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santanasaintmendes · 5 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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coeurify · 1 year ago

Text

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.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

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.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

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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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 21 days ago

Text

MISTLETOE TRAP

Prompt 3: mistletoe

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader Summary: after spending so long watching you and Eddie hopelessy flirt with eachother, the club comes up with a plan fit for the festive season to bring you guys together. Warnings: mention of kissing, brief mention of Eddie being in the hospital. one mention of Y/n, I APOLOGISE

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

Christmas music played softly in the background as the club played a festive board game, yelling and screaming over each other filled the room as everyone pointed fingers to who's cheating.

the smell of pizza filled your noses as the fire crackled of Gareth's livingroom.

the lights of the tree twinkling in your eyes as you sat on the couch next to Eddie, everyone else choosing to sit on the dirty carpet. pillows under all their buts to soften the hard wooden floor.

it was perfect, everyone having fun, laughing- more or less when everybody isn't fighting, but despite that, it was perfect.

the club did this every year, but it's the first time Mike, Lucas and Dustin have attended.

and while this was their first time hanging out for Christmas games, this was not their first rodeo when seeing a certain pair of flirty best friends that are way to close to be just friends.

"my hands are a bit cold, mind warming them up for me?" Eddie had smiled, earning many silent groans from the room, from everyone except you, who had blushed and shook your head sheepishly

"I have a feeling you just want an excuse to hold my hand, Eds" you teased

"you caught me. so what do you say?" you nudged you, holding out his hand.

you've always been the flirty type of duo, you and Eddie. you don't know when it happened, it started with little remarks in certain situations that he deemed fit, then you slowly began retaliating, giving small comments back that left poor Eddie flushed in surprise. but the certain situations turned into a weekly thing, then soon every time you'd see each other.

"I say my hands are quite cold too" you rolled your eyes, slapping your hand in his and interlocking fingers

you barely noticed the glared and groans from anyone in the room until they all got up and left, saying they are going to the kitchen for seconds

where they all huddled up, sick of their dungeon master and his best friend acting like a bunch of idiots while flirting with each other.

"I'm sick of this, it's been going on too long" Jeff sighed

"I think it's cute" Dustin shrugged "Eddie deserves love too"

"Really? you think our dungeon master complaining his hands are too cold and that she needs to hold them is cute?" Lucas shook his head, questioning his friend's sanity,

because what you and Eddie have going on, is not cute.

"it's a bit cheesy-" Dustin started before Mike cut him off

"-it's gross!"

"Well, what do we do?" Gareth bit the inside of his cheek

then Dustin had an idea.

a brilliant idea

it was just involve talking to Steve.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

You walked into the Harrington home with Robin.

a little party with Steve's friends that you had been invited to, given that his parents went out of town.

you walked in, surprised to see the whole club sitting on the couch, including Eddie- which was less surprising

you knew Steve and Eddie were mutual friends, or friends, you're still not sure, you've never seen them directly talk after Eddie got permitted out of the hospital.

but the whole club here was definitely not something you would expect. but god you were happy

"we were waiting for you" The Munson boy cheered on your arrival

"don't cream your pants, we were just stuck in traffic" you rolled your eyes, pointing the robin behind you who threw her coat on the coat hanger, literally, letting it fall to the ground

"You do know how to put a coat on a hanger, right?" Steve huffed, picking her jacket up and hanging it on a hook while you settled on the couch, right next to open seat next to the one and only Eddie

the whole club had greeted you with unsettling smiles, Dustin rocking his legs as he sat cross legged on the floor.

their faces made you suspicious, they were always up to no good with those looks on their faces

"what's up with them?" you whispered to Eddie, who shrugged

he picked up a Garfield mug, steam floating up and reaching his nose as he brought it up to his lips. humming at the taste before pulling it away and back onto the coffee table

you giggled, looking away when he turned to you

"what? do I have something on my face?" he smirked, knowing the fluffy whipped cream adorned his top lip

you shook your head as he leaned in

"wanna help me out and get it off?" he raised his eyebrows, nudging your shoulder

it was a sight to barf at to everyone else I the room, but fighting against the sickening interaction, they knew this had to happen, this was all apart of the plan, well not this but this party.

that's actually a lie, Steve had invited everyone over for a little gathering, and by everyone he means his friends, but due to much begging to his favourite child, Steve had let Dustin bring the club too, why? the Harrington boy doesn't know, nor understand but whatever.

you huffed, reaching up and swiping the foam off of his lip, silently gasping when he connected his lips with your thumb, licking it off your finger.

