers spoke up.

“That could possibly work. Let me think about it for a while and see where we go.”, he replied gently shooing the other two men out of his office.

Jimin spent days calling around to any and all contacts he had trying to get a collaboration going, but no companies wanted to associate themselves with a failing brand such as Filter. Jimin had one final number he could call, but he was really really dreading it. After hitting call he waited a few seconds before hearing a familiar voice on the other end.

“I’m sorry, you what?”, you laughed into the phone.

“Y/N, please…We really need a good collaboration to get Filter back in the game or we’re going to shut down and lots of people will loose their jobs. I really think working together with your brand can help save us.”

Jimin nervously chewed on his lip while he waited for your response.

You sighed into the phone, “Alright fine. We’ll meet in one week and you can present your ideas for this collab, but you better bring your A game Jimin because I’m not going to risk loosing everything for you.”

“Wait so we’re going to collab with Y/N? Like Y/N from Purple You Fashions? I’ve heard she incredibly hard to impress.”, Taehyung asked after being informed of the upcoming meeting.

“Well we’re going to try. It’s all we really can do.”, he replied.

Jimin along with the rest of his team spent the following week coming up with branding, markets strategies, new clothing designs, and anything they could think of to convince you that working together together would be a good thing.

Jimin stood outside your office trying to catch his breath with the few minutes he had to spare. Of course the first time he forgot to set an alarm since he was in high school just had to be the night before the big meeting. He took the fastest shower of his life, nicking his neck when he tried to shave a little too quickly causing him to be even later and also having an unsightly cut. He grabbed the wrong tie, but didn’t realize until he was already half way here so he spent the rest of the drive trying to convince himself that his tie printed with a chicken wearing dark sunglasses and the pun ‘What the cluck are you looking at?’ (a gag gift from his best friend Yoongi) actually looked nice and professional against his tailored suit.

After taking one final breath he knocked twice on your door before hearing your faint voice giving him permission to enter.

“Nice tie Park. I didn’t know that chickens were in this year.”, you smirked.

“Uhh yeah well you know me, always trying to be a trendsetter.” Quickly he took the tie off while you weren’t looking and shoved it in his pocket mentally smacking himself for not thinking of doing that earlier.

He placed a to go cup down in front of you, “Here Y/N, I got you a Caramel Macchiato. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hope this is okay.”

“With almond milk?”, you asked. “I’m allergic to dairy.”

Jimin felt his stomach twist, “Oh I’m sorry. I did not know that.”

You chuckled before handing the drink over to your assistant for her to enjoy.

“Sit down Jimin. I don’t have all day and we’ve already wasted quite a bit of time.”

“Oh sure sure.”, he said frantically trying to set up his laptop. He hit the power button and nothing happened. No lights no sounds. Nothing. He pressed it again and again, but nothing. Then his hand came up to smack his forehead. He’d forgotten to charge his laptop last night after double checking everything one more time.

“Sorry I seem to have forgotten to charge it. Let me just grab the charger from my bag.”, he awkwardly chuckled. He continued to dig around in his bag trying to find the elusive cord when like a truck it hit him that his charger was in fact neatly wound up and sitting safely in his kitchen drawer where he put it last night to stop his cat, Mr. Fluffybutt McWhiskers the fourth (yes that’s his real name), from chewing on it.

“Umm I really apologize. It looks like I’ve left my charger at home.”, he nervously chuckled.

Feeling kind of bad for the guy you decided to throw him a bone, “Call one of your team members and have them email the presentation directly to me. I’ll go through it on my laptop.”

Frantically Jimin called Jin and asked him to send the file over to your email. A few minutes later a notification popped up on your feed showing an email from a sender listed as Mr.WordWideHandsomestFace7. You chuckled, but Jimin just wanted the floor to swallow him whole at this point. Jin must’ve forgot to switch to his professional email.

You clicked on the link but no power point popped up as expected.

“Oh I am so sorry.”, Jimin whispered in disbelief. Instead of the presentation that he had spent hours and hours working on he was looking at an email he had sent to Jin in the early morning one day last week after a particularly exhausting night and one too many glasses of wine. He didn’t think his face could turn any redder.

You on the other hand found it hilarious and started reading the email out loud for all to hear. Detailing how Jimin referred to you as an evil snake queen that he’d still very much like to touch even though he knows he’d probably end up dead. Jimin groaned from his seat next to you and made a mental note to remind Jin to double check his work.

He knew everything was falling apart around him so he resorted to what he knows best. Last he heard he was still a legend at his old college for being the only person to ever get an A+ in Ms. Yen’s World Literature class and it was all thanks to his shameless flirting abilities.

After reading the letter you looked over noticing Jimin staring at you seductively. He had hit bottom lip between his teeth while his fingers gently rubbed a small circle on the back of your hand. Somehow his eyes sparkled like little diamonds. His voice lower and more sultry than normal when he spoke, “You know Y/N, how about we just forget this whole presentation and I can take you out for lunch. Get a few drinks. Maybe we can just discuss things that way.”

As you watched him smirk you seriously considered it for a moment until you shook that thought out of your head, “Not a chance Park. You’re not going to buy my business with flirting and some cheap drinks.”

Jimins shoulders dropped as he came to realize that he was about to loose his only chance. He started to pack up his belongings when you stopped him.

“You know I don’t think that it would be a good idea for our brands to collab. It’s just not going to work.”

He nodded, “I know Y/N. Thank you for your time though.”

“But I do know of this up and coming brand. They’re newer, but already making a ton of noise especially with the younger crowds. It’s called HopeWorld. The owner is a good friend of mine, Hoseok Jung. I’d like to get you two together and see about working something out. I think your two brands would compliment each other well.”

Jimins face lit up, “Y/N thank you so much. That would be amazing and so incredibly helpful!”

You smiled as you gathered your things and headed for the door.

“Oh and Jimin, I expect you to pick me up at 8pm tonight. We’ll go have dinner and some drinks and who knows what else. We’ll see how the night goes.”, you said with a wink.

He nodded in agreement as he watched you walk out the door before popping your head back in a few seconds later, “And maybe don’t wear the chicken tie tonight unless you want to bring it for uh other things.” You walked back out the door and he smirked to himself making sure the tie was still safely secured in his pocket.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Love & Desire

Dieter x F!Reader

Pedro Across the Street (PATS) x F! Reader

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Dieter X F! Reader; Pedro Across the Street (PATS) X F!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 4.2K

Summary: Realizing how far you've fallen, you and Dieter decide to set some ground rules. Realizing that life is too short, you let yourself let go and have a little bit of fun. What will Dieter think??? (Younger Dieter before The Bubble)

Warnings: All oral (f!receiving) In case anyone doesn't know Pedro Across the Street is NOT Pedro (not RPF) it is from his character Calls.

A/N - The follow up to my first Dieter fic, which you can find here!

As always big shoutouts to may babes @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @basicoccult @redhotkitchen @blueheat1-blog @best-little-secret @imalrightllama @arcanefox207

Dieter had put you in the worst position as he stood outside on your patio looking at you expectantly through the French doors. The birds serenaded the sunrise with morning melodies as he continued to wrap gently at your window. Pushing against the mattress, you hoisted yourself up gently placing your feet on the hardwood floors. Like a small boat wafting gently on the ocean you were rocking back and forth even though you hadn’t stood up. The lamplight illuminated his features perfectly, his eyes wide and expectant while the peachy, golden sunset painted his brown hair a warmer hue.

You stumbled to the door, the floor creaking beneath your feet, a sound you usually found comfort in. Instead, it felt like your feet were trudging through mud. Unlocking the door, you let him in without a word. His eyes sparkled. He must have had a good time. He followed you, fingertips lightly gripping your hips. Half asleep and hungover you sank back into your bed curling yourself into a fetal position. 

“How was the rest of the party?” He asked you quietly, stripping down to his boxers and climbing next to you into bed. 

You closed your eyes, feeling your jaw tighten as he put his arm around you. The tears threatened to return but you somehow managed to hold them at bay with a tight squeeze of your eyes. 

“Fine, don’t really remember,” you responded, your head still spinning. 

“Awesome,” he said with a laugh that was raspy and endearing to you through your disappointment. “Well, I had a kickass time; that photographer at the party, you know---she’s worked with a lot of high-profile actors and actresses and---”

“D, D?” you interjected with a groan. “Can you tell me later? In the morning---I mean when we’re both really awake? My head is killing me.” 

Dieter responded genuinely, “Oh fuck, yeah sorry!”

“No, it’s fine.” 

Most people should have and would have understood that it was not, indeed, fine. Perpetually lost in his own world, Dieter was not most people. 

“Good night, angel,” Dieter murmured, pulling you tighter to him. 

And as much as you wanted to push his grip away from your waist, you let it stay there like a memory of how he held you so many times before. With one deep breath in and one long exhale out, you let sleep take you. 

*** 

You were awake before Dieter, the sunlight filtering harshly again through the blinds. A long, hot shower was a necessity this morning as a dull headache still lingered in your head. When you finished, you found Dieter still snoring quietly curled up with your pillow. You needed to let him sleep, so you could have breakfast to yourself and think about how you would approach your conversation this morning. He might not have sensed it, but something changed. You desperately wanted him to have even an inkling of the same feeling that you had. But it was your mistake, you let yourself fall. 

A simple breakfast of a bagel, butter, and strawberry preserves was all you needed. The rays of sun streamed through the window of your breakfast nook, making your ordinary breakfast look perfectly picturesque. It reminded you of days when Dieter wasn’t there nearly every night and every morning and how that could be easier, more peaceful than having to worry about him every day. You imagined just how good it was on the days he found himself in your home. Maybe it was time to make things simple again. 

After you finished your breakfast, you grabbed a magazine and began flipping through it until Dieter ambled through the archway of your kitchen, scratching his belly and yawning.

“G’morning,” he said through sleepy eyes, “you’re already up.”

“It’s pretty much the afternoon, Dieter,” you said, closing the magazine and pushing the chair across from you for him to sit. “Feel free to grab anything from the pantry for breakfast, if you’re hungry.” 

He smiled at you, the corner of his eyes crinkling with a smile so big that it put extra emphasis on the dimple on his right cheek. Looking at him across from you just being himself was going to make this so much harder. 

“Last night was wild,” he said, his eyes wide and excited, “that photographer was a really cool girl, knows a lot of people---it could lead to something really good.”

You laughed and before you could even think you asked, “Was she a good lay?”

“What?” Dieter asked, taken aback at the question. 

You couldn’t back down now. You leaned in closer, resting your chin on your hands. 

“D, it’s ok, you can tell me,” you insisted, trying to stay calm about it, “besides, you might benefit in case there are some things that I might be missing when you stay the night.”

Dieter’s ears perked at the thought, and he gave you a devilish smile as he rested his feet on your legs. 

“I mean, that part was OK,” Dieter finally admitted, “but she doesn’t really know what I like? You know?”

Anxiety tightened inside your chest, knowing what was going to come next, “Hey, so this thing we have it’s good, right?” 

“Uhh, yeah,” Dieter replied, looking at you as though you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I know this is a casual thing,” you said, “and we never really set expectations or ground rules, I guess.” 

He took his feet and set them firmly on the floor as he leaned forward to listen. 

‘“I mean, we should probably let each other know when we’re available, right?” you suggested with a laugh that you hoped sounded as carefree as possible. “I mean how embarrassing would it have been if you came knocking and I was with someone.”

It would have been a lie to say that you didn’t feel a moment of fleeting satisfaction when you saw the confusion wash over Dieter’s face when you said those words. He sat staring at you, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. An advanced feeling of relief lifted your shoulders knowing that you had prepared yourself for any answer that he might give. 

“But this doesn’t have to stop,” he pulled his chair close to you so that his long legs were framing yours, “right?”

The way the inner corners of his eyebrows angled upward to draw lines of disappointment on his forehead slowly worked on you, trying to chip away at the fortress you’d set up around your heart. When he began to run his hands up your thighs, you shut your eyes tight at the feeling of his fingers massaging over their surface area until they climbed up to your waist.

“Fuck no,” you laughed, “you think I’d give it up that easy.” 

“Good,” Dieter growled, bringing his hand to caress the right side of your face, gripping you just behind your ear, fingers laced in your hair, “because, I think we’ve got a good thing going on.” 

You let him kiss you and let the softness of his pouty lips send shivers down your spine. He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you underneath your loose t-shirt. You pushed his face away from you with a laugh. 

“Go take a shower!” You said, giving him a teasing poke to his side, “I don’t know where that girl’s been.”

“Hey!” Dieter exclaimed. “I used protection.” 

You swatted him out of the kitchen. When you knew he was gone, you ran your hands through your hair in frustration. A constant mantra repeated in your head telling yourself it had to get easier from here. It just had to. 

***

The universe listened, giving you a respite from Dieter. It was as if your time apart gave you each time to thrive in your own different ways. Your job was going well, with nothing much to complain about. Auditions and offers for roles started trickling in for him. Most of all, it gave you time to be alone without having to worry about a man in your bed. But having had Dieter so regularly made you spoiled and this drought was beginning to drive you crazy. So, when your friends invited you to a concert at The El Rey, your attendance was obvious. 

You were putting on the finishing touches on your outfit when you heard a knock at your door. Skipping to the door, you saw Alex her blonde waves bouncing as she waved at you through the glass panels of your front door. Her mouth opened into a wide smile as she nodded approvingly of your outfit. You twirled and curtsied, showing off your black miniskirt, diaphanous cream-colored blouse, giving just a peek of your black, lace bustier underneath. 

“Well, if your aim is to forget about Dieter, tonight,” Alex said with a raised brow, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to find someone who can fulfill that goal.”

“I am not trying to forget him, Alex,” you responded with a sigh, “we’re not together, I just really, really need to get laid.” 

