#then puttering around the yard

[syoddeye]

need to subject the 141 to a midwest goodbye

[gravehags]

hey uh. what are yall doing.

[jedi-bird]

Partner is currently at urgent care and as much as I wish I was writing right now, I don't have to the spoons to focus on that. I'm trying to make myself get up and do anything at this point. I'm tired but not tired enough to actually fall asleep (finally getting used to the new med), I'm too anxious to keep sitting, but I'm also tired of sorting through things.

[sugugasm]

☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

[astaroth1357]

"MC, Who's Best in Bed??":

*on an average HoL morning, the MC is trying to enjoy a cup of tea in the dining room but there's been nothing but shouting in the House for about an hour now... They’re nearly at their wits end when the seven culprits come marching in the room themselves, glaring at esch other. Before MC can even speak, Asmo takes initiative and slams his hands down onto the table, making their teacup clatter*

Asmo: MC, you have to be the one settle this! Which one of us is best in bed???

*the MC... almost does a spit take*

MC: Excuse me???

Mammon: You heard'em! You outta know by now, so who is it??

*the MC looks at their demons like they've gone mental, but seven pairs of eyes stare back at them expectantly, hell, even determinedly. Seeing that they likely can't weasel out of this, the MC gives in with a sigh*

MC: .... Do you really want to know?

Asmo: Of course!!

Satan: We promise we'll be alright with whoever you choose...

Mammon: But it's gonna be me, right??

Satan: Shut up, Mammon!! 😡

MC: Well... if I have to pick...

MC: It's gotta be Lucifer.

Lucifer: *smiles REAL wide for a guy who's been pretending that this conversation is juvenile and beneath him...*

Lucifer: Well. I think that settles that.

*he walks over and arrogantly kisses the back of MC's hand while his brothers all groan somewhere between irritation and disappointment...*

Mammon: Look what ya did, MC, he's never gonna get over himself now!!

Lucifer: Mammoooon?

Mammon: 😨 Shit!

MC: It is Mammon, actually.

Mammon: Eeh-?? Er, s-SEE I TOLD YA!!

*he tries to act proud, and he is, but it's pretty obvious to everyone that he got caught off guard and is flustered as hell*

Mammon: W-who else could it be but the Great Mammon? Right??? This is why I'm their first!!

*Mammon continues to loudly bluster and gloat as MC gets up from the table, taking their teacup with them*

MC: It sure is~

*they peck him on the cheek, which bluescreens his brain while his brothers scoff in disgust*

Belphie: Geez, at least get a room first guys... 🙄

MC: You won’t believe me, but it's Levi.

*the brother stop, collectively look at each other, and then shake their heads*

All (INCLUDING Levi): We don't believe you.

MC: *shrugs nonchalantly and takes another sip of tea* What'd I tell ya?

Asmo: MC, you can't be serious...

MC: *looks him dead in the eye* Two. Dicks. Need I say more? Because I can! He can also-mph!!

*a confused MC gets a hand clamped over their mouth by a mortified Levi, who's still puttering around to figure out how he should feel*

Levi: M-MC! Please...!! 😣

Satan: So there ARE some things that better left unknown... Fantastic... 😰🤢

MC: It’s actually you, Satan!

Satan: *blinks* Eh? Oh really...?

*already turning his head towards Lucifer with a BIG shit-eating grin*

Satan: What do you know? Looks like we've heard it, haven't we?

Lucifer: *angerily covering up his frustration behind a stone cold poker face* So we have... Not that it matters.

Satan: Hm. Your face says otherwise. 😏

Lucifer: Don't push your luck....

MC: Asmo. It's Asmo, it's obviously Asmo!!

Asmo: THANK YOU!!

Asmo: Honestly, it's like no one understands my job description here!!

Asmo: I can, will, and do fuck better than all of you! You just have to accept that. 😌

Mammon: Ugh! Give it a rest already... 😮‍💨

MC: You know what? It's Beel.

*the brothers stop and collectively look at their absolute UNIT of a sibling.... then breathe a combined sigh of defeat*

Beel: *flustered pink from embarrassment, but still very happy to hear it* Thank you, MC. 😊

MC: You're welcome, Beel! 🙂

MC: Weirdly enough, it's Belphie...

Belphie: What do you mean, "weirdly?"

MC: I mean, if we were just going based off resumes here, I wouldn't exactly put yours on top.

MC: But you're living proof "work smarter, not harder" are words to live by. Your technique is flawless!

Belphie: .... I'm not sure how to feel about this anymore....

Bonus:

MC: *gives a blank, thousand yard stare into the middle distance*

Mammon: Uhhhm.... MC? Still there?

MC: I just realized something... I'm really am going to Hell...

Levi: Huh? But you're already here...?

MC: *gets up from the chair and starts to jog away urgently* I think I need a priest...

Belphie: What? Why?? Is being here a problem to you??? 🤬

MC: *calls out as they skid past the doorway* It is because I'm fucking an angel!!! 😫

[livwritesstuff]

Steve closed down his computer after his last therapy session of the day (it was a short day – it’s only three in the afternoon), and swiveled around in his chair to look out the window onto his backyard.

It’s nice out. He could go for a walk around the neighborhood or putter around the yard for a while –  probably one of the last opportunities before the fall weather starts to turn on them.

He knows he isn’t going to do either of those things though. Instead, he’s gonna sit around keeping one eye on his phone because he knows his oldest daughter Moe’s course schedule and he knows she’s about to be heading to her next class which means she’s probably going to be calling him just like she’d done two other times today.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, Steve’s phone started to ring with a call from Moe.

“Hey,” he said as he answered the call.

“Hi Pop,” she replied, her voice coming through the phone a little crackly, broken up by the sound of wind and city traffic around her.

“You on your way to class?”

“Uh-huh. That chem for engineers course – Pop, you wouldn’t believe the shit that rats get up to in this city. It’s crazy. I literally just saw a massive one dragging a whole bag of those little…you know…the red cheese – well, the cheese isn’t red, it’s just–”

“Babybels,” Steve finishes for her.

“Yeah, those! Pop – an entire bag of Babybel cheese being dragged down the street by a rat," Moe exclaims before immediately heading down another tangent.

Two months into Moe’s freshman year of college, Steve thinks she might be a little bit lonely.

She’s always been independent (sometimes to a scary extent, if he’s honest) and she’d handled most of the transition like a champ, but that kind of independence has its ups and downs, and Moe’s never been all that great at the social stuff. Unlike her sisters, she hadn’t had a big group of friends in high school, just a few good ones that she’d made early on in school and stuck with until graduation.

Now, he thinks she might be having some trouble with the whole making new friends piece of moving to a brand new city (goddamn New York City, because these kids won’t let him see a second of peace, and even though he trusts Moe and knows she can take care of herself, Steve still isn’t really in a place yet where he can sleep easy knowing she’s out there on her own).

He knows that Moe will find her people just like he had done years ago. In the meantime, she's been fulfilling that human need for social interaction through lots of calls with him and Eddie (and he'd once even caught Moe and Robbie on a video call together, which he's pretty sure had never happened before).

Steve’s not gonna complain. He’d pretty much drop anything to talk to his kids.

After a few minutes, the background noise coming from Moe's side of the call fades away.

"Okay, I have to go," Moe says, "I might call you later."

"I'm around," Steve replies, because for her (for all his kids), he'll always be.

"'Kay. Love you Pop."

"I love you too."

He waits a beat for Moe to end the call and when she does, he gets up, sticks his phone in his back pocket so he'll know when it rings again, and goes on with his day.

[chimchiri]

Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 06 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out the lovely writing! <3

Previous Poll:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tall, willowy woman sits crouched on her knees, tending to a fruiting garden with her back to AJ. Her long pink hair is tied up in a thoughtless knot, though the green ribbon holding it together makes it elegant. A basket sits beside her, half-full with newly harvested veggies, flowers, mushrooms, and greens. As she works, the tune she hums floats across the yard, accompanied by birdsong that chirps along, and the occasional chatter from a chipmunk joining in.

As usual, Fluttershy is surrounded by a sundry of critters. Today there are butterflies flitting around her shoulders, beetles dancing at her knees, a wild doe that rests beside her with its long legs tucked under its body, a tortoise that munches on the kale from her basket, and a roundup of squirrels chattering away as they help her find ripe cherry tomatoes. And of course, Angel—the mischievous bunny that can get away with nearly anything, because he’s Fluttershy’s darling boy. For now, he sits directly behind her, scratching idly at his neck with his hind leg. Bodyguard duty.

A tiny, bright blue flash approaches Flutters and hovers in the air beside her, a delicate flower in tow. Flutters looks over to the proffered gift, removes a glove and holds out her hand out to let the hummingbird drop the flower into her palm. She places it in her hair before letting the bird land on her finger.

“Thank you, Hummingway,” she chimes, bringing the microscopic bird up to nuzzle at her cheek with a soft laugh.

For a moment, AJ can only watch in awe. Fluttershy’s uncanny ability to commune with nature never gets old. A grin breaks out on her face. She’s glad she decided to stop here first; she can feel her stress melting away.

“Fluttershy,” AJ calls from the pathway leading to Fluttershy’s front door, and the woman in the garden yelps, shoulders tensing in a defensive pose. Applejack cringes as Flutters turns to face her, eyes wide.

“Oh—goodness,” she says, a hand to her chest, “Applejack, you startled me.”

“Sorry—sorry,” AJ says with a sheepish smile, stepping over to grab the basket and offering Flutters a hand.

Fluttershy stands, brushing the grass and dirt from her pants and tucking her gloves into a pocket before bending down to scoop Angel up into her arms, bidding farewell to the other critters retreating from their garden duties—the ones that didn’t flee when Applejack broke their peaceful moment.

“Well, it’s good to see you, AJ,” Flutters says in that soft voice of hers, reaching a hand out for the basket in AJ’s hand. But the farmer gives a little shake of her head, insisting she carry it as they step out of the garden patch and over to the cobblestone pathway.

“Um, you really don’t have to carry it for me…but thank you,” she says, stroking at one of Angel’s fuzzy ears, to busy her anxious hands, “Come in, I was going to make tea.”

So AJ follows Fluttershy into her charming little bungalow, locked in a staring contest with Angel, who looks at her over Fluttershy’s shoulder like he would maim AJ if he had sharper teeth. Setting the harvest basket on a bench by the door, AJ watches the timid woman put a kettle on to boil and then putter about the open floor plan of the downstairs as she fusses with putting her veggies in the sink and tidying whatever she deems out of place. As they wait for the water to boil, they make idle small talk—the weather’s been nice, Twilight (yes, Twilight) is planning a surprise party for Pinkie Pie, how are the horses?

Once Fluttershy pours tea into cups on a tray and leads them to the den, she takes a timid sip before looking to AJ. “It’s always nice to see you, Applejack. Did you need me to help with something? Is Winona doing okay?” A look of panic flashes across her face and her eyes go wide. “She didn’t get into the horse feed again, did she? Oh dear…I told her only to eat her own food….”

Her brows pull up in concern as she meets AJ’s gaze, who shakes her head with a chuckle. “No, Winona’s alright—she loves the new food”—(“Oh, thank goodness…”)—“I’m actually…I’m here because I had a favor to ask.”

Applejack rubs the back of her neck. Shit, she’s nervous. Thinking about consulting her friends is one thing, but actually doing it is something else entirely.

“Oh?”

AJ grabs her tiny teacup from the tray and blows on the tea, unable to look at Fluttershy. “Uh, yeah—I, uh. I’m goin’ on a date. And I need some advice.”

“A date!” exclaims Flutters, louder than her usual delicate tone as she flashes a grin, her soft blue eyes glittering. “That’s wonderful.”

AJ can feel her ears turning ten shades of pink. “Heh, thanks. I’m stuck on a few things but I think you can help me out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife @gaywombat @mulan-but-gay @jubjub05 @dan-chan-rn @sanybaby @horserepository @justletmesnarkandbark @colourswirlcannibal

[achilles-rage]

It can be both it doesn’t really matter to me

okay let me cook!!!

buck headcanons i have:

there’s a sweet little old lady living in buck’s apartment building, and he always helps her out when something is wrong. leaky faucet? on it. tv not working? he’s over there in an instant to help (and stays for a few episodes of jeopardy too, and how can he say no to a snack??)

he’s enrolled in those free online classes that some universities offer. he loves to learn, and you can’t tell me he wouldn’t sign up for one when he saw an ad for one one day

he loves sharks (this is so self indulgent)!!! he could talk for hours about their eating habits, and how they give birth, and how often they lose teeth. one day someone’s cooking eggs in front of him and they pull out a wonky looking egg and he goes on a tangent about horn sharks and their spiral eggs. and also did you know that many sharks have eggs that hatch in their bodies, but they also give birth after that?? like a double birth?? and most sharks can only ever give birth to one or two pups at a time because the biggest one eats all their siblings in the womb!! <3

when he was a kid, he found a baby bunny in his front yard and decided to bring it inside in an old shoe box. he didn’t even tell maddie at first because he knew she would make him put it back, and he’s been asking for a pet forever :((( so he hides it in his closet with some grass and leaves and a teeny little cup of water, but when it doesn’t move from it’s spot in a couple hours, he finally tells maddie. she helps him sneak it back out of the house without their parents seeing, and they put it back where he found it. they never speak of it again.

in a relationship he loves when his partner tries to cook, even if they’re really bad. he loves to watch them putter around the kitchen, putting his hands up in surrender when they tell him to stop trying to help (and he’s weirdly turned on when they say it while holding a knife up at him???). anyway…he smirks when they finally ask for some help, unable to keep track of all the steps on the multiple dishes cooking at the same time. he takes over and asks them to continue with one dish, while he takes on the other’s, and he never makes fun of them or teases them; it’s not their fault that bobby taught him so much.

he loves late night drives with his partner, and he loves being the one to drive. he keeps his hand on their thigh, or intertwined with theirs. he loves how intimate these drives feel, the way the moonlight hits his partners face, and he loves the deep conversations that inevitably surface.

he LOVES having his chest kissed!! he doesn’t know what it is, but as soon as his partner is planting kisses all over his chest, he's putty in their hands. he has a firm grip on their hips as they're straddling his lap, and he's panting and whining in an instant.

will fold if his partner calls him “lover boy” or “pretty boy”

other posts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18

[agrarian-pleasures]

Showers overnight, feels lovely this morning. Puttering around the yard, until it dries off a bit.

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | v

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

Masterlist | Taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), semi-public sex, exhibitionism, name calling, dom/sub, bratty sub, biting, nipple play, praise/degradation, mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, crying, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, fluff, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

I know this story isn’t the most popular, but I feel inclined to keep writing it because it is my main source of healing at the moment. It’s imperative for me to tell this story in hopes that it helps someone who struggles/has struggled the same ways I have. So, for the few of you who continue to stick with me through this, thank you from the bottom of my heart. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍

May 31st, 2022

“Play that again!” You exclaimed, dropping your pen against your journal and pointing your finger at Danny, sitting across the porch from you with golden sunshine accentuating his already perfect features. Daniel and Sam both jumped in surprise at the suddenness of your actions, previously not hearing a word from you since you took post on an old blanket under the early summer sun.

“What, this?” He asked, picking a quick little tune on the bottom strings of his guitar. Your heart warmed at the sound, a smile blossoming on your lips as you gave an eager nod.

“Ventura Highway!” You sat up in your seat, leaning further into the music the two of them were playing.

“In the sunshine.” Sam smirked, nodding up at the sky as he motioned one arm vaguely around the three of you.

“The days are longer,” Danny joined in, biting back a giggle at the silliness of your conversation.

“And the nights are stronger,” Sam leaned into his friend, both of their eyes pointed at you as they awaited the strong finish.

“Than moonshine!” You laughed, listening as Danny played the quick sequence of notes again. “My brothers fell in love with this song when I was a little kid. I remember dancing around the living room with them when mom was gone, because nobody could get mad at us for making noise.” You laughed, reminiscing on the fondest of childhood memories that all seemed to happen when your parents were nowhere to be found. “It was on one of the old vinyl records we found in Grandpa’s attic, so we snuck it home and played it over and over again.”

“As much as Steely Dan?” Danny teased, recalling your fascination with them.

“Nothing was played as much as that, Daniel. Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head, relaxing into the fleece below you as the sun kissed your bare thighs. The air was warm, the lush grass on the lawn in front of the Airbnb was desperate to be cut, and the pollen was making your nose stuffy. It was crazy how different their yard was compared to the street you lived on despite it only being minutes away.

Now that the weather was nice, the three of you spent your days (when you weren’t stuck at the Fox) lounging outdoors and enjoying the summer before it passed you by. Every afternoon, Sam and Danny got lost in playing songs and writing down ideas while you scribbled in your journal or puttered away on your laptop (which was now on its very last leg). They were writing as much music as they could, harnessing the energy they came to New York to find all while encouraging you to do the same.

Nearly all of your days off were spent with them, aside from the few days you set aside to attend NA meetings. You were still keeping that part of your life a secret, unable to find enough courage to share it with them in fear it would scare them away. Thankfully, because of their company, your addictions were much less pressing than they had ever been, so keeping it to yourself had proven easier than expected as the days passed by.

