in the end I hope it’s you and me

But when he showed his wife, Ana, she said tactfully.  “This is great research baby,” for one perfect shining second, he thought he was off the hook, “but I still need to see what we’re getting.” Fuck.

So, there they were at 10am in Berkely, California walking through an elaborate maze that Javier was certain had been expressly designed by Swedish intelligence officers as some sort of social experiment designed to torture fathers with college aged children. As if sending his baby girl three states away wasn’t cruel enough.

So that morning Javier grumbled as he slid a short pencil behind his ear, wishing it was a cigarette instead.

“If you’d like,” Ana said cooly, too busy to indulge her petulant husband, “we can leave you in the playroom with the rest of the children, if you intend to pout this entire time.”

“No mi reina, I’m sorry, let’s get this over with.”

By the time they’d gone through the kitchen and living room showrooms, Javier’s eyes were darting around looking for an exit sign, as though he were a caged beast, “How big is this fucking place? This has to be the near the end right?”

“Javi, have you never actually been to an Ikea before?” Ana asked. They’d shopped for their house furniture at far nicer places, investing in pieces that would last for their cheerful San Antonio home. And truth be told, Javier had always just bought what Ana said would be best anyway. She had great taste and it minimized the time in the store. The only time he was remotely interested in a piece of furniture they bought, it was so he could plan what way he might be able to ravish his wife on top of it once they brought it home.

Shopping for his 17-year-old daughter’s dorm room furniture, Javier was very much hoping absolutely NO ravishing would be done on the items they purchased that day. He eyed the pressed manufactured wood. The good news there was that he doubted the cheap college furniture would be up to the task. Was there a bed that could automatically collapse if more than one person was on it at a time?

Javier stood hand on hip as he watched his wife and daughter discuss the pros and cons of each single bed. Then sighed quietly while they went over what comforter and sheets paired best together.

“Javi! Did you hear me?” Ana, he realized, was staring at him.

“Sorry, I was looking at this…” he lifted the tag on the nearest bed frame, “KL- KELPSTAAD?”

“Well, we’re going to go with the HERMANS it’s a little bit more expensive, but it seems more sturdy, we wouldn’t want it to break, and it has drawers for more storage underneath.”

Javier pinched the crown of his brow, “Great.”

“Anyway, I said we’ll grab lunch now.”

He brightened up instantly, freedom! He couldn’t believe they were getting out of there already. Though it had been nearly two fucking hours of torture. “Okay what do we feel like, Italian, Mexican, Chinese…”

“Swedish meatballs.” Hels said cheerfully.

Javier heart sank as they turned the corner to the in-store restaurant, “I can’t believe there’s a fucking restaurant in the middle of a fucking furniture store.” This place really was a Swedish fucking prison.

P.S. He liked the meatballs but he wouldn't admit it.

Masterlist

If you want to know how the rest of the college drop off week went I wrote this one shot of them dropping their daughter off at her dorm then going for a little vacation in San Francisco (it gets spicy once they ditch the kid😏): With Somebody Who Loves You

You shiver slightly when he comes into the office, shying away slightly and trying to be polite because your momma raised you with manners and it never pays to be rude to a man who beats people up for a living. 

Maybe that’s why he scares you. The intense silence as he watches you when you hand him the paperwork that he needs. The names of the people that have not paid back the loans, their addresses and where they work. Handed to him with an almost clinical professionalism that is in stark contrast to what he’s going to do with that information. 

“Hey, dollface.” He’s never rude. He’s actually always very polite when he comes up to your desk, shoving his hands into the pockets of the black leather jacket that seems like a part of his persona. Your eyes flicker up and you immediately tense slightly, shooting him a nervous smile. “Hey, Clint.” You hum, looking around for any papers that might have been laid on your desk to give him. You hadn’t been told about anything, but he normally never comes and seeks you out unless he needs something. “What’s up?” You ask as you search around. “Need something?”

“Whatareyou doin’ tonight?” His jaw is set, almost taunt as he stares at you. Waiting for you to answer almost impatiently. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and looks over his shoulder when something moves out of the corner of his eye. It’s just Leonardo, the cat that has more rights in this office than everyone else, jumping up onto the counter to drink from a random coffee cup that someone had left sitting there half empty. 

Your stomach twists and there is a heaviness that presses against your heart tonight. He must need a favor. Tonight of all nights. You sigh and shrug. “I- I don’t really have anything-”

Clint frowns, brows pulling together harshly and you break off the rest of your sentence and let it die. “Okay.” He turns and walks away from you, the bell over the door out of the office ringing as he pushes it open and leaves, making you stare after him in complete bewilderment, unsure of what the hell was going on. 

Leaving promptly at five o’clock can sound strange when you think about a criminal organization literally having 9-5 hours, but the little loan office is supposed to look legitimate. There are smaller loans, $100-200 that little old ladies borrow against their social security checks to pay for an unexpected expense, all legitimate and kept in a proper set of books in case the IRS comes poking around. They never do. 

You gather your purse, slide the ring for your keys onto your index finger as you walk to the door to shut off the lights. Everyone else had already left, just kind of disappearing like normal before the end of the day, assured that you would lock up like you do every night. Making you feel even more invisible as you lock the door with dissatisfaction over the day and wondering if picking up some take out could make it better. 

He’s leaning against your car. Watching you as you carefully lock the front door, tugging on the handle, just to make sure that it’s locked. Knowing that you might jump when you see him, but he waits anyway. The thing behind him something that might make you smile, or it might not, it all depends on if you like fucking roses or not.

It’s a horrible habit, but you walk to your car with your head down. Watching your feet as you count the steps to the compact little Ford you drive, hating yourself for the way your eyes are getting watery and knowing that you're going to have a good cry on the way home. Looking up at the last second before you need to stop in front of the door and jumping nearly a mile into the air when you see Clint Flood leaning against the front fender of your car. “Clint!” You gasp out and almost immediately look around to see if anyone else is nearby. 

“Easy, dollface.” He hates that he scared you, but he hadn’t wanted to call out, almost curious to know what caused that focus that blocked out the rest of the world. It was a dangerous thing for you to do, but he wasn’t here to lecture you. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” That’s true, he hadn’t, and he reaches behind his back to pull out the thing that he had left laying on the hood of the car. 

Roses, a beautiful bouquet of them, a dozen blood red, crisp roses are bound together with greenery and a pretty silver paper, with ribbons curling down from the bow, is in his hand as he draws it into view. Making your eyes widen in surprise, watery and beautiful, then confused as you try to understand. “I-”

“It’s your birthday today, right?” Clint asks, knowing that he hadn’t mixed up the date. It’s today, even if you hadn’t said a word to anyone. Even if no one had thought to say ‘Happy Birthday’ or bring in a cake. 

You stare at him for a moment, jaw slack and then back at the flowers. “It’s- these are for me?” You whisper quietly, hopeful in a way that makes his heart twist and his nervousness about doing this vanishes. 

“Of course they are.” He holds them out as he pushes upright off your car. Suddenly getting about four inches taller out of his slouch and moving closer to you in a gentle step. Careful not to make you jump again. “Every beautiful woman deserves beautiful flowers on her birthday.” 

You make a sound, soft and disbelieving as you slowly take the bouquet he is holding towards you. You gather them into your arms and cradle the fragrant, tender blooms and press your face into the flowers and close your eyes. Overwhelmed by someone remembering, someone caring. You had gone all day without anyone saying anything, thinking that it was just forgotten and pretending it was okay. That it didn’t matter. Adults didn’t need things like ‘Happy Birthday’ greetings and recognition. Except this completely calls you out for being the liar that you are. 

