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satxnsupreme666 · 2 months ago

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Down by the riverside: Young!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Back in the 1600´s you live with your parents in the forest, near Agatha’s coven. You always go to the river down your house to feel a little bit of peace from all the yelling and the abuse of your parents, you think you´re alone until one day you see Agatha on the other side of the river looking at you and since that day, she keeps coming to look for you.

You fall for her and she falls for you, she worries when one day you don’t arrive at your special place, so she goes to look for you, ready to save you from your parents.

Would you run away with her?

I wrote this while listening to the song Riverside by Agnes Obel

Words: 5k+

Warnings: Family issues, abusive parents, angst but with a happy ending.

Author´s notes: This was one of the first stories I wrote three years ago, I had posted them on Tumblr on my old account, but due to my mental health, I had to take a break from Tumblr and the toxicity and hate that had suddenly increased, I deleted all of my stories and my old account, now I have decided to upload them again here on Tumblr and also on Ao3.

Again, as this was one of the first stories I wrote for Agatha Harkness is a little bit short, I will be uploading the rest of the stories from time to time, I have to edit them and make sure they are legible enough and with not a lot of grammatical errors.

I hope you like it!

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange @eliscannotdance

Down by the river by the boats

Where everybody goes to be alone

One good thing about living far away from people was that you could spend a lot of time outside your house and no one would bother you, it was nice to be alone, sometimes you just needed time for yourself and sometimes it was nice to just cry alone with no one watching your tears falling from your face.

Being alone for you, was something you were used to, but sometimes you just wish you wouldn’t be so alone, or at least not at all.

At home you always had the feeling that someone was watching you, even when you were sitting on the floor of your room, hugging your legs to your chest and hiding your head in your arms, you felt judged inside your own home, and it was a horrible feeling, you just wanted to feel some type of peace.

The only way and time when you could go outside your house was when your mother and you father would argue and yell at each other, their screams would make them forget about you and during those times you would be free just for some hours, but, at the end of the day you would end up going back to the same place that held all of your worst fears and an unbearable pain.

In your free hours out of your prison, you would go to the beautiful river down your house, the sound of the streaming water hitting against the rocks it was a soothing sound that helped you to feel calm in the hardest moments, touching the wet grass and feeling the harsh surface of the rocks made you feel attached to earth, it made you feel as if you belong somewhere on earth, it had a calming effect, resting your feet under the clear water relaxed you, feeling the cold water running through your skin while you sat on a small flat rock against a tall tree, the same spot you always went to soothe yourself.

When you where there, feeling the cool breeze of air against your face made you felt alive again.

Where you won’t see any rising sun

Down to the river we will run

Living in a small cottage in the forest with just your mother and your father was something that people would think of as living peacefully, but oh how you wished you could live in peace, hearing their screams against each other and the sound of glass braking, no matter what is was, it could be a small glass that your mother had thrown to your father or the sound a window being broken by your angry father, it was always loud and you would never get used to the harsh sound coming from the living room.

Your house was hidden in the depths of the forest, surrounded by many tall trees and it was covered in a slight mist that appeared from time to time in the evenings and that would vanish right when the sun came again, but no matter if the sun rose, for you it was always dark and cold, the was no warm in there, and it was what you craved the most, to feel the heat of a hug, but that never came, you only received cold stares and harsh and painful words that cut like daggers on your skin.

The forest hid so many secrets that no one would ever know, wishing you could leave, but where would you go?

When by the water we drink to the dregs

Look at the stones on the riverbed

Holding your aching face, being careful not to touch the small cut lip on your lower lip, you came again to the riverside to try to calm yourself, wishing you could just vanish, you just wanted the pain to stop, your parents say they loved you, but was that true?

Today the water was calm, there was no movement in it, you could see the bottom of it full of grey rocks and you could see your own reflection and the ones of the trees in the water.

You were so immersed into your own thoughts until you noticed a different reflection in the water on the other side of the small river, you were surprised no one had ever come here, you were the only one who would come, so quickly you wiped away your tears with the back of your hand and you lifted your head to look at the person, you were about to run but you stopped.

In front of you there was a girl, she was looking at you with concern in her eyes and you didn’t understand why.

You were staring at her, she was beautiful, she was standing on the other side of the river, her long messy hair was so pretty to look at and in her hands she was holding a book, when you looked straight into her eyes she smiled at you and her action made you blush so you quickly looked down at the water again, trying to hide your blushing face from her curious yes.

You thought she would leave at any moment but she never left, instead she sat on the grass and with a last glance towards you she started to read her book.

I can tell from your eyes

You’ve never been by the riverside

You were curious about her, you had lived in the cottage in the forest since you had memory and since you started to come to the riverside you had never seen her, you didn’t know where she lived or where she came from, the only thing you were sure about was that she knew where she was, she didn’t seem as if she was lost.

You glanced over her from time to time, you couldn’t help yourself, you were curious about her, you wanted to talk to her but at the same time you were afraid, so you just decided to stay quiet.

She noticed your glances and tried to act as if not but she thought you were cute at trying to hide that you were looking at her.

She lifted her head to look at you and this time you exchanged looks with her, you could feel your face becoming hotter, the girl in front of you just smiled and her eyes squinted with joy, you wanted to look away but you felt drawn by her piercing blue eyes, and this time you didn’t look away, she smiled at you again, this made you smile this time you waved your hand shyly at her, she closed her book and put it on her lap, you tilted you’re head a little to your side and she giggled.

The girl in front of you kept staring at you and it was as if she was analyzing you, you could see her eyes moving a little and you couldn’t tell where she was looking at, was she looking your hair? Or was she looking at the forming bruise on your cheek? You quickly tried to cover it by putting your hand over it, you saw her frowning a little.

“Are you alright?” She asked you and again you tried to hide your head in your hands

“I´m alright” It was almost like a whisper but still she heard your words, she tilted her head a little to have a better look of your face

“Who hurt you?” She had seen the cut in your lip too and you really didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at the water, watching some bright orange fishes passing by, the girl in front of you knew you were not going to talk about what had happened so she decided to stop asking you about it.

“I´m Agatha by the way” Her name was really pretty, you liked it, she was being really kind to you so you decided to tell her your name

“I´m y/n” You looked at her to see her expression and she was smiling at you

“You have a beautiful name” You wanted to say something else but you heard some screams from far away, you knew they belonged to your mother and you knew you had to go back to your house, quicky you gave her a half smile and you stood up from your spot to run towards the cabin.

You didn’t see her sad expression when you left in such a rush, she just hoped she would see you again.

Down by the water the riverbed

Somebody calls you somebody says

You couldn’t leave your house for some days because your mother kept asking you to do many things, you didn’t even have a good time of sleep, you barely slept and still you had to keep going, you didn’t want your mother to be angrier at you, so you just did what she told you to do.

You tried to do everything she asked you to do in a rush because the urge to go back to the riverside again to look for Agatha was huge, you wanted to look at her one more time, the feeling was too strong, she had captivated you and you just had seen her one time.

When you were finally free to leave your house, you went back to the river, it had been raining a lot and the grass was wet, you could even see the tiny raindrops falling from the leaves of the trees.

Arriving to the river you looked for Agatha, hoping that she would be near the other side, sitting on the grass with her book in her hands, walking a little further by the riverside you tried to have a better sight of your surroundings, some bushes covering the place and feeling disappointed you sat on the same place as always.

Maybe you were not going to see her again, maybe it had been pure luck that she found you that day and maybe you would never be going to see her again, if that was the case at least you were grateful that you felt something different from the usual pain in your heart.

“Y/n” You were surprised because you heard her voice again, you lifted your head in a hasty way and you couldn’t help but smile

“I thought I would never see you again” After thinking what you had just blurted out, you bit your lip, oh god, why did you have to say that without thinking first?

When Agatha saw your blushing face, she giggled and she never took her eyes out of you.

“I thought the same, but I kept coming here hoping you would come back, and I’m happy I did it because now you’re here” Your heart melted at her words, you couldn’t understand how she made you feel this way and you were really surprised that she kept looking for you as well, it was nice to know that someone wanted to see you.

“Can I sit here to make you company?” Agatha asked with her finger pointing at the same spot she sat the first time you saw her, you nodded and she took her place.

You liked that she let you know she was there with you; she could be reading but sometimes she would lift her head to give you a smile.

"I thought nobody lived in this part of the forest”

She said after thirty minutes of silence, she stopped reading to look at you.

“I thought the same, I’ve been coming here for years and I never saw you”

“That’s because I never came near the river, I wandered around but never came closer” You were curious about why she decided to come closer?

“I saw you, and I was curious, so I came here but when I walked closer, I heard a faint agitated breathing that was when I saw you were crying” She said with a concerned look on her face, you didn’t know what to say so you just kept looking at her

“You have a beautiful smile y/n" You couldn’t hide your smile, she made you feel happy

“You have a beautiful smile too and your eyes are really pretty Agatha” This time you saw her blushing but she didn’t look away

“Do you live with your parents?” She asked from her spot and at the mention of your parents your smiled vanished, you really wish she hadn’t brought that topic up.

“Yes, I live with them” You said almost whispering while looking down again at the water

“What about you?” This time you spoke a little bit louder

“I live with my sisters and my mother” You couldn’t see the grimace on her face because quickly it changed into a grin

“Would you mind if I go there with you?” You quickly raised your head, did she wanted to cross the river to be near you? You shook your head and you saw how she stood up from her sitting place and she started to walk towards you, stepping on the rocks that peeked above the water.

Agatha was excited, she wanted to be a little bit closer to you, you had intrigued her and she realized you were shy but that didn’t matter to her, she would talk for the both of you.

When Agatha was closer in front of you, she stretched her hand for you to take it and you did it, after that she sat next to you and her hand didn’t leave yours, she even caressed the back of your hand with her thumb.

“Your hands are so soft” You bit your lip and you noticed how her eyes squinted a little when she smiled, now you had a better reason to keep coming here, now you were not going to be alone anymore.

Swim with the current and float away

Down by the river every day

The next day you came to the same place but only to find that she was already sitting next to your sitting spot, at first you felt a little shy, she was sitting so close to you that sometimes you were afraid she would hear your beating heart.