the party's eyes were wide with disgust and shock before Dustin spoke up quickly

"Eddie why don't you get Y/n a cup of hot coco while we explain the rules of the game to her"

Eddie looked over to the freshmen and nodded, getting up

"marshmallows?" he asked before leaving, earning a happy nod from you

"only th-" you started before he cut you off, disappearing down the hall to the kitchen

"-the white ones!"

you blushed and smiled, watching as Steve placed The Christmas game down on the table, Mike eagerly opening it up

"so the rules of the game is-" Dustin began

"I know the rules of the game, Dusty, I've been playing this since before you knew how to walk" you chuckled, shifting on the couch

you leaned over and helped set up for the game, Nancy walking in from upstairs, had being in the bathroom when you had arrived. when you were busy putting the cards down on the board, Gareth had taken the bundle of mistletoe from his bag and tiptoed to the doorway of the hallway, connecting the Livingroom and kitchen, where he peeked over the corner to see Eddie lift up the mug and put marshmallows in.

he came and sat down without you realising he left before he spoke up

"hey...Eddie's been gone for a while, why don't you check on him?" he asked you, nodding his head in the direction to the kitchen

"oh.. uh sure" you frowned, getting up, it's not like Eddie couldn't handle making a cup of hot cocoa, but you walked to the kitchen anyway.

you walked through the open wall and yelped when you bumped into his hard frame, the cup of hot chocolate swished and spilled on his chest, earning a groan from him and a gasp from you

"oh shit, I'm so sorry" you blinked rapidly.

"it's fine, love, not your fault" he smiled tightly, sighing

you went to say something but you heard a few hushed laughs and Lucas coughing

you both looked back to notice their gazes focused above you

you look up and back down, confused before you did a double take and your eyes widened, Eddie looking up right after you, a sigh leaving his lips.

a bundle of green and red hanging above you, tied with a ribbon, a bow, mistletoe.

"oh" you said in unison

Eddie looked back down at you, watching as you stared up

he whispered "we don't have to- it's just a silly tradition"

that made you frown, did he not want to kiss you?

you know you were best friends but you had always hoped for more, not that you weren't happy, but he was just so...him, so perfect in your eyes.

"you have to kiss!" Robin smiled

-she wasn't in in the plan, no one but the party was, Steve knew but he wasn't listening when Dustin was rambling, all Steve remembered was him asking if the club could come, and Steve figured half of them were coming, may as well just give the kid what he wants to shut up.

you look down at Eddie to see his concerned face

or was it sad?

you couldn't make it out, but they held something of that sort

"may as well" you shrugged "you know we'll never hear the end of it from them if we don't"

he licked his lips

Eddie was sweating, everywhere. and not just from the fireplace they were right next to. but because he had thought over your first kiss so many times before.

it was be so perfect, so romantic, gentle but desperate. maybe looking over the town or during a drive in movie he'd take you to.

definitely not in Steve Harrington's Livingroom, and certainly not in front of all of yours and his friends.

he'd want it to be right. not a forced act, but an act of love.

because it's you

his best friend.

his lifelong crush

so to say Eddie Munson was sweating balls in this moment would be an understatement.

in the corner of his eyes he saw everyone looking at you both, expectedly

but his eyes were focused on yours. looking so deep into yours that he felt he was melting away

why was it so hot? apart from the scorching hot cocoa that drenched his band tee.

the way you looked at him, so soft, you were so beautiful, the coloured lights from the massive Harrington Christmas tree illuminating your face perfectly, you always looked beautiful in red.

"I don't want our first kiss to be in front of everyone" he mumbled to you finally. moth slightly agape, eyes wide in despair

you furrowed your brows when you looked over silently, watching as they all looked away

the room was dead quiet, the only noise was the crackle of the fire, so they must have heard Eddie.

so as they all looked out the window, watching the snow fall outside, tiny snowflakes dancing in the wind of the night, you looked back up at Eddie.

you silently parted your lips.

he looked back down at you.

he silently parted his lips.

he brought a hand up, slowly.

you brought a hand up, slowly.

his hand meeting the plush of your cheek.

your hand meeting the skin of his exposed hip.

then you leaned in, slowly.

so slow.

Eddie watched as your eyes fluttered shut as his nosed brushed against yours.

and his own soon shut as his lips met yours, grazing ever so gently before he took a sharp intake of breath before fully connecting them, pressing his lips firmly on yours.

Jesus, how they fit so perfectly, he thought to himself.

