#summer? i turned into a raccoon

[watermelinoe]

i think circadian rhythm disorders should count as a disability

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[mydarlingclaudia]

just you and me, alone in the dark

note : divider is from @/thecutestgrotto. ermmm idrk. Leon is ooc again I know, I’m trying to write a few Leon summer fics over the next few weeks, if you have any ideas please let me know I only have like two more 😔 mdni

wc : 3.8k

tags : @lottiies

desc : Leon’s back in town, that couldn’t be too hard on the gigantic crush you have on your best friend, right? friends to lovers, smut!! - unprotected p in v, little bit of fingering. not proofread, fem!reader, post re2r!Leon

Leon was back home for one week this summer, he’s been a cop in Raccoon City for almost a year now, the two of you have been calling and writing each other, trying to keep up with each others lives, but it’s nothing like being face-to-face again. You’ve been hosting him at your house for the past few days, Leon’s been going to catch up with a few other friends, but he’s always back at your place by at least midnight.

It wasn’t like when you were kids. Some of your friends had moved away, that arcade a mile or two away that you and Leon would always walk to had closed down and was now a fancy restaurant, the old lady who ran the laundromat and would give the two of you quarters for the arcade games had passed away. But your crush on Leon had stayed, maybe even grew a bit. The two of you had been changing bit by bit, too. Leon was a big city cop now, and compared to him, you felt like the friend who went to college and immediately ran back home.

Leon’s always been handsome to you, but since leaving for the academy and becoming an actual cop, he looks more grown-up. Seeing him in the mornings, his hair all messy and still half-asleep, was proving to be a problem. Along with when the two of you would watch movies at night, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing whatever food you were eating like you did when you were kids.

You’re starting to think that Leon might like you back.

You catch the way his eyes follow you when you walk through the house with wet hair, damp skin, and clothes that cling to your skin just a bit more after you get out of the shower. Or how he scoots closer to you when you both sit down together. Especially when he accidentally hugged you goodnight the second night he was over and pulled away with a red face. Not that you really mind being close to him, or his attraction to you.

Anyway, Leon’s leaving in two days, and the two of you are going camping for the night.

It’s not gonna be anything crazy, the two of you weren’t much for setting up tents and rocky roads riddled with pot-holes and roadkill. You’re staying the night at a smaller campground, there’s a lake, a playground for any kids there, and a camp store. There’s no need to bring a tent unless you’ve got more than three people with you. Each campsite comes with a small shelter that can hold a few people, each shelter has three walls and a roof, the opening faces the site.

Leon and you would come here with your family when you were kids, it was only an hour away from where you lived, the two of you wanted something a bit more fun to do than sit around at your house or go to dinner.

Leon hasn’t gone camping since before he left for the police academy, not that what the two of you are doing is anything difficult. But there’s no hotdogs cooked over the fire, just a pizza you had picked up a few hours ago and s’mores.

There’s chocolate around Leon’s lips as he chews on his s’more, yours goes ignored for a few minutes as you stare at him. The fire in front of you is low, you and Leon face it and lean back against the table part of the wooden bench, your knees knocking together.

“I know I got shit on my face.” He says to you, turning to look at you as he licks the marshmallow off of his fingers.

You smile at him and shake your head softly, taking a small bite of your s’more. “I’m just looking at you.” Leon only giggles, wiping his mouth with his palm.

“You’ve had plenty of time to look at me.”

“I know that, doesn’t mean I have to stop. And besides, you look at me all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m talking to you, you just stare at me sometimes.”

“Because I missed you terribly, and I’m happy to have you back home.” You joke a little bit, finishing off the dessert in your hand. “I’m still gonna miss you when you go back to the city.”

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t miss me so much if you came to visit every once-in-a-while. You know it wouldn’t kill you to drive three hours to see me. You’d like the city, anyway.” Leon scooted even closer to you and nudged your shoulder with his, still keeping his eyes on you.

“I know, I know. Just goddamn, I don’t get why you couldn’t have been a local sheriff or deputy or some shit. You could give me parking tickets everyday.” You laugh, his smile drops a little.

“Raccoon City is as good as it gets for me, I could give you parking tickets everyday of the year if you lived there.”

You drop a hand to his knee, squeezing it gently and leaning in closer to him. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to be mean. I know the city’s a big deal for you, and I’m really, really happy for you. You worked really hard.”

“You flatter me,” Leon’s smile brightened a bit again, your heart fluttered. “You haven’t seen me in action yet.”

“Yeah? And what exactly is ‘action’ for you? Helping old ladies cross the street? Maybe pulling someone over for speeding?” You chuckle, letting go of his knee and pushing against him.

“God, when did you get so mean?” Leon snickered and rolled his eyes, grabbing your bicep and pushing you away from him.

“Oh, come on, I’m supposed to be mean to you, that’s what best friends do. You’ve never complained before.”

“Yeah, you complain constantly when I do it.”

“Because boys aren’t supposed to be mean to girls. That’s the rule, aren’t you supposed to know all the rules, officer?”

“Don’t call me that!” Leon laughs, pushing you further away. “Listen, just- just come over. I just wanna see you, even if it’s for a couple of hours. I miss you a lot.”

You can feel your heart clench a little at his words. You know he means it, he’s always tried to come over and visit when he was able to, even when he was in the academy. You just didn’t want to be a bother to him, he’s living his dream, and you don’t want to get in the way of it.

“I’ll try, I promise. Maybe I can come over for a weekend in September.”

“Good, I’ll hold you to it. I was starting to think you didn’t like me anymore.” He jested, turning his gaze to the fire that was almost completely gone now.

“Jesus, don’t say that. I’ll always like you.”

That caught him off guard a little bit, you watched as his cheeks turned red and how his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.

“That- that’s good.”

You smile at him, scooting closer once again and bringing your hand to rest on his shoulder to shake him gently. “Don’t forget it.” There’s a pause. Leon looks back up to you from the fire, his eyes bore into yours for a few long seconds before they trail down to your lips. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Let’s go to the lake, it’s fun to swim when it’s getting dark.”

—

Leon had raced you back to your campsite three hours later and won. It was dark now, nearing eleven p.m., the fire was now completely out and all the other campers were asleep. The campground is illuminated by streetlights placed sparingly along the road, you can hardly see anything on your site besides your car and the outside of your shelter.

The lake had been fun, it was different from when you’d come here together a decade ago and push each other off the dock and into the water, but it was fun in a new kind of way. Luckily, there weren’t many people there due to the late hour, not that either of you would’ve really stopped even if it had been packed. Yours and Leon’s swimsuits cling to your skin, you probably would’ve run the race, but once he got in front of you you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the way his back muscles looked when they were wet.

“Fuck, I didn’t set up my air mattress.” You chuckle as you follow Leon into your campsites shelter, shuffling your bare feet along the ground to try to keep yourself from tripping.

“Well, hurry up then.” He giggles but waves you off, his back turned to you as he runs his towel over his wet hair once again. You scoff at him half-heartedly, turning away and going to get your air mattress out of the trunk of your car.

You discover that Leon’s air mattress is bigger than yours once you finally pull it back into the shelter and lay it down next to his. The air-pump is already attached to the nozzle, Leon sits at the bench and watches as you try to inflate the mattress.

“This isn’t working,” You groan, rising up from your squatting position and letting go of the air-pump to shake your arms free of the strain. Leon just shrugs at you, you roll your eyes and squat down again, patting down the air mattress, looking for rips, and you find one that you can fit your entire fist inside. You groan again, more loudly this time. “My mattress is trashed, I don’t have tape or any patches that’ll fix this.”

Leon rises from his seat at the bench, stepping into the shelter along side you and looking down at your air mattress. “You can share with me.”

“Really? You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t mind, it’s probably gonna be a bit colder tonight, anyway.” Leon offers you a small smirk, offering a hand to you to help you stand up.

“Thanks,” You say as you take his hand, he pulls you to your feet, holding onto your hand for a second before he pulls away. The two of you put your hands on your hips at the same time, glancing around the site. “I gotta get changed.”

“Alright,”

“I don’t wanna walk all the way to the bathroom, though.” You sigh, Leon chuckles and looks towards you.

“You gonna change here?”

“Yeah,” You don’t miss how his face drops slightly, the color returning to his cheeks. “Can you hold the flashlight for me?”

“Wh-“ He cuts himself off when you reach for the hem of your wet shirt, already pulling it up over your head and revealing the one piece you wore underneath.

“You don’t gotta look at me, dumbass. Just hold it so I can see what I’m doing.” You don’t see Leon nod, but you see the bright flashlight turn on and shine against you. You drop your wet shirt to the ground and reach for the straps of your swimsuit, beginning to pull it down over your shoulders.

You make the mistake of glancing over at Leon, he hadn’t turned away in the slightest, his gaze was locked onto you like it was absolutely necessary for him to watch you undress. Despite this, you don’t stop. You don’t know if he saw you look at him, but he keeps watching you as you begin to peel to wet swimsuit off your body.

He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple goes up and down once again as he does so. The flashlight in his hand shakes slightly as you pull the swimsuit off your body completely.

Leon looks back up at your face for the first time and immediately winces, his free hand goes to his eyes as if to cover it and pretend he hadn’t seen you fully naked.

“Leon-“

“No, I-I’m sorry. You just- no, goddamnit, that was- shit, y-you’re just really pretty and I-I get it if you’re mad.“ His apology stumbles out of his mouth, his face is even more flushed and his hand that he had moved to cover his eyes now runs through his damp hair. You trail your eyes up and down his body, unsure where to focus, but your gaze keeps landing on the tent forming in his swim trunks.

“I’m not mad.”

“… S-Seriously?” Leon’s gaze meets yours again, he looks a little dumbfounded and awestruck, you can’t help but grin at him.

“No.”

“Oh,” He chuckles awkwardly, clearing his throat and looking down at his feet. “This is just k-kinda embarrassing.”

“… Sorry.” You mumble, looking from him out at the dark campsite.

“What? No- don’t apologize. You just look pretty, I mean, you’ve always been really fucking pretty and I’m just looking at you like- God, I don’t even know. Just don’t apologize.”

“Thanks,” You look back at him, you can’t help the smile on your face when he calls you pretty.

“I mean it, I’ve thought you were the prettiest since like, high school.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna sound weird or anything, but I’ve always kinda… liked you? Like, more than a-a friend. And I’m sorry for telling you this when you’re naked in front of me, I just-“ You don’t let Leon finish his sentence, shutting him up with a kiss instead of letting him get his thoughts out.

He melts against you almost instantly, his hands finding their way to your hips as the flashlight is discarded onto the floor. Your hands anchor themselves in his hair, keeping his head in place as the kiss goes on for another five seconds before the two of you split apart for air.

“I should’ve asked, I’m sorry-“ Your own apology is cut short when Leon pulls you against him even closer, kissing you again but only for two seconds.

“I told you not to say sorry.” You smile at him, your hands moving from his hair to the back of his neck. Before you can even stop yourself, your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin you find there.

Leon groans, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as his head tilts back to give you more skin to work with, which you happily accept. Your hands move again, this time going from his neck to graze over his bare chest. Leon takes that as a sign to move his hands, leaving your hips to grip just underneath your ass. You giggle and push yourself up against him more, he gives a soft chuckle in response.

“This okay with you?” He asks, one hand moves up to cup your ass and squeeze it gently.

“Yeah, it’d be better if we weren’t standing, though.” You pull away from him, his grip on you loosens as he takes your hint and sits himself on the ground at the foot of his air mattress.

You wanted to straddle his lap, but when you lower yourself down to do so, Leon grabs hold of your hips once again and flips you so the upper half of your back rests on top of his air mattress as he hovers over you. He kisses you again, this time tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue to ask for entry. That doesn’t take any negotiation for you, his tongue meets yours, your arms find their way around his neck as he lowers himself down on top of you more, your breasts pressing against his chest.

“We need to be quiet,” You whisper to him once you pull away from his lips.

“Everyone’s asleep by now, and there’s only like, two other campsites near us.” He chuckles slightly, pulling back a few inches to get a better look at you.

“Leon.” You scold quietly, his chuckle turns into a snicker as his hands find their ways up to your breasts.

“Okay, okay,” Leon shakes his head slightly as he brushes his thumbs over your nipples. “Don’t ruin my fun just yet, I’ve been wanting to do this for years.”

“Have you now?” Your arms kissed around his neck, you push yourself further into his touch.

“You’ve got no idea,” He looks up from where your tits rest in his hands to your face, leaning in to kiss you again. The kiss goes on for what feels like thirty minutes before one of your arms unwraps itself from his neck and goes down to the hem of his swim trunks, you tug on it lightly.

Leon pulls back to look at you, his hands leave your breasts to rest on your thighs. The teasing smile on his face is gone, now replaced with a look of concern.

“You’re absolutely sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely.” You smile at him, you cup his face in your hands and give him a small peck on the lips, feeling him smile against your mouth as his hands leave your thighs to pull down his trunks. Leon’s hands are back on you two seconds later, dipping in between your thighs to run his fingers through your slick folds.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, leaning his head down to press kisses to your cheek as his thumb presses against your clit, gently probing against your entrance with his middle finger. You whine softly, it only seems to spur him on, he gently pushes his finger inside you, continuing the soft amount of pressure on your clit. “You’re really pretty.”

“You keep saying that.” You giggle a little bit, your hands move to rest on his shoulders as your head tips to the right.

“Because I mean it.” You’re not sure why he groans, but he does once his finger slides deeper inside of you. “I missed you so much, I didn’t think that this was gonna happen when I came back to town, but I’m so happy it is.”

“M-Me too,” You agree a bit breathlessly, Leon’s kisses trail down to your throat as his pointer finger slowly joins his middle finger. You’re not even really sure how to feel right now, you’ve been craving this for so long, maybe not in a campground with a shelter that hardly concealed any noise, but you really hoped that this wasn’t going to be where things ended for you and Leon.

Leon’s kisses turns into gentle bites as his ministrations continue and the pressure on your clit increases. You bite down on your lip, trying to not let yourself get too loud, but the noises that do slip past your lips, Leon responds to with his own.

“Leon, please.” Your small whimper makes him stop, his fingers come to a halt inside you and he pulls back again to look down at your face.

“You sure?” You only close your eyes and nod, your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders as you wait. “Okay, I got you, I- I’m gonna be gentle.”

His fingers slip out of you, you whine quietly at the loss, earning a tiny snort from him as he pulls back to sit on his knees, keeping one hand attached to your thigh, longing himself up with your entrance. Leon pushes in slowly, watching your face and how your mouth falls open at the intrusion. He lets you adjust for maybe fifteen seconds before he starts moving slowly, keeping one hand on your thigh and slipping the other underneath your back to hold you up a bit.

“Holy shit, you feel s-so good.” He mumbles to you, biting down on his own lip to keep his groans from getting too loud. You nod, unable to find any words to respond with while you begin rocking your hips gently to try and meet his movements.

Leon’s thrusts don’t get much faster than this, he’s trying his best to be gentle and quiet, you’re sure it would be a different story if you were back home. You let your whines get a bit louder as you let the feeling of him pushing in and out of you take over, the soft squelching noises don’t help.

Your hands roam over his chest and shoulders as he continues on for the next few minutes. You can’t make any complaints, you’re sure he can’t, either.

His hand that had been on your thigh had left to trail in between once again, finding your clit and circling it, letting strained pants and whimpers fall from his lips as he hovered above you. Neither of you can find words to say to each other, too focused on how the both of you feel as you move together.

After a few more minutes, the feeling coiling up in your lower abdomen is beginning to become unbearable. “L-Leon, mm fuck- Leon, ‘M gonna-“

“It’s okay, ‘M not gonna stop just y-yet.” Only then does his hips snap forward a bit harder, determined to push you over the edge.

The moan you let out when you came was louder than any other noises you had made that night, Leon seemed to appreciate it, you could tell by the grin that grew on his face as you began to calm down, not that he stopped moving. He pulled out before he came, instead, cumming on the shelter floor and your thighs, you couldn’t say that it bugged you.

The two of you laid there for maybe five minutes, trying to catch your breath as you pressed kisses against each others skin. The floor was a mess but Leon only focused on wiping his release off of you, a stupid smile was painted on his face as he did so.

After the two of you went to piss on separate sides of the site, you met back up in the shelter and actually got dressed this time around. Leon didn’t push you away when you crawled onto his air mattress with him, and he was more than happy to wrap his arms around you and share his blanket with you. Your hands rested on his shoulder blades, head pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. One of his hands was in your hair and the other rested on the small of your back, holding you close to him.

“I don’t… want to leave you just yet.” He said quietly.

“We’ve got a couple more days.”

“No, I know. What I mean is I- I want you to come to the city with me. Just for a few days. I just wanna figure things out between us because I think there’s a lot we should probably discuss and I just really, really don’t want things to end here.” Leon’s voice was a bit louder, you could hear the slight tremble in his words as he spoke, but you didn’t look up at him.

“Would you really be okay with me coming over?”

“All I want is for you to come over. Please.”

“Alright,” You smile against his chest, closing your eyes. “Just don’t keep me waiting with your fancy job.”

“I’m sure my bosses would understand me needing to put a few things on hold for my dream girl.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny thinks he's done a wonderful job all things considered. His city is safe, no one has died yet, no major injuries, Vlad had screwed off after Danny beat him within an inch of his afterlife (Danny learned that Vlad was a revenant abusing dirty ectoplasm for powers-not a halfa), ect.

Most of his rogues gallery also stopped bothering him once it became clear he was having trouble keeping his increased power in check and was trying hard not to hurt them. Unfortunately there was one who refused to leave him alone. A warrior princess was demanding his hand in marriage as she needed to be married by the summer solstice of next year or the throne would be passed down to her younger sister, who was already married.

It didn't matter how many times he said no, she kept coming back and challenging him for his hand. Each time she came back stronger and with new tactics and weapons to try. He was starting to fear she might actually win one day. That day might be sooner rather than later as her latest scheme was cutting it close.

Deciding that 1. Amity didn't need him anymore if he closed the portals 2. He was probably going to have to leave anyway if he loses and 3. He didn't have a future in this world as Fenton anymore he leads her on a wild goose chase back into the GZ and causes the portals to collapse in on themselves. The princess laughs, thinking he had given up. But no.

Danny put a curse on himself to turn him into a bat for the next year or so, a full month longer than the princess had left to find a spouse. She screams. Appearently she had a phobia of bats, who knew? Anyway he was left alone to fly through the Infinite Realms and find a new home.

He found a new world easily thanks to the natural portals of the IR and crossed though. Immediately being pelted on all sides by freezing cold rain was not what he expected but its what he got as he flew over a sign that proclaimed the city beneath him was called Gotham. The little glowing white bat flew through the night for hours before seeing a fruit bowl laying innocently on a kitchen counter through a window. Whats more it was in some giant manor so the occupants probably wouldn't mind if he ate an orange or two.

Right?

Needless to say a kid around the age of 11 or twelve walked in on him clutching an apple like his life depended on it while furiously munching. The kid looked...excited? He started going on about names and what he would need to care for him. Danny wasn't really listening, he didn't realize how hungry he had been until he started eating. He waited until the kid had looked away to turn himself and his apple invisible. This bothered the kid who looked suspicious but went to look for "the bat" anyway.

Later, while Danny was taking a shower in the kitchen sink to wash off the remains of his meal (I headcanon that Danny is a bit of a neat-freak) some other guy walked in holding an empty coffee mug and wearing eyebags that would put a raccoon to shame. They just stared at eachother for a solid few seconds before Danny started squeeking in rage and covering himself with the washcloth he was using to scrub himself clean. It looked like something out of a cartoon. Tim thought he was hallucinating but why would he hallucinate a glowing white bat with hearts all around it (that part isn't real) taking a shower in the kitchen sink. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something??

The next victim person to spot him was Duke who just stood in his doorway as this glowing white bat rolled an orange down the hallway. He decided this was a problem for the night crew and went to tell them.

Alfred saw a small shock of white fur and heard squeeking. His first thought was 'rat' and he didn't even hesitate. Danny dodged 3 bullets and got the hell out of the kitchen.

The batfam are debating on whether this was a shifter or an meta animal that was experimented on.

[postersofleon]

Honey Has Value

In Leon's first mission, everyone warned him about the merchants that come every once in a while during dangerous situations. Nobody knows them. But everyone trusts them enough. Even Krauser, who was very sensitive in whom to trust with his weaponry. The merchants are the most chaotic neutral people who would sell to any person who had enough gold or anything in value. During one of his missions, Leon finally saw one of the merchants.

content: smut

notes: pre resident evil four; afab fem!reader; he forgot to socialize thanks to working in the military; reader is pretty femme by wearing a black dress; sexual frustrations coming from leon; small mentions of rotting flesh, leon is an awkward flirt; guys, even though i write smut, i hate booktok, does that make sense or i'm giltching in the system. smallish smut, little story.

taglist: @argreion

Leon could believe in Umbrella's cruel experiments. He had seen these monsters who are kindly called bioweapons, and even though Leon isn't forced to fight against them. He sometimes saw the creatures they turned into, and that was enough for a young rookie cop to see. He then had to mistrust his own government for wanting to harm a young child. Leon panicked and immediately a blackmail was tied around his throat.

A perfect noose around him. A traumatized man can't go back to his old life. Leon had to help a girl he barely saw in the tragedy of Raccoon City.

All because of his stupid want to help people. He was sinking in this damn hole depression, and he wasn't even allowed to go to therapy. When he was excited to talk to Claire, she wasn't there because she was still searching her missing brother.

Leon was alone. Leon didn't even have time with Sherry.

He believed in all of these faults of the world. It was a nasty cruel world that could barely be saved. Leon didn't even save Sherry. That was thanks to Claire. In that night, he didn't save anyone, and he trusted a bad person who fell to her death. Every inch of Leon's body knew guilt, the disappointment of the world, and bioweapons.

But why couldn't Leon didn't believe in this random ass Merchant? Merchants sounded like scumbags and fake to the bone yet everyone in his section of soldiers swore up and down that they are real and good enough.

They only appear in missions. The government doesn't pay for them to help. And none of them are the same person over and over. One had a handsome man with a bow tie; another had an elder woman, and lastly, Krauser even said he had dealt with a pair of twins. That's what made Leon struggle to believe this was real.

None of these people were truly scared to show their faces, but they all had the same name of merchant.

They had no true agenda. No sense of good or bad.

Leon hoped to never see them in his own missions. He didn't care if they had helped them before, Leon wasn't interested in them no matter how much.

His mission was down south. He had to learn Spanish in case the issues came to his language, but he knew the main part of the mission. A couple of normal soldiers came here, and we were murdered by a couple infected by the T. Leon was the next best option.

And Leon came ready. If a merchant was going to be there, he'll ignore them, no matter who it is.

Once he entered the place, it was a lonely village that was nearby an Umbrella lab, so he had already concluded who was going to be here. His heart beaten fast when he saw a person infected by the T. A poor woman whose skin was rotted away. Leon killed her without a second doubt. Even if Leon had the cure in his hand, he wouldn't want to use it on her, especially with the heat of the brutal summer.

Not only was her skin rotted. There was hole in skull that he didn't even make.

"How unfortunate," Leon immediately turned to whom it belonged to, "Seeing death is always unforgivable." A woman with a black dress was behind a desk of items. Due to the circumstances, she was hauntingly beautiful with the death surrounding her. It took a moment for Leon to realize it. She is a merchant.

"Hi, stranger." She smiled politely at Leon.

"Hi." Leon said firmly.

She played with string of pearls around her neck, "I'll be helping you with.... your situations." She seemed so nonchalant, her voice was relaxed as if the danger could never harm her.

"Situations..." Leon looked around her store of items. She had almost everything in this little place, a small box with a strange symbol planted on the center. "I'm sure you are betting for to get into those situations." Leon muttered. But she shook her head. It was almost automatic.

"Goodness, no!" She exclaimed loudly. "My services are here to help you. To assist you." She placed her gloved hand between him and her. "May I? Free of charge."

There was a silence between them. Begrudgingly, Leon handed his gun to her, "Careful with it." He muttered.

She grabbed the gun, "SG-09 R. Quite impressive." She clocked it and checked the modifications in the gun. "Fast, strong, and made by Kendo." She pointed the gun towards a section and shot a glass bottle. "But I can make better. Especially with the control of the government." She broke up the gun and grabbed a small bottle of oil to ease up the details of gun. "Do I permission to change the glock?"

Leon nodded his head.

The merchant got into work, she brought out the small tools to work on the gun, and changed very small details of the gun. After a couple of short minutes, she twirled the gun back into place. "Here you go, stranger." The merchant handed the gun back to its owner.

Leon lifted the gun and noticed the differences. She didn't change the drastic differences of the poor gun, but it made it functional for the monsters. He pulled on the trigger and shot the a piece of wood. The gun shot faster.

She grabbed a rag and cleaned her gloved hands. "It's easy as they come." She smiled. Her fingers returned back to her pearls, dragging the details bit by bit. "I love helping the new."

Leon wished he was normal. His dumb mind entered cave man for like three seconds. Maybe it was the small praise he got from her or how the merchant spoke to him without belittling him. He felt his cock twitch, "Yeah, thanks." He awkwardly put his gun back to its holster.

He promised himself the less impossible thing ever. Leon was spending a lot of time with the merchant, he saw her how her knife formed small knick knacks from wood. "Look." The merchang leaned to show him. It was small wooden figure of him. Leon took in a sharp exhale.

"Nice." He whispered softly.

"I give them to the other merchants so they can sell them." The merchant smiled. Her painting was very gentle, every brush was made with love. "Why sell them?" Leon asked. "It's like discount. If you have this." She lifted a small shield-like charm, "You'll have an upgrade with any merchant."

"Oh, that's great." Leon eyed her face, "So, if another merchant sees it, they'll automatic give you that help."

The merchant smiled, "Exactly." She continued the paint and Leon was just looking at her, "So, what perks will I get if I buy my small keychain?" He whispered softly. The merchant sighed softly, "Mm, well, how about 30% off when I fixed that knife of yours."

Leon nodded his head as he continued to look.

As time passed and such, Leon did his job and then immediately went to her section to 'buy' stuff. All that time of bothering the merchant, he finally got what he wanted as she pumped his cock.

She was on her knees as she pumped his cock into her mouth, Leon's hips moved up, "Fuck." The merchant rubbed the red tip and sucked it gently. He needed this after so long. Leon's hands covered his face, his cheeks were red and he was ultra sensitive over everything. The merchant rubbed Leon's tip around her lips and left his pre cum around them.

He chewed on his lips trying to keep quiet in case an infected could find them. The merchant's hand pumped his length, "I do the first time free." She teased him. Her hand slide down his cock and massaged his balls. He didn't know if she spoke the truth, but he was willing to pay for this again. The merchant's tongue dragged against his shaft and kissed the tip. "Just fuck me. Please."

The merchant shook her head, "You'll need your energy for the fights." She looked at his cock and placed his needy self inside of her mouth. She gagged weakly, his hips weakly moved against the merchant's mouth. He needed to cum and go back to work. His hands traveled around his pecs and squeezed them, he noticed the merchant noticing those details. Leon blushed but didn't stop himself as he played with nipples.

Flicking them a bit trying to help the simulation. She bobbed her head faster and he groaned. "Fuck, fuck-" His cum erupted into the merchant's mouth and it slowly fell out, she licked the mess without an issue. Leon groaned loudly feel his body relax bit by bit. His eyes completely soften and gently caressed her face, "Mm, thank you."

When Leon was back on his feet, he felt her hands smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt. He felt too easy, but he liked her touch.

As the sun set above him, the merchant waved politely a goodbye to Leon; He simply nodded his head, his legs were a bit weak, but he had to go back to his job.

The next time he was with the Merchant, he was between her dress. He licked her pussy, his hands opened her thighs to shove himself deeper. Her cunt was keeping him sane after the brutal fights, her hands grabbed his hair and pulled his straight blond hair. Leon growled weakly, "Please, I just need your cum." No extra steps, he wanted it. His tongue moved around her clit and once he heard the merchant's moan he focused on it more.

His fingers shoved inside of her pussy and pumped them in and out. His tongue licked the wetness that poured into his hand. His finger curled up and fucked her up. The merchant's legs squirmed around Leon. He licked up the pretty hole and removed his fingers again, her thighs clenched around his face as he fucked her with his tongue. Flicking it over and over, he pulled it out and sucked her clit. She groaned loudly, her legs opened a bit, and Leon kissed her thighs over and over. The merchant released, Leon's fingers rubbed gently her cunt and licked the mess.

He was thankful for the merchant's services.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “P.I., actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn���t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[moonstruckme]

We have whimsical reader in marauders

We need one with tasm peter

Oorrrr

Can you imagine (or make) a witch/wizard reader with tasm peter!!???

Thanks for requesting love!

tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 679 words

Peter comes in through the window, more out of habit than anything else now that he’s not hiding anything from you, but you don’t startle. You’re sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor in front of the couch, flipping through what looks like his old physics textbook. 

“Baby,” he says, “why was there an apple on the fire escape again?” 

“It was still there?” You look up, disappointed to find a whole apple in your boyfriend’s hand. “I thought Ricardo would’ve gotten to it by now. I hope he’s okay.” 

Peter scoffs, going into the kitchen to wash the apple and put it away. He scrubs it extra hard just in case the raccoon you’re set on befriending did get his grubby paws on it. 

“Ricardo can eat without your help,” he says. “He’s hardy, he’s from Brooklyn.” 

“I know,” you sigh, “but apples are his favorite.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow, but you’re not looking, your attention on something in the book. “How do you know that?” 

“He’ll let me pet him while he’s eating apples.” 

He sighs, leaning his forearms on the counter. He’s going to have to find a way to move that raccoon to another neighborhood the next time he goes out. Before it gives you rabies.

“What’re you doing over there?” he asks you. 

“Pressing flowers.” 