Clint watches you, not saying a word as you hug the flowers and breathe them in. Wondering if he should have done this earlier, but he hadn’t wanted to make you more nervous and he seems to do that easily enough. When you finally look up, he shoots you a small smile. “Come on, we’ll be late.” He tells you, almost laughing when your face clouds in confusion. 

He guides you over to his car, parked just on the other side of yours, and around to the passenger door. Opening it for you and waiting for you to climb in, turning and watching as you slowly walk closer. 

Late? What would you be late for? There was nothing planned, unless….he had asked about your plans earlier today. Did he have something planned now? With you? For you? A surprise? You don’t think that it’s something bad, not after giving you the most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen. You can tell he knows that you are confused but he doesn’t say anything, just waits and watches you with that same look that is always in his eyes when he looks at you. 

You get into his car. Part of him is surprised that you got in without any questions, the other part of him is relieved. He knows that he has to talk to you, to explain why, but it will be easier once he gets you to the restaurant. 

You interest him. In a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, in a way that he thought he might never feel again. Grace had made him feel that way, had been the love of his life, will always have a piece of his heart, but he feels something for you. He had wanted to ask you out, but the words hadn’t come. Grace had done the same kinds of things to him in the beginning before he relaxed and opened up to her. 

The drive is quick, he had chosen the place not too far away that he had heard you talking about in the office one day. The steakhouse with the good linens and candle light. The one that you had gushed over the food review in the paper talking about the best salmon they had ever eaten. The one you wanted to eat at but didn’t have a reason to go. Your birthday is obviously the best reason why you should go. 

The entire ride you are staring at the flowers, wondering why he got them for you. Not looking up until he pulls into a parking spot and you look out the windows. “Um, what are-” He doesn’t let you ask, putting the car into park and shutting off the engine as he answers. “Got reservations in ten minutes, dollface.” He says as he turns towards you. “You deserve to be taken out and celebrated.” 

For a long moment, he thinks you might refuse. You stare at him like he’s just spoken another language. One that you don’t understand. Stare at him before looking down at the flowers and then back up at him. “Reservation?” You ask and he nods. “Ten minutes.” He reminds you. “They said if we came early we could get a drink at the bar.” 

He had made reservations. He had planned this. You are confused but the way your heart is pounding, you don’t think it’s a bad thing. Butterflies swim in your stomach and you bite your lip as you look back down at the flowers. “Can I bring them inside?” You ask, not wanting to leave them behind. 

Clint chuckles softly and looks down at the blooms in question. “You can do whatever you want, dollface.” He promises. “It’s your night.” You bite your lip, something that he’s found adorable and even more so now. “Bring them in.” He says before he gets out of his car to round the front of it and open the door to let you get out. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide out, flowers still in your arms and almost floating along in a sense of disbelief as he guides you towards the building. His hand is hovering just above your lower back, not touching you, but you can practically feel the warmth. Making you shiver again slightly. 

There is fancy, almost overly ostentatious music flowing through speakers when Clint opens the front doors. There isn’t a dress code that requires him to take off the leather jacket, but the black slacks he’s wearing are rarely pulled out of his closet. He had pulled them out for you, for tonight. He doesn’t hesitate to walk up to the host stand and give his name.  

You can’t believe that he made reservations. That he is bringing you here based on a conversation you had with Tammy in the office a month ago. A wistful, daydreamy want that is now apparently coming true. It’s everything you imagined it to be, romantic with low lighting and flickering candles at each table. The crisp white linens are almost too fancy to touch, and the host even pulls out the chair for you to sit down. 

It’s after the drinks have been ordered and you have finally swapped the flowers for a menu that you look up at Clint with a curious frown on your face. “Why did you bring me here?” You ask softly, as if you are afraid of making him angry by asking. Clint looks up and closes the menu as he contemplates how to answer without scaring you. 

“It’s your birthday.” He reasons, but that just makes you frown a little more. “I-” he shrugs. “I wanted to do something nice. To treat you.” 

“Why?” You bite your lip again. “I mean, you don’t- we don’t really socialize.” You point out and he flashes a quick half smile before he shrugs again. “It’s hard to socialize when you seem scared of me most of the time.” 

Your stomach drops, and you hate that he had realized that you were nervous around him. You had fooled yourself into thinking that you were hiding it so well. Your hands tighten around the menu and you look down at it in embarrassment. 

“Hey, don’t-” Clint shakes his head, upset that he upset you. “I just- I wanted to do this. Because….I would like to get to know you.” He confesses softly, opening up for the first time since he had lost the woman who had meant everything to him. 

That makes you look up, eyes almost startled as they find his and you soften. Your shoulders seem to drop and relax and you shoot him a shy smile. “You do?” You ask, making him give you a smile of his own as the waiter brings the drinks and asks if you are ready to order. “I do.” 

You seem to really relax and settle into the dinner, asking him questions and answering his own, your guard dropping and he hears you laughing at his admittedly bad jokes. Acting like you are enjoying yourself and moaning over the salmon when you try it. Claiming that it is every bit as good as the food critic had claimed, even insisting on feeding him a bite from your own fork. It was good, for fish. Although it hadn’t beat the buttery steak he had ordered for himself. Offering to let you have a bite of it too since it was just good manners. Watching you carefully take the bite from him and smiling when your eyes slip closed with a groan of pleasure that hits him in the gut like a punch. 

He had ordered you cake. The piece was indulgent, double chocolate with ganache, a single candle in the top of it when it’s brought out. He doesn’t tease you when you nearly cry, just urges you to make a wish and smiles when you blow it out. It would seem like such a small thing to someone else, but it means so much to you. How much thought he had obviously put into tonight. Almost like it was a date.

You are quiet on the drive back to your car. Making him nervous as he grips the steering wheel and glances into his mirrors so he doesn’t look over at you for every few seconds. He doesn’t try to talk to you, letting the silence settle but it’s not a heavy silence. Just comfortable in a way it might have not been before tonight. 

“I- I had a great birthday.” You admit when you’ve opened your car door and set your purse and the flowers inside. Turning back and shooting him another smile. One that pulls him closer as he resists the urge to pull out that pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and light one up. Clint nods and takes another step towards you. “Better than your earlier plans?” He asks, making you laugh. “My plans were to eat take out and watch tv.” You snort, reaching out and patting his arm. 

Clint reaches for you slowly. Giving you time to pull back if you want to, but you don’t. You bite your lip and look up into his eyes. “Don’t know…” Clint murmurs, “that could be a good night.” He teases quietly. “With the right company.” 

Joel Miller

After Midnight - @hsispunk - joel is feeling lonely in austin, so he calls a sex hotline.

Taco Tuesday - @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

No One But Me - @koshkamartell - your relationship with Joel Miller was a secret, one in which he would break you over and over. Tired of mistreatment you leave. But what happens when Joel cannot handle losing the control he has over you? And what happens when another man catches your attention?

Let Me Teach You - @aurorawritestoescape - your boyfriend begs you to have anal but knows jack shit about the act. Much to your surprise and pleasure, his dad steps up and teaches him. By example.

Take my hand where you want it - @time-for-my-weekly-spanking - After you discover that your husband is cheating on you with Joel's secretary, Joel becomes your confidant. One night, after your husband comes home late yet again, you rush to Joel for comfort. And Joel makes sure you get everything you deserve.

stay away - @coolgirlmonolog - you left your small town in austin to study in new york and, after graduating, found a nice job in the big city. every year you go back home to visit your parents and your high school best friend, tommy miller. last year you went back for a whole week during the summer, and joel wasn’t exactly friendly with you. you were never friends, but after 10 years of knowing each other, his attitude caught your attention. this summer you’ll see him again… how will it turn out? 

Unfaithful - @peepawmiller - Joel takes you on a date. And then he takes you home.