After some days of just enjoying each other’s company you built the courage to put your head on her shoulder while she was entertained reading her book.

Agatha bit her lower lip in excitement, you were now giving some steps and she felt happy that you had rested your head on her shoulder, so she closed her book and left it on the grass by her side, then she rested her head on top of yours while her hand took your left hand and she intertwined her fingers with your fingers.

For the first time in your life, you felt inner peace, you felt safe by her side, and you wish you could feel like this all the time.

Agatha holding your hand was just one of the many first things she started to do.

The days seemed brighter with her, you didn’t feel so cold all the time, you didn’t need words with her, it was like if she understood every single part of you, like if she knew how you felt, if sometimes you didn’t want to talk she would just hold your hand caressing it with her thumb while you rested your heard on her chest and she was happy that little by little you started to open up to her.

“Could you read out loud?” You asked her one day, sitting under a tall tree in a different spot a little farther from the river.

“Sure, I will read out loud, only if you tell me why” Of course you thought, and she grinned when you started to blush furiously.

“It´s just, I think- I really like your voice Agatha” Agatha´s heart melted and she came closer to you bringing her hand to the side of your face and she brushed off a strand of your hair.

“I really like your voice too, doll” And that was the first time she had called you like that, and you loved it, it made you feel good and Agatha loved calling you like that.

You were happy with her, and no matter what happened back in your “home” whenever you were with her by your side you would forget for some hours the horrors in your house, she made you feel alive.

Agatha knew there was something going on with you, since the first time she saw you crying in the riverside she knew there was something wrong, someone was hurting you, Agatha wanted to take all the pain away from you, she hated seeing you hurting, and what made her anger was that some days you would arrive with bruises on your wrists, she wanted to ask you what was going on, but whenever she asked you would always tell her you were alright, she didn’t believe you and she was worried sick but she didn’t want to pressure you.

Oh my god I see how everything is torn in the river deep

And I don’t know why I go the way

Down by the riverside

You knew your parents didn’t love each other anymore, and they were angry all the time, they would take their anger out on you when the other wasn’t at home, you couldn’t do anything more than just sat in silence and hear all the screams directed at you, why would this have to be this way?

That day when you escaped your prison without your mother knowing you had gone outside; you quickly went to look for Agatha down the river.

Agatha heard your footsteps and she turned herself to look at you with a glowing smile, but her smile immediately vanished off her face when she noticed you were crying, she quickly tossed her book to the side to stand up and she rushed to catch you in her arms.

“What´s wrong doll? What happened?” Agatha asked you, the worry was evident in her voice.

“My mother, she´s always yelling at me, she doesn’t love me, why?” Agatha felt some tears threatening to fall from the corner of her eyes, she hated to see you hurt, and the worst part was that she didn’t know how to answer your question, she didn’t know either, but what she knew for sure was that you deserved everything.

Agatha stroke your back with one of her hands and with her other hand she caressed the back of your neck while she said sweet things to your ear.

When you calmed bit, you removed yourself a little from her you didn’t take off your arms from her shoulders and you felt Agatha´s hand resting on your waist.

“I love you, and no matter what I will be here with you and I promise I will protect you” You felt the tears coming back again, but this time they were happy tears, you felt loved for the first time in your life, her words were sincere.

“She´s the one who hurt you?” Agatha asked you again and you looked down to the ground, you felt ashamed of it.

Agatha softly took your chin with one of her hands and she lifted your face so she could look at you.

“You do not need to feel ashamed or bad for this, this is not your fault love, they don´t deserve you, and you don´t deserve to be treated the way they treat you, let me show you how real love can feel” You were crying again and this time Agatha wiped your tears away with her fingers, she stroked your cheek in a way you had never being touched, she was gentle, she was sweet and you could feel every part of you being loved like nobody had done it before.

Without thinking twice, you leant into her and you pressed your lips against hers, she gladly kissed you, this would be the first kiss of many you would share in the future, she was sure of it.

Agatha pressed one of her hands on your waist, pulling you closer to her and you grabbed her softly by her collar shirt, she kissed you softly, in a loving way that it was amazing, you could feel the sadness being washed away, the pain had been replaced, now you felt hopeful, hopeful that she would never leave you and that she would always love you just as much as you loved her.

Breaking the kiss, you smiled back at her and Agatha saw a light in your eyes she hadn’t seen before.

“I love you too Agatha” You trusted her, you felt safe in her arms, you were grateful for meeting her, now you couldn’t see yourself without her.

That day you laid on the soft grass with her, she never dropped your hand, she taught you the name of the plants and the trees that lived in the surroundings, she told you the name of the little insects that you two looked in awe, her hand coming to your hair to stroke it and in response you left soft pecks on her lips, she felt happy, her heart was full of love for you, she just wanted to make sure you were fine, and she would do whatever she could to protect you.

She didn’t want to leave your side,

When that old river runs past your eyes

To wash off the dirt on the riverside

Agatha became worried when one day you didn’t arrive to your special place, at first, she thought you had just been a little late but when minutes turned to hours, she became worried sick, it was not normal for you to be this late, she felt something was wrong, she could tell something had happened to you, she could sense it and she feared the worst.

She needed to find you as fast as possible and she knew how to do it.

Closing her eyes she focused on you, on your face on your essence and when she finally saw fragments of the way you always went to go back to your house, her heart broke when she saw you lying on your bed, your father had hit you, and you were so weak that you couldn’t stand up.

Agatha felt furious, how could your father do this to you? Your house was not so far away so she would be arriving quickly.

She started to walk through the thick forest, the fog had started to come down and she thought that it was thicker that some other days, she could barely see a thing, but she wouldn’t give up.

After some minutes she visualized a small cottage not so far away and she sensed you, she could sense you and she was happy she could feel you this way, it was a rare connection that almost no one could reach with their loved ones, and she knew it.

I walk to the borders on my own

Fall in the water just like a stone

You were scared your father hadn’t beat you up as bad as he had done it, you just had wanted to go by the river to be with Agatha but he didn’t let you, he had come home drunk and even you tried to run away from his tight grasp on your arm you couldn’t.

Your mother had told him you were constantly going out and that you stayed outside home for hours, he demanded to know where you had been going and you just told him that you went down to the riverside, but he didn’t believe you.

Now you were lying on your bed with a black eye and a big cut on your lip, you were sure you had many bruises in different parts of your body but you were too tired to look at yourself.

You just wanted to be held by Agatha while she reassured you that everything would be alight.

Chilled to the marrow in them bones

Why do I go here alone?

Agatha used her magic to open the door, slamming it against the wooden walls.

The loud sound startled you and woke your father up, in the process he took his gun, ready to attack whoever had entered into his house.

“What are you doing here witch?” Your eyes widened, what was he talking about?

“You do not scare me with your pathetic gun, you are nothing” That voice belonged to your girlfriend Agatha and now you were scared for her, what was she doing here? You were afraid your father could hurt her so you tried to stand up from your bed and even though every part of you hurt you didn’t care; Agatha was everything on your mind right now.

“I won´t ask again, what are you doing here?” You were already behind him and you flinched at his scream, but Agatha didn’t seem to be scare, she was standing in front of him with a challenging look on her face, she looked angry, you had never seen her act this way, since the first day you met her and through all the months you had been with her, you had never saw her so angry, her eyes were glowing purple there was no trace of the baby blue color her eyes always had.

“You hurt y/n and I won´t let you do it again” You felt happy she had come for you, to save you and you couldn’t be happier, Agatha was here for you and that was what it mattered.

Your father laughed and he pointed his gun to Agatha, he was about to pull the trigger and you feared the worst, you screamed when he pulled the trigger, the bullet was going to hit Agatha.

Before you could tell what had happened, you father was lift up in the air, purple magic all over him and he was throw to the wall, he hit it with a thud and his body fell limp onto the ground.

You were shocked what had just happened? Did Agatha do it?

“y/n”? You turned your head to look at Agatha, you could tell she was scared, but you didn’t know of what, she slowly walked towards you as if she was scared of your reaction, but she was scared that you could reject her, she had just used her powers in front of you and she thought the worst, she thought that what you had seen would made you run away from her.

You threw yourself into her arms, sobbing, but you were happy she had come for you.

“I´m sorry I was not here to protect you from him, I´m so sorry my love” She was crying, she couldn’t stop the tears coming from her eyes.

“You do not have to be sorry, It´s ok, now you´re here, and you saved me, you really did it, don´t blame you please, what happed was not your fault” You said to her while caressing her cheek with one of your hands.

Now that she looked at you better, she felt so bad, he had hurt you a lot, he had hurt your beautiful face and she knew you were in pain.

“Let me help you, I can help you to ease the pain” You smiled at her and you nodded, Agatha pressed her forehead against yours and her fingers pressed slightly the side of your temple.

You saw how her eyes started to change from blur to purple and you were amazed, she was a witch but you didn’t feel afraid you felt safe with her.

You felt slight tickles and you couldn’t help but giggle a little, this made Agatha smile to, her magic was helping you to ease the pain and to heal a little your bruises and cuts.

When she stopped you didn’t feel the same pain, now it was bearable and you hugged her.

“Thank you so much” You whispered in her ear and you felt how she pulled you closer to her, feeling your form against hers, she loved you much and she would never let anything happened to you again.

“I won´t let anyone touch you again, no one will ever hurt you again, not if I´m here with you” She said to you with such a strong passion and you knew she was telling the truth

“Run away with me, we can leave this place, no one would ever hurt you again, I will make sure of that, we can start again somewhere else, would you like that?” You were excited so you kissed her, she captured your lips and before she could keep kissing you, you pushed her slightly so you would be able to look at her properly.

“I would love to run away with you, I want to be with you for the rest of my life, you make me feel safe, and I know that if am with you, nothing bad would ever happen to me, you´re the best that could happen to me, I love you” Agatha started to cry with a smile on her face, she was biting her lip, she couldn’t be happier, she had found you and she felt you were her home just as you felt the same about her, this would be a new start for the both of you, far away from this forest that held so many secrets, this time you were going to be free, no more pain, no more sadness, just pure joy and happiness.