“Yeah?” Peter rounds the counter, moving behind you to sit on the couch. His knees bracket your shoulders. The A/C is blasting to combat the summer heat, and goosebumps prickle down your arms. “What for?” 

“I was thinking May could bring them to work,” you say, flattening a dandelion between two pieces of wax paper. The movements are deft and routined, and Peter wonders how many flowers are already enclosed between the pages. There’s a small pile of them sitting next to you, miraculously intact despite the fragile puffs. “She was telling me about some of the kids she works with last week. I thought they might like to have them.” You shrug. “For bookmarks or whatever.” 

Peter’s insides go melty soft. “I’m sure they would.” He leans forward, setting his hand on your shoulder and his lips to your head. You only keep working. Sometimes Peter feels like a weird rock or a feather that you’d picked up somewhere, put in your pocket without a second thought. But you do love your rocks and feathers, so it’s not an awful fate. “Where’d you get these, sweetheart?” 

“I found them,” you say simply. “Parks, sidewalks, you know. They grow anywhere. Do you think I should save a few in case they want to make wishes instead of keeping them?” 

It’s said so seriously Peter can’t help but grin, turning so his cheek smushes into the crown of your head. “That seems like a good idea. Mind if I use one?” 

“Of course.” You sound surprised. “Use as many as you want, Peter. I can always get more.” 

“Just one is good.” 

He slides off of the couch, sitting beside you and picking up a dandelion. He waits until you’re looking over at him before blowing. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as the seeds rush towards you. Peter’s close enough that they get stuck in your eyelashes and eyebrows, a couple in your hair. His breath weakens as he starts laughing, the last few seeds coming off the flower by way of little puffs of air. 

“You don’t have to blow it at someone,” you say, lips stretching into a pretty smile. You blink cautiously, opening your eyes once no dandelion fluff falls in. 

He lowers the stem. “I just wanted to make sure my wish went in the right direction.” 

Your head tilts. “What’d you wish for?” 

Peter combs a bit of white fluff out of your hair, grinning. “C’mon, baby,” he tsks, shifting his fingers to your jaw. You’re pliant to the touch, angling your head at the slightest cue from him. You keep your eyes open, curious, but your lips are soft against his. “You know that’s not how it works. I’ve still gotta make sure it comes true.”

[apomaro-mellow]

idk how detailed of a prompt ur looking for but: Eddie thinks Steve's chest hair is hot for the bingo

im thinking of them going to the lake or something and Steve takes off his shirt and Eds nearly has a heatt attack bc yeah he'd seen Steve's chest before but he kinda repressed it? along with the whole upside down deal so he's like choking at the sight and at the newly found memory lol

but anything you come up with will be amazing im sure <3

every time i get a prompt i rub my lil raccoon hands together ehehehe

They weren't going to Lover's Lake. That had been the one thing everyone agreed on at first. Too much to unpack but it went without saying that no one wanted to relive the memory of what had happened in those waters. They all packed up and went about three hours away to a totally different town with a totally different lake.

"Summer time, a bunch of teens, a town where no one knows us", Eddie commented as they parked. "Did we just drive into another horror movie set up?"

"I think we can handle some random killer in the woods", Jonathan said.

Eddie couldn't argue. He knew for a fact that Steve had packed away his oh so trusty nail bat and that Nancy was strapped too. At a moment's notice, Robin looked ready to turn a beer into a makeshift molotov. But that was the last thought he wasted on the spring break from hell. Because the moment everything was set up, Steve pulled his shirt off like he was in a goddamn cologne ad.

That unnecessarily sexy way where he grabbed it off his back and pulled it of, shaking out his hair as if it would dare to fall out of place.

So here's the thing.

Eddie saw Steve shirtless that one time back in Hawkins. But it had been dark, and they were on a boat hunting an evil wizard and then in an underworld running from demon bats and there had been a lot going on, okay? He's ogled Steve plenty since then, now that he had time to, but he hadn't had an opportunity to see his naked chest again.

"Put on sunscreen!", Robin shouted, tossing it at Steve's head.

"Ow! Rude!" Steve picked it up and obeyed anyway, starting at his arms. Time seemed to slow. Or maybe Steve was purposely going slow, it was hard to tell. Then his eyes met Eddie and his next stroke up towards his neck seemed very intentional.

Eddie swallowed.

"Mind getting my back?", Steve asked.

Eddie didn't trust his mouth for once, so he just nodded, taking the tube of sunscreen and was definitely not thinking about squirting another kind of creamy white substance onto this beautifully dotted back. He tried to distract himself by looking at what the others were doing. Jonathan had already lit up a joint that he was now passing to Nancy. Robin was laid out in a chair, nose in a book.

Argyle was leading the kids down the shore to where they could rent out canoes. Or was it kayaks? All Eddie knew was that El was adamant on some sort of boating adventure.

"You okay back there?", Steve asked.

"Yep, yup, mhm. Almost done." He was done. The sunscreen was completely gone and he was just rubbing circles into his skin for no reason.

"You mind doing my chest too?"

"Wh-hat?", Eddie choked.

"I don't really like the feel of sunscreen on my hands", Steve justified and that was good enough for Eddie.

He still wasn't prepared for when Steve turned around. Eddie sat between his legs and god this might've been the closest they've ever been. Especially with this little amount of clothes between them, both of them in their swimming trunks and nothing else. Eddie squeezed some sunscreen onto his hands first, rubbing them together and warming it before pressing them to Steve's chest.

Goddamn it felt so....would it get thicker as he got older? It went all the way up to his collarbone and there was just a hint of a happy trail now but maybe with some time...

"They do know we're still here, right?", Nancy asked after letting out a puff. True, they were some feet away but still.

"I've got a spray bottle in case they go below the waist", Robin said, shaking said bottle.

Steddie bingo under the cut

[pinkanonwrites]

So I absolutely love your writing and was wondering if I could suggest Riddle, Leona, Jamil, Azul with an s/o who had horrible scarring and doesn’t talk about it. So naturally the boys would assume it’s a sensitive topic, and treat them delicately… But turns out that those scars are from something stupid like getting into a fight with a raccoon.

Sure thing! As expected, this ended up being a bit silly. Hope you enjoy!

GN! Reader

The first time Riddle saw your scars was when you rolled up your sleeves while helping Trey bake for the next Unbirthday party, simply trying to not let your cuffs dip into the sticky batter. Both his and Trey's gazes lasered in on the horrendous scarring up and down both your arms, but neither of them said anything besides sharing a small, worried glance. He wanted to ask you about them but knew this was neither the time nor the place to do so.

Other Heartslabyul members can tell from a glance not to bring them up, lest they risk a swift and merciless collaring by their housewarden. Whenever your arms are revealed Riddle's expression tightens, surveying the room as if he's daring his fellow students to make a comment or ask a question about them.

When he finally musters up the courage to ask about them, reassuring you he finds you beautiful and just wants to know if you're hurting, boy if he doesn't feel a bit silly when he finds out you got them from trying to pick up an opossum when you were a little kid. His cheeks get all puffed out and his face turns red, promptly shutting himself up and turning away as you coo and thank him for being so worried about your well-being. He does enjoy the praise, as flustered as he looks.

Lazing around with Leona in the midday sun of the conservatory, you stretched your arms over your head and accidentally revealed to him a series of long, thin scars that ran over each of your sides, just above your hip. His brow furrowed as your shirt covered them once more, cupping a clawed hand gently over your hip and tugging you close to snuggle up to him.

He's always liked to wrap a hand around your hip to keep you close to him, to stake his "ownership" of you. But now he does it so gently, so lightly it almost tickles as he rubs his thumb back and forth over the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You do the same to him sometimes, running your thumb so lovingly over the scar on his face when he rests his head in your lap, the least he can do is offer the same comfort.

You finally mention where you got the scars when Leona comes to visit Ramshackle. As you liken the rickety house to an abandoned building you and your friends explored near your school, mentioning how cut up you got squeezing through one of the shattered doorways, it finally clicks for him. From there the teasing floodgates are opened, and every time he finds you with a little scuff or scrape he asks if you were reigniting your urban exploration fantasies.

After Jamil's overblot, when you rolled up your pant cuffs to splash around in the cool water of the oasis, that's when Azul first saw your scars. Dozens of jagged lines and puncture marks everywhere from your ankles all the way up to your knees. It made his stomach turn a bit, trying to imagine what or who might have inflicted you with those gashes.

He's often hovering around you, making sure you don't get bumped into or lose your balance. If he's not available you'll usually have one or both of the twins observing you from a safe distance, boss's orders. He doesn't want anyone else harming his precious pearl, after all.

When you finally mention that you got all those scars from the wild raspberry bushes around your childhood home, he assumes you're joking with him. He knows what raspberries are, he isn't stupid, but are the bushes really that dangerous? One small hike with Jade later serves to prove that yes, they are, especially if you're a reckless little kid wearing shorts in the summer. He chides you, warning you to not do anything so rash in the future.

Jamil had seen your scar the very first day you had met, along with just about everyone else in school. It wasn't exactly easy to miss; the curved line cutting across your forehead and down into your eyebrow was painfully obvious to anyone who looked at you for more than a few minutes. He didn't think about it much until the two of you actually began interacting on a daily basis.

He watches you a lot, only when he thinks you aren't looking (and often times you aren't). He's not the type to bring it up on his own, it's none of his business after all, but he does worry about you. He's on edge whenever you mention having a headache, even if it has nothing to do with your scar at all.

You mention it offhand one day, the stupid cause of your forehead scar. The man who was re-shingling your house roof when you were a kid knocked a metal bucket off the edge when you were heading out to school, and instead you had to get rushed to the E.R. for stitches. As you proudly regale the story of the ice cream cake and flowers the repairman bought as an apology Jamil breathes a sigh of relief, almost visibly melting into his seat. Now he'll just have to make sure nothing that unlucky happens to you again.

[ckret2]

The latest installment of "literally nobody is happy about Bill being the Mystery Shack's prisoner," chapter 8:

Bill attempts to manipulate the humans with the only weapon he still has at his disposal: using his own body and their own species's hygiene taboos to gross them out.

Also featuring: dramatic arguments with Ford, a surprise bath, and me trying my level best to convince you all that hair is the most disgusting substance in the universe, let me know how I do at that.

Masterpost here! August 31 2024: edited for TBOB compatibility!

A few days into summer vacation, just before dawn, Dipper and Mabel were woken by a series of thunderous crashes and pained screams, followed by Bill's piercing, maniacal laughter. They were armed and out the bedroom door in seconds.

Mabel said, "Who did he kill?!"

"I think he blew up a wall to escape—"

They skidded to a stop at the top of the attic stairs. Bill had tumbled halfway down, crashed into the wall where the stairs made a ninety degree turn, and was now sprawled upside-down on the landing, giggling.

Dipper lowered his weapon. "What."

"I ff—" Bill was interrupted by a wheeze of laughter. "I forgot how stairs work."

He spotted the kids—Dipper holding a metal claw hammer, Mabel holding a kitchen knife longer than her forearm—and abruptly stopped laughing. "Wow, you kids came ready to commit murder! Just waiting for the first excuse, huh?"

"Shut up." Dipper looked at Mabel. "Wanna go back to bed?"

"I think my blood is all adrenaline now."

Dipper sighed. "Yeah. Let's get breakfast, I guess."

They trudged down the stairs, shoulders pressed to the wall to stay as far from Bill as possible. As they passed Bill, Dipper muttered, "You could at least get out of the way."

Bill—who'd been about to gingerly sit up—lay back down and spread out across the landing. "Think I'd rather mildly inconvenience you!"

Mabel threw in, "And take a shower! You smell like an outhouse."

"That's my human-repellant forcefield."

The twins headed to the kitchen for a snack they could take out of the shack, but were blocked at the doorway by Stan. "Hold on. Don't go in there. You smell that?"

Dipper and Mabel sniffed the air and grimaced. Mabel stuck out her tongue. Dipper said, "Ugh. We thought that was Bill, but it's worse down here."

"One of two things happened," Stan said. "Either a squirrel and a raccoon fought to death under the fridge and started rotting; or the space demon cast some kind of stink curse. Personally, I'm hoping for dead wildlife. But until I find out, you two stay out of the kitchen."

There were several more crashes as Bill tumbled down the second half of the stairs, a groan, and a muttered, "What am I getting wrong?"

Stan rounded on Bill. "Hey! Demon. Don't suppose you happen to know why the kitchen smells..." He gestured vaguely, "like that."

Seated on the floor, Bill had been absorbed in prodding his limp left arm; but at the question, he looked up with a worryingly bright smile. "It just so happens I do!"

"Explain."

He twisted his left arm with his right, jammed it back into its proper position with a pop, and straightened himself up. "Funny thing—you know how I can't open doors? Because of the curse your brother put on me? Of course you do. Well—it's the darnedest little quirk of human architecture—I don't know if you noticed, but it just so happens that all of the toilets in this house are behind doors!"

Stan's face blanched. "Oh no."

"At any given time, this body I'm in is freely secreting about half a dozen different bodily fluids—snot, spit, sweat, I could go on—and you humans are perfectly comfortable with that. But you think one bodily fluid is special and can only go in the special white bowl. Me, on the other hand—usually, I'm an energy being that doesn't leak all day! So your fluids are all equal to me! I don't care about your special white bowls!"

Hotly, Stan said, "You're in my house—"

Suddenly twice as angry and twice as loud as Stan, Bill said, "So if you think I'm going to lower myself to asking three times a day for permission to use a STUPID TOILET for YOUR COMFORT—"

And that was when they started screaming.

Dipper looked at Mabel. "Let's eat out."

Mabel nodded. "You know that burger place where Wendy gets breakfast—?"

"If we hurry, we can probably meet her there."

By the time they'd changed and come back downstairs, Ford had joined in the argument, Abuelita had set up a folding chair to watch it like a wrestling match, and the volume had doubled. (Bill: "BE GRATEFUL I USED THE SINK INSTEAD OF YOUR CEREAL BOXES! NEXT TIME I WON'T BE SO MERCIFUL!" Stan: "I'M GONNA INSTALL A DOOR KNOB ON THE KITCHEN FAUCET AND THEN YOU'LL NEED MY PERMISSION TO DRINK, YOU LITTLE—") Dipper and Mabel squeezed around the crowd, slid out the door, and biked into town.

They decided they'd just stay out the rest of the day.

They'd been doing that a lot lately.

####

When they made it home that evening, the first person they ran into was Soos, relocating a detached door. "Oh, hey dudes! Okay so, update on the Bill situation." Soos leaned the door against the wall. "We removed the door on the downstairs half bath and nailed up a curtain instead, so, now it's curse-accessible, but Bill can't lock himself in and do—" he wiggled his fingers, "secret Bill things. So. If you wanna use a bathroom with a real door, you've gotta go upstairs now."

Mabel considered that. "The bathroom with the tub still has a real door, right?"

"Yeah dudes, it's fine!"

Dipper said, "So... do we have a way to get him to shower...?"

Mabel said, "Yeah, whatever Bill's been doing in the kitchen sink—"

(Soos said, "And the trash can, it turns out.")

"—it definitely hasn't included sponge baths."

"And I'm not really comforted by his 'human-repellant forcefield' comment," Dipper added.

Mabel nodded. "I'd kinda like Bill to clean up before he gets as bad as Dipper last July."

"Hey."

Soos pointed toward the attic. "Ford's working on that right now." He whispered, "He's got a theory that Bill's just just too proud to ask for permission to use the facilities? So maybe if we ask him to take a shower, he'll go, 'oh, okay, I'm doing you guys a favor,' and then he'll agree to be let in and out of the bathroom."

Dipper grimaced. "I don't like the idea of begging him to shower. I know he'll be smug about it."

"Uh... I'm fine with it." Soos shrugged. "Better smug than smelly."

####

"All right, Cipher."

Every time Ford came upstairs, Bill was curled up in the window seat, one side pressed against the glass. If it weren't for the crumpled jerky and granola bags and the empty energy drinks scattered beneath Bill's window seat—or the occasional downstairs argument—Ford would have suspected Bill hadn't budged in days. It made him nervous. There was an ice pack on Bill's left shoulder that had sat there so long it was completely melted.

"You got the bathroom you wanted. Now, would you take a shower?" Ford mustered up all his willpower as he prepared to mortify himself, and added, "Please."

It was important to note that Ford had spent his youth as the golden child; Stan had been disowned before his desire to please his parents had a chance to wilt and die; and Ford had barely seen Shermie's teen years. He'd spent his own adolescence isolated from his peers, and hadn't gotten to know any youths except Dipper and Mabel since then.

All of which was to say, the look Bill Cipher gave Ford, shocking in its ferocity, was utterly alien to him; but would have been familiar to millions of humans around the world. It was the same look received by authoritarian parents whose tyranny had squeezed a little too tight, and whose offspring had realized they were grounded so severely they no longer had anything left to lose.

It was the wrath of the defiant teenager.

And then the most pleasant smile snapped on Bill's face, quick as flicking a light switch. "What's in it for me?"

Ford blinked in disbelief. What needed to be in it for Bill? It was a shower. "Being... clean?"

"Eh."

"You can't enjoy being dirty."

"Not a bit! I feel filthy and it's horrible," Bill said cheerily. "Every inch of me feels tainted and corrupted. The touch of my own flesh is nauseating. But, ya know what? I felt exactly the same when this body was 'clean'." He put exaggerated air quotes around the word. "So why would I waste my time scrubbing the top layer of filth off the second layer of filth."

Ford's shoulders sagged. "At least use deodorant?" he pled. "Change clothes? Brush your hair? Something?"

"No, no, absolutely not, aaand no. What's the matter, Stanford? I've been staying out of your way! You don't even see me up here. The stench can't be getting to you that much—after all, you've gone waaay longer than this without showering, stinky!"

(The back of Ford's neck heated up as he realized at times he had, in fact, gone without showering for far longer than Bill had even existed in this body. Science is more important! Bill had no excuse.)

"You smell like burnt hair, by the way," Bill added.

Ford grumbled, "It's faster than shaving."

"And it has got to overpower the smell of a little stale sweat. So what do you care how this body smells?" Bill's grin widened. "Awww, is the guilt starting to set in? Must be hard to pretend you're a hospitable host rather than a kidnapper when your 'guest' is living in squalor—"

"Enough," Ford snapped. "So this is what, your way of protesting your own captivity? This isn't something we're doing to you, you're doing it to yourself! You have to realize how stupid this is!"

"Buuut it's wooork-iiing," Bill said, a singsong lilt to his voice. "It's getting on your neee-eeerves."

"You're going to cause yourself problems in the long run! Diseases, infections—don't tell me I have to explain germ theory to you, you're smarter than that."

"Course I am! When the plague was running rampant, I was the one mocking your species's failure to pick up bathing." Bill scoffed. "I'm flattered you're so concerned about my health, but you can relax. I've been washing my hands and brushing my teeth like a good little potential disease vector. But you humans are so safe inside your modern fortresses with minimal carnivorous bugs and flesh-eating fungi—most of your modern hygiene expectations are cosmetic, because your culture's trained itself to be disgusted by humans' own natural scent. I'm more willing to put up with itchy dandruff than you are to put up with the smell."

"Are you listening to yourself? This is—" Ford paused. "You've been brushing your teeth? Where did you get a toothbrush?"

"I've been using the dish brush and liquid dish soap in the kitchen." Bill laughed. "Wow, look at you—lecturing your prisoner on poor hygiene when you didn't give him any way to clean up! That's not a good look, pal."

Ford made a mental note to find a spare toothbrush for Bill. He flung his hands out in exasperation. "But—why put up with itchy dandruff at all? Why refuse to shower, of all things? And don't say to be annoying—you're cutting off your nose to spite your face!"

"Because cutting off my nose is the only bargaining chip I've got, and you know it."

Seeing expressions on Bill's face—smiles and scowls and smirks and sneers, mouth and tongue and cheeks and eyebrows—still felt wrong. No matter what expression Bill put on, it always felt to Ford like he was using his face to tell some sort of lie. But his eyes—Ford was familiar with Bill's eye, and doubling it didn't banish that familiarity. He knew this heavy, hard, distant look. It was the same look he'd seen just before Bill had shown him, through his own eye, the sight of his home dimension burning. The same look he'd seen when Bill told Ford that the monster that had destroyed his dimension would eat him alive. Of all the looks he'd seen in Bill's eye—curved crescent with sadistic glee, literally red hot with fury—something about this heavy look chilled Ford the most. It was, somehow, the cruelest he'd ever seen Bill: not because the look was malicious (it wasn't); but because it was so detached.

Bill got to his feet, wincing as he uncurled his hunched back. He stretched, spine cracking, as he sauntered lazily toward Ford. "Can I speak frankly with you, Sixer? I can't do a lot of tricks in this body. Heck, I'd try to tell you I don't have any tricks right now—but you'd accuse me of lying, blah blah blah; so let's at least agree I can't escape or kill you all, or I would have! As far as I'm concerned, this body—" he gestured grandly at himself, "—is a dirty sticker stuck on the bottom of my shoe. It's worth less than nothing to me. But it's all I've got at my disposal. So I'm going to be disgusting, until you start doing me favors."

"Favors," Ford said. "And if we don't?"

Bill shrugged, hands raised. "Then I guess I'll keep being gross! But I cannot overemphasize just how little I care about your culture's hygiene preferences, or how far I'm willing to go to irritate you. This morning's hazmat crisis in the kitchen was just a warning shot. You will cave first."

As unnerving as that heavy look in Bill's eyes was, simply seeing it wasn't what rattled Ford. It was knowing that Bill could wear that cruel, detached look when the victim he was committing quiet, passive violence on was himself.

Bill stared Ford down for a moment; then apparently took Ford's silence for victory. "I want a drink strong enough to rot a bootlegger's guts, a hot meal that hasn't been cooked by Grandma Guilia Tofana down there, or—" Bill pointed toward the attic window that his curse prevented him from opening, "a breeze and some fresh air. I'm flexible. Let me know when you're ready to negotiate." He returned to his seat in the window. "I won't be far."

Giving Bill "a breeze" would obviously give him an escape route. Bill was no doubt angling to accumulate tiny, "harmless" favors until he tricked the humans into doing something that would let him escape; but... Ford eyed the empty junk food bags on the floor. He tried to remember whether he'd seen Bill eat anything except for unrefrigerated factory-sealed snacks he could forage from the open kitchen shelves—or if the last fresh food Bill had tasted had been Abuelita's cyanide cooking.

Bill wanted Ford to pity him. That was what this whole charade was about. Ford hated that it was working. Not because of Bill's performative filthiness—but because Ford knew, too well, what it was like to be trapped, powerless, and hungry in an alien dimension; and because even when Bill was all but confessing he was trying to exploit Ford's pity, he was still trying so hard to pretend he wasn't afraid. 

"I'll let you know what Stanley says."

Bill didn't turn away quite fast enough to hide his smile of triumph. "I'll be waiting." He settled back down into the same position he'd held for half a day and stared out at the night sky.

####

After several days in this body, Bill could definitively conclude that sleep was the worst part of being human.

In other circumstances, repeatedly blacking out and coming to, only to realize he couldn't remember anything for the past several hours, might just mean he'd been to a great party. He was no stranger to dissociating for a few billion years—you couldn't outlive the births and deaths of whole realities without getting really good at meditating to pass the empty time—but the difference was at least he could see what was happening around him! And sometimes he did cool things while he was dissociating! At any rate, he didn't need to worry about anything bad happening to him, because he was awake, able to defend himself, and—oh yeah—immortal.

But sleep was different. Sleep left him helpless. Sleep made him dream.

Usually he didn't remember dreaming, even though he knew he must have dreamt for at least a couple hours. He hated not knowing what had been happening around his physical body for all that time, and he hated not knowing what he'd been doing in his dreams. Anything could have happened to him during those missing hours in the mindscape.

The few dreams he remembered were little comfort. Nightmares about dying, about screams and screams and screams, about faces and places he was frankly galled to find still haunted him... things he'd spent his entire imprisonment in the Theraprism fighting to keep safely buried in his subconscious, only for this infuriating human brain to let them crawl from their graves like zombies.

But the subject matter wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that, while he was dreaming, he didn't know he was dreaming.

He didn't understand how that was possible. He couldn't remember how the dreams started, what trick they must have pulled to persuade him that this was reality even though he couldn't remember what had happened five minutes earlier, or how they hypnotized him into unquestioningly playing along with their bizarre impossible Wonderland plot lines. Waking up was more terrifying than his nightmares, as he reoriented himself to reality and had to grapple with how helplessly delusional he'd just been—and the knowledge that it would happen again, and again, and again.

Bill knew how human minds worked. He knew how humans dreamed. He'd been swimming through their dreams for millennia. This was normal for humans, and the knowledge that it was normal was the only thing keeping him from going mad with terror.

But the fact that it was normal for humans didn't make any of this okay. Because he was not human, and he should not be vulnerable to the same subconscious blindspots he'd been exploiting for thousands of years. He was the Magister Mentium, the master of minds! He hated losing control of which realities he chose to believe were real. He hated blacking out for hours at a time. He hated being so foggy-minded and vulnerable in the mindscape.

Most of his diet of the past few days consisted of energy drinks. His throat constantly blazed with heartburn. He needed a better solution—and maybe he could think of one once he got a decent meal, or a drink that could help him sleep without dreaming.

He was hungry, he was tired, and he was weak.

####

But in spite of the caffeine, at some point Bill must have fallen asleep—because he woke up. 

For once, he didn't wake from the searing heat of psychic fires.

He woke from the deadly chill of ice cold bath water.

"HELP!" Bill flailed, bashed both elbows and a heel against porcelain, and went under. He came up spluttering. "Mayday! Charybdis! Carpathia!"

The bathroom door slammed shut. From the other side, Stan shouted, "We considered your terms, and uh—we decided we're rejecting your demands, you get nothing, aaand you've gotta bathe."

Bill heaved himself out of the tub, flopped on the floor, and lay there wetly. Like a fish out of water, if the fish had given up the will to live. "Texq exmmbkba?" What happened?

"We dropped you in the tub," Ford said. "And we're going to do that every time your stench becomes intolerable, unless you bathe voluntarily. Is that clear?"

("What the heck language is he speaking now?" "Not a language. Caesar cipher." "You're tellin' me Cipher was Caesar, too?")

Bill coughed out a mouthful of water. "I'll drown myself."

"No you won't."

"It'd be fun. I'll enjoy it."

Ford hesitated. "Knowing you, you probably would. But you could only do it once."

"I'll slaughter you both."

Stan laughed. "Sure, if you ever reach us!" He jiggled the doorknob tauntingly.

Bill dragged himself across the floor and pounded on the door. He hollered, "I'll make meat linguine out of your skins with an orange peeler! I'll cook it in bone broth made by boiling your teeth!"

There was an awkward pause. Stan said, "I don't have teeth."

"The two of you are a loser who was only ever likable when you were pretending to be your brother and a puffed-up self-pitying nerd who never learned that no one's impressed by a child prodigy after age twenty-two! The biggest impact you'll ever have on each other is derailing each other's life dreams, and all your friends are worse off for knowing you! Your father died ashamed of you both and if he knew the truth about your lives he'd have been even more ashamed! Sherman has no positive memories of you, your obituaries will spell both your names wrong, and I'm going to feed your souls to an ouroboros that will repeatedly digest and defecate you for ten thousand years!"

After a couple more minutes of threats, insults, and beating his fists bloody on the door, Bill had to stop to catch his breath. Ford calmly said, "Have you got that out of your system?"

A pause. "Think I'm good now." Bill slumped to the floor again, his cheek pressed to the cool, damp floorboards. "Okay. Name your terms."

"You're not coming out of there until you've bathed," Ford said. "We'll let you out when you tell us you're clean. If you're not clean, we close the door again. If you want to sit there and sulk, then we'll leave, and once you're clean you'll just have to wait until somebody feels like checking on you. Is that clear."

Locked in and abandoned to wait and wait and wait for nothing at all... He shivered.  "Clear as crystal." He pushed himself to his hands and knees and tried not to look at the walls.

"Good. On the cabinet by the tub, you'll find a towel, washcloth, brush, comb, bar of soap, and shampoo. Are you familiar with how to use all of them."

"Sure! Of course I am!" Bill picked up the bar of soap, dipped it in the water, and experimentally rubbed it on his forearm. "For half a year, I bathed your body more often than you did."

Ford yelped, "You what?!" Stan spluttered as he tried not to laugh.

"Didn't you notice how much more the humans in town avoided you when you stopped letting me take your body overnight?" The soap wasn't soaping like it should. Why wasn't the soap soaping? In a flash of inspiration, he peeled the cardboard box off the soap bar. It had been a while since he'd needed to use bar soap; thirty years ago, Ford had kept the bathroom stocked with Dr. Scrubber's 28-In-1 Body Wash.

"I... thought that... I was sweating more from stress." Ford sounded like he was being forced to reevaluate his entire life. Waiting thirty years to dump that revelation on Ford had been a great idea. "Why were you bathing my body."

"Your odor was offending your pet bumpkin! I didn't want him to stage a mental health intervention!" That, plus Bill had needed to wash away the evidence that sometimes he took Ford's body on midnight joyrides to Portland when he'd finished his portion of the portal calculations.

"Okay, great," Stan cut in, "so you know how to shower. You freak." (Bill decided not to point out that calling him a freak had about as much impact as calling him a triangle.) "Clean clothes next to the shower supplies. Got it?"

He glanced at them. "Yeah, yeah."

"Good."

Ford said, "If you get this over with in a timely manner, without wrecking the bathroom or wasting the toiletries, we can talk about letting you choose a shampoo brand for next time."

Bill considered pointing out that that was a pretty stupid bribe to offer a creature who didn't have the slightest emotional attachment to organic toiletries; but then he remembered one of the cults he was affiliated with in New England made a shampoo line using its traumatized worshippers' tears, and he grudgingly decided he'd like to support them if he could. "You're enjoying this, aren't you."