God, how they fit so perfectly, you thought to yourself.

your lips moved perfectly in sync, creating the kiss that Eddie had envisioned so many times before. it may have even been better.

his warm hand cupping your cheek, his fingertips rough but oh so gentle.

everyone in the room stayed looking outside awkwardly as they heard nothing, but Dustin, deciding to take a peek, was only able to catch a glimpse of the kiss ending, you both pulling away from each other, smiling softly as your eyes fluttered open

your eyes met again. your smile growing as you saw his blown out gaze, the colour of his eyes barely recognisable through his irises as he looked down at you

"I'll make you another hot chocolate" he said, blinking, in a haze of some sort

"I'll come with you" you replied, matching his tone as you grabbed his hand

everyone watched as you both disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen

"they're going to make out in my kitchen aren't they?" Steve spoke up after a minute, frowning

"leave the kids be, Steve, they've finally found out what horniness feels like" Robin joked, leaning against the back of the couch.

Steve's head whipped around in horror. so many thoughts in the poor head of his. are they gonna have sex in my kitchen?

"don't worry guys, this is just what the mistletoe trap does, it brings people together" Dustin said cluelessly

"that's what this was!?" Steve hissed at him, finally remembering something along the lines of 'bringing a young couple together' and 'mistletoe' that Dustin had said over the phone to him when he was just trying to focus on how to shut him up.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

bonus-

Steve storms into his kitchen, it's been too long since you both went in there and he wasn't ready for a baby to be made in that room.

all he sees is you, pressed against the counter with Eddie holding you, soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as your hands roamed each others body, your mouths locked together as you made out aggressively.

"DISGUSTING!" Steve yelled.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

#imagines #eddie munson x reader #x fem!reader #joseph quinn #oneshot #ami's christmas prompts #fluff #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem #stranger things fic #eddie munson #please request #christmas prompts

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joshym · 1 year 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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chellestrash · 18 days ago

Text

Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: seeking comfort and company you end up at joel's door warnings: none. word count: 3.1k a/n: i think this is the first thing i wrote this year…so, the quality might not fully be there but i really needed to wite something with Joel. This is just a little one shot that maybe will help someone who needs it

“Hey”

You mumble quietly when the heavy, wooden door to Joel’s big farm house on the outskirts of Jackson opens in front of you. The man leans on the door frame, head slightly tilted to the side, eyebrows pulled together in a slightly confused expression as he looks you up and down quickly, attempting to guess the purpose of your unannounced visit.

“Hey”

His deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body as you stare at each other for another moment. He continues when you don't pick up the conversation like he expected you to do.

“Didn't know you were coming.”

You nod silently as a response.

“Yeah, I...wasn't planning to, just sorta…”

You shrug, not sure how to explain the extremely deep need for his company you feel at this very moment, to the same middle-aged man standing right in front of you.

“...happened.”

Joel nods this time, sniffling quickly as he looks around the front yard. The cool winter breeze hits you both, uncomfortably cutting through your already exhausted body so intently you'd swear you can feel it going through your bones.

“Come on.”

He nods toward the inside of the house, inviting you in before you can say anything else. Without hesitation, you step into the hallway and glance back as he shuts the front door closed behind you.

“So you just happened to be on the other side of Jackson in the middle of a night? In November. Winter.”

Joel stands behind you, arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes not leaving you even for a moment as you take off your boots, scarf and the thick winter jacket he managed to find for you in one of his supply trips with Tommy a couple of years ago.

You sigh quietly, eyeing him up and down, once again going over how you could try to possibly explain the overwhelming anxiety in your head to Joel Miller.

“I don't know, Joel, I just… I needed to be here?”

That's the best you can do. The best way to put whatever the hell has been happening inside your body lately to him and maybe to yourself as well at this moment.

“Alright.”

He speaks quietly; it's almost a whisper, but loud enough so you can hear him. His body relaxes once he realizes it's not an emergency. No one is dead, no one lost a limb, there's not a hole in the wall somewhere for the runners to get through, everyone is safe, you are safe.

“You want to sit here for a bit?”

He continues, walking over to get your coat before he hangs it up above the heater. The warm air inside his house hugs your body like a thick blanket. Joel was used to rough conditions. He spent most of the years after the outbreak on his own or in smaller groups, sleeping in abandoned buildings, often outside the safe zones or somewhere out in nature. After all that, there was no way in hell he would refuse the luxury of a lit fireplace and a warm house, now that he has settled in Jackson.

“Don't really have much to offer you, though, coffee?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, watching him quickly tidying up the space around you: kicking his shoes closer to the wall, picking up the one glove that fell on the floor probably hours earlier, or straightening up the coat on one of the hangers.

“Joel, it's almost ten now.”

He frowns, glancing at the big, wooden clock by the stairs before turning back to you.

