✨Fuck Off✨

No idea what I'm doing Marge | She/her | Shit Show | 30 ✨Danny✨ All Day, Son, ALL DAY 📡THOT TO THOT📡

[tripthedharmadivine]

Welcome to my Masterlist, bitches.

Disclaimer: I'm unfamiliar with anyone from GVF. These are entirely fictional, a creation from my imagination. Consider it a piece of prose crafting a narrative of imaginary events and characters—pure fiction.

Warnings: Read the warnings for each story. Some stories/chapters may contain upsetting situations for some readers. Please read with care.

Jake Kiszka Fic

💎Little Gem - Complete

🌞Wake Up - Blurb

🫧Just a Minute - Blurb

🛎️Classical Conditioning - Blurb

🎞️Photo Booth - AU Blurb

🖼️Framed - Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

🍯Sawdust & Honey - AU One Shot (1/3)

🍎Picked - One Shot

🍿Love Sick - Blurb

🍯Sand & Agave - Final Continuation (3/3)

Josh Kiszka Fic

💧Just Friendasies - One Shot

Sam Kiszka Fic

☀️Brisbane - One Shot

Danny Wagner Fic

🍷Thorn & Wine - Continuation Story (2/3)

Greta Van Fleet Fic

📝Under the Cover(s)

[edgingthedarkness]

Word count 9.1K

Josh x M!OC

Warnings: Angst, gore, smut, historical references that might not be accurate, vampires being vampires. I never really know how much or what to actually include here, so please just proceed with your own judgment. And if you come across something that you think deserves to be noted here, please let me know!

Summary: a brief look at Josh’s life from Because The Night

Josh POV

It’s so cold. Cold and wet. The rain dancing across my face, each drop stinging my flesh as if to mock the trembling that already grips me. I’m frozen to the core of myself. Shaking, hollow, and barely tethered to the world. I try to scream, to call for help, but no sound escapes beyond a broken gurgle.

The last thing I remember is walking with Narin, our usual shortcut through the park, the one that always felt like ours alone. We were talking about the future, about what it might hold. I had mentioned children, one day, perhaps. The way her face shifted so quickly, as if trying to hide the flash of disgust and disdain, cut deeper than I could admit.

She said she wanted to travel, to drift freely through the world, unanchored by the weight of a family. I didn’t argue. I only said that I couldn’t leave my brothers behind. Something in her changed then, as if a wire had been pulled too tight and finally snapped. The conversation fell into silence, and that silence grew heavy. So heavy it seemed to press against my chest. I remember walking beside her, uncertain of what to say, feeling the distance stretch wider with every step.

Narin turned to me and smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that did not quite reach her eyes. “My precious pet, Joshua,” she murmured. “You know my love for you knows no bounds. But I cannot be weighted down by things that no longer hold necessity for me. Children are of no interest. The chains and bonds of family and the obligation of that are burdens I will not carry. You must understand that. I have no need for them.”

She stepped closer, her voice softening into something almost tender. “But I do wish to keep what is mine. And you, my pet, are mine.”

Her words caught me off guard. My thoughts splintered, reeling at the notion that someone could speak so easily of love yet deny the very roots from which it grows. How could anyone not long for the warmth of family, the simple grace of nurturing life?

“I am not your property, Narin,” I said, forcing calm into a voice that trembled beneath the weight of disbelief. My mind churned, refusing to make sense of what I was hearing. This was not the woman I thought I’d come to know. The one whose laughter had once sounded as sweet as rain falling through the trees.

I must have worn my confusion plainly upon my face, for her trill of laughter rang out in response, bright and cruel, echoing in my ears. My vision sharpened, catching the glimmer of her form as she twirled and spun, lost in a dance known only to her. The sound of her laughter seemed to multiply, ricocheting off the darkness until it came from everywhere at once.

Then suddenly, she was gone, the air became still and before I could draw breath, a searing pain tore through my neck. White-hot and merciless. The kind of pain worthy of myth, so profound it seemed to reverberate through my bones and breath alike. Fear tore through me, swift and absolute, just as another blaze of agony split across my shoulder. It felt as though the very skin and muscle were being flayed from the bone. The rich, metallic scent of blood filled the air, thick and heady dancing at the edges of my pain until it was all I could taste, all I could breathe.

For a fleeting moment, my mind grasped at reason, at memory. At the thought of the men who had met their end in such a similar way. Worry for Jacob and of course for Narin flickered within me, the last ember keeping my heart from collapsing into despair. I searched the darkness for her, praying she had escaped. But when my gaze found hers, hope died on my tongue. 

Her eyes met mine, wild and unrecognizable as she sank her teeth into the flesh of my abdomen, her nails raking down my thighs and shredding the muscles beneath her touch. I could feel the warmth of my own blood spilling across my skin as deep gouges marked every inch of me. By the time she stopped, I was scarcely whole. Flesh torn from my shoulders and left arm, strips of it hanging in tatters from my throat.

To this day, I do not know what stayed her hand, what flicker of restraint, if any, held her back from ending me completely. My vision dimmed, the world collapsing inward as the darkness drew me under.

When awareness returned, it was to the sting of light pressing against my eyelids. I tried to open my eyes, but the brightness was too much.  I closed them again, waiting for the world to soften. When I finally dared to look, my gaze met a blurred outline, a face carved with impossible precision, and eyes the color of ice, so piercing they seemed to look straight through me.

Time passed but how much, I couldn’t say. Some of my wounds had mended almost completely, and with them I’d begun to adjust to what now passed for life. Lucio had been my guide through it all, patient and unwavering as he helped me grasp the impossible. That I was both living and dead.

It was a strange existence. Foreign, hollow, and heavy with loss. The realization that I could no longer feel the sun upon my skin was a quiet devastation, but even that paled beside the truth that I no longer had Jake. I didn’t know if he still lived, nor could he know of me. The distance between us felt unnatural, like the world had split in two and I’d been left behind. We had been inseparable since birth, two halves of the same whole and now, half of me was simply… gone.

Lucio had been there when my eyes first opened after death. He had fed me, cared for me, guided me through those first, terrible hours. His were the first eyes I saw in that new darkness. Icy blue, set against a complexion dark as the earth and they became the anchor I clung to while the hunger tore through me. I remember the way he steadied me, lifting me upright, the clean slice of his blade across his arm, and the impossible kindness in the act that followed. I hadn’t known what to do, but Lucio taught me, gently, as one might teach an infant to feed.

Slowly, my strength returned. And with strength came restlessness. My thoughts began to outrun my steps, filled with questions that clawed at me in the quiet hours. Would I ever see Jake again? Or Sam? Was I destined to remain hidden away like some creature of myth, condemned to move only beneath the veil of night?

I must have worn on Lucio’s patience with my endless questions, but he never let it show. Through every outburst, every surge of anger I could not yet control, he remained steady. If I could still call anyone family, it was him. Though even that truth could never fill the void of my brother Jake.

In time, I began to feel the slow pull of madness at the edges of my mind. Lucio’s vast library had been placed entirely at my disposal, and though I made good use of it, there is only so much solace a student of cinema can find in the printed word. The books offered distraction, nothing more. Temporary escapes into other worlds while my thoughts endlessly circled back to Jake and the question that haunted me. What had become of him?

I asked Lucio often if I might go back and search for my brother. He never refused me, yet never granted permission either. His answer was always the same, quiet and evasive: “I will find a way for you.”

It became his mantra, his promise, and his defense. No matter what I asked of him, no matter the need or whim, his reply was always that he would find a way. And, in truth, he always did. Lucio took pride in his ability to provide, to ensure that nothing I desired went unmet. Nothing, save for one thing. Jake. For that, there were no answers, only the hollow ache of uncertainty.

At last, my persistence wore him down. He reached out to Sal for word of my brother, and when the news came, it was not what I had hoped. The moment Lucio entered the room, I knew. His expression was heavy with sorrow, his voice breaking as he spoke the words that shattered what remained of me.

Jake was gone.

Narin had taken him from this world.

“Joshua, I am so sorry,” Lucio said, kneeling before me, his composure unraveling. “If not for the need to convince Narin you were gone, you could have been there for him. This is my fault. I have damned you to walk this earth until the end of time for my own desires, and because of me, you have suffered this loss.”

“Don’t,” I said softly, reaching to lift his face, to meet the ice of his eyes. “Don’t say that, Lucio. You’ve done everything you could to give me this life, and for that, I thank you.” My voice broke beneath the weight of it all. He was gone. My brother Jacob was gone. Half of me had been stripped from existence, and the hollow that remained echoed with grief so sharp it felt as though it might tear me apart.

In those days that followed, I clung to Lucio out of sheer necessity. He became the tether that kept me from slipping entirely into the abyss. Time moved forward, indifferent, while I dragged behind. Sinking deeper into the cold mire of sorrow. Lucio tried endlessly to draw me out, to lift me from the shadows that clung to me.

Months passed in that fog of mourning before he finally suggested we travel. That a change of place, a breath of air beyond these walls, might begin to ease the ache. I resisted at first, unwilling to leave the sanctuary of my grief. But Lucio could be persuasive when he wished to be. And so, against my better judgment, I agreed even though he would not tell me where we were going.

Rossinière, Switzerland, was home to Lucio’s family chalet, where we were to stay for an extended time. The place was extraordinary - more akin to a kingdom than a residence. Had it been built of stone, one might have called it a castle. Instead, it rose from the earth in warm alpine timber, resting upon a foundation of old masonry. Gabled roofs, broad windows, carved balconies, and great exposed beams gave it the kind of presence that seemed older than memory itself. I had never seen a home so grand, so steeped in history and quiet majesty.

Lucio spoke of it with fondness, telling me how one of his ancestors had built it in the mid 1700s, and how it had remained in his family ever since. His voice held the weight of lineage, something I felt deeply, perhaps because I had lost my own.

Lucio told me I could choose whichever room I wished, and so, half in jest, half in defiance of the emptiness within me, I claimed the entire second floor. He laughed at first, until I spread my few belongings across the rooms and made myself comfortable.

The first few days were restless. When Lucio retired to his quarters, I found myself wandering the dim corridors alone, the old wood creaking softly beneath my feet. I didn’t understand at first what I was seeking, but it was him. His presence had become a kind of anchor to me, especially after learning Jake was gone. With Lucio near, I did not feel entirely severed from the world.

In time, that need shifted into something more than closeness. I began to understand that I wanted him not only as a companion, but as something deeper, more binding. There was a connection between us that defied reason or explanation, something neither of us spoke aloud, but both of us felt.

We spent weeks in that chalet without once stepping beyond its walls. Just the two of us, existing in the quiet, as though the world outside had ceased to matter. Neither of us wished to break the fragile peace we had found in each other. Lucio had become my solace, my tether to the world. And somewhere in the silence between us, I began to suspect that my longing was not mine alone.

Lucio was the kind of partner dreams are made of, The kind who placed every need, every desire of mine above his own. No matter the difficulty, he always found a way. He had been there through both of the darkest moments of my existence,  the night Narin so brutally tore my life apart, and the day I learned Jake was truly gone. 

Never once did he make me feel like a burden. He bore my grief, my rage, my need for solace and did so with that quiet, haunting smile that made him seem at once human and something far beyond.

I often caught myself watching him as he moved, studying the effortless grace of his body, the calm surety of his presence too often, or too long. And I was certain he noticed. The faint, knowing smirk that would ghost across his lips from time to time betrayed as much.

He came to my room that evening, asking if I was ready to hunt. His voice was casual, but my attention was lost to the shape of his mouth. The soft, full curve of his lips as he spoke. I didn’t even realize I had moved closer until my feet brushed against his.

When I looked up, his eyes met mine. Those icy depths that had so often steadied me, this time causing something inside me to unspool. Heat rose through me, deep and undeniable. Slowly, I leaned toward him, and he met me halfway. Our lips met in a feather-light kiss at first, tentative and questioning as though we were both afraid the other might disappear. The kiss deepened, slow and searching, until his hands found my waist and drew me flush against him. My fingers traced the line of his chest, finding the collar of his shirt and tugging him nearer still. He tasted like warm memories.

I broke the kiss only long enough to catch my breath.  

“What made you finally give in?” Lucio murmured against my mouth, amusement warm in his voice as he drew back just enough to meet my eyes.

“I didn’t know the feelings were mutual,” I admitted, laughter threading through my breath. “If I had, I might have… hastened things.”

Lucio smiled then, his gaze holding mine with a kind of fierce tenderness. 

“Oh, Joshua,” he sighed, and the sound was almost reverent. “My dear, lost soul. I wanted you the moment I saw you.”

His confession stunned me, leaving me momentarily slack-jawed. Lucio only smiled and lifted my chin with a gentle finger.

“Close your mouth, sweet boy,” he said softly, though the words carried heat. “Unless you intend to use it.”

The tension between us thickened, somehow fragile but still electric. Then, wordlessly, Lucio took my hand and led me from the room. The hunger that had once driven us both was forgotten, replaced by something far more consuming.

The air between us tightened, warm and charged. And then Lucio took my hand and guided me toward his bedroom. The hunt could wait.

This hunger could not wait any longer.

The next century passed in a blur of bodies, hunger, and devotion. Lucio and I spent those hundred years quite literally fucking our way across Europe, pausing only to hunt when we needed, to feed when the appetite demanded, and to savor the world in every small, fleeting moment it offered us.  A soft, breathless laugh escaped Lucio when he realized I had ceased feeding altogether.

He knelt upon the forest floor, his shirt discarded somewhere in the darkness, warm crimson tracing slow paths down the center of his chest. Fingers flexing as he grasped the body beneath him while his forearms strained, and biceps tightened. 

Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, catching upon the broad line of his shoulders and the powerful curve of his back each time he lowered himself to feed. I should have looked away.

Instead, I found myself unable to force my eyes away from his form.