"No." Ford was enjoying this. And after the mortifying reveal that Bill had scrubbed down Ford's naked body, he'd just angrily decided to enjoy it even harder.

"Gimme an hour. Been a while since I've done this start to finish, I'm outta practice."

"Fine. We'll be back in sixty minutes."

Bill could hear the creak of the floorboards as the Pines left, and the fading sound of Stan's voice as he quietly asked, "Do you think what he said about Shermie..."

Yeah, Bill hoped that haunted him. He reached for the towel, and then jerked back his hand, startled, at the sight of another person in the bathroom.

"Oh." Bill experimentally waved a hand at the human, confirming that the strange alien looking at him was a mirror. There used to be more mirrors in Ford's shack, but he hadn't seen any since he arrived—they were among the "potential weapons" the Pines had hidden away—but apparently they'd overlooked this bathroom. "Hey, there." He stared glumly at the face he was trapped inside.

He'd never seen it before.

He'd seen glimpses of his new body from his temporal peripheral vision—looking into the kitchen and seeing himself examining the junk food on the counters a couple of minutes in the future; looking at the stairs and seeing himself walk up them a few minutes ago. But he'd just taken in the perimeter of the uninteresting puppet and ignored the details. He'd never looked at the face.

Up until now, he'd kept imagining himself as a triangle. Some half-dead shape fraying golden curls around the edges, fused atop the rib cage of a humanoid puppet. Seeing the reality felt wrong, disorienting, like staring at an optical illusion but not being able to pick out how it worked.

He tore his eyes away from his own face. Forget it. He didn't have time to feel bad for himself. He had access to a mirror in the middle of the night and no one supervising, and that meant he could send an SOS to the mirror realm. He had friends in the mirror realm! Well—"friends." He had people whose arms he could twist into helping out, leave it at that.

He flipped the lights off, stared in the mirror—trying to focus only on his own eyeballs—and whispered, "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary." Maybe she wouldn't recognize him in a human body and take his call?

But nothing. "Come on, pleeease," he whined. "Bloodymary-bloodymary-bloodymary please! I'll owe you my life!" Nothing. Why were all of Bill's exes petty psychos who'd excommunicated him or gotten restraining orders against him for no good reason?

He sighed, flipped the lights back on, and morosely searched for any sign of himself in the reflected face staring back at him. It was like trying to find something reminiscent of Chopin's piano Nocturnes in the shape of a lawnmower: a task so impossible it was unintelligible. 

The only thing at all familiar was the color of the hair; not quite as bright as the dazzling electric gold of his true form, but still achingly similar.

Gold splintered into long, needle-thin splinters—splinters with the flexibility of a contortionist, splinters that had been twisted out of shape, splinters that curled like the legs of a dead bug.

"Well, whaddaya know," Bill sighed. "It only took a few dozen eons—but you finally grew up to look like your mother. Ha. Ha ha." The joke left a bitter taste behind his eye. (Eyes.)

Hopefully, he asked, "Oihpromsyd, uoy taht si?" It would be a relief on multiple levels to find he felt so grotesque because he was being haunted by Mr. "Guy Who Lives In Your Mirror And Makes Your Reflection Look Grotesque" Dysmorphio. "Suoedih leef yllaeeer I—krow tseb ruoy fo emos eb attog sah siht!" He waited for his own reflected face to twist in pleasant surprise—either at a human that could speak Rorrim or at the rare compliment to Dysmorphio's work—revealing that the reflection was actually the demon in disguise; but nothing. There went another potential rescuer. Bill already knew the Eye Stealer didn't haunt any mirrors in this shack, no point trying to call him. He didn't stand a chance of reaching anyone else in the mirror realm unless they just happened to pass through this mirror—and unless they were friends, they'd be no more eager to help out thwarted dimensional tyrant Bill Cipher than any of the humans in town would be.

He'd had enough of staring at this face he was stuck in to last him a lifetime. He broke eye contact with himself, tossed the clean shirt over the mirror, discovered the bathroom had a second mirror, and took off the shirt he'd been wearing for most of a week to cover that one, too. He unpeeled the rest of his clothes, trying to avoid looking too close at the human body as he did—it seemed worse now than it had when he'd first gotten this body, with the image of that alien face seared into his memory, knowing he wasn't on this body but dissolved inside it.

Once he'd cleaned this body and perfumed it up to the humans' persnickety standards and gotten out of here, he could handle future hygiene issues by scrubbing off in the sink in his curtained bathroom downstairs. He'd only have to go through this indignity once.

So let's go, Billy, just get it over with—and use the time to think up new ways to irritate the humans into doing what you want.

####

He tried first bathing in the filled tub, until the cold water had him shivering so hard he couldn't properly coordinate his hands; then drained it and tried showering; and then filled it with warm water and attempted bathing again. After the fifth scrub-down he even gave up on soap and tried clawing off layers of skin with his fingernails. No matter what he did, he still felt filthy.

But he'd be dead from blood loss long before he scraped off enough skin to feel clean. He didn't have to actually get clean; he only had to be clean enough to satisfy his captors.

Most of him, he supposed, was clean enough for a human's tastes—any signs of peeling dead skin scrubbed off, no visible dirt, no noticeable scent but the smell of soap—but he doubted the hair would pass muster. It still had asphalt dust in it from almost a week ago, not to mention whatever his scalp had been shedding since then.

But, unfortunately, the hair was the worst part. He could scrub skin with no trouble; but when he was bathing, sunk down to his chin, trying to feel weightless again, the hair floated around him like a grotesque ghost, closing in. When he was showering, it dangled on his face, clinging to his skin, like it was trying to creep under his eyelid and down his throat and choke him. Just knowing it was there turned his stomach; touching it made his throat burn as energy drink bile tried to escape his stomach.

Maybe if Bill brushed the tangles out first. That would knock out some of the dirt without him having to touch it himself. He sat on the edge of the tub, letting the growing tingling pain in his legs as his circulation was cut off distract him from the feeling of hair sticking to his cheeks and shoulders.

He tried to brush it out with his eyes shut, and his knuckles accidentally dragged across the filaments, wet, clammy, clingy. He yanked the brush free and felt hundreds of hairs jerking against their follicles. He forced himself to try again with his eyes open, holding the brush by the very tip of the handle. The bristles sank into the lumpen tangled mass of dead curling skin, and, as he tugged it down, slowly peeled the soggy strands of flesh apart—

His stomach hurt with the force of his retch. He clapped a hand over his mouth, dropped to his knees, and barely managed to get his dinner on the floor instead of on himself.

Voice a shaky, plaintive whine, he said, "Stop doing that to me." He shut his eyes, pressing his sweaty forehead to the cool rim of the bath tub. (Should he have aimed for the tub? Maybe the toilet? Would the humans get on his case for getting sick?) He jabbed a finger into his abdomen around the area where he'd decided the anthropomorphized spirit of indigestion lived in humans' guts. "Chumbo. Buddy. You're not helping," he hissed. "If I'm already neauseous, purging a load of bile does not help. It makes—it—worse. Why are humans built like this."

The Pines were tyrants. If he begged to be let out with his hair still grimy, the best he could hope for was mockery. Any pleas for mercy would cost him dearly. He wasn't getting out of here until he'd dealt with the hair.

He stood shakily and pulled the makeshift curtain aside on one of the mirrors. His vision was bleary from soap; the soggy hair draped in a loose, disheveled triangle shape around his head, like a mangled corpse. He shuddered and let the fabric drop. 

A knock on the door. "It's been an hour, Cipher."

Ford. Bill rubbed his throat and hoped he didn't sound like he'd just been sick. "Gimme another hour."

"That's ridiculous. It takes less than ten minutes to shower, how could you possibly need two hours?"

"So I'm out of practice at scrubbing skin folds! Give me a break! How many hundreds of showers have you taken since the last time I did this? Do you know how hard it is to hold a bar of soap for more than half a second with a mere five fingers?"

There was a pause. "You can't hold soap."

"My hands are small, Stanford."

"Fine. One more hour, but that's all you get."

"Fine, I don't care! If I'm not done in an hour, kick down the door and call the hygiene police on me." Bill was pretty sure you couldn't even get a call through to the hygiene police from this dimension. "Go away. I'm focusing."

If the Theraprism's stupid reincarnation machine was supposed to—ahem-hem, snooty director voice—"divinely designthe body most well-suited to the soul about to inhabit it," then why had it given Bill hair. Sure, he liked human hair, but he liked hair the same way he liked humiliating misspelled tattoos: on other people's bodies, not his. Why hadn't the machine dumped him on Earth bald and balloon-smooth, let the patchy human fur patterns grow in over time? Why hadn't it at least given Bill less hair—why did it need to be so long—

But his hair didn't need to be long, did it? Bill didn't need to have hair at all. Hair was the easiest human body part to self-amputate, easier even than fingernails or ears. Inspired, Bill started searching the bathroom cabinet drawers—et voila. The Pines had no doubt removed any razors or scissors before leaving Bill in this bathroom, but he managed to find a bottle of hair removal cream. Probably courtesy of Question Mark's girlfriend. Cosmetic acid: one of humanity's many endearing little quirks. This would liquefy the roots of the hair, and Bill could get out of here.

He considered whether to melt the hair off the rest of the body. Honestly, he hardly noticed the faint fuzz on his arms and legs, it could stay. The thicker patches extruding from the soft crevasses of the human body triggered that same rotting corpse feeling the scalp hair did, but to a much lesser extent: they were smaller and he could actually see with his eyes that the hairs were growing from the skin rather than spilling out of some dark wet wound. Head first; then he'd annihilate the other three patches if he had enough cream left.

It was easier to touch the hair when he was powered by rage, sliding his cream-coated fingers through the clingy filaments in service of burning it all away. The tingle on his scalp was a welcome distraction from the feeling of the hair itself, and feeling the tingle gradually blossom into a full agonizing blaze was a relief. Chemical burn. That was a luxurious pain—it tightened his lungs and squeezed tears of bliss from his eyes, so good he almost forgot there was another goal to this pain. 

Maybe it would damage some of his follicles enough to prevent the hair from regrowing. Maybe he could wring some pity out of his captors—see this damage, isn't it hideous, look what you made me do—how long could he milk that? A few weeks?

He tolerated the burn as long as he thought he could get away with it without requiring hospitalization, then turned the shower on again. The ice cold water didn't wash the dead hair off fast enough. Some of it stuck to his skin; some was brittle, but not quite fully dissolved.

And that one, last, tiny inconvenience was more than he could stand. 

The hair stuck to his chest, his arms, his hands as he ripped it off. Dead flesh, peeling apart and rotting, dead flesh all over him. He ran his hands over his head, fingers trembling with disgust, and tore out clumps of hair to fling to the ground. His eardrums boomed with his heartbeat. If there had been anyone else in the room he would have murdered them with his bare hands just to purge some rage. Over and over, desperate, obsessed, get it off get it off—

Until his head was so smooth that the pain of the chemical burns masked what few fibers were left. Until the icy shower left his skin so cold it hurt. He stepped out of the shower, triumphantly tore the shirt down from the mirror to see the results—and froze in horror.

When a cloud of gold hair had dangled down from his scalp, he'd looked like a triangle rotting apart—the corpse of Bill Cipher.

Now, he looked at his face, and he didn't see Bill Cipher at all. He'd destroyed the last of himself.

At his feet was a murder scene, all mangled golden gore.

####

(if you enjoyed—and/or were horrified—let me know what y'all think!!)

[stardust-sunset]

“Boys will be boys” headcannons, you say?

Well speaking as a teenage boy who’s done a few dumb things, here’s a couple:

-Soda definitely doesn’t wear a shirt in the summer. Any time it’s hot out, he’s ditched it (genuinely dunno how folks survive summer WITHOUT doing this tbh)

-Steve gets real pissy when he doesn’t win at things. Like if you beat him at poker he’ll tackle you. He sees this as re-establishing dominance. Everyone else sees it as Steve being a dumbass.

-Speaking of Steve, he seems like the sort to punch things when he’s mad. So does Dally. Just like…random walls and whatever. Throwing things too. I imagine it would scare Pony a bit at first, although by the time the book takes place, he’d be relatively unphased

-(movie!steve, ‘cuz in the movie he’s like 5’7) Steve used to be tall as a kid, like taller than Soda, Two-Bit, and Dally, and he’d make fun of them for being short. Then in like sophomore year of high school Soda and Dally get tall and Steve stays the same height. Soda is nice about it- but Dally mocks him for it non-stop

(Huh okay that’s a lot of Steve. I’ll shut up about him lol)

-Dally and Johnny once tried to make chocolate cake out of boredom. Somehow it turned into trying to light fireworks in the Curtis’s kitchen sink. Mrs. Curtis was pissed

-Sodapop and Darry tried to build a treehouse in the backyard as kids. It was just a piece of wood that they taped to a branch. Pony was still really impressed and bragged about it to his friends at school even though it was really lousy

-Two-Bit likes to say he’s won “every game of pool he’s ever played”, because he played once years ago and won due to a stroke of beginner’s luck. He refuses to play again now because he’ll “lose his perfect winning streak”

-Steve and Sodapop used to talk about hopping onto a freight train and going on adventures together “out in the Wild West”. Both of them low key still kinda want to

-Dally secretly wants to be a cowboy. Not like Buck, but like a Clint Eastwood type cowboy. Would die before saying so out loud

-Soda and Ponyboy have saved a few injured animals, like raccoons and whatever, and every time they do they try to convince Darry to let them keep it as a pet. Soda came real close once, and hid an injured lizard in his room for a month, but eventually Darry found it and forced him to free it

-Johnny was bored once and built a fort in the old lot, and him and Pony and Dally hung out in it until the cops made them take it down

-Sodapop, Two-Bit, and Steve once tried to start a band. It was terrible, because Soda and Two-Bit are too lazy to bother learning an instrument. Steve was okay because he could sing pretty well, but he sucked at the guitar he was trying to play too, and it all fell apart. Dally told them he’d pay them money to never play music again

okay, that’s probably enough for now- but yeah, there’s a few. Idk how much they stuck to the prompt, but whatever lol

all of these are biblically accurate, congrats 😭😭 especially johnny and sally making fireworks like that’s the only time mrs curtis yelled at any of the gang-dally is such a bitch in the last one tho like i know they were all like ten and he was twelve and he was just like “yeah never open your mouths again here’s ten bucks for each of ya buy yourself sonethin’ nice” like ok dally 😭😭soda and pong have straight up come home with a baby bobcat and darry was like “PUT THAT BACK ITS MOM IS LOOKING FOR IT 😡”

these are all canon trust

[asacredthebread]

cover by @no-other-mashter

A Cabin In The Woods - Ch3

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢?

Warnings/ Themes: Nice Sam, still only one bed, tying up his hair, reminiscing, implied boner, cliffhanger.

an: I can only apologise for the cliffhanger, I didn’t want this chapter to be too long! If you want to be added to a tag list specifically for this series, please feel free to DM me!

wc; 13.2k

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake @dannys-dream

As the two of you settled into the game of twenty questions, the atmosphere lightened with each exchange, and it felt like a playful dance around unearthing cherished memories. You began with an easy question about favorite childhood toys, and the conversation effortlessly flowed, delving deeper and bringing laughter that echoed off the cabin walls.

When it was his turn to ask, he decided to steer it into the realm of nostalgia, “What’s your favorite memory of us when we were kids?”

You grinned, a mischievous glint shining in your eyes. “Oh, I’ve got one for you. Remember that time you tried to impress me by climbing that tree in the park?”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh as you recalled the moment vividly. It had been a glorious afternoon, filled with sunshine and laughter, the scent of summer in the air. Sam, ever the daredevil, had attempted to climb higher than any kid had a right to. “How could I forget? I was so sure that I would be able to reach the top.”

“Yeah, and then you got stuck halfway up,” you replied, chuckling. “You thought you’d look cool, but instead, you were just hanging out there, calling for Jake like he was going to be your knight in shining armor.”

Heleaned back against the couch, shaking his head and grinning. “And who came to the rescue? Not Jake, that’s for sure. It was you, running over all in a panic.”

“Oh, yeah! I was a lifesaver,” you agreed, laughter dancing in your eyes. “I remember you were gripping that branch for dear life, trying to look casual, all the while internally freaking out while yelling for Jake to come help you.”

In your mind’s eye, you could picture the young Sam, arms splayed out in a desperate attempt at coolness, his cheeks flushed as the laughter bubbled in your chest. “You were so determined to impress me, and instead, you ended up looking like a raccoon caught in a tree.”

“Hey!” He feigned offense but couldn’t hold back the laughter. “And don’t forget how we both ended up with skinned knees after you helped me down.”

“Oh my god, yes! I forgot about that.” The joy of the memory washed over you as you recalled the tumble down, landing in the grass with a thud, both of you laughing despite the little scrapes. “But it was so worth it. We were laughing so hard, even with the bruises.”

“The best kind of adventure,” he added, and there was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that seemed to wrap around both of you as you relived that moment.

As the laughter died down, it was Sam’s turn to offer up a memory of his own. “Okay, my turn.. I think my favorite would have to be one of the early Fourth of July trips - the one where we went rafting?”

You tilted your head, encouraging him to share his own treasured remembrances. “Oh my God, yeah I remember that one!”

“Oh man, that was epic,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I can still see Josh getting tipped over into the water. It was classic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him at the memory. “And you were so sure you were going to fall in next!”

“Yeah, I dove straight for the oars just in case the worst happened.” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “But what really cracked me up was Josh climbing back onto the raft, drenched and cranky about his hair. You remember how he kept complaining about how he needed to fix it?”

“I do! He spent half that trip trying to wring it out! He was such a drama queen about it,” you replied, grinning as you recalled the exaggerated gestures he had made.

“Classic Josh,” Sam laughed. “And I just kept paddling like a maniac, trying to avoid any ‘splash zones.’ It felt like a scene from a comedy movie.”

“It really was,” you agreed, feeling the warmth of the day wash over you again. “Those trips were the best. I can’t believe how much time we spent doing things like that.”

The nostalgia hung in the air, sweet and warm, anchoring both of you in those carefree days of youth. As you shared stories back and forth, delving into memories framed by laughter and adventure, the cabin felt less like a prison and more like a cozy sanctuary filled with the echoes of your shared history.

“Okay, my turn,” you said, still glowing from the laughter. “What’s your favorite dessert from back then?”

Sam’s face lit up, and you felt another ripple of excitement as the game continued, revealing stories that brought you closer. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of fond memories, it occurred to you how the silly game and shared laughter were weaving together a tapestry of connection that neither of you had anticipated—but might just make your time stuck here a little brighter.

As the laughter began to fade, you and Sam settled deeper into your respective couches, the novelty of the game giving way to a more comfortable rhythm of conversation. The initial awkwardness had started to dissipate, replaced by the familiar ease that you both shared. Sam's light teasing and your playful banter wove a tapestry of warmth that transformed the secluded cabin into a safe haven, despite the situations outside.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall, the hands inching closer to the midday mark. Realizing that you hadn’t eaten yet and that it was about time to make lunch, you pushed yourself off the couch, stretching your arms overhead. “Okay, I think it’s time for me to whip something up for lunch,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Wait,” Sam interjected, his demeanor still slightly cool but beginning to warm, a hint of something softer flickering in his eyes. “I’ll make it. You made breakfast, after all.”

You paused, surprised by the offer. “Really? You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Just sit and relax for a minute.” With that, he started to rise, but then he suddenly reached for his hair, quickly pulling it back into a ponytail.

The attempt was ambitious at best. A few rogue strands stubbornly escaped the hold, sticking out in every direction, amassing around his face like a wild halo. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him looking half-determined and completely disheveled striking you as humorous. “Oh my god, Sam! You look like a tornado hit your head!”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes, but even he couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s functional enough, okay?”

“Functional, but definitely not cute,” you teased, your laughter still bubbling. “Here, come sit by me.” You beckoned for him to come closer, inviting him into the space between your knees with an open smile.

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he assessed the offer, but something in your voice, the playful tone, softened him. With a begrudging sigh, he relented and moved closer, settling cross-legged on the floor between your knees, facing away from you.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to get too comfortable,” he muttered, though there was a playful undertone in his voice.

As he sat, you felt a swell of affection course through you. There was something intimate about this position, this shared space. It felt like stepping into the past, a return to the uncomplicated moments of carefree childhood—an era when everything was innocent and the connection was effortlessly simple.

“You know,” you said softly, your fingers itching to reach out, “if you’re going to sit there with that mess of hair, I might have to intervene.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed as he anticipated your next move.

With a teasing smile, you reached forward and gently pulled the hair tie out of his hair. “We can’t have you looking like this while making lunch,” you said playfully, as your fingers began to rake through his hair, seeking to smooth out the knots and tangles.

He made a subtle sound of protest, but the tension in his shoulders eased as you worked your fingers through the mess he’d created. “Careful with the hair! It’s valuable,” he quipped, his tone a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“Valuable, huh?” you teased, gently tugging at the strands as you brought them back to their natural state. “This could probably double as a cleaning tool given how crazy it gets sometimes.”

“Just wait until I find a mirror and fix this,” he smirked, shooting a glance back at you, though a small laugh escaped him, betraying his good-natured spirit.

You focused on the task at hand, fingers deftly separating the tangled strands. The warmth of his body so close to yours brought a comforting glow, a friendly intimacy that you hadn’t expected to feel today. Your fingers danced gently through the hair, smoothing it out, inadvertently creating a soothing rhythm that resonated between you.

As you worked, the cabin filled with an easy camaraderie, and for a few moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this shared bubble of connection. You could feel the subtle shift in Sam, the way his initial tenseness began to ebb away, as if he were letting go of burdens that weighed on his shoulders.

And while you were lost in this simple act—calming the chaos that had formed on top of his head—there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in the air. Despite all the unspoken things lingering between you, this moment felt like a quiet declaration of friendship, a gentle reminder that trust and comfort could blossom even in unexpected situations.

As you carefully worked through the tangles in Sam's hair, you focused intently on the task at hand, relishing the way your fingers glided through the strands. Each gentle tug was deliberate, a conscious decision to avoid pulling too hard. You noticed that Sam had relaxed further beneath your touch, his body unwinding into a comfortable posture, and there was a softness in his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. It was as if the chaotic morning had dissipated, replaced by this unanticipated calm.

His hair was surprisingly soft, the strands silky and warm as they slipped between your fingers. The slight sway of his head every now and then suggested he was leaning into the moment, a rare vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. You imagined that for him, this was a secret indulgence, perhaps a moment stolen from the rigid boundaries he often constructed around himself. You’d seen glimpses of it last night—the unguarded laughter, the shared stories—but now you were starting to feel the layers he was shedding while you cared for him.

As you gathered his hair into a proper ponytail, you recalled how different things had been just a few hours ago. This morning, he had woken up guarded and closed off, almost like a statue encased in frost. The harsh words exchanged between you last night lingered on the edge of your mind, still fresh and sharp enough to draw blood if you focused too hard. But as you bound his hair together, you couldn’t help but feel the change in the air, like a tide turning.

This morning, Sam had snapped at you, his cool demeanor piercing through the sleepy haze you both had woken up in. But now, under your gentle ministrations, he was starting to melt. You felt your heart flutter with the realization that he was perhaps beginning to warm up to you again, that maybe he yearned for change just as much as you did.

You tied the hair securely with a hair tie, making sure it was both neat and comfortable. “There we go,” you murmured, admiring your work. “Much better.”

The moment you stepped back, Sam turned his head slightly to glance at you, his expression a blend of surprise and appreciation. “Wow, you’re like a hair magician or something.”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you replied with a grin, feeling both playful and warm inside. With your fingers still tinged with the softness of his hair, you settled back into your position, observing him closely.

His smile was genuine—there was no faking it. You took a moment to appreciate how different it felt to see him relaxed, the tension he usually carried serving as a reminder of all the unkind barriers he placed around himself. In those moments, you could allow yourself to hope that perhaps he was letting you in again.

“Last night was intense, huh?” you ventured, looking for a way to bridge the developments.

He nodded, running a hand through the newly tied ponytail absentmindedly before letting it fall over his shoulder. “Yeah, you could say that.” His voice was contemplative, and the way he paused suggested more was lingering beneath the surface.

“That’s an understatement,” you said lightly, trying to ease the heaviness of the moment. “I didn’t think you’d turn into a drama king overnight.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, diffusing the air around you. “I might argue that title belongs to you, given the way you threw your hands in the air.”

“Touché,” you replied. “But I’d like to think my drama comes with style. Yours, however… well, let's just say it lacked finesse.”

He humorously rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I was completely justified.”

The easy banter settled into a comfortable rhythm, and as you exchanged witty remarks, you wondered if this was a fleeting moment or the beginning of something more promising between you.

As he leaned back slightly, resting his shoulders against your legs, you felt the shift in the atmosphere. His actions spoke volumes; he was inviting you into his space, allowing yourself to push through the walls he had built. And it struck you—had his actions this morning been a true look into how he was feeling about it all, or had he simply been terrified of what could change?

“What do you think we were fighting about really, all these years?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “I mean, was it really just about me breaking up with Danny?”

He sighed softly, his gaze directed at the floor. “Honestly? I think it was more about everything else—the things left unsaid, you know?”

You nodded, your heart racing as you recognized the truth in his words. “Like what?” you pressed gently, prepared for this opening. “What’s really bothering you?”

He hesitated, momentarily lost in thought, and you could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. The warmth and comfort you had shared seemed fragile, but the opportunity was there, tantalizingly close. You could sense that your question had opened a doorway to a deeper conversation.

“I guess… I don’t want to mess up again.” He admitted slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything that happened, it’s hard to not want to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?” you asked, leaning a little closer, wanting nothing more than to understand him more fully.

“From feeling that heavy attachment again,” he said, his voice lower still. “You know? It’s like… I can’t decide if fighting and pushing you away is worse than letting you in.”

His honesty washed over you, a mix of vulnerability and strength that left you momentarily awed. And in that moment, you felt the sincerity of your connection, how deep it ran despite everything that had happened. You realized that in those shared moments, there was a potential for healing, an opportunity to rewrite your narrative together, to guide him through the delicate landscape of re-establishing trust.

“Sam,” you said softly, letting your voice steady. “We’ve both messed up before.”

“I know. But I hate feeling this way. It’s like I’m stuck.” His tone was heavy, but the tension was lightened by the way he leaned back further, comforted by your presence.

“Are you scared?” you ventured, wanting to keep the conversation open, to keep peeling back the layers.

“Yeah,” he said, his admission almost swallowed by the space around you. “Scared of getting too close, scared of it ending poorly again.”

You took a deep breath, considering your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to push him into a corner, but the truth bubbled beneath the surface. “But isn’t it worth the risk?”

He turned slightly, meeting your gaze. “Sometimes I wonder. But then I look at you and think…maybe you’re worth the risk.”

His admission sent a rush of warmth through you, the weight of your earlier tension lifting as hope began to bloom in the pit of your stomach. You realized then how deeply you cared for him, just as he cared for you, despite the mistakes and misunderstandings.

“I want to be close to you, Sam,” you confessed, your voice steady. “But I also need you to meet me halfway.”

“I can try,” he replied, his voice becoming more certain, the warmth radiating off him growing brighter.

With renewed determination, you decided to keep the conversation flowing. “So, what if we agree to be honest with each other, no matter how hard it feels? I don’t want to fight anymore. I want us to find a way to navigate all this together.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “That sounds good. And, um, thanks for doing my hair.”

A teasing smile crept onto your face. “You’re welcome. But I’m still claiming my title as the hair magician.”

Sam chuckled again, and it felt like a refreshing wind sweeping through the room. You realized that those moments of laughter became the threads binding you closer, the small fumbles and fleeting moments leading to something solid and real.

As the sun shifted position in the sky, casting warm rays that filtered through the window, Sam finally broke the comfortable camaraderie you two had built over the last hour. He stretched lightly, the motion causing his muscles to ripple slightly beneath his shirt, before pushing himself up from the couch.

“Okay,” he said, patting his knees. “I think it’s time to make us some lunch.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, enjoying the rhythm of the moment. “You’re not a magician in the kitchen too, are you?”

He shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he walked toward the small kitchenette. “Magic does not extend to the culinary arts. You’re gonna have to lower those expectations.”

You settled back in your spot, momentarily enjoying the view as he rummaged through the cabinets. A comfortable silence enveloped you, only punctuated by the rustling of bags and the clinking of pots. But, as you watched him prepare the food, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still wrestling with the lingering shadows of your past.

Just as he started to pull out ingredients for sandwiches, he glanced back at you. Pausing for a moment, he finally began to speak again, sentiment spilling forth like the ingredients he was arranging. “You know, when you were dating Danny, I was… jealous.”

The word hung between you, heavy yet almost relieving, like the steeping aroma of something familiar wafting through the air. “Jealous?” you repeated, surprised by the unexpected turn in conversation.

He nodded, his expression growing serious, the laughter of moments before evaporating. “Yeah. Jealous because it felt like he took you away from me. From us. And jealous of him too, for having you in a way that I never could.”

Your heart sank a little at his confession. It was like unearthing a hidden scar you never knew had festered beneath the surface. You had never wanted to take anything from him—not in any measure that would lead to hurt—and it pained you that your relationship with Danny had driven this wedge.

“When you broke up,” Sam continued, his eyes focused on the counter as if searching for answers in the disarray of ingredients, “I took it as a good excuse to put distance between us, hoping it would lessen how attached I felt to you.”

As he spoke, you felt a knot form in your chest, realizing this post-breakup handling of emotions hadn’t been easy for him. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer comfort or understanding, but you stayed where you were, focusing on his every word.

“I thought if I pulled away, maybe those feelings would fade,” he admitted, turning to face you fully now, vulnerability etched into his features. “I honestly hoped that the breakup would lead you to...leave the group or at least distance yourself. I thought that would give me some peace and help me forget.”

