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coeurify · 1 year ago

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TIS’ THE DAMN SEASON 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the holidays linger like a bad perfume. you can run, but only so far. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave? ˚* .

pairing: modern!ellie williams x ex!reader. summary: three years after the worst high school graduation you could imagine, you come home for the holidays— and find you can’t run from the past forever. ( series summary!!! ) chapter warnings: the first half is a flashback to high school. underage drinking & smoking (18). slight mommy issues, slight angst. blink and you miss it talks of anxiety. reblogs, likes and conversations about this fic in my inbox are highly encouraged and LOVED!! (plz come talk to me) special thanks to @elliesbelle for proof reading and hyping me up when i was struggling LOL

Your graduation gown was bright red. Not the sort the class before you graduated in, one that danced the soft line between burgundy and crimson. That would have looked beautiful against your skin, complimented the dress you picked out on the very first day of senior year. Your best friend told you it was too early, that you might decide on a different dress later on, but you were quite stubborn. You held the dress on a velvet hanger in the very smallest corner of your wooden closet, olive green and untouched. Gazing at it became a ritual, a fixation that found you stood at your closet any bad day, staring until your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let a soft breath out. Just a while longer until you could wear it.

The graduation gown was bright red and hadn’t gone with the shade of your dress at all. The material scratched against your arms, and fit too snuggly against your shoulders. Each thread felt too small, too constricting as you pulled it over your body. The sewn-on emblem of your school irritated the space on your chest it stuck over, and all you wanted to do was take it off. To be free of it.

Still, you had pushed aside the open suitcase at the bottom of your closet with a lump in your throat and sought out the same olive-colored dress from the start of the year. You had to wear it. You left the suitcase outside of your closet as well.

Nestled on the quiet corner of Church Street, named so for the methodist that sat closely down the avenue, was your childhood home. Faded paint peels from its timeworn white picket fence, revealing spots you picked at as a child— crashed into with your bike when you were ten and split the repainted wood. The wood creaks on the porch outside, which your mother consistently complained about. One of the window panes on the second floor is weathered by the rain.

It’s your bedroom window, and sometimes when you’re bored you would push up the glass, and let in the Wyoming air, trying to make your bedroom feel less suffocatingly small. You would scratch your nail against the dead wood, watch pieces fall to the ground outside, over the small garden of seasonal flowers your parents always tried to tend to, and failed at each year. You do so that day, with your bright red sleeves pushed up as you let the June breeze into your yellow-painted room, picking— prodding at the pieces that hardly hold on before your mother called your name, “Joel and Ellie are here!” her voice carried up the carpeted stairs, echoing with a sense of impatience.

Those names had your ears perked up, hardly feeling the tightness on the shoulder stitches of your graduation gown anymore, and you hurried down the stairs, welcomed by the smell of ripe peaches and freshly cut grass. It’s likely the candles balanced on nearly every corner of the living room your feet carry you near, lit by your mother who leans over yet another she must have gotten from the home goods store three towns away.

A smile pulled at your lips for the first time that day as you took in the two at your door. Joel was wearing a suit— an actual suit, and he had shaved. When you ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhed’ at his get-up, he raised a hand, still tinged with a soft amount of dirt, likely from sneaking to his carpentry job that morning. Ms. Pam’s house, four streets over.

Then you saw her, through the sun-drenched light that came in with the open door. Ellie had a frown on her lips, maybe because her gown was also too small as she pulled it over her body. God, couldn’t that school get anything right?

For once her hair was out of its usual bun, pushed uncomfortably behind her ears. All you wanted to do was rush forward and kiss her rosy cheeks, poke at the freckles on her nose, prominent as ever under the Jackson sun. But you had a little too much shame lodged in your chest to do so.

Your parents had been accepting, as did Joel, when the two of you curled your hands into one another’s in November of your sophomore year, and announced that you and Ellie, your two doors down neighbor, were girlfriends. Accepting as they could have been, at least. It took your mother a while, she’d excused herself from the wooden kitchen table she sat at the day you told her— and took a few weeks before asking you where along the line your childhood friend became more. She asked how innocently kissing the knees Ellie scraped on her skateboard, and Ellie’s fingers scooping into the frosting of the cookies you were making for your eighth-grade bake sale had turned into... this. You just gave her more time to understand.

By Junior year prom, your mother was almost smiling as Ellie hugged you to her chest behind the small camera Joel held outside of their one story soft blue ranch-style home. She pressed a hand to your cheek as Ellie tugged your hand into Dina’s, your shared friend, car and told you to be safe. That was always her way of telling you to have fun.

So you shouldn’t feel ashamed to lean forward and kiss your girlfriend of over two years as you two got ready for graduation, but you still did— just not because of your company.

Ellie didn’t notice the slightly odd feeling radiating off your body as she had launched her converse covered feet over the small welcome mat near the door and into your arms as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Today’s the day!” She’d cried, fern eyes sparkling. You smiled and nodded, though when you parroted, “Today’s the day,” it didn’t mean the same.

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Halfway through the graduation, your feet began to hurt. Not because you were standing too long. No, all 350 of your small-town senior class were given pull-out plastic chairs that sunk into the green grass of your football field, facing the rows of fading grey bleachers that families sat at, folding the pamphlets handed out to fan their sweating faces, a backdrop to the relentless drone of teachers delivering speeches under the sun.

Your feet hurt because your shoes were too small, the heel too tall. You had bought them when you were thirteen and visited New York City. The ankle strap was wearing thin, clamped around your flesh in a way that kept you rolling your ankle over and over. They were the nicest pair of shoes you had, and the only ones that didn’t make you cringe to look at. A shiny black color, with a gold gem on the strap. Surely you could have found any that looked the same at a department store near the Ski resorts at the edge of town, abandoned for the summer season. But then they wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t have been from the bright-lit city on the east coast.

They looked beautiful with your dress.

Ellie tipped her head down to rest on your shoulder, mumbling a soft, “This is soooo boring.”

Her red graduation cal tumbled off, landing on the green blades at your feet with a muted thump. Unaware of the tension, she nuzzled against you. Her cheek brushed softly, oblivious to the subtle stiffness that coursed through you, raising nervous goosebumps beneath the red fabric. You, however, couldn't escape the feeling, your heart gently aching at the touch. With a sigh, you surrendered, melting into her.

Jesse, stationed to Ellie's left, couldn't resist a snicker. His messy black hair peeked from under his cap as he playfully kicked Ellie’s fallen cap forward. Ellie leaned down to grasp before a nosy teacher scolded her for not paying attention. “Hey!” Ellie whisper shouted at her friend, before finally grabbing and fitting the red cap on her head again.

Ellie had decorated her’s with a beautiful hand drawing, black and brown inked sharpies on the red cloth, bleeding gently out on her lines of a moth and leaves, surrounding the blue inked symbol of a college forty minutes away.

You hadn’t decorated yours at all.

“It's almost over,” you console, fingers reaching out of the red fabric sleeve, sliding over the heated plastic of your chair to grasp at Ellie’s hand, squeezing it gently.

It’s almost over.

You smiled as best you could when your name was called, ignoring the tightness of your gown, or how the color of the dress contrasted the bright red. You ignored the pain in your toes as you kept your eyes straight on the podium where your Principal stood, grinning too brightly for someone who never once looked your way in the school— as he handed you your diploma. You put on your best smile as you posed for the hired photographer, but it never reached your eyes.

The smile that did reach your eyes was that of when your best friend walked across the stage. You whooped her name loudly and tried not to let your heel dig into the dirt as you clapped and jumped. “WOO CAT!”

The true smiles, the ones that found your eyes, came out as each of your friends crossed the stage. Your heart swelled to the brink as Dina and Jesse walked, followed by Ellie.

Your eyes fixated on her auburn hair swaying in the soft breeze, clapping so fervently that it stung, your grin stretching from ear to ear. The joy became tangible when Ellie received her diploma, a scratched scream leaving your lips.

Ellie graduated, your Ellie graduated.

Ellie who held your hand so tightly as everyone stood, who glanced at you with that cheeky smile when the microphone scratched during the countdown to throwing your caps.

Ellie who tugged you against her and smashed her lips into yours the moment she heard, “You are now graduates! flip your tassel!”

You do your best to focus on how perfect her smiling lips feel against yours instead of the impending doom filling your stomach.

Dina on your left tugged your cap off your head, throwing it in the air the same moment Jesse did so for Ellie.

You were sure your heart should have bursted through your ribs right then and there, your lips slotted against Ellie’s, giggling so hard against the kiss that you had to suck in a deep breath whenever she gave you a second— forgetting the awful feeling in your gut as Ellie brushed her nose against your own.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” her warm breath heated your cheeks, “We can do whatever we want now, we have all the time in the world.”

Your bursting heart had sunk as quickly as the graduation caps that fell on the ground around you.

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Your parents never really let you go to parties in high school. In fact, they were rather strict, your phone on a table downstairs after 10 pm, doors locked when the sun came down. Rules about where you could go, and when you could go. The sort of rules that just made you sneakier. But graduation was different, no sneaking was required when your father shrugged at the explanation of the after party your class planned. A bonfire for students to throw all of their papers into, cheer, and celebrate around the burning memories of high school.

You left out the part about how it was being held by James Summers, whose parents never questioned why heaps of six packs and half drained liquor was being carted into their backyard.

“Go have fun,” your father sighed, lips around a mug, the smell of black coffee in your nostrils. You never understood why he drank it with dinner. “You're a graduate, celebrate. A lot going on tomorrow, anyway.”

His head nodded toward the sealed envelope on the table, a stamp with a zip code from California.

You swallowed and turned on your heel.

The air was thick when you stepped outside, the sun setting, grass slightly dewy with humidity. You hated how it smelt, how it felt against the tank top you changed into. You kicked rocks under the toe of your shoe, staring up at the hues in the sky, counting each new star that appeared in the darkening colors behind pursed lips until you heard the boom of music behind the metal doors of Jesse’s car.

He had the biggest car of the group, a black SUV from 2010, scratched up on the left side from when he bumped into a pole. You only ever used his car when everyone needed a ride, and seeing as how you had expected the party to go— you definitely should’ve only used one car, the driver agreeing to be the designated sober friend.

A faint whiff of weed lingered on her grey sweatshirt, likely courtesy of Cat, who sat beside her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She blinked lazily, black liner smudged down in the corner. “Ellie fought me for that damn seat,” she muttered as her head poked out, “So greedy with you.”

Dina poked her head back from the passenger seat, smoky eyeshadow caught in the yellow color of the overhead light. “If she’s choosing the shittiest seat, let her.”

“Buckle up and let's go!” Jesse declared, hitting the gas hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, your head thudding against the back seat as the door slammed shut.

“Shit Jesse, you’re such a dick,” you whined.

“A dick who’s gonna be sober at the biggest fuckin’ party ever so he can drive you all home.”

All of you groaned because he was right.

The windows were down the whole ride, the music too loud and pouring out into the open wind as they sang along. Your friend’s eyes were closed and heads tipped back, Cat leaned out the window and sang loudly to the 2000s pop song she demanded, Dina laughed loudly and leaned into the back to cheer her on, curly ponytail swishing as her brown eyes crinkled at the corners sweetly.

You just smiled gently, taking in the moment as much as you could. Ignoring how much you hated seeing the same road you did every day outside the window, how you could close your eyes and still list off every patch of land you zipped passed.

Instead, you try to take in what Dina’s laugh sounded like against your eardrums, how it sunk into your heart and squeezed it with a harsh grip. You took in how Cat’s short raven locks whipped against her forehead as she fell back into the car, lips parted and pearly white teeth sparkling.

You took in how Ellie’s eyes flicked around everyone, looking at ease as she slapped her hand against the back of Jesse’s seat to the beat of the song, a strand of reddish hair falling from its place in the hair tie she stole from you. You memorized what her throaty voice sounded like as she sang along in a tune that was not at all like her actual, beautiful, singing tone. One you only heard when the crickets sang outside, pressed against her windowsill as her fingers strummed over the old guitar from Joel’s study, deep into the night when you snuck over and asked for her to play a song. No, this was goofy and loud, a stupid loud bellow from her cracked lips, cut up by laughs and gasps after every few words. You made sure to commit to your Ellie-labeled folder of memories how she turned to you, nose crinkled as she urged you to sing along, shoulder bumping into yours.

You wanted to remember it all.

You knew this may be one of the last times you saw them all together, at least this happy— this excited for what came next.

“Guys,” you call suddenly, a rush of emotion forcing the word off your tongue and right to your feet as you realize what you’d done, three heads turning your way as Jesse lowers the radio.

Tell them. Tell them.

“I just, I really love you.”

What a pussy.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

The setting for your final party was a tightly packed backyard with no fence near the woods. Clusters of seniors and underclassmen that snuck in filtered across the cobblestone near the glass door of the basement and all the way into the green leaved trees. Small fold-out tables held jungle juice, as bright red with cranberry juice as your gowns had been, and half empty and scattered beer cans. People whooped and hollered, they threw down graduate caps and little posters with your classes graduating year in the form of all different kinds of party favors.

In the middle of the backyard sat a large rock pit, filled with cut chunks of wood and smaller, sadder branches that drunk senior boys likely raced around the woods to find and throw into the fire. heaps of papers sat at the side, collections of every paper assignment from the groups of students.

Everyone at the party agreed to throw in and burn the papers at midnight, signifying the first day of summer and the end of your last day of high school.

By 11:30, all of your friends but you and Jesse were drunk. You were tipsy, enough to make your head light and your limbs heavy— tight heart a little less tethered in your chest as your back settled against a tree, curling your legs to your knees, tucking your chin on the soft skin there, eyes lidded as you watched your friends pass around a half gone blunt.

You should tell them.

“D’ya think we’ll like— be friends forever and stuff?” Dina questioned as her fingers brushed against yours, your pointer and thumb pressing gently against the blunt and bringing it to your lips, not answering.

“Don’t ask that type of shit,” Cat chastised, shaking her head. “So cheesy.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie muttered quickly, scooting closer to you on the rock you were seated on, taking the burning blunt after you.

You felt a little too sick for more than one hit, tilting your knees away from Ellie’s arms that sought affection.

Her eyes caught on you just for a brief moment, a soft look of barely there confusion before being interrupted by Jesse’s kick on her shin, “Blunt.”

You let yourself drown out the following conversation about the graduation, humming half interested or offering a small nod and chuckle of approval as your eyes focused on the cliques behind your friends' heads. Kids you’d grown up with your whole life, smiling widely and knocking into each other, chanting words you couldn’t decipher over the speaker that blasted as loud as it could across the lawn. You wondered if any of them had the same sense of dread you did. If the graduation felt more like a guilty secret than a moment of freedom for them too.

You should tell them.

Your thoughts snapped back to your friends when a voice filtered through the cloudy blockage. “Babe.”

“Hm?” your gaze fell back to the flushed face of your girlfriend, who held her hand out, now stood up. “I said they’re lighting the fire soon, doofus.” She frowned, confused by your sudden zone out.

“Oh shit,” you stood, fingers clasped around hers as she yanked you up.

You let go of her hand as soon as you stand, and ignore how your palm burns at the loss.

Ellie looks at you again, oh so observant Ellie, who reaches for your hand again, squeezing it so can’t push it away. You can’t bother to try anyway.

“You good?”

“Yea, jus’ smoked a bit much.” You nodded and smiled weakly, pointing your joined hands to where Jesse, Dina, and Cat stepped slowly in front of you. Ellie hurried both your feet over the grass to meet them as they shoved each other for the best look on the bonfire.

You and Ellie ended up behind the group a bit, as neither of you had brought your own papers to throw in the fire. Ellie said she hadn’t ever been good at collecting old assignments. You threw them out the moment your last class ended. You’d torn down every studying calendar, shoved every textbook and damn ruler into a trash bag and tossed it away. None was left by graduation.

You need to tell her.

James Summers perched on a stack of logs behind the bonfire, his throat cleared, bellowing as he shook around a small container of gasoline in hand, “We’re fucking free!”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as Ellie's hand discreetly looped around your waist, offering a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to the side of your face, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

You were sick.

Everyone began throwing their papers into the pit, the gasoline scent filling the small and tightly packed area, mixing with the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. You could barely breathe it in anymore.

“Three!” James called.

“Ellie.” your voice cracked.

“Two!” The crowd yelled. Ellie looked over at you, noticing the discomfort etched across your face, and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“One!”

“I'm leaving. I’m leaving Jackson in three days.”

Ellie gleamed in a sudden surge of bright orange, heat tickling your face and screams ringing your ears. The fire had been lit, sparks of embers flying through the air as students swatted at them and laughed.

All you could see was Ellie. You watched slowly as her face dropped, as her sun kissed freckles flashed to a sudden pale. You watched as her hand dropped from around you, letting the sickeningly humid air hug your middle instead. Far less comforting than the itch of her bracelet against your skin.

All you can hear is the sharp gasp of air Ellie intakes, all you can hear is the choked question that dies on her lips. All you can hear is the crack of your ribs, maybe your heart, under your chest.

“What?”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“What?”

You blink blearily, rubbing your heavy eyes as you’re pulled into reality for a moment, staring at the tilted number of James Summer’s mailbox. The seven at the end barely holds on as it hangs loosely over the faded white paint. Your name follows the one word question, and then again. Shit, how long had you been unfocused? Your cold fingerprints dance over your fogged window absentmindedly.

“Mom,” your voice sounds whiny, like a tired child whose bones ached in the cold Wyoming winter. Being in this town sort of made you feel that way. “I said I’m about fifteen minutes out. My car made a weird noise on Maple Street, I took a break.”

Your father’s voice crashes through the grainy sounding speaker next, and you can almost imagine his face poked down to the place where your mother held the phone out. “Well did you check your gas?” You sigh. “Yes, dad.”

“And you’ve had the heat on? Know you probably haven't used it down in California much, but it’s important,” the slight edge to his voice has you twisting your hand down the window a bit harsher, “I’m not stupid, of course my heat is on. It gets cold there too, y’know,” Your eyes shoot to the dial, craning your neck with embarrassment, the heat was barely on. Thank god your parents didn’t like the concept of facetime.

“It was probably the fact that I dunno– I drove it fourteen hours?” you snap, any other building complaints dying in your throat as you instead focus your head out the window, a familiar flash of black hair nodding down the slick and cracked sidewalk to the left of you.

It was Jesse.