The warmth of my own meal had long since faded against my lap, forgotten entirely as my attention drifted helplessly toward him. There was something almost unfair in the sight of him, something predatory and beautiful all at once. Every movement seemed deliberate, every flex of muscle possessing a quiet, devastating grace.

Lucio paused. Slowly, those icy blue eyes lifted to meet mine as a knowing smile, wicked and blood covered, curved his lips.

"Joshua," he murmured, amusement threading through his voice. "Are you quite finished pretending to feed?"

Heat rose unbidden to my face.

"I was distracted."

His laughter deepened, low and warm enough to send a shiver through me as his biceps remained full and tense under my watchful eyes. He sat back, his smirk returning in a way that could only be described as boastful.

"By what, I wonder?"

I opened my mouth to answer, only to find I possessed none. The smile upon his lips widened. Before I could fathom another thought, he was before me.

My back met the rough bark of a nearby tree, the force gentle only because it was Lucio. His body pressed close, surrounding me entirely, one arm braced beside my head while his mouth drifted to my throat.

"You wished to stare," he whispered, his lips brushing my skin. "Then stare."

His words alone nearly undid me.

My fingers found his hair instinctively, the strands soft beneath trembling hands as my head tipped back against the tree. I could feel his laughter against my throat. It was a terrible thing, how easily he unraveled me.

"Lucio..." I breathed.

He hummed softly in response, the sound vibrating through me in a way that seemed to still the entire world as he rutted his hips against my own.  His hand trailed down from my neck to my waist, palm flattening low on my stomach, “Stay.”

“It would seem that I am incapable.”

“Hmm,” he teased with a slow lick from my collarbone to my ear, “I do believe you can.”

My thighs quivered under my own weight as I tried to steady myself against the tree.

Lucio enjoyed his ability to unnerve me, I could tell by the way he smiled against me, by the way his fingers dug into my skin, by the way he kept making these low, pleased sounds that blurred into my skin more than words. “Mmm. Is this where you desire my attention?” he asked, mouth still against me as he slid his hand around my cock.

I couldn’t gather the words, instead nodding against him.

His other hand squeezed roughly against my hip, “Words.”

“Yes.”

He kissed my throat, soft enough to be cruel, “Yes, what?”

I tried to glare down at him, but his fangs sank into my shoulder before I could form anything coherent, tongue dragging slow and flat, and the glare dissolved somewhere between pathetic and desperate, “Yes, there. That is where I desire your attention”

His eyes flicked up, “Good boy.”

My whole body clenched, and he felt it, “Oh?” his voice was rough now, a little wrecked around the edges, "You enjoy that?”

“Hush.”

He laughed against me, nearly causing my end from that alone.

“You're awfully mean,” he murmured, “For someone who was looking at me like he wanted me to bite them.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did,” He shifted, letting go of my leaking cock.  “You were perched there, not even  pretending to partake of your meal with your eyes never straying from me, but your hardness straining against your trousers told me all I needed to know.”

My face burned hot, “Lucio.”

“What?” He kissed my neck open-mouthed, “You thought I would not notice?”

My fingers grabbed into his hair before tightening, “Please.”

That did something to him. His mouth stopped teasing at my neck as he drew away. His hands slid down to my trousers again as he guided them down my legs before growling at me to remove them.  

Heat swirled through my abdomen as I listened to his command. I grabbed at his trousers, pulling until the buttons gave way. Revealing his hard cock, hot and heavy as it seemed to spring to life before me. 

Reaching for him, I trailed my fingers up his leg until I wrapped one hand around his length, and cupped his balls with my other. The sound that tore out of him nearly sent me into a feral fit. I brought his leaking tip to my mouth as I licked up the underside of him, swirling my tongue around the head before taking him in my mouth completely. 

I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked my way back up his shaft, all the while never taking my eyes away from his. The next lick was firmer but slower, more to savor him. He needed more though as his hands came to rest on the back of my head and directed me back down. I swallowed when he hit the back of my throat, and managed to bring my nose to his pubic bone. I fought hard against the gag in my throat as I rolled my eyes up to meet his. 

This eye contact mixed with the second swallow must have really driven him to the brink of insanity as he grabbed my head and began to thrust into my mouth. I tried to keep my throat as relaxed as possible, but lost the battle within as my gag erupted. Lucio let out a growl that should have scared me, but instead had quite the opposite effect as he withdrew himself from my mouth. 

My body drew in an unneeded breath that broke into a soft, useless sound, “Luc.”

“Mhm?”

“I desire more of you.”

He groaned as if the words hurt him. He hooked his arms underneath my thighs, hands grasping at the tree behind me as he lifted me up, pressing my back further into the tree. Slowly, he pushed himself between my legs as he held me pinned there with his hips. 

His hands slid down to the backs of my knees as he pushed them up to rest against my chest with a devilish smirk on his lips. I was lost as to what he intended, but the look in his eyes had me intrigued. 

“Do you trust me?” he murmured as he began lowering himself to kneel before me. My confusion worn very blatantly on my face as he looked upon me. “You’ll like it, I know you will,” he all but whispered as he continued to sink lower. 

The unmistakable feeling of his lips, pressing soft and wet kisses down the back of my thigh registered before his tongue darted out to drag across my ass. My muscles seized of their own accord. The feeling was so foreign, but so good I wasn’t sure how to respond. Surely, Lucio wouldn’t dare. 

But dare he did, “Relax for me Joshua, I need you to relax,” he said, with a smirk that was evident in his voice. I tried to relax as he moved his hands down to cup my ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze for good measure. 

As he continued to massage the muscle there, I began to relax as well as I could pinned up against a tree. It wasn’t long before I felt his tongue brush against my hole, sending shockwaves throughout my body. The gasp and shudder that followed tore through me as if I had been shot. 

The resounding pleasure of this foreign act buzzed through my cock and brain the same. A small gasp of air and moan came quickly after. 

“Oh, you like that?” Lucio dared to ask as I tried to keep my mind from spiraling. 

“Fuck,” was all I could manage to say as he licked at me again and again before pushing his tongue inside of me as he snaked his hand to my mouth. Swirling his pointer and middle finger against my tongue to gather as much spit as possible before withdrawing. 

It felt like a flash but somehow an eternity before I felt his finger begin to stroke along my hole, rubbing soothing circles before applying a slight pressure. He licked at me once more before spitting directly on me, and pushing his index finger inside. 

The stretch was glorious, and while it was something I was used to at this point, it still touched briefly on a pain that blossomed much deeper into a burning pleasure. 

I looked down, searching for Lucio’s eyes. I had to bite my lip as I met his line of vision from the pleasure shining from those piercing blue eyes.  He looked back down to his hand briefly, pulling out and pressing back in with two fingers slowly, causing my back to arch from the tree.

“Fuck.”

He smiled, but it was not smug this time, it was hungry. Eyes heavy lidded and blown out, like he had started this to tease me and ended up ruining himself instead. “Luc,” I whined, “I need more, I need all of you. Please?”

I could not stop the needy whimper as he slowly pulled his fingers out, and helped me plant my feet back on the ground. My fingers reached behind, grazing his cock as he bent me towards the tree. 

As he straightened up, he stroked himself a few times before letting a trail of spit fall from his lips to coat himself. My hand intertwined with his against the tree as he pushed inside me.  “Oh-,” He made another sound, almost a growl, and buried himself in me. 

His hips worked savagely as he fucked into me, steady and deep, and I clung to his hand and the tree like it was the only thing keeping me anchored. My knees grew weaker with every thrust from him, until finally I couldn’t take it. I pushed back against him and forced us to stand as I pulled away from him. 

He watched me with a look of uncertainty as I knelt to the ground, laying myself out in front of him. When the realization struck him as to what I was doing, he began to move with fervor, hooking my knees into his elbows as he knelt over me, “Couldn’t take it?” he questioned with that cocky grin again.

“No, I wanted to watch your face as you ruin me,” I snarked back, earning the red that flashed across his cheeks as I reached out to smooth my thumb along his jaw before trailing down to rest on his arm as he entered me again. His biceps flexed under my hand with every movement, hot and solid and so absurdly strong that my brain, already useless, managed only one thought.

Bite.

I did, bringing my mouth against the thick column of his neck, as my teeth sank in lightly because I could not help myself. Lucio froze. For half a second everything stopped, then he pulled back just enough to look at me.

His mouth was still covered with the faint traces of blood from his earlier feast. His eyes were dark enough to be dangerous, “did you just bite me?”

“Perhaps.”

He stared at me briefly, before he laughed, low and disbelieving. The sound made your stomach drop, “You are unbelievable.”

“You said I wanted to.”

“I was joking.”

“I wasn’t.”

Something changed in his face to pure lust and heat. His fingers gripped harder into my muscle as my mouth fell open, “You wanna bite?” he said, voice low, “Fine. Bite.”

“Luc-”

He brought his neck closer to my mouth and lowered his head again, “go on.” My thighs trembled against his arms as he thrust, “bite me while I make you come.” The sound that left me was embarrassing. Lucio hummed as if he liked it and thrust again. 

I bit him again, harder this time.

His groan vibrated straight through my body, “Oh my god.” I snaked my hand down to my leaking cock. Lucio noticed, looking down to watch. As I began to stroke myself he pursed his lips and made a show of spitting on me. 

“Mm?” he hummed, still working his hips, “that good?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Fu- Lucio.”

One hand still locked on his arm, mouth pressed to his throat, teeth scraping every time he hit that place inside me that made the world tilt. He kept his pace brutal and perfect, until my hips started to buck.

I was babbling now. No words, just little sounds and broken incoherent pieces.

“Luc- yes- there, there, please-”

He pulled back and looked at me, “For me?”

I nodded frantically, but his hips stopped as I nearly sobbed.

“Say it.”

I opened my eyes, as frustrated tears began to well, “For you.”

His face softened for one second, just one. Then his hips began moving again, and I was gone.

My orgasm hit hard, messy ropes of thick cum shooting up my belly and chest, thighs clenching against his arms, teeth scraping his throat as I came with a muffled cry against his skin. Lucio held me through it, arms locked behind my thighs, hips still moving in slow strokes as he rutted against me, chasing his own release.  I worked my mouth along his throat, sinking my teeth into his throat one more time as he buried himself inside of me and cried out to the heavens. 

Lucio gently helped me straighten my legs out before he crawled up my body like he had all the time in the world. Hair wrecked from my fingers, and faint marks blooming on his throat where my teeth had been.

I had long since ceased understanding what existed between us.

Perhaps it had begun as gratitude. Perhaps necessity. In those early days after my human death, when grief had hollowed me from the inside out, he had been my guide, my protector, my sole tether to a world that no longer felt real. Somewhere amid those endless nights, that dependence had transformed into something infinitely more dangerous.

His forehead rested briefly against mine, "You look at me," he murmured softly, amusement lingering in his voice, "as though I am something extraordinary."

I let out a quiet, incredulous laugh, "Because you are." The words escaped before I could stop them. Lucio stilled, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

When his eyes lifted to mine once more, something within them had changed. The teasing warmth remained, but beneath it lay something deeper, older, and infinitely more vulnerable.

For a fleeting moment, he looked almost human. His fingers rose slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

"Joshua..."

The way he spoke my name was unbearably gentle. I felt suddenly exposed beneath his gaze, as though he could see every fractured piece of me. Every grief, every fear, every desperate, impossible longing I had tried so hard to bury.

I swallowed, "I know I should not..." My voice faltered. "But when I look at you, I do not feel quite so alone." 

The confession settled heavily between us. Lucio's expression softened entirely. A sadness touched his features then, subtle and fleeting. "You have never been alone."

I closed my eyes. How cruel that simple kindness could hurt more than any wound. When I opened them again, he was still there, watching me with an expression I could not entirely name. His hand rose to cradle my face. I leaned into it before I could stop myself. A faint smile touched his lips.

"There you are," he whispered. The words stirred something fragile within me. For so long I had felt as though half my soul had been buried with Jacob, as though I had become little more than a shadow wearing the shape of a man.

Yet laying there beneath the moonlight, with Lucio's hand against my cheek and the quiet murmur of the forest surrounding us, I felt strangely seen. The silence between us became something warm.

My fingers tightened slightly in his hair, Lucio exhaled softly. Neither of us moved. Neither of us seemed willing to break whatever fragile thing had formed between us. At last, his forehead came to rest against mine once more.

"I think," he said quietly, "that perhaps we are both ruined."

A laugh escaped me then, soft and trembling, "Only perhaps?"

His own laughter followed, low and rich. The sound wrapped around me like warmth. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself smiling. Truly smiling.

The forest remained silent around us, moonlight filtered through the branches overhead. More than anything, we chose one another, over and over again. Our bond deepened with each passing year, until it felt older than stone.

But time does not pause, even for us. The world shifted around our eternal youth. Villages became towns, towns became cities, wild countrysides turned to settled land. The world became louder, fuller, and somehow lonelier.

We witnessed strife after strife. World War I, the Russian Civil War, the Irish War of Independence, then the second great war. After that came the Cold War, Korea, Vietnam, the Balkan conflicts. Violence threaded itself through the century like a spine. By the year 2000, little had changed, just new flags waving above the same grief.

It weighed on me. I began to believe that if the world could simply learn to love—truly love, freely and without hesitation it might be unrecognizable. In another life, I might have led a revolution for love and tenderness. Lucio agreed the world needed more love, more softness, but it was still not safe for us to stand in the public eye as we were, but not just because we were vampires either. 

This world was so fucked that being vampires seemed less fear inducing than our sexual preferences. No matter how many lifetimes we shared, I feared the day might never come when love was simply love. Without labels, without permission, without consequence. Just love in its purest, truest form. The kind we held between us.

Sal had reached out to Lucio a handful of times over the past century, though his messages were always brief. He never said much about himself, only wanted to ensure we were still here, but something shifted. He called six times over the past few days while Lucio and I were still tangled in each other, lost in pleasure and quiet laughter. Lucio kept promising he would return the call once we were finished.