“Let´s go, we can leave now, no one would ever bother us, we will be happy y/n” You nodded and with a last kiss she intertwined your fingers with hers, both of you started to walk outside what now would be your former home, you were walking away from a bad chapter in order to enter to a better one, a new beautiful chapter in your life.

You walked side by side with Agatha, never dropping your hand, you arrived at the same river you had met, this would be the only thing you would miss from here, the beautiful river where you and Agatha had met, you looked at Agatha and she drag your hand to her lips to kiss the back of your hand, she smiled at you and this time, you crossed the river together, she helped to cross it never letting your hand go, she held you strongly so that you wouldn’t fall, and when you had crossed the river you hugged her again and she dropped a kiss on your forehead, the two of you gave one last look to the river in which you had met, with one last look at the place you were grateful for bringing Agatha into your life, you took a deep breath and started to walk away with Agatha towards your new life.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #wandavision #agatha all along #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months ago

Note

Idk if you're taking requests but I got an idea for the As You Wish AU!

I used to babysit for this couple who were complete metalheads and they had a 6 month old. Whenever I couldn't make her stop crying and put her down for a nap, I played "Crazy Train" and she immediately stopped crying when Ozzy screamed "ALL ABOARD!". She would jump in my arms for a bit, then be out like a light before the song was even over.

I can totally see that with Eddie and Eliza ❤

I’m pretty sure this is Eddie’s proudest moment as a father

Words: 1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Oh, thank God.”

You heave a sigh of relief and let your bag fall to the floor next to your feet. The hours long car ride home from your weekend with your sister not only exhausted you, but it made your muscles stiff and sore. Your neck has the most knots in it, so you roll it out as you walk further into the house, deciding you’ll pick up your bag later.

“Perfect, you’re home!”

Eddie darts down the hallway, a grin on his face, and Eliza in his arms.

“Hi.”

You can’t help but smile at the sight of their faces. Two pairs of dark chocolate eyes and the same shade of messy curls.

Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to your lips before he holds Eliza close enough to your face so you can pepper kisses along her cheeks.

“I missed you both,” you say. “Where are my boys?”

“Luke’s in the shower and Ryan went with Wayne to bring home ice cream for everyone,” Eddie tells you. “How was your weekend with Gin?”

“Good,” you say, reaching out and running a finger down the side of your six-month-old’s face. “Nice to be home, though. How was Liza without me overnight? Cause I was quite cranky without her.”

“She missed you,” Eddie says. He puts his left hand on her tummy and his wedding ring glints in the lamp light as he rubs over her fuzzy pajamas. “Took longer than usual for her to fall asleep. But I taught her a trick!”

The excitement in Eddie’s eyes makes you laugh and shake your head in amusement.

“She's not a dog,” you say.

“Tell that to Luke.”

“Is he still using little pieces of banana to try and get her to crawl?” you ask with a mix between a chuckle and a sigh.

“This is what we get for not letting him adopt a pet, I guess. But, come on!”

Eddie turns and shuffles back down the hall toward Eliza’s room, far too much energy in his step for your exhausted body. You trail behind him, but he passes by the pink princess nursery and takes your daughter into your room. He stays standing near your dresser, but you pass by to go and take a seat on the bed.

“Ah! Before you sit down, can you hit play on the stereo?” Eddie asks.

You furrow your brow as you pivot in the direction of the stereo tucked in the corner.

“Did you find a new bedtime song for her?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie answers with a laugh. “Worked like a charm last night. I’m hoping it was more than a one-time thing because it was perfect.”

“Uh huh,” you hum as your finger hovers over the play button. It makes a soft clicking sound as you press it, then you turn around and give your full attention to Eliza in her father’s arms.

Ozzy’s maniacal laugh bursts forth from the speakers and you restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. It doesn’t surprise you in the least that your husband attempted to use Crazy Train as a lullaby when left alone with her.

To your surprise though, Eliza quickly becomes alert when she hears that laughter. Her back straightens and her neck is craned towards the stereo, as if she’s waiting for more.

“Awwh abwooooah!”

Eliza’s baby babbling may not have made quite the same sounds as Ozzy’s “All Aboard” call, but she had the tune and timing of it down pat.

Buh dun. Buh dun, buh dun, buh dun.

As the bass leads into the guitar, Eliza begins to thrash around in Eddie’s arms. She jumps and bounces as the song’s intro blends into the chorus. Eddie’s watching her with a proud and entertained grin on his face. His hold on her is secure, which is a good thing with all the bopping around she’s doing.

Eddie looks from her to you, and the two of you share an amused look. Eliza’s small head begins to shake back and forth, the short spiral curls whipping back and forth as she does. It’s the best headbanging attempt you’ve ever seen from a six-month-old.

About halfway through the song, Eliza’s movements begin to slow. Instead of full out throttling in her dad’s arms, she’s just weaving from side to side now. You can see as sleep catches her in its grip, her eyes becoming heavy and her moves turning into slow motion. By the time the song is playing its final notes, Eliza has her head smushed up against Eddie’s shoulder, eyes closed and small pink lips parted just slightly.

Once the song ends, you press the stop button so the next track doesn’t start. With a soft chuckle, you walk towards your husband and daughter.

“I’m impressed,” you admit.

“I finally have a heavy metal child,” Eddie says, which makes you chuckle again.

“She’s only six months, babe. Still plenty of time for me to turn her into a pop princess.”

“Don’t you threaten me,” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You press a kiss to his stubbled cheek and straighten the back of Eliza’s purple onesie that got twisted from all her moving about. Eddie gives a gentle kiss to the top of Eliza’s curls before heading to her room a few doors down. The sound of the shower running echoes through the hall as you follow Eddie into the nursery.

Slowly, Eddie lowers the baby into her crib, while you turn on her nightlight that’s shaped like a princess crown.

“Sleep tight, Ozzliza,” Eddie whispers.

You turn to your husband with an affronted face. As annoyed as the nickname makes you, it’s impossible not to laugh as you scold him.

“Never call our daughter that again, please.”

Eddie smirks and throws his arm over your shoulders as he leads you both to the door.

“As long as you never leave me again for a whole weekend,” he says.

“Deal.” You slip your arm around his small waist as you step into the hallway. “I can’t sleep without you, anyway.”

“Well, guess you’ll just have to sleep with me tonight.”

The double entendre is clear and, somehow, you don’t feel quite as exhausted as you did a few minutes ago.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWS #request

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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Can you please do part two of Pink Pastels? Thank you 🩷

I definitely can!!! I'm honestly such a sucker for dual povs I swear it's like my calling card, so this chapter is in Miguel's pov! Fun fact: the bf in this story is based off my best friend's college boyfriend who showed up high out of his mind to her place of work SEVERAL times (I obvi changed his name though bc I'm a nice person)

Pt 3

Pink Pastels Pt 2

Miguel searches through every database, has Lyla run your face, your name, every detail he can find about you, and yet you only seem to appear here, in this universe where he swoops in right as your universe’s Miguel dies.

No one notices the switch. Not even his coworkers at Alchemax. In fact, they seem to welcome his “new attitude,” and he finds himself with a raise within the first two months.

This universe is quiet, the other him died from a fluke, embarrassingly enough. But it was so random, so unpredictable, that no one questioned “his” survival. So, life goes on as it had before, how he had watched it go on before.

The old woman who lives next door and watches Gabi when he’s “called into work late,” smiles at him, praises him for working so hard for his daughter. Gabi wakes up in the morning to him, her father, like always, eats breakfast, strawberries, blueberries, and honey on her toast, scrambled eggs with cheese, tomatoes, peppers, and a glass of milk. Then he drops her off at school on his way to work.

The monitors beep at him, and he turns back towards them. Finally, it’s found you in his universe, the victim of a plane crash, years before Gabi would even be born. It’s a painless death. You were among those killed on impact. Gone in a moment, but as he watches you here, in this new universe where his daughter is happy and thriving, he realizes just how desperately he wished he would have found you before you ever set foot in that airport.

“She’s pretty.” Lyla says, leaning forward, a teasing smile on her face. “Looks like someone’s got the hots for teacher?”

“No.” He deadpans, though he can’t tear his eyes from you. You’re sitting in a Mexican restaurant giggling into your margarita, another woman—Janey—sits across from you shoveling chips and queso into her mouth, making you laugh even harder.

You’re in that pink dress from earlier. It brightens your skin, hugs your curves but in a modest way, it’s more than appropriate for a teacher to wear, but he’s salivating at the thought of his talons tearing through it and exposing the soft flesh beneath.

Would you cry out for him? Cling to him as he fucks you? You look so pretty in pink, and he wants to go slow, keep you in that color for as long as possible, but he knows himself better than that. The moment he’s able to, he’ll shred the garment, leaving ribbons of fabric in his wake as he bends you over the nearest piece of furniture and slams into you. He wants to feel your warmth around him, hear you begging for him, his name falling from your perfect lips as he gropes your breasts, fangs scraping down your throat, marking you as his.

You laugh again at something the waiter said, and it’s musical, and perfect, you are perfect.

A twinge of jealousy, a foolish thing he knows, but the thought passes through his mind. It should be him making you laugh. He’s studied you now, he knows exactly what makes you laugh, what songs you hum as you prepare your classroom for the day, how you keep colorful Band-Aids in your purse because you just can’t turn off being a teacher, Janey.

And you’re Gabi’s favorite teacher, he wasn’t lying when he told you she talked about you, though he may have added the pretty part. She goes on and on about you, to the point where he almost doesn’t need the cams, he can get every bit of information from his daughter.

“And then, Ms. Y/N told us about her trip to Disney World! She went with her boyfriend, but I don’t know why.” Gabi says, collecting the animal shaped macaroni on her fork. He let her pick dinner, feeling guilty that he didn’t know she’d cried over her lost tooth.

He feels guilty about snapping at you too. He was already worked up, his job, the multiverse, traffic. And last night he forgot all about the Tooth Fairy, so in the morning Gabi was afraid the Tooth Fairy didn’t like her. But you don’t get rewards for losing things once you’ve grown up, and the idea of Gabi going into that pain blindly, having to watch as those she loves disappears around her makes him want to rip his heart from his chest.