He looked the same, kept his hair the same overly complicated hairdo that you knew took him ages, even if he defended he woke up like that. He still had the same winter coat, though it landed awkwardly above his wrist as he whistled to his family dog, Lena. It almost shakes you, how stuck you feel in a moment of the past. You ignore your mother's calls of your name, chewing nervously on your lip. Hadn't he transferred to an out-of-state college two years ago? You saw so on one of your drunken social media stalkings. Maybe he was visiting for the Holidays? Maybe he was visiting Dina and Cat.. and–

“Turn your car on again!” your dad’s voice cut through your thoughts. You take one more look at Jesse, blinking like you were looking at some old photo or video from high school. He really did look the same. Only he was taller now, if that was even possible– less boyish in the charming smile he offered as Lena slid gently on a patch of ice. You slump down against your seat, shielding your face as your fingers turn the keychain filled car key still in the ignition. It rumbles to life softly, with a few spurts of an angry sounding engine before it settles into a normal low hum.

“It’s fine now.” You grumble, hearing your father’s tongue click. “Well hurry then, we have things to get ready for.” Your mother scolded as you shifted the old car into drive, refusing to look to your left as you started down the street, knuckles holding the wheel so tightly they hurt. “Bye.”

The click of your call ending allows you to take a long loud breath, sitting straighter in your seat as your eyes glance to the overstuffed duffle bag in your passenger seat. It’s with the heaviest clothes you could find in your mini closet back home– back in your home in San Francisco. It was a lot of sweaters and old tattered jeans you would have to layer to survive the cold without being ushered to wear your mother's awful coats or have an old scarf from middle school thrown around your neck to keep your cheeks warm. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

You hadn't had much time to pack properly, pull boxes down of clothes you only wore when it got really cold in your city during the winter. A split second decision after another fight over text messages with your mother sent you in a whirlwind of getting to Jackson as soon as possible.

You had narrowly avoided coming to your hometown for any holiday, let alone winter ones, ever since you left three summers ago. Both Christmases since then were spent in California, the promises of a beach holiday with warm sun pricking at your parents' skin and all the best events in Malibu lured them the first year, and car troubles you couldn’t afford to fix if you bought a plane ticket drove them to your home in San Fran the next.

It had not been enough this time. Your mother begged for months, going back and forth with you during every call, every picture she sent of a new poster lined on the local grocery store of Ski lodge events, light shows, any snowy magic that you could not find on the concrete streets of your home.

What finally broke you was your mother's rushed words last week, against a little screen you stared at in your dark living room as your roommate’s rushed words about work drowned out around you. ‘What are you avoiding?’ the text message read, ‘Do you hate where we raised you that much? Are you that embarrassed by where you're from?’ the next came. The words danced in your head, mingling with the soft music that played from the record player in your area.

You planned the trip the next day.

Maybe that made you weak. Maybe avoiding coming back to the small cold town this long made you weak. You weren’t sure anymore. Either way, you ended up here, after a very long drive with constant pauses and lots and lots of music to drown any thought that built inside your nerve wracked brain during the lovely endeavor of making it across the different states.

Taking your car in the first place was a decision no one you spoke to really understood. It would have been a short flight, easy to get through the airports, easy to be picked up by your parents or a cab. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew why you had chosen this route. it prolonged the journey. It gave you more time to wallow in the kingdom of pity you had built yourself in these past years since you’d left. It provided the perfect out, need be. Your tire popped on the interstate. Your engine started sounding weird 10 hours in— something like that. Something to cower away as you had done three summers ago.

Surprisingly, you made it past the large sign that wrote Jackson’s town name in big green letters without making an excuse with your old car.

You could just coop up in your parent's house anyway, avoid prying eyes or curious old friends you may run into at the local market or the bar you used to always wish you could creep into. You could just…hide away, right?

By the time your mind cycles through every thought that sits in the divets of your creased brow, you realize you have arrived at your parent's driveway. It must have been muscle memory to get you to this point, and your tight grip loosens as you come to a soft stop behind the other car in your— your parents driveway. You settle back into the cushion of your seat as you peer outside the windshield, sighing gently.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass was yellowed now, as it did every winter when bogged down by the constant frost and flurries. You were pretty sure it hadn’t snowed here yet, but the vegetation sure looked just as dead anyway. The large tree that edged the property, longest branches brushing against one of the side windows— one you used to squeal at in the dark as a child, make your father show you to was not a monster, scratched against the house still.

Your mother got the front porch fixed though, it was all she could talk about last spring. Without the burden, even if she wouldn’t call it that, of raising a child or putting them through college, she had the money to fix the creaky wood. It was replaced now by pretty and perfect panes that showed no signs of the little feet dragged over it for eighteen years. No one would know how many times you fell forward on the second step and scraped your knees or busted a lip. No one could tell the stains of ice cream you and.. you and friends had dropped on the light wood every summer. It had all been erased with the renovation, and you shouldn't feel so odd about it, but you do.

Your eyes are blurring from how long you are staring, unmoving as your skin runs as cold as the air outside, rushing through the memories. But the swing of the front door has your attention, your mother waltzing out quickly, her head twisting around as she searches for you. Your fingers twist your ignition off, hand reaching to your passenger for the purple duffle bag.

Your name is called shrilly from behind the fogged glass, and your eyes fall closed for a moment, begging the sky above for the patience you need as you step into the Jackson air. “Hi Mom,” you greet, one arm reaching over your head to stretch with a large yawn as your mother rushes over, fists clenching and then unclenching as if she was in thought.

She wouldn’t hug you. She never did. But when she blinks at you and says, “You should change out of those clothes, take a shower,” you know she’s doing the closest thing she can to an actual sign of comfort.

You nod, not willing to start an argument in the first few minutes of your trip. Your eyes fall to your sweater and soft pants. “Yea— yea.”

Your mother gives a tight lipped smile, nodding her head toward the door like you needed any assistance on how to reach the entrance, scurrying in front of you.

You follow silently, catching glances at your neighbor's houses. You almost pause, almost tilt your chin back and try to find the powder blue house you couldn’t get out of your mind, but you fight against the impulse, following your speeding mother to the door as she ushers you into the warmth of the entryway.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, freezing hands tingled as you step into the dense house, enveloped in the heat with a sigh. Now it smelt like cinnamon and cedar, the candles of the season for your mother. Your hands rubbed over your sweater, trying to rid the awful feeling of such a quick temperature change.

“Kitchen,” your mother hummed, tugging the duffle bag from your arms, frowning as she moved to the zipper to inspect what was inside. Nosy as ever. “You’re fine with staying in your old room?”

“Yea?”

“Just never know with you,” she sighed, clambering up the stairs before you could question what she meant. Your feet turn to the hallway, trailing your hand over the soft white wall, counting each picture that lines the wall. Only one included you and your parents, the biggest frame in the hallway.

You remember the day it was taken. Your freshman winter break, a knitted hat pressed over your head, face scrunched in a laugh as your father slapped his hand on your back, hot chocolate running down your fingers and into the white sweater you wore. Your mother looked horrified, a half smile on her face as she leaned over your father. It was one of the only moments you remember fondly all together. A moment you truly felt that warm feeling people described about family. Your fingers had been burning with the spilled drink, and your father couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, even as your mother scolded the both of you.

Maybe you remember it so fondly because of who took it. Joel had, and you can almost bear the chuckle of his now, beating against your ears as you meet the tile of your kitchen.

Your father is hovering over a kitchen counter, frowning and squinting at one of the cookbooks that’s almost as old as you. “Hi,” you interrupt his focus.

His head turns, and crow's feet crowd the space at the corner of his eyes as he smiles. “Hi kid,” his fingers release the cookbook, meeting your steps into the kitchen, which they must have just changed the lightbulb in— because the soft yellow was much too bright now— and wraps you into a hug.

“You made it in one piece! I'm surprised!” he teases, and you nod as you wiggle free from his embrace, stepping back. “sure did,” you throw a thumbs up, “why are you looking at that?” You nod to the book.

Your dad’s eyes flit away from yours, and you swear there’s a sense of nervousness as he shrugs. “Looking for something to make with the soup. Think I’m just gonna grab crackers and cheese though.”

“Soup?” you groan.

“Uh uh, no whining,” he shook his head. “only make food the people who live here like.”

You throw a hand over your chest and hiss, “Ouch?”

You smile when he rolls his eyes. “Your mom has people coming over,” he refuses to meet your eyes again. “She wanted soup.”

“What?” you pause, “someone’s coming over?”

Before your dad can answer, your mom is in the room again, sniffling. “The window up there is still letting in cold air,” she speaks to your dad, ignoring your frown. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“Who?” you ask again, this time a little louder. You don’t like the feeling in your stomach, the rock that feels lodged there, pulling down your posture, making your hands shaky.

Your mother doesn’t answer you, instead pursing her lips. “fix your sweater. or take a shower like I asked.”

Your hands reach to do so without a second thought, and you find yourself cursing your instincts to listen. Maybe she would have answered you if you refused.

A ring at the doorbell has all three of your heads turning. Your father turns away when you try and meet your gaze, going back to the stove to stir the soup.

You follow on your mother’s heels as she goes down the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming over? I just got here! what if I wanted to sleep?”

“You can go up to your room if you want. I planned this before you decided to finally come home for once.”

Ouch.

“What do you mean you planned it?”

Your mother looked your way for a second, her chin over her shoulder as she frowned at all of your questions. “They're alone all of the time,” she called your name like a scold, “we let them spend holidays with us. that includes the preparations.”

You want to rip your hair out as you groan, more high pitched as she reaches the door, “who?”

The doorknob turns with your mother’s hand, and the air is knocked from your chest as she grins at the open door.

“Joel! Ellie!” she greets.

You truly think your knees are going to give in at that very moment, the rush of frozen air against your cheeks the only presence keeping your body held up as you stumble away from your mother.

You look at Joel first, you see his greying hair, you see the beard he was now sporting, gruff as his lips quirk up, wrinkles more pronounced against his cheeks and forehead as it dips down to greet your mother respectfully, the person behind him eyes stay glued to the floor. “Evenin’ ”

You don’t want to look at her. You don’t want to let your chest exhale any air as her chin tilts up, and her eyes find the space behind your mother’s head. Find you.

She looks at you, and you feel every single stepping stone you had made these past years, every damn lock you’d formed over your chest, every stone you had leveled to your ankles to keep your head out of the clouds, your feet on the ground— all collapse. They crumble right at your toes, and your chest heaves with the very first flash of that fern green.

If you were a stronger person you would have turned your cheek, maybe even turned right around and back to the kitchen, the safe haven of your father’s quiet stirring. But you weren’t. You were weak, and that weakness manifested in the eyes you couldn’t pull away from Ellie.

Was she breathing? You couldn't see her chest moving. Were you breathing?

“Ellie,” Joel called, snapping the staring contest to a sudden stop. Your name follows, “Hey, ‘s nice seeing you.”

You try to smile, try to be polite like your mother taught you. It comes off a little shaky when you say, “Nice to see you too sir.”

“Naw it hasn’t been that long has it? You can still call me Joel.”

“Right,” you giggle, hoping no one notices how forced it sounds. “Nice to see you, Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes move back to you, looking nearly shocked by your voice. It reminds you how long it has been. How the last time she had heard you speak it was your raw throat in the corner of that graduation party, cheeks wet with tears. Was that all she could remember you by? You shake off the thought, not willing to dip into the memory of what happened after you told Ellie you were leaving that night.

“Why don’t you two catch up while Joel helps me and Dad with dinner?” your mother suggests.

God no. Please no, no, no.

“Uh—” she turned to look at Joel. Did she cut her hair? When did she cut her hair? It was shaggy against her cheek, jaggedly cut and settling longer in the back. “Oh uh— yeah. yea.” she nods.

When her lips part, you have to force yourself to swallow, have to will yourself to focus on the words she’s actually saying. On how her tone is shaky and nervous, on how it’s just a twinge deeper. Maybe that was just you making things up. Maybe it was just the cold.

Your mother nods at you, a cold hand on your arm as she passes, giving it a quick and tight squeeze. It wasn’t a comfort, more a warning as she flashed her eyes at you.

A swallow forced its way down your throat as you planted your feet into the ground, unwilling to move as you watched your mother escape down the hallway with Joel. Did they know what happened? Was she warning you to be nice?

Surely they didn’t know. You hadn’t told your parents what your break up was like. What that night was like. Your move was a death wish on the relationship anyway, so when you told your parents it was a mutual split… neither of them questioned it. They weren’t as privy to that hollow look in your eyes the following days, or how you holed yourself up in a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours. It was easy to lie to them.

But Ellie.. had Ellie lied? Would you blame her if she hadn’t? If you were the villain in the story she told, would you even really have any right to fight that? You’d tasted the poison on your tongue the last time you saw her, and felt it spill into the summer air with every word. You felt the sting of salt twinged angry tears on your cheeks, the heat of your touch on a bewildered Ellie. You press nails into your palms before the memory plays.

Maybe you *had* been the villain.

“Hey.”

You find your attention following the low word, finding the pair of lips they fell from. Ellie’s cheeks were red, and you began to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes almost met yours though, so you turned to watch how she stuffed her hands quickly in the loose dark jeans she wore, rocking back on the feet, the white shoelace stuck under the tip of the shoe.

“You still don’t tie the knots tight enough?” was all you could say. Not hi, not the most basic respect of eye contact. Just.. that.

“What?” Ellie asked, a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle coming next.

“Your shoe, it’s untied.” You offer, straightening your trembling hand to point down to where she stepped on the lace. She used to always tie her laces too loose.

“Oh,” Ellie’s head dips down, and you focus on the new haircut again. She had to have done it herself, the ends that fall just below the middle of her neck are slightly uneven and jostled, slightly grown out from what you suspect was the original cut.

“Yea.”

You didn’t know what to say other than that, and the silence hung heavy in the air as you both opened your mouths, only to simultaneously close them again.

“Girls,” the sweet, saving voice of your father flew down the tension thick hallway. “Soup’s ready.”

“Cool— or uh— yea. Coming,” you stutter, not bothering to catch Ellie’s gaze, avoiding the nausea it would bring.

“Just a second,” Ellie says after, pausing before she adds, “jus’ have to tie my shoe.”

Your eyes flick closed for a second, an odd mixture of that nausea and something a bit more delicate in your stomach, one that almost makes you want to pull the frown from your lips to instead quirk up.

You pad down to the kitchen, the soft muttering of your mother and Joel at the small wooden table, your mother’s favorite patterned ceramic bowls on top of soft flower table mats pushed in front of them. They have a Christmas magazine in front of them, and Joel is rubbing his fingers over his chin as your mother prattles on.

“You think you could make that?”

“Oh, I mean— that’s an awful lot just to have done in two weeks, but I could try..”

“Stop hounding the man,” your dad warns playfully, setting down two more bowls at the table, two chairs pulled out next to each other.

There was no way you would survive this dinner.

Ellie’s footsteps find the tile of the kitchen soon thereafter, and you avoid taking a seat, eyes stuck on the suddenly very interesting change of kitchen window curtains. “I have to um— use the bathroom,” the other girl said, jutting a thumb toward the hallway again.

Joel huffs quietly, giving a look to Ellie that you can’t quite discern through the quick glances you offer that way every few seconds. “Soup’s gonna get cold.”

“Really have to piss dude.”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, eyes wide as he looks between the girl in the doorway and your mother at the table.

“I know- I know, sorry, I’ll be quick,” Ellie stumbles over her words, something she always did in conversations she didn’t know how to handle, shoes squeaking against the floor as she finds the bathroom door again.

“I think—” you clear your throat, looking toward your mom. “I’m gonna take you up on the offer of shower and sleeping.”

As always, you’re choosing the easy way out, avoiding the situation as a whole. “I’m sorry, sir��uh— Joel.”

Your head dips respectfully, a sign of apology for escaping out of the dinner, but Joel and your father are both shaking their heads. “Did one hell of a drive, go sleep,” Joel waves you off.

“Goodnight,” your father adds, one of his soft smiles aimed at you, speaking for both himself and your mother who remains silent and staring at you.

“Night,” you whisper, turning out of the kitchen and to your right, but instead of heading to the stairs, you press your back to the wall, squeezing your eyes closed as you try to find a most average breathing pattern.

1…2…3…4, fuck.. what were you supposed to count? 5 things you can see.. 4 you can touch.. 3 you can...

“Well that was… awkward.. a bit of a mess,” your mother’s voice flows through the white wall, and your cheek turns, as if pressing your ear to the paint would actually make the echoed voices clearer.

“Of course it is, it’s been three years, it'll take time, that’s all.” your father muttered, and you can imagine perfectly how his eyebrows furrowed at your mom’s comment.

“Dunno,” Joel, ever the gossip, sighed. “I don’t think those two ended off well.”

You hear your name in the mix as your father continues, “She said she left on good terms.”

“Maybe. But, shit, I’d never seen Ellie like that, how she was that summer.”

Your head fell back on the wall, a bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you breathe through your nose. You shouldn’t listen to this.

“That girl.. she doesn’t like to talk,” Joel muttered, pausing— maybe to take a sip of soup.

“Her either,” your dad offers on your behalf.

“But,” Joel added, “tchh, she was a wreck. Yellin’ at me more and ignoring Jesse at the door. Had to force her to go shower, like a little kid— drag her out her room to eat,” Joel added.

Your fingers pressed into the bottom of your sweater, and you try to rid your eyes of the pictures it painted of a messy Ellie, of swollen eyes and glossy green irises. You tried not to imagine Ellie with red cheeks and tangled hair, ignoring Joel’s pleas to leave her dark bedroom. You’d loved that bedroom, but the thought of her pressed under the grey comforter, blank expression as she ignored your— her friends, well it ruins that nostalgic illusion.

“Wouldn’t tell me why, but.. when I found out your girl had left.. ahh, well I knew. We never talked about it, but it was a rough few weeks.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ellie’s eyes look a little red as she moves past you in the hallway.

“They were teenagers then,” your mother concluded quietly. “I’m sure they’re over it.”

Sometime during your eavesdropping, your hand found the space over your chest on your sweater instead of the bottom, fingertips pressing over your ribs as if the pressure pain could remove the ache that settled much lower from the words.

Ellie’s flushed face met your gaze for a moment, and yes— her eyes definitely were a bit red. She didn’t smile at you, but she didn’t scowl either. You would have rathered that, than the unreadable eyes she gives you, a soft pause as her eyelashes flutter, probably confused why you were pressed against the wall.

You scurry past her, shoulders knocking as you do. A quick shock spreads down your shoulder and arm, fist clenching and then loosening. Ellie disappeared into the kitchen as you found the stairs.

This was going to be a very, very long holiday season.

