highriftplains

Latest Posts by highriftplains

can we bring back virgin/inexperienced danny… cause i need to dry hump that man until he cums in his pants while whimpering and whining little “sorrys” into my neck…

Oh, I love this. That whiny, out of breath, higher pitched, "sorry, mmm sorry, I-I just couldn't help myself, so fucking pretty." He'd whimper into your neck. The stain of his cum on his briefs. Your ego would be out of this world, seeing a man like this cum without even touching you? Oh yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be plenty of fun. He'd want to make it up to you so badly, even though you're not even slightly upset. He wants so badly to taste you, and he would take to it like a fish to water. He'd get so hard just from tasting you, hearing you moan, knowing all this was just from his tongue. The way your hands grip his hair, how he'd have your legs shaking in no time at all. You'd giggle later while coming down from your climax, "you swear you've never done that before?" "Honest." He smiles, wiping the well-earned wetness from his cheeks and chin.

That was not supposed to go on this blog but fuck it we ball hello piss nation

Relief | Josh Kiszka

Word count: 2239

Warnings: 18+, This shit is freak nasty, minors begone! Pissplay, m!sub, spanking, boot riding, general smut stuff idk man????

A/N: This is a re-upload of a fic I took down a while ago on another blog! Also, I understand content like this is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's okay! No one is forcing you to read it!

The last few songs of the show were a blur for Josh. He played things cool, but behind all the waving and blowing kisses to the crowd, the only thing he could focus on was the growing ache in his bladder. As the boys took their final bow and exited the stage, he pushed past everyone, desperately trying to make it to his dressing room bathroom to relieve himself. 

He practically burst through the door, startling you as you scanned the frantic look on his face. “Love, what’s wrong?” You questioned, standing up from the couch and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“Nothing nothing I just- fuck can we save this Y/N?” He scrambled through his words. “I really have to take a leak.” 

You couldn’t help the smirk that grew on your face at his words. At this point he was whining instead of speaking. Looking down, you could see his legs clenched together, almost trembling as he stood in front of you. 

You snaked your hand down from his face, to his chest, and you finally landed on his crotch. Josh let out a shaky breath at the contact alone. You rested there, cupping his clothed length in the palm of your hand.

“Fuck baby..” He moaned, “Please just let me go. I promise I’ll make you feel so good after I’m done.” You chuckled at his attempt to stay in control of the situation. 

“What’s the fun in that?” You tilted your head, giving him a look of faux pity as you pulled your hand away and sat back down onto the couch. “Strip for me, lovely. Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty jumpsuit of yours would we?” 

It was pathetic how fast he slipped it off and tossed it over the chair in front of the vanity. Now that you had a clear view, you could see just how hard he was. His cock looked painfully flushed. You made eye contact with him, silently pointing to the floor in front of you. He protested at first, letting out a huff, but ultimately he obeyed. 

You leaned forward, ruffling his curls and watching intently as he leaned into the touch. “My good boy. Keep behaving and you’ll get what you need, yeah?” 

He nodded eagerly at your words. “Yesyesyess” He trailed on breathlessly, “I’ll be so good for you I promise I-“ Josh shut up abruptly when he felt you give him a light nudge with your boot, and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking at the contact. 

“What? You gonna get off on my boot? Hump it like a bitch in heat? Gonna make a mess sweetheart?” That must’ve struck a nerve, because as soon as the words left your mouth Josh all but pounced onto your shoe, desperately grinding against the cool leather for any relief he could get. His head fell back after a few moments as he reveled in the pleasure. Soft moans slipped off his tongue, sweet like honey, but laced with a need that lacked any sort of innocence. The ache in his bladder was still very much prevalent, though now it was mixed with another feeling bubbling inside of him, and that made it all the more painful. 

A few minutes passed of you just admiring him, enjoying the show he was putting on. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat that made a few stray hairs stick to his forehead. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped or whimpered had you in a momentary trance. A particularly high pitched whine brought you back to reality. He must’ve found a good angle because the soft sounds quickly evolved into strained, loud cries. You could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes, ruining his eyeliner when they dropped from his waterline and ran down his flushed cheeks. 

“My sweet boy..” You cooed, “I wish you could see how pathetic you look right now. I almost feel sorry for you.” Without warning you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you. Giving him no time to react, you raised your hand and delivered a smack to the side of his face, earning a choked whimper on his end. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but definitely hard enough to sting for a bit. You gently soothed the spot with your thumb. “Color?” 

“Green- oh fuck fuck..” He panted as he let his head fall forward. “Please..fuck please I’m so close I need to-“ 

“Need to what? Come on, can you use your words for me?” You knew exactly what he wanted, no needed, but Josh had to say it himself. You raised your boot slightly and pushed against his bladder. The action had him folding in on himself, his legs quickly snapping together in an attempt to keep himself at bay. 

“Need to come..and and..fuck I need to piss babe- please??” 

“Up.” You said, motioning with your hand. While he stood up you made quick time of discarding your shirt and jeans. As much as you would’ve loved to let him make a mess of your clothes, you didn’t have anything else to change into when the two of you left later, so discarding them was the best option for now. 

You relaxed against the couch once more, gently pulling him onto your lap. Instantly his hands were all over you as he tried to coax any sort of sympathy he could get out of you. “Careful, I only said I’d give you what you want if you behave.” His touches became more gentle after that, slower and less frantic. You reached your hand down, wrapping it around his length. A barely stifled moan tore through him. He was putty in your hands. He always melted under your touch, and you absolutely loved the power you held over him. You began to move your hand, slowly at first. Then gradually worked him up to a good pace. 

It wasn’t long before he was crying again. His whines became incoherent mumbles, and you had to physically hold his hips down. “Are you close? Wanna let go for me, darling?” 

He nodded, or at least tried to. He was so far gone that it was more so just him twitching his head slightly. You leaned forward and planted a few kisses up his neck, and a final one just below his ear. Safe where no one would find it. “Come on doll, let go for me.” You whispered. 

What followed your words was pornographic. Josh’s head flew back as he screamed your name. The white stripes of his release painted your hand as well as both of your tummies. He twitched in your lap, engulfed in ecstasy. After a moment he began to come down from his high. His cock softened slightly, but you didn’t stop pumping him. You knew he wasn’t done, and so did he, but it was embarrassing to admit. You used your free hand to trail down his torso, stopping just above his bladder. Josh shuttered when after a moment, he felt you press down more roughly than before. 

“Fuck I can’t- hold it much longer.” 

“Shhhh,” You whispered, “give it to me sweet boy.” You removed your hand from his torso and reached down to pleasure yourself. He let out a broken cry, it hurt, but it felt so damn good to finally get the relief he had been chasing. The initial warmth of it had you throwing your own head back, resting on the back of the couch. You were both moaning in unison at this point as the stream continued. It covered his thighs first, then yours, some even dripped down between your legs. You heard it come to a stop before you felt it, and the whole scene had your head spinning. It was intoxicating. After a few more labored breaths from the both of you, you finally made eye contact again. His cheeks were somehow an even darker shade of red than before, and his mouth hung open in a way that perfectly showed off his soft, plump lips.  

“That was-“ You began, but before you could finish the sentence you felt something poking against your tummy. You looked down and let out a coo “Aww, you already hard again love? Not finished yet?” You teased. 

“We don’t have to, I can take care of it myself if you want.” 

“Nonsense. I’ve got something in mind, baby. Don’t you worry.” You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his, taking in what you could of the soft moment before what was to come. He pulled away first, breathless and panting. “Can you stand up for me, sugar?” He complied, albeit slowly. You let out a giggle at his struggling, but eventually he was up. You stood up after him, the feeling of him running down your legs was enough to make you falter for a moment.

You took his hand and led him over to the vanity, pushing the chair with his jumpsuit on it carefully out of the way. You gently placed your hand on the small of his back and rested it there for a moment before raising it up and pushing so that Josh was now bent over and on display. “You look so pretty, don’t you think?” Without warning you tangled your fingers in his curls and yanked his head back. “You’re gonna watch yourself, okay? You’re gonna take what I give you, and if I catch you looking away this all stops and I’m leaving you on your own. Got it?” 

He let out a shaky breath and nodded as he made eye contact with you through the mirror. “Good boy.” You praised. Your hands naturally found themselves on his ass, kneading at the soft flesh. “Ready?” He whispered a small ‘yes’, and that was enough for you. You raised your hand up, and within seconds it was making contact with his skin again. The sound cracked and echoed throughout the dressing room. “Count.” You said.

“One.” He whined, the tears already starting to form in the corners of his eyes again. You gave him little time to recover before continuing with another spank. 

“Fuck- two!” He cried out.

The two of you continued like that until you got to 14. He was painfully hard, precum coating his fingers as he pumped himself under the desk. You were going to protest, but he had been good. The least you could do was let him touch himself. “You close baby? Can you give me one more?” He nodded eagerly, his legs starting to shake as he struggled to hold himself back. You nodded back to him, taking in a breath before landing a final spank on his ass. 

“Oh god- fifteen!” Moaned Josh, holding out the ‘ee’ sound. With that he was toppling over himself, finally slipping over the edge as the ribbons of his release painted his fingers. You held him there, careful not to let him fall as you rubbed soft, soothing circles into his skin. After he caught his breath you slowly turned him around, raising his hips up a bit so he was now sitting on the vanity. 

“You did so good angel..” You whispered, “I’m so so proud of you.” You trailed gentle kisses from his forehead, to his cheeks, and finally a soft peck on the lips. “I wasn’t too rough was I?” He smiled at you and shook his head, and you nodded in response. “Okay love, how about we go get you cleaned up? Then we can go back to the hotel and curl up in bed.”

You walked him carefully to the bathroom of his dressing room, which luckily had a decent sized shower. You stepped forward to turn on the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot. You both liked it a bit on the cooler side, especially considering how hot and stuffy it had been in the dressing room. You were the first to get in so that you could help him stay steady as he got in as well. Your hands gently snaked around his waist, holding him there as the water ran over both of you. 

“I love you.” He said, his voice cutting through the white noise of the water. 

“I love you more.” You replied. 

“Impossible.”

You both washed each other, leaning into the touch of the other when they were doing your hair or scrubbing your skin. It wasn’t long before you were done, and you both stepped out of the shower. You dried off and fetched your clothes from where you’d thrown them earlier. Josh grabbed his ‘normal clothes’ from his bag and changed with you. He carefully hung his jumpsuit up to be collected by the crew later. He grabbed his belonging, as did you, and before you knew it you both were making your way to his car.

The air outside was cool and refreshing. “Am I driving?” He asked. 

“Of course not. I’m not gonna make you drive after all that. You’re way too tired.” 

He protested, but switched sides with you and allowed you to hop in behind the wheel for the short drive to the hotel. “I would’ve been fine, you really didn’t have to..” He trailed on.

Josh was out cold and snoring before you even got out of the parking lot.

josh in a weighted throw net

based on @ofthecaravel tiny van fleet 🫶

gays ruined the word hole for eternity

“I don’t want to be a burden” you’re more like a relief, a gift, a blessing actually

2.15.25

jaaaaaaaaaaaaaake pspspspspspssppsp jake kiszka *shakes a pack of guitar picks* where are you

I neeeeeeeded to let y'all in on the thought that pops out in my mind whenever I see this picture.

To me, when I look at this photo, I think of a hookup you had with Danny. A one night thing, a build-up of emotions, a quickness of hands and lips and bodies. It's what you see in your minds eye whenever you're doing a menial task that lulls you back into that night. It's a screenshot that lives in your mind, tormenting you as you remember the way his hands held your waist, how his lips felt between your thighs, the way his breath felt on your neck and how his voice continues to play in your ears, "I want to make this last."

Something like that.

Crisis Hotlines

The Trevor Project.

LGBT National Youth Talkline

Trans Lifeline

Runaway Hotline

Trees/j.m.k

Pairing: au!Josh Kiszka x f!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ therapy session discussing trauma, mentions (does no go in detail) ideations, running away, dissociation, kissing, mark leaving, humping, unprotected sex, overstimulation

as always, please lmk if any tags are missed!

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The first installment of Gretaween 2024 is here! Over the course of 8 days there will be works from other amazing creators added here!

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Please proceed with caution. This fic might be a lot for anyone struggling with suicidal ideations, those who struggle with dissociative thoughts, and even those who have experienced trauma at any point. There are no themes of SA implied or mentioned in this work, but themes of death, grief and the inability to grasp those concepts are.

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The cold weather couldn’t keep you from the woods. No amount of crunchy leaves stacked on the old mossy ground or mud puddles too big to walk around. Nothing. Nested deep in the woods resides a little cabin that you’d stumbled upon one day after school. It was a therapy day, you remember because you wore blue. Blue was for therapy days because therapy makes you sad, and blue is a sad color.

Fact, not opinion.

The little cabin in the woods made the blue days feel not so blue when the orange boy appeared.

When you first met, his hair was getting quite long, the loose waves bouncing around just under his ears. His hair wasn’t like that for long, he’d eventually get it cut, a neat mop of curls resting over his forehead. His voice got deeper, muscles got stronger, hair got curlier, but he still remained orange. Not physically, more so in the way he spoke and gestured. While not typically complimentary, he was the orange your blue needed, and you paired quite nicely.

In fact, the two of you paired so well that you never once bothered asking one another why they were in the woods that day. It felt right. Like all of the blue days led you here. The cabin is brown, physically, but feels yellow. Happy, warm, inviting. Outside the cabin is one giant tree, the tree you’d met Josh under. He was quiet at first, his breath being the only thing to give him away. Quiet didn’t last long, though. He’d grow to talk your ear off every chance he got, and you welcomed his words with open arms.

You hadn’t seen Josh in exactly one week. Something about needing to prepare something for you, a surprise if you will, and to meet him under the tree where you met him in seven days. So you waited impatiently for the longest, bluest seven days to pass without your complimentary person. It was surprising how unprescribed blue days could feel particularly blue. Blue was meant for therapy days. Dismal, a buzzing in your ears surrounding the thought of those grey walls, scratchy carpet and the chair that squeaks every time Dr. Tannis shifts his weight. That’s what blue was meant for, so you tried to fill the days with shades of orange and yellow that reminded you of Josh.

When the seven days were up, you found yourself barreling through the house after school, just to be stopped in your tracks by Mom.

“Honey, please don’t forget you said you’d take your sister trick-or-treating tonight.” Mom sighs as she releases her hold on your shoulders.

“But-”

“No ‘buts,’ Y/n.”

“But I have to go see Josh.” Your eyes widen at the name. You know better.

“Y/n…” Mom closes her eyes and tilts her head back. She was red, metaphorically. The heat and anger couldn’t be seen but it could be felt, and it was burning red.

“I’m sorry,” You sulk, your head falling between your shoulders.

“Please go get ready and make sure your sister is, too.” She tries forcing a smile across her lips, but the forced yellow couldn’t deceive red.

For the third consecutive year, you chose to be a vampire. The costumes were getting better, why choose a different thing when you could continue improving? You lean into the mirror, fanning your teeth to try and help the fangs stick. Your attention is directed elsewhere as you overhear Mom on the phone in the kitchen. Your eyes flutter shut as you hone in on her words, laced with blue-grey.

“She’s mentioning Josh again. I thought that had been discussed during her sessions.”

You don’t mean to listen, but if it weren’t meant to be heard, maybe she’d stop using speaker phone.

“It has been touched on, yes, but-”

“She is well past the age of imaginary friends, Dr. Tannis. Her entire life cannot evolve around the existence of someone who just… doesn’t exist.”

Doesn’t exist?

“Y/n, I think we need to backtrack just a little.” Dr. Tannis sighed as he sat down. He seemed to be paying more attention to the squeak, but the noise still left faint blue raspberry on your tongue.

“Well, Doc, I am an open book!” You leaned back in the chair as you popped a grape Jolly Rancher in your mouth.

“That is sort of the issue, Y/n. You’re not open about anything. We need to start working through what happened.” He clicked his pen before bringing his elbow to the desk and hand to his temple.

“I don’t remember. It’s like one day I was just riding my bike in the woods and everything turned black…”

“Is that physical or metaphorical?” Dr. Tannis raised an eyebrow. He might not understand the colors, but at least he tried.

“Physical black. And then the hospital and then I met you.”

“Do you blame yourself?” He looked up from his notepad, leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.

“What?” Your heart began racing, on the brink of a panic attack. “B-blame myself for what?”

Were you supposed to blame yourself?

“The accident, Y/n. It’s common for a patient to blame themselves, especially if there’s no other explanation.”