“What do you mean Mija?” He asks, his own forkful of mac and cheese halfway to his mouth.

How had he missed you having a boyfriend? Was it serious? Did he treat you well? How easy would it be to make him disappear?

“Well, Ms. Y/N was really happy when she was talking about her trip, but then when she mentioned her boyfriend, she got sad.” Gabi explains, a frown tugging at her lips. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah?” He prompts her, fighting the urge, to call up Lyla and have her run a search for your boyfriend.

“He came in one time on her birthday, but he was all weird and smelled bad.” Then she got up from the table and mimed stumbling and swaying. “And he walked like this. Ms. Y/N was really mad. Plus, he didn’t even bring her a present.”

Your boyfriend showed up to an elementary school—your place of work on your birthday, drunk, with no gift.

“That’s not nice, when was Ms. Y/N’s birthday?” If he was speaking to anyone but his daughter, he was sure they’d see right through them, but his sweet girl thought nothing of it.

“Last week, I wanted to tell you about it, but you were on your trip, so I told Tia Margo.”

Tia Margo, the old woman next door. He needs to speak with her about letting him know there was a drunk at his daughter’s school. Maybe next time he sees her in the hall, he’ll mention it to her.

“I wish you had told me, then maybe we could’ve gotten her a gift to make up for it.” He says, smiling at her, so she knows he’s not upset.

“I don’t think one gift would make it all better, she’s sad about her boyfriend a lot.” She emphasizes the last word, making the ending sound sharp as she stabs at her food.

“It sounds like he’s a bad boyfriend. Make sure you stay away from boys like him, Mija.” He can’t help but feel protective, even though she’s only six.

He watches as she eats, her hair in a simple braid, a sparkly pink hairband tying it off. “Who did your hair?”

She stops and proudly holds the braid up. “Ms. Y/N, well Emma did it first, but then it fell out when I did a cartwheel, so Ms. Y/N fixed it, and she said I could keep the hairband.”

If he focuses, he can smell the scent of you, mingled with the scent of his home, as if you’re already beside them in your rightful place.

“Maybe we should get her a thank-you gift?” He suggests, his heart warming at the excitement on Gabi’s face.

She is so good, so pure, and sweet. She is nothing like him, and yet she is everything he wished for her to be. He doesn’t know her mother, not in his original universe, but he knows her in this one, watched the other him break down over her leaving. Agony is a cannon event, no interference allowed. He hopes she never returns, that she stays away from his daughter. Doesn’t ruin her with her selfishness.

Just as your boyfriend is ruining you.

He waits until Gabi’s asleep to call out for Lyla. She appears and raises an eyebrow at the way he clutches your hairband.

“She has a boyfriend, find me everything you can on him.”

“I knew you had the hots for her.” Lyla laughs, disappearing before he can dismiss her.

He waits, packs Gabi’s lunch, slips two dollars under her pillow because he’ll be damned if his daughter believes some magical creature doesn’t like her, then cleans the kitchen and his bedroom three times over until finally Lyla returns.

“Okay, boss, you’re gonna want to sit down for this.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @aeryns--playground

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #the hots for teacher still makes me laugh #Miguel’s pastels #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine

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thesoulcakeduck · 6 months ago

Text

"That's a nice song," said young Sam, and Vimes remembered that he was hearing it for the first time.

"It's an old soldiers' song," he said.

"Really, sarge? But it's about angels."

Yes, thought Vimes, and it's amazing what bits those angels cause to rise up as the song progresses. It's a real soldiers' song: sentimental, with dirty bits.

"As I recall, they used to sing it after battles," he said. "I've seen old men cry when they sing it," he added.

"Why? It sounds cheerful."

They were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought Vimes. You'll learn. I know you will.

#terry pratchett #night watch #25th may #Glorious revolution #the glorious 25th of may

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thatfreshi · 1 year ago

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Possible request, one evening Astarion and Tav are cuddling, Astarion laying his head on their chest as Tav gently combs their fingers through his hair when they start softly singing an old elvish lullaby. Causing old and once thought dead memories to slowly come back to Astarion as he snuggles closer to them as he reminisces his past even shedding a few tears for the life he should of had and Tav is there to hold him and comfort him through it all

Recommended Song: Come Out and Play - Billie Eilish

It's well known between you and Astarion that he does not dwell on the past. After all, what's the point in grasping at something you can barely remember? Sure, he has glimpses of people, places, things, but they don't mean anything. If he tries hard enough, there are almost words to go along with the blurry faces, but nothing worth his while. You don't ask him much about those fuzzy thoughts, only when you're really truly curious.

One night, you're lying in bed after a 'family dinner' with your old companions, a little event you liked to put together every now and then. Astarion loves the attention, but it is in fact a little draining hosting your house, especially to your friends. The two of you are exhausted, and your sweet vampire nuzzles into your chest.

"I love them, but gods are they rowdy."

The two of you chuckle lightly.

"You know, I remember I said I thought domestic life would be boring, but perhaps I was wrong. Seems much better in our little world. Much calmer."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten us into any more trouble yet. No stray crimes I'm unaware of?"

He doesn't answer for a moment.

"No... except for that necklace I got you the other day."

You feel the muscles in his face move, assuming he has some mischievous smirk across his lips.

"Oh Aster, whatever will I do with you?"

Your hand makes its way into his hair, slowly moving through delicate curls.

"Love me for who I am and never ask me to change, ever?"

You sigh.

"I suppose."

Sugar-coated words, soft hands, empty minds. Your mind wanders, the tired feeling merciless. The cozy, exhausted feeling reminds you of a song, and you begin to sing softly. At first, it's nothing but melodic little words, until you get a little further in. Something clicks in Astarion's head, something strange.

It's sunny, he's out on the docks, sitting next to an older woman. She's humming the song, and the two of them are just staring out at the water. He's fidgeting with something in his hands, some kind of charm. The sun is beating down on the two of them, but neither seems to mind. The melody fades out, and the woman puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Come, time to go home darling."

As fast as it came, the memory is gone, and he sheds a couple silent tears. You realize his breathing has quickened.

"You alright my love?"

"What... what's that song?"

You have to think on his question, unsure really where you'd first heard it.

"I don't know. My parents knew it, and I guess I just picked it up. They'd sing it during peaceful moments. I guess I do too. Why?"

"It brought back something. I think- I think I saw my mother."

Even uttering the words makes the tears fall faster. He's never had a vision of the past like that, nothing so substantial.

"Was it nice?"

He tries to catch his breath.

"Yes. It was."

"You want to talk about it?"

The emotions are confusing. Astarion can't figure out if he's happy, sad, or just shocked.

"We were just watching the water, and then she told me it was time to go. She called me darling..."

He continues to cry into your chest, and you just hold him.

"I guess you know where you get it from now."

A small smile takes over his lips.

"You're right. I guess I do."

That smile is quickly erased by guilt.

"Do- do you think she's still out there? Wondering what happened to her son?"

You frown, knowing he wants to hear the truth, but knowing it might hurt.

"I think any good mother would still wonder. Especially with a son like you."

His grip in your side tightens, as if he's afraid of something.

"Is it bad to say it's easier to think she's already dead? That she doesn't have to wonder anymore?"

"No, not at all. You can feel however you need to about it my love. I imagine with how long elves live, it would be a long time wondering."

He lightly laughs.

"It is worse to say I think I'd be too scared to look for her?"

"No. But why would you be scared?"

"Because I wouldn't be her son anymore, not the one she knew. Just some vampiric freak."

You trail your hand softly across his back.

"You're not a freak Astarion."

"You're probably one of the only ones who'd say that my sweet."

The two of you are too exhausted at this point to have a full conversation, just sentences traded back and forth, words you don't fully remember. But you do know he thanked you the next morning, for bringing back such a pleasant memory.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #comfort #x reader

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

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If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #Robin Buckley #platonic stobin #steve and el #el just wants to help #Eddie’s doing his best not to freak out every other second #he’s trying yall #starambles

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 9 months ago

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hello seth! i don’t think my tumblr works with anon so i’ll just send it like this! i’m a huge fan of your writing and i absolutely adore it. whenever i am in the need for a good story and writing inspiration i go to your blog. so i was hoping if you could write a sally face fic! i haven’t seen too many on here and willing to write for m reader or ftm.

i like the thought of being with sally and just having time with him, soft domestic type stuff. then he starts asking you how you really feel about his face and you smile and take off his mask with permission and kiss him saying he’s beautiful and to not worry. you kiss him and hold him. he then sits up but keeps your lips locked and you begin to explore each other sexually but in a such intimate way you both are crying almost. if you want could be m reader but i would love a ftm reader! can we also have reader be bottom but still be guiding sally and affirming him. i know this is a big ask and you’re always working so hard so please take liberty with this ask! take what you want from it and remove what you don’t like. i just love you’re writing. take your time as well! writing can be draining sometimes and you really need to find that inspiration so i want to make sure you feel no pressure!

have a good day/night/evening!!<3

❝ I'll show you how we're supposed to feel (when we meet at Orion's belt) ❞

warnings: mentions of facial dysphoria, self-deprecating thoughts (Sal), unprotected sex, praise (a lot of it), minor hair pulling, creampies, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like cunt and boypussy are used)

masterlist ;

authors note: thank you so much for your kind words! hearing that you use my writing as writing inspiration made me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside oh lord 😭 you're too kind! This request was the softest one I've ever worked on, thank you so much for gracing me with the opportunity to write this~

*song on repeat: Orion's Belt by Sabrina Claudio / Baby Girl by SMNM

"Cold, cold, cold," Sal lifts his head from the couch. The sight of you rushing down the wooden stairs in nothing but a towel makes him lift himself to sit. "Fuck! Sal, you should put carpet in here!" Grinning, he leans forward and folds himself in half to stare at you furiously lifting the towel up to wrap around your shoulders instead.