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santanasaintmendes · 3 months ago

Text

“i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight”

wc!: 5.2k (i’m sorry i’ve got serious problems 😔)

ollie bearman x reader + childhood friends to ?

warnings: angst asf, heartbreak, swearing, let me know if there are any more!

part 2

summary: after moving to Chelmsford you meet ollie, the two of you quickly become friends but unfortunately you fall for Ollie. he moves away for f2 and leaves you, until he’s supposed to race in Jeddah. you fly there only to gain more than what you bargained for

type: angst (cliff hanger ending IM SORRY)

a/n: this is just something I wrote because I was sick in bed the last few days, it’s super long but so hope yall like it! Also i’m sorry if it’s bad lol i am still sick and this is just something i wrote for fun to entertain myself. ALSO no hate to Estelle Ogilvy (is that how i spell her last name) i just used her for the plot of the story please don’t come after me.). The name is inspired by “drunk text” by Henry Moodie, please give it a listen it’s such a good song, enjoy xxx

They say that you should always be friends with the person you like before you start to fall for them. Well, that’s one thing you could check off the list if you looked back on your friendship with Ollie. The truth was, being in love with your best friend sucked. Friends can break your heart too, something people tend to forget.

6 and 6

The first time you ever met Ollie was in a library. A week prior to that you had moved to a strange town named Chelmsford. A name that 6-year-old you found difficult to pronounce, to be frank everything in the new town sounded different to what you were used to. The people there spoke with such a different accent to what you were used to, it would take you quite a while to get used to it. As you sat in the back of the taxi with your backpack at your feet, you stared out the fogged up window. The sky was a gloomy grey and the landscape seemed to be an endless plain of sad looking meadows.

You couldn’t seem to understand why your parents would choose to move to such a sad looking place, it didn’t make any sense. The taxi soon came to a slow stop, the brakes squealing loudly. You glanced out the window hopefully, rubbing the condensation away with your sleeve. Only to be disappointed to see a boring brick building of some sort. It was an odd combination of white wooden window frames and red bricks, like something out of one of those 1600s movies your Father once showed you. You anxiously looked back to your Mother who was watching you as your Father sorted out something with the taxi driver. Upon seeing your unhappy face your Mother chuckled softly.

“I heard that there’s a library just down the street, maybe sometime this week we could visit it.” she offered. You nodded, slightly content. Reading books was something you enjoyed and maybe with a library being close by, not all was lost.

As it turned out, that boring brick building was your new house.

Despite having to unpack and sort adult-y things out, your Mother took you to the library just as she had promised. As you skipped down the cobbled road, your Mother held a bright yellow umbrella over your head to shield you from the rain that was pouring down from the cloudy grey sky.

You pushed upon the heavy front door to the library which also happened to look like a sad white brick square with a pointy red roof, a depressed mushroom if you will. You halted in your steps as giant wood bookcases rose before you, shelves full of books. Never had you ever seen so many books before. In the corner there was a lady sorting things in a trolley with her back turned to you, she still hadn’t noticed you.

“C’mon, let’s head to the kids section.” your Mother said, taking you by the hand and leading you deeper into the library. Stunned by the amount of books that filled the shelves you couldn’t help but wander off when your Mother told you to stay put while she set up a borrowing card for you.

Luckily, the children’s section of the library was much more pleasant looking than the eerie hallways of adult books. You scanned the shelves in search of something to read, until you came to a stop. Two round brown eyes among the books blinked from the other side of the shelf, scaring you.

It was a boy.

You blinked back, unsure of what to do. So you did what any other 6 year old did when they believed they had found a new friend.

“Do you want to read with me?” you abruptly asked the boy who was still staring at you with wide eyes. A moment of silence passed before he nodded slowly, the boy rounded the corner. He wasn’t much taller than you with chocolate brown hair and small freckles that spilled over his face like tiny stars. He stuck out his hand, “I’m Oliver. But my friends call me Ollie.” he greeted, a smile taking over his face. His voice sounded odd, like the taxi driver who’d driven you from the airport to your new house. Ollie reminded you of a rabbit with his two front teeth that seemed to take up over half of his face, but you didn’t say anything because your Mother told you that saying things like that wasn’t nice.

You took his hand cautiously in yours, “I’m Y/N.” you replied slowly. He enthusiastically shook your hand, taking you by surprise as he led you to sit down on the bright coloured bean bags. You watched curiously as he picked a book off the shelf before plopping down next to you again. You peered over as he opened the book to the first page, you frowned, not recognising the book.

“It’s a book called Where’s Wally (Where’s Waldo if you’re American). You have to find the characters, there’s Wally, Wenda, the wizard guy and Woof - that’s the dog.” Ollie explained to you, pointing to each character on the page. The initial nervousness of meeting another kid, melting away. You began to feel excited as you nodded along while Ollie continued to explain how to play. The two of you spent the next hour doing all sorts of things, talking about favourite colours, favourite animals, reading books, drawing, playing board games together. Both getting along so easily it was as if you guys had known each other forever. That was until you heard your Mother calling your name to go home.

You stood up, looking down at Ollie who was still seated on a yellow bean bag. He blinked up at you, with those big brown eyes that had scared you only an hour earlier. “I have to go home now.” you told him, a wave of sadness passing between the two of you as you both realised your fun had come to an end.

“That’s okay, maybe I’ll see you at school.” he suggested hopefully upon seeing your downcast face. You broke into a smile, “Okay, bye Ollie.” you waved slowly as you began to walk away. Ollie waved back with a giant grin on his face as he watched you disappear behind the wooden bookshelves.

“Hey Mom!” you called out to your Mother as she came into view, she was chatting with the lady who you’d seen at the desk sorting books. She paused and turned to you, “Hey, I was just talking to the librarian, she was saying about how she has a son who hangs out here while she works on the weekend.”

Putting two and two together you realised that the book lady was Ollie’s Mother. You smiled at the lady, “I was playing with Ollie, we were reading that one book, ‘Where’s . . .” You trailed off, racking your brain for the name of the book he’d shown you.

“Where’s Wally?” the librarian offered, she nodded fondly. “That’s his favourite book.” You grinned up at the lady, looking back in the direction where you’d been playing with Ollie.

“Mom, am I going to the school as Ollie?” you asked, looking up at your Mother. She chuckled softly before nodding, “As a matter of fact, you are.”

Those golden words were what made you unbelievably excited to begin at your new school. You had barely been able to sleep with the thought of seeing your new friend again, so on that Monday morning you bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. “Good morning!” you greeted both your parents, taking a seat at the dining table, legs swinging off the chair impatiently.

“Someone’s excited for their first day of school.” your Mother hummed as she set a plate of pancakes in front of you. You nodded, “I get to see my new friend.” you replied as you stuffed your mouth with your breakfast.

You were basically pulling your Mother through the front gates as you scanned the sea of other children in the same uniform as you. The uniform also happened to be grey, it complimented the terrible weather perfectly. Your eyes fell onto the brown haired-freckled boy from two days earlier, you ran up to him, “Hi Ollie.” you smiled. A giant grin took over the boy’s face, “Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Where one of you went, the other followed right behind, Ollie helped you adjust to your new school, showing you around and never leaving you by yourself. As the years passed the two of you only became closer, though you would soon find out that that wasn’t the greatest thing.

13 and 13

As the two of you grew into teenagers, things began to change and not always for the better. Ollie and you still remained close friends, having dinner at one another’s house on Friday’s, walking home together after school and occasionally spending afternoons playing Mario Kart with Ollie’s siblings. Your families were also extremely close now courtesy to both you and Ollie, his younger siblings becoming like your own. But the worst thing?

You’d caught feelings for Ollie, it had been so sudden almost like it had crept up on you, taking you by surprise. You didn’t understand. It felt so wrong.

One day out of the blue it hit you like a pile of bricks, you just couldn’t stop staring at him. Absolutely enchanted by him, his chocolate brown hair, those pretty freckles that you’d memorised on his face.

Ollie was like a brother to you, he was your best friend, so how come you felt these things for him?

To make matters even worse for little 13 year old you, Ollie liked another girl. A girl who absolutely hated your guts.

What had you done to her? You didn’t know.

You and Ollie had been having a sleepover when he told you about her, her name was Estelle Ogilvy. She was gorgeous and untouchable, by far the prettiest girl you’d ever seen. You didn’t hold a candle to her and you knew it too. Ollie had been hopelessly in love with her since the start of high school when he shared science and maths class with her. Time and time again he would ramble on about her to you, completely oblivious to your feelings for him. You could only nod along wishing it was you who he was talking about. That’s just how it was, you were stuck in a bubble of unrequited love. So all you could do now was watch from afar as Ollie ran after a girl who you just knew would never like him as much as he liked her.

15 and 15

Ollie’s karting career really took off in the last few years and you couldn’t have been prouder, those feelings for him still lingered around but you’d come to terms that he’d never like you in the same way. Because there he was, still stuck on chasing Estelle. You couldn’t blame him, and maybe that’s what you were always just supposed to be, friends.

Yet you were jealous, something you refused to admit. Jealous of Estelle because oh how you wished to be talked about so fondly by Ollie. To always be on his mind, to be the girl he liked and would never shut up about. You still didn’t understand why you felt this way, in your mind it made absolutely zero sense. Then why did it feel so right when you were by his side, almost like you belonged there next to him? But Ollie being Ollie could just never get a hint whenever you tried to subtly let him know. It sucked because there’s nothing worse than loving someone who’ll never love you the same way.

18 and 18

It got worse as the years passed, your feelings for your best friend would just not go away. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you tried to find another boy to fawn over, your gaze would always fall back on Ollie. But he was dating Estelle now, he was in Formula 2 now. It almost seemed like an eternity ago when you first met him in the library just down your street. An eternity ago when you would attend his karting races, cheering the loudest for him in the stands. All of that was now in the past. You barely even saw him now that he had dropped out of school to pursue his career in Formula 2. Now all you could do now was watch from a distance as he looked the happiest you’d seen him in ages.

He was spectacular at what he did, you would watch him race on TV every week no matter what hour the race was or even if you had school the next day.

Yet inside of you there was a giant hole, a hole that Ollie had left behind when he abandoned you. Abandoned was a bit of a stretch but it was the only word you could use to sum up what you had felt when he left. Ollie had to move to Italy for his career, news that he hadn’t even told you in person, you had to hear it from his Mother. He’d taken your hands in his at the airport as he waited to board his plane and promised you he’d stay in touch, that he’d call every week but here you were with the last time you’d spoken to him being over a month ago.

You refused to be the first one to reach out to him, you felt like he owed you that much effort at least. So you waited . . . and waited only for the world to keep spinning while you were stuck in the past. That was until you finally realised that you had never meant as much to Ollie as he had to you.

19 and 19 - present day

“Y/N! WAKE UP OR YOU’LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” your Mother’s voice echoed up to your bedroom, rattling the glass in the window frames. You groaned as you groggily sat up, pulling open the curtains only to be greeted with dark overcast weather, rain pouring down outside. You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you dragged yourself out of bed. It was your second year of university studying mechanical engineering at the biggest university in Chelmsford. It proved to be difficult with its endless nights of staying up doing work but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

Your university never failed to confuse you and make you late for class with all of its giant identical hallways. You ran down the corridors, heels clacking on the marble floor until you came to a stop at the door to where your lecture was for that day. Slipping through the door you weaved through the seats of the auditorium to find an empty seat. Luckily for you, your friend Bianca saved a seat for you.

“Thanks.” you whispered only to be shot dirty glares by the students around you. You winced as you looked ahead at the teacher in an attempt to catch on what he was droning on about. Bianca gently nudged you, passing her phone to you. You frowned, eyebrows knitted as you looked down at the screen. A notice on Ferrari's official instagram with Ollie’s face plastered above the words “Oliver Bearman to race in Jeddah this weekend for Carlos Sainz.”

You narrowed your eyes and huffed, passing the phone back to Bianca who smiled nervously. “What was the point of that?” you whispered, leaning closer to her. Bianca sighed, “You’re not fooling anyone, I know you still have unresolved feelings for him.” she whispered back only to get a loud shushing sound from a nearby student.

Bianca shot them a glare before turning back to you, “You have to go, I don’t care what you say. You are going. This is his Formula 1 debut, whether you’re still friends with him or not you’ve got to be there for him.” she whispered-shouted, looking at you sternly. You sighed, leaning back into your chair, shaking your head.

“It’s not the same anymore. He’s clearly forgotten about me, the last time we spoke was last year and he’s been back home 4 times in the last 12 months.”

Silence hung in the air, only the voice of the teacher rambling on and on about something you still hadn’t caught on about.

“That Estelle girl, she’s clearly using him. You were his best friend, surely that means something to you both.” Bianca tried again but it wasn’t any use. There was no purpose in bringing up something that you both had clearly tried so hard to forget about.

So then why were you here booking a flight to Jeddah to watch your old best friend debut in Formula 1?

It was something you couldn’t answer and didn’t want to.

The thing that you hated the most is that you didn’t even think twice before booking those tickets.

How could you care so much about a person who had so blatantly forgotten about you?

Deep down you knew the answer, it was because to you Ollie was like your home. He was the first person to make you feel like you actually belonged somewhere, he never abandoned you to eat lunch alone at school, he never cancelled plans once you made them, he was a good person, a good friend.

Or at least he was.

Were you insane? The answer was yes, yes you were insane. Being here was so crazy; it nearly made you want to turn around and jump on the next flight back home. You were standing in line to go through the gates when you heard someone call your name. You secretly hoped it was Ollie but much to your disappointment it was . . . Arthur?

Ollie had introduced you to Arthur back when they had raced in Formula 3 together. You hadn’t seen him in forever.

“Arthur?” you questioned as he pulled you into a hug, you hugged him back before pulling away, still unable to believe it was him.

“I was about to ask what you’re doing here but that would be dumb.” you confessed, only noticing now the massive crowd that was surrounding the two of you. Arthur chuckled before nodding in the direction of the gate, “C’mon, I can get you in, you’ll be my guest.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began but Arthur was already pushing you through the gates. Walking back onto a race track was like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a car for a long time. You used to accompany Ollie to all of his karting races each weekend in Chelmsford, so being in the stands had become like a second home to you.

“Are you here for Ollie?” Arthur asked as you walked in the direction of the motorhomes. You caught yourself before you could answer too irrationally, “No, I’m just here to watch the race.” you shrugged, realising how dumb that sounded as soon as it left your mouth. No good person would fly all the way to Saudi Arabia to watch a race if there was a Grand Prix in their own country. If you wanted to “just watch a race” you could’ve watched it on TV or gone to the Silverstone GP. Arthur only hummed, you knew he had already caught on, it was so obvious it made you want to dig a hole and jump in.

“Anyways,” you quickly said, eager to move onto a different topic.

“Anyways.” Arthur agreed, looking at you, eyebrows raised. “You can’t fool me, I’ve known it since the moment I met you.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “What am I going to say to him?” you asked, looking to Arthur for help. He shrugged, “No clue but you might want to think of something quickly because he’s walking over right now.”

“Y/N?”

You blinked as you came face to face with the person you wanted to see so badly for the last year and now that you were here facing him it felt like all the air in you had gotten sucked right out. He looked the same since the last time you saw him. In the last year you wanted to hate Ollie so much but it was impossible because you still loved him and that was the big terrible truth that you refused to admit.

“Hi. Ollie.” you said, to not let the jumble of words that you’ve kept in since the last time you saw him spill out. Arthur sent you a quick salute, “Gotta go, I’ll see you afterwards, Y/N.” and with that he left you with Ollie in silence.

“What are you doing here?” Ollie finally asked, he was acting so . . . so normal. As if nothing had changed between the two of you.

“I’m here because I’m your number 1 fan, remember?” you scoffed, looking up at him. A reminder of the time when you were both 10, Ollie gifted you a t-shirt at Christman with the words: “Ollie’s No.1 fan.” plastered on it for you to wear to his karting races. It was sure to be buried deep in your wardrobe somewhere.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah you are.” guilt written all over his face.

“Why’d you leave me then? Tell me the truth, did I do something wrong? Was I too normal for you?” you asked, questions pouring out of you.

“We were best friends, how could you just leave me like that? Do I mean nothing to you? Because you were everything to me, my best friend, the first person who made me feel like I actually mattered to someone, so tell me, why did you abandon me?”

Silence hung in the air as you stared up at Ollie. You wanted answers, perhaps it would be the only thing that would let you move on from him. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. This was so. . . so unfair. You wanted to yell, scream at him even so he could feel even a fraction of the pain you’d felt in the past year.

“So that’s it? You don’t even have an explanation?” you asked him, your voice shaking with anger it made your throat ache as you blinked back tears.

“I waited and waited for you to call me, to even send a message but that was a mistake. You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.”

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, Ollie finally meeting your eyes as the three simple words left your lips.

You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.

The world stopped like everything had been put on pause as you realised your mistake. You felt like you’d gotten hit on the head with a cricket bat.

“I have to go.” is all that left your mouth as you turned around. The ground was moving like a spinning wheel - a blurry mess of colours. It made you sick to your stomach as you walked away, your cheeks flushed hot and your forehead sticky with sweat. Ollie didn’t even call out for you, nor run after you for an explanation because it was so blatantly clear what you’d just confessed to him.

You wished you could hate him, hate the fact that he’d left you, forgotten you like an old stuffed toy, you hated that he didn’t love you.

You sat on the curb, clutching your knees outside of the entrance to the racetrack wallowing in self-pity. Wiping away tears that just kept falling down your face much to your distaste. The sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings, the sky now a deep shade of orange. You stared at your feet, it was dumb, you should’ve known that coming here to Jeddah was a mistake. Ollie had moved on, something that you hadn’t done in the last year. You felt so stupid, why did you believe you could repair your friendship?

Why did you-

“Excuse me?” a voice interrupted your train of thought, you quickly wiped your tears and looked up to see Arthur standing beside you, a pitiful smile on his face. You looked away, “What do you want?” you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest bitterly. Arthur sat down beside you, watching you closely as you stared at the trees in the distance. He sighed, “The race is about to start and Ollie’s not coming out of his driver room. Estelle said she’d be here but she’s not and he’s locked himself in.”

The words hung heavy in the air, “And what does that have to do with me?” you asked flatly. You knew exactly what he meant. But you weren’t going to do that, you were done with Ollie and everything to do with him.

“You know exactly what it has to do with you. Did you really think Ollie forgot about you that easily? You’re dumber than I thought.” he quipped unhelpfully.

“Thanks,” you muttered miserably, Arthur winced.

“What I meant is that you can’t give up this easily, you and I both know how stupid Ollie can be sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, letting a tiny smile creep onto your face. Arthur wasn’t wrong. When you and Ollie were both 8 you invited him over for Easter to make coloured eggs. It resulted in 20 cracked eggs on the kitchen tiles when Ollie accidentally knocked them off the bench. The two of you had stared at the mess on the ground before bursting out laughing until you were both in tears. It was safe to say that you both spent the next 2 hours scrubbing the tiles and the yolk that had stained the grout in between them.