“Well, either way, I have confidence in you,” Alex teased with a wink as you put on a pair of chunky, black boots.

When you and Alex arrived, the theater was already buzzing with a crowd of people. Vibrant purple and red lights illuminated the room and the people with shades of red, pink, magenta, and royal purple. The variety of people in the crowd amused you. Alex and you took turns pointing out particularly interesting people you saw in the crowd. 

“Oooh, what about him?” Alex asked, gesturing towards a tall, clean cut bespectacled man wearing a light tweed jacket over a striped polo shirt with khaki pants. 

“He looks like an elevated Steve from Blue’s Clues,” you cringed, “and now I can’t get that image out of my head…pass.” 

Alex rolled her eyes before you continued to scan the crowd. 

“What about him?” you pointed to a lithe man, with a full but neatly groomed beard wearing a red flannel shirt, jeans, and a beanie over mussed, light brown hair.

You even managed to elicit a sneaky smile from him. 

Alex looked over at him and then back at you with a grimace. 

“You mean the one dressed like a lumberjack?” Alex said, her voice monotone and unimpressed. 

“Come on, it’s a style,” you insisted. 

“He’s wearing a beanie and flannel and we live in Southern California,” Alex stated plainly. 

“Maybe he runs cold?”

“He’s dressed like a lumberjack!” She said again, but more forcefully this time. “Look, just because you’re desperate for a deep dicking doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be picky.” 

“I’m not desperate,” you pouted, looking at her from the corner of your eye. 

“Whatever, go grab a drink, maybe you’ll meet someone at the bar,” Alex suggested. “I’ll keep a lookout here.” 

Nodding, you pushed your way through the crowd which was growing in size and volume as the band began to do a quick sound check before starting their set. The bar was thankfully not as packed at the moment as you expected it to be. A quick flash of a smile, and the bartender attended to you almost immediately. You leaned over the bar top, knowing well that you were putting your figure on display. Someone would be bound to notice. No sooner than the bartender returned with your beer, did someone approach you. 

“Stella,” the man said, pointing to your beer that matched his own. His voice was deep and rich, like liquid velvet undulating from his throat, “Good choice.”

He was a little taller than average, with warm brown hair, and brown eyes that glimmered with mischief. His broad, defined shoulders, arms, and lithe waist were accentuated by a grayish-blue Henley t-shirt with all, but the last button undone. His indigo-colored jeans hugged his legs in a way that begged you to look at them, taunting you to think about what might be underneath. His face was rugged and handsome, marked by a prominent nose at its center, the kind you’d see on the statue of a Greek god. He wore a mustache above pouty lips that led to a sparse, but well-groomed beard that emphasized the chiseled angle of his jawline. 

It was difficult not to stare as he licked his lips before curling them into a sinful grin. You brought your bottle to your lips for another swig of beer and then slowly moved your gaze from his lips, over the landscape of his face until they rested on his eyes. With one long thumb, he smoothed his bottom lip as his eyes studied your lips, your face, and your eyes in turn. 

“I’m Pedro,” he said with an accented vibrato, rolling the r of his name with the tip of his tongue. 

He paused for a moment looking almost embarrassed and laughed as he tapped three fingers to his lips, “Look, I’m actually terrible at flirting. I was just minding my own business trying to have a drink and then I just got so distracted…looking at you.” 

Against your better judgment a laugh escaped you, one that quickly faded away the moment Pedro stared directly into your eyes, then to your lips, and back to your eyes once again. 

What a line! You thought to yourself. Wonder what Dieter would think of this guy. 

You swatted the thought from your head, frustrated that Dieter was still occupying your mind even though he’d been away filming for nearly three months. 

Your attention turned back to Pedro, thinking of how he wrapped his own name in a Spanish accent that melted into perfect, unaccented English. You brushed your fingertips across the bar top as you turned to fully face him, taking one step towards him. He took the hand you held out to introduce yourself, but not before shamelessly looking up and down the length of your body. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” you asked, biting lightly on your bottom lip. “I thought I heard a little bit of an accent.”

“Well, I was born in Chile, so that’s probably what you heard,” he replied leaning forward as the sounds from the band and the crowd grew louder. 

“I’ve always wanted to learn Spanish,” you said, taking yet another step forward, close enough to breath him in. It was an inexplicably intoxicating smell that reminded you of falling rain in an evergreen forest and really good coffee.

At that same time, the band announced the beginning of their set with a loud riff of a guitar and the theater erupted in chest pounding noise. Pedro placed a hand to his ear and shook his head as he gestured to the band. Simply taking this as an invitation to bring your body close to his. Setting a gentle touch to his forearm, you stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against the side of his face, feeling his fine stubble prickle against your skin, until you were whispering in his ear. 

“Sorry, I just said ‘I have always wanted to learn Spanish’,” you could feel his chest quiver in an exhale as you breathed those words into his ears.

“Dios mio, que rico hueles,” he said in a whispered growl. 

You didn’t know what it meant, but from the way his hand was gripping low on your hip you knew it had to be something good. Clearing your throat, you moved your face from his with disappointment. Instantly, the whooping of the crowd, the drums, the bassline, and the guitars were cacophonous to your ears. 

“Maybe you could give me a lesson some time?” 

“Oh, querida,” he said leaning into you, so that your back pressed against the bar, “I live across the street.” 

“Well, Pedro from across the street,” you said, running your fingertips along the hem of his Henley, “wanna get out of here?”

Pulling him close by one of his belt loops, you drew an invisible pathway with the tip of your nose from his jawline to his lips. Your lips followed the path until they met his with a small peck. He moved to take hold of your hand and you allowed it, even interlacing your fingers with his as he led you away from the bar. As you navigated towards the exit, Alex spotted you. A look of bewilderment had overtaken her face. She grabbed your arm protectively. 

“Hey,” she said, pulling you close to her, “where are you going?” 

Her eyes shifted to Pedro with concern and then back to you. 

“Hey Alex, this is Pedro, he lives across the street!” you added excitedly, gesturing towards Pedro. 

“That’s me,” he added in confirmation, “I do live across the street, the apartments on Wilshire.” 

“Are you nuts? You just met him!” she said, holding her face close to yours.

You looked back at her with a raised brow, “I mean, that was kind of the point of tonight, Alex.”

“Ok, backtrack,” she said quickly, “I just want to make sure you’re cool, he’s cool, and that you’re safe.”

Before you could assure her, he interjected with a slinky grin, “Hey, I promise I’ll keep your girl safe --- I mean, you can even join us if you want if you’re into that.”

After assuring Alex of your safety in multiple ways (giving her Pedro’s address, phone number, and email address, a full plan of your route home and the time she needed to come find you if she couldn’t reach you) she begrudgingly let you go. His apartment was only a few blocks from the theater, and you marveled at the modern and well-appointed amenities. 

“Wow…this place is really nice,” you expressed in awe. “How do you---?”

“Ohh, I have a roommate,” he answered with a shrug. 

You weren’t convinced of his answer and decided that he must be a trust fund baby like yourself or that he had a sugar mama. The secrecy wasn’t enough to get you to leave, when you could just tell by the way he moved you would be in for a good night. You followed him upstairs after he keyed into his building, a short trip to the second floor. With each step upwards, your pussy clenched in anticipation of him. 

He pressed his back against his apartment door, his eyes glued to you as he made a show of unlocking and opening it. A quick flick of the light switch illuminated the space with mood lighting in shades lavender, blue, and coral. Absolutely cheesy, yet effective. You might have laughed but he pulled you to him with the velocity of a cheetah, attaching his hungry mouth to yours. 

He pushed you against the door, lifting your delicate shirt over your head before removing his own, tossing them both to the floor. His large hands framed your face. The grip of his arms was strong and sure, but his touch was sensual and soft against your skin. His right hand grazed the surface of your neck until they traveled down your clavicle down to the center of your chest. Two fingers traced where your breast met the cup of your bustier until he cupped it with his hand. With his thumb, index, and middle finger he massaged, flicked, and twisted at your nipples. The shivers kept building just from the touch of his fingers on your nipples, moans escaping from your lips. He squatted and wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him. 

With a heady excitement, it felt like you were floating as he carried you to the kitchen island. You set down your phone next to you and shoved mail, magazines, and errant cups to the floor as he helped you onto the island. His hands massaged up your thighs, beckoning more of your arousal to settle into your underwear. He kissed you again, but deeper, his tongue swirling and undulating in your mouth, desperate for you. Pushing you further up the island, his hands coaxed you into lowering your head down to the cool marble surface. Slowly, he pulled your miniskirt from your hips. 

“Pedro, wait…wait,” you moaned, attempting to catch your breath, “what about your roommate?”

Using his steady hands, he pulled your lacy black underwear from you, and you felt the cool touch of the marble beneath your ass. 

“If he finds us, let him find us,” he said in between planting wet kisses up your thighs and then added, “but don’t worry he won’t be home for a little while.” 

You couldn’t explain, but you could somehow feel the grin that had formed on his lips as he crept closer and closer to your center. A gasp freed itself from the confines of your throat as he licked a long, slow, and deliciously measured stripe up the center of your folds. He swirled his tongue at your center in broad circles, leaving you moaning when he paused only to lick up your folds just as he did before.

“Oh, god, Pedro,” you gasped quietly, holding the back of your hand over your lips as if it would stifle your moan. 

“I told you,” his tongue lavished at your center once again, “he’s not home, so you’ll be able to scream as loud as you want every time, I make you come.” 

He darted in and out of you at the last few words he uttered, and you yelped in pleasure at every single one. A slow drip of saliva left his mouth to your clit and his mouth found its home there for the next few minutes, sucking it and undulating his tongue slowly, then quickly, and then slowly again. With each move of his tongue and mouth, he brought you closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hips involuntarily bucked towards his face, pressing his nose closer to your clit only making you moan again. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he gripped you tightly and pulled your hips closer to his face until he buried his tongue deep within you, shaking his head back and forth as he fucked you unrelentingly with his broad tongue. 

And true to his word, he made you wail, louder and louder with each taste he took of you. 

“Tú sabes bien,” he groaned at your center, as he pushed into you with two long, thick fingers. 

“Fuuuuck! Ohmygod, Pedro!” you moaned through desperate gasps of air as he continued to suck at your clit while pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

“That’s it, cariño,” he praised, “you’re so tight, think you can take a third finger?”

It wasn’t a real question, not one that he needed an answer to and not one that you needed to answer. Just banter, just a tease before he eased another into your throbbing core. A fire was beginning to kindle in your abdomen, and you could feel yourself slowly beginning to quiver involuntarily. All you could hear was the obscene sounds that were Pedro’s deep, wanton, and wet moans. He knew you were close and took so much pleasure in bringing closer and closer to the edge. 

Suddenly the repetitive, shrill ring of your cell phone broke the air. Pedro continued moving his fingers in and out of you, grabbing your phone with his free hand. A disappointed cry left you as his mouth left you. 

“Who is Die-ter?” He licked into you again, his breath and voice vibrating against your core and even though you desperately wanted to answer him, all you could do was gasp and moan. 

“Hey, yeah, hermano, she can’t come to the phone right now,” you heard him say, your eyes opening in shock with the realization that he had answered the call, “I’m about to give her the best orgasm of her life.”

You heard him set your phone down as he curled his fingers like he was beckoning you to move to him and his tongue found his way to your clit again, circling and flicking at you without respite until you were arching your back and crying out from your release, your thighs shaking around his head. 

As you came down from your high, the ethereal glow of the mood lighting added to the floating feeling that wrapped around your body. 

“Need some water, querida?” He asked as he walked towards a kitchen cabinet grabbing a glass. 

You nodded dreamily and took Pedro’s hand when he offered it to you, helping you to sit up. He handed you the freshly poured glass of water and you sipped it, keeping your eyes on him. When you set it down, he pulled you off the kitchen island, tracing a line from your neck to your lips with his tongue. He pulled your bustier off you, leaving your body bare, flushed, and ready for him. 

“So, cariño,” he growled as he took your hand, leading it to dip into his unzipped jeans, where you cupped your hand firmly around his cock and then his balls, “wanna fuck?”

The answer was obvious, you could feel it in the perk of your nipples and as you began to drip with desire again. You nodded in confirmation and let Pedro lead you towards his room, making the conscious decision to leave your phone in the kitchen. 

Maybe you’d call Dieter tomorrow. Just maybe. 

[combeauferre]

like the back of my hand

les miserables, rated t, 2.9k words

“Do you of-often drop after a scene?” Enjolras asks quietly, after a moment of silence between them. “Sorry?” “Do you drop?” he repeats, “like th-this?” “Oh,” Combeferre pulls a face and waves his hand dismissively, “I’m not dropping, don’t worry.”

or

after their spontaneous, mildly kinky threesome, combeferre has some feelings to work through

a little follow-up fic to picture us with tongues entwined

read on ao3

Cozy and sated, Enjolras lies on his side, staring at his phone. He is close enough to feel Courfeyrac’s warm, steady breaths on his hands, to just make out the shape of him in the darkness, the rise and fall of his side as he sleeps. Beyond Courf, Combeferre lies still, breathing almost tense, heavy but regular.

Hair still damp from the shower, Enjolras removes a hand from his phone to comb his fingers through it. In the darkness his phone illuminates his face in dim, filtered yellow light, his text conversation with Feuilly open as he waits for a reply to his message.

00:25 – Sébastien: I need to tell you something.

Feuilly is at work, he knows; his break will be in a few minutes, and then they can talk properly. He never expected to be having this conversation, but it’s better for it to be out in the open and, knowing Feuilly, he’ll be interested in the sordid details, anyway.

00:31 – Antoine: Okay

00:31 – Antoine: Should I be worried?

