#i will go eat some breakfast then check if the t is dry and then hopefully soon go back to sleep :'D

[mitamicah]

Well I am up and has been waiting for the testosterone to dry for almost two hours

...why is it when I really want it to try fast that it takes for ever 🙃

[hope-drunk]

HARVEST MOON

| a year ago, abby left you suddenly after a month long love affair. now she's back to convince you she's changed.

| cw: me writing southern accents and it's bad, talk of father death, jerry anderson is homophobic, talk of food, reader showers three times in this who knows why, f!reader, oral & fingering (r!recieving), petnames, umm that's it but like abandonment issues i guess? abby like dips hard LOL

| wc: 3.8k

The mugginess hasn’t let up in recent days, causing your hair to look a mess, and you to have a strong urge to be naked all the time. Getting comfortable in your bed was a pain. The sheets were too hot; the pillow pushing your sticky hair onto the back of your neck. You don’t think you’ve gotten a good night's sleep in ages. The fans in your room weren’t doing much; nothing could battle this southern heat.

You were already awake before your alarm went off at 6 A.M. You quickly silence the screeching sound of the clock and roll out of bed, throwing on a loose tank top that lays on your floor. You’re instantly annoyed by the fabric but try to push it off. You stroll into your kitchen, opening the fridge and standing there for a few seconds to absorb the cold air that blows out. You grab some scraps of breakfast and eat quickly, already running a tad behind because the heat is making you move slower. 

You go to the bathroom and take off the flimsy tank top and your panties. You step in immediately and let the cold water wash over you. Your shower goes faster than you wanted it to, but you step out and dry off. You don’t bother to dry your hair, hoping that the dampness might keep you cooled off for a little bit longer. You get dressed in your usual attire, a self cut tank top made out of an old t-shirt and jean shorts.

You walk to the field behind your house, first checking on the chickens, collecting the eggs the hens dropped and making sure they have food. Then you moved to the sheep, replacing their water and giving them their feed. 

After you think the animals are situated, you begin your walk into town. It’s summer days like these where you wish you owned a car, or even a bike. But in a town this small, it always seemed useless. Everything was a five minute walk. The only thing that was further than five minutes was the gas station that sat on the edge of town near the highway, and that was only about a ten minute walk. Your journey to the grocery store feels like it takes eons. But when you open the door and the air conditioning blasts you, you think you see heaven.

“Hot one, huh?” The store clerk says to you in response to your sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” you say, smiling politely and walking to grab a basket.

You take your time with your shopping, swinging the green basket against your leg over and over while you scan the aisles. You spend extra long in the freezer section, and decide to treat yourself to some popsicles, you put them in the basket and let the door close by itself. You don’t notice the pair of strong arms that are crossed by the door. 

You turn away to go get your next item, “Not even gonna say hello?”

Your head whips around before your body does. You gulp at the realization of who it is.

“Popsicles, huh,” she nods to herself, grabbing the box out of your basket. “Didn’t know you liked these ones, darlin’.”

You snatch them out of her hand and throw them back into the green plastic, “You don’t know anythin’ about me, Abby.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Abby’s voice drips like southern honey, but it reminds you of gasoline. One spark from you and the town would be on fire. 

You don’t answer her, just go back to your shopping. You scan the shelves for the next thing on your list. You can see her out of the corner of your eye still following you around, but you don’t pay her any mind. It’s honestly a shame, because you were gonna spend your sweet time in the air conditioned store, and now you can’t, because Abby decided to show up.

You remember now that it was exactly a year ago today that she showed up in town before leaving a month later with no warning. She had seemed so perfect, so normal, you’d never felt like that before with anyone. You let her stay in your house. She was planning on just passing through, staying the night at the motel for the festivities then going on her way, but she told you you changed her mind. Abby told you that she wanted to stay and be with you. What a load of bullshit. 

You finish your shopping, continuing to ignore Abby as she trails behind you, in her stupid t-shirt, with her stupid muscles, and her ridiculous boots. 

“This all for y’then?” The cashier asks.

“That’ll do it.” You reply, pulling out the cash you’re using to pay. 

You take your bags and thank him, rushing towards the doors and pushing one of them open with your back. 

Abby stops at the clerk to get her brand of cigarettes; running out behind you after she pays with a crinkled up ten dollar bill.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” She says, rushing up to you. She smacks the pack of cigarettes on her palm before opening it and popping one into her mouth; swiftly lighting it with a blue lighter.

“Don’t wanna see you, Abs. Thought you would be able to figure that out.” You say, silently hoping that that will be enough for her and that she’ll turn around and never come back to your town. But Abby, ever so stubborn, continues walking next to you.

“What? You still mad about last summer? Told you I had to go.”

You scoff at her. “Yeah, then you also told me you were never gonna leave me. Wanted to help raise my chickens and sheeps. Live in my house with me. Start a life here. Look, I don’t have time for this; too goddamn hot to deal with your bullshit.”

She nods her head; takes a long drag of the almost gone cigarette. “‘Least let me carry your bags?”

That you oblige to, handing over the heavy plastic bags that you swear were getting sticky from the heat. You just wanted to be home, with your fans, and your animals; without Abby. You didn’t even want her to see the inside of your house. You didn’t want her to be in the four walls of your bedroom again; it would be painful for you. To see her in your house again, where she made you all those promises. It would be painful because now you know that all you were to her was a quick fuck and a free place to stay.

Your house comes into view and you pause in the road, motioning your hands so she’ll give you your bags back. She does reluctantly, and you can’t help but notice the droplet of sweat dripping down her large muscles. You huff away the memories, taking the bags back and walking up to your front door.

“Not even gonna invite me in? No lemonade for my hard work?” Abby asks, trying to make light of the situation.

“I seriously never want to see your face again, Abigail.” With that you open your door, slinking in and closing it behind you.

You press your back to the door once you’re inside; willing yourself not to cry about her. You’ve done enough of that; swear you could fill an ocean with your tears. You know that you shouldn’t get so worked up over something that lasted a month, but it was the first real thing you’ve ever had. It’s not like there were any other women who liked women around here, so when Abby rolled in and made you all those promises, you thought you had actually found something. You thought you would be able to start a life with her and do all the things you’ve dreamed about doing since you were a little girl. Then, she was up and gone, and you were left alone again.

It took you a while to get used to your solitude again, and you were doing a damn good job at it now. Sometimes you wonder if it was even Abby you missed, or if you just missed having someone to do everything with. You try to stop thinking about it, forcing your body off the door and into the kitchen. You slowly put all the groceries away, scared that when you finish your mind will wander. 

You do pretty good for the rest of the day. You keep yourself entertained and busy, tending to your animals and reading a book. You only think about Abby a few times, but are able to brush it off. You think you’ve got it under control; you think that her little visit didn’t affect you. Once it hits around 7 P.M. you huddle the animals into their respective cages and barns. You go back inside and take another quick cold shower. It’s hard work herding those animals, and even though the sun is getting lower, it’s not getting any less humid. You dry off and put on fresh clothes, walking out into your kitchen to prepare your dinner. 

What you don’t expect to hear is a knock at your door. You silently question it before waking up to the door swinging it open; prepared to tell off some church people who just won’t stop trying. But there she stands. Abby has a bouquet of assorted carnations and daisies, a few roses thrown into there. You cross your arms, waiting for her to speak.

“Will you please let me explain? Please? Just a few minutes and you can decide if you want me to really go or not.”

“I’m timing you.” You say, walking back into your house and sitting down on your couch.

Abby moves into your living room. She’s changed from what she wore at the store. She now has on jeans and a black cut off tank top and her same signature braid.

“I’m gonna try not to stumble over my words– been preparing for this. I loved being here with you, first of all. Leaving you was never because of you. My dad got real sick, the type where you go and say goodbye. He had been in and out of the ICU around that time, but, when I got that phone call, swear I could feel it in my bones that that was it.”

You straighten out your back. You knew a little bit about Abby’s dad. Mostly that they were very close until she came out to him.

“And I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know how to tell anyone. I wish I could’ve ignored it and stayed with you but I just–” she shakes her head to herself.

“He’s your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad.”

The past tense makes you let out a sigh, suddenly your heart breaks for the girl all over again. You will your brain to remember what she did. You feel bad that she lost her dad, but she could’ve communicated.

“I’m sorry, Abby. But, you still had no right to leave me like you did.”

“I know, I know. I got scared. I knew if I stayed with you that– he wouldn’t see me. I could have handled it better. I had every intention of coming back sooner than now, but I felt like you wouldn’t wanna see me.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how this is supposed to work. All I know is that everything I told you is true. I miss living here. I hate running around the country anymore. I just wanna be here with you. Herd your fucking sheep and collect the eggs. Have you make me that killer omelet that I love. I miss you, all of you. Didn’t know what I wanted a year ago, but I do know. I’d like to be with you, if you’d have me.”

You try to process all that she’s saying; try to take in the massive amount of information she’s dumped into your hands. You just stare past her, straight at the wall. Do you want her to come back? You did– a few days ago when you were crying about being lonely. You don’t want to forgive her this easily though. What? A few words and an explanation and she’s just allowed in your house again? Hell no, there’s no way in hell that she can just creep back in here. What if she leaves again? Are you gonna embarrass yourself like that all over again?

“Abby…” you trail off, unsure of what to actually say to her.

“I know. I don’t want to be the victim here, and I’m sorry if I’m making it seem that way. I just want you to know that, it really, really, wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks for that, cowboy.” She smiles at the nickname, you do too. Her long history of speedrunning through small towns made you come up with it. “Alright, well, you can stay for dinner. But, I have the right to kick you out at any time.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says. 

You start to make her favorite meal from you with ingredients you bought today. She keeps you entertained, staying out of your way but talking your ear off. It feels normal; it feels like old times. You can’t help but let her ease her way back into your space. She takes off her boots, undoes her braid and puts it up into a bun. You ask her to get you something and she knows exactly where it is. It feels too simple. Honestly, it feels like a dream. You feel like you’re floating through this strange reality where Abby never left and you’ve kept living in this home ever since she showed up this time last year.

You eat dinner at the table in the spots you always sat in. Continuing the laughter and the fun. You don’t even mind the heat anymore. You don’t care about anything other than Abby’s gray eyes staring back into yours. You get shy under her gaze all over again. When you’re both done, you can’t get up from the table, you get too invested in your conversation and neither of you want to disrupt it. You wish you could’ve kept your stoic face on, but Abby was something else. She always has been. She’s the only one who’s ever made you feel truly comfortable with yourself, in this town. Finally, you get up and take the plate from in front of her, moving it to the sink.

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Abby practically yells.

“I mean, I watched you fall in the sheep shit myself. Y’trying to gaslight me, Anderson?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t fall in the shit. I’m saying that what you’re saying led me to the sheep shit is wrong. I wasn’t looking at your ass and then tripped. I was– looking at the sign on top of the barn.”

“Well, your eyes were awfully low to be looking at the top of the barn.” You shrug your shoulders with a small giggle.

Abby waves her hand in the air, a small blush on her face from the memory of the second time she came to your house. 

“I missed you a lot, y’know.” Abby says, mostly under her breath.

When you look at her, she’s looking up at you through her eyelashes. Her chest rising and falling steadily. She sits with her legs slightly spread and her elbows on her thighs. Those strong fucking thighs. You thought you could get along with her as friends; you thought that’s what she wanted– to be friends now. 

You look away from her so you don’t give in. “Abby, I don’t know if I can.” 

“I’m here. I’m here again; it’ll be good, like it was before.”

“That’s what you said before you left. ‘I’m here for you. Never gonna leave you, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.’ Then I was. I was the loneliest I’d ever been. I don’t blame you for leaving, Abby. But I can’t take it if you leave again.”

Abby gets up from the table and walks over to you. She towers over you, grabbing your face between her hands and forcing you to look at her. “Not gonna leave you. Ever. I learned my fucking lesson. Feel like I need you to breathe. Like my chest was tight the entire time I was out of this goddamn town. Swear, the second I pulled in, I felt my lungs fill up for the first time in a fucking year. Please, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let y’down again.”

Her chest is moving more rapidly now. It’s hard to look in her eyes. She hasn’t taken hers off of you. “I swear.”

You push your lips up so they reach hers; she sighs into the kiss, hastily taking her hands away from your face and wrapping them around your body. You push her back away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. She doesn't break the kiss once as she walks backwards, avoiding any and all furniture; like she’s always known where everything is. In a way she has, but it’s still impressive. A whole fucking year without her in your house and she still moves swiftly around the furniture towards your bedroom. She moves like it’s built in her bones; like she’s always meant to be here.

You enter the bedroom and she breaks away only to shove your discarded clothes that lay on your bed onto the floor. You rip your shirt off in the meantime, you were going to take off your shorts too, but Abby is back on you in a second. Kissing everywhere; licking everywhere. You don’t think your heart has ever beat faster. It’s scary how well she knows you. Just like the house, she still has every part of your body memorized. She still knows the spot below your collarbones that makes your hips buck. She knows how much rubbing the outside of your thigh while she kisses you turns you on. She knows that you need the anticipation built before you go straight into fucking. Abby knows you. 

She slides down your stomach, mouthing at the skin there, you push her head down, trying to get her to take the hint that you haven’t been laid in a year and you’re worked up enough. She scoffs into you and continues kissing you. A whine escapes your mouth, and she finally moves to where you need her. You lift your hips up while she removes your shorts and panties.

She starts to rub tight circles onto your clit, eyes connected to your face; waiting for you to look back at her. You don’t. You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to overthink the situation you’ve found yourself in. With every circle on your clit your head grows fuzzier, making this feel more and more like a dream.

“Not gonna leave you.” Abby says, like she can read your mind. “Never leaving your side again. You’re gonna be fucking sick of me, angel.”

You moan; open your eyes to take her all in. All you can manage is a nod. Abby growls and takes away her hand. You go to gasp, but in seconds she’s connected her tongue to your clit. You moan now, a sound deep from your chest that blossoms like a flower fed fertilizer. You forgot how good Abby was at this. The good memories pushed to the back of your mind. You’ve only been able to focus on her leaving for so long. The only thing you think about is waking up to that empty bed. 

She grunts into your cunt, “Missed how you fucking taste. S’goddamn sweet, princess.”

She’s here now, you remind yourself. She’s here forever. You’re sure the doubt will creep in at some point. You’re sure you’ll be scared to sleep next to her for a while. But right now, this is all that matters; her tongue drawing intricate shapes into you. You push your hand on top of her head.

“Don’t leave me,” you pant out.

Abby removes her mouth and pushes two thick fingers into you, forcing your back to arch off the bed. She moves up to your face, “Y’forget how to listen, doll? Gotta train you t’be my good girl again, huh? I ain’t leaving, never again. Got that?” 

You forgot how bad her accent gets when she’s turned on. 

“Answer me, tell me I’m gettin’ through that thick skull of yours.”

“Yes, Abby. I understand.”

“There y’go, sweet thing. Just lay back and take it.”

You do as she asks, finding it easy to fall back into submission under her. Your brain is basically blank by now, only focusing on the slow pull and push of Abby’s fingers inside of you. You moan and whine and buck your hips. Not scared to be messy or annoying. You’re not scared of anything in front of Abby. She loves you, you know it. She takes you how you are. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna– last long.” You say.

“That’s alright, so pent up, ain’t you? Let it all go for me. Let it all out.” She reconnects her mouth with your cunt and you know that you’re in for.

You feel the knot get tighter and tighter in your stomach. It feels like fire is spreading across your body. You feel a bead of sweat fall from Abby’s forehead onto you, and it gets to you. She’s real; she’s back. She’s eating you out and making you cum the way only she knows how to. The small band holding your orgasm back snaps. You cum with a sob, bucking your hips into her face so your clit brushes up into her nose. You start to cry from the pressure that was built up in you that’s finally being released. Abby works you through it, lets you grind on her face and you swear you can feel her smile into you.

She comes up to lay beside you when you finally stop twitching; shushing you when she removes her fingers.

“Missed seein’ you like that.”

“Bet you did,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Missed seein’ you in general, but the way you look when you cum, man. Ain’t nothing like it.”

You suddenly feel embarrassed by the crude talk, you roll over away from her and face your closet. She whispers a few sorry’s before using her arms to roll you back over and pull you into her chest. She kisses the top of your head. 

“It’s so hot I might die.” You say into her, tracing a shape on her chest.

“Wanna shower?” 

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

[kepamount]

clueless

mason mount x reader one shot - fake dating, smut and fluff

warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, virgin reader, first time sex, dom!mason and sub!reader, dirty talk, praise and degradation, body worship, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, overstimulation, I think that's it but pls lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 18.1k+ (she's a mammoth, ofc)

a/n: this is unedited and it’s also 2 different wips mashed together so pls forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies, i’ll edit this tomorrow! happy valentine's day! ik i've been very quiet recently but i'm gifting you guys with this to make up for it! the buildup is very long but the smut is hopefully worth it lol, it's very soft by my usual standard but i think you guys will still like it! lmk what you think <3

‘You’re late,’ I say as I open the front door, not bothering to welcome him in before I turn and head back into the kitchen, his amused chuckling making me roll my eyes. I continue with the washing up, hearing him shut the front door and enter the kitchen a few moments later.

‘You’re late too. I said to be ready for half past. It’s quarter to and you’re still washing up,’ he points out, helping himself to a cookie from the jar on the counter before sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘I only started washing up because you weren’t here yet. What do you expect me to do? Sit by the door waiting for you?’ I ask without looking at him, washing the dishes with vigour to get my irritation out. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I expect,’ he responds, smirk audible in his voice, and I look over my shoulder to shoot him a death stare, looking at him properly for the first time.

Annoyingly, he looks as handsome as he always does, dressed in a pair of baby blue joggers and a white t-shirt with some obscure designer logo on it. His beard is at the perfect length, and so is his hair, fluffy and soft-looking. His skin is just about holding onto its tan from the World Cup and he looks like he’s been spending a lot of time in the gym, clothes tighter around his muscles than they used to be.

‘Can we go? As nice as the view is from here, I don’t want to spend my day off watching you wash up,’ he says impatiently, his demand annoying me so much that I almost don’t notice the comment on my ass. ‘Maybe if you hadn’t been late,’ I say irritably, rinsing off the last dish before washing my hands and drying them, the boy eating another cookie.

‘Stop eating all my cookies,’ I snap, so close to snatching it out of his hand, and he rolls his eyes before finishing it off. ‘I’ll buy you more.’ ‘I made them myself.’ ‘Oh, so that’s why they taste like shit then,’ he grins, and I take a deep breath to compose myself, heading towards the front door before I put his head through my kitchen wall.

I sit down on the bottom step of the staircase to put my boots on, doing up the zip slowly so I don’t catch my socks in it (it’s happened one too many times, and I’m sick of having holey socks). I’m wearing an outfit inspired by Clueless – a white bodycon ribbed dress with a thin pink cardigan over the top of it, and white knee high boots that add a couple extra inches to my height.

I check my reflection in the mirror beside the front door, Mason leaning against the doorframe and inspecting his nails in a way that indicates how bored he is waiting for me, and I make sure my phone, keys, lipgloss and powder are all in my little white Hermes Kelly bag before I turn to face him.

‘Ready?’ Mason asks, not waiting for an answer before he opens the door and walks out. Chivalry is dead. I lock up behind us, the boy already sat in the car by the time I head down the patio steps, and I’m surprised when he at least has the courtesy to push open the passenger side door for me. The kindness of the gesture is lost when the door hits me and nearly knocks me over, Mason laughing uncontrollably as I scowl at him.

I climb into the car, shutting the door behind me before adjusting the seat to my liking. He starts the engine, racing out of my driveway as I connecting my phone with Bluetooth to the car. He doesn’t say anything but his pursed lips say everything for him – he’s always complaining about my passenger-princess tendencies. I shuffle my Summer Walker playlist, Mason groaning when the opening notes of ‘Tonight’ start playing out of the speakers on either side of us. He skips it, but when he realises the next song’s Summer as well, he doesn’t bother trying to turn it off, letting me skip it back to the last song.

‘All you listen to is RnB. Doesn’t it get boring?’ he grumbles as I sing along obnoxiously loud, flexing my vocals by acing Summer’s runs. ‘Better than the music you listen to.’ ‘I listen to music by people that you’re friends with.’ ‘That’s beside the point. They might be my friends but I can acknowledge that their music is not good.’ ‘It’s not a flex to have no taste.’

‘I know you, a footballer, are not trying to tell me, a singer-songwriter, about music taste. I don’t try and tell you about… football stuff,’ I say pointedly, and he shoots me a side-eye. ‘Because you haven’t got a clue about football.’ ‘Neither do you but I don’t say shit,’ I say sweetly, getting a half-hearted dirty look in response.

‘What are we doing today?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘You haven’t planned anything?’ I ask jokingly, and he doesn’t even dignify it with a response, both of us knowing fully well that I always plan our dates. ‘It’s Valentine’s next week. You have to plan that at least,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes at the reminder. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m sick of always planning our dates! You’re the boy. You should take responsibility for date planning, not me.’ ‘How feminist of you,’ he says sarcastically, and I scoff. ‘Feminism’s about choice, and I choose to be treated like a princess by my boyfriend.’ ‘Maybe you should find a real boyfriend instead then,’ he says dryly, and I let out an irritated huff.

Mason is my fake boyfriend – our agents work for the same company and thought it would be mutually beneficial for us to be in a PR relationship. For me, they thought dating Chelsea and England’s starboy would only boost me to higher levels of fame and introduce me and my music to an entirely new audience, and they were right – I never thought I’d have Chelsea fans asking me for photos outside Stamford Bridge before matches.

Mason, however, is getting a lot more out of this than I am. In the last year or so, he’s been getting a bit of a negative reputation – being pictured with influencer girlies, hanging with the wrong crowd, getting drunk a bit too often, not to mention the dip in his form on the pitch. His agent decided to find him a good, clean-cut girlfriend who would lead him back onto the straight and narrow, as well as help to change the minds of Chelsea fans who think he’s a lazy waste of space.

My reputation is perfect to improve Mason’s. I’ve never been involved in any kind of controversy and I’m always on my best behaviour when I’m out in public. On top of that, I went on a friend’s podcast about a year ago, and when the conversation turned to NDAs and celebrity flings, I confessed that I’ve never dated and I’m a virgin. All of a sudden, I became the nation’s sweet, pure and innocent sweetheart. I hate to benefit from the patriarchy but my virginal status has made me a supposed ‘good role model’ for the young girls of today, so my fanbase has increased drastically.

‘Maybe I will. Then you can kiss your improved reputation goodbye.’ ‘More than I can do to you. Maybe then I can find a less boring fake girlfriend. Someone who’s actually been touched by a man before,’ he says pointedly, bringing up the contract I made him sign despite his reluctance for the thousandth time.

Mason and I actually knew each other before this whole thing started – we ran in the same social circles, and we always got along relatively well. But, as soon as I laid out the rules about what he could and couldn’t do with me, things quickly went sour in our relationship.

Because the entire world thinks he’s dating me, he’s not allowed to flirt/date/kiss/sleep with any other girls – it would only tarnish his reputation even more if it got out, defeating the point of this relationship. I assume he thought I’d sleep with him (so that he’d still be getting some), so he didn’t take it well at all when I told him I didn’t even want him to kiss me, let alone sleep with me.

He thought I was being unreasonable, and that no one would believe we were together if there wasn’t any PDA, but I thought it was perfectly reasonable that I didn’t want to waste all my firsts on a fake boyfriend– I just about allowed him to hold my hand or put his hand on my lower back (not too low though). As time’s gone on, we’ve been getting along less and bickering more, so now he barely even does those things. It’s like he hates touching me – he practically jumps a mile in the air whenever our arms brush against each other. It doesn’t bother me much though – I’d much rather be touched by a man that actually wants to touch me.

‘You need to tell me what we’re doing so I know which way to go,’ he says, coming to a stop at a junction. ‘The Vault. I need to get my nails done, and do some shopping.’ ‘You’re having a laugh. You basically want me to be your taxi driver and bag-holder today. That’s not a date,’ he says, sounding outraged, and I roll my eyes. ‘We can go for dinner there too. And anyway, celeb couples always go shopping together,’ I say mildly, the boy still shaking his head despite how he takes the turning for the route to The Vault, a designer outlet around five minutes away from my house.

He drives in a stony silence but I don’t let his bad mood dampen my good one, still singing along to Summer Walker and watching the world pass us by out the window. This weather is still freezing at the moment but it’s a beautiful day regardless of the temperature. The sky’s a lovely clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sun is beating down brightly.

It’s not long until we arrive at the shopping centre, and Mason pulls up in front of the main entrance, both of us getting out of the car. Mason grabs a matching baby blue hoodie out of the boot before handing the valet the keys while I fix my skirt, making sure I look picture perfect.