“Yeah.” you said softly, looking at the sun that had been swallowed by the top of the palm trees, the stars in the sky beginning to appear as you sat in the light underneath a lamp post.

“So?”

“Okay, I’ll get him out of the room but after that I’m out of here. I want to go home.”

Arthur gave you a quick thumbs up as you raised your hand to knock gently on the door to the driver’s room. There wasn’t a reply, only dead silence and that’s when you heard it, crying from inside the room. 6-year-old you would’ve kicked down the door and done anything to get to your best friend. But here you stood outside the room, sending hopeless glances at Arthur who was standing behind you.

“Ollie?” you called out hesitantly, the crying halted and there was another long moment of silence. You pressed your ear up against the door, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” his shaky voice replied, you breathed a sigh of relief. You turned around, beckoning Arthur to leave you both, he only nodded, mouthing ‘OK’ as he slipped down the hallway. Turning back to the driver’s room you took a deep breath in, you didn’t want to go in. You didn’t think you could face him after what happened earlier.

“You came,” he said as your hand rested on the handle of the door but there was resistance, it was still locked.

“Of course, are you okay?” you asked, immediately regretting asking as soon as it left your mouth. You cursed yourself silently as you awaited Ollie’s answer. Soft sniffles came from the other side of the door, “Yeah.” he finally replied quietly but loud enough for you to hear from the other side of the door.

What were you supposed to say to get him out of the driver’s room?

“Everyone’s waiting for you, you can’t stay in there forever.” you gently reminded him, sighing as you sat down, back leaning up against the door. There was another long moment of silence as you rested your head on the door, stretching your legs out for comfort.

“I don’t think I can do it.” he said, taking you by surprise. The Ollie you’d known wasn’t afraid of anything, he was confident in almost everything he did, almost it seemed.

“Oliver, you’re being crazy. You are by far the most talented driver I’ve ever seen.” you told him, staring at the roof of the building as you heard a sigh from the other side of the door. “You’re just saying that because you’re my girlfriend, Estelle.”

You froze as if you’d just been stabbed by icicles, Ollie thought you were Estelle.

Of course. He’d been expecting her, Arthur had told you before. You scoffed to yourself quietly, you would’ve stood up and left if it wasn’t the fact that you were here to get Ollie out of the driver’s room he had oh so nicely locked himself in. You let out a soft sigh as you racked your brain for what you should say to him.

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Ollie.” you told him with a heavy heart, feeling as if you were just setting yourself up to get your heart broken all over again. You took a deep breath in, “You are such an amazing driver it’s literally insane, not only that but you’re by far the kindest, most selfless person I know. It’s crazy that you think you can’t do this, because I know that you can. Ferrari chose you to drive for them for a reason, they know what you’re capable of, everyone else does too. I see you and you’re extraordinary, you have this spark inside you that’s amazing. And . . . maybe that’s the reason why I love you. I always have, and when I had the chance I should’ve told you but I didn’t because your friendship has always meant more to me than my own feelings.” you let out a shaky breath.

“You’re a good person, Ollie. You’ve earned a chance to show the world just how great and insanely talented you are, are you really going to throw it away?”

You blinked back tears, who knew you could get so emotional after giving such a life changing speech?

You rubbed your eyes and cleared your throat, letting out a deep sigh. It was time to leave now, Ollie would have realised by now that it was you who was speaking to him and not Estelle. As you began to get up, leaning against the door for support you heard a click!

Oh shit, was the only thought that went through your mind as you lost your footing and fell backwards, the door frame offering you no help at all as you grasped at it helplessly. You stared up at Ollie as you laid at his feet, a million thoughts racing through your mind. He was in his fireproofs with his race suit tied around his waist as he looked down at you, eyebrows knitted. There were tear stains on his flushed cheeks as he stared at you with those wide brown eyes you’d seen among the books all those years ago.

“Y/N?”

a/n: sorry if it was so quick and rushed i just wanted to post something! Thank you if you got the end, ik it was super long for no reason, so thank you! Please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you and have an amazing day xx

#f1 #f1 x reader #f2 #f1 fanfic #f2 x you #f2 imagine #olliebearman x reader #f2 x reader #formula 2 #formula one #formula racing #formula 2 imagine #ollie bearman #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #ollie bearman imagine #santanaspeaks<3 #f2 fanfic

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joshym · 11 months ago

Text

Prettiest in the Morning

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Jake is worth being late to work for.

Word Count: 2.3k +

Warnings: smut, (18+ ONLY) sweet morning sex with Jake, unprotected p in v, a little cock warming, fluff fluff & more fluff. tooth-rotting sweetness.

a/n: this was born purely from this wonderful request. enjoy, my loves.

"Call out today, honey. They don't need you as bad as I do."

-☼-

The incessant screaming of your morning alarm penetrates your dream state as your eyes slowly begin to open.

The sun's morning rays pay no mind to your blinds, peeking through them with a strength that makes it difficult for your eyes to adjust right away.

Through a squint, you take a look at your clock to catch the time.

6:45am

A drawn out sigh escapes your lips as you rub what’s left of your slumber from your eyes.

You roll your tired body over to see your lovely Jake, his mouth parted sweetly and carrying the faintest of snores. He’s still fast asleep as he’s cozily wrapped in your fluffy duvet. You smile at his soft, sleepy features that beckon you to stay tangled up with him.

But, alas, you must leave him. You have to be at work by 8:00am, much to your disdain.

You lean down to plant quiet kisses on your sleeping beauty. His eyelids, his nose, his lips– he stirs the slightest bit, a lethargic grin curling from the corners of his mouth. But his eyes stay shut, drawing him back into his deep rest.

You stretch your stiff limbs as you reluctantly pull yourself away from the warm covers.

Why must your bed be the comfiest when it’s time to get out of it? A question for the ages, no doubt.

You try your best to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake him. Lifted on the very tips of your toes, you pad across the cold wooden floor to your closet.

You shuffle through the threads set aside in a special section designated for your work clothes. You’re usually very meticulous in picking your daily work attire, but today, you just don’t have the interest for it.

Your arms feel extra heavy as you reach them over your head to grab the first blouse and pair of slacks you see. Your oversized sleep shirt (one of Jakes, of course) rises up just enough that you feel the cold, morning air against the bare skin of your thong clad ass that sends a chill up your spine. Yet another cruel reminder of how badly you wish to be in the warm bed, with Jake's body heat radiating on you like your own personal space heater.

You pull the garments from their hangers and tiptoe back to your room, stopping at your dresser as you set your clothes on the chair next to it.

You pull your shirt off, hissing at the cold air that hits your nearly naked form. Goosebumps appear on every inch of your chilled skin; your nipples harden instantly from the brisk temperature of your room. Jake has an affinity for keeping the room cool. You don’t mind it as long as you're snuggled up next to him in your bed, but it’s rather unpleasant when you’re not soaking up his warm body.

You can’t begin your day without moisturizing your skin. As cold as you are, you refuse to get dressed without lotioning up properly.

You take the nearest bottle and begin lathering yourself up with the vanilla scented cream. You prop your leg up on the chair your clothes are waiting for you on, running the slick blam over your calf and all the way up to the top of your thigh. You put that leg down and as you begin to work on the next, you hear a deep breath coming from the direction of the bed behind you.

You stall your movements, hoping you didn’t wake him.

But as you slowly turn your body around, you're met with his drowsy eyes fixed on you. His arms rest above his head and one bare leg sits atop the covers. Sprawled out beautifully and rather invitingly with a gorgeous smirk across his pink lips.

“Jake. I’m so sorry, baby. I tried not to wake you,” you softly mutter while you set the lotion bottle back on the dresser. “I hope you haven’t been awake long.”

He turns on his side and props his head up with one arm, keeping his heavy eyes on you. “You shouldn’t be sorry, lovely. I’m getting the show of a lifetime.”

You giggle as you grab your slacks and begin putting them on. But as you step the first foot in, Jake quickly interrupts you.

“No, no, don’t do that just yet. C’mere first.”

You can’t deny his pretty eyes, so you stop what you’re doing and walk over to him. He sits up to meet you, hands gently wrapping around your hips as you stand before him.

His face is so close; you feel each shallow breath against the exposed skin of your stomach, only intensifying the goosebumps already there from the cold.

“You’re the prettiest in the morning, you know that?” His eyes are locked with yours as he leans in to connect his lips just above your belly button. “And you smell so good, my sweet vanilla cupcake.”

You want to melt into him, to render yourself completely under his heated touch against your cold body.

You weave your fingers in his tangled locks while he continues to pepper the sweetest, laziest kisses against your tummy.

But reality suddenly sets in. You look to the clock once more; 7:05am.

With traffic being the worst during the morning rush, you’ll have to leave in no less than twenty minutes if you want to be at work on time. Even then, that’s a stretch.

“Baby, I have to get ready. I don’t want to be late,” you say through hitched breaths.

He hums into your skin, the warm vibration sending a flash of arousal to your core as you're mentally cursing the fact that you have to put an end to this so you can finish getting ready.

But just as you begin to do so, he quickly pulls you closer to him as he falls back on the bed and drags you on top of him.

You both get caught in a fit of giggles with the way he so perfectly calculated his movements so that your bodies would end up this way.

“Jakey,” you say through a breathless laugh, “I have to get ready for work. I really don’t want to be late.”

He takes your face in his hands, pulling it close to his and deeply kissing your lips. You can’t help but deepen it even further. He knows your weaknesses, and kissing him is number one on your list.

His velvety soft lips, the taste of his tongue, the way he nibbles ever so slightly on your lips— you find yourself craving his kisses more often than not.

His fingertips gently glide over your shoulders, down your arched back, stopping at the rounded curve of your ass. He squeezes the flesh in his hands while you begin to grind yourself on his hardened cock beneath your now soaked core.

He pulls his mouth away, leaving you chasing after him for more.

His blown out irises meet yours, a sly smile splayed on his kiss-swollen mouth.

“Just call out today, honey. They don’t need you as bad as I do.”

Before you can oppose, he flips you both over so he’s now on top of you.

“My sweet, beautiful girl. So pretty in the forenoon gleam,” he says, looking at you with eyes that say more words than his mouth ever could. A look that makes you feel as if you’re the only woman in his world. His fingers brush along the side of your cheek as you lean into his hand. “How could you ever make the grueling trek to work and depart from me?”

If you had it your way, you’d never leave him. Even for something as normal as going to your eight to five.

No; if you could, you’d stay here. Just like this, for the rest of your conceivable days.

“I love you, my sexy poetic lover,” you tell him. “But if you want me to keep my job, I simply must make the grueling tre—“

He promptly cuts you off with another kiss, gentle and sugary. Taking his time to enjoy the taste of you, and you’re quite enjoying it yourself— so much so that the time feels mute. It’s stopped completely, as far as you’re concerned.

He ruts his hips into your core, his hard cock rubbing against you, stealing your breath.

His kiss becomes more fervent, more hungry. Like he’s utterly starved for you.

You reciprocate right back. Your body craves his to be as connected with yours as humanly possible.

He breaks away, hovering his lips just above yours. Close enough that they brush over yours ever so softly.

“Can I show you how much I love you?” he asks in a hushed whisper. He sounds desperate, like his need for you is as dire as if his entire life depended on it.

You reach down between your bodies and tug his strained boxers down, then move your panties to the side, gasping at the crisp air of your room hitting your drenched center.

“Please, baby,” you mutter, nearly breathless at your unbridled need for him.

He smiles against your mouth while lining himself up with you, running his tip through your quivering folds. “That’s my pretty girl,” he says against your parted mouth. “Gonna take it slow and gentle, okay? Just wanna make you feel good, baby doll.”

He takes his time entering you, letting you feel every inch as he slowly glides all the way inside while you both sign in absolute relief.

His hips move in long and drawn out strides, allowing his cock slowly pump in and out of you.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily, whispering sweet nothings in the shell of your ear.

He fills you so wonderfully and completely. The slightest bit of a sting present, but only in the most elating and erotic way.

“You’re so warm, baby doll,” he says, his lips ghosting over your tingling skin. “So perfect and tight. My beautiful sweetheart with the most pretty pussy.”

You wrap your legs tight around his back, keeping him as close to you as you can while his pace picks up just enough that your blissful end is just on the horizon.

“Jake, baby. You feel s- so good inside me. Right where you belong,” you mumble through staggered breaths.

You reach your hands to his sturdy shoulders, digging your nails in his damp skin. He whimpers in your ear, a sound you’ve come to realize is your absolute favorite.

“Yeah— this is where I belong, baby doll. Tucked away inside, just like this.” He stills himself inside you, his twitching cock causing you to flutter as he rests against your sweet spot. “I feel you, honey. Squeezing me like that, you’re so close. Can you give it to me?”

He lifts his thumb up to your mouth, and you instantly open up for him. He places it inside and you swirl your tongue around the pad just a little before he pulls it back out.

His wet thumb slides slowly down your body. He lifts himself up just a bit to reach for your throbbing clit, toying with it in gentle circles as he begins pumping in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

“Right there, baby, right there,” you muster in high pitched whines.

He leans in to meet your lips once more, and that is all it takes for your body to succumb.

You’re crashing hard into your wave of pleasure, your cunt pulses and throbs around him. Your back arches completely off the bed, your breathing labored and deep.

“There you go, baby doll,” His voice is low, his words raspy and faltered. “Gonna paint you nice and pretty, okay love?”

He pulls himself out, stroking his cock covered in your slick. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes roll in the back of his head.

He finishes all over your tummy. His warm cum feels like a blanket against your skin. His moans become almost uncontrolled, those beautiful noises that are prettier than any ballad.

He falls against you, his heaving chest colliding gently with yours.

“I love you, my perfect girl,” he whispers into your neck. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“I love you, Jakey.”

You brush your fingers through his hair, taming his disheveled length. You breathe him in deeply to savor this beautiful morning with him. You wish it could be like this always, that nothing could ever come between the two of you. Not even a job.

Shit.

Your job. You completely forgot.

You snap your head over to look at the clock, scared to be met with reality.

7:49am

“Oh fuck!” you yell. “I’m late for work!”

You kiss the crown of his head before he moves off of you. You jump up to get cleaned up, realizing that no matter how quick you move, you’ll never make it on time.

“Hey baby,” Jake says. “You know it’s Saturday, right?”

You stop dead in your tracks. There’s no way you forgot what day it was.

You take your phone off the nightstand and turn the screen on to check.

Sure enough, it’s fucking Saturday. Your day off.

“Jake! Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask as you shamefully drop your head in your hand.

He giggles sweetly, forcing a smile to soften your irritated features. “Well, because now I know you’d rather be here with me than at your silly old job.”

You toss your phone back on the nightstand and lay back down next to him, playfully smacking his biceps.

“That’s a risky game, Jacob.”

He chuckles he rolls you over on top of him. “I love you, baby doll.”

taglist:

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @iffypanic @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicsprinkles @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @livkiszka@jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @torniturntomyarrow @welllauragvf @writingcold @heckingfrick @itsafullmoon @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @gretavansara

a/n: feel free to send me more requests! this was so fun. :')

if you'd like to be added to my taglists, let me know or fill out this form & i'll be sure to add you.🤍

as always, don't don't be afraid to let me know what you think! love you guys.

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fluff

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

Note

Okay okay, hear me out. Miguel trying to figure out your secret identity because you're the only spider person who hasn't shared their backstory and Lyla can't find anything about you besides your spidersona, so he breaks his own rule and sneaks into your dimension in disguise, searches the city for you and is ready to go home with a failed personal mission, till (thanks to his super hearing) he hears you singing in your apartment and sees your open window with all your plants and a stray happily sunning itself while you tend to them all, and he's just mesmerized on the street cause like, woah. 🌷🌷🌷

oH MY GOD–I LOVE THIS !!! bc i recently also watched rocketman, i'm making y/n sing an elton john song favorite of mine 💖

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

hold me closer, tiny dancer. – miguel o'hara x reader

as night fell in the city, cicadas and crickets hummed their songs in the bright, moonlit evening of tonight in the humble boulevard of the dimension you belonged to. you didn't live in the most well-off or best town in the city, but it was your home; your home that nobody else in HQ ever knew was even yours. you were a complete enigma to the rest of the multiverse, and you preferred to stay that way. it didn't bother you one bit that you only had your little rooftop garden to tend to and greet when you get home from a long mission. you made yourself a warm cup of tea and sat down by your little wooden table by your rooftop, your outdoor plants hung up by the macrame hangers you made for them all. you looked off at the yellow and white studded distance beyond your balcony and smiled slightly to yourself, enjoying the silence and solace of being alone, in your own home, in your own space. though little did you know... someone was searching for you, trying to figure out just who you were; it was no adoring fan of yours from this dimension, it was instead a coworker, your colleague back in earth-928: miguel o'hara.

"this is hypo and critical, mig." lyla warned miguel as he lifted up his gray jacket's hoodie up on his head as he scanned his surroundings. "would you kindly shut up and let me do my job?" he snapped at the AI assistant as she raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging. "one, i do all the scanning and difficult processing stuff for you in the nanoseconds, stand back and let me do my job. two, not my fault my servers don't have anything on them. just turn back now, miguel, it isn't worth finding out who they are—these are your principles, by the way." she reminded miguel as he sighed and covered the watch she was being projected from with his hand as he hid behind an apartment building. the surroundings were pretty clear, nobody else roamed these streets at night, except for a few night crawling critters that sung about in the night. though these creatures weren't the only singers of the night, for as miguel was about to head off in the opposite direction to begin searching for the person behind the spider person mask he had been so used to seeing—yearning to see the lovely face hidden underneath it—he had heard the opening notes of a classic melody being played on a piano. the melody sounded as though it were recorded, its sound was being carried out from a couple of speakers that didn't sound modern in the slightest.

"what is that?" miguel asked aloud to nobody in particular. "they're the opening notes to the elton john song, 'tiny dancer'. it's cute as hell." lyla said with a grin as miguel stepped out of the shadow of the big building and followed the sounds. the song reverberating from the speakers was fainter, but a new symphonic sound rang in his ears. a voice? a voice rang out in the depths of the otherwise silent, unbothered evening in this quiet, ordinary boulevard in your quiet, ordinary dimension—for the most part. as the song progressed, miguel had finally pulled himself out of the shadows and seen the lit up home you had. he took in the full view of the balcony of yours that was adorned with macrame hangers, potted plants of all different sizes and colors, and... you, there, looking off into the distance, smiling as that sonorous voice came from you.