“Uh- sometimes? I don’t know.” You squeezed your eyes shut trying to recall what happened. When you opened them, Dr. Tannis was scribbling on the notepad again. You caught some of what he jotted down, nonsense upon nonsense of how he thinks you feel.

“Why don’t we just move on? You’ve mentioned your hatred-”

“Distaste.” You corrected. Josh had changed that, you didn’t hate anything.

“Right, sorry, distaste for blue raspberry several times. Where does that come from? Can you remember when that started, Y/n?”

“I think it’s what the darkness tasted like. Kind of… metallic and cold.”

“Is the darkness where you created Josh? Could he be just a thought?”

God. You couldn’t have created Josh had your life depended on it. You’re not convinced a higher being could have either.

“W-created?! I didn’t create Josh! I met Josh! In real life!”

“Your mother’s mentioned never having met Josh. You’ve never attended school with him and you met after the… incident. Why do you think that is?”

“I already said-” Your words became very red, unlike you. You pressed your lips shut and took a deep breath before restarting. “He’s just not ready to meet new people yet.”

“Y/n, I think she’s worried about, well, if he’s real or not.”

“Mom’s crazy, Dr. Tannis. Of course Josh is real.” You swivel in the chair side to side, snapping Legos together as you sucked on another grape Jolly Rancher.

Finally, something where the taste matched the color.

”Does he exist here…” Dr. Tannis waved his arms around the room, “Or here?” He asked, tapping your temple. The chair squeaked as he leaned forward, causing you to wince. That damn squeak always tastes like sheet metal and a hint of wet dirt.

“Here!” You exclaimed, waving your hands around the room. “And if he didn’t, I’d do whatever it took to be wherever he was.”

“Y/n, as we know you’ve struggled in the past with… Ideations, we call them. I need to make sure that’s not the case.” His eyes grew worried as he tried studying you for answers.

“I wouldn’t do that.” You said pointedly. Your death would mean Josh no longer having someone there for him, alongside you not having him. That simply wouldn’t do. A deep sigh escapes your lips before you attempt to divert the conversation.

“I hug him every time I see him. We’ve… done some things… I know he’s real.”

“Done some-” His eyes widened, cheeks growing flush as the admission slipped your lips.

“Just kiss! We’ve only kissed.”

Dr. Tannis wore a furrowed brow and an expression that was almost eager for answers. Almost like he knew you were lying. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell him you and Josh had been having sex. That would have only caused more problems. The last thing you needed was more problems.

“And how did that make you feel, Y/n?” Dr. Tannis leaned forward in his chair, pressing his pen to the notepad.

“Purple and white.” You responded confidently. Purple and white, that’s how his lips felt against yours each time. His lips remind you of rose petals, the silky innocence of a flower and sweetness of nectar.

“Words, Y/n. I need… emotions, not colors.”

You hate that Dr. Tannis can’t understand you almost as much as you hate nobody believing Josh is real. You chose silence. There was no way to describe his honey coated, purple-white, rose petal lips in a way other than that. Dr. Tannis wasn’t necessarily accepting of the silence but knew he needed to utilize the rest of the time appropriately.

“Y/n, I think a-”

“Could you not use my name so much? It makes me all blue-grey.”

“Right, sorry.” Dr. Tannis clears his throat. “If he’s real, I think a conversation with Josh about meeting your mother would be good.”

“He is real.”

He’s real.

It’s not that you wanted to hide Josh. If you had it your way, you’d share his orange smile and warm embrace with anyone you knew. But he couldn’t go far. While neither of you disclosed how you ended up under that tree, Josh had opened up enough about his home for you to understand. Black and red. It was angry there, way worse than your blue.

You push yourself away from the mirror, holding back the tears that threaten your lash line.

“Not real.”

Who does she think she is?

Once Mom had learned about Josh, she began taking mental note of when you left and how long you were gone. You couldn’t sleep anyways, so you started sneaking out at night to see Josh at the cabin.

“Screw trick-or-treat.” You mumble to yourself as you grab your backpack, making way to your window. You scan over your room, a sense of blue-red and a tinge of black, washing over you. Semi-content with its look, you climb out of the window.

The ground is wet, mushy under your feet as you stomp through the tall, unkempt grass of the woods. The rain couldn’t keep you from Josh. Nothing could. Not trick-or-treat, not blue days or the squeaky chair, not the feeling of blue-black that washed over at the sight of certain things. No other color mattered when you knew orange would always be on the other side.

The rain turns to mist as you walk under the trees, the full moon peeking through just enough to wash the green in blue, physically. It’s silent outside of your feet squishing the wet ground and your backpack shuffling behind you, stuffed with handfuls of the candy Mom specifically said was for the trick-or-treaters. Josh likes Reese’s and BlowPops, so you saw no harm in bringing him some. Blue raspberry and cherry are his favorite. They were yours, too, but not until you tasted them on his rose petal lips. Blue raspberry reminds you of a memory you’ve never been quite able to recall, maybe that’s why therapy days were blue.

You shake your head at the thought of blue raspberry. Thinking of blue days and the squeaky chair would only ruin the orange. The cabin’s in sight and dimly lit, seemingly occupied. Unable to see him, you know he’s in there. You can feel his existence just beyond the trees.

You stand under the tree, back awkwardly against the thick, damp trunk so as to not crush the Reese’s and BlowPops. You run your hand over the carved initials in the bark, remembering the day you and Josh had placed it there. The first time you ever kissed him. The rain is slowly picking up again and you find yourself almost getting lost in the whispers of the wind against leaves.

Perhaps the wind works with the trees to tell us things, but we don’t hear. Maybe the wind doesn’t want to be heard, but rather it wants to be listened to.

Waiting begins to grow so boring you try to understand. Understand what the trees are saying. Understand what caused your original distaste for blue, both flavor and color. Every time you try to think, you find yourself unable to understand. You can never recall a time before the grey walls, scratchy carpets and squeaky chair. God how you hate that chair. It’s been years and yet he hasn’t gotten a new one.

Wait by the tree.

Wait by the tree.

Wait by the tree.

He’d specifically instructed you to meet him here, under the tree you met him years ago. Notoriously late, he wouldn’t be this late, making you lose hope. You start to deep breathe in attempts to avoid the orange becoming red. One foot slowly found its way in front of the other as you walked away from the lone standing tree into the sea of physical green. Just slow enough to keep waiting.

Waiting… Waiting…

“Wait!” His voice rang through the night time in a shade of yellow only he could embody, not the same as the cabin.

“Josh?” You turn to see him standing under the tree, leaning against the trunk. His chest is heaving as he fights for air.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought I had more time. They wouldn’t let me go.”

His parents. The definition of darkness personified. Every bad color couldn’t make them up. Black and red swirled and married in a nasty mixture was surely the reason he found solace in the cabin.

Even under the night sky he radiates orange. His rose petal, purple-white lips and beautiful brown doe eyes glisten in the moonlight. Breathtaking. Hauntingly beautiful. All of the good colors melted down like crayons to create him.

Josh doesn’t move, instead he stands and waits for your feet to make their way to him. Like a magnet, you’re drawn to him, wrapping yourself in his warmth almost as fast as it had appeared.

“Mm,” You hum into his chest, your fingers grasping the back of his sweater. “Smell so… so good…”

It wasn’t unusual that he smells good, but he does smell different. Like the summer sun beating down on a field of wildflowers, and hints of honeysuckle covered in morning dew. He smells earthy but in a way that’s good. You pull away from his chest and look up at his face.

“Fangs.” He nods and taps his fingernail against the fake tooth that sticks out from your lips.

“They’re kinda silly, aren’t they?” You bring your fingers to your mouth and pop the two fake fangs off of your teeth, discarding them into the front pocket of your hoodie.

“They were cute.” He frowns, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he guides you a few feet to the cabin. “I missed you, like a lot.”

“You, sir,” You say, pressing your finger into his chest. “You’re the one who asked for seven days.”

“I know, I know. I just needed time to clean this place up. Make it special, ya know?” Josh opens the door to the cabin. It’s clean. For the longest time a thick coating of dust rested on every surface you had yet to touch, the impressions where the two of you would sit being the only clean spot. All of the physical grey is gone. The cabin feels more yellow now than it ever has before.

“Oh! I have something for you, too.” You smile and nod, pulling your backpack off your shoulders. Josh watches with a crooked head, his eyes narrowing. “Hold out your hands.” You instruct as you dig through your bag.

“Is it gonna bite?” He jokes.

“I hope not,” You reply, placing a handful of Reese’s and BlowPops into his large palm.

“Is this your way of telling me you want a kiss?” He teases, twirling a blue raspberry BlowPop between his fingers. You watch as he stuffs the other candy into his pocket before removing the wrapper on the BlowPop and pushing it past his rose petal lips. The only time blue looked and tasted good was when it was on his tongue.

It was no secret you’d thought about him in… that… way a handful of times before ever getting to be with him. Granted more so after the fact, and right now more than ever. The way his fingers felt against your lips earlier and watching his tongue work around the BlowPop did not make it better.

“Josh?” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear as you close the space between your bodies.

“Yes?”

So many things you want, need, to say evade you. So many pandora's boxes that you don’t want to open.

“I just missed you. Seven blue days was too long.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I missed you too, mamas.”

You wrap your arms around his torso once again, melting into his existence. You wish you could physically melt into him so you never had to be apart. Time away from him was always blue-black. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know, he always knows what you’re thinking.

“I thought you were going trick-or-treating today.” Josh brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers massaging your scalp. His voice echoes through his chest, deep and strong.

“S’posed to,” You mumble.

“Well, what happened? Talk to me.”

Mom doesn’t think you’re real.

Dr. Tannis doesn’t think you’re real.

Nobody thinks you're real so I ran away.

“I, uh, I guess I just missed you too much.”

“You know I can tell when you’re fibbing, right?” He pulls away, looking into your face as he tries reading you. He brings a hand to cradle your face, his thumb smoothing across your cheek. “It’s your favorite holiday.”

“I hate when you do that.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. The softer he gets, the more willing you are to spill your guts, he knew that.

“Well I hate when you do that. Don’t put the walls up, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“I can be. I think talking to someone who understands you would be more beneficial than Mr. Squeaky Chair.” Josh guides you over to lay on the old couch, the only piece of furniture that existed in the cabin yet you always sat on the floor.

“Aren’t we too old for this?” You choke out.

“Too old for what?”

“This. We hide away in an abandoned cabin and make out like horny middle schoolers. And my mom thinks one of us isn’t real.”

“Do you not like that?” He looks nervous as he asks, picking at skin on the sides of his thumbs.

“Well, I like making out with you,”

“But?”

“Everyone thinks you’re not real. And I’d like for them to know you’re real so I could make out with you in my bedroom instead. Have sex on a bed like normal people. I dunno.”

Something in the air shifts. The yellow-orange-sunshine is slowly engulfed by red-blue-black metaphorical darkness.

“We can’t do that.” Josh sighs and kneels down beside the couch, bringing his hand to hold yours. The warmth that always exists in his palms felt almost absent.

“Why not, Josh? Why can’t we be normal?”

“I haven’t been honest.” He swallows harshly. You wince as he moves his hand down to rest on your knee.

“Oh great, you have a girlfriend who goes to my college and-”

“No, not a girlfriend, or boyfriend or anything like that.” He rubs his hand up and down your thigh, trying to soothe the nerves he can sense tensing. Electric couldn’t begin to explain the way his fingers feel dragging across your clothed skin.

“Is it your parents?” You sit up and pat the couch next to you for him to sit.

“Not them, no.” He brings himself to his feet before sitting beside you, removing the BlowPop from his mouth. He places the half eaten lollipop on the window sill behind the couch before bringing his hand to cup your jaw. “Y/n, can you kiss me?”

“Josh…”

“Please? Before I say anything, please just kiss me.”

“Josh,”

Could it be that bad?

You shake the feeling, giving into your temptations as you press your lips to Josh’s. Your tongue explores his until the flavor of blue raspberry is nonexistent. Your fingers grasp at his hair, the feeling of his curls helping ground you. As soon as you pull away, you find yourself returning for more regardless of the flavor being long gone from his tender lips. Josh’s hands begin snaking up the front of your hoodie, his fingertips dancing along your sides. His hands against your bare skin feels like oil paints on a canvas, gliding smoothly and perfectly around every edge and detail at the mercy of the artist. Josh’s lips trail down your neck, nipping and biting at the supple skin on your throat, earning a soft moan.

Your hands can’t help themselves, smoothing down the front of his sweater and onto his lap. His length is growing prominent beneath his jeans. Josh follows your lead, his fingers tracing under the waistband of your leggings before pulling you onto his lap.

It isn’t long before you’re pushing your hips into his, rolling methodically against his length as he continues kissing across the expanse of your skin. Josh places his hands on your hips and pushes you down, your center resting over his thigh as your leg slots between his. His hands guide your hips back and forth as you grind your core against his thigh, pressing you firmly down onto him.

One of his hands slowly drags up your side before resting under your chin, raising your face to look at him. He likes to be watched, to be seen, just as much as he likes watching you. Your eyes meet his, warm and golden like summer honey.

“You’re so pretty,” You huff out, still grinding against him. Josh moves his hand to cradle the back of your neck, drawing your lips closer to his.

“Uh-uh. You’re pretty, my baby,” He trails off, pressing his rosey lips against yours. A warm, sweet taste grows the longer he’s there, your heartbeat in places you didn't know it could be. You bring one hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, your fingers nestling deep in his brown curls as you push him closer.

No word can even begin to explain how he’s got you. Josh’s hands work between your bodies, undoing his pants as you continue rubbing against him, a giggle escaping his lips.

“What’s so funny?” You ask defensively, slowing your motions.

“My knee is soaked,” He smirks as he dips his hand past his boxers, not so subtly stroking himself.

“Oh…”

“Is this okay? We don’t-”

“No, I do!” You shout desperately, lifting from his thigh to push your pants past the wide of your ass down until they sit at your ankles. You hover over his length, pulling his boxers down before sitting him at your entrance.

“I’m quite fond of you.” He whispers and looks up, peeling his eyes away from where your bodies are about to connect. The man who loves to watch himself wasn’t watching.

“I’m fond of you, too, Josh.”

“Like a lot, Y/n, and I’m worried about messing this up.”

“You won’t.” You assure him, sinking down onto his length. You hiss at the feeling of him inside, no matter how many times you find yourselves in this situation, it always feels brand new. You fall forward, melting into Josh’s chest as he brings his arms around you with his face tucked in the crook of your neck. His lips find a home sucking a hot trail of marks up and down the side of your neck, reaching his hands down to rid you of your shoes and bottoms.

Josh gently thrusts his hips up, fucking into you slowly, making you feel every inch of his thick cock in your hungry core. Euphoria courses through your veins in times like this, a sparkly, pink goodness that seemingly takes hold of you. Buried deep inside, he holds you down on his length as he readjusts your bodies, laying you across the couch with him above you. He places his hands on the bottom hem of his shirt and hoodie, lifting them over his head to expose his chest. You reach a hand forward and lay it over his heart, pinching your eyebrows together in confusion when you don’t feel a beat.

“You okay?” Josh asks, bringing his hands to the backs of your thighs and pushing them into your chest, allowing him to sink into you deeper.

“Uh-huh,” You gasp and nod as Josh brings a hand from the back of your thigh to lay between where your bodies meet, brushing his thumb over your aching clit.

“Oh… my god…” You gasp into his mouth. “Josh…”

“S’that feel good?” He mumbles against your lips as he slowly works one finger into your already full pussy, thumb still against your clit.

“Like-like,” You hardly stutter as he brings you closer to the brink of orgasm.

“Gold?” Josh suggests, curling his finger upwards as to draw an answer.

Gold. The smell of a freshly blooming sunflower field. The first s’more of summer. The feeling of the sun drying your wet skin after swimming.

“Like gold.” A mess of gasps and moans, you swallow harshly before mewling his name. “J-Josh,”

“Y/n,” He sings, a smile tugging the corner of his lips as they’re pressed against yours. Gold, yellow, honey, rose petal lips, purple-white. The overstimulation was washing over in more ways you could count.

“Josh, please?” You beg for something that’s already yours, a feeling of white-hot washing over your entire body as you feel yourself begin to spill over the edge.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty mama? It’s all yours.” Josh continues curling his finger up, tapping the spongy spot tucked where only he can find it as his hips and thumb keep a steady pace.

Your ears begin to ring like the broken bell above the church nobody attends. Almost in a possessed-like manner, your body convulses under Josh’s touch. As he removes his finger from your aching cunt, you hardly open your eyes to watch him lick your slick off his digits. Your face must look curious because Josh smirks once more before attaching his lips to yours. He tastes of honey, delicate flowers, an old library. To be engulfed and consumed by his flame is all you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever craved.