Humiliated - @broad-shouldrs - joel accidentally comes inside you

Bad Neighbours - @koshkamartell - Joel Miller is a grumpy old man who enjoys peace and quiet. Ever since you moved into the neighbourhood he can't seem to escape you.

Happy Campers - @baronessvonglitter - Joel Miller, the new head counselor at Camp Happy Trail, makes sure this summer will be one you won't forget.

What happens behind Buc-ee's, stays behind Buc-ee's - @kindahecticinside - 56 year old Joel Miller spends his days as a blue collar contractor busy on the job site, though his idea of being 'busy' involves standing around cat-calling ladies all day long. One day he tries his luck with you and he gets more than he bargained for in the process.

Your Needs, My Needs - @honey-moon-13 - The worst part about injuring his hand isn’t the pain. It’s having to take off his wedding ring—and being unable to jerk off properly. Luckily, Joel has a wife who’s more than happy to lend him a hand.

Sloth | se7en collection - @milla-frenchy - after you promised Joel to try something new in bed and managed to make him skip patrol and stay home, he makes sure you mean it. So you enjoy a chill morning with him, and then you make good on your promise

Tess & Joel

Awakening - @time-for-my-weekly-spanking - When you join Joel, Tess, and Tommy, you shake Joel to his core. But he may not be the only one awakened by your presence.

Frankie Morales

Frankie - The Best Friend | Guy-Crazy - @baronessvonglitter - After a disastrous breakup, Daisy's best friend Frankie offers her the jumpstart she needs to get over her ex.

Javi Gutierrez | Guy-Crazy - @baronessvonglitter - We go back several years to find Daisy healing her very first broken heart.

Tommy Miller

Maid Discreetly - Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Series - @mountainsandmayhem - After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man?

Joel Miller & Javier Peña

Lust (Taste in Men Part 2) | se7en collection - @milla-frenchy - you’ve spent a perfect night with your best friend Javi and your ex-boyfriend Joel, and the next day holds the promise of what’s to come

Javier Peña

Puff, Puff, Smash - @half-moon16 - When you're reunited with your old crush, Javier Peña at a get together at his dad's ranch, you proposition him with a theory he just has to test out for himself.

Clint Flood

Changes (In the House of Flies) - @quickiesgirl - Clint recognizes a familiar face while conducting business at a strip club, someone he'd known quite intimately.

You don’t even bother to close your robe when you stomp out into the damp night. Your bare feet squelch in the wet grass, and you don’t care. The music gets louder when you get to your neighbor’s door. It’s nice? You guess. You don’t even know anymore.

You pound on his door. Three rasps. You give your neighbor time. Nothing. So you pound again. Until the music stops. Footsteps get closer, floorboards creak.

The door opens, just like your jaw drops. Dark hair slicks back from a face that the gods might as well have sculpted. Sharp cheekbones, strong nose, plush lips, big brown eyes. He’s in a black tank top, ridiculously broad shoulders escaping the flimsy fabric. His gray sweatpants hang loose on his hips. His whole look suggests either a strategic carelessness or a total lack of giving a shit. It might be due to how fucking horny you are, but your new neighbor could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

His dark eyes size and assess you. Your robe. The flimsy, light pink tank top sticking to your skin, the short, barely there sleep shorts with tiny, green polka dots. Your hair’s probably a mess, your skin still damp with a sweat of frustration. He looks almost amused at the sight of you, but his eyes linger a little longer than propriety should suggest at your thighs.

“Can I help you?” he asks. Deep, kinda dark, like a freshly poured cup of your favorite coffee.

“It’s la—” your voice squeaks. You clear your throat, square your shoulders. “It’s late. Your music. It’s… loud. Some of us have to, you know. Sleep.”

He leans on the doorframe, folds his arms, and your eyes square in on the way his biceps bulge, the line of his forearms. “Sleep,” he says.

“Yes. That’s right. It’s past 11.”

“Didn’t think it was that loud.”

“Could you turn it down at least?”

A thick eyebrow arches up. “Guess these walls are paper-thin. I suppose I could use a different bow.”

There’s no shame in his voice, no apology, and it just irks you more. You wobble a bit in the way he looks at you, half wanton desire, half boredom.

“I’d… appreciate that.”

“Mm,” he says, and his lip quirks up in a maddeningly handsome smirk… like he knows he’s gorgeous and getting under your skin. “You best get back to… sleep,” he says.

You nod, because you have no other fucking clue how to respond under his heated, cocky gaze and the revelation that the music was being played by him and not a too-loud stereo.

The silk of your robe swishes across your hot skin as you make your way across the grass to your bungalow. You’re sure your neighbor’s watching you the whole way and you don’t dare look back.

He keeps his word, you can barely hear the music when you lie back down in bed. Fuck him for being beautiful. Your whole body is still reverberating from the baritone rasp of his voice. You press a pillow over your face and scream an annoyed sound into it, as the heat of his gaze still blooms across your body.

At least now all you can hear is nothing but the sound of your breathing, picking up when the heel of your hand slinks its way back between your thighs. Jesus Christ, you’re even wetter now. You’re leaking a frustrating hunger, the image of your neighbor’s big shoulders and golden skin playing in your mind. You imagine his biceps pinning you down and his thick fingers hooking against your waist as he pounds into you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, picturing his wide palm against your mouth. You wonder what he sounds like when he cums, is it as sad and tragic sounding as the music he plays?

God, it’s so easy now. Your body’s arching up, desperate to feel how soft his tank-topped chest is when it’s shoved against your chest. You can almost feel him, the weight of him atop you, his dark eyes searing into you as you edge yourself closer and closer. You’re pressing needy circles against your clit, your thighs tensing and toes curling. “Fuck, fuck,” you moan out, too loud for your own good and the silence of your own bungalow. Your hips are moving against your hand harder, faster, and when you think of that damned smirk of his and the way he’d watch you shatter apart for him, you orgasm, hard and hot and loud. “Oh fuck, godddd,” you moan. You don’t even care. You want him to hear it. Maybe he will, with the thin walls. Maybe he won’t, because he’s too busy playing that damned music. Maybe he heard a hint, and now he’s sat, frozen in his chair, bow in one hand, listening to your own symphony between the walls.

—-

Two nights of silence, and then you hear it… a loud cat-like moan around 11 PM. Followed by another high-pitched mew. “Aleeeeex,” the shrill sounds. “Oh god, Alex.”

So, your hot neighbor’s name is Alex.

A rhythmic thumping starts up against your wall, fast, brutal, not sweet. You can’t help yourself as you move towards the wall, listening in for any type of low grunt or groan, but there’s nothing… just a repetitive smack of wood against drywall and the squealing of a woman.

You roll over, turn on your speaker, and pick up your phone. You know the perfect song. You scroll to the B’s in your music, find Cello Suite no. 2 by Bach, and let the sad, melancholy play… loud.

The pace just behind the shared wall picks up, and the wails of the woman speed up, along with the tapping against the wall. Now it’s your time to smirk, take that, Alex, and whoever he’s decided to fuck.

And when the roaring sadness of the music slows and quiets at a point… you hear it. A long, low groan timed perfectly to the song, almost like he was waiting for it.

You feel the angry roar of want in your body at the sound of him and let the song fade out as you reach into your drawer and pull out your vibrator.

—-

The next night, the cello is back, at 11 on the dot. Louder. Like it’s back to mock you. You shake your head and smile, willing it not to bother you as you turn in bed and put a pillow over your ear, but even through the muffled down, you recognize the song. It’s Cello Suite no. 2, just like you played him last night.

Damn, he’s talented. You have to give him that.

By 11:30, he hasn’t stopped, and the cello almost plays like a siren song to you and your sleepy, horny frustrations. You step out into the night air, and you swear the cool air hisses against your heated skin. No robe this time, just you and your light blue silky, short nightdress, complete with the lace trim across your breasts.