There’s a small, quiet part of Enjolras that whispers he should have discussed this with Feuilly first, should have made sure it was okay before jumping into bed with his two best friends. He needn’t have, of course. That’s what the non-exclusivity is for. That’s what their shared sentiment of don’t feel obligated to tell me before you fuck someone else is for.

Not that Enjolras had been anticipating fucking anyone other than Feuilly.

He’s always thought of Combeferre and Courfeyrac as attractive, at least as long as he’s understood what attraction looks and feels like. He can’t pretend like there wasn’t at least a bit of ulterior motive that led him to Courfeyrac at 18 years old, propositioning him for the first time, citing Courf’s understanding of gender dysphoria as a reason for wanting to experience his firsts with Courf specifically.

Of course, Courf had seen right through him.

Eight years later and some more exploration of his sexuality under his belt, and Enjolras can finally appreciate that his two best friends are hot. Hot in the way that he would fuck them if they asked, he had told Feuilly just a few short weeks ago, as they lay in the sweaty, sleepy afterglow and Feuilly had asked who else in their group Enjolras might be interested in. Hypothetically.

00:38 – Antoine: Seb? Are you okay?

Shit. Enjolras’ mind, he’s found, has a tendency to wander once it’s begun down the road of lying in bed next to Feuilly, naked and panting. Heat stirs in his belly, and he briefly considers whether it’s weird to get yourself off in the bed beside your two best friends, even after they’ve come in your mouth.

00:38 – Sébastien: Yes. Sorry.

00:39 – Sébastien: I slept with Luca and Gabriel.

The moment of silence that comes next has Enjolras chewing his lip gently, watching the three dots appear and disappear for a moment.

00:40 – Antoine: That’s not what I was expecting.

00:41 – Antoine: How was it?

Worrying at his lip once more, Enjolras considers. How was it? He hasn’t really attempted to process… any of this. How quick it was, how easy it was to let go and give in to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, how much he wanted to push it further but couldn’t quite figure out how.

00:43 – Sébastien: It was really good. Strange, in a way. But fun.

00:44 – Antoine: Good. You were safe?

00:44 – Sébastien: Completely.

Another moment’s silence.

00:45 – Antoine: That’s good.

00:45 – Antoine: You better fill me in properly on everything tomorrow.

Enjolras smiles to himself.

00:46 – Sébastien: Of course. ;)

00:47 – Sébastien: I mean, I’ll have to check with them that I can share it all with you. It wasn’t completely vanilla.

00:48 – Antoine: Oh?

00:48 – Antoine: I mean, it sounds hot.

Blushing slightly, Enjolras squirms, legs rubbing together uselessly.

00:49 – Sébastien: It was. Really hot.

00:50 – Antoine: How long before we can start planning a foursome?

He huffs a quiet laugh at that, but is pulled quickly from his phone screen by the dark shape he can make out moving just beyond his phone, which he realises after a moment is Combeferre’s arm, lifting to run his fingers through his hair. He must not see the dim light of Enjolras’ phone as he turns away, sitting up. Two hands lift as if to rub his eyes, before he reaches out to take his glasses from the nightstand and put them on.

Enjolras considers letting him know he’s awake, but in that moment Combeferre stands, taking a shirt from the floor and pulling it over his head. Before Enjolras has gathered his thoughts enough to speak, Combeferre has padded out the room in slippers.

A few moments later, Enjolras hears the muffled rumble of the kettle boiling in the kitchen.

Frowning, he sits up slowly, trying not to jostle Courfeyrac. Once he’s sure Courf is sufficiently swaddled in blankets, he pulls on a shirt he thinks is his and steals a pair of boxers from Courf’s drawer. Following the noise, he steps into the light of the kitchen to find Combeferre sat at the table, staring diligently at the kettle as if it will boil faster that way.

“Gabriel?”

Combeferre starts, turning to look at Enjolras with a wide awake but weary stare.

“Bas,” he breathes, straightening up a little, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”

“You d-didn’t.” He pulls a chair out from the other side of the table and sits down. “Is everything okay?”

Combeferre looks down at the mug in front of him, not moving to fetch the now boiled kettle, instead just staring at the dry teabag.

“I’m fine,” he says eventually. His voice is tired, but more worryingly, flat, and Enjolras frowns.

“Y-you don’t sound i-it.”

“What are you doing up?” Combeferre asks, blatantly evading as he finally gets up to take the kettle. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, th-thank you,” Enjolras replies, watching the steam rise as the mug fills, “I was jus-just filling Antoine in on… everything.”

Slowly, stiffly, Combeferre puts the kettle back in its place and sits down, stirring the mug and leaving the teabag in to steep. The smell wafts up to Enjolras’ nose and he recognises it fondly as one of Courfeyrac’s orange-flavoured sleep teas.

“Do you regret it?” Combeferre’s voice is level but he doesn’t attempt to look Enjolras in the eye.

“Wh-what?” he frowns. “No, not- not at all.” A pause. “Do you?”

The second pause hangs between them a moment.

“I regret how I handled it.”

“How do you mean?”

Combeferre looks up then, the look in his eyes cold and distant, almost numb.

“We never even stopped to talk it through,” he says bitterly, “how ridiculous is that? Of all people, you and I always stop to think.”

“Gabriel-”

“You couldn’t talk by the end, Bas,” he continues, “that was completely unexpected.”

“That’s nor-normal for me, I told you,” Enjolras defends gently, fingers itching to reach out and reassure him, “talking is hard for me at th-the best of times, I don’t have the energy for it at the end of a s-scene.”

“That’s the point, though,” Combeferre says, dropping his head into his hands and pressing his fingers down into his eyes. “I should have known, because we should have discussed it.” He moves his hands away, but his eyes stay fixed downward. “Honestly, it kind of scared me.”

Enjolras does reach out now, a hand coming to rest on Combeferre’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gently.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing Ferre’s shoulder gently, “I promise I w-was fine. I enjoyed it, Luca enjoyed it. I-I was under the impression you enjoyed it t-too.”

“I did,” Combeferre says weakly, hands twisting together. “But we never negotiated anything. I still don’t know your limits, or what you might have wanted from the scene; hell, what if you’d gone non-verbal in the middle and not been able to safe word?”

“It was alright.” Moving his hand, Enjolras gently takes one of Combeferre’s and squeezes. “You checked in on us, you were att-attentive, we both knew we could have stopped a-at any time.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Gabriel,” Enjolras says firmly, twining their fingers together. Combeferre looks over at him begrudgingly. “We both trust you. More than any- anything. It’s not like you were conducting a s-scene with two subs you’d never m-met before.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Turning away, Combeferre scowls at the table. “Luca and I always discuss our scenes beforehand. It’s more than just trust and familiarity.”

“I know that,” Enjolras replies, “but this was o-one time. It was just us. Th-there was no point at wh-which I was scared you would do something I might n-not like.”

“And what about Luca?” Combeferre carries on as if Enjolras had never said a word, “obviously we talked about this, but not about every possibility. What if this affects our relationship?” his breathing quickens, “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. We were supposed to ask you, negotiate, set a date, cook dinner-”

He pauses at the sound of Enjolras’ chair scraping against the floor, hand letting go of Ferre’s as he moves behind him to place both hands gently on Combeferre’s shoulders.

“Sh-should I not have been so forward?”

Combeferre sighs.

“It was hot,” he says quietly, “I didn’t even think about stopping to check everything. And then Luca came in and I wanted to make it so good for both of you. I think maybe that took over everything else.”

“It was good for both of us,” Enjolras confirms, hands rubbing gently over his shoulders and upper arms, “but i-if it wasn’t good for you, then-”

“It was,” Combeferre interjects, “it was good for me. I had fun. I want to do it again, you have no idea. But it has to be negotiated; we have to talk about this properly. I should have stopped us to do that.”

“Any of us c-could have,” Enjolras says, sitting back down in the chair next to him, “it was a-all our responsibility. We ch-chose not to.”

“But I’m the dom, I’m the one who should be checking we’re all on the same page.”

“Were we not?” Enjolras asks, “because I def-definitely felt on the s-same page as you, and I’m sure Luca did as well.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

Combeferre huffs, taking a sip of his tea and holding it close. He glares into it like it’s withholding all the answers, before finally opening his mouth again.

“I was a bad dom.”

“Gabriel,” Enjolras chastises, “You were not. You w-were in sync with us the entire time.”

“Still, I should have-”

“And next time you will,” he says, reaching back out to rest his hand on Combeferre’s arm. “Wh-what happened, happened. No one was hurt, we had a good time, and w-we all w-want to do it again. What good is- is beating yourself up over this going to do?”

Grumpily huffing again, Combeferre catches Enjolras’ eye out of the corner of his own and glares, no heat behind it. Enjolras simply smiles back, raising an eyebrow.

“Next time, I want us to sit down,” Ferre says firmly, looking away, “and have dinner together, and negotiate properly. I want to see a full list of your limits, and for you and Luca to discuss between yourselves what you are and aren’t comfortable with. And if we ever, ever do something non-negotiated again, it stays completely vanilla.” He finally looks back at Enjolras, only now realising he had let go of his tea to gesticulate. “Does that sound fair?”

Enjolras grins.

“Yes, sir.”

Combeferre attempts to fix him with a stern glare, but there’s nothing in it.

“Do you of-often drop after a scene?” Enjolras asks quietly, after a moment of silence between them.

“Sorry?”

“Do you drop?” he repeats, “like th-this?”

“Oh,” Combeferre pulls a face and waves his hand dismissively, “I’m not dropping, don’t worry.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” Combeferre says, “I’m just frustrated with myself for being so thoughtless. I should have done it differently, I mean– I’ve been doing this for years, and the one time I do it with my best friend, everything goes out the window.”

“But it’s not drop,” Enjolras says, with just a hint of sarcasm. He gives Combeferre a knowing look, which is brushed off once more.

“No,” he shrugs. “I’m fine.” He sounds anything but fine.

“Have you e-ever dropped before?” Enjolras presses, “do you have any-anything to compare this to?”

“No,” Combeferre replies, “But I would know. I’ve seen Luca drop before, and Joly. I know what it looks like.”

“Do they act the same wh-when they drop?”

“Not really,” he says, “but why would they? They’re so different from each other, and-”

He pauses when he sees the corner of Enjolras’ mouth quirk up sympathetically.

“What?”

“Gabriel,” he takes Combeferre’s hand again gently, “I think you’re dropping.”

“I’m not, I don’t drop.”

“Do you want to wake Luca?” Enjolras asks, “I-I’m sure if he knew, he’d jump at the chance to squ-squeeze you in the middle of a cuddle pile.”

“No!” Combeferre all but snaps, before collecting himself and sighing, “I’ve already done enough, I’m not waking him up as well.”

Enjolras frowns, dropping all semblance of teasing, squeezing Combeferre’s hand gently.

“Gabriel,” he says, running his thumb over the back of Ferre’s hand, “listen to yourself. You kn-know as well as I do, it’s not l-like you to be so uns-unsure of yourself.”

Combeferre gives him a grumpy but almost anxious look, curling in on himself in a way Enjolras has never seen before.

 “It’s alright if you need to be t-taken care of, Gabriel,” Enjolras soothes, other hand coming round to cup Combeferre’s own. “You can let us.”

“What if I’m not even dropping?” Combeferre asks quietly, “and you’re doing all this for nothing?”

“Oh no,” Enjolras teases, letting go of his hand to wind an arm around his shoulder, “my best an-and oldest friend has been given too much of my v-very limited affection. Now wh-what shall I give him wh-when he is truly sad?”

Combeferre lifts his head and, in a moment of uncharacteristic childishness, sticks his tongue out.

“You really pick your moments to be sarcastic,” he grumbles.

“Do you think this is a ch-chore for us, Gabriel?”

Combeferre makes a vague, grumpy sort of sound and rests his head back against Enjolras’ shoulder.

“Gabriel?”

A grunt comes from below him.

“I’d like t-to take that as a no,” Enjolras says fondly, “but I fear I sh-shouldn’t.” He pets Combeferre’s hair gently, gentle scritches on his scalp running down to the nape of his neck. “We like giving you affection. Th-this isn’t one sided. Domming isn’t just about giving, just as subbing is-isn’t just about t-taking.”

“I know that,” comes the grumpy, muffled response.

“Well it s-sounds like you need reminding.”

Combeferre raises his head to glower at him, but Enjolras’ returning smile is solid and steadfast, and Combeferre sighs.

“Maybe,” he says finally, “it would be nice to be held a while.”

“There,” Enjolras murmurs, fondness dripping from his voice, “was that so hard?”

His arm pulls Combeferre closer and holds him tight and firm, and Ferre sighs, leaning back into him.

“Would you like to w-wake Luca, or shall I?”

Breathing deeply, Combeferre sighs and closes his eyes.

“I will,” he says, after a moment.

Enjolras smiles, pressing his lips gently to Combeferre’s temple and rubbing a thumb over his shoulder. With one more squeeze, Enjolras removes his arms and guides Combeferre up, letting him lead as they both trudge back to the bedroom.

In their absence, Courfeyrac has shuffled on to Combeferre’s side of the bed and buried his face in the pillow. It fills Enjolras with fondness, and for a moment he is overcome with the honour of seeing his two best friends like this, so in love with each other, unable to go without the other’s essence, even in sleep.

Kneeling on the bed, Combeferre reaches over to brush a stray curl away from Courfeyrac’s ear, Courf’s face turning from the pillow to follow his touch. His eyes stay firmly closed, and Combeferre leans down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Mm, Gabi?” Courfeyrac’s voice is thick with sleep.

“Hey, Lu,” Ferre murmurs gently, climbing properly into the bed beside him, “shuffle up a bit?”

“S’wrong?” he mumbles, “what’re doin’?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he whispers back, settling in close to Courfeyrac and reaching out for Enjolras, who fits in on his other side.

