indigostreaking

[indigostreaking]

The way she had TikTok beef with me in my ownnnn comment section once 😂

Proud to say I never pretended to like her just because she was dating Sam. 💀

[indigostreaking]

Jake not being able to spell Marauder, ok dyslexia.

Jake wanting to name the band Marauder, ok millennial.

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POV: Sam’s missing you before he knows you.

Dear Future Love (Sweetpea? No…Sugar muffin? Ew… okay I’ll stop, unless you’re into it? Nah..),

I was going to wait to write this until I had something profound to say, but I’m starting to realize that love isn’t always profound. Sometimes it’s just deeply real. So here I am, a little tired, a little hopeful, and a lot in my feelings.

I’ve been thinking about you more than usual lately. Like I can almost hear your laugh echoing in the quiet parts of my day, as if you’re already woven into the background noise of my life, even though I haven’t met you, yet. I know that you’re out there somewhere, living your life, probably blissfully unaware that I’m here dreaming about dancing with you in the kitchen barefoot and you’re pretending not to love it when I dip and spin you(even though you totally do).

It’s weird, isn’t it? Missing someone whose hand I’ve never held. But I do. It’s not in some dramatic, movie-scene way…but more like… in the small things. I’ll make a cup of tea and think, you’d take yours with honey. I’ll see the sky turn lavender and wonder if you’re looking at it too. I’ll write a song and leave space in it for your voice, not knowing what it sounds like, just knowing it’ll fit.

I want to love you in all the dumb, soft ways. I want to press my cold feet on you under the covers and then apologize with kisses. I want to watch you eat cereal in my T-shirt while you tell me about your weird dream. I want to write you songs that are too silly and sappy to share with the band(unless I want to be absolutely roasted).

I want the ordinary magic. I crave the slow grocery store walks where we forget the list, the ‘one more episode’ nights that turn into tangled mornings, the way you’ll make fun of me for crying at the sad dog commercials knowing I’ll ask ‘what’s one more?’.

Most of all, I want you, not just the dreamy version I’ve made up in my head, but the real you. The sleepy-eyed, messy-bunned, deep-feeling, overthinking, snort-laughing, beautiful you. The one who’s late sometimes all the time. The one who’s too hard on themselves. The one who doesn’t know that they already take up space in someone’s heart.

Mine.

So I’ll wait. I’ll keep making music and spilling tea and dancing like a dumbass in the kitchen with the dogs. I’ll leave space in the bed and the playlist. I’ll keep believing in timing and magic and soulmates who make fun of each other’s toothbrush faces.

I’ll be here when you’re ready, lovebug(ew why am I like this?)

With all the love in my heart,

- S

[indigostreaking]

POV: Josh is lonely 😭

My Love,

I don’t know how to begin this without trembling—not from fear, but from the ache of missing you so deeply when I’ve never even held you.

Still, I know you..Not by name or by face, but by feeling. A quiet gravity that pulls at me every night when the world stills and I remember that you’re not beside me. Not yet.

I feel you in my bones. You’re the phantom weight in the empty half of my bed, the breath I can’t quite catch during slow songs, and the silence between my fingers when they reach for someone who isn’t you.

I write you into everything. Every lyric, every frame, every whispered line of poetry…they’re all pieces of you, stitched together from stardust and dreams and desperation.

I try to get the angles right, to perfect the lighting, the pacing and the emotion…as if by making it real on film, I can pull you through time and space into my arms.

I know I love you. Not in a careless, rose-colored way…but in a soul-deep, clawing, terrifying kind of way. The kind that demands surrender. The kind that ruins you for anyone else.

You are the story I’ve never stopped telling, the face I sketch in foggy windows, the voice I imagine late at night, asking if I’m okay—not because I’m broken, but just because you’d want to know.

I have waited patiently, and selfishly, and angrily…but always faithfully because I believe you’re out there..and I believe you’re worth every lonely moment it’s taken to find you.

So when you come(and I know you will), don’t knock. Don’t hesitate…Just come in, take off your coat and stay.

I’ll have music playing..the good kind, the kind that hurts. I’ll pour you tea, or wine, or whatever helps you soften…And I’ll finally, finally be able to say the words I’ve been carrying for you alone:

You’re home now, and I’ve loved you forever.

Utterly and completely yours,

- J

[indigostreaking]

POV: Danny’s yearning..