Josh follows not too far afterwards, his hips stuttering and stilling as his warm release coats your walls, his warm torso laying its weight on yours. He turns his head so his cheek rests on your collar, chastely kissing whatever skin he can get his lips on as his length softens inside. It feels weird but nice, oddly enough.

“Hi,” He whispers gently into your neck.

“Hi,” You copy, letting your head fall so your cheek rests against the nest of curls on his head. Slightly damp, but god does he smell good. Chests pressed together, you lay in silence wondering where the beating of either heart has gone. The two of you lay like that for a while, soaking in one another’s presence before Josh finally pushes himself off of you. Your chest grows almost empty and airy, like a helium balloon, without his weight on top to hold you down.

“Can you tell me now?” You groan, sleepy and winded.

“The issue is that I’m not from here, Y/n.” Josh sighs, pushing his legs through his pant legs.

“And that’s okay. But I want to see, Josh. I wanna see where you’re from.”

“It’s all black-red, you don’t wanna see that.”

“I want to know you. Let me see.” Your shoulders fall alongside your expression as you pull your panties over your legs followed by your leggings. Josh reaches down to grab your hand and for a second everything feels orange again. Josh offers a worried smile before everything turns physically black.

“Josh?” Not only is he gone, but everything in the distance looks to be going, too.

It can’t be.

Is Josh… Not real? Just a thought for your amusement?

As you succumb to darkness, you realize maybe blue isn’t so bad after all. It was much better than black, at least. Your surroundings felt like the blue raspberry, thunderstorm, whirring darkness that occured after the incident. Yet still you find you’re unable to recall anything prior outside of riding your bike in the woods.

Finally, you remember something but still not enough to answer what happened that day. All you remember is a glimpse of orange trying to pull you from the darkness and the taste of blue raspberry. A huge wave of grey-black sorrow washes over you, sobs ripping through your chest. Panic is all you know to do.

“Hey,” Orange wraps itself around you in the form of his arms, and even though you can’t see, you know it’s him because of the shade of his words. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

“Where?” You shudder.

“In the heart.”

One deep, ragged breath fills your lungs as you open your eyes expecting nothing except pitch black, but you’re back in the cabin. It doesn’t feel yellow anymore.

“What happened?” You squeak out, just like that damned chair.

“Y/n,” Josh says gently as he walks to stand before you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and rests his chin on your head.

“Josh, tell me what happened, I need to know.” You mumble into his chest as you choke back tears.

“We don’t exist.”

“Yes we do! We exist, Josh. We are real, we feel things. Could we feel things if we weren’t real?” You push yourself away from his hold and ball your fists at your side.

“You can ball your fists, but that doesn’t bring us back to life.” He frowns, plopping onto the floor. He sits criss-crossed, looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

“Back to life?”

“You died that day, Y/n. It’s why you can’t remember anything that happened.”

“Died?” You fall to your knees in front of him, your fists thumping against the ground. Nothing was real, at least it hasn’t been for the last few years.

“I tried to save you but I was too late. I saw you just… laying there, but I tried, Y/n.” Josh rests his hands on your knees. If neither of you are real, then how can you feel him?

For the first time you’re able to recall the darkness. Why it tasted of blue raspberry, where your hatred for the squeaking came from, why nobody believed Josh was real. You try again to remember the day of the accident, but to no avail.

Bike. Black. Blue. Orange.

Cowboy couple set

Real I fear

Guys what the fuck I don't know why I am feeling baby fever right now I'm literally a lesbian but I can't stop thinking about dad danny and this song 😭

I imagine him sitting on the couch playing guitar while you're in your rocking chair with the baby and he plays super quietly so it doesn't upset them. You softly sing along as he plays, looking down at your child all peaceful and sleepy in your arms. You look up at him for a moment, the realization setting in that you two created that soul together, and its just such a beautiful moment of connection. You feel yourself tear up, and you see him start to as well. You smile at eachother, before looking back down at the perfect little angel in your arms and everything starts to make sense.

Is that too much to ask for? (The answer is yes definitely 😭)

making a mirador meme everyday until they announce the ep/album

day 132

made by @runwayblues

AHHHHHHHHH

A New Flavor

Jake Kiszka x Reader (f)

Cw: SMUT including: fingering, oral (m and f) receiving, cum play, overstimulation, light spanking, I guess food-play technically?? Idk you'll see, it's nothing crazy, overall fluff and sweet domesticity

Word Count: 2.5k

“Jakeee, I'm trying to watch the show.”

You giggle as his nose tickles the skin of your neck and his arms wrap around you, cocooning you in your own world as the little spoon on the couch.

“You smell good.” Is his only reply and you can feel his lips curl into a smile as they gently press into your skin, then off with a little ‘pop’.

One of his arms moves to lay across your stomach, sending a shiver up your spine. His pointer finger draws circles in the exposed skin right around your belly button which only tickles more and you squirm away from his touch.

“Just wanna love on you y/n.” He says sleepily with a playful hint to his tone.

You turn to him so that your faces are inches away and you move closer to connect your lips. He hums approvingly as his mouth gently parts. His warm tongue slips past your lips and you move your hips closer to his. You can feel him hardening already.

He uses his hands to push himself up so he can reposition to be hovering over you. You take the new angle as the opportunity to part one leg to the side. He takes the hint and lowers himself so that he can slowly rock into your core.

His hand touches your waist and slides up to your chest. He cups your breast in his hand and squeezes as his soft thrusting begins to pick up. All the while his kissing, passionate but tamed stays steady and sweet like honey. You want to lap it all up.

You can feel yourself growing wetter along with the gradual thump of your heart increasing. You wonder if he feels it too. This energy and how fast it can shift between the two of you. Sometimes it feels like you share a brain, and a heart. The way you can make each other feel, just inside this little apartment, it’s unexplainable… It's magic.

He breaks away just for a moment and you finally open your eyes. He is staring back at you with a lazy smile on his face. His beautiful chestnut hair is ruffleed endearingly and it makes your heart skip a beat.

He’s Jake Kiszka and he’s all yours.

You notice for a moment something you hadn’t before. His mouth moves up and down in a chewing motion. He notices your confusion when he flashes you a toothfull grin, revealing the bit of gum he’s been chewing. You giggle a little and pull him by his collar. He’s obviously caught off guard and laughs before you pull him even closer to connect lips once again.

His body around you feels so right as he makes an effort not to crush you completely, (although you wouldn’t mind), but just adds a little weight. You allow your tongue to push into his mouth and scoop out the gum. You notice that it's hard and plasticy and it’s lost all its flavor, but if you really concentrate, you can taste the faintest flavor of strawberry.

Jake’s hips stop and you whine in protest. Your eyes open to find him smirking above you once more. 

“Give me the gum back.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me silly.”

You begin to pick the gum out of your mouth and hand it to him, but he stops you.

“C’mere.”

Realizing what he wants, you kiss him again, slow and meaningful as his tongue licks into your mouth and takes back the gum.

Jake sits back on his knees and his eyes travel down to where you’ve almost soaked through your panties and yoga pants. His eyes are glazed over like a man in love and he looks up for permission. You give him a little nod and his hands tease just above the waistline of your pants. You momentarily close your legs so he can slide off the pants before opening back up again.

He scoots back so he has room to lay down and he brings his face to the inside of your thigh. 

“Don’t make a sound.”

His stern face feigns seriousness, and maybe he is a little, but this is his favorite game. See how long you can go before it just feels too good. Before the sounds escape you and you can’t help yourself.

You brace yourself for his touch and when it comes you bite back a moan. His lips latch onto the meat of your thigh as he sucks in a mark. His other hand massages the opposite thigh moving up slowly. 

The rough pads of his fingertips feel so good against your soft skin, and you want to show him how good it really feels, but to entertain the game, you don’t make a sound.

His sloppy kisses trail up until they land right at the top of your panties. In a move that only slightly embarsasses you, he breathes in your scent and his eyes roll back.

“Y/n.” Is all he whines, sounding almost in pain.

His hands come up and not so gently pull the pink lace to the side. He can’t be bothered to remove them, he needs to taste you. Now.

With no warning his lips attach to your throbbing clit and you almost scream, but your teeth sinking into your bottom lip help muffle the sound. He shoots you a glance as if to say I know you want to moan for me. 

His eyes roll back again and a low hum escapes his lips, vibrating around you, making your hips buck up into his kiss.

“Hey why do you get to do that?” You tease.

His only response is a smile as his lips trail down to your entrance. His tongue, hot and soft delves inside you, curling upward as your legs close around his face. Your head falls back into the cushion as another moan is bitten back.

You realize how hard you’ve been biting down on your lip when you taste blood, and you quickly release your lip to instead grab fistfuls of his hair. He whines into your cunt with every tug, and you switch between stroking his hair to pulling just to hear the delicious sounds it evokes from him. 

His tongue continues to work at you, licking and sucking, getting sloppier by the second. You can feel yourself getting wetter, and when he breaks away to look at you, you can see his face shining with you in the light.

“You look pretty Jacob.” You sigh, completely entranced by him. 

“Pretty? Jacob?” He cocks a brow and smiles again.

You shrug and a small moan escapes you before you can hold it back when he delves back into you. He immediately stops and his hand comes down to smack your center. You cry out again and he delivers another slap making your legs tighten around his head. You can hear how wet you are just by his touch, and he pushes your legs back apart as his fingers trail down to your entrance and two are roughly shoved inside. 

“Fuckk.” 

He looks up suspiciously.

“Hey, that doesn't count!!” You reason.

“You really can’t ever shut up Y/n.” He shakes his head, but smiles to himself. You know he loves you.

“You love me so bad.”

“Yeah I do.” 

His mouth latches back onto your clit, suctioning it while his tongue slowly licks over it. This paired with his thick fingers stretching you and curling makes your eyes roll back, and for a second you can’t even find your words. When they do come out, they're breathy and desperate sounding in a way that makes his dick throb.

“Show me, show me how much Jake.”

His fingers pick up now, his whole hand pushing in and out while his fingers tuck into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes you wanna scream his name. You clasp your hand over your mouth when his teeth ghost over your aching clit, biting softly then licking over you while his whole tongue. It feels so warm against you, and soft, and wet, and you can feel yourself becoming undone.

You look down to watch him for a moment. He looks stunning. His hair is beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat, his eyes are shut tight, and brows furrowed in concentration, and you notice that his hips are slowly rocking into the couch, seeking their own friction. 

It’s hard to explain, but there's something so attractive about a man putting your needs first. The fact that he's more than willing, enthusiastic, to eat you out on the couch instead of fucking you. You imagine his dick is bursting out of his pants, desperate to feel you clenched around him, but instead his tongue laps over you while his fingers work away inside. 

You reposition your grip on his hair and he moans into you, sending vibrations straight through you. You pull him even closer, and he takes that as a cue to go even faster. His tongue is flicking over you up and down, side to side, everywhere, sloppily, hungrily getting you closer. You can tell he’s out of breath too, and he seems to be lost at this moment.

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling like you're unable to get air. “I’m gonna fucking cum, please, please… I’m so fucking close.”

His motions stop for just a second so he can come up for air and spit out, “You can make noise now.” Before diving back into you.

You let out a breath that sounds more like a whine, and as his fingers move faster, you allow yourself to moan his name. He seems to like that because his own hips are moving faster, chasing his own release. You say it again, slowly, drawn out, and loud. 

“You’re so good Jake.” You’re cut off by a whine when he sucks your clit harshly. “So so so so fucking good. All mine.”

Your legs are moving slowly now, all the pent up energy is making your whole body unable to stay still. You can feel yourself right on the edge, waiting for that moment that you’ll break. You feel on fire and every second brings you closer to burning up.

He removes his fingers and you whine in protest, but he quickly replaces them with his mouth. He laps up your arousal, audibly sucking it into his mouth, and maybe you should be embarrassed, but the way his hips momentarily falter, and a whine is drawn from his lips tells you that he fucking loves it.

The pads of his fingers quickly come up to draw circles around your clit as his tongue fucks into you. You try to keep your thighs from squeezing his head as he continues to work away at you. He lets out a grunt as his hips pick up the pace. 

His eyes open to meet yours and his brows are tilted up in pleasure. His eyes roll back and a low growl tumbles out of him as his hips thrust one, two more times. Then they stop, and his eyes return to yours, this time determined.

His fingers move even faster and in seconds you feel yourself finally coming undone. Your legs thrash around his face, trapping him as his tongue still moves inside you. Your head tilts back into the cushion and you hear yourself, far away groaning and whining his name, along with other incoherent curses that make his dick twitch.

His tongue laps up your release until you feel overstimulation start to take over. Your whines become sporadic and your legs shake and hands come to his head to try and push him away. But the look on his face tells you there's no stopping now. 

His tongue laps up every last drop of you, his fingers still tracing tight circles over your clit.

“Jake, fuck fuck, please please, it’s too much…”

Another moan of his name is pulled from your open mouth and finally his fingers slow and his mouth pulls off of you. His eyes travel to your thighs, shaking involuntarily and pussy still pulsing. He gently runs his fingers up your thigh, making them shake even more under his touch. He leans in to kiss your sensitive clit which makes you clench around nothing.

Your chest rises and falls heavily as your body begins to return to normal. He sits up and he too breathes heavily. His eyes meet yours as he slowly, and purposefully brings his fingers to his mouth to lick up every last drop of you. You bite your bottom lip between your teeth, trying not to moan again.

He puts his hands out to stalk closer to you before tilting up your chin so he can meet you in a kiss. It's slow, and breathy and you can feel how warm his mouth is. He breaks away to hover over you, just breathing slowly. His tongue licks a tantalizingly slow line from your bottom lip into your mouth. You meet his lips again and you both whine into each other before pulling away with a giggle. 

He sits back on his knees smirking, like he knows something you don’t. And it doesn’t take long before your cheeks burn brightly.

The gum is now in your mouth and you run your tongue along it. It tastes like you.

“How is it baby?” He asks, smile growing wider as you chew.

Instead of answering, you stand to your own knees and walk closer. He watches curiously as you curl your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitches as you pull them down slowly, leaving him in just his boxers. There's a little wet spot where poor baby Jakey came in his pants, just so he could make you cum with his mouth. You pout up at him and cup your hand around him and look up as he slowly rocks his hips into your touch, lip between his teeth. 

You grab his hand and pull him to the side so he steps off the couch and stands in front of you. Now that you’re at eye level with his crotch, you pull down the boxers and find the cum covering his length. You slowly lean forward and wrap your lips around the tip. He hisses and weaves his hand through your hair. You slowly lick around it, gathering up his release with your soft tongue.

A low fuck escapes his lips as you clean him up inch by inch, making sure to gather every last drop. When you’re done, you step off the couch to stand in front of him. His hands instinctively grab your waist, pulling you flush against him as you meet his lips for a kiss. 

Your hands wrap around his shoulders as he kisses you sensually once more. You tilt your head when he tilts yours so that your mouths meet perfectly. Your eyes are closed and you hum into his mouth, making sure to transfer the gum back to him.

He pulls away knowingly and smirks as he looks down into your eyes.

“What?” You ask innocently, a small smile on your face.

“Nothing, it tastes like us.”

.

.

.

In the darkness way below, it's my heart he'll keep

Josh Kiszka x GN reader

so I've been thinking about Siren Josh quite a bit so here's a little like ficlet of that :3

Word Count: 956

~

The sun is slowly setting on the horizon, disappearing behind the water. Water is all you can see, in any direction. You are a merchant, far out on a wooden raft, you have crates with enough food and water to hopefully get you through till you arrive in England. Most importantly though, is the boxes upon boxes of jewels. Diamonds and rubies, pretty necklaces and rings. You have been out at sea for exactly 2 months now, and were growing incredibly bored.

Thankfully, the waves were calm tonight, only a gentle breeze in your sail. You sat in the center of your raft, scaling a fish with your pocket knife, quietly humming to yourself a tune from long ago.

The moon hung full and bright in the sky, stars glittering among the empty indigo. That was one of the things you did love about this job, the view of the sky. As you are taking it in, you spot a movement in the water out of the corner of your eye. A shark? Dolphin? No, bigger. You stand up, knife clutched tightly in one hand, glancing around, trying to spot whatever it was again.

A note rings out into the air. Clear and high. A singular voice, filling the vast emptiness of the night. Were you going crazy? There was no one else out this far, and you couldn't identify where the sound was coming from. The noise surrounded you in a way, filling your head.

Again, the voice sings out. This time a series of notes. It was like nothing you had ever heard before. Now, it sounds more like the voice is behind you. You quickly turn around, only to see nothing but the ocean.