The phone rang again while we were still wrapped in the warm haze of afterglow. “Someone really needs to work on their timing,” I teased as Lucio stood, stretching, and crossed the room to answer.

I couldn’t hear Sal’s words, but I watched the storm move across Lucio’s face. Annoyance morphed to anger, confusion, melting into frustration, until it settled into something that looked like old resentment. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply.

“Sal, there is no fucking way—” he began, and whatever came back through the receiver silenced him. His jaw tightened as he swallowed his fury.

“Fine,” he said eventually, clipped and controlled. “I’ll handle it.”

He hung up.

Lucio turned back to me, a smile gentler than his eyes.

“Pack a bag, Sunshine. We’re going to the States.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes that made his smile feel forced, and for the first time in our time together, I felt there was more he wasn’t saying. Something heavy and inevitable. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear it, or if he was ready to speak it.

But I didn’t question him. I gathered my things. Whatever awaited us, whatever storm was waking on the horizon, I knew one thing with absolute certainty that Lucio was with me.

And he would protect me, in every way that mattered.

The drive to Zürich passed in relative silence. Lucio and I had long since grown accustomed to existing in the quiet spaces between words. After over a hundred years together there was very little need to constantly fill the air with conversation.

Still, something felt different. The further we traveled, the more distant Lucio became. He kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn't looking. The first few times I ignored it, but by the time we boarded the flight to New York, I could no longer pretend not to notice.

The city lights of Zürich glittered beneath us as the plane climbed into the darkness. Lucio sat beside me with a drink untouched in his hand, that alone was strange. Normally he would have consumed half the cabin's alcohol supply simply because it amused him to watch flight attendants struggle to keep up with him.

Tonight he barely moved. I watched the reflection of his face in the window. His jaw was tight and his brows drawn together. Something was wrong. "What are you thinking about?"

Lucio blinked, "Hm?"

I smiled, "You've been staring into space for three hours."

A weak laugh escaped him, ‘Have I?"

His eyes found mine and the moment they did, my stomach tightened. There was guilt there, shadowed by fear. Something I had never seen directed toward me.

"What did Sal want?" The question hung between us. Lucio looked away first, "Trouble."

 I snorted, "That could mean literally anything."

His smile appeared briefly and then vanished, "You're not wrong."

I continued watching him, waiting, hoping he might elaborate but he didn't. Instead he reached across the space between us and squeezed my knee. The gesture was familiar and comforting, yet somehow it felt more like reassurance for himself than for me.

The remainder of the flight passed in fragments, a movie neither of us watched, drinks neither of us touched. Hours spent drifting through darkness while Lucio sat beside me carrying something so heavy it seemed to bend his shoulders.

By the time we landed in New York, I was beginning to suspect Sal's mysterious emergency involved Narin. Nothing else explained the tension radiating from him. The train station was crowded. Humans rushed past in every direction carrying luggage, coffee, exhaustion and purpose. The smell of them was overwhelming.

Lucio placed a hand against the small of my back as we navigated through the crowd. A simple gesture, both protective and possessive. Yet his touch lingered longer than usual, as though he needed the reminder that I was still there.

By the time we boarded the train south toward Tennessee, my patience had worn thin. The train lurched forward, as more time passed.

Then more.

Finally I snapped, "Enough." Lucio looked up from the book he hadn't turned a page in for nearly half an hour. "Enough?" he asked.

"You're hiding something," I sighed, only to be met with more silence. I leaned forward, "You have been hiding something since that phone call."

His expression immediately hardened into what people wore before delivering terrible news. My chest tightened, "Narin?"

"No," He shook his head.

"Then what?" The train rattled beneath us as Lucio stared at me for so long that I began to regret asking. Then he smiled, small and sad but still just as beautiful and completely heartbreaking. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you."

Every instinct in my body immediately went on alert and fear curled around my ribs, "What?"

Lucio lowered his gaze and for the first time in over a century he looked afraid. Not afraid for himself, but afraid for me and somehow that was infinitely worse.

I kept my eyes locked on him, and when he finally looked me in my eyes I whispered, "Enough avoiding whatever this is." For a moment neither of us spoke as the train rattled softly beneath us. His eyes drifted back toward the window. My frustration flared immediately, "Luc."

His shoulders sagged and the movement alone filled me with dread. Slowly he turned back toward me. "I never wanted to lie to you," he said just loud enough for me to hear.  My stomach dropped. The words struck me so unexpectedly that for a moment I simply stared at him.

"What?"

Pain flashed across his features. The kind of pain I had only seen a handful of times over the last century. "I never wanted to lie to you, Joshua." The use of my full name only made it worse. My throat tightened as I took a steadying breath, "What are you talking about?"

Lucio swallowed hard as I watched his movement full of hesitation. Whatever he was about to say had haunted him for a very long time. "If I tell you this," he began quietly, "there is no taking it back."

Fear clawed its way up my spine as I took my time to say "Then tell me." His eyes closed briefly and when they opened again they looked devastated.

"Jacob is among the living."

Everything inside me stopped, my brain felt dead as the sounds of the train rattling across the tracks and world around me muffled into nothing. I stared at him, waiting for him to explain or laugh or tell me I misunderstood. Instead he only looked at me with heartbreak written across every inch of his face.

"You knew?" I whispered. 

His jaw flexed. "Joshua—"

"You knew?"

The words came out louder this time. My hands trembled and my chest burned. A century. A century of grief and mourning. A century of believing I was alone.

"You knew."

The tears gathering in Lucio's eyes stole some of the anger from me before it could fully take hold because Lucio was not a man who cried, not ever. And yet he looked as though my words had carved directly into his chest.

"I let you live."

The anger vanished completely as confusion took its place, "What?" I questioned, unsure of what he could have meant by that.  Lucio leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, "I begged Sal to let me take you."

I stared at him completely speechless.

"I don't know why," a weak laugh escaped him. "I saw you and suddenly nothing else mattered." His eyes searched mine desperately. "Sal told me Narin believed you were dead." The pieces began slowly falling into place.

"If she found out otherwise..." I whispered as my eyes searched his face for a trace of anything other than the truth.

"She would have finished it."

The silence that filled the air between us felt so loud and stifling. The train continued moving forward and the world continued turning, yet I felt frozen. My mind was racing over everything I thought I knew of the last century, "You should have told me."

Lucio visibly flinched at that, his reaction immediate. It appeared visibly painful for him to admit, "I know."

"You should have told me,” my voice cracked, "Jake thought I was dead."

The tears finally spilled from Lucio's eyes, "I know."

"He was alone," the anger and hurt slipping into my tone. 

"I know."

Every word felt like a knife cutting through my brain and flesh.  "He thought he lost me.” 

Lucio bowed his head, "And you thought you lost him." The grief in his voice shattered what remained of my anger. Because Lucio had carried this too. Every day, every year, for a century. Knowing what I did not. "I told myself it would only be temporary," his voice trembled. "A year,” he laughed bitterly. "Then five." I couldn't look away. "Then ten,” more tears fell. "I kept waiting for it to be safe."

His eyes met mine, "And I fell in love with you." The confession hit harder than everything else because of how broken he sounded. "I fell in love with you and every year it became harder," he looked away, ashamed. "As selfish as it sounds, I became terrified."

My heart twisted painfully, "Terrified of what?" 

His answer came immediately, "Losing you." The honesty nearly broke me, "You would have gone looking for him." He wasn't asking because he already knew and so did I.

The truth sat between us, ugly and undeniable. I would have crossed oceans, and burned down kingdoms. I would have searched every corner of the earth until I found Jake.

"I am sorry for the pain I caused you,” his voice shook. "But Joshua," he said as those icy blue eyes met mine. Filled with love, fear, and a century of guilt. "I am not sorry that you survived." A sob caught in my throat and Lucio reached for my hand carefully as though afraid I might pull away.

I didn't, because despite everything… I understood and somehow that hurt even more.

Outside the window, the Smoky Mountains began to appear on the horizon. Dark blue silhouettes against the fading evening light.

Lucio followed my gaze and his expression softened. Then he reached across the table and covered my hand with his, "Whatever happens next, Sunshine..." His voice was quiet, "I need you to remember one thing."

I swallowed as I searched his face, "What?"

Those icy blue eyes met mine filled with a hundred plus years of devotion, love, and promises. "I never stopped trying."

Confusion swept through me. Trying for what? Before I could ask, the train rounded a bend and the mountains rose larger in the distance.

And for the first time since receiving Sal's call, Lucio looked absolutely terrified.

The remainder of the train ride passed in silence, but not because there was nothing left to say. Quite the opposite, there was too much. Too much grief and anger, too many years between what I had believed and what I now knew.

Jacob was alive. The words continued circling through my thoughts until they lost all meaning.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Well, as alive as a vampire could be. 

Over a century.

Over a hundred years spent mourning someone who had never truly left this world. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh, scream, or collapse beneath the weight of it. Lucio remained beside me through all of it. His hand never left mine, not once.

When the train finally slowed into the station, I felt as though I were walking through a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. I had not yet decided which. Sal was waiting for us. I recognized him immediately from the few occasions he had crossed paths with Lucio throughout the years.

His expression shifted the moment he saw me. Guilt, heavy and undeniable. I stepped around Lucio before either of them could speak.

For a moment I simply stared at him. More than one hundred years he had known, he had watched both of us grieve, "You knew."

Sal sighed, "Joshua."

"You knew,” the words cracked as they left me. Pain flashed across his features, "Yes." That single syllable somehow hurt more than any excuse could have. I looked away before my anger could consume me entirely because if I looked at him any longer I wasn't sure what I might say or do.

Thankfully, someone else chose that moment to step forward. A woman with dark hair and warm eyes. A human-very human, and staring at me as though she'd seen a ghost. I frowned looking at her and she blinked before she smiled and looked away.

Then immediately started staring again. The cycle repeated itself several times before I finally sighed, "Do I have something on my face?"

The question startled a laugh from her. A real, genuine one, "No."

"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Her smile widened, "I don't mean to."

"That sounds suspiciously intentional,” I said, causing Lucio to snort beside me.

The woman laughed again, the sound bright and comforting. Familiar in a way I couldn't explain. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just..." she stopped and studied me again.

And there it was, that look. The one she kept giving me, like she was searching for someone or remembering someone, "You remind me of somebody."

My stomach tightened immediately. Jake. It had to be. The thought alone sent a fresh ache through my chest, "I've been told."

Her expression softened as a sadness settled behind her smile, "I imagine you have."

Something in her voice made me look at her properly, really look at the way she carried herself, the kindness in her eyes, the warmth that seemed to radiate from her. The kind of warmth that made people feel safe and the realization struck me unexpectedly that Jake would adore her. The certainty of it nearly stole my breath.

Whoever she was, whatever her relationship to my brother happened to be, I suddenly understood because she was exactly the sort of person Jacob would love.

"You're Joshua."

I blinked, "Last I checked."

A laugh escaped her and even her laugh felt familiar somehow, "I'm Ms. Wonder."

The name caught me off guard, one brow lifting, "Ms. Wonder?"

"Long story," she smiled. 

"Clearly." I snorted.

For the first time since Lucio's confession, I felt something close to amusement. It surprised me and apparently it surprised Lucio too. The small smile he offered from beside me was painfully relieved as though hearing me laugh had returned something to him.

We piled into the vehicle soon after. Sal drove and Lucio sat beside him. Which left me trapped in the backseat with Ms. Wonder. Not that she seemed to mind. If anything, she appeared delighted by the arrangement.

The mountains rolled past outside as we drove deeper into Tennessee. Conversation came easily, unexpectedly easily. By the end of an hour it felt less like speaking to a stranger and more like speaking to someone I'd known for years.

Then I laughed at something she said and she immediately covered her mouth, "Oh no."

I frowned, "What?"

Her eyes widened, "You even laugh like him."

The vehicle fell silent. My chest tightened and Lucio's shoulders immediately stiffened. Sal muttered something beneath his breath. But Ms. Wonder simply stared looking increasingly emotional.

"He does that too."

I swallowed and scrunched my nose, "Does what?"

"The little nose scrunch," She pointed immediately, "That."

Lucio barked out a laugh in the moment, traitor I thought as heat rose to my face.  Ms. Wonder looked moments away from tears, which only confused me further, "Why are you crying?"

She laughed, then cried harder and laughed again, "I don't know."

The answer was entirely unhelpful.

I glanced toward Lucio and he looked equally helpless.

"He talks about you,” the words were soft and quiet.

I froze, "What?"

Her smile immediately returned, gentler this time, "He always talks about you." The world felt like it narrowed. "He talks about your studies of film, and how good you would be now,” a laugh escaped her. "The trouble you got into as children,” followed by another laugh.

"The time you nearly broke your arm jumping from a tree because you were convinced you could fly."

I groaned, "Oh god."

Her eyes widened, "That happened?"

"Unfortunately."

Sal laughed, Lucio laughed and somehow so did I, a real laugh. One that felt strange after everything.

"He never stopped talking about you."

The smile slowly slipped from my face as emotion lodged itself painfully in my throat. For a moment I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think because somewhere out there Jacob had been talking about me all this time.

The thought alone nearly shattered me.

"What is he like?" The question escaped before I could stop it.

Ms. Wonder's entire expression softened into one of love, pure and unmistakable. The kind of love that changes people. "He cares too much."

A watery laugh escaped me because that sounded familiar.

"He believes everyone deserves a second chance."

Another nod.

"He carries the weight of the world around like it's somehow his responsibility."

I closed my eyes. God, that sounded exactly like him.

Ms. Wonder smiled sadly, "That's why meeting you is so strange."

I frowned, "What do you mean?"

She looked directly at me and for the first time since we'd met, I saw complete understanding settle across her face. "It's like meeting another Jake."

Silence followed. Outside, the trees began to thin.

A rooftop of a cabin came into view in the distance. Sal pulled the car over along the road and parked so we could slip quietly up to the cabin without being noticed. The woods should have been quiet and peaceful at this time of night, only it wasn't quiet.