Hey You,

It’s way too late, and I should probably be asleep…but my brain’s doing that thing again. You know, the one where it gets all tangled up in thoughts of you.

For the record, yes, I realize how weird that sounds, considering we haven’t actually met. But still….You’re there, in my head like the harmony I can’t quite reach but know by heart anyway.

We’re somewhere in Europe.. I already forgot which city, which is probably terrible, but they’re all starting to blur together. Not in a bad way, just in a ‘how is this my life’ kind of way.

We played a good show tonight. The crowd was loud, the lights and pyro were hot(especially the pyro), and we were in the zone.. But after the amps cool down and the noise fades, it gets quiet. That’s when I miss you most, even though I don’t know your face, yet.

I see pieces of you everywhere. Like in the girl sketching on a park bench, in the bartender with chipped nail polish and a secret smile, or in the way the stars showed up early tonight like they were trying to say, ‘she’s out there, dude. Chill.’ But I don’t chill. Ever. Not about you.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say here except… I hope you’re real. I hope you’re out there living this soft, weird, beautiful life of yours.. I imagine you’re probably dancing in your kitchen or reading with your feet tucked under a blanket or singing way too loud in the car. Whatever you’re doing, where ever you are… I hope you love dogs, I hope you laugh so hard you snort, but most of all, I hope you find me someday, and when you do, you’ll think, ‘Oh. There you are. Finally.’

Until then, I’ll be here…playing songs, scribbling half-poems in hotel notepads and saving the best parts of myself for you.

See you when the stars are ready.

– D

P.S. I think you’d really like the bridge I wrote today. It’s got a little mandolin in it. I don’t know why, but it felt like you.

[indigostreaking]

POV: Jake’s manifesting 🤭🤭🤭

To the keeper of my heart,

Somewhere out there, in the haze of headlights or tucked between the pages of a book I haven’t opened yet, I know you’re breathing the same air as me.

And still, I haven’t met you.

But my god, darling girl, I feel you.

I feel you in the hollow places.

In the moments after the encore, when the crowd fades but the ache doesn’t.

In the quiet hum of a lonely kitchen at midnight, when the cats curl up near my boots, and I swear, I can almost see your silhouette in the doorway.

You’re a presence in my life already, threaded into the chords I write and the recipes I learn by heart, hoping one day I’ll make them for you—barefoot, humming, with your laughter bouncing off the walls of a house that finally feels like home.

I wonder what your laugh sounds like when it’s real and unfiltered.

I wonder what your hands would feel like in mine…if you’d flinch when I reach for you or pull me closer.

Would you kiss me slow or kiss me wild?

I don’t need you to be perfect.

I just need you to be you.

Sharp edges, soft scars, wild soul.. bring it all. I’ve got room for it here, in the mess I’ve made of myself.

My wild heart, I’ve had lovers. Moments. Girls who tasted like distraction and goodbye.

But none of them stayed in my bones the way you already do, and I haven’t even heard your voice yet.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re holding on.

I hope you haven’t dimmed your light for the wrong ones.

And I hope, when we do find each other, when the universe finally sighs and lets us collide, it’s nothing short of cosmic.

Until then, I’ll wait for you in the spaces between lyrics, in the scent of old books and new coffee, in the dreams that taste like déjà vu.

I’m not lost, not really.

Just unfinished.

All my love,

- J

[indigostreaking]

Pspspsps golf danny over here. Pspspspsps he’s sarcastic and sassy 🫣

Sweet Spot

Danny x Reader

Warnings: none really. Language maybe? Also if you see any typos, no you didn’t.

Word count: ~2500(but I didn’t really count)

You weren’t supposed to be at the golf course. Nothing about it sounded appealing to you, but you couldn’t say no when your best friend asked you to come to the “Swinging Singles” charity event she organized.

You hated early mornings, polos made your chest look weird, and the idea of mingling with strangers who took golf too seriously made your eye twitch. Yet here you were in borrowed sneakers, a too-tight visor and a scratchy polo at 9:03am on a Saturday morning holding a driver upside down like a toddler left unattended.

“You’re holding that like a baseball bat..” a voice drawled from behind you. “Are you about to tee off or beat someone to death?” He added with a laugh.

You turned, fully prepared to lay into him for his snark, but when you’re eyes landed on the man, you forgot how to breathe.