The diner was the same, never changing in the near two years you spent there. Vincent was a mess, only worsening since your altercation a few weeks prior. Talking was off the table once again, and communication was limited to an occasional snide comment and a lingering glare. You were standing your ground, furious that he had the nerve to say such despicable things to you, and he was doing as he pleased, which was no different than usual. He was still convinced he was in the right, that you were the problem and you were responsible for the heartbreak shared between you, and you knew he would never see the other side. Instead of dwelling, you did exactly as you said you would, and since that night you had stayed as far away as possible.

Although it hurt, it was the right thing to do. After telling him you were done for the thousandth time, it finally seemed to stick.

You did question if it was because you finally reached a breaking point, or because of the curly haired boy who made it impossible to worry about anything other than him.

As time dragged on, it became harder and harder to resist the pull of your heartstrings when you heard his name or saw his face in your mind.

“Sing it, Utah.” Danny said, playing the small riff over again as Sam joined in on his own guitar.

“No way!” You exclaimed, shaking your head. Although you were passionate about art in any form, singing was not your forte, and you weren’t keen on embarrassing yourself in front of the only boy who could make you feel this good.

“Come on!” Sam encouraged, playing through the intro one more time to give you an opportunity to change your mind.

“Not a chance!” You laughed, standing your ground despite feeling pressured to do so.

“Together?” Danny offered, barely thinking about what he was doing as his fingers drifted over the fretboard. Your lips were stuck in a permanent smile, unable to feel anything other than happy while in their company. Eventually, you gave a roll of your eyes and a reluctant nod. “That’s my girl!” He exclaimed, playing the intro one last time before he led the three of you into the verse.

Nothing sounded bad when there was a promise of doing it together, and if he continued to refer to you as his, you would do anything he asked of you. Despite trying so hard to ignore the feelings constantly growing in your heart, you knew you were a goner—falling for him was the easiest thing you’d ever done, and it started long before he knew your name, the very minute you heard the echoing laugh and saw that breathtaking smile from the kitchen at the Fox.

June 6th, 2022

“That’s the abandoned school.” You pointed out the windshield, looking at Danny to ensure he noticed what you were referring to. The parking lot was crowded with overgrown trees and the building itself was hidden behind them. After years of no upkeep, the plot of land had grown wildly out of control. He slowed the car, peeking out the side window to get a better look at the scene. Then, without a word, he flipped on his signal light and pulled into the poorly maintained lot. “What are you doing?” You laughed.

“Exploring! Come on, Utah. Live a little!” He parked close to the brick building, looking over at you with a hopeful expression.

“There’s nothing to explore.” You explained, a lingering smile on your lips as you sipped away at the king can of Redbull in your hands. “Unless you find asbestos and debris fascinating.”

“There’s lots to explore—you just need to know where to look.” He said, ignoring your comment as he opened the car door and stepped outside. With a small sigh and a roll of your eyes, you stepped out to join him.

You walked around the car, grabbing his hand as you led him to the side of the building, knowing it was the only entrance that you could actually get through. The front and back doors were boarded up, but they forgot about the side entrance hidden by a few trees. What was once likely the service entrance for the maintenance crew and janitors, was now the only passage inside to admire the ruin of the place. Perhaps he was right; the charm had worn off for you because you’d seen the inside a hundred times, but to him, it was all brand new. You brushed off your lighthearted negativity at the realization, putting on a smile for him and making a promise to see it for the first time all over again, with him by your side.

Since meeting Danny, new beginnings and reimagined ideas had become the norm, and if you had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing in the whole world. In fact, it almost felt freeing.

You pushed open the door with your shoulder, using force to unstick the bottom tread from the eroded metal frame. The stale air from inside hit you in the face, musty and still damp from the thaw of winter into summer. You propped the door open with a rock on the ground, remembering how difficult it was to get the door open from the inside.

“Watch your step, Michigan.” You warned, pulling your phone from your pocket and turning on a flashlight. The place didn’t get much natural light between the lack of windows and the ones existing being covered with plywood. The floor was sticky, damp with condensation and covered in dirt and unknown substances leaking from exposed pipes. You made sure to find a clear path before he stepped inside, not wanting him to trip and fall.

“Woah,” Danny breathed, his eyes scanning the short, barren hallway that was cluttered with garbage. “Spooky.” You giggled at his reaction as you stepped forward, kicking away a few sheets of cardboard to clear the way.

“Stay with me, lots of shit to trip on.” You informed him, keeping a straight path down the hallway. The doors at the end had been busted open a long time ago, likely by kids who were often unsupervised by their parents. The top hinge of one of the double doors had rusted through, leaving it constantly open and hanging on an angle.

You felt Danny’s hand on your waist, his touch comforting as you helped him navigate the unfamiliar territory. You passed by a long row of lockers, some of the doors open and some still padlocked shut. The building was in much worse shape than it was the last time you were inside, and by the sight of crumpled sleeping bags in the corner, it seemed as though some of the homeless population had taken shelter inside.

“So what’s the story?” He asked, keeping a close eye on where he was stepping to ensure he didn’t trip.

“Not much of a story.” You chuckled, peeking your head into an empty classroom that was illuminated by a few rays of sun. “From what I heard, the building was in terrible shape when they built it. It was supposed to be a temp school until they could build a bigger, better one. The development got pushed back and the city got lazy, so they ended up using this for a few decades. Eventually, when the foundation began to crumble, they decided to shut it down and follow through with the original plan.” You recounted the tale as it was told to you, leading him into the room to look around. “Now by the looks of it, it seems like tent city has moved indoors. They keep saying they’re going to tear it down, but they can never find enough money in the budget, so people have been putting it to use.”

“Why would they tear it down if people are sleeping in it?” He asked, sympathetic to the situation but unfamiliar with the general outlook on homelessness.

You paused at his gentle ignorance, the statement forcing you to remember the differences between the two of you. He didn’t understand it like you did because he never had to witness it—and never had to live it. Instead of chastising him for his lack of awareness or responding with harshness, you thought it best to educate. It was the only way to truly make a difference.

“Right?” You gave a dry chuckle, your eyes scanning over the faded posters and art projects still hanging on the wall. “I wrote a letter to the city when they started pushing for the demo. I got signatures and everything, asking if they would reconsider their decision and transform it into a shelter for the unhoused population. Pretty sure they threw it in the trash and spit on it for good measure.” You tried to hide the scowl, but your distaste for the situation ran so deep that it nearly sickened you.

“You didn’t hear anything back?” He was shocked, almost making you laugh at his naïveté.

“I did,” you nodded, inspecting the bulletin board with torn pages still tacked to the cork. “But it was no more than a commendation for my effort and a slap in the face. They said that in lieu of the growing drug problem, they couldn’t possibly allow for such a system to be in place in an already struggling community.” You scoffed. “Like the drug problem hasn’t been this prevalent since the eighties. Like the problem doesn’t begin with poverty and homelessness, and mental health. Instead of addressing the root causes, they try and cover it up and pretend it’s not happening. They don’t care—they don’t want to help. They hope nobody speaks up against their ridiculous views and they silence them when they do.”

Silence hung thick between you for a moment longer than you liked, making you realize what kind of position you’d just thrown yourself in.

“You’re very passionate about this.” He noted, looking from the art on the walls to your stony face. You tried your best to sort your thoughts, to let him in just enough that he didn’t ask any questions but not enough for him to think too hard about it.

“I am.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “It’s hard not to be when it’s in my front yard and I see it every day. It’s hard not to be when I’m stuck in the same shitstorm as they are, praying to make it through tomorrow. I’m lucky enough to have a roof over my head, but just barely. I know that one off paycheck could have me out on the streets, too. They’re people, human beings with no house, no food to eat, no water to bathe or drink. I never understood how people could be so cruel, like the people living on the streets are less than human and don’t deserve a lick of kindness.” You worded your rant carefully, trying not to expose too much of yourself.

“I know addiction. My mother was the highest functioning alcoholic I’ve ever met, and my dad was a deadbeat who always chose getting high over his children. I left home to get away from it, and I ran so far I ended up behind it, staring at it from a different direction. Vin and Dylan are my best friends, but they’re barely 20 and their lives are ruined because of it. If they don’t change soon, they’ll spend the rest of their lives this way. I try to detach from it, to tell myself I’m fighting a losing battle, but I can’t. I can’t sit by and watch, knowing how close to home all of the issues are. I can’t stop talking about it, because I’m one of the only people who does. If I stop, maybe the rest of them will, too, and then nobody is advocating for the people who are hurting.”

He was learning things about you he started to believe you would never share, finding the soft spot for you growing tenfold as he listened to your words. He knew you were complex, closed off and focused on staying that way, but he was desperate to know you, the real you rather than the bright and shiny version you showed the world. He wanted to ask, to dive deeper, but he let you say whatever you pleased, promising himself to always listen to you. From what he gathered, it seemed like nobody ever had, and he would die happy if the last thing he heard was the sound of your voice.

“I’ll fight for it for the rest of my life, even if I die and never see change, because that’s who I am. I’ll fight for free healthcare, for affordable housing and accessible mental health facilities. I’ll fight for the food banks, for NA and AA programs, for improved social assistance, and for the justice system to take a step back from things it has no business controlling. We’re criminalizing and dehumanizing people who need help, people who turned to the streets and drugs because the world failed them. Not every addict is good, but they’re all certainly not all bad, and not every homeless person is an addict at all. There’s a family of four who lives in the alleyway next to my house, because they lost their house in a fire and didn’t have insurance, so they couldn’t afford to buy a new one, and subsidized housing fucked them over so bad they missed out on low income rentals. To overcome the problem, we have to fix it at the very root of the issue, not slap a bandaid on it and call it a day.” You paused, feeling your chest burn with indignity over the way people just like yourself have been treated.

He was stunned, speechless as he processed your words. Slowly, his hand raised to your back, a silent show of support over a topic he had never been well versed in.

He didn’t have to speak; in that moment, he had done more than you ever expected of him.

He listened, and he supported, without judgement and without questions, even if he didn’t know anything about your passion projects or why you were so passionate about them in the first place.

“I’m proud of you, Utah.” His words hit you hard, nearly causing you to double over in agony as the feeling of being appreciated ravaged you. You worked so hard, did so much and tried to put out so much good in the world to right the wrongs you did when you were a lesser version of yourself, and most of the time you received no encouragement or any kind of acknowledgment from the people around you.

Something he likely grew up hearing was a foreign language to you, something you were only lucky to hear a few times in your lifetime. He had no idea how good it felt to hear it, no idea how much it meant to you.

Maybe letting him in wasn’t so terrible after all. Maybe you had him misconstrued, and he cared enough to love you despite your struggle. Maybe for once, you had finally found someone more willing to give rather than take.

It was too soon to tell, but you were beginning to believe that Daniel was unlike anyone else in the entire world, that not only did he serve as a muse and a hero in your miserable story, but he was one who was committed to staying, rather than getting your hopes up only to leave you behind.

You couldn’t be certain, but you were eager to see if he truly was everything you hoped he could be.

June 14th, 2022- 6:57 PM

“Get in, Utah!” Danny exclaimed, splashing a handful of water in your direction.

“It’s cold.” You reiterated the same point over again, your toes barely touching the ripples of waves crashing against the shore. “It’s too early to swim.” It wasn’t too early to swim; in fact, the weather was fantastic, and you were just being stubborn after laying in the sun all afternoon.

The two of you woke up early with big plans; a road trip to New Jersey to spend the day at Long Beach, and he had booked the two of you a hotel for the night upon learning you had never actually stayed in one. The drive was fun, and the laughs were plentiful. You had never had so many good days in a row, but this was proving to be the longest streak in your entire life, all thanks to him. Sam was overjoyed at the idea of a night alone, to which neither of you inquired about, so you had the entire day and afternoon of the next day to yourselves, reveling in the joy of seclusion together.

You packed the car and set off, fingers intertwined together and your phone playing music over his speakers. The drive went by in a flash, leaving you in the lot of the (exuberantly) fancy hotel long before midday. You deposited your bags in your room, leaving them atop the king bed as you changed into your bikini and Danny lathered sunscreen over your shoulders. You grabbed lunch at the restaurant attached to the lobby of the hotel, checked out a few stores nearby, then made your way back to the car.

The beach was much less busy than you anticipated, giving you top choice at the best spots. You settled blankets a few feet away from the water, spending most of the afternoon laying between Danny’s legs as you flip-flopped between scribbling in your journal and getting lost in conversation. Eventually, when the sun began to sink in the sky and the population on the beach thinned down to you and a few other groups, Danny decided he was ready to get in the water, which you had been trying to avoid all day.

Though, you’d come to learn that you had an incredibly hard time saying no to him, and in this instance, the fact remained true.

“Never too early to swim, baby.” Danny brushed you off, ignoring your protests completely. “We drove for an hour to get here, you have to get in the water.”

“I’m getting there!” You snipped, feeling the frigid water reach your feet and fighting every urge to recoil. “You just have to give me a minute!”

“I’ve given you plenty of minutes.” He said, taking two large strides towards you. “All day, actually.” You stepped backwards, quickly getting away from him as you recognized the devilish smile on his face.

“Do not.” You warned, pointing your finger at him to stop him in his tracks. “Daniel!” You shouted, narrowly escaping him as he reached out to grab you.

“Utah, I’ve been waiting all day! Come here!” He bounded forward again, water splashing on your sun kissed legs and sending a shiver down your spine.

The softness in his face as he pleaded with you tugged on your heartstrings just enough to make you cave, and with a sign of defeat you relaxed from your rigid form. Not long after, he was in front of you, water dripping from his tanned skin as his curls stuck to his shoulders. The golden glow of the sun complementing his already breathtaking face nearly made you weak in the knees.

“Have you not learned to trust me yet?” He raised an eyebrow, refraining from touching you so you would come to him on your own accord.

“I do trust you.” You broke, the corners of your lips turning upwards as you looked over his face. He was intoxicating, so much so that it was impossible to think of anything other than him when he was near. Your mind was hazy, your vision blurring the background as you admired him, and you wondered how the hell you ever got so lucky to have him in your life.

“So you know I’m not lying.” He continued, stepping a little closer. Despite having just swam in the water, his cologne still stuck to his skin, mixing with the summery smell of sunscreen he reapplied not long ago.

He was fucking delicious, and he was making your stomach do somersaults without even trying.

“It’s not that cold—once you get in, it’s actually kinda nice. Promise, Utah.” He said, his hands reaching forward and pulling you into him by your hips. Although his skin was cold, it was offset by the fire burning in your belly that always ignited when he touched you.

“If you say so…” you whispered, hesitancy clear in your tone.

“I do.” You were close enough to him that your chest was pressed against him, ensuring he could feel your rapid heartbeat as you gazed up at him. Somehow, even after the weeks of spending every day with him, the giddiness never seemed to wear off. You were always excited to be with him, everything he did was electrifying and wonderful, making it impossible not to fall in—

No.

Love, although tempting, was not in the cards for the two of you.

“You know what’s even better than swimming?” You asked, a quick distraction to make him stop talking about it.

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted together so delicately you barely noticed it. He was watching you carefully, not willing to miss a single detail of the moment with you.

Instead of verbally responding, you leaned forward, a hand on his bicep and the other on the back of his neck as you pulled him down to meet you. Your lips landed on his, the saltiness of the water still lingering on his skin, making your heart race even faster. For a moment, the world seemed perfectly right, calm and peaceful, like nothing in the universe could ever hurt you again. Sometimes, when the world quieted down like this and you let yourself truly feel the beauty of being in his arms, his company made up for every bad thing that ever happened before.

“Yeah, this is better than swimming.” He conceded, his voice low and husky as he processed the surplus of emotions coursing through him. “Do it again though, just to make sure.”

“Of course.” You giggled, your eyes twinkling as you pulled him in for another kiss. Ever so gently, you felt his teeth graze your bottom lip, pulling it between them and applying a slight pressure. You melted into his touch, the pit of your stomach ablaze with desire for him.

When he pulled away, he let his forehead rest on your own as he swallowed back the urge to take it any further. Your nose brushed against his, a droplet of water running from his face on to your own. Carefully, you reached up and swiped it away, seeming to remind him of where you were and what you were doing.

“Swim with me, just for ten minutes. Then, we can go back to the hotel.” He bargained, knowing he would crack if you even suggested going back to the hotel straight away.

“Fine,” you huffed, giving in far too easily when he smiled at you. “But I want to take your picture first. You look really pretty right now.”

“P-pretty?” He stuttered, his cheeks turning red as soon as the word slipped off your tongue. You let your thumb drift over his still-wet skin, giving a slight nod and a soft smile.

“Very.”

With that, you turned and walked back to your blankets a few feet away. You rummaged around in your bag and found the disposable camera Sam had graciously donated to you a few weeks prior. He told you that it was imperative that you caught the memories on film, to which you had no argument.

You and Sam had formed an unusual friendship during your elongated (and free) stay at their Airbnb. Sometimes, in the early morning while Daniel was still deep in sleep, you found yourselves conversing in the kitchen over nothing and everything all at once. He was unlike anyone you had ever met before, a slight pretentious air surrounding him but never concerning anything that truly mattered. Below the surface he was a sweetheart, surely the nicest and kindest soul you had ever had the pleasure of knowing, and for no other reason than to simply be kind. He was funny, albeit a bit loud, and so genuine and accepting that it made your head spin sometimes. You showed certain parts of your soul to him that not even Daniel could reach, solely because he had a way of prying it from you without you even realizing it.