"pretty-eyed... pirate smile... you'll marry a music man." you sang along as the song went on, taking a spray bottle from near the railing and humming the rest of the song's lyrics, spraying water on the plants' leaves all carefully and gently murmuring to the plants how big and healthy they've gotten. you smiled and continued singing the song as it got closer and closer to your favorite part of the song. "looking on... she sings the songs... the words she knows, the tune she hums..." you continued as you set the spray bottle down finally and sat down on your chair by the balcony, with miguel peering his head up ever so slightly to catch a better glimpse of you. "i know that voice..." he muttered as he almost accidentally slipped and landed in the light emitting from your home. "but, oh, how it feels so real—lying here, with no one near; only you, and you can hear me. when i say softly... slowly..." you sang in a gentle voice as you got up slowly and put one foot over the other, as if in a ballerina position and raised your arms slightly, not caring who would see... not knowing miguel was watching you perform for yourself in full view. "hold me closer, tiny dancer... count the headlights on the highway..." you sang as you twirled yourself around gracefully, with the skills of a poised ballet dancer. your gentle, elegant movements made miguel pause and open his mouth slightly ajar in amazement. "they're... wow." he whispered to himself as you put your arms down and sighed, re-entering your home and sliding the windows closed, disappearing into your home for the night. miguel had known you were a sophisticated fighter that always carried honor in their hearts and poise in their movements—but he never witnessed you perform, let alone so freely, happily and... alive.

"y'done?" lyla asked miguel, snapping him out of his trance. "a-ah, right, um... okay. we... can go home now." "something tells me you don't wanna just yet." lyla pointed out as miguel darted his eyes back up to your unit and quickly tore his gaze away with a sigh as he put in the coordinates back to HQ, opening a portal and stepping foot in it, casting one last glance back up at your humble little apartment, the apartment where the tiny dancer who has his heart performed for the very first evening when his life felt like it really started now. "...it doesn't matter what i want. i got what i came here for, let's go." he whispered as he moved his gaze away from your home and wordlessly bid your dimension a goodbye, or rather... a see-you soon.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

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racheyace · 7 months ago

Text

Lightning Ridge - Part One

A young Shifter wanders into a town crawling with hunters, Hendrix plans on laying low but when he catches wind of one particular hunter who is after the same Shifter that he’s been tracking himself, his curiosity gets the better of him. Offering to join the man on his quest he can only hope he can track down the dangerous shifter, saving the lives of innocents all the while keeping his secret hidden.

TW: mentions of murder/eating people, giant spiders, some swearing, mentions of death, mentions of drug use

G/t Shifter story, the idea came from a prompt I read a while back by @maplesyrupandgt. I’ve just come back to writing after recovering from an injury to my writing hand of all things, but I’m back and posting short stories and prompts to get me back in the swing of things. This will be a Four Part Story so keep an eye out for more to come!

Approx 3.2k words

Part One - Here

Part Two

The rain beat down hard on my shoulders and I knew I’d have to stop for the night, my eyes had caught sight of distant light coming from this direction and I had hoped to stumble across a small village in search for cheap accommodation. What I didn’t expect to find however was currently staring at my face menacingly, urging me to turn around and go back the way I’d come.

A sign was posted a few yards from the small village, and it read:

‘GIANT’S BEWARE’

And Another:

‘GIANT SLAYERS WITHIN’

The signs were large enough that any shifter would be able to read it in their Giant forms, what was unnecessary was the graphic image of a shifter having its head cut off by a human that was scrawled under the blocky letters above it.

“Charming” I said to myself.

It was known among shifters that most humans didn’t know that ‘Giants’ as they called us, were not in fact Giant’s at all but a special kind of shape shifter that could grow into their large forms at will, or sometimes against their will. For that reason, I deemed it safe to enter, no one here would know what I was, I’d just have to keep a low profile as always.

My boots trudged heavily through the muddy streets until I found a tavern, the sign out the front told me that there was availability inside, perfect. I pushed open the double wooden doors and was greeted with a waft of warm thick air filled with music, laughter and the smell of smoke and whiskey.

I inhaled deeply, soaking in the pleasant sensations, I’d get a drink once I’d secured a room for the night. I found a coat hanger near the entryway and placed my wet jacket onto it along with my fedora, feeling somewhat warmer and dryer I headed straight for the bar with my best panty dropping grin.

“A straight whisky darlin if you don’t mind?” I asked the young barmaid from behind the counter, she gave me a playful wink while pouring a fresh glass without even looking at it. She slid it across the polished counter to me and leaned over.

“What’s a pretty face like you doing here?” she asked, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder.

“Just passing through” I said casually. “I was hoping I might find some accommodations hereabouts.”

“Well, you need look no further, we have a few spare rooms tonight, just a single?” She asked hopefully, she briefly glanced around to see if I had come in with anyone else.

“Yeah, just a single.”

She handed me a piece of parchment to sign, a guest log, I scribbled a fake name in as I usually did and handed it back to her along with a generous payment, she gave me a set of keys and then asked. “Where are you headed to?”

“Oh no where in particular, I enjoy exploring, I’m a bit of a nomad.” I shrugged, taking another heavy slog of my drink. “Might head toward Lightening Ridge tomorrow.” I said offhandedly.

The man beside me at the bar, scoffed, I hadn’t even noticed him sit down until now, the barmaid and I both looked at him curiously, waiting for an explanation.

“You haven’t heard the rumors?” He asked, looking at us incredulously, his dark hair and darker complexion gave off a mysterious air in the already dim lighting of the tavern, his shaggy hair keeping his face in the shadows expertly.

“That’s Giant territory up that way.” He explained, turning to address us properly.

“Is that so?” I asked, I hadn’t heard of any territory being claimed as ‘Giants Territory’ ever, most of the time shifters mainly lived amongst humans. Of course, there were the rare kind who took advantage of their sheer strength and sought to harm and press their power over others.

One shifter in particular I could think of, we’d crossed paths a few times, I had actually been tracking him for a long time after hearing the first reports of a Giant terrorizing villages. I’d found him about a year ago, warning him of others who were hunting him, I tried to get through to him with reason, but he wasn’t interested in hearing any of it, in fact he very nearly killed me.

I’d kept my distance then but continued to track him for a short while until I lost his trail. It had been months since I’d had any firm leads and I wondered if my instinct taking me this far East had finally paid off. Perhaps he had taken over Lightening Ridge claiming it to be his own.

“What makes you think it’s Giant Territory?” I pressed further.

The young man finished off his drink and indicated that he would like another.

“I’ve been assigned to hunt a Giant living in that area, he’s set up camp there for a while now, many have gone in, but none have ever returned.” he said forebodingly wiggling his fingers for emphasis.

I shivered but not because of the stupid theatrics the man was displaying, but because in all likelihood Blade was killing if not eating the men who had entered ‘His’ Territory and the thought turned my gut to ice.

“Perhaps I could assist you.” I said resolve set, I was sure this was the shifter I’d been after, and I wasn’t going to let him get away again, especially knowing he was now murdering civilians.

The young man laughed loudly but I kept my expression neutral, and his laughter died down to a look of pure disbelief.

“You’re not joking? Are you?” He asked and I shook my head, he gave a heavy sigh. “Look I appreciate the offer, but I generally work alone, besides I don’t wanna get distracted looking after you when I’m trying to slay the beast.” He explained, all good points.

“I’m a hunter as well.” I lied. “I actually know of the beast your after, been on his tail for months, I think I could prove useful.”

He gave me a skeptical look; I was sure he was going to turn me down again and then I’d move to plan B which would be tailing this man in order to find Blade, but he held out a hand instead.

“You don’t get in my way.” He said sternly. “When we find the beast, it’s every man for himself, I wont risk my neck to save your ass if you do something stupid, you hear?”

I couldn’t help the smile edging onto my face, and I grasped his hand.

“Deal.” I said, so much for keeping a low profile.

“The names Ryder, I’ll meet you down here an hour before sunrise.” He said stiffly before rising from his chair, intending to head in for the night.

“Hendrix.” I answered honestly. “I’ll be here.” He gave me a curt nod before heading up the stairs to the Tavern’s rooms.

“Boy you do have a death wish.” The barmaid was shaking her head whilst cleaning a glass. I gave her a small shrug before heading up the stairs myself, and I wondered if the barmaid had noted that the name I put on the guest log, was not the name I’d given to Ryder. I supposed it didn’t matter, in all likely hood we’d leave before anyone else arose the next morning and I’d never see her again.

With that I hunkered down onto the small cot within my room and urged my racing thoughts to quieten, though regardless of my efforts my excitement at having finally got a lead was too much to give me a good night’s sleep and morning came all too quickly.

I rolled out of bed and stretched my aching limbs, sleeping on a different surface every night didn’t bode well for my back. I wandered to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face briefly glancing my disheveled appearance in the mirror. Ryder had been right to worry that I wouldn’t be useful in a fight, where he was toned, I was more malnourished with my poor muscles trying desperately to make themselves known.

My dark blue eyes popped against my freckle-stained face where my cheek and jaw bones jutted out. I wasn’t much of a fighter, more a survivalist, but I had been training since my last meeting with Blade and I was confident I’d be able to take him this time.

I brushed my fingers through my shoulder length sandy blonde hair and pushed away from the sink, I’d guessed it was about an hour before sunrise now and if I didn’t get a move on, Ryder would likely leave without me. I slung my satchel containing my meager belongings across my chest and headed down the stairs.

“Ah there he is, I was thinking you might have come to your senses overnight.” Ryder joked, putting on his own hat and jacket, ready to head out the door.

“Not a chance.” I smiled, and followed him outside, the air was fresh and held the sharp bite of winter closing in, I longed to be back inside the warm tavern, but I also wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity, especially if I could put an end to Blade’s rampage once and for all.

It was bad enough that he was putting the identity of our kind at risk but using his power to harm others was something I just couldn’t stand for.

I followed Ryder as we headed further east, following signs for Lightening Ridge, it was approximately 200kml away from SheerWood, the village we had just come from, and would be about a three or four day walk with minimal stops.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself Hendrix.” Ryder asked, the sun was beginning to rise, and we had walked in mostly comfortable silence until that point, I had gathered that he preferred not to grow attached to his travelling companion in case he died once we faced the shifter, his question caught me off guard.

“There’s not much to tell really.” I shrugged, preparing to spin off the usual story I give people. “I’m a nomad, I travel all over, got no family to hold me down so I’m just out exploring really.”

“Bullshit, you’ve been tailing a Giant for peats sake, there is more to you than just drifting with the wind.”

I bit my lip, I hadn’t really thought that one through, I’d forgotten that I’d told him I was a hunter back in the tavern.

“Well, you know I pick up a few hunting jobs here and there as a travel through, no big story, sorry to disappoint.” I covered quickly, it wasn’t an unheard-of story and totally credible if I do say so myself.

He didn’t seem convinced, but he also didn’t seem frustrated at all, like he understood that not everything was okay to be shared with a total stranger.

“Well, I suppose I’m much the same as you, grew up in a small town and as soon as I was able, I up and left, took up hunting jobs and make my living that way, I must say it’s not a bad way to see the country.” He glanced at the surrounding forest appreciatively.

“Do you have any family?” I asked trying to continue to keep the topic on him.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen them in years, they live way out west in the desert, my mum, dad and sister, as far as I know Kailani is still there tending to the farm with them, farm life just wasn’t for me you know?”

I nodded, the lifestyle had never interested me either, come to think of it I wasn’t really sure what kind of lifestyle called to me. I supposed travelling and exploring the country was okay, but the thought of settling down somewhere was intriguing, even if it was an impossibility for me.

“What’s Kailani like?” I asked, my mind wandered to my own little sister, she’d been only five years old when I left home, when my abilities had made themselves known.

“She’s kind.” He said wistfully. “She was always very reserved, especially around our parents, she was never shy about giving me a hard time though.” He chuckled at a memory playing over in his mind. “Last I heard she was seeing a fella, she’d make a good wife, I just hope she’s happy.”

“I suppose that’s all any of us can ask for.” I said quietly, hoping the same was true about Ella.

A twig snapped to our left and we both paused, Ryder held up a scarred hand indicating for me to keep quiet. I scanned the area, but I couldn’t see much of anything off the trail, the forest on either side of us was dense with underbrush.

After a few moments I was going to tap Ryder on the shoulder and suggest we keep going, it was probably just an animal skirting too close to the trails, that’s when we heard a soft hiss disturb the silence around us. And that was all the warning we got before the large Arachnid made itself known, its many eyes flickering like embers in the dense forest and its large hairy legs moving faster than they should have been able to.

“Duck!” Ryder shouted, I was going to question why I would do such a thing, and to instead suggest we run but I crouched low to the ground anyway and narrowly missed a projectile of sticky silk that was shot toward us. Ryder had rolled out of the way and brandished his sword, crouching in a fighting stance and ready to leap at the thing.

I dug in my pockets for my dagger, and then realized it was woefully too small to fight a creature this large. Of course, normally when I encountered giant spiders in the forest, I was much bigger and would simply crush the creature with the heel of my boot, I’d never thought I needed a larger weapon when I was usually the largest creature around.

Of course I couldn’t grow right now, not with a hunter standing right there, I rolled as the creature made a move toward me and I narrowly avoided one of its sharp claw-like legs from spearing me through the middle. I watched as Ryder pounced on top of the thing, using his sword to strike at the Arachnids thick exoskeleton.

The spider seemed to pay him not mind, not finding his efforts of any concern at all and instead kept on moving toward me, the spider positioned itself over me and spat more sticky silk covering my left hand and pinning it to the ground. My breath hitched and I felt myself expand a few inches, breaking my hand free of the sticky substance.

I focused on stopping the growing energy within my body, reining it in for now. I wasn’t about to die at the mercy of an insect.

The spiders’ pincers sliced awfully close to my neck, and I jerked my body upwards pushing the heels of my boots into the spider’s face.

With only a second to make the most of my distraction I backpaddled on my hands and knees crawling under the spider and then out into the open. I dug in my bag frantically and pulled out what I hoped might do the trick, tearing off a part of my sleeve, I picked up a stick nearby and wrapped my shirt around it.

The spider had its eyes on me again and let out another hiss, I doused the cloth in whiskey and then struck a match, creating a large fire stick that I brandished at the spider. It threw its body backwards showing off its front legs in a display of aggression and in doing so threw Ryder from its back, he landed in a heap dropping his sword a short distance away from him.

With the flaming stick in one hand, I inched closer to Ryder’s sword, causing the spider to back up further.

“Ryder!” I shouted kicking the sword toward him, he got the hint grasped the sword and then stood directly underneath the beast. I backed up and as the spider came down Ryder expertly placed the sword between the spider’s thorax and abdomen and then it went limp, its body falling heavily on top of Ryder.

I concentrated and allowed myself to grow only a little, just enough so that I would be strong enough to push the beast off of Ryder, with a grunt of effort I rolled the spider off of him. Ryder lay there breathing heavily, his whole body covered in unidentifiable spider guck, I focused on my own breathing shrinking down to an acceptable height though my body protested.

“You look like hell.” I stated, holding out a hand for him. He grasped it with a slimy hand of his own and I cringed a little at the sickening feeling.

“I’d look a lot worse if it hadn’t of been for you.” He said completely awe struck, he walked over to reclaim his sword from the spider’s belly and then looked over at me, his hazel eyes flashing.

“That was some quick thinking back there.” He said, voice still laced with amazement. “I mean, after seeing you brandish a dagger of all things, I had my doubts, but… that was something else.”

I brushed it off, throwing the fire stick on the ground and stamping it out before putting my matches and flask back into my satchel.

“I work well under pressure.” I shrugged, and his eyebrows reached the sky.

“I’ll say.” He said clapping me on the back. “In any case, well done lad.”

I chuckled nervously and followed him as we continued down the trail. Thankful that I had made it out of my first encounter with an aggressive creature and lived to tell the tale, secret still intact.

“Ha, that’s funny…” He started, looking me up and down as I caught up walking briskly beside him.

“What’s funny? That I’ve only got a dagger to defend myself with? Yeah I know the truth is I lost-“

“No, not that.” He cut me off. “I just could have sworn I was taller than you.”

PART TWO

#gt #gianttiny #giant/tiny #g/t #giant #tiny #size shifter #sizedifference #gtangst #HendrixRyder #ShifterHendrix

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ustechonline · 2 years ago

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hywenhywen · 1 year ago

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0.05 sunny days - hanni pham

synopsis - after a very stressful week of promoting you get some time off, what's the best way to spend free time? with your love, hanni of newjeans

warnings / notes - loosely based off of sunny days by wave to earth, idol!hanni + le sserafim!reader, mentions of heights(?)

wc - 2.1k

you laid on the cold wooden floor as you allowed yourself to finally relax. your body was burning, not only temperature wise though, every breath you took felt like breathing in fire. your phone began to ring, the special ringtone told you who it was. ignoring your aching muscles, you stood up and walked to where you had lazily tossed your phone.

‘han♡’ your phone read.

you rapidly pressed the green button and brought the phone up to your ear.

“hello?” you said.

“is that how you greet your girlfriend?” hanni jokingly scolded.

“sorry, i had a long day.” you said, allowing yourself to fall onto your bed. “how are you?”

“i’m good, but let's talk about you.” hanni began saying. “you sound so worn down and exhausted.”

“well yeah, it's the last week of promotions, we have to go out with a bang.” you chuckled dryly.

“how about i come over tomorrow, make you a nice meal, and you get to relax?” she asked. “or we could plan for another day?”

“tomorrow is fine, but i’ll go to your dorm, they’re going to want to do something tomorrow.” you said, referring to your group mates.

“ok, hyein is going to be happy to see you.” hanni laughed. “she's been nonstop talking about you and how much she misses you.”

“han, i have to go, we're going out to a team dinner, but i’ll call you when i get back if it's not too late.” you said, hating the fact that you needed to hang up.

“ok, i’ll wait for your call,” she said. “have fun, i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“bye hanni, i love you.” you said, your phone resting in between your shoulder and your cheek as you searched through your closet.

“i love you too, y/n.” she said. hanni hung up shortly after.

you dreaded going to team dinners, especially after a busy day, you're far too tired to properly enjoy the moment.

a knock was heard on your door and then the twisting of the knob.