He waits for me to join him, offering his hand reluctantly, and I take it, letting him lock his fingers with mine. We walk through the automatic doors into the warmth of The Vault, and I let out a happy sigh. I love this place so much – the fluffy carpets, comfy chaise lounge chairs and crystal chandeliers everywhere scream luxury.

‘Where to first?’ Mason asks, and I point towards the directory stand, the nail shop on the third floor. He leads me to the lift, letting me in first and pressing the buttons so I don’t have to get my hands dirty. He’s lacking in a lot of things, but he’s always a gentleman in public, and I appreciate it even if it is just for the eyes of everyone else.

When we enter the nail shop, whispers run around the room. It tends to be only rich people that shop at The Vault, but it’s not every day that two international stars walk in together. ‘y/n, darling! How are you?’ my nail tech asks, appearing from the back room to come and give me a hug. ‘I’m good, Christie. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, my love. So introduce me then,’ she prompts, not one for subtlety, and I cringe internally as I say, ‘this is my boyfriend, Mason. Mase, this is Christie, my nail tech.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says with a brilliant smile, his charming behaviour making me supress an eyeroll. I never get this charming side – he reserves it for everyone else, and I get the annoying dickhead side instead. ‘Such a good-looking boy,’ Christie says to me, and I force out a little laugh, making myself nod in agreement. ‘Not as good-looking as my girlfriend, though,’ he jokes naturally with a little smile at me, affection in his eyes, and I’m taken aback at how good his acting is.

‘Of course, of course. Now, come, let’s get started,’ Christie says, leading us to her table in the corner, everyone’s eyes following us across the room. I take a seat, hanging my bag on the chair, and Mason hovers awkwardly beside me. ‘Sit here, Mase,’ I say, motioning to the seat beside me, but he shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna do some shopping. I’ll be back in a bit,’ he says, and I feel a little bit guilty for dragging him here.

‘You can… go, if you want. I’ll get Isla to pick me up later,’ I say, but he waves it off immediately. ‘Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind looking around the shops. I’ll be back soon, alright?’ he says, and I nod, mustering up a smile for him as he goes. The other girls in the shop watch him as he walks to the exit, sparking jealousy in me, followed by surprise at myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but the thought of these other girls fancying him makes me rage internally.

Christie starts removing my old set, distracting me as she chatters away about the latest drama in her tumultuous life. Last time I saw her, she was dating a Brighton player, but now apparently she’s moved on from him and she’s got a Kpop boy in her DMs. I get my nails done every three weeks, and she has a different love interest every single time.

Mason reappears when Christie’s painting gel polish onto my new set, a smile on his face when I meet his eyes. All the girls are watching him again but his eyes don’t stray from me, satisfaction filling me. Ogle him all you want, ladies, but he’s my fake boyfriend.

He has a Starbucks cup in his hand which he puts down on the table as he sits in the chair beside me. ‘An iced blonde caramel macchiato with soy milk and sugar-free syrup,’ he announces, and I can’t hold back my smile as I look at him in surprise. ‘You remembered my order?’ I ask, and he lets out a laugh. ‘Not off by heart. It’s in my notes app so I don’t have to ask you every time,’ he says, the truth touching me even more. He knew he won’t be able to remember so he made a note of it. It’s sweet.

‘You’re cute, Mount,’ I say affectionately, maybe giving him the first compliment since this relationship began. ‘You’re about to find me even cuter,’ he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of gourmet jelly beans that he must have gotten from Selfridges – their confectionary section is massive. ‘Mase,’ I say, dragging the word out in a way that makes him grin.

‘Thought you might want a snack, because you’ve probably only had fruit for breakfast,’ he says, knowing me so well, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, because jelly beans are really gonna make up for a light breakfast.’ ‘Better than nothing.’ ‘I suppose. Thank you,’ I say, leaning towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek, the boy raising an eyebrow when I pull away. I only save cheek kisses for when he’s not being at all irritating, and he knows that. The smirk on his face clearly means he’s satisfied at being in my good books for once.

Christie has one of my hands in the UV nail lamp and the other in her hand, intricately painting on a heart, so I can’t pick up the drink. I lean towards it to try and take a sip but it’s a little too far away, and I don’t want to move too much for fear of getting told off by Christie (the woman doesn’t play). ‘Here,’ Mason says, lifting the cup and holding it to me. I take a long sip through the straw, our eyes locked together, and I feel weirdly shy under his gaze, dropping eye contact after a few moments. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused at my nerves.

Come on, bitch, pull yourself together. Don’t let Mason Mount get you flustered. ‘Want a jelly bean?’ he asks and I nod, Mason opening the packet and getting one out. I stick my tongue out, and he falters for a moment, victory filling me. He puts the jelly bean on my tongue, eyes on mine, and I take the jelly bean into my mouth, chewing it with a small smile, the boy rolling his eyes.

We go on like that while Christie does my nails, Mason feeding me jelly beans (whilst eating more than double the amount I do) and holding up my drink for me to have a sip every couple minutes, his phone in his hand as he scrolls distractedly through tiktok. We start an unspoken game, trying to get each flustered and seeing who can hold eye contact longer. I hate to admit it, but he’s definitely winning, and it really pisses me off.

Yes, I’m a virgin, but I still own and use my sexuality – I might know nothing about the actual act of sex but I know how to make a guy want it. Before I was with Mason, I’d get a kick out of leading on these rich and famous guys only to leave them hanging. Not over a long time, of course. Just for a couple hours at parties or in the club. There’s something so fun about letting a guy think he’s gonna get to take you home but leaving with your girls instead. It’s always the same, with prolonged eye contact, suggestive actions (putting on lipgloss or sipping a drink with puckered lips through a straw), and light physical contact. But Mason’s never fallen prey to any of that – he’s never tried it on with me.

I suppose it’s a good thing, because he’s really fucking annoying and I don’t want to sleep with him. We’re at a mutual agreement that this is nothing more than a fake relationship and all we have to do is tolerate each other, so it’d ruin that if either of us ever tried to make it something more. Not that either of us want to, of course. We literally can’t stand each other.

‘Shall I add his initials?’ Christie asks, breaking me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a moment to register her question. In that moment, Mason answers for me. ‘Yeah, add my initials,’ he grins, and I barely stop myself from shooting him a dirty look. ‘Shall I do it on your ring finger?’ she asks, and I cringe internally. I’m about to get the initials of a guy who doesn’t see me romantically painted on my ring finger nail. The finger I’m supposed to save for an engagement ring.

‘Um… do his initials on the right ring finger, and his number on the left ring finger. 19,’ I say – it doesn’t make much of a difference but it feels better than the other option. The base colour of my nails is nude, and the hearts are white and pink. Christie uses white to paint his number onto the pink heart on my left ring fingernail, and pink to paint his initials onto the white heart on my right ring fingernail. I hate to admit it but it looks really cute, and I get a warm feeling in my chest at having a boys’ initials on my nails, even if they are Mason’s.

‘Kimmy! Come and get some photos of her nails,’ Christie says, the social media girl rushing over with her phone. She has me putting my hands in different positions and angles, finally satisfied after five minutes of pictures and videos. Mason’s waiting for me beside the door with my bag and my drink in his hands, and I rush over, quickly saying goodbye to the other technicians.

‘£120, like usual?’ I ask Christie as I take my drink from Mason, the boy still holding my bag, and Christie shakes her head. ‘Your boyfriend paid already,’ she says before bidding me goodbye and disappearing off into the back. ‘You shouldn’t have p-’ ‘It’s fine. I made you get my initials so it’s only right,’ he says offhandedly, and I raise an eyebrow, a small smile on my lips. ‘It’s okay if you wanted to pay for them. You can just admit it,’ I joke, and he rolls his eyes.

‘It’s your Valentine’s present,’ he says, my jaw dropping. ‘You’d better be joking,’ I say threateningly, a small grin on his face. ‘I’m joking. I’ve already got your gifts, babe,’ he says easily, taking my hand into his, and I hear lots of ‘aww’s from the girls behind me. ‘Good,’ I reply sternly, letting him lead me out into the corridor, walking leisurely past the shops.

‘We actually do need to plan something for Valentine’s though,’ I say quietly once we’re out of earshot of anyone else, and he remains silent. ‘I know you’d rather not spend a random Tuesday night with me but it looks suspicious if we don’t do anything. And if we don’t plan something, our agents will, and their plans are always boring,’ I continue, met with even more silence. ‘Let’s not do the usual dinner and drinks. We could do an activity instead! Bowling is always cute. Or mini golf, even though I’m shit at it. Maybe even-’ ‘y/n,’ Mason cuts me off, hesitating to continue speaking before he sighs.

‘I’ve already planned Valentine’s,’ he admits, and I stare at him blankly for a long few moments. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve made plans for us already,’ he says, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask, and he sighs again. ‘I thought I’d surprise you. I heard you talking with Steph about how you’ve never done anything for Valentine’s with a boy, and I know you don’t want to waste all your firsts on a fake boyfriend, but we have to do something on Valentine’s anyway so I thought I’d make it special for you,’ he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I feel myself melting inside. I think I might even cry.

‘That’s… really nice. Thanks, Mase,’ I say softly, and he just waves off my gratitude, clearly feeling awkward. ‘It’s alright. It was about time I planned a date anyway, so I thought I’d show you how it’s done,’ he jokes, and I shove him lightly, laughing. ‘The dates I plan are always fun!’ ‘Oh, yeah, this date has been really fun,’ he says drily, and I feel a bit sheepish at that. I wanted to piss him off but now I feel guilty.

‘Let’s just go then,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s fine. Do your shopping first.’ ‘It can wait. There’s nothing urgent I need to get,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Where are we gonna go instead?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. ‘Back to mine,’ I say, a smirk finding his lips.

‘Say less.’ ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ I warn, the boy chuckling. ‘What are we gonna do at yours then?’ ‘Valentine’s baking!’ I say excitedly, the boy staring at me deadpan. ‘Baking?’ ‘Yes. You’re always eating my baking so now’s your chance to make up for it and do some baking of your own.’ ‘I’m always eating your baking because that’s what you’re supposed to do with it. Not just let it sit in a jar on your counter until it goes off,’ he says pointedly, and I roll my eyes.

‘Okay, fair point. But speaking of baking going off, those cookies are on their way out so they need replacing,’ I smile, and he just grumbles under his breath. ‘Fine, we’ll go back to your house and do baking, but you owe me a homecooked meal afterwards,’ he bargains. ‘Deal. What do you wanna eat?’ ‘You,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. ‘Other than me,’ I say, and he considers it for a second. ‘Tacos.’ ‘So me and tacos for dinner?’ I ask amusedly, and he laughs, pulling me into his arms. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘Oh, my feet are killing me,’ I sigh as we walk through my front door, Mason letting go of my hand so I can sit on the bottom step of my staircase. ‘Sorry. I should’ve told you to wear more sensible footwear,’ Mason says as he locks the door after himself, and I shake my head. ‘It’s fine. I would’ve worn these anyway. They���re my V-Day boots!’ I say happily, clicking my heels together.

After finding out I had surprise plans for Valentine’s Day, I bought a new pair of boots for the occasion. I already had a pink mini dress in the exact same shade as the hearts on these white boots, and I was sold the second I saw that the heels are heart-shaped. Mason said it was a bit morbid that every step I took was stamping on hearts, but I thought it was cute.

We’ve been bickering and having stupid arguments all day but, overall, I’ve really enjoyed spending Valentine’s Day with him. He’s been irritating as usual, but he’s also been sweet and romantic as well, which was definitely surprising. I didn’t say anything about it though, because we’re in a good patch at the moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

After he paid for my Valentine’s nails the other day, we come back and baked some Valentine’s cupcakes and cookies. We filmed a vlog for my YouTube channel and Tiktok videos for both of our accounts, like we always do when we do stuff like this. The difference this time was the lack of acting – our affection, flirting and joking together was all real. We bickered, like we always do, but it was light-hearted, and he kept resolving it with stuffing chocolate in my mouth or pulling me into warm hugs.

After baking, I cooked chicken tacos and we sat together at the kitchen island to eat. We chatted idly as we ate, and he actually complimented my cooking. When he got a call from his parents saying they were on their way to his house, the night ended abruptly and, despite my disappointment, I was relieved. I’d felt myself starting to look at him differently and that scared the shit out of me, so I was happy to send him on his way with a box of cupcakes and cookies for his family.

We didn’t speak again after then until last night, when he messaged telling me to be ready for 10am. He showed up on time, with gifts too! I proudly put the bouquet of red and white roses into a vase as he watched with a satisfied grin, making sure to put the single pink rose in the middle. He also insisted on me opening the box of chocolates so I could try one, and it was the best chocolate I’ve ever had. I googled the brand, To-ak, and I couldn’t believe my eyes at the price. He spent £300 on a box of chocolates for me.

We started the day with breakfast at my favourite brunch spot in The Vault. We got one avo-and-egg on toast and one plate of berry pancakes, sharing both dishes like a real couple. Then he drove us into the city for bowling and mini golf – he said he wanted to burst out laughing when I mentioned both of those things at The Vault last week. He tried his best to coach me at both activities (and I had no complaints at his body pressed up behind mine as he guided my movements and held my hands) but he still managed to beat me at both. I didn’t mind though – I would’ve gotten the ick if my athletic fake boyfriend lost to me at bowling and mini golf.

Then we went for Afternoon Tea on Park Lane followed by watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the West End. Mason has no interest in theatre but he knows I love it so he sucked it up, and even bought us box tickets so we had a perfect view of the stage. I didn’t even realise I was starting to get cold until I’d shivered, and Mason took his jacket off to lay it across my lap before moving closer to me, wrapping an arm around me to keep me warm.

After the theatre, he took me to dinner at Le Gavroche, an expensive French restaurant. I was too fussy to eat most of the food but I was still more than happy to be there, sitting opposite a pretty boy in a fancy restaurant, flirting over champagne and French cheese. And he got me McDonald’s nuggets on the way home so I wouldn’t complain about being hungry.

Now we’re back at mine. I invited him in, without any reason as to why, but he accepted. We’ve both been so… lovey-dovey and cute today. It’s so weird actually getting along with him but it feels right at the same time, which is scary. Multiple times today, I’ve had to remind myself that our relationship is fake, feeling a jolt at the thought.

‘Who buys new shoes for Valentine’s Day?’ he asks amusedly. ‘Bad bitches,’ I say proudly before trying to take them off. With them being brand new, the zips are very stiff, and I’m holding them at a stupid angle because of my long nails. ‘Let me help,’ Mason laughs after a few seconds of watching me struggle, dropping to one knee and lifting his hands to the top of my left zip. His skin brushes against mine, the contact at my inner thigh making me shiver, and his eyes remain locked with mine as he undoes the zip, carefully pulling the boot off my foot and leaving me in my thigh high socks. He does the same with the other, the completely innocent act making my stomach clench.

He stands up, holding out a hand to help me up, and he keeps my hand in his as he leads me to the kitchen. ‘Don’t tell me you’re hungry,’ I tease, getting a look of feigned offence in response. He ate every last crumb on both of our plates and shared my nuggets with me in the car – the boy can eat but I’ll be shocked if he has any more room.

‘I’m thirsty,’ he says, letting go of my hand to get a glass out of the cupboard, about to pour himself some water. ‘Let’s have some wine,’ I say suddenly, Mason raising an amused eyebrow at me. ‘I have to drive home, and I’ve already at the limit with that champagne,’ he reminds me. ‘You can stay the night. I have a couple guest bedrooms you can choose from,’ I say quietly, his gaze warm on my skin as his grin grows.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, and I nod, struggling to keep eye contact with him, the butterflies in my stomach going wild. I wasn’t even propositioning him – I just thought it’d be nice to finish the day with late night chats over a glass of wine, not a quiet and empty house. ‘Okay, I’ll have some wine.’ ‘Which one do you want?’ I ask, opening my wine cupboard and moving aside to show him. ‘I want the one in the living room,’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Living room?’ ‘Yeah. There’s a bottle of wine in your living room,’ he repeats, and I frown. ‘What? Where?’ I ask, heading towards the living room.

I gasp when I spot the presents on the coffee table, looking back at Mason who grins at me. ‘You didn’t think I just got you flowers and chocolate, did you?’ he asks, looking very proud of himself, and I rush into the living room excitedly, wanting to see my gifts. I take a couple photos first, knowing I’ll want to remember this moment, and he just watches on with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Which one shall I open first?’ I ask, and he points to the bottle bag amusedly, both of us already knowing what it is after what he said.

I get through the gifts pretty quickly in my excitement, tearing the co-ordinated pink wrapping paper and being careful not to drop the confetti and the glitter in each gift bag on the floor. Every single gift is so me; the rosé wine, the pink crystal butterfly hairclips, the signed Summer Walker vinyls, the Huda Beauty pink eyeshadow palette, the pink lego flowers set and the dusty pink knee-high boots with my name printed on the soles. I never realised he knew me so well, but every single gift is perfect. The boots are even my size!

‘One left,’ he says, handing me a pink velvet jewellery box, and my eyes fill with tears before I even open it. ‘y/n, don’t cry!’ he exclaims, alarmed, and I blink back the tears quickly, opening the box with shaking hands. I gasp at the set inside, a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide. ‘It’s called pink sapphire, which I didn’t even know was a thing but, apparently, it is. It’s also custom so I can’t really return it, but I’ll just, like, give it to a charity auction or something if you don’t like it,’ he says, obviously nervous, and I shake my head.

‘I love it, Mason. It’s so beautiful,’ I whisper, already enamoured with the pink sapphire stones set into the pendant on the silver necklace, the silver tennis bracelet and the silver hoops. ‘That’s good then,’ he says, actually letting out a sigh of relief before he helps me put it all on, watching with an affectionate smile as I admire myself in my front camera.

‘This is all too much, Mason. It must have cost you a bomb,’ I say, and he waves off my concerns. ‘It’s fine. I fucked up your birthday so this is the least I could do,’ he says lightly, trying to sound casual, and I try not to laugh at the reminder of the half-dead bouquet of flowers and box of Thorntons chocolates he got for my birthday (I’m not one to sneer at Thorntons – chocolate is chocolate – but it was a Christmas box that was out of date by three years).

‘Well, I got you something too, but don’t get your hopes up too much. They’re not as good as what you’ve got me,’ I warn him, getting up and getting the gift box I hid in the corner of the room, a big grin on his face. Despite my warning, I already know he’s gonna love everything I’ve got him – I’m a very good gift buyer and I’ve been planning this for a while. I may or may not have also put in minimal effort for his birthday and felt bad about it, so I’m trying to make up for it with this.

He looks very happy with the black tracksuit I got from some streetwear brand that him and his friends are all obsessed with, and he’s even happier with the custom silver chain I got from one of my jeweller friends. But his favourite is the blue Van Cleef bracelet, even before he spots the letters of his name engraved on the inside of each clover.

‘You’re sweet,’ he grins, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head, a warm feeling flooding through my body, my heart singing. ‘I’ll get some glasses for the wine,’ I say, rushing back into the kitchen and taking a few seconds to compose myself, staring at my reflection in the fridge.

I’m supposed to hate Mason, or strongly dislike him anyway. But we’ve been getting along, and maybe I don’t dislike him after having such a romantic day with him. Maybe I actually like him a little bit, even more after getting all those thoughtful gifts from him. And maybe he likes me as well. He knows me well, at least, and cared enough to plan a day he knew I’d love and buy me perfect gifts. And now we’re about to sit alone in my living room, drinking rosé wine late at night. This probably isn’t a good idea, but the desire pulsing through my body pushes the hesitation out of my mind.

I bring two wine glasses back into the living room, Mason popping the bottle open and pouring us two half glasses. We clink our glasses together and both take a sip before Mason lifts my legs across his lap, both of us comfortable on the sofa. I sip on my wine as Mason scrolls through Netflix to find something for us to watch, not able to settle on anything. I’m not at all helpful either – I’d much rather sit here and talk to him so I just keep making noncommittal noises when he asks what I want to watch.

‘I’ll put music on instead,’ he says, opening Spotify and clicking on My Mix, the playlist starting with Summer Walker. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he chuckles, putting down the remote and finishing off his wine. ‘Aren’t you gonna complain and try to turn it off like usual?’ I ask, and he shrugs with a rueful smile. ‘Maybe her music’s growing on me,’ he admits, and I gasp excitedly. ‘Good! I’ll send you recommendations, and then you can start listening to SZA and Jhene after,’ I say, knowing it’ll annoy him if I make a big deal out of this, and he groans with a roll of his eyes, making me laugh.

‘I’m joking.’ ‘I know, but it’s even more annoying because I’ve already got SZA and Jhene on my Spotify because of you. All of your stuff is growing on me. RnB, The Vault, 90s romcoms, wine and champagne. I even like the colour pink now,’ he says lightly, one finger gently running across the thin strap of my dress, my shoulder tingling in the wake of his touch.

‘I’ve started liking your stuff too. I go to your football matches, and I actually enjoy watching them. I’ve started going to the weird bars you like, full of white people who think they’re cool. I listen to your favourite American rappers. And maybe the colour blue isn’t so bad,’ I say quietly, a little grin on his face.

‘It’s not a surprise, though. We’ve been seeing each other at least once a week since this relationship started nearly 11 months ago. That’s a lot of time to spend with someone. We were bound to rub off on each other,’ he says, and I nod in agreement. As much as we argue and haven’t been getting along for the majority of this relationship, our lives are so intertwined now. It feels wrong to say our relationship’s fake because we behave exactly like a couple. It’s more accurate to say it was a relationship without the feelings, but maybe that’s not even true anymore.

‘I never would’ve guessed you’d like romcoms though. Which ones are your favourites?’ I ask, and he thinks for a moment. ‘I like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’ ‘That’s only because you think Kate Hudson’s fit.’ ‘Says you, Matthew McConaughey’s biggest fan,’ he says pointedly, and I remain silent, knowing he’s right. ‘And I like 10 Things I Hate About You as well. But I think Clueless is my favourite,’ he grins, my heart melting. I’m the personification of the film Clueless, and we both know it.

‘Clueless, really? What do you like about Clueless?’ ‘I like Cher. She’s cute, stylish, funny, pretty, kind-hearted, and completely oblivious,’ he lists off, brushing my hair back with his hand, my heart fluttering. ‘Oblivious?’ ‘Well, maybe clueless is a better word,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes at the bad joke.

‘How is she clueless?’ ‘She’s so wrapped up in her own little world that those pretty brown eyes of hers can’t see how people feel about her,’ he says softly, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. ‘Cher’s eyes aren’t brown.’ ‘I’m not talking about Cher anymore, babe,’ he murmurs, our eyes locked together, my entire body alight with nerves. ‘What am I not seeing?’ I ask, his lips quirking up at the question. ‘You really can’t see how I feel about you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, heart hammering in my chest.

‘I tried my best not to feel any way about you, because I know you want a big romantic love-at-first-sight relationship and I didn’t wanna try and steal that away from you, but I can’t pretend anymore. Not after the nail shop last week. Sitting with a girl while she’s getting her nails done should be the most boring thing in the world, but I’d spend every day of my life feeding you jelly beans and macchiatos, and watching you smile at pink hearts on your nails. And I can’t even describe the feeling of seeing my initials and my number on your nails, your ring fingers. All I could think was that I want to put more than my number on this finger,’ he admits in a low voice, lifting my hand and touching my finger where I’d wear an engagement or wedding ring.

‘But I thought you hated me,’ I whisper, so overwhelmed by a trillion different emotions, and he lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at my hand in his. ‘I’ve never hated you, y/n. It was childish of me, I know, but we fell out at the start because you told me I couldn’t kiss you or touch you. If I hated you, why would I have a problem with that?’ he asks, and I could slap myself for not even thinking about that.

‘I thought you were just annoyed that you wouldn’t be able to kiss or touch anyone the whole time we’re together.’ ‘y/n, I’m not a sex addict or something. I can go without physical contact. It’s been difficult being around you so much and not being able to release my frustrations properly, but still,’ he says amusedly, and I feel my body warm up. With the combination of the wine and what he’s saying, I’ll end up letting him have his way with me tonight.

‘So you like me?’ I ask, and he laughs again. ‘That’s putting it a bit simply but, yeah. I do. I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,’ he says simply, complete honesty in his eyes, and I’m silent for a long few moments, mind working at a million miles an hour. ‘If you like me back, this would be a really good time to say that,’ he says amusedly, and I let out a little laugh.

‘I think I like you too.’ ‘You think?’ ‘I don’t… these feelings are really unfamiliar to me. I’ve only ever had schoolgirl crushes on guys. I’ve never felt this way before. I get this tight feeling in my chest when I look at you. I like being around you, even when we’re arguing. I love that people know me as your girlfriend, and I love that girls can look at you but they know they can’t have you because you’re my boyfriend. I think you’re annoying and cocky but I like that you’re annoying and cocky,’ I say, my admission making him laugh.