Silence lingered between you as his confession sank in. The tension that had previously hovered in the air twisted, reshaping itself into raw honesty, echoing with the weight of unresolved emotions.

When you finally found your voice, you said, “But… I didn’t want that. I thought we could all still be friends, especially after everything we all shared.”

He nodded slowly, a faint frown creasing his brow. “I know. But then you didn’t leave. Instead, you became even closer to everyone else. And that just… it hurt. I guess I was really good at putting on a cold shoulder, and it felt easier, less messy.”

You could feel the ache in his voice, the weight of what he had carried alone. “But you didn’t have to push me away,” you said gently, your heart aching for the distance he had imposed on himself. “I was always here, Sam. You just… made it hard for me to reach you.”

He looked at you, the flicker of confusion mixed with longing in his eyes. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his gaze softening. “Afraid of what might happen if all those feelings bubbled to the surface again. And I didn’t want to lose you completely if it came down to that.”

Your heart raced. Each word he offered peeled back another layer of the complexity of your relationship, an intricate web of desires and regrets tangled together. Realizing the depth of his feelings was overwhelming yet brought forth a realization of your own.

“That night,” you started, recalling the echoes of a disastrous argument that had happened the night that you and Danny had broken up, “that wasn’t just a fight about you defending him, was it? We were both dancing around the things we didn’t want to face.”

Sam sighed as he began assembling sandwiches. “Exactly. It was easier to argue about little things instead of the real issues between us. You know, the ones that just seem to sit there, getting heavier every time we ignore them.”

There was an earnestness in his voice that made you feel both grounded and exposed. “So what do we do now?” you asked quietly, wanting to navigate this emotional territory cautiously yet deliberately.

He paused, his hands stilled briefly over the sandwich he was preparing. “I think we start by being honest with each other, like we just did. And maybe—”

“Maybe?” you prompted gently, your hopes beginning to rise.

“Maybe I let the walls come down a little,” he said, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can’t promise it will be easy, but I want to try.”

A soft smile spread across your face. “That sounds like a good plan. I want to try too.”

For a moment, there was a quiet understanding, an acknowledgement of the journey you were about to embark on together. It wouldn’t be simple, but there was a sense of hope threading its way through the cracks of uncertainty, daring to breathe life back into a friendship that had been battered but not broken.

Once the sandwiches were prepared, Sam turned back to you, setting the plate down with a flourish that broke the tension that had built in the room. “Ta-da! Lunch is served.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the small space as it filled the air—light and freeing, a shared warmth that began to solidify the fragile connection you both had rediscovered. “You might not be a magician in the kitchen, but this looks pretty good,” you replied, reaching for a sandwich.

As you took your first bite, the taste of fresh ingredients mixing with the warmth of the moment felt like a small victory. With every bite, it felt like you were breaking bread with the chance of a new beginning. The remnants of jealousy and distance were still there, but now they seemed manageable, recognizable. The beauty of reconnecting was not lost on either of you.

Over lunch, you let the conversation flow, mixing lighthearted banter with deeper reflections. You laughed about memories of shared failures in the kitchen, reminisced over particular moments of friendship, and slowly unraveled the need for vulnerability in learning about each other’s fears, insecurities, and desires again.

In this newfound space sparked by honesty, an invisible thread began to weave its way back between you, one that spanned the depth of both understanding and affection. You realized that both of you had wanted to protect your hearts, but somewhere in the tangle of it all, you had lost sight of what had made your friendship so special in the first place.

And as laughter echoed against the walls, mingling with the aroma of lunch, you began to see that the journey you shared wouldn’t be marked by moments of jealousy or fear anymore, but by a continuing commitment to face everything together, step by careful step. The lunch transformed into something far more important—a chance for reconnection, cautious yet filled with promise, a shared meal that symbolized the beginnings of healing and understanding between two people who had once been adversaries in their own hearts.

As the afternoon sunlight began to wane, casting a golden light across the cozy cabin, you and Sam settled back onto the couch, the remnants of your shared lunch cleared away. The warmth that had begun to grow in the room was palpable, not just from the freshly constructed sandwiches but from the renewed connection between the two of you. Conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the gentle rhythm of vulnerability being woven back into your lives.

Seated close together, you felt the comforting warmth of his presence beside you, the tension of the morning a distant echo. You glanced out the window, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon, streaks of orange and pink spilling through the trees. It was a beautiful sight, the world outside igniting with color, and for a moment, everything felt right.

But as the afternoon drew on, you could sense the shift in the air, the faint chill creeping back in. Sam seemed to notice it as well, for he shifted slightly, glancing toward the fireplace where the logs lay dwindling and half-burnt. Finally, he sighed and stood up, allowing the blanket he had draped on his lap to slide off slightly.

“We’re going to need more logs for the fire soon,” he announced, his tone steady, yet with a hint of urgency. “There’s only a few left and it’ll be getting chilly in here.”

You nodded, realizing he was right. The cozy heat surrounding you would soon dissipate if you didn’t take care of it. Sam made his way across the room to the door with a determined stride, but just as he reached out for the handle, he paused mid-motion. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere within him, catching you off guard.

“Hold on” he chuckled, turning his head back to you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “The log. Door’s blocked.”

You felt a genuine laughter escape your lips, the memory of that chaotic tumble bringing back the echoes of last night. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take you to realize!” you replied, enjoying the shared amusement that lit the atmosphere.

He huffed in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Of course, you would let me stumble around like an idiot.” But the smile that followed suggested he was teasing more than he was genuinely frustrated.

“Oh come on, it was kind of funny!” you shot back, letting the laughter linger. “Watching you move like you were on a mission while all that time there was just a need for a little creativity to get past that log.”

“Creativity,” he echoed with a grin, shaking his head as if dismissing the idea. “I’ll show you ‘creativity’ by throwing the darn thing out of the way next time.” He paused again but relished the shared chuckling.

With a subtle change in energy, Sam sauntered back over to the couch, fully retreating from his stint at the door. “Actually, I think I’ll just grab a blanket instead,” he said conspicuously, a hint of levity to his tone.

You leaned back into the warm cushions, content to let the moment linger a little longer. “A smart plan. Why battle logs when you can pull a cozy blanket around us, right?”

With a swift movement, he reached for a blanket draped over the back of the couch. It was thick and fluffy, perfect for wrapping up against the encroaching cold. Sam flung the soft, textured piece over the two of you before settling back down beside you, the familiarity of his warmth returning immediately.

“See?” he said, wrapping the blanket snugly around both of you. “Now we’re prepared for anything.”

You nestled close to him, sinking into the palatial fabric as a sense of comfort enveloped you both. “Much better. I always knew you were resourceful—just needed a little nudge to realize the simpler solutions,” you teased gently, your head leaning against his shoulder.

He gave a modest shrug, feigning a lack of interest in your compliment. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Well, you do have your moments,” you replied, your voice playful yet sincere. “But seriously, it’s nice to have this time together.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening as he gazed into the flickering flames. “I’m really glad we’re talking again. It feels… right.”

You paused in contentment, feeling the warmth radiate not just from the flames but also from the bond you were rebuilding together. “It does,” you affirmed, and silence settled between you, a warm cocoon in which to process everything you had shared.

You both leaned into the embrace of the moment, wrapped in the blanket and in each other’s company, the fire crackling gently in the background. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the serene heartbeat of the cabin and the tenuous peace of two souls opening up to one another again.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you turned your head slightly to face him. “You know, I actually like how things are changing between us,” you ventured, wanting to underline the significance of this moment. “It feels like we’re finally being honest about everything.”

Sam nodded, his expression pensive. “Yeah. There was so much holding us back before. I think I was just scared of taking that first step again. But now… it feels different.”

“I was scared too,” you revealed softly, feeling emboldened by his admission. “I didn’t want to lose you either—this deeper friendship, or whatever it is we’re building. I kept waiting for you to pull away, and I hated it.”

A shadow flashed across his face, a hint of regret that met your gaze. “Yeah, and I guess I clung to that cold shoulder because I thought it would protect me. But here we are, wrapped up against the world.”

You felt the heat of connection burn brighter between you. “I think we can face anything together,” you said, your voice steady.

He turned to you, his eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re right. It’s about what’s ahead that matters. I’m tired of running from my feelings. Let’s keep the door open this time.”

As you looked into his eyes, the echo of laughter and friendship melded together, creating the potential for something more profound. And in the enclosing dark of twilight, with only the soft glow of the fireplace illuminating the room, you felt ready to embrace every shift, every nuanced feeling that lay ahead.

With the warmth of the blanket between you, the shared memories glowing like embers around you, and the light of newfound understanding growing steadily, you both settled into an understanding that the evening was only the beginning. A pathway to uncharted territories of connection and possibility lay ahead—one built not just on shared histories, but also on the willingness to forge ahead, together, navigating whatever storms might come your way.

“You’ll have to tell me more about the secret magician hair tricks next,” he said after a moment, breaking the thoughtful reflection.

“Oh, I have plenty of those up my sleeve!” You laughed, and leaned deeper into his side, feeling the connection solidify with each shared moment between you.

You nestled deeper into the blanket, the warmth cocooning you as you and Sam exchanged comfortable glances, the moment inviting connection and open conversation.

With a soft sigh, you broke the silence, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “So, how does it feel to have just completed the tour? I mean, it’s been such a whirlwind of a year for you guys!”

The question sparked a light in Sam’s eyes, igniting recollections that danced across his expression like the flickering flames in the fireplace. “Honestly, it feels surreal. We played in cities I never even thought I’d visit—a complete dream come true.” He leaned back slightly, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face. “From Tokyo to Paris, each show felt like a little slice of magic.”

Your heart swelled with happiness for him, the shared experiences of the tour coloring your view with an appreciation for their hard work and the art they created together. “It’s incredible what you guys have accomplished. I can't even imagine what it was like performing for all those crowds.”

“Yeah, it’s exhilarating but exhausting,” he replied, the laughter in his voice merging with a hint of weariness. “But it’s always worth it. The energy from the shows fuels everything we do.” He paused, his gaze settling on the dancing flames, and you knew there was another layer tacked onto his thoughts. “You know, the creative process is something we’ve honed over the years, especially when writing new songs.”

“Really? How does that work?” you inquired, leaning in with genuine interest.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that indicated he was transmitting from a well of fond memories. “Jake and Josh have this tradition of going somewhere remote to kick off the songwriting process. Nature seems to do something fantastic for inspiration—the silence, the fresh air—it just makes the words flow so much easier.” He chuckled, that warm and rich sound bringing a smile to your face. “I mean, we could never function on a tour bus like that. It’s got to be about disconnecting a little and finding that space to breathe.”

You nodded, imagining the landscapes they must have explored during those visits. “That sounds amazing. I can totally see how that would help.”

A glimmer of mischief flitted across his expression. “Speaking of which, I remember this one trip a couple of years ago. We took a hiking break, and it was supposed to be this epic adventure in a remote area. Great views, the works.”

“Let me guess, something went hilariously wrong?” you teased, egging him on.

“Oh, it was a comedy of errors,” he confirmed, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Danny just loved to show off, and while we were wading across the stream, he decided to hop on a stone for a better view. Well, he didn’t quite have the finesse he thought he did and ended up slipping right into the water.”

You burst into laughter, picturing the scene unfolding in your mind. “Oh no! Did he get soaked?”

“Absolutely! He went in with a huge splash, and it was all very dramatic,” Sam recounted, his eyes glinting with the kind of nostalgia that only comes from shared histories. “Jake, of course, did his best to save him, rushing over without a second thought to pull him out. But in true comedy fashion, he slipped right after Danny and fell in too!”

You laughed harder now, picturing the chaos of it all—the indignant yelps and the surprise splashes, two of your friends turned into a giggling mess in the middle of nature’s tranquility. “That’s amazing! I can only imagine how that must have looked.”

“It was ridiculous,” he admitted, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Here they were, two grown men floundering around in a freezing stream, while Josh just stood back, dying from laughter. He couldn't even help, he was just taking pictures, documenting the whole disaster!”

You continued to laugh along, your eyes sparkling with mirth. “What did Danny say after he got out? Was he mad?”

“Oh, he was furious at first—not at Jake, but at himself for being so reckless. But honestly, who could stay mad when you’re both wet, shivering, and covered in mud?” Sam smiled, his voice softening as he reminisced. “In the end, we all just started cracking up together. It became one of those memories that bonded us more than any of our successes.”

“That’s what it’s all about, right? Those crazy moments that bring you closer together?” you mused, your heart warming at the thought.

He nodded earnestly, his gaze thoughtful. “Exactly. It’s like every little adventure and misadventure adds to the tapestry of who we are as a band. Each experience, whether a success or a failure, is part of our story. And it sometimes leads to the best songs.”

“And I bet that one probably inspired a whole new track, didn’t it?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Funny you should say that,” he replied, an enthusiastic light returning to his eyes. “We did end up writing a song about it—we call it ‘Throwing Stones’ to poke fun at how we got there. It’s fun, upbeat, and it just ignites this lively spirit, reminding us to laugh, no matter the chaos!”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” you replied, a mix of excitement and sheer admiration warming your chest. “It’s so cool how you guys can turn life’s unpredictabilities into art.”

Taking a moment to let the conversation settle, Sam leaned back into the cushy sofa, his arm casually resting behind you on the back of the couch. “Honestly, it’s what keeps it all alive. Music, friendship, even the madness—if you can embrace it all, it makes the triumphs that much richer.”

Your eyes met his, and there was a understanding in the silence that followed, one that stretched beyond words. The stories, the struggles, the laughter—all wove together into an experience that you both cherished.

As you settled deeper into the blanket, you felt contentment wash over you anew. The gold of the setting sun faded into shadows outside, the room illuminated only by the soft flickering glow of the fire. The warmth between you felt like a harbor, anchoring the both of you in the present moment—a safe space where laughter, history, and genuine connection could thrive.

Feeling emboldened, you decided to dive deeper. “Speaking of songs, do you think you can write one with all the changes happening in our lives right now?”

He looked at you intently, his expression shifting thoughtfully. “For sure. It’s not just the crazy moments on tour—it’s the little things, the reconnections, the honest conversations. I think the feelings we’re going through right now are just as important.”

You smiled softly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like the blanket you shared. “I’d love to hear how that transforms into music.”

“I promise I’ll write it down. Maybe we can even work on it together,” he suggested, that playful glint returning to his eyes, the allusion to past collaborations lingering in the air.

Your heart danced at his words, the prospect of shared creativity intertwining with the connection you had reignited. “I’d like that very much, Sam. Collaborating with you would be fantastic.”

He nodded with a satisfied smile, and again, a silence bloomed between you, but this time it was steeped with promise and possibility. As the fire crackled and the room darkened, the flickering shadows played across your faces, two souls wrapped in warmth, laughter—a reflection of the journey that had brought you both to this moment.

And there, beneath the soft glow of fading daylight, you found comfort not only in the stories you shared but in the future that stretched before you, painted with music, laughter, and above all, an effortlessly evolving connection.

As you nestled into Sam's side, the blanket wrapping snugly around both of you, a sense of warmth enveloped you both, not only from the fabric but from the connection that seemed to shimmer in the air. You felt a sense of comfort being this close, and it drew you even nearer, the soft sounds of the crackling fire filling the space around you.

“I’ve been following your journey online, you know,” you confessed softly, looking up at him with a smile. “Scrolling through Twitter during the tour has been quite the adventure, seeing everyone's reactions to your performances.”

A spark of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Oh yeah? What were people saying?”

You giggled, letting the memories wash over you. “It’s hilarious! There were so many tweets about the lines forming for your shows. Some fans camped out for days in advance, posting about every silly thing they did to pass the time. I felt like a part of this massive movement!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s wild! You’d think they were waiting for some major festival or something.”

“Exactly! And every time you guys finished a show, the excitement would literally explode on social media.” You took a moment to gather your thoughts, excitement bubbling within you. “I even made it to a few shows myself.”

“Oh really? You were there?” His interest peaked, and you could feel the warmth from his gaze as he leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah! I didn’t want to be too loud about it, but I watched from the back a couple of times,” you admitted, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “It was absolutely enchanting.”

He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Enchanting, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“No, seriously!” you laughed, your heart swelling with the memory. “Watching you on stage was mesmerizing. I could really see how into the music you got. The way you moved with the rhythm...” You trailed off for a moment, lost in the memory.

“Yeah? What did you think?” he urged, an eager smile tugging at his lips.

“I loved when you had your bass solo,” you said, excitement creeping into your voice. “The way you walked around the stage, engaging with the audience. It felt like you were sharing this incredible moment with everyone there. You’ve got this magnetic energy that pulls everyone in.”

A warm flush crept to his cheeks, and for a moment, his humility radiated through the modest smile on his face. “Wow. I appreciate that. I just try to make it feel personal, you know?”

You nodded enthusiastically, the memories firing off one after another. “Exactly! It felt like you were feeding off the crowd’s energy. The way you’d look out at everyone, and the smiles you exchanged—it was infectious!”

“I’m glad you felt that. I love the connection with the audience.” He paused, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “What most people don’t realize is how important they are to the show. Their reactions fuel me just as much as the music itself.”

You felt your heart flutter at the passion in his voice, a reminder of why you admired him so much. “And every time you handed out a pick, you could see the reactions. It was like handing them a piece of treasure! The way their faces lit up—there's something so special about that.”

He chuckled, a knowing smile crossing his face as he leaned back into the couch, continuing to bask in the shared memories. “It’s like a little moment of connection, isn’t it? Those picks become keepsakes for the fans. It’s a small way of giving them something to remember.”

“It is,” you agreed, feeling the heat of your conversation mingle with the warmth of the blanket. “And I loved seeing it. Watching people clutch those picks like they were golden tickets… it kind of made the whole experience feel magical.”

He glanced down at you, a smile gracing his lips. “Now I’m a bit self-conscious thinking about it, but I’m really glad you enjoyed it that much.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling anew. “How could I not? You were in your element, and it was so beautiful to see you shine. Watching you perform was like witnessing a symphony come to life.”

His laughter dotted the air softly, lifting the atmosphere between you. “You have a gift for words. Maybe you should be writing the song instead.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, the lighthearted banter further deepening the warmth existing in that moment. “Who knows? Maybe you could add a ‘lyricist’ to my resume.”

“I like the sound of that! Adding to your list of talents,” he said, looking down at you with amusement. “What’s next? Life coach?”

You giggled, shrugging playfully. “I mean, I have been known to deliver some pretty sound advice...”

“Now I *have* to hear it,” he pressed, leaning closer, an amused expression dancing on his face. “Hit me with your best life advice.”

You thought for a moment, tapping your finger to your chin in mock contemplation. “Always bring snacks on road trips. It's essential for maintaining sanity! That—and keeping your friends close.”

“Wise words, truly.” His laughter blended with yours, the moment fostering an easy camaraderie, the very essence of friendship flowing through your words and warmth.

As you settled back into his side, savoring the gentle closeness, the conversation shifted, bubbling over with lightness and the warmth of shared memories. The backdrop of the fire crackling softly created a cozy atmosphere, wrapping around you in a loving embrace.

It felt good to reminisce about the tour and your adventures, but even more so, it felt good to be here, sharing those moments with him—his laughter, his warmth, and the joy of rediscovered connections mingling beautifully in the air.

And there, amidst the laughter and shared stories, you both created a memory all your own, a kind of magic that promised to grow, one conversation at a time.

As the warmth of laughter and connection settled around you both, the comforting crackle of the fire flickered gently in the background, casting a serene glow throughout the room. Sam had shifted slightly, leaning his head back against the soft musings of the couch, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest becoming steadier as the minutes passed. His eyelids, heavy and content, fluttered with the remnants of wakefulness before finally surrendering to a peaceful slumber.

You watched him, entranced by the serene aura that enveloped him as he nestled deeper into your lap, his hair fanning out like a dark halo across your legs. In that moment, the bonds of friendship seemed to intertwine with a deeper intimacy—one that felt both profoundly natural and blissfully perfect. You absentmindedly combed your fingers through his hair, letting the silky strands weave between them as thoughts of the evening glided through your mind.

With a gentle tug, you pulled the hair tie from Sam's hair, letting it cascade freely down, each strand curling slightly around his face. It was almost poetic—his hair flowing with the same graceful rhythm that had captured your admiration during his performances. As you settled comfortably into this newfound closeness, you felt compelled to play.

Curiosity sparked within you as you decided to experiment a little with his hair, almost as if it were an artistic endeavor. You gently gathered the long strands, separating them with a delicate touch, and began to braid them into a single ponytail once again. The careful movements felt meditative, each loop and twist taking on a life of its own.

“Now, let’s see how this works on you, Mr. Rockstar,” you whispered playfully, glancing down at him to watch his expression remain blissfully undisturbed. He simply sighed softly, deep in dreamland. Encouraged by his peaceful demeanor, you continued working.

Creating the braid lulled you into a calm rhythm, hands deftly weaving the strands together with gentle precision. You found yourself smiling, thinking of how he would look sporting a brand new style, completely unaware of your creative efforts. But just as your fingers settled comfortably, you released the braid, letting it unfurl and fall apart once more, strands cascading in waves back onto your lap.

This process of braiding and unbraiding felt oddly soothing, a quiet conversation between you and your companion without the need for words. Time seemed to slip through your fingers as you continued this delicate play, teasing his hair between your fingers while humming a soft melody you had inadvertently conjured up.

Every now and then, as you let the strands fall apart, he would shift slightly in his sleep, a quiet moan escaping his lips that sent a flutter through your heart. For a split second, you paused, the sound of his contentment wrapping around you like the embrace of a shared secret. It sounded so innocent, so vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel a profound affection swell within you—a mixture of protectiveness and warmth that filled the room like the softest blanket.

After a moment, you resumed your gentle ministrations, braiding his hair again, fingers dancing between strands with precise intention. Each intricate weave melded your shared laughter, memories, and the warmth of togetherness into something tangible—something that felt deep and meaningful under each gentle twist of his hair.

With every new braid, you caught little glimpses of him in his dreams—small smiles playing on his lips as if he were reliving cherished moments from the tour or funny exchanges that had colored your conversations. Sam looked serene, his brow relaxed and his cheeks slightly flushed in the golden glow of the firelight.

You watched the way he nestled deeper into your lap, and for a moment, you marveled at how blissfully unaware he was. It was intimate in such a gentle way that you almost didn’t want it to ever end. As you tangled strands into another braid, you found yourself lost in thought. The vulnerability of the moment, the trust shown in how easily he had fallen asleep, tugged at your heartstrings in ways you had not anticipated.

Each new braid became a pathway for the affection you felt, weaving and flowing between braids and unravels, signifying the push and pull of emotions that danced around the two of you. You started to think about all the late-night conversations, all the concerts, and the laughter that bubbled up so easily between you two. The thought warmed you, wrapping around you like the blanket you shared with him, creating a cocoon of honest sharing and pure companionship.

As you continued this quiet ritual, he stirred slightly again, another soft sound slipping from his lips, as though echoing a distant memory. You paused, glancing down at him, momentarily losing yourself in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. It was almost like he was calling out to you even in sleep, urging you to continue the tender act of care. And with that, you returned your focus to the strands of hair, starting again to play.

This rhythm flowed easily between you, wrapping time in layers of delicate connection. For a while longer, you focused on your braid, weaving in dreams, laughter, and the essence of who he was outside of the stage—the calm after the storm, if you will.

The combination of the crackling fire, the warmth of your bodies curled comfortably on the couch, and the gentle play with his hair created a bubble where the outside world began to fade away.

It was a surreal blend of reality and dreams, and within that intimate space, you felt as if this moment—this connection—was something effortlessly beautiful. And perhaps, it was.

As Sam settled deeper still, you traced your fingers across his forehead gently in the most tender of touches, and the pure, unguarded vulnerability in that quiet moment made your heart flutter again. His hair felt so soft beneath your fingers, and for just a moment longer, you indulged in the serene pleasure of this peaceful companionship, weaving the strands of his hair, almost as if to weave a bond that transcended words themselves.

The hours seemed to slip away as you became lost in the quiet charm of the moment, completely absorbed in the magic of simplicity—the essence of friendship that was evolving right before your eyes. A smile played on your lips as you let your thoughts drift, cradling him gently as he slept soundly, warmth radiating from the both of you.

And in the golden glow of that soft light, time ceased to exist, and you both savored the beauty of just being—tangled in friendship, laughter, and the way life had a knack for stitching together its most unexpected moments into something not just meaningful, but endlessly cherished.

As you continued your gentle ministrations with Sam's hair, the softness of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. The world outside slowly darkened, painted in deep shades of blue and indigo, quietly ushering in the late hour. You found yourself lost in the rhythm of the evening, shaping and reshaping the delicate strands of his hair, momentarily submerged in the wiggles of tranquility that filled the couch.

With a sigh, you pulled your gaze away from your delightful task and glanced towards the clock nestled on the mantle. The numbers glowed softly—far later than you had intended. Time had slipped away from you without fanfare, each moment merging seamlessly into the next. You felt a knot of warmth in your chest, half wishing you could freeze the time in this perfect, serendipitous place, yet realizing that the night was pressing on.

Looking outside, you saw that the vibrant hues of twilight had vanished, replaced by the dark cloak of night. The moon hung high above, radiating a silvery glow that illuminated the edges of the passing clouds. The stars peeked through as well, twinkling like a scatter of diamonds across the fabric of the sky. Yet with the night came a distinct chill that began to creep through the window, curling around the edges of the room, an insistent reminder of the late hour.

You turned your gaze back to him, still sound asleep in your lap, blissfully unaware of the passing time or the chill that encroached upon the cozy living room. His breathing was steady, and though he appeared peaceful, the cold air reminded you that maybe it was time to consider drifting off to bed. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—his relaxed features, the way his lashes fanned gently against his cheeks—he looked utterly serene, like a child lost in the tranquility of a warm dream.

You brushed your fingers lightly against his forehead, wanting to keep him close, but knowing that the warmth of slumber would soon give way to chilliness if you didn’t act. Gently, you nudged his shoulder with the lightest of touches, careful not to startle him too much.

“Sammy...” you whispered softly, your voice barely piercing the quiet air. “It’s time to wake up.”

He stirred slightly, his brow furrowing before he let out a small sigh of contentment, but he didn’t quite rouse. You nudged him again, a little firmer this time, relishing the opportunity to tease him a bit. “Sammy, come on. It’s getting late.”

Finally, he cracked his eyes open, blinking against the dim light of the room. “Huh?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His gaze fell on you, a sleepy smile spreading across his lips. For a fleeting moment, he looked utterly adorable, still caught between the realms of dreams and waking reality.

You smiled back, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “It’s really late, you know. The fire's died down, and it’s getting a bit chilly.”

He lifted his head from your lap, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn that made your heart flutter. “Wow, I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep,” he said, rubbing the remnants of drowsiness from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late enough that we should probably head to bed,” you said softly, leaning in to meet his gaze more directly. “We don’t want to freeze out here.”

With a lazy grin, he looked around the room, as if only just realizing how cold it had indeed become. “I guess I got a little too cozy,” he chuckled, shaking off the last vestiges of slumber. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re surrounded by two of my favorite things—good company and a warm blanket.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment. “I’m glad you feel that way,” you said sincerely, heart swelling with warmth. “But really, I don’t think we want to push our luck with the cold.”

“True,” he agreed, swinging his legs off the couch and sitting up fully. He stretched again, a fascinating set of movements that revealed the elegant nature of his body, the way years of performing had molded him into a beautiful form. You couldn’t help but appreciate the sight, a mix of admiration and the comforting familiarity coloring your gaze.

As he finally stood, you couldn’t help but admire the casual grace he possessed even in moments of drowsiness. He brushed the hair from his forehead with a half-hearted attempt to tame it, which made you stifle a giggle at how endearing he looked.

“Let’s grab some blankets and head to bed, then?” he suggested, his voice dipping lower with the suggestion, the idea of retreating into the warmth of the night drawing you both closer together.

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement building at the thought of snuggling up together after such a cozy evening. “I could use a warm bed after all this.”

“Lead the way!” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, and you found yourself smiling brightly as you headed towards the stairs that led up to the bedrooms.

As you ascended, you could hear the sound of his footsteps following closely behind, the rhythm of your movements blending into an understated melody that wrapped around you, adding another layer of comfort to the night. With each step, the chill dissipated, replaced with a warmth that thrummed quietly in your chest.

Once in your room, you swung open the linen closet, retrieving extra blankets that you wrapped around your arms like a comforting cocoon. Glancing over at Sam, you couldn’t help but let a soft smile slip onto your face as he pulled the curtains open, peering through the window at the starry night outside.

“I can’t get over how beautiful it is out tonight,” he remarked, his voice threaded with a hint of admiration. “It always feels like another world after a night like this.”

“And now we have our own little refuge,” you responded, a sense of contentment spreading through you. “We’ll be warm and cozy in here.”

He turned back to you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You know, if my hair keeps falling all over the place, I might have to borrow those good company skills to keep it tidy again.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you tossed him one of the blankets. “I think I can help with that! But right now, it’s time for some rest, don’t you think?”

His grin widened, and you could see the sleep still lingering in his eyes. “Definitely.”

As you settled into the bed, layering the warm blankets around you, you couldn’t help but feel that the day—though it had ebbed away—had transformed into something magical and real. The laughter you had shared, the moments of quiet intimacy, and now this gentle transition toward rest felt like a beautiful culmination of a night well spent.

You could sense that the warmth of friendship had deepened into something more—not overt, but definitely there, like those stars twinkling faintly in the night sky above you.

As you nestled into your blankets, feeling the comfort envelop you like a gentle embrace, you stole one last glance at Sam before you closed your eyes. He had settled himself beside you, cocooned in his blanket like a soft, sleepy giant. His eyes had begun to droop again, the peaceful look returning as he sank back into the warmth—not just of the covers, but, you realized, of this beautiful, unspoken bond that formed between you both.

“Goodnight, Sammy,” you whispered, voice thick with gentle affection.