“And?”

You shake your head, scoffing with a quiet chuckle, and he hums softly, amused with the results of his attempt to cheer you up slightly.

“Well, was gonna get myself a cup anyway.”

He gestures toward the kitchen, and you think over the offer again.

“Alright, but a small one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods again, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, before making his way over to the other room.

Being left alone now, you shut your eyes and attempt to take a deep breath in, doing your best to calm your body down. It is shallow and short, it won't help, and you know it. However, you still try to push this overwhelming feeling away. You try to focus on the things around you, redirecting your attention to something outside your panicked brain. It's just this heavy, tightening feeling in the center of your chest or deep down in your stomach. You can't shake it. You can't make it go away this time, no matter how hard you try. That's why you came here in the first place. That's why you walked almost the whole length of Jackson at his hour and on your own. That's why you sought him. That's why the only thought on your mind with every step you took was, “please be home.”

“Hey.”

You shake your head, blinking a couple of times before it comes to you.

“Oh, shit sorry.”

Reaching out slowly, you wrap your fingers around the ear of the cup and smile softly as a thank you, the smile never reaching your tired eyes.

“Thank you.”

You mumble, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah.”

He starts, his eyebrow raised slightly as he does his best to estimate the situation. He knows something's off, you're acting different, you're quiet, and your demeanor is different, almost as if...muffled for some reason.

The silence is long, longer than you would've liked, you know he can tell something's off, you know you're not doing the best job at holding it all together and as your brain continues to fight itself on the matter of whether you'd prefer to tell him everything or that he wouldn't know anything was wrong you do yourself a favor and open your mouth to the first thing that comes into your head.

“You ever get that new rifle?”

His eyes widen slightly at the question, like he wasn't expecting it; he wasn't. But it was the only thing you could think about that could save you from attempting to most likely over-explain whatever the hell was happening to your body and mind on this godforsaken day.

“The one from Jimmy?”

He gives in, and you sigh, relived.

“Yeah, the one you were supposed to carve the handle for?”

He shuts his eyes with a soft nod and a quiet hum.

“Mhm.”

You glance up the stairs, towards the bedroom where you saw he keeps his guns, and he turns to follow your gaze.

“Did you want to see it?”

“Sure.”

He gestures to the stairs, letting you pass by and walk in front of him. You don't say much more for a bit, somehow there's this silent understanding between both of you, he somehow understands the situation, without fully knowing it. That's why he's not asking, he's not drilling into you like some people would, he does not want to force the answers out of you. What he knows is that you needed to be here, and that is enough.

Stepping into the bedroom, you smile softly to yourself as your eyes scan the familiar space. It's comforting, it's safe, you know it. The half-made bed takes up almost half of the room, the grand painting of wild horses resting above the wooden headboard. He finally hung it up.

Joel walks past you, it feels natural now for you to occupy this space, it is almost as if he feels comfortable with you being there, more than when he's alone. After setting his cup down on the nightstand closer to you, Joel makes his way over to the big closet door.

“Didn't get the chance to clean it yet.”

He explains, reaching for the rifle through the hanging clothes as you sit at the edge of the bed, your back turned to him, waiting to see the weapon.

“Here.”

He holds the barrel towards himself and away from you as he hands you the rifle over your shoulder.

“Holy shit, Joel.”

You exclaim, setting down your cup next to him before taking the weapon in your hand. Your thumb runs over the detailed carving on the light wood. The mountain and trees with a deer bust chiseled carefully into the rings of the wood.

“She's beautiful.”

“Yeah, you think?”

The man asks, sitting down next to you with a loud grunt.

“Yeah, look at it, goddamn it, that must've taken weeks.”

“Eh,”

He shrugs, showing how much he disagrees with your statement.

“Took more patience than time.”

He explains as you drag your fingers over the handle, astonished by the details he managed to transfer into the rough material.

“Still needs some work, and care…she's in a rough shape.”

“Yeah…”

You listen to him explain the process to you and you let him talk. It's not like you haven't seen him working on different commissions before. But you want it, you need it, his voice so comforting, you wish it could be the background noise for your life as you go about your days.

After carefully resting the gun against the wall, you admire it for another moment. Your thoughts wander as you realize how aware your body has become of Joel’s presence so close to you. You can smell his scent so vividly now, you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, the touch you long for so strongly.