You punch at his door again, then stand back, arms crossed. You’re sure your nipples are pressing against the thin fabric, and you don’t care.

He answers almost instantly, and good lord, he’s only in a pair of boxers and a loose, button-up shirt.

“You’re playing on purpose now, aren’t you?” you ask him, no greeting, just attitude.

“I need to practice. Figured you’d like to hear it.”

You snort. “So why that song?”

His hand rests against the doorframe and he looms over you. “Thought I’d return the favor of last night.” You roll your eyes and huff. “Thanks.”

He turns his head back to his living room, then back at you, deep brown eyes searing into you. “Come in. I’ll play you something else.”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not like you were going to sleep anyway.”

You don’t say anything, you just walk past him into his place. It’s neat, in order, vintage furniture with modern touches. His bow is discarded on the floor, the cello leaning against the wall.

He lifts his hand, guides you to his couch, a soft, buttery leather that dips when you settle on it, mindful of just how short your nightdress is. He bends to pick up the bow, and your throat goes dry as you stare at his ass. You blink yourself back to reality as he takes a seat and places his cello between his legs. God, his legs, strong and dusted with hair, he looks to be golden all over.

He begins playing. Something you don’t recognize, but it’s smooth and sultry. Your heart and body answer, heating and beating with each note of music that flows from the instrument.

Alex doesn’t look up, he’s transfixed by the music he plays, and you’re just as spellbound. You’re sure you’re breathing hard, sure your pulse is thrumming along to the song. You don’t know how long you sit like that, mesmerized by the music and the man. If this is how he looks as he plays, then you’ll surely sacrifice the nights of sleep, just to let this beauty out into the world.

His head tips back, neck straining as his head lulls back and forth, caught in the notes, and when he looks at you, dark brown eyes meeting yours, you know he can see the way your chest is rising and falling, the heat of your stare. He gifts you one of those damned smirks, but this time it’s different. It’s heated and full of desire. He watches you watch him, and you can’t look away. Every note he plays flows through you, from your ears to between your thighs.

Alex’s arm slows, the bow stopping, and the last warble of the strings escapes the cello. He sets the cello against the wall with reverence, his loose shirt gapes open as he turns, exposing golden chest and a dark line of hair. You try to adjust how you’re sitting, the leather couch sticking to you with the heat of your thighs.

His eyes roam over you, from your bare legs up to your chest, up, up, finally meeting your eyes again. He licks his lips, pink tongue against his plush bottom lip. He smiles, hot, knowing, painfully cocky. “Did you like it?” he asks.

You answer with a bobble of your head. Any type of words would just fail to be husked out of your dry throat. Goodness, you want him. You want him a way that’s almost embarrassing in the desperate, feral way you do.

"You want to try to play?" he asks.

You’re silent again, just another nod sent to him.

He pats his thighs, beckons you over, and you rise and pad towards him, going to exactly where he wants you. He parts his legs, and you straddle his lap, your back meeting his chest. You’re painfully aware of the silk of your dress clinging to the arch of your ass, the way your thighs bracket his, his skin meeting your skin. You move, hoping he can’t feel how wet you are for him, but you hear the small grunt, and you know he absolutely can.

He picks up the cello and sets it between both of you, the smooth wood is cool against your thigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, enveloping you in his strong arms, his chest flexing against your back.

You’re glitching, absolutely dumbstruck by how gentle and low his voice is as he places your fingers over the strings. “Here,” he whispers, guiding your hand to the cello’s neck. “Thumb here. Not too tight.” His hands are big and hot. His breath fans across your ear, and it makes you shiver.

“Now, try,” he says, handing you the bow. You attempt to make a song, but you’re so heady off the closeness of him that you’re too clumsy to do anything right. The bow draws across the strings, and it’s… like a car crash of a note, but he tightens his arms and chuckles low against your ear.

“Again,” he whispers, and you try. This time, the note is softer, a pleasant hum leaves the cello. “Good,” he says, lips grazing against your earlobe. He rewards you by letting his hand skim against your thigh.

There’s a shared hunger, an almost understanding, guided by the music and want that’s drifted between the walls. You melt and tense at the same time, and you feel the press of his cock against you when you tilt back and press yourself into him.

He slides his hand up, rucking up the hem of your dress. “You still want to play?”

You’re dizzy, barely holding onto the bow. “No.”

“Then set the bow down.”

You obey, letting it clatter to the floor. He takes the cello from between your legs and sets it aside while keeping you still locked against him, hand splayed against your belly. “Spread your legs,” Alex tells you.

You instantly spread, letting him slip his palm between you and trace your soaked pussy through the wispy layer of your lace panties. You almost lose it right there, hips jerking at the thick, callused fingers of his exploring the drenched line of your cunt.

He lets out a low, incredulous growl as he touches you, pressing his mouth to your neck, sucking at the skin. “Feel good?” he rumbles. “Yeah?”

“Fuccck,” you manage.

He smiles into your neck, slides his fingers into your panties, parts you, thick, middle finger slowly exploring before plunging deep into you. You moan, noisy and erupting, louder than any song he can play.

He fucks you with his hand, two fingers, thick and skilled, shallow then deep, giving you a pattern you’ll never guess. His thumb rubs circles on your clit, making you stupid with just how good he is at this. You’re sweating now, shaking, under the control of Alex’s possessive hands against your body.

He’s rutting and hard against you, whispering “that’s it, that’s it,” over and over as his fingers play you like an instrument he’s mastered.

You cum for him, so hard you shudder and squeeze. Head knocking back against his broad chest. He growls, licks up the sweat of you, holding you tighter as you ride and writhe against his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out, yanks your panties to the side, and frees his cock from the thin cotton of his boxers. You don’t know if you’ve ever wanted someone so bad before and when he brushes the fat tip of him against your accepting hole, you gasp at the promise of his size.

It’s one monstrous, behemoth of a thrust that makes your eyes flutter shut and all the air escape you. He fucks up into you hard, and you grab at his big hands, holding on as the old wooden chair frame creaks. He’s so fucking thick, overwhelming and rough, but Christ, the way your slippery cunt swallows him, it’s like he was fit for you. You ride him, back rubbing against his chest as he pumps in and out of you, the noise of your slick and his grunts crescendoing in the sex-heavy air.

He grabs your hips, planting both feet on the floor, and starts railing up into you so deep you let out a sob of his name. He’s rewarding and withholding at the same time, sliding all the way out, holding you above himself, letting you beg for him, until he plants all of himself into you. He slinks a hand up your body, thumb stroking your cheek before he sticks two of his fingers into your mouth.

You taste the sweet tang of your orgasm, tongue licking at the rough and ridges of his fingers. You suck, and he groans, bucking so hard the chair actually scoots back across the floor.

He must want to see you desperate and dumb, his other hand moving between your legs, playing with you there. It only takes a couple strokes of his fingers against your puffy, needy clit for him to orchestrate your orgasm out of you. It’s shocking how fucking hard you cum for him, how white your vision goes, how the pulse of your body pulses a cacophony of beats. Alex fucks straight through your orgasm, cock spearing you as you whimper around his fingers and drip around his cock. But, he’s losing it now, panting into the crook of your neck, hips snapping so loud against you.

He pulls out, and you feel the slide of his cock head against your clit when he cums, thick, white ropes painting against your panties, your belly, the silk of your dress. You’re still floating high like the music notes he plays, a trembling mess in his arms when you lean your head back and can’t help but laugh. Alex chuckles, too. Both of you are sticky and soaked, pressed together, glazed in shared sweat and cum.

The cello sits unused, the bow on the floor. Alex’s forehead rests against your shoulder as he comes down. You think he’s going to say something smart and frustrating, but he just kisses your shoulder blade and tightens his arms around you.