You hear a swish of water, something moving. Once again, sound echoes into the air, long, sustained. You slowly turn around, and you can just barely see hands, gripping the end of the raft. Then, up comes eyes, peering at you curiously. They practically glowed. You stumbled back in horror.

The creature raises an eyebrow and laughs softly at you. It lifts up so you could now see the head and chest, of what seems to be the most beautiful human you've ever layed eyes upon. He has dark curls, damp and pushed back out of his face, the sides shaven clean. Water droplets roll off of his skin, which looked as though it was made of porcelain. Not a single visible blemish. He had a little goatee, also dripping with the ocean. His eyes are what you drew you in the most, though. They were big and sweet, from how he appears. Welcoming browns surrounded by crystal white, but as he focused on you, his pupils narrowed into slits, the brown fading a bit. His lips were upturned in a little smile.

"Who are you?…" You manage out, your voice shaking against your will.

"Does it matter?" He responds. His voice is surprisingly raspy, not quite deep, but not as high as he sang.

"..Do you have a name?-" You question him, taking a little step forward, your knife held out in front of you.

"Joshua." The name was shockingly human, but there was no way in hell he was.

As you take a step closer, you are able to see him clearer. He is wearing lots of gold. A pendant dangles from his neck, shaped like the sun. Multiple earrings line his ears. Gold hoops wrap around his wrists, some sliding lower down his forearms. Rings of different shapes on every finger, foreign symbols you couldn't identify. He tilts his head slightly.

You have so many questions, yet all of the words are lost from you, caught in your throat, never uttered. He gives you a soft, gentle look before he begins to sing again, this time words, but it hardly mattered.

"Crash against wave upon wave, whoa-oh In strange horizons, ooh. Heel to the mist and the wind, yeah-yeah You make the movement, ooh"

You find yourself being drawn in to this. Slowly, you stumble forward, it felt like your feet were moving on their own. You drop your knife, it clatters against the wood, but you pay no attention to it. The creature reaches its hands out to you.

"Sail to the end of the world, whoa-oh For death or glory, ooh Bow with your face to the sky, yeah-yeah We are the movement, ooh"

You fall to your knees in front of him, and he cups your face in his hands, his nails ever lightly dig into the flesh, but you don't notice. Totally entranced by this voice, this thing that has found you.

He begins slowly pulling you downwards, still vocalizing. You let it happen, leaning forward, wanting to be closer, something in you urged to kiss him, longed for the connection. He smiles as he sinks down under the water, his eyes locked on yours. As his mouth opens, you can see his teeth are pointed into sharp fangs, his eyes narrowing even more.

Just as you get close enough, your nose touching the water, he drags you down. Claw like nails dig into your cheeks, you try to scream, but your mouth is filled with water. Salt fills you lungs as he pulls you to the deep. He lets you go and you sink down, left to rot in the pit of the empty sea.

~

The sun beats down brightly on your face. You awake on your raft, perfectly dry, perfectly unharmed. You sit up, looking around, confused. Was it all a dream? Everything is seemingly normal..

..Yet, every box of jewelry has disappeared, and you notice, clutched tightly in the palm of your hand is a singular golden scale.

Let It Be Me - A Jake Blurb

Summary: Grief hits at the most random of times and Jake just needs a little comfort.

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ || Angst. Grief. Crying. Mentions of passed loved one. Fluff. Kissing. Cuddling. (no editing, apologies for any mistakes)

A/N: I wrote this on the anniversary of a couple friends' passing and I just needed to write it out. But to whoever reads this and you may be in the same shoes, I want you to know that grieving is okay and healthy (though it may seem the opposite), and you when you think you have no one to run to, just know that I am here, and you will always have someone to turn to. 🤍

A/N 2: I don't normally do tags for blurbs, so if you see it, you see it 😉

Usually hearing from Jake around this time when he gets home from work, you found it odd when a text never came through. Or even a phone call. So you thought you’d reach yourself. But when your texts go unanswered and your phone calls are sent to his voice message box, you gather up your things and get in your car and drive off to his house.

His car sits in the driveway and you can see the lights are all off in the house. Climbing out of your car, you walk up to the front door and try to twist the knob, only to find it locked. Picking through the few keys on your ring, you find his key and slowly unlock the door before letting yourself in. It was eerily quiet, something that was unusual for him. At the very least he’d have some kind of music playing but there was nothing but silence.

Slipping off your shoes and setting your things on the foyer table, you climb the stairs to the second floor and trudge down the hallway to his bedroom. The door is slightly cracked open and you peer inside to see the form of his body curled up on the bed with the covers drawn over him completely.

Padding quietly over to the bed, you gently sit down by his feet and rest your hand on where his ankle is resting. “Jake?” You only grunt and grumble before he twists his body and pulls his ankle away from you.

“Jake..” You crawl across the bed and sit on the side of him. “Do you want to talk about it?” You can see the blanket move as he shakes his head, followed by a sniffle. “Okay..” I breathe as you shift your body to lay down beside him.

You hadn't realized you had fallen asleep until you woke up finding Jake curled around your body. You can tell that he’s awake when you feel his chest shake as he sniffles, trying to fight off the urge to cry. Turning over to face him, you look up at him and he’s already looking down at you. You give him a small smile as you rest your hand on his cheek. His chin quivers and his eyes gloss over with tears.

“You’re okay..” You whisper.

He shakes his head and you immediately pull him into you as he starts to cry. You still didn't know what was going on or what even happened to prompt this but all that you did know was that he needed comfort and you’d be happy to provide it.

“Just having one of those days?” You ask. You feel him nod his head and you rest your hand against his hair and lightly stroke your fingers through his locks. “I love you..” He didn't answer with any words, just simply squeezed you tighter and kissed your shoulder.

Soon he pulls away and rests against the pillows, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “I was doing fine.. And then something happened that reminded me of him and then it all came crashing back. I’ve been doing okay, or so I thought I was..”

“It’s okay when grief comes and goes. Grief never truly goes away, Jake, but that’s what makes us human–as sucky as that sounds.. It’s still new to you, but eventually it won't hurt as much as time goes on. You’ll be able to see things that remind you of him and instead of feeling heavy, you’ll smile.”

“I just wish it never happened, you know?”

“Oh I know,” You say as you reach your hand over to brush your thumb over his cheek. “There’s a lot of things we wish never happened, but we're only human, we can’t control everything.”

“I don't know what I would do without you,” He says as he turns his head to look at you. “How did you even know to come here?”

“You didn't call or text me like you normally do when you get home from work..”

He smiles, a light chuckle escaping him. “I guess I didn't want to drag you down with me..”

“You can always do that, Jake,” You say as you lean down to kiss his cheek. “You know that I would drop everything to help out.”

“I know you would,” He says. “And that’s what I love about you.”

“That can't be the only thing,” You say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Only because you were speaking so absurdly.”

“There's a lot I love about you.” He says as rolls on top of you, his body weight pinning you to the bed. “I love how kind you are,” He says, kissing you. “I love how snarky you can be,” You giggle and he laughs. “I love how you stay by my side even when I don’t want anyone around. I don’t know what I do without you, because you are my person, my best friend, and overall the love of my life. I don't know if I say it often but I’ll try to because I do love you. I’ve lost enough people and I’ve realized that I never told them how often I loved them, but I won't let that happen with you.”

“Whenever you need someone, let it be me.”

He smiles and kisses you again. “And if you're not available?”

“I will always make myself available for you. Through hell or high waters, I will come to you. Even if you just need me to hold your hand, I will be there to do it.” You run a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. “Are you busy the rest of the day?” When he shakes his head, you smile. “Want to have a movie marathon?”

“Which movies?”

“Anything you want to watch,” You say. “Even if it’s Lord of The Rings.”

Jake smiles and rolls off you before reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing the remote. He hands it to you before snuggling up against you and resting his head on your shoulder. “You pick,” He says. He drapes his arm over your waist and pushes even closer to your body. “I just want to be here with you.”

Currently sobbing and crying and throwing up and dying

We Tried.

a blurb.

pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader (2nd person pov)

tags: ANGST, with a happy ending tho, mentions of alcohol.

CW: pretty much nothing! a fight is alluded to but nothing physical just a verbal fight. alcohol consumption is mentioned as well.

word count: a little over 2k

A/N: i wrote this for pretty much no reason BUT my friend @highriftplains said this is exactly whey they’ve been needing to read.

frankie, this is for you. enjoy.

masterlist | read on ao3

“We gave it a good shot didn’t we?”

Stabbed, right in your gut. Tears prickle at your waterline, you can’t look anywhere but the floor. A mere blissful 13 months ago everything was perfect, no issues, nothing bad, it was pure. Pure and absolute, just like the love you have- or should you say had?

13 was always a number you carried in your heart. Unlucky and taboo, superstition surrounded it, that’s why you liked it. You always thought it brought you good luck when you were younger. I guess it just bit you in the ass, didn’t it?

Jake was a perfect man, the only one you could really stand at the end of the day. And maybe he still is. It’s just a little hard to decide right now.

He sits on the end of the bed, elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together, he rests his chin ontop of them. You can only look at the floor his shoes rest upon.

“We tried.”

Approximately 2 and a half hours beforehand

You and Jake walk into Sam’s house, the creek of the door being your reminder that sound exists after the silent 30 minute drive to your current location. You both put on your best performance smiles, greeting Josh and Daniel in the dining room.

“Hey guys what’s up?” Josh asks the two of you, pushing his chair to the side to give his greetings in the form of embrace. He hugs his twin first, friendly reminder to you that you will always be last place, especially if things go down how you dreadfully think they will.

You hug Josh back as he turns to you, putting on your best face you feel the pit in your stomach for just a bit. A pit that comes with the words “This is the last time, isn’t it?”

Daniel rises from his chair as well, yet not for you nor Jacob. He brings his attention to Samuel, carrying a casserole dish in from the kitchen. “Dan can you go get the plates please,” is all he says, simply ignorant to your presence just now. You watch as he leans over a chair and places the dish in the middle of the glass table with a painfully audible clink. He turns to his left, your eyes meeting. You watch as his eyes go from surprise to concern.

Shit.

You quickly restore the smile on your face and greet him. You both share your greetings as Danny walks back into the room, plates and serving spoons in hand. He focuses on the plates as he sets them down gently. He looks up at you, oddly similar to the way Sam acts, and his eyes light up. “Oh hi!” He walks over as you greet eachother, then bothering to take a seat and prepare for dinner. You look over to where you left the twins. They’re missing from the spot they once inhabited, instead lingering in the hall. You watch, looking at Jacob, his eyes filled with the look only you and Josh know.

You already know damn well what they’re talking about.

You stand up and place you bag on your seat, then excusing yourself, your feet already taking in to the bathroom. You shut the door carefully behind you, you hands resting on the door as you place your forehead against it. Not bothering to listen in- just simply resting due tothe treacherous emotions within.

You don’t even realise how long it’s been before you open your eyes again when you hear a faint “Oh shit dude…” linger in from the dinning room. You know what he’s telling them, how couldn’t he. You can’t even be mad at him either, you’d do the same anyways.

You turn to wash your hands as you finally bother to make your way back to the table.

The reflection in the mirror stares back at you. A smile plastered ontop, the sorrow in your eyes still lingers.

At least you can try.

You walk back to the table, greeted with the smiles of Sam and Danny. Not the twins though, they’re too connected anyways, no point in pretending. You take your spot at the table, directly across from Jake as Josh sits at the head of the table between you. You look into his eyes for the first time in what feels like decades. A small smile washes across his face, this time feeling forced, a first for the both of you.

And so the five of you carry out with your dinner plans as you feel the rift in the room. Sam had made margaritas for the group, to which you all happily oblige, you can never turn down his cocktails, no matter how much you grive for an impending collapse. You then find yourself helping Sam with the dishes as the rest of the group commence the pitiful first attempts at a campfire. The silence between you two is weirdly peaceful, the room only being filled with the sound of the tap and plates clinking together.

Sam stops, abandoning his plate at the bottom of the sink as he turns to you. You respond with a mere “Hm?” as you look back at him, you already know where this is heading.

“Hey,” he pauses for a moment, gathering the right words inside his head. He places a comforting hand ontop of your shoulder.

“You feeling ok?”

“Oh, yeah I’m fine Sam. Don’t worry about me I’m just tired.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

The two of you are interrupted by Daniel opening the back door. “Hey, we got a fire started do you want me to bring out the little cocktail tray you got Sam?”

“Oh yeah that’ll be great thank you! We’ll be out in just a bit,”

The two of your finish your dishes as you then walk out onto the patio. The three guys all sitting around the fire. Daniel, a fresh Guinness in hand, sits next to Josh as Sam takes his spot next to him leaving the last chair next to Jake. You don’t hesitate to sit down physically, mentally you want rip yourself to shreds as you sit next to him.

The night starts to pass by, all of you getting more tipsy by the minute. Jake even bothers to loosen up, seemingly distracting himself by telling a weird story from his childhood shenanigns with Josh. You all decide to turn in for the night making your way to Sam’s living room. Jacob had already decided he was too drunk to drive, and you of course had completley forgotten to stay sober.

You guys had to stay the night in one of the spare rooms.

Great.

You mentally kick yourself in the head as you walk into the guest room, ahead of Jake. You hear the door behind you shut. You hear a sight from Jake as he stumbles inside.

“Oh shit, I’ll be right back I gotta remind Sam of somethin-” Jake cuts himself off. You hear the doorhandle jiggle as he struggles to open it. “What the fuck?” is all he mutters out. You turn back to him to look at whatever the hell he was doing. “What’s wrong?”

You’re suddenly greeted with your answer.

You see the doorknob laying gently in Jake’s hand.

“Guys!” He calls out.

You hear footsteps come walking down the hall. “Yeah? What’s up?” you hear Sam ask.

“Your doorknob just came off in my hand!”

“What?”

“I can’t open the door dude!”

You then hear an audible laugh come from Sam and what sounds like to be Danny accompanying him. “Guys this isn’t funny!” You call out as the duo continue to cackle outside the door. You hear a confused Josh join them. “What the hell is so funny?”

“The doorknob came off in Jake’s hand!”

You listen in horror as Josh joins the laughter. “Guys what the fuck?” Jake calls out, obviously annoyed even more by whatever this sick joke was. “Oh god okay” you hear Sam say as he finally manages to contain his composure. “Oh god, uh well…” he trails off, a moment of silence and dread overcomes the two of you. “It’s ok you guys have a bathroom in there we can try to get you out tomorrow morning.”

“What?” you and Jake exclaim simultaneously.

“Sam this isn’t funny get us out of here.”

“No can do buckaroo! Anyways you guys clearly need it.” he chimes in.

“Goodnight guys!” you hear a Josh call out as the three seemingly abandon you and go to bed.

Fucking hell.

You just stare at Jake’s back as he drops the handle onto the floor, turning around to face you for the first time since dinner. His eyes are tired. Tired in a different kind of way. He seems lost, yet still completely aware of the situation at hand.

“Hey,” is all he says. The only words spoken to eachother within the past 6 or 7 hours. You can only reply the same. You stand up as he walks towards the bed, sitting down on it’s edge. You examine the lone handle pitfully resting on the hardwood floors.

A silence lingers once more for a moment as you place the handle back down on the ground.

“We gave it a good shot didn’t we?”

He sits on the end of the bed, elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together, he rests his chin ontop of them. You can only look at the floor his shoes rest upon.

“We tried.”

You pause, finally looking back up at him. You see his face. His poor, poor, grief stricken face. He just stares at you, like a deer in headlights.

You finally let go, resting you back against the door as you slide yourself down to the floor.

“I still love you.”

“I do too.”

The response takes you by surprise. He didn’t-

No he couldn’t have. He cant just say that after everything that happened yesterday-

He stands up.

He slides down the wall and sits to your right. Silence overtakes you again. Your eyes meet again. You finally realize your cheeks have had tears running down them for the past minute. His are the same.

He bites his lip as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his heaving chest. His breath is shaky, no matter how hard he tries to hide it- it’s still there.

You finally let go as he presses a chaste kiss to your head. You cant help but let out a pained anz audible cry into him. He soon follows suit.

The two of you sit there. You don’t even know how long you cry in eachothers arms. A weirdly therapeutic and healing feeling comes from this. But in the end you still manage to look up at him again.

You see Jake.

Not the current him, silently cradling your body.

The old him.

The Jake you first kissed 13 months ago.

“Can we just pretend that nothing ever happened?” he asks, a pitiful smile appearing across his teary cheeks.

“I’d really like that.” is all you respond with. And it’s all that's needed.