"You hate carpet. B'sides, it'll get that weird moldy smell in here. I told you to get those fuzzy slippers," Gizmo meows in agreement from his corner of the couch. "Traitor!" you exclaim and he simply meows once again, lifting a leg to lick his stomach and Sal reaches over to give his head a good scratch.

"See? Even Gizmo agrees."

"Gizmo has in-built fuzzy socks. He has no say in this," your huffing and puffing simply makes Sal roll his eye, lifting Gizmo up to place the large cat right on his stomach while he props his head onto the armrest of the couch. Gizmo stretches out onto his torso, unbothered by the change in position while he presses his nose into Sal's chest and twists until he's nearly full on his back; the action makes Sal secure the old cat on him. His olive-toned arm loosely wrapped across Gizmo's purring body.

You're still rambling but it's all background noise to Sal. The sight of your bare legs and backside calls for his attention and despite how guilty he feels, he can't help but drag his sight all the way up to your — now — bare shoulders. The towel is now limply draped over the towel rack, and your muscles and bones are moving seamlessly underneath the fabric of your skin.

Everything about you can make him feel like he's going to explode. In a good way, if you can believe it. He sure as hell didn't. Sal remembers the first time he saw you, thinking you looked cool and that it was nice your interests lined with his. Somehow you managed to become more than that.

More always scared Sal. It was greedy and selfish. He wasn't religious but there was a sense of anxiety that came from wanting and needing more than you were given. Some sort of divine guilt was planted within him through passing by churches and reading the signs of worship plastered on billboards. Needing more is frightening, especially from other people.

More time spent with you two. More hours of listening to you speaking. More days spent with you in his home, bare skin and bare soul all for him and only him.

It frightened him!

Because, as self-centered as it sounds, he'd have to give you more. Don't take this the wrong way, he wants to — God, he wants to — but...but...

What if you don't like all that he has?

The fabric of his skin is spoiled. Marred. One of his eyes is artificial, his jaw asymmetrical, bone blown to bits, nose cut off and skin grafts stitched together and spliced.

His heart hammers in his chest, and his breathing is shaky as he squeezes Gizmo. The patch-furred critter mews, twisting once again and crawling up. His weight on Sal's chest is comforting. The pressure across it squeezed down on him, reminding his body that it was real and he was safe.

"In conclusion, I propose we buy a heater! That way we can — "

You're dressed in Sal's pajama pants, hands in the middle of pulling down the oversized band shirt when you notice Sal squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sal? Baby? What's wrong?" You sit by his legs, placing a hand on his knee and pressing your hands on it to ease him back down. "You're okay, baby. You're okay." It's not often Sal gets like this. You've known him ever since he came to Nockfell County; you know he's the type of person to withdraw within himself when his anxieties get the best of him. He's certainly gotten better with time and as your friendship — and eventual relationship — got stronger, the both of you worked on ways to lean on each other when things get tough.

Sal inhales deeply, Gizmo raising with the motion, and exhales. You don't pry more, giving him room to find the words and tether back to you. Gizmo's purrs muffle the silence.

"Sorry, just, the sight of your ass gave me a heart attack, Jesus," the joke is met with a loose grin but Sal knows you better than that. Still. He's grateful you snort at his jesting. Gizmo stands — Sal grimaces as he puts all his weight on his sternum — then walks over to your lap instead. The sight makes him calm down.

The faded grey of the once-black band shirt and his pajama pants do too. It's silly but the sight of you in everything that's his comforts a part of him. You're here. You're in love with him. Your gaze holds nothing but patience and adoration and a tinge of worry.

But you're here, in his clothes, in his room, his cat in your lap, and your hands on his body.

"You feeling better, Sal?" He nods, pushing to sit. "Do you wanna talk about it, baby?" Gizmo gives your chin one more bump before he jumps on the floor and meanders his way to his food bowl. Taking the chance, you inch closer to Sal and he's grateful for it.

You're not scared of the cold prosthetic on his face. The iron bolts that secure the straps to his face and head, the glass eye that shines humourlessly in any situation.

"Do you ever want...more from this? From me?" That line of questioning made your brows furrow and mouth frown. "What do you mean?" You reach for him and Sal reciprocates by holding your hand in his lap.

"I was joking about seducing Mr Smith from the electronics store for a heater," he scoffs at your lame joke but continues. "I don't mean that, I'll get us a heater. Just..."

"You've never seen...all of me." His grip loosens but you don't let it. "So?" he looks at you, his face angled low and the shape of his prosthesis mimics his brow bone. Sal is pinching his face, confused at your indignant tone.

"So?" He whispers. You lift his hand up, inching in closer and placing his knuckles over your clavicle.

"So?"

"Doesn't it freak you out? We've been together for so long and you've never seen my face," he murmurs. Since you're so close, speaking above a whisper would ruin this moment. Sal's heart is racing again though this time the anxiety is laced with his love for yours. It's a confusing emotion but he relishes the way you press your forehead to his, nose bumping with the bump on his prosthesis.

"Do you want me to see your face?" He inhales sharply, glancing away.

"...I do. But..."

"Mm?" you spread his fingers out, guiding them to your neck and the calloused pads of Sal's fingers make gooseflesh spread. The hairs on the back of your neck standing in applause; because that's what he does to you.

He makes your pupils expand, makes your heart race, makes your brain produce dopamine; your body lights up like a goddamn firework when he so much as looks your way. You can be yourself with him without fear because you know you do the same to him.

"...I've only ever let you kiss me when it's dark. The first time we had sex, I couldn't even take off the mask...I just...I'm..."

Your frown deepens when Sal sighs, his shoulders dropping.

"Be honest. Does it bother you?"

He's glad you don't reply immediately. A part of him always worries your love for him overtakes everything else. That, if something ever happens between the two of you and it tears you apart, you'll feel regret once the love is gone. You brush his hair behind his ear, cupping his jaw as you shake your head.

"No. It doesn't. Because it's you, Sal. I love you. Even the parts you aren't ready for me to see." He exhales and his breath escapes through the slits of his mouth. You feel it on your thumb and it makes you grin.

There's a twitch in his eye and your grin falters for a moment before it reappears when he locks eyes with you.

"...Do you want me to see your face, baby?"

His jaw is set. His tongue is made of lead. So Sal simply closes his eyes and gives you a minuscule nod. If it weren't for your hand on his jaw, you probably would've mistaken it for a twitch.

"Can I take off your prosthetic?"

Another nod.

"Are you sure, baby? I won't do it if you're not — "

"I'm sure." He says in one breath. "I'm sure."

A moment of silence was shared and you leaned forward to press your lips in the molding of his. The cool material does not pulse or pump with life but it's your Sal's and you cherish it deeply; he exhales shakily and you grin as your fingers dance through the locks of blue to find the straps that hold the prosthetic in place.

It's secure, it's meant to be, and you can feel the wear and tear of the years in the material. The scratches and indents weaved into every fiber. You unbuckle the lower end first and Sal tightens his hold on you, so you pause and press another kiss to his porcelain cheek.

When he nods, you continue, cupping the mask in one hand to steady it while you undo the upper buckle.

Sal would be statue-like if it weren't for the nervous tremors in his fingers. The mask loosens and its weight drops into your hand. His breath does not come through the slits anymore and you can feel it breeze through the fine hairs on your fingers.

He says nothing and neither do you. Still, you place one more kiss on the forehead of his prosthetic and lower it from view.

Sal has his eyes cast away, but he faces you. There's a large scar across the right side of his mouth, splitting his lips and exposing his teeth. There's a dent on the right side of his lower jaw that leaves his bone structure slightly unbalanced, and the cartilage of his nose is completely missing. The skin has healed, stretching his eye and tugging on the rest. It's pinkish still, never quite settling into the rest of his olive-toned skin, and Sal understands why it's jarring.

It's like peeling back the layers of what makes humans...humans.

The skin. The sight of his face makes people unnerved. Teeth and gums and muscles and the lack of a nose. One side of his face was a plain canvas and the other was a goddamn Jackson Pollock painting of horror.

Your touch on his bare skin shocks him. The pads of your fingers drag across his cheekbones. "Does it hurt?" You ask with your eyes lidded.

"No, no, it...it doesn't." You smile and your thumb rests just under his eyes, sweeping fondly while your palm holds his face preciously within your hand. There's a flush to his skin — it's not unusual with how the prosthetic held over his face nearly 24/7.

There's a feeling of nakedness that comes without the even pressure across his visage but your hands are an amazing substitute.

"You don't have to be nice," he says. "It takes a lot to get used to — "

"I know I can't completely convince you to not think of yourself as 'something to get used to' but you're not. Not to me." Sal's eye water and he wills himself to finally look at you.

There's a pinch to your brows, it makes your eyebrows cast this shadow across your eyes and highlight the colours of your eyes. You're frowning at his self-deprecation, though beyond that he can see you mean well.

"I would gladly sit on your face, Sal."

He scoffs, groaning as he slips away from your hand to toss his head back and flop right onto the couch again. "You're fuckin' impossible, (Y/N)," he mumbled as his hands covered his face. You place the prosthetic down on the makeshift coffee table near the couch and chuckle as you swing one leg over his hips and rest your crotch over his.

"What? I'm being honest here!" Bracing your weight on your elbows, Sal finds the comfort of your body across his similar to Gizmo's. "You're fucking beautiful," he squirms at that and you huff, nuzzling your face into his neck while he peeks from over his fingers.

"You don't have to say that," you huff once again. "I'm not saying that because I have to, I'm saying it because I want to. You're fucking beautiful, me being your boyfriend is just a coincidence."

He feels you shifting and instinctively, his hands rest on your hips and there he is again. You know you shouldn't stare, so you don't, but the shy glances at his face are less than secretive. His eyes are blue, cobalt almost, and his eyebrows are a darker shade of his hair. The shape of his eyes is rounded, with a deep crease and heavy eyelids just like his father's. Lifting your head, you gaze down at him and your hands are once again gingerly ghosting on his skin. This time, they're tracing his collarbones, feeling up the protruding muscle of his neck and halting at his jaw.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" He has a quirk. A lip twitch that he does when he's excited; you've been dating him for years and you're still finding out new things about your boyfriend. It makes your heart race and it only triples in speed when he nods. Hovering, the peak of your lips ghost his. He had always envied how you kiss his prosthetic. It was an extension of himself but he hated how badly he wanted to feel you on him.