“Goodnight,” he murmured sleepily, a soft smile gracing his features before he finally succumbed to the embrace of slumber once more.

With the stars gleaming outside and the warmth of your connection wrapping around you, you drifted off to sleep, heart lighter and mind filled with dreams of laughter, friendship, and the promise of many more nights like this to come.The night deepened steadily, and the world outside gradually transformed into a crisp, silent realm as the cold coiled itself around the house. Even with the warmth of the blankets and the intimacy of your shared space, the chill felt insistent beyond the window, a stark reminder that the winter night was far from forgiving. You could hear the wind whispering against the glass, an almost haunting sound that sent shivers dancing over your skin.

In the cocoon of your blankets, you felt warm and safe, the warmth between you and Sam a palpable comfort that ebbed and flowed like the quiet whispers of the night. You had sunk into a peaceful slumber, dreams flitting in and out like shadows. But suddenly, you sensed a stirring beside you—a shifting of the weight that seemed to draw your attention.

You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented as the dim light of the room seeped back into your consciousness. As your awareness came back, your gaze landed on Sam, who had pulled himself closer to you, his body pressing against yours with an urgency that seemed uncharacteristic of the calm from before. There was a softness in the way he nestled against you, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, surrounded by the material of your blankets.

“Wow, it really got cold,” Sam mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled against you. You could feel his exhalations against your arm, and it sent a wave of warmth flooding through you, contrasting sharply with the chill creeping into the room.

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the ticklish sensation that accompanied his slight facial hair brushing against your skin. The playful scratchiness felt both intimate and amusing, and you choked back another laugh as a ripple of warmth swept through you. It was a mixture of affection and something more, and you had to force yourself to focus, to rein in your bubbling mirth.

“Okay, okay, Mr. Cuddlebug,” you chided softly, pushing against him gently in a mock protest. “Are you trying to steal all my body heat?”

He chuckled lightly, his face still settled against your shoulder, creating a feeling of cozy closeness. “I can’t help it; you’re warmer than the blankets!” he exclaimed, a playful innocence in his tone. His fingers, in their warmth, found their way to your waist, encircling you slightly and pulling you closer.

You could feel your heart race in response, and for a fleeting moment, you basked in the comfort of his proximity, the way your bodies fit together so perfectly beneath the layers of blankets. However, as you settled back into the cushion of warmth, you became undeniably aware of a different tension that had built between you—something subtle but increasingly noticeable.

Sam’s body pressed against yours had suddenly shifted from a purely innocent cuddle to something a little more heated. As he nestled deeper into your side, you felt the unmistakable pressure of his arousal against you—a solid warmth pushing into your hip. You swallowed hard, sudden awareness flooding your senses with a mixture of surprise and something undeniably alluring.

The affectionate, cozy atmosphere blossomed into something charged, and it sent your thoughts spiraling in conflicting directions. Part of you wanted to tease him, to playfully bring attention to the situation, but another part—a more cautious side—felt the indescribable gravity pulling you both into unfamiliar territory. It was a sensation that blurred the line between friendship and something deeper.

“Um, Sammy…” your breath was caught in your throat, shaky and uncertain as you turned your head to glance down at him, intrigue licking at the edges of your hesitation. The room had grown unbearably still, the chill outside forgotten in the fervent warmth of that moment, yet a flicker of nervousness danced through you.

He lifted his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a drowsy smile. “What’s up?” His voice had a softness, a still murmur caught between sleep and waking, and it only served to amplify the unusual tension of the moment.

You sensed the vulnerability radiating off of him, that moment when both of your thoughts seemed to converge upon the same realization yet carried with it the weight of unvoiced expectations. “You’re… um,” you started, faltering slightly though you knew you needed to address what was becoming obvious. “You know you’ve got, like, a little—”

His expression shifted, realization dawning on him, and the playful, sleepy demeanor gave way to something more aware. His cheeks flushed lightly as he hastily shifted away from you, creating a space between you both as abrupt as it was unexpected. “Oh—wow, I didn’t mean to—sorry,” he stammered, the words coming out with a breathless rush.

Despite the sudden awkwardness, a giggle escaped your lips before you could hold it back. The laughter surprised you both, filling the room with an unexpected lightness, easing the tension that had sparked in that shared space. “Oops,” you mused playfully, your heart still racing, “Guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

With a sheepish smile, Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly embarrassed but equally amused at the whole situation. “Yeah, I should’ve thought that through,” he admitted, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “Guess I got a little too… comfortable?”

The laughter lifted, repeating in playful waves, and you found that the initial shock had morphed into an intimate moment—one that held the potential for deeper understanding and connection. It was a hesitation, a boundary that shifted ever so slightly in the warmth of your friendship, yet it felt inherently right—the tension transforming into a shared secret.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said softly, the night being too enchanting for discomfort to linger. “We’re just two friends keeping warm, right?” You nudged him gently, teasing as you decided to playfully lean into the moment rather than shy away from it.

“Right, just two friends,” Sam echoed, a little more playfully now, his gaze meeting yours with that familiar spark of mischief you’d come to adore.

But even as the playful exploration lingered in the air around you, there was something unmistakably different now; the spark had flared brightly, and you could sense the acknowledgment that extended between you both, teetering in the grey area of friendship and something deeper.

You both sank back into the warmth of the blankets, laughter weaving into comforting silence, and though the laughter had eased the initial tension, you savored the understanding that hung in the air—a shared acknowledgment of hidden desires, of the closeness that drew you in yet again.

Time flowed more easily as you settled back into a comfortable position, Sam’s gaze flickering down to the blankets, a smile lingering on his lips. “Well, since it’s so cold out there, maybe we should keep the body warmth going? It’s definitely cozier that way,” he suggested, his tone laced with a sweetness that made your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” you responded, feeling a wisp of excitement surge within you. “Cozy sounds perfect.”

With that, he didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, sharing warmth as he wrapped his arms around you once again, burying his face into the crook of your neck, brushing his facial hair against your skin once more in a way that sent delightful shivers tingling down your spine.

This time, though, the moment felt different—an electric thrill ran through you as he nestled in closer, the space between you almost nonexistent. It was a sweet surrender to both the chill outside and the warmth of the connection you both had, a promise woven in that intimate silence: that you would both navigate this new terrain together, exploring what lay ahead in the darkness of the night.

You melted into the warmth of Sam’s embrace, grateful for the cocoon of blankets that shielded you from the biting cold that continued to seep through the walls of the house. The winds outside howled with an unsettling fierceness, but inside, the atmosphere felt luxurious and safe. You reveled in the closeness, but as moments drifted by, the chill creeping into the room began to settle into your bones once more, a stark reminder that winter was relentless.

You couldn’t help but notice how Sam’s body radiated warmth against your skin, and the desire to snuggle in further began to pull at you. With much hesitation, you began to slowly push yourself back into him, feeling the inviting heat emanate from his body. As you nestled closer, the seamless bond between you grew thicker, pulsing with an energy that both excited and comforted you in equal measures.

However, the moment you shifted, you felt the unmistakable outline of his arousal pressing against you, more pronounced now than it had been before. A thrill ran through you—a blend of nervousness and exhilaration—as the proximity heightened your awareness of the situation. He grumbled softly, a sound that reverberated against your skin, sending an unexpected shiver through you.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and still teetering on the edge of drowsiness. The inquiry was laced with both curiosity and something undeniably playful, and his tone sent sparks dancing through the space between you.

You stifled a giggle, and a soft smile broke over your face as you met his sleepy gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you, a blend of vulnerability and amusement that made your heart race just a little faster. “I’m just cold,” you replied, feeling adventurous, even daring, as the words slipped from your lips. “The blankets are nice, but there’s still a chill in the air, and you’re like a human furnace.”

You pushed in even closer, a playful challenge in the way you allowed your body to mold against him, reveling in the contrasts—the warmth you felt from Sam juxtaposed with the retrenching cold. His body reacted, muscles tensing in response to your movements, and for a moment, there was an overwhelming silence, each of you acutely aware of the newly charged atmosphere surrounding you both.

As you settled against him, you felt a flicker of mischief light up within Sam. He brought his face closer, his breath warm against your shoulder as he grazed his teeth softly against your skin, almost like a gentle warning—teasing yet commanding, summoning you to acknowledge the tenuous line you were both now dancing upon.

A gasp slipped through your lips, barely restrained, turning into an accidental whimper as the sensation sent an electrifying thrill through your spine. It was an instinctive reaction, drawn from reflex as you felt the warmth of him pressed firmly against you. In that moment, you realized how close you were to crossing from the comforting safety of friendship into something far more intense, something that sent your heart racing with excitement and trepidation.

The sound of your reaction hung thick in the air—a mixture of vulnerability, desire, and the realization of the intimacy you both shared—in that suspended moment where time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded into silence, and all you could focus on was the delightful tension simmering between your bodies.

It felt exhilarating yet disconcerting, that heady blend of fear and allure. You could feel Sam’s heartbeat against your back, the steady thrum echoing the words spoken in those simmering moments—words unvoiced but acknowledged all the same. It was a collective understanding that this wasn’t merely about comfort anymore. Something deeper was unfolding, an acknowledgment of the chemistry you both had long felt but was now pushing to the surface, begging to be explored.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you processed your surroundings, your fingers playing with the fabric of the blankets, caught somewhere in a liminal space between friendship and something entirely different. Your heart raced as your body responded to the intimacy—the closeness, the warmth, and the undeniable connection that seemed to weave itself tighter with each passing second.

It was a moment that seemed to encapsulate everything you had been feeling, everything that had been lingering in the unspoken air between you, and it felt both intoxicating and frightening. You could almost taste the anticipation hanging there, sparking into something electric, searching for an outlet, waiting for someone to take that leap further into the unknown.

And so you lingered, wrapped in the warmth of impending change, wondering where the night and your burgeoning connection might lead.

The tension in the air morphed from electricity to playful teasing in an instant, the magic of that moment lightening up at Sam’s smirk as he leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Wow, someone’s a little sensitive,” he joked, a playful laugh escaping his lips. “Whimpering already? I didn’t think I had that effect on you yet.”

His teasing carried a familiar tone, one that stirred memories you had thought buried. It brought back the days when you two were practically enemies, rivals in everything—classes, sports, and even friendships. The banter was always quick and sharp, filled with snarky comments and snide invitations to outdo one another. You could remember the countless times you had glared at each other across the room, daring another to take the first step into a confrontation.

The nostalgic rush of memories made your heart race for entirely different reasons, and in that instant, your body reacted as if struck by a light bolt. You shot straight up from the bed, the blankets pooling around you in a chaotic mess as your mind jumbled through emotions, battle scars of rivalry colliding with the familiar warmth of affection.

“Are you serious right now?” you exclaimed, voice rising with incredulity. “We were doing so well! How could you fuck it up like this?” The words tumbled from your mouth, a mixture of frustration and disbelief, shockwaves of your past echoing in the heat of your outburst.

Sam's eyebrow shot up in genuine surprise at your sudden shift, the previously playful atmosphere hanging heavily between you. “Wait, what?” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement despite the severity of your tone. “I was just teasing! You didn’t have to go all dramatic on me.”

You felt a slight rush of adrenaline, the heart-pounding kind that had defined so many of your earlier encounters. There was a thrill in standing up to him, showing that the warmth and affection couldn’t mask the fire you’d once wielded so easily. But before you could walk fully away from the bed, Sam’s arm shot out, gripping your wrist and pulling you back down with surprising strength.

“Hey! If you keep complaining about everything I do, I might just have to give you something better to do with your mouth,” he purred, a mischievous glint in his eye that left no room for doubt as to the implications of his words.

His tone hung in the air between you, an unspoken challenge woven through his suggestion—one that danced brazenly along the edges of the playful rivalry you had once thrived on. You couldn’t help but scoff, a laugh bubbling up from your core at his audacity. “Oh please,” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you faced him, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips. “You wouldn’t be giving me much to work with.”

The moment hung there, throbbing with tension, humor mingling with the intensity of your previous exchanges. Sam chuckled, the sound warm in the cozy room, and his reluctance to retreat from your banter was palpable, a friendly duel of words as natural as breathing.

“Is that so?” he challenged, his voice low and playful, running his fingers through his hair in that familiar way that always made him seem effortlessly charming. “You’re not even considering what I could do if you stopped being so dramatic for just a minute.”

“Oh, dramatic? Look who’s talking,” you countered, your heart racing at the sheer audacity of your conversation. “Do you seriously think I’m going to just sit here and take it?”

“Are you sure you want to challenge me?” he shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because I could definitely make it worth your while if you let me.”

Feeling emboldened by your tension, you leaned forward just a fraction, closing the space between you two again. “I’m not afraid of you, Sam,” you declared, the words coming out with a playful bite, pulling your old personas of rivalry into a new territory that was somehow easier to navigate grounded in this warmth and shared comfort.

“But, in that case,” he said, leaning in as well, lips curving into a smirk, “you might want to brace yourself.”

A surge of excitement coursed through you as you felt the playful challenge hanging in the air. The dynamic had shifted so decidedly from your past encounters, intertwining the comfort of camaraderie with the thrill of newfound exploration. As you teetered on the precipice of uncertainty, there was an undeniable chemistry shared in those moments, a fire igniting between you as your words danced like flames in a gentle summer breeze.

“Bring it on,” you whispered back, heart pounding at the thrill of the shift. The night felt electric again; the stakes had transformed into something deliciously unpredictable, eager for the two of you to navigate the terrain of what came next.

You both lingered there, on the brink of something new, laughter and teasing biting at the edges, enveloped in warmth, words igniting the very spark that had drawn you together in the first place. It was a heady mix of everything you had been, and everything you could become, wrapped in the bittersweet tension of your shared history and the promise of an exhilarating future yet unwritten.

[vonrov]

Hi hi!!! I’ve got an idea if you’re interested!!

So the reader is an avid literature fan, and they really love Poe’s novels!! One day they meet him and Poe is confronted with the prospect that….. maybe he doesn’t need to keep writing just to possibly stump Ranpo one day…. Maybe he’s already an incredible author deserving of praise,, :’)

^ if that makes sense lol, but I’m super excited to see where your blog goes anyway!! Following immediately <33

a fan?

・ Poe x GN!Reader { Fluff ・ Warnings { None ・ Word Count { 1.3K ・ Masterlist { LINK

It all started when he met a fan. A fan. Someone devoted to his work, someone who enjoyed and loved his writing. He could remember the day like it had just happened. The feeling of his cheeks growing warm, as the tips of his ears reddened with the praise he sought for every time he tried to stump Ranpo with one of his stories.

He also remembers the way he fumbled with his coat and undershirt as the person in front of him would gush and ramble about the different scenes he wrote, the different characters he poured his own attributes into, as well as the attributes he wished he had. He listened with shaky fingers and an anxious feeling bubbling in his chest as they brought up the dialogue he would spend his time reading aloud over and over again until it felt right.

It would be in his next novel, he wrote a character into the ongoing plot who reminded him of the devoted fan he had met out on a walk to gain inspiration.

And inspiration he found.

Inspiration he found in you.

Whenever he felt stumped with his hobby he went on a walk. Down the street, take a right, and pass by that cafe he was always too scared to go into because of how deadpanned the barista looked in the mornings. It was the same route he had met you. Every time he went out on one of his brainstorming walks, he hoped that the two of you would cross paths again.

And like fate intended, that would happen on a random Tuesday about a month later.

The air was fresh with summer approaching as the trees were green with branches full of leaves. A slight breeze flowed about the city, the only thing reminding Poe about his need for a summer wardrobe change soon, as it kept him just cool enough to enjoy his stroll. He walked with his head down, holding a leather-bound book in his hands as he watched his shoes land against the pavement with audible clicks.

“Karl would have loved this weather, it’s a shame he was napping when I left.” He spoke to no one in particular.

“Karl is your pet raccoon, right?”

“Yes, he’s-” His voice got caught in his throat.

He was too lost in his own musings to notice you were right next to him, about to enter the cafe he would usually pass on his walks, clad in a uniform he’d seen somewhere before. It was almost humorous how quickly his expression had gone from deadpanned, deep in thought, to a somewhat frightened look of ‘holy fucking shit’ in a matter of seconds.

He blinked owlishly at you as you just looked at him with a smile.

“Do you come here often?” You pointed at the cafe’s entrance, a crooked smile stretching across your lips as you tried to relieve the awkward tension.

“Uhm- No, not particularly.” Liar. Even though hes never entered the cafe, that doesn’t mean he hadn’t walked past it almost every day when the weather was nice enough for the past three weeks.

“The sugar cookies here are really nice.”

“O-Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” You looked at the cafe doors before turning back to him. “I’ll be considered “late” for my shift,” You made air quotes with your fingers. “If I don’t get in there in a few minutes.”

“Go ahead then, I’ll have to stop by sometime when I can…”

So that’s where he knew that uniform from. His gaze flew to the window as he bit his lip, avoiding eye contact with the deadpan barista who was definitely watching them through the glass. The uniform the barista wore behind the counter was the same as the one you were currently wearing. He looked back at you before speaking, his voice quiet with apprehension.

“Are you guys pet-friendly…?”

Once he had gotten confirmation that the cafe was pet-friendly, for service animals only, he rushed off with the promise of bringing Karl with him on his next visit.

…

It was the next day he walked down the once new path turned familiar with his animal companion in tow. The weather was much like the day before, minus the pleasant breeze. But the heat did not deter Poe as he briskly walked. His shoes hitting the concrete with a familiar clack. Excitement was rolling off of him in waves at the thought of being able to meet up with this devoted fan of his after waiting for a chance to do so for the past few weeks.

“How can I help you?” A monotone voice spoke.

He didn’t realize he was already in the cafe, standing at the counter, Karl on his shoulder, ready to say hello, only for the person at the front counter to not be you.

Instead, it was that blank-faced barista who was always off-putting to Poe whenever he walked by the big windows of the cafe. He could always feel their stare on him when he paced the sidewalks day by day. Only now, he could see the stare and was standing before them instead of walking past the glass.

Well fuck. That’s certainly a way to flip Poe’s switch from 'fine' to 'not fine'.

“Uhm…” He had to say something. Maybe order something? Yeah, that would be a great way to cover up his ignorance of his surroundings. Karl chirped on his shoulder as the raccoon’s tiny clawed hands patted his head. Poe watched in worry as the barista’s gaze went from himself to the raccoon on his shoulder.

“Please tell me that is a certified service animal.” The barista’s tone was unreadable as their eyes moved back to Poe’s.

“Oh- Y-Yes, he is certified. Let me just…” Poe dug around in his coat, unraveling a few yellow-tinted folded-up papers from the depths of his inside pockets. Unfolding the documents and turning them around for the barista to see. He pointed to a few different places on the papers, explaining how Karl is a 100% certified service animal. “He’s a psychiatric certified service animal for anxiety.”

“I didn’t know raccoons could do that.”

“Me neither…”

…

Thankfully, he managed not to embarrass himself further as he sat down with a warm drink that he didn’t remember the name of and a large sugar cookie. There had been other options of course, but you had recommended the sugar cookie for a reason right?

Karl had jumped from his shoulder and rested in his lap when he had sat down. Not wanting to disturb the raccoon peacefully resting in his lap, his gaze shifted about the interior of the cafe, his eyes scanning over the bright pops of color highlighting the various white tables. The turquoise accent wall behind the counter is adorned with diverse eccentric artwork. His focus was broken when the ring of the bells over the door alerted him.

And to his surprise, you had walked in.

While he was hoping to see you, he wasn’t expecting you to show up, assuming you had the day off when he was met with the other barista behind the counter instead of you. He watched as your head swiveled around, making you seem like you were looking for something- or perhaps, someone with how your face lit up when you saw him.

His assumption was further confirmed once you had started walking over to his table. His eyes followed you as you walked over, his head turning as you now stood in front of his table instead of behind him by the door.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, not at all.” …

It took meeting a fan to realize something.

It took meeting a fan for him to realize that his novels impacted other people.

It took meeting a fan for him to realize, that maybe he didn’t need to write just to try and defeat Ranpo with another mystery novel.

Poe never even noticed his writing had even strayed from the mystery genre and played more with romance since writing in that new character about a month ago.

Authors Note: I actually cannot believe I managed to write all of those in one sitting. I genuinely think this is the first time I've been able to write over 1K words this easily. Whoever made it this far and is reading this, I need to know your thoughts on this.

I really loved writing this. My first time writing with Poe and while I was writing I decided to headcanon that Karl is a service animal because it makes sense. I hope I nailed his character and it isn't occ. There was something else I was gonna say but I cannot remember, it is 11:33 PM and I've worked on this for at least the past 2-3 hours and I gotta get up in the morning.

Comments and reblogs that tell me what you guys liked or little things that you noticed makes my day. My inbox is still open for recommendations, please check out my pinned post before you drop in though.

[tightjeansjavi]

blue jeans n’Texas dreams | part 13

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” 𓃗

Pre! Outbreak/no! Outbreak Joel × horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: it’s here finally. This is the longest chapter I have ever written for any of my fics. This chapter will make you swoon. It will make you laugh, cry, and feel. Horse dad! Joel and Clover are very special to me. Thank you for being patient, and happy reading.

~word count 13.3k (you heard that right!)

Summary: 4th of July weekend at Joel and Tommy’s family lake house proves to be one for the books. Summer lovin’ never felt so real. (and a pack of raccoons stealing your bra and panties)

Warnings: smut (protective p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, filth, a little handjob action, reader has a size kink (if you squint) Joel is an ass man, skinny dipping, mentions of alcohol consumption, public sexual activity, fear of getting caught (but it’s a turn on) praise kink, heavy use of pet names, Joel has some serious horse dad! Rizz, riding it like a cowgirl on the kitchen floor, fluff, some angst, admittance of feelings, Joel talks you through it, soft! Joel, sweetie pie! Joel, sunshine reader, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, readers nickname is clove/clover because you’re Joel’s lucky charm. Tommy being himself, Sarah showing support for her dad, Ellie exists in this universe and is Sarah’s best friend! (+18) minors dni!

blue jeans playlist:

“Remember, kiddo. Toes up, heels down and eyes forward. If you look down at Frankie’s head, he’s not gonna know where you want him to go. Try and look right between his ears and make sure he’s not cutting off those corners. Good job!” You praised Sarah as she confidently trotted Frankie along the rail. Her and Joel had just started taking joint riding lessons together, and Sarah was ecstatic that her dad wanted to learn with her.

“Joel, honey...”

“I know, I know. It’s my diagonal again ain’t it?” Joel responded gruffly, followed by a light huff. He was wearing the same hot pink leopard spotted helmet from the time you went on a trail ride together. He knew you loved how cute he looked in it so of course he'd have to wear it again, just for your enjoyment.

“Dad, all you need to do is remember to rise and fall with the leg on the wall, it’s easy!” Sarah chimed in as she trotted Frankie through the middle of the arena.

“Easy enough for you, sweet pea.” He bantered back as he eased Whiskey to a gentle halt alongside you and Ezra in the middle of the arena.

You glanced over at your boyfriend with a gentle smile as he reached down and gave Whiskey a light pat on his furry neck. “Are you just taking a breather cowboy?”

“Of course. Jus’ a quick one. Was hopin’ maybe I could get a quick kiss or somethin.’ I think it might really help me remember this whole diagonal stuff.” Joel glanced over at you with a teasing grin playing on his lips.

“Oh? You think it’ll help you remember? Well, in that case..” You trailed off. It was difficult to say no to your Texas tall glass of water, especially when he was looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes of his. “Alright. Just one little kiss. That’s all you get.”

“M’so lucky that I jus’ get a little one.” He chuckled warmly as he leaned over the saddle and pecked your lips softly.

“GROSS! Frankie, cover your eyes!” Sarah giggled, her nose scrunching up like a bunny’s nose does.

You couldn’t help but pull Joel in for one proper kiss before you playfully pushed him away. “Alright, you’ve had your kiss, now get your cute ass back on the rail mister! Whiskey has barely worked up a sweat! Get to it!” Your tone was playful and a little teasing as Joel gave you a playful salute in response. “Yes ma'am! Right away!”

When Joel and Sarah’s lesson was finished for the afternoon, they spent the next hour bathing and grooming Frankie and Whiskey before turning them out to the pasture. It was sweltering out under the blazing Texas sun and Joel found you sitting underneath a nearby apple tree close to the pasture fence. You were busy scribbling something down in your notebook. His boots were soft along the grass as he sank down alongside you with a soft grunt. His arm loosely draped across your shoulder as he pressed a light kiss to your sweaty temple. “How’s my girl doin’ today?” He rasped softly.

Your hand subconsciously drifted to his jaw where the pads of your fingers were lightly brushing across his beard. “Pretty good. It’s so fucking hot out though and I literally feel like i’m melting.” You laughed softly.

“Mhmm. Hotter than satan’s asshole, that’s for sure. You still look gorgeous as ever, even if you are meltin’ like an icecream cone left out in the sun, sprinkles and all. I’d still lick you–”

“Joel Miller.” You teasingly warned him.

“That’s yours truly. What’s the matter?”

“It’s too fucking hot for me to be getting horny. You can’t be talking about licking me up, Jesus christ.”

Joel laughed and it rumbled deep within his chest as he gave your shoulder a light squeeze. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep the suggestive commentary on the low, okay?”

“You’re too kind.”

“Speakin’ of the heat, do ya have any big plans for 4th of July weekend?” Joel asked casually, but definitely out of the blue.

You found yourself craning your neck upwards a little so that you had an easier time looking over at him. Your brow raised at the deliverance of his question. “No, I don’t have anything planned at the moment..probably just going to be in my apartment with takeout or something. Why do you ask?”

“Well, umm..I was wonderin’ if uh, maybe you’d like to come up to my Grandad's lake house? Tommy already went ahead and invited Ryder, and Sarah and her friend Ellie are comin’ up as well. I know maybe it's..sorta a big ask of ya? I’d just really love to spend the holiday weekend with you.”

The smile that slowly washed over your face was nearly contagious as your thumb gently swiped across his lower lip. “I’d love to spend 4th of July weekend with you Joel. That sounds like an incredibly fun time.”

“Tommy and I have been goin’ up there since we were kids. Grandad built it himself, and it's got all the rustic charm that you could ever dream of. Got a speed boat as well at the end of the dock, and innertubes as well. Nice big fire pit close to the water and a screened in porch. It’s like a little slice of heaven, y’know?”

“It sounds perfect, truly. I’ll ask Ryder if she wants to go and get a mani pedi with me. It’s been so long since I went on a vacation. I think the last time was in highschool..maybe?”

“I uh—can I pay for you to get your nails done? I know, I know. You got a thing about me not payin’ for ya, but let me treat you, okay?”

“Joooeeeel.” You let out a light huff as you leaned over and pecked his cheek affectionately. “Fine. You can pay for my nails under one condition, I want you to pick the color out.”

“Oh no no. Darlin,’ I ain’t equipped for that. I don’t know nothin’ about nail polish colors. Sarah’s painted mine about a dozen times, but she always picks the color out.”

“Baby, c’mon. It would make me oh so so happy if you picked the color. I want it to be a color that you like. Please?” You lightly fluttered your lashes at him.

Joel laughed, shaking his head slightly before he ultimately gave in. “Alright, I’ll pick out a color for ya, but in order for me to do so, I need ya to stay super still so that I can admire your beauty.”

“You’re such a dork.” You stifled a laugh as he was intently studying you, and your features. From the tone of your skin, to the color of your hair and eyes. He wanted to make sure he picked out the perfect color to compliment your features that he loved so dearly. “I’m thinkin’ any shade of blue. Maybe even a light blue or teal? I think that will compliment you very well, baby. Jus’ know that you can pull off any color regardless.”

“Hmm. Light blue, or teal? I think I can handle that. Any specific reason why you picked those colors?”

Joel looked over at you with a tender, soft smile. “Jus’ think those colors will really bring out the color of your eyes.”

Goddamn your Texas tall glass of water always being a total sweetheart.

“He offered to pay for your nails too? Goddamn girl. If that ain’t a man in love..” Ryder was sitting next to you in the pedicure chair while she flipped through the latest tabloid magazine.

“Ryder, don’t be ridiculous. We haven’t been together that long for him to feel about me that way. He did get all bashful when I asked him what color nail polish he’d like to see on me.” You looked over at your best friend with a small grin. “Then he proceeded to study my face as if I was the Mona Lisa or something.”

“Honeybun, that man is so fucking in love with you, I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen over his two feet just from you walking into the room. Babe, you are the Mona Lisa in his eyes.” Ryder reached over and gently gave your arm a squeeze.

“Just like you’re the Mona Lisa in Tommy’s eyes.” You shot her a playful wink.

“Speaking of our Miller men, what are you going to wear this weekend? Don’t you dare say whatever you have in your closet. I will drag your ass so fast to the nearest mall.” Ryder threatened you playfully.

“Ryder, you know I can’t stand the mall. Besides, I was just going to pack a few t-shirts and shorts and a bikini or two.”

“Nuh-uh we’re going shopping. We’re going to find you a bikini that was quite literally made for you. Joel’s going to take one look at ya and his brain is going short-circuit. Trust me on this one babe.”

“Okay, fine. We can go shopping. Just know that I’m only agreeing because I love you.” You leaned over the armrest of the chair and pecked Ryder’s cheek playfully.

“Damn, I think Tommy has some serious stacked competition now!” Ryder giggled as she leaned into your kiss.

The mall was surprisingly not as busy as you were expecting it to be. Ryder was already grabbing your hand and pulling you to the nearest summer wear store she could find. She grabbed numerous bikinis for you to try on before ushering you into the nearest dressing room.

“Are you sure it’s necessary for me to try every single one of these on Ry?”

“Babe, yes. We have to find the perfect one and it’s definitely in that pile that I gave you. So, how are you and your Texas tall glass of water?” You could picture Ryder wiggling her eyebrows suggestively through the otherside of the dressing room door.