So much for hating your new neighbor.

—-

You spot a man at the bar, his presence instantly commanding attention. Dressed in a vibrant tropical polo adorned with lush palm leaves and exotic flowers, paired with swim shorts. He looks relaxed, yet confident like he's not somebody you could easily fuck with. He stands out against the laid-back ambiance of the bar. His dark curls are slightly tousled, and a hint of a beard frames his chiseled jawline, adding to his charm. His eyes, a deep, soulful brown, seem to watch you with an intensity that is both comforting and unsettling. A slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and you have to look away for fear that your blush might become permanent.

"You're doing great!" Your friends continue to cheer you on.

"I'm going to die," you whisper to yourself, not so quiet as the man's smile grows.

"You are not going to die," Jane, your best friend and the mastermind behind this whole scheme, says while her drink-fueled bravado wavers. "Besides, we're here if something goes wrong."

"What if I panic and pull you down with me?" You ground yourself, your feet back on. the pool floor.

"That's not going to happen, now focus."

"Jane, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think you've had too many Mai Tais."

Jane looks around, her gaze stopping on the hot guy at the bar, who's sipping a colorful cocktail while his gaze continues to linger on you.

"Well, I can think of worse people to drown with." She nudges you with a smirk. "Maybe Mr. Pool Boy will give you mouth-to-mouth."

You glare at her before glancing back at the bar, but the mysterious man is nowhere to be found. You try not to let your disappointment show, though. You really don't need more reasons to doubt yourself, and drowning because you were distracted by some hot dude feels like an embarrassing way to go out.

"Alright, I'm ready," you say. "Let's get this over with."

"Great!" Jane exclaims, "So, we're going to have you lay back, and put your arms and legs out, and--"

"'Scuse me."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of the deep, velvety voice beside you.

"Yes, can we help you?" Jane asks, not missing a beat, hearing her shit-eating grin from behind you.

The man smiles at you. "Well, I was takin' a look at what you all were doing, and I figured I could offer my services."

"Services?" you ask him and you can see the scatter of grey in his scruff when his lips quirked up on one side. "Are you a lifeguard?"

He laughs and the sound makes you embarrassed, and a little flustered. You feel your face get hot again.

"Not exactly, but I do have some experience in the pool," he tells all of you. "I taught my kid how to swim back home and and it seems like these ladies are having some trouble and I'd be happy to take it off their hands." He looks to you, specifically. "If you'd like."

Your friends are looking at you and the man and you're not sure what to say, but Jane decides to answer for you.

"Actually, that would be really nice. We could use the extra help. I'm Jane, by the way," and she nudges your back while introducing you, moving you forward towards--

"Joel." He sticks out his hand and you take it, the massive grip of his hand engulfing yours. You can feel the callouses and roughness of his fingers, and you curse in your head anyone else that's had the chance to feel it in places that would bring them to their knees.

Joel lets go, and before you can ask what comes next, he pulls off his shirt and plunges into the pool, submerging himself completely before resurfacing with a shake of his head. Water cascades down his chest and broad shoulders, and his shorts cling to his thighs.

"Well, don't be shy. Get on in here," he beckons.

You and the girls are still standing there, watching him.

"Go on," Jane tells you, and you realize Joel was talking to you. "Get in there."

You give her a look and she pushes you down the steps further into the shallow end. The water is warm against your legs, and you wade forward toward Joel.

"Alright," he says once you've joined him. "We're gonna have you lean back, and just hold out your arms and legs for me. Sound good?"

You nod, swallowing thickly.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," Joel assures you.

You do as he says, leaning back and putting your arms and legs out, and the moment your weight is supported by the water, you start to panic.

"It's okay, darlin', you're fine. Just stay calm." Joel's voice is low and soothing. "Just focus on my voice. I've got you."

You take a few deep breaths, trying to keep yourself from freaking out.

"There you go. Just relax. I'm not gonna let you go."

As he speaks, his voice a deep rumble, you feel your heart rate slow and the panic subside. You can hear the others cheering and encouraging you, but it's almost drowned out by the sound of his voice.

"There you go," he repeats. "Just relax, honey. I've got you."

You lift your feet up, and for a second you're completely horizontal, suspended in the water. Then you feel his hands under your back and the back of your head, supporting and guiding you as you float effortlessly on the surface. You look up at this handsome relative stranger

"I told you I'd take care of you," he says. "How's it feel?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "It feels amazing."

You stay like that for a while, his hands holding you steady as he talks you through it, his voice never faltering. And when you finally stand upright, the applause and cheers from your friends echo around you.

"Thank you," you tell him, still a bit breathless from the experience.

"My pleasure," he says, and his gaze lingers on you, making your heart race for a different reason. "Y'know, if you wanna get back to your friends I get it. But there's still so much I could teach ya if you're interested."

You can feel the warmth of his body so close to yours, and you can't deny the attraction between the two of you. You know it's reckless, but something about Joel makes you want to take a risk.

"Let me just tell my friends not to wait up."

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

You're not sure how long it's been since you've been in the pool with Joel. But your friends are gone and other people have started to clear out. After dinner at the pool bar, and more drinks, the two of you are back in the pool. Joel was playfully tugging at your leg, trying to get you to join him in the deep end.

"Joel, I can't swim!" You're laughing as you cling to the wall.

"That's what I'm here for. C'mon, darlin', it'll be fun," he says, his hand reaching out for yours. "If you don't wanna go, we really don't have to but if you wanna come, you can trust me. I won't let go."

And that's all you need to hear.

You hop on Joel's expansive back, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Ready?" he asks.

"As I'll ever be."

He laughs. "Okay, here we go."

Slowly, he begins to walk into the deep end, taking you with him. The water rises to your hips, then your waist, then your chest. You can feel the firm muscles of his shoulders under your thighs, and the heat of his body against yours.

"Still good?" he asks.

"Yep."

"You know, if you wanna move your hands, I think you're safe."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

You hesitate for a moment before slowly removing your hands from the top of his head onto his tanned shoulders. Your legs tighten around his waist, your core flush with his back. He keeps walking deeper, until the water is up to his neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as he wades around.

"See? It's not so bad," he says, turning his head to look at you.

You're so close to him, his face mere inches from yours.

"No, it's not," you whisper.

He turns back to bring you towards the edge of the pool. He sits you down on the side, keeping himself in the water. He hovers over you, his hand braced on the ledge, the other resting on your thigh.

"You did good tonight," he says, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. "I'm proud of you."

His praise sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and its taking everything in you not to scare off this nice stranger with your growing infatuation.

"Thank you. Really, I don't know what we would've done if you hadn't offered to help. Now I can actually enjoy the beach and the pool a little more."

He chuckles. "Well, I'm glad I could help." He tilts his head, his gaze soft and warm. "You know, you don't have to stop learnin' if you don't want to. There's plenty more I can show ya."

You're not sure how to respond, but the offer is tempting. You've already learned so much today, but the thought of learning more, especially from him, is enticing.

"What else ya got, Miller?" you ask, your voice low.

"Oh, there's a lot more where that came from," he says. His voice is deep, the words rolling off his tongue with a delicious drawl that makes your stomach flutter. He opens up his arms, and the water glistens down his body. "C'mere. Swim to me."

You bite your lip. "I don't know..."

"Remember what I told ya." Joel smiles. "I got ya. I ain't gonna let you sink."

You take a deep breath and jump back into the pool, slowly wading as you repeated his mantra in your head. Joel's eyes never leave you, watching as you move towards him, the water coming up to your shoulders.

"That's it, darlin'. You're doing great," he coos.

You finally reach him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you hold onto him. He chuckles, pulling you close.