He was yours and Daniel’s biggest fan, and he wasn't shy to show it. In fact, it appeared like he was more invested in the label on your relationship than you were. He didn’t mind you imposing on the slightest, and even took it upon himself to invite you into their lives in many different ways, whether it be advice on a lyric or encouragement to visit them in Nashville.

He was the most unexpected ally of the entire, odd situation you’d found yourself in, but you were so grateful for his presence that it didn’t seem to matter.

You snapped a few photos of Daniel, taking a moment to admire his features as the sun continued to sink lower in the sky. Without a second thought, you tossed the camera back in your bag and sent him one, challenging glance.

“Last one in pays for dinner!” You shouted, catching him off guard as you took off in a sprint. Before he’d even registered what you said, you were nearing the water, and even once he did, he only started a slow jog.

You were racing because there was no way you could afford dinner, and he let you win because there was no way he’d ever make you pay to begin with.

𓇢𓆸

June 14th, 2022 - 8:38 PM

Freshly showered and wearing a sundress you had no idea you owned, you walked hand in hand out of the restaurant and bar branching from the lobby of the hotel. You were slightly tipsy, the pitcher of sangria you shared with Daniel taking more of a toll than you realized while sitting down. Your cheeks were blushed, your smile seemingly permanent as he led you to the elevator nearby. You watched as a group of people filtered out, dispersing in different directions without as much as a second glance at the two of you. Danny whisked you inside, quickly pressing the button for the top floor as you waited to see if anyone else would be joining you for the ride.

Eventually, the doors slid shut, locking the two of you in there by yourselves. You turned to him, your eyes heavy as your gaze scanned him as a whole, scarily similar to a predator and its prey. He was wearing a simple white button down and fitted black jeans. He had chosen a new cologne for dinner, one you’d never noticed him wear before. It was musky, strong hints of sage and cedar, and it was driving you wild.

“Thank you for dinner.” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion as he caught your eye.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He assured you, sliding a hand to your hip as he pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but notice the gravitational pull towards him, like the universe was pushing you straight into his arms and giving you no other choice. You settled comfortably in the nook of his arm, your chest pressed against him as his hand grew dangerously close to your ass.

You could see it in his eyes, too. The alcohol had taken a quick effect after a day spent in the sun, leaving him a bit more courageous than he usually was. His head was turned down, watching your face as you stared up at him. It was in that moment, the slightly inebriated and overtired man realized the truth of the situation; he was absolutely smitten, head over heels for you and for far more than what you had to offer behind closed doors. Weeks of constant company and endless memories had left him feeling exhausted in the best possible way, and worse than that, teetering on the edge of the emotion you had both been trying to ignore.

You couldn’t chastise him, because the liquor had you pondering all of the same ideas.

“You sure about that?” You asked, raising your hand to his chest and gently running your fingers over the soft material of his shirt. The light touch, even through the fabric, sent a shiver down his spine. “There’s nothing I can do to thank you?” Your hand trailed down his chest, tickling over his abdomen and finally stopping just above the buckle of his belt. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, swallowing hard as he watched desire begin to cloud your eyes.

“Well, when you put it that way…” he trailed off, the hum of his voice rattling his chest and in turn, your own. Feeling confident, you dropped your hand a little lower, your fingertip grazing over the metal teeth of the zipper on his jeans. You could see the muscles in his jaw tense, and you could feel his hardening length already. Your actions were not helping his situation, but they were definitely helping your situation.

You gave him a little smirk, pushing your luck a little further, but all it seemed to do was push him over the edge. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, giving you little time to react before he was leaning forward and capturing you in a kiss. Your stomach twisted with need, the ache between your legs growing tenfold as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. He tasted sweet, fruity just like the drink you finished off moments before, and it was driving you mad.

Although the entire day was filled with fun, wholesome memories you would cherish for the rest of your life, you’d been waiting for this.

With little shame, he guided your hips into his own, giving him little to no relief and only crazing him more. You raised your hands to his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair that laid over his shoulders as you held him closer to you.

If you had it your way, you’d let him have his way with you right then and there.

Just as you let a moan slip into his mouth, the elevator came to a halt and a sharp ding sent the two of you away from each other. You turned your head, looking at the floor number as you realized it was not your stop. When the doors swung open, Danny grabbed you by the hips and positioned you in front of him, just in enough time to remain concealed as another hotel guest stepped inside.

Your heart raced, beating against your ribcage with a fervor as you leaned back into him. Your ass met perfectly with his hips, and his cock strained against his jeans only made you resent the poor man who was just looking to catch the elevator.

Thankfully, his stop was before yours, and he saw himself out almost as soon as he stepped inside. When the two of you were alone again, it didn’t take long for Daniel’s hands to go wandering. He reached around you a little further, his fingertips resting on your stomach as he slowly slid his hand upwards until it landed just below your chest.

“You think we could get away with fucking in the elevator?” Clearly, he was on the same train of thought as you were, spiraling further as you pushed your hips backwards on him.

“Probably not, considering we almost got caught already.” You giggled, feeling his hand cup around your braless breast, only the thin material of your dress separating you from him.

“Worth a shot though, right?” You could hear the smile in his tone, wondering how he made it so easy to feel so carefree. You felt like a horny teenager, excited at the prospect of living for the first time and unbothered by any consequences. He brushed your hair to one shoulder, leaning down and pressing his lips to your neck. At the same time, his thumb traced over your hardened nipple, both sensations working together to turn you into a mess.

“You can wait the three extra minutes it takes to get to our room.” You said, your words breathy as his tongue traced over a sensitive area of skin. Your eyes fluttered closed and your stomach twisted in a knot, making you wonder if you could wait the three extra minutes.

“Normally, yes.” He agreed, humming the words against your burning skin, slick with his saliva. You tried not to think too hard about it in fear of losing all self control. “But not when you look this fucking good. Not when you act like this.” He said, noticing the movement of your hips just like you hoped he would. You could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, making the display all the more intimate as he held you close to him.

“Can’t take a little heat, Daniel?” You tried to chastise him for it, but the whine that followed your statement made you look like a fool.

“If I remember correctly, you started this, not me.” He reminded you, pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. The chill of the AC was a shock, but he didn’t take long warming you back up with his hand. The feeling of his skin on yours was even more euphoric, only worsening as he began rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Seems like you want to get yourself in trouble.”

“Daniel, we can wait. Seriously.” You tried again, but it was no use, you were too far gone and he wasn’t open to discussing the matter any further.

“Where’s the fun in that, Utah?” He teased, his fist already beginning to bunch up the fabric of your knee length dress. “Wonder if that stop button will sound an alarm…” he trailed off, his eyes settled on the bright red button, devious thoughts filling his mind.

“Yes, probably.” You rolled your eyes, unable to believe he was truly considering the possibility.

“Only one way to find out.” He shrugged, dropping his hand from you and sliding out from behind you. You grabbed his forearm, stopping him before he could move any further away, a look of warning in your eyes as he grinned at you.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, baby?” There was a condescending tone in his voice, but you knew he didn’t truly mean it. Still, it irked you beyond belief as you dropped your hold on his arm.

If he wanted to take the chance, he could take the responsibility if you got in trouble.

Even if his cocky attitude was getting on your nerves, you couldn’t deny the wetness pooling between your legs from his actions. Besides, you were in a town where you knew nobody and would likely never return to. The thrill the idea gave you was enough to pique your interest, and as his finger settled over the stop button, you no longer felt any need to argue with him.

The wine definitely wasn’t helping your poor judgment, but you figured however it went, you could deal with the consequences later.

Right now, the only thing you cared about was getting his hands on you again, and the walk to your room seemed far too long to endure while needing it so intensely.

The two of you held your breath as he applied pressure to the button, your eyes locked with his as you prepared for the shrill sound of an alarm. You felt the elevator come to a stop, making you lose your balance ever so slightly. Gripping on to the rail tighter, your stomach twisted with anxiety. After a few seconds passed and silence remained, you both let out an audible breath of relief.

Without any further thought, you sprung forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands found your hips, pulling you closer as you pressed your lips to his. This time, you had no fear of interruption and your hands grabbed the collar of his shirt, so far gone you were tempted to tear it straight from his body.

“Better be quick if you don’t want to get caught.” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips attached to your neck. He sucked a mark into the skin below your ear, his large hands sliding backwards as his palms cupped your ass. You felt a whine slip through your lips, nearly embarrassed about how desperate you were for him and how easy it was for him to get you there.

“That’s up to you, baby.” He corrected, his fingers gathering the soft cotton of your dress as he pulled it upwards. The chill of the air on your legs only furthered the ache between your legs, reminding you of how risky the situation was. Although you had always been rebellious and impulsive, this side of you did not exist until you met him. “If you’re good, we’ll be back in our room in no time.”

He pulled your dress up over your hips, his fingers dusting over the smooth skin of your thighs. He trailed them upwards, ready to taunt you with a snap of the elastic band of your underwear, but seemed to freeze in place for a moment. On your hip, where it usually sat, was bare and telling of the mischief you were hoping to cause.

“Fuck, babe.” He hummed, looking down at your face through his dark lashes.

“You like it?” You flashed a sickly sweet smile, using one hand to hold up the skirt for him. His hand moved between your legs, his middle finger wasting no time running through your folds and gathering your arousal. He trailed it up to your clit, tracing slow circles into the already sensitive bundle of nerves. Your legs quivered as you felt a pull of pleasure deep in your stomach. “Did it just for you.” You forced through your teeth, already lost in the sensation and trying your best to keep your composure.

“You shouldn’t have.” He smirked, noticing your eyebrows furrowed together as he applied more pressure. “You’re too good to me.”

“I can be nice sometimes.” You sucked in a sharp breath, all of the tension that had been building all day finally having an outlet.

Watching him, shirtless on the beach was almost too much to handle, but you persevered until dinner, where he only seemed to want to torture you more. He dressed up, an expensive looking watch on his wrist and a shiny gold chain around his neck. The ring on his middle finger drew attention to his already captivating hands, making it hard to ignore the picture in your mind of his fingers closing around your neck.

The wine had clouded your mind, leaving you lightheaded and making your normal anxieties flee you completely. The entire evening spent in the restaurant left your fingers intertwined with his, or on his knee below the table, gently tickling his jean-clad thighs. Even your legs were intertwined, and you seemed to gravitate closer to him the more that time passed.

Silently, you’d been begging him to take you back to your room all night, and now you couldn’t handle another minute without him.

“Since you were so nice, I suppose it would only be right if I was, too.” He bargained, his nose brushing over your shoulder as his tongue grazed your collarbone. Your skin was littered with goosebumps, your head swirling with thoughts pertaining only to him.

“God, you make it sound like a chore.” You snipped, feeling his teeth gently close over the flesh of your shoulder.

“Not a chore, no.” He muttered a disagreement, his middle finger still keeping a steady pace on your clit. “I enjoy it quite a lot, actually.” At that, a nervous flutter erupted in your belly, making your cheeks burn red and your heart beat a little faster. It was difficult to comprehend anyone being kind to you, but kindness from him was even better than anyone else’s. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he wanted to be with you, to be around you—he wanted you, and you had no idea why.

Even if you didn’t understand it, you certainly weren’t protesting it.

“Here, baby.” He nudged you back towards the wall, closing in on you until your back pressed against the cool surface. Without any further hesitation, he dropped to his knees before you, wasting little time as he guided your leg over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped, feeling the warmth of his mouth connect with your aching core. Your posture slipped slightly, your entire body melting into the feeling as his tongue swirled around your clit. You felt him smile against you, floored by the immediate reaction and eager to keep up the momentum.

Your hips bucked forward against his tongue, the friction gentle enough so not to overwhelm you right away, but just enough to give you the relief you were searching for. A high pitched moan filled the tiny space, echoing off the metal panel walls and contained behind the heavy doors. For a moment, you forgot where you were and what you were doing, focused solely on feeling one with him.

There was something so profound about the two of you that it made your head ache and your bones heavy. You wondered why it took so long to find him, and more importantly, why it couldn’t last forever.

The knowledge that he would be leaving haunted you, infiltrating every dream and waking thought, consuming you every second of the day. After twenty three long years of misery, you were finally comfortable, and more than that, happy. It felt like two decades spent wandering aimlessly finally landed you in the right spots, that the mistakes you made didn’t matter and the scars you collected could fade rather than stay red and angry forever.

However, you knew that the peacefulness that came with his company was bound to end no matter if he packed up and left or stayed in New York forever, for he did not know the truth about the woman he was falling for. In fact, he hardly knew anything at all.

You wanted to let him in, to show him the jagged edges and daunting faces of all the monsters in your closet, but you were afraid. Being bright and shiny was difficult, and pretending things were perfect was hard, but showing him your innermost struggles was even worse. You had given him pieces of you that you never intended to hand out, and even if he handled them with care and caution, you worried he might not do the same if he knew everything.

You were privy to the fact that your past was hard to digest, mostly because you still struggled to swallow it down. You longed to bare your soul to him, to give him all of you, mostly because you had never done it with anyone else. It was hard to carry it around on your lonesome, and sorrowful to constantly feel so isolated. You wanted to share it with him not because you needed help with the weight of it, but because he was the only person you could trust with it.

Still, you feared it would send him running, and cutting your time shorter than it already was seemed agonizing.

But you could let him in a little, right? Show him some things, but not enough to reveal yourself too much?

The thought was tempting, and the more days that passed, the more comfortable you felt about doing so. You just wished that he would continue to be around, to be in your life even when he was far away and living a completely different lifestyle. The thought of telling him such things and then returning to strangers made you sick, which ultimately forced your hand in the matter, locking up all of the things you came a little too close to sharing.

After all, you were friends. No more, no less.

Very close friends—closer than anyone who ever came before him.

Friends who fucked. A lot.

And friends who slept on hotel beds with rose petals and shared bottles of champagne. Friends who drank a little too much wine at dinner and let the sparkle in their eyes shine, showing more emotion than they should for the label they put upon themselves.

God, what a mess.

A beautiful, intricate, life changing mess.

Your hands tangled in his curls, the softness of his hair on your skin comforting as pleasure twisted your stomach. You wanted it so bad your limbs were aching, locked and trembling as he continued to use his tongue to push you closer to the edge. You were shamelessly riding his face, your hips moving with no intent to slow. The pleasure took precedence over shame, and the feeling he was giving you was too strong to resist.

You needed an orgasm, so badly that you managed to push all other thoughts out of your mind, which was something you had never been good at. Perhaps the idea of people waiting for the elevator, wondering what was taking so long and almost willing to report the issue at the front desk, was forcing you to remain focused.

Either that, or how good he was making you feel quickly outshined any other worldly trouble you could think of.

“Come on baby,” Danny pleaded, pulling away just enough to talk you through it. He let his thumb take the place of his tongue, not daring to slow down the momentum as he looked up at you through locks of his hair. Your expression was telling of all that you were feeling; your eyebrows knitted together and your lips parted as whiny moans filled the air. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were clouded with lust. “Being so good for me. Don't make me wait any longer.” He caught your eye, the glisten of your arousal on his chin making the knot in your belly tighten even further.

You were a mess for him, and he was keen on keeping it that way.

He returned his mouth to you, the warm wetness of his tongue a million times more enjoyable than the rough pad of his thumb (though, you’d never been picky, especially when it came to him). He let out a hum, pleased just from the taste of you on his lips. You watched his face, delirious from the sight of his beauty as you wondered how you got so lucky.

You didn’t have to wonder for long, because the knot in your belly snapped under the tension, leaving your legs weak and your mind blank as you descended into your climax. Your fingers tightened around the locks of his hair, your body slack as you tried to push your weight against the wall to keep you upright. He had a hand on your hip, his fingers bruising the skin as he used his strength to help you, never wanting you to fear falling so long as he was by your side.

His name slipped past your lips, sung like a hymn and washing down over him like summer rain. Never in all of his years on earth had it ever sounded so beautiful. He wished you could scream it from rooftops, speak it until your lips turned blue and your lungs deflated from a lack of air. He never wanted you to stop saying his name, no matter if it was selfish of him to think so.

He worked you through the high, attentive until the very last second. Your legs relaxed, still wobbly as the height of the pleasure passed you by. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you sucked in a long breath, regaining some of your senses as he parted from you. Your mind was still hazy as he moved your leg from his shoulder, standing slowly as he kept a firm hand on your hip.

With little help from you, he spun you around and pulled your hips backwards ever so slightly. Tired and still fighting the effects from the wine and the lingering orgasm, you pressed your cheek against the cool metal panelling and let the temperature sooth your burning skin. You heard the metallic clang of his belt buckle as he freed himself from his pants, a whole new rush of emotion flooding you just at the thought of what was to come next.

You wiggled your hips back towards him a little further, silently showing him you were eager for him to continue. His hand ghosted over your ass, a long inhale sounding from him as he admired the scene before him. You swallowed your insecurities, knowing that he viewed you much differently than you saw yourself, but still self-conscious as you felt his eyes rake over you.

“Fuck me, please.” You whispered, a slight quiver in your voice as you tried to draw his attention elsewhere. “Please, baby.” You continued, hoping he could feel how badly you needed him from your words alone.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He crooned, his voice low and gravelly as he lined himself up with your entrance. The action sent your body into overdrive, feeling yourself clench around nothing as you anticipated the feeling of him being inside you.

He pushed his hips forward, letting out a hiss of pleasure at the feeling of you wrapped around him. The stretch was slightly painful, but you couldn’t help but focus on how perfect it felt, like the two of you were made for each other.