Shouting echoed through the woods. Anger, violence and chaos rang loudly through the woods.  The moment the vehicle stopped, Sal was out the door, Lucio moved just as quickly. I barely had time to process what was happening before Ms. Wonder grabbed my wrist as though we'd known one another forever. "Come on."

I followed Ms. Wonder as the sounds of fighting grew louder with every step. Then I saw her.

Narin.

For a moment the world disappeared. The rage that surged through me was immediate and overwhelming, but before she could move, Lucio stepped forward. His eyes flashed, and Narin froze completely. Locked in place, unable to move so much as a finger.

Sal moved toward the center of the clearing shouting for everyone to stop. The fighting slowly died away. One by one, heads turned toward Sal, then toward Lucio. Ms. Wonder's grip tightened around my wrist as she pulled me with her stepping forward out into the clearing.

That was when he turned to face us. If my heart still had a beat it would have stopped, and the world felt like it tipped on its axis. For the first time in over a hundred years I saw my brother Jake, standing before my own eyes. His shocked laughter took me by surprise, as tears filled my eyes as Lucio’s soft words danced in my ears “I found a way, Sunshine.”

.

.

.

AN: I had wanted to visit Josh’s life for sometime in this AU that @writingcold and myself dreamed up, and finally found the time to get it done when life wasn’t too busy. I also owe her a huge thank you for looking over this for me, and helping me when I needed it. Seriously, thank you P, for all of your advice, time, cheerleading and more importantly your friendship. Life wouldn’t be the same without you!! And anyone else, if you took the time to read this story, thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

I am including the tag list from the original story -

@katuschka  @takenbythemadness @seenoversundown @demolitiondanchipsversion

@jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @tripthedharmadivine @irenereedcane-mamagreta @jazzyfigz @sinarainbows

@vanfleeter @justwantjosh @sacredsparrow @josh-iamyour-mama @gvfmarge

@joshylanefleet @lizzys-sunflower @sanguinebats @beebloopbleep @its-interesting-van-kleep

 @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @thewritingbeforesunrise @kuroturo

[tripthedharmadivine]

Ugh😭 so good!

Story? Amazing.

Writing? Perfect.

You? Beautiful.

How do I persuade you (and @writingcold) to do more? 👀😅

(Also… Oh to be a tree in the woods🤭)

[gretavanlace]

Sugar 11 (epilogue)

Warnings: death, angst

*I knew how I wanted to end this revisit to Sugar months before I’d even written the first word, and then my world became chaotic, leaving this much overdue— but never overlooked, in my heart. Sugar Jake is my most beloved — nod to the actual beloved ;) — and here, though short and sweet, you will find his heart mended. Goodbye, Sugar Jake, how we have loved you ❤️

Josh

I knew it. The moment she’d gone, I mean.

It felt more concrete than when he’d taken his leave three weeks prior, though she — and likely the rest of the world — might have called me a liar.

No, I knew she’d gone because my soul felt his own breathe a sigh of relief. The feral, ancient content that radiated from his being, wherever it was, reached me loud and clear.

His great gig in the sky had fallen into place.

I, with my grief, and he, with his girl.

You see, Jacob passed on a night as still as glass. The universe was hushed. Did it understand?

Mother Earth quieted her creatures and calmed tempestuous skies for Jacob Thomas. Bowed in honor of the music man.

He, who created so much joyful noise, had earned a solemn silence.

I was there to watch Jake draw his last ragged breath, as I was witness to his first.

I told him, that still and cloudless day, that it was time to relax his fist. That he should let go of that rage for the dying of the light. “Learn to leave a room, brother. I’m sick of you.”

“Fuck you, Joshua.” Had been his response. That biting, perfect sentiment is tattooed upon my waning heart.

As the blues record spinning like a whisper in the corner skipped as though it somehow knew, she had fallen to the floor. Crumpled down against the scuffed wood like waterlogged tissue paper when the light in his eyes had gone out.

She’d been so strong for him.

When his memory failed, she was his unwavering hippocampus. She filled in the blanks happily, readily. She kept his mind whole by lending bits and pieces of her own.

Songs. She’d learned those too. Meticulized over the chords and frets of his favorites. When arthritis marched in to cruelly snatch the melodies from his hands, she’d done her best to make sure that the walls of their home always knew music from the hand of someone who knew how it craved him.

Yes, their home craved him.

Jacob’s gait had echoed the halls for decades. His voice, his laughter, tunes coaxed from strings. Sneezes muffled into the crease of his arm. Earnest timbres when he felt passionately about a subject. Murmured timbres secreted when he felt passionately about her in the night.

That house, the one he’d promised her, the one he’d built her, mourned for him like a living being. His absence hurt us all, even those inanimate. He became our collective lost limb.

But his sugar……

Every star in the sky might as well have been snuffed out. She no longer saw them. She simply closed her eyes and forgot anything beautiful that wasn’t her Jakey.

She held fast for her girls, two of them…and even faster for their third, a wild-child son who they both claimed was nearly my clone. I still think I might be the only one who sees it, how much like my twin my favorite nephew really is. He makes me feel less adrift, and there are many days when my grief is thankful for his anchor.

But yes, she had been strong for them.

They had lost their father, those babies of theirs who were so grown it was difficult to believe they were ever small to begin with….

However, as hours turned to days and they began to rediscover their rhythm, she turned desperately inward.

I tried to hold on to her. I struggled to keep her face upturned..fought to warm her cheeks with light rather than let her skin ache with the salt of tears. Tried to carry her through the way he would have.

In those moments, I know our hearts remembered the love. That seemingly endless well of devotion..the fire that once licked at the walls of anything that threatened to touch it insidiously.

She and I….

Once, it was she and I…

And how we burned.

But we loved him. We both loved him. So, so, much more. She and I never stood a chance, and maybe I knew that the moment I watched his eyes track her in that crowded bar so long ago I can’t remember when.

I miss him.

‘Miss’ feels like such a lie. A blatantly deceitful word. I don’t miss him…I lament and throb in my sorrow. I would swallow this entire world, gnash it to pieces and callously spit it out if it meant one more moment with him.

She was not alone in her grief. And she was never alone in her devotion to Jake.

I knew it wouldn’t be long. Knew she had yearned to stumble along behind him the moment he’d breathed his last.

He belongs to the ages now, I’d wanted to hush. He’d always thought those words, murmured after Lincoln had succumbed to his assassin, were reverent, and a touch pretentious in a way that he’d liked.

If anyone on this earth deserved reverent and pretentious, it was my other half.

But he didn’t belong to the ages then, and he doesn’t now…

He belonged— belongs, to her.

So yes, the night she left this world, I know he was there, watching in the shadows of the room they’d shared for so many years. He would have burned this entire universe to ashes to ensure she crossed over peacefully.

Jake’s sugar would come home to him, but she would make her way without so much as an unsure breath. Her hand was nestled within his before she could worry for a blink, I know this as well as I know the sun will rise tomorrow.

He would have died a thousand deaths in her stead if it meant she would know a gentle peace, always.

I dreamt of her the night after she’d gone to join him.

She was young again, and so was I…

The waters lapping at the shore were a strange, crystalline pink…shimmering and shifting like a cut glass held up to the light.

I reached out, tucked a salt-kissed lock of hair behind her ear, “He’s waiting for you,”

“Yes,” turning to the glittering, shifting haze where the sand disappeared, she’d sighed in the softest content, “…he is. It’s forever now, isn’t it?”

My hands cupped her face and held on gently for a breath “It is.”

I could feel her energy shifting, and I could feel his becoming, what I can only describe as tenderly impatient. So, with a brush of a kiss upon the apple of her cheek I asked one last favor of her,

“Will you tell him how much I love him?”

In return, her lips found my own cheek, “he knows, Josh. He has always known.”

[tripthedharmadivine]

[tripthedharmadivine]

ANYWAYSSSS

[matchandhoney]

“i'm an astronaut, you're the moon

i stare at you, i sing to you

and i clutch my cloth, and i bite my tongue

i’m an aging wolf who lost the taste for blood

even anxious pups need the moon

i howl for you, i sing to you”

the great divide (jake version)

[edgingthedarkness]

@tripthedharmadivine 😭😭

[tripthedharmadivine]

@edgingthedarkness i need to buy a gun😭😭

[redstonedust]

when boy bands sing a love song addressed to the listener does that imply all 5-10 of them are in love with you at once. that seems like a lot of pressure i don't know if i want to be the nucleus of the boyband polycule.

[applefudge5]

[edgingthedarkness]

@tripthedharmadivine 🤣

[tripthedharmadivine]

@edgingthedarkness those were the days😌😂

[somewhereonthursday]

narrator voice: “The dominant male takes up space while the female makes herself appear smaller…”

[edgingthedarkness]

Jake Kiszka x F!OC

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Cursing, Alcohol use, Trauma, Angst, Death, Loss, Grief, Depression, Self doubt, Emotional distress, Mental health struggles, Pining, Dad Jake. If at anytime you feel I have missed tagging something, please let me know! I literally am just attaching the warnings from the original story here because they all still apply here, mostly.

Hey! Long time no see... So I had an idea after I saw a tiktok recently of a baby asleep on a guitar that was being played. Here is that video, and it is the cutest thing I've seen in a while. I tried to write this in a way that it can be read without the bother of needing to read Closer, and I hope that I succeeded with that. I just needed to revisit those characters. Like Closer, this is not the story for you if you are looking for smut, because there is none. I do have several other stories that have plenty that can be found in my masterlist, if that is what you are looking for.

The house had not known silence in three weeks, not with a newborn. Not real silence, anyway.

There was always some kind of noise now. Soft cries drifting through baby monitors at two in the morning, the squeak of the rocking chair in the nursery, whispered lullabies tangled with exhaustion, the rustle of blankets and sleepy footsteps across hardwood floors.

Sometimes, in the quiet seconds between those sounds, Savannah still caught herself listening for another set of footsteps that no longer came. Small socked feet racing through the hallway. Olivia’s bright little laugh echoing from the kitchen when she used to dance barefoot on the tile while Jake made pancakes on Saturday mornings.

The ache of missing her had softened with time, but it never disappeared completely. It lived quietly inside the walls of the house now beside all this new life.

Savannah felt like she had not truly slept since the moment their Everly had been placed in her arms. She loved the baby so fiercely it hurt. Loved her tiny little fists and warm milk breath and the little sounds she made when she stretched in her sleep.

But God, she was tired.

Not just normal tired either. She felt that soul deep tired that was always so poorly portrayed in movies and on tv shows. The kind of exhaustion that lived behind her eyes and settled heavy in her chest. The kind that made minutes blur together until she wasn’t entirely sure if it was Tuesday or Friday. 

The kind where she would walk into a room and forget why she had gone there in the first place, only to stand in the middle of it fighting tears because she suddenly felt overwhelmed by absolutely everything.

And sometimes, usually when the exhaustion got bad enough, grief snuck up on her too.

Because this was supposed to be chaos. Olivia should have been here trying to “help” with diapers and asking a million questions and insisting she hold Everly every five minutes. Savannah could picture it so vividly it almost hurt. The way Olivia would have climbed beside her on the couch with messy curls and sleepy eyes, whispering, “Can I hold my sister now?”

Jake noticed.

Of course he did, he noticed everything about her.

He noticed how she kept forgetting to drink the coffee she reheated three different times every morning. How she absentmindedly rubbed her chest after feedings or pumping because she was sore. How she still instinctively checked the bassinet every few minutes even when the baby was sleeping peacefully right beside her. 

He noticed the way she tried to smile through exhaustion because she didn’t want him worrying too much.

He also noticed the moments her eyes drifted toward the framed photograph on the bookshelf without her realizing it. The one of Olivia sitting on his shoulders at the county fair two summers before they lost her, cotton candy stuck to her cheeks while she laughed so hard her whole body tilted sideways.

Sometimes Savannah would look at that picture with tears in her eyes, sometimes she smiled.

Most days, somehow, it was both.

That morning, Savannah sat curled in the corner of the couch, Everly tucked against her shoulder as weak sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her hair was piled into a messy knot that was barely holding together, and one of Jake’s old hoodies hung off her frame. She blinked slowly at the television without actually watching it, swaying gently out of instinct more than intention.

Jake leaned against the doorway for a moment, quietly taking her in. His breath felt stolen from his lungs by the beautiful scene in front of him.

Three weeks ago, he had watched Savannah bring their daughter into the world with tears streaming down her face and his hand nearly crushed in hers. Three weeks later, he still looked at them both like they were something holy.

There had been another moment years earlier when he had looked at Savannah the exact same way. Sitting cross legged on the nursery floor with Olivia asleep in her lap after a thunderstorm had scared her awake. 

Jake remembered standing in the doorway then too, overwhelmed by how deeply he loved the girls in front of him. Back then, he had foolishly believed life would always stay that soft.

Everly had finally fallen asleep after nearly an hour of fussing, tiny lips parted against Savannah’s collarbone.

But Savannah’s own eyes kept drifting shut. Her chin dipped once, then twice before her head jerked back up.

Jake’s chest tightened, “Baby,” he said softly.

Savannah hummed sleepily without looking at him.

“Go lay down.”

Her eyes opened a little more. “I’m okay.”

“You’re falling asleep sitting up.”

“No I’m not.”

Jake raised an eyebrow.

Savannah blinked at him for a second before sighing. “Okay, maybe a little.”

An equally tired smile tugged at his mouth as he crossed the room carefully. “Sav.”

She looked up at him then, and God, the exhaustion in her face nearly wrecked him. Dark circles beneath pretty green eyes, her shoulders slumped with fatigue.

Still just as beautiful though, always beautiful, but worn thin.

Jake crouched in front of her, brushing gentle fingers over the baby’s tiny back. “Go upstairs and sleep for a little while.”

Savannah hesitated instantly. “She’s been fussy all morning.”

“I know.”