He was tall and lean, with the wiry muscles of a man that used them regularly. His dark curly hair was tucked under a backwards baseball cap, leaving you to admire the way his warm brown eyes sparkled in the sunshine and the striking sharpness to his features—a strong Roman nose and angular jawline. He had an intimidating kind of beauty that you don’t think you had ever encountered before…but it was his smirk that got you. The cocky, I-know-I’m-irritating-and-I-enjoy-it smile.

You gathered a small semblance of dignity and shot back a reply. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” You smiled, playing nice and unimpressed, hoping to humble him a bit.

“Danny,” he replied coolly, unbothered as he stepped forward and offered you a gloved hand.

You shook his hand, trying not to think of how warm and strong it felt in yours. “I’m—“

He cut you off with another laugh. “You’re the girl who just tried to use a golf club as a lightsaber. Iconic.”

“I was stretching..” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Is that what they’re calling it?” His smile widened. He was clearly amused by you..and himself. “Here, let me help,” he stepped towards you, taking a spot behind you that felt much closer than strangers should be. He reached around you, adjusting your grip on the driver as he lead you through a mock swing. His cologne was subtle—cedar and citrus—but it was enough to make your knees feel weak. “Better,” he murmured softly before stepping back. “Now swing like you’re aiming at your ex.”

You laughed and did as he asked, sending the ball flying in a small arc that landed much further down the green than you’d ever managed before.

“See?” He grinned proudly. “I knew you could do it.”

You had to fight the urge to hug him, instead settling on a high five that felt like it lingered..but maybe that was your imagination.

When the actual event started, you found yourself caught up in the chaos of speed dating. It was hard to maintain the balance of asking and answering questions within the limited time with each person, but you finally got into the swing of things—pun intended—when you were once again face to face with Danny as your final date of the day.

“Saved the best for last, huh?” He teased as he approached you for the final hole of the course.

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile. “Nah, I just wanted another free golf lesson,” you smirked and felt butterflies when he let out a cackle laugh.

Your mini-date was a chaotic blend of laughter, sarcastic banter and flirty trash-talk with the occasional brush of arms that sent sparks tingling down your spine.

When the event ended, the two of you had snuck away from the crowd and were sitting in the grass together, watching the sun set while sipping from solo cups. “These are pretty good for bootleg margaritas,” you teased and licked your lips.

“Bootleg?! These are my signature drink!” He pretended to be surprised but cracked with a giggle. “I was working with a time crunch because I didn’t know when the bar cart girl would come back..”

You had snickered as quietly as you could while watching him attempt to sneakily make a cocktail while the cart was unattended, and laughed even louder when he nearly fell while racing back after getting yelled at.

“Yeah yeah, it would be better with some fruit or something, though,” you replied in an unimpressed tone, as if he had not blown you away in every category from looks to humor to skill.

He loosed a breath as if the verbal blow you hit him with was almost too much. “You wound me…but not as much as you would have if I hadn’t helped you with your golf swing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh because damnit if he wasn’t right. “It wasn’t THAT bad! Maybe I was just distracted..”

“By my rugged handsomeness?” He did his best smoldering look before a smile spread across his face.

“No,” you deadpanned. “Probably because some arrogant asshole started talking to me..”

“Ouch. Wounded again.” His smile didn’t falter though, if anything it brightened even more. “Hey, how do you feel about keeping this date going?”

You blushed a little at his forwardness because you had almost forgotten this was a date since it felt so natural and easy. “I wouldn’t be opposed…”

“Great! Because there’s this amazing taco truck right down the road. I’ll drive!” He jumped up and took your hand, practically dragging you to his Jeep. You climbed in and made sure to buckle up before pulling out your phone as he drove. “Watcha doing?” He asked softly.

“Filling out a Buzzfeed quiz called ‘am I being kidnapped?’” You replied nonchalantly, and he cackled with laughter. “Next is the ‘is this man going to ruin my life?’ quiz..” you added in the same cool tone, which only made him laugh harder.

“Let me know what they say,” he played along, and you could see the light blush on his cheeks.

When you finally saw the taco truck he had mentioned, your mouth fell open. Danny parked the jeep and helped you out before escorting you over to the seating area set up beside the truck. It had fairy lights draped over a little awning that covered a few bistro tables.

“Pick a seat and I’ll grab the food. Steak okay?” He started to walk away but paused to wait for your answer. “Oh shit! You don’t have any food allergies or dietary restrictions do you? I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask before..” he started to ramble nervously, and it made you laugh softly.