“God, you feel so fucking good, Y/N.” Danny’s posture faltered slightly, his top half leaning forward into you as he gave in to the pleasure for a moment.

“S’all for you, Danny.” You promised. Although there was a lack of labels on the two of you, there was no doubt that you were one-hundred percent his, and he was yours. The fact alone was freeing, liberating you from your torturous mind and for once, giving you a breath of hope that the next fifty years did not have to be the same as the previous twenty.

The thought twisted your stomach, forcing a plethora of other things to swarm your mind. For the first time in your life, you could see seventy, and not in some miserable, shrouded state of you hunched over in a rocking chair, still angry about the choices you made as a teen. You pictured seventy with aching lungs from laughing and crows feet by your eyes from smiling so much, grandkids around and begging you to tell stories of how you met their grandfather.

The grandfather in question was not some random old man who you would encounter years from now, but the very same man who stood behind you now, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Seventy did not seem uncertain and unappealing—for the briefest of moments, you felt a shred of joy at the thought. Excitement, even.

Troubles would come to pass, but never destroy you as they had in the past, because you believed with Daniel by your side, you could conquer every bad thing and kick any lingering habits.

But he was leaving, and you were friends.

He would not be by your side when you had gray hair and wrinkles. He would not shout loudly over a blaring television to catch your attention because the years had greatly depleted your hearing. He would not share wisdom and stories with your grandchildren, because he would not even be here when the year came to an end. A few months from now, he would be packed and ready to head to Nashville, ready to make an even bigger name for himself without you to hold him back or tie him down.

In three months, you would not even be a passing thought in his mind. You would be nothing, equated to a summer fling that served just enough purpose to keep him company and ensure he was not bored.

If you were just friends, a fling with no strings attached, why the hell did it hurt so bad?

“Where’d you go, bug?” Danny’s hips slowed, concern thick in his voice as he reached up and brushed the hair from your face. With worried eyes, you looked back at him over your shoulder, your stomach twisted with sadness as the warm brown of his irises seemed to stare straight into your soul.

“I’m okay,” you breathed, blinking hard as you tried to bring yourself back to earth. The ache in your chest was still very much alive, but seeing his face made it ease indefinitely. “Just feels so good.” You weren’t lying, because it did feel good. You were just withholding the truth about your mental absence, which to you was much different.

“You sure?” He asked, not fully believing you and always hyper-aware of your comfortability.

“Promise, baby.” You gave him a soft smile, leaning a little further back and pressing a kiss to his lips. At the feeling, his hips pushed forward automatically, showing you how little it took to drive him crazy.

Maybe he felt it, too.

You pushed the thought from your head, knowing it would serve no purpose to feed into a delusion. Instead, you let yourself live in the moment, just the same as you had been since the day you met him. When he began a steady pace with his hips again, it was much easier to let go and move on from the sick feeling in your stomach.

“Ah, fuck.” You whined, letting your forehead rest against your forearm. “Better hurry up, honey. Wouldn’t want to get caught.”

“Let someone catch us.” He hummed, gathering your curled hair in his hand and wrapping it around his closed fist. He pulled your head backwards, his lips settling just over your ear as he added more force to his thrusts. “One look at you and they’d know why I couldn’t wait any longer.” At the sound of his words, your eyes squeezed shut and your walls fluttered around him, pulling him in even further. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and you rocked your hips backwards into him, desperate for more than he could give.

There was something about him, so intoxicating and alluring that it made all of the fear go away. Your normal apprehension, your new found need to think twice, all seemed to disappear as soon as you were near him. It was almost as if nothing else mattered so long as he was beside you, because the only thing that made any sense was being in his company. With him by your side, you felt like you could do anything.

“God, you’re so tight.” He hissed through his teeth, also seemingly lost in the euphoria of being inside of you. He didn’t care if he got in trouble, because every second spent with you was worth any kind of risk. “Feel so fucking good like this. Does it feel good, baby? Want to hear how good it feels.”

“Feels good.” You reiterated his point, a strangled cry leaving your lips as you felt him brush against the sensitive spot he knew so well. “Could stay like this with you forever.” You confessed, your moans growing louder and more intense as he continued at the same pace.

“Think I like the sound of that.” He chuckled, reaching one hand around your hips and settling his middle finger over your clit. “My beautiful girl, just like this, forever.” He crooned, reiterating your point as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled under the weight of your body, both sensations sending your body into overdrive and making it difficult to stay upright.

“Danny,” you warned, your voice weak as euphoria began to creep in on you. The tingle began in the very tips of your toes and fingers, quickly snaking up your limbs and wrapping around your torso. You felt light, the pleasure pulsing under your skin and behind your eyes. You tried your best to resist it, but you knew it was no use.

“Cum for me, baby.” He encouraged you, just as far gone and ready for a release.

It didn’t take much convincing—with one last thrust of his hips, you were pushed over the edge and were sent spiraling once again. His name fell from your lips amidst a slur of curses and raspy cries. He raised one hand to your mouth, clamping it over your lips to silence the sounds begging to escape. As much as he would have liked to listen and commit all of them to memory, he knew it was best not to draw any more attention to your current situation.

Before you came down from the high, he was reaching his climax too. You rode out the last of the pleasure as he spilled his release inside of you. He leaned forward, his chest flush against your back as he let out a long breath, the tail end of it resembling more of a whine. You felt yourself clench around him, the sound producing a whole new immortal desire within you. Before you let it get any further, you shook the thought from your head and returned back to reality.

Danny’s arms snaked around you, squeezing around your torso as he held you close. He wasn’t ready to part ways, to end the moment that left him so blissful and calm. You relaxed into his touch, figuring another minute wouldn’t hurt anything. Eventually, he placed a kiss to your shoulder blade, his nose brushing against your skin and sending butterflies erupting in your stomach and chest. Carefully he withdrew himself, taking a step back as he let your dress fall back to your knees. You straightened up, your cheeks turning crimson as you squeezed your thighs together. The lack of underwear seemed like a cheeky choice at the time, but now it was biting you in the ass. With a knowing smirk on his lips, he buckled his belt and adjusted himself in his pants, then reached forward and pressed the emergency stop button. Within seconds, the elevator began to ascend to the top floor as if nothing happened at all.

“Better hurry back to the room, Utah. Wouldn’t want to make a mess.”

𓇢𓆸

June 14th, 2022 - 11:43 PM

Tired and no longer tipsy (but a bit stoned from the joint Danny provided), you were curled up under the comforter on the king bed. The television was playing reruns of a sitcom in the background, but neither of you were paying attention to the corny jokes and cheesy laugh tracks. Instead, your legs were tangled delicately with Danny’s as you laid on your side, your head resting comfortably on the fluffy pillow below you. He was close to you, also on his side and facing you with one hand draped over your waist. His eyes were heavy and red, a permanent upturn of his lips sending butterflies erupting in your stomach every time you thought of it for too long.

He was tracing shapes into your skin, his touch featherlight and tickling you further every time he moved. Your hand was hovering over his arm, your fingers doing the same as his. The moment was filled with intimacy, just like the rest of the evening so far. Since returning from dinner, you’d only left the bed twice; once to share a joint on the patio attached to the room, and Daniel left to get concessions at the front lobby to stave off the midnight munchies. Other than that, you had stayed wrapped up in him and cherished every second you had alone with him.

Conversation was limited, the day filled with activities leaving you both exhausted. The weed was no help, and every time the television went quiet, you felt the lull of sleep draw your eyes closed for a moment. You forced them back open, deciding that time spent with him was much more important than sleep, especially knowing that it was limited.

You were so full of emotion it felt like your chest would explode, and you were having a hard time swallowing it back. You were certain he could see the sparkle of admiration in your eye, telling him more than you were willing to give. You wished to let him in, the thoughts that came to you in the elevator still plaguing your mind and only ever growing louder the longer you ignored them. You were still afraid, in a constant back and forth battle with your own mind, and it was relentless.

The haze from the high left your guard down, and the sleepiness was only worsening the situation. Would it be so bad? You didn’t have to tell him everything. Opening up wasn’t the worst, especially knowing he would keep it just as safe as you would. Besides, he had proven he was a good listener, and you thought he was the only person in the world you could share a piece of your soul with and not come to regret it.

Oh, to hell with it. You were tired of always holding back, tired of living halfway instead of fully. You wanted him to know you, so what was the big deal? Even if he was leaving, even if he would become a stranger again in the future, you knew deep down that you wouldn’t regret it. He was the only person in the world you ever wanted to see you as you were, rather than the mask you put on for everyone else.

“You know, I’ve never really had anything like this before.” You whispered, your voice raspy from the smoke and sleepiness.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his tone gentle and intrigued. He gave a soft smile, happy that you were willing to offer any kind of personal details. He knew you were reserved when it came to sharing your story, so he waited patiently in hopes you would eventually feel comfortable enough to do so, and now it finally seemed to be paying off.

“I don’t know… like this. Us.” You explained, finding it difficult to phrase. You didn’t know exactly what you were, aside from being messy. “I didn’t have many friends growing up… and the ones I did weren’t really friends, I guess. Never had someone care like this before.” You swore you saw his eyes twinkle at the recognition, but you tried not to focus on it. When you did, it only made your stomach do somersaults, and you were still trying to convince yourself there were no feelings involved in your relationship.

“Tell me more.” He urged, tracing hearts into the bare skin of your hip. Your heart raced at the touch and the idea that he wanted to know you genuinely, rather than just on the surface.

“What do you want to know?” You giggled, pulling the blanket a little tighter to your chest.

“Everything.” He breathed, his eyes trailing down to the fabric squeezing against you, noticing the spill of your breasts from the taut material wrapped around you. “Whatever you want to tell me.”

“Well,” you started, brushing your hair from your shoulder. You felt the strands tickle your back as they fell behind you, but you paid no mind to it. “I didn’t have the best upbringing, I s’pose. My dad was never around, n’ my mom was… my mom, I guess.” You let out a stale laugh, the sound seeming far away as the weed continued to work at your mind. “That’s a story for a different day. My brothers and I stuck together, thick as thieves because we only ever had each other to rely on. God knows nobody else would do it, ‘cept my grandparents, but they were old and tired. Think they always wanted to get us out of that house, but they knew they couldn’t afford it. Besides, they knew they would never win a fight against my mom. Nobody could. Just the way she is.” The conniving, evil, narcissistic bitch that she was. You kept that thought to yourself, not wanting to make it too heavy on him.

“We grew up in a small town, so everybody talked. Everyone knew everyone's business, even if they shouldn’t have. Think because of that, lots of people had this preconceived notion about us three based off what our parents were like, which isn’t really fair, but I can understand it now. They told their kids to stay away from us, which made it hard to have any kind of social life. Once we got older, things changed a bit and some people came around, but I almost wish they didn’t.” You chuckled, pausing to see if he was still listening. It was hard telling him half a story, especially when you wanted him to know everything, but you knew it was for the best. Maybe someday, but definitely not yet.

“I didn’t have any true friends. We were more like partners in crime, always getting ourselves into trouble and then laughing about it later on. My brothers tried really hard to warn me, but it never really stuck.” You explained, periodically checking to see his reactions to your story. His face showed nothing other than a desire to listen and learn. You thought about your old friendships and relationships, finding parallels to your life now and wondering if the cycle was caused by you, or the universe trying to punish you. “Boyfriends too, I guess. Not like I ever had any real relationships either, but the ones I did were a waste of my time. I got in with the wrong crowd, and it fucked me up more than I ever thought it could.”

“I don’t think you’re fucked up.” Was all he said, catching your eye so you knew he was telling the truth. You gave a sad smile—he didn’t think you were fucked up because he didn’t know. Once the truth came out, you were sure that outlook would change.

“So I’ve never had this.” You changed the topic, avoiding his sweet sentiments like the plague. “Someone who cares, who listens, who wants to be around. Never had someone look out for me like you do… whatever we are and whatever that means.” You have a wry smile, saddened from the thought of not being anything more.

“We’re lots of things, Utah. For what it’s worth, all of those things mean a hell of a lot to me.” He whispered, wording his response carefully so he would not scare you.

“Earlier, in the elevator… It got me thinking about a lot of things. ‘Bout us, more specifically.” You let your eyes close, taking in a long breath to sooth your tight chest. Anxiety was riddling your entire body, and not even the high could satiate the feeling. Being open and emotional was hard for you, but for him, you wanted to try.

For the first time in your life, all you wanted to do was try.

“Like?” He pried a little further, wanting to know what you were thinking about, wondering if it was the same things he was thinking about.

“I want you to know me, Danny. Like, really know me, not the surface level shit I give to everyone else.” You confessed, knowing the only reason it was so easy was the effect of the drug coursing through you.

“So let me.” He smiled, relieved you felt so comfortable with him. Your face fell slightly, your chest burning with sadness as you swallowed the lump stuck in your throat.

“It’s just… it’s not so easy. When we first met, you asked me if everything was a long story, and I laughed it off at the time, but it’s true. Everything is a long story, and it’s a hard story to tell. My life has been anything but boring, and for all the wrong reasons. I want to tell you, I just can’t do it yet, and I don’t know when I’ll be ready.”

“Okay.” He hummed, his thumb reaching soothing circles into your skin. “Tell me whatever you want, whenever you’re ready. I won’t pressure you, and there’s no rush. I like being this person for you, Utah. The one you can trust, the one who looks out for you… I want to keep being that person, as long as you want me to be.”

“I’m scared.” You whispered, catching his eye. The warmth in his stare made the world seem okay, but you feared you could not trust it. You didn’t know how to trust anything, and that was your biggest flaw. “I don’t want it to make you look at me differently. I don’t want to scare you.”

“Then we’ll work on it together. Start slow and then we’ll go from there. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oh, how you wished it was true.

“Start slow?” You asked, pushing the end of the summer far away from your mind. You had to enjoy him while you could, and you felt deep down that part of enjoying him included being vulnerable with him.

“As slow as you want, baby.” He promised, giving a gentle nod.

“Okay.” You spoke so quietly it was almost hard for you to hear yourself, but he waited patiently for you to keep going. You wondered where to start, what you could say to let him in just enough to reap the benefits but avoid the consequences. Figuring it was the easiest, you started with you and him, and why you were so reserved about loving him.

“You know, I say that we’re friends a lot… I know that whatever this is, whatever we are, is more than friends, even if we don’t have a label on it. I don’t want you to think that it’s because I don’t want to be more, because I do, I just don’t know how to be.” You explained, choosing your words carefully. “I have this undying desire to love people, and to take care of them. I don’t know if it’s because I genuinely want to, or if it’s an easy way to avoid doing it for myself. I do all of the motions, do everything a girlfriend should but I run away when I think about a label so serious. Vincent kind of threw it in my face the other day, and I know it was because he was hurting about something else, but it really made me think about it.”

“How so?”

“I commit myself completely, and then I throw the friend label on it as if it lessens my commitment somehow. To me, friends sounds better, because I don’t know what a real relationship is or how it works. Maybe I’m trying to protect myself, convincing myself that it will hurt less when it ends —and that comes back to me always expecting everyone to leave when things get tough.” You shrugged, finding yourself tracing the stick and poke sun on the back of your hand. It was a nervous tick that you’d coined not long after rehab, and you did it subconsciously more often than not. You wondered if he was judging you, if he was too nice to say that you were crazy, but when you allowed yourself to study the look in his eye, it was nothing but sincere.

“Growing up, my parents didn’t teach us a whole lot, and what they did wasn’t good. A lot of fighting, a lot of blame, and even some violence.” You chuckled, even if the situation was not funny at all. “They taught us bad decisions, how to avoid accountability, and lots of other stuff, but never love. My parents were together on and off until I was ten, and when they were on, they should not have been. Never loyal to each other, and they were fucking miserable on their lonesome and even more so when they were together. Eventually, when my dad left for good, my mom got together with a guy who was worse than my dad, which I didn’t even think was possible. We didn’t have a fuckin’ shot.”

You braced yourself for sympathy, already regretting telling him because you knew what you would receive, but it never came. Instead, he remained stoic, the corners of his lips dipping down into the tiniest frown as he studied you in silence. Then, quiet and gentle, he spoke.

“It’s crazy how life works, sometimes.” He started, hoping he wasn’t deterring your desire to share by giving input. “How someone so fantastic has to endure something so terrible, how someone so precious came from something so hard.” You sniffed away a tear that sprung to your eye, your chest burning from his sweet words. You wondered if he knew everything, would he still view you in such light? Or would your darkness become too much and taint the radiance that was him? “You know, learning all this stuff doesn’t change how I feel about you, Utah. What happened before doesn’t change who you are now, and that’s the person I love spending time with. As much as I hate knowing you’ve been hurt before, it would never change how I think of you.”

“There’s so much shit, Danny. So much you don’t know… so much I’m not sure I want you to know.” You argued, a tear slipping down your cheek as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your chest ached, your stomach sick as you pictured the look on his face when he finally learned all of the pieces to your twisted little jigsaw puzzle of a life.

“So what, Utah?” He gave a soft smile, reaching up and swiping away your tears with his thumb. For a moment, the pain in your heart was replaced with warmth, making you wonder how he always made it so easy to fall further for him. “Everything that happened made you into the person laying beside me right now. To you, it seems ugly, but to me… it’s just a story. We all have one.”