“She probably won’t stay asleep.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Her brows pulled together. “Jake-”

“Savannah.” His voice softened. “You need sleep.”

Jake reached for Everly, causing her to stir faintly between them while making a tiny grumbling sound. Instantly Sav instinctively tightened her hold.

Jake smiled gently. “See? We’re already surviving.”

A weak laugh slipped out of her.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Go lay down for a couple of hours. Two, three, whatever you need.”

Savannah studied him carefully like she wanted to argue, but she was too tired to fully commit to it.

“You sure?”

Jake leaned forward and kissed her forehead, “Positive.”

Reluctantly, she loosened her grasp and transferred the baby into his arms.

Jake adjusted Everly carefully against his chest as he held the back of her tiny head in his hand. The baby immediately settled there like she already recognized the safety of him.

For one fleeting second, another memory crashed into him unexpectedly. Olivia, asleep on his chest after falling asleep during movie night, tiny curls tickling his chin while Savannah laughed quietly at the sight of them both snoring on the couch.

The memory hurt but somehow now, it also healed.

Savannah stared at them for a second too long. Jake noticed that too, “She’s okay, mama,” he whispered.

Something soft and emotional flickered across Savannah’s face at the word mama. Jake had started calling her that sometime during the second week home from the hospital, and somehow every single time he said it, it still made her chest ache.

Not because it was new, but because she had once feared she might never hear it again after losing Olivia. Savannah nodded slowly before dragging herself upstairs. The second her head hit the pillow, sleep swallowed her whole.

Downstairs, things actually went surprisingly well at first.

Jake changed Everly, fed her, and walked laps around the living room while quietly humming half-finished melodies under his breath. Every once in a while he’d stop to kiss the top of her tiny head, still unable to fully process the fact that she was real.

His daughter.

There were moments when the weight of it hit him so suddenly it nearly stole the air from his lungs.

Not just because he loved her already beyond reason, but because after Olivia died, there had been a stretch of time where both he and Savannah quietly stopped talking all together. The grief had been too sharp, too unpredictable. Hope had felt dangerous for a while.

And now here he was, standing in the same living room that once held so much unbearable mourning while holding another miracle against his chest. The house still carried Olivia in it, and always would but laughter had started living there again too.

The baby seemed content enough tucked against his shoulder, tiny fingers curled in the fabric of his well worn T-shirt, but around an hour later, she started getting fussy again. Not fully crying, just restless sleepy little whines.

Jake bounced her gently as he moved through the house. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re tired, I know it.”

Nothing worked. He tried the swing, the rocking chair, walking, swaddling her tightly, even another bottle. Through white noise and silence she fought sleep with impressive determination for someone so impossibly tiny.

Jake sighed while rubbing tiredly at his jaw, “You get that stubbornness from your mother, huh?”

Everly blinked up at him before letting out another tiny unhappy sound.

“Yeah, definitely from your mother.”

Through all of it, one thing kept circling his brain.

A chord progression.

Four soft notes looping endlessly in the back of his mind since sometime around sunrise. He could hear it so perfectly, he could almost feel it clawing to get out. Usually, he’d grab his guitar immediately before inspiration disappeared, but he’d been busy being a father all morning. Now the melody was practically vibrating under his skin.

Everly let out another unhappy little sound. Jake glanced toward the hallway before looking back down at her, “You wanna help me write a song?” he asked quietly. Her tiny face scrunched in response. Jake laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s about what I expected.”

Instead of going to his office, he grabbed his acoustic from beside the couch and sat carefully, settling Everly upright against his chest while he adjusted the guitar across his lap.

The guitar itself was old and worn smooth in places from years of use. Olivia had once covered the back of it in tiny glitter star stickers when she was three because she said it looked “too plain.” Jake had never removed them. One tiny silver star still clung stubbornly near the bottom edge.

His chest tightened briefly when he noticed it.

Then he played the progression quietly. Soft, warm notes filled the room like sunlight through sheer curtains. Instantly, the baby stilled. Jake blinked at her when he noticed. Another gentle strum and the baby’s fussing dissolved into tiny little coos. His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, seriously?”

He played the progression again, adding another chord this time as the baby made a soft happy sound against his chest. Jake huffed out a surprised laugh. “Well alright then.”

For the next several minutes, he kept playing, building onto the melody slowly. Testing harmonies and adjusting timing. Every time the music continued, Everly would calm, little sleepy noises replacing the fussing entirely.

Jake looked down at her with disbelief, “You just wanted music?” A tiny yawn answered him, and his heart nearly folded in on itself. He softened immediately, fingers slowing across the strings as he watched her blinking sleepily against him.

“You’re gonna make your mama think I’m some kind of baby whisperer.”

Everly stretched faintly before settling again at the sound of the guitar. After a while, Jake worried the guitar might be too loud so close to her tiny ears. Carefully, he stood and transferred her into the swing beside the couch.

The second he stepped away and started playing again her face crumpled and a sharp cry pierced the room. Jake froze, “No way.” The crying escalated immediately, so he abandoned the guitar and scooped her back up. “Okay, okay, okay.”

The moment he settled her back against him and strummed another chord brought silence followed by soft little coos again. Jake stared at her in absolute confusion, “You’re kidding me.” He tried laying her beside him on the couch instead, thinking maybe she just wanted proximity.

Wrong move. The second his arm shifted away, she cried again. Jake laughed in disbelief, exhausted and amused all at once. “You are unbelievably dramatic for someone who’s been alive less than a month.” Another offended cry ripped through the mostly quiet house.

“Alright, alright,” he picked her up again, adjusting awkwardly as he tried to keep playing but eventually, his arms started burning. The angle wasn’t working. Without fully thinking it through, Jake gently laid Everly across the body of the acoustic guitar itself, her tiny stomach against the worn wood while his forearm curved protectively around her.

Then he strummed softly again as the vibrations hummed gently beneath her. Instantly, she relaxed into stillness. Jake stared down at her as her tiny body melted against the guitar. One slow blink followed by another that melted into sleep. Deep, peaceful sleep. Her tiny fingers flexed once against the wood before going completely limp with comfort.

Jake stared down at her like she had personally rewritten the laws of physics with how she was stretched along the top of his guitar body, “Well,” he whispered, stunned. “Guess we figured that out.”

Carefully and softly, he kept playing. The melody shifted and grew beneath his fingers while Everly slept soundly atop the guitar, tiny breaths steady and warm against polished wood.

And suddenly, without warning, Jake realized the melody he was playing sounded faintly familiar. Not identical, but just enough. A distant echo of the lullaby he used to play for Olivia when she couldn’t sleep.

His throat tightened instantly.

For a moment grief and love tangled together so tightly inside his chest he couldn’t separate them. But instead of breaking him apart the way it once would have, the feeling settled around him gently. Almost tenderly, like maybe Olivia was still part of this somehow too. Still loved, and still here in the spaces between the music.

And for the first time since bringing Everly home, Jake felt confidence settle into him instead of panic. Not because he suddenly knew what he was doing, but because maybe fatherhood wasn’t always about having the answers.

Sometimes it was just about paying attention, learning Everly and loving her enough to keep trying until something worked just as he had done with Olivia.

For the first time in weeks, the house felt calm.

Upstairs, Savannah slowly stirred awake. For a moment, she didn’t understand what felt different. Then it hit her.

Quiet.

No crying, no monitor sounds, no tension sitting heavy in her chest. Somehow, she actually felt rested. More rested than she had since giving birth. Confused, Savannah pushed herself upright and glanced at the clock. Nearly three hours. Her eyes widened immediately.

“Jake?”

Panic flickered briefly before she climbed out of bed and padded toward the stairs. The house downstairs was dim and golden with late afternoon light and quiet. Carefully, Savannah descended the stairs, one hand trailing along the railing and then she saw them.

Jake sat on the couch with his head tipped slightly downward in concentration, fingers moving gently across the strings of his acoustic, and stretched across the top of the guitar in his lap was their daughter, fast asleep.

One tiny hand curled loosely against the wood while soft breaths rose and fell steadily from her tiny chest.

Jake looked impossibly peaceful beneath the golden light, loose strands from his low bun falling into his eyes as he quietly played an unfinished melody. Savannah stopped halfway down the stairs as her chest physically ached at the sight. It was one of those moments she knew would stay with her forever. The kind that settled permanently into the deepest parts of a person. 

Somehow, heartbreak existed there too because she could almost picture another little girl curled beside Jake on the couch singing nonsense lyrics over his guitar playing. Could almost hear Olivia laughing and insisting she knew all the words when she absolutely did not.

For one brief second, Savannah missed her so fiercely she thought it might split her open. Then Everly sighed softly in her sleep, warm and alive and safe, as joy rushed in right alongside the grief. Not replacing it, but existing beside it.

Jake glanced up at the movement and immediately grinned. “There she is,” he whispered. Savannah blinked rapidly, emotion climbing unexpectedly into her throat. “What… is she doing?” Jake looked down at the baby like he still couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Apparently sleeping on my guitar.”

A soft laugh escaped Savannah before she could stop it. Jake smiled sheepishly. “It’s interesting. I tried moving her, but she hated it.” Savannah descended the rest of the stairs slowly, almost afraid to disturb the moment, “She wouldn’t sleep unless you played?”

“Not just played,” Jake corrected quietly, “Apparently she specifically wanted to become one with the acoustic.” Savannah laughed softly again, covering her mouth to muffle the sound.

The sound of her laughter filled the room so warmly that for one impossible heartbeat, Jake could almost hear Olivia laughing too. Not in a haunting or painful way, just remembered and fully loved.

Jake’s expression became softer as he looked at her more closely, “You look better.” The tenderness in his voice nearly undid her. She crossed the room carefully before sitting beside him, leaning into his shoulder instinctively.

Jake kissed the top of her head without missing a chord. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat together in the golden quiet while music drifted softly through the room and their daughter slept peacefully between them.

Savannah looked down at Everly stretched across the guitar and smiled tiredly. “I think she already loves music as much as her dad.” Jake’s fingers slowed briefly against the strings as he looked at Everly with something unbearably soft in his eyes. Then, quietly, he glanced toward the tiny silver star sticker still clinging to the guitar.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think maybe she does.”

.

.

.

.

AN: Thank you for reading!

I am adding my current tag-list, if you aren’t interested just comment or send me a message and I will get you removed or if you are interested and not already tagged just let me know and I’ll get you added to the list.

@writingcold @takenbythemadness @seenoversundown @its-interesting-van-kleep @katuschka @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @thewritingbeforesunrise @anythingforjtk @gvfmarge @josh-iamyour-mama @hollyco @i-love-gvf @tripthedharmadivine @dancingcarbon @lizzys-sunflower

[tripthedharmadivine]

It’s interesting… how you created such a sweet story, and I’m still not okay🥲

This was so perfectly detailed 🙌😍

[katuschka]

It's always just spontaneous... although this one took a while. Definitely several hours. But the decision was spontaneous.

@thewritingbeforesunrise  @edgingthedarkness @jazzyfigz @josh-iamyour-mama @sanguinebats @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @allof--mylove @stardustsamm @irenereedcane-mamagreta @scarabsinthestardust @tripthedharmadivine

[tripthedharmadivine]

Amazing! Amazing! Amazing! 😍

[katuschka]

This is just a spontaneous little thing. I needed some distraction.

@edgingthedarkness @jazzyfigz @josh-iamyour-mama @sanguinebats @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @lipstickitty @clownstarr @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @allof--mylove @stardustsamm @irenereedcane-mamagreta

[tripthedharmadivine]

[edgingthedarkness]

Interrupted

Jake Kiszka x reader

word count: 4.5K

Warnings - small misunderstanding, couple argument, annoyance, frustration, masturbation, fingering, p in v sex... idk - I never really know what to put here, as always if I missed something please let me know!

AN: This idea was brought forth after Mirador posted this video of Jake to their Instagram. I'll just leave it there as my mind got carried away with a few of those images from the video being burnt into my brain. Anyway, I hope if you read it, you enjoy 💜

Finally, it was Thursday.

Three whole days had passed since the small argument you and Jake got into first thing Monday morning. At least, it felt small at the time. Looking back, it had started over something stupid, him forgetting to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer when the cycle finished. To Jake, it was nothing. An honest mistake, that could be easily fixed.

But to you, it stuck.

You couldn’t let it go, not when you’d woken up already tense and running late, only to find the clothes you needed still sitting in the washer, damp and already starting to smell a little musty. What bothered you most wasn’t even the laundry itself. It was the way Jake brushed it off at first, like he couldn’t understand why it mattered so much. Like you were overreacting. That hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You needed that outfit. You had picked it carefully because it made you feel more put together, more confident. Something you desperately needed for your budget presentation in front of the entire foundation. Saying you were nervous didn’t even begin to cover it. Your stomach had been in knots all weekend, your thoughts looping over worst‑case scenarios you couldn’t seem to shut off.

You’d torn through your closet in a panic, yanking clothes off hangers, trying things on and tossing them aside until everything you owned ended up in a messy pile on the bed. Jake had sat there with you, offering opinions, cracking jokes, helping you narrow it down. Despite the tightness in your chest, you’d laughed with him. Things felt light again, just by laughing with him.

After you finally found the perfect outfit, you decided to wash it so it would smell fresh instead of like it had been hanging in the closet too long. Jake helped you rehang everything else and finished tidying up while you started the washer. 

You checked the fridge and pantry, jotting down what you needed and the things Jake wanted before you left for your weekly grocery run. You reminded him to move the clothes to the dryer when they were done. He promised he would.

At the store, as you passed the aisle with all the detergents, a small flicker of anxiety made you pull out your phone and text him a reminder. A few minutes later, he replied that he was doing it now. You trusted him completely, so much that when you got home, arms full of groceries with his beer and snacks balanced on top, you didn’t even think to check the dryer.

You didn’t realize the mistake until the next morning.

That’s when the resentment settled in, heavy and soured—just like your clothes—in your chest.