“No, I’m good. Steak sounds perfect. Not too spicy, though..” you replied, and he nodded in agreement. You glanced around the quiet area, noting the parking lot was actually adjacent to a dog park where you could see a man throwing tennis balls for his three brindle dogs.

“Here we are. Honey lime steak tacos with an avocado crema…fucking amazing,” he pretended to wipe drool from his mouth after setting them down in front of you.

You took one bite and nearly moaned. “You’re the best kidnapper ever,” you mumbled through a mouthful of food.

He snorted a laugh before taking a sip of his drink. The rest of the meal was more or less the same as your golf date. You bantered back and forth, flirting and teasing, but mostly laughing. He was clever, intelligent, and he listened. Like he filed away each quip or secret that you dropped in conversation for future use. It was mesmerizing and refreshing.

When dinner was over, the two of you climbed back into his jeep and buckled up. You felt anxious suddenly because the date was coming to an end, and you didn’t want it to. You glanced over at him, only to feel the same nervous energy.

Moments of silence passed while he drove, but he broke it when he said, “Do you care if we make one more stop? I want to show you something..”

Your heart nearly fell to your ass. This was definitely gonna be the murder part of the night. You had known he seemed too good to be true.

Before you could panic too much, he quickly added, “I swear I’m not a murderer!”

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say!” You replied a little too loudly before laughing anxiously. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “You promise?”

He smiled warmly, “I promise.” Then he took a deep breath and added, “Just don’t run away…because it’s at this warehouse and it’s gonna look even more sketchy before it gets better..”

“I don’t run,” you laughed at the thought. “Well, unless it’s from emotionally unavailable men with guitars..”

He cackled. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he bemused.

The warehouse was smaller than expected and definitely looked a little more murdery than you’d prefer, but you put on a brave face and followed him inside where you found a full drum kit sitting on top of an old worn-out rug. The walls had some soundproofing material hung on them, and a tangled weave of cords ran from the amps to empty spaces that were likely filled by guitars, bass, and microphones more often than not.

As you pieced together what you’re looking at, Danny smiled. “When things get too loud, I come here to…well I guess to make things louder,” he laughed quietly to himself.

He didn’t say anything else, he just sat behind the kit and started playing. Slow at first, almost lazy, before building into a rhythm that thudded in your chest like a second heartbeat. Watching him—focused, intense, passionate and alive—your breath got caught in your throat.

Suddenly, he looked up, eyes locked on yours, and the beat shifted. It became rougher, louder, like the sound made by a man daring you to feel something.

You didn’t realize you’d moved closer until you could practically feel the heat and wind from his movements.

All of a sudden, he stopped playing and silence slammed into the space, leaving an incessant tingling in your ears.

“You good?” he asked, voice huskier now, mouth tilted in that crooked, knowing way.

You nodded. Barely. “Yeah, why?

“Because you’re looking at me like you want to kiss me or you’re afraid of me..”

You tilted your head. “What if it’s both?”

He stood, slowly, until the space between you evaporated. “Then I’m really hoping you kiss me first,” he whispered. “Because I’m not sure I’ll survive the second option.”

Your breath hitched, and for a second, the air buzzed with indecision.

Then you kissed him.

And it was nothing like you expected.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t dominate. He kissed like the musician you now knew he was—timing, rhythm, restraint, then heat. Like he wanted to memorize the way your mouth moved. Like you were a melody he couldn’t stop playing, one that he longed to figure out.

When you finally pulled back, dazed and breathless, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. The feel of his rough calluses making you shiver.

“Still think I’m gonna ruin your life?” he asked softly.

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmured. “It’s only fair. You’re already ruining mine.”

[indigostreaking]

Sweet Spot

Danny x Reader

Warnings: none really. Language maybe? Also if you see any typos, no you didn’t.

Word count: ~2500(but I didn’t really count)

You weren’t supposed to be at the golf course. Nothing about it sounded appealing to you, but you couldn’t say no when your best friend asked you to come to the “Swinging Singles” charity event she organized.

You hated early mornings, polos made your chest look weird, and the idea of mingling with strangers who took golf too seriously made your eye twitch. Yet here you were in borrowed sneakers, a too-tight visor and a scratchy polo at 9:03am on a Saturday morning holding a driver upside down like a toddler left unattended.

“You’re holding that like a baseball bat..” a voice drawled from behind you. “Are you about to tee off or beat someone to death?” He added with a laugh.