“Your turn for cuddles?” Courfeyrac asks when he sees Enjolras’ arm wind round Combeferre’s middle.

“Yeah,” Ferre says quietly, resting his head down on the pillow, “if that’s alright.”

Courfeyrac promptly but sleepily shuffles closer and rearranges them until Combeferre’s head rests on his chest.

“Jus’ like this,” he mumbles, one hand coming up to play with Combeferre’s hair.

Enjolras can feel the change in breathing as his front rests against Combeferre’s back, and he smiles softly. Pressing his forehead into Combeferre’s neck and running his nails over the top of his shirt, over his chest and belly, Enjolras feels the tension ebb away from Combeferre’s body as he slowly drifts to sleep.

“Bas?” Courfeyrac whispers, a few minutes later.

“Mm.”

“Is Gabi okay?”

Enjolras takes a moment to decide how much he should disclose to Courfeyrac. They’re still Combeferre’s feelings, after all, and he had been so shy to admit them.

“He’s alright,” he says finally, “Just n-needs some extra loving, I th-think.”

“Tha’s okay,” Courf murmurs, other hand resting on top of Enjolras’ over Combeferre’s stomach, “I like lovin’ him.”

Smiling, Enjolras closes his eyes once more.

“Me too.”

[skullaton]

Chapter 8: Beautiful Dreamer

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 - Last Chapter

Wally Darling / GN Reader

Rating: M

Summary:

The city is full of people. Then why did it feel so lonely? Memories of clinking bottles and dazzling neon lights flickered through your mind. Misty, car filled streets with humans, but no humanity. A bridge and a phonebooth. And a sweet voice that wanted you to come home. You’ve wandered too far, and you don’t know how to get back. But don’t worry! You’ve made some friends from a colourful town that can help you!

TW: None! This chapter is pure fluff!

AO3 link: here Wally logo by Clown

The melodious birdsong could be heard humming outside of your window . You stretched your weary body, feeling the hug of a plush duvet wrapping your figure. You groaned, wishing that you could sleep for five more minutes.

But you knew you couldn’t be late for your opening shift!

You peeled your eyes open, flinching at the light that filtered through the tiny window of the spare room. The dull sparkle of fairy lights twinkled above your head, reminding you that you forgot to turn them off last night.

You sat up and stretched your back, a few juicy pops emanating from your spine. Another day in paradise, eh?

Your feet land on the plush throw rug as you go to your dresser. You pulled out a comfortable outfit that you wouldn’t mind working in.

You made your way through the closed store and up the stairs, hearing the gentle bustle of your dad, Howdy Pillar, waking up. You did your usual morning routine in the bathroom.

Teeth, shower, and then get dressed. You stared at yourself in the mirror extra long today. Something was off, but you couldn’t quite place it.

Your hand went up to straighten the rainbow antennas that were prevalent on your forehead. One was bent in a bizarre direction from the way you slept. Must have been knocked out really good!

You smoothed over your clothes, making sure to cup the sleeves of your shirt behind your elbow. You hated the sensation of fabric on your spines! You gingerly fingered the tiny bumps that poked out of your skin on your forearm, making sure that they were accessible.

When you adjusted the shirt on your back, you popped your translucent wings into the little slits sewn in your clothes.

You plodded down to the shoppe, taking extra care to tug on your apron. You’ve done this so much that it was almost a ritual.

You stood next to a towering, multi-limbed being behind the counter, watching him take a long sip out of his ‘Best Bug Dad’ mug.

“Mornin’, Dad.”

“Mornin’, Grasshopper. ‘Nother day, huh?”

You smiled up at him. Every time you saw him, a wave of appreciation floods you. Your heart is full of love for this caterpillar, and you don’t know how you can love him any more.

He found you on his doorstep when you were just a little nymph. You had run away from your abusive parents from deep in the woods, so he decided to adopt you.

It hasn’t always been sunshine and rainbows. Working can be tough, but he made it as accommodating as possible! He’s a wonderful businessman, and you hope to make him proud someday!

It’s a good thing Home is such a nice place to live. All the neighbours were sweet and inviting. There was even a guy that took your fancy! He was kind, smelled of apples, and an absolute darling!

“Buh, what a freeloader!” Howdy groaned at the paper. There was an article on the front highlighting Wally Darling’s art show. You were so proud of him at that moment! It must have been a big deal for an artist to showcase their art!

“C’mon, he worked hard for that!”

“He just sits and paints! What about us hardworkin’ folks, bustin’ our backs for the community?”

You gave the caterpillar a cat-like grin, “You’re just being hyper critical of him.”

He huffed proudly, “Am not!”

“Literally everyone in this town just sits around and lollygags.”

“Like who?”

“Barnaby.”

He waved a spare hand. “He’s different!”

You shook your head and chuckled. Howdy used to love Wally – thought he was a stand up guy! The absolute most of a man! That is, until he found out that you liked him. Then he criticised everything he did.

It was endearing. But also annoying.

You both went about the day, doing stock take and resupplying the shelves. Once midday ticked on, a familiar duo squeezed through the bodega’s doors.

The big fuzzy dog, Barnaby, gave the shopkeeper a toothy canine grin, “Wow, it’s a real bugdega in here, innit?”

Howdy guffawed at the joke, slapping his knee. “That never gets old!”

Barnaby looked smug.

But you were focused on someone else. Next to the lumbering dog was a man. A man with a prominent pompadour, fuzzy cardigan, and a dreamy smile. You could feel your tummy doing somersaults as you thought of the night you shared a kiss with him. The whole scene was bliss.

However, after the night of the sleepover, you both never addressed the elephant in the room. Were you dating? Just friends? It left an air of uncertainty whenever you spoke to him.

“H-hey, Wally,” Your voice shyly called to him.

He was his usual calm, collected self. But his tone matched yours with soft and sweet cadence. “Hey, neighbour.”

“H-how are you doing today?”

“The usual! Just stopped by to get some - as Barnaby would call it - grub. ”

You sighed and shook your head. Bloody Barnaby and his insect jokes! One of these days, you’re gonna tell him how it really bugs you!

… Ugh, you hated how influential he was!

Wally gave a lazy glance at his friend and the shopkeep, observing how they were knees deep in jokes and laughter. He leaned closer to you, voice low. “I have something to ask you. Do you have a minute?”

Butterflies fluttered around your core. You could feel a heat rise to your cheeks. You nodded, giving a cautious glance to your dad, making sure he was properly distracted.

You guided Wally a few aisles away, landing deep within the art section. You casually started fixing up a paintbrush display, “What did you need to talk about?”

He started thumbing the different brushes, rubbing so the bristles would flick against his fingers. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?”

You stopped what you were doing. You swallowed thickly as you felt your heart hammer in your chest. A bit too eagerly, you responded. “Y-yes! I’d love to!”

The smile reached up to his eyes. “Wonderful. Can I pick you up after work?”

You didn’t even know what the date entailed. You just nodded as excitement bubbled in your chest.

Wally had picked up a brush, dusting the tip of your nose playfully. “I’ll see you then.”

Then he sauntered away, twirling the artist's tool casually in his hand. It wasn’t long before he was out of sight, joined with his friend at the front of the store.

You pumped your fist to the ceiling and released a silent scream. You couldn’t believe this! He really wanted to go on a date with you! That means the moment you shared at the sleepover was mutual!

Then a heaviness settled on your shoulders. Oh no.

You’d have to tell your dad.

**

“And how will you pay for that?” Howdy asked the shorter man, his fingers drumming against the counter impatiently. Another pair of arms crossed against his chest as he gave Wally a pointed look.

Wally hummed, looking over the tool. Finally, he spoke with certainty, “Did you know if you mix yellow and blue pigments, it’ll make green? Green can be quite the creative colour if used properly! But it is very difficult to work with.”

Everyone was staring at Wally in disbelief. He actually disclosed useful information for once! It wasn’t a half-baked joke or a nonchalant remark.

It makes sense, though. He was a professional painter, after all. He was probably being humble  most of the time.

Howdy grumbled, punching the fact into the cash register, having it screech out a receipt. He mumbled something along the lines of ‘well, I guess that was good.’

You giggled at how stubborn he was being.

It wasn’t long before Barnaby and Wally, now holding two heaping hot dogs and a paintbrush, were walking out of the bodega. As Wally left, he held your gaze for a moment longer, before slipping out into the vibrant neighbourhood.

You released a dreamy sigh, which was immediately caught by the tall caterpillar.

“So, what did you guys talk about?”

You stiffened. “Oh, nothing. He needed a brush,” you fibbed.

“Uh-huh.”

A long moment drawn out between you two. You could hear his index finger tapping against his clothed forearm. You cautiously gave him a glance, noticing how he was waiting, staring. He looked so stern with his arms folded and his lips tucked into a thin line.

You caved, exhaling, “He asked me on a date.”

He huffed dramatically, throwing up another pair of arms. “I knew it! And he didn’t even ask for permission!”

You rolled your eyes at him as he continued to prattle about ‘what good neighbours should do’.

You were done with him making decisions for you.

You swivelled to face him, your voice raising, “He doesn’t need to ask for your permission, dad! I’m a grown adult! I can do whatever I want!”

Your tone caught him off guard. The look he gave you made your heart twist in little sad knots. It was so dejected that you almost wanted to apologise for raising your voice.

He sighed, kneeling down on a pair of legs. One hand was up, rubbing circles on his temple, while another pair was at your shoulders. “I’m sorry, grasshopper. I just…”

He was looking for words as he gripped you. He touched you like you were a fragile, defenceless creature, about to break. You leaned your cheek into the warmth of his hand, your fingers coiling around his clothed forearm. The fuzzy scruff of his fur tickled your nose.

Your tone was more gentle now, full of love and appreciation. “He’s not asking for my hand, dad. He just wants a date. When and if we become serious, you’ll have the final say, alright?”

He scooped you into a big caterpillar hug, the wind getting pushed out of you.

“I just worry, y’know? Remember the night you had the nightmare?” he rocked you back and forth, “I don’t want anything bad happening to you, little one. Ever since you landed at the bodega, I vowed to protect you.”

You loved the way Howdy hugged you. His arms wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, and the firm muscles barricaded you from the outside world. You were in an impenetrable cocoon – a safe haven that’s known as your dad. You melted into his fuzzy embrace, hugging him back.

You don’t quite remember the nightmare all too much. It was a fuzzy mess. But you did know it scared Howdy to bits. You mumbled into his apron, “I’ll be fine, dad. I’ll come straight back after the date.”

He pulled away just enough to press a big smooch against your forehead. You groaned as you rubbed away the saliva. “Daaad!”

“You grew up so fast.”

“I’ve been an adult for a while now, y’know.”

He landed another wet smooch. “So fast!”

You released a series of ‘yuck!’s as you scrambled to get away from him.

Once he finally let you go, you both giggled away the worries. Family quarrels happen. You’re just glad that it was healthy.

**

You both went back to work, catering to each passing customer. As the day ticked on by, you anxiously watched the clock. Nerves tickled at your gut as it got closer to closing time.

Howdy begrudgingly noticed. He practically ordered you to go get ready for the date an hour before he closed up shoppe.

You skittered off before he could change his mind.

As you burrowed through your drawers of clothes, you flipped between several different outfits. Was it going to be formal? Casual? Physical? Ugh! You had no idea what to go with!

You decided on the most comfortable, fashion forward one. You still wanted to look good, but practical!

When you ducked back into the shop to show Howdy, he practically dropped his broom in disbelief. The way his smile lit up, his eyes glistening with prideful tears, it made you feel all warm and tingly. He reached down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You look marvellous, grasshopper.”

You beamed up at his acceptance.

The jingle of the front door disrupted the perfect family moment. You both gazed at the intruder, only to see the one and only Wally Darling.

His hair was in that immaculate updo and his clothes were in pristine order. This time, he didn’t wear his usual deep blue cardigan. Instead, it was a rainbow patterned knitted sleeveless vest. The sleeves of his white undershirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his felt yellow forearms.

He looked perfect. Divine, even.

But you’d probably always think that, no matter the situation.

Howdy’s soft exterior hardened immediately. One set of arms went to cross against his broad chest, while the others propped on his hips. He glared down at the little man.

“So,” his tone threatening, “what do you plan on doing?”

“A date, sir,” Wally responded flatly, that impish smile broad on his face.

He clicked his tongue. “Obviously! What are you planning on doing on the date ?”

Wally tilted his head and hummed. He was definitely tossed between answering sarcastically or honestly.

He went with the safe route. “A picnic.”

“And you plan on taking them back here after?”

Wally placed a hand on the flat of his chest. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

The caterpillar exhaled out of his nose. He glanced back at you, giving the most uncertain of looks.

You took this opportunity to spring up with your grasshopper legs, making a cartoonish boing noise as you planted a kiss against Howdy’s cheek. Upon landing back down, you skipped off to Wally, hooking your arm with his, “I’ll see you later, dad!”

Howdy watched you and Wally saunter carelessly out the doors of his bodega. He ran a hand over the kiss mark on his cheek. Shaking his head, he went back to sweeping the store, “They grow up so fast…”

**

Wally guided you to the crest of the hill, just outside of his Home. A picnic blanket was meticulously laid out with a few candle lit lanterns holding the edges. There was a spread of different kinds of pastries – all of which were your favourite.

Dusk was settling over the scene, an orange tangerine mixing with the purple of the night. It casted an etherealness on the picnic that you couldn’t describe. It makes your heart fill to the brim with happiness.

Wally had helped you down, settling on one end of the blanket. From behind his back, he pulled out two glasses and a dark bottle. Inside sloshed a violet liquid. As he uncorked and poured the drink, you got a familiar feeling tugging at your stomach.

For some reason, it made you nervous.