“we leave in 20 minutes.” said chaewon.

you nodded your head and she promptly exited your room. you looked through your closet until you found a comfortable yet proper outfit. you quickly changed and grabbed your jacket off of a hanger. you put it on and picked your phone up off of the dresser. you then made your way to the living room where you waited for your members.

soon enough you headed off to the team dinner and spent a few hours there. after what seemed like a really long time you went home. you checked your phone and saw the time, it read 02:51. you had been there for at least four full hours. you contemplated dialing hanni’s number, but decided against it and texted her instead.

i'm home, sorry i couldn't call you

you texted her. you had never been too good with words so you didn't text or talk too much. you preferred to listen to others.

after sending the message, you opted for going to take a quick shower and then heading to bed. so you did those things, you had gone to bed at around four in the morning.

you woke up at nine. it was sunny outside, not a single cloud in the sky. you got out of bed and got dressed, sending hanni a text quickly.

just woke up

i'll be over in an hour

you assumed hanni had not yet woken up due to her not reading your message from last night. you went out to the kitchen and grabbed a tangerine, saying good morning to sakura who happened to be in the kitchen and telling her that you'd be going out. having your phone in one hand and your tangerine in the other you began your very short walk to a nearby café for a coffee. you enjoyed the gentle breeze and the sounds of the mildly empty streets. you peeled the citrus as you walked holding onto the peel so you could properly dispose of it later.

in roughly 15 minutes you had reached the evidently empty café. you pulled the door and the bell placed a top the door chimed. a worker promptly welcomed you. you walked up to the counter and skimmed over the menu. you made your decision and began to tell the worker your order.

the worker wrote the order down and informed you that it would be out shortly. you made your way over to a nearby wall and saw that there were a few new notes hung up on the pinboard. many were love confessions and others were people just writing about a bad day. they all seemed to be the same. yet only one had caught your eye.

it had your nickname on it. a nickname that only family and close friends knew. could it have been a coincidence? that nickname was never exclusively yours after all. your curiosity suddenly got the best of you, so you began to read the note.

yet just as you began to read it, the worker called your name. you walked over to the counter and picked up your drink and bread. you thanked the worker and began your walk to the newjeans dorm. you calmly drank your tea and observed the partially empty sidewalk. you saw how the branches on the trees swayed with the air.

the streets were quieter than usual, maybe it was because of the time. you walked at a constant pace, never walking faster or slower. you kept walking for another ten minutes before reaching your destination. you walked into the building and took the elevator to the floor where the dorm was located. after about two minutes you had reached the door.

taking your keys from your pocket, you unlocked the door. you pushed the door open and there stood hyein. she seemed to still be asleep, her eyes barely open and her hair a mess. once hyein had fully registered that this wasn't a weird dream, her eyes widened. her mouth suddenly agape as she struggled to find the right words.

“hi hyein, is hanni still sleeping?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

“yeah, she's seemed very tired yesterday.” hyein said.

“is everyone still sleeping?” you asked her.

“no, minji unnie is awake, i don't know if dani unnie and haerin unnie are awake yet.” she said, searching her brain for a solid answer.

“i brought everyone some bread.” you said, lifting up a small bag in the air.

“thank you unnie.” hyein said, hugging your side.

the sound of a door opening alerted you both. out of the door came a very sleepy looking hanni pham. your eyes lit up as your legs moved on their own. in just a few steps you held the girl in your arms tightly. your stress seemed to evaporate, just like water on a really hot day.

you felt hanni melt into your embrace. she wrapped her arms tightly around your waist and you hugged her a bit more tightly, as if she could possibly vanish at any given moment. you two stayed like that for a moment before the sound of someone coughing snapped you back to reality. your head snapped in the direction of the noise. there stood kim minji, with a look of disgust on her face.

“good morning minji.” you said, an enormous smile on your face.

“good morning,” she said. “please keep your relationship behind closed doors, it's not the first thing i'd like to see in the morning.” she said as she pretended to gag.

“you're just jealous that you're single,” you said, chuckling lightly. “don't worry min, one day you'll know what this feels like.”

minji rolled her eyes playfully and walked past you two towards the kitchen.

“i brought you guys some bread.” you said, as you rubbed hanni’s back.

minji nodded in understanding and disappeared into the kitchen. hanni yawned and you turned to face her again. there were those eyes, the eyes that you had fallen in love with. you just stared at her for a few moments before your mind register the fact that she had been trying to get your attention for a few moments. you shook your head and paid attention to what she was saying.

“we should go out, it's a really nice day,” she said. “we could just walk around aimlessly.”

you nodded your head and placed a gentle kiss in her forehead.

“what was that for?”

“it just felt right.” you said, smiling at her.

“i’m going to change, ok?” she said. “i’ll be out in a few minutes.” you nodded and walked off to the kitchen as she walked back into her room.

staying true to her word, hanni came out of her room after 15 minutes. you observed her outfit a green hoodie and a pair of jeans, she had left her hair down. you admired her for a few moments before she began to drag you out of the apartment. bidding your goodbyes the door shut behind you both. hanni held your hand as she led the way to the main entrance of the building.

you never second guessed hanni’s decision in places. you had begun to come up with multiple ideas of where she could be taking you. you two kept walking until you got to a train station. you raised your brow at her only for her to laugh it off. you kept trying to figure out where you were going, but nothing came to mind.

you two got into a train and began to make your way to the place hanni had in mind.

“where are we going?” you asked, turning to face her.

“somewhere,” she said. “it's a surprise.” hanni stifled a giggle and tried to pass it off as a cough but failed miserably.

the whole train ride you kept thinking of all the possibilities but nothing ever made sense in your head. you looked at maps but nothing seemed possible. so you kept thinking, over and over again.

to say that this was surprising would be an understatement. you expect somewhere small, like a park, not lotte world. your mouth was agape and your eyes were wide open. you kept looking between hanni and the castle that stood in front of you.

“do you like the surprise?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“i love it.” you said as you leaned in to kiss her cheek. hanni rapidly stopped you, reminding you of where you were. you composed yourself and remembered that you were an idol.

although you were both wearing masks, you knew it wouldn't be enough. people were always bound to find out who you were. you took hanni’s hand and began to walk into the castle. the first attraction you visited was the haunted house. surprisingly, it wasn't as scary as you thought it would be.

the next attraction you two visited was the swing tree. hanni had really enjoyed it, you on the other hand didn't like how high up it went. you had to stop momentarily as your heart was beating out of your chest and hanni rubbed your back while stifling her laugh. you bought some water and drank some in hopes that it could help you relax a little, yet it didn't do much. hanni was smiling the whole time, most likely finding the situation very humorous.

“let's go to the gyro drop!” hanni said. “i heard it's really good.”

“does it go up high?” you asked, already feeling mildly nauseous.

“yeah.” she said, her smile momentarily dropping. “we can go on a different ride.”

“let's go to the gyro drop.” you said, determined to make sure hanni had one of the best days ever.

“really?” she asked. “you don't have to if you don't want to.”

“i want to.” you said, smiling widely at her. “let's go.”

once you were seated on the ride, you began to second guess your decision. it seemed to go up so high. you felt nervous, your hands were sweating, and your heart was racing. hanni held your hand as you waited for the ride to start.

in a few moments the ride had begun and hanni let go of your hand. your heart dropped as you saw how high it was going. it was worse than it seemed. once you had reached the top, hanni reached to grab your hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“you’ll be ok y/n.” she said, a smile etched on her face. “breathe.”

you took a deep breath and looked at her, your heart had begun to calm down, you felt well. the sun shines on your skin, as if the sun was brighter now than ever. the sun seemed to blind you. you felt free, you felt that this was the best feeling ever. hanni made this day sunny, with the way she is, she shined just as bright as the sun.

she would always be the greatest star ever. the only star you would ever need.

back to shore | 0.06

#📰 fics #★ — w2e #wave to earth #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans #newjeans hanni #hanni #hanni pham #hanni x reader

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karuppar · 2 years ago

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ironstrange1991 · 10 months ago

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Unexpectedly Ours: Part 1: What it means to us

Pairing: Doctor!Strange, Defender!Strange, Supreme!Strange x Pregnant!Reader

Synopsis: The reader is faced with an unexpected pregnancy and fears what this could mean for her unconventional relationship.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, pregnancy relatated themes, polyamorous relationship dinamics.

A/N: This is the first part of a four-chapter mini series. The sex pollen event mentioned in the story can be read HERE.

It must be because of all the creampies, you thought as you bowed your head again on the toilet vomiting your lungs out.

Technically it was all about the creampies, but how could you turn them down when there was nothing you loved more than letting your Stephens fill you up with all their cum? It was much more than the physical thing, you simply loved the way the three of them, exactly the same, would bury their faces in the crook of your neck and get totally lost in their pleasure when they came. The sweet noises they make is your favorite sound in the world.

You were on birth control, the problem was, as you well remembered, that a little over a month ago you broke a relic and ended up intoxicated by some type of sex pollen and you were almost sure that substance was what cut the effect of your pills.

"Damn sex pollen" You muttered, slowly getting up and going to the sink to brush your teeth and try to start your day. You hadn't taken any tests yet, but you were late, your breasts were sore and swollen and the morning sickness was only getting worse instead of better. Taking the test was just a formality, like accepting the receipt after using your credit card. Okay, that certainly wasn't one of your best metaphors.

You sighed heavily, staring at your clothes hanging on the hangers and trying to decide what to wear to work. Your feet crossed, your toes tapping anxiously against the polished wooden floor.

Phil will love this. You thought sarcastically. Of course, of all your problems, your boss was the least of them, but you knew he was counting on you one hundred percent, he was definitely not exaggerating when he said that the office couldn't handle a week without you. Phil didn't have the profile of a boss or an accountant. He was disorganized and confused and relied on you to keep everything on track. Which often left you with more work than you should have, as Defender always reminded you.

You opted for a suit skirt, and a silk shirt with high heels. It was basically your everyday uniform.

You were too late for breakfast, so you ran to the kitchen just to get a cup of coffee so you could drink it on the way to the office, but when you entered the kitchen you found the three Stephens there, eating, but mostly talking, civilly, no arguments. How was that even possible? However, they were silent the moment you entered the room.

"Don't stop because of me, I'm already leaving." You said, pouring your coffee into the cup and looking for its lid in all the drawers without success. The three of them were silent, looking at you rummaging through and slamming the cupboard doors and then one of them moved his fingers and opened a specific door.

"Top shelf. Right where the glass was." Defender said.

You stood on your tiptoes to grab the lid "Thanks. So, what were you guys talking about. Was it just me or did you guys stop talking when I arrived? You know what they say, maybe I was the topic of the conversation."

You covered the cup and took a long sip of coffee, looking at the clock. "Anyway, I have to go. I'll leave you guys alone to conspire as you please. You know, maybe it would be a good idea to have another me here, just to balance things out, in case you guys decide to gang up on me."

Stephen let out a small laugh "That would be a nightmare, sweetheart. One of you is enough work." He opened his arms welcoming you in a hug and kissed your lips quickly. "Have a good day."

You hurriedly kissed Defender and Supreme goodbye and grabbed your bag and keys from the counter. "I'll see you later, be careful with whatever you do today. I want my boyfriends safe and sound when I get home."

You said rushing out of the kitchen.

Every time you stepped foot out of the Sanctum Sanctorum into the morning bustle of Bleecker Street you felt like you were leaving one world and entering another. The eternal dichotomy of new and old, magical and mundane.

People walked along the sidewalk next to your house as if it were the most normal thing in the world, without having any idea of the practices that took place there and in a way you were grateful for that. You couldn't bear to see your home turn into a tourist spot for curious tourists.

When you arrived at the building it was as if morning sickness had never existed, you were feeling much better and were sure you would be able to work normally, however all your confidence disappeared when the elevator stopped on the office floor and you were hit by the smell of fresh paint.

You had totally forgotten that Phil had told you a few days ago that they were going to paint the building. In addition to the unpleasant smell that automatically made your stomach turn again, you watched as you passed - dodging boxes and boxes of files on the floor, tables pulled away from the walls and wires lying around waiting for the victims who would trip over them – that you and your coworkers would have to work crammed into rooms that had already finished painting.

By lunchtime you had already run to the bathroom three times to vomit. Your coworkers, Nancy and Beverly, kept exchanging not-so-discreet glances between them every time you returned to your post ready to go back to your calculations. Their distrust only increased when you said that you preferred not to go to lunch because just thinking about food made you feel sick, but they didn't say anything, at least not directly to you.

By 3pm you were literally feeling sick, the nausea wasn't getting better and the hunger was making your body weak, your vision was getting dark and you started to hear the familiar ringing in the ear of someone who has very low blood pressure and is about to faint. You tried to get up slowly to go to the bathroom and wash your face, but you never got there.

You woke up to the strong smell of alcohol gel that Nancy rubbed in front of your nose. They had placed you in one of the armchairs in the main room. Phil was on the phone talking to someone and a minute later a portal opened in the middle of the room making everyone's eyes widen and Stephen walked through it without paying attention to them.

"I had no idea she was feeling sick, Doctor Strange, or I would have let her go home." Phil ran to say.

Stephen nodded, stopping in front of you and resting both hands on his waist, he rolled his lips, clearly annoyed.

"She shouldn't have even come to work because she was feeling sick early on."

He reached out to you. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go home."

...

Stephen handed you a steaming cup filled with a not-so-pleasant-looking greenish liquid. You glanced at him suspiciously "What is this?"

"A mix of herbs that will help with your nausea." He said, sitting next to you on the couch and resting one of his hands on your knee. "You shouldn't have gone to work today, sweetheart."

You sipped the tea making a face which made Stephen chuckle.

"Yeah, it's not pleasant at all, but try taking some. It'll help."

You sighed feeling your stomach turning again. "I was feeling good in the morning. Of course I puked my guts out, but I was fine. I thought I was going to have a normal day, but the smell of fresh paint..."

Stephen heard you rolling your lips.

You sighed, "I thought it was something I ate at first, but now, I don't think that's the case." You confessed, going back to drinking from your cup and letting the hot liquid go down your throat.

Stephen brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

"How long have you known?" He asked. It was clear that he, too, had noticed all the signs.

You shrugged, "A week after the day my period was supposed to start. You know I'm not usually late."

He rested his elbow on the back of the couch and rested his face in his hand, his blue eyes glancing at you with an unusual interest, as if trying to analyze some hidden expression on your face.

"That's what we were talking about in the kitchen. I wasn't the only one who noticed."

You forced yourself to finish your tea with one last sip and Stephen hurried to take the cup from your hands. "How are you feeling?"

You thought for a minute "I think this disgusting thing is actually helping."

He smirked.

"I have to take a test, don't I?"

He moved his fingers making the cup that was in his hand disappear and extended his arms "Come here."

You were eager to snuggle into his chest. Everything there was so inviting, from the smell of his perfume to the texture of his robes. You inhaled deeply letting his presence comfort you.

"It was the pollen. It cut the effect of the pill."

Stephen chuckled nervously. "It was predictable since it serves exclusively reproductive purposes. We should have thought of that, the three of us, but... we didn't. I don’t think we thought much that afternoon."

You let out a small giggle and Stephen held you tighter in his arms. "Let's do a test to confirm." He suggested.

You tilted your head to look at him. "Are you guys mad at me?" The words were choked, but Stephen smiled sweetly. "I'm not mad at you. Why would I be? It wasn't something we were planning, but I confess the idea has grown on me these last few days."

"But the other Stephens... it’s complicated and Supreme hates children."

Stephen smirked "I never wanted kids either, love, but things change. Don't worry about us. It's okay."

You were silent for a long time, enjoying the sound of Stephen's breathing, the sound of his heart beating in your ear. You were feeling reasonably better and little by little you felt your eyelids getting heavy.

You only realized you had dozed off when you heard Stephen's voice ringing in your ears. He still held you in his arms, but he had made himself better comfortable on the couch.

"She passed out at work and I had to pick her up, but she's okay now." You heard Stephen report and Defender sat next to you on the couch and rested his hand on your knee.

"How are you feeling, baby?" He asked, extending his hand to you and you moved slowly, swapping Stephen's lap for his. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Stephen took the opportunity to stretch his legs and stood up.

"I'll leave you with Defender, sweetheart. I have a pregnancy test to buy." He snapped his fingers, exchanging his robes for a pair of jeans and a bottom up shirt. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

You nodded.

"Get something for the nausea too." Defender suggested and the two of you watched Stephen disappear into the entrance hall and heard the front door open and close.

"You didn't tell me how you're feeling."

He cupped your face affectionately in his rough hands.

"I'm better. Stephen made me drink some disgusting tea, but it helped a lot."

He nodded letting you play with his hair. You took off the hair tie and placed it on your wrist and began to comb the strands with your fingers, carefully undoing some knots.

Stephen sighed heavily, melting into your touch, he tilted his head up to kiss you and you allowed yourself to get lost in his lips. Soft and sweet.

"I'm happy" He breathed on your lips and to your surprise he lowered his hand to your belly. "Of course we still need to confirm this, but I want you to know that I've always wanted this. Deep down, I've always wanted to have a family, so this is kind of a dream come true for me."

You looked at him blankly, but didn't say anything. There was a whirlwind of feelings in your chest and the racing thoughts were making your mind spin. Everything still seemed like a dream.

"I don't know if I can do this, Stephen." That's just what you said.

He rested his forehead on yours. "If that's the case, we'll do it together. The four of us. You won’t have to do anything alone."

You nodded.

...

Sometimes you felt like you could see situations from the outside, as if they were happening to other people. This was one of those moments. You were sitting on the toilet, panties pulled down to your ankles, one hand covering your mouth and the other holding the positive pregnancy test.

Outside the bathroom you knew there were three men anxiously waiting to find out the results. Maybe they were sitting at the foot of the bed waiting, the image that came to mind somehow managed to draw a nervous chuckle from your lips.

You heard a soft knock on the door followed by a baritone voice. "Honey... is everything okay in there?"

Was it everything okay? You knew you needed to get up, get out of that bathroom and deal with reality, but you couldn't do that because you were still struggling to understand your feelings. You doubted that Stephen knew the immensity of that simple question at that moment. To be okay. Were you okay with that? Would you be okay with that new reality that was imposing itself on you? Would your relationship be okay? Would the Stephens be okay with that?

"Honey... say something." Supreme insisted and you heard Defender's calm voice responding. "Give her time."

You sighed, standing up and pulling up your panties and shorts. "I'm going."

You placed the test on the sink and allowed yourself to look in the mirror. Your eyes were red, but you couldn't cry because none of this seemed to be happening to you, it just couldn't be real.

You washed your face and tied your hair haphazardly into a bun just to get it out of your face. Whether it seemed real or not, whether it seemed to be happening to someone else and not you or not, reality was imposed on that object and you needed to face it.

When you opened the bathroom door, Supreme was standing there waiting for you. Stephen was sitting at the foot of the bed and Defender was sitting in the armchair next to the fireplace. The three of them stared at you, trying to read in your expressions the words that took you a few seconds to say.

"I... I'm pregnant." You reported waving the pregnancy test in the air as proof.

Now it was your turn to watch their reactions. Supreme stared at you with his mouth slightly open as if he had somehow completely forgotten how to close it. Defender looked at you with a beautiful smile on his lips that somehow felt so comforting.

Stephen smirked as if he had already gone through the entire acceptance process before when he saw all the signs even before you did. For him, in a way, that result was just a formality, you thought.

"Please, say something." You asked, your voice low and hoarse.