“Pretty good. Him and Sarah are taking joint riding lessons together now. She’s totally kicking her dads ass when it comes to remembering to trot on the correct diagonal. He’s an absolute good sport though, and Whiskey seems to like him.”

“That’s so fucking cute that they’re both taking lessons now. Tommy and Callus get along pretty good as well. We should all go on a trail ride or something one of these days.”

“How about when we get back from this trip? We can pack a picnic too and make it an all day adventure.” You had just finished trying on the first bikini. It was a soft white color with ruffles, and enough coverage for it to still be family friendly.

Ryder looked up from her phone when you had slipped out past the dressing room door and gave her a little twirl. “Oh, babe! I love this one. How do you feel in it?”

“It’s super cute, and I’m a fan of the cut and the straps..just feel like it’s missing something y’know?”

“Absolutely. Well, there’s plenty more for you to try on so get your cute ass back in there!” She gave your hip a playful tap.

“Don’t mind me prying.” Ryder continued, “the last juicy details you gave me were when Joel went down on you. Anything else exciting happened since then?”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you adjusted the straps on the next bikini you were trying on. “We haven’t fucked yet. Ever since that whole incident with Logan, things haven’t progressed. Which is honestly totally okay with me. Is it bad that I’m hoping that maybe it’ll happen this weekend?”

“Oh girl, I bet he’s also hoping that it’s going to happen this weekend. Can’t say I blame him, you’re the entire package wrapped up with a pretty bow. If there’s ever a moment where you and Joel want to get some alone time, just holler for Tommy and I to watch Sarah and her friend. I think we can definitely keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.”

“Fuck. Do you really think that he’s feeling that way too? I mean..I was going to bring a few condoms regardless. I just also don’t want to rush him, or make him feel like he’s pressured to have sex with me.”

“Babe, I bet he and Tommy have already discussed it. Hell, they probably are talking about it right now. I don’t think you could ever make that man feel pressured to do something, hun. You’re the sweetest person I know, and you’re both so considerate of one another’s feelings. My best advice to you is to just go with the flow. If it happens, it happens. I’m definitely rooting for y’all regardless.”

“Yeah, we both are really considerate of one another’s feelings. He’s just—he’s so sweet. He’s so patient and honestly I’m still getting used to being in a healthy and stable relationship. I wake up everyday not worrying about where or who he’s been with. He respects me and my horses. He’s amazing with his daughter. He’s—”

“Babe, are you sure that you’re not in love?” Ryder asked with a raise of her brow. “You sound like a woman madly in love. I’m just so happy that you’ve found a man that treats you so well. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

“Okay, maybe I’m just a little in love. Just a tad. Just an itty bit in love.” You checked out your appearance in the mirror. You liked the way this bikini accentuated your body. You liked the color and the multicolored flowers scattered about the fabric. It was perfect, and you couldn’t wait to see Joel’s reaction when he would see you in it.

“Oh my god, that’s it! That’s the one! Oh, you look so so beautiful!” Ryder gushed as you stepped out of the dressing room.

Before the day was up, you couldn’t help but text your boyfriend about trying on bikinis, and how excited you were for the long and fun weekend ahead.

Hey, handsome. Wait until you see the bikini I got today ;)

Joel was out to dinner with Tommy and Sarah at the local diner when he saw your text. He couldn’t help the rosy shade that washed over his cheeks. It made him feel like he was back in highschool, with his first crush and all the giddy feelings that came along with it.

Yeah? I can’t wait to see it and take it off of you, baby ;)

“What’s got you smilin’ at your phone like a love struck fool Joel?” Tommy asked curiously from across the table.

“S’nothin. Jus’ my girl askin’ me how my day went.”

Tommy couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips that were resting along the rim of his beer bottle. “Mhm. I’m sure it was just that.”

When Joel got home later that evening and Sarah was tucked away in her room, he found himself sinking down onto the comforter with a heavy sigh. It was an incredibly long day on the job. His back ached, and his feet and calves were sore, but then he thought back to your text from earlier, and a sudden confidence washed over him as he laid there. He pulled his phone out of his pocket before grasping his belt and pulled it loose as he shimmied his jeans down his legs and kicked them off to the side. He scooted himself back against the pillows for leverage. His thoughts drifted to you as he used his teeth to hold the hem of his t-shirt up so that you’d be able to see his happy trail and abdomen. It didn’t take long for him to get hard as he imagined just how fucking amazing you were going to look in a bikini. His freehand reached for his phone and he quickly snapped a picture with his boxers visible and just the bottom of his face where you could see his teeth holding up his shirt.

He sent the image to you along with the words,

for u ;)

You had just gotten back to your apartment when your phone buzzed in the cup holder. The last thing you were expecting was for your boyfriend to send you a very cheeky photo of himself in his boxers. You stared at the message and the photo for a good couple of minutes before typing back,

That’s not fair :( I wanna see your handsome face dammit

Okay, I won’t lie. I am incredibly turned on right now.

Look at you being all cheeky ;)

I like this side of you, Miller. Can’t wait to see more of it x.

Joel was already in the shower while you had innocently blown up his messages. He may, or may not have tugged one out while moaning your name under his breath while his palm was resting flat against the shower wall. His free hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his hardened cock. Everytime he twisted his wrist and dragged his thumb across his leaking tip, he thought about you. He took his lower lip harshly between his teeth as his lashes fluttered shut. Who knew he could be a little naughty.

When he got out of the shower he wrapped a towel loosely around his hips as he grabbed his phone from the countertop. He eagerly checked to see if you had responded to his picture, and he couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past his lips as he read your messages.

He sent you another photo, this one was a selfie of him in the steamy shower mirror. His hair was damp and curly and the towel was just barely hanging onto his hips. God, did he look so handsome.

Is this better? ;) his message read.

Much better x. You responded back.

Friday morning had rolled around in a flash and Joel was in his room checking to make sure that he had grabbed everything he needed for the weekend ahead. He almost didn’t catch the glaring obvious box of condoms sitting on the top of his opened weekend duffel. Not only were there condoms, but there were also handcuffs..and lube? “God fuckin’ dammit Tommy.” The older Miller brother muttered under his breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a shake of his head when he found Tommy’s note under his generous gifts.

Here’s to you getting laid this weekend big brother ;) xoxo -Tommy

Joel stuffed everything back into his bag before he zipped it up and tossed it over his shoulder. “Hey Sarah, Kiddo? You almost ready?”

“Yeah! Just gotta grab the snacks from the pantry and then I’m good to go!” Sarah responded from down the hall.

Joel reached for his phone that was resting along the nightstand. He checked the time before sending you a quick text while he slipped past his bedroom door.

Hey darlin, heading out shortly. Gotta go pick up Sarah’s friend, and then we’re gonna stop at a Starbucks before picking you up. Can’t wait to see you x.

When you heard the familiar sound of heavy truck wheels rolling into your otherwise quiet parking lot, you quite literally raced out of your little apartment, weekend back strung over your shoulder as you excitedly descended down the old metal staircase. There was no reason for you to hide your genuine excitement to spend the weekend with Joel, his family, and your best friend.

Joel tipped his sunglasses down over his nose as he watched you gleefully run down the steps. His lips curved up into a grin when he saw that you were wearing a simple yet pretty sundress. It was light yellow with little flowers scattered throughout the flowing fabric. What he really zoned in on was your smile. It was the brightest he had ever seen it, all teeth with your eyes crinkling in the corners. You were beautiful, and Joel was a man truly, madly, and deeply in love.

“Oooh so that’s your old man’s girlfriend?” Ellie was grinning from ear to ear in the backseat where she was seated next to Sarah. “Hey, Mr. Miller? How the hell did your ugly mug end up with that?” She teasingly asked.

Ellie was like family to both Joel and Sarah and she was as much of a little trickster, as she was a sweetheart. It was no wonder that her and Sarah became best friends one day on the playground back in kindergarten.

“Kid, I actually have no clue how I ended up with someone as beautiful as her. I’ll let ya know as soon as I figure it out, Kay?” He shot the two girls a little wink before he slipped out of the driver's seat to meet you just outside at the front of his truck.

“Christ almighty. Ain’t you just a sight for sore eyes? That is one hell of a dress, and one hell of a woman wearin’ it.” Joel lowly whistled as he pulled you in for a hug, lifting you off the ground slightly as he inhaled the sweet smelling perfume that you were wearing.

“Hey handsome, happy to see me?” You looped your arms loosely around his neck as he stole a quick kiss from your lips.

“Happiest goddamn man alive. He pecked your cheek sweetly as he set you back down onto the pavement. “Lemme take that for ya. Latte’s waitin’ for ya in the cup holder. Sarah loaded up on snacks as well.” He slipped your overnight bag off of your shoulder, ushering you to the passenger door with a light tap to your ass that had you looking over your shoulder at him with a soft giggle.

“Oh wow, so he’s like really in love with her huh?” Ellie asked as her and Sarah watched the way you and Joel embraced without a care in the world.

“This is truly the happiest I have ever seen my dad. She’s so freaking cool too. I’m just so happy that he finally has someone, El.”

Joel had safely secured your duffel bag along with the rest of the luggage in the bed of his truck. He had one more surprise for you in the glove box and it was a certain CD that he just knew would bring a smile to your face.

Once you were situated in the passenger seat you said your hellos to Sarah and Bella as you buckled in.

“Open the glove box f’me doll.” Joel softly requested as he started the ignition.

With a curious raise of your brow you popped open the glove box where you found Spirit Stallion Of The Cimarron soundtrack CD.

“Oh my god, did you really? Joel! Are you sure you’re ready for what you’ve just signed yourself up for? Sarah and I know all the words to every song.” You leaned over the center console pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you took the CD out and slipped it into the slot.

“Baby, I think you’re forgettin’ that I also know all of the words. The soundtrack, as Sarah says, is bumpin’ and I gotta agree. Bryan Adams is a genius.” He toggled with the volume when soundtrack #1 Here I Am crackled through the old speakers.

Here I am, this is me

There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be

Here I am, it’s just me and you

Tonight we make our dreams come true

For the entirety of the drive it was filled with laughter, singing and Ellie’s shitty puns book that she took with her everywhere.

Joel and Tommy’s family lake house was everything you imagined it to be, and more. It was nestled between a grouping of pine trees overlooking the shimmering water below. It has a long wooden dock leading down to the water's edge. There was a stone path off to the left leading to a fire pit surrounded by handmade chairs with peeling chipped paint. They were obviously well loved and you couldn’t help but imagine a very young Joel Miller sitting on his granddad’s lap with marshmallow fluff and chocolate smeared all over his face.

At the end of the dock was a decent sized speed boat covered with a thick blue tarp. Adjacent to the boat was a pair of Yamaha Jet Skis.

Ellie and Sarah wasted no time to grab their bags from the bed of the truck and set them down before they raced to the dock, their girlish giggles filling the air as Joel hollered after them to not go into the water without an adult present.

“I’m surprised that Tommy and Ryder aren’t the first ones here.” You remarked as Joel handed you your bag.

“I ain’t that surprised. They probably ended up stoppin’ for gas or somethin.’ Maybe a little more than just gas, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively as he hauled out two cases of beer.

You playfully swatted his shoulder with a teasing smile. “You think they fucked in a gas station bathroom?”

“Wouldn’t put it past ‘em. Especially Tommy. He’ll fuck just about anywhere. Pretty sure I found a cum stain on the passenger seat in his truck the last time I was in it. Haven’t been in there since.” He hopped down from the bed of the truck and slammed it shut.

“and..what about us?” It was bold to ask but after Joel had sent you those pictures..you couldn’t stop thinking about it since.

“Us fuckin?’” He finished the sentence for you and all you could pay attention to was the way his voice dipped down an octave and his Texas drawl grew thicker. He was standing close to you now, hands slowly clasping around your cheeks as his cinnamon brown eyes bore into yours. “Baby, of course we will. We got all night to get into those shenanigans, okay?”

His close proximity, his tan biceps, lingering aroma of cologne, mixed in with his suggestive verbiage had your mind spinning as you wasted no time to close barely-there gap between you. Your lips slotted together as his hands dropped from your cheeks and found purchase around your waist, bunching the fabric of your dress between his fingers—

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Fucking Tommy.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Don’t y’all go’n stop on our account!” Tommy whistled from the open window of his truck.

Joel loosened his grip around the fabric of your dress as his lips detached from yours. With one hand on your ass and the other with his middle finger angled high in the air, you just knew that this weekend was most definitely going to be one for the books. “Show ain’t for free! Y’all gotta pay up!” His voice vibrated warmly up your chest.

“Pay up?! Hell no brother! Ain’t payin’ you shit!” Tommy hopped out of his truck.

“C’mon.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “Wanna give you a tour of the house before these two try’n ruin it. Last stop will be our room.” He drawled out ‘our room’ with almost a low purr that sent shivers trickling down your spine.

You caught Ryder's knowing wink from the passenger door as Joel steered you towards the front door, his arm securely fastened around your waist as if he was stuck to you like glue.

The house was rustic and homey. You could tell right off the bat that Joel’s grandparents were maximalist’s by their decorating style. Handwoven quilts laid perfectly across the arm rest of the dark teal couch. There were photographs of Joel, Tommy scattered about. There were quite a few of Joel and Sarah as well. The kitchen was dated, yet charming but you didn’t pick up on most of the details because Joel was already pulling you up the staircase to the room in the house that had the best view of the lake. “Gotta be quick when pickin’ out a room. Tommy usually always snags this one but not this time.” He closed the door softly behind you with a light click.

You could already feel the excitement pooling deep within the pits of your tummy and between your thighs as your eyes landed on the fairly large bed pressed up against the wall. “I see why you picked it. The view is amazing..”

“It is quite a beautiful view indeed.” He wasn’t talking about the lake of course. He was talking about you.

You could feel his warm presence coming up behind you, strong arms winding around your body as he pulled you flush against his chest where you could feel his rhythmic heartbeat skip a beat. His hands splayed across your hips scrunching up the fabric of your dress once more. All he had to do was dip his fingers a little lower..

“Joel?”

“Yeah baby?”

“How long do you think we have till they come looking for us?”

“Ten minutes tops. Why? You got somethin’ mind?” His lips were brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder, pressing soft kisses against your warm skin. His teeth playfully nibbled on the strap of your dress as he dragged it down slowly, listening to your harsh intake of a jagged breath as your back arched into his broad chest.

“How fast do you think you can make me cum?” You whispered through the thick growing tension that coated the air in an aroused filled haze.

“You challengin’ me? 5 minutes tops. Maybe even a little less. S’Nice that you’re wearin’ somethin’ accessible. It’s so easy for me to just..” he slowly dragged his hand down your stomach feeling you clench inwards as his fingers dipped under the fabric of your dress and brushed over your covered core where he could feel the damp patch growing through the thin fabric of your panties. “Y’want my fingers or tongue? Can getcha off either way my dear.” He purred.

“Fingers. I want to see what you’re really made of, Miller.”

“Think that’s a challenge I’m willin’ to participate in. Just need’ya to relax. Spread your legs a little f’me. Use my chest for support. Atta’ girl.” He praised you as his thumb hooked along the side of your panties and pulled them aside. “What’s gotten you so riled up, hmm?” He dragged his fingers slowly through your sticky wet puffy lips, gathering up your arousal as he played with you.

“Y-you. You’ve gotten me so riled up the second we got here.” You stammered as one of your hands braced itself against his strong thigh.

“Me? Mmm. Anythin’ in particular that I did to get you so fuckin’ horny? Surprised you ain’t fuckin’ my hand already. You’re absolutely drippin’ for me baby. Y’want two fingers or one?” His thumb brushed across your sensitive, needy clit and your knees nearly buckled.

“Your confidence really gets me off. I love it when you act so sure of yourself. It’s fucking sexy as hell. Two, please.” Your nails lightly dug into his thigh as you braced yourself against his chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet n’filthy. How’d a man ever get so lucky?” He nibbled along your shoulder as he easily slipped two fingers inside of your sopping wet hole while his thumb worked your clit in expert tight circles. “Y’gonna let me hear those pretty noises that y’make baby? I love hearin’ ‘em.” He flicked his wrist slowly as he curled his fingers in a come hither motion.

Your eyes languidly rolled back into your skull as a whimper slipped past your parted lips. Getting fingered by a man never was an enjoyable experience until you met Joel Miller. He just seemed to know exactly how to work you into a putty at his feet with a literal flick of his wrist. “Fuck me. That feels..hnngh..so fucking good baby.”

“Tonight, baby. I promise. Y’gonna ride it like a cowgirl?” He chuckled against your skin as his free hand tightened its grip around your middle, holding you in place against him. His presence and grip on you was deliciously overwhelming. Your hips bucked up against his hand as his fingers ruined you into oblivion. It was almost embarrassing how quickly your Texas tall glass of water coaxed an orgasm out of you. Your little whimpers and mewls egged him on and created an uncomfortable tightness in his cut off shorts as he slipped his now glistening fingers out of you.

You could faintly hear Tommy and Ryder calling you just down the stairs as your body settled into a post-orgasm daze. Your eyes flitted down to his fingers coated in your cum and much to his and your own surprise you grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers to your awaiting mouth.

He let out a guttural grunt deep within his chest when your warm lips wrapped around his fingers and licked them completely clean and soon he had you pressed against the door, lips fervently pressing to yours so he could get a proper taste himself.

“I’m going to do more than just ride it, Cowboy.” You mumbled against his lips as he caged you against the door.

“I ain’t gonna doubt that for a second baby. Why don’t ya freshen up and get changed. We’re gonna go out on a boat soon. The girls are gonna wanna go tubing. You up for it?”

“I’m up for anything and anything.” You were quick to respond.

“That you are my girl. That you are.”

Joel and Tommy had just finished removing the heavy duty tarp from the speedboat while Sarah and Ellie were swimming along the shoreline where both Joel and Tommy could keep an eye on the girls. You could never be too careful.

Ryder had found you shortly after Joel had left the bedroom and she barely got a word in before you told her what just went down. You giggled about it like two little school girls as you changed into your bikinis. Your skin was still tingling from Joel’s touch as you slipped your little woven cover up skirt over your bottoms. You slipped one of Joel’s baseball caps over your head along with a pair of sunglasses and flip flops.

On your way down to the dock you each grabbed a beer from the stacked fridge in the kitchen. There on the fridge you noticed a photo of a younger Joel, holding a very very tiny Sarah and a woman next to him that you easily figured out was Sarah’s mom. He looked to be in his early 20’s, with the same boyish grin on his face that you had fallen so hard for. He was beaming like a proud father in stark contrast to the facial expression of Sarah’s mom in the photo.

Joel was a good father, and a good man. You couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever think to leave him and Sarah like that. For this reason you hoped you’d never meet his ex-wife.

Joel and Tommy were too busy making sure that the boat was up and running when you and Ryder descended down the dock. Tommy had noticed first and he gave Joel a light thwack on the head eliciting a grumble from the older Miller brother before he too looked up. His jaw just nearly dropped to the floor when he saw you in your bikini matched with your smile that could light up even the darkest of places.

“Hey, Miller? You keep your mouth open like that and you’re gonna catch flies!” You teasingly spoke.

Sarah and Ellie both giggled at your comment and Joel playfully narrowed his eyes on them. “Y’kids wanna get your life jackets on? Tommy is gonna finish hookin’ up the inner tubes and then we’ll be all good to go!” He shot you a wink as he offered you his hand to help you onto the boat.

You graciously took his hand as he barely broke a sweat on lifting you onto the vessel. You couldn’t help but imagine what other ways he could lift—

“Cat got your tongue darlin?’” He questioned suggestively.

“Can’t say it in front of the kiddos I’m afraid.” You gave his cheek a loving pat as you slipped past him and plopped down on one of the seat cushions, tipping the rim of the beer bottle back against your lips as you took a sip.

Tommy helped Ryder on in a similar fashion as Sarah and Ellie climbed onto the inner tubes attached to the back of the boat. Joel being the father he asked both girls to check to make sure their life jackets were secured and once he was satisfied, he gave Tommy the thumbs up to start driving.

“Hey, uncle Tommy?” Sarah asked as she gripped onto the Velcro straps along the tube. “Can we go faster than we did last time? Pretty please?”

“How fast are we talkin’ kiddo? Y’know your dad is a bit of a sour puss with this stuff.” Tommy chuckled from the driver's seat of the boat.

“Dad? Pleaseeee can we go super fast? I’ll even help with the dishes after dinner!”

“Kiddo, you’re on vacation. Just have fun, okay? Hold on tight. You girls have sunscreen on..right?”

“Yes dad!” Sarah quickly responded. “Yes we do Mr. Miller!” Ellie followed.

They did not in fact have sunscreen on as Tommy revved the engine up.

A few fast circles along the lake was all it took for the girls to go toppling into the water with excited screams. It looked like they were having an absolute blast back there and you wanted in on the fun. Joel was sitting alongside you, his arm draped along your shoulders with his head tilted back and soaking in the sun's rays. He’d take an occasional few sips from your beer as he knew you weren’t much of a drinker yourself. “You wanna go out for a spin? It’s as fun as the kids are making it look. Trust me. Tommy and I always had a blast out here as kids. Grandad always made it his personal mission to knock us off the innertube.”

“Let’s do it.” You responded with a grin as you were already hopping up from your seat. Ellie and Sarah had just swam back to the boat and successfully climbed back on. They were all smiles.

“Are you and dad going on it? Can I join you guys?” Sarah squinted up at you through the bright rays of the sun.

“Of course you can kiddo!”

Joel couldn’t help but feel the warmthness in his heart burst when Sarah had asked if she could join the two of you. Even more so when you had helped her back into the water with the utmost care. You were more of a mother figure to Sarah than you possibly knew.

Once the three of you were situated on the innertube with Sarah securely in the middle of you and Joel, Tommy sped off with no warning given as you let out a surprised scream, gripping onto the handles for dear life.

Ryder had managed to sneak a photo of the three of you on her Polaroid camera looking like the happiest bunch just before Tommy took off like a speed devil.

Hours of fun on the lake proved to be tiresome for the two young girls and by 4pm they were pooped. Sarah had fallen asleep against your shoulder at one point with her arms wrapped around you loosely. Once the boat had been parked alongside the dock, Joel carefully lifted Sarah into his arms, kissing the top of her damp head. “I’m gonna bring her inside and then start prepping for dinner. Would you like to join me?” Joel asked you softly.

“Of course. I’d love to.”

A small crooked smile graced his face at your response as he carefully climbed off the boat. An equally exhausted Ellie followed after him back towards the house. Joel helped both Ellie and Sarah out of their life jackets and hung them outside on the porch to dry. Once both girls were tucked away in the bunk room, he padded down the hall to the kitchen just as the porch door creaked open.

“Hey, Tommy and Ryder said they’re gonna take the jet skis out for a bit so it’s just you and me. What’re we cooking, good looking.”

“You’re adorable. I was thinking chicken, roasted potatoes and a few veggie sides for the herbivore?” He softly teased as he opened the fridge.

“You mean the veggie-saurus? That all sounds delicious. You’ll have to show me around the kitchen baby. Y’know, since we got a little preoccupied earlier.”

“The cutest veggie-saurus there ever was. Oh, we got preoccupied alright.” He chuckled as he set out bags of produce along the counter. “Stove can be a little wonky at times, but we do have a perfectly workin’ grill outside. Y’know if you wanna see your man in his element grillin’ shirtless.” He playfully bumped his hips with yours. “Cutting boards are in this cabinet and we got all kinds of prep bowls and stuff like that. Knives are to your left.”

“I think the grill is the logical choice here. Any excuse to see you shirtless is a good one. How do you feel about some roasted asparagus with parmesan and garlic along with the potatoes, and then a good old hearty salad? I make a really mean vinaigrette.”

“How do I feel about that? My tummy is rumblin’ already. You sure know the way to a man’s heart huh?”

“Through his stomach and his—”

Joel silenced you with a chaste kiss to your lips as his arms wound around your waste. “Keep that dirty talk up and I’m gonna say fuck the dinner, and I’ll just eat ya instead.” He grumbled.

“Nuh uh. You are not missing out on my vinaigrette.” You kissed him back with a grin plastered on your lips.

“Then I suggest we get cookin, good lookin.’” He swatted your ass playfully before pulling away from the kiss.

A comfortable silence fell upon you and Joel as he prepped the chicken while you prepped the vegetables. Through the open window in the kitchen you could hear Tommy and Ryder’s laughter echoing over the lake as they raced one another on jet skis. You could hear birds chirping and squirrels chattering in the trees above. It was both peaceful and stimulating. The purest form of dopamine you could grasp your pretty hands around.

The soft crackle of a record player tore you from your sweet internal bliss. You were so at peace that you hadn’t realized that Joel had departed from your side, and was digging through his granddad’s old records in the family room before choosing one. It was Elvis Presley, Can’t Help Falling in Love. A true classic.

The needle slowly fell upon the record with a soft hum as Joel padded over to you. The knife currently grasped in your hand to chop vegetables, was gently removed and replaced with his warm palm clasped around yours. The sun had slowly begun to descend from the sky creating a warm orange-pink hue through the billowing curtains along the kitchen window. A wordless exchange as Joel gently pulled you into his chest and slowly swayed you. His forehead was lightly pressed against your own, eyes soft in the early evening light.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you..

The moment was interrupted when Tommy and Ryder came in through the porch door rather loudly. They were in love, and you and Joel couldn’t be mad if you tried.

Elvis continued to serenade you as you returned to your prepping duties. “Joel?”

“Yeah honey?”

“How old were you when you had Sarah?..” it was a question on your mind since you had seen the photo of him, Sarah and his ex-wife on the fridge.

“I was twenty-two at the time. Only a couple years out of highschool. Sarah’s mom and I were already married. My graduation day was also my wedding day, and that picture was taken up here. It was Sarah’s first time up at the lake house. Shortly after that is when her mom left us. Left me feeling pretty confused if I’m being honest. As far as I was aware, we were pretty happy.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or anything. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, okay?” You reached over with your freehand and gave his bicep a light reassuring squeeze.

“S’alright. I don’t mind talkin’ about it with you. It’s a part of me that I think you should know. Anyway, I was young and naive back in the day. I didn’t realize that she was pretty miserable and resentful till it was too late. It was devastating to come home to an empty house one day. I loved her, y’know? I was ready to drop everything to raise our daughter together. She was gone, and I had to grow up overnight for Sarah. Went through the 5 stages of grief all at once. Thank god Tommy was there to pick me back up.”

“I can only imagine how devastating that must have been. I know you loved her, and it’s disappointing that she didn’t respect you enough to at least tell you that she was not happy in the marriage, or as a mother. That’s the part that breaks my heart the most because you’re such a wonderful father, and man. You do everything for your daughter and I pity your ex-wife for that reason.”

“Part of me wishes that she could see just how well Sarah and I have been doing. That I wasn’t going to end up like a deadbeat father struggling to make ends meet. I’d never wish ill upon her, and I genuinely hope that she found her own happiness. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have Sarah. I wouldn’t be a father and who knows, maybe I would have never met someone as wonderful as you.”

“You don’t wish ill upon her because you’re a good person, Joel. You have a pure heart and you deserve all the happiness in the world. I hope you never forget that okay? You mean a lot to me, and I’m so happy that I’m here with you.”

“Are you choppin’ onions right now? Is that why my eyes are waterin’? Goddamn you and your sweet angelic soul.” He chuckled through his tears brimming over his waterline. He sniffled a little as he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. “Y’know Sarah really likes you. Always goin’ on about you and when I’m going to see you next. You—you don’t even realize it darlin’, but you complete our little family. You just nestled yourself into my heart, and hers without even tryin.’”

You couldn’t stop your own tears from spilling over as you found yourself embracing him tightly with your arms wrapped around his middle and cheek pressed against his chest. “I’ve never thought of myself..ever being a mom, but I love that kid as if she were my own.” You mumbled softly against the well-loved fabric of his t-shirt.

I love you so much

The words were trapped in his throat as he hugged you tightly to his chest with his chin resting along the top of your head.

Dinner was enjoyed out on the back porch table, and your grilled asparagus with parmesan and garlic was the hit of the night. When you and Ryder attempted to do the dishes and clean up the dishes, your men were ushering you outside with the girls to catch fireflies instead. It was the bare minimum, but absolutely mouthwateringly attractive for your two Texas gentlemen to insist on doing the dishes themselves.

The four of you were down along the dock under millions of twinkling stars. Sarah had her childhood firefly lamp looped around her wrist. The base of it had all kinds of stickers on it. Some of them were faded and torn but it was a memory of her childhood only being filled with happiness and love.

“I love her, Tommy. I really fuckin’ love that woman out there.” Joel announced as clear as day while he was drying off the dishes that Tommy had washed alongside him.

“I know you do, brother. I know. When are you gonna tell her? If you..haven’t already?”

“Tonight. I’m going to tell her tonight. After we roast marshmallows, and the girls go to bed. Would you and Ryder maybe mind givin’ us some alone time later?..”

“Of course. We won’t mind at all. I think we’re more than capable of creating our own entertainment.” Tommy responded with a wink. “She wants me to teach her how to play poker and backgammon. Who am I to deny my lady her wishes?”

“Regular poker..or strip poker?” Joel asked with a tiny grin.

“Regular poker to start, but a little strip poker never hurt anyone. What are you and your girl gonna do?”

“I think I’m gonna ask her if she wants to go skinny dippin.’”

“‘Atta boy.” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder with a wolfish grin.

Joel was torn away from his present naughty thoughts when Sarah rushed into the kitchen with her lantern in hand. “Dad! Dad! I caught sooo many fireflies! You gotta come see! We saw a baby fawn with its mom too! It walked out right in front of us and you totally missed it!”