‘That probably means you like me.’ ‘Yeah, but then… I like wearing your hoodies and jackets because they smell like you, and I get this funny feeling in my stomach at your scent. I pretend to get annoyed at your dirty jokes but I get butterflies whenever you say them. I always wear tight and tiny outfits around you, even when it’s freezing, because I want you to want me. And I can’t think straight when I watch you play football and you’re all angry and sweaty. So I don’t think saying that I like you really covers how I feel,’ I breathe out, his eyes darkening, lips parted in surprise.

‘That’s… fuck. How can you be hot and cute at the same time?’ he asks faintly, and he moves the hand that isn’t holding mine to rest on my bare thigh, between the top of my sock and the bottom of my mini dress. ‘Hot and cute?’ ‘Babe, you just admitted you’re sexually attracted to me in the most innocent way possible,’ he chuckles, fingers tracing patterns across my skin, the area between my legs throbbing with need.

‘Because I don’t… I’ve obviously been attracted to people before but never like this. Never enough to want to act on it,’ I say, the realisation dawning on us both a moment later. ‘You wanna act on it?’ he asks with a little grin, tips of his fingers toying with the hem of my dress. ‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just scary,’ I whisper, and he laughs softly.

‘You don’t have to be scared. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do or don’t feel comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything at all. I don’t expect us to go upstairs to your room now that we’ve had this conversation. It’s a big step,’ he says gently, making me want him even more.

‘What if I did want to go upstairs to my room though?’ I ask, biting down on one of my nails nervously, his eyes zoning in on my lips. ‘You know I wouldn’t say no.’ ‘Yeah, but, like… tell me what you’d do,’ I prompt, a smile playing at his lips.

‘I’d take it slow. I’d kiss you first, for as long as possible because I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime. Then I’d undress you and kiss all over this perfect body. And then I’d put my fingers in you, nice and gentle so it doesn’t hurt, and I’d make it feel so good for you, babe. I’d stretch you out slow so I can hear all your pretty noises, and then I’d eat you out until you cum on my tongue. And then I’d fill you up with my cock bit by bit and I’d fuck you slow, babe. Have you moaning my name in my ear when you cum around me.’

By the end of his perfectly-woven story, my mind is completely blank and my underwear is soaked. It’s pretty much exactly what I’ve always wanted my first time to be like – the only thing missing from my fantasy is a view from the most expensive room at The Shard after a romantic dinner, but I wouldn’t trade my evening with Mason for that.

‘Okay,’ I whisper, Mason chuckling softly. ‘Yeah? Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod nervously, my stomach doing flips. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he says, hand rubbing my leg soothingly, and I nod, trying to calm myself down. ‘Let me kiss you first,’ he murmurs, my heart skipping a beat. What if I’m a horrendous kisser and he gets the ick? Or what if I accidently bite him? Does my breath smell?

‘y/n, relax. It’s just a kiss, babe. You have kissed someone before, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, his eyes widening in shock. ‘So I’m about to be your first kiss as well?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘That’s a lot of pressure, you know,’ he says with a small smile, lifting a hand to a lock of my hair, twirling it around his fingers. ‘It’s not. You could be a terrible kisser and I wouldn’t even know,’ I say, the boy laughing gently.

‘You’d be able to tell. Bad kissers are obvious.’ ‘And you’ve had your fair share of those?’ I ask, his gaze softening at the mild jealousy in my tone. The situation is obvious to both of us – he’s about to be my first everything, and I’m about to be just another in a long list for him. ‘I wouldn’t say fair share. A couple. But don’t think about them. I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about you only, babe,’ he whispers, our eyes locked together, and that’s all the reassurance I need.

‘Can I kiss you, y/n?’ he asks softly, and I nod, a small smile on his face. He begins to lean in, and my eyes flutter shut, my heart hammering in my chest as his lips gently brush against mine. He pulls back momentarily, as though he’s waiting to see if I’m still okay with it, and I feel myself leaning towards him, Mason letting out a chuckle as our lips meet again.

He slides his arms around me, lifting me up into his lap so he can pull me closer, his mouth pressing harder on mine, and I soften against him when he parts my lips with his.

It’s a tame and sweet kiss, one that makes the butterflies in my stomach melt into a puddle of want. His hands stay on my back, his lips gentle against mine, but I want more, need more from him. I adjust myself slightly on his lap, the movement making his breath catch in his throat, and the realisation that he’s getting hard beneath me only makes me even more desperate.

We break apart after a few moments, none of the panting and dark eyes I’d expect after a kiss, and I’m almost disappointed. I know he’s trying to be gentlemanly for my first time, but I don’t want him to be a gentleman now. I want him to do whatever he wants to me. I want him to enjoy this too.

‘Was that okay?’ he asks, and I nod after a split second of hesitation. He notices it, eyebrows furrowing in concern. ‘No, it wasn’t. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?’ he asks, and I shake my head, feeling embarrassed about being so desperate for him. ‘The last thing I want you to do is stop,’ I say quietly, the realisation on his face quickly followed by dark amusement.

‘What do you want me to do then, y/n?’ he grins, and I pout at him, hitting his chest lightly. ‘Don’t make me say it,’ I complain, the boy laughing. ‘How will I know if you don’t say it?’ ‘Mason.’ ‘y/n. You have to communicate with me, baby,’ he murmurs, eyes dark and big as he looks at me, and I let out a little sigh.

‘I want more. I don’t want you to hold back,’ I admit, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘It’s your first time.’ ‘I know, but I want you to enjoy this as well.’ ‘I enjoy anything with you, babe,’ he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Don’t lie. That kiss was cute for a first kiss, but it must have been boring for you. I don’t want to bore you, Mase.’ ‘You don’t bore me. Babe, we’ve got all night for not-boring kisses. I just wanted your first one to be the perfect kiss that you probably always dreamed about,’ he says, a smile finding my face at that. He’s cute.

‘I don’t… how do I say this?’ I mutter, so embarrassed at the thought of what I’m about to admit, and he just waits patiently for me to speak. ‘I always dreamed of romance, yes. But I dreamed of it for dates and my wedding and holidays with my boyfriend. It was never something I dreamed about in the bedroom,’ I say quietly, and he tilts his head questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The thought of romantic sex doesn’t…’ I trail off, the look in his eyes like he’s just stumbled across gold.

‘y/n, that’s… are you saying you’re into other things?’ he asks quietly, in complete shock, and I nod, feeling mortified at this conversation. ‘Like what?’ ‘Don’t make me say it, Mase,’ I whine, the boy laughing. ‘No, this is not what I expected from you at all. You have to say it otherwise I won’t believe it.’ ‘No, Mason. I can’t say it,’ I say firmly, knowing I’ll die of humiliation if he makes me say this out loud.

‘Fine, okay. I’ll ask then. Do you want it rough, y/n? Want me to use you to make myself feel good? Want me to kiss you and touch you and fuck you like a slut?’ he asks with a dark grin, my mind entering overdrive, my lack of response giving him the answer he was expecting. ‘My baby’s not so innocent after all then, is she?’ he asks lowly, hands tightening on my waist, pressing me down onto his lap. The friction makes me let out a soft sigh, his eyes darkening at the sound.

‘Fuck. This is… probably not a good idea. I can’t be rough with you for your first time. I don’t wanna hurt you.’ ‘You won’t. You’ll know better than I will what I can and can’t handle,’ I say quietly, and his lips quirk up amusedly. ‘You’ll be able to handle anything I give you, won’t you, baby?’ he murmurs, looking satisfied at the way I take a deep breath to pull myself together, my nod making him grin wider.

‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Good. Don’t want to have to punish you, do we, babe?’ he asks, and I feel my heartrate speed up at the mention of punishment. ‘You want to be punished? Such a dirty girl, y/n. Want me to spread you over my lap and slap your perfect ass until you’re crying?’ he asks lowly, and I struggle to hold his gaze, the thought of it making my core ache.

‘Mase, please.’ ‘Please what, babe?’ he asks, and I don’t even really know what I’m asking for. ‘Kiss me again,’ I ask, one of his hands snaking up to the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to him so our lips can meet again.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, the kiss making my mind focus on nothing but him. I never could’ve dreamed that kissing would feel this good, his lips enveloping my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. It’s passionate and deep and messy, and all I can’t think straight with his scent filling my senses, his soft hair between my fingers, and his hands sliding up and down my back.

His hands tighten at my waist again, guiding me to move forward on his lap, the movement making me let out a whimper against his lips. That must be his final straw because he breaks apart, both of us out of breath this time.

‘Am I a bad kisser?’ I ask, the boy laughing. ‘No, y/n. You’re perfect,’ he smiles, my heart fluttering. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I just need to grab something from my car,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘You’re not running away, are you?’ I ask suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘I’d have to either be gay or stupid if I decided to leave now,’ he says lightly, making me giggle. ‘I have condoms in my car. Unless you’ve got some?’ he asks, the situation suddenly feeling very real, my body humming with arousal.

‘I don’t. Do we need them though? I’m on birth control,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s not worth the risk. You’d probably be put off for life if you get pregnant from your first time,’ he says drily, making me laugh. ‘It’ll be fine.’ ‘Don’t tempt me, y/n. Seriously,’ he says warningly, and I gaze at him with big innocent eyes. ‘I wanna feel you though.’ ‘You will feel me, babe. You can’t even notice the condom,’ he says, trying to sound firm but I can tell he’s being swayed.

‘Fine, okay,’ I give in, the boy breathing a sigh of relief at me not trying to persuade him anymore. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I’ll be up in a minute,’ he says as I get off him, the boy following me out of the room. He slaps my ass lightly as I take the first step, and I can’t help but giggle to myself as I head upstairs.

I enter my bedroom, putting on some music through my speaker before tidying away all the stuff I left out while I was getting ready earlier. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs as I’m putting my straighteners away in my bathroom drawer, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement, the latter just about outweighing the former.

I step back into the bedroom to see him entering the room too, a smile on his face when he meets my eyes. ‘Are you still sure you wanna do this?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. Yes, this is scary, but I’m ready. I don’t want my first time to be with anyone but him. ‘Come here then,’ he grins, holding out a hand to me, and I cross the room to take it, letting him pull me against him.

Our lips meet in another pulse-racing kiss, his hands trailing all over my body as I grip onto his strong shoulders before snaking my hands up to tangle my fingers into his hair. My skin tingles in the wake of his touch, his needy hands squeezing my ass, pressing into my waist, sliding across my back, running through my hair.

His tongue slides across mine as he slips his fingers beneath the hem of my dress, slow on their journey up my legs, bringing my dress up with them. ‘Can I take this off you?’ he asks against my lips, and I hum out my permission. He doesn’t waste any more time, his fingers slipping the straps off my shoulders and pushing the material down my body, the dress landing in a pool at my feet.

He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the bed, putting me down gently. He looks down at me, pupils impossibly wide and dark as they trawl over my body, clad in just a lacy pink bra, matching pants and my thigh high white socks with little pink bows on them. I take the opportunity to admire him too. He’s in a pair of loose jeans and a soft blue jumper, a silver chain tucked into it. His hair’s all fluffy from me running my hands through it, and he looks more handsome than he’s ever looked in his life.

‘You’re so beautiful, y/n,’ he murmurs, climbing over me and capturing my lips in another kiss. He breaks the kiss quickly though, moving to press kisses along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches my collarbone, I realise he’s kissing all over my body like he said he was going to. ‘Can I?’ he asks, hands slipping beneath my back, fingers on the clasp on my bra, and I nod. He expertly pops the clasp open, helping pull the straps down my arms.

‘I’ve always loved your boobs,’ he admits, my laugh cut off by a gasp when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, the other breast in his hand, fingers roughly gripping the flesh. He switches to the other nipple, rolling the first between his fingers so as not to neglect it, and I feel my back arch at the sudden pleasurable shocks.

‘Does that feel good?’ he asks, words muffled by how they’re spoken around my nipple. ‘Mmm, so good,’ I whimper as he gropes and sucks on my boobs like a teen boy. I’d laugh if my mind wasn’t distracted with the intense pleasure.

He continues kissing down my stomach and, to my surprise, he leaves my pants on and skips the area entirely, kissing my thighs until he reaches the tops of my socks. ‘These fucking socks,’ he murmurs, pulling one of them away from my leg before letting go of it, the material slapping back against my skin. ‘You like them?’ ‘I fucking love them, baby. You look like such a cute little slut in them,’ he grins as he pushes my legs apart. I expect his eyes to focus in on my clothed core but he keeps his eyes on mine, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, little tingles running through me at the feeling of his lips somewhere so intimate.

‘Turn over for me, babe,’ he prompts and I do as he says, lying on my stomach. He moves my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck before moving down the line in the middle of my back. His journey to the dip just before my ass is slow, my heart suspended in anticipation. When he reaches my ass, he gently nips at one cheek before pressing soothing kisses in the same place, a blissful sigh escaping my lips.

The sound seems to knock him out a reverie, the boy turning me onto my back and hovering over me to kiss me again. He keeps himself elevated leaning on one forearm, the other hand pressing into the curve of my waist. I let my hands rest on either side of his face, his beard soft against my skin as our lips move in sync, tongues clashing messily. Nothing about this kiss meets the expectations for a first time, but it’s exactly what I want.

He turns us over, my body weight resting on top of his, and his hands instantly slide down to my ass, gripping it tightly before slapping it, the sound loud in the room. I giggle into our kiss, his lips curling up at the sound as he brings his hands up my body, a shiver running through me at the feeling of his fingers gliding across my bare skin.

I break apart from him after a moment, sitting just below his stomach with my legs straddling him. He looks up at me in awe, trying his best not to stare at my bare chest right in front of him. I slip my fingers beneath his jumper, feeling his warm skin, and he sits up so I can take it off him, bringing up the t-shirt underneath with it, leaving his top half bare. I’ve seen him shirtless a couple times but never so close like this, and I let my hands explore his torso, up and down over the contours of his muscles.

‘My girls would kill me if they knew we were doing this,’ I admit distractedly, eyes focused on his abs. ‘Why? Because they hate me?’ he asks, leaning back on his elbows with a cocky grin, and I let out a little laugh. ‘Why do you get such a kick out of the fact my friends hate you?’ ‘Because they’re the closest people to you, and they’re probably always telling you that I’m not shit and you need to get your agent to end the relationship, but look at us,’ he says proudly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Well, that’s not the only reason they’d kill me.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘They’re always telling me I should sell my virginity,’ I tell him, tracing my nails over the lines of his abs. ‘Sell it? You’re not a prostitute.’ ‘I know, but I could get a good few million for it from some rich middle-aged business man,’ I say, and he just raises an eyebrow.

‘We could make a few million other ways,’ he murmurs, hands resting on my waist. ‘How?’ ‘We could make a porno,’ he grins, my core pulsing at the thought. ‘A porno?’ ‘Yeah. Your pretty face and pretty body and pretty noises in a sextape would make us more than a few millions. And I bet your pretty tits, pretty ass and pretty pussy would make us billions, baby,’ he smirks, pulling me close for another kiss, arousal flooding through my body. He hasn’t even seen me fully naked yet but he’s so firm about the attractiveness of my body – it definitely gives me a confidence boost.

The aching between my legs is too much, and I find myself pressing down onto him to relieve it. He tenses beneath me, clearly just as worked up as me with the way he grips onto my hips, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us breathless. Gentle waves of pleasure roll through my body, my lips letting out quiet sighs against his mouth.

‘Does that feel good, babe?’ he asks, breaking away from me and kissing along my jaw. I let out an ‘mmm’ sound which he takes as an answer, lips lifting up into a grin against my skin before he nips at it, the pleasurable pain making me whimper. ‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mumbles into my neck, still rocking my body against his.

‘Can I ask you something? A personal question?’ he asks, and I sit up after a moment, feeling nervous as I nod. ‘What have you actually done? Sexually? Because I know you’re a virgin but I’d assumed that you’d kissed someone before, so maybe my assumptions are all wrong,’ he says, and a small smile finds my lips at the question.

‘I haven’t done anything. You’re the first person to kiss me and touch me and see me like this,’ I say, a tiny smirk on his face. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What about what you’ve done? Have you ever touched yourself, babe?’ he asks, and I avoid his gaze, feeling a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest. ‘I tried, once.’ ‘Why only once?’ ‘It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like anything, really. So I just never tried again,’ I admit, the boy grinning.

‘So you’ve never had an orgasm before?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Good. I’ll make your first one amazing, babe, I promise,’ he murmurs, pulling me down for a brief kiss before lifting me off him. He gets up off the bed, about to take his jeans off, but I grab his hands to stop him.

‘Let me,’ I breathe out, kneeling at the edge of the bed and looking up at him as I flick his jeans button open. He watches how I pull the zip down before bunching the material in my hands, slowly pulling it down his legs, leaving him in just his Calvin Kleins, his boner right in front of my face. My curiosity gets the best of me and I palm his cock through his boxers, the groan he lets out making my pants flood.

‘Fuck, baby, don’t. I’m gonna end up cumming in my fucking boxers like I’m the virgin here,’ he warns me, making me laugh. He moves my pillows aside, sitting at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he pats the bed between his legs, motioning for me to sit there. I crawl up the bed, sitting with my back against his front, my body enveloped by his.

I rest my hands on his thighs as he snakes his arms around me, his lips landing on my neck. I tilt my head to allow him better access, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his kisses, and his hands slide down my stomach and under my legs. He pulls my legs up to bend at the knees before slipping his hands between my thighs, parting them.

‘Shall we come up with a safe word for you, babe?’ he asks against my skin, and I nod. ‘Think of one,’ he prompts, and I wrack my brains. ‘Clueless?’ I suggest, the boy chuckling, his warm breath fanning across my bare shoulder. ‘So you’ll say ‘clueless’ if you need me to stop, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Good girl,’ he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

‘Make sure you tell me if you want me to stop,’ he reminds me as his hand slips down between my legs, fingertips gliding across my saturated underwear, making me shiver in his arms. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet, babe,’ he whispers, my breaths already becoming shaky with his finger gently running up and down my pants. He doesn’t waste much time before sliding his hand beneath my underwear, ending his teasing quickly which I’m grateful for. His fingers glide lightly across my wet folds and he quickly finds my clit, fingers pressing against the bud. I let out a high-pitched whimper, head falling back against him and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’ he asks as he rubs at my clit in slow circles, and I nod, exhilaration filling me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, my body humming with desire and pleasure, soft breaths escaping my lips.

He pulls my pants aside to exposing my glistening core to the cool air of the room, a shudder running through me. ‘Ready?’ he murmurs, and I nod. He slides a finger in slowly, my body reacting to the unfamiliar intrusion by clenching my walls around him, and he doesn’t move at all for a few moments, letting me getting used to the unusual feeling.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, pressing soothing kisses to my neck again, and I shake my head. ‘Just feels a bit weird,’ I reply, feeling his laugh against my skin. ‘You’re so tight, baby. Can’t wait to stretch you out, make you feel so good, y/n,’ he whispers, starting to slowly move his finger back and forth.  

The feeling soon starts to become pleasurable rather than weird, my walls not clenching as hard around his finger, and he takes advantage of it, sliding in another finger with the first.

‘Mase,’ I whisper softly. ‘Too much?’ he asks, and I give my body a few moments to get used to the feeling before shaking my head. ‘Such a good girl for me, babe,’ he murmurs, slowly thrusting his fingers into me, letting my body get accustomed to the burning stretch. My eyes fall shut, arousal gushing out onto his hand, causing faint wet sounds that make my skin heat up.

‘Feels good?’ ‘So good,’ I whimper softly, nails digging into his strong thighs as he curls his fingers inside me. The intense pleasure makes me clamp my thighs shut around his hand, the boy chuckling softly. ‘You can take it, babe, come on,’ he says soothingly as he pushes my legs apart again, hooking one leg with his own to keep it restrained from meeting the other.

‘You’re so sensitive, baby,’ he says amusedly, curling his fingers again and brushing a spot inside me that makes me whine pathetically. And then he begins to rub his palm against my clit with each movement of his hand, my head falling back onto his shoulder and my back arching, a quiet moan escaping my lips.

My body squirms between his legs, but he holds me firmly in place and keeps my legs apart, fingers continuing to thrust into me at a gradually quickening pace, whine after whimper slipping out from my lips as Mason whispers filth into my ear, making me lose my mind.

‘Look at you, babe. Grinding on my hand. Does it feel good, baby?’ he asks cockily and, sure enough, when I force myself to open my eyes, I see that I’m grinding against his fingers unconsciously, each movement of my hips resulting in his hand brushing my clit and sending a gentle wave of pleasure through me.

‘So good, Mase,’ I moan softly, the boy cursing at the sound, kissing and biting at my neck to leave marks, making my eyes flutter shut once again. ‘You sound so pretty for me, babe. So pretty. Gonna make you feel so good,’ he whispers against my skin, but the words barely register, my focus on the unfamiliar feeling of my stomach tightening.

‘Mase, I think I’m close,’ I say breathlessly, and he lets out a gentle laugh against my neck. ‘I know, babe, I can feel it.’ ‘I didn’t think… girls really cum from their first time,’ I say, words broken up with a moan prompted from his fingers spreading apart to open me up. ‘Girls don’t cum from their first time if the person they’re with is shit as sex. Lucky for you…’ he grins against my skin, thumb pressing onto my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘Fuck, I need to taste you,’ he says, sliding his fingers out of me and lifting them to his mouth, licking my arousal off his skin. ‘Mmm, you taste so good,’ he says appreciatively, satisfaction filling me. I’m glad to hear my vagina’s to his taste.

‘Lie back for me, babe,’ he says gently as he gets up, moving to lie on his stomach further down the bed. I rest my head on one of the pillows, looking down at him as his hands slide up my legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of my pants. ‘Can I?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slowly pulling the material down my legs before throwing it over his shoulder.

He pushes my legs apart slowly, revealing my soaking wet core to him, and his lips part in disbelief, eyes darkening as they focus between my legs. ‘Fuck. Such a pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me,’ he murmurs, collecting up my wetness with two fingers, the contact making me clench. He lifts his fingers to my lips this time, and I open my mouth, taking in his fingers and tasting myself on them.

‘Doesn’t your pussy taste so good, babe?’ he grins as I lick his fingers clean of my own arousal, and I nod, feeling even wetter at how dirty he is. ‘Could eat you all night,’ he says, wrapping his arms around my legs to lift them over his shoulders, pulling me close so his face is mere millimetres from my core.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he presses his tongue flat against my folds before swiping it upwards, a soft moan escaping my lips. He starts with slow and gentle licks across my folds, the steady stimulation making my brain fuzzy with pleasure, but he can’t keep himself controlled for very long. He pushes his finger into me again, my walls clamping down at the suddenness of it as I gasp, the slight pain soothed by his tongue flicking across my clit.

The sensation is so foreign but so good – he alternates between thrusting a finger into me whilst sucking at my clit, and poking his tongue between my folds whilst drawing slow circles on my clit with his thumb. I grip onto his locks, my high-pitched whimpers becoming more frequent, and I can’t decide whether I want to pull him closer or push him away, not sure whether it’s not enough or too much.

He decides for me, pulling me so close I’m surprised he can breathe. He begins practically making out with my pussy, the loud slurping sounds so obscene and crude that it only makes me wetter, my moans more and more desperate with every movement of his lips. His nose nuzzles against my clit as he eats me out, the irregular waves of pleasure sending my body into overdrive, the knot getting tighter and tighter as I squirm beneath him. He tries to keep me still with one forearm pressed down across my stomach, the other hand squeezing my boob and tugging gently at my nipple.

‘I’m think I’m gonna…’ I breathe out between moans, clenching sporadically as my body twitches, and I can feel him grinning against my folds. He replaces his mouth with two fingers pushing into me, thrusting into me fast and hard.

‘Gonna cum for me, y/n? It’s gonna feel so good, baby, just let go. Cum for me, babe,’ he murmurs softly, voice just about discernible over my loud moaning, and when he flicks his tongue across my clit before sucking it into his mouth as he curls his fingers inside me, I feel the knot in my stomach undo itself.

I cry out his name as my vision blurs, walls clenching around his fingers and holding them in place with an iron-like grip, thighs closing around his head. He works me through my orgasm with sucking gently on my clit, his free hand groping my boob, providing me with a gentle bliss in comparison to the intense pleasure burning low in my stomach.

When I feel myself coming back down from my high, I let out a sigh, body relaxing into the bed, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of me, a shiver racking through me. I just about manage to lift my head to watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, slipping the fingers covered in my cum between his lips, eyes closing as he lets out an appreciative groan.

‘You did so good for me, babe. Such a good girl, took it so well for me,’ he praises as he moves back up the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his body. I feel something very stiff poking into my hip, getting wet again already at how hard he is.

‘How did that feel?’ he asks with his lips pressed against my forehead. ‘Good.’ ‘Just good?’ he chuckles, and I laugh. ‘Yeah. I’d be exaggerating if I said anything else,’ I joke, and he tilts my head up so our eyes meet, his eyebrow raising. ‘Your moaning said otherwise, babe,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. He starts mocking my sounds and I hit him gently, hiding my head in his shoulder out of embarrassment.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It was sexy, y/n. Nothing’s ever turned me on more. You can feel the proof of that,’ he says drily, and I laugh softly, looking down at the tent in his Calvins. The thought that I caused that gives me a little thrill. I trace my finger down his v-line slowly, stopping when I reach the waistband of his underwear.