You stomped back to the bedroom, muttering under your breath as you dug through your closet again, trying to find something, anything at this point that was acceptable to wear to work. After tearing through everything twice, you finally settled on an outfit, grabbed your things, and left without saying a word to Jake.

You told yourself that a little space would help. That some time away at work would clear your head.

It didn’t.

Your presentation bombed, completely. Every stumble and awkward pause felt magnified, and by the time it was over, all you wanted was to disappear. To make matters worse, you spent the rest of the day dealing with the office neighbor from hell, each interaction chipping away at what little patience you had left. By the time you were driving home, your nerves were shot and your body ached with exhaustion. You thought maybe a quiet evening rotting in bed would help. Just silence and peace.

No such luck.

When you pulled into the driveway, Josh and Danny’s cars were already there. Which meant Sam was inside too. You groaned, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, as your shoulder sagged.

All you could hope was that their partners weren’t with them. Maybe, just maybe you could slip past everyone unnoticed and disappear upstairs. You sat in the car for a few extra minutes, music playing softly while you scrolled through your phone, trying to decompress. You listened to your favorite song twice, and watched a few cute animal videos.

It helped a little, but not enough.

Realizing you were already fifteen minutes later than usual, you finally got out of the car and headed inside before Jake called to check on you.

You could hear their loud laughter before you even opened the door. For half a second you considered turning around and leaving, but you didn’t. Slipping inside, you quietly took off your shoes before hanging your purse and coat in the closet by the door. You tip-toed past the kitchen entrance without being noticed.

But the third step on your way upstairs decided to betray you, creaking loudly as you stepped onto it. The laughter in the kitchen died instantly.

“Y/N?” Jake called, followed by footsteps heading your way.

You closed your eyes and took a slow, steady breath trying to prepare yourself to not sound as annoyed and worn down as you felt. When Jake rounded the corner, one look at your face was enough. His eyes widened briefly before he caught himself.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, quiet enough that only you could hear.

The concern in his voice broke something in you. Tears pricked at your eyes as you shook your head. He stepped closer immediately.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “What can I do?”

He lifted his hand, gently wiping the tear that had slipped down your cheek. His touch was tender, like he already knew you were hanging on by a thread.

“Space,” you said quietly. “I just… I need space and time to decompress. Please.”

You watched his expression fall, the shift in his mood subtle but unmistakable. Still, he nodded.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll wrap things up with the guys and try to get them out of here soon. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll bring you a glass of wine. Maybe take a bubble bath and after they leave, I’ll give you a massage.”

It sounded wonderful. Perfect, even. The lingering irritation you still felt over the laundry, combined with the disaster of a day you’d had still sat heavy in your chest. You nodded silently and turned, heading upstairs.

Forty‑five minutes later, your fingers and toes were pruned as you sat in the tub, waiting for the wine Jake had promised. You drained and refilled the bath twice trying to stay warm before finally giving up. You dried off, not bothering to put on pajamas, and crawled straight into bed.

The anger and frustration that had followed you all day had softened enough that you could finally let it go. You knew you could forgive Jake for forgetting the laundry. You could even move past the drama at work, tomorrow would be better.

You curled into the sheets, drifting peacefully toward sleep until loud, rambunctious laughter echoed up from downstairs, yanking you right back into consciousness.

Your chest tightened as the noise spilled through the floorboards, sharp and careless. You stared at the ceiling for a long moment, jaw clenching, then forced yourself out of bed. Moving quietly, you crossed the room and locked the bedroom door, the soft click sounding louder than it should have in the silence that followed.

Crawling back in bed, you curled onto your side and shoved your AirPods into your ears, cranking the volume just enough to drown them out. The music became a wall you could hide behind to avoid dealing with your frustrations for now. You turned your back to the door, pulling the covers up and letting exhaustion finally take over.

The next morning, Jake was all quiet competence. Coffee made, dishes rinsed, a gentle, hopeful, “Morning,” like he was auditioning for Most Supportive Partner. You answered with one of your own, polite and neutral, already bracing for the offers you knew were coming. He asked if you wanted a ride. You said you had it covered. He offered to pack you lunch. You declined,  not sharply but firmly. It became the rhythm of the week, a very specific, mildly irritating rhythm. Jake offering and you refusing his help.

Like a polite tennis match where no one ever actually scored.

He asked how your meetings went. You said, “Fine,” which covered everything from adequate to I survived. He suggested dinner ideas. You said you’d figure it out, even though you absolutely did not want to figure it out. He offered to handle the laundry this time—really handle it—and you thanked him, then did it yourself anyway. You weren’t proud of it. You also weren’t sorry.

It wasn’t punishment. It was stubbornness mixed with pride, and the nagging fear that if you let him fix things too quickly, the frustration would never fully burn off. Like picking at a scab to open a wound you insisted needed air.

You could tell he noticed, but he didn’t push. He just kept showing up, steady and patient, almost annoyingly kind. The kind of kind that made you want to scream into a pillow because it robbed you of righteous anger. Sometimes that was worse than defensiveness would’ve been.

You found yourself still just as annoyed with him. He didn’t seem to understand why. You chose to exist within the same space as you continued to ignore his offers of help until it was time for him to leave.

Early Thursday morning downstairs, Jake was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee and that too casual posture he used when he knew something was coming. 

“Morning,” he said carefully.

“Morning,” you replied, equally careful.

You both hovered there for a beat too long. It was almost funny. Two adults, deeply in love, acting as if they were fine not speaking.

“So,” Jake tried, nodding toward the washer like it might testify on his behalf. “Before the day gets… away from us.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t either,” he paused. “But I also don’t want to pretend I didn’t screw up.”

That did it. 

He showed no defensiveness, and didn’t try to make any excuses. He just gave you honesty.

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “It wasn’t just the laundry.”

“I know,” he winced. “I’ve had… time to think about that.” he murmured with a shrug.

“Of course you have,” you said dryly. “You had a whole audience Monday night you could have appealed to.”

The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. “In my defense, I thought you were asleep.”

“You thought wrong.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I gathered that.”

The tension eased. It wasn’t gone, but it was reshaping. It still felt tight between the two of you, but lighter.

Jake stepped closer, not touching you, but near enough that you were suddenly acutely aware of him as his voice dropped, “I hate that I made your day worse when you were already drowning,” he said. “And I hate even more that I couldn’t fix it fast enough for you to feel okay.”

His eyes moved from his coffee cup up to yours as he spoke. Your throat tightened when his eyes settled on you. “I didn’t want fixing,” you admitted. “I wanted… acknowledgement.”

He nodded with a small half smile, “Next time, I’ll start there.”

You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening just a fraction. Not resolved yet, but definitely softened. It felt more like a truce, temporary, and fragile.

By mid morning, the house buzzed with quiet preparation and the faint chaos that always came with Jake packing last‑minute. His bags by the door, guitar cases lined up along the wall. You resisted the urge to trip over one on principle. Jake moved through the space with purpose, glancing at the clock, then at you, like he was memorizing the room.

“Text me when you get home from work,” he said, slipping on his jacket.

“I will.”

At the door, he hesitated looking at you, then leaned in familiar but carefully all at once. You kissed him goodbye anyway—because of course you did. The kiss lingered a half‑second longer than necessary but your body felt that maybe it didn’t last long enough. He smiled, relief flickering across his face like he’d been holding his breath all week. 

“Have a good weekend,” you said.

He smiled, “Try not to miss me too much.”

You snorted. “Don’t push it.”

You watched him go, and the house already felt too still without him.

The rest of Thursday passed slowly. Painfully slowly, like the universe had collectively agreed to move at half speed just to test you. Friday at work felt endless, time stretching and dragging like an injured turtle inching forward. When you made it home, you sent a text to Jake letting him know you were home. Saturday you kept busy on purpose. Errands, chores, distractions that felt productive but did little to quiet the undercurrent of restlessness. You reorganized things that absolutely did not need reorganizing.

 Jake had checked in from the road, then called from the venue in the evenings so far only serving to make the burn of missing him worse. You kept the conversations short, kind, and controlled. You didn’t want to admit that you in fact were missing him too much, so you told him about cleaning, organizing, and errands. 

By Saturday night the quiet pressed in differently. You were settling on the bed with a glass of wine and a book he sent one last text. 

Can’t wait to show you how much I miss you

You stared at the message longer than necessary, his words igniting that familiar, traitorous burn low in your belly. Be good you typed, before tossing your phone onto the nightstand like it had betrayed you.

You lay there alone, staring at the ceiling, frustration curling warm and insistent beneath your ribs. The bed felt too big, sheets cool where his body should have been, pillows holding the faintest trace of him that only made it worse. Every sound in the house seemed louder in the quiet, every tick of time deliberate and unhelpful.

You rolled onto your side, exhaling sharply, pressing your knees together as if that might contain the feeling.

Sunday was worse.

Not dramatically worse, just relentless. The kind of day that refused to distract you no matter how hard you tried. You folded laundry and caught yourself lingering with his shirts. You showered, taking longer than necessary. Standing under the spray with your eyes closed, letting your thoughts drift somewhere you absolutely refused to follow all the way.

Jake texted between soundcheck and the show. It was a photo of the stage behind him in a half-blurry selfie, grin easy, his eyes a little tired accompanied with the words,  Wish you were here.

You closed your eyes, phone clutched to your chest, and laughed softly at how unfair that felt. Distance had sharpened everything. The want, memories of you together, and your imagination was burning with scenarios. Every message from him felt like a match struck too close to dry tinder.

Sunday night stretched thin and quiet around the house, the kind of quiet that made your thoughts too loud. The bedside lamp cast a soft halo, leaving the rest of the room in shadow, the air heavy with everything you’d been trying not to think about all day.

The burn in your belly had been nagging you all evening. Low and insistent, impossible to ignore now that there was nothing left to distract you. At 3 am you still hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet. You told yourself you were just restless. Overtired. Lonely. You shifted beneath the sheets, jaw tightening and exhaling through your nose, then finally gave in with a quiet, irritated huff.

This is ridiculous.

Your hand slipped into your panties as you tried to soothe the ache the way you had before. Familiar motions, and thoughts, but it only made the absence sharper. Everything felt wrong without him. Too quiet, too empty as the tension only tightened, coiling instead of easing, frustration blooming hot and undeniable.

You stopped, breath uneven, hands falling uselessly to your sides.

“God dammit” you breathed, the word catching as awareness slammed into you all at once. The room seemed to tilt as you sat up abruptly, sheets twisting around you as if they might offer cover that came a second too late.

And then you froze, that’s when you saw him.

Jacob stood at the foot of the bed, jacket still on, hair mussed from travel, eyes dark and intent as they tracked you, and took in the scene in front of him. Taking in the rumpled sheets, flushed skin, bare honesty written all over you of what he’d walked in on.

The silence stretched.

Mortification burned fast and bright through you as you scrambled for dignity that was absolutely gone. You opened your mouth, then shut it again, as your pulse roared in your ears and throbbed at the base of your throat. You opened your mouth to explain, to deflect—something, anything—then snapped it shut again as your pulse continued roaring in your ears.

He didn’t look away, of course he didn’t.

Jake tilted his head slightly, lips curling into that infuriating, knowing smirk. The one he wore when he was right, when he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and devastating, “I think this is something I should take care of for you.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

Your embarrassment cracked first, melting under the weight of relief so sharp it nearly made you dizzy. He was there at the end of the bed, really here. The loneliness evaporated in an instant, replaced by something warm and electric that settled deep in your chest and core.

You swallowed, breath unsteady, eyes locked on him as every frustrated, unfinished feeling you’d been carrying all weekend found its target at last.

“How are you here? You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow evening?,” you stammered and stumbled as you tried to get out of the tangled sheets to get to him. Jake’s low laugh only ignited the fire burning for him within you more. 

“I couldn't wait anymore, I needed to see you so I found a flight to get back, and I’m so glad I did.”

He took a slow step closer.

“Don’t stop,” he added quietly, eyes never leaving yours. Not commanding but encouraging, like he was exactly where he belonged.

Your breath stuttered. Want rushed in to fill every hollow space embarrassment had left behind. You swallowed, fingers curling into the sheets as every unfinished, frustrated feeling you’d been holding onto finally found its focus.

You hesitated for only a second, the embarrassment from moments ago dissolving into a rush of need that pooled low in your belly, making your core throb with insistent heat. 

Slowly, you let your hand drift back down, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, your eyes never leaving his as he shrugged off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. 

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with the electricity of his presence as he stood at the edge of the bed. His eye contact sending a jolt through you, your skin tingling for his touch. 

Jake's hand moved lower, palming himself as he watched you. You tugged at your panties, pushing them down your legs until you could kick them off. Jake reached down on the bed, picking them up to hold in his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked,” he said as he unbuckled his belt, and jeans. 

You couldn’t peel your eyes off of him as he freed himself, heavy and hard from his jeans. Your wet panties still in his hand as he began to stroke himself while watching you rub slow circles around your clit. “Fuck y/n, I need you. Are you ready for me?” he practically whined as he watched you. 

“Come here,” you plead as you reached out a hand towards him. Jake licked his lips as his hand warm and calloused from years of playing guitar, settled in yours as he kicked off his jeans. He pulled you up to sitting quickly, making you gasp. "I've got you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin. 

Dragging his hands down your torso, he grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it back up and over your head. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “And all mine.” He settled a hand back under your jaw as he brought his lips to yours in a searing kiss that made your thighs clench. 

As he deepened the kiss, he situated his body with yours on the bed. The loneliness that had gnawed at you all weekend shattered under the weight of his body. You arched into him, your free hand fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as the familiar taste of him flooded your senses like the richest wine. 

His hand slid along your thigh, rough and possessive, until his fingers trailed to your core, circling you with deliberate strokes that made your hips buck, the pleasure building fast and fierce, erasing every trace of frustration.

Your hips bucked again under the relentless rhythm of his fingers. Each deliberate circle around your swollen clit from his thumb sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine, making your breath come in ragged gasps against his mouth. 