You turned, fully prepared to lay into him for his snark, but when you’re eyes landed on the man, you forgot how to breathe.

He was tall and lean, with the wiry muscles of a man that used them regularly. His dark curly hair was tucked under a backwards baseball cap, leaving you to admire the way his warm brown eyes sparkled in the sunshine and the striking sharpness to his features—a strong Roman nose and angular jawline. He had an intimidating kind of beauty that you don’t think you had ever encountered before…but it was his smirk that got you. The cocky, I-know-I’m-irritating-and-I-enjoy-it smile.

You gathered a small semblance of dignity and shot back a reply. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” You smiled, playing nice and unimpressed, hoping to humble him a bit.

“Danny,” he replied coolly, unbothered as he stepped forward and offered you a gloved hand.

You shook his hand, trying not to think of how warm and strong it felt in yours. “I’m—“

He cut you off with another laugh. “You’re the girl who just tried to use a golf club as a lightsaber. Iconic.”

“I was stretching..” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Is that what they’re calling it?” His smile widened. He was clearly amused by you..and himself. “Here, let me help,” he stepped towards you, taking a spot behind you that felt much closer than strangers should be. He reached around you, adjusting your grip on the driver as he lead you through a mock swing. His cologne was subtle—cedar and citrus—but it was enough to make your knees feel weak. “Better,” he murmured softly before stepping back. “Now swing like you’re aiming at your ex.”

You laughed and did as he asked, sending the ball flying in a small arc that landed much further down the green than you’d ever managed before.

“See?” He grinned proudly. “I knew you could do it.”

You had to fight the urge to hug him, instead settling on a high five that felt like it lingered..but maybe that was your imagination.

When the actual event started, you found yourself caught up in the chaos of speed dating. It was hard to maintain the balance of asking and answering questions within the limited time with each person, but you finally got into the swing of things—pun intended—when you were once again face to face with Danny as your final date of the day.

“Saved the best for last, huh?” He teased as he approached you for the final hole of the course.

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile. “Nah, I just wanted another free golf lesson,” you smirked and felt butterflies when he let out a cackle laugh.

Your mini-date was a chaotic blend of laughter, sarcastic banter and flirty trash-talk with the occasional brush of arms that sent sparks tingling down your spine.

When the event ended, the two of you had snuck away from the crowd and were sitting in the grass together, watching the sun set while sipping from solo cups. “These are pretty good for bootleg margaritas,” you teased and licked your lips.

“Bootleg?! These are my signature drink!” He pretended to be surprised but cracked with a giggle. “I was working with a time crunch because I didn’t know when the bar cart girl would come back..”

You had snickered as quietly as you could while watching him attempt to sneakily make a cocktail while the cart was unattended, and laughed even louder when he nearly fell while racing back after getting yelled at.

“Yeah yeah, it would be better with some fruit or something, though,” you replied in an unimpressed tone, as if he had not blown you away in every category from looks to humor to skill.

He loosed a breath as if the verbal blow you hit him with was almost too much. “You wound me…but not as much as you would have if I hadn’t helped you with your golf swing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh because damnit if he wasn’t right. “It wasn’t THAT bad! Maybe I was just distracted..”

“By my rugged handsomeness?” He did his best smoldering look before a smile spread across his face.

“No,” you deadpanned. “Probably because some arrogant asshole started talking to me..”

“Ouch. Wounded again.” His smile didn’t falter though, if anything it brightened even more. “Hey, how do you feel about keeping this date going?”

You blushed a little at his forwardness because you had almost forgotten this was a date since it felt so natural and easy. “I wouldn’t be opposed…”

“Great! Because there’s this amazing taco truck right down the road. I’ll drive!” He jumped up and took your hand, practically dragging you to his Jeep. You climbed in and made sure to buckle up before pulling out your phone as he drove. “Watcha doing?” He asked softly.

“Filling out a Buzzfeed quiz called ‘am I being kidnapped?’” You replied nonchalantly, and he cackled with laughter. “Next is the ‘is this man going to ruin my life?’ quiz..” you added in the same cool tone, which only made him laugh harder.

“Let me know what they say,” he played along, and you could see the light blush on his cheeks.

When you finally saw the taco truck he had mentioned, your mouth fell open. Danny parked the jeep and helped you out before escorting you over to the seating area set up beside the truck. It had fairy lights draped over a little awning that covered a few bistro tables.