“Woah, how many fireflies are we talking here kiddo?” He hung up the dish towel as he slipped past his brother and carefully took the lantern from his daughter's hands. “Wow! There’s gotta be hundreds in there! You wanna help uncle Tommy grab the stuff for the s’mores? Old man’s gotta go chop some wood for the fire.” He handed her the lantern back with a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“There’s millions more out there! I’ve never seen so many!” She beamed up at her father. “I have to let these little guys go and then I’ll help uncle Tommy!” She raced back outside before he could get another word in.

“Now that’s a happy kid if I’ve ever seen one.”

Tommy had already grabbed the bag of marshmallows, Hershey bars and graham crackers from the pantry.

“Yeah, she is pretty happy huh? Hope she’s always happy like this.”

You and Ryder took equal pleasure in watching Joel and Tommy chop down firewood with their equally rugged hands. Even in the lowlight you could see the muscles rippling in Joel’s back from each heavy swing of the ax.

“What’re you gals looking at?” Sarah and Ellie asked in unison as they plopped down in the wood chips. Both girls had mud on their knees and arms as they had opted to catch frogs now instead of fireflies.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.” Ryder responded with a small smile.

“What is she talking about?” Ellie whispered to Sarah with a light giggle.

“I think they’re checking my dad and uncle out. Y’know, girly stuff.”

“That’s so gross.”

Once the wood was properly chopped, Joel and Tommy used their boy scout’s knowledge to produce the perfect marshmallow roasting fire. In the meantime, Joel headed inside to grab a hoodie and his guitar from his room before he returned to his seat next to you. When he saw that you had a bit of stray chocolate and marshmallow fluff on the corner of your lips, he reached over and swiped it away with his thumb sucking the sticky sweetness into his mouth.

You visibly swallowed hard at the innocent gesture.

Goddamn him.

As more marshmallows were roasted, Joel began to mindlessly thrum his fingers along the strings of his guitar. It had been some time since he played, but it was just like riding a bike. “What’ll it be tonight folks? Somethin’ old, or somethin’ new?”

“It would be downright un-American if you didn’t start with Take Me Home, Country Roads, Dad.”

“Country Roads it is!” Joel started to play the old familiar tune, tapping his foot to the beat and lightly bobbing his head.

The entire time he was playing the guitar, you watched him with subtle softness in your gaze. You loved this man with everything your being possessed. Tonight, you were going to tell Joel exactly how you felt. You were going to tell Joel Miller you loved him.

More laughter and songs were shared as the fire began to die down and you and Joel could equally feel the electric anticipation that swirled between you. It bounced off your shoulders like ping pong balls. It shimmered like the brightly twinkling stars in the dark milky sky above.

Ellie and Sarah both let out an unenthusiastic groan when Joel announced it was their bedtime. He told you to wait up for him while he put the girls to bed. After tucking Ellie in, and then Sarah, Joel was stopped by his daughter's hand reaching out and gently wrapping around his wrist. “Dad?..”

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“Are you going to tell her that you love her? I know she does. She’s just too nervous to say it outloud, but I see it in the way she looks at you when you aren’t paying attention.”

Joel slowly crouched down so he could be at Sarah’s level. His knees cracked and his back felt strained but he didn’t care. “Of course I am going to tell her, sweetie. I’m tellin’ her tonight, I promise. Get some sleep, okay? Sweet dreams babygirl.” He kissed the top of her head, smoothing her curls down softly with his freehand.

“Good. I’m glad that you are. I love you, dad. I’m so happy that you’ve found someone.”

“I love you too sweet pea. Love you so so much. Don’t you go lettin’ them bed bugs bite either.” He kissed her head once more before standing up. “You too El. Sleep tight kiddo.”

“G’night Mr. Miller..or should I say lover boy?” Ellie said with a giggle.

“You’re a goofball. Now I’m serious, girls. Lights out. You’ve both had a very long and fun day.”

“Daaaad. We get it. Go and tell her that you love her!” Sarah swatted at him playfully.

“Alright, alright. I’m goin.’ See ya kids in the mornin.’” Joel quietly shut the room to their bunk room closed. On his way out the porch door he bid Ryder and Tommy a good night, swallowing the lump that was beginning to grow in his throat as he walked back to the fire pit.

“Was beginning to think you had ditched me.” You leaned your head back gently against the headrest on the chair as you looked over at him.

“Me? Ditch ya? Never baby. Everyone’s gone to bed for the night. It’s just you and me now..how do ya feel about doin’ a little skinny dippin?’”

“Sounds like a fucking fun time to me.” You responded with a lopsided almost devilish grin. “Race ya down to the dock?”

“You’re on, baby.” Joel was already peeling his hoodie over his head as you raced past him yanking your own hoodie off and dropping it with a playful giggle. Your t-shirt was next as the wooden dock creaked and groaned as you ran across it. Soon you were just down to your panties with your bra discarded at your feet. The air was a little chilly and your soft nipples immediately pebbled from the sensation as you shimmied your panties down.

“Don’t ya go and pussy out on me!” Joel yelled from a short distance behind. “I will not hesitate to toss your ass in!” He was slightly out of breath as he struggled to pull his shorts down without eating ass in the process. You had made it look so damn easy.

“Oh, shut up old man!” You giggled.

“Who the hell are ya callin’ old? Thirty-four years old you little shit!” He tossed his shorts to the side muttering about how maybe it was too cold to be doing something as frivolous as this. “Shouldn’t we have grabbed towels!”

“That’s pretty old to me! Hey, it was your genius idea to go skinny dipping cowboy!”

“Oh, that’s it. You’re fuckin’ toast sweetheart!” Joel had grabbed ahold of you just as you were about to dive in. He lifted you up with practiced ease before he jumped into the lake with you secured to him.

“Joel Miller—” you were cut off as your body hit the water with a big splash. Fuck, was it cold. You resurfaced with a squeal as you proceeded to splash him.

“It is fucking freezing in here you asshole! My tits are going to freeze off! I swear, they make this shit look way more romantic in the movies!”

Joel resurfaced shortly after you, shaking the water from his hair and he held his hands up in defense as you splashed him. “Hey! I ain’t ever said it was gonna be warm!” He laughed. “How is this not romantic? We’ve got the stars and the moon and okay, my balls are probably gonna freeze off. Gosh darn it! You got any idea how fuckin’ pretty you look with the moonlight kissin’ your skin like that? So pretty. Y’gnna keep splashin’ me or come over here for a kiss?”

You were swimming over to him before he could utter another word as your arms comfortably looped around his neck while his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close as you instinctively caged your thighs around his hips. “What was that about coming over here for a kiss?” Your fingers lightly twirled the wet strands of hair resting along the nape of his neck.

“You mean this kiss?” Joel whispered, his nose lightly brushing against yours as his lips found their home. His hands found purchase around your thighs as he squeezed them gently, kneading the soft flesh through the water.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him deeply, lips moving in sync as your chest were flushed tightly together. He could feel your pebbled nipples against his skin. Your lips detached only for him to brush them down your jaw, nipping lightly at the skin as they descended southwards. You tilted your head to the side, granting his mouth easier access as he peppered kisses down your throat, dragging his tongue between the valley of your breasts—

“What the fuck was that?” Whispered as something brushed up against your ankle.

“What was what?”

“Something fucking touched me and it felt slimey—”

“Probably was a fish or somethin.’ We are in a lake after all, honey.” He teasingly remarked.

“What if it was a snake?”

“Honey, I doubt it was a snake. Probably just a fish or maybe even some seaweed—” he felt it now too. “Maybe we..get out now?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” You pressed one last kiss to his lips before slipping out his arms and quickly swam back to the dock. He was right behind you, gently lifting you up before he pulled himself over the edge with a huff.

The two of you sat side by side on the dock still completely bare. His arm gently wrapped around you as he pulled you against his side. “Sarah’s birthday is comin’ up soon n’a couple weeks. I’ve taken some extra jobs with Tommy to make a little more money. I’m a little worried that she’s gettin’ too attached to Frankie, so I’ve decided I’m gonna get her a horse for her birthday. One of her very own. Would ya help me out with that? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Joel..you won’t have to worry about getting Sarah her own horse.”

He slowly looked over at you, confusion etched between his brows as he tried to decipher what you had meant. “Whad’ya mean I won’t have to get Sarah her own horse?..”

You turned towards him, slowly looking up at him as you spoke, “Joel, you won’t have to worry because I am giving Frankie to Sarah for her birthday. I have never seen a kid so happy with a horse before. Frankie adores her, and they make such a fantastic team. They share a real connection, and I want them to be best friends forever. Please let me know if I’m overstepping. I care about your daughter so much Joel. She’s such a wonderful kid, and I’m hoping that you’re okay with this.” He could sense the hesitation and nervousness in your tone. His heart leapt out of his chest and flopped along the wooden dock like a fish out of water. He was in shock that you cared so much about his daughter that you wanted to give one of your horses to her.

He blinked a few times as he struggled to compose his words. Here was his moment. His opportunity to tell you just how much he loved you. He could throw it all out on the table right here, right now. He was ready, and never more sure of something in his entire life till now. With his courage gathered and warmth filled in his heart, he finally spoke.

“I’m so in love with you Clove, it fuckin’ hurts.” He whispered his confession like a warm breeze floating across your skin. His words melted into your pores like oozing bubbling chocolate. A shuddered breath escaped your parted lips as you looked at one another. He awaited your response as the crickets chirped their nighttime tune. “Clove?..”

“Clove, Clover. You’re my lucky charm, baby. It’s fittin’ dontcha think?” He choked out. Feeling slightly stupid for confessing his feelings. He could already feel his brain mocking him for thinking that you’d feel the same way that he did about you. Did he read the signs wrong? Did he overstep? Oh god, did he ruin everything just like that?

His thoughts stilled as your hand gently reached up and cupped his jaw. Your eyes were brimming with tears as you stroked your thumb across his beard with gentle ease. “Joel…baby, I-I—”

“I know honey, I know. S’okay. I jus’ had to say it. I’m so fuckin’ in love with you. You don’t have to say it back. I understand if it’s too much right now and I’m—”

You cut him off by gently pressing your finger against his lips. “Joel, shut up for just a second, please. Of course I love you, you silly man. I love you so much.”

“You—you do? You ain’t just sayin’ it cause you feel obligated to..right? I don’t want you to feel pressured to say anythin’ you don’t want to say.”

“Joel, you sweet wonderful man. I love you. I’m not just saying it to say it. I am so unbelievably in love with you, Joel Miller.” There it was again. That soft smile that only made its presence known when you were around him.

“Been wantin’ to say it for a while. Didn’t want to scare you away or nothin.’ Then you tell me that you wanna gift Frankie to Sarah for her birthday and my heart just..it burst like goddamn fireworks.” He chuckled softly through his brimming tears. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Make my heart burst a little more will ya?”

Joel didn’t have to ask you twice as you crawled into his lap, straddling his hips as you pressed his back against the dampened dock from your drenched bodies. You kissed him everywhere you could possibly reach. Tasting lingering sweat and droplets of lake water on his tanned skin. When your lips descended downwards and brushed across his navel, his hands gently found your face and pulled you level to his. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have enjoyed your mouth on him, he just wanted all of you instead. “‘Nother time, kay sweetness? Let me jus’ take care of ya.” His lips found yours in a sweet embrace as he gently flipped you over onto your back. “Just wanna have one taste of ya and then we’ll go inside. How’s that sound?”

Your fingers slipped through his damp locks as his head descended downwards between your parted thighs. There was something so distinctly erotic, and downright hot that Joel was willing and eager to go down on you under the soft glow of the moonlight. He made quick work of his tongue, kissing your clit lovingly as if he were worshiping it and your body. He moaned deeply against your core as his tongue worked you in slow languid strokes. He devoured you like a man starved under the stars while your soft moans and whimpers filled the nighttime air with the tune of the crickets and frogs croaking.

“Wrap your legs ‘round me.” He requested as he kissed his way back up your body in a haste. His strong arms wrapped around your back as your thighs clamped around his hips. He had no struggle in lifting you and him up from the dock as he proceeded to carry you inside. He didn’t bother to bend down to pick up your discarded clothing. That would become tomorrow's problem. Now, his sole focus was only you.

Somehow he managed to safely carry you back to the house without tripping over his two feet. You made it increasingly difficult towards the end when you began to press soft kisses to his neck. Your soft touch alone sent blood flowing southwards to his cock as he pressed open the porch door with his shoulder.

“Keep that up and I’m gonna have no choice but to fuck you right here on the kitchen floor baby.” Joel warned you with a low hiss under his breath.

“Mmm. That’s tempting..maybe we can do that later?”

“Christ, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He carried you up the steps, silently grateful that he chose the room that was furthest from everyone else’s as he padded down the hall. Your bodies were still fairly damp as he playfully tossed you onto the made up bed.

He watched as you stretched your legs out, propping your knee up with your arms casually resting behind your head. “Did you bring condoms?..I brought some just in case.”

“Course I did baby. Been planning for this all week.” He went straight to his overnight bag unzipping it as he grabbed the box of condoms and tossed them onto the bed.

Your eyes widened the slightest when you saw what size condom Joel wore. You weren’t the slightest surprised. A broad man such as himself? Of course he was packing. “A whole box, huh? You really did come prepared.”

Joel could feel the nerves slowly creep up his spine as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. It had been awhile since he had last fucked someone and he just wanted to make sure he was good enough for you.

You could sense his hesitation as he slowly sank down along the edge of the bed with a huff. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as you scooted up behind him, pressing soft kisses to his back and shoulder blades as your arms loosely wrapped around his middle.

“Hey, is everything okay? We don’t have to do this tonight, Joel. It’s okay. I promise I won’t be upset or anything. There’s no rush.”

“S’not that I don’t wanna.” He leaned back into your soft touch, his eyes fluttering shut from the sensation of your lips along his skin. “Jus’ been awhile for me and I uh—I wanna make sure it’s good for you. Y’know? I’m just..well, big. I don’t mean it in a tool douchebag kinda way. Jus’ don’t want to hurt ya.”

“Joel, baby. You’re so fucking sweet. I promise you that you’re not going to hurt me. In fact, I don’t mind a little pain. I can take it, trust me. Besides, I like the feeling of a cock stretching me out a little, filling me up. You think you can do that for me cowboy?” Your hand was lightly resting along the swell of his tummy. You liked that he was both muscular yet soft in all the right places. What you would give to kiss and love on his tummy, maybe another night.

Joel let out a shuddered breath and his cock twitched along the comforter from your words. He tilted his head to the side and upwards so he could properly kiss you while his hand found yours and slowly dragged it southward. He turned his body more so he could cup your cheek gently while his other hand guided yours around his cock. The softest groan slipped past his lips as your fingers wrapped around him. “Y’feel how fuckin’ hard you just made me? That’s all for you baby. All fuckin’ for you.”

You stroked your hand around his length slowly twisting your wrist as you eased yourself onto your back, scooting against the mass of pillows. Joel braced himself on his elbow as you reached for the condom and detached your lips to gently tear the packet open. He nestled himself between your thighs as you slowly rolled the rubber on, inch by inch. Words of praise were equally exchanged between you as your thighs spread open more.

“Please, jus’ let me know if it hurts at any point, okay?” His concern for you was genuinely sweet and you reassured him with a gentle kiss to his jaw, his arm rested above your head as his fingers locked down over the headboard.

“I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts. Okay? I promise Joel.” You whispered with your hand still firmly wrapped around him as you guided his tip to brush against your folds.

A shuddered hiss fell between you as he slowly sank into your warmth. His cock was girthy, with thick veins protruding along the skin as he stretched you open. He could feel your pussy fluttering and squeezing around him already as he bottomed out with a harsh grunt. You used your fingers to spread your labia lips open and his eyes drooped down to where your bodies were connected. “Y’gnna play with your pretty little pussy while I fuck her? S’that what you wanna do baby?” He pulled his hips back before thrusting them forward, repeating this a few more times as he fell into a rhythm.

“Mhmm. I want you to watch while I play with myself, baby. I want you to see just how good you make me feel. That’s it. You see how well I’m taking your cock, big boy? I can feel every inch of you stretching me apart.”

“Fuck. Yeah, you’re takin’ my cock so well baby. So fuckin’ well. Y’look so pretty playin’ with your pussy f’me like that. ‘Atta girl. Keep doin’ that.” He rolled his hips into yours a little faster, working between rhythmic slow thrusts where you could feel every inch of him to fast harsh thrusts that shook the bed and headboard into the wall. Your fingers sped up their pace along your clit as you lifted your hips up slightly to meet his thrusts. He was hitting the spongy soft spot inside of you at a deeper angle, and it was heavenly for both of you. You nearly came along his cock when his head dropped down and he spat a glob of saliva right between your fingers working on your clit.

Your moans intermingled in hot puffs of breath as your back arched against the pillows. “Fuck, yes. Please! Please don’t fucking stop, Joel! Don’t stop. I’m—I’m so close.” Your eyes rolled back as the familiar tingling sensation crept up from your toes and ascended up your ankles and calves. Your stomach muscles tightened as his cock twitched inside of you.

“Not gonna stop baby, I promise. Fuck! Want you to cum all over my cock, okay? Think you can be a good girl and do that f’me? Want to feel you completely coat my cock, sugar. C’mon.” His thrusts grew sloppy as he drove himself repeatedly into you. His lips found your shoulder where he kissed and nipped at the skin, biting down harshly as he spilled himself into the condom. The pleasure mixed with the pain sent you into overdrive as your walls convulsed and pulsed around him.

His arm dropped from the headboard as he softly collapsed on top of you with a grunt. His face was pressed firmly into your neck, and his sweat stained damp hair was lightly tickling your cheek. He whispered praises against your skin as he softened inside of you, letting out a shaky exhale that turned into a rumbled chuckle.

Your arms found purchase around his neck as you gently threaded your trembling fingers through his soft tendrils. “What’s got you laughing, Hm?” You couldn’t help but softly giggle along with him.

His strong arm latched around your lower back as he made himself comfortable. “Jus’ feel fuckin’ fantastic right now. Think your pussy sent me into cloud nine baby.” He pressed a sweaty kiss to your throat.

“Yeah? Well, I think your cock fucked me stupid.” You scratched his scalp lightly with your nails, earning a soft hum to creep up his throat.

“Think we mighta fucked ourselves stupid.” He concluded.

“Think you’re right on head with that one Joel. What are we gonna do with that entire box of condoms?”

“Fuck our way through ‘em. Now that I know how amazin’ your pussy feels around me, those condoms will be gone by the end of the weekend.” He gruffly whispered.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Nah. That’s the truth, baby cakes.”

“Round two?” You giggled.

“Baby, let me close my eyes for a few seconds, kay? Your sweet pussy milked me dry. Dontcha worry. Just need to get some fuel in me and you can take me for a real ride. How’s that sound, cowgirl?”

“Deal.”

Joel gently rested his weight on you for a few more minutes before he reluctantly slipped out of you. He disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and grab a towel. He sunk down onto his knees and gently wiped between your thighs. It was past midnight by the time the two of you made your way downstairs for a light night snack. You were wearing his hoodie and a pair of panties while he had nothing but his boxers and his cowboy hat on.

“What’s the lady got a fixin’ for tonight?” He whispered as he opened the fridge door quietly.

“Grilled cheeses.”

“Fuck. Those do sound good. Okay, two grilled cheeses coming right up.” He tipped his hat in your direction with a lopsided smile.

Once the grilled cheeses were made you and Joel found yourselves sitting side by side on the kitchen floor. He told you stories of all the summers he spent up at the lake house. How Tommy accidentally threw an entire box of sparkles into the fire pit along with all of the lighters. It created quite the colorful show.

How Joel had to get stitches on his eyebrow one year because he ate shit running down the dock.

How Sarah took her first steps and how proud Joel felt to witness them.

How he’d spend early mornings out on the lake with his granddad fishing and giving him life advice.

How you were the first woman Joel had ever brought out here since Sarah’s mom left.

The empty plates were discarded to the side as you found yourself climbing into his lap. Good thing he remembered to bring a condom down with him. His shorts were hanging low on his hips as you rode him, and at one point you had stolen his cowboy hat and placed it on top of your head. All he could focus on was the way your face twisted in pleasure as your hips continued to roll against his. When you both feared waking someone up, your hands gently clamped down over your mouths to muffle your noises.

Somehow fucking Joel on the kitchen floor was the perfect mixture of filthy, and sweet.

It was 3a.m by the time you had pulled yourselves up from the cool tile and proceeded to finally go to bed. There was no reason for clothes to be worn in the bedroom as you both plopped down onto the tousled comforter. Whispers of, ‘I love you’s’ and soft tender touches were shared as you drifted off to a blissful slumber.

Around 7a.m Tommy emerged out of his bedroom to start a pot of coffee. No one else was up and the first thing he noticed just outside the kitchen window was clothes strewn about on different sections of the dock. He took a sip of his coffee with a knowing smirk on his face as his older brother descended down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was a mess and he smelled faintly of lake water and sex.

“Mornin’ brother.” Tommy tipped his mug in Joel’s direction.

“Mornin’ Tommy.” Joel gruffed out a response.

“Say, you may wanna pick up those clothes from the dock before Sarah and Ellie wake up. You wouldn’t want to have to explain that to them..right?” Tommy was grinning stupidly over the rim of his mug.

“Fuck me. I knew I was forgettin’ somethin’ last night.” Joel casually stepped over the spot along the kitchen tile where you and him fucked like bunnies just hours ago.

“Yeah, think ya forgot your pants out there.” He chuckled. “S’there a reason why you’re avoidin’ that spot on the floor?” Tommy asked with a raise of his brow.

“What’re you goin’ on about? I ain’t avoidin’ nothin.’” The heat was already rising up his cheeks.

“No fuckin’ way. You didn’t. You fucked her on the floor? You dirty, dirty dog. Now we’re gonna have to disinfect it n’everythin.’” Tommy tsked under his breath.

“No. You got it all wrong I’m afraid. She rode me to town on that floor. Fuckin’ wore my cowboy hat like a little minx. Absolutely had me speechless. Anyway, I’m gonna go gather up Clover and I’s clothes before the kids wake up.” He saluted Tommy with a small grin.

“Holy shit. Did she really? Goddamn. That’s hot. Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Did ya tell her?”

“Course I did.” Joel confirmed.

“Oh thank fuck. I take that she said it back?”

“She did. She’s also giving Frankie to Sarah as a birthday present. You keep that a secret, okay? It’s gonna be a big surprise.”

“Sarah’s gonna be over the fuckin’ moon when that happens.”

“I know. She loves that horse so fuckin’ much. I couldn’t believe it when Clover told me. I was elated jus’ knowin’ how much she cares about me and Sarah.”

“I’m happy for you big brother. Truly, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, I’m glad I waited for the right one to come along. Oh, and Tommy?”

“Yeah, lover boy?”

“You think you’d be up for being the best man at my wedding again?”

“Fuck yeah I’d be up for it. You betcha.” Tommy couldn’t help but pull his brother in for a big hug, squeezing him tightly. “Seriously though, do we have to disinfect any other parts of the house? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Joel clapped his brother on the shoulder as he hugged him back tightly. “Jus’ the kitchen floor. Haven’t tarnished any other spots in the house, yet.” He loosed his grip around Tommy giving him another nod before he poured himself a cup of coffee and slipped past the porch door to gather up yours and his clothes.

Your bra and panties were mysteriously missing..damn raccoons musta gotten to them.

tag list: @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @lovers-liability @777-wonders @mirasantidotes @loquaciousferret @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @sarahhxx03 @myrealmofchaos @finnsbubblegum @danilakozlovsky @pedropascalfan221 @missgurrl @leeeesahhh @yazsos @casa-boiardi @last-girl @frankthesexualsadist @shatteredbaby @rye-flower @elliewilliamsno1simp @wonder-harley @userpedros @pedrospartner @morning-star-joy @ilovepedro @ranahx @tinygarbage @pedrostories @darkroastjoel @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @cavillscurls @saradika

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

[chickenfics]

the way I love the ocean

Relationship: Robin Buckley x Female!Reader

Summary: It was the summer of ‘87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.

It was the summer of ‘87, and you were falling in love.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: ........ Hello, I am still alive. Good god, sorry for the wait -- I kept wanting to work on the final chapter and only recently got around to it but it's here! I adored writing this fic, even if it took me almost a year to finish it off. Thank you all for bearing with me, and I hope this final chapter is at least a little worth the wait. Love you all <3

Fic Playlist!  Also on Ao3

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 8: Tango in the Night (Remaster)

"Remind me again?" 

"Robin," you said, trying not to sigh. "Buckley. She invited me to the movies that one time..." 

"Right, okay," your mom nodded. You sat your fork down. 

You hadn't been eating dinner much with your parents. Between working at the diner and spending the night at Steve's, they'd started to notice -- and they'd started to suspect something was going on. Which, it sort of was. Just not what they thought. 

"And that Harrington boy--" 

"Is just a friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow at you. 

"And anyways, he's not even going to be there." 

“My parents are going to some festival this weekend,” Robin had said. “It's like this end-of-summer thing to celebrate the solstice, I don't know. Anyway, would you want to maybe come over?”

It had all come out in a rush. She’d been nervous. It was cute. She'd said to tell her with enough time for her to make her room presentable and “Not like a herd of raccoons lives here -- actually, what are a bunch of raccoons called?”

A gaze. That's what a bunch of raccoons are called.

You'd said yes. 

"Good," your dad was saying. "Becauase you know how I feel about you spending the night with a boy." 

"I know," you said, voice empty, just enough to get by. 

There was so much your parents didn't know and even more they didn't understand. But that was okay. You had a coffee tin stashed under your bed. One night after staying late at the diner at the end of your shift, you, Robin, Steve, and Eddie had gotten it in your heads that, soon, Hawkins would see the last of you -- and the conversation by Steve’s pool had become less of a late-night musing and more of a reality that you could touch with your hands. The night ended with Eddie digging through the recycling bin and pulling out four coffee tins with a dismissive, “I’ll just, rinse them off in the sink or whatever” before handing one to each of you.  

"Gross," Robin and Steve had said at the same time. 

Four tins. Four incomes. A chance to get away. To find your own place. To make it if you had to. 

"But not too far," Steve had said like he didn't really care even though he clearly did. And you had all agreed. Not too far. Close enough to still see the kids. Close enough for Eddie to see Wayne. Close enough… 

So, what your parents didn't know wouldn't kill them. 

“We’re just having a… girls' night,” you said, and it felt wrong, but it seemed right. 

“That’s good,” your mom said. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

Your dad was silent, turning back to his dinner, and the topic passed. It stayed that way until you finished eating, stayed that way as you helped with the dishes, even stayed that way when you retreated to your room to grab your overnight bag. With all the spontaneity over the summer, you weren’t used to having a bag with you. Something about it felt final, like the way the nights were starting to get cooler and the kids were planning their last adventures before heading back to school. And, perhaps, the tin under your bed made everything feel changed. You couldn’t stop yourself from kneeling down to search it out behind folded sheets and old shoeboxes. Ten dollars and twenty-nine cents in odd change. It was a start. And the bag slung over your shoulder was just the beginning. 

“Will you be home tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. I can call you.”

There was a dissatisfied silence. “Okay. Be safe, make wise decisions.”

“I will.”

Those two words cut the string binding you there. It furled away from you, carried by its own momentum. You waved goodbye to your parents and pulled the door shut behind you. Outside, the sky was blue and the air hummed softly with cicada song. The summer might have been coming to an end, but the pavement still swam with the heat and beads of sweat still collected across your forehead as you pedaled down the road, feet pumping, heart beating, every inch of it drawing you closer to where you wanted to be. To Robin. Maybe even something beyond that. 

The world was starting to feel more like your own. 

But, for now, the world was still only as big as Hawkins, Indiana, where all the streets you passed looked the same and you knew familiar faces were nearby. Familiar faces that you loved. That loved you. And you knew you’d carry that with you. You’d carry them with you wherever you went. It felt good, to know that. To feel it in your bones, in your soul, in everything that had ever made you who you are. Robin’s street was the only one you were looking for; white letters printed on a small blue sign. When you saw it you smiled, and then you turned your bike, and you thought about the time she’d helped you pull it out of Steve’s trunk and how that seemed like such a lifetime ago. 

You left it along the side of the house, leaning it on a rock next to wildly growing vines and blooms of flowers, their petals starting to fall as summer was on its way out. They decorated the ground of the flower bed like a bright, living blanket. You never would have guessed that they’d fallen because they were already dead. Your bike, its pedals still whirring, became one with the image of Robin’s house. It fit in like it had always been there, along with the half-rotted shed in the backyard and the sun-bleached wood of the porch. There were repairs made, only evident by interruptions of brighter, smoother pieces of lumber. They hadn’t been weathered by time like the boards around them.

You left your bike, its pedals now slowing to a stop, along the side of the house, and you thought you’d be okay if was consumed by the vines, too. If it was covered up by a shower of petals. You thought it would be fine if it blended into the background completely, just another distant color on a polaroid or a picture in a magazine -- just another feature of a quiet house in a sleepy neighborhood where, from the outside, nothing particularly interesting was happening. On the inside, though… 

Robin opened the door without a word -- found your pinky and linked it with hers without a word. And you hugged her. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her neck as hers settled onto your waist, and you felt the warmth of her all at once, became overwhelmed with the smell of her chapstick and her hair and her skin. It was familiar in a way you’d never known possible at the start of the summer, mere months ago. It made your chest open up like a flower and bloom right there under the warmth of the sun she held within her. All you could do was take deep breaths of each other. 

She tucked her face into your neck and you hummed lightly, sighed heavily, loved overwhelmingly. And outside, a leaf from the big oak tree in Robin’s yard -- the first leaf of the year to fall, perhaps a month too early -- drifted through the air and landed in the basket on your bike. And from the street, if anyone had been there at all, they could have seen Robin pull you through the door and spin you around to kiss you. If anyone had been there. If anyone had been looking. 