He offered you the drink, clinking the glass with his, stating a casual, “Cheers.”

Then he watched expectantly.

You swirled the drink in your hand warily. You don’t even know why you’re being so cautious.

You finally caved, “Cheers.” With that, you looked away, gambling a quick taste.

It was tart. It was…

Oh, it was just grape juice.

Why did you assume it would be anything other?

You internally mused at your silly emotion. You glanced back at Wally, seeing half of his drink gone.

He must really like it!

“This is really beautiful, Wally,” you found your words after a moment.

He leaned back a bit, his smile softening. “I got some help. I wanted to show how much you mean to me.”

You bit your lower lip to hide that growing smile.

“I didn’t realise how much you liked me.”

“Silly, silly.” He had scooted closer to your side. You could feel the fuzzy felt of his face pressed against your cheek. You practically melted from the touch. The hotness of his breath was against your ear. “You have no idea.”

**

You two chatted throughout the evening, all while you snacked on the pastries. The sun had nestled deep into the horizon, the silver shine of the stars now coming out to play. You both had laid down, watching the faraway glimmer of constellations all while your fingers entwined. You rubbed your thumb against his soft knuckles, lavishing in the heat.

Somewhere along the line, you both decided to do twenty questions.

“How did you get into painting?”

“I ‘unno, just felt right.”

“That’s a lame answer.”

He gave his usual monotone laugh. “Ha ha. What can I say? Colours are pretty.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Your turn.”

He hummed thoughtfully. He turned his head so that he could watch you.

“Do you have any siblings?”

You blinked. That seems like a basic question, but you don’t know why it made you feel uncertain. Your eyes locked on his. “Nope!”

You swear you could see a flash of sadness pass through his features. Maybe you were seeing things.

“How about you?”

“Nah. Could you imagine two of me?” he shook his head, “Quite confusing, indeed.”

“I think I’d have a hard time choosing which Wally to like!”

He briefly looked shocked. That is, until you place a quick peck against his cheek. “Kidding!”

His face was turning a bright red. You caught him off guard!

“You know, you deserve punishment for that,” he stated matter of factly, his smirk inching into mischief.

“Yeah?” You mimicked his smile. “And what are you gonna do?”

You didn’t expect the guy to have so much speed. His hands were on you in seconds flat, fingers tickling your most delicate spots. You squealed in bouts of laughter, flailing to get him off. But he was dexterous! He guessed your every move, and prepared even more tickles!

You had to think fast in the Tickle War! Your hand jabbed up to his underarm, tickling in retaliation!

Wally gasped in surprise, jerking off of you as he erupted in his own set of giggles.

You both tumbled around in the grass until you were both gasping for air. He laid on his side, and you took the opportunity to snuggle up close, eyes never breaking contact. You were too afraid to look away, in case this moment would vanish into the night air.

He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead, exhaling a barely audible ‘mwuah.’

He was so goofy. Your insides were going into mush just being around him.

“This was fun,” he mumbled into your skin.

“Yeah,” You sighed dreamily into his sweater vest.

“Would you like to go on a date again?”

You pulled away, your smile encompassing your face. “I’d love that!”

You couldn’t help yourself but pepper quick little kisses against his cheeks. He chuckled at the attention.

“Is this what Barnaby meant by ‘going steady?’”

You stopped momentarily, nuzzling your nose into the soft fabric of his cheek. “Are you asking me to … be in a relationship?”

“Would you like that?”

This time, your lips found his. He reciprocated, humming contently at the texture. When you pulled away, you answered with the most certainty you’ve ever felt in your life. “I’d love to date you, Wally Darling.”

You wish you could take a picture of his expression. His eyes were half-lidded, filled with the most love you’ve ever seen. “Then you’re mine, my Darling.”

You placed another firm kiss against him, embracing him so tight that you could pop his stuffing. Your tummy was filled with butterflies, and a heat warmed your face.

You have a feeling you’re going to love being his Darling.

**

Wally had dropped you off at Howdy’s Place, making sure that the caterpillar was satiated.

He wouldn't be, however, considering how many lipstick marks were covering Wally’s felt face.

But Wally didn’t care. He sort of enjoyed watching Howdy get all ruffled. It was different from his usual character.

You certainly were changing people. It was a good change of pace from the usual lifeless void.

After so many years, there was finally life.

But there still needed to be more work done. More souls to be drawn in, more energy to feed Home.

But this was a good start.

He made his way to the sentient house, ducking into the crimson door. Almost immediately, Home rapped a few panels of wood.

It was excited!

How was the date?

Wally tugged his ascot off before neatly folding it and placing it on a side table.

“I think it went well!”

It looked very nice .

The man sunk into his usual rainbow striped chair, hands folding over his stomach. “Julie gave the suggestion. Poppy helped bake the sweets.”

Such nice friends! Home knocked a bit too happily, it made the walls sway.

Wally gave a low laugh at the house’s excitement.

Home settled a bit. The next taps were slow, almost somber sounding. Keeping them awake is tiring, Wally.

His smile went tense. He reached a hand to touch the wallpaper. “I know, sweet Home. Soon we’ll have more friends!”

Yay! The house’s walls clamoured, the panelling clicking together in excitement. The website is working!

He chuckled dryly. “I barely even know what an ‘inner net’ is, but I’m glad I was able to reach some people on the Outside.”

It’s ‘internet’, Wally.

“Same thing.”

They let a quietness lull over them. Wally picked at the fuzzy bits off his finger tips. It took him a while to formulate the question he had bubbling in him.

“Did they have to forget about their sister?”

The house creaked sadly.

Sorry. I thought it would be easier for them.

Wally sighed, sinking deeper into his loveseat. “You’re probably right.”

She has a good soul.

The man peeked up at the wallpaper’s eyes. “Do you feel her?”

The eyes stared back, crinkling in happiness. She’s very sweet. She dreams of high school and crushes, and making awful food for her sibling.

Wally chuckled at the thought. “What a beautiful dreamer.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Nextdoor Neighbour

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Smut

Concept Next door

Smut Full sex / nudity / hot tub sex / watching

I moved through the living room trying to avoid the madness going on around the house, my parents moving around shouting and screaming at my siblings, everyone rushing around and moving things. I went to her kitchen opening the fridge and grabbing a drink, I quickly opened it and took a sip leaning on the kitchen island as my mother rushed down putting a suitcase by the front door.

"Ohh darling, you sure you'll be alright?" She asks 

"I'll be fine. You guys have a nice trip I'll be fine on my own."

"You sure you don't need grandma to come look after you?"

"I'll be fine. Any issues I'll go see grandma" 

"Alright. Just be careful" she says 

"I will" I smiled watching them load up the car with my two younger siblings while I finished my drink so I bid them all goodbye

"Be careful" she warns

"I will," I laughed

"Don't get into any trouble" my dad told me after giving me a hug

"I'll do my best" I smiled. They gave me the keys and the pad of emergency numbers before they headed out leaving me alone in the house. I watched as the car drove off down the street and out of view leaving me completely alone.

I knew immediately the first thing I wanted so I headed to the bathroom locking the door putting my music on and running a nice hot shower I pulled my hair out its bun and I noticed a sight out the bathroom window open a crack of course to let out the showers steam, I saw the nextdoor neighbor sat on his back patio in his jeans and a loose open button down over a t-shirt clearly looking in the window at me, I smiled and have him a little wave which made him smile a little and wave back at me I blushed a little but pushed the window open a little more allowing him to see better as I stood on the bathroom rug and stripped off my clothes before climbing on the shower. I did my best not to look as I washed up and down my body but I knew he was looking and anytime I did glance to the window he was there looking at me, watching me until I was all done and I grabbed my towel keeping it close as I headed to my bedroom I couldn't see the patio from here but I could see other windows of his house and I noticed he went back inside and up to his bedroom our windows merely being a few feet apart giving me an unamused look as I got dressed he bit his lip and glanced inside his house so I shrugged playfully he sighed and headed away again so I finished getting dressed and headed down locking the house behind me and hopping the fence to his garden climbing up his patio where he had now returned to his chair he saw me and whistled at me 

"Rude" I snapped 

"What is it neighbor girl?" He asks 

" gone" I smiled coming and sitting on the chair beside him 

"Are they now?" He smirked glancing at my dress biting his lip a little "drink?"

"Yes please" I smiled

He got up heading inside grabbing two bottles one of which he cracked open for himself and the other he opened for and handed to me

"I really shouldn't' I giggled playfully

"You're on my property. I say you can drink you can"

"Daddy wouldn't like it"

"Yeah well. I thought we had an arrangement about you not telling your daddy about what happens when you jump that fence" he smirked returning to his seat 

"We do"

"Then we don't need to worry' he says tapping his bottle on my own before having a drink "how goes your education?"

"How goes your divorce?"

"Touché" he laughed 

We chatted about things for a while as we usually did, not having much of a filter between us until we'd long finished our drinks and darkness began to fall

"I assume you're still here because you want something?" He asks 

"Maybe"

"Go on then what do you want?"

"Tub? Please?" I asked sweetly

"Really? Ask nicely"

"Please Tommy can we go swim?"

"Alright' he smirked "I'll get it going you get ready" he says getting up and heading to his hot tub starting It up so we could climb in it was already on its stand by mode given he knew my family was leaving for the week so It would likely be used I happily got up and headed over watching the bubbles as he army on to grab towels and I assumed some more drinks as I watched the bubbles and Jets. Until I felt him grab my butt 

"Uhh excuse me!"

"Humm don't bend over showing it off then" he smirked spanking me before setting the towels and some more drinks but the side I smiled pulling my dress off leaving me as naked as I was in the shower and I climbed into the hot water he smirked watching me before stripping off himself "may I little bird?" He Cooes undoing his belt 

"You may Thomas" I smiled

He smiled kicking off his jeans and climbing in with me sitting beside me and wrapping his arms around me "I've missed you" he Cooes kissing up my neck 

"I've missed you too but I've only been nextdoor"

"I know. But peaking in your window watching incase your parents catch us isn't quite the same as being able to watch you strip and climb in my hot tub" he smirked 

"I suppose. Don't need as much secrecy this week" I smirked climbing into his lap he immediately held my hips to let me settle comfortably on him 

"I'll treasure the opportunity" he smirked "Umm Atlast I get you all to myself again" he Cooes "no more jerking off over open windows, sneaking you over on your days off, and having to make sure to hide the hickies from your family" he smirked moving slightly till he slipped inside me "fuck! I have missed you little bird" he growled holding my hips hard as I began my gentle movements even if he was mostly guiding me often kissing and biting my neck as we got faster I did my best not to scream often just moaning into his ear which only fueled him more "are you winding me up intentionally little bird?" He smirked 

"Maybe"

"Maybe? Maybe I'll do something to wind you up then" he growled holding my hips tightly forcing me to move fast and hard forcing a squeal from me it wasn't long until I hit my orgasm biting on his shoulder to keep quiet but he forced though keeping at his pace letting the hot bubbly water move around us until he reached his own burying himself deep inside me and leaving a harsh love bite on my neck before he relaxed against the seat "fuck I love you"

"I love you too" I cooed rubbing my nose against his neck and hugging him tightly which only make him chuckle

"In a minute little bird, let me get my breath back and you can have more attention"

Over the week I'm not sure I'd spend even an hour at home, I'd spent the whole week next door with Thomas. We'd have our meals together, cuddle up to movies, have endless amounts of sex, share the shower and hot tub and spend the night cuddled together in his big bed. But tonight was our last night as my family would be home tomorrow, it was such a nice week and I didn't want it to end but God knows the kinda trouble we'd be in if my family found out about us. So we were making the most of our time together before we'd have to return to our secret sneaky snuggles.

"Are you gonna miss me?" I giggled as I bounced holding his arms around my waist he kissed my back and up my neck 

"Of course I will little bird. I always miss you. But that's why we have to make the most of our time" he Cooes helping me move at a decent pace "it'll be nice to have a rest thought"

"Awww am I that tiring?"

"You do need constant attention little bird. Or you go all pouty" he says "you forget sometimes you're younger than me you have alot more energy than I do."

"I'm not that much younger!"

"You know what I mean." He says soon enough we both reached out highs and he finished deep inside of me leaning his head against my back as we got our breath 

"I really will miss you I've got very used to you being here with me" he Cooes 

"I'll miss you too" I smiled moving so we could cuddle in bed "we'll have to make some plans one day soon"

"We will. Come in we'll gather up your stuff so you can get over there" he says giving me a sweet kiss before getting up to get dressed

"Do I have to?"

"Yes come on little bird or we'll both be in big trouble"

I felt so sad and lonely in my bed again even if id only actually been here for an hour having put things away and a load of laundry in to make it look like I'd been here this whole time, I climbed out the bed as I heard their car and soon enough they arrived back in the house giving me hugs 

"The house is spotless good job y/n" my dad smiled 

I was extremely nervous I don't know why but I'd been having alot of random sicknesses the last month or so since my family came back I didn't question it maybe they brought back some kind of sickness from there traveling it's very possible but part of me was endlessly fearful so I grabbed a test from the local shop and walked home tossing the box on my bed, honestly I would have gone to thomas' to do it but he's off out today and would be back till tonight and I didn't want to wait that long. I just wanted to take it to cross it off my list and put my mind at ease but I got an answer I didn't expect.

Two pink lines.

As solid as they could be.

No possibility of this being a mistake. 

The door opened so I quickly shoved the test under my pillow as my mum came in to give me my laundry

"Thank you" I smiled trying to hide my emotions

"You alright Darling?"

"Fine" I forced a smile 

"Ohh I'll take the trash for you" she says grabbing the packaging for the test that was still on my bed but as she picked it up she looked at it and immediately panicked "where is it?" 