“Pick a seat and I’ll grab the food. Steak okay?” He started to walk away but paused to wait for your answer. “Oh shit! You don’t have any food allergies or dietary restrictions do you? I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask before..” he started to ramble nervously, and it made you laugh softly.

“No, I’m good. Steak sounds perfect. Not too spicy, though..” you replied, and he nodded in agreement. You glanced around the quiet area, noting the parking lot was actually adjacent to a dog park where you could see a man throwing tennis balls for his three brindle dogs.

“Here we are. Honey lime steak tacos with an avocado crema…fucking amazing,” he pretended to wipe drool from his mouth after setting them down in front of you.

You took one bite and nearly moaned. “You’re the best kidnapper ever,” you mumbled through a mouthful of food.

He snorted a laugh before taking a sip of his drink. The rest of the meal was more or less the same as your golf date. You bantered back and forth, flirting and teasing, but mostly laughing. He was clever, intelligent, and he listened. Like he filed away each quip or secret that you dropped in conversation for future use. It was mesmerizing and refreshing.

When dinner was over, the two of you climbed back into his jeep and buckled up. You felt anxious suddenly because the date was coming to an end, and you didn’t want it to. You glanced over at him, only to feel the same nervous energy.

Moments of silence passed while he drove, but he broke it when he said, “Do you care if we make one more stop? I want to show you something..”

Your heart nearly fell to your ass. This was definitely gonna be the murder part of the night. You had known he seemed too good to be true.

Before you could panic too much, he quickly added, “I swear I’m not a murderer!”

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say!” You replied a little too loudly before laughing anxiously. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “You promise?”

He smiled warmly, “I promise.” Then he took a deep breath and added, “Just don’t run away…because it’s at this warehouse and it’s gonna look even more sketchy before it gets better..”

“I don’t run,” you laughed at the thought. “Well, unless it’s from emotionally unavailable men with guitars..”

He cackled. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he bemused.

The warehouse was smaller than expected and definitely looked a little more murdery than you’d prefer, but you put on a brave face and followed him inside where you found a full drum kit sitting on top of an old worn-out rug. The walls had some soundproofing material hung on them, and a tangled weave of cords ran from the amps to empty spaces that were likely filled by guitars, bass, and microphones more often than not.

As you pieced together what you’re looking at, Danny smiled. “When things get too loud, I come here to…well I guess to make things louder,” he laughed quietly to himself.

He didn’t say anything else, he just sat behind the kit and started playing. Slow at first, almost lazy, before building into a rhythm that thudded in your chest like a second heartbeat. Watching him—focused, intense, passionate and alive—your breath got caught in your throat.

Suddenly, he looked up, eyes locked on yours, and the beat shifted. It became rougher, louder, like the sound made by a man daring you to feel something.

You didn’t realize you’d moved closer until you could practically feel the heat and wind from his movements.

All of a sudden, he stopped playing and silence slammed into the space, leaving an incessant tingling in your ears.

“You good?” he asked, voice huskier now, mouth tilted in that crooked, knowing way.

You nodded. Barely. “Yeah, why?

“Because you’re looking at me like you want to kiss me or you’re afraid of me..”

You tilted your head. “What if it’s both?”

He stood, slowly, until the space between you evaporated. “Then I’m really hoping you kiss me first,” he whispered. “Because I’m not sure I’ll survive the second option.”

Your breath hitched, and for a second, the air buzzed with indecision.

Then you kissed him.

And it was nothing like you expected.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t dominate. He kissed like the musician you now knew he was—timing, rhythm, restraint, then heat. Like he wanted to memorize the way your mouth moved. Like you were a melody he couldn’t stop playing, one that he longed to figure out.

When you finally pulled back, dazed and breathless, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. The feel of his rough calluses making you shiver.

“Still think I’m gonna ruin your life?” he asked softly.

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmured. “It’s only fair. You’re already ruining mine.”

[indigostreaking]

Can someone write a Cowboy Danny or Cowboy Jake fic? I wanna see something..

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🫣🫣🫣🫣

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I wanna have 2 boyfriends, and I want my boyfriends to be boyfriends…amen

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Hi friends, I’m back with further examples of dirtbag hot. 🥵

the quintessential example of dirtbag hot

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Did yall see this or no? Because you need to.

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The sun kissed skin, the rolled sleeves, the necklaces, THE THIGHS OUT IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

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POV: you’re a brat and Danny is about to spank you

[indigostreaking]

I’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

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