They press to his and Sal slips his eyes closed. It's nothing more than a peck. Innocent, chaste. But then he's tightening his grip and pulling you in; tilting his head like he's always seen other people do and you're grinning into it. He knows because he can feel it.

He can feel it.

How your lips spread, the hint of teeth that slide over his bottom ones, and the crinkling of your nose that's brushing over his cheek.

"You taste so good, pretty boy," your words make his ears red. "I'm sure anything is better than kissing porcelain," he replies with a breathless tone, leaning forward again as if unwilling to part from you even if just to talk.

"No, don't disrespect yourself like that. What did we say about making those jokes." "Hah, I'll stop when you do."

Giggling, you're leaning in again. Sal wonders if kissing you is the only reason he's not completely in tears. The first time he'd accidentally showed Larry his face, he'd cried because Larry didn't look away from him. You taste tears on your lips and Sal curses softly as he tucks himself under your jaw, groaning. You shush him comfortingly, threading your fingers through his hair as he takes a few deep inhales.

"I love you." Those words are followed by more tears and you squeeze him again. "I love you, Sal," he nods against your — his — shirt. He can feel the grin you have from the crown of his head.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Because you did. Sal was the man you wanted to be with until the Earth decided to throw in the towel; it didn't matter how buried your love for each other would be, because when your bones are dug up, or his guitar, or the treasure trove of things you've called yours; in the future, when you whisper to those archeologists: "Do you know?" they'd nod and reply, "We know you loved him."

Sal has never felt love like this. One that felt overwhelming at first, the same way entering a body would be for the first time in your life, but once he embraced the feeling? It was so...fulfilling.

How lucky was he?

Sal pulls away to cup your face and he leans in. You meet him halfway.

The feeling of your breath, your heart thudding against his own chest, the pulse beating under his thumb as he holds your neck — Sal isn't sure if he'd ever get into heaven but he doubts it ever compares to you.

His jaw moves and your lips part as you press closer. Fuck, kissing him felt like drinking in sunlight. There's a freedom that follows it, leaves you floaty and blissful.

"I love you," he replies between the friction, teeth biting down on your lower lip if only to hear if you'd gasp. You do.

"I love you so fuckin' much, (Y/N)." There's a feverish desperation in his words. But it makes your heart swell. There's no doubt in his eye, nothing but the truth and the truth is he'd worship you.

You're kissing again. Eager to show him the explosions he sets off within you. Between desperate lip locking and messy tangles of tongues, his hands move down and up your — his —shirt.

Squeezing your sides as he drags his digits across your skin. It spreads fire across your planes, has your already uneven breath shuddering as he memorizes the shape of your body again.

There's a growing hardness between his legs. You can feel it — twitching below your crotch as he tilts his head and tastes the lust that perspires from your neck.

He's greedy with his mouth. How could he not be? Sal has been wanting to taste you the second he realised how badly he wished you were his.

"Fuck, Sal." You groan, chewing on your lower lip as he experiments with this unmarked territory. His tongue is warm, his teeth brushes over pumping arteries with an air of amusement; when he finds the sweet spot? The spot where your breath hitched as he kissed it?

Sal makes your blood vessels explode. It isn't enough that the hairs on your neck stand in attention because of him, or how your blood rushes to your head when he so much as looks your way. He's determined to show you he can worship you in more ways than one.

You're gripping onto his shirt and your hips grind down. The moan he lets out makes your cunt wetter than before.

"I need you," you tell him as he sinks his teeth in. Just to test it out, to see if you'd like it. You do. His back feels cold as you lift his shirt but he grips at your wrist, panting as he moves his head away so you can see him.

"Can I...Can I keep it on?" He already felt a touch too exposed. You nod, reassuring him with a chaste peck.

"I'm gonna take of my shirt. You've made me all warm," he smiles a bit too smugly. He's handsome that way. When he gets a bit cocky — it's a sure fire way to make your head dizzy with desire.

"My shirt," he mumbles.

But when your bare torso is revealed the sass is pushed away. Sal presses kisses on your chest, teasing your perk buds with his too-warm hands and relishing in the way you toss your head back when he takes one in his mouth.

"Sal, holy fuck." He kneads at your ass, making your hips move back and forth. Rocking your clothed cunt over his boner as he leaves hickeys and bitemarks.

Here is where I plant my love, he thinks as he feels your heart pound against your ribcage, here is proof that he's mine.

Your pants are pulled below your waist and Sal moves back, making you yelp at the loss of balance. One second you're over him and the next, you're both tumbling over the couch.

His hand cradles the back of your head, curling over you as much as he could when you crash. Thankfully, none of you knocked into the coffee table but the adrenaline of the short fall makes the both of you wide-eyed.

"Holy fuck!" You laugh breathlessly. He scans you for any injury but soon follows suit. "You okay?" His hair curtains your face from view as he descends to claim your lips again.

"I'm peachy, baby." Sal grunts as you tug at the waist band of his pants. "Don't stop..." and how could he say no to you when you look up at him like that?

Your hands invade underneath his shirt and Sal moans as you press your fingers lightly into his back, kneading at the tense muscles. "M'not gonna take it off. Just wanna feel you," you assure as you reach his shoulder blades. God, the feeling of your hands on his body made him feel so Holy.

Ironic in the grand scheme of things but it's not like Sal gave a damn.

It's your turn to mark him up. He often already is. But this time your lips latch onto the obvious places. Lifting yourself to sit, Sal is suddenly at your mercy as you lovingly bruise him up with your mouth.

Sal lifts himself off your crotch a bit, panting and moaning at your ministrations, and slips his hand down your pants. Your breath stutters as your boyfriend touches your core.

"Sal," you plead. "I know, baby. I know," Sal frowns when you whine. "What? What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're just..." You're breathing heavily as you stare up at him, nails lightly digging into his skin as your dick twitches against his palm.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sal."

That catches him completely off-guard. He hates how tears immediately burn at his waterline but regret doesn't come when they travel down his cheek. You're kissing him and the self-depriciation doesn't once rise. That snivelling, hissing, voice of doubt remains mute as you hold him.

"So fucking pretty," he slips his finger in as if attempting to distract you with pleasure. It makes you keen but you continue to sing praises for him as he pumps his digits in and out of you.

It's hard to move when you curl your arms over his back, hands peeking from the stretched out collar of his shirt. Forehead once again pressed to his.

"I can't — "

"You're all mine. My pretty boy is all mine." Blood should not rush so quickly to one's head. His chest is dusted in red, his shoulders, his ear, the apples of his cheek —

"You feel so good, Sal."

You allow him to push you back, splaying out onto the floor with your eyes lidded in want as he looked at you.

"...Shit, you're making my brain go all stupid," he grumbles — it sounds more like a whine. You lift your hips as he tugs your pants down and off. Sal gets between your legs and for a moment you think he's about to just slide in — which causes you a bit of concern considering how much meat he's packing between his legs — but then he lays on his stomach and your cock peeks straight up.

"I've watched a few pornos," he says with a grimace, "but — "

"I can guide you, Sal." He's looking up at you with those doe eyes and you chuckle as you brush some of his hair back. "You made me cum from grinding on your goddamn leg before. You've got this, Sex Grandmaster Sal."

"Really don't think mentioning Larry's marijuana induced rambling is setting the mood, babe," your giggle smooths out the furrowed brows he had. "Sorry, sorry."

Your cunt is making his mouth water. Sal presses his thumb on your cock and the sigh you let out eases his worries. His tongue on your dick has you inhaling deeply, slowly, back arching off the floor as he looks up at you.

He's overzealous but fuck does it make you wetter than you've ever been. Licking and sucking on your cock while he teases the opening of your cunt with his fingers. The hints of teeth makes your hips twist but he holds your hips down with muffled groans.

"Fuck, yes. You're doing so good, Sal. S'fuckin' good — holy shit, babe," the way your voice gets all pitchy makes him grin. Your slick on his tongue is making him want more, so he spreads your lips apart and sinks his tongue inside, it makes your grip onto his head, and Sal moans into you at the pinpricks of pain that follow.

Fingers accompanies his tongue and you're clamping your thighs around his head. It forces Sal's face into your cunt and the whole thing has him chuckling against you.

Pinning your thighs apart, Sal licks and swipes at the slick around his mouth and chin, catching his breath as he curses.

"Fucking Christ, does it feel that good?" You whine in retaliation. "You're the one going down on me of course I'm going fuckin' crazy. You get all whiny when I go down on you too — "

He curls a finger inside of you and you cut yourself off with a particularly loud moan. The floorboards above you creak and like a deer lifting its head as a branch snaps in the distance, another follows as whoever was in the living room heard the echoing cries of pleasure.

Sal slips another finger in and you cover your mouth, glaring at his handsome face petulantly. It falters as he stretches you out, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm that he occasionally breaks to curl his fingers up.

You're groaning and curling your toes, eyelids fluttering and squeezing shut as he jerks you off with his other hand. Loosening his jaw, Sal uses his spit to lube you up further. He had a thing for sloppy sex. You once joked he enjoyed the slick-and-slide of it all and he didn't deny it then and probably won't ever.

"Nuh - no, don't wanna cum yet, I wanna cum with you, baby," he slows his rhythm, staring at you as you lift yourself onto your hands and taste yourself on his lips.

"Want you inside me. Please, Sal, I'm beggin'"

"You don't have to. I've got you." He nods when you hold onto the waist of his pants. Pulling it down to his knees and let his cock spring out into the air. Fuck, it's a pretty dick.

It's fat and heavy. Thicker than longer, the girth always makes your toes curl. It's a darker colour compared to the rest of his skin tone, the mushroom tip a warmer shade that burns when you tease him too much. You motion for the couch and he leans against it, whispering your name as you hover over his cock.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he says as you pump his dick with your fist while you line it up to your cunt. "You're pretty fucking hot yourself, big dick," he struggles not to laugh in your face, shaking his head in 'disapproval' that's short-lived.