“You always know what to say, huh?” Feeling more tears flood your cheeks, you wished you could disappear and turn to dust, for the mattress to open up and swallow you whole. You didn’t want him to see you like this, but you knew if you were going to open yourself up to him, he’d be seeing a lot worse than some tears and a broken heart. It scared you, but at the same time, it made you feel lighter than ever before.

Nobody had ever been so calm, so accepting of your feelings and your faults, but there he sat, ready and willing to listen and take whatever you had to offer him. He was the best thing this world had ever known, and you were sure of it. As much as you were grateful, you also wondered what you did to deserve him, almost fearing that there was something he was hiding that would offset the beauty of his existence.

‘No, Y/N.’ You stopped your train of thought before it could progress any further. ‘Apple Juice—not the big complicated mess.’

If you continued searching for a flaw, you would end up creating them all on your own, ruining something good for no real reason at all. It was your best trait, but you couldn’t stomach the idea of inflicting that fate upon him. He deserved more, and because of that, you were determined to be more, to be the person he deserved to have.

“It’s not a bit or an act, Y/N. It’s the truth. I haven’t and I would never lie to you.” He said, still wiping away tears as they fell. You weren’t sure why you were plagued with so much guilt at his confession; you hadn’t lied to him, but you had withheld the truth. Was that the same thing to him? To you, it wasn’t, but maybe it was just a poor justification for your shitty actions, for your need to keep him in the dark.

But he knew there was stuff you were holding back; you had been more than open about that, and he was choosing to stay. He would make his own judgment about the situation when the time came, but he refused to start this relationship with you with preconceived notions and ideas about a person he hardly knew.

He was so much better than you, and every day that passed only further proved that.

“If being friends is easier for you, that’s okay, Utah. I don’t need a label to be secure about how I feel about us.” He promised, his thumb drifting over your still damp cheek as a soothing gesture. “If calling ourselves friends and still doing whatever we’re doing makes it so I can be with you, I’ll take it, and I’ll be happy about it.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more, Danny. I truly am—you deserve the world, and since the day I met you, that’s all I wanted to give you.”

“You give me so much more than you know.” He whispered, the softness of his tone paired with the loving actions making it impossible to keep your eyes off of him. “Whenever you want to tell me more, I’ll be here, ready to listen. Hopefully, when you’re ready, I can show you something different, that I’m different. That I want to be here and help you, and that I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take it at your pace, baby. I’m happy as long as I’m with you, no matter what we’re doing or what we are.”

It was hard to focus on his sweet sentiments, especially when he continued to promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, even whilst knowing the end of the summer would mean the end of the two of you.

If he had never and would never lie, why was he promising himself forever when you both knew your relationship had an expiration date?

June 28, 2022

Your phone ringing loudly on your bed beside your head woke you with a start. With blurry eyes and an aching head, you turned the screen to see who was daring to disturb you. You blinked a few times to allow your vision to focus, and your previous annoyance disappeared in an instant. You hit accept and pressed the speakerphone option, immediately hearing the whir of traffic on the street in the background.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure, Michigan?” Sleepiness was laced in your tone, a lazy smile on your lips as you heard him chuckle.

“Just wondering if you’re up for a few visitors? Should have texted before we came, but I got ahead of myself.” A touch of guilt filled his tone, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You’re always welcome here.” You assured him.

“Great. We’re downstairs.” He informed you. “Wanna let us in?”

“Yeah—give me five and I’ll be right down.” You breathed, throwing the tattered old blanket from your legs and sliding out of bed.

“No rush.” He assured you, a smile clear in his tone.

“A little rush—“ Sam’s smart remark was cut short, a groan sounding from him instead. You assumed Daniel’s fist collided with his arm, his protective nature growing tenfold when it came to you. “See you soon, Utah!” Sam recovered quickly, replacing his earlier sentiments with a cheery tone.

With that, Daniel ended the call, leaving you staring at the notifications on your Lock Screen but not fully registering them. You rushed to the bathroom, quickly brushing through your knotted hair with one hand as you brushed your teeth with the other. You applied some mascara and lipgloss after washing your face, and dabbed on a touch of blush on your cheeks. Once you were satisfied, you ran back to your room to change. You picked out an old cropped tank top and a pair of jean shorts that were a tad snug around your hips. Since getting sober, you noticed some weight begin to return to your body, which was as uplifting as it was motivating.

You weren’t sure why the two were at your apartment so early—the night prior, you and Daniel had spent most of the evening lounging on your couch as you watched Netflix (his, of course) on your laptop. When darkness took to the sky, he sadly informed you he had to head back to the Airbnb, without an invitation for you to come with him. You thought it was odd, especially considering you hadn’t spent a night apart in weeks, but you didn’t pry. Instead, you took the opportunity to work on your novel without any distractions or disturbances, which allowed for you to make a whole lot more progress than you thought you would.

You left your front door open, knowing the other tenants of your building wouldn’t dare go in (it wasn’t like there was much to steal anyway). Most were too old to leave their house, and the others were too strung out to know where they were. The remaining few stragglers were either at work or not home. You rushed down the stairs, seeing the two patiently waiting at the front door. With a smile on your face, you lifted up on the handle and pushed it open, allowing them to step inside. Before they had a chance to greet you, a leashed Rosie ran to greet you, her tail wagging happily as she sniffed at your hands.

“Hello, sweet girl.” You grinned, giving her some attention before you turned to the two boys. “And hello Daniel and Sam.” You added.

“What, no nicknames for us?” Sam feigned offense to your greeting, clearly teasing.

“Right, sorry.” You chuckled, as if you had forgotten completely. “Hello Dumb and Dumber.” You corrected yourself, stifling a laugh as Sam’s lips turned down into a frown.

“First one was better.” He deducted.

“What’s all that?” You asked, motioning to the bags in their hands.

“Let’s go upstairs and you’ll find out.” Danny said, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Can I help?” You asked, reaching for a bag. He retracted his arm, giving a slight shake of his head and soft smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Utah.” He hummed, nodding to the stairwell. With a shrug, you led them back upstairs.

Before you passed through your front door, you paused in your tracks, noticing a white plastic bag hung on the handle, black sharpie marks scrawled on the front of it. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slipped it off, wondering how you missed it on your way down but not spending too long dwelling. You let the boys in first, a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach as you watched Sam’s eyes take in the surroundings. He’d yet to step foot into your building, and you wondered if he would be as accepting as his best friend, or if he would pass judgment like so many others would have.

You closed the door behind you with force, shaking the knob to ensure it latched shut. You flipped the lock, noticing it was stuck and refusing to work with you. With a huff of annoyance, you shoved your shoulder against the hollow wooden paneling, using your body weight to hold it shut as you twisted the deadbolt. Finally, it clicked in place and you eased up on your shoulder, looking to the other two who weren’t even aware of your struggle.

“I love these windows, Utah.” Sam stared in awe at the large panel windows of your living room, casting rays of golden light through the entire apartment. Overlooking the mold growing on the waterlogged sills, he went straight to the style of the glass. “Very Victorian.” He commented, his eyes trailing to the art hanging on the walls peeling of their paint.

“Well, thank ya.” You smiled, noticing the seriousness in his tone. They didn’t see you as some poverty stricken struggler. They saw their friend, who lived in a worn down apartment complex that still had some breathtaking elements despite its flaws.

They were too good for you, and you felt horrible for placing blame on them for something they would never do. Since the day you met them, they had never made you feel lesser for your lifestyle, even if it was different than theirs.

Maybe you just needed to hear someone else’s appreciation to find some of your own.

“What’s that?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat the surplus of bags down on your kitchen table. He was referring to the little bag held in your hand, which you seemingly forgot about amidst your anxious thoughts.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, looking down at it yourself. “Not sure. Let’s see.” You said, pulling it towards your face. At the rustle of the plastic, Rose’s ears perked up and she trotted over to join you, hopeful for a treat.

“Here, Rose.” Sam called out to her, reaching in his pocket and grabbing a bone shaped biscuit for her. He tossed it to her, and she caught it in her mouth with little hesitation.

You turned your attention back to the bag, noticing the word ‘dollface’ scrawled across the thin plastic. You knew it was from Vincent and Dylan, but you had no idea what it was or why they dropped it off. More than that, you wondered why they didn’t knock and come inside. You gave them your spare key way back when you started working at the Fox, knowing quickly that they were the only ones you trusted with it. They shared an apartment close by, which meant that if in peril, either one of them could make it to you within minutes if need be.

You untied the top, peering inside with furrowed eyebrows. You grabbed a pack of Marlboro Reds, wrapped in plastic with a shoelace tied around it as a makeshift bow. Alongside it were two joints rolled to perfection encased in a small ziplock bag to keep them safe. A few messily drawn hearts decorated the clear plastic, bringing a small smile to your face. There was a napkin and a small piece of what looked to be receipt paper inside, so you pulled them out too, just to see what it was all about.

On the napkin was a small, handwritten note that was signed by both of them.

sorry we couldn’t aford anythin better doll. happy birthday we love ya! here late last nite didn’t want 2 wake you. cya thursday

Dyl and Vin

The small piece of receipt paper was in fact not a receipt, but a voucher from one of the slot machines at the Pony. It was redeemable for 31.78, which was a whole hell of a lot in Dylan and Vincent’s opinion.

Wait—birthday?

Hastily, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, tapping on the screen to see what the date was. When the white letters stated it was in fact June 28th, you felt a wave of dread wash over you. Not only was it your birthday, it was also your least favorite day of the whole year. Already exhausted just from the thought of surplus of calls and texts from people who cared little about you, you began dreading the yearly Facebook post on your wall from your mother in which she raved on about how much she loved you and how proud she was of you, only to neglect to actually call you or care about you. To her, it was important to maintain outward appearances, even if she had always been your worst enemy and biggest bully.

On top of that, you were twenty-four. Not that you were aging and withering away, but you were sickened at the thought of another year passing you by and having nothing to show for it. No accomplishments, no celebrations, no progress. Another year that left you just as dejected as the last, making you wonder if the rest of your life was destined to be the same things over again in one, relentless, mind numbing cycle.

“It’s my birthday.” You let out a dry chuckle, slipping your phone back in your pocket as you sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. “I forgot.”

“Really? It’s your birthday? We had no idea.” Sam giggled, finding your forgetfulness amusing. “How’d you forget about your birthday when we didn’t, Utah?” From anyone else, you might have blown a fuse at the lighthearted jokes poking fun at your hidden traumas, but from Sam, it was oddly funny and aided you in pulling yourself from your misery.

“It’s not my most favorite day.” You gave a soft smile, placing the bag from Dylan and Vin on the table after tossing the items back in. “Never really celebrated it when I was a kid. If my mom let me go to my grandparents house we did, but she usually wasn’t that nice.” Sam gave you sad eyes, which made you avert your gaze to the floor. “Most of the time it came a couple days after, the next time we went to my grandparents house. Then they’d have a cake or whatever.” You explained further, trying to lighten the mood.

Even after you moved out of your mothers house birthdays were never anything grandois. The first year, you spent at your eldest brother's tiny apartment where you were so poor you couldn’t even afford the power bill. Eventually, your addiction got too out of hand and you left to spare him from the worst. You spent a year floating around on couches and shelters, and one at your ‘boyfriends’ house (he was a dealer and the house was a trap). The fourth still in Utah, you spent at the Pinnacle Recovery Centre, where they gave you a cupcake and decorated the common room.

Your first one in New York was spent at the Pony, which got you in more trouble than you ever expected. You originally went to cash in the voucher for the slots Vin and Dylan gave you that year, but got caught up in the cheap drinks and company at the blackjack table. Your ‘winnings’ consisted of a dime bag, which made for a wonderful gift. A night spent in the detox box and a surrendered key tag made you vow to never celebrate your birthday ever again.

“Well, this year, that’s going to change.” Sam assured you, taking a seat in one of the rickety chairs at the table.

“Guys, you don’t have to—“ you began to protest, but Danny held up his index finger to cut you short.

“We want to.” He said, a tone of finality in his voice. “Maybe after today, you’ll change your mind.”

“Guys, this is too much.” You whined, crossing your arms over your chest, plagued with guilt at the idea of them spending so much time and effort on a day no different than any other. “It’s just a birthday. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your birthday, Utah.” Danny corrected. “It is a big deal to us—to me.” Your cheeks turned red, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

How did you ever get so lucky?

“Besides, you can’t say it’s too much, ‘cause you don’t even know what it is yet.” Sam pointed out, which was fair. At the same time, you’d come to know them quite well, and you knew for a fact it was too much. “Start us off, Daniel.”

“Right.” He nodded, carefully picking the first bag from the pile of them. “See, I wanted to stay here with you last night, but if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to surprise you with breakfast.” He smiled, flashing you the inside of the bag, which was filled with takeout containers. “And I needed Sam’s help with some stuff.”

“Yeah, he didn’t actually invite me. He used me for hard labor and felt too bad to drop me off at home.” Sam rolled his eyes, joking but not all at the same time.

“Whatever.” Danny rolled his eyes, brushing him off completely. “You remember that restaurant we stopped at on our way to Jersey? The one with the huge waffles?”

“Danny, you did not!” You exclaimed, overwhelmed with joy at the thought of how much he cared for you.

“I did.” He grinned. “One waffle for Utah, on her birthday.” He sat a container out in front of an open chair. “And some other food too, but I remembered how excited you were when you ordered it, so I couldn’t help myself.” He scattered the rest of the takeout containers around the table, grabbing paper plates and forks.

“You’re the best, Michigan.” You whispered, your eyes sparkling with glee as you bargained with your own happiness.

It was the first time in twenty four years you had ever felt so loved (or loved at all for that matter) on your birthday, and it was all thanks to him.

“It’s what you deserve, Utah.” He replied, just as hushed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he pulled a chair out for you, taking place next to you once you were settled.

Breakfast was fun, lighthearted and sweet. Danny had picked you up a king can of Redbull, remembering that it was your favorite, and they had gotten coffee to go from the restaurant they retrieved breakfast from. After about an hour passed, filled with laughs and smiles, you couldn’t force yourself to eat another bite if you tried. They asked you about your novel, to which you told them how good writing was going after it seemed like you were stuck at a dead end. After nearly two years, the end was just out of reach, but still attainable.

For once, life was good. Writing was great, your free time was never boring, and your addiction had never been so far from your mind. You didn’t want to accredit it to Danny completely, but he served as a fantastic distraction from life’s normal routine and trouble. After the confessional at the hotel, it left the two of you closer than ever, happier than ever. He finally felt like he was breaking through the walls of defense you had built so high, and you finally had someone you could trust.

The only downfall was that you were falling further and harder with every second that passed.

You wanted to tell him more, to keep explaining bits of your past you never cared to share with anyone, but you were taking it slow. You’d always been impulsive, jumping the gun and getting yourself in trouble, and although you didn’t think this was the same, you still wanted to err on the side of caution.

When the morning began to bleed into the afternoon, the boys took it upon themselves to get on with the next birthday festivity.

He searched through one of his bags, pulling out a few different things after urging you to keep your eyes closed. You heard the crinkle of packaging plastic, then felt him step closer to you. After a few moments of nothing but rustling plastic, you felt him place something on top of your head, then urged you to open your eyes.

When you did, the first thing you saw was an expensive looking cupcake, taken from a half dozen container sitting just off to the side. There was one candle stuck in the middle of it beside a little topper that read ‘happy birthday’. You looked across the table to Sam, who had a cheap cardboard party hat from the dollar store sitting lopsided on his head. You looked at Danny as you reached up to see if he’d placed one on yours, too. He had a goofy smile on his lips, the thin elastic holding his hat in place only making the sight all the more funny.

He leaned forward, igniting the wick of the candle with a cheap gas station lighter. Before you had a chance to speak, the two began singing a dramatic and drawn out rendition of Happy Birthday. You couldn’t begin to express your gratitude—your eyes were brimming with tears, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe as you felt Danny’s hand on your shoulder. For once, the tears were not because of sadness, or a feeling of being forgotten. Instead, you were overwhelmed by the surplus of love being thrown in your direction, unable to comprehend the kindness of their actions.

“Make a wish, Utah.” Danny whispered, his lips hovering over your ear as he spoke. The warmth of his breath on your skin sent a shiver down your spine, sending your mind swirling with thoughts of him and only him.

You did as you were told, leaning forward with a smile on your lips as you closed your eyes. You needed no time to think, knowing exactly what your wish was as soon as the breath left your lips to extinguish the tiny flame.

You wished for the boy behind you, and every good thing he had brought to your life since walking into it. More specifically, you wished he never had to leave.

You opened your eyes, forcing yourself out of the dreamlike state as you pictured a life with him always by your side. You were greeted with a kiss on the cheek from Danny, and a whoop and a holler from Sam.

“What’d’ya wish for?” Sam asked, his eyebrow raised as he watched you pull the candle from the top of your cupcake.

“Can’t tell ya, or it won’t come true.” You bargained with the pain that came from realizing it would never come true anyway, no matter if you kept it secret or not.

“Yeah, s’pose you’re right.” He hummed, leaning back in his chair with a defeated nod. You gave a soft smile, pulling away the parchment wrapper lining the bottom of the cupcake.

“Thank you guys… for everything. This is… it’s fantastic. It’s more than anything I’ve ever gotten.” You spoke gently in fear your voice would crack and the tears would finally make an appearance. Thankfully, you’d been able to swallow back all that dared to threaten you thus far, and you were intent to keep it that way.