“Yeah…gotta clean the metal, you know, don't want it rustin. The wood needs some oil too, maybe some stain so it'll look properly and not like every other-”

He doesn't get to finish the sentence, cut off by your lips crashing against his the second you turn back in his direction. Your hands fly up to his face and you hold him right there, so close to you now. He lets you lead, his eyes shut, his lips following yours as he grunts loudly into the kiss. The soft scent of his body surrounds you when he leans forward and draws closer to you. Quickly raising his hand, he rests his palm against the back of your head, pulling you even deeper into the kiss.

You pull away after a moment, resting your forehead against his while you catch your breath and reach for the buttons of his old jeans.

Joel follows your gaze, wrapping his fingers around your wrist almost immediately. There are no words shared between you, but you look up into his eyes, panting after the prolonged kiss. You take a few short breaths before he lets go of your hand.

Not taking his eyes off of you, and without a single word, Joel takes the lead now. Leaning back against the wooden headboard of his massive bed, he guides you closer to him, pulling on your wrist gently to suggest you follow. And you do. Turing to face him before throwing your knee over his legs, you let him hold onto your hips. His big, working hands resting on both sides of your lower body now, his eyes scanning your face for any clue of what this whole thing meant. It's been a while since you two slept with each other. It was never anything exclusive, never really anything to make a big deal about; however, to be completely honest, it was never entirely casual either. Relationships got a bit complicated for some people after the outbreak. And for people like Joel? They always were.

“You sure you want-”

He starts, but you muffle the words, quickly pressing your hand to his lips.

“Don't.”

The whisper slips past your lips, and you drop your hand, now slowly leaning down and closer to him. There is not a single thought in your head beside that you need this, you need comfort, you need his touch; you need his body against yours. You need him. Joel watches as you move in closer and closer, his eyes glancing down at your lips occasionally, his hands passively resting at your sides. There is no push, no lead from him anymore, you have the floor, and he wants this to be how you want it or how you're convinced you want it.

Now more hesitant, you stop. Your lips almost brushing against his, your chest resting on top of him, your body rising and falling gently with his every breath.

Once again, the choice is yours. With your gaze dropping, you focus on his lips again.

Shutting your eyes quickly, you lean into him, searching for the comfort in the desperate act of intimacy. It feels different from before, when you used to see each other more regularly. Your body, despite the familiar setting, feels tense, as does his. The anxiety not leaving your chest even for a moment, despite how hard you try to get rid of the feeling. But you want this, you need this, the closure, the distraction, the company.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss, and his hand moves from the side of your hips to your lower back, his lips never following yours.

You know he can feel it too, you know you can't hide it, not from Joel, he knows you too well. There is no give in the kiss, his body does not respond to you, it is as if he wants you alone to realize what he already knows.

You move away, breaking the kiss as you pull back quickly. There's a moment of silence when you both stare at each other, not sure what the reaction will be for the other person, not sure what is meant to happen now. The stinging sensation behind your eyes grows stronger as you feel your chest tightening, your chin trembles, and your lips part. A shaky inhale gives away the current state of your mind and there's nothing you can do to try to hide it now.

He doesn't say a word—there's no question, no confronting, no confusion or frustration. Once the tears flow to your eyes, and you turn away, shutting them in a desperate attempt to stop this, he finally speaks.

“It's okay, you're okay.”

His quiet, gentle voice is enough for you to crumble this time.

You sob loudly, covering your face with the palms of your hands. You allow Joel to pull you down and onto his chest, where you bury your face into the fabric of his shirt. Curling up into a ball, you let your body tense up on top of him. You let yourself feel the anxiety within the tension, feel everything, for the first time in so long you can't remember it properly. With tears streaming down your face, you rest on top of Joel. Your head pulled into your shoulder, your legs pressed against his chest, his hand resting firmly on your back. He adds to the pressure, feeling your body shaking with the sobs. The overwhelming need to let all the built-up tension out doesn't allow you to really think through what you're doing. It just happens and you can't stop it, not this time.

Joel shuts his eyes at your shaky inhale, rubbing his big hand over your back in an attempt to comfort you slightly. He’s not really sure what to, he has never really been great at this. Vulnerability, or the desperation of the display of emotions, was never something he was in tune with. It was definitely better if the emotions on display weren't his, it helped that he didn't have to think about himself. Worrying about others is always easier than worrying about yourself. Still, he always felt inadequate to provide any sort of comfort.

With shaking shoulders, trembling chest and cheeks wet from the tears, you clutch onto the fabric of his dark navy blue shirt when the tension becomes too overbearing to handle. He wraps his arms tight around your body. Your chest and throat hurt as you unsuccessfully attempt to calm yourself down, choking on your own tears.

“Shh, shh, I have you. I have you, babygirl.”