You’re in his arms again.

A tighter grip is on you as he hugs you like a man scorned. You grip him too, the emotions becoming all consuming. You can’t help but sob in his arms as he rocks you back and forth in his arms, never wanting to let go.

You simply forget the passage of time there. Simply becoming too tired to cry and dry heave any longer. You finally look up at him, suddenly greeted with his smile. That godforsaken smile.

It’s irresistible. He looks perfect.

You kiss him for the first time in what feels like forever.

You indulge for several minutes, never wanting to leave him. Never wanting to leave eachother.

It’s moments like these where you realize how precious he really is. His love. His compassion. His- well, everything. Everything about him will never fail to knock the wind out of you.

You finally let go of the tension built up in your lips.

“I love you so much.” is all that escapes his lips.

“I love you too.”

A pause lingers in the air.

“I really don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave.” is all you say.

“Me either.”

“We tried.” you laugh out, causing him to break.

“We really did.”

“But some things you gotta learn the hard way, right?”

“Right.”

Oh to kiss jake in the rain while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls plays

OH MY GODDDDDD

Ambivalent (series)

PART EIGHT

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: slight panic attack, language, drama drama drama

Summary: Four weeks at your best friend's cabin in the mountains is just what you need to wind down, but what happens when your ex boyfriend gets thrown in the mix and you're forced to hide your painful past from the one person who understands you?

MASTERPOST

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you but my back was cramping.” Josh whispers as you roll off his arm. 

Your eyes stagger open, adjusting to the light glow of the sun through the cheap curtains covering the window above Josh’s bed. You bawl your hands up in fists and rub your eyes, abandoning Josh’s bare torso in the process.

“Fuck, what time is it?” You yawn.

“Only seven-thirty,” he tells you. 

His fingers gently rake through your hair, making you fight to keep your eyes open. 

“Has Cami been over yet?”

“Yes, and don’t worry, I’ve already told her about our night of animalistic sex.” He jokes.

You grumble and playfully slap his hand away from your hair. “Animalistic is a reach,”

“Ouch. You were much nicer in my dream,” 

“Oh, was I?” You smirk, sitting up and crawling over his body until both knees rest on either side of his hips.

Straddling him, you bend at the waist so your bare chest is pressed flush against his. Your lips tease at the skin of his neck, your warm breath tickling him. He immediately reacts to your touch, his cock twitching in his boxers. His hands wrap around your body, his palms exploring the vastness of your back. He attempts to press his lips against yours but you sit up to avoid the contact. 

“Gross. I have morning breath.” You tell him, hands trailing across his pecks. “You’ve changed quite a bit,” your hands squeeze his biceps, “like here.”

He licks his lips. “Not much to do when you’re not around. Had to fill the void,”

He sits up, chasing after your lips again. “Josh, I’m serious. I stink!”

“Wanna kiss you,” he coos. 

Afraid to put your resilience to the test, you take matters into your own hands and roll off the bed. Grabbing one of Josh’s shirts off the floor, you pull it on over your bare body before slipping out of his room and into the bathroom.

Josh joins you no more than a minute later, still wearing only his boxers, his situation beneath them eased. He stands in the doorway, his arm propped up on the frame as he takes in the view of you wearing only his t-shirt with a mouthful of toothpaste. The corner of his mouth tugs into a playful, yet soft, toothless smile, and when you look at him, your heart skips a beat. You spit out a mouthful of foam before smiling back at him.

“What?”

He only shakes his head and takes a step towards you, grabbing his own toothbrush, his hand falling flat on your hip in the process. “Nothing.”

The two of you stand side-by-side, brushing your teeth in unison. It’s such a mundane task and one you never once deemed to be romantic or meaningful until this moment. But standing here this morning gives you a new perspective on this once boring task. For the first time since coming on this trip, you get a view of what life could have been if you and Josh never split; waking up in each other’s arms and brushing your teeth together. It makes your stomach sizzle and burn, the feeling of regret settling deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Okay, we’re done. Can I kiss you now?” 

You laugh, pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind. “Josh, my mouth is full of foamy toothpaste.”

“I don’t care, I want it. Toothpaste and all,”

He grabs your face with both hands and pulls you into a kiss. You immediately taste the minty-freshness of his breath as you lick into his mouth. His lips are wet, as are yours, and welcoming. His mustache is soaked from the water and sits damply just above your top lip. Your hands fall on his waist and you scratch his sides with your fingernails—an action you frequently did to him as a teenager. He sinks deep into the feeling. His hands are damp and the wetness morphs your hair to your face as he retracts from your lips. He stays a few inches from your face, his sweet eyes scanning over your features as his thumb lightly ghosts over your bottom lip. You get the feeling he’s about to say something that definitely should not be said right now, so you swallow thickly and take a step back. 

“We should get dressed before anyone walks in,” you advise. “We don’t need that happening again.”

He nods in agreement before leaving you alone in the bathroom. You stare at yourself in the mirror and splash water over your cheeks until the redness of them dissipates.

——

“Just jump in, the waters warm!” Jita shouts at Jake from her position in the water. 

Jake stands stubbornly on the dock with a bottle of beer in his hands. His brows are furrowed and he keeps shaking his head back and forth in dismissal of Jita’s request. You tread in the water next to her with Cami on your other side—Danny not too far behind her. 

The six of you are enjoying your last week of vacation, secretly dreading the return to civilization. You had prompted to stay another week, but the boys have an album to work on and can’t extend the trip in any form. Josh had told you a few nights ago, his hand slipping into your pants. 

You two have yet to talk about everything that has happened in the past few days, but what’s new? Neither of you enjoy confrontation given both of your desperate need to not dig up the past. Even though no words have been shared, you both have a mutual understanding that this is exactly what you want. You’ve spent the last few nights enveloped in each other’s arms, skin to skin, listening to the pace of each other’s heart beats. You’d had sex three times, and each time felt more comfortable than the last. You felt, once again, connected with him, and you’re embarrassed to admit that you haven’t slept this good in five years.

“Come on you big baby! It’s not even cold!” Cami shouts, trying to coax Jake in.

He still stands like a tree rooted into the ground. The door to your cabin shuts and ours comes Josh, towels in hand, ready to swim. He silently approaches Jake from behind, holding a finger to his lips to warn everyone in the water. Jita keeps trying to persuade Jake to jump, the sound of her voice canceling out the sound of Josh’s feet tapping across the wooden deck. 

In a split second Jake, and his beer, go wailing through the air, hitting the water with a brutal smack. You shelter your face from the splash of water but don’t hold back on the cackle that releases from your throat. Everyone’s laughing, even Jake once he comes up for air. He turns around to give Josh the bird but he’s bent over laughing so he doesn’t even see it.

“Fuck you all,” Jake tries to remain serious but fails miserably. He wipes water and wet hair away from his face. “You’re all going to hell.”

Jita swims to him and throws her arms around his neck. “Oh, come on. We just wanted to swim with you.” 

“I was gonna jump in!” He defends himself. “You didn’t have to take it out on the beer.”

“Yeah right,” Danny snickers. “You’re like a cat, Jake. You were not going to get in.”

You all continue laughing and you’re so distracted by Jake’s fake pissed-off mood that you hardly notice Josh is swimming towards you. He stops behind you, leaving enough room for casualness, and taps on your shoulder. You spin around to face him, happiness still visible on your face.

“We should go for a walk later,” 

You raise an eyebrow. “A walk or you fucking me against a tree?” 

He nearly lets out a cackle but recovers by clearing his throat. “Whichever you prefer.” He shrugs. “No, I’m serious though. I want to get away with you for a few hours. Think you can schedule me in?” 

“I should be asking you that same question Mr. Rockstar.” You’re only teasing but deep down it aches. Your mind races with the idea of returning to regular life.

“Right.” His cheeks redden. “Wanna head out after this?”

“After my shower,” you tell him.

He smirks. “Can you schedule me in for that?” 

You roll your eyes, tossing a glance over your shoulder to make sure no one is around. “I’m actually all booked for that. Might have to catch the next one.” 

His top row of teeth bite down on his lip and he shakes his head. You watch him swim off to Danny, your eyes glued to the muscles carved into his back.

An hour later, you’re all showered and dressed. You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain t-shirt, not daring to risk wearing anything nice. You’ll be with Josh after all. 

“Hey, love. You ready?” He shouts from the living room.

“Yeah,” you call after him.

You find Josh tucked away in the kitchen, packing a few bags with healthy snacks and ice cold water bottles. He tosses in a few bottles of ibuprofen, well aware of the headaches that swell in your head after a few dreadful hours in the sun. After tossing in the sunscreen, he zips the pack up and hoists it over his shoulder. 

He’s wearing the simplest white tank top and some burnt orange khaki shorts, a burgundy bandana tied around his neck. An old thrifted cap sits on his mess of curls and you’re sure if there’s a gust of wind, it will blow away. Nonetheless, and not to your surprise, he looks as good as ever. His tan sticks out next to the white of his shirt and his muscles, carved and defined, prod at the skin. It takes every ounce of control in your body not to tear the fabric off his body.

You bite your lip as you approach him, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck as you do so. Josh welcomes the affection, connecting your lips quickly as his hands rest on your rib cage. 

“You look so granola,” you tell him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Wow. They really do take away your phones once you become famous.” You tease.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been much of a technology person.” He tells the truth as he removes his hands from your body.

“So where are we going today?” 

He shrugs, opening the front door for you. “Wherever I feel like.” 

“That’s reassuring,” you say with a snort.

“Hey,” he tugs on your wrist once you’re off the porch, “I am the best tour guide you have ever had.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Josh, you got us lost for four hours one time.”

The sound of a cabin door creaking open steals both of your attention. Your neck snaps towards the sound, dropping Josh’s hands out of pure fear as you see Cami and Jake appear on the porch. You blink rapidly and wave back to Cami who’s curiously perched against the railing of the deck. She tilts her head, motioning you two to join her for a moment. You and Josh share a brief look of nervousness before walking towards her.

“Hey, you two.” She greets the two of you with a smirk. “Where ya headed?”

“Nowhere—”

“A hike.” 

Your words and Josh’s collide, making Cami’s face scrunch in confusion. You narrow your eyes at him but he only stares blankly at you. 

“We’re going for a hike,” you finish up, trying to clear the air. “It’s nice out, isn’t it?”

She nods in agreement. “Why didn’t you invite the rest of us?”

From his spot on the chair behind Cami, Jake giggles, only loud enough for you to hear. You were about to send a pair of daggering eyes his way but Josh had beaten you to it. 

“We just figured hiking wasn’t your thing,” Josh tells her.

“What? You know I love hikes.” 

You get the feeling that the questions won’t stop, so you decide to end it yourself. “Look, Cam. Let’s talk later, yeah?” You huff.

You grab Josh by the backpack and drag him away from the cabin, trying to escape before Cami can somehow scare a few secrets out of the both of you. After a minute or so following the trail that dives deep into the forest behind your cabin, you’re able to breathe steadily again. 

You glance at Josh who’s oddly quiet walking next to you. Deciding to give him another minute, you keep steady. The trees around you are a deep and vibrant green, thriving in the warm summer atmosphere. Hundreds of different kinds of grasses line the small dirt cleared path, creating a seemingly magical setting. Scattered pine cones lay randomly placed at your feet, twigs comfortably placed next to them. The sun only peaks through the top of the trees occasionally, the thick leaves acting as a canopy, protecting the life underneath it. You’re quite thankful for it as the sun was rather warm today.

After you’re sure it’s been five minutes without Josh saying anything, you finally speak up. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he says without so much as even looking at you.

“Josh,” you pry, extremely aware of his sudden cold presence. “Are you mad at me?”

“Well I’m not exactly thrilled that you’re not pleased to be seen with me.” His tone is sharp and snarky.

“I’ve told you a million times. She can’t know.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I just don’t get it.”

“I haven’t even told her about us as teenagers yet. How would she handle this?”

“Don’t you think you should figure it out given the circumstances?” He sternly says, his features darkening. 

“What circumstances?”

He stops abruptly, causing you to take a few steps forward down the hill before also pausing. You turn to face him, your hands on your hips. His face is twisted like he’s just eaten something bitter and words wait on his tongue like he’s waiting to spit them out. 

“What circumstances?” He seemingly mocks you. “The circumstances meaning us practically living together? Us practically dating?”

“You mean the circumstances that are going to change in a week?” Your voice raises. “What’s the fucking point, Josh?”

His jaw clenches at his words but he has no argument to defend himself with. Instead, he swallows thickly and averts his gaze to the trees above him.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I don’t want to do this now. I’m sorry,”

“Then when should we do it? We’re going separate ways in a few days, remember? Are you sure you don’t want it to be sooner? If you want, you can take my car back to Nashville, you know, seeing you fucking live there too!” He holds his chin high, his nostrils flared in anger. 

His voice cracks and the sound makes your eyes open wide. Josh’s face is red and filled with emotion, his eyes glossed over and he swallows a bubbling lump in his throat. Without hesitation, you step towards him and place your hands on his forearms. He tugs away from your touch for a moment but soon stops, giving into your comfort. Once you take another step closer to him, he drops his head on your shoulder. Your hands work up the smooth skin of his arms, gently rubbing and massaging it in hopes of calming him down. Soon enough, his heart slows and his breathing evens out. His hands fall on your waist for a moment before tapping them, wordlessly telling you he’s okay. 

You know Josh doesn’t mean anything he says when he’s upset. He becomes a completely different person when he’s terrified. You cut him slack because secretly, you’re terrified too.

Josh straightens up and you press your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his torso, his around your upper back. His thumb rubs the fabric of your shirt but his grasp on you isn’t tight like it normally is. Your chin is resting on his collarbone and you turn it so your lips press against the damp skin of his neck. Your palm grabs the other side of his neck and cradles him quietly. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” You ask.

Your lips, moving against the crook of his neck, makes him suck in a hasty breath. He shudders beneath you, his grip loosening even farther. You mimic his actions, letting him to and stepping back. You leave a hand on his shoulders, keeping the contact. It seems that his once tan face has lost all color and sunk into a light pale shade instead. It makes your stomach squeeze around nothing. You wait for him to say something, anything, but it never comes. Losing the moment, you bring your hand back to your body and wipe a drop of sweat from off your brow. 

“Okay, well.” Your voice shakes along with your hands. “Should we continue?” 

He nods but his eyes are casted on the ground now. You mess with the hem of your shorts, not sure if you want to continue the hike. At least if you were at the cabin you could lock yourself in your bedroom or something. Here, you’re completely naked and vulnerable with no place to hide. Your heart beats rapidly under your rib cage as your breathing increases. You cross your arms against your breasts and you chew on your fingernails, trying to find the peace inside of you. It’s too awkward right now, and you’re too sensitive to handle really anything at the moment.

As if sensing your blood pressure rising, Josh’s eyes find your face. They scan your features and it doesn’t take long for him to realize you’re nearing panic. He immediately reaches his arm around your frame, pulling you back into his body until you’re trapped between his two arms. Your breathing is heavy and uneven, and you don’t even know why. You hate being this way; so out of control of your emotions. 

Just being close to him, being able to focus on the sound of his heart beating in his chest, calms you down immensely. You stay together for no longer than a minute, gathering yourself and cooling down.

“Aren’t we just terrible for each other,” Josh fakes a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. 

You smile against his shirt with a sniffle. “Yeah, but so good too.”

He tilts his head so his cheek is placed on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry for freaking you out.”

You pull away from him just enough to tilt your head and look up at him. He looks all too sweet and soft right now, the gentle glow from the sun igniting his features. “Let’s just go home.”

You catch yourself referring to your shared cabin as home. At first it confuses you; why would your brain consider that home. As you walk back, hand-in-hand with Josh, you understand and agree. He’s there, and he is your home.

——

When you reach the end of the path near the cabin, Josh pauses. His hand, still in yours, loosens enough for you to easily slip yours out of it. You don’t, instead, you hold it tighter, flashing him a reassuring smile in the process. His cheeks pinken. 

You climb the stairs together, tugging the front door open. Josh laughs as the door hits the both of you, and you enter the cabin in a fit of giggles. Once you turn to face the living room, you notice Cami and Jake. You and Josh seem to catch them at the same time, both of you freezing in acknowledgment. Your hand stays buried inside Josh’s though, and you don’t dare drop it. 

“How was the hike?” Jake asks, his voice timid.

“It was good,” Josh answers, raising a brow at his twin. “What are you two doing here?” 