You sink down on the tip of his cock and Sal moans out your name, squeezing your hips. You shiver for a moment, willing your insides not to clench so excitedly when you've still got some ways to go.

"Shit, (Y/N). You're so fuckin' tight." You could not agree more. The more you go down on him, the more you're tempted to just squeeze him like a vice. Sal brings your face down to kiss him, very quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of it. It's no wonder teenagers made out in the hallways all the damn time.

Gravity helps you the rest of the way. When he's all the way inside of you, you part your lips, the way your eyebrows slope being felt on Sal's forehead as you clench around him.

"Fuuuuck, Sal" you're whimpering his name, arms wrapped around his neck as you look at him. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby."

He swallows thickly, reaching to push your hair away from your face as he gazes up.

"I love you, so fuckin' much. I love you, Sal," you're determined to make him turn into nothing but mush. He's certain of it. His insides felt like a field of flowers, all blooming at once, even if it didn't sense at all. There's an airy moan that escapes him as you squeeze your inner thighs, your hips move forward and Sal grips you like he's afraid you're just a figment of his imagination.

"I know, baby," he whispers back. "I love you, more than you can imagine."

A dopey grin appears on your face. "You think you can show me how much you love me, handsome?" He smiles and your heart feels like it's going to stop.

"I can do more than show you, pretty boy."

He turns you over on your side, not once pulling out. You hastily grab some couch pillows for the both of you before your descent onto the floor. It's cold but that's all the more reason to hold onto each other.

Once your head is on a pillow and you're on your back again, he drapes over you.

Another kiss. Another mischievous nibble. A sly dance of tongues.

Sal is pulling out, the drag of his dick makes you whimper, and thrusts back home. The action has your nails leaving welts on his back but it just reinvigorates him.

He's splitting you open and filling you up. Every thrust makes you see stars. You're unwilling to let him go if the legs wrapped around his waist are saying anything.

But Sal is growing flustered the more praises you tell him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck this pussy, this pussy's just for you."

"Fuck, you look so good, baby. On top of me, fucking me, shit — !"

"Oh, God, your cock is — yeah, right there! — you're in so deep, Sal -Ah!"

You're so fucking filthy.

He wants to hide his face in your neck but he doesn't wanna take his eyes off you. Eyes trailing where his lips and teeth had been, eyeing the sheen of sweat on you and your messed up hair.

The shower you just took had been in vain, huh?

"Fuh - fuck, I'm close," he warns, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovers above you.

"Yeah? Me — mff! — too. Cum inside, baby. Need to feel you — fuuuuck — dripping outta' me," he chuckles breathlessly at your words.

His hips are stuttering and he can see the way your brows are furrowing, angelic moan after angelic moan being knocked out of you. He gives your cock a rub and the way your back arches off the floor makes him hold his own orgasm back just so he can see you like this as clearly as he can take it in.

"Sal, oh fuck, baby!"

"I've got you, (Y/N)."

He chokes out a groan as he feels you clamping down on him, your cunt gripping onto him like it never wants him to let go. You gasp as he snatches your breath, messily making out with him as the aftershocks of your orgasm are barrelled through thanks to Sal's deep thrusts.

"Shit, shit, shit," you smile as he begins to lose his rhythm. Ignoring how sensitive your boypussy feels as he chases his end. "C'mon, baby, fill me up. Yeah, that's it."

He cums with one final thrust. The warmth of it floods your insides, earning pleasant shivers from you as you moan out his name. He's riding his orgasm out, pushing in and out of you shallowly as he catches his breath above you.

"Jesus, fuck..." You giggle at his words, chest rising and falling in rapid motions as your heart tries to calm down.

"That was, Christ, that was — " "Fucking amazing?"

He nods, falling on top of you as carefully as he can. You embrace him, humming as he kisses your neck while you rub his back. The both of you catch your breath, satisfied expressions etched on your faces.

When Sal moves, your eyes are already closed. He pulls out and you whimper at the loss, ignoring the way he stares at his own jizz dripping out of your cunt in favor of gazing at his face.

"We gotta take a shower all over again," he says, helping you sit up and accepting the hug you give him when you're righted.

"...Wanna do it all over again in the shower?" Your question earns a throaty chuckle. "Thought it was implied in my statement."

Another beat of comfortable silence is shared. Sal sighs, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

"I've got you, Sal."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #ftm reader #trans reader #sally face x reader #sally face x male reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x male reader

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zefly · 1 month ago

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My recap of the Paris gig 😗

_ I arrived at 9am for the queue, it was nice to finnaly see other Kaareelyt ^^ thanks to @duekko for the fanart !! And i got so many bracelet xD

_ The gig was in a bar and the staff let us in at, if i remember, 3pm ? So we were able to wait inside confortably ^^ that was really cool

_ We saw the K crew going back from their eiffel tower photoshoot (and at first i thought that Mr Bodyguard was followed by two children 😆 but it was Kä and Hä lol they are really tiny when they are with Mr Bodyguard lol)

_ We were able to see the songs and lights tests (i was a little bit scared because when Jukka tried his guitar i felt the windows shake 😆 i was like "will i survive the gig tonight ?" because i'm not used to loud music and flashlight ^^)

_ AND THEN KÄ AND HÄ WENT TO US WITH MR BODYGUARD AND JESSE AND TALK WITH US FOR LIKE 20MN !!! That was so surreal 😆 they were so kind and funny :3 Jere with his "You want drink ? Yes ? Vodka ? Ok 😃 !" and then he paid for all the drinks lol we were i think 20 or 25 at this moment ^^ and then we were served by Hä and Jesse ^^ nice nice nice

_ Jere asked us if it was our first gig so i was like "yeaaaah 😄 " and he said to me "i hope you'll like it 😊 " so i said "oh yes i will " xD

_ I don't remember all of the things we talked about but i have a little video of the moment ^^ Jere speak about "Pooland" lol and that he don't have the choice of the country for the tour :/ and he said that he was really happy to go again on small stage and to be able to spend some time with the fans (if i remember well lol) there was so many things that happen to him last year and it was exhausting for him because he didn't have time for himself etc etc i remember that Jesse shush him many time and it was funny xD it was like Jere said thing like "yeah i think we will sing two new songs tonight" and then Jesse shush him (i don't remember well lol). Someone asked if Erika will be there for the gig and he said "Erika who? lol i don't know her 😁" xD so the person said something like "what about Herika then?" and Jere was like "ahah yes yes Herika 😁" lol

_ Funny thing i just remembered: when Jere was talking with us there were an old lady who wanted to go the bathroom so she needed to pass in front of Jere and she was like "Time's up time's up!" And Jere was like "watafak 😅" that was really funny lol

_ And then finally the gig !! I was in the front row (Jukka side :3) and it was so perfect (nobody pushing others etc etc ! Really nice ^^) it was really impressive to finally hear Kä in live !! Like when i heard Jukka do his solo i was like "wooow ok that's... woow"! And i was really glad that i did'nt have any problem at all with the loud music and flashlights :D

_ I understand why you all want to see Jere on stage xD this guy knows what he's doing :o and the new songs are sooooo soooo cool !!! We had "Bananas" for the first time ^^. And "sex=money" is really a banger !!! Woow !!!

_ We got Paidaton riehuja !! And of course our dear Goddess Erika Vikman for Ruoska (OMG she is so awesome 😳)

_ Jere was soooo soooo happy i thought he was crying of happiness at the end of the gig :3 baby !! It's so great to see him happy like this ^^ he's living his best life !! At the end many of us makes semi-hearts with our hands and Jere makes the other half ☺️ (so i was touched a little by Jeresus 🫶)

_ When the gig finished we made some art on the tourbus :3 Jesse was like "wtf does that mean 🧐" because there were words in french eheh

_ i am soooo happy of this experience !!! I hope i can see Jere again on stage in the future :3

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #jere from vantaa #eurotour 2024 #paris gig

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sissylittlefeather · 10 months ago

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Baby, Let's Play House

A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this one. Like I was so excited to write this idea and then I'm not sure it turned out very well. I don't know. If you like it, let me know because my confidence is slipping. If you read it, thanks as always. You're the reason I do this!

Warning: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, infidelity, domestic violence (happens "off screen", Elvis is not violent), mentions of infertility

Word count: ~3.8k

And a little song inspiration for this one. (I know it's not the title song but it inspired the fic lol)

******

You've been on Audubon Drive for several years when the Presleys move in next door. They seem like nice people: a husband, wife, and young adult son. They wave and smile when appropriate and you go on about your daily life.

You don't have children, so it's just you and your husband in your home. You try to convince yourself that he's not a bad man, but when he has a few too many, he has a tendency to make that a hard argument. But what choice do you have? It's 1956 and divorce isn't something anyone goes into lightly. Honestly, you probably just need to toughen up and realize that this is what you signed on for when you married George. Still, some small part of you hopes that there may be more to life.

One day, you decide to take it upon yourself to help George with the chores. Maybe this will reduce his stress and allow him to be kinder to you. You bring the lawnmower out of the garage with the grand idea to mow the lawn on your own. There's only one problem: you've never used a lawnmower before. You go to battle with it for about twenty minutes before you're so frustrated you want to cry. Finally, you sit down in the grass next to it and try to gather yourself. You're just about ready to give up entirely when you hear him. You look up into his face from your place on the ground.

"Ma'am, can I help you at all?" It's the neighbor boy from next door. You say boy, but he's easily in his early twenties. He's a man.

"Oh, well, I'm just, no I'm fine." He sits down next to you on the grass.

"I'll be honest. You don't look fine. Are you sure I can't help?" For the first time, you get a really good look at him. He's impossibly handsome. The lines of his face are like a Greek god and his lips look like they're soft as marshmallows. He kind of takes your breath away, but you're hesitant to let him know that.

"Well. I've never used one of these things before." He chuckles.

"I suspected as much. Can I do it for you?"

"Oh, my husband..."

"Is he here?" He turns to look up at your house.

"No."

"Then why don'tcha let me help? I'll be done before you can shake a stick." He smiles and you almost melt.