I handed it over and she grabbed it and my arm forcing me out my room ordering my siblings to their rooms as she took me before my father in his chair 

"What's going on?" He asked and she merely handed him the test which he read "were having another baby?" He asked happily

"Not me" she snapped 

"Wh- no! No tell me it's not true y/n"

"I think so I've only taken one-"

"Drink. Your taking two more we need to be sure" he demanded so I did as they asked and drank a whole carton of juice so I could take two more tests both of which came out the same and I got a endless lecture from my mother it was obvious they were upset but they understood I was scared and upset too not being too angry at me because of it "who's the father y/n?"

"I can't -"

"Tell me. I promise I won't be angry with you" he says 

"Thomas. Mr Sangster. From nextdoor"

"Thomas! From nextdoor?"He asks I nodded "I'll fucking kill him" he says heading to the door grabbing his coat

"No please -" I began

"I'll fucking kill him! Who does he think he is! What did he do to you! What horrible things did he do to my little girl"

"It was consensual I promise" I told them

"Alright. He didn't hurt you?"

"No. Never"

"Okay. I'm still killing him" he says heading outside and my mother and I quickly followed him unfortunately she was on his side, and just as the perfect timing the moment we got outside Thomas' car pulled up onto his driveway so my parents headed over and i ran behind them trying to warn him as he innocently climbed out the car having no concept what was going on as my father approached him. He didn't even get a word in before my father punched him in the face so hard he fell to the floor with a now bloody nose 

"What the fuck!" He complained as my father hit him again hitting and kicking him against his car till my father moved back to catch his breath "someone please tell m what the fuck is going on!"

"I know what you did to my daughter!" 

"Oh fuck- I'm sorry! Look she's a mature adult I didn't do anything bad to her I swear to god" he says getting to his feet putting space between him and my father 

"You knocked up my fucking daughter to bastard!' 

"Kn- knocked up?" He asked, clearly very confused "You're pregnant!" He turned his attention to me "why didn't you tell me!"

"It's been. A very busy half an hour Thomas!" I replied 

"Look I swear I didn't know I'd knocked her up, I didn't mean to get her in trouble, but I really really love her I know it's kinda strange but I really do love your daughter and I'll do whatever she wants about this…situation" 

"Inside well talk it out" my father says as he and my mother headed back inside so I quickly gave him a tight hug 

"Ah ah ah careful. I'm going have a lot of bruises" he complained 

"Sorry"

"It's okay. Warning I was about to get beat up when I got home would be nice"

"Don't you think if I could I would?"

"True. But you really are pregnant?"

"Three tests says so." I nodded 

"Okay. Don't let them pressure you. Do whatever you wanna do, whatever you choose I'll be here to support you. And if they don't like your decision your more then welcome to stay with me" 

"Thank you Thomas. Come on before you get beat up again" I giggled wiping the blood from his face and tugging him inside with me.

[atmilliways]

Part Two: Shame On You

(part one) (part three) (part four) (part five) - complete as of 4/4/23

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1929 Ships: Steddie Major Tags: Jealousy, Casual sex Additional Tags: Pining, Slutty Steve Harrington, Pre-relationship, Landline phones, Violence against a couch

Author’s Note: Banner by @xirayn​. TW for brief mention of Eddie throwing up, and a vague attempt to clean it but, alas, too drunk.

Also this is part two of five, so if you thought they might work it out in this one... they do not.

Read it on Ao3

-

“Eddie?”

As the sound of his name being called filters through the sound of water drumming on his skin and the bottom of the tub around him, Eddie lifts his head from his knees.

He’d done his best to wipe up the mess on the bathroom floor, piling the pungent used hand towels in a corner and dropping his soiled clothes on top to, like, bury the smell or something. And then, because he’s a glutton for punishment apparently, he’d decided to take a shower, and slipped halfway through rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

So his hip and shoulder hurt where he’d landed, his eyes still sting a bit even though the shampoo has long been washed away by now, and he’s already at least half resolved to just sit there until the water heater craps out or dawn comes, whichever happens first. But with no sign of the morning coming and the shower spray still somewhere in the realm of lukewarm, Steve has managed to beat both. 

Before Eddie works up the energy to call something back, Steve follows the sound of the water and nudges the bathroom door open. “Eddie?” Steve’s voice is cautious, guarded. In the absence of an immediate response, he adds, “You OD in there?”

The shower has those sliding glass doors, frosted enough not to be see-through but clear enough to make out general shapes. Eddie, blinking away the water running down his bangs, rests one cheek on his knee and watches the shape of Steve coming closer. “No,” he says with a sniffle that he really hopes is too quiet to hear. “I’m fine.”

(Lie.)

All the nastiness between them has condensed into a heavy, sullen knot in his chest—because he’s still mad, is the thing, even though the details as to why kind of waver in his head like a mirage. Even as he’s also ashamed of getting shitfaced and (possibly, probably) making a fool of himself. He’s sure Steve must have noticed the lingering smell of vomit and any leftover smears he missed around the toilet. Now that he’s sobered up a bit, both from that and the amount of water he’s idly consumed from rinsing his mouth out while sitting here under the spray, Eddie kind of wishes he could dissolve, just run down the drain and not have to face him. 

Or the inevitable hangover when he wakes up for work first thing in the morning, but mostly Steve. 

“I got your keys,” Steve says. “And I. . . . I got you a milkshake.”

There's a long pause while Eddie absorbs the news of this olive branch, pressing his cheeks into his knees and watching shower water flow between his feet towards the drain. 

“It’s strawberry,” Steve adds. 

And, okay. Steve brought him his favorite flavor, despite the many heated debates in which Steve has always held firm on chocolate being the superior choice. It’s . . . sweet. Eddie is tempted to forget why he’s mad. 

(Lie, sort of. He’s drunk and tired, and it would be simpler in the moment to let it go, but there’s a reason that sting is there. Forgive Steve for it tonight, and tomorrow Eddie will just be the hypocrite who said he could let it go but still carries the resentment anyway.)

“I don’t wanna puke again,” he decides, and turns his head again, watching as the shape of Steve’s shoulders droop through the glass. 

“Yeah, no, that’s—I’ll just throw it in the freezer.”

There’s a moment where Eddie thinks Steve might say something more—and when it passes, a moment where Eddie wants to say something, but has no idea what. Instead, Steve leaves the room, closing the door gingerly behind himself as though something might shatter if he’s not careful, a drastic change from how he’d slammed out of the apartment before. That’s. . . . Eddie is going to have to think about that.

Later. 

For now, he clambers to his feet and shuffles around a bit to work the pins-and-needles feeling out of his ass. By the time he finishes his shower the water is like ice; he’s shivering too hard to even think about a milkshake right now, the possibility that Steve might be lingering in the kitchen isn’t even a factor. 

(Lie. Whatever.)

-

The next morning is just as dark and storming as Eddie’s mood. 

It doesn’t help that he’s hungover as fuck and hates opening anyway, despite appreciating the raise that came with the extra responsibility. Doesn’t help that Steve is already out of the apartment when Eddie scrapes himself from his bed like gum from the bottom of a shoe; the door to Steve’s room isn’t closed and his bed is still made, presumably unslept in. 

Fucking fantastic. (If he’d accepted the damn milkshake, would Steve have stayed? Too late to find out now.)

The apartment is still dark and empty when Eddie gets home after his shift and he doesn’t even bother turning the lights on, fumbling around in what little overcast afternoon light filters in through the windows. 

Maybe Steve moved out without telling him, gathering up all his stuff while Eddie was at work and leaving to find a roommate that isn’t so hung up on him it must be observable from outer fucking space. The other bedroom door is still open, but Eddie doesn’t look. He can’t, even though it’s not like it would kill him on the spot to prove that theory right. 

(Lie. It just might. Plus, it’s not like he can make rent without help, even with the recent raise, so . . . yeah, that would really suck.)

The phone rings, and Eddie answers it without enthusiasm. 

“Eddie,” Robin says flatly. “What the hell did you say to Steve?”

“Oh, me? I’m good, thanks so much for asking, Buckley,” Eddie replies with sarcastic brightness. “It’s been a fantastic day. Guess that answers my question of whether he’s looking to move out or just off hooking up with some missed connection from the bar last night.”

Robin’s voice is low and razor-sharp as she asks, “Did you kick him out? Because you can’t do that, his name is on the lease too. And, and! Max knows a good lawyer and he’s a real shark, we will sue.”

Yeah, he probably just should have hung up. Eddie presses the heel of his free hand against one eye until he sees sparks, covering the lingering throb of his headache, and snaps, “No I didn’t fucking kick him out, what the fuck?”

“Oh.” The single syllable manages to sound both miffed and puzzled in equal measure. “So why is he sleeping off a mega crisis meltdown in my dorm room, then?”

He throws his free hand up in exasperation. “I don’t know! Maybe me getting laid when he didn’t broke his brain, because it so clearly goes against the natural order of things.” 

Robin’s frown is palpable through the phone line. “That’s one of the two stupidest things I’ve ever heard. The other thing being most of what Steve was saying before he conked out, in case you were wondering. Both of you are complete idiots.”

Eddie scowls right back, possibly proving her point but, fuck it, if she doesn’t know then she can’t give him shit for it. “I hope you didn’t call collect, because I really don’t want to have to pay for the privilege of hearing you insult me.”

“Whatever. I’m calling Nancy, to tell her to call you. And I’ll tell her that if you don’t answer, she needs to show up at your place with her guns.”

“I’m not—”

“With. Guns. Eddie.” 

He winces at the force with which she hangs up—which just went to show that all those cautionary tales about blowing out your eardrums with the devil’s music were bullshit, really.

-

Eddie has been waiting, on edge, sitting curled up in one corner of the couch with his acoustic guitar. He can’t bring himself to play, though, which is a rare and troubling affliction. 

The phone base is on the cushion on the opposite end, as close to him as the line will stretch. He’s trying not to think about the day he and Steve had found the couch in a thrift shop and haphazardly manhandled seven blocks and up several flights of stairs. 

(Lie, it’s all he can think about. They’d mashed their fingers and toes several times, nearly pitched the damn thing into traffic on multiple occasions, and at one point came dangerously close to the entire thing dropping over the railing in the stairwell. Nearly took Eddie down with it, too, but he can’t remember a day in his life he’d laughed harder, or felt more accomplished without a stage or a killer solo being involved.)

When the phone finally rings again, Eddie sets the guitar aside and lunges for the handset. He leads with, “You didn’t have to call.” 

“I think I did,” Nancy replies primly. “Between what the both of you told her, Robin painted quite a picture.”

That grabs his attention immediately, as he supposes it was meant to. “What? Why? What did Steve say?”

“Eddie,” she says reproachfully, “I didn’t call to pass notes, or help you cheat on a test. Please try to be an adult about this.”

Eddie mashes his face into the armrest to muffle a groan that wants to turn into a frustrated scream. He slumps just enough to let his mouth hang off the edge and brings the phone back to his ear. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Uh, yeah actually, I think I do,” he whines. “I hate all of you, because obviously something—” he punches the couch for emphasis, not caring whether she can tell he’s doing it or not “—is going on with Steve. And I thought I knew what it was, but it’s really—” punch “—damn—” punch “—suspicious—” punch “—how everyone in the know refuses to agree with me while pointedly not saying—” punch “—anything.” Scowling, he flips over and sprawls with his head against the armrest, sock feet bracketing the phone base. “Come on, Nancy, tell me the truth. I’m calling on your journalistic integrity here. Steve sleeps around all the time, and I do it once and now everyone is mad at me? What the fuck.”

A sigh comes down the line, and it’s not that Nancy doesn’t sound sympathetic. She does. They’ve talked about his little Steve problem often enough for her to know that this is a very big deal. But he can already tell that she’s still not going to just give it to him straight. 

(Ha.)

“Look,” she says. “All I can tell you is that Steve wants to fix this. And I’m assuming you do too, so. Tell me, in as much detail as you can, what happened.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, already thinking back to the first shot and the montage of subsequent shots, and then leaning back against the graffitied bathroom wall with his dick out. “Well—”

“But not details about the actual sleeping around part.”

He pouts up at the ceiling. “This is the worst end to a months-long dry spell ever. I’m getting new friends.”

(Lie. Sure, there’s the kids and Joyce and Hopper . . . and Murray, the weirdo. . . . But Nancy is one of the five people in his age bracket that Eddie can talk to without landing himself a one-way ticket to the loony bin or, knowing his luck, a visit from a government assassin. There’s no replacing that. Trauma bonded for life, baby.)

So, he tells her everything.

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 2: Oath and Office

Creative Commons 1.0 Public Domain

Prev - Oath and Office - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

"Secrets did not stay secrets for long." - Oath of Office by Tom Clancey

WC: 2461 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, suggestive -

2035, March 13, The White House, Washington D.C. US

“Good morning, Mr. President.”

Lo’s voice was low and gravely and delicious. Remus pulled the covers down just enough to see the room was still mostly dark, the clouds outside just getting that Bespin-purpley pink at the bottom. “It is a good morning.” He yawned and stretched, and the crackle pop in his back and his neck drew an increasingly incredulous look from Lo.

“Someone skipped their yoga last night,” he chuckled, letting out a little yelp when Remus rolled them both over and pulled him into a kiss.

“Yes. It was both of us,” Remus reminded him when he broke away, still laughing quietly. “And I’m confident you will more than make up for it with our morning run,” He pretended to grumble, pulling him up and out of bed. “Then I will make up for that with our shower.”

“Astutely negotiated, President Sanders,” Lo laughed again and helped him pull the covers back up and over the bed. It was a Tuesday and Sarah would be by while they were gone to change out all of the bedding, but Lo refused to leave their bed a mess for her. He stretched to arrange the pillows and Remus snuck up and hugged him from behind.