Cami’s standing now, her position stiff and her walls guarded. She wears a deeply pained expression, and given who she’s sitting in front of, you’re expecting the worst. Her eyes bleed into yours and for a second the whole world stops spinning. Josh and Jake disappear, leaving it just you and her. You feel your chest tighten and your mouth open to speak but nothing comes out. Josh lets your hand go, yanking you back to reality. No one has moved or spoken since, and you wonder if it’s been merely seconds or minutes. 

“I know.” Cami says, punctuating the words in hopes of clarifying what she’s talking about. She doesn’t even need to, you know exactly what she’s referring to.

@jordie-gvf @dilflover-4ever @lilbitx @gretnavannfleet @dayumclarizzel @takenbythemadness

sorry for accidentally making u my entire world

cover by @no-other-mashter

A Cabin In The Woods - Ch2

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader

𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

Warnings/Themes: Night Terrors, Storm, Thunder, Lightning, Douche Sam, Soft Sam, Locked in.

a/n: chapter two already!! thank you all so much for the love that you’ve shown so far! i’m super excited for this little series! if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this fic please do let me know! <3

wc; 10.7k

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

As the night deepens, an unfamiliar chill settles in the cabin, curling around you like a shadow. You pull the blanket closer around your shoulders, wishing the warmth would seep into your bones, yet you can’t shake the unease that’s blossomed between you and Sam. The silence stretches longer than either of you anticipated, heavy with barely contained tension.

“Did you hear that?” Sam’s voice cuts through the quiet, a low murmur, eyes darting toward the window. The worry etched across his face surprises you, though you quickly remind yourself that it’s likely just irritation filtered through a layer of concern.

“What?” you ask, half-caught off guard, more curious about his mood than the wind stirring outside. You rise slightly from your lounging position, following his gaze toward the darkness looming just beyond the glass.

“The wind,” he replies, tone now laced with a seriousness that seems at odds with the casual vibe of the evening. “It’s picking up. It might get pretty rough out there.”

You strain your ears, catching the soft howling of the wind echoing through the trees, rustling the leaves in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. The atmospheric shift feels more pronounced as the wind picks up, bending branches outside and creating a haunting melody through the cabin’s sturdy walls.

“Okay, it’s windy. It’s a cabin in the woods,” you reply, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance as a flutter of unease prickles at the back of your neck. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

His brow creases with concern, and you can’t help but feel irritated at how serious he is. “You really don’t know, do you? Strong winds can lead to falling branches, or worse,” he says sharply, the edge of his voice betraying a hint of frustration. “We should probably check the windows, make sure everything’s secure.”

You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes. “You think the cabin is going to blow away in a storm? Is that what you’re worried about?”

You can see his jaw tighten, the annoyance flickering through his gaze. For a moment, you think he might retort with something equally biting, but instead, he clutches the edge of the table for balance, taking a breath that fuels the fire of tension between you.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” he mutters, leveling an unwavering look at you, as if daring you to dismiss his concern. There’s an intensity behind his gaze that makes your heart race, but in the frustration that bubbles just beneath the surface, you refuse to show any hint of your apprehension.

“Fine. You check the windows then,” you retort, shrugging, trying to play it cool. “I’ll stay here and see if the wind actually plans to sweep us off our feet.”

Sam rolls his eyes, snorting softly with disbelief, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe relief—that he isn’t alone in this. He moves toward the closest window, pushing aside the curtain as he peers outside, his demeanor shifting into a focus that surprises you.

“Seriously,” he focuses, and now his voice lowers, a more intense quality settling behind it, “the weather can change fast in these woods. You’d do well to listen to me for once.”

You watch him closely, a whirlwind of irritation and surprise swirling within you. He’s so intent, so serious, and for an instant, the walls of annoyance start to crack just a little. But you shake it away, refusing to let it permeate the ice that’s settled between you.

“Whatever, go on and play Boy Scout,” you scoff, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “I’m not scared of a little wind.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, continuing to inspect the window with keen attention. The way the moonlight pools over his features, outlining his tension, only makes you feel the slightest ounce of understanding. Maybe he really is just worried about something more than the weather, but instead of giving in, you stubbornly cling to your irritation.

“There’s a storm warning for tomorrow,” he finally says, turning slightly to level a glance your way, and the corner of his mouth twitches as he watches for any hint of acknowledgment. “You don’t want to be caught out in it.”

“Then we won’t go hiking,” you reply, waving dismissively. “We can figure something else out. I’m sure we can entertain ourselves without getting blown away.”

As you turn from him, refusing to indulge in his concern any further, you hear Sam mutter under his breath, likely something unflattering, and you can’t help but feel that familiar rush of irritation. Somehow, he always knows how to draw out that part of you that bristles at his presence.

“Why do you always have to be so infuriating?” Sam bursts suddenly, frustration boiling over as he grips the edge of the windowsill. “You could just try for one moment to consider the possibility that something could go wrong.”

You lift your chin defiantly, torn between annoyance and wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “And why do you always resort to acting like the world is a disaster waiting to happen? It’s like you can’t see the good in anything!”

His expression flickers with disbelief, as if your refusal to see his side of things has made him more exasperated than ever. “I’d rather be cautious than stubbornly optimistic,” he snaps back, steps edging toward you, an intensity lingering in his gaze that leaves you feeling hot under the collar.

“Maybe you should learn how to chill out instead of fretting over every tiny thing!” you fire back, the frustration spurring you on. The room feels charged with emotion, the wind howling outside reflecting the storm brewing between you.

For a moment, it feels as though everything freezes, the two of you standing mere inches apart, breaths mingling like echoes in the air. The tension mounts dangerously, and you can’t help but feel an electric pull—a sharp mix of frustration and something deeper lingering just beneath the surface.

But then Sam retreats slightly, crossing his arms defensively as the moment breaks. “Whatever, just do what you want,” he mutters, his voice steely, turning back to the windows, an air of defeat settling in.

You swallow hard, wrestling with your want to respond differently. Are you really going to let things linger like this? But as you glance out the window, the wind growing fiercer, pulling against the trees outside, the weight of everything comes crashing back.

With a sigh, you step toward Sam, placating your ire just a touch. “Look, maybe you have a point. We should check things out before we settle in for the night.”

His posture shifts slightly, surprised by your sudden willingness to work together. “You mean it?” he asks, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Yeah, I guess we can take a few precautions,” you concede, the words tasting slightly bitter, knowing that you’re relinquishing a bit of your pride—but perhaps also taking a step toward easing the tension.

“Fine,” he replies, a hint of grudging approval coloring his voice as he shifts focus back to the windows, lifting both curtains with slight determination. “Just help me make sure everything’s secure.”

And so you move to his side, side by side, as you begin to survey the cabin, working together, despite the churning emotions between you like a wild current. The wind begins to howl more vehemently outside, shaking outdated panes of glass, and together you jam the window locks tight—offering each other fleeting glances as the atmosphere shifts ever so slightly.

Even as the tension continues to cloud your shared space, a fragile sense of understanding begins to weave its way through the cracks. You’re still worlds apart, still on opposite ends of a stormy sea, but perhaps you’re learning how to weather this one small storm together. It’s a tentative truce, but for now, it’ll do.

With a nod toward each other, you both turn to check the windows, moving methodically around the cabin. The wind howls outside, creating a haunting melody that dances eerie shadows across the walls. Sam adjusts the curtains with swift fingers, checking each latch and securing any that appeared loose as you follow suit.

“This one looks good,” you announce, pushing the window closed while ensuring the latch clicks firmly into place. You glance at him, only to find him focused intently on the window beside you.

“It’s not just the windows,” he mutters, glancing around the room. “We should check the door too, make sure it’s secure. And the shutters.” There’s an intensity to his manner that half-annoys you and half-amuses you. It’s almost endearing to see him so concerned, even if it feels ridiculous.

“Got it, Captain,” you reply with a smirk, rolling your eyes again but with a touch more sincerity. “Let’s secure the fort.”

He lets out a quiet huff, barely suppressing a smile as he seems to find your humor just a bit discordant amid the seriousness of the weather.

“Alright,” he replies, lifting an eyebrow. “But if we get blown away by a rogue tornado, just remember I warned you.”

You shake your head and head toward the door, pushing the heavy wood to ensure it’s firmly latched. As you step back, the wind howls through the trees once more, sending a thrill of unease through the cabin—a reminder that this storm is no joke.

“Everything seems solid,” you report, glancing back at Sam, who’s still inspecting the shutters, peering outside as if gauging the coming storm. The tension between you wanes slightly as you begin to appreciate his methodical approach, realizing that there’s a strong sense of responsibility layered beneath his prickly exterior.

Suddenly, without warning, a massive clap of thunder rattles through the trees, shaking the ground beneath your feet. The sound echoes ominously inside the cabin, reverberating off the walls like a warning bell. You leap back, your heart racing as a startled yelp escapes your lips.

“Fuck! That was loud!” you exclaim, instinctively darting to where Sam stands.

“I told you it was going to pick up,” Sam replies, though his voice is tinged with a small hint of concern—something quickly overshadowed by your jumpiness.

You stand side by side, trying to steady yourselves for a moment and gauge the weight of the thunder rumbling outside. Just as you start to breathe again, another rumble rolls through the air, low and relentless, and it feels like the very ground is trembling beneath you.

Then, amidst the chaos of nature's fury, a flash of blinding light illuminates the cabin, followed by another deafening crack. You instinctively cover your ears, squeezing your eyes shut against the intensity. The lightning strikes close, almost too close, and the electric energy surges through the air.

The sound booms louder than anything you’ve ever heard, crashing down like a freight train barreling through, and when you finally glance around, the lights overhead flicker and die, plunging you into darkness.

“Great,” you mutter, feeling an icy shiver run down your spine as you try to get your bearings. The abrupt silence that follows is almost more unnerving than the chaos outside, the absence of light enveloping you in an unsettling void. It feels as though the storm has swallowed the very essence of the cabin from within.

“Are you okay?” Sam’s voice cuts through the dark, taut with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you reply a little too loudly, trying to shake off the remnants of fright. “Just startled, I guess.” You can’t help but feel a strange comfort in his concern, even amid the swirling tension of your earlier argument.

“Let’s find some flashlights or candles,” he suggests, his tone more serious now. “If the power’s out, we need light—especially with this storm.”

“Right,” you agree, the urgency of the situation bringing you back to reality. You rummage through the drawers in the small kitchen, your fingers brushing against various utensils and forgotten items that felt foreign in the moment. In the dark, your movements feel frantic, and not quite sure what you’re searching for, you realize that you don’t even know where anything is.

“Over here,” Sam says, moving toward a closet in the corner of the cabin. You follow him, your footsteps echoing slightly against the hollow walls as he opens the door, revealing a trove of supplies.

He pulls out a lantern, its glass front dusty but intact. “This should do,” he says, a small spark of light igniting within, illuminating the edges of the room. He twists the knob, and the lantern flickers to life, casting a warm glow that wraps around you both.

“Not too shabby,” you tease, a bit of relief flooding through you now that you can see where Sam stands. “You’ve turned into quite the Boy Scout after all.”

He half-smirks, the faint light dancing over the sharp lines of his face, transforming the tension into something a little more manageable. “Just trying to maintain a survival mindset,” he says, feigning seriousness. “Can’t let the wilderness get the best of us.”

You roll your eyes, but the tension ebbs a little more as a hint of camaraderie begins to thread itself back through your interactions. With the lantern lighting the space, you feel a sense of stability returning, just as the wind continues to howl outside, beating against the cabin like a persistent foe.

“Alright, we’ve got light,” you say, taking a steadying breath. “Now what’s the plan? Are we going to stick it out here and wait for the storm to blow over, or do we need a deeper fortress strategy?”

Sam raises an eyebrow, amused, but the concern lingers in his features. “We stick together,” he says simply, shifting the lantern to cast light in all corners of the room. “Let’s just keep an eye on things and make sure everything remains secure.”

It’s such a straightforward answer, yet you can’t help but appreciate it. The notion of sticking together offers a sense of safety even where memories of previous altercations linger like the smell of the storm outside.

As the two of you settle-in beside the glow of the lantern, the wind howls against the cabin walls, rattling the windows as if trying to remind you of its presence. But as the flickering light dances, you allow yourself to feel a certain protective bubble grow in the space between you. Whatever storm outside, whether emotional or environmental, you might just withstand this together—no matter how much you both grumbled against the situation that led you here.

The warm glow of the lantern casts flickering shadows on the walls as you make your way to the small living area. The fire in the stone hearth is barely more than embers now, the remnants of warmth reduced to a dwindling glow, and you can already feel the chill crawling back in. You sink down into one of the worn couches, pulling a blanket around your shoulders in a futile attempt to stave off the cold.

With a sigh, you dig through your bag for a book, hoping the distraction of a good story might help diminish the unease settling into your bones. The soft pages feel comforting in your hands, and you settle in with the light of the lantern warming your lap. But even with the lantern’s glow, the chill of the cabin clings to you like an unwelcome guest.

As you lose yourself in the words, the wind outside howls louder, a fierce reminder of the storm still raging. You find yourself shivering, the blanket doing little to combat the draft sneaking in through the cracks of the cabin.

Just as you’re getting drawn deeper into the story, the door creaks open, and Sam walks in with a frustrated expression, his brow furrowed as he shakes droplets of rain from his hair. He glances around, taking in the dimly lit room, eyes landing on the glowing embers of the fire before turning back to you.

“What’s your problem?” he asks, a hint of annoyance lacing his voice.

You look up, slightly startled by the interruption. “What do you mean?”

“You’re sitting there shivering like a dog with a wet coat,” he replies, crossing his arms.

“Maybe because the fire’s practically dead, and it’s freezing in here!” You snap, the irritation bubbling to the surface as your teeth chatter. The irritation of the cold seems to fuel the irritation of his mere presence. “There aren’t any logs left to keep it going!”

At this, Sam glances at the fire and raises an eyebrow. “You could've mentioned that earlier instead of sitting there with your book like it’s a sunny afternoon.”

“Me?” you counter, incredulous. “I wasn’t the one who decided to wait until the storm hit to bring in logs! You were supposed to check on that!”

“Excuse me? I was busy making sure all the windows were secure while you were sitting here getting cozy with your little fairy tale,” he shoots back, a hint of mockery in his tone as he gestures towards the book in your lap. “Did you think magic fairies were going to magically keep the fire burning?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so fixated on your ‘safety checks’ we could have taken a minute to gather some wood!” you retort, your cheeks heating with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. The last thing you wanted was to bicker with him in the midst of a storm.

“Fine. What did you want me to do? Just abandon my post and trot off into the woods without worrying about anything?” Sam replies incredulously, his tone rising. “Because, clearly, that would’ve been a stellar idea!”

You roll your eyes again, the annoyance piercing between you like a thorn. “Well, maybe if we had just made a plan together instead of leaving it to one person, we wouldn’t be going back and forth like this.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t think about the fire!” he says, raising his hands in exasperation. “If you wanted it to stay lit, maybe you could’ve reminded me when I brought in the last batch.”

You feel your patience wearing thin as the anger swirls, an electric tension clinging to the air between you. “I thought you would’ve just remembered!”

“Right, because I’m supposed to read your mind now,” he replies, irritation etched in every line of his face. “If you had bothered to say something, maybe we wouldn’t be sitting in the dark, shivering like two idiots waiting for a fire to rekindle itself.”

“Fine, then!” you huff, throwing your hands up in frustration. “You go out there and fetch the logs!”

“Me?” Sam scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t you go? You seem so eager to fix your own mess.”

“Oh, come on!” you say, the words tumbling out before you can think better of it. “We’re both freezing. It’s only fair we take turns!”

“Fine. I’ll go!” he suddenly snaps, the frustration tipping over into determination. He grabs his jacket off the hook, but as he steps toward the door, he hesitates, shooting you one last incredulous look. “But you better keep watch. If I don’t come back, you need to know that I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days!”

“You wouldn’t dare abandon me!” you reply, startled by how quickly the annoyance morphs into a strange kind of camaraderie.

“Watch me,” he says, smirking slightly, and you can’t help but smile in return, despite the quibble.

“Alright, fine. I’ll keep the lantern ready!” you call after him, your heart hammering in your chest as he heads outside into the storm.

For a moment, you sit there, the fire flickering in its desperate attempt to stay alive in the presence of discord, and you can’t help but shiver a little more from the chill settling deeper in your bones. But in an odd way, the argument seems to have shifted something—a reminder that despite how infuriating he can be, you’re both in this together.

As the wind howls outside, you curl back into the couch, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders, keeping an eye on the door like a sentry on duty. You think about the absurdity of it all—a shared moment of bickering that, in another time, might have driven you further apart. Instead, you feel strangely connected, united in this ridiculous battle against the elements.