“Days not over yet, Utah.” Danny reminded you, giving you a long lasting sinking feeling in your stomach. You could never repay him for what he’d already done, and he was planning for more?

“And it’s not that much. Cake was supposed to be homemade, but as it turns out, we are not very good at baking.” Sam informed you, taking a bite from his own cupcake. At that, you let out a small giggle, already picturing the two of them covered in flour and arguing over ruined cake batter.

“It’s so much, Sam.” You corrected, ensuring they knew how appreciated they were.

“Well, one more thing from me and I’m out.” Sam slapped his palms against the table, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Then you and your lover can have some alone time.”

“No more!” You exclaimed, panicked at the idea of receiving anything else. Guilt was already eating you alive, and you were sure if any more was added atop of what you were feeling, you would crack under the weight of it.

“Oh, quit!” Sam exclaimed, laughing at your stubbornness. “If you haven’t noticed, Utah, we love you.” He stood calmly, reaching for a gift bag as if he hadn’t said the most earth shattering words in the entire world.

They loved you.

After all the bad they’ve seen, the tears and the struggle, the impoverished lifestyle you led, they didn’t care. They thought you had enough good to outweigh all of the bad combined, and so much so that they had surpassed the threshold from simple friendship to something stronger.

And damn, you loved them too.

Even if you didn’t want to.

Even if it was easier not to.

You loved them, and so much so that you were almost unable to picture a life without them.

Out of all the things in the universe, that scared you the most. You were resilient, independent and strong, and you never once needed anything from anyone. You had let yourself grow a soft spot, or a weakness more likely, without even realizing it. Normally, it would make you want to run and hide. Usually when things meant so much to you, you tried to detach, just so it wouldn’t hurt as bad when it inevitably disappeared, but you didn’t want to this time.

For the first time in your life, you let yourself truly and genuinely be loved, no matter the consequences.

You could worry about those later—for now, you never ever wanted to let it slip through your fingers.

“In my opinion, this is the best part.” Sam hummed, his eyes drifting towards Daniel.

His appearance was nervous, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table as he nodded along in agreement. He turned his head towards you, offering a soft smile as he spoke a wordless conversation with Sam. The other boy seemed to catch on to his drift, picking up a neatly wrapped box with a bow on the front from one of the bags.

Before any more words were shared, Sam placed it in front of you, then grabbed another wrapped item, this one thin and much smaller. You looked between the two, your stomach twisted in knots as you already began to worry about the money the two spent.

“Happy Birthday, Utah.” Danny whispered, his features soft as he swallowed hard. “Those are from me.”

“Danny…” you whispered, concern knitting your brows together as you silently objected to the act of kindness.

“Open them, baby.” He responded, dismissing your unspoken point entirely. “You’ll love it—I know you will.”

“I have no doubt about that. I just… I feel bad.” You expressed your opinion on the matter.

“No need. I wanted to.”

He wanted to.

Since the day you met him, he continued to show you that he wanted to do more than anyone else ever had, and he was still committed to it months later.

“It doesn’t matter which one you open first.” He said, ending the conversation so you couldn’t argue any further.

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, but eventually turned to the two packages in front of you. When was the last time you had a real birthday gift? One bought with care and consideration, one in which was curated for your taste only (as much as you appreciated the cigarettes and joints, you knew that was the same gift the boys gave to everyone). Maybe, the last time you’d ever torn wrapping paper off a box or pulled tape from a shiny bag plastered with color was when your grandparents were alive. Possibly even before then, because in later years they stuffed cards with cash, and upon learning about your addictions, gift cards for groceries and clothes.

With their help, you were reliving a childhood dream you only got to participate in every now and again.

For that alone, you were forever indebted to them.

You reached forward, settling on the smaller of the two gifts. You let the tip of your finger run across the thin piece of tape holding the paper together. You peeled it back, the coloured paper underneath it lifting with the adhesive. You folded it back once you freed it from the tape, your heart skipping a beat at the familiar tan colour of the item inside.

With a new found bout of excitement, you flipped it over, tearing the rest of the paper away from it as you did so. You nearly jumped from your chair as you tossed the wrapping to the ground, your eyes studying every detail of the abstract picture. The bright yellow and blue of the lettering caught your eyes, and your hand raised to it as you gently traced over the words like you used to do so long ago. The red lips standing prominently underneath them brought a smile to your face. Slowly, you turned to look at the man who wasn’t technically your boyfriend or your friend, and understood that he did not need to be either of those things, for he was the best thing that had ever happened to you, the most important person in the world, no matter the label.

In your hands was a brand new copy of Steely Dan’s Can’t Buy a Thrill, the plastic wrapping still shiny and perfectly intact as it waited for you to spin the familiar melody of Dirty Work.

“You remembered.” You forced the words through your teeth, your throat scratching as you wheezed in a breath. Holding back your tears was becoming more difficult by the second.

For some strange reason, you wished he didn’t.

It would have made it easier to overlook the bond that had formed between the two of you.

“Keep going.” He urged, not wanting to dwell too long when there was more sitting in front of you.

You moved onto the bigger box, knowing exactly what it was before you even tore the paper from it. Underneath the fancy bow and wrapping, sat a brand new record player that likely cost him a pretty penny.

Your stomach filled with lead, your bones heavy as you sat with your own thoughts for a moment. With no way to stop it this time, you felt tears flood your cheeks, angry and vengeful for being repressed for so long. You raised the back of your hands to your eyes, the coolness of your skin soothing to you as you drew in a shaky breath. Without thinking twice, you pushed your chair backwards and sprung forward, taking the few steps towards him. He stood to meet you, noticing your distress and worried that he overstepped.

When you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest, shamelessly loving him and unafraid to show how much it meant to you. Your tears stained his t-shirt, but he assured you he wasn’t bothered by it as he held you tighter to him.

“I’m sorry if it was too much, I just wanted—“ you cut him off by pulling away, staring up at him with watery eyes and a smile as you nipped the thought in the bud.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Your statement was strong despite your quivering lip and dry throat. “You don't have anything to be sorry for. This is… you are… Danny.” You breathed, tripping over your words as more tears spilled down your cheeks. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. You’re the best thing…” you trailed off, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you swallowed back a sob. You didn’t need to say it aloud, because he knew exactly what you meant. Instead of replying, he pulled you into a tighter hug, happy to know the tears were not from sorrow, but from happiness.

“Alright, alright.” Sam cut the two of you off. You both looked over at him, smiling as he nudged his gift bag towards you.

You stepped forward, wiping your cheeks as you pulled at the tape holding the bag together. It popped open with ease, giving you the freedom to look inside. First, you pulled out another record, the tears making an immediate return as you looked at the cover.

“Bringing It All Back Home?!” You exploded, another sob shaking your shoulders as you hugged it to your chest. You felt like a child on Christmas morning, high on sugar and the feeling of being alive while sorting through gifts laced with magic from Santa himself.

“Aaand?” Sam raised an eyebrow, nodding towards the bag again. Cautiously, you set the vinyl on the table and reached back inside, pulling out one last record to top it all off.

“Harvest…” the yellow cover that was so distinct sent a smile straight to your lips. “I seriously can’t believe you remembered I said all this. It was so long ago, and so unimportant.”

“Nothing is unimportant when it comes to you, Utah.” Danny placed a hand on the small of your back.

“Seriously… thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me… it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done… the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You were beside yourself with emotion, your chest aching from all of the love you held within it.

“One last thing from me, Y/N.” Sam added, pulling something unwrapped from the bags beside him. He handed it across the table, watching as you pieced it together and waiting for your response. You grabbed it from his hands, the cool leather immediately sending a shiver down your spine. Wordlessly, you flipped it open, in awe of how well made it was. “I saw it when we were out today, and it made me think of you. You probably have lots, but when you get to that one, at least you’ll think of us. Maybe it’ll even give you some motivation on the hard days. Someone as talented as you should never stop writing.”

“Sam, this is the most beautiful journal I’ve ever seen.” You assured him. The black, leather bound journal was hefty, heavy from its size and astonishingly beautiful in its simplicity. It was big, many more pages than any of the ones you already owned, and it was even better because it came from him, one of the truest and most genuine friends you had ever had.

You placed it on the table, quickly scurrying towards him as you pulled him into a hug. Your tears had become less aggressive, but were still steadily rolling as you laid your head on his shoulder. Perhaps one of the best things about falling for Danny was gaining a friend like Sam, because you’d never experienced anything like it before.

“Thank you so much.” You whispered, your eyes closing as you enjoyed the brief moment of intimacy.

“Can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.” He promised you. “You make him so happy, Utah. You deserve people who make you happy, too.”

You held him a little tighter, touched by his sentiments but stuck pondering the same question that would ultimately eat you alive; would you still make him this happy if he knew the truth about you? Would they still think you were so fantastic if they learned of all of your mistakes?

You wanted to say yes, to be certain that two people as wonderful as them would love you no matter what, but it was very hard to believe.

Hopefully, by the time the facade faded away, they will have grown to care about you enough to look past it, to accept you as you are and let go of who you were, just the same as you had to do (and still continue to do).

Or, better yet, you hoped that maybe they would be gone before you ever had to expose yourself at all.

No matter how much you loved them or how different life seemed, you were still the same person they met at the diner all those months ago, even if you desperately wished you weren’t.

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco @aintthatapity @dont-go-home-without-me @demonrat444

[adsosfraser]

the witching hour and the healer's hands

everlark one shot; set between the hunger games and catching fire

I can’t sleep that first night. 

The soft glow of contained fire flickers across the lace and thick white curtains. The window is open, letting the drafty chill of the night into the room and rustling the curtains weakly, however drafty the oppressive and stagnant heat of the late summer nights can be. With the blinking light of the candle, I breathe in and out, forming my lungs to force the oxygen through themselves in rhythm with the fading and strengthening circle illuminating the curtains as the flame breathes with me. 

A choking sound sticks in my throat at his silhouette. Through the curtains and the flame, he distorts everything with his shadow and the sturdy presence of his body. He meticulously makes his way through his room, pausing to rip his prosthetic off and crawl into bed. I can just barely see him from the corner now, but I don’t take my eyes away from the window and the small slit made in the curtains. How the sight of even just the outline of his shape, twenty-five yards away, wraps me in the familiar safety I’ve only just begun to know in his arms, I don’t know. 

He hates me now.

I have to content myself with only glimpses. 

I take watch over him as he tosses and turns, only allowing my legs a break from standing for hours when my legs go completely numb and my foot twitches and feels more like a joint than anything actually attached to functioning bones and toes. I panic for a moment, truly feeling as though I’ve lost my lower limbs until I look down and shake them out. The cruel irony does not miss me as I stare across again at the boy with the bread again, keeping up the vigilant watch I haven’t been able to shake off since the Games. I pull the rocking chair out from the corner of my room and sit. There is no fire in the room or lights I bothered to flick on as I sulked upstairs to the last vacant room. 

He settles down finally, when I know the sun will make itself known again soon with the predawn light and dimming stars. I hope he is able to sleep, if not at least for an hour. I can’t bring myself to, no matter how heavy my arms and eyes become. No matter how much I want to tuck myself in with Prim and go back to how things were before everything. Besides, I don’t want to disturb Prim or my mother, who has taken it upon herself to suddenly care about me now. I can’t sleep without the nightmares, without screaming, without thrashing in my bed and contorting my body with the sheets tangling and choking me. I wouldn’t want it to bother their peaceful sleep across the hall. 

I’m glad Peeta doesn’t have the same reaction as me. Maybe his kindness, his selflessness, his inherent goodness combat against it. He doesn’t deserve what I go through every night since the Games. He shouldn’t need to feel the guilt and the shame I feel coupled with the horrors we’ve faced. He’s successfully escaped the Games without the Capitol changing him and I’m happy for it. He didn’t watch a twelve-year-old child get murdered before his eyes. He didn’t pull back his bow string to pierce a boy through the neck.. At least he was spared that. Someone good like him, like Prim, should be shut far away from that. 

He wakes with the pre dawn glow, undoubtedly used to the hour he would wake to work the ovens. I watch as he stumbles out of bed and blows out the candle, pulling open the curtains to his room to squint outside. Electricity hums through the room as he putters about. I must not have noticed him flipping the switch for the light, some of his movements becoming a blur to my droopy eyes. My cheeks burn and I snap my body around to look at the intricate carvings on the wood chair holding me. Through the open window I saw too much before I realized his intent to shuck his clothes off to change into new ones. 

After a minute or two I presume it’s safe to take a peek again. My heart races and I take in a sharp breath as everything inside me jostles around like the frantic rabbit bouncing around in one of my failed snares. Peeta isn’t in his room anymore. Every light in his house is off. 

A sigh of relief escapes me when I hear his clomping steps as he hurries out of his front door. He is dressed sensibly for a day at the bakery with a button-up shirt and long pants in case something were to spill. 

I frown as he comes down his steps. He’s clearly in pain, clutching his cane tightly in his hand. I hear a curse echo through Victor’s Village as he reaches down to massage and scratch where his prosthetic meets his leg. 

He better come to my mother for a salve. Or else. 

*** 

A week passes and I’m furious with him. 

I can handle his distance. His indifference. His rational hatred and dislike of me. But he won’t even take care of himself. I worked hard to bring him home and so did he. The limp is now more pronounced than it was a week ago. It’s absolutely ridiculous that he is disregarding the effort we put in in that arena by throwing out his health not even a week out of the careful supervision of Capitol doctors. 

I clomp downstairs in spirit, without actually stomping in case I wake the other inhabitants of the house. But my soul stamps its way through the house for me. I sort through the small cabinet of medicines and herbs my mother brought from our house in the Seam and frown when I find most of it bare, with jars awaiting a restock. I suppose they haven’t had a steady supply from their go-to forager in over a month. All of the nice new shiny Capitol medicine from the last train that shipped is locked away upstairs in my mother’s medicine cabinet. 

I grumble as I pull my boots on at the front door and sling my game bag over my shoulder. My braid doesn’t thwack my neck or the middle of my back with a hard thunk and it’s strange to feel the short length hang from my head. It barely even fits in a braid with the formerly singed and newly cut strands. 

The meadow is far enough for my needs and I don’t think I have it in me to venture into the woods for quite some time. I’ve had enough hunting to last a lifetime. 

Lush green lies before me, dotted with yellow, and the rare blues and whites. I pluck the dandelions under the hot sun. There isn’t another soul around so I hum one of my father’s love songs under my breath. The warmth of the sun and the brush of the grass against my hands and calves soothes me into a state of near sleep. Soon though, I don’t like being alone, something I treasured with my freedom in the woods. As I pluck the bright yellow flowers they warp into blue. My hands run with the dark black juice of nightlock that turns to blood. Foxface stares up at me where my game bag is and groans. She turns to Peeta and he stares unblinking at me with Rue’s glossed over eyes. I did this to them. I rammed the berries down his gullet. Shaking, I crawl to my bunch of dandelions. I shove everything deep inside my bag and I run back home, shutting the door firmly behind me. 

*** 

Another week passes and I’ve finally made a crude imitation of what a salve should be. Prim is busy off at school most days and my mother is surprisingly gone most days too, tending to the sick in the Seam. I’ve actually managed to sleep for two uninterrupted hours now since the Games. The deep dark bags under my eyes expand across my face everyday and I wouldn’t be surprised if they took it over entirely one day. I smile down at the finished product in my hands, suddenly giddy and light from the delirium that accompanies my lack of sleep. 

It’s not perfect, but it has what’s necessary for Peeta inside of it. He’s the one with an eye for beautiful things, not me. Maybe decorative salve making would fall under his area of cake frosting expertise but I won’t ask him. 

I don’t want to bother him after what was said between us on the train home. 

Hopefully he thinks Prim made it. She has such a bright soul it’s no doubt she would be a prime suspect for making such a thing for him. 

*** 

Without fanfare, I plop the small glass jar onto his porch and scurry away off into the woods for the first time to take a nap in a tree. 

It’s gone from the porch within ten minutes. 

***

His limp improves and I smile into my pillow. I don’t care if I’ll only just be woken again in an hour with a horrifically detailed nightmare now that Peeta has accepted my gift. I want to fall asleep at the same time he does, maybe our dreams will cross and we’ll protect each other in them that way. I cuddle deeper into my pillow and sigh. 

My delivery today is neater and prettier. I use the head of a dandelion to imprint a little design into the top of the salve and wrap the jar in one of the yellow hair ribbons I haven’t used in years. 

Peeta’s in his other upstairs room that he often frequents. But I’m not worried, the windows to that room are shut now and the curtains too. He won’t notice. 

Prim is awake in the kitchen when I return and startles at my silent and sudden presence. She startles even more at my crazed smile and the colour under my eyes. With a yawn, she leans into the kitchen island. She smacks her lips together from sleep and walks over to me for a hug. It’s only now that she’s awake with me do I put the time in perspective. Four in the morning is normal for me, but definitely shouldn’t be for Prim. Who has an actual schedule and routine besides naps, nightmares, and stalking our neighbour, and those happen whenever they want to happen. I’m not their dictator. I’m at their whim.   

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” 

I brush back her loose hair, marvelling at how strong and silky it is now with a good few weeks of filling meals. 

“Of course little duck.”

I settle in first, and hold out my arms to my sister who groggily slips into my bed. Our old quilt from our bed in the Seam just barely wraps around the two of us. Buttercup tries to squirm his way inside of the limited space and hisses when I kick him to the foot of the bed. 