Stephen stood up and slowly walked towards you, he pulled you by the waist until your bodies were rubbing each other and cupped your cheek. "I love you and I will love this baby just as much, but I want you to know that the choice is yours. Do you want to keep it?"

It's strange, you thought, how you've spent your entire life being pro-abortion, but haven't thought about it for a moment since the possibility of pregnancy crossed your mind. Somehow you knew it wasn't an option for you because you didn't want it to be.

"It's mine, it's yours. Of course I want to keep it." You responded, feeling hot tears falling from your eyes and running down your cheeks. The feelings that seemed blocked now overwhelming you. Fear, doubt, insecurity, but also affection, love. So much love. It just occurred to you in that moment that you had a piece of Stephen inside of you.

Stephen smiled widely and his eyes were red and wet with tears that threatened to spill over. He pulled you to his lips and kissed you hard. When he broke the kiss his face was wet with tears and he smiled. "We're having a baby, sweetheart."

You chuckled nervously, "Yes, we will."

Defender walked towards you and you threw yourself into his arms kissing him hard. You knew he was happy and you were so happy knowing he wanted this. You just knew you couldn't do it without him. Of the three Stephens, he was the most responsible, the one who always made the most difficult decisions and in a way you felt safer knowing that you would have him by your side throughout the process.

"We're having a baby, Stephen." The words came out choppy, such was your emotion. Defender held your face in his hands and rested his forehead on yours.

"You made me the happiest man in the world today, baby. I love you so much!" He kissed you again softly.

"Supreme...she needs you now." You heard Stephen saying and turned to look at Supreme. He was standing there staring at his hands, his face a mixture of surprise and fear. Definitely contrasting with Defender's happiness.

"Stephen..." You called insecurely approaching him.

"I spent so long believing that I was only capable of destruction and death... after everything I caused to my universe." He said in a choked voice "How can I deserve something like this after everything I've done?" He stared at you, there were tears in his eyes and pain, so much pain. "Sometimes I can barely bear to touch you with these hands, honey. How can I hold a baby..."

You felt your heart breaking at the sight of his suffering, but you held his hands in yours and brought them to your lips and kissed them. You cupped his cheek. "Stephen, all that matters is who you are now, the good you do in this universe, the love we share. You deserve to be loved and you know it."

You brought his hands to your belly. "You are capable of creating life, We did this together, it is ours and I love you. God, I love you so much."

You wiped away his tears with your thumb. "Stephen's right. I need you. I can't do this without the three of you."

Supreme nodded and cupped your cheek. "I'm here. I love you honey with all my heart and I'm not going anywhere."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tight and resting your face on his chest, smelling him and letting that comfort you.

You never wanted to have a baby, you never imagined yourself as a mother, but you knew somehow that you could do it if you had your Stephens with you.

...

When you thought about how it went from you vomiting in the toilet to you lying on an ultrasound table with the doctor, a nurse and three Stephens staring open-mouthed at a monitor and listening to the heart of a living being that you had made together with tears in their eyes, you could hardly believe what was happening, but at the same time you enjoyed the feeling of euphoria mixed with an indescribable love that seemed to take root inside your chest.

Being pregnant was something new and different and terrifying all at the same time and although you wanted to keep it to yourselves for a while, it was impossible to convince the Stephens to keep it a secret and so you had all the tests that made sure everything was fine with you and the little being inside you, the Stephens decided it was time to tell everyone that they in their magnificent glory had knocked you up.

The fact that Tony invited you to one of his post-mission parties only gave them the perfect opportunity to make the big announcement and once you were there they waited until the end of the party when Tony's guests left and just his fellow Avengers were there to finally speak.

You guys were sitting on the sofas chatting and laughing, Tony and Thor were telling their versions of a specific moment in the battle while Steve and Sam teased the two, contradicting what they were saying.

The atmosphere was light and relaxed. You loved those moments. Obviously you weren't a big fan of the grandeur of Tony's parties, but those moments when you could sit among friends and talk about anything and laugh made up for everything else. You were always so grateful to have those people as your friends and so much more than that, they were your family.

You were sitting between Supreme and Defender, playing with their hands that you kept in your lap while laughing listening to the nonsense your friends were saying and stealing kisses from both of them. At first your friends would give you curious looks and you couldn't blame them. Being in a relationship with three men is unconventional enough and the fact that they are three versions of the same man didn't help much. But over time they got used to the idea.

Stephen had gone to the bar to pour himself a martini and when he came back he brought you a drink that he made a point of explaining was non-alcoholic - which caught the attention of Natasha who looked at the two of you with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"If you guys allow me, there's something we're looking forward to sharing with you" Stephen said, interrupting Thor and Rhodes' long debate about the battle and you felt your cheeks turning red and sipped your drink to hide it.

"For the love of God, don't say it's another Strange!" Tony teased.

"In a way, it is." Supreme replied, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it.

Natasha looked at you intently and then smiled. "I think I know what it is."

You smile brightly at her.

"Stop the suspense. Just talk at once!" Tony demanded impatiently.

Stephen completely ignored Tony and held out his hand for you to stand up and pulled you into his arms speaking into your ear "Tell them, sweetheart."

You inhaled deeply turning to face your friends who now looked at you anxiously. Stephen wrapped his arms around your waist. Defender and Supreme were smiling proudly.

"We're having a baby." You announced and they cheered excitedly and you felt your heart getting warm with all that affection. Tears accumulating at your waterline.

"That's wonderful news, Y/n." Pepper said hugging you. "It'll be great not to be the only mom around here." She said.

"So how did this happen?" Tony asked looking genuinely surprised. “Y/n why didn’t you tell me that? How long are you guys keeping this secret?”

"I don't think we need to explain how babies are made, Stark." Supreme returned to which everyone laughed.

“I was waiting for the best moment to tell” You confessed.

"Ha ha, really funny. “Tony rolled his eyes to Supreme. What I meant was, you guys were trying for a baby and didn't mention anything?"

Stephen just chuckled and pulled you to his lips.

"We weren't planning, but..." Defender began to explain.

"But we were definitely doing everything we could to make it happen. Many, many times." Supreme teased, interrupting Defender and making you blush and your friends laugh.

"…We are extremely happy." Defender concluded.

"This is incredible. Children are a blessing. In Asgard we judged a happy family by the number of children they had." Thor explained.

"Thank god we're not in Asgard. Or I'd be considered a very unhappy person." Natasha replied and then got up and hugged you. "I'm so happy for you, Y/n." She faced Stephen smirking "I can't say the same for the child who will have three Stranges as parents."

Supreme chuckled. "I know deep down you love me, Romanoff."

"Yeah, you're delusional." She retorted making you giggle.

"You know he or she will call you Aunt Nat, right?" Stephen teased and Natasha smirked.

"Why do you think I'm so happy about the news? There's something really special about being Aunt Nat, I can spoil your kids without regrets."

"Okay, now I'm worried." Defender said chuckling and holding your hand pulling you closer.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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questionableratatouille00 · 1 year ago

Text

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, reader wears lipstick, heels, and a dress, insecurity on Bucky's part, brief allusion to disordered eating (Bucky), mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

||Part 2|| Part 3 || Part 4

[Series Masterlist]

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

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝑹𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

🄳🄰🅈 2, 🄰🄵🅃🄴🅁🄽🄾🄾🄽

It had been easy to find a store selling dresses made to look like they were from the 1940's. The Brandon Center, the little store that could only be found in Brandon Briar, had an overwhelming amount of them. You'd left Bucky to find whatever he needed, you instead opting to browse through all the pretty dresses. There was a large selection, filled with pretty prints and colors.

Bucky, perhaps ten minutes ago, had interrupted your browsing to tell you that he was going to wait in the car. You had simply nodded, quickly glancing at the bag he carried.

A stunning red dress caught your eye. It had a little belt to go around your waist, with 3/4 satin-cuffed sleeves and a matching satin heart-shaped collar.

Sure, there were other dresses in a similar color, but once you saw this one, there was no going back. You checked the tag, making sure that it would fit.

Grinning once you saw that it did, you took the hanger off the rack before looking through the jewelry stand. When you found nothing that fit your style, you sighed. You walked to the register, and you were greeted by a woman, probably in her sixties. Her hair was dyed blonde, which looked good with her blue eyes. She wore black eyeliner all the way around her eye, with thick mascara to match. She grinned, a heavy country accent coming in thick when she spoke. Though you'd only spoken to a few locals, they all seemed to have the same accent.

"Hiya! Will this be all for you today?" She had a nametag on her floral blouse. Brenda.

You nod. "Yes."

"Okay. Oh..this is a pretty thing. You plannin' on comin' out by the old diner for the dance tonight?" She laid the dress out on the counter, examining it.

"Yeah. It's..it's in that little square, right? I saw the string lights this morning when I was driving by, but I didn't really have time to look."

"Yes, yes. The decorations are always gorgeous. Wait a minute..oh, this is from Mr. Lee." She said, beginning to fold the dress. When she noticed your confused expression, she grinned.

"A while back, we had a guy donate a bunch of old dresses like this after his wife passed. His wife was friends with Peggy Carter, funnily enough. Anyway, we kept a bunch of those dresses in the back for a few years. Forgot all about them. Until now, that is."

You nodded, though the mention of Steve's almost-kind-of-basically girlfriend startled you. A younger girl, maybe a college student, stepped out from the door next to the register. The creaky wooden floor announced the presence of another customer, as did the bell on the door.

"Aunt Brenda, can you help Ms. Owens? She wanted to look at that green dress I told you about." The girl said. Her hair was brown and straight, going down to her waist.

"Oh, yes." Brenda turned back to you. "Stacy will ring you up." She explained, placing the folded dress into a white paper shopping bag.

She walked out from behind the counter, Stacy taking her place.

"Sorry about that." She apologized. "That'll be $23.99. Hero's discount."

When she glanced up to you, she smiled a little. "Don't worry. You blend in a lot. Most of the people here are older, and anyone who isn't is just a young couple coming here for the festival. My great aunt and my grandma live up here, so I stay here every summer to help with the store." She assured.

Once you paid, she waved you goodbye as you walked out of the shop. Bucky was waiting in the driver's seat of the truck, scrolling on his phone.

"Y'know it starts at 6:00, right?" He asked when he heard the truck door open.

"It's 3:15, we'll be fine." You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt. You didn't say much on the drive to the hotel, instead thinking about what else you were going to wear.

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

Bucky stood inside of his hotel room, not sure what to do. You had decided to close your door to his room, and he decided to do the same.

He showered quickly, before getting dressed. He felt stupid as he glanced at himself in the mirror. He knew how he was supposed to look, but none of this felt...right. He tied his hair into a low ponytail, just to keep it out of his face.

He opened his door to your room, just to be met with your door closed. He knew it was going to be closed. Of course it would be closed. There was no reason he should feel so...disappointed.

Disappointed? No. No. Bucky was sure of it. He barely tolerated you. You were annoying, and you liked starting fights for no reason.

But he couldn't deny the feeling of excitement he got when he saw your name light up on his phone.

Ready. That was the entire text message. And somehow, a single word made his stomach feel light. Without typing a reply, he stepped into the hallway of the hotel, before he saw you.

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

"You look..fine." You mumble, refusing to say what you really meant: hot.

He nods awkwardly, before tilting his head towards the elevator. Nodding, you walk with him to the elevator, and you try and study his expressions as you wait to get to the first floor.

He looked lost in thought. Shit. That was never good. If he wasn't talking, whether that meant exchanging insults with you and Sam or marveling at modern technology with Steve, he was lost in his head.

One thing you'd noticed about him since he'd moved into the Compound was that he was getting better. Better, in the sense that he wasn't staying holed up in his assigned bedroom pretending that the world didn't exist. Better in the sense that he was talking to people now. Better in the sense that he wasn't waking up violent or screaming in the middle of the night. Yeah, sure, he's a petty asshole who's extremely good at pissing you off, but even semi-joking insults are better than eerie silence and pure fear of the outside world.

When he'd arrived at the Compound, he'd avoided everyone, even Steve. He didn't speak, barely acknowledged people unless he had to. He didn't eat. He could barely sleep. It was like he was a ghost. The first time Peter came over while Bucky was around, Bucky seemed to have shut down a little. Peter was a good kid. He stayed over in his room during weekends, or even occasionally during weekdays in the summer. He didn't ask intrusive questions, and he really did try his best to make Bucky feel welcome. But it really just terrified Bucky.

After a few months of court-mandated therapy, which slowly evolved from twice a week to once every two months throughout the span of a year, he seemed to recover. He slowly learned to get out of those post-HYDRA habits he'd picked up. He'd eat with the rest of the team. He'd join in on weekly movie nights. He'd even help Wanda when she cooked for the monthly 'nice-family-dinner' days. She always loved making the food for those. He started watching baking shows with Vision. He'd hang out with Natasha. He pestered Steve in a way only a best friend ever could. He made jokes. The first time you ever heard the former brainwashed assassin make a joke will be forever ingrained into your mind. It had been some stupid joke about Steve's old costume, and it had shocked everyone in the room. Except for Steve.

He only went silent like this on particularly bad days. Nobody ever said anything, because they knew that would only make it worse, but it was obvious whenever something rough went down. 'Bad days' meant days that followed nightmare-filled nights, or days that involved flashbacks or recovering from flashbacks, or days that were ruined by something triggering him.

"You good there?" You decide to speak up, just as the elevator door opens.

He nodded quickly, beginning to walk to the truck. He hops into the driver's seat, and you don't fight him on it.

"We're a bit late." You note, glancing at the time. 6:13pm. Technically, it started at 6:00pm and ended at 10:45pm.

"Holy shit." You say aloud, looking through Bucky's window at the beautiful decorations. There were string lights strung from light posts, and hay bales for some reason, and other cute things. There was a little stage set up, with a small band playing vintage songs. There were little stands set up where you could buy food or random 1940's themed shit.

"You ready?" You looked to Bucky, before checking in the mirror to make sure the red lipstick you'd applied hadn't smudged.

He nodded, parking the truck against the sidewalk. He waited for you to walk around the front of the vehicle to join him.

"I'll grab us some dinner. You up for this? We can always go back--"

"I'm fine." He said, and at first you thought that he was getting annoyed at you, before a quick glance to his face assured you that he was just trying to convince himself of this. "I'm fine." He repeated.

The air was warm, and the yellow light of the string lights combined with the street lights made Bucky look..really nice.

"Ooh! That place looks good. C'mon!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him forward.

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

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp

#mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel mcu #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #Highway to Hell

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horseshoegirl · 1 year ago

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Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 18 - Sapling

📖 This is it - The one song that inspired this entire fic. It’s so bittersweet I’ve gotten to this point. When I posted Part 1: Be Still, a small part of me thought I’d never get here.

I know everyone is probably sick of me saying thank you, but I honestly cannot stop. I could have never imagined the support or the amount of people who’ve loved this story as much as I’ve loved writing it. Whether you’ve been here since I posted all those months ago or just started reading, I cannot describe how important each and every one of you is to me.

Here’s Part 18: Sapling - The one I’ve been waiting for 💛

(If there was ever a song to listen to for this story, even though I know most of you guys don't, this one is it. I hope you do💛) . It's Liz through and through/and the one after this one, but more on that later.)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, sexual themes, angst, fluff, deployments, apologies, and mentions of shitty family dynamics.

# 5k words

Part 17 | Masterlist | Part 19

"Attention on Deck!"

Jake and Bradley stood in sync in the empty hanger, the sound of metal chairs scraping across the hard stone floor. Much like the day they were called in for the Uranium run, the space had been turned into a mock classroom. Only two desks sat before the podium this time, and Jake and Bradley were the only ones who had been requested to report.

Jake kept his eyes forward as two pairs of footsteps echoed off the hangar floor behind him. Cyclone appeared in the corner of his eye, the man holding two manila envelopes and a thick black binder. He wondered what awaited him or Rooster in those files. While Maverick had torn them apart for the dramatic display, he wouldn't be surprised if Cyclone suddenly decided that wasn't enough.

But Jake could only think it made sense the patterns and exercises they had been flying for the past week were in preparation for something greater.

At least, he hoped they weren't getting kicked out.

But as Cyclone each tossed a folder in front of him and Bradley, Maverick trailing close behind indicated it had to be something worse. Even with his eyes facing forward, Jake could catch the look on the Captain's face out of the corner of his eye.

Worried and apprehensive.

Jake had an answer to his question. It wasn't a reprimand from his and Bradley's dangerous flying from the week previous.

This was a special deployment.

Cyclone stepped up onto the podium, not once lifting his eyes as he dropped the binder down to the wooden surface, stating, "You may be seated."

Jake and Bradley did as they were told, instantly reaching for the papers in front of them.

"Good afternoon." Cyclone finally looked up and nodded to the pair. "Intelligence has gotten word of another illegal facility violating United Nation’s Peace Treaty accords. The flight tests you and your team have been flying these past weeks were a simulation of the area we expect to the best of our intelligence."

Most of what Cyclone was saying flew over Jake’s head. Not after Cyclone explained the stakes. Not after Jake started to read the mission report. Next-generation fighter jets. In enemy hands. And they wanted an air assist while they went after the factory responsible for making them.

Even if he believed he was the best, there was too much at stake for him to say he could make it out of there unscathed confidently.

This was the literal fucking definition of a suicide run.

Rooster suddenly pipped up from beside him as Cyclone paused. "Has the rest of the Squad been briefed, sir?"

Cyclone started him down, his face emotionless. "You misunderstand me, son."

Maverick bowed his head as Cyclone continued, "Only the both of you are going. This is a two-person run."

Bradley side-eyed Jake, who leaned forward slightly to gauge his reaction. All Jake could do was draw in a sharp breath.

"Take it for what you will, gentlemen. Looks like the Navy was impressed with your reckless display and wanted to award your bad behaviour," he remarked, turning the pages of the files before him.

"Now, the factory will be taken care of by ground forces. The technology and the data within the facility are too valuable to be destroyed. We need two F-18s to assist..."

Jake began to drown him out, despite his instincts telling him otherwise. Cyclone explaining everything to them was only a formality, a chance for them to ask questions. Jake didn't need to. Everything he needed to know would be in the brief.

Time.

That's what was on Jake's mind.

How much time did he have left?

How much time did he have left to make it right?

How much did he have left to give to you? And make it up to Sadie?

He jolted slightly when Cyclone hit the edge of his binder against the edge of the podium.

"Get your affairs in order," the older man commanded, walking away. "You have till 22:00 today."

---

The thick fog settling over your neighbourhood this late at night wasn't helping your current mood. You were extremely uncomfortable at the errieness, the dimly lit street lamps casting an unreal green glow. You couldn't even see beyond the neighbours' backyard from your kitchen window.