“Why, thank you, Dr. Sanders,” he murmured close to his ear and played at the hem of his sleep shirt. “I’ve learned from the best. Now, let’s get this off of you so we can start the day right.”

A knock at the door interrupted his reply and Remus bit back a laugh at Lo’s fake scowl. “We’ll be out in five,” he called. “See?” he whispered, tugging him toward the closet. “Now we really have to hurry you out of your clothes…”

Forty eight minutes later, they were both dressed in sun shirts and shorts and finishing their final loop around the Ellipse, surrounded by a cadre of similarly dressed Secret Service agents.

“Race you,” Lo panted, his cute little sport glasses strapped to his head. “Unless you’re afraid… you can’t keep up?” He winked and god, if he didn’t make even competitive look sexy.

“Oh, you’re on, Pocket Protector!” Remus’ calves had been burning since their first lap, but he pushed just a little harder, the flash of surprise in Lo’s eyes more than worth the stitch in his side.

Lo got serious then, his old track and field form kicking in and he shot ahead, outpacing even the lead Secret Service agent. For a moment, at least. The end of the loop was up ahead, the old lamp post nearly within each of their grasp. Remus  stretched out his arms just as he leapt forward and their fingers grazed the already sun-heated metal at nearly the same moment.

Sunlight glared from the windshield of a passing car and a memory bloomed.

Streetlights flash past, a burnt orange sky like in the West during the wildfire seasons competing with the glare of LED traffic signals, all reflecting off the shiny chrome handlebars of our dented little motorbike. Old, but new, with a heads-up display and a meter showing how many more kilometers we have left before we need to charge it.

The motorbike drives smoothly over twisting cobblestone streets and past shops marked by flat screen displays set into vintage window frames. Most are closed, but a few advertise tea and various pastries in a smattering blend of French, German and bits of English. I spot one as we pass that will be good to visit for afternoon tea, as long as we can pull each other away from the day’s work. 

With a quiet whine, the motorbike slows to a stop outside the CERN control center. From the outside it looks like any other ancient office park built back in the 1990s. Over a century’s worth of paint jobs covers the stucco front. The doors and windows were retrofitted twice, first for energy efficiency and later to install the carbon capture systems that recharge the air filters.

I bet a dentist’s office or maybe even a small clinic would look right at home in these office parks. Instead, we work in the building that houses the most advanced particle accelerators in the world. 

Lo looks over his shoulder and closes his hand over mine. He snaps up the iridescent visor into a slot in his helmet and smiles, eyes like the noonday sky in old movies. “Ready, Meus?”

“Ready, Meus?” Lo asked, gripping Remus’ shoulder, his hand cool and soothing against skin overheated by their jog. Only late March and it was already getting close to when most people shifted outdoor exercise to the cooler evenings, but they were both too stubborn to surrender the sunrise over the Capitol Building to the early summer heat so soon.

He blinked and the park surrounding them snapped back into focus. Remus grinned. “Ready.”

He looked out to the cherry trees where Lo gestured. Gladys approached with towels and water. And a small tablet. “Thank you,” he nodded and passed Lo his water and took a sip of his own. “Let’s walk and talk, Gladys.”

~

“There is no way in hell I’m going to authorize a drone attack on Bursa!” Remus smacked the aerial photos spread out on the desk between him and Secretary of Defense Wyrre. The Secretary’s jaw tightened and her lips thinned into a tight line but she didn’t interrupt. “There’s nothing here that proves they’ve violated the peace accords and we damn well aren’t going to declare a fourth world war!”

“Mr. President,” she began, picking up one of the photos. “The evidence is… ambiguous—”

“Ambiguous!?” Remus stabbed at the largest of the red circles in the photo. “That is unambiguously an old seismic oil survey. And those cylinders—” He traced the line of large white containers stacked along the southern edge of the image. “That’s for water storage. They’ve repurposed the old tech to search for water! And those marks all along the southern border…” He took the photo and held it up, pointing to over a dozen rectangular shapes in the sand. “Those are the same as these, right?”

She nodded, eyes narrowed.

Remus picked up another photo taken six hours later. “They moved! They’re fucking solar panels! Turkey is a member of the 2130 Climate Accords and you want us to bomb them to hell and back because they’re doing what they pledged to do?”

“Well, Mr. President, we have no way to know—”

“Maybe you don’t!” Remus snapped back. “Maybe you should put a few hydrologists on the task of interpreting your photos. No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not! I will not authorize a strike. In fact—” He scooped up the photos and shoved them back into the redwell folder Secretary Wyrre had so proudly spread out, her trigger finger itching to make some headlines. Or, more than likely, help some fucking executive at Exxon make his bonus for the first time in a decade.

“We are going to tour their energy facility and see what assistance we can lend,” Remus wrapped up the redwell and dropped it on the floor next to his chair. Mine now. He pressed a button on his antique-looking desk phone. “Gladys? Please find a time this month for a trip to Turkey. Call Ambassador Nadeen and get their input, too.”

“Already on it, Mr. President,” chirped Gladys. “Your voice carries, sir.”

His assistant’s just-this-side of snarky response doused the flames coursing through his veins and he smiled. “Thank you, Gladys.” He looked up at Secretary Wyrre. “What else do you have for me?”

~

Remus didn’t look up at the quiet but insistent knock at the door. Whoever it was had to have been authorized, unless they’d somehow managed to defeat a dozen of the sharpest agents in the Secret Service. “Come in,” he said and struck out a line in what had to be the eighth draft of next week’s speech, adding a revised version in the margin. Someone padded quietly over the plush blue carpet and Remus knew exactly how many steps there were between the door and his desk.

Particularly the steps of one special person.

“I’m nearly done, Lo Lo,” he murmured, still not looking up.

Lo moved around to the other side of the desk and leaned against the spot Remus kept clear for that reason. Now close enough to reach his shoulders, Lo worked the muscles on one side, strong, lithe fingers kneading away knotted muscles and twisted tendons. Remus’ eyes slipped closed for a moment and he sighed from deep in his chest, low and nearly a quiet groan. “Better?” Lo asked.

“Better,” he hummed. Remus left his eyes closed for one more long moment. The burning behind his lids had left them feeling like sandpaper. 

He ignored it and soaked in the other sensations, the scent of ethyl alcohol and a clean room bunny suit, the warmth from Lo’s palm seeping through his shirt. Fuck, he’d alway sworn he’d never do the whole ‘look how hard I work in rolled up shirtsleeves’ bullshit he’d seen from the last ass who’d sat in this office. But here he was, crisp white shirt rumpled, tie loose and sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos only a few close staff knew about.

“Thank you,” he turned his head and brushed a little kiss against Lo’s thumb. “Vengeance is mine tonight,” he winked and returned to the speech in front of him.

Turning to read with him, Lo nodded. “You are nearly done.”

Remus waggled his eyebrows, then swore and marked out another line. “Fuck that noise, there’s no such thing as carbon neutral carbon,” he muttered, writing so hard in the margin it left an indentation on the last page. “Everytime I cut this line, Pete just sneaks it back in there.“

“Time for another talk?” Lo’s brow furrowed as he read. “It’s not all bad, you know.”

Heaving out a long sigh, he nodded. “I know. It’s the only reason he’s still around.” He turned the page and scowled, crossing out another line completely. “He’s been talking to Secretary Wyrre. They’re intent on starting a fucking proxy war with China over the last of the reserves they discovered out in the Southern Ocean.”

Lo was quiet, but moved behind him to rub both shoulders, listening.

“They’re just itching for a battle, itching for something to shift the country’s focus. But fuck, Lo…” He turned the last page, crossed out the entire last paragraph before letting his head fall back against Lo's belly. “I’m an engineer, not a… a… General.”

“Okay, Bones,” Lo murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. Remus huffed out a little laugh. His hands fell to his lap and Lo swiveled his chair until it faced the big window. 

Remus stared outside at the renovated great lawn. Two years after plowing in the old water-hungry grass and replacing it with milkweed and thistle, impossibly, the butterflies and the honey bees had returned. It was real, tangible progress. It made him hopeful.

Lo knew him too well.

He sobered, watching a school bus swallow up the last of a field trip to the White House. Lo brushed back a bit of his hair from his face, then he slid onto his lap. Remus’ arms came up almost automatically to wrap around his waist and pull him closer.

Lo kissed his cheek then cradled his face between both hands until he’d captured his gaze. “You’re right. You’re no General. And that’s precisely why the people elected you. They had enough of the soldiers and the lawyers and the corporate tycoons and the… thirty year Senate veterans sitting in this office.” He smoothed down Remus’ tie but didn’t tighten it. “Our country, our entire world has big problems to solve. Who better than an engineer to lead us to the solutions?”

“Okay, Plato.”

Lo laughed. “Do you think the last two Presidents could’ve made a joke about Plato’s Republic?” He shuddered. “Let alone the one before them?”

Remus wasn’t convinced, but… he knew Lo was. And that was enough. “Thank you, Love,” he whispered. Head turned, Remus buried his face in Lo’s hair, hiding the desk, the flag, everything, until there was just him. Back pressed to his chest, Lo’s heartbeat against his, Remus’ pulse slowly eased to match his husband’s. He took another deep breath and nodded, rocking them back and forth to the new rhythm. “Your hair smells good…”

“My hair doesn’t smell like a clean room bonnet?”

“Well, yeah. It’s always kinda sexy when you’re all geared up to bully those qubits into doing your will” He laughed and snuck a little kiss against his neck. “That’s where we met.”

“We met at that climate rally.” Lo pulled back, fingers still locked at the nape of his neck like he didn’t want to let go. He tilted his head and blinked at him, eyes brighter than the sky outside. “You fixed my banner with safety pins from your jeans.”

“Oh… oh right. That was my dream where we were mad scientists together.”

“Mmm…” Lo stared back at him with that little crooked smile, nodding. “Mad scientists? Now you have to tell me more,” he murmured and reached over his shoulder and oh-so-subtly closed the cover on the speech Remus had been editing. “What were we studying?”

“Besides each other?” He laughed when Lo wiggled in his lap, the promise of another wild tale of an imagined life giving him a giddy, kid-at-Christmas energy. “Hmm—it’s fuzzy…”

“Like your scruff?” Lo grinned, scritching along the edge of his jaw. Remus played along and purred like a cat.

“Mm-hm… Something with… delta waves?” He sat up straighter, the image of a monitoring screen clear in his head. “Oh, pilot waves and quantum collapse!”

Lo’s fingers stilled along his jaw, then resumed. “That sounds fascinating…” He pulled back his chair and slid a stack of folders in the top drawer. “Did I at least have Gene Wilder’s hair cut from Young Frankenstein?”

“No such luck,” Remus reached up and drew a hand through Lo’s raven-black locks. Jokes about PPE gear and all, Lo’s hair was rarely out of place but always soft, always silky. “Your hair was lovely.”

“Hmmm…” He nodded and took his other hand, then gently pulled him to his feet. Remus blew out a slow breath and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s time for a break, isn’t it?”

One step at a time, Lo drew him away from his desk, away from his worries, away from that damned stack of memos and papers asking for fifteen contradictory policies. Lo smiled. “Your brother and his family will be here in a half an hour.”

“We can do lots in a half an hour….”

[aparticularbandit]

Blizzards and Fireplaces

Summary: Eve sits in front of a fireplace, and her wife curls up to join her.

Part of The Valentines Collection.

Eve Fletcher x Claire Debella Rating: G.

The blizzard roars outside.

This isn’t actually correct.  Blizzards can roar, if the wind is fast enough, but they’re more likely to howl than to roar.  Thunderstorms roar because the crackling of thunder sounds much more like than just the wind running fast and flurrying snow this way and that – even wind rustling and blustering through with nothing to hamper it roars a lot more than snow does.  In most cases, a windless blizzard is eerily silent, as the snow dampens sound almost as much as soundproof walls do.

So the blizzard does not roar, because there isn’t even enough wind to cause the clothes hanging on the line outside to flap.

…on second thought, maybe Eve should have gotten those clothes inside before the weather took a turn for the worse.  When she goes to get them tomorrow, they’re probably going to just be all ice, and then she’ll have to wait for them to thaw and then hang them somewhere else to dry.  Maybe she should have just hung them up in the guest bathroom instead, let them hang where the shower curtain got pushed back.  (Funny that the guest bathroom has a shower curtain fixture, when her bathroom has big panels of glass.  But she’s not complaining.  Her bathroom has a tub.)

But Eve isn’t looking out the window into the backyard, where the clothes aren’t even shivering on the clothesline.  She’s looking out the front window, curled up on an old armchair her wife moved into position a few months ago, inherited from her mother years and years ago and only now finally with a place to set it.  There are floral patterns etched all over the sky blue fabric, and it’s thick and upright and surprisingly comfortable, for an old armchair. She must have had it reupholstered before bringing it over, but Eve’s never asked.  It hasn’t ever seemed important.

Unlike the blizzard, a fire roars in the fireplace (but just like the blizzard, it doesn’t really roar either; it crackles and pops and spits as it devours the logs within).  Smoke filters up through the flue, but Eve can’t see that, can’t see the pillar threaded through with falling snow.  Instead, she sees the snow falling thick and fast, sees how light everything looks outside, even though it should be dark, all of that streetlight brightness locked between the snow on the ground, the snow in the sky, and the clouds thick above.

Wrapped in a thick brown and blue plaid blanket with white accents threaded through, a mug of hot cocoa coffee spiced with cinnamon and more than a dollop of Baileys, chest warm with hot drink and that slight bit of booze, head nowhere near buzzed but quietly calm and content, Eve sits and stares and waits.

“What’s it like out there?” her wife asks in that deep, husky voice of hers, wrapped in the soft, fuzzy pink bathrobe Eve bought her for her birthday less than a month ago.  It doesn’t fit quite right, since it wasn’t made for her body type, but Claire wears it as best she can.  Her bright blue eyes widen as she catches sight of the storm outside, and she lets out a low whistle.  “It looks like a mess.”