His gentle words make you lose whatever composure was somehow left within your body, and as your tears drip onto the fabric of his shirt, Joel moves his hand from your back up to the back of your head. Pressing a gentle kiss against the side of your head, he holds onto you like this for a moment before brushing his palm over your hair. He continues the movement from that point on, the slow, repeating sensation bringing you the desperately needed comfort. It takes a while for the feelings that turned out too strong for you to handle to slowly wither away. A long moment somehow stretched out in this otherwise calm, ordinary night in the small city of Jackson. The lights illuminating the main streets dim behind the window of Joel's bedroom when you finally feel like no tears remain behind your eyes anymore. With a loud sniffle, you snuggle your face into his chest, still curled up into a ball but now, attempting some deep breaths to calm yourself down. The pounding of your heart slowly softens deep within your chest.

Joel rubs his fingers against your arm slowly, gently moving his hand up and down against your skin. Your body so exhausted now, finding comfort within the gentle touch of this, some people would say, violent man's hands.

No words are spoken as you reach up, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck. Another quiet sniffle as you pull yourself up on his chest slightly. With your face hidden in the crook of his neck, hidden from the world, finally provided with the comfort you've longed for weeks now, you let out a deep sigh. Joel feels your body relax in his arms, feels the tension fleeing from your limbs, your chest, and lungs as you slack on top of his body.

Holding onto you, he adjusts his position slightly, his hands gently rubbing over the back of your neck and down your shoulders.

Shifting gently with the movements of his chest, you feel your eyelids growing heavier. Your body, your insides, your brain are all exhausted from the loss of control over yourself. Tilting your head up slightly, you glance up at Joel. There's a second when you both stare into each other's eyes before he looks away, leaning down as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some rest.”

He mumbles, the sound of the words rumbling in his chest. And with those words, hidden in his arms, with his heart beating gently against yours, for the first time in weeks you feel at peace, you feel safe, you feel at home.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #the last of us #tlou #game joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel x reader

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susiekern · 1 month ago

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1. the one with the movie night

a/n: first one, a bit short probably, but hey, we need to start somewhere, not proofread like usually

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and nicotine, probably ooc

word count: 1,504

masterlist

“You coming or what?” Kugisaki Nobara, your beloved roommate and best friend, barges into your room. No knocking, nothing. Usual stuff.

“One minute, damn.”

You just finished getting dressed and are now trying to get your hair into a bun, which was a harder task than you anticipated. With a deep sigh, you give up, seeing how the redhead in the doorway started to bounce her leg. Nobara was a lot of things, but patient wasn't one of them.

“Fine. Let's go.” You roll your eyes and follow the girl to your front door, grabbing a leather jacket from the hanger but ignoring two rows of shoes underneath it. Not like you'd need those anyway. Your destination for the night was a whole two steps away, apartment number 235, where your second friend, Itadori Yuji, lives.

You've met Yuji when you were kids, and your grandparents neighbors. The pink-haired menace was living with his, while you'd often stay at yours when your parents didn't feel like being ones. You've spent a good portion of your childhoods together, mostly playing video games or looking for adventures in the neighborhood. Live made you part ways when your parents got divorced, and you moved out of Tokyo with your mom.

But the universe loves funny plot twists, so when almost ten years later you inherited the 234 apartment and decided to move back to Tokyo, you found out Yuji was back also. It was like this connection you had never died, back to friends from day one. Soon after that, Nobara moved in with you, and you became a golden trio.

It was almost two years ago, and while you loved living with your bestie, Yuji wasn't as lucky. He had two roommates over these two years, and it was… eventful, to say the least.

Roomie nr. 1 was a gym rat who looked like a fucking two-door closet on legs. He'd listen to his tragic hardcore remixes from 6 am, leave sweaty clothes everywhere, and he randomly decided Yuji was his best friend in the whole world. But the last straw was interfering with Itadori’s diet. Speeches about carbs, fats, and hollow calories got him an express ticket out of the apartment.

Roommate nr. 2 seemed a lot better. For the first two days, until Yuji invited him for a drink with you and Nobara to properly introduce him to you two. Sentences that fell from his mouth that evening would embarrass the worst simps and perverts. And then his hand landed on Nobara’s thigh. Thankfully he didn't even have a chance to fully unpack his things, because throwing the boxes out in the corridor was much easier than getting every single one item.

After those two charming specimens, Yuji stopped looking for a roommate. For a few months it was just him in the apartment, his older brother stayed for a few days once in a while.

So having someone move into 235 was a big thing. When he talked with Nobara earlier, he seemed excited, both about not living alone in a big-ass apartment and about living with his best friend.