“You know you could just talk to him and have an actual conversation instead of plopping random things on his porch and running away. Even the boys in my grade don’t ding-dong ditch anymore.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Mmhm. Sure.” 

***

My heels silently pad across the creaky wood boards of Peeta’s porch. I didn’t feel like wearing shoes this time and the feel of grass squishing underneath my feet was pleasantly calming on my journey. But, the sharp pebbles and gravel that constitutes a narrow path between houses in the Victor’s Village were most definitely not. 

The window to the left of his bedroom is bright and welcoming. I’m always curious what he does in there at this hour instead of dreaming in his bed but I have no place in asking him about it. 

With a small smile, I squat down to offer my gift to his doorway. This time the green ribbon attached to it is tied in a clunky and uneven bow. 

A jolt of fear pierces my heart as I feel a breeze. Not from outside with the stagnant and sticky air of the last days of summer clinging on, but from a fan. Inside. 

Slowly, I raise my chin from the evidence below me and come face to face with the calming blue eyes that star in my nightmares every night. The shade changes in them with the shifting moods and plots of my dreams, and the feelings etched behind them as well, but they remain constantly his. 

I freeze. Like a deer caught in the line of sight of my arrow. Maybe he won’t see me if I pretend I’m not here. 

“You know you always say I’m impossibly loud in the forest but you’re not exactly subtle yourself either.”

“I was just-” I knock on a wooden beam to my left, “inspecting the integrity of the wood. Can’t be too careful.”

“Someone leaves me a salve on my porch at three in the morning every Tuesday like clockwork.” 

I slowly rise from my squat, unfurling my back straight as I come level with him. 

“Who knows what Prim does with her time.” I shake my head and smile. “Tweens.” 

“Katniss.”

I worry my lip between my teeth but it’s no use, it’s been chewed raw already. I finally meet his gaze after the short flicks I sent his way after I was caught red handed. 

“I know it’s you.” He offers me the first smile since the train home. Part of me hopes he’s shared his first genuine smile with me and only me since we’ve returned to 12 but that’s too selfish. He should be happy without me. “I’m always up Katniss I can never sleep. I’ve known it was you since you first started it. Why don’t you just knock on the door?”

I will blame the well of emotions on my lack of sleep. That makes the most sense. 

To my embarrassment tears gather in my eyes and my vision becomes blurry. I pull my arms further into myself in a hug as my lip wobbles. I stab my nails that are bitten to the quick into the palms of my hands to push the tears down my throat. 

“You hate me.” It’s hard to get the words out with the way my throat constructs painfully.

His furrowed brows smooth out across his forehead and his frown turns sad. His eyes clear before they too water with mine. They dart back and forth from my face, my eyes, my lips, and the rest of my body before he steadies his jaw. Before I know it, his arms wrap tight around me, nearly squeezing the air out of my lungs but I don’t mind. It’s comforting, the weight of him. I whine into his chest and it’s an ugly sound but he remains firm around me. 

“Oh Katniss,” His strong and calloused hands brush the hair at the back of my head as he tucks me under his chin. “I could never hate you.”

[ahedderick]

Shenanigans

Farm-wise, the last 24 hours have been a little. Fraught.

Last evening I went out around 8:30 to walk dogs and deal with chickens. Then new young hens need to be pinioned, ie have the flight feathers on one wings cut short to keep them from flying into the apple tree every night. I will need to keep them confined to the coop area for a while until they learn to lay their eggs in the nestboxes. A whole flock of hens hiding eggs all over the yard and around the barn would not be useful.

I had trapped two of the white ones in a dog kennel around dusk, so I started with them. I picked up the first one (lovely in the silvery moonlight) and she SCREAMED like she was being murdered. Rose-pup was on a leash standing beside me, very puzzled. I knelt down and carefully clipped the wing feathers, then put the squawking hen into the coop in a nice, clean nestbox full of hay. Enjoy!! The second hen was inside a dogbox in the kennel. I had to get down on my knees and reach w-a-y back to the back of the box to grab her, whereupon she SCREAMED. yada yada. I tried to pull her out, only to find that a lock of my hair near my temple had gotten hooked on a little uneven edge on the dog box. [LOUD SCREAMING] I'm kneeling in dirt, can't let go of the bird, had to contort myself to get my other hand up to disentangle the hair. Rosalie was looking Concerned™, but sticking right next to me. I pinion the bird and put her in the coop. Rosalie is dogging my heels, which is good, but also, a gray dog in low light is very hard to see.

I shook one low limb of the apple tree, dislodging two more hens. They flapped angrily down into the chicken run, and tried like the dickens to get away from me. Cue a bumbling low-speed chase while I pursue horrified hens around and around the chicken run and try to avoid stepping on an invisible dog. There was language. Rosalie decided to wait outside the run.

When I finally had four hens pinioned and settled, I went out of the run and started looking for Rosalie. She was standing in a shadow in the dappled moonlight. Fortunately, she came when I called her. "Here I am!" says the invisible beast.

Then she, Lady, Rocky, and I headed out to the far pasture for a stroll. And a bit of a jog. I Hate Jogging, and never let anyone see me doing it, but in bright moonlight on a crisp fall evening it wasn't so bad. Rosalie seemed to be paying attention to Lady and taking some dog-behavior cues from her, which is a good start. It was lovely, really.

This morning, when I was in town putting up artwork, my husband called me. He had taken her out for a mid-morning potty break, and after puttering around the yard a little, she suddenly bolted for the lane. Gone like a flash. He frantically pursued her, on foot and eventually in his truck. She ran almost a mile south along the road, turned and start back north, let him get n-e-a-r-l-y within touching distance several times, then vanished into thick woods half a mile from our house.

I won't detail all the searching that Husband and I - and Roommate - and Roommate's hound dog - went through during the day. Suffice it to say that when Husband finally located her, taken inside by a neighbor, it was 3 in the afternoon. Everybody's a little shaken and upset. Husband is out buying a very smol halter for her, since her extremely narrow head lets her 'slip' her collar too easily.

This Small Criminal Thought She Could Track Her Girl Down. But the Girl is 80 miles away at College.

[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 10

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut.

You’d taken Alex’s go bag, dumping laundry from both it and yours into the washing machine before dropping hers in her room and retreating back to your own room to refill toiletries and repack clothes to make sure you were ready when the next case hit. As you were pulling out socks your eyes landed on the swimsuit collection in your drawer and Emily’s words floated back into your brain. It was Thursday, normally a night like tonight would mean a glass of wine followed by bed but considering Emily had the team working rather late she’d made the call to come into work for noon. Which meant you had a little bit of leeway with how the rest of your night went.

You could hear Alex puttering around out in the kitchen, you figured she was either putting a drink together or making lunch for tomorrow considering you’d already eaten. You tugged your lip into your mouth, fingers flitting through the swim suits until you revealed the red one. Emily was right, it did make your tits look fantastic and you hadn’t worn it since moving to DC since it was one of the more revealing suits. You had to admit, your body was rather stiff after sleeping in the hotel bed, a soak could help, what was the harm if you just happened to stroll past Alex on your way out?

*

Alex had pulled out a couple of containers of frozen stir fry, placing them in the fridge for lunch on Friday when she noticed a container of strawberries that looked like they were about to go bad. For some reason her first thought was to toss them in with some wine, liquor and juice for sangria and she figured why the hell not. She’d just finished the jug of it, filling a cup with ice to pour one out for herself when she heard your footsteps coming down the hallway from behind her.

“You don’t mind if I use the hot tub do you?” You asked, “my back’s a bit of a mess from that bed.”

“I might join you; those beds were terrible.” She replied with a soft groan, the ache in her lower back seeming to sink in now that she was thinking about it, “sangria?” She asked, finally turning to face you and she all about choked on her drink as she took a sip, her eyes raking up your body and she knew her cheeks were red. “That’s… a new suit.”

“Haven’t worn it in a while.” You shrugged, “and yeah, that looks great.” You walked up to the island, leaning against it and Alex had to tear her eyes away from your chest, perky and pressed even higher by the way you had your arms crossed, “did you make this? I didn’t see a bottle in the fridge.”

“Yeah.” She shot you a half smile, desperately attempting to hold eye contact and not look elsewhere, “easy way to use fruit that’s about to turn.” She slid you a glass and you picked it up, taking a sip.

“Mmm. Delicious.” You pushed off the island, “well, you know where to find me.” With a soft grin you turned, sauntering your way out to the back yard and Alex caught herself staring at your ass, the heat shifting from her cheeks to between her legs.

“Jesus…” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she tried to get the image of you in that suit out of her brain.

She heard the soft splash of the water from outside and was starting to wonder if maybe a cold shower was a better idea than joining you. She could still feel your lips on hers, taste you on her tongue, her body burning where your hands had trailed across her skin. She nearly jumped when her phone went off, buzzing on the counter and she swiped open a text from Emily.

‘Good work tonight Blake. Added benefit, maybe that kiss helped sort some things out?’

‘If by sorted things out you mean I feel like a horny teenager, then yeah, completely sorted.’

‘It’s a nice night out, go soak in the hot tub and clear your mind.’

Alex rolled her eyes and let out a huff. On any other night that’s likely exactly what she would have done, she often spent evenings out there watching the stars to help sort out her thoughts but Emily had no idea what was going on at the house. She glanced out into the yard for a moment before downing her sangria, if she was going to make a choice, she had to make it now.

*

You glanced up at the sound of the screen door sliding open, smiling up at Alex who almost audibly swore and the sight of your skin glistening in the moonlight, just enough of your chest exposed above the surface. She tossed her towel onto one of the loungers, placing her drink down by the edge of the tub, letting out a satisfied groan as she slipped under the water.

“See, right choice.” You greeted with a chuckle and she nodded.

“You think that for even just one trip they’d book us in at a hotel that didn’t have bricks for beds.”

“They gave us a jet.” You laughed, “I don’t think we’ll be getting much of anything else for the foreseeable future.”

Alex laughed, relaxing back into the seat as she let the water swirl around her, breaking down the stiffness of her muscles and the heat calmed her. It was quiet for a bit, just a playlist echoing from your phone as the two of you wound down from your week, your double case day, trying to think of anything but the feeling of the other’s lips on your skin. There was some small talk, comments on work, thinking about plans for the upcoming weekend, if Emily was dragging you off on any insane adventures or not. You finished your sangria, letting out a little huff, your lips briefly pouting as you put the empty glass down on the ground. Alex was almost done her second one and she sighed softly,

“I should have brought the pitcher out.” Her lips pursed as she glanced back to the screen door.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll grab it, I’ve been in longer.”

Before she cold protest you were climbing out of the hot tub, briefly patting at yourself with a towel to avoid getting the kitchen floor too wet. If Alex thought the red bikini was a look from heaven she truly wasn’t prepared for the sight of it now. She could barely tear her eyes away from the way the suit was clinging to your body for dear life, nipples hard in the cool night air, peaking through the fabric and all she could think about was wrapping her lips around them. The brief seconds you were in the house she downed the rest of her drink, trying not to watch as you walked back to the tub, refilling both of your glasses before you slipped back under the water. It didn’t go unnoticed that you were significantly closer to her this time. She chose to distract herself by bringing up work,

“You really do a lot of undercover work in your last unit?” She asked and you shrugged.

“On and off. I was one of the younger ones and one of the only girls, it just kinda slid into my lap.”

“You enjoy it?”

“It’s always hit or miss.” You shot her a grin, “though I’d say tonight was a hit.”

“Really?” She felt her cheeks heat slightly, but the sangria was lowering her inhibitions as she grinned back at you.

“Yeah.” You laughed, glancing your gaze as you felt your own cheeks heat, “you know, I won’t lie... that kiss? Easily top three.”

“Oh c’mon.” It was her turn to laugh, “you don’t have to bullshit me.”

“I’m not. I kinda forgot how to breathe for a minute there. You’ve got skill Blake.”

She blushed at the compliment, letting it sink in as she took another sip of her sangria, “well thank you.” She smiled softly across at you, watching the way you were looking at her, “I can think of one complaint though.”

“Hmm?” Your brow furrowed, head tilting in the adorable way she loved so much.

“It’s a shame we were interrupted.” She figured she was already here, she may as well go ahead and take the plunge, there was basically no risk left at this point.

“Yeah.. it was.” You could practically hear your heart thundering in your ears, occupying yourself with your drink as Alex laughed softly, mirroring your movements before she spoke again.

“Well…there is one benefit of being home, no one here to cut in.”

You cocked a brow at her, wondering how much she really meant was she was saying, or if it was just the heightened sensuality of the entire evening, the alcohol making neither of you really care about anything else. But before you could really even consider thinking about it you were gravitating towards her and her arms were tugging you into her lap. There was only a moment of hesitancy before your hands were cupping her cheeks and your lips were on hers again.

A mutual sigh of relief came from both of you as you relaxed even further into her embrace, her arms slipping around you. One of her hands slid up your back, tangling gently into the loose hairs from your messy updo. You would gladly stay just like this for the rest of the night, lips moving with ease and a familiar rhythm together, kissing Alex was all you needed, wrapped in her arms knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be. Her arm wound tighter around you, pulling you closer to her and her lips parted, eagerly accepting your tongue into her mouth. She let out a soft groan at the fruity taste from your shared drinks, the flavour adding to what she was already familiar with of you. It was almost like she had been waiting for this moment her whole life, that whatever had pulled her to you back in that bookstore all those months ago had ultimately been leading to this.

Feeling the freedom of being in private Alex began to let her hands wander, running down your back, returning under the water, drawing patterns onto your skin while she continued to kiss you like her life depended on it. Her hands slowly trailed up your sides, thumbs ghosting up your stomach until they reached the fabric of your bikini. You rocked ever so lightly toward her and she took that as the go ahead, her thumbs brushing over your nipples and you broke the kiss with a small gasp, your eyes fluttering open, gazing across at her as she did it again. Her nose nudged against yours, kissing you again, softly this time as she cupped at your chest and you groaned into the kiss. Her lips kissed the side of your jaw, her nose bumping your chin to the side so she could press tender kisses into the side of your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. Her hands groped at you again and you let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling shut, nearly grinding down against her. She bit into the crook of your neck, tongue lapping out to soothe the burn before she sucked at your skin, her fingers pinching at your nipples through your suit and you whined.

“Christ...” She muttered, feeling herself flutter around nothing at the noises she was pulling from you already. She nipped at your earlobe, breath hot on your even hotter skin when she spoke, “you’re going to be good for mommy, right?” Your eyes shot open as your head tilted back to look at her, your lips parted and eyes wide at the slight smirk on her lips, the brow raised in your direction.

“Yes.” You nodded, already breathless.

“Good.” She smiled, pinching at your side, “up.”

She nudged at your arm and you immediately obliged, letting her guide you from the hot tub, her arms snaking around your waist again as her lips found yours. She carefully backed you to the lounger, gently laying you down on it as she settled half over you, her hands exploring every inch of your body that she could. Out of the water you began to take advantage of having Alex not trapped against the seat, your hands roaming over her warm skin, ghosting up her front, softly groping at her chest. She moaned into the kiss, mirroring your actions on your body as your legs tangled together, gently rocking towards each other. There wasn’t a care in the world from either of you, you were utterly intoxicated with each other.

Alex craved more, needing to really feel you, her arms wound around you, grabbing your ass, urging you to roll your hips toward her and your breath caught in your throat. A hand slipped between your bodies, cupping you through your bikini, you sighed happily into the kiss and Alex eagerly swallowed it down. Your hips ground down against her hand as she rubbed you a few more times before her fingers toyed with the hem of your bottoms. You nipped at her lip, urging her to keep going and her hand found its way underneath, ghosting over your clit and you whined.

You didn’t want her to have the upper hand, not yet, and as desperate as you were for her to touch you, you were absolutely aching to feel her. So you copied her movements, a hand sliding her bottoms to the side to give you access to her pussy. As your fingers slid through her folds she broke the kiss with a gasp, hips rutting towards the touch and you giggled softly, the grin staying on your lips as your eyes cracked open to watch her. Her thumb flicked at your clit and you whimpered,

“More… please.” It was just over a whisper, but the neediness in your eyes was enough to make Alex smirk, her finger tips spreading your wetness around before two fingers sunk into you and you let out a moan, your eyes falling shut once again.

The world ceased to exist as you toyed with each other, fingers plunging into wetness, curling and pumping with ease, lips searching out one another for messy breathless kisses. All you felt was Alex and all she craved was you, free hands tangling into hair, pulling the other closer, as tight as they could to plunge a tongue into their mouth. Whimpers, whines and moans getting louder with each roll of your hips, fire shooting through your bodies as you began to reach your peaks. Wetness dripping from pussies, thighs clenching together in an attempt for some form of relief, bodies rocking in tandem until you were practically panting into each other’s mouths, the ultimate bliss and pleasure settling over you as Alex kissed you softly. Her hand slipped from beneath your suit, gently smoothing back a piece of your mussed up hair and you tugged her closer to you as she kissed you. Her tongue lazily sneaking into your mouth, surging against yours until she broke the kiss, the fire prevalent in her eyes as she looked down at you.

“I need to really see you, let’s get you inside, hmm?”