"I knew you had it in ya." He murmurs. You can see the freckles scattered across his face, and the deep pools of his brown eyes. You feel his arms wrapped around you, his hands caressing your lower back, the warmth of his body. It's intoxicating.

"Thank you, Joel."

"My pleasure," he breathes, his voice low. You're not sure who moves first, but before you know it, his lips are pressed against yours, and all rational thoughts leave your mind.

The kiss is gentle, almost tentative, like he's waiting for you to decide the next move. You usually aren't the person to kiss strangers on vacation. But something about him makes you want to throw caution to the wind.

Your hands tangle in his wet curls, pulling him closer, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue skating into your mouth with the taste of alcohol. His beard is rough against your chin, and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

His hands wander down your back, grabbing a handful of your ass as he presses himself against you. Your tongue moves slowly in his mouth, matching the rhythm of your hips as you start to grind against his growing bulge.

He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his dark brown eyes gazing into yours. "Sweetheart..." his hands squeeze your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and his lips graze yours. "We need to get outta here before I do somethin' stupid."

"Like what?" You trail the stubble of his jaw with your fingertips and look at him, testing him. Daring him to say what you both wanted.

"Like takin' you right here." He rolls his hips, the hardness of his cock rubbing against your clit through your soaked bikini bottoms. "Lettin' anyone who comes by see how pretty you look when I'm fuckin' you."

"Fuck." The moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Joel grins.

"I wanna hear more of that." He peppers kisses on your neck, and down to the top of your breasts. "Wanna hear every pretty sound comin' outta that mouth of yours."

"Then I guess we'd better get out of here," you say, breathless.

Joel helps you out of the pool and grabs a couple towels from a nearby cabana, wrapping one around you and sliding his hand around your waist. You liked how he towered over you, like he was already claiming you as your own.

He leads you inside, down the hall and to the stairs, the two of you making the decision knowing there would be less people around. You go up a flight up steps and you stop at a corner of the steps, turning around and backing into the wall. He crowds in on you, looking at you like he's ready to devour you.

He cups your face with his calloused hands, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss, your tongues moving in tandem. You grind against him, as he moans into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, his other hand grabbing a fistful of your ass. Caution and carefulness be damned, you just want him.

He moves his hands from your face to your breasts, tweaking your nipples outside of your bikini fabric. You whine into his mouth and his hand snakes between your bodies, rubbing you on the outside of your bikini bottoms. You gasp as his fingers rub the material against your clit.

"If I could I'd take you right here." he breathes, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Would you let me do that? Take you right here, where anyone could see? Where everyone could see what a good girl you are, lettin' me take you how I want?"

You arch your back, grinding into his palm as he rubs your clit through your damp bikini. "I might take you up on that."

He chuckles, and you can feel the deep rumble of his chest. "Well, I might just take you up on that later. But for now..."

He slides your bikini bottoms aside, dipping his thick fingers into your slick cunt, and curling his finger inside. He slowly moves them, fucking you open, and you have to cover your mouth to keep from moaning too loudly. He presses his lips to the base of your neck, kissing and sucking as he fucks you on his fingers.

"You're so fuckin' wet," he murmurs against your skin. "Love the way that little pussy feels. So tight."

You roll your hips, feeling his thumb rubbing against your clit and his rhythm speeds up. The echo of the stairwell amplifies every sound and the thought of someone catching you makes the whole thing that much more arousing.

He slips another finger inside of you, and you hold onto his arm as you hear his wetness sliding against his fingers. The sound of your soaked pussy echoes in the stairwell.

"That's it, honey, just let go," he murmurs. "Let everyone know how good I'm making you feel."

His fingers curl inside of you, and sends you over the edge. You wail as you feel yourself throb around his fingers, your cunt fluttering as he holds you upright.

He slowly pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, moaning as he sucks them off. You whimper as his mouth is on yours, letting you taste yourself. He holds you upright, adjusting your bikini bottoms and stroking your hair as you come down.

"Pretty girl," he says, peppering kisses on your face and neck. "You think you can make it to my room?"

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

You knew you'd have some new adventures on this trip.

But never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed you'd find yourself here.

Sitting on a man's face as he ate you out.

Joel's big, calloused hands held onto your ass as he lapped at your cunt, his tongue running along your folds, his beard scratching your thighs.

"That's it, sweet girl," he groans. "Just like that. Keep ridin' my face. You're doin' so well."

He squeezes your ass as he spreads your cheeks, his tongue teasing your asshole and making you moan. He moves his mouth back to your pussy, sucking on your clit as his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your thighs. You ride him in earnest, your hands gripping his hair, holding him in place.

"Oh, god," you pant, grinding on his face. "I'm gonna cum again, please please please."

He hums against your clit, sucking on the sensitive nub, and your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out in what sounds like a pornographic moan as you shake, your cunt throbbing around his tongue.

He holds you through it, his hands on your thighs, keeping you steady. Once you've come down, he gently moves you off his face, lying back and breathing hard. His face is slick with your cum, his lips swollen and red. He looks beautiful.

He quickly recovers and sits up, moving to lay you down on the bed, his heavy cock slapping against your folds. He teases you, rubbing his length up and down your slit, coating it in your arousal.

When he finally enters you, it's heaven. You moan as he stretches you, your cunt gripping him tightly as he bottoms out. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

"You want it deep, pretty girl?" Joel murmurs, his breath hot on your ear. "Want me to fuck you so deep and hard, make you feel me for days?"

You nod, moaning and writhing under him.

He starts slow, rolling his hips as he thrusts in and out, the two of you moaning as you feel every inch. But his pace quickly increases, his hips snapping against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. He pounds into you and your mouth is open, In a silent scream, as you take every inch of him.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he growls. "This pussy's so fuckin' perfect."

You can't form any coherent words, you've never been fucked like this. You can't tell if it's because you know this is a passing encounter. After this vacation it's not like you'll see Joel again, so why not indulge yourself in a way you normally wouldn't? Guys back home were usually so gentle, treating you as if you were delicate.

But Joel is different. He fucks without mercy or shame in how much he wants you. He holds you down, pinning your hands above your head as he rails you, as if he wants to make sure you'll remember him.

"Look at me, baby ," he grunts, and you turn your head to see him, his pupils blown and his chest covered in a sheen of sweat. He lifts your legs higher, the angle hitting that spot inside you that makes you scream.

"That's right, let 'em know how good I'm fucking ya," he growls, his lips hovering over yours. "Let everybody in this damn hotel hear how good you take dick."

You cry out, feeling the pressure build up as he fucks you harder, his cock hitting your g-spot. You've never felt this full, this wanted, this satisfied.

You can feel him getting close, his thrusts becoming erratic and his rhythm faltering. He lets go of your hands, one moving down to rub your clit, his other hand tangling in your hair. He holds you in place as you cum a third time, chanting like a mantra "please fill me up, please please" and Joel does just that. He lets out a guttural moan as his cock twitches inside you, his cum filling your throbbing cunt.

He collapses on top of you, panting, his weight a comforting presence. You run your hands along his broad shoulders, his muscled back, feeling the sweat that coats his body. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing featherlight kisses along the column of your throat.

You feel him seeping out of you as he pulls out, his cum spilling onto the sheets. He lies next to you, his arm draped over your stomach, his hand resting on your hip.

"Was that alright, sweet girl?"

"More than alright," you murmur, stroking his beard.

He pulls you closer, and you're enveloped in his warmth, his arms wrapped around you, his hands drawing lazy patterns on your back. You snuggle into his chest, your legs entwined.

"I should probably get back to my friends at some point, though." You murmur, half-heartedly.

"They won't miss you for one night," Joel murmurs.

He's right. You check the time on your phone and it's midnight, and Jane has your location. You've kept her updated until recently when you'd been too busy taking Joel's cock. She knows where you are, she knows you're safe and one or two more rounds wouldn't hurt.