‘Can I?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he nods with a small grin. I slip my hand beneath the waistband, taking his cock into my hand, the thick and heavy weight so unfamiliar to me. I gently tug on it out of curiosity, watching his face for his reaction, and his eyes flutter shut, veins protruding from his neck. I move my hand up to the tip, feeling pre-cum leaking out, and I lift my hand to my mouth to taste it, the boy watching me with dark eyes.

‘Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, babe,’ he murmurs as the subtly salty taste coats my tongue. ‘Tastes bad, doesn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, and I laugh. ‘Not bad. Just… not good either,’ I admit, the boy chuckling. ‘I’ll start drinking pineapple juice every day, just for you,’ he promises with a grin, and I clutch my heart, pretending I’m honoured.

‘How long’s it been since you last had sex?’ I ask after a few seconds of silence, my fingertips tracing his muscles again. ‘Since before our relationship started. Probably a couple days before we signed the contract. I don’t remember exactly,’ he admits, and I nod, processing the information.

‘So you must be really worked up then,’ I say, looking up at him, and he laughs softly. ‘I’m worked up, but it’s because you’re lying next to me naked and looking at me with your big eyes,’ he says with a small smile. ‘Surely the amount of time has an effect as well?’ ‘Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve… been frustrated for 11 months,’ he says, and I realise belatedly what he means.

‘Oh. You mean you’ve masturbated?’ I ask, the boy laughing, probably at how innocent of a question it was. I should’ve known really – he wouldn’t have gone nearly a year without an orgasm. ‘Yes, babe, I have. Regularly. It’s good for you,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘That’s why you do it?’ ‘Well… no.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘The reason anyone masturbates. To keep myself… satisfied when I’m frustrated but can’t get any,’ he says, and I don’t reply for a few moments.

‘Do you watch porn when you do it?’ I ask out of curiosity, an amused smile on his lips at my innocent questioning. ‘Sometimes.’ ‘Why only sometimes?’ I ask, and he hesitates to speak. ‘My answer might make you uncomfortable.’ ‘It won’t,’ I say firmly, part of me already knowing what he’s going to say, desperate to hear it out loud.

‘The other times, I think of you. I’d go home hard almost every time I saw you, whether it was our good days or our bad days. Making you happy turns me on. Arguing with you turns me on. You smiling at me, rolling your eyes at me, saying my name nicely or not-so-nicely. All of it turns me on. Every single thing about you is so sexy to me, y/n, and just being in your presence makes me want you so much,’ he says quietly, my entire body burning with longing for him, satisfaction settling in my heart at hearing how much he’s attracted to me.

‘If you had to name one thing about me that turns you on the most, what would it be? Just for future reference,’ I say, unable to hold back my smile, and he laughs, the smile on his face so beautiful that my heart aches. ‘I can’t name one thing, babe. It’s everything about you. But… I do love seeing you in a Chelsea shirt with my name on the back,’ he admits, and I wait for him to elaborate.

‘I’m possessive, so I love seeing my name on you and knowing that any guy that looks at you will see it. They can look at how beautiful you are, but they can’t touch because you’re mine,’ he says, my butterflies going wild at hearing him claim me. ‘And I’d think of fucking you from behind while you’re wearing it and seeing my name on your back,’ he adds on shamelessly, my stomach turning with desire. Now that he’s said it, I want him to do just that after his next match.

‘Sorry. That was too much,’ he says, thinking I’m silent because I’m uncomfortable, and I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t. It makes me feel good that you want me,’ I say, a small grin on his lips. ‘Seems like I’m good at making you feel good,’ he smirks, the double entendre not going unnoticed, and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

‘You’re far too confident for a guy that hasn’t actually fucked me yet,’ I say pointedly, his eyes widening. ‘You really don’t want a gentleman, do you? I was just giving you a chance to recover from your first ever orgasm before I give you another one,’ he mutters amusedly. ‘Wasn’t much to recover from,’ I joke, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Your thighs trying to crush my head said different, babe. So did your pussy trying to break my finger,’ he reminds me, and I fall silent, not able to come up with a retort.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he chuckles, getting up from the bed and picking up his jeans. I panic for a second, thinking he’s about to go, but he just gets a condom out of the pocket. ‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you, babe? You can tell me if you’re tired or not ready or you just don’t want to,’ he says softly, and I shake my head. ‘I still want you, Mase,’ I say quietly, crawling to the edge of the bed beside where he stands, taking one of his hands into mine and pulling him close.

‘But I want you raw,’ I whisper, taking the condom out of his hand, and he lets out a little sigh. ‘y/n-’ ‘Please. I want you to cum in me,’ I say softly, looking up at him through my lashes, and he groans. ‘Fuck, y/n, don’t say that.’ ‘It’s true, though. I want it in me, not in a condom.’

‘And what if you get pregnant?’ ‘I won’t, I’m on the pill!’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Is it 100% effective?’ ‘Well… no, but Isla and Steph are both on it and they’ve never gotten pregnant,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘So just because they have sex without condoms, you want to as well?’ ‘No, I want to because I want to feel you, without anything separating us, and I want you to cum inside me,’ I say, and he looks skywards like he needs help from God to have this conversation with me.

‘If you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But-’ ‘No, I want to. I just don’t want to risk anything happening to you,’ he murmurs, lifting a hand to caress my face gently. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m consistent with the pill, so I won’t get pregnant. And you’re clean, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘So it’s gonna be fine then. Please, Masey,’ I say with a pout, and he finally gives in.

‘Okay, fine. If my dirty girl wants it raw, that’s what she’ll get,’ he grins, my core throbbing at the thought of him cumming inside me. ‘Lie back for me,’ he instructs and I do as he says, on full display for him, his eyes trawling over my body appreciatively. ‘You’re so perfect, baby,’ he praises, taking his boxers off, and my heart pounds at the sight of him stood there in all his glory. Flawlessly toned body, dark ink on fair skin, and a cock that makes my pussy wet.

‘That’s… not gonna fit in me,’ I breathe out, the boy laughing as he climbs over me, his lips meeting mine in soft kiss. ‘It will, babe.’ ‘Will it hurt?’ I ask nervously, and he doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘Maybe. But we’ll go slowly, and I’ll stop if you ask me to. Okay?’ he murmurs, and I nod, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself.

He kisses me again, turning us over so my body weight rests entirely on him, his hands trailing up and down my body. We both gradually get more and more worked up, moaning against each other’s mouths, our hands fervent and desperate on each other. My core is impossibly wet, my arousal soaking his skin too, and when he reaches a hand between my legs, slipping his finger between my folds, a pornographic moan escapes my lips, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘You’re definitely wet enough. Are you still sure you want this?’ ‘Yes, Mase, please. Need you to fuck me,’ I murmur against his neck, the boy wasting no time in turning us over, on his knees between my legs. He runs the tip up and down my folds, soaking his cock in my arousal, and my walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside.

‘What’s your safe word?’ he tests me. ‘Clueless.’ ‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, the praise making me smile to myself, and I watch as he pumps his cock a couple times, his eyes fluttering shut at the stimulation. He’s so fucking sexy – just the sight of him like this makes me feel like I could cum.

‘Legs around my waist, babe,’ he says as he moves to hover over me, and I wrap my legs around him, hooking them together at the ankles. ‘Ready?’ he asks, and I nod, heart warm at the gentle kiss he presses to my lips.

I feel the head of his cock running along my folds again before he starts to push inside me. The pain of the stretch catches me off guard – I didn’t expect it to hurt like this – and I gasp, my entire body tensing. ‘Hurts?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I squeak out, gripping on to his shoulders, and he leans down to press comforting kisses to my jaw. ‘Shall I stop?’ he asks against my skin, and I shake my head. It hurts but I still want him.

‘The tip’s usually the worst bit and that’s nearly in. You’re doing so well,’ he whispers soothingly, pushing further in bit by bit, the pain throbbing between my legs. He keeps whispering praise and encouragement in my ear, telling me I’m taking him so well and I’m being such a good girl for him, and it makes me even wetter, letting him push in all the way with less and less pain.

‘Well done, babe, you did so well,’ he says softly once he’s all the way in, kissing me sweetly as my body tries to get used to the unfamiliar intrusion. Despite my best efforts to keep my body relaxed, my walls keep clenching around him, as though they’re trying to force him out.

‘I know you don’t mean to, but- fuck. Your clenching is not doing me any favours,’ he murmurs with his head buried in my neck, and I try my best to stop, feeling bad for him. He hasn’t had sex for almost a year and now that he’s finally in me, he’s staying still so he can let me adjust. This is probably torture for him.

‘You know you’re the first girl that I’ve not used a condom with?’ he says against my skin, my heart singing at the news that I am one of his firsts after all. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah. And I hope to God that you decide to keep me around after tonight, because I cannot go back to condoms after being in you raw and you’re the only person I trust to fuck without one,’ he admits, the butterflies going wild again.

‘Of course I’m gonna keep you around. Our contract doesn’t expire for another month yet,’ I joke, the boy laughing against my neck, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘What about after that? Will you sign the renewal?’ ‘Will you?’ I ask, wanting to hear his answer first. ‘I’d rather have a real relationship with you instead,’ he says, a happy sigh escaping my lips, the sound making him laugh.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asks, and I realise that the conversation distracted me from the uncomfortable feeling from before. Now my body’s already become accustomed to him inside me. It doesn’t hurt anymore – I just feel full.

‘I feel okay. You can move now,’ I say, and he lifts his head up to meet my eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm. I’m ready,’ I breathe out, kissing him again. ‘I’m warning you, though, babe. I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.’ ‘That’s okay, Mase.’ ‘No, but seriously. I might cum before you.’ ‘It’s fine, Mason, don’t worry. I’m not gonna get pissed off at you for cumming first,’ I laugh, the boy nodding with a small smile.

He starts moving, slowly pulling partway out before pushing back in gently, both of us sharply intaking breath at the feeling. It’s weird at first, and a little bit painful, but as his pace becomes more steady and his thrusts become more forceful, the pain ebbs away into pleasure.

‘Does it feel good?’ ‘Feels so good, Mase,’ I whimper, his skin so hot against mine, hands pressing into the bed on either side of my head. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight, babe,’ he curses, and it really does feel like he’s just about fitting in me, cock dragging against my walls and sending blissful waves of pleasure through me.

I can feel the way he’s restraining himself from pounding into me the way he must want to, instead rolling his hips against mine in slow and shallow thrusts, body moving against my clit, making me clench around him unintentionally.

‘Babe, you really need to stop clenching before I cum,’ he warns me, and I widen my eyes innocently. ‘I’m not doing it on purpose, Mase. I can’t help it. Just love how you feel inside me,’ I murmur, the boy groaning as his dick twitches.

‘Fuck, I’m so close,’ he murmurs, the whiny tone of his voice making me gush around him, and I decide I need him to cum in me right now. I dig my heels into his back as he thrusts into me, keeping him buried deep inside, and I clench around him, pulling his head down so I can whisper in his ear.

‘Cum for me, Mase. Wanna feel your cum in me,’ I breathe out against his ear, and it pushes him over the edge, the boy letting out a moan into my neck as he hits his high, his cock pulsing in me as he cums, his release deep in me. He lets out heavy breaths and gentle grunts, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to my lips once he’s done.

‘I’ve never cum that quick in my life.’ ‘Yeah, right. Starting to think you’re a two-pump chump,’ I tease, his mouth dropping open. ‘It’s nearly been a year-’ ‘I know, I’m joking,’ I laugh, kissing him again. We’ve kissed so many times tonight but every single one feels like a first kiss, filling my body with so much happiness.

‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘It hurt a bit at the start but then it felt good,’ I say shyly, Mason grinning. I can feel his cock softening inside me, not stretching me out so much now. ‘If you ever let me fuck you again, I promise I’ll make you cum first,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Well, as it stands, there’s not much making me want to sleep with you again,’ I joke, Mason rolling his eyes.

‘You’re never gonna move on from this, are you?’ ‘Nope. You’ll be hearing about it for the rest of your life.’ ‘Rest of my life? Who says I wanna keep you around that long?’ ‘Things in your life clearly don’t last very long then,’ I fire back, Mason bursting into laughter, prompting me to laugh too. Sex always felt so scary to me, so serious and real, but this has been perfect, with all the laughing and joking and tenderness.

‘You still want me to fuck you?’ ‘Can you?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll get hard again in a couple minutes.’ ‘That quickly?’ I ask in surprise, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m in bed with the sexiest girl on Earth, and she’s naked and has my cock in her. I’m surprised I’m not already hard again,’ he says as though it’s obvious, my heart melting at hearing him compliment me again. I don’t think I’ll ever doubt myself again after this.

‘I do still want you to fuck me. I… don’t want today to be over yet. It’s been perfect,’ I say, the boy smiling softly. ‘I’d make every single day like this for you if you asked for it,’ he says, and even though it’d never be possible, he says it with complete sincerity, as though he really would want to. ‘You don’t have to take me on the best date ever and buy me lavish presents every day. But this part would be nice to do every day,’ I say coyly, Mason laughing gently.

‘Okay, babe. I’ll fuck you every day if that’s what you want,’ he promises me, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought of him coming home to me waiting for him to fuck me. ‘Is that what my dirty girl wants?’ he asks, hand tightening on my jaw, holding my head in place so he can stare deep into my eyes, and I just about manage to nod in his tight grip. He’s giving me whiplash with the way he’s switching the mood.

‘Want me to come home to you and fuck you after you’ve been waiting all day? Because you know I would, baby. If you’re in the kitchen baking me something sweet, I’ll lie you across the counter and eat something even sweeter. If you’re watching TV in the living room, I’ll slip my fingers into your pants and make you cum all over my hand like a good little slut. If you’re in the dance studio, I’ll bend you over in front of the mirror so you can watch how pretty you look with my cock in you. If you’re recording, I’ll sit you on my cock and record all your pretty moans so you can listen to them when I’m away and remember how good I make you feel. I’ll fuck you after my matches and after your shows when we’re both all worked up and desperate for each other. I’ll fuck you with my fingers in the car after our dates, and then I’ll flip up your skirt as soon as we’re inside and fuck you against the front door. I’m yours now, babe, and you can have me whenever and wherever,’ he says lowly as he kisses along my jaw, his words making me moan softly. The thought of having him in all those different ways sends a fresh wave of arousal through me – I want him in every single one of those situations and my life won’t be complete if I don’t get it.

‘Want me to fuck my cum back into you?’ ‘Please fuck me, Mase. I need it,’ I beg pathetically, the boy grinning against my skin. He sits up on his knees again, pulling out of me and focusing his eyes between my legs. I can feel his cum dripping out of me a few moments later, his eyes darkening and smirk growing at the sight. I reach down and scoop some of it up, lifting my hand to my mouth and swiping my tongue across one fingertip, able to taste both of us. He watches me with a heavy focus, so I decide to help him along to getting hard again.

I reach my hand back down, his cum still on my fingers, and I think about pushing it back into me, but my nails are too long for me to put my fingers inside myself, so I rub it across my clit instead. I curse under my breath, keeping my eyes on his face as I smear his release across my folds and my clit, rolling my hips to meet the movements of my hand. He looks desperate for me, eyes so dark they’re almost black and lips parted to let out heavy breaths.

‘You’re so fucking hot, babe, oh, my God,’ he groans, hand fisting his cock, and he’s already hard again, abs clenching at the stimulation he’s giving himself. ‘Mase, fuck me, please,’ I whimper, still rubbing slow circles at my clit, and it’s like my begging knocks him back into action. He moves my hand away, replacing it with his own, and even though he matches my pace, it just feels so much better, my back arching under his touch.

He pulls off my socks, both of us now completely naked, and he lifts one of my legs to rest my ankle on his shoulder. He’s still resting on his knees, and he kisses the inside of my ankle as he buries himself deep inside me with much less resistance this time. I feel so much more exposed without his body covering mine, but the infatuation in his gaze as it travels across my body makes me feel confident rather than uncomfortable.

‘Can I move?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slipping his hands beneath my back to lift my body up from the bed slightly. ‘Use your safe word if I’m being too rough,’ he says, the only bit of warning before he pulls almost all the way out before slamming all the way back in. There’s slight pain but it only adds to the pleasure, my eyes rolling back as I let out a high-pitched moan.

‘Fuck, baby, your moans are so fucking pretty. My pretty baby sounds so desperate and good for me,’ he murmurs, moving my body back and forth to meet his strong thrusts, his cock so deep it feels like it’s in my stomach. His hands are tight at my waist, holding me in a bruising grip, and his thrusts are just as forceful, but the kisses he presses to my ankles and legs are so soft and tender in comparison, my mind in a mess at the conflicting sensations.

He's much more focused on my pleasure now, watching my face intently to see my reactions as he fucks into me at a steady pace, the sounds of my moaning and skin slapping against skin drowning out the gentle music in the background. My body’s so stunned at the unfamiliar feelings, but the thing that makes me squirm the most is the look on his face as he watches me, a mix of cockiness, affection and intense desire.

‘You’re taking it so fucking well, y/n. My pretty girl loves having my cock, isn’t that right?’ he murmurs, voice strained with the effort of fucking me, and I can’t even respond, just moaning his name desperately. I feel the knot in my stomach starting to tighten as I watch his muscles rippling with every movement, the blood vessels in his body corded tight.

‘Getting close?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod, the boy adjusting his position so he’s lying over me again, one leg slung around his waist with the other bent up between our bodies. He fucks into me with renewed energy, the new position meaning the head of his cock is brushing against a spot inside me that makes my eyes tear up, and his grunts of effort are directly against my ear, driving me wild.

‘Fuck, Mase, feels so good,’ I moan in a high-pitched tone against his ear, the boy cursing, his pace increasing after hearing the desperation in my voice. He rests his weight on one forearm, his other hand slipping between our bodies to draw harsh circles at my clit. It’s all too much – his cock hitting the soft spot inside me, his fingers rubbing at my clit, his noises in my ear – and I feel myself hurtling towards my high.

‘Is my pretty baby gonna cum on my cock for me? Come on, babe, you’re so close. Cum around me like a good little slut, baby,’ he murmurs against my ear, thrusting particularly hard as he presses down on my clit, and I cry out his name as my orgasm washes over me. My walls clamp down around him, so tight he can’t move, so he gets me through my orgasm by rubbing harshly at my clit, sucking bruises onto my neck as my nails dig into his back, scratching lines across his skin.

My walls loosen around him once I start coming down, and he takes the opportunity to start fucking into me again, chasing his own orgasm. The overstimulation is too much, my body still twitching with aftershocks, body squirming beneath his.

‘Come on, baby, you can take it. Be a good girl for me,’ he breathes out, words broken up with curses and moans, and despite the tears running down my face, I want to do as he says. So I do my best to get him there, engaging what sanity I have left to meet his thrusts, clenching around him, kissing and biting along his jaw.

‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum, babe,’ he groans, burying himself deep in me as he moans my name, filling me with his release again. He thrusts into me slowly to get himself through his orgasm before pulling out when he’s done, cum dripping out of me.

‘You’re such a good girl for me, baby,’ he murmurs, collecting up the cum that’s trickling across my skin before pushing it back into me with a two fingers, prompting an ‘mmm’ sound from low in my throat, legs closing around his hand.

‘Let me clean you up,’ he says, half to himself, and he gets up off the bed and pulls his boxers back on before heading into the en suite. My body relaxes back into the duvet, skin damp with sweat and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and I focus on the music so I don’t drift off to sleep, my body exhausted.

I can feel Mason’s hands on me as he cleans me up with a damp towel but I don’t register anything he says and I can’t focus my eyes on him either, lids sliding shut after a few seconds. When they reopen, it’s clearly been a while – Mason’s pulled the covers over my body and put a fresh pair of pants on me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand and a bottle of water beside him. All the presents he got me are sitting on my vanity table, the bouquet of flowers on my bedside table, and I admire them with a warm feeling in my chest.

‘Mase,’ I say, voice hoarse, and he turns to look at me with a smile. ‘She’s back,’ he grins, lifting one of my hands to press a kiss to the skin, contentment filling me. ‘You okay?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I hum in response as he hands me a bottle of water, watching as I gulp it down.

‘Why are you sitting there?’ ‘I thought it was a bit… presumptuous to get into bed with you without asking,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You were just inside me.’ ‘Still.’ ‘Mason, I don’t have a problem with my boyfriend getting into bed with me,’ I say with a small smile, and he tilts his head amusedly.

‘I’m not your boyfriend. Well, I’m your fake boyfriend. I haven’t asked if I can be your real boyfriend yet,’ he reminds me, and I roll my eyes. ‘You don’t have to ask.’ ‘No, babe. You told me you dreamed of romance in a relationship, and I want to be the man of your dreams, so I’m gonna ask, with a big gesture and everything,’ he says, and I pout.

‘So I have to wait?’ I ask, and he shakes his head with a grin, reaching over and plucking the single pink rose out of the bouquet, handing it to me. When I hold it, I realise it’s not real, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘It’s a forever rose. There was a card that I wrote to go with it but I chickened out and didn’t give it to you,’ he says, picking up his jeans from where they are on the floor, fishing out a note and handing it to me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y/n. You’ll be in my heart until the last rose dies. Yours forever, Mason x

My eyes fill with tears, the boy laughing as he moves to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘You’re so cute, babe,’ he murmurs, and I shake my head. ‘No, you’re so cute! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I reply tearfully, Mason stroking my hair with a soft hand.

‘Look at the rose again,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, inspecting it. As I move it, I notice the light glinting off something between the petals. I pick it out with my nails, gasping at the sparkling pink sapphire set into a silver ring. ‘It matches the jewellery set. It’s a promise ring,’ he says, taking it from me and slipping it onto my left ring finger.

‘A promise for what?’ ‘A promise that I’ll replace it with an engagement ring and then a wedding ring, if that’s what you want. A promise that I’ll love you forever, y/n,’ he says softly, and I turn to look at him with wide eyes. ‘Love?’ ‘What else, babe? Since the moment I saw you, I knew. You were gonna change my life, and now I can’t imagine it without you and all your pink. I love you, y/n,’ he whispers, and I let out a teary laugh, pulling him in for a kiss.

‘You still haven’t asked me,’ I say suddenly, breaking apart from him, and he laughs. ‘y/n, will you be my girlfriend?’ ‘Yes!’ I exclaim, pulling him back into a kiss. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper into the kiss, feeling his lips curve up into a smile. ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, breaking away from me, and I laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve only just realised it, but I know it now. I love you, Mason Mount,’ I smile, the boy pulling me into his arms with a chuckle. ‘I love you more, my clueless girl.’

[kittykat-25]

Not Alone- an S.Coups Story

Chapter 3

Pairing: Seungcheol x F. Reader

Genre: strangers x friends x lovers, Hurt x Comfort, found family, seventeen being the best friends and brothers.

Synopsis: After begging the famous K-pop sensation S.Coups for help in the Seoul street market your life completely flips upside down, bringing you true friendship and a chance at true love.

A/N:This story is purely fiction. It talks about harsh things such as domestic violence, suicide and anxiety. This in no way represents the artist or their families. It is all made up🫶🏻

*one week later*

Scoups woke up the sounds of screaming, jumping out of bed and stumbling over his own feet. His brain was still asleep, throwing open his door, the screams coming from your bedroom. His heart fracturing at each whimper that came out. The helpless moan of you begging someone to stop. He put his hand in the door handle, still locked. Sliding down the door he started calling your name, hoping to pull you out of the darkness that plagued you at night. You had been having nightmare since you moved in and each night he did his best to help you through the door. The footsteps of his brother Seungmin sounded up the stairs, “is she okay Cheol?” He grumbled sitting down next to him. “I don’t know how to help her.” Scoups said dropping his head in his hands, “what do I do?” He brother patted his back, “just be here for her, give her time to heal.” Scoups nodded. You had seemed more lively the last few days, your job interview had gone well and being offered the job boosted your hope of a future. He was just glad to see some light coming back into your eyes. Kkuma came trotting out of his room and laid in his lap. “Get some rest, check on her tomorrow.” Seungmin said as he walked back downstairs. He played it off but Cheol knew his brother would be up the remainder of the night in case you needed anything. He had taken an instant liking to you, gaining another little sibling though with you being born in 98 he babied you as much as you would let him. Cheol leaned his head back against the door, not wanting to leave in case you started screaming again. He couldn’t get to you but he’d do whatever he could to bring you comfort.