A few moments later, you hear a faint rustling outside, and you instinctively reach for the lantern, flicking it higher to cast more light over the room. Sam steps back inside, half-drenched and laughing, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

“Guess who brought firewood?” he declares, tossing a few logs onto the floor near the hearth. They land with a soft thud, and you can’t help but laugh in disbelief.

“Not bad, Boy Scout,” you tease, and despite everything, you feel the warmth of camaraderie returning—the kind of fire that no storm could extinguish.

Sam carefully arranged the logs in the hearth, his hands moving methodically, but his brow remained furrowed in irritation. He struck a match, lighting a corner of one of the logs, and fanned it gently until the flames began to dance and crackle. The warmth that radiated from the fire filled the small cabin, slowly pushing away the remnants of the chill that had settled in. But even as the fire roared back to life, Sam’s mood didn’t seem to improve.

“Great, now we can enjoy the heat we should have had all along,” he muttered, the remnants of his earlier frustration still lingering in his voice as he adjusted the logs to ensure they combusted properly.

You settled back in your seat, watching him with an amused smile as the fire slowly grew. “You’re really putting in a lot of effort for someone who was so eager to take a break,” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, well, maybe if I didn’t have to clean up someone else’s oversight, I wouldn’t have to go through the effort,” he replied, glancing at you, his brown eyes flashing with mock irritation.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No one said you had to be so dramatic about it. It’s just a couple of logs. You’d think you were fighting a grizzly bear.”

“Just wait until one of those logs rolls away and sets something on fire,” he shot back, but the corners of his mouth quirked up, betraying him just a little.

As the warmth spread through the room, you let the book slip from your fingers, surrendering to the soothing crackle of the fire and the muffled roar of the wind outside. You could feel the tension ebbing slightly, though Sam’s crankiness still hung in the air like a storm cloud.

After a while, the silence stretched comfortably, the rhythmic crackling of the fire filling the space between you. But as the glow of the flames flickered, you couldn’t ignore the creeping exhaustion that tugged at your eyelids.

“Hey, Sam,” you said, breaking the stillness. “What do you think about calling it a night? I mean, we’ve spent a good stretch battling the elements and whatnot.”

He turned to you, blinking as if coming out of a trance. “And just leave the fire unattended? Not a chance,” he replied, though there was a hint of fatigue shading his voice.

You stifled a yawn, stretching out your arms. “It’s barely past eleven. Look at you—you’re practically falling asleep over there. Besides, body heat is one of the best ways to stay warm, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to state his objections but paused, a doubtful look crossing his features. “You really think so?” he asked, his tone softening ever so slightly.

“Sure! It’s like a built-in heater,” you joked. “And it’s better than letting this fire die out and freezing in the process.”

He shifted his weight, clearly still reluctant. “I don’t think it’s a great plan to share a bed just because of a bit of cold,” he remarked, still holding on to the remnants of his crankiness.

You raised an eyebrow. “A ‘bit of cold’? Sammy, it feels like we’re stuck in an icebox. If you’re not going to stay up tending the fire, you might as well embrace the sleep.”

His eyes seemed to soften at the nickname, one that you hadn’t called him in quite some time. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Fine, fine,” he conceded, finally relenting as the exhaustion in his eyes began to twinkle with a begrudging acceptance. “But we’re not sharing blankets. You stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine. Got it?”

You nodded, trying to suppress a smile. “Whatever you say, Captain Control.”

The two of you made your way to the bedroom, the flickering firelight casting soft, dancing shadows as you stepped carefully around the room. Sam slid under the covers on his designated side, taking the edge of the blanket and tucking it tightly around himself.

You stifled a laugh at his meticulousness, settling onto your side of the bed, grateful that the mattress was surprisingly warm. But even as you lay there, feeling the warmth seep into your skin, the reality of sharing a bed with Sam crept in—strange and a little foreign.

“Just—no touching. I mean it,” he warned, propping himself up on one elbow and giving you a pointed look.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. I’ve got no interest in cuddling with you, relax.”

“Right,” he said, though there was an almost imperceptible chuckle in his voice before he laid back down, the moment of teasing having lifted the heaviness in his tone.

For a few moments, silence enveloped you both again, the only sound the distant howling of the storm outside and the crackling of the fire in the other room. Bit by bit, you felt the tension fading away—both the external chill and the lingering prickliness of your earlier argument.

As you shifted slightly, pulling the blanket closer around you, you could feel the warmth radiating from Sam’s side, instinctively knowing it wouldn’t be long until your bodies began to close the distance beneath the covers.

“Just don’t blame me if you end up cold and wishing for my warmth,” you teased, allowing the smirk on your face to widen as you basked in the unexpected familiarity of the moment.

Sam let out a soft huff of frustration that melted into a gentle laugh. “Fine, blame it on the storm. But I’m not pretending it’s anything other than desperate times.”

With a grin pulling at the corners of your mouth, you close your eyes, letting the warmth envelop you. The storm outside raged on, but within the small cabin, you lay there knowing that perhaps, just perhaps, even cranky Sam could be a source of comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

As the night encased the cabin, the glow of the fire shifted from a cheerful blaze to mere embers, the once vibrant orange fading into dull reds and ash-gray whispers. You lay beneath the covers, cocooned in warmth, but the chill of the room began to seep in through the blankets, creeping along the edges and wrapping around your toes. You shivered involuntarily, instinctively turning toward Sam, hoping his presence would offer some comfort against the increasing cold.

But Sam was sound asleep in his corner of the bed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest steady and deep beside you. It felt odd to be sharing a bed with someone you argued with so fiercely not long before, but as you glanced over at him, there was something oddly reassuring about the way he seemed so peaceful.

You contemplated your next move: whether to brave the cold and stoke the dying fire or simply bury yourself deeper into the blankets. If only you could borrow some of Sam’s warmth. Just as you were about to decide, a low, guttural sound broke through the serene silence of the room.

It came again—a muffled whimper that sent a shiver racing down your spine. Your heart leapt in your chest as you turned to Sam, who jolted upright, his eyes wide with terror. His breath came in heavy gasps, the vulnerability stark against the strength he had shown earlier.

“Sam!” you called softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

He flinched at your voice, his gaze darting around the room as if trying to grasp his surroundings. “What—what happened?” His voice was raw, edged with the remnants of fear that clung to him like a shadow.

“You had a nightmare,” you replied gently, trying to keep your tone soothing. “You’re okay. I promise you’re not alone.”

For a moment, he remained tense, his muscles coiled as haywire as a tightly wound spring. You watched as he blinked rapidly, his breaths still ragged. He was battling some unseen force, and the last thing you wanted was for him to feel isolated in his fear.

“Sammy, look at me,” you said softly, shifting closer so you could see his face better in the dim light. “You’re here with me. We’re safe in this cabin. The storm is outside, and we’re warm inside, okay?”

Gradually, the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction, but the fear still flickered in his eyes like the dying embers of the fire. He finally focused on you, and something in his expression shifted, softening as he recognized you, the familiar face tethering him to reality.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you… I just—”

“It’s okay, really,” you assured him, placing your hand on his arm, conveying your presence. “Nightmares happen to everyone. You’re not alone in this, I swear. Just breathe.”

He nodded, but you could see the remnants of panic still lurking in his gaze, tracing the way his chest heaved as he struggled to calm himself down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” you interrupted gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Just focus on my voice, alright? In through the nose, out through the mouth. You can do this.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to latch onto your words and ground himself. You watched him carefully, offering whatever reassurance you could as he took a few shaky breaths, mirroring your guided rhythm.

After several breaths, the frantic look in his eyes began to fade slightly, and his gaze softened into something more vulnerable. The tension in his body began to dissipate as your calm, steady voice seeped into the cracks of his fear.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your heart softening at the sight of him slowly regaining his composure. “You’re doing great.”

Eventually, Sam drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice more steady now, though still laced with exhaustion. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought—”

“Sam,” you cut him off again, shaking your head playfully to ease the weight of the moment. “I’d rather be awake with you than asleep alone and cold. Besides, this means I get to check on you, right?”

A semblance of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a flicker of warmth breaking through the lingering chill. “Yeah, right. I appreciate that.”

You felt a surge of relief wash over you when he shifted himself to sit a little closer. The bed felt impossibly small, but you hardly cared as you settled in beside him, still mindful of that invisible boundary you both had established earlier.

As the fire flickered low in the hearth, you realized the chill had seeped away, replaced by an unexpected warmth that blossomed between you. “How about we stay up a little longer?” you suggested, glancing over at the dying embers. “We can talk… or I can tell you a story.”

“Story?” he echoed, his brow quirked slightly.

“Sure! I’ve got plenty,” you replied with a teasing grin. “Anything from shipwrecks to mythical beasts. Your pick.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “How about the shipwreck?”

And as the storm raged outside, you settled back into the cushions, letting the words flow like water—the story wrapping around you both, offering comfort against the unrelenting world outside, while the warmth between you sparked a connection that was stronger than any nightmare.

As you finished the tale, weaving the final strands of your story into the warm atmosphere between you, you couldn’t help but notice how Sam’s tension had faded, the remnants of his night terror replaced by a relaxed expression. He leaned against the headboard, listening intently, a hint of a smile lingering on his lips.

“...and as the shipwrecked crew watched the horizon swallow the sun, they realized that their greatest treasure wasn’t gold or jewels but the bonds they forged during their darkest times,” you concluded, savoring the moment before you added, “And yes, they all promised to never sail again.”

Sam chuckled softly, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “Not bad at all. You know, that almost makes me want to venture out onto open waters—well, once the storm clears, of course.”

“Only if you promise to keep the boat away from sharp rocks,” you replied with a playful poke to his side. “You’ve had enough close calls for one lifetime.”

He shrugged, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “What can I say? I'm a bit of a thrill-seeker.”

As the flicker of the dying embers began to dim the room, you felt a swift chill sweep through the air, a reminder of the cold that still lurked outside. “Hey, let me get you a glass of water. You could probably use it after… you know,” you gestured vaguely, not wanting to bring up the night terror again.

“Thanks,” he replied, his voice softer now, still carrying the remnants of vulnerability.

You slipped out of the bed and padded into the kitchen, your feet brushing against the cold floor. The house felt eerily quiet, and you knew the storm outside was still raging, but you were too focused on your task to worry much about it. You turned on the tap, filling a glass with fresh water, the sound of rushing water soothing.

Just as you turned to head back to Sam, a loud thwack against the window made you jump. Your heart raced, and before you could register what was happening, a startled scream escaped your lips. You spun around, wide-eyed, instinctively bracing yourself against the counter.

In an instant, Sam appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled, laying across his shoulders, and his athletic frame nearly silhouetted in the dim light. The sight of him shirtless made your breath catch in your throat.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low and slightly panicked as he scanned the room, trying to gauge the danger.

“A branch… it hit the window!” You stammered, still slightly shaken. But as you glanced at him, the fuller realization set in. “And why on earth are you not wearing a shirt? Are you trying to catch a cold? It’s freezing out there, Sam!”

A bemused grin broke across his face as he moved closer. “I’m not cold,” he said, as if the chill in the air was a mere afterthought. “But you seem to be shivering a bit… might be a good idea to warm up.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him in a gentle embrace. You felt the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, his short facial hair getting caught up in your hair, and despite your earlier scolding, your pulse quickened in response.

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to maintain an air of unimpressed annoyance, but the warm flutter of your stomach betrayed you. “Sam, this is ridiculous. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” he interrupted, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Keep you warm? You seemed more than okay with it when you were telling stories.”

Your heart raced as you leaned back just slightly to meet his gaze. “That’s different! It was—”

“Was it?” he teased, his smirk only growing as he tightened his embrace.

“Ugh, you drive me crazy,” you replied, folding your arms and attempting to look displeased, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a reluctant smile.

“Good, because I’m here to stay,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, growing more serious. “Seriously... you know I’ve got your back, right?”

Caught in that moment, with his warmth wrapping around you like the thickest blankets, the ease of the situation made your heart swell unexpectedly. You felt lighter, the fears of the night moving further away, if only for now. “Well, I guess you are kind of nice to have around sometimes.”

“Kind of nice?” he repeated, mock-offended but clearly delighted. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But I can definitely do better.”

With a chuckle, you finally relented, letting your guard down just enough to lean into his warmth. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside, you felt cocooned in safety—a warmth that radiated from more than just the physical. While the weather outside was frightful, being here with Sam felt entirely delightful.

With a shared, sleepy laugh, you both made your way back toward the bed, exhaustion creeping in on every step. The events of the night hung in the air like a lingering mist, but the warmth between you dulled the bite of the cold, softening the day’s earlier fears. Sam climbed back into bed, and you followed, letting yourself sink into the soft sheets.

As soon as your head hit the pillow, a wave of fatigue washed over you, heavy and inviting. You nestled into the blankets, feeling Sam’s warmth beside you, his presence a soothing balm against the chilly remnants of the night. The conversation faded into silence, and before long, the steady rhythm of your breathing synchronized with his, drawing the two of you into a gentle sleep.

Time slipped away like fallen leaves in the wind, and you drifted into a peaceful slumber, lost in a world where worries melted away.

Morning came softly, the sun peeking timidly through the window, casting a gentle glow across the room. It slowly crept into your dreams, nudging you toward consciousness with its warm fingers. You were the first to awaken, blinking away the remnants of sleep as you gradually adjusted to the new day.

Your gaze fell immediately upon Sam. You were taken aback by the sight of him, tangled in the sheets, his form a mesmerizing silhouette against the sunlight. The way the beams danced over his skin brought out a gold just under the surface, a halo of warmth that made him look almost ethereal.

You couldn’t help but admire him—a quiet moment stolen just for yourself. His hair fell messily across his forehead, soft waves that framed his face, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically, a peacefulness enveloping him like a comforting blanket. Sunlight caught the birthmark on his arm, nestled right beside his armpit, a gentle reminder that even the smallest details made him all the more unique. You found yourself tracing the outline of it with your eyes, then shifting your gaze to his tranquil expression.

Gazing at him, you noticed how the curve of his lips held a slight smile, as if he were lost in a pleasant dream. The vulnerability displayed in that moment pulled at your heartstrings—a reminder of how even the strongest weathered storms needed solace.

For a moment, you just laid there, absorbing the simplicity of the scene. You relished the sound of his soft breathing, the way the sunlight highlighted the contours of his body, and how it made everything seem so peaceful. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night, and yet here you were, home in the warmth and safety.

You smiled to yourself, unable to resist the urge to reach out and brush your fingers over the skin of his forearm, feeling the warmth radiate from him under your touch. Just a little longer, you thought, granting yourself the luxury of this peaceful moment.

As you watched Sam in the warm sunlight, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. He looked so peaceful, unburdened by the pressures of the outside world or the complications of your shared past. Yet, as you observed him, a bittersweet ache gripped your heart. You couldn't help but reflect on how their friendship had changed over the years.

Once, you two had been inseparable—confidants, partners in crime, charged with the thrill of shared adventures and whispered secrets. It felt like only yesterday that laughter echoed unabashedly between you, and the warmth of camaraderie wrapped you both in safety. But then something shifted. Some invisible line was crossed, and the distance that grew between you almost felt palpable, heavy like a cloud hanging over your heads.

Now, it often seemed like Sam was a complete stranger, one who could barely look you in the eye, as if he hated your guts for some reason you struggled to comprehend. The sharp edges of that distance were painful, creating a chasm that was hard to bridge. Yet here, in this intimate room filled with the soft light of morning, he was different. The guard he usually wore was absent, replaced by a serene vulnerability that beckoned to you.

You realized, with sudden clarity, that you had never truly hated him. You had only wanted him to feel the same hurt you had endured, to understand the pain of that distance you both created. It had driven a wedge between you, and so you had mirrored his cold demeanor, thinking it might draw him closer. But all it did was push you both further apart.

A quiet longing surged within you as you leaned forward slightly, your heart quickening in the presence of such intimacy. Sam remained deeply asleep, completely unaware of your internal turmoil. Carefully, you brushed your lips against his chest, a soft kiss that felt like a promise—an apology, perhaps—for the misunderstandings that lingered between you like shadows you wished to dispel.

In that fleeting moment, you felt his heart rate quicken beneath your lips, sending a jolt of panic through you. You slid back, eyes wide, swallowed by the sudden urgency of the moment. “Oh, gosh, what did I just do?” you thought, biting your lip as you considered the reality of his reaction. But after a second, you brushed it off. He was probably just dreaming again, caught up in whatever world he had escaped to in sleep.