His weight shifted on the bed, his body pressing you further into the mattress as you arched upward, craving more of that delicious friction, your core clenching around his finger as if trying to draw him in. The room filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths and the faint rustle of fabric, while the scent of his cologne, earthy and warm, made every nerve ending sing. 

 He pulled back, his eyes darkening as they roamed over your exposed body, taking in the way your breasts rose and fell with each panting breath, nipples hardened into peaks. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he growled, his voice rough with need, and before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, trailing hot kisses down your neck to the curve of your breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. 

You moaned, the sound raw and uninhibited, your hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt, yanking it up to feel the solid warmth of his chest under your palms. His cock strained against you, pressing hard against your thigh, and you reached down to feel him, eliciting a low groan from him that vibrated through your body. 

The emotional undercurrent surged between you. Years of knowing each other's rhythms, the way his touch could unravel you completely. Fueling the fire as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, slick and ready as he hovered above you, his forehead pressed to yours. 

"I missed you," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability that mirrored your own, before he pushed forward, filling you inch by glorious inch. The stretch of him inside you erased any lingering frustration with a rush of pure, overwhelming connection. 

Your bodies moved in sync, hips rolling together. Each thrust from Jake was deep and measured, building the pleasure to a fever pitch as your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on as if he might disappear. 

His eyes never left yours, the soft murmurs of endearment between gasps made the physical sensations even more intense, your core tightening around him, chasing that edge together in a shared release that felt like coming home.

You opened your mouth, trying to talk to him, trying to tell him you were close, but no words would come out. “Give it to me, sweetheart. I need you to come for me,” Jake encourages you. Your body felt hot, your mind beginning to spin as it felt hard to breathe for a second before white hot pleasure shattered from your core. 

Buzzing through your body until you felt like you could pass out. “That’s it sweetheart, come for me. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.” Jake’s movement never faltered, holding a steady pace as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

He slowed down and stopped for a bit when your hips began to twitch with overstimulation. He kept himself seated inside you as his mouth trailed your jaw, neck and breasts giving you a second to breathe. You scratched your nails up and down his back as you gathered yourself. 

You trailed your nails up his back, and tangled them into his hair pulling him into a heated kiss that was all tongues and teeth, want and desire. You began rocking your hips, grinding against him to encourage him to move, but he pressed his weight down onto you. “If you keep doing that, I am going to cum much sooner than I want to,” he growled in your ear.

His words only encouraged you more as you clenched your core and rocked your hips, moving against him at a steady pace. Slowly you picked up speed until you settled at a dizzying pace. Jake’s eyes closed as his mouth fell open with heavy breaths, “Holy fuck.” 

His words lit that fire deep in your belly again. “Jake, I want you to come-I need you to come” you whined with desperation. The friction of you grinding against him had your own orgasm building at a maddening speed. 

Jake opened his eyes, taking in the flush of your face and the desperation of your words. He grabbed a hold of your waist, thrusting himself into you a few times before his hips stuttered, pushing himself into you fully as you continued to try to grind against him as your orgasm tore through you again.  

He collapses against your chest, bringing his lips back to yours before peppering your face with little kisses as you both tried to catch your breath. You laugh quietly, threading your fingers through his hair. Holding him there like you’re afraid the moment might slip away if you loosen your grip.

“Surprised?” he murmurs against your skin, voice warm and lazy now.

You hum in response, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm,” he agrees easily, shifting just enough to look at you, eyes bright and stupidly affectionate. “But you missed me.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you pull him closer, foreheads touching, the week’s frustrations, and the weekend’s loneliness finally dissolving into something solid and sure. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, sending your boss a quick text that read I’m sick.

The outside world can wait. 

For the first time all weekend, you slept easy wrapped in Jake’s arms.

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Thank you for reading, I appreciate you! 💜

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[tripthedharmadivine]

…inch by glorious inch.

[katuschka]

And just like that, my inspiration's back. Thank you, diva!

grey + black artistic pencil and white acrylic on watercolour paper

@edgingthedarkness @jazzyfigz @josh-iamyour-mama @sanguinebats @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @lipstickitty @clownstarr @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @allof--mylove @stardustsamm @irenereedcane-mamagreta @psychedelectable @tripthedharmadivine @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @scarabsinthestardust

[tripthedharmadivine]

😍😍😍

[katuschka]

Lines

Josh Kiszka x f!OC (reader) 5.300 words

About: Josh and Y/N find refuge in a secluded cabin they chose to escape to after a series of tragic events (unspecified). In their mutual search for the peace of mind and the meaning of life, their friendship slowly transforms into something new.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): fluff (loads of it), semi-explicit smut, depression, allusions to loss and past trauma, healing, seclusion, loss of temper, comfort, allusions to sexual orientation, love

I opened up my eyes only to see the snow still falling down behind the window pane, and I’ve spent the last maybe fifteen minutes watching the snowflakes dance in the light wind that makes the rafters above our heads creak. Back in the day, I used to love the sight. The vision of comfort and evenings spent with favorite books and hot chocolate. That’s what we’ve been doing here too, me and Josh, but it no longer feels comforting. I hate how something so simple – something that should bring me joy – lays so heavily on my chest because it’s connected to the memories of something long lost. Every time I close my eyes to focus on how the fire in the hearth warms my cheeks, I suddenly remember how everything’s changed, and the illusion of comfort is gone. 

It’s hard to find and cherish your own personal peace in the middle of hellfire. And we’re also nearly out of chocolate. I should have packed more. We’re pretty much snowed in here now, and our supplies are dwindling. 

We haven’t set foot out of the cabin for more than two days. Our phones died a week ago. I really have no idea what’s been going on since, and I honestly think it’s better this way. 

I can once again focus on one thing ahead of me without some other stimuli trying to pull my attention in countless different directions. It really feels like my mind is slowly returning back to me. Back to normal… except nothing’s really normal. 

It’s fortunate that we can at least play pretend here. 

Just yesterday, we put a record on and for the first time in months, I could really listen to the music. It was once again so much more than just a pleasant background noise. I could hear every note and feel every word. I told Josh and his face lightened for a fleeting moment. “Yeah,” he smiled back at me, letting his inner light shine through. It was like looking back in time. But then he added: “I used to believe I could make people understand this”, and the spark in his eyes dimmed down to a feeble twinkle once more. 

Josh still keeps repeating that it should have been him, but each new day, I dare say I’m more and more successful in trying to keep him distracted most of the time. At the expense of my own mental health, I should say… but I won’t admit it openly. I can’t. 

The room is cold and grey this early in the morning, but we both feel pleasantly warm under the thick blanket, sharing the bodily heat because the warmth is not just physical. Josh oozes warmth in many forms… Well, at least he used to. He forced himself into the vacant room of my petty life and claimed the black, dim space with his own personal sunlight and boundless friendship. I’m just desperately trying to repay him now. I’ve never been into cuddling, not even after sex, but this is different. Frankly, partly because there’s been no sex. I couldn’t demand it even if he wanted it too. 

He said so himself, basically. He said he’s ‘driven by tenderness when he holds me, not passion.’ I’m more than fine with it, actually. My own mental state is in sync with it. We simply need something else now, both of us, regardless of what we’ve ever wanted. 

So here we are: him having yet another restless dream from which I don’t dare wake him up because he needs to rest; and me listening to his light snores and intermittent, barely audible whimpers that only tell me that he’s still alive. And I don’t mean physically. 

Yeah, God knows we both need this, so we normally take turns to bury our noses in the small on each other’s necks. It’s not sensual, it’s just comforting. Now it’s my turn to snuggle up a little closer, hoping that that alone could make his nightmare go away. And also simply because I like this. 

It’s just him now, without all the fragrant layers of iris, myrrh and woody vanilla that used to cover and surround him during the better days. Now he’s stripped naked, being so vulnerably himself here with me, and the contrast between the heat of his skin and the cold air around us immediately gives me goosebumps. But only for a while…

I didn’t want to fall asleep again. I wanted to light the fireplace and make some coffee and buttered toasts so that Josh would wake up in a cozy haven instead of this cold wooden tomb. The supplemental heating can keep this place habitable only for so long, but that’s the price for the seclusion we were seeking. Every day, I do everything that’s in my power to make this seem like a simple vacation. 

The room had grown lighter since my last fleeting moment of wakefulness but the warmth that had lulled me back to sleep was gone. I tried not to panic when I found the spot next to me cold and empty. The idea of Josh getting up before me shouldn’t feel this scary, but I couldn’t help it. It was me who had found him when he had thought there was nowhere else to go and no one else to either fight or save, and I’m sure the sight will haunt me forever. 

I jumped out of bed with abrupt agitation and the chilling air in the room only made it worse, because it meant he hadn’t just risen to take over my daily routine. I could smell no coffee, I couldn’t hear his movements in the other room. 

I just felt cold. 

A deep-rooted feeling by now. Maybe it’s unavoidable once you unlearn to expect any good news, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less tired of it. 

I found Josh outside, sitting on the snow covered wooden steps that led to the sheltered porch. His ass must have been freezing, I thought, but at least he was fully dressed and apparently deep in thought, so I just let him be. Asking questions is always better with a steaming cup warming up your numb fingers. He looked peaceful through the ice frosted window, and it would have made a pretty cool instagram picture… if either of us cared about such bullshit. 

No, not anymore. In our obsession with trying to capture every detail of every present moment, we had completely forgotten the power and beauty and learning and remembering. We had learned to see the world through the lens, but the camera can never capture the moment the same way your eyes can, because the feelings attached to the particular moment is what makes the memory precious, even when it dims in your mind over time. I’ve been trying to re-learn it, starting with moments like these. 

And in the meantime, I made the coffee and rekindled the fire, all while watching him stealthily. He had barely moved, except for making a snowball with his bare hands and tossing it into the snowdrift next to his car. It had stopped snowing by then and the sky had cleared, so the whole place was literally glittering. As if nature wanted to remind us that beauty and goodness are absolute concepts, independent of the whims of those who hate both. 

So I got an idea. 

“I want to make a snowman!” I exclaimed cheerfully when I finally stepped outside with two mugs of hot liquid, still dressed in just my fluffy bathrobe. Josh must have heard the door open because he smiled without looking at me, acknowledging my presence while still trying to protect the feeble world of his daydreaming. 

“Sorry for not making coffee, but I didn’t know how long you’d be asleep an’ I didn’t want it to get cold,” he mumbled while packing a second snowball before tossing it towards the nearest conifer, knocking the snow off several branches. 

I knew he hadn’t even thought about it; he was just too reluctant to confess that his mind still runs on autopilot half of the time, and he also didn’t want to openly admit he was being selfish. But I knew it was not selfishness so I let it slide, as always. 

I just cleared my throat to make him turn towards me so that I could hand him his cup. “Just take this… and I’m serious.” 

“Thank you… about the snowman?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

I sighed, feeling my previous eagerness deflate like a balloon. “Because it’s a beautiful day, Josh!” I pleaded. “Because we can’t just sit around and do nothing. I understand that you’re hurting, and I know you had a bad dream again, but if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been feeling like shit too. I’m trying…,” I paused, because my voice faltered. The truth is that I was also trying to keep my tears at bay just to finish the sentence. 

Josh too let out a shaky exhale, but otherwise remained silent because he knew I wasn’t done.

“I’m trying to pull you out of this pit you’re willingly letting yourself to fall into. When we were baking a cake the other day, I saw a glimpse of someone who once did the same thing for me. And I miss that man dearly!”

We were both crying by the time I finished. I placed my cup on the banister without taking one single sip and crossed my arms to keep me warm while Josh still kept cradling his own in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled through a sniff. “I know you love me. This is not fair.” 

The only thing that wasn’t fair was him thinking that pushing me away could make any difference. We are here because I willingly chose to do that. I know he cares about me too, and the only thing that really hurts is him dismissing it like this, thinking that it’s not enough or that it doesn’t matter. So, I let my frustration get the worst of me and I knocked my cup down with the back of my hand. It made a nasty brown stain on the pristine snow below the porch. 

The gesture made him wince as if it made an actual sound. But sometimes, it’s not just the sound waves that resonate. 

I had no energy left in me to care about his feelings at that moment, even though somewhere at the back of my head, I knew I should have. I knew all he needed to know was that I understood, even though he dismissed my words entirely and instead of taking my offered hand, he nosedived into the hellhole of his gloom. And because he did, my first intuitive reaction was to escape the situation, so I turned around and disappeared back into the cabin. 

I was really determined to build that snowman, not just for the sake of the momentary distraction it offered. As I retreated back into the bedroom to put some decent day clothes on, the sun was already shining through the frosted window, beckoning me to go back outside and fill my lungs with crispy, fresh air. 

Josh’s words still kept squeezing my chest tight. I know you love me. Yeah, no shit. It had never been a secret. Still, he suddenly felt the urge to say it aloud. Such a simple statement… and yet a whole notebook could be filled with words trying to interpret it. But I didn’t want to. I already had more than what I could possibly hope for, and we both learned the hard way about how much of what we wanted was completely out of our control. We both paid the price; Josh perhaps more than me. No, definitely more than me. 

Trying to change the world… Well, you’d better start with simple things that bring you joy and keep the human in you alive. Just like when you realize that the fact that the sun still shines through the clouds and you’re still able to enjoy it is what really matters. 

Let them fight for all the things that don’t. 

I’ve always been a fighter, but the size of my battles dwindled over time. Call me a coward if you want to, but those are my shoes. So I brushed my teeth and combed my hair and put on more clothes, looking like a snowman myself. I didn’t expect him to stand right behind the door, and I squeaked a little when I opened it and saw him there, holding two plates. 

“I made us some sandwi… Where are you going?” The feeble smile disappeared from his face the moment he saw me, but the twinkle in his eyes still lingered, and no wonder. I knew very well how much effort such a simple task could really take in his condition. He was clearly proud of himself, and rightfully so. “Are you still mad?”