As you woke up, your throat dry and head pounding from the night terrors that constantly plagued you, throwing on some sweats and an oversized t shirt you walked towards the bedroom door, unlocking it and opening only to be greeting with Scoups falling backwards into your legs. “What are you doing?” You asked laughing, as the older man rubbed his head where it hit the floor. Kkuma barking at the noise they made. “Shhh kkuma don’t wake up Hyung.” You whispered reaching down to pet the dogs head. “I’m awake, don’t worry.” A voice yelled back, “and I made breakfast.” Cheol chuckled, “alright let’s go” he said sitting up. You reached a hand down to help him stand, he glanced at your out stretched hand then at your face, you raised an eyebrow as if silently asking if he was going to take it. Gripping your hand tenderly he pulled himself up, not even caring that you didn’t actually help. He squeezed your hand gently and gave a smile before leading you downstairs. His hand still in yours, Seungmin gave a look before placing fried rice down. You dropped Cheols hand to reach for the plate causing the older boy to pout at his brother who chuckled. “Smooth” he whispered as he passed. Cheol reached his foot out to kick him. Laughing, Seungmin followed you into the living room to eat, leaving a pouting Scoups in the kitchen.

After breakfast you head back upstairs, hearing footsteps you look back to see Scoups following you. “Good we can finish our conversation.” You said leaning against your door frame. “What conversation?” he said mirroring your stance. “Why were you asleep outside my door?” You questioned. Scoups was impressed, asking a question boldly was a big improvement for you. While you were clenching your hands to stop them from shaking while waiting for him to answer. “You were screaming, in your sleep. And I’m not going to come into your room but I wanted to be closer if you needed me.” He said quietly. “I was screaming? I thought it was only in the dreams.” You said picking at your nails, “I’m so sorry I woke you up.” Scoups wanted to pull you into a hug, to tell you to never apologize for the trauma you endured but he pressed his body firmly into the door frame, steadying himself. “It’s alright, I just hate that you are plagued with them nightly.” You gave a halfhearted smile, “you can’t fix everything Cheol.” He shrugged, “I can try. Just know me or Seungmin are here if you need us. At anytime, our doors are always open.” Nodding you said a thank you and slipped into your room. You looked at the key hanging beside your bed. Shaking the thoughts away you walked into your bathroom to get ready for the day.

The next few weeks flew by as you got used to the routine of your job and coming home to Cheol and sometimes Seungmin. Depending on his works schedule which changed often. Today after work, you and Cheol were going to the guys dorm to have dinner and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You had been around them in groups but never all 13 since that first dinner. Sitting in the passenger seat of Scoups car you picked at your nails. “Jeonghans door in the first on the left, if you need a minute.” He mentioned, never taking his eyes off the road. “He won’t mind, or you can stick by me.” His arm rested across the center console, you squeezed him arm, “thank you for always thinking these things out.” He gave you a grin, “DK or Mingyu will want to hug you, if you aren’t comfortable tell them. They are just lovers but will respect your boundaries.” He added as you nodded along. You knew of course, Dokyeom always looked like he was busting at the seams to hug you as soon as he saw you but he never did. Mingyu settling for thumbs up. “I know Cheol they’ve never done anything to make me uncomfortable before.” You chuckled, “maybe a hug would be nice, I haven’t had one in months” Scoups pulled into the parking garage and turned off the car, “respectfully y/n, if those two get a hug before I do I will be inconsolable and pout for days.” You laughed, opening your car door. “You do that anyways Cheol.” His signature pouty lips started to form, “I do not.” You have a pointed stare which had both of you laughing. “The Maknae leader at its finest.” You say as you walked towards the doors, the older man on your heels his lips still in a pout.

You could hear the music as soon as you stepped off the elevator, Cheol guiding you down the hallway, “I forget how loud you all are.” You mummbled, sticking close to him. He smiled, “it’s always been this way.” He threw open the door and was greeted by Hoshi and Seungkwan using the karaoke machine at full volume. “Scoups-ssi, y/n!!” DK yelled as you shut the door, you waved as Scoups pulled him into a hug, while you sat your water down and found Jeonghan curled up on the couch with Minghao and Wonwoo. “Y/n, come sit with us!” Minghao called, plopping down beside Jeonghan you leaned back. “You look better.” He stated, “no offense of course.” He added as you turned towards him. “I feel better, more awake, present I guess.” You said watching the guys try to beat their previous high score. “My bedroom is the first door on the left, bathroom is on the right. If you need a minute alone.” You chuckled, “Cheol said the same thing. Thank you for looking out for me.” He bowed slightly, “y/n come join us!” Dino yelled from the karaoke machine. “You reallly don’t want me too.” You called back shaking your head. “Pleaseeeee” Hoshi begged, “she said no, respect that Soonyong.” Scoups voice rang out from the kitchen. Hoshi said sorry and turned back around, Jeonghan was trying not to laugh beside you, “he’s prickly tonight.” Wonwoo said quietly. “He was fine in the car.” You whispered back before standing up to go find the leader. “Maybe later Hoshi.” You told the energetic man as you walked by making his face light back up.

You walked into the kitchen to Cheol laughing with Joshua, DK and Mingyu. “Hey Y/n!” Joshua called causing Cheol to turn around, “hey Joshua.” You replied leaning against the counter beside their leader. “Are you okay?” He said quietly. “Are you?” You retorted, “Hoshi didn’t deserve for you to snap at him.” Cheols eyes looked towards the living room, “you had said no. There was no need for him to pressure you.” You rolled your eyes laughing, “it’s no different than you pouting when Kkuma chooses to sit with me.” “That was one time, a lapse in judgement by her.” He said jutting his lip out. “I appreciate you stepping in but I don’t want you snapping at your members to do it. I can speak up for myself.” You said patting his back. Scoups leaned back slightly into your hand, “I’m always going to speak up for you, you’re not in this alone anymore y/n.” His eyes locked on yours. You heard a throat clear and both of looked towards the source to find the other three men trying to not stare at you. “How’s living with this one?” Joshua asked. “Good, he’s not this dramatic all the time if you could believe that.” Joshua’s eyes widen as he turned his face towards his friend, “really not the type to be over dramatic. Huh interesting.” You laughed as Scoups glared at Joshua. “Him and Seungmin hyung really are the best.” You added trying to defuse the situation. “You’re 98’ right? Would that makes Scoups-ssi a hyung to you as well?” Mingyu asked, eyes cutting towards his leader. DK trying to hold on his laugher. “I- uh have never even thought of calling you that.” You said looking at Cheol. “No disrespect but just doesn’t fit.” “Please don’t.” Was Scoups response. “Cheollie Oppa has a better ring to it” Joshua said, earning a kick from Scoups. You laughed, “Scoups-ssi Oppa, maybe. We’ll see.” You said as you walked out of the kitchen back towards Jeonghan, who had a smirk on his face. Scoups turned back towards his friends. “Your ears are so red.” Joshua stated poking his ear lobe. “Shut up Shua.” He grumbled watching you walk away. “Just ask her out Cheol.” He said watching his leader out after you. Cheol whips his head to his friend, “no, she’s not ready for that and I will never put that kind of pressure on her.” He said quietly. “What if she’s never ready?” DK asked quietly. “Then I’ll be her friend, as long as she is safe and taken care of. That’s all I want for her.” Scoups replied tearing his eyes from you as you laughed at something Jeonghan had said.

Scoups watched you sing horribly with DK and Hoshi at the karaoke machine, only looking away when Jeonghan sat down beside him. “She looks better. Has she been sleeping any better at night?” Scoups shook his head, “still nightmares but they don’t seem as intense. Her screaming has stopped, more so just threshing around.” Jeonghan glanced at his friend, the way his eyes never left you, “she’s going to be okay Cheol. Y/n’s a fighter and pulled herself out of that situation.” Scoups let out a sigh, “I know, I just want to make sure she has everything she needs to heal in her own time.” Jeonghan nodded, “she does, you and Seungmin hyung have made sure of that.” Your laugh broke through their conversation as the score of the song came up. Scoups face lit up seeing you smile with his brothers. Determined to keep that smile on your face as long as he could.

Walking towards the car hours later, you were humming the song DK and Seungkwan sang, “you looked like you were having fun tonight.” Cheol said as he opened your car door. “I did.” You said smiling, “I like being around them.” Cheol smiled at that, “they all adore you. I’m glad you are comfortable being there.” You leaned back against the seat, “I’ve never felt uncomfortable around them, but tonight being around all of you just brought a lot of peace.” Your eyes closed, you were unaware of the man starring at you with tears in his eyes. “We bring you peace?” He asked, trying to control the emotion in his voice. He pulled out into the road, “You make me feel safe Cheol.” You mumbled as you started falling asleep. “Y/n, if you fall asleep now you know you won’t sleep later.” He said gently. You mumbled something incoherent that made him chuckle. “Come on pretty girl, wake up.” He said with a soft smile, he hesitantly reached a hand out to brush your hair out of your eyes. You turned your head nuzzling against his hand. Cheol could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Y/n” he whispered not wanting to alarm you. The last thing he wanted was for you to wake up and panic. “Cheollie” you mumbled making his heart race even more. “We’re almost home pretty girl.” He said stroking your cheek gently.

Pulling into the driveway he parked the car, “y/n we’re home.” You opened your eyes, and found Cheol looking at you with so much adoration. You blinked, “sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He opened his door as you stretched, coming around to open yours “it’s alright, I know you don’t get a lot of rest.” You shrugged as you followed him up the path, “I slept fine then.” He turned back towards you, “really? That’s good!” Opening the front door, “maybe that’s a sign tonight will be good.” You said walking up the stairs towards your room. “I hope so but I’ll be here if you need me.” He said walking to his door. “I know Cheol, you always are.” You said as you slipped into the room and bid him goodnight. Not letting yourself think about the words you just muttered or the words said in the car. Safe. You finally felt safe. You turned and walked toward the key hanging on your wall, taking another step towards fully healing.

A/N: sorry this is so late friends! The past few weeks have been a mess!! But I hope you enjoy🤍

TAGLIST:

@hi-cherry @hwasddeongbyeoli @btskzfav @ateez-atiny380 @butterfliesinthenightsky @nooniena @allisonleannn

[sickly-qt]

A Day in the Life of Drew

This is what I meant when I said I still have some suffering for Drew coming up.

There will most definitely be a part 2 of this coming up!

Part 2!

I posted this from my phone so if anything looks wonky that’s why ✨

~~~~~

Anyone that ever said pregnancy is a blessing, that you feel like the epitome of femininity, that it makes you glow… is a massive liar.

Drew looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes sunken and bloodshot, her face paler than she is normally. Pregnancy glow her ass.

She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth trying to keep her nausea at bay. She knew it was futile but she felt like she had to try, one of these times it would work. This time wasn’t it.

She didn’t even bother trying to make it to the toilet, knowing that she was only going to puke up water and bile. She was still bent over the bathroom sink when Finn came in, shirtless and half asleep. He sat a glass of water on the sink next to Drew’s hand.

“You okay?” he asked groggily.

Drew nodded, “I didn’t mean to wake you up… What time is it?”

Finn shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his head on her back. “Around 5:30 I think.” She melted into his warmth, his breathing rustling her hair.

“So about 2 more hours until you have to get ready for work?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded against her back.

“Can we lay down? I just- I want to be with you.”

Drew rinsed out her mouth and turned to face Finn, forcing him to stand up and laid her head against his chest.

“Can you drink some water for me first?” He asked quietly, picking up the glass from the sink.

She whined, but lifted her head, taking the glass from him and taking a couple sips.

“Now we can go lay down.”

Knocking out as soon as she hit the bed was one of Drew’s newfound talents that came with being pregnant. When she woke up Finn was gone and light was coming in through the cracks of her curtains.

She stretched and groaned, rolling to the side to check her phone.

Nothing, per the usual.

She was hungry which she knew was a cruel ruse her body did to trick her into eating something to throw up later.

Still, she padded her way out to the kitchen and made herself some maple and brown sugar oatmeal, the only thing she can manage to keep down about 50% of the time.

There was a sticky note on the counter with Finn’s scrawling handwriting.

“I’ll be home a little late tonight, order some of your favorite takeout for dinner, I love you.

She smiled and scoffed a bit that he thought she would get anything for dinner with how she’s been feeling lately, then stuck it on the fridge with all the rest of the notes he leaves for her in the morning.

She got changed and stared at herself in the mirror for way too long trying to decide if she was starting to show. Logically, she knew that she had been losing weight. Logically, she knew she probably wasn’t far enough along to be showing yet, she didn’t know how far along she was at all. She had an appointment later that week to figure all that out. But logic was the last thing on her mind and for now she just stared at her stomach as if she were waiting for an alien to burst out of it. She pulled on one of Finn’s t-shirts that almost fully covered the bike shorts she was wearing and then walked down to the coffee shop to get her one decaf she was allowed a day. Usually it was the highlight of her morning but today the smell made her nauseous and her coffee sat on the counter untouched as she retched up her breakfast down the hall.

When she was finished and thoroughly miserable she walked back out to the kitchen, gagging as she dumped her coffee down the drain, leading to a round of dry heaving over the sink.

She got herself a cup of water and collapsed onto the couch, taking small sips that settled heavily in her stomach.

Today was going to be a long day.

~~~

When Finn got home he was surprised to see that the apartment was dim, only the lamp in the living room on, the TV was in sleep mode, rainbow starbursts appearing across the screen from sitting paused for so long.

“Drew?” He called softly then headed down the hall to check the bedroom for her. He had to double back when he caught her in the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Love.” Finn said, sympathy painted all over his face, “How long have you been in here?”

Drew shrugged, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes from where she sat on the bathroom floor.

“It’s been a really rough day.” She said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Baby. When was the last time you had some water?” Finn stepped into the bathroom and knelt down, trying to get a better look at her.

She shrugged again and her eyes went to an empty water bottle at her side, “It just comes back up.” she mumbled, “Your kid is trying to kill me.”

Finn sighed and took her water bottle, refilling it and bringing it back to coax a couple of sips into her.

“It’ll help you feel better love, promise. Then you can curl up in bed okay?” He cooed, when she turned her nose to the water. He was able to get her to drink a bit before helping her up off the floor. As soon as she was on her feet she swayed, her eyes closing tight and her hand going to her head.

“It hurts.” She whined.

“Yeah, I know, you’re scary dehydrated Love. We just have to get some water in you and then lay down and you’ll be feeling good as new.” Finn said, steadying her.

Drew’s eyes were still screwed shut when her frame was wracked with a gag and her hand shifted from her temple to her mouth and she gagged again.

“You’re okay.” Finn muttered, continuing to steady her as she dove for the sink. She coughed up what appeared to be straight water and continued to dry heave long after she had stopped bringing anything up.

After she was done, Finn watched, as all the color that was left in her face drained and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Shit, Drew!” He yelped, jumping forward to catch her as her knees buckled. “Okay,” He scooped her up, one hand behind her back and the other under her knees. Her weight in his arms hid the fact that he was vibrating with anxiety. “E.R. We’re going to the E.R.”

[variabels]

Blue Lock morning and victory routines

So, some of you may have heard about the Blue Lock exhibition happening rn. They gave out a pamphlet with some characters' morning and victory routines. Lots of insight about the characters (Kaiser fans are really gonna enjoy this one). Be prepared to have your headcanons confirmed or crushed lmao.

Translation by Nendoromai Source

Q1. What’s your usual morning routine?

Isagi: Stretching→Greet my parents→Breakfast→Perform a simulation of the day ahead→Eat a sweet treat→Go to school

Bachira: Stretching→Soccer ball juggling→Breakfast→Soccer ball juggling→Brush my teeth→Soccer ball juggling→Pee→Soccer ball juggling

Chigiri: Shower→Dry my hair→Breakfast→Brush my hair→Brush my teeth→Style my hair→Get sis to check my hair→Fix my hair���Get going

Nagi: Go back to sleep→Get my mobile game log-in bonuses→Greet my pet cactus (Choki)→Jelly drink for breakfast→Sluggishly get dressed→I’m all set→Go back to sleep

Reo: My personal attendant (Baaya) wakes me up→Breakfast (eggs Benedict with an enzyme smoothie)→Morning sauna→Check the day’s financial news→Go to school in my limousine (morning glass of non-alcoholic champagne)

Rin: Open the window to let in some fresh air→Take deep breaths→Stretching→Morning yoga→Meditate→Revisit those feelings of rage and sadness→Start the day

Sae: Open the window to let in some fresh air→Take deep breaths→Stretching→Morning yoga→Meditate→Drink salted kombucha→Start the day

Shidou: Go onto the balcony naked and soak up sunlight→Dance however I like→Yell whatever words come to mind at the sky (stuff like “Capillaries and flesh rupture!!”)

Kaiser: Stand naked before the mirror→Gaze at myself, have a conversation with myself (inside my heart)→Get into the mindset that nothing is impossible→Smile at this me

Kurona: Space out (not, so not a morning person)→Carefully brush my teeth (mine are crooked, crooked)→Style my hair (braiding’s fun, fun)→Go to school (oh sh*t time to dash, dash)

Q2. What do you do for luck before a showdown?

Isagi: Shape the hair on the crown of my head into a nice V.

Bachira: If Zico shows up in my dreams that day, I’m pretty much gonna win!

Chigiri: Step onto the field with my right foot leading.

Nagi: No~thing much. Ne~ver tried. It’s a pa~in.

Reo: Get a new tie for my hair. (so that I’ll be looking forward instead of into the past)

Rin: Think about beating nii-chan. I can’t lose to all of the other small fry.

Sae: Think about stuff like what I want to eat if I win, putting soccer completely out of mind for a while.

Shidou: Take a sh*t.

Kaiser: Stroke my blue rose tattoo, as though tightening a noose around my neck.

Kurona: Make my bed, so that I’ll be at ease no matter if I win or lose. All’s good, all’s good.

[niallerspayno]

We’ll Be Alright - Chapter Four

Masterlist

You wake up with a pounding headache, dry mouth, and a stomach that grumbles in protest. The events of the past 24 hours feel like a blur, but one thing is clear: you barely ate or drank yesterday, and now your body is making you pay the price. You check your phone and groan when you see the time — 6 AM. Only four or five hours of sleep, not nearly enough.

You push yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your bones. Your stomach growls again, more insistent this time. Breakfast is the first priority. After a quick shower, you pull on some clean clothes, heading out of your hotel room to find something to eat. The hallway feels unfamiliar, and you suddenly realise you have no idea which room the boys are in. You know they’re somewhere nearby — Niall, Liam, Zayn, Louis, and Harry — but their rooms could be anywhere.

You knock on the door next to yours, taking a shot in the dark. A minute later, the door creaks open, revealing a sleep-rumpled Niall with a sleepy smile on his face.

"Oh, good morning, Y/n." His voice is still rough from sleep, and you can’t help but smile back.

"Morning, Niall." You smile sheepishly, rubbing your eyes. "I’m starving. Want to grab breakfast with me?"

"I never turn down food!" Niall grins, his eyes lighting up. "Pretty sure this hotel does room service. You’re welcome to come in, and I’ll order us something."

You nod, stepping inside his room. You’re a little surprised at how neat it is — only the bed is a bit disheveled, a clear sign that he’s just woken up. Niall picks up the bedside phone and quickly orders.

"Anything in particular you want?" he asks, looking over at you.

You shrug, "You pick. I’m happy with anything."

You sit down on the bed beside him, your gaze drifting over his casual, laid-back outfit: grey sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his lean frame. His hair is messy from sleep, and he looks effortlessly cute, the kind of boy who makes you feel warm just being in the same room. You mentally shake yourself — get it together, Y/n.

Niall hangs up the phone and grabs his guitar, casually strumming a melody. There's something comforting about watching him play, like he finds peace in the strings. You watch in awe as his fingers move across the neck, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, to his presence.

"So, how are you feeling about tonight?" Niall asks as he hums along with his playing, clearly not bothered by the lack of sleep.

"Honestly, I don’t know how I feel. Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Ecstatic. I have way too many emotions running through me. It’s like my head can’t keep up." You laugh nervously, tugging at a strand of your hair.

Niall considers it for a moment before responding. "What if I did a duet with you? That way, you won’t feel alone on stage for your first big performance."

You blink at him, surprised but relieved. "That would be absolutely amazing! Only if you’re sure, though. I don’t want to put extra pressure on you."

Niall looks at you, his expression softening, and without thinking, he takes your hand in his, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles. It feels intimate, like the smallest touch could speak volumes. "For you, Y/n, anything. It’d be an honor."

Your heart skips a beat as you meet his eyes, your face going red. "Thank you, Niall."

He flashes you a warm, genuine smile before leaning back slightly. "Do you have any covers you’d want to do as a duet?"

You think for a moment. "I Won’t Give Up by Jason Mraz. It’ll sound amazing with our acoustic guitars," you suggest.

"A great choice!" Niall says, his eyes lighting up. He lets go of your hand and begins to play the familiar melody of the song. You listen, mesmerized by his skill. The way he effortlessly pulls the song from memory, his fingers moving across the guitar strings like it’s second nature, leaves you in awe.

His voice joins in, smooth and beautiful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t help but watch him, completely entranced by the way he sings with such feeling. This is unreal.

The magic of the moment is broken by a knock at the door.

Niall sets the guitar down, and you pull yourself out of your daze as he stands to answer it. "That’ll be room service," he says with a grin.

A moment later, the room service cart is wheeled in, and Niall opens it to reveal a spread of food. Two plates piled high with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and other savory breakfast items, and two others stacked with pancakes topped with syrup and fresh fruit. Of course, there’s coffee to go with everything.

"I couldn’t decide between sweet and savory, so I got both," Niall chuckles. "Dig in!"

You grab a fork, eager to satisfy your hunger. After you’ve both eaten a decent amount, you move the plates aside and start practicing.

"When I look into your eyes, it’s like watching the night sky..." Niall sings, effortlessly accompanying himself on the guitar.

You join in, your voice blending with his, "And just like them old stars, I see that you’ve come so far..."

You fall into the chorus together, and you can’t help but feel the electricity between you. "Well, I won’t give up on us. Even if the skies get rough. I’m giving you all my love. I’m still looking up."

Niall’s eyes are locked onto yours as you sing, and it feels like he’s not just singing the words — they’re meant for you. His gaze never wavers, and as your harmonies blend together, it feels as if the entire room is charged with energy.

When the chorus ends, Niall sets his guitar aside, moving even closer to you. Your thighs brush, and the contact sends a shock through your body. He leans in slightly, his hand finding your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. Your heart races in your chest as you lean into him, your faces now only a breath apart.

"You’re perfect, Y/n," he whispers, his voice low and sincere.

Before you can respond, there’s an obnoxious knock at the door. Both of you jump apart, startled. Louis’s voice calls out from the hallway.

"Morning, Nialler! Oh, and Y/n! We’re leaving for sound check in ten minutes..." He trails off, looking between Niall and you with a knowing look. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, no," you say quickly, trying to cover, "Just having some breakfast."

"Yeah," Niall adds, his face red as a tomato, "And practicing for tonight."

Louis doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t push either. "Okay... meet outside our rooms in ten," he says, giving you both one last look before disappearing.

As soon as the door closes, you and Niall both exhale in relief.

He turns to you with a sheepish grin. "To be continued?" he asks, his voice full of hope.

You smile, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. "To be continued." You press a soft kiss to his cheek before heading for the door. "Thanks for breakfast, Niall."

You leave him behind, still staring after you in awe, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy. This is only the beginning, and you have a feeling this tour is going to be even more intense than you ever imagined.

Next chapter

[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.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

The Highest Cost [Chapter Two] Allure [David]

A/n: I got this done sooner than planned, so here it is. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): Anxiety, Surf Nazis, slander, OC, psychic abilities, fear, attraction.

No Minors Allowed!!

The pull and thud of the car door stirred Mia from a restless sleep. She groaned and peeked over the edge of her blanket, watching her sister situate herself in the driver's seat with a grocery bag in her arms. She was always early to rise; always quick to take in the sites.

“Hungry?” Cadence asked, sparing Mia a glance before she began to search the bag. 

No, but she figured she better settle her stomach with something. Mia slid out of her blanket and sat up, peering outside. They were still parked in the lot of a 24-hour convenience store. The sun was up, but just barely. 

“What time is it?” 

Cadence chuckled. “I thought you were a psychic.” 

“Har har,” Mia said lethargically. “Someone has jokes this morning.”

Cadence felt nice, for once. A walk around the store did her some good. She grinned in response and chucked a warm biscuit wrapped in foil at her sister. It bounced across her lap and onto the floor. 

“You suck,” Mia added. She reached to the floor with a groan and picked it up. 

“Yes, and I'm very good at it,” Cadence retorted. 

Mia faked a gag and turned up her eyes. Sitting back in her seat, she opened the foil and took a tentative bite. After the nacho incident, she did not want to take any chances.

After a minute of silent eating, Mia cleared her throat. 

“What's on the agenda today?”

Cadence took a drink of her coke and hummed in thought. 

“I'm not sure. There ain't much to do in Santa Carla. We can check out the stores if you like. Maybe see the beach.” She paused to take another drink. “Then tonight we can hit the boardwalk again.” 

Mia visibly frowned an action that did not go unnoticed by Cadence. 