Eve turns to her wife with the gentlest of smiles.  “Good thing I convinced you to stay home today, hm, Mrs. Valentine?”  She gestures for Claire to join her, and Claire does so, pulling an even softer velvet cream blanket from the back of their parlor couch and draping it around her as she sits on the ground just at Eve’s feet.  Immediately, Eve threads her hair through Claire’s still damp hair, massaging her skull.  “Feeling better?”

“Mmhm.”  Claire closes her eyes and hums an idle sound of contentment.  She reaches one hand out, and Eve places a second mug in her hand – still hot cocoa, still spiked with more than a dollop of Bailey’s, but without any of the coffee that, this late, will set her heart pounding, mind spiraling, and anxiety racing.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  Eve bends down and kisses the top of Claire’s head before beginning to French braid her hair. She makes sure to keep it a little loose; she doesn’t want Claire’s hair to snap as it dries, although she wouldn’t mind braiding it again in the morning.  (If Claire wants it to look perfect for work, then she will need to braid it again, even if her hair doesn’t snap.  Sleeping with it like this means that some strands will pull out, no matter what they do. They don’t really mind.)  “There are some cinnamon chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

Claire groans with suppressed pleasure.  “I wondered what smelled so good.”  She leans back until the crown of her forehead rests against Eve’s knees so that she can meet her eyes.  “You’ve been busy.”

Eve smiles fondly.  “I wanted to take some to Brendan’s hockey practice tomorrow.  Those boys could use a good snack.”  She notes how Claire averts her gaze, and her brow furrows. “What?”

“Not sure their coach will endorse sweets for snacks—”

“If I remember correctly,” Eve starts, tugging on Claire’s hair where she holds the unfinished braid, “your coach liked when I brought cookies.”

Claire chuckles as she lowers her head.  “If I remember correctly, those cookies were just a distraction.”

“You were in a speedo!”  Eve slaps Claire’s arm with each word, emphasizing them.  “I was a kid, and you were hot, and dripping wet—”  She bites her lower lip.

“Did I complain?”  Claire gives her a look.  “Except for the were hot.  Are you saying I’m not hot anymore?”  She pouts and looks up at her with big, round eyes.

“Oh, so hot.”  Eve brushes a few stray hairs back.  “The hottest.”  She leans down and murmurs, “There’s absolutely no one as hot as you,” before kissing her forehead.  She smiles, then, and slowly tilts Claire’s hair back so she can finish her braid. “It doesn’t…it doesn’t bother you, my liking you in the speedo, does it?”

For the briefest of moments, Claire is silent, and Eve is afraid she’s said something wrong, afraid she shouldn’t have brought it up at all.  She tries to focus on her braiding, finds that she stumbles a few times, and goes back to fix them before Claire says anything at all.  Finally, Claire replies, her voice a hush, “No.”  Her gaze focuses on the fire, and its flames flicker within her eyes.  “I’m never wearing it again.”

“I know.”  Eve hesitates, then says, “I don’t mind.”  She takes a deep breath and continues in as cheery a voice as she can muster, “Besides, I want to see you in a bikini.  Bright yellow.  Polka dots.”

Claire glances up.  “Like the song?”

“Exactly.”

There’s silence then, only filled with the crackling of the dying fire before Claire murmurs, so softly Eve can barely hear it over the last pop, “Thank you.”

Eve doesn’t say anything, letting the silence linger more comfortably as she finishes Claire’s braid.  She ties it off at the end and then taps between Claire’s shoulder blades twice, just where the tip of the braid hits.  “Done.”

Claire runs her fingers along the braid and seems to relax.  Then she pushes herself up, stretches backward, and walks off without another word, leaving her mug of hot chocolate behind.

Again, Eve is afraid that she’s said something wrong – or hasn’t said something where she should have said a lot.  She takes a deep breath, carefully stands from her armchair, just as carefully passes Claire’s mug without tipping it over, and places another log on the fire, prodding it with the poker a few times.  Her throat catches, and she hates it.  This isn’t so bad, really.  She’s just always been an easy crier.  She hates it.

It’s while Eve’s bent forward, the poker gone, warming her hands over the fire, that she feels Claire’s arm wrap around her waist, feels Claire’s head press gentle into her back.  “I thought you were mad at me,” she murmurs.

“Never.”  Claire brushes her head against Eve’s back, her words muffled.  “I wanted a cookie while it was still hot.”  She wraps her other arm around Eve’s waist and holds one of the cinnamon chocolate chip cookies out for her.  It’s missing a huge bite.  “But you can finish it, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Eve leans down just enough to take a timid bite.  “Dip it in your hot chocolate,” she suggests, eyes lighting up with the newfound blaze.

Claire carefully unwinds from her with a hum of interest, and as Eve turns, she walks over to her mug, dips the cookie in, and then takes a bite.  Her eyes close with pleasure, and she hums again, this time with contentment.  “Eve, I think this is the best thing you’ve ever made.”

“Better than the cinnamon basil muffins?” Eve asks, walking over to meet her.

“For sure.”  Claire rolls her eyes.  “Those things were horrible—”

“You said they were great!”  Eve’s mouth drops open.  The only reason she doesn’t give Claire a shove is that she’s afraid of knocking the mug of hot chocolate over.  Then, when Claire sets the mug on a side table, she shoves her with an exclamation of realization, “You’re why I lost the recipe!”

Claire winces.  “Maybe?” She bites her lower lip with the barest hint of mischief.  “Maybe it was Brendan.”

“!!!!”  Eve shoves Claire again, and this time, Claire stumbles back into the armchair, her eyes wide with worry.  But Eve just rolls her eyes, climbs into Claire’s lap, and pulls the blanket up around them.  “Don’t lie to me again, Claire.  I hate it when you lie.”  She traces one finger along Claire’s chest as she tucks her head against her wife’s neck. “Promise me you won’t lie to me again.”

Claire doesn’t say anything, and Eve looks up until she meets her wife’s eyes. Instead of giving her wife a verbal response, Claire bends down and kisses her forehead.  “I love you.”

“If you love me, you won’t lie.”

“I love you,” Claire repeats again with a deeper chuckle.  She threads her fingers through Eve’s hair and then glances outside.  “With all the snow, maybe I should take tomorrow off, too.”

Eve’s eyes widen.  “You? Take two days off in a row?”  She scoffs.  “That doesn’t sound like the Claire I know.”

One corner of Claire’s lips lifts in a wry, lopsided grin.  “Maybe you don’t know everything about me,” she says. Then she holds up the last little bite of cookie.  “Or maybe I just don’t want to share these with anyone.”

Eve laughs.  “We can make another batch.  Together. Tomorrow.”  She nuzzles against Claire’s neck again, hiding there.

Claire just runs her fingers through her hair. “I’m looking forward to it.”

[darkcavewriting]

Day 3 Pt 1

Orientation was the last thing I wanted to do today. I, for some reason beyond the grasp of my mind woke up before 6:00 a.m. This was not even common during high school, and here I am wide awake and ungodly hungry. I groped around the bookcase for the coffee filters and the can of coffee so that life would actually seem possible after my first cup.

Between the coffee in the pot and the frozen waffles in the toaster I knew the morning would be survivable, somehow. Coffee was pretty much my only vice, then again at 18 it was about the only legal option I had, besides cigarettes, and they had no appeal to me, so coffee it was, by the pot full. I screwed around online, checking my email and generally wasting time before the 9:00 a.m. orientation. I figured that a shower would probably be in my best interest so I took one, threw on some shorts and a Winterhawks shirt and made my way out to Reese Court, the basketball arena where it was to take place. Orientation as I was expecting was boring. Basic college stuff which was covered in high school, and just common knowledge. Three hours of my life I knew I would never get back. When I got back to my room I saw my cell phone, I thought I took it with me, apparently I didn't, I checked for missed calls or text messages, hopefully from Grace, but there was a missed call and voice mail from my grandparents instead so I listened.

The message was slightly urgent and told me to call them immediately. This was very uncharacteristic for them, so call immediately I did, the news that they told me had me slink to the floor instantly.

“Your parents died in a car crash, they drove off a cliff outside Chelan today, we don’t have any more information other than that right now,” is what my grandmother told me.

I didn't have any idea how to react, other than I starting to cry. Even though I didn’t always see eye to eye with them, and moved to Cheney to be away from them for the first time in my life. I did not want them dead, but they were now and there was nothing I could do about it. I was in a state of shock, obviously and really had no idea how to react, nothing can prepare you for something so sudden and unexpected like that. I told my grandparents that I couldn't talk now and that I would call them back later to find out anything else I needed to know or if they had any more details on anything. It wasn’t like them to drive off a cliff or anything, my parents were both exceptionally cautious drivers and the Vanagon wasn’t exactly difficult to control, or possible to drive at a high rate of speed either.

I leaned against my bed sobbing, I had never had to deal with any deaths in the family. Now totally out of the blue this happened and it just blindsided me. I was in a complete state of shock. There was really no other way to describe it. I had to have sat there for at least two hours just sobbing and shaking. They had their faults, of course, more than some, less than others but they were my parents, and I did love them, and now there were gone and there was nothing at all I could do about it. The relationship with them wasn’t exactly strained, and the largely let me be my own person growing up. I just wanted a proper taste of freedom away from family, which is the biggest reason I picked going to school here in Cheney. They had always been supportive of me, academically, and athletically, but at times they weren’t the most supportive in other ways. When I showed signs of my horrible self confidence when I was younger, in elementary and middle school, they did little to help with things, or see about taking me to a therapist.

My phone started to vibrate on my desk, I grasped for it and looked at who was calling, it was Grace. I managed to somehow say hello, even though I could barley talk. She could instantly tell that something was wrong, and said she would be down to my room in a minute.

Under a minute later I could hear the knocking at my door. I struggled to get up and open it. She walked in and I could tell by the look on her face that she was genuinely worried. I spelled it all out for her, how I heard from my grandmother and then proceeded to go into a state of shock. The look on her face was in almost as much shock as the one on my own. There was no way I could communicate verbally right now, so I had to write everything out for her on paper.

“I am so sorry Kenrick, I feel terrible for you,” Grace said. “I can't even imagine how bad it must be after only being here for a day and all of a sudden have your parents are gone, you must feel terrible.” “Believe me, I do,” I wrote. “There is no way I could have ever thought about or expected anything like this to happen to them at all.” “Is there anything at all I can do for you?” she asked. “Short of bringing them back to life, I have no idea, I am really not in a good place mentally right now,” I wrote out. “Is there anything at all I can do for you at all, to make things any easier?” Grace asked. “Seriously I will do anything I can to help you out and make you feel better, you don't need to be feeling like this so soon after moving here.” “I really don't know, my emotions are a complete mess, I don't know what to think about anything right now,” I finally was able to speak out to her. “Do you want to come with me, get out of your dorm room for a little bit and go for a walk or something?” she asked. “Why not, it might get my mind off of things briefly at least,” I managed to choke out. We headed out of the dorm towards the stadium, where there were trails leading up the the water tower she said. Anything was better right now than being stuck in the dorm room with my mind taking control of everything. It was nice to be outside with the ability to let my mind wander more than it was doing when I was in my dorm room. Grace said that she knew quite a few trails in the area, and even up in Spokane and that she would be more than willing to take me hiking with her if I was ever interested in going. I told her I would be, and that I would like to take a shot at climbing Mt. Spokane at some point. “Mt. Spokane?” She said, “That is a piece of cake, no problem.” I was excited to see her optimism, I had always wanted to go hiking when living in Portland but my parents were not outdoorsy in the least, so it was something I never got the chance to take advantage of. Now that I was in the Spokane area I figured I might as well try to take as much of an advantage of the outdoors as I could. Now that I actually had the chance to spend some real time outdoors in the real outdoors, not the city I knew good and well I should take advantage of it, and getting to do so with Grace would be a nice little added bonus as well. We finally made our way up the the water tower and kicked off our shoes and sat in the grass, Grace scooted around so she was facing me. She held out her hands and held mine in them and asked me what I was feeling. “I feel loss, hurt, empty inside, that is the best I can describe it I guess,” I said. “What would you like to try that might make things better?” She asked. “I know you only found out a couple of hours ago, and are still shocked, but is there anything at all I can do for you?” “I really do not know for sure, make sure I don't go crazy, or do anything stupid, or start getting terribly depressed?” I asked. “Well that can't be to terribly hard, especially since classes don't start till next week,” she said. “If you wanted I could stay in your room at night, so you aren’t alone if you want, especially since you have the extra bed.”

“Anything to help you feel more at ease and comfortable, I know how it is to lose a family member, waking up screaming in the middle of the night is a terrible feeling,” said Grace. “I lost a grandmother a couple years ago who I was very close to, and it wasn’t easy at all, it still isn’t some days.”

“You would really do that for me, even though you have only known me for a few days?” I asked. “More than anything right now, you need a friend to make sure you don't do anything drastic, and that you take care of yourself,” Grace said. “And seeing as how you don't know anyone else here I am very willing to be that friend.” “I do have an aunt and uncle in Spokane, but I don't even know if they know about the crash yet,” I said. “I know that if I had to I could go stay with them if needed, but that might not be the best idea.” “Well if you decide to, you can, but at least stay here for tonight, I know you will have to go back to Portland for the funeral I would presume sometime soon,” said Grace. “Very true, I would imagine that it would be held in the next couple weeks at the latest,” I said. “Thank you so much Grace, everything you have offered to do means more than you could possibly know.” “Anytime sweetheart, this is university, you need to make the most of it, everything will all work out in the end, and I will do anything I can to help you out,” said Grace.