The rest of the house was silent, too. The lack of noise indicated the place was empty, except for the occasional creek or rustle of a tree branch against the roof. You were utterly alone, with nothing but your thoughts as company.

You wish you could say it was a welcome notion.

With everything that had happened the night Tyler was arrested, Penny closed The Hard Deck for the week, waiting for the insurance money to come through. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, and she didn't really need to close it down, but in a way, you realized she was probably using the chance to take a break.

Or at least try to give you one.

So, she decided to go sailing. That's where Sadie was, sleeping over at her place so they could go out on the water tomorrow. Penny had offered to take you as well.

You had refused.

It was funny to think you suddenly needed to process what had happened - you had never been good at processing shit before, so why would this time change that now?

Maybe you just wanted to be alone.

Even the cup of tea you made wasn't helping, having long since gone cold and still practically full. You didn't know what to think, finally alone for the first time in a while, finally finding the opportunity to allow yourself to sit and process.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to do it.

It wasn't as if you didn't know what you should be thinking about. You were thinking about all of it... Tyler, Sadie, Jake... and..

No, not that one yet.

Each thought was laid out in your head like an itemized list, neatly written and bullet-pointed. Each stood out on their own, colour-coded and organized into categories to the point you couldn't do anything more with them. Picturing each in your mind was easy, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything beyond that.

Something was stopping you from going deeper. Maybe you didn’t want to admit you didn’t know how.

A hard couple of knocks on your front door startled you out of your trance, echoing through the quiet house. It took you a moment to acknowledge them and realize they were, in fact, coming from your front door. You placed your mug on your kitchen table, scraping your chair along the title as you made your way to the front hallway.

It wasn’t quick enough for the person on the other side of the door, impatiently knocking their knuckles against the wood in rapid succession again. The sound quickened your pace, socked feet on the coarse rug thumping with each step.

In retaliation to the urgent knocks, you ripped the door open in an aggressive pull, only to find Jake hunched over, forearm resting on your doorframe. His head was bowed, handing low between his shoulders until he realized you had finally opened the door. Lifting his head, several emotions flashed across his face. Hope. Despair. Then, determination, with wide and wild eyes staring back at you.

You realized he was dressed in his flight suit, his hair was flicked back, and his face looked like it had been freshly shaven.

And he was panting like he had run a marathon.

“Jake?”

"I thought we would have more time," he heaved roughly. "I thought we had all the time in the world to figure this out. For me to find a million different ways to say I'm sorry for what I said. For what I did."

The corners of your mouth quivered, and your eyebrows furrowed, knitting together.

"No matter the length of time, I never would have gotten it right. Because there is no right way to apologize for what I said,” he lamented.

He opened his mouth to say something else but froze, the words dying in his throat like he suddenly lost whatever drive he had while coming here. Pushing himself off the frame, he turned towards your driveway, looking lost. With his back facing you, he reached for the bannister of your front porch, leaning over and bowing his head between shoulders.

You didn't know what else to do except remain frozen in your doorway, watching him look utterly defeated.

“Rooster and I got called up. It’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous,” he said, his voice low. “I might be the best, but even this one worries me.”

Whatever feelings of anger or resentment you had been carrying towards Jake were suddenly overpowered by concern.

Despite knowing you would never be privy to the details of the Navy, you found yourself stepping forward, a hand reaching out as you asked, “How dangerous?!”

You stopped yourself from touching his shoulder when he lifted his head, a sad smile on his face as he looked out to your yard. “You know we can’t tell you more than that, Darlin’.”

You crossed your arms below your breasts instead, gripping your elbows with a hint of apprehension as you gulped. “Do you know how long?”

He dropped his head again, shaking it while doing so. “At least a month, maybe two.”

A month, even two, was too long. Not when… You didn’t even know. You didn’t even know what to say or to do. Because Jake had hurt you, had protected you, and then shown up on your literal doorstep late at night before another deployment to leave all his cards on the table.

Sarcasm, sass, or any attitude or brave face you've ever used from behind that fucking bar couldn't save you from this. Not when Jake was facing yet another death sentence.

That fact alone made your heart break just a little bit further.

“George called me,” he told you, filling the silence. “Said the first thing he did was kick the hell bringer off the ranch. I didn’t trust him. But then Janet called, saying his name was on the deed for some tax reasons, so George had every right.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you joined him, coming to stand next to him and gripping the front railing tight. It almost hurt - the way the wood felt under your nails.

"I never expected that. I never expected George to seek me out after what I did to him either. I honestly thought he'd report home, saying the damage had been done," Jake sighed, rocking his shoulders back and forth. "But he did. And the first thing he did was admit he was scared of you."

You dropped your chin to your chest. You couldn’t deny that maybe a little bit of shame was starting to eat away at your stomach. Yelling at George was more than just you being upset at both Seresin brothers. It was a deep-seated weight you had been carrying for too long, waiting for any moment it could unleash itself. George and Jake… had been the perfect excuse to scapegoat the underlying issue you refused to acknowledge in yourself.

Jake straightened himself, turning to face you with a bated breath. You spun with him, leaving your one hand on the railing.

"He told me the reason he wanted to change was not that I had shown him up at darts or that you had torn him apart with your words, but that either one of us should’ve to begin with. You made him realize that.”

You failed to notice Jake’s hand slowly sliding along the bannister, inching closer to yours.

"My relationship with him is anything but fixed. He is more of an asshole than I could ever be. But when I told him he needed to live his own life, he said he couldn’t claim anything he had earned for himself without the hell-bringer handing it to him. Or say he did it with good intentions.”

It wasn’t a shock when Jake slid his hand over the top of yours, gently curving his fingers around your wrist. In fact, you let him, allowing him to pull you towards him as he stepped closer gently.

“But he also said he found you on the beach the night Tyler stormed the bar.”

You failed to hide your grimace at the mention of Tyler’s name, and Jake offered a sad smile. “He said he tried to make things right. Because after I quoted a dead president, he took what you said to him to heart..”

You swallowed hard, knowing just exactly what George had been referring to. It was the same point you made when you yelled at him, the words echoing in your head.

‘So you can gallivant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours?’

And when you asked point blank on the beach the last time, he had been happy. Which was when he did something for himself.

"He's never thought highly of me, but he said meeting you and Sadie was the best damn thing I could have ever done." Jake reached for your other hand, looking down. "Because my arena has two people willing to be in it with me, no matter what I've done."

“I’ve always loved that quote,” you laughed quietly to yourself, trying to avert your eyes.

“I know,” he replied sadly. “It was in a worn book on your bookcase.”

You lift your head, finally allowing yourself to stare into his eyes. It pains you to think you had forgotten how green they were. And how easy it was to get lost in them when so much happened between you.

"I should have let you explain yourself that day."

Jake huffed a small laugh, reaching up to stroke a piece of hair away from your face. “I shouldn’t have said those words to begin with. And not that it’s worth anything, I’m so sorry they did.”

Jake doesn't drop his hand but rather cups the side of your face.

"But you deserve more than an apology on the eve of a deployment. It's not fair to you. But I have to try because there is a chance I might not be able to. Because I'm trying to listen to the advice of a ten-year-old girl who once said she believed in me.

The admission guts you. Sadie’s impact on the world and those around you would always gut you.

“So let me be honest with you now before I don’t have the chance to,” He urged, his thumb caressing under your eye and across your cheek. "I'm in love with you, Elizabeth Beck."

A strangled sob tore from your throat, attempting to pull your hand out of Jake's and your face away from his touch. He was quicker, tugging you forward into his chest with a hand on the back of your neck. You were too weak to protest, allowing yourself to be pulled towards him.

"No, you're not running from this, darlin'," he shushed you, both arms encasing themselves around your waist, preventing you from escaping. "Not this time."

You couldn't do anything but cup your face in your hands, pressing yourself against his chest and sobbing. Tilting his head down, he whispered gently against your ear, "I'm not saying it to hear it back. I'm telling you so you never doubt that I do."

Strange enough, you didn’t doubt him. Not ever - even when he had hurt you.

He kissed your collarbone once through the thick fabric of your sweater, feeling as if he had touched your bare skin. He took a deep breath under your hands, body heaving up once as he gathered the courage to continue.

“Darlin,” he whispered. “ I know I can’t ask this of you, but I can only hope you love me back. Even after… Because I know how badly I fucked up. For a split second, back at the Hard Deck, I thought you would be better off without me."

"You hurt me, Jake," you cried into his chest. "You said those things..."

"I know, darlin'," his voice sounded broken next to your ear. "I went for the things I knew you'd leave me for, not because I believed them. Just the opposite. You didn't need me in your life, in Sadie's life, when I have so much baggage following me around. You didn't need another pair of assholes tainting your life, whether it be George, the hell bringer, or myself."

You gripped his flight suit tight at his confession.

"Then Sadie cornered me on the beach. And told me to get my shit together or not bother coming around anymore. Because you two would be just fine without me," he sniffed. "And it fucking hurt coming from her."

"Oh, Bug," you coo. You're not mad at her for going against your rule.

“I can’t promise I’m not going to fuck it up again. I’m the furthest thing from perfect compared to everyone I know. But I promise, I won't stop trying to get it right or at least stop at how many times I have to apologize to you for being me.”

You hate him. You hate him.

Except you don’t.

“I brought you your favourite flowers the first time I apologized because I couldn’t offer anything else. And I cannot bring you flowers when I’m apologizing for a second time, not because tulips are currently out of season, but because a man shouldn’t do that when apologizing to the woman he loves.”

He let go of your hip to stroke a piece of your hair behind your ear before pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them rest there for a moment.

“I should give them to you just because I can,” he murmured against your skin.

As Jake pulled back from you, he reached down to the side pocket of his flight suit against his thigh, his hand a firm fist as he pulled out something attached to a balled chain.

“So, I can’t ask you to forgive me, Elizabeth. Or even to wait for me. I don’t know what will happen when I am gone. Or if I’m worth accepting an apology from.”

He grabbed your wrist gently, pulling it up between the two of you, only to press something metal into your hand. But rather than let go, he threaded his fingers through yours, keeping the object between the palms of your hands, the chain dangling between.

“But if you can still find it in your heart to trust me, trust me when I say I want you and Sadie in my life. It’s you two or nothing at all,” he croaked, before adding, “I broke my ways for a literature-loving bartender and her ten-year-old niece because they both chose me knowing I am probably the most flawed human being, besides that asshole, ever to grace their path.”

You sobbed at that.

“If I make it back…” he trailed off. You shook your head vehemently. “When you make it back…” You corrected him. Yet, a small part of you died inside when he gave you a hesitant, bittersweet smile.

“I want you to tell me your answer then.”

Jake let go of your hand, leaving behind and revealing a pair of worn dog tags, making you gasp.

“I want these to stay with you until then. So you know I’m with you. Always.”

"Jake.. I can't.." you stuttered.

He ignored you, grabbing them from your hand to grab the chain in both hands. “They’re my first pair. My current set is in my bag.”

Watching him lift and guide the chain over your head, the protest dies on your lips. The intimate act brought him close enough to feel his breath on your face. The weight of the dog tags was a new feeling on your sternum.

"You know, in basic, they scare the hell out of you with these," he said, grabbing one of them and holding it between you. "Tell you that if you crash and burn, these are the bits they use to ID whatever's left."

He glanced away, eyes briefly distant. "They find you, leave one tag, take the other." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Guess it's also their way of grounding you, reminding you of what’s at stake."

You stared at the tags between the two of you, gulping hard.

"For me, giving you them is... it's not just some sentimental crap. It's me leaving a bit of myself with you, no matter what happens."

Your breath hitched, and as he dropped the tag, a new weight was placed on your chest. The fog around you seemed to grow thicker, and if you didn't know any better, you would have blamed it for constricting your breath.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "Jake, I... I haven't... I haven't fully dealt with losing her," you whispered, trembling.

"I know you haven't, darlin'," he mumbled, wiping away another stream of tears on your face. "And I'm only adding another burden to your plate."

Jake leaned forward to press another kiss to your forehead before peering down at your face, taking in the sheer devastation. He caressed your bottom lip, huffing affectionately, “I guess it's only fair. I broke your heart. You need to break mine, too.”

“Jake…”

As you reached out, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Your hands moved around to his back, sliding up against his shoulder blades. He was tall and broad. And as you tried to pull him into you, your arms didn't stretch enough. You wanted to hold to so many parts of him, latch on in hopes he wouldn't leave you so soon.

You don't know how long you stood like this, on your porch in the fog, holding on to each other. It took you a while, but you eventually realized the two of you started to sway in a silent rhythm, back and forth gently.

The action was so reminiscent of the night he drove you home. When he found you closing by yourself and swept you into his arms - before everything became so chaotic.

It makes you look back on every memory with him, like a film reel in vivid technicolour.

Water and Sand, a Mona Lisa smile. Math homework and Sadie's cheeky smile. Yellow flowers in apologetic hands. Dirty dishes and clean slates. A game of darts and an almost kiss. Walking next to mountains and trees. Poloarids, video chats, and scary moments. Fireworks on New Year's Eve, to a slow dance in safe arms.

Thunderstorms and Sadie's tears to passionate kisses. First dates, Ferris wheels, Sadie in the hospital, and Jake catching your tears. Bradley lashing out, and Jake standing by.

Purple blues and orange-reds, the sunset colours that made you cry for your sister for the first time since you don't remember when.

Looking back on what was leaves you wondering what will be.

Jake's voice cuts through the silence, faintly humming a Chris Stapleton song. Your voice is muffled against his chest. "I wanted to take you to a country concert for a date."

You felt him smile against the top of your head. "Would you have let me pick you up and put you on my shoulders?"

You huffed affectionately into the fabric of his suit, turning your head to rest your cheek against his chest. “Oh, people would have hated us for that.”

He laughs quietly. “I’m sure you would have come up with something sharp and witty to reply with.”

“Enough to get us thrown out?”

“I could always pull the military service card.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Jake chuckled softly into your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swaying on your front porch under the green-lit fog. Not that you would have noticed. You were too busy trying to imprint this into your memory. How he felt holding you, how he smelled, the sensations in your chest. Or how his heart felt beating under your ear.

Until the alarm on his watch ruined it all, and he stepped away from you, pressing another long kiss to your forehead. You felt him grimace each time he tried to pull away.

"I have to go, darlin'," he murmured. "I have to report in 30. Otherwise, I'd drag you inside and abandon my post."

I would have let you.

As Jake lets you go, you reach out to grip the railing again. Before he turns to leave, he says with a smile, "Send me letters if you can."

Watching him proceeding down your front steps, your heart ached in a way it never had before. Your hand moved to the dog tags, gripping them tightly.

The idea of losing Jake, never seeing that cocky grin or hearing his sarcastic quips again, was paralyzing. But even more terrifying was the thought of him leaving without knowing how you truly felt.

If he were to... no.

You couldn't wait. You couldn't let him leave with things unsaid. The fog outside was thick, and Jake's form was about to become a silhouette in the distance, but you wouldn't let him leave without knowing.

"Jake!"

Running down the steps of your porch, you flung yourself towards him. He spun, eyes wide as you reached for his face, hands cradling either side of his jaw as you pulled him down, pressing your lips to his.

You put everything into that kiss, struggling to breathe, fearing you would lose him before you could ever truly be with him. Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, moulding his lips to yours. And with each press, you commit them to memory, pushing away the thought this may be the last time you could.

You were already struggling to grasp the death of someone you loved. You couldn't survive a second.

Jake always kissed you like he was a man starved of affection. This time, he was holding himself back, hands deliberately resting lightly on your hips, unmoving and researching. His kisses were less than firm, hesitant against your more urgent ones.

It gave you the strength to continue pressing on.

You pulled back with a gasp, looking him square in the eyes. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to tell me you love me and expect me not to say anything. Not to call you out for your shitty perception of yourself when you, Jake fucking Seresin, are worth it."

You can feel the heat on your cheeks and more tears running freely down the sides of your face.

"I do forgive you,“ you rushed out in a breath. “I forgive you for all your faults and everything you will ever do to me, whether you are Jake Seresin or fucking Hangman. Life is short, and... and.. if I woke one morning to find you were gone, I would never find the strength to carry on had you not known that I lo.."

Jake didn't let you finish, quickly grabbing the sides of your face to kiss you roughly, all open mouth and tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, struggling to breathe and to keep up with the onslaught.

He bent you backwards, your back curling around the sudden added weight of his arm. You tugged on his flight suit in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you as he attacked your mouth. His fingers were locked deeply into the roots of your hair behind your ear, angling your head just right so he could capture your lips in all the ways he wanted to. In all the ways he might never have the chance to do again.

Jake considered himself selfish. For most of his naval career, he had been selfish. But he never truly felt the weight of that feeling until he was trying to memorize these last moments with you. As if this was all he would ever get to have with you.

It was selfish to do this to you. To kiss you one last time.

Your body is warm under his touch. He tries to imprint the sensation.

Your kisses are firm. He tries to akin the taste.

Your grip on his suit is tight. He tries to remember the pain it creates.

Your whimpers and moans. He tries to imagine they’d be exactly what you’d sound like if he’d ever get the chance to be with you. Truly.

Or if they’d be enough to sustain his dreams.

He knows he needs to go. Needs to pull himself away from you before the next kiss, or the next touch is the one that convinces him to stay. So he tugs away first, and you chase his lips, whining at the loss of contact.

"Tell the bug she was right," it's a whisper against your lips. "And I'm sorry I disappointed her too."

Your bottom lip quivered as Jake finally wrenched himself away from you with a deep grunt. He climbed into his truck and started the engine, backing out of your driveway like a man possessed. As if one slight moment of hesitation or if he looked away from the task at hand and saw your face, he’d drag you back inside the house and lock the two of you away in your bedroom.

He would have if there were more time.

Your footsteps against the pavement were muffled in your ears as you followed his truck. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, even when you found yourself frozen at the end of your driveway, watching his red taillights fade into the fog.

And when you finally found the courage to move, absentmindedly walking back up your driveway, up your front steps to close the front door behind you, you fell against it. Your back pressed hard into the grooves and ridges as you collapsed to the floor. Your tears were falling freely, and the sobs racking your chest were each more devastating than the last. You heaved for each breath, trying to gather the strength to do anything but cry.

For Jake.

For Bradley.

For Sadie.

For Ridley.

...For yourself.

After working the heels of your hands into the corners of your eyes, you grasped for the dog tags, looking down at the worn-out pieces of metal in your palm. You could still make out his name and call sign imprinted on the surface, a finger tracing over the imprinted ridge.

The damn things were both a reminder he was still out there and could never return. A reminder he couldn’t promise more sunsets with you. A reminder there was a chance you'd never get to tell him you loved him, too.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, the other clutching his dog tags over your heart.

Come back to us, Jake.

Please.

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Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget is being edited 👀

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