“What? We made a fair amount of money last night.” 

The migraine she had felt left a phantom pain in her head. Every time she thought about Marko or the blonde with the green eyes, it acted up. Perhaps she was overthinking the visions a bit, but one thing was for certain, Mia felt a psychic connection to someone or something last night.

I'm not sure I want to find out what is on the other end. 

“One or two more times, then we should be set,” Cadence assured her. 

Mia hoped so. 

After breakfast, she freshened up in the convenience store bathroom and redressed in a t-shirt and denim shorts, then met Cadence out by the Taurus. The air was warm and dry, but Mia was eager to check out the beach. 

By foot, it did not take them long to get there. The boardwalk was open, but many of the attractions were shut down until after dark, so the two opted to ignore it for now. There were tons of tourists lined down the beach, enjoying the sun and the water. Mia did not blame them, it was a beautiful morning. 

The tide was not high enough, so there were no surfers out, but the further down they walked, the more spread out the people were. Those they passed began to stare; some even whispered amongst themselves. It was as though the natives and the tourists did their damnedest to separate themselves from one another. 

As they rounded the bend where the sand was grittier, they came across a makeshift hut made of driftwood and corrugated metal. It was covered in graffiti and littered with glass bottles. 

A feeling of dread consumed Mia. 

“I think we should turn back.”

“Yeah…it's a bit eerie here,” Cadence agreed.

As they turned to walk back in the direction from which they came, the wooden door swung open with a loud smack and a man with two-toned hair styled in a mohawk stumbled out. He scratched his crotch, much to their dismay, then noticed them; a wide grin graced his face.

“Hey!” He shouted. “You ladies lost!” 

Mia did not care if she was being rude or not, she grabbed Cadence by the hem of her shirt and yanked her along. It took her no time at all to catch on. 

The two took off in a run up the beach, not stopping until they were back on the tourist side. Both were out of breath. Mia collapsed in the sand and chuckled. 

“Fuck me, that was scary.”

“I thought he was going to chase after us,” Cadence agreed. She sat down beside her sister, burying her feet in the sand.

Their brush with danger left them in a state of unease and humor. Once Mia started laughing, so too did Cadence. Neither of them was eager to leave the boardwalk after that. 

–

The second night on the job was much more productive. An hour into it, Mia already consulted a group of people. She was lively, feeling the euphoric energy from each person she touched. Not a single one of them put her on edge. 

It was a good night.

With a short break, she bought herself a soft pretzel and returned to her post near the carousel. The soft buttery dough made her moan in satisfaction as she took a much-needed bite. Concession food was a guilty pleasure, one of the only reasons she enjoyed braving the cluster of people they drew in.

Each summer until his unfortunate death, her father would take her and Cadence to the Dekalb County Fair. It was packed with locals, but Mia would suck up her anxiety just for a taste of funnel cakes and other deep-fried foods. 

They tried to go a year after he died, but it was not the same, and the risk of reading someone from the same town made her anxiety about crowds worse. It felt therapeutic to once again taste concession food.

Mia was so engrossed with her food that she did not notice someone walk up to her until they cleared their throat, drawing her attention. She swallowed hard and eyed a man dressed all in black with platinum blonde hair. 

“Can I help you?” She asked softly. 

“Can you?” He deflected. “That would depend on if you are the psychic or not.”

Mia understood. She shook her head.

“Yeah. That's me.” 

The man in black looked at her in skepticism. 

“You don't look like a fortune teller,” he pointed out. “Where is your crystal ball?”

Mia snorted. “I'm not that type of seer.”

She realized that she did not fit the image. Once it got dark, she changed into a fishnet crop top with a black tank under it. On her right hand, she wore matching sun and moon rings, if that counted for anything.

Mia wiped the salt off her fingers onto her jeans and reached out her hand to him.

“Curious? I won't disappoint. Gloves off please.” 

The blond grinned. Sliding off his leather glove, he took her hand. Immediately Mia was engulfed in a vision, but what she saw brought heat to her face. His future had her in it. She saw herself on her stomach on a canopied bed, bare from the waist down as he loomed over her, thrusting into her from behind. And she was loving it; his name slipped from her mouth in a breathless moan. 

Mia yanked her hand back and held it tight against her chest. The embarrassed look on her face thrilled the blond. 

“What did you see?”

Fuck. How was she supposed to explain that? Never in her life had she ever seen herself in someone else's past, present, or future. It was a lot to take in. 

“It…wasn't clear,” Mia lied. “There's no need to pay me.”

He was not buying her lie. Tilting his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes. 

“I thought you didn't disappoint.”

“Look. I'm sorry, David, but it's sometimes beyond my control,” Mia fumed. 

He caught her in a lie. David grinned. 

“I didn't tell you my name.”

Shit. Mia paled. She tried to come up with an excuse, but she could not think of one fast enough. Her face began to race.

“It's hard to–”

“There's one of those little rude bitches,” a voice interjected.

Mia ignored David for a moment and turned her curious eyes toward the familiar man with two-toned hair; the guy from the creepy hut. Her eyes widened in fear. He was with two others; a guy with shaggy brown hair and a woman in a denim jacket. 

“You owe my friend an apology,” sneered the woman. 

“Better apologize,” David rejoined. 

His voice brought goosebumps to her skin. It was like he was in her ear, whispering to her. Mia shook her head. 

“For what? I did nothing wrong,” she argued.

“For not answering me,” the guy with the two-toned hair retorted. “I asked a question and you ignored it. Yous two bitches turned and ran after walkin’ upon our hut.” 

Mia tightened her jaw. Who was he? King of the Beach?

“My sister and I weren't trying to be rude,” she denied. “You scared us and we ran. We didn't know your hut was there, or else we would have turned around before the bend.” 

The woman chuckled. “Awe. She was scared.” 

“I can give her something to be scared about,” added the brunette. He reached down and lewdly grabbed the seat of his pants. 

Mia swallowed hard and backed up into David, who stood by watching in amusement. She peered up at him in fear as if begging for his help.

“There's no reasoning with them,” he stated with a grin. His tone was drawn out and laced with jest. “Better run.”

Slipping his gloved hand into hers, David turned her around and yanked her forward. Together they ran. 

Mia could hardly hear the shouts of protest from the trio behind her as her heart hammered in her ears. For a moment, she swore that everyone but David vanished. It was like slow motion; lights from the rides streaked past her eyes like headlights on the interstate. She could hardly breathe, and when her vision cleared, she was standing beneath a section of the boardwalk on the beach. 

How did I–

“Look at me,” David ordered. The cool bite of his gloves soothed her heated face as he tilted her head back. The lights that broke through the cracks in the wood cast an ethereal glow on him. “Breathe.” 

Mia took a deep, uneasy breath. She watched David grin in response. 

“What's your name?”

“It's Maria,” she uttered. 

David repeated her name out loud and stared into her dazed eyes. He could feel her heart rate increase as her blood rushed through her body. It was tantalizing. He wet his lips, yearning to taste her. She could easily be just another pretty face on a ‘missing’ poster, but he wanted to know what she had seen when she touched him. What made the blood rush to her cheeks in such a taunting way? 

“What did you see tonight, Maria?” He asked.

She swallowed hard. The memory of David fucking her brought heat to her face. Mia averted her eyes.

“Who were those people? You said they couldn't be reasoned with.”

David tightened his jaw. Whatever psychic guard she had up was preventing him from mesmerizing her. He doubted force would work on her either, or be nearly as fun. He'd have to try something else. 

“Maggots like them seldom can,” he answered. Humans, he meant. “They're Surf Nazis, self-proclaimed kings of the beach, and you made an enemy of them.”

David tutted, then added. “They're gonna hunt you down.” 

Surf Nazis. Mia raised a brow. As if her thoughts had suddenly become much clearer, she remembered the events that just occurred. 

“My sister is on the boardwalk. I have to find her.”

David frowned. While he learned that she was legit, he did not get the information he wanted out of her. It gnawed at him like an insect for some reason. The vision was probably insignificant, but he wanted to know. 

Parting from him, Mia backed up. 

“Thank you, but I have to go.”

Before she turned, David grabbed her arm. Mia peered at him in confusion, but she did not seem to pick up anything about him. Then he remembered what she had said: gloves off. They needed to be touching directly for her ability to work. He released her.

“Meet me here tomorrow night.”

She wasn't sure why, but she agreed. Forcing her eyes off the stranger, she sprinted back onto the boardwalk.

David curled his nose in irritation. 

“Don't keep me waiting, Maria.”

Or else he might hunt her down, too.

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 4

Baby Fever - Chapter 4

Series Summary: It all started with a classic case of baby fever

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Lots of fluff, supportive Marcus, mentions of morning sickness, some swearing, and health anxiety.

Word Count: 2,611

Author's Note: Finally got the chance to update this fic. Real life was making me very tired but today was a day off work so I had the energy to get this done. So happy.

xxx

You woke up that morning in the best kind of way, to Marcus calling out your name softly and pressing his lips to your forehead. You sighed, drowsy and still slightly annoyed you'd had to be woken up at all, but grievances were forgotten when you blinked your eyes open and saw your husband gazing down at you with a tenderness in his eyes that always made you melt.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked you quietly, kissing your temple, the one on the same side of you that he was lying next to, belly down and propped up on his elbows.

"Well, I'm not rushing to the bathroom, so that's something," you replied, glancing over to the alarm clock on your nightstand.

It was six-thirty in the morning. You groaned. "Fuck. Why'd I agree to an eight o' clock doctor's appointment?"

"Because otherwise she wouldn't be able to see you for another month," Marcus reminded you, lifting his brows slightly. "And you need to get your tests done. Want to."

It had been four weeks since you'd found out you were pregnant, and you had called Dr. Harrington the very next day to find out when you needed to go see her, which had led you to set an appointment with her during your tenth week of pregnancy, for your first ultrasound (ever) and bloodwork that would check on your health and the baby's.

You were excited about the ultrasound, you really were, but you weren't looking forward to getting your blood drawn, especially after the night you'd just had.

You'd escaped morning sickness for two more weeks after finding out about the baby, but you had indeed eventually started to get the queasiness you'd expected. You'd thrown up once or twice a day consistently since then, but the previous night it had been three times, all within an hour of each other, plus lots of dry heaving in between.

Marcus had spent half the night up with you, rubbing your back comfortingly as you knelt in front of the toilet and offering water to you to rinse out your mouth when your retching became productive.

It was after two o' clock in the morning by the time you felt like you could stray from the bathroom, so exhausted Marcus had to guide you to and into your bed, tucking you in and curling his body around yours, gently pressing a warm hand against your stomach under your flannel night shirt. The heat radiating from his palm acted like a hot water bottle and finished what the vomiting had started, lulling you to sleep faster than any other time you could recall.

You were grateful for everything he'd done for you, how if he wasn't at work he was always with you, doing whatever he could to help you as promised, so you couldn't find it in your heart to be annoyed with him, but you were annoyed that he had to wake you not even five hours later, appointment be damned.

He was right though. You did want to see your baby. The knowledge that you would that day already had warmth blooming in your chest.

By sheer will you rolled yourself out of bed and cupped your face in your hands. "Dibs on the shower first," you declared, yawning.

Marcus tilted his head at you. "Of course. I'll go get breakfast started. Pancakes?"

"Sure," you mumbled. "Though I don't know if they'll stay down."

He stood and pulled on one of the white t-shirts he tended to wear with his flannel sleep pants, lips pushed out in a frown. "You should bring that up with Dr. Harrington. See what other suggestions she has besides peppermint tea and pretzels to help with that."

"I will." You waved him off. "Now go and make it. I’m hungry. Let's eat before my body realizes I'm awake."

Marcus couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Alright, I'm on it."

He marched off and you started to strip down, taking a moment to feel the space between your hips. You still didn't feel a difference, couldn't see a difference there, not yet, but you still liked doing it, if only to remind yourself that you being nauseous for half the day was for a good reason.

"You'd better be okay," you warned your unborn child, though you knew they couldn't hear you yet, let alone understand you. "I'm not going through this for nothing."

x

You made it past breakfast and the drive to the hospital before your queasiness returned, brought on by all the paperwork you had to fill out in Dr. Harrington's waiting room. All those questions asking about your medical history, and Marcus', and both your families. Marcus' side was mostly healthy, or as much as the typical family was. He had one grandfather who died of diabetic complications and a grandmother who died of a stroke, but who didn't in America, really?

It was your side of the family that was making you nervous. You didn't know anything about your bio family, and that was disconcerting. You'd never considered that before, that you could be sentencing an innocent baby to some terrible disease your family had that you had no clue about.

When you expressed your concern to Marcus, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and squeezed them slightly. "I'm sure they'll be fine, honey. You are."

"That doesn't mean anything," you argued, and he shook his head at your insistence.

"Not worth worrying about when there's nothing you can do about it," he told you.

He was right. Well, you could've gotten a DNA test, but you'd heard those sometimes gave results that added on more health anxiety than necessary. You didn't need that.

You forced yourself to hand back the paperwork with its blanks and sat back down with him, clasping his left hand in your right, trying to focus on his solid presence instead of your mysterious family history.

You found yourself glancing around the room, at the four other women in varying stages of pregnancy waiting there for their own appointments and were even more grateful for him.

Only one of the other women had their partner with them, the one that seemed farthest along. Probably almost ready to have her baby judging by how round she was.

The rest were alone. You hoped for their sake it wasn't the norm, or at the very least it was because their partner couldn't get out of work. Still, you couldn't have imagined what it would have been like coming here alone if Marcus hadn't been able to take the day off. You could’ve done it, sure, of course, but you would've definitely thrown up because of your nerves.

You were tightening your grip on his hand when you heard your name called out. Swiveling your head towards the voice, you spotted a nurse by the door that led to the back rooms, a clipboard of papers and a pen in hand. Her name tag read Harper. You recognized her, the only woman you had ever seen with a mullet. She was fairly new, but she'd been the nurse to escort you to a room the last time you had your yearly physical. You recalled her being nice enough.

You followed her through the door wordlessly, Marcus close behind you, and Harper gestured for you to step on the scale. After she'd written down your weight you were led into the very last room, one equipped with an ultrasound machine next to the examination table.

After you'd sat down, she asked you further questions about your medical history, if you were on any medications currently (you were not, besides the prenatal vitamins you got at the pharmacy ten minutes from your house), and she probed for why you hadn't filled out your family history.

"I'm adopted," you informed her patiently. She started clicking around your files on the laptop in front of her and nodded. "Ah. Yes. That is already in the notes."

She scanned the files and filled in the missing information that she could for the next few minutes then stood from the stool she was planted on. "That's it for now. I'll go get the doctor."

You nodded and tried to relax as she stepped out, eyes wandering to Marcus, who was seated in a chair next to you, studying the posters on the wall. You'd seen them at least a dozen times, having been a patient of Dr. Harrington for nearly a decade so you knew which one his eyes ended up lingering on most - the one with the stages of pregnancy drawn on it with the baby's position in the uterus and size shown. The attention he gave it made you warm again. You'd really chosen your partner well.

He'd felt your eyes on him and you were sharing smiles when there was a knock at the door and Dr. Harrington entered.

"Hello," she greeted you brightly, saying your name after. She pushed her reading glasses higher up on her nose. "How are you doing today?"

"Alright," you answered automatically.

"She's being modest," Marcus told her. "She was up half the night sick."

"Peppermint tea and pretzels not working?" Dr. Harrington inquired, turning back to you.

"It helps," you replied, "Just not always. I still get sick once or twice a day. And something must have really tipped me off last night cause it was three times."

"What did you eat last night?"

"Just toast."

Dr. Harrington hummed. "One night doesn't say much, but keep trying things out. There's crackers and ginger that might work better for you. And keep avoiding harder to digest foods."

Neither you nor Marcus brought up the pancakes from that morning. It was your dirty secret and it was one of those few carb loaded foods you could handle so it didn't matter.

"If it keeps getting worst or you notice you're losing weight, just call me and I can get you a prescription for the nausea," Dr. Harrington continued, "But I'd rather you try all the simple remedies first."

You nodded. You'd expected as much, but it was worth bringing it up to her anyway, so at least she knew it wasn't going so smooth for you.

"Congratulations, by the way," she added. "I know how anxious you were for this to happen."

"It was about time," you said, and she laughed.

"I know, I know how it can feel like forever when you're trying. But I promise you that this took a normal amount of time."

She twisted to face Marcus for a moment. "It's nice to finally meet you, Marcus. You must be excited too?"

"I am," he confirmed, a hand reaching out for yours automatically.

A smile flickered on her face upon witnessing it. "Good. I'm glad you were able to come in today too."

"Nothing could've stopped me," Marcus told her firmly, and you had no doubt that was true. If his boss hadn't given him time off, he'd have come anyway, no matter the consequences. He was determined to be there for you and didn't want to miss a thing.

"Good man," Dr. Harrington noted, nodding her head in approval.

"The best," you affirmed, and caught Marcus looking a bit flushed at that. He was used to giving compliments, not receiving them, even after being with you for two years.

After that Dr. Harrington got to work, giving you the typical physical and engaging you in a series of questions throughout the exam, mostly about how you were feeling, other than queasy.

"I don't feel much different otherwise," you had answered honestly. "Maybe a little more tired, maybe a little more hungry, but that's also not not typical of me, you know?"

She had snorted at that. "I know what you mean. Day to day life, especially when you have a full time job is tiring enough without having to grow a baby at the same time."

"Marcus suggested I take a break from working," you informed her. "But I said no. Am I crazy?"

Dr. Harrington chuckled again. "No. If you want to keep working there's nothing wrong with that. Your job isn't too physically demanding and it's good for your mentality to get out of the house and interact with people too. Just go to bed early and make sure to take breaks when you need them."

Once she was done examining you, she had you lay back and unbutton your jeans to allow her access to the part of your abdomen that she needed to use the ultrasound probe on.

"The gel will be cold," she warned just before squeezing it onto your belly.

It was cold, but not enough to make you flinch. You still glanced down at the pile of goop as she spread it around the surface of your lower belly with the probe, but once you had, your eyes quickly turned up to the screen.

There was mostly darkness, with patches of white and gray at first, nothing shaped like anything you knew was inside you. Not even intestines. You hadn't been trained to be able to discern anything on a machine like that after all. But when an oblong shape appeared on a backdrop of blackness you immediately knew what it was because you'd seen all of your sister's ultrasound pictures and a bunch online as well.

You beamed at the sight and briefly craned your neck to look at Marcus, who squeezed your hand when he saw your joyful and awed expression. He was grinning just as widely as you and it took ten years off of him.

"That's our baby," you stated, whispered.

"I know," he said back, voice also low and calmer than he looked. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple and then replaced it with his forehead, eyes closing momentarily. "I love you so much. Thank you for making me a dad."

Your heart soared. Marcus a dad. You a mother. A mom. Both, together. "I love you too," you said a little breathlessly.

"How are they?" Marcus asked Dr. Harrington, pulling away a bit.

She smiled even wider than she already had been after having watched your exchange. "The baby is looking perfectly fine. I can't see anything concerning. I just need to turn on the sound to listen to the heartbeat."

You quivered with excitement. "You think we'll hear it today? Since I'm ten weeks?"

"Yeah, it's usually long enough," she told you.

She did what she needed to do to turn up the volume and a sound that reminded you of horses galloping on a soft surface emitted from the device in her hand. You'd also heard this before, having listened to the sound of fetal heartbeats on YouTube while you and Marcus were trying, but that hadn't prepared you for hearing your own baby's heartbeat for the first time.

There was something so profound about it, knowing with absolute certainty you were pregnant and that the baby's heartbeat sounded strong. Fast.

"Normal?" Marcus questioned, eyes flickering briefly from the screen to Dr. Harrington.

"Sounds good to me," she replied simply. "Congrats again, you two."

"Thanks," you said to her, before your eyes met Marcus' once more. "I have a feeling I'll sleep better tonight." Your nausea had faded through the course of the sonogram. “Once I get through the blood draw.” Just saying that had the nerves kicking back up.

Marcus briefly grimaced for your sake. "I will sleep well too," he said after, lifting your hand up and kissing the top of it. "Nothing but good dreams tonight."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 8

Chapter 9/?

***

The loud beeping of an alarm clock wakes Billy up at 8.30 am on Saturday, and he wishes he was dead.

Last night they partied hard.

Hangover is a logical but, clearly, an unwelcome payback. It feels like a thousand of tiny evil blacksmiths are forging iron on their anvils right inside his head. Fucking christ. Billy opens his eyelids with much difficulty and immediately closes them again. He has to get up, damn it, he has to be at work at 12.

He has to rise from the ashes.

That Halloween Friday sure was freaky.

Billy is instantly filled with regret.

Why didn't he reset his alarm clock yesterday for later.

Before the party, he didn't think about it. He was only shaking his ass in front of the mirror admiring how good he looked in that leather jacket, bitches be thirsty.

After the party it was too late to think about the fucking alarm clock.

Okay, slowly .. slowly, he needs to sit up.

Just don't throw up. On the fucking carpet.

Billy is sitting upright on the bed. That's an achievement. It feels like he's still alive. He can move.

His throat is dry like the Sahara desert, he's in desperate need of water. He has to get to the kitchen.

Billy registers that he's still wearing the dark blue jeans and the gloves from his party costume. The black leather jacket is lying on the floor, near the boots.

Billy slowly takes off the gloves, finds a t-shirt lying nearby and puts it on.

Did he come home at 3? He doesn't really remember. Something like that. He only knows that he was trying to be as quiet as possible, not to wake anyone up, because that skill is ingrained in his brain and body, deep.

Billy forces himself to get on his feet, and sits back down right away, dizzy and miserable.

Okay. Let's try again, buddy.

He so overdid it yesterday.

After dragging himself off the bed, Billy makes it to the door

But the moment he opens it, he understands that it was a mistake. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, it's Neil and Susan having breakfast. The evil leprechaun must be still sleeping.

Fuck his life, he's gonna die if he doesn't drink water but his dad's wrath is also scary. At least Neil's not gonna kill him right now, in front of his wife, as an extra good morning.

Billy summons all his strength to look as normal as possible and shuffles to the bathroom. He drinks straight from the tap, washes his face and looks at the toilet bowl as if making sure that throwing up is not on today's agenda.

It's still to be seen, but not right this moment, at least.

If he's gonna go back to his room, dad's gonna get on his ass about "being disrespectful" and "not saying good morning". Looks like Billy has no choice but to show his face to them in all its hungover glory.

He checks the face in the mirror. It's fine. Looks human.

Just don't puke on the breakfast table, and everything will be A-okay.

Billy goes to the kitchen, all humble and trying to look like a shadow.

"Good morning, dad. Good morning, Susan."

"Will you look at yourself?"

Neil's voice is full of disgust.

"What time did you get home yesterday?"

"I uh .. a little after midnight, probably. I apologize if I woke you up."

"You didn't wake us up, Billy." Susan is cutting in. "Would you like some breakfast?"

He actually needs to eat something but

He can't even drink coffee right now.

Water. Water. It'll get better in an hour, he just needs a lot of water, and to lie down.

"No, thank you, Susan. I'll get myself something later."

Billy pours a full glass of water. Time to retreat while it's still peaceful.

"I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Mark my words, son, as soon as you finish school, I'm not paying for another single day of your life! Senior year, the most important time, and he's wasting it on .. what, on debauchery??" Neil is addressing Susan now, all indignant and angry, oh he is angry but Billy hopes it won't get bigger than that.

At nine o'clock Neil and Susan are supposed to go grocery shopping, like they always do on Saturdays. Neil likes it when they stick to a plan. He's already getting up and looking for his car keys. Susan takes the last sip of her tea and starts flopping her good housewife wings around the kitchen.

"Let's go, Susan. Billy will clean up after breakfast, right?"

"Of course, I will."

"Thank you, Billy. Good bye! Wake Maxine up at 10 if she doesn't get up, please!" Susan is taking her purse and the list of groceries.

"Sure. Have a nice time shopping!"

Billy hears his dad telling Susan on their way out

"Seems a bit late to sleep for a girl her age?"

"I know, honey, but she gets so tired during the week, let her have her Saturday .."

The door closes, and they're gone.

It went very well, actually, all things considered.

Probably Neil just didn't want to deal with a hungover teenager cause the said teenager might throw up all over the place, so it's better not to touch him.

Such an unfortunate episode did happen once, when Billy was still in his very green years. He came home drunk, and Neil got in his face. He grabbed the boy by his collar and was telling him what a piece of crap and a fucking burden he was, which only led to Billy feeling even worse. Neil had to run to the shower to wash the vomit off, leaving his son to clean up the mess he'd made.

He got slapped around for that later, but it taught Neil a lesson as well.

Billy goes back to his room clutching the glass of water like a lifeline.

He sits down on the bed again and after finishing the whole glass, lies down. He doesn't want to close his eyes though, cause the dizziness is gonna be back so he's just lying there staring at the ceiling.