"You know, I can always show you a lot more ways to swim," Joel drawls, his fingertips drawing patterns along the base of your spine.

"Oh yeah?" You smile, propping your head on his chest.

"Yeah, sweetheart." He grins. "There's the breast stroke, the backstroke, the butterfly. Pool is probably closed and I ain't got nothin' but a bathtub, but..."

You can't help but laugh at his stupid jokes, and he joins in, his eyes crinkling in the corners. You love the way he smiles, the way he laughs.

"We could also stay in, watch some movies, order room service, all that." He continues, his tone light, casual.

You raise your brow, amused. "Is this the part where you ask me out?"

He chuckles. "It's the part where I'm asking if you wanna spend the night."

"I'd like that," you murmur, your fingers running through his salt and pepper curls. "I can meet the girls back at the pool tomorrow and show them what I've learned."

Taco tuesday @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

Let me teach you @aurorawritestoescape

Your boyfriend begs you to have anal but knows jack shit about the act. Much to your surprise and pleasure, his dad steps up and teaches him. By example.

Guitar gig @baronessvonglitter

You show up for Joel's gig when your dad can't make it

Unfaithful part 1 | part 2 @peepawmiller

Your husband is unfaithful, and your contractor is hot

The sleepover @baronessvonglitter

Your plan to seduce your best friend's stepdad is coming along perfectly. But there's one small hitch

Put me in a movie @cadavercarcass

You hitch hike to escape your small town, but the man that picks you up isn't the savior you initially see him as

Bad neighbours | part 2 @koshkamartell

Joel Miller is a grumpy old man who enjoys peace and quiet. Ever since you moved into the neighbourhood he can't seem to escape you.

Happy campers @baronessvonglitter

Joel Miller, the new head counselor at Camp Happy Trail, makes sure this summer will be one you won't forget

how does Joel react in the wifey verse when someone suggests he’s disappointed with only girls @pedge-page

You should feel lucky | part XII @ess-evo

He's found you. He's obsessed with you. And you're never getting away from him.

Better in my head part 3 @broad-shouldrs

Thirsty @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

Getting a glimpse of one of your intimate, tender moments triggers something in Joel that he never would have expected

The summer fling @baronessvonglitter

You head to the beach for some R&R, only to find what you really need is some Big D.

After the rain @avastrasposts

Age over experience | chapter 1 | chapter 2 @bardot49

Embattled survivor, protective older sibling, surrogate parent, town leader, skilled craftsperson. Fifty something Di has a lot more in common with Joel Miller than either of them would ever admit. They’re two sides of the same coin, and they can’t stand each other. An enemies to lovers romance that proves it’s never too late for love.

Kept woman @koshkamartell

Your older boyfriend Joel knows what's best for you, even if you don't agree

Joel and Tommy Miller

Bad Blood | Nothing's gonna hurt you baby @aurorawritestoescape

Feeling sad about leaving Austin and returning to college, you decide to take something with you — a hot sex tape, starring Tommy, you and Joel

Dave York

The blind date @baronessvonglitter

Daisy's sister sets her up on a blind date

Ted Garcia

Office hours | part 5 @baronessvonglitter

You and Mayor Ted Garcia have kept your working relationship strictly platonic. But so much can happen after office hours

Tess Servopoulos

Fantasy made real @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

Clint Flood

The helping hand @baronessvonglitter

In need of a helping hand, Daisy turns to a familiar place - and a familiar face

Alex Serian

Let me play @604to647

Frankie Morales

The small things of a whole | A song @sawymredfox (Frankie x Ben Miller)

Intimacy glows in many ways: a knowing glance, a gentle caress, a hug, a playful smile, an inside joke, whispers of understanding and support, vulnerability, and offers of care with no demands of being repaid, among others. It grows if nurtured, blooming, making a whole.

Take me home tonight @bergamote-catsandbooks

Meeting, dating and leaving Frankie. You try to get over him and your troubled relationship, until you see him again

Date night @frannyzooey

Javier Peña

Birthday present (re read ✨) @604to647

Someone leaves you a birthday present on your desk

Medium well @604to647

You and Javi go grocery shopping in Laredo

Lola @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

Javi just wanted a burrito that night. But then he met you and Lola and realized maybe he wanted something more

With somebody who loves you @vodkaandpizza

Javier and his wife drop their youngest daughter off at college then spend a few days in San Francisco on a little vacation

Dieter Bravo

One room left @ess-evo

A bad storm hits California, causing you to pull off into the nearest hotel. The cost of the room at the luxury resort is shocking, but what's even more shocking is who you end up sharing it with

Sober @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

After being sent to rehab and after reaching his newfound sobriety, Dieter is ready to work on a new project. When he meets you, he’s totally struck by your demeanor and your confidence. Little does he know, you’re going to make a sweet perfect sub out of him and you will give him a new and rediscovered joy of living

My writing

Sloth (Joel x f!reader)

after you promised Joel to try something new in bed and managed to make him skip patrol and stay home, he makes sure you mean it. So you enjoy a chill morning with him, and then you make good on your promise

Maria’s question had you second guessing everything you thought you knew. Her tone held a hint of something in her voice, like she knew more than she let on. Could the mystery flower giver really be Joel?

You tried to picture it, his broad form bent over the pots in the greenhouse late at night, large hands clipping the perfect flower to pair with a riddle. Or him hunched over the table, tongue poking out between his pouty lips as he concentrated on writing romantic riddles The vision elicited a giggle. It just didn’t track. A nice dream, but it couldn’t possibly be real. It had to be someone else, right?

No flower waited for you when you returned home from your shift yesterday and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Did the mystery person plan on leaving you more clues or was that it? The four flowers and riddles were not nearly enough information to figure it all out, despite thinking about it constantly. So, you hoped for more.

If nothing else, you thought, knowing someone in town cared enough about you to share in your passion for the unique love language of flowers warmed your heart. You wanted to bask in that for as long as possible.

You wouldn’t dare say your life in Jackson was boring – really, it was anything but that – rather, this mystery was a variety of excitement and intellectual stimulation that you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. Shame that you sucked at riddles, though. The grand effort was almost wasted on you.

These thoughts occupied your mind all morning as you readied yourself for another day spent in the greenhouses. At first, you couldn’t figure out why you were hyper fixating on it all. It hit you suddenly, the reason you enjoyed the notion of this secret admirer. You were lonely and longed for something… more.

A hint of movement on the porch, spotted from the corner of your eye as you sipped a cup of coffee, drew your attention. Your body moved for the front door before your mind kicked into action and wrenched the door open to find a flustered Ellie staring wide-eyed up at you. Bent over with her hand on another flower left on your porch, it appeared you caught her in the middle of something.

“Good morning, kiddo,” you greeted with a curious smile. “You’re up and about early this morning.”

Standing up straight, Ellie rubbed her hands on her jeans and stepped up to stand next to you. “Uh, yeah. I was, um, coming to see you. Wanted to know if you needed help in the greenhouses today.” Gesturing to the flower, she added, “This just caught my attention before I could knock.”

The explanation sounded reasonable to you, and you had no reason to distrust the sweet teenager. Bending down, you scooped the flower up. “Sure, that would be great. Why don’t you swing by after lunch. I have a few things you could help with.

“Great!” she exclaimed, an octave too high, before clearing her throat and going for a more subdued response. “Sounds good. So, um, looks like you have a secret admirer, huh?”

You laughed. “That seems to be the word on the street. I keep getting lovely flowers, but I have no idea who’s sending them.”

“You can tell me all about it this afternoon. Maybe we can figure out who the mystery man – or woman – is.” Ellie raised her eyebrows a few times in quick succession, drawing more laughter out of you.