“I bet you a 10 that he's ugly.” You murmur when she knocks on the white door. Before she could answer, Yuji opened up and gestured you inside.

“It's incredible how you live right fucking here and somehow you're always late.”

Walking into the living room, you notice a man walking around the kitchen, a wooden spoon in his hand. And damn, is it hot in here? Because after quickly checking out his black, messy hair, tall figure, and black shirt wrapping his arms and back well, you could swear the temperature just went up by at least 10°. You completely ignore the conversation between Yuji and Nobara, even the part when she said it was your fault, until Yuji raises his voice to catch his new roommate’s attention too.

“Megs, this is y/l y/n and Kugisaki Nobara, our neighbors and my pink squad.” Megs, as Yuji called him, puts the pan he was holding back on the stove, wipes his hands in the towel, and moves closer.

“Fushiguro Megumi, nice to meet you both.” He gives you a polite smile and throws a towel over his shoulder. His focus quickly goes to the bags that Yuji took from Nobara’s hands, helping to unpack drinks and snacks onto the island that separates the kitchen and living areas.

You decide to settle on the big plush couch, as Nobara grabs a can of beer and sits on a bar stool, tapping on her phone. The moment she puts it down on the marble counter, your own phone vibrates.

You were now at the end of the second movie of the night, and there was only one thing on your mind. As stunning as Megumi is, he is equally annoying. The first movie went nicely, the four of you talking through it. Usual stuff when you just met someone and want to learn more. How did you and Yuji meet? Where did you live before? What do you do for a living? That’s where somehow it all went wrong. When you said you’re a streamer, he looked at you with raised eyebrows and went, “for a living?” his voice laced with disbelief and sarcasm. And when he said he’s a guitarist and vocalist, you couldn’t stop yourself from repeating his words. Something that Yuji or Nobara would take as a joke, but apparently doing so when you just met someone wasn’t “nice.” After that, you almost got into a fistfight when Yuji tried to make the situation better and suggested you have a similar taste in music. This asshole dared to comment on one of your favorite bands, you bit back. Somehow even going for a smoke on the balcony turned into a squabble. That one’s on you, though, and your joke about slim cigarettes being called “pussy sticks” by you and Nobara when you saw the pack in his hand. Megumi just pointed at your vape, lifted one brow, and said, “look who’s talking”. The most annoying part? He acts normal and civil when talking to Nobara. Which means he’s not just an asshole in general, he doesn’t like you specifically. Rude. You all (Yuji and Nobara) decide to call the night early, hoping it was just a one-time clash of personalities and next time would be better. Except it’s not.

“He’s such an asshole!” There’s a redhead sticking out of the bathroom door when you shut the front door closed behind you and make a very loud, statement. Your roommate starts laughing at the sight of you, your flushed cheeks and body leaning on the wooden surface like you’re making sure it stays shut. “I’ll take a wild guess and assume you mean Fushiguro?” She asks, coming out of the bathroom. “Ding ding, you just won the game.” You sigh, maybe a bit too dramatically, and move to the living room to throw yourself face flat on the couch. Nobara follows you, waiting patiently for the explanation, knowing she’ll get it. You’d probably blow up without an occasion to vent, especially when it includes the black-haired man. For the past week, you’ve met him a few times, either in the corridor, when Yuji invited you for a pizza, or when you all went to grab a coffee from a nearby cafe. Each time was filled with you and Megumi going back and forth, throwing sarcastic comments like it was your actual job. “I went to remind Yuji about a stream, I go in, and he’s making food. Shirtless. Who on earth cooks without a shirt on? He has the audacity to tell me to take a photo so it lasts longer, like a classic fuckboy from books. AND THEN when I politely asked if he could remind Yuji about tonight, he said sure, he’ll tell him I want to play games together in the evening. That’s my fucking job!” When you finish talking, you wait for a minute for Nobara to show support, but she’s silent like never before. Lifting your head from the plushy pillow, you narrow your eyes on her, standing near you, hand covering her mouth, stopping the laughter. “Traitor.” “Sorry, sorry.” She wipes the non-existent tear from her eye and straightens up. “Did you stare at him cooking?” “Do I look like a simp to you?” “That’s not an answer.” With another fit of laughter, she dodges the pillow you throw her way and escapes back to the bathroom to finish her makeup. You weren’t staring at him. You were just... shocked. Yeah. Partially by the fact he was cooking like that, partially by how good his body was. You’ve noticed his arm muscles back during the infamous movie night, but you somehow didn’t expect his whole body to look… like that. Most men in Japan were skinny, with little to no muscles, so seeing washboard abs and a wide back like his wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Okay, maybe you stared a bit. Fuck.