All you could do was nod, catching her hand in yours as she tugged you up from the lounger and inside the house. Once the patio door was shut behind you it was a flurry of movement and kisses to get you into her room, hands swiftly undoing knots, pushing swimsuit parts off to reveal more skin. Alex snuck into the bedside table and before you knew it she was strapped before you and it was a sight that made you weak in the knees.

She dropped onto the bed, settling on her back, pulling you to her, “oh you sweet girl,” she purred, “how about you come ride mommy’s cock? I want to see those gorgeous tits bounce.”

There was absolutely no hesitation as you climbed onto the bed, leaning over her to kiss her again, tongues nearly battling for dominance as you lined up the toy with your cunt. Sitting up you slipped Alex’s cock into you, sinking down until your hips met hers and you let out a satisfied moan, taking in the feeling of being stretched and so full by her before you began to move. Braced on your knees you raised yourself up until just the tip was left inside you and you started to bounce in her lap, sinking all the way down with each thrust.

The sight of you blissed out combined with the way the base of the toy was pressing on her clit was more than enough to start to bring Alex to her peak yet again. She watched the way your tits swayed, the way your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, how your hands danced around your body, sliding over your bare skin, pinching at your nipples, grazing across your throat and felt herself pulse. You were an absolute dream and the noises you were making were only urging her on further. She couldn’t resist touching you, her hands sliding up your waist, aching to get her mouth on your tits she sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist as she surged forward. You gasped at the angle, her cock now reaching even deeper inside of you and you could feel the ridges dragging across every inch you desired. Her hips continued to thrust up into you, pulling gasps and moans from you while her lips latched onto your chest, sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

“Oh god Alex…”

“Feel good darling?” She murmured, her words hot on your skin and you let out a whimper.

“Ye- yes mommy…oh fuck!” You let out a yelp when she bit into your skin, your arms tightening around her as heat coursed through your body, pleasure building tighter and tighter. You’d never felt like this before, your skin prickling, body nearly trembling in her arms as Alex fucked you deeper with each push of her hips.

Her lips kissed up your chest, nipping at your collarbone before she made home in the same crook of your neck as earlier, biting you again before her tongue lapped across the spot. She latched on, sucking at your neck as you moaned, louder with each thrust of her cock. She could feel you vibrating in her arms, feel how fast your pulse was going under her mouth, hear how your words were becoming more broken by moans, gasps and breathless whines. She pinched at your nipple, pulling a whimper from you,

“Come for mommy. I know you’re close sweetheart.” She husked into your ear and you felt yourself pulse around her.

“Oh god…oh.. fuck.. fuck!”

Your thighs clenched and you cried out as you felt your juices dribble out around her cock and Alex slowed her thrusts until she sunk into you one last time, her own breathing laboured as she held you to her. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, your breath hot on her skin as your body trembled with pleasure in her arms. Her hands soothed up and down your back slowly, calming you as you came down from your high, her lips softly pressing kisses to your skin.

“Holy shit.” You muttered, a giggle on your lips as you finally pulled your face up, a hand cupping her cheek as you smiled at her, a small laugh etched across her features.

“Worth the wait?” She asked with a smirk and you laughed again, pulling another one from her as you leant down to kiss her gently.

“Fucking absolutely.”

___________________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar r @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean

[starsarefire824]

moonflower ch. 6

Chapter 6: Blameworthy

A few weeks after that night on the porch, in the middle of the hottest month of summer you and El broke up. I never really got the full story from either one of you, but it wasn’t loud or tumultuous. If anything you both seemed lighter, as if your romance had puttered out instead of erupting in a firestorm like so many do. 

Even still, I knew she was sad. If not sad, severely disappointed. She spent every waking hour with Max that week and slept in my bed every night, hugging the plush giraffe you won at the county fair the year before and my arm tucked protectively around her belly. 

But you…You moped around most of all, seemingly lost and avoiding being alone with me for any extended period of time. It hurt my feelings, but I understood. I still understand. You two were so entangled in each other’s lives it was bound to take some getting used to. To figure out how to just be Mike and El, untethered from each other and individuals. 

I never brought up that night that you touched me, never asked what it meant or why you had done it. But I thought about it constantly, couldn’t stop staring at you and your hands, and the way your mouth was red and full and the truth that was: Your lips had been on mine. 

You’ve always been my torment. 

But after a few weeks, the both of you came around, and that’s when Max and Lucas started planning his 18th birthday party. 

It was the middle of August, just before everyone was about to slowly pack and leave for the school they had chosen. Or for those who chose Hawkins, whether by choice or by circumstance, made ready for the jobs they had lined up. 

You were less evasive, and we danced silently around each other for weeks, still nothing was said. But you sat too close when we played video games, and didn’t look away when our eyes met. 

There was one night we were caught alone under the streetlamp in front of your house, bugs tapping against the light and their shadows blacking out little dots on the pavement. I remember the cicadas were so loud in the trees as we set our bikes down to catch our breath after climbing the hill from Dustin’s house. 

I jumped off, leaning my bike against my hip as you threw yours down in your yard and turned back to face me, chest heaving. You looked down at me, skin flush with the heat and your eyes black as the night around you. I remember you licked your bottom lip because I couldn’t stop staring at how it shined in the light. 

You were so close and you reached out to me, your fingers sure, but your face suddenly terrified. My breath hitched in my throat and my heart pounded when you slid your fingers softly across my temple and tucked a wild flyaway behind my ear. I didn’t know how to be or how to act, still so completely unused to being on the other side of the line we had crossed weeks before. 

I thought you might kiss me then, and Christ I wanted you too. I ached for it. My heart raced in my chest when you leaned in slightly, your eyelids growing heavy and your breath on my cheek. But then there were headlights in my eyes and I flinched. The sound of the engine made you fright, and you stepped back from me, chest heaving and scrubbing the back of your neck with anxiety. When you looked at me I knew the moment was over, but you smiled out of one side of your mouth and regarded me fondly. 

[livwritesstuff]

uh so i was feeling like writing something angsty and ever since i wrote this a little bit ago i can’t stop thinking about the idea of what the upside down coming back decades later would look like, however it’s a bummer and not the vibe i want for my steddie!dads verse so consider this an au for an au or whatever idk

It’s a normal, average, mundane, regular Wednesday when Dustin calls.

They don’t talk as much as they used to, but that’s adult life, Steve supposes. 

They both have entire lives now, spouses and children and jobs that consume pretty much every waking hour. The near-1000 miles that separates Steve and Eddie in Massachusetts from Dustin in Indiana doesn’t help things either, and seeing as how Dustin had long-since inherited the Hawkins Lab research from Owens when he retired back in the mid-2000s, that won’t be changing any time soon.

Steve is home when Dustin calls, and between counseling clients, so when the phone rings and lights up with his name, Steve picks it up with a grin.

“Hey man, what’s goin’ on!”

Nothing but silence comes through Dustin’s end for a while – such a long time that Steve checks to make sure that the call didn’t drop or his phone didn’t die or something (and neither had happened, so it’s definitely a Dustin thing).

“Dustin?” he asks, “You there?”

Silence, still.

Then –

“Steve.”

Dustin sounds…not normal, and Steve feels the grin slide off his face.

“What?”

“Steve,” he chokes, “It’s…it’s back.”

Steve feels his heart stop for a second, feels it like all the blood in his veins came to an abrupt halt for just a moment.

“The Upside Down,” Dustin continues, “It…all of…it’s back.”

He sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe Steve’s the one sinking beneath the surface, just like he’d done forty years ago when he’d taken Dustin’s place on that boat and got dragged into hell through the depths of Lover’s Lake.

Steve hangs up the phone, his hands shaking.

His knees feel shaky too, like they can’t support his weight anymore despite doing so for nearly sixty years.

They’ve been giving him problems lately – his knees. Nothing too crazy; he can still go on his runs and putter around the yard and all that. It’s just a part of aging, he supposes, and he hadn’t minded aging before – liked it, even. Liked his greying hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes and his achy knees, because there’d been a period of time many years ago when he wasn’t sure he’d make it long enough to experience that inevitability of life.

Right this second though, he hates it, hates the way it makes him realize he’s not as nimble as he used to be, the way his reaction time isn’t the same anymore, because he knows that’s what had gotten him through those horrible years back in the mid-eighties.

He lowers himself down, and as his ass hits the tile floor of the bathroom – his daughters’ bathroom, the one they’ve shared practically their whole lives, the one Moe lost her first tooth in, the one Robbie pierced her own ears in, the one Hazel will be getting ready for prom in soon – Dustin calls him again.Steve doesn’t pick up, too busy kicking himself for not considering sooner the possibility of this sooner, for not having a plan ready to execute to keep their daughters safe the way no adult had done for him.

He can feel an old instinct – the urge to gather his loved ones close – starting to kick in, his mind starting to race as he catalogs the people who make up his small corner of the world. 

Hazel is easy – she’s at the high school just down the road. He can have her back home, back within arm’s reach, in a matter of minutes.

Robin and Nancy are next closest, still living in Boston after all these years. Steve would wager a guess that they’ll be hearing from Dustin soon if they haven’t already, and then they’ll probably head Steve and Eddie’s way, and then they’ll all regroup. 

They’ll figure out what their next moves are.

Moe and Robbie are trickier with both of them living in New York City and likely unwilling to leave their school and their jobs and their friends without any warning whatsoever. Moe is getting more and more reasonable the older she gets, so Steve may have to start with her and hope that Robbie follows.

Moe is twenty-two now. 

Moe is older than both of her dads had been when Eddie had nearly died, when Steve had carried him out of hell and made sure he didn’t. All three of their daughters – even seventeen-year-old Hazel – are older than Steve had been when he got sucked into that horrible mess, and they’re still so damn young. 

With two decades of parenting under his belt, he finds it kind of unbelievable that anybody had looked at his sixteen-year-old face and seen anything but a child, nevermind actually asked him to do the things that he’d done.

Dustin calls him two more times before he gives up. Only a moment later, Steve hears Eddie’s phone ring downstairs, and then he hears Eddie’s jovial tone as he answers the call. 

He goes quiet real quick after that.

Just as Steve is deciding who to call first – Hazel’s school or Moe – his phone vibrates, two quick buzzes that can only indicate a text from Robin.

He opens it.

did dustin call you?

Steve lets out a heavy breath because, fuck, it’s real.

Yeah, he texts back, then adds –

This fucking sucks

40 years

As Steve watches the bubbles of Robin’s incoming response, he can vaguely hear Eddie’s ascent of the stairs, still on the phone with Dustin. 

The bubbles disappear.

“Fuck you, Dustin,” he hears Eddie snarl, “This is on you.” There’s silence for a while, and Eddie seems to pause in the hallway just in front of their bedroom door. Then, “Yeah, I’ll talk to him…I know…later, man. Love you. Be safe.”

Steve looks down at his phone to see that Robin is still typing, only for the bubbles to disappear again a second later.

Finally –

nance is going back

i’m going with her

Steve could throw up.

He almost does, he’s pretty sure, although he’s not positive because he might be having an out of body experience, or maybe he’s dissociating, or maybe it’s a fucking PTSD flashback or something. He doesn’t know.

He should know, or so his handful of psych degrees would suggest, and he probably would know if it was happening to someone else, but then again, he’s always worn blinders when it comes to himself.

That was true about him when all this shit started in 1983, and it’s still true now, almost forty years later.

Forty fucking years.

He doesn’t look up when Eddie comes into the bathroom, joining him on the floor with his back against the bathtub.

“Dustin took offense to you hanging up on him,” he says, and Steve can hear the way he’s forcing humor into his tone.

As if any of this shit is funny.

“Erica and the kids left with Claudia,” Eddie continues, answering a question Steve probably would’ve gotten around to asking Dustin himself if it weren’t for the whole hanging up on him thing, “Erica went kicking and screaming, obviously. I offered up our house, but they’re still deciding where they want to camp out. And everyone has agreed not to say a word to Jim and Joyce.”

Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and perpetually acting like they’re thirty years younger – at a minimum.

Not that Steve would know anything about that.

Definitely not.

“He said he’s one-hundred percent positive that it’s all still contained to Hawkins, so…” Eddie pauses, “We don’t have to, like, track down the girls or anything. Just make sure they don’t go anywhere near Indiana.”

And that, at least, is an actual relief.

“Robin’s going back,” Steve tells him, because there’s no point waiting to address that particular issue in this whole fucking mess.

The so I’m going too is implied, because that has never needed to be said when it came to Steve and Robin.

The way Eddie’s face changes evades Steve’s ability to describe. It makes him regret saying anything – that’s for fucking sure. Makes him wish he’d just snuck away in the dead of night.

“C’mon man, we’ve picked up a whole fuckin’ litter over the years,” Eddie says, and he’s still forcing humor into his tone, “You can’t leave me to fend off the masses alone – the years have made me weak-willed, I’ll surrender immediately.”

Steve manages a snort, but he still looks down at the floor all the same.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else for a while, but his hand wraps around Steve’s ankle as if there was enough brute strength in the one appendage to keep him rooted to the bathroom floor.

(Strangely enough, it feels like there might be).

“Steve,” Eddie finally says, his voice stiff and hard in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, “We are way too old for this shit – Robin and Nance too.”

Eddie pauses.

“Steve,” he says again, “I know how important Robin is. I know, but our children would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you. Don’t think they wouldn’t – and something would most certainly happen to you.”

“Eddie.” 

He’s still avoiding his husband’s eyes.

“Steve,” he pleads, something desperate in his voice, “We talked about this. Remember? Last spring, when we watched that stupid zombie show with Hazel? And there was the episode with the old gay guys? We talked about this. You told me not to let you go if this shit came back.”

Steve makes no response. Ed lets out a heavy breath, looking to the ceiling.

They have this conversation every now and then – one of those conversations that always teeters on the edge of an argument – in which Eddie insists that Steve could be fine if their relationship ended in a way that Eddie himself would not. It’s a conversation that Steve hates, because he hates the idea that Eddie – his husband of twenty years and the love of his whole entire life – could still be thinking so low of himself, that there’s any part of him that doesn’t think Steve would be fucking wrecked by losing him.

Still, it had always been a hypothetical. It had never been real.

Suddenly, Steve feels claustrophobic sitting on the floor of his daughters’ bathroom. He gets to his feet and, as he heads for the door, Eddie scrambles up after him.

Halfway down the hall, Eddie lunges for him and catches his arm, wheeling him back around to face him.

“Steve,” Eddie says one more time. 

Then, because he apparently has no words ready to follow with, he stops.

“Steve,” Eddie starts again, “Please. You’re everything. I love the girls and I love our life, but Christ, Steve, you’re my entire world. You changed everything for me. You showed me how life could be worth living, and you keep showing me, and I’m not ready to let go of you yet – not even fucking close. Please don’t let this be the way we leave each other.”

Steve finally lets himself look at Eddie’s face, the face he’d fallen in love with decades ago, the face he’s still in love with decades later. He looks at his big eyes and the hint of grey at his hairline and his crows feet and the scarring that creeps up his neck from underneath the collar of his shirt (it’s a shirt he’s had for ages – since before even Moe was born by the looks of it, but so is the rest of his half of their closet).

And he finds himself nodding.

Eddie’s exhale is all desperate relief as he tugs Steve into his arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Steve immediately reciprocates the hug, pulling him in even closer, surprised to feel tears pin-pricking his eyes

“I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie tells him, gripping the back of his t-shirt so tight he feels the collar pulling taut against his throat, “I don’t say that to you enough.”

“You say it all the time,” Steve replies with a wet laugh.

“Not enough,” he shakes his head, and Steve decides there’s no point in arguing.

A minute goes by.

“Fuck,” Steve half-laughs, half-chokes as he lifts his head to meet Eddie’s eyes, “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” he says. 

Again, he reels Steve in, and again, Steve lets him, holding onto his husband like a lifeline, like they’re standing somewhere far more perilous than the carpeted floor of their upstairs hallway.

“I know,” Eddie repeats, “And we’ll…we’ll talk about it but for now, just – can I just hold you for a bit, okay?”

Steve nods again.

“Okay.”

read the extended version on AO3 (i.e. feat. added “flashbacks” so it fits the formatting of the rest of the series)

[theriverbeyond]

bestie bc i was in charge of potatoes i need to pick your brain about how dios apate sr. thanksgiving goes. <3 i think mercymorn should not be allowed within 200 yards of any turkey ever

being kiwi they would probably not do thanksgiving proper but i CAN make them do "complicated meal involving turkey", so:

Mercymorn can kill & dissect any living thing with surgical precision so they initially put her in charge of the turkey, but then she heats the oven to like 1000C just to cause Augustine (doing most of the other cooking) mayhem and terror. he bends down to check on it and gets blasted with the heat of 1000 suns & then has to attend the dinner with no eyebrows (she grows them back for him after)

Augustine is making a 15 course meal... he is cooking a lot of things in short bursts of violence and it is taking FOREVER because John wants everything served all at once and u know the Mithraeum doesn't have enough pans or burners for this kind of thing. Augustine is puttering over the potatoes as Mercymorn is 4 hours into being hangry and you could cut the tension with a knife

John is pillow princessing his way through the entire night, he is wantering around offering encouragement, getting in the way, and taste testing everything but not touching a single pan!!!

G1deon has wisely cleared out and once food is done will appear for 15 mandatory minutes to receive food before slinking off again. Cytherea is fanning herself in the sitting room and not doing any kind of work. she has NecroDoordashed some sushi and is just here to watch the chaos unfold