“Alright, kiddo. Get outta here. I’ll see you later.”

Once Ellie jogged away, you turned your attention to the flower in your hand – a large blossom, with creamy white petals. A magnolia, the very symbol of perfection. As always, you held it up to your nose, breathing in the floral fragrance that held a spicy punch underscored by a hint of musk.

The note, written in that same nondescript print that you were beginning to love, read:

Moments with you, the answer rings true.

“I’m not doing it again, Joel!” Ellie shouted, barreling through the front door breathlessly. “She almost caught my ass this morning!”

Seated on the couch, enjoying a moment of peace with a cup of coffee on a rare day off from patrol, Joel jumped as the door slammed against the wall, no doubt leaving a dent in the drywall for him to fix. Hot liquid sloshed in the cup, and he winced as a few drops spilled over onto his hand. “What happened?”

“Your little girlfriend opened her door just after I placed this morning’s flower on her porch.” Joel frowned, fearing the jig was up, but Ellie waved him off. “Don’t worry, your cover hasn’t been blown. Yet. I made it seem like I was coming by to talk to her and just found the flower.”

Impressed, he asked, “Do you think she bought it?”

Rolling her eyes, Ellie glared at him. “Of course she did. You doubting my acting skills, asshole? I’m stuck helping her in the greenhouse this afternoon because I couldn’t come up with anything else quick enough, so thanks for that.”

Relief washed over Joel. He wanted to see this plan through, to show you there was more to him than meets the eye, that there was depth to his character and he’s capable of being romantic and thoughtful. “Cry me a river, kid. A little hard work’ll do ya good.”

Ellie huffed, turning to head through the house to her backyard apartment, but not without a parting shot. “Yeah, well, it’d do you good to grow a fucking pair of balls and just ask her out already!”

“Is that so? Have you asked Dina out yet” Joel shouted back, not letting her have the last word. He smirked as the back door slammed closed.

The pattern continued over the next few days before it suddenly stopped. And no matter how hard you tried, you could never catch the culprit in the act, leaving you as clueless as ever to their identity.

On Tuesday morning, you received a beautiful iris, a particular favorite of yours with the classic fleur-de-lis shape. In your eyes, the answer lies, the note read.

Tuesday evening, a vibrant red lily waited for you as you returned from the greenhouses. The soft, subtle scent a marked contrast to the fiery petals. The note especially fitting for such a flower: Lost in your beauty, the answer is a duty.

A small bouquet of pink lilacs awaited you on Wednesday morning, their relaxing fragrance wafting through the kitchen as you placed them amongst the others. Longing for your touch, the answer means so much.

No flower arrived on Wednesday evening, but a eucalyptus greeted you as you left for work Thursday morning. It was an odd choice, you thought. And you had no idea where it might have come from – you didn’t have any in the greenhouse. The note didn’t make much sense to you either, but it fit the pattern of the others. Evergreen thoughts of you, the answer is in the dew.

The final flower waited for you Thursday evening. You ran a little later than usual, getting caught up in planting some of the flowers you received that you didn’t have among the existing greenhouse collection. As you worked, you found yourself questioning when someone would have snatched some of the flowers gifted to you. The mystery person had a gentle hand, none of the plants were damaged and blossoms were taken from clean cuts. Whoever it was, they respected the flowers and you enough to be careful as well as stealthy.

After completing an inspection of the flowered plants in the greenhouse, you knew which one would find that evening, having spotted the evidence of recent trimming. A salmon-colored rose, the hue a lovely shade of pink, with the softest petals. When you arrived home, your fingers gently rubbed a petal of the rose, savoring the silky texture, as you read the accompanying note. Remember my love for you, the answer is in you.

Something told you the rose was the culmination of the floral adventure, that no more flowers would be placed on your doorstep. On Friday, you moved the flowers and the corresponding riddles to the dining table, arranged in the order you received them. Writing the most relevant meanings for each new flower on the accompanying note, you hoped and searched for some defining clue with each new flower, but still nothing.

You needed help.

“Should I be worried that she hasn’t figured it out yet?” Seated at the bar in the Tipsy Bison with Tommy, Joel began to worry that his plan wasn’t working out as he, well, planned. His biggest fear being that you didn’t return his feelings, he hadn’t accounted for you not putting the puzzle pieces together.

“Nah, we came up with awesome clues, brother. She just needs to put it all together,” Tommy replied, taking a large pull from his drink. Swiping the back of his hand over his mustache, he added, “Maria’s over there now, nudging her in the right direction.”

Joel nodded, sipping at his own whiskey.

“The bigger question, I think, is what are you going to do once she’s figured it out? Please tell me you have a date planned after all this pining.”

“I have somethin’ in mind,” Joel said. “I think she’ll like it.”

“Oh yeah? Ya gonna tell me or is that a big secret too?”

“I’m gonna take her to the ol’ botanical gardens we found – the ones where I got some of those flowers. It’ll blow her mind.” Joel smiled at the thought of you seeing the gardens for the first time. It was a long ride, and the gardens were an overgrown mess, but you’d still be in awe of the plethora of flowers.

Tommy stared at him, amazed at both the lovesick look in his brother’s eyes and the romantic nature of the date. He’d never seen Joel like this, never knew him to have a romantic bone in his body, but it looked good on him.

“You sure are gettin’ sappy in your old age,” Tommy teased, unable to help himself.

On Friday night, determined to solve the mystery, you and Maria combed through the clues over a bottle of wine.

“Ok, let’s just start from the beginning and go over every detail for each flower,” Maria suggested. She arrived with a legal pad and pen in hand, remnants of her old life as a prosecutor. Adamant that the answer had to be right in front of you, she took notes as you reiterated each flower, its meaning, and associated clue.

You cracked open a second bottle of wine as you stared at the information on Maria’s notepad.

Jasmine – love, romance – Joyful moments shared, the answer lies in the air.

Orchid – love, thoughtfulness, charm – Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

Eustoma – appreciation, admiration – Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Lavender – devotion, serenity – Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

Magnolia (white) – perfection – Moments with you, the answer rings true.

Iris – hope, trust – In your eyes, the answer lies.

Lily (red) – love, passion – Lost in your beauty, the answer is a duty.

Lilac (pink) – intense love – Longing for your touch, the answer means so much.

Eucalyptus – strength – Evergreen thoughts of you, the answer is in the dew.

Rose (salmon) – desire, excitement – Remember my love for you, the answer is in you.

Reading it over and over until the words blended together, rearranging themselves until it the answer made itself clear.

“Holy shit! I got it!” you declared excitedly; eyes still focused on the clues as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Fucking finally,” Maria mumbled under her breath, but you didn’t catch it. A little louder, she said, “Ok, show me what you got.”

tbc

An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.

Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.

Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.

Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.

Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.

“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.

“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”

“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.

“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.

Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”

Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”

“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.

“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.

Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”

Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.

“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”

“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.

You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”

You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.

The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.

Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.

The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.

“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”

Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”

“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”

Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”

Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.

“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.

“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”

Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.

Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.

“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.

Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.

“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”

Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.

Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”

Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.

Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”

The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”

Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.

You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.

The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.

Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.

Did you even like this guy?

Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.

In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?

No, you guessed it really didn’t.

These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.

A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.

Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

What did it mean?

Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.

Who in the world left this for you?

Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?

Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.

You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.

Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”

Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.

“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”

Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.

“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”

Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.

Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.

Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.

How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?

Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.

A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.

Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.

You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.

Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?

Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.

God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.

Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.

Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.

Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?

The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?

As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.

The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.

Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.

“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”

You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.

“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”

“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.

Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”

“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.

“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.

“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”

Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.

Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.

Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?

One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.

You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.

 Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”

Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.

“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”

“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”

“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.

“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”

Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.

Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”

“Right?”

“What do today’s flowers mean?”

“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.

Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”

Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”

Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”