“No, I’m not mad,” I really wasn’t mad and I wanted him to know, so I smiled back when he kept staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed and one eyelid drooping. It told me he hadn’t really rested much during his sleep… again. “I’m just going out, Josh. It’s a beautiful day…,” I repeated. 

“But you need to eat,” he basically pleaded, making it sound as if me having breakfast was the most important thing in the world. It was kind of cute… in that heartbreaking, gut-wrenching way, like when a kid tells their mama that she shouldn’t cry. I took one of the plates from his hand and beckoned him to follow me to the table. We sat down, me not bothering to take off my parka or my beanie, which still made him eye me warily, so I grabbed my sandwich and took a healthy bite, despite me not being hungry at all. “Ifs deuicioush, Shosh.” 

“Hardly… but I just…”

“I know.” I put the sandwich down and slowly took his hand in mine. “And I’m glad nothing got shattered this time.” I meant it as a joke, and I smiled, hoping he’d get that. Thankfully, the remark made Josh chuckle and he squeezed my hand in a silent response. 

Every once in a while, Josh managed to break free from the prison of his lethargy, but only to end up in a raging fit when things didn’t turn out the way he wanted and his sense of powerlessness suddenly turned to anger. It was never directed at me, or anyone else he cared about for the matter, but he still frightened me when he smashed a frying pan against the tiled kitchen wall and burned his hand with cooking oil while doing so. That happened when we were still back home and I tried to keep him company as often as possible… but not nearly enough. So it was precisely one of those moments when I thought I should try to convince him to just leave for a while. 

“I’m tryin’,” he mumbled. “An’thanks for the coffee. An’also… I’m sorry.”

I like silence. Sometimes you don’t really need words to be able to communicate, and you just know that saying something aloud could cause unintended harm. What was he sorry for? Not loving me exactly the way I did love him? For not being that person who had always been the first one to take your hand, but who got – quite understandably – lost on the way? I did not demand or expect any of that. All I really wanted was to help him find the way back home, even though it would never be the same again. 

And so we sat there, looking each other in the eye in the complete silence of that place, until my back started to sweat under all those layers of winter clothing. I took another bite before I finally stood up. “Will you join me?”

He sighed, and it could mean maybe… later, and I was fine with that. 

I’m a Tennessee town girl. I don’t know two shits about snowmen, and I had absolutely no idea how to build one. 

It was all just improvisation, fueled by my determination to have some fun… or at least to chase away all the bad thoughts for a while. We need to learn to adapt, otherwise we perish. Simple as that. Does it sound too weird and gloomy when I’m still basically talking about frolicking in the snow? Well, go figure. I don’t wanna think too much about it, and yet I still keep thinking about it. One just has to start somewhere. 

So I started with a small snowball, and then I just kept adding layers until the lump in my hand was too big and heavy for me to hold, so I just dropped it and continued working on the first sphere on the ground. If one could call that sphere, anyway. It still looked more like a giant potato, and I groaned in frustration when it eventually split in two. 

I heard his footsteps first, crunchy on the tamped down path leading to the porch. The sun had moved in the sky by the time I had been outside, so Josh’s shadow fell right down on me like a silent hello. And silent he remained. Even after he got on his knees right behind me.

As I said before, I value silence very much – exactly for moments like these.

Josh took my gloved hand in his and slowly led my movement. Like a marionette. He let me scoop another handful of snow and with his hand still cupping mine, we both moulded a brand new snowball. “It’s barely holding together,” I mumbled, sad that I finally had to break the silence, but this was exactly the reason why my previous attempt failed. 

“‘Cause it’s too cold an’fresh. Here, breathe on it.”

I did as he said and the melting substance slowly turned to a crunchy sort of putty. “Using your bare hands would be even better, but ya wouldn’t last long,” he continued mumbling while helping me sculpt a nearly perfect sphere, as if something depended on it. I didn’t know what, but that’s now even the point. Just something. 

“I really suck at this,” I sighed in exasperation. 

“An’that’s why I’m here, darling,” he replied with such tenderness in his voice that I couldn’t be mad at him for not contradicting me even if I wanted to. “Okay, mmm, here,” Josh cleared his throat next and took the ball from me before he moved a little aside and started rolling it around in the snow. “Have ya never heard the phrase ‘it snowballed quickly’?”

I had heard the phrase way too many times in the past few months, and none of the occasions had been particularly pleasant, so I merely huffed and quickly changed the subject back to him joining me. “You were watching me?”

“Yeah… … So this is how ya do it,” Josh continued and soon the ball was big enough for him to have to get back on his feet. He remained crouching down, though, and briefly took off his own gloves to mould and firm up the surface of the sphere a little bit. “Still too powdery. We should have waited a few more hours… for the sun to… uh!... To make it heavier and more sticky.”

Josh groaned from exertion again right after finishing that sentence and he probably also expected me to retort, because he looked up at me just when I absentmindedly bit my lip. “What… seriously, woman! What are you? Fifteen?”

“Never too old for lame innuendos,” I giggled, but the truth is that for the first time in weeks, I felt that. Maybe it was because of how he held me just a few moments before that, with his chin practically resting on my shoulder. It was no different from the platonic intimacy we always shared… and yet it was. 

Josh… he kept watching me, and it only made me nervous, so I quickly averted my eyes and scooped another handful. “Should… start making another one?” I looked up again just to see his face merely a few inches away from mine and after two or three excruciatingly long seconds, he closed the gap. Our lips met in a tender, innocent kiss that still made my heart racing. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” he replied when we finally parted. 

“What was that?”

“Your lips are chapped, baby, and I forgot my lip balm inside, so this is… the best I can do right now.”

I knew what he really meant. And it left me wondering…

We finished the snowman and named him Charlie. The poor guy unfortunately got no scarf, because we didn’t have a spare one. But other than that, it was a pretty handsome fellow. 

“I actually feel much better, now that we have such a cool guard outside,” Josh nodded in appreciation while he was standing by the window, watching the outline of our new friend in the growing semi-darkness. “It was a really good idea. Thank you!”

He really was feeling better. I could tell from the tone of his voice, which never fooled me. “You’re welcome, buddy!” I scuttled from behind to have one more peek myself before it got completely dark, and also to hand Josh a cup with freshly brewed green tea. 

More comfortable silence passed between us as the window slowly turned to a mirror that showed me Josh’s focus turned from the snowman to my own reflection in it. I let my fingers trace the outline of Josh’s shoulder and he let me do it. It was still the same thing. Comfort and care. Save for the elephant in the room. 

“I want you to know that I really don’t expect anything else,” I blurted out all of the sudden. 

Josh shot me an almost startled glance and I quickly added, because I was tired of speaking in riddles: “I don’t want you to feel guilty, or that you owe me something. I’m exactly where I wanna be. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything and you’re not breaking my heart. You’ve always been filling it. I wanna make all this clear once and for all.”

Josh sighed, and carefully placed the cup on the window ledge before he gently cupped my face in his hands. “And I want you to know that everything I do is genuine.” 

“Ok,” I mumbled. In moments like these it was always so easy to drown in his eyes. Even if it was lethal, I’d still die happy. 

“And everything I don’t do…,” he continued. “It’s probably because it still feels too early. And maybe I just don’t know how. And I also don’t wanna lose you… like this.” 

The oven timer chimed then, letting us know the casserole was ready. 

Days went by, and soon we ran out of milk and coffee as well, but neither of us wanted to venture outside just yet, so we concluded that tea was all we really needed. 

It was just half a mile to the main road, and then six more to the nearest general store. Driving there was still out of the question due to snow, but we could still walk. It could be done, even though it meant a whole day trip. We would have to go, eventually. But each new day, we decided to postpone it.

“Thank god we still got toilet paper,” Josh said in jest at one moment. 

“Well, there’s still snow,” I replied with a wink. It ended up in a pillow battle. 

We built two more snowpeople, Norman and Lusinda. One evening I said that I would really miss them when they’re gone, and Josh replied and I shouldn’t be too sad about that, because that would only mean we’d get flowers in bloom instead. My heart swelled at those words because they told me he was finally getting better. 

One evening, Josh climbed into bed shirtless. “What? Gotta save them for daily wear,” he tried to explain in response to my raised eyebrow. 

“Josh, I’ve been washing your shirts since we got here. I’m not gonna stop.” 

“But the skin on your hands is already so chapped from all of that and the cold.”

I sighed in mock exasperation. There was no washing in the cabin, just the sink and soap. He was right, but I didn’t mind… and if he suddenly did, he could still do it himself for a change. And that’s what I told him. 

“Or… you could just keep me warm like you always do. Now shut up and cuddle up.”

I did more than that, actually. In the middle of the night, the sound of my own snores woke me up and I found myself wrapped around his body like an anaconda and drooling all over his chest. To make my humiliation complete, Josh was awake, and my subsequent curse only made him chuckle. “That’s ok babe. That’s how cats do it, right? Gotta save water. Very frugal of you.” My next remark that he should ‘go to hell’ only sent him to a laughing fit. 

It came naturally – the growing intimacy between us that could no longer be labeled as purely platonic. We were just two people that just wanted to feel good. Our kisses became more frequent and our touches under the shared comforter more and more daring. 

Those are basic human needs, regardless of what you’re yearning, planning or fearing to do because of some possible future consequences. However, I still sensed Josh’s hesitancy, there were lines he was fearing to cross, and I knew it had nothing to do with me or with what he wanted at that particular moment. So, it didn’t bother me at all. What happens, happens. 

But then came a moment when he prolonged his usual goodnight kiss and – thinking it was deliberate –I parted my lips to encourage him to try more… but he suddenly withdrew as if I burned him. And for the very first time, his reaction really hurt. I took a shaky breath and Josh immediately started apologizing quite vehemently, but I quickly shushed him. 

“Josh… .” I was desperately trying to find the right words. “You will never lose me… like this. Whatever happens, I will always be there to make comfort food for you, and you will always be the person I wanna build snowmen with. I love you… like that.” 

I couldn’t see him in the darkness, but I swear I could feel the cogs inside his head whirring. “Now come closer… buddy.” I ran my hand down his toned arm and Josh snuggled closer again, accepting my offered embrace. He buried his face in the small of my neck just like he often did, but my breath suddenly hitched when I felt his lips touch my skin. 

“I love you too… like that,” he mumbled.

“So… are you gonna kiss me or not?”

Josh retreated just a little and I could feel his hand slide down the nape of my neck, urging me to meet him halfway until our lips met again. There was no rush. There was no need… save for the need to feel happiness and love with my whole being. 

It was him this time. His hot breath washed over my complexion as he let out a shaky exhale, waiting. I licked over his plump lower lip playfully before I plunged my tongue into his mouth, encouraged by the moan he failed to stifle. 

For the first time in months, something so simple as a kiss brought me pure joy, untainted by memories of something long lost. This was all brand new. We were forging a brand new world for us. It was just us, and the moment couldn’t get stolen from us. 

I ran my palm down his chest and I could feel it heaving, so I dared to venture further, and he let me. My fingers slid under the waistband of his sweatpants and Josh finally broke the kiss, but only to let out another shaky breath. 

“Do you want me to stop?” I whispered. I had to be sure. 

“No…” 

I could already tell, anyway. The tip of his already hard cock bumped into the back of my hand as I ran my fingertips down his happy trail, and I gave a handful of the tender skin there a squeeze before I wrapped my fingers around his erection, making him gasp and moan. 

With both his hands, he pulled the waistband lower, giving me a much better access. “Please, make it go away,” he pleaded, and I knew exactly what he meant. Here in the darkness, where the nightmares still haunted him, all the touches and all the kind words of our waking hours all led us to this. 

Two people with all the power in the world. You can either build the walls the evil cannot penetrate… only to slowly wither away behind them. Or you can share the good, and love, and kindness. 

And even though it was passion that quickened my pulse as I was listening to his whimpers, and I would lie if I said I didn’t want him badly, this was all tenderness. 

“Baby… stop…,” he suddenly mumbled. For a second I thought I did something wrong, but then I felt his palm cup my breast, and there was an unmistakable urgency in his touch. “Are you really sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“Because I totally don’t deserve you. And I truly hope that one day you’ll find someone more deserving…” His voice skipped.

“Josh…” We’ve been through this so many times – his self-deprecating lamentations after his life had hit a seemingly impenetrable wall and the crash nearly robbed him of his sense of self… but that’s not really what he meant this time and he pressed a finger against my lips so that he could continue.

“And then maybe I could… really just maybe… I could be the favorite uncle…” His remark made me giggle, even though the sound got distorted by a sob, and he joined in. 

“... but I can love you now.”

“That would be more than what I ever wanted.”

And so he did. The darkness suddenly felt like home when he peppered me with more kisses. It felt like some sort of a sanctuary as the wind made the rafters above our heads creak and I wrapped my thighs around him, feeling him so close to me that my heart was all but ready to jump out of my chest. And it felt like it really did a second later. It felt like heaven when he entered me and I could feel our bodies and minds alike melt together. I finally reclaimed my personal peace in his arms, when we both fought for breath in between heated kisses. Some lines were irreversibly crossed, but that only means we can go anywhere from there. And for a short while, I felt like flying upwards. And a minute later, again. He cried out at last and collapsed on top of me, and I held him close until the shivering subsided. 

That night we slept completely naked, despite the chill. I hadn’t felt so warm and safe for months, maybe years. Josh spooned me and buried his face in my locks, but the feeling of his hand on top of mine is what I’ll remember till the end of my days. He stroked it so gently as I was slowly drifting to sleep, and it was all just pure tenderness. 

Seriously, what more do you need?

@thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness  @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @Lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @scarabsinthestardust @Ironlotus90 @stardustsam @Irenereedcane-mamagreta @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @sanguinebats @tripthedharmadivine

[tripthedharmadivine]

“I love you… like that.”

Oh! My heart😭

[white-march]

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01/26/2026

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01/28/2026

[tragicburnout]