Vile gray light is seeping through the window. Outside the rain is drizzling.

Fuck Indiana and its nasty weather right in its Midwestern ass.

Fucking hell.

Billy usually knows when to stop, but yesterday he clearly didn't.

What even happened yesterday? .. He did the keg stand, and there was more beer and vodka .. and he definitely mixed it all, hence the hangover. Smoking non-stop, dancing, Tommy following him around like a faithful bulldog, Vicky hanging on his arm and touching his abs while they were dancing. There was another girl, persistently asking for his attention, Jennifer or .. was it ..

Oh shit.

Oh no no no no

Fucking stupid piece of shit.

Fffffuuuuuucckkkkk.

Billy shuts his eyes but it is a bad idea, because he's getting the dizzies and everything's spinning, so he presses his palms to his closed eyes, wishing to erase the memory of what happened between him and .. fuck. The dumb bitch, Harrington.

He and Harrington fucking .. smooched ??

No no no no nooooo

Billy is groaning hoarsely, and the sound of it reflects the depth of his desperation at his own stupidity

Why is he such an idiot. Why did he do it. He should've instead broken Harrington 's pretty nose ..

fuck JUST nose! Without the pretty, forget that he said .. or thought that.

What was it even, Billy didn't want to start any shit in the first place, as god is his witness.

His clouded consciousness doesn't provide him with much, but some flashes do come to his mind.

Bathroom. Harrington.

He fucking started it!

His face. His lips. His hand on the back of Billy's head, almost hurting, the fingers sharp and digging into his skin

The silky softness.

The wetness of their tongues touching

Fuck fuck FUCK.

Mission: erasing the memories.

Billy is an idiot. A certified one.

***

He crawls out of his bedroom half an hour later for more water, and to go to the bathroom. The hangover is gradually stepping away, but the more it does, the more unsettled Billy is.

His dad is right.

He's an imbecile.

At around ten he bangs on Max's door,

"Wakie, wakie, Maxine!" he bellows and then bangs some more until he hears

"Stop it, you jerk!"

"Rise and shine, birdbrain!"

Then goes to the kitchen to finally find some food.

He's slowly getting back to his senses. At 12 he needs to be at work, and he will be. Old Joe won't even notice that Billy partied last night.

Partied so hard, that he ended up kissing that annoying motherfucker.

Erase, erase, erase.

No panic. It was only once, and it was a mistake but Billy could always say nothing happened.

He was so wasted, he wasn't himself. Hell, he didn't even remember it when he woke up.

Harrington is not gonna run his mouth about it, what is he, a kamikaze?

It's nothing, it's just a drunken slip up.

Happens to the best of us, amirite?

***

***

Steve stays at home all Saturday. They only go grocery shopping with mom, he drives her to the store and back in the afternoon. Or course, Dad chooses this very day to ask him fucking questions. Steve mumbles something about his captainship ot the basketball team and finally finishing his college application essay. He's also retaking his SATs at the beginning of November cause the results of the tests he took last year were not very high. Not high enough.

They were pretty low. After he gets the new results back, he'll still have time to apply to some places. Mom asks him if he has thought of a backup plan, and Steve honestly says

"No, mom. I haven't."

"You probably should."

"Yes, I will, after I'm done with applications. Can I go study now?"

Parents do not seem very happy with the outcome of their conversation, but Steve can't offer more. To him, his future plan looks okay for now.

Honestly, Steve doesn't even know what specific sphere he'd like to study. He's still at home and at school, and the future seems vague and a little bit scary. Nancy is definitely aiming at a university, and Steve's not sure what will happen to their relationship.

Especially after yesterday.

He spends the whole evening revising for his SATs. A lot of confusing stuff. He probably should've started sooner, and not a week before.

Well.

Steve studies more on Sunday, but then Tommy calls and they decide to go to a pizza place.

They order pepperoni and cola, and Steve can finally take a breath with his whole chest

"Ugh man, I've been studying for two days straight, my brain's on fire."

"Dad wants you to get into Yale or something?"

"Well no .. but .. they want me to have a clear plan, and I don't have it, and it's just .. they fucking nag."

Tommy nods in understanding

"Yeah man."

"Must retake SATs soon, and it just .."

"It sucks."

They chew some more pizza

"You remember, Hargrove took your keg king title? The dude got 52 seconds, fucking crazy."

At the mention of Hargrove's name Steve's cheeks start feeling hotter

"Yeah, whatever. I got bigger problems to worry about now."

"The princess?"

"We had a huge fight at the party. She was so drunk. I dunno, Tommy."

"You haven't talked to her since the party?"

"No. Why?"

Hagan is looking at Harrington in a weird way

"Hey, man .. I've actually been meaning to tell you. I think you should know."

"Know what?"

"Your Wheeler girl .. remember you asked me and Carol where she was and we told you she'd left home?"

"Yeah?"

"Well she didn't go home alone."

"That's good? She was drunk."

"Do you know who she left with?"

"How am I supposed to know that? I didn't see her leaving. You and Carol told me she was fine, and I .. I kinda left it at that?"

"So you still don't know?"

"Tommy, what the fuck?"

Hagan's still looking at Steve like he pities him but he also wants to gloat so bad because he told his friend a lot of times to "dump that prissy bitch", and they even fought over it, more than once, and voilà, in the end Tommy is actually right

"I thought that maybe she left with this .. Samantha or something? .. Tommy??"

"You girlfriend left with the Byers freak."

WHAT

"She what?"

"Just thought you should know."

"She left with Byers?"

"Yup."

"Jonathan Byers?"

"Yes, Steve."

Fucking what?

"Are you sure?"

"Dude, I was drunk but not blind. Carol saw that too. Nancy went downstairs in her wet dress, and it was like .. well, he was just standing there near the stairs. They talked for a minute and then went away together."

Well, that's uh .. Steve didn't expect that.

Is that what people feel when their heart breaks? Is that the burning acid of being betrayed?

Tommy eats what's left of the pizza.

Steve doesn't pick Nancy up on Monday to drive her to school as he usually does.

***

***

On Monday before practice coach Nelson informs the team that

"We're having visitors this week, boys! Let's show them all you've got!"

Two sports recruiters are coming to see if they have any hidden talents here in Hawkins.

Billy thinks someone should warn them not to waste their time. There's nothing to look for here. Nada. Fucking zero.

He knows that the odds of being chosen are extremely slim. And even if a recruiter spots you, it guarantees nothing.

Billy has seen his share of sports scouts back in San Diego. He's aware that they are not interested in him.

There are so many good things recruiters told Billy. He's a great player, he scores points, he makes flashy moves, his techniques of shooting, dribbling, rebounding and defense are excellent as well as such attributes as strength, endurance, speed and agility, blah blah blah. His physical characteristics - weight and wingspan - meet the requirements. Add to it Billy's intelligence on the court and the unbeaten desire to win.

He basically has it all.

There's just one problem - Hargrove's too short to be a professional basketball player. He's too fucking short, and that's why a career in basketball is not even an option.

He's 5'10. It's fine. Just not for the NBA.

At some point in his life Billy used to be bitter about his height. That was when the first recruiter came looking and he was like

"Kid, if only you were taller."

The second one said the same. And the third. Little by little, Billy accepted it as it is, and that's why

He doesn't care about the visitors. Unlike him, the whole team is buzzing. Are they stupid? Recruiters will never choose any of them. The only player who has a tiny microscopic chance of getting noticed is probably Andy. He's tall, he's got the physique. His game's not great but it can be worked with.

Harrington, on the other hand? Billy's has seen his serious and focused face, eyebrows knitted together, when the coach mentioned the recruiters.

Please, it's ridiculous.

Billy's not even gonna elaborate. It's simply ludicrous.

Harrington can drool all over his pillow having dreams of a sports scholarship or a prominent career in the NBA, and the sucker can keep on dreaming because that's as close as he's gonna get to playing this sport professionally.

Anyhoo.

It's skins and shirts as always, and Billy's playing rough as usual. He's seen Harrington in the school hallway earlier and they shared a class. Billy just straight up ignored the loser. Steve also didn't seem to look his way much, maybe he doesn't even remember about the kiss.

He also looks as if he's brooding about something, like something weighs heavy on his preppy-ass soul.

Either way, it's not Billy's business and he doesn't give a shit.

And yeah,

Mission: erasing the memories of the most idiotic kiss

Status: incomplete.

In his defense, Billy was so wasted, he could've kissed anyone.

***

***

During the match Hargrove behaves like nothing happened, there's just something about his game that's extra precise and extra ruthless. Like he wants to show with all his obnoxious persona that he's above all that and doesn't give a fuck. It's likely he doesn't recall what happened on Friday night because he was drunk as a fish.

Or it's a bluff.

He remembers.

Steve knows he does. Why is he so sure? Cause Hargrove hasn't touched him once since the beginning of the game, hasn't said anything mean to him. He's trying to send a message that he doesn't care, but he's trying too hard, and it shows.

Billy knows what they've done, and he's .. what, ashamed?

Heheehe.

Nice.

Harrington would've gotten much more pleasure out of it if his heart wasn't hurting.

Are they broken up with Nancy, did she cheat on him? What the hell is this whole fucking situation?

Steve's lost in his thoughts when suddenly he hears Nancy's loud irritated voice

"Steve?"

There she is, standing at the gym doors, clearly expecting Harrington to come have a conversation with her outside.

He doesn't want to bail on his team in the middle of the game but he's been avoiding Nancy all morning, and soon he won't be able to tolerate the level of acidity that has swallowed his whole being.

They do need to talk.

Steve needs it.

They go outside to the little passage between the gym and the school building where they usually hide smoking with the guys.

Maybe it's the first time since they got together, when Steve's absolutely not happy to see his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend? Guess we'll find out now.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?"

Nancy sounds pissed. She talks to him in that tone like .. like a strict mother to a naughty child, when she's angry at him.

"You didn't call all weekend.. and where were you this morning? I missed first period!"

"I figured Jonathan would take you."

"Wha .. what are you talking about?" Maybe she's a good actress but there's genuine surprise in her voice. She looks confused.

Harrington scoffs

"Jesus, you really can't handle your alcohol."

"Uh ..?"

"You remember going to Tina's party on Friday night?"

"Yes?"

"And then what?"

"I remember dancing .. and spilling some punch."

Nancy's thinking for a second.

"You got mad at me because I was drunk. And then you took me home."

Does she really remember nothing or that's all acting?

"No, see, this is where your mind gets a little bit fuzzy."

Steve's making a pause.

"That was your other boyfriend. That was .. that was Jonathan."

There's a perplexed expression on Nancy's face

"I don't understand."

"It's pretty simple, Nance."

"What?"

"You were just telling it like it is."

Maybe she really doesn't remember. That doesn't make it okay though.

"Uh .. apparently, we killed Barb and I don't care cause I'm bullshit and our whole .. our whole relationship is bullshit and .. I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit bullshit bullshit."

Nancy raises her well-defined eyebrows and wrinkles her forehead

That doesn't make the stuff she told Steve okay!!

"Oh yeah also you don't love me."

"I was drunk, Steve. I don't remember any of that."

Really? So you can get hammered and tell your boyfriend you don't love him, and then everything should just get back to normal cause you don't recall doing that?

"So that makes everything you said .. it's what? Just bullshit too?"

"Yes?"

"Then tell me. Tell me that you love me and there's nothing going on between you and Jonathan."

"Really, Steve?"

"Harrington !!"

Roy is out of his breath, appearing between the buildings.

"Dude we need you, man! That douchebag is killing us! Let's go !!"

"I'm coming!"

"There is nothing going on between me and Jonathan, Steve."

It's nice to hear, really. Steve needs a longer explanation though.

"We're not done talking, Nance."

Their team loses anyways, with or without the captain. There's something about Billy's game today, it's .. like he's holding that distance, with a hint of "nothing personal, guys".. Is he getting ready to show off in front of the sports scouts? The new behaviour infuriates the hell out of Steve, even though the asshole hasn't pushed him one single time.

You're wrong about nothing personal, Hargrove. Locking mouths seems pretty personal to me.

However, Billy's not number one problem on the list of Steve's troubles right now. Let him believe Harrington has suffered a case of amnesia, and there was no kiss.

***

Steve picks Nancy up after school. On the way to her house she tells him

"Nothing happened that night, I swear."

"Are you sure, Nance? You didn't even understand who took you home! You thought it was me!"

"Steve, I would know if someone tried sleeping with me in my own bed, okay?"

She also admits that they sometimes talk with Jonathan between classes or during library study. They talk mostly about Barb, because his little brother Will was also missing last summer. They found him in the woods. Three weeks later, yet they found him. Maybe Barb also disappeared in the woods. Too much time has passed and there's no hope of finding her alive, but bringing some certainty would help her parents obtain peace.

Nancy assures Steve there's nothing romantic going on between her and Jonathan.

Steve's at a loss. Like .. he feels that he can't give Nancy the consolation she's looking for. He has no idea what happened to Barb and he thinks they should let the police deal with the whole thing. He can listen to Nancy, but what else can he offer? He's not .. experienced at things like that.

Steve should probably make a scene anyway and get really pissed and show her how hurt his feelings are, but he's also kinda glad everything 's cleared up, and she didn't cheat on him, and they are still together.

They are still together, right?

Nevertheless, he definitely must keep an eye on Jonathan Byers. The guy took creepy pictures of them in the middle of the night, Nancy seems to have forgotten about that. Steve should have a talk with Byers, tell him to stay away from his girl.

They kiss each other good bye.

It feels .. mechanic.

***

Late at night when Steve's again tossing and turning in bed, he suddenly realises that Nancy told him a lot of words but forgot to mention the most important thing - she didn't tell him she loved him.

Should he ask her again?

Tell me you love me

He's always thought if you're in love and in a relationship, you shouldn't be asking the person you're together with for confirmation.

Steve again feels that he wants to give so much, but no-one needs it, and no-one is willing to give back the same amount.

Of love.

Or even close to it.

Maybe relationships aren't that easy, and he's idealising them.

However, if there's no love, what's there to fight for?

[missvelvetsstuff]

Where ya goin, Star?

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky when the truck hauling her show horses breaks down as she is trying to leave for an event and he works for the mechanic. Passionate, secret love affair ensues. After a confrontation with her father, Bucky decides she deserves better than a poor biker like him and leaves town with his friends Steve and Sam.

Three years later, reader is trapped in an abusive relationship and about to give up hope of things ever improving, when Bucky comes back.

Chapter 2

Warnings: I'm so sorry I forgot to add warnings. Swearing, mild smut, dirty talk

After Bucky left, Y/N took a hot shower and heard knocking on her door while she was drying off. She grabbed a robe and went to greet Clint.

Clint looked her up and down, then tried to look past her to see if anyone was in her room. "We need to get moving. I ordered breakfast to your room so get dressed."

Y/N nodded distractedly and toweled off her hair, closing the door on him. She had just finished pulling on some jeans and a t-shirt when there was another knock. Room service.

Once the table was set up Clint returned in clean clothes and wet hair. They sat down to eat in a silence that wasn't as comfortable as yesterday.

Clint was looking at the paper when he asked her "I heard a loud motorcycle last night, you weren't meeting up with Barnes, were you? I told you, He's bad news."

She giggled softly "Why on earth would I be meeting up with him? You're making too big a deal of this. He helped get us here and I bought him dinner. I don't know why he was here yesterday. You can ask Britt, I was at the barn parties. There are probably pics of me there on her IG."

Clint grumbled "Alright, just keep it that way."

Y/N smiled at him fondly, he was like a very protective older brother, then felt her face heat up thinking about last night. She couldn't wait to see Bucky again.

They checked out and went to the showgrounds to load the horses up, then headed home. They arrived just in time to unload the horses and grab a quick lunch before her afternoon lessons arrived.

Y/N spent the rest of the day busy with horses and riders until the sun was starting to set and she made sure everyone was secure and fed before going back to her house.

The house was dark when she entered and left her shoes in the mudroom. She could barely pick up a familiar scent that she couldn't quite place when she walked into her darkened bedroom.

"Where you goin, Star?"

She jumped at the sound and felt her heart racing when her brain caught up and she realized who it was. He was sitting on her reading chair with his hands behind his head and an obvious tent growing in his pants.

"Bucky! How did you get in here? I was going to call you." She questioned.

Bucky smirked "I thought you might but I couldn't wait that long. I needed to see you." His voice lowered "I need to feel you."

She laughed softly "Wait that long? I just saw you this morning."

He shook his head "This morning? I left your hotel at 4am, that's practically last night, almost forever. I would have exploded if I waited much longer."

"Now, Bucky, you wouldn't explode." She chided him.

Bucky leaned towards her, grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to him. When she was standing between his knees, in front of him, he rubbed her palm over his bulge. "Feel that? It's all for you and I'm gonna explode if something isn't done about it."

She smirked at him "Well, we can't have that now, can we?"

She kept rubbing his hardening cock until he threw his head back and moaned.

"Don't tease me Star, you're not cruel like that. I need you baby." He whined

She slowly unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans, her hands barely touching his cock until she pulled away and slowly moved his pants and briefs down to his ankles until she was kneeling in front of him.

She looked up and smiled at him sweetly before licking up the side of his twitching cock and rolling her tongue around the head, moaning at his taste.

She suckled the head for a minute when Bucky groaned and grabbed the arms of her chair "Fuck doll! Please."

Star smirked up at him, loving how fucked out he already looked and that she made him, Bucky Barnes big bad biker, that way.

Then she sucked him all the way till the tip hit the back of her throat, holding him there for a moment, drool running down her chin and tears in her eyes.

"You look so beautiful like that Star. God damn how did I get so lucky?"

She looked up in his eyes and moaned around him, making his hips buck up. "You're gonna make me cum already and I want to fuck you all night."

She started bobbing her head faster while making sure to take him all the way down every time. She scratched his thigh and fondled his balls until he couldn't take it."Star! Fuck, doll! I'm I I I'm Fuuuuck! Yes!"

Star swallowed him down, making sure to catch every drop before he brought his hands up to her face "My sweet, shining, Lucky Star. But not as innocent as people think."

Bucky pulled her up to kiss him, his tongue probing and exploring and savoring her taste tinted with him. It made him want to mark her all over, claim her as his.

When he pulled back she smiled shyly at him. "Really? What do people think?"

Bucky shrugged "You know, the rich girl stereotypes. Ditsy, selfish, self absorbed, obsessed with shopping. Shit like that. I overheard some asshole that you turned down said you were probably frigid."

"Who thinks I'm so innocent?" She teased "Did You think I was innocent?" And kissed him again, hard and dirty, biting his lower lip when she pulled back. "Those people don't know me. Especially the one who thinks I'm frigid. Did you catch his name?"

"Yeah, John something. Blonde guy, full of himself. Military uniform."

Star rolled her eyes "John Walker. The son of one of my dads business associates. My dad wants me to marry him but he's a prick. I'm just biding my time until I turn 30. Then I get my inheritance from my grandmother and don't have to deal with my dad trying to marry me off. If I ever do get married it'll be for love."

Bucky looked at her surprised "I thought you debutantes were all about getting married to a good catch. Like your parents ran financial records on guys before you could date them."

She laughed, he loved that sound. "I know girls who insist on full financial disclosure but they are stuck up little bitches who are more concerned about keeping up appearances than happiness."

She kissed him again

"I want happiness and adventure and love. But that's enough of that."

Star stood and pulled him up, wrapping his arms around her and stepped backwards toward the bed.

"I believe you said something about fucking me all night?"

Bucky left her house when she got up to feed her horses at 5am. Neither of them had slept since Bucky was a man of his word.

For 6 months they kept their relationship secret, his closest friend Steve being the only person who knew. Star was afraid of what her father would do to Bucky if he found out. He snuck into her house most nights. Sometimes they would go on dates out of town where no one would know them. They didn't care as long as they could be together.

Alexander Pierce was a very rich and powerful man, unaccustomed to defiance from those he considered beneath him. He loved his daughter, in his way, but expected obedience. He continued to support her but expected her to behave in a way that he deemed appropriate. He hadn't told her but he also expected Star to associate with people that were good for his business, which included marrying the man he chose for her. John Walker

When Pierce found out that his daughter turned down the man he had selected for her, he was incensed.

Once he calmed he arranged a lunch date with Y/N, so they could straighten out the misunderstanding. She would marry John Walker, period.

Their nice lunch in an upscale restaurant ended with angry whispers and her storming off, refusing even a single date with the man she found repulsive.

He kept his calm even though he was seething. She had no idea what she was up against and he knew she would bend to his will. Everyone always did.

One afternoon when Star and Bucky were riding around on his bike he turned while they were stopped at a red light and asked her "I forgot something at the clubhouse, do you mind if we stop by? It's the middle of the day so no one will be there."

Star nodded "That's fine. Just try to restrain yourself from fucking me on every available surface. If you can."

Bucky laughed "Sorry, Star, I can't make any promises."

They pulled a few houses past the garage where he worked and he led her to the clubhouse. After making sure no one was there he sat down on the couch and pulled her down on his lap.

Then he pulled a box out of his jacket pocket and she looked at him confused "What's up Jamie?"

He smirked at her "Don't panic, I ain't proposing. Yet. It's just a little something. I know it's not as fancy as you're used to but it reminded me of you."

Star opened the box to find a sapphire North star necklace. "It's beautiful baby. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything except yes, you'll be my girl. My only girl. You are my beautiful Star who guides me through the darkness and I love you."

Star teared up "Oh Jamie! I love you too! I've been your girl since the day we met."

He helped her put the necklace on then started kissing and nibbling down her neck "What if I only fuck you on a couple of surfaces this time? We'll work our way around a bit at a time." He flipped around so she was under him, unbuttoned and pulled her jeans down. "Your panties are soaked baby. Does the idea of me fucking you right here turn you on?"

She smirked mischievously as he pulled them off of her. "No sarge. You turn me on. Anywhere, anytime you wanna fuck me is good with me."

"As you wish, Star." As he slid all the way into her in one stroke.

The trips to the empty clubhouse became a weekly thing and Bucky methodically took her in different spots. Everywhere except the other guys bedrooms and the 'chapel' of course.

This went on for a couple of months, in addition to their dates out of town and Bucky sleeping at Star's house most nights.

Eventually their luck ran out. One day they were making out on the couch when Bucky heard the door. "Fuck. Someone's here."

Before Star could hide, Steve walked in on them and his face broke into a huge grin "You must be Bucky's Star. He won't shut up about you."

Bucky groaned "Thanks for that man. What are you doing here? You don't even live here anymore."

Steve smirked "You barely live here. Sam said something about the couch smelling like sex. Now I know why, he's gonna love this."

Stars eyes went wide as she looked at Bucky. Bucky cleared his throat. "We've been trying to keep things low key. What would it take to keep your mouth shut?"

"Why don't you kids come have dinner with me and Peggy?"

Bucky shook his head "That's spreading the secret. We don't need more people to know. Her dad's kinda controlling. Wouldn't approve of me."

"Come on man, we'll keep your secret, you know Peggy can be trusted." Steve coaxed.

Bucky looked at Star "It's up to you doll. We don't have to if you don't feel comfortable but Steve has been by my side since grade school and Peggy is good people. Too good for his ugly ass."

Star giggled "Ok but we have to be careful. Seriously. My dad has been on my case since I refused to go out with Walker. I don't want him to hurt you Jamie."

Bucky laughed "I'm indestructible he can't hurt me. Don't worry Star, I'll always be here for you."

She grinned shyly and leaned in to kiss him, forgetting about Steve's presence.

They had dinner with Steve and Peggy a couple of weeks later. Star and Peggy got along famously, making Steve and Bucky a little nervous. They made plans to go riding together as Peggy rode horses when she was younger. They even talked about the club helping with Star's charity fundraising.

Bucky and Star continued their trysts at the clubhouse but got too comfortable and ran into other members of the club.

Sam was friendly but his constant teasing was obnoxious. Bucky tolerated it until Sam made Star uncomfortable, which ended with some threats and Sam apologizing, promising to back off.

Peter was a recruit and adorably terrified when he realized what he was seeing "Ohmygod! Mister Bucky I mean Sargent sir. I didn't see anything, I swear. I'm just gonna go up to my room."

Late one nite, after some vigorous lovemaking, they were laying in Star's bed tangled up together when Bucky spoke up. "You know, doll, we've been together almost a year. And you've met almost everyone in the club. So I was wondering if you wanted to come to a barbecue next weekend? No pressure but I'd love to show off my girl."

Star looked nervous "Maybe. I don't know. I mean I guess it's safe. I doubt anyone in your club hangs out with my dad."

Bucky squeezed her close "No one in the club would dare rat you out." He kissed the top of her head "I'd kill them."

Star was nervous getting ready for the bbq. Sure, she had met most of them but that was one on one, not the whole crowd. She was afraid they wouldn't think she was good for Bucky. Life without him was unthinkable so she convinced herself that everything was fine.

If Star had realized the chain of events that bbq would start, she would have run the other way screaming.