An inkling of warmth lingered with you, but the urgency of breakfast overcame the fleeting intimacy. Slipping out of bed, you moved quietly to avoid waking him, the soft sheets whispering as you gathered your bearings. You padded toward the kitchen, the familiarity of the space welcoming you like an old friend despite the chaos of the storm still raging outside.

But once you stepped into the kitchen, you halted in your tracks. The picturesque view from the window was marred—trees had been knocked down by the intensity of the winds, and one massive trunk now lay squarely against the door. Your heart sank as you realized the extent of the storm’s havoc.

“How on earth are we going to get out of here?” you murmured to yourself, feeling a mix of dread and disbelief. You stepped closer to the window, peering outside to assess the damage. The scene was chaotic and disarrayed, the landscape transformed into a labyrinth of fallen trees and scattered branches. From your vantage point, it was clear that escape would require more than just a simple opening of the door.

Your thoughts drifted back to Sam, the warmth of his body still a vivid memory against the encroaching chill of reality. A newfound determination grew within you as you considered the task ahead. If you were going to clear a path to freedom, you would have to do it together—start peeling back the layers of the past and work toward finding common ground again.

With your heart racing, you resolved to prepare breakfast first, hoping that the smell of food would wake him from his peaceful slumber. Maybe there was hope yet—for both of you—if you could just work together to navigate whatever lay ahead.

You took a deep breath, allowing the lingering warmth from your brief moment with Sam to settle into your chest as you moved about the kitchen. You wanted to make this breakfast special, even if the storm had rendered you both temporarily trapped in the cabin. The aroma of comfort food had a way of melting away tension, or at least you hoped it would.

As you rummaged through the cabinets, memories flowed back to you, unbidden yet comforting. You could almost see the two of you during those carefree mornings, sitting around a small kitchen table, devouring pancakes drizzled with syrup and topped with fresh fruit. Sam had always liked his eggs fluffy, just the right amount of salt and a sprinkle of pepper, ideally served alongside crisp bacon. You began pulling out the ingredients, your hands moving automatically as you prepped the food, reflecting on the bond you once shared.

With each crack of an egg and each slice of bacon sizzling in the pan, you put your heart into the meal, willing it to convey the warmth you desired to share. Cooking became a form of therapy, a way to distract yourself from the nagging confusion swirling in your mind.

As you whisked the eggs, you heard a rustling sound from the hallway. Soon enough, Sam emerged from the room, his hair a mess and eyes blinking against the bright morning light. There was a moment—a flicker of hope—that he might look at you differently after the moments you shared, but as he stepped into the kitchen, that hope began to dim.

His expression was neutral, almost cold, as if the vulnerability of the night before had never existed. It felt as if a door had opened briefly, only to slam shut again, locking away whatever connection you had forged in those quiet hours. Your heart sank. It felt as if you were back at square one, navigating a landscape filled with unspoken words and guarded hearts.

“Morning,” he muttered, his voice flat. He walked over to the counter, leaning against it casually, but the cool demeanor he wore sent a chill through your resolve.

“Morning,” you returned, trying to sound cheerful, but you could hear the undercurrents of uncertainty in your own voice. “I was just making breakfast. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Sure,” he replied, shrugging slightly, devoid of the enthusiasm you’d hoped for. As you finished stirring the eggs, your mind raced. Had last night meant anything, or had it all been a fleeting moment of comfort he now wanted to forget? You chose to hold your tongue, beleaguered by the tension that hung heavily in the air.

You plated the bacon and eggs, trying to focus on the task in front of you but finding it hard to ignore the growing weight of unanswered questions. Why had he returned to this distant, guarded version of himself? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you in that room, only for him to act as if it held no significance when morning arrived.

As you presented him with his food, he offered a cursory glance, his features returning to that passive mask. Your heart ached; it was hard to reconcile the two sides of him—last night’s warmth and today’s chill. Maybe he had simply decided that nothing had changed, that the walls he built were more comfortable than the vulnerability you both had briefly explored. Perhaps he was afraid of letting anyone in, even if that someone was you.

“Um, how do you—” you started, but the moment felt stagnant, laden with an unspoken tension. You were uncertain if you wanted to broach the subject of last night or if it was even worth it. Did he even want things to change?

“Thanks,” he interrupted, taking a quick bite and returning his attention to the food. The way he focused on the plate felt dismissive in a way that left your heart feeling hollow. You swallowed hard, tapping down the urge to ask, to pry, to shout out the confusion brewing within you.

The two of you ate in relative silence, the sound of forks clinking against plates filling the air. The shared breakfast lacked the lightness and warmth you had hoped to cultivate. Instead, you felt the distance between you widen, as if an invisible chasm had opened itself up once more, reminding you both of the walls that had been built in the aftermath of whatever had soured your once beautiful friendship.

With every bite you took, fragments of yesterday echoed in your mind, a dissonance between “us” and “now.” The disconnect threatened to overpower you, but you knew discussing it would only push him further away, reasserting those cold barriers. Instead, you opted for silence, hoping that maybe, just maybe, time would bridge the gap that had formed around you both.

After finishing breakfast in tense silence, you leaned against the counter, steeling yourself for the next part. With a deep breath, you glanced at Sam, who was now picking at his plate, and decided it was time to address the elephant in the room—literally and figuratively.

“Hey, Sam,” you began, a touch of trepidation in your voice. “I think we have a bit of a situation on our hands.” He raised an eyebrow, a familiar spark of skepticism in his gaze that made you both nervous and resolute.

“We’re kind of stuck in here,” you continued, gesturing toward the door. “A tree fell right outside and it’s blocking our way out.”

For a moment, the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Sam furrowed his brow, as if processing the absurdity of the situation. Then he pushed himself away from the counter with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes.

“Great,” he huffed, striding toward the door with an air of determination that momentarily brought a smile to your face. You watched, mildly entertained, as he braced his hands against the wooden frame, stepping back slightly before launching himself against the door, pushing with all his might.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his futile effort. “You really think you’re strong enough to move a tree, Sam?” you teased, biting your lip to keep a straight face.

He paused, caught somewhere between irritation and amusement, shooting you an annoyed look over his shoulder. “I could if I wanted to,” he scoffed, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. It was nice to see a flicker of the old Sam, even if it was just for a moment.

But as he turned back to the door and gave it another firm shove, the tree remained unmoving, a solid testament to nature's stubbornness. Sam groaned in frustration, stepping away as he brushed a hand through his disheveled hair. “Okay, I get it. Not a tree-moving type of day.”

With a resigned sigh, he turned to leave, muttering something about needing to figure out a different plan. You followed him, curiosity pulling you along as he headed toward the couch where his phone lay. He picked it up, a look of determination returning to his features as he tapped a few numbers, presumably dialing Jake.

You leaned against the armrest, watching him silently as the phone rang, each beep sounding like a ticking clock counting down uncertain moments together. After a few moments, his expression shifted from focused to frustrated.

“Come on, pick up, man…” he muttered under his breath, tapping his fingers on the couch. But the moments stretched on, and you could see the tension mounting as he pulled the phone away from his ear, scowling at the screen.

“Seriously?” he said, a frustrated breath escaping his lips as he realized the truth. “No service. It’s like we’re completely cut off from the outside world.” He ran a hand over his face, the irritation practically radiating off him.

You crossed your arms, transforming the uncertainty of the situation into a fleeting sense of mischief. But rather than allow the opportunity to deepen the rift between you, you decided to lift the mood. “I guess we’re officially isolated. How thrilling,” you said lightly, attempting to inject some humor into the situation. “Just you, me, and a tree. Sounds like the setup for a bad movie.”

He shot you a half-hearted glare, though the tension in his features softening slightly. “Yeah, a real thriller,” he replied dryly, but the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying the faintest glimmer of amusement.

“But seriously,” you continued, feeling a mix of warmth and determination from the awkwardness of the moment, “if we can’t get in touch with anyone, we’ll have to figure out a way to cooperate, right? If we're stuck here for a while, we might as well make the best of it.”

Sam nodded slowly, the edge of his annoyance beginning to ebb as he processed your words. “Fine, we’ll have to clear the tree together,” he conceded, his tone softening slightly. “But let’s hope it doesn’t rain. I’d rather not be stuck under a flooded roof.”

Your heart swelled a little, encouraged by the return of his willingness to engage. It felt like a tiny victory amidst the larger uncertainty looming over both of you. “Agreed,” you replied, a lightness creeping back into your voice. “In the meantime, let’s figure this out, and maybe we can reminisce about life before all this?”

The glint in his eyes suggested a tentative willingness to join you, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you sensed the intricate threads of your friendship starting to weave back together, even if the way ahead remained shrouded in both darkness and possibility.

As you stood there, contemplating the bizarre turn of events, Sam paced back and forth, tension radiating off him. “This is just so stupid,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, Danny and Jake booked these cabins, right? They must have known that there’s just one bed in ours.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, exasperation leaking into his voice. “They wouldn’t have done it on purpose… would they?”

You caught sight of the frustration etched across his face—complete disbelief mingled with annoyance. The prospect of being trapped together was clearly not sitting well with him, and you understood why. The very thought of sharing such tight quarters, especially after last night’s electric moments, seemed utterly ridiculous in the light of day. Something about it felt off, even if you found it hard to blame anyone for the misfortune of a fallen tree.

“It’s like they just thought it was funny or something,” Sam continued, pacing again, the floor creaking beneath his steps. “I mean, of all the cabins they could choose, they pick this one? Just to watch us squirm?”

You watched him ramble, the frustration evident in his posture. There was something oddly gripping about his annoyance, connections and feelings still simmering beneath the surface of frustration. Maybe he was right; perhaps it was a choice made by Danny and Jake to throw you both into a situation that felt absurdly uncomfortable. You almost chuckled at the scene, picturing their mischievous grins as they plotted, unknowingly contributing to the mess unraveling around you.

Yet, as Sam continued to voice his grievances, you couldn’t shake a lingering thought that crept into your mind—Josh’s smirk from earlier, his cryptic ways. The way he had looked at you, with eyes that spoke of secrets and somehow promised mischief. It felt like he had been orchestrating something, planning an outcome that wasn’t just about the fallen tree and isolation. Was this all part of his plan?

You furrowed your brow, feeling a knot form in your stomach. What if Josh had seen something between you and Sam? Maybe he had wanted to provoke a reaction, to push the two of you together under the guise of a mere cabin arrangement. It felt absurd to think that a simple twist of fate could have been manipulated so purposefully, and yet the feeling of being part of a larger game simmered just beneath the surface.

“Hey, you still with me?” Sam’s voice broke through your thoughts, his eyes searching yours for a moment. There was an intensity there, as if he sensed the turbulence of emotions swirling within you, perhaps eager to bridge something between you.

“Yeah, sorry.” You managed a small smile, shaking off the distractions in your mind. “Just thinking about how ridiculous it all is.”

“Ridiculous doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replied, the irritation still lingering. “It’s like they were trying to set us up for failure.”

His frustration echoed yours, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was your own feelings surfacing through him or if it was the other way around. Despite the annoyance, you found comfort in the shared sentiment, a wicked spark of humanity that seemed to bring you closer in your shared plight.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think this was all just a ploy, some elaborate scheme,” Sam said, hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing as if trying to cut through the chaotic absurdity of it all. “And now we’re stuck here, facing it alone.”

“Maybe we’re just collateral damage in their plan.” Your voice was light, teasing, though it held a hint of sincerity. “Not to mention that tree, as if nature has a sense of humor too.”

A faint smile crept onto Sam’s lips, but the lingering shadows in his eyes betrayed the confusion that still held sway over him. In some ways, you wished you could wipe away the doubt that lingered in the air, the unasked questions that seemed ready to unravel whatever fragile progress you’d made.

He sighed deeply and plopped down onto the couch, a moment of stillness passing over him before turning contemplative. “Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out. Together,” he said finally, the weight of the previous night reinvigorating the warmth between you, even as it felt complicated.

“Together,” you echoed, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding, a fragile sense of unity in the chaos around you. Implicit within it was a knowing acknowledgment of the late-night conversations, the secrets traded under covers, mocking the bizarre reality of being locked in this cabin.

Yet beneath the words, the unseen strings from Josh’s earlier gaze tugged at you, uncoiling your thoughts. Was this some cruel game of fate? Or a calculated move by a friend who meant well but was overstepping? Only time would tell if the tangled web of events was predestined or simply an accident of life, and beneath it all, a budding connection simmered, waiting for the right moment to blossom amidst the madness.

Feeling the weight of the stillness settle heavily in the cabin, you decided it was time to take action. Sure, sitting around and brooding wasn’t going to solve anything. Maybe you could dig through your bags and find something to entertain yourselves—anything to stave off the sense of impending claustrophobia.

“Okay, let’s see what’s in our bags,” you suggested, rising from the couch. “Maybe we can find something to keep ourselves busy.” You headed toward the pile of bags near the door, excitement stirring in your chest as the prospect of a distraction materialized in front of you.

As you rummaged through your things, you tried to focus your mind on the mundane task of sifting through clothes and personal items, hoping to unearth a board game or maybe even a deck of cards. But with each zip and flap, you felt a growing sense of unease. You finally pulled out a couple of sweaters, a pair of jeans, and a well-worn book you always brought along for trips.

Then, it hit you like a bolt of lightning—most of the bags had been packed by Josh. The revelation was almost comical in its irony. He had insisted he’d handle the packing since everyone else was “too busy,” and you can bet that the bulk of the entertainment items had gone along with him to the other cabin.

“Oh no,” you muttered, the reality dawning fully as you flopped onto the sofa beside Sam, who was tapping his thumb against his knee, still lost in thought. “We left all the games at the other cabin.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Sam turned to you, his brow scrunched in disbelief. “Wait, really? All the board games? The card decks?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, sighing dramatically. “Josh was in charge of packing everything fun. And apparently, he thought we’d only want our sweatshirts and some snacks for the road.”

A frustrated laugh escaped Sam. “That’s genius, really. Cut us off from any source of entertainment.”

“So what now?” you asked, feeling the bubble of disappointment rising. “Unless you want to stare at the wall for the next few hours—”

“I mean, that sounds like a choice.” He chuckled, but the humor in his voice carried a hint of annoyance as well.

“What about your phone again?” you suggested, a flicker of hope once more igniting. “Maybe we can find a way to call someone, recruit help?”

“I already tried.” The humor fizzled as he leaned back, crossing his arms in a way that made it obvious he felt just as stuck as the rest of you. “No service. It really is just us and this tree… and one bed.”

You both groaned dramatically, the ridiculousness of the situation settling around you like a heavy blanket.

“Guess that’s the universe’s way of telling us to bond or whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You laughed a little but felt a wave of introspection wash over you. The reality of the strange predicament was beginning to sink in—it wasn’t just the physical barriers that would keep you trapped. Sharing close quarters with him in a moment like this, with emotions still raw from the night before, added a whole new level of complexity to everything you felt.

“Look, we can’t just sit around feeling sorry for ourselves,” you said, forcing a lightness back into your voice. “We have to make our own fun. We could… I don’t know, tell scary stories? Start a book club?” Your attempt at humor brought a smirk to Sam’s lips.

“Why don’t you go first? I’d love to hear your version of a ‘scary’ story,” he teased, leaning forward with a glint of playful challenge in his eyes.

“I’ll have you know, I have superb storytelling skills,” you retorted, a grin growing between you. “But maybe we should save that for when the sun goes down. How about a dramatic reading instead?”

“Oh, please,” he sighed dramatically, folding himself into the cushions. “Spare me the poetry. I’m not sure how much more emotions I can handle today.”

“I have plenty of thrillers in my bag if you change your mind.” You smiled, butterflies taking flight when your eyes met his. “But if you really want to torture me, we could go with the age-old tradition of twenty questions.”

The notion hung in the air, a challenge waiting to be met, and you felt a thrill run through you as Sam raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Twenty questions it is, then. But you better come prepared.”

You both fell into a lighter mood, a sense of camaraderie blooming amid the challenges ahead. Even entangled in the ridiculousness of the situation, there was warmth in the unknown as you navigated uncharted territory together. The fallen tree might have cut you off from the world outside, but perhaps it had carved out a new space for something else to grow in the confined atmosphere of the cabin.

And as you settled into the moment, surrounded by laughter and playful banter, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, ready to tackle whatever twists and turns the day—and the absurdity of the circumstances—would throw your way.

jake lane waiting for mirador 🤝 danny lane waiting for the curl routine

A ripple to the roar, an echo to the thunder.

A wave in the soundscape. The pulse of the night.

As the piano’s notes reflect the mood of the moment

Electric echoes drown in the downpour

miss mirador. wish they were real. x

𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🫐 *ੈ.