_______________________________________________________

She gave you a tour of her home. Where she’d played with pots and pans when she was five. Where she’d kept her pet goldfish until it died when she was twelve and it was three. “I won it at the fair. I didn’t even know those things could live that long.” She showed you the porch where she’d lost her lucky bracelet when she was fifteen -- dropped it straight down one of the cracks between the boards. She wondered if it was still there. Wondered what had happened to it if it wasn’t. 

“It was probably the raccoons,” you said, smirking at the amusement in the crinkles around her eyes. 

“You should be a comedian. Then maybe we could all afford an apartment for real.”

She sat on her kitchen counter and stirred the brownie mix she’d started before you’d arrived because “I got nervous and didn’t know what to do with my hands.”

“Don’t you think we’ll make it?” you asked her, leaning by the sink. “I mean, with all four of us… I don’t know, I think we can do it.”

She set the bowl down next to her, kicking her feet softly as she pulled the spoon out and tilted it in her hands. 

“I want to believe we can,” she said. “I mean, if anyone could make it happen, it’s us.”

And it was enough of an answer, even though it wasn’t really an answer at all. It was enough because you knew you’d never really have an answer. Life gave few certainties, and staying with the people you love wasn’t one of them. But in the same way, you couldn’t envision a life where you didn’t wake up next to Robin, or find Steve cooking breakfast in your kitchen, or see Eddie off to work every morning. You couldn’t imagine a version of Hawkins where they weren’t in your life. Funny, seeing as you hadn’t even known them before this summer. Lucky, how things work out. 

But then, maybe they were one of your life’s certainties. Maybe it was always meant to be. 

“And hey, if it doesn’t work out, we can always just go to the same retirement home,” she dryly joked, licking batter off of the spoon. 

“You should be a comedian,” you grinned wryly. 

“We can be a double act. Make double the money that way.”

The sun was setting as Robin pulled the brownies out of the oven. She had to leave her place between your legs to do so, and you sat at the kitchen table missing the warmth of her skin against yours. 

“Well, at least I didn’t burn the house down,” she said, setting the pan on the stovetop. 

“Shame Steve isn’t here to see it.”

Robin crept back over, frizzy strands of hair framing her face. You were pretty sure she’d washed it recently -- it always got frizzier when it was clean, and its strawberry smell was especially strong when she pressed her cheek against your ear. 

Wrapping your arms around her back, you pulled her onto your lap. Sitting on your legs, she relaxed against you and traced lines across the base of your neck. 

“Can you imagine,” she started, that quiet, contemplative tone to her voice. You loved her like this as much as you loved her joking and her energy. “Every day being like this? This… quiet. Just us.”

You hummed softly and rested your chin on her shoulder, hugging her tighter; feeling the weight of her. 

“One day it will be,” you replied.

Robin inhaled a breath through her nose, shifting so her face was pressed into your neck. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said. “I feel it in my bones.”

“In your bones…” Her smile pressed against your skin and you could hear the raise of her eyebrows in her voice. “Well, if your bones say so, then it must be true.”

“It is. You wait and see.”

Leaning back, Robin hooked her arms around your neck, hands draping lazily, fingertips brushing your back. 

“Oh, I’m waiting,” she said, voice low, the faintest smile sparking her eyes. Sureness in every line on her face, every freckle. You felt her hands slide up your spine. 

“I’m waiting,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering closed as she leaned forward, letting your lips meet slowly -- so slowly that you felt your heart beat faster and your muscles tighten with something that fluttered through your whole body. 

“Good,” you whispered back, the words pinned between your lips and hers. 

You watched her smile. You tasted it. 

It tasted sweet. 

By the time you ate the brownies, they were cold. The night was cold, too -- a new change from all the other nights before. The crickets were still singing, though, and the sky was still indigo. And Robin -- she was still here, only this time her thighs were warming your shoulders from where you sat, on the ground now, between her legs. Her chest was holding you up. You leaned back, head bumping her collarbone, and looked up at the sky. 

“I think I got brownie crumbs all over you,” she said, brushing your shoulders off. You smiled and knocked your socked foot against her ankle. 

“Hey, Robin?” you suddenly said, and there must have been something in your voice to change the way the air was settling around the two of you because Robin sat up a little. 

“Yeah?”

There was a gathering of energy and matter sweeping into the center of your chest, like the quiet friction before the creation of a universe. Before the bang. Before everything that’s been building begins. 

“Robin, I love you.”

She sat up further. Feeling something twist in your stomach, you moved off of her enough that you could turn around. 

“You,” she started, her eyes wide, already searching yours. “You… do?”

“Yes,” you breathed, chuckling nervously. “I-I mean, yes? I can’t help it, when I’m with you -- even when I’m away from you, I… You don’t have to say it back, I just c--” Robin grabbed your face with her cold hands and kissed you. 

“Oh,” you sighed in the moment she pulled back to breathe, and then she was leaning forward and kissing you even harder. Your hands slid up to rest on her jaw, thumbs brushing over the soft skin there and she rocked you backward. You would have lost your balance if she hadn’t snaked her arm around your waist, but she did, and she used it to pull you back into her. Your chest brushed hers, and you felt something twist in your stomach again. This time, it wasn’t nerves. 

Robin ducked back and tilted her face down to brush her nose against yours. Your face was warm where her hands were cupping it. You felt her thumb explore the edge of your lower lip. 

"You're--" she caught her breath in a laugh. "You're my favorite person in the whole world."

You smiled, caught your breath in a laugh of your own. Robin didn't let go. 

"I never want to not have you," she whispered, eyes dropping to your lips. 

"You have me," you whispered. "Always." 

Robin pulled you into her and the last of the summer crickets chirped as you kissed under the indigo sky which had begun to grow cold. The same sky that had watched a similar scene unfold under the same moon reflecting off a lake, mosquitoes swimming in the hot air. You hadn’t cared about them back then, and now, you didn’t care about the cold. It was different -- it was a sign of change, of life -- and it was good. 

So, as the crickets sang the outro to their summer symphony, you and Robin finished where you began; kissing under the moonlight in a world that was all yours. 

________________________________________________________

The sun was shining through the windows. When you opened your eyes, it was like a picture staring back at you -- the kind someone would hang on their wall because it was warm and perfect and it lit up the place. A curtain, eggshell blue and half-translucent, captured the yellow rays and held them, glowing, between stitches of fabric. You’d never been in Robin’s room before. It had always been Steve’s house. 

Her room smelled like… her. The laundry detergent she used, the berry shampoo that lingered around her like a halo the day after she’d washed her hair, the vanilla lotion she liked. All of it was contained inside the four walls like a time capsule. And you thought, maybe the world would go on without you if the two of you could just stay here. If that was all the rest of your life was -- a sunny morning in late summer laying in Robin’s bed -- you would be content. You would be happy. You could have spent forever in this picture and you wouldn’t have missed out on a single thing as long as Robin was lying beside you. Inhaling a sleepy sigh through your nose, you stiffly rolled over. The sheets were tangled up between the two of you. By the door, a chair was left overturned from where you and Robin had knocked it over, too tangled up in each other to notice where you were going. 

Your clothes had found homes across the floor. Your shirt was caught on the leg of the chair, your pants were near the window next to Robin’s bra. You smiled faintly, eyes tracing over the edges of her room. It was messy in a lived-in way -- you could see the impressions she’d made on the space, how she’d made it her own. Posters hung on the wall. A small, well-loved desk sat in the far corner, off to your left. In the light of the morning, you could see stickers, now faded remnants of childhood, that you hadn’t noticed last night, when you’d been occupied with other things. 

Like the girl next to you, who still lay sleeping. The beautiful, mind-blowing, wonderful girl. You could still taste her lips on your tongue, could still feel her hands on your skin, the way her hair had felt tangled between your fingers. Everything was golden and ethereal and… perfect. It felt fitting, as if your lives had always been heading toward one another. And, you decided as you propped your head up on your hand and brushed a strand of hair out of Robin’s face, the waiting had been worth it. Every moment you’d been made to feel alone was worth a single moment with Robin. To think things were only beginning. 

How exciting. 

Now that you’d touched her again, you couldn’t keep your hands off of her. You smoothed your thumb over her cheek, your touch light enough not to wake her. You traced the tip of your finger along her temple, connecting freckles with invisible lines before dipping back behind her ear, feeling the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair. When her eyelids began to flutter open, you were smiling. When her eyes found your face, she was smiling too. Closing them briefly, like she was stealing a moment in time, she sighed deeply. Contently. And then she dug a hand out from under the nest of blankets and caught yours, guiding your wrist to her lips. 

“Hey there,” she murmured, and you felt her breath on your skin a moment before she pressed her lips against your wrist, right over your lifeline. 

“Hi,” you sighed. 

She inhaled deeply, her nose pressed into the palm of your hand. She inhaled like you were made of oxygen and starlight and everything she needed to survive. Laying back onto your side, you scooted forward until you could rest your forehead against hers. 

“This is, like, everything I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered. You could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back. 

Your bodies were maps. You’d never known just how much time you could spend exploring the beauty of someone else before you’d met Robin. Before she’d brought you to her bed and let you touch her softly. Before she’d touched you. You’d never known how quickly a morning could pass when you were learning the language of another person’s freckles, when you were becoming fluent in every beauty mark and blemish -- how it could be so perfect that it felt like an eternity all the same. But with Robin, you discovered it all. And the morning passed quickly, and it was eternal all the same. 

Eventually, she had to get up. 

“Not to shatter this perfect moment, or anything, but I really have to pee.”

“Every moment with you is perfect,” you grinned, eyes roaming her skin unashamedly as she tossed the sheets off. You watched the skin on her back, scattered with freckles, while she reached down to search the floor for a shirt. 

“Uh, cheese alert. Did you read that one in a greeting card?”

“Ouch,” you played up a wince. “Guess that means I should stick to comedy, huh?”

Turning around, Robin gave you a sly grin before leaning down. Very, very slowly, she kissed you. Your hand found the soft skin over her ribs. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Earth girl,” she murmured against your lips. Your head spun. And then, like nothing at all had happened, she hopped up and pulled a shirt on. Your shirt. 

You watched her as she hopped off to the bathroom, stopping by the door to lazily spin around and give you one last look that made it clear she knew what she was doing to you. You hurled a pillow in her direction hoping that it would distract her from how flustered you were. The moment she disappeared into the hall, you yanked the blanket over your face. It smelled so much like her that it didn’t help your case, but in the few minutes that Robin was gone, you managed to cool your face down. 

You heard her return before you saw her. There was a click and a whirr, and the sound of music had you throwing the blanket off and blinking around. 

“Oh my god, is that Aretha Franklin?” you asked as Robin gave a little spin before dropping onto the bed. She tossed her legs over yours. 

“Yeah. It was my mom’s tape when she was little. She gave it to me when we were going through the attic a couple years ago. You, uh… you don’t mind, do you?” She glanced up at you, hair framing her face like a halo. 

“Absolutely not,” you replied, shifting so your hip bumped against her. She sighed, closing her eyes with a smile. 

The cassette sounded old -- parts of it warped by years of being played, parts of it sounding like they were coming through a portal from another time to slide comfortably into the room. 

“Baby, baby, baby

This is just to say 

How much I’m gonna miss you 

But believe while I’m away

That I didn’t mean to hurt you 

Don’t you know that I’d rather hurt myself”

Your hand found Robin’s hair. The sun had taken up a patch of wall; lit it yellow and bright. The ceiling felt wide. You could feel the room heating up; it was going to be a hot day. Rubbing your thumb along her forehead where you knew there was a garden of freckles, you raked your fingers back through her hair. Robin hummed and tilted her face up. You tucked a strand behind her ear and moved down to her neck. 

“Think of me sometimes

Because if loving you was so wrong 

Then I’m guilty of this crime…”

“What,” you faltered for a moment, your voice sounding like an intrusion; a tear in the canvas. “What do your parents think of me?”

Robin’s thumb was pressed against your wrist. 

“What do you mean?” She lifted her chin further; she was listening, even though both of you were staring at the sun-covered wall. The corner of one of her posters had peeled back. There was a sticker a few inches from the ceiling. Robin must have jumped to put it there. 

“I mean, like…” You meant: did they know you kissed their daughter. Did they know you were saving up to get her an apartment, a life away from here. Did they know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. 

“They, uhm, don’t know about us. I-If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Mine neither,” you quickly said. Robin let out a breath -- you realized that it was a relieved one.

It was a hard thing to tell someone. It was hard to tell your parents anything at all. 

“Do you… want them to know?” Robin slowly asked. She hadn’t stopped running her thumb along your wrist. You felt like there was something to that. Something important. 

“No,” you were honest. Then, “I’m… sorry.” And it was honest, too.

“No, don’t be,” Robin moved to sit up, then changed her mind and pulled your arm closer, sliding your hand down to settle below her ribs. She tucked her face into the crook of your elbow. “Don’t be. I get it. Trust me,” she blew out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I definitely get it.”

“I was scared you were going to hate me, once,” you murmured. “Before…” You shook your head, fingers wandering over her shirt. Your shirt. 

You were scared of her, once -- back before you’d realized there was a world where she would ever be wearing your shirt. Back when you’d read her bubbly writing on a nametag and known that you were absolutely, helplessly caught up in her. 

Robin took a breath, lips forming the almost-beginning of something. And then, instead, she said, “I never could have hated you.”

You tried to imagine a world where Robin hated you, but in all of them, she was only ever wearing your shirt. 

Sliding your arm out of her grip, you folded your fingers between hers, squeezing onto them like you never planned to let go. 

“But what’s inside

Can’t be denied

The power, the power of love

Is my only guide”

Robin hummed softly to the music, and you felt the vibrations when she moved your hands up to kiss your knuckles. The world felt heavy, but the room felt light. You breathed deeply from the air inside Robin’s bedroom, preserved in time like a painting, just like the yard outside where your bike sat collecting falling petals and blades of grass weaving between the spokes. Inside -- inside her house, her room, the painting -- you wrapped your legs around her hips to hold her closer. You always wanted her closer. Ever since that moment in the lake, with water dripping off her hair and her skin soft under the moonlight, you’d known that you couldn’t live without the feeling of her. And Robin -- she leaned into your knee, turning her cheek to it and settling in like she couldn’t live without you, either. 

“Can I…” she murmured. “Here, let me see something, just…” With her words floating into the summer sunlight, she lifted your hands up, holding them out so your intertwined fingers joined the scene of her room in delicate brushstrokes. 

“Hm?” you hummed. It joined Robin’s words as they floated. 

Pulling her fingers free, she arranged your hand in the air, uncurling your fingers, smoothing over your skin like she was opening a flower. With a quick gesture, she told you to “stay” -- a painter with her brush, a master at her craft -- and you watched as she hovered over the rings stacked on her left hand. A simple silver band -- “My dad gave it to me when I was eight. It barely fits my pinky, but I can’t get rid of it. Feel like I would get ten years of bad luck or something” -- a small flower made of wire, two guitar strings twisted together; made by Eddie, who’d given her and Steve each one for Christmas last year. He’d promised to make you one, but “Not for Christmas. That would be too predictable; who likes knowing what their present’s gonna be? Ruins the Christmas spirit if you ask me.” -- and finally, on her ring finger, the silver band with the pale blue gemstone. This ring, you rarely saw her without. The others she would rotate, wearing one or the other, but this one… 

Robin slid it off her finger, holding it up and watching the gemstone pick up the light and fracture it into a thousand splitters, like shatters of blue glass reflecting onto the ceiling. She tilted it, then dropped her arm to rub the gem against your shirt over her stomach. And then, then she lifted your hand with the gentlest of touches and slid the ring onto your finger. Your ring finger. And that was about as important as anything ever could be. 

“...What--”

“It’s yours,” she nodded, raising your hand into the morning sunlight. She smiled distantly at it, as if she was the only one in the room, and then she turned to look at you. “And, uh… I’m yours, too.” Her smile turned shy, her freckles bedding down in a garden of rosy blush. You leaned into her and tried to kiss every single one of them. Who could guess how long it would take? You both had the time. 

_________________________________________________________

“I want to show you something,” she said. 

You were wearing her jacket and your arms felt warm. Part of that, you thought, was from knowing that she’d worn it before you. That you now existed in the space she had occupied. Across the room she sat, looking at you with a softness and an eagerness. You smiled. You couldn’t help it.

“What?” you asked, rubbing circles on the sleeve of her jacket where it was pressed into your palm.

She sprung up from her desk chair, all tawny hair and long limbs and mischievous smile, which you knew meant she was especially excited about whatever she wanted to show you. Placing her hands just above your knees, her squeeze made your head feel dizzy.

“An alien spaceship,” she murmured. With a wink, she pushed off of you and skipped for the door, waiting until she’d reached it to twirl languishly around. She smirked, one of those secret smirks that you knew no one else in the world had seen because they were meant for you alone, and leaned toward the hallway alluringly. 

“Alright, space girl,” you said -- the first time you’d called her anything like that. It was fitting; there was no one in the world like her, and the version of yourself that you became in her presence couldn’t be explained by anything that belonged to this world. 

She was something else, your girl. 

Yours.

The ring on your finger felt heavy. Heavy like grounding. Like the thing that tied you both to this world even if you didn’t quite belong to it. Your thumb moved from the sleeve of her jacket to press onto the gem laid in the silver band. It was cold, but it soon warmed against your skin. 

Robin was waiting by the door. 

You stood and took her hand.

Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, but now it was draped in afternoon sunlight. It was stronger and not as soft as the morning light that had covered you like a sheer fabric -- the afternoon was more like fine silk. Robin looked the same in every shade of the day: beautiful. Always. Even when -- no, especially when she was hanging upside down on her chair, swiveling it from side to side while she talked animatedly with her hands about something that had happened in Family Video the other day. Especially when she laughed so hard at some stupid joke you’d made that she snorted and nearly choked on her lemonade. Especially when she got annoyed at the TV when it wouldn’t pick up a signal unless she was holding the antenna just right. 

“Sorry, but we have to break up. I only have eyes for this television now, and she’s a demanding lover.”

You’d laughed, heart swelling at the confirmation that “breaking up” gave you. She truly was yours. 

Well, unless the TV stole her away.

Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, fingers intertwined as she led you through her home even though you knew the way by now as if you’d known it in a past life, but hours before that, you’d sat in the kitchen, in the living room, on her lap. Hours before that, you’d kissed her just as passionately as you had the night before, when you’d felt her skin grow hot under your fingers. 

But now, hours later, you were following her out into the yard. You were pulling your bike from the bushes along the side of her house, feeling satisfied when you had to tear away a few vines that clung to the wheels. And then you were running, bike trailing by your side, after Robin, who laughed into the sunlight and shook the hair out of her face. You could see enough of it to notice the way her nose was crinkled, and then she turned forward again and swung herself up onto her bike. You followed suit, the soles of your shoes striking the pedals, and you relished in the solid pressure of them under your feet, the way your muscles sang when you pushed yourself forward after Robin. 

The air carried a warm breeze and, though you missed the weight of it, you were glad to have shed Robin’s jacket in favor of lighter layers. Sweat beaded on your brow as you pumped your legs, soon catching up. Robin threw a grin over her shoulder, her hair furling around her face wildly. You laughed into the late summer sky.

You had no clue where you were going, but you rode through town, swerving around evening traffic as tired office workers made their steady way home. Some of them stopped at the general store or the post office. Robin rode past them like they weren’t even there. You followed her like she was the only person in all of Hawkins. Where it counted, she was.

She swiftly led you out of town, breaking into the backroads like some mermaid slipping into water; suddenly, she could breathe again. And you felt like you were breathing for the first time. You took a deep, gasping breath of air and let it out in a whoop. Standing on your pedals, you raced in front of her, hearing her high, husky laugh. A moment later she swam into view beside you. 

This road you recognized, and you were only slightly surprised when Family Video and its sister shops appeared in the distance. You and Robin’s pace had slowed, though it remained steady. The parking lot outside Family Video was empty except for two cars: a BMW and a big, familiar run-down van. 

Steve and Eddie were outside, lingering after Family Video had closed. Steve was leaning back against the rough side of the building, and Eddie had his arm propped above Steve’s head. You grinned, lifting your hand in reply to their sudden waving. Even from this distance, you knew each other. Robin whooped loudly, and Eddie made devil horns and pulled a face like he might chase after her, and you could see Steve roll his eyes even from the center of the road. And then they were gone, left in the rearview as the two of you peddled on.  

The breeze had turned cooler -- a reminder that summer was at the end of its life -- and the sun was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere behind the endless forest of trees that ran parallel to the road. You recognized the spot where Robin had met you all those weeks ago, when you’d walked and listened to The Smiths and wore flower crowns. That, too, passed behind you -- slipping by your shoulder and, just as you turned to look at it, growing distant and seemingly unimportant.

You knew, though. You knew what it had meant. But things were also so different now. Time kept going, and it pulled you with it. For once in your life, you were grateful for that.

Your pace had slowed again, and just like the buildings and the people, the trees gradually began to thin out. 

“Robin,” you called, unable and entirely unwilling to keep the smile from your voice, “Where are we going?”

“I told you,” she grinned, falling back to set a new pace -- a much more relaxed one. “Surprise.” She lifted her eyebrows and gave them a wiggle.

Now that you weren’t peddling so hard -- now that you could sit back and catch your breath -- you looked around, taking in the far less populated corner of Hawkins. On either side of the road, which had cracked and crumbled and faded to a pale asphalt blue under the relentless scrutiny of the sun, there stretched wide open fields. At the start of the summer, they would have been overflowing with growing stalks of corn -- even now, you could see the hollow stumps; all that remained of what had once been a sea. Now, the slightly rocky and almost alarmingly flat farmland bared itself to the sky like the underbelly of a beast that had rolled over to take a nap. 

Even the fields were preparing for the coming winter. Unlike the fields, the rest of Hawkins would be continuing forward in motion; it was only the land that would get to rest. 

Speaking of rest, you only just realized how late it had gotten. The air was significantly cooler now, making you think of the jacket you’d once been glad to have left behind. You shivered, but it was from excitement as much as it was the chill. 

“Here,” Robin suddenly said, pushing her heels down into her brakes. You hurried to follow, and the sound of tires dragging across the asphalt was the only sound for miles. Even the birdsong had faded away, still back with the trees and the busy Hawkin’s streets. They would be dead by now. Everyone would be settled home, eating dinner or watching TV, surrounded by the quiet glow of their home. Your own parents, you thought, were likely sitting in the living room, illuminated by the light of the television and that old lamp that had been passed down by your Grandmother. 

Standing in the middle of the road, cold fingers gripping the handlebars of your bike, breathing heavily into the wide open sky, you felt like maybe, in a way, you were home, too. 

“This is it,” Robin whispered, perched on the seat of her bike like a bird in a high tree. Her eyes were on the sky. 

You took a moment to look at her, her face framed by all that open space, and you only realized the whole world had changed color because Robin looked particularly beautiful in that shade of orange. 

And then you looked up. 

The whole sky was red. Orange bursts of clouds like paint-soaked cotton rolled across it, so still it was like you were looking at a photograph. The deep maroon melted into a rich pink at the horizon, and every inch of it glowed radiantly. You'd never seen so much sky in your whole life. You thought you could hear the world singing. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, catching your balance on an outstretched foot. Your bike teetered as you craned your neck. 

“Exactly,” Robin grinned like the two of you shared a secret. More secrets than just this, you realized. 

You shared so much with her; this sky was just another thing. 

Next to you, Robin reached across the point that marked the center of the road -- that invisible line that you could almost see if you looked hard enough and imagined that it should be there -- and she held out her hand. You took it, spinning the ring on your finger around until the gemstone was pressed into your palm. You held it close until it warmed. The cold air blew between you, not enough to push the clouds in the sky, but just enough to make you shiver.

Robin squeezed your hand and, at the edge of Hawkins, under a sky on fire, you could see the rest of your life on the road in front of you. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1992

“Hi there, I’m calling for Steve Harrington. He gave me this number to get ahold of him.” You glanced up at Robin, her face coming into focus, and were briefly distracted by the realization she still had the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, even after all these years; even after all the places you’d been and people you'd met. 

“Yes--” you raised your eyebrows at the voice on the other end of the line. Robin bounced carefully, like if she got too excited the hotel receptionist would be able to hear it. 

“Yeah, sure,” you repeated, then gave the receptionist your name before holding your hand over the phone and whispering, “She’s gonna call up to their room.”

“Right, of course. She has to make sure we’re not stalkers or something.”

“Well,” you drawled, tilting your head. 

“We are not,” Robin grinned, gently slapping your arm. “We’re just -- worried friends.”

“I think that fits into the realm of ‘stalkers.’ Might even be a subcategory-- Yes?” you pulled your hand away, straightening up. Robin drifted in your line of vision as you turned to the wall, unwilling to let your face out of her sight. 

“Uh-huh…. Okay…”

“What?” Robin hissed. You held up a finger. The woman in your ear was talking fast, obviously eager to get back to some task that didn’t involve you. 

“Okay perfect. Thank you.”

“What did she say?” Robin asked, fiddling with her hands. You titled the mouthpiece away, just in case, and listened to the cheery music crackling through the receiver. 

“She’s sending us up. Should only be a few minutes before--”

“You guys couldn’t wait another day could you?”

“Steve!” you grinned, and Robin flapped her hands excitedly. 

“Hi Steve!” she yelled, and you held the phone out so he could hear her. He probably could have heard her anyway. 

“Obviously not,” you replied, pulling the phone back to your ear. Robin behind you and pressed her cheek against yours so she could hear his replies. You wrapped your arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. 

“How was the ride up?” Robin asked. 

“Loud, crowded--”

“Smelling of old socks.”

“Eddie,” you grinned. 

“My fair ladies,” his voice got closer. You imagined him and Steve standing in a similar fashion, sharing the phone in a dimly lit hotel room.

“Gross,” Robin muttered, rolling her eyes fondly. You checked your watch. 

“You don’t have Dustin and Will yet, do you?”

“Not yet,” Steve replied. 

“They’re still prisoners at the moment. Go figure,” came Eddie’s voice. You could practically hear Steve roll his eyes. He and Robin were more similar than they’d care to admit. 

Living together might have contributed. 

“Would you knock it off,” Steve’s voice grew distant, then returned. “They took their finals yesterday. Spring break officially starts tomorrow.”

“When do you plan to leave?” you asked, pulling the pen off the notepad that hung by the phone. 

“Probably around ten. Gonna take the little shits for breakfast before we hit the road.”

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Robin leaned in to say. You both heard Eddie’s barking laughter. 

“Hey new girl, tell Robin to add a dollar to the jar,” Steve said. 

“But I didn’t swear.”

“No, but I’m about to--”

“Okay,” you butted in, smirking. “Mattresses are blown up, snacks are stocked -- that table you wanted is all set up, Eds.”

“You’re my hero,” Eddie replied. His voice kept fading in and out, and you’d shared space with him long enough to know that he was probably bouncing around the room. 

Steve’s groan, on the other hand, was loud in your hear. 

“D’you guys really have to play that dumb game? It’s vacation, you’re supposed to have fun. ”

“This is fun, Harrington.”

“Whatever.”

“Um, guys,” Robin interjected using that exaggerated voice she reserved for them, particularly when they were annoying her. “Can we stay focused, please? If you keep bickering like an old married couple, you’re going to scare the kids away before you even get here.”

“Please--” Eddie scoffed, again from a distance, while Steve said, “We don’t bicker.”

You and Robin shared a look. It would have been a lie to say it wasn’t a little bit fond. 

“Besides, they’re not really kids anymore,” Steve added, suddenly sounding wistful. 

And he was right. They weren’t kids anymore. Dustin and Will had been in college for almost two years now. Lucas was on the other side of the country thanks to a basketball scholarship, Max was interning at a non-profit in California -- which put her closer to Joyce and El. You knew she was happy about that. So, Steve was right: the kids weren’t really kids anymore. And though you hadn’t known them as long as the others, watching them grow up and move on -- watching the effect it had on your three friends; a mix of pride and sorrow -- had changed you as much as it had changed Robin, Steve, and Eddie. 

The four of you had stayed in Indiana, but the people you’d stayed for had all left. 

It wasn’t bad, though. For the first time in your lives, you had total freedom. You didn’t have to hide from your parents, or the world -- the world had moved into your two-bedroom apartment; everything outside of here was nothing. 

It meant that you could give Steve and Eddie as honest of a goodbye as you wanted to without anyone reading into it or asking what they were to you. It meant that, after hanging up the phone, you could pull Robin against your chest and kiss her. It meant that, in the spirit of enjoying an apartment that wouldn’t be empty for much longer, you could do so much more to her than that. 

A few states and a few hundred miles away, your friends were making their way home, to a little building that sat just outside of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a modest building, with weeds in the flowerbed outside and cracks in the walls. The windows let the winter air in, sure, but there was enough warmth to go around. And maybe everyone had moved on and away, but by staying, you and Robin had found something you’d never thought you’d have before, something you’d only dared to dream of during the summer of 1987… 

A corner of this Earth that could be your very own. 

“I love you,” Robin slowly whispered, each word a promise, her hands in your hair like the endless galaxy that stretched above you, just beyond the ceiling. “Earth girl,” she smiled. 

You leaned forward and tasted it. It tasted of tall grass and indigo and The Smiths.

“I love you more,” you murmured against her cheek. 

In the empty space above the cupboards, four coffee containers looked down at you, unaware of the role they’d played in anything at all, hardly remembering the diner they’d come from. And, somewhere off in the distance, as if it was floating through the window from another room, lazy on the spring breeze, you thought you could hear the soft sounds of a familiar tune. 

“So long ago

It’s a certain time, it’s a certain place

You touched my hand and you smiled

All the way back you held out your hand

But I hope, and if I pray

Ooh, it might work out someday… ”

__________________________________________________________

Taglist: @alonezz , @gaysludge, @gray-cheese, @rare-breed-of-human, @vea-vea-vea, @lady-silkwing, @im-a-milf, @yourmanifestingbigsister, @bubbles0oo, @wormm-mom