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ustechonline · 2 years ago

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blockpartyquilt · 2 years ago

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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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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karuppar · 2 years ago

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feebisart · 2 months ago

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The Door You Don’t Knock On (1/4)

I feel like writing down the fic idea that spawned from talking with @caffeine-at-3am on Discord.

It began with a door.

A strange and curious wooden door appeared misplaced in the apartment.

It had faded yellow paint cracked, fraying edges. Parts of the wood were chipped, fragments spread across the floor. The inviting golden bronze handle gleamed in the room's incandescent light with a warm glow.

The child with black unruly hair and shining blue curious eyes gazed at the door in the wardrobe. It was tall enough for a child to open. Faint spirals were etched in the wood's grain, different from the long vertical lines he was used to seeing.

He tilted his head to the side as he brushed aside the hangers of red sweaters, white shirts, and similar shades of jeans. He hesitated but curiosity won over as he felt the spiral patterns etched onto the wooden surface.

As his sky blue eyes focused on the handle, his hands moved unconsciously towards it. A quick, sharp jerk of his head and he pulled himself back. He moved the hangers back to their original position and closed the door. Darkness enclosed the small yellow door, coated with harsh rejection.

Billy Batson, a normal seven-year-old boy, found himself with a trivial issue. Fawcett City was already a strange place—a city so full of magic and topsy-turvy Wonderland rules, 1940s art Deco, and buildings that defied gravity.

So, a yellow door stalking a young kid wasn't out of the ordinary.

It materialized out of nowhere or perhaps everywhere. In everything. Apparently, many things can count as a 'door,' from what Billy discovered.

As he walked from his home to WHIZ radio for his shift, he saw the overpass he usually walks beneath take on an off cream color. The boy let out an irritated groan before taking the long way to work. Mr. Morris was very kind and understanding. After all, the way to work varies every day due to the eccentricities of the city. Mr. Morris said it gave Fawcett a unique kind of character.

He woke up one morning and went to the restroom to do his morning ritual. His eyes narrowed at the cap of his toothpaste which was a dark chartreuse color. With a sigh, he opened a new tube remarking what a waste as he tossed the previous cylinder.

The Door took other forms as well—e-mails, cup lids, welcome mats, crossing signals, and Broadway openings. He wanted to watch the Beetlejuice musical. However, he couldn't even stay since the maroon stage curtains changed into washed-out, sickly lemon-colored curtains during the opening act.

Billy could handle adversity. He had dealt with the death of his parents, living with Ebenezer, and being a homeless part-time superhero, but this?

This was torture.

The boy could endure outrageous nonsensical rules and avoid eerie traps every day if he needs to. Billy draws the line at being unable to watch a musical he saved up with his meager pay. He only heard the audience's screams and laughs as he gave the curtains a stink eye.

Fine.

Two can play at that game.

Billy goes home with a stop for groceries. It takes him a while to head home because he took the long way for certain stalker reasons.

In the morning, Billy avoided opening the wrong packet of flour, clearly the gold trim was the mimic here. It was like playing the world's worst game of Spot the Difference except every scene was a waking nightmare of a Hidden Object game.

He had a plan.

Finally, the child had finished preparing and plating. There were strawberry shortcake scones with a light dash of powdered sugar, shortbread cookies with a chocolate drizzle, and freshly brewed oolong tea with a porcelain teapot set.

Tawky Tawny had told him that the best way to come to a compromise is when you negotiate with a meal.

He cleared his closet looking for that nauseous underripe citrus shade of a door and... Yup, there it was. With a disarming smile, Billy Batson knocked on the door three times and waited.

There was silence and only the faint trail of steam flowing into the air from the spout. Gradually, the handle turned, a cacophonous creak of nails against the chalkboard as the door slid open.

Fingers, if it could even be called that, splayed and curled and twisted as a voice croaked out on a saccharine, static-filled voice, "why don't we have tea inside?"

Billy could make out shapes and fractals converging and diverging at the same and different times. Angles sharp enough to hurt then rounded and curled to offer a false sense of comfort. The eyes ever changing revealed the truth, though. Hunger, a meal, and a trap.

"Why not." Billy stated with a cordial smile while carrying the large tray, stepping over the boundary. Behind him, the door creaked shut and the monster grinned with unspooling lips lined with jagged glass teeth.

︵‿︵‿୨𖦹୧‿︵‿︵

#tma #billy batson #dc #dc captain marvel #dc comics #dc shazam #dc universe #tma crossover

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racheyace · 9 months ago

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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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