[pbandjesse]

Oh man. Tired. Tired. Tired. But today was a pretty good day. I only have minor complaints. Because overall it was really good.

I slept okay. I felt really overheated in here and finding the right fan setting and blankets combinations was tough. But I slept and I didnt even sleep to bad.

I woke up with my alarm and told James I wanted to sleepy until 730. And I did just that. And when I woke up James was getting ready to leave so I still got a goodbye hug.

I got dressed and I really liked this outfit. I was in a good mood. My hair still feels weirdly dry. But besides that I was doing good.

I had a good drive. And got to camp. But I felt a little out of sorts. And a little weak. So I was like oh let me drive the materials on the gator. Except I couldn't find the gator keys. And walked all around camp trying to retrace my steps from yesterday. And getting really upset.

I saw Sarah's car so I went to ask her and she found them right on the walkie talkies. I was only slightly embarrassed.

I would go drive the gator and Rachel would come down from the house to work the field trip today. Her and Sarah would go off to set some stuff up while I went to drive my materials over.

I would finish with enough time to just chill and eat breakfast. Everyone else came in and soon it was time to go meet the group.

This was 5th graders. And they were just to cool to do stuff. Not all of them. But it makes it tough when they make fun of kids who are still doing things without shame. Stop shaming them!!

I tried to be a good influence and so the warm up too. I also was in a silly mood and had marshmallows on my purse and was eating them throughout the morning.

I asked to be paired up with Adam and we had a really good hike. I walked them all over. And we found so many good things. And I was feeling really good about myself because I knew what some stuff was called but also I just had a great eye for catching interesting things.

My favorite find of the day was blood root. But we also found so many other good plants I have never heard of and it was just so fun.

We did have some trouble with some bullying happening. This one little boy just obviously did not want to be there and was just being so horrible to the others. Calling some really vicious names and getting to close swinging a stick near faces. I was pretty concerned and when I couldn't get him to stop I had to ask Adam to walk with him and he ended up calling Gabe for back up. It was kind of disappointing because everyone else was respectful and having fun exploring. And I was having a lot of fun.

We went down to the Glen and got to see the tadpoles finally!!! And we found some interesting bushes and we did some log rolling. Didn't find to much besides bugs. But it was still a good time.

We would make our way back to the lodge and I found another bloodroot. This time we picked it to squeeze it for some yellow ink and they put their fingerprints on the wonder sheets (a worksheet they had walked around with).

We had a little meeting of the minds to say the things they saw. But the other groups would come and distracted us so we would just dismiss to lunch.

I went back to the office to have my leftover chipotle. Checked in with everyone. Had some quiet time just watching a video. But lunch was short and soon we were off to our programs.

I stopped at the lodge and saw the trash truck was stuck between the buses and it's wheels were spinning. But they were able to work together and get themselves sorted out.

Soon we were back to programs. And it was for sure different then last week. They weren't as interested in the print making. Which is fine. They were interested in the lead rubbings and drawing blended skies with chalk pastels. I'm just glad they wanted to do art.

I was suffering in the sun though. I didn't have my sunglasses and I found it really uncomfortable. But when no one was at my table I would go stand in the shade. Eventually wander to Sarah's table to hold Rosie the snake and scratch Nelly the terrapin. And it was really fun to just walk around wearing Rosie. She's so soft and such a sweet snake. Love her.

We would clean up around 2. And the kids were leaving by 230. I sat outside while they finished up in the lodge. Enjoying the rocking chairs. And saying goodbye to everyone.

Some of them will come back this summer for sleep away camp!! They got a scholarship to bring 20 of them and I'm really excited that they are able to do that.

I had a nice chat with Gabe about free choice learning and Montessori in different communities and it was really fun. He also told me he might work with camp this summer too and that's great. He's great. And so clearly cares about the kids and I love them. A good egg.

After the group left I would go clean the bathrooms. And after putting things away and joking with Nick I went to put things away, including the other programs just to be helpful. And then back to the office.

Heather approached me about a new research project. Which will be able the signs around camp that Bob painted before he passed away. So I spent the last hour of my day starting to look into resources and ways we can start trying to make a catalog of the work and the stories.

So over the next few weeks I'm going to start photographing the shields and trying to make sense of the stories. I will have to be comfortable asking for help and leaning on others. But it'll get done eventually.

The last little bit of the day I was talking to Elizabeth and Sarah about Elizabeth's trip to Colorado and experiencing a weed store for the first time. And I got to tell the story about Tucker giving the concessions worker the container of THC gummies as a tip. Which is still hilarious.

I went home pretty quickly after that. And it was a good drive with almost not traffic. I was home right after 430.

I would beat James. And I would get really upset because I thought they left our typhoid medication on the counter and it needs to be refrigerated and it was very expensive. But thankfully when they got home and let me know they had consolidated the two bags and the pills were safe. I was still a little upset because I was unsettled by the idea. But it all worked out.

I did some cleaning in the studio. Just reorganizing the closet. It wasn't going well. Piece of wood fell on my head. But it was fine. I need more ways to organize but for now it's fine and works well enough. I need one of those shoe organizers. I'll have to measure for that soon.

We would go take a walk to get pizza. And I was in a great mood and was being super silly and telling James stories. And I was having a great time.

The pizza was great. I was sad when it was gone. But I was having the best time with James explaining how I always pick out the pieces I want as soon as it hits the table and I try and see if James picks the ones I wanted. James laughed at me for gamifying dinner.

We would continue our little evening and walked to bmore licks. It's kind of a far walk but I was doing good. Excited to wear my sandals. And happy with my husband.

We would get hard scoop for cream. James got two salty savory cereal flavors. I got a peanut butter Oreo and a mint Oreo. And it was great.

I waited until we got to the pond to eat it. And it was perfect. And I loved watching the ducks. And I told James some stories. And clowned on them. And they told me about minor league baseball works. And we had a great evening.

We headed home and it felt really far. But we got back and I was only sort of tired.

James downloaded a demo of a game for me and I played for a while and we hung out on the couch. Eventually James went to take a shower and I took one after. So the water would be a little warmer. I appreciate them so much. Taking care of me. Love them so much.

Now we are in bed. And I am tired but in a way that will let me sleep easy. Let's hope I'm right.

I hope you have a nice day tomorrow! Take care!! Be well!!!

[cooganbegs-blog]

It’s just a collection of things that has finally just crippled me.

1. A role I have no guidance on, am trying to create it, excel at it and prove it’s worth to the company, I’m drowning.

2. Managing 5 people, half of which are completely inscrutable and have a cultural inclination to refuse to admit they need help or that they don’t know everything or that they aren’t perfect. How can I provide support and enable them to succeed when they give me nothing to work with. All that’s happening is I’m becoming more and more intolerant and starting to micromanage them- and therefore hate myself

3. I’m the cheerleader of the team, I am “on” ask the questions, be positive, engage, support and it’s sucking my will to live! I dread Tuesday where I have back to back one-on-ones, I wake up literally feeling like I need to shit my pants!!

4. A CEO and CTO who have expectations that I’m not meeting but I’m not sure really how to Dunhill them, they ask questions that I have no answer for and I walk away feeling incompetent and like I’m in imminent danger of losing my job

5. I can’t lose my job, I am about to hock myself to the eyeballs to build and renovate. I am the provider, I make sure everything is paid for, budgeted for and saved for.

6. I don’t have the time to even think about project managing a fucking build let alone a build and a Reno at the same time

7. The Sprout board is also sucking the life out of me. I get I’m the Chair but I do everything and am the cheerleader and the champion and run the strategy and planning days, he board meetings, weekly CEO meetings and am driving the need to double our revenue for no other reason than we need to pay our two part-time employees for their time. We are (and have been for some time) underpaying them and it leaves me feeling ill at the situation. If I do one thing as the Chair it will be rising enough revenue to pay our people what they are fucking worth, before they leave and we have no organisation left. I have such beleif in what they do and am really passionate but it’s sucking me dry and I’m pretty sure I’ll be stepping back at the end of the year.

8. After 10 years, I continue to be completely fucked and unable to function in a family situation. I am the third wheel and am the reason somebody doesn’t want to stay in our house. Apparently they feel uncomfortable and would rather stay with the other parent. Ie. I’m a big fat fucking bitchy, mcbitch face. And what would I know about how a reasonable family should function ie. some boundaries apparently I have no idea and everyone else has perfect families where people are completely non-judgemental and accepting and people come and go and treat each other however they like and it’s all just one big love-fest, perfect family. There is clearly something fundamentally broken and wrong about me.

9. I’m tired of being the adult, I pay the bills, I pay the rates, I make sure we have money for beer and wine and food and the bread is taken out of the freezer for breakfast. I run the budget and the household and make sure dinner is on the table and it’s healthy and edible (yes there is an element of my eating paranoia here!)

10. I’m clearly fucked in personal relationships as I’ve overhead two phone conversations (one with the accountant and one with an employee) where more is disclosed in a phone conversation than I have managed to extract in months. Clearly I’m such a bitchy McBitchface that I’m unapproachable even though I ask and am genuinely interested in what is going on in the lives of the people I give a shit about.

11. My sister is FINALLY getting divorced, it’s been about 6 years in the making. The drama, the drama, the drama …. And I just have to sit here and support and be quiet and be available whenever she wants to talk, and if she doesn’t, well make sure I keep checking in just so she knows I’m still checking in, even when she doesn’t reply for weeks on end. Don’t even think for one second of not doing daily checkins … then I’m the bitchy McBitchface sister who doesn’t give a fuck.

12. I can’t swim, I’m terrified of water and it’s so fucking embarrassing and stupid and fucked and so I need to fix that, even if I can fix this one thing, maybe there’s hope for the rest of the steaming pile of failures that makes me up. So I’m going through some other form of therapy to try and dig into the origins of this particular failure …. Clearly rooted win my fucked up upbringing.

13. Which brings me to the puppy. I wanted a dog because I desperately missed Loki, and because I wanted something in my life that needed me, that was mine, all mine. Yes, it was a substitute for human relationships. In January I was alone and lonely and on the outside. Three has always been the lonliest number, and it continues to be, even after I hung on with the expectation that things would change. What a fucking idiot, I kept pushing the goalposts, when this milestone is reached, it’ll be different, when this milestone is reached, it’ll be different. It’ll never be different. If I ever have this experience again, I will run a mile from a man who has a daughter from a previous relationship, I am forever setup for failure and second best. So, the dog has bonded with the other. I’m the one that of course is responsible because I made the decision (for all the wrong reasons), and am now fucking hating the dog, the inability to just go out and run because I have to train and exercise the dog, be consistent over and over and over again. And even after admitting I needed help and wasn’t coping (do you have any idea just how much that cost me to admit that!!). I’m still the one doing the daily exercising, feeding, training. And all I want to do is scream at him and beat another living creature into submission instead of loving and celebrating his curiosity and joi de vie. And there it is …..the crux of the issue. My base reaction and instincts at the lowest are no better than my old man, I haven’t learned anything, I’m no different or better that him …. he belted the shit out of us to control us, and I want to do the same thing. And all I feel is such self-hatred it makes me feel ill. I have to give this dog up before I actually do become my old man.

I just feel like such a failure, rationally I know this can’t be the case. I can’t see out of the fog and the darkness. I hate who I am.

I want to take the red pill, wake up tomorrow and not remember a thing.

And yes, all first world problems. I earn a stupid wage, I have a comfortable life. I have nothing to complain about … and yet I complain about everything!!

[briantravels60]

It took me more than a week to get my routine down & become part of my daily ritual. It looks like this:

1. Wake up at 6:30

2. Prepare for my day (this takes about 30 minutes and seems to be the most complicated part of the day)

a. Check the weather for the day and adjust my clothing accordingly – sweater or not, rain gear or not

b. Pull on a t-shirt (add wool sweater if it’s cold outside)

c. Apply foot cream (optional - l had some left over from my last Camino and the cream makes my feet happy) and put on my socks

d. Apply Voltaren to my knees and legs, then pull on my knee braces (this made the ride much much easier).

e. Apply a liberal coating of chamois butter (to prevent rashes), then pull on my riding shorts.

f. Lace up my biking shoes.

g. Put on rain gear if it's raining.

h. Put my clothes into Ziploc bags and pack them into my bike bags.

i. Fill my water bottles and put them on the bike.

j. Attach bike bags to my bike.

K. Stretch my legs and back.

3. Enjoy breakfast.

4. Ride for 1.5 to 2 hours, the find a café / restaurant (or a boulangerie in Québec) for a second breakfast. Tim Horton’s is always an option.

5. If I expect to arrive at my destination before about 2:00 p.m. then I go straight to my room. If it's going to be later, I eat lunch on the trail and refill my water bottles.

6. Ride until I get to my destination, then check-in to my room and unpack.

7. Take a shower (to wash off the dust and sweat).

8. Change into evening wear, then hand wash my clothes and hang them out to dry.

9. Relax at a local craft brewery / microbrasserie (this is my chance to reflect on the day and taste local creations) then find a restaurant for dinner.

10. Look for a room in upcoming towns. This has been more complicated than expected, due to the number of rooms available - typically requires 3-5 days advanced booking. I ended up spending a lot more than I anticipated. This is an area where I needed to better prepare. In the future I would use www.warmshowers.org and, in Québec, www.sanctuaires.ca.

11. Sleep.

12. Rinse & repeat

[freeworldallahmbaclass]

Enjoy New York City again go out for the day or night 🌙 on a town with a rich heritage and a very rich history . I love New York City , thank you so much .

Get dressed the right way with a better mind and a cultivated lifestyle and be a true king and a gentleman and for my ladies be the Queen your were destined to be again . New York City in the spirit if its Libraries , outside sit down restaurants , partys , social nightlife and meet and greets and poetry nights like union square enjoy the spirit of New York City a city renewed in fine culture and living .

This is me from my incubator and my incubator my hospital in Brooklyn New York City that I run .

I love myself and very proud of myself I own my own incubator in Brooklyn New York City and see my list of accomplishments .

Eat some good breakfast and enjoy this book by the Bishop TD Jakes touch down with this book catch it in your heart and spirit and let it change you and hopefully the city of New York .

Classes today

Onet skills to gain and learn and use today

Maid and housekeeping 37 - 2012.00

Laundry and dry cleaning 51 - 6011.00

Occupational therapy and rehabilitation counseling 29 - 1122.00

Dietians and nutritionists 29 - 1031.00 eat some good food and stay healthy from now on yeah get it check the onet website to learn some skills and professionalize yourself in your career to get more promotions and advancement in your career , thanks for listening enjoy your school assignment from me to you , thanks let Booker T Washington be your teacher on guide on subjects of practicality staying sober and being a role model and inspiration for other people .

Read these chapters just to get you started remember we are one people and yes it okay to learn of another people's struggle to better embrace diversity and get an A in your anthropology class that is what matters the world as it is now in moving forward stop hating each other and arguing over pettiness and let's move forward together and make this world better for all of us now as it is , thank you for letting me help the people all people .

Chapters in character building

Two sides of life

Helping others

Some rocks ahead

On influencing by example

The virtue of simplicity

Have you done your best , I like to say have you gave them your best

Keep pushing and

Just teach , I passed the torch to you the bright leaders of tomorrow read your books need my help I will be back to share what I'm reading that help builds good character and make society .

My statue in Harlem New York City symbolizing that I found the cure for HIV / Aids . It is about time and I'm proud to be the one to represent that and get a statue for it in my old hometown on the way up to City College of New York City I used to trek through there with my book bag on going up the hill to my apartment I was renting there living with my friend she had HIV good person I wish her the best .

Congratulations to me

I sponsor the drug and HIV medicine Cabenuva . I sponsor my incubator program and all hospitals on all 7 Continents of this world in every city , town and country even state capitals releasing the cure for cancer all cancers and to give free cancer screening and free cancer treatment for all the types of cancers and stages of cancer treatment to all people no matter their medical insurance coverage , Medicaid and , Medicare and all other insurances or lack thereof included fair treatment for all patients and clients . If I had HIV Aids I would take the medicine be like me and take your medicine so you could grow up healthy and strong like me all things is possible when you believe and have faith and now with Cabenuva we have that cure finally , thank you so much .

I'm the Incubator man nice ring to it , I like it . Being a Superhero is my day job and I love it wherever there is sorrow I'm there to help .

What is the purpose of incubator? An incubator is designed to provide a safe, controlled space for infants to live while their vital organs develop. Unlike a simple bassinet, an incubator provides an environment that can be adjusted to provide the ideal temperature as well as the perfect amount of oxygen, humidity, and light an enclosed apparatus providing a controlled environment for the care and protection of premature or unusually small babies an apparatus used to hatch eggs or grow microorganisms under controlled conditions.

What does incubator mean in business? An incubator is a facility designed to nurture and accelerate the growth of new businesses. It typically provides resources such as office space, access to mentors and investors, shared services, and other resources to help entrepreneurs launch their business. What are the two types of incubator?

There are basically two types of incubators available, forced-air and still-air incubators. Forced-air incubators have fans that provide internal air circulation. The capacity of these units may be very large. The still-air incubators are usually small without fans for air circulation Who needs an incubator? Babies who are born too early, before 37 weeks, can have problems such as low birth weight, irregular temperature, and unstable vital signs.

A baby incubator helps control their temperature. They will also be given high-calorie formula and will get the treatment they need for any other issues.

How do incubators make money?

Services provided by incubators include office space, administrative functions, education and mentorship, access to investors and capital, and idea generation. Incubators either charge a fee for their services or take an equity stake in the startup. The period of incubation can last from a few months to several years. Well bro I own my own hospital my own incubator on why I kept it to help and heal people .

I sponsor the release of a cancer treatment for all stages of cancer from stage one cancer to prevent that cancer from spreading to stage 4 cancer we still need the knockout cancer treatment for stage 4 cancer though and I'm watching to see what medical team and university come up with those drugs first that eliminate the cancer at that stage , a cure for stage 1 cancer to stage 4 cancer let us see who win that war a more important war to fight not with guns and knives and killing each other . A lot of people say they are cures for stuff like cancer and HIV AIDS like they gave me the cure for HIV / AIDS Cabenuva and the other drug Demivato to sponsor and share with the people that need it so they say I found the cure for HIV AIDS I don't have the disease myself but I sponsor it what it is those medical teams or inventors have nobody to sponsor their new drugs that help cure those diseases so I took them on and sponsor it now thank you Cabenuva and the Demivato drug eliminates HIV before spreading into AIDS but you have to take it as prescribed to become undetected for HIV they have my name on it now , I approve it my stamp of approval is on it now so yes it works so take your medication as prescribed so you grow up healthy and strong , I love the cause and yes I love my stamp all over those inventions now if their is a cure for all stages of cancer stage 1 to stage 4 cancer give it to the people that needs it please I sponsor it me and my incubator program my hospital sponsor your drug and I ask all hospitals all over the world to prescribe those medication and cure to all people regardless of their medical insurances or lack of medical insurance that is fair treatment for all people , thank you .

News update good luck to you in life , thank you for letting me help the people . I feel people shouldn't let me be the best Joyce Meyer student their is just my bragging rights they should compete with me on that and see who can be the better Joyce Meyer student their is she is the best isn't she . I love her work it changed my life I read it everyday I make time for it everyday so should you . She got a book on every subject or issues we may be going through and a better way to solve it the problems you are facing the books her books is my instructions and should be yours now on from now on now it is my manual my breath of life and should be yours from now on . She changed the way I think and live now and I'm challenging New Yorkers all New Yorkers to let's see who can apply the principles attitudes and actions and behaviors that Joyce Meyer suggest in her books go for it . I want and wish all New Yorkers will read her books and adjust her content into their lives to make New Yorkers a better place for all us to live in , thank you .

What needs to happen is a present shift from evilness to practicing goodness for the city of New York City from a city of divine evilness into a city of Godliness , study your bibles again get baptized and follow your favorite preachers and teachers again to kill the demons and legions of evil armies in New York City and fall back under Christ and his peace love and way of being . Definitely it does remind me of the Brooklyn Museum and the meaning of what my Yo Sign really mean the true and only meaning while using me as lead figure to help remind me that I need to get my act together it say to remember those prophets and philosophers and try to be like them in our own way of doing things behavior thinking loving creating and building societies the way it is and the way it is going to be in peace harmony and intelligence with all people as the culture the culture those great prophets and philosophers live and turn away from the dark places and dark sides in life and the harshness that darkness but to stay on the path of enlightenment and be the light in your city , your town your people , that is called to live a cultured life pass down from generation to generation for me personally what it does mean is that I'm a young god and king and ruler in my city and important people need me to be intelligent and more authoritative in shaping myself like those characters and characterizations to then fit my city in that mold image and righteous likeness ✨️ because my city is in need of its calling back to its consciousness and better mindsets and ways of being .

Remember to get the E Book downloading app from your google play store and then type in the authors name and book title all books in this post .

Clean riverside drive the water the ocean connecting us to New Jersey and renew the city and its amenities .

Congratulations to me for being the first person that the Idle Tycoon game series made personal video games for this video game is to help the legion of people get out of my ear with devilishment and replace my spirit and soul back into my body so that I could hear , talk and see again without any sensory deprivations sponsored by Governor Kathy Hochul .

I heard you on the secret power of speaking gods word , very good book I'm just trying to get away from vulture christians or being one of those type of vulture christians myself if you don't know the descriptions of those in Joyce Meyer book Never give up you should read it now . My main problem was inheriting New York City a city that uses witchcraft and voodoo in the hood no good and call themselves God or the man not to me or even women that practice that no good sister get into Joyce word and see what being a Christian is really about and love it sister people that do evil not with me no thank you as for me and my house we will serve Gods will and his way of thinking and his way of doing things , but anyway how you doing , I bought you some cupcakes and muffins for you beautiful lady .

The fisherman reeling in fish to help save their lives I visited Saranac Lake New York one of Governor Andrew Cuomo favorite places to visit me personally just following in the footsteps of a mentor and father figure of mines and friend , thank you so much I hope this page catch some fish 🐟 the people needing that help , good luck and good job from me with my incubator Bob Lee Swaggert a sharp shooter in helping building better economies more money on your paycheck from the movie shooter 2007 Mark Wahlberg my friend true 👍 and making life better for all people I'm who they call to fix societies now I got to go fix my own life .

Baby Papa Bear 🐻 , thanks Nicki for the compliment but lose the gun she would say to me and keep the incubator my main message and the other meaning Cuomo in front of me with the incubator and me with the fish symbolizing how much lives I saved with my incubator my weapon my hospital and the people life I made better for with the economy and the cure for HIV / AIDS and boosting minimum wage soon to be fair pay livibale wages for all people on a national level boost their salary pay to a livable wage all states and regions .

A gesture from Nicki Minaj to me you know I'm honored we both Americans but West Indian were West Indian . She called me a wretch like me a father figure to her , it's sad that I help the world and do everything this page said and got nothing to show for it . Well Nicki said she love my ideas 💡 but you know it's my situation where I'm living and the kind of people I got to deal with and what I'm going through I do I hope it works out for me and I get my life together no I aint cool with the media Nicki hot but no I dont get to listen to Hip Hop and no I don't follow Hollywood and their movies and no it aint no equal with me or do the things I do in life and good luck to me on getting out of that bum situation homelessness poverty drugs and dirty filthy shelters and dirty counselors that dont do their job power struggle I'm second in command right after the governor and as a bum I own my own incubator my own hospital given to me and I own the parks not bad for a bum and my success rate is 100 % my list of accomplishment I just need the voodoo curse off of me to control my own life and walk off in the sunset 🌇 . Police and correction officers are jealous of me trying to undo what Andrew Cuomo did for me as me Bob Lee Swaggert from a Mark Wahlberg movie shooter my gift is sharpness in helping America as an patriot thank you Cabenuva and Demivato they gave me the cure for HIV / AIDS to sponsor it a minute ago they said Nagic Johnson the ex basket ball player was the only person that beat Hiv with a cure now fast forward here I am introducing you to the cure like for the common cold it cures HIV before it develop into the Acquired immune deficiency syndrome and knocks it out like the common cold and it works for celebrities and every day people so move over Magic Johnson every human that has it get to perform a miracle on themselves now because of the people at those pharmaceutical companies you better get you some Cabenuva and Demivato I still believe in love and life for you eat good exercise and take your medication cure yourself of HIV you do have to the medication as it is prescribed to go undetected for HIV and I legalized weed marijuana and I own the neighborhoods I live in and more and more see that not bad for a guy with an incubator as his gun my only weapon and it is mines my intelligence sells me and articulation of my intelligence so stop controlling me and get out of my life .

Brewsters millions with Richard Pryor crazy movie was me before I even saw the darn movie good movie though my life after putting billions in the economy legalizing weed and boosting the minimum wage I get to walk away with the shirt on my back , I did a great job and got the statues and my sign on 38th street on 11th Avenue saying I'm king of New York City , wow I was looking for the big deals though , good luck to me , I'm honored 🎖 thanks for letting me help the people .