"Alright. If you insist."

"I do. I'm Elvis. Elvis Presley." He reaches a hand out to shake yours.

"Y/n. Y/f/n y/l/n. Thank you, Elvis."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Y/l/n." He pops up off the ground and takes the lawnmower. He skillfully maneuvers it around the yard and you watch from the porch for a bit. Then, it occurs to you that you should do something to thank him. You run inside to make some lemonade. When you come back out, he's taken his shirt off and is almost finished. A thin, sheer coating of sweat covers his skin and something inside you jumps. You stand on the porch with your tray trying not to stare at him as his arm muscles flex with the movement of the lawnmower. At one point, he looks up at you and you look away quickly. When you risk a glance back in his direction, he's smiling the dimpled smile again. Eventually, he finishes and parks the lawnmower in front of the porch. He walks up the steps, wet with sweat, and takes the glass of lemonade that you offer him.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Please don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel like I'm a hundred years old."

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"That's not a very nice question to ask a lady."

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"I'm 33." He nods and smiles again.

"That's not old at all, honey." The switch from ma'am to honey is a subtle but deliberate one.

"How old are you?" He grins devilishly.

"Old enough." You feel your cheeks flush with his flirtatious answer. You're trying very hard not to notice how his tanned skin glistens in the sun. But the way he looks at you, like a puppy who hasn't eaten in a week, makes it hard to ignore how handsome he is. He looks out to your yard again.

"Looks like you need someone to sort out those flower beds. Can I come back this weekend?" You think to yourself that George wouldn't like it. But he's out of town for work this weekend and you do need help with the flower beds.

"Sure. Can you be here Saturday morning?"

"I can be here whenever you want, honey." He winks and hands you his empty glass. Then, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. "I'll see you on Saturday."

"I'll be waiting." You try to hide your cringe after you say it. What on earth made you say that?! But he takes it in stride, grinning widely.

"It can't come soon enough." He walks back across the yard to his home and goes inside. Your chest is heaving and it feels like you can't breathe. No one has made you feel like this in years.

******

George doesn't even notice that the yard is mowed before he leaves for his business trip. You're torn between being disappointed that he doesn't notice your efforts and relieved that you didn't have to tell him about having the neighbor help.

When Saturday rolls around, you wake up early to make yourself presentable. You catch yourself as you're about to dab on your expensive perfume and look at yourself in the mirror disapprovingly. Why are you trying so hard to impress this young man? You put the perfume down and walk out of the bathroom. But before you make it to the living room you go back and dab on the perfume and swipe on your favorite lipstick. Does it really hurt anything to look and smell nice? No. At least that's what you're going to tell yourself.

He shows up around 10am and knocks on your front door. The butterflies in your stomach are embarrassing and you take a deep breath before opening the door.

"Hi Mrs. Y/l/n!" He smiles brightly and you actively try to calm yourself down.

"Hi Elvis. Thank you again for doing this."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" You walk outside with him and show him what you want done with the flower beds.

"I know that's a lot of work. If you don't finish today, it's okay." You look at him and try not to bat your eyes.

"I'll just come back again." He winks and your stomach flip flops.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." You smile awkwardly and he nods. As you walk away, he calls after you.

"I don't mind if you watch." You turn back to him with a shocked expression on your face. "Kidding. Mostly."

His smirk causes a physical response between your legs and you turn and walk away from him as quickly as possible.

A couple of hours later, you peek through the blinds to check his progress. He's taken his shirt off again and you watch as he wipes his brow. You don't even notice you're biting your lower lip until he looks up at you in the window. He smiles mischievously and you realize you might be in trouble.

After another hour, he knocks on the door. You swallow deeply and open it.

"I think I've done all I can do today. Do you mind if I take a break in here? Maybe have some more lemonade?"

"Oh, of course!" He follows you to the kitchen where you fix him another glass of lemonade. When you hand it to him, your fingers touch and you almost drop it. He takes a long drink and then looks around your house.

"Your husband isn't here?"

"No, he's away for work."

"You have kids?"

"No, no kids."

"Hm." He drinks more from his glass and you take the opportunity to look at him again. His hair has fallen from its perfect, slicked back style and the front pieces hang in his face. You become keenly aware of the fact that you're alone in your house with him and he's half naked. Your imagination begins to run wild and you clear your throat to try to get it to stop.

"How do you like the neighborhood?"

"Oh, it's really nice. It's the best place we've ever lived." You nod and he tells you a little bit about the place they came from and how his music career has allowed him to get something nicer for his family.

When his glass is empty, he looks down at it and then back up at you.

"Would you like some more?"

"No, I'm alright Mrs. Y/l/n."

"You know, you can call me y/n."

"Okay then, y/n." He looks into your eyes for a minute before he takes a step closer to you where you stand leaning against the kitchen counter. You look up at him in anticipation and he reaches behind you to set his glass down. He gets painfully close to you when he does so, close enough for you to catch the scent of his natural musk mixed with some other manly smell. He's absolutely intoxicating.

"I should probably get out of here. Thanks for the lemonade." You nod.

"Of course."

"I'll come back to finish those flower beds sometime this week."

"Okay. That sounds good." You're so discombobulated that you don't even think about what might happen if he shows up when George is home. He's got you so distracted that you almost forget George exists. Then, before he leaves, he leans in and whispers in your ear.

"I like your perfume." As he backs away, his lips graze your cheek and a shiver runs through you. "I'll see you soon."

He turns to walk toward the door and your heart pounds so loud you're pretty sure he can hear it.

******

Thankfully, when he shows up on Wednesday to finish up the flower beds, George is at work. You answer the door and he stands on your porch eagerly.

"Thought I'd come finish those beds, if you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all. Thank you for coming back."

"Well, maybe I missed you." He smiles and your heart turns over in your chest.

"Elvis, you don't know me well enough to miss me."

"Maybe I'd like to know you better, then." He's surprisingly serious when he says it. You open the door for him to walk inside and then close it gently behind him.

"I have a husband." You practically whisper it to him and look down at your feet.

"I know that." He tips your chin up so that you're looking up at him. "You just seem so lonely."

"I am." Your eyes fill with tears as you look at each other. A single tear escapes and slides down your cheek. He catches it and wipes it away with his thumb. Slowly, he leans in and kisses your cheek where the tear was. Electricity runs through you and you're overwhelmed with the need for him to kiss you more. Seemingly reading your mind, he leans in again and presses his lips to yours softly. When he pulls back, his eyes flick between yours and then down to your mouth. You can tell he's about to kiss you again, so you look back down at your feet.

"Elvis, I can't."

"Is he good to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't!"

"Elvis, please." You look at him desperately and his heart breaks for you.

"Okay. I understand."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I'll just get to work on those flower beds."

"You really don't have to."

"Y/n, I want to. Please let me help you." Your heart is warmed by his kindness. He seems to genuinely care about your wellbeing.

"Thank you." He nods and smiles and heads out the front door to the yard.

While he works, you sit in the living room and sob. You're not used to a man who actually cares.

******

"What happened to the flower beds?" George stands at the window on Friday afternoon with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

"What do you mean?" You ask innocently, trying to figure out how to answer him.

"They're weeded and there's new flowers."

"Oh, well, I did it. Or rather, I had a friend do them."

"A friend? What friends do you have?" His tone is scathing. He loves to bring up how alone you are.

"The neighbor boy."

"The one with the sideburns and squirrel shoes?"

"Stop, George, he's nice."

"Oh? He's nice? How many times has he been over here?"

"Just a couple of times to help with the yard work." A sickening feeling settles in your stomach as his mouth twists.

"Why is he so keen to help you?"

"He's just a nice kid, George."

"I'll bet he's nice. Men usually are when you fuck them."

"George! I have not!"

"I'm sure, you little whore. You'd give it up to anyone who smiles at you right." You feel the angry tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"George, please stop." He walks towards you menacingly and you cower, trying to avoid him. You close your eyes and pray that he'll get his fill of hurting you quickly.

******

On Saturday morning, George leaves for another business trip and you lay in your bed crying. That's where you are when you hear the soft knock on your door. You don't answer it. But then you hear another knock and Elvis calls to you from the porch.

"Y/n! I know you're in there." You walk to the door and talk to him through it, refusing to open it.

"What do you want, Elvis?"

"I don't know, I just. I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your husband. He said something to me. Please let me in."

"What did he say?"

"He said 'she's all yours'. Now let me in. I have a bad feeling about this."

"No. Go home, Elvis. It's nothing."

"Alright, now I'm really coming in. You can open this door or I'm breaking it down."

"Elvis. Don't be ridiculous."

"Here I go! You better stay clear." You hear him back up like he's going to actually try to kick the door in, so you open it quickly.

"Stop!"

"There now that's... y/n..." He pushes his way into the room when he sees you, closing the door behind him. You stand and stare at each other. Then, he gently holds his hand up to your face, gingerly ghosting his thumb over the black and purple bruising on your eye.

"Did he do this to you?" His voice is strained and lower than you've ever heard it before.

"It doesn't matter."

"I'll kill him." You can feel the raging energy coming off of him in waves.

"Elvis, please." The desperation in your voice is the only thing that could calm him down.

"Did he do this because of me?" He practically whispers it. You look down at the floor. "Did he?!"

When he gets loud, you wince and move away from him out of habit.

"Oh, god, honey, I'm sorry." He softens again and wraps his arms around you. You don't hold back anymore, sobbing openly on his shoulder. He walks you to the couch and sits you down next to him, still holding you as you cry.

Eventually, you sit up and look into his face. He shakes his head when he sees your eye again.

"I know I'm ugly with this-" You put your hand up to cover it and he brings it back down.

"Stop. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I just wish I could've been here to protect you."

"Oh Elvis, it's not your-"

He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, his hand on the side of your neck. He pulls back a little and whispers, running his thumb gently across your cheek.

"He'll never hurt you again. Not as long as I live." Then he dives back in and kisses you deeply, parting your lips to let his tongue slide into your mouth. He kisses your cheek down to your neck and lays you down on the couch, situating himself beside you. You put your hands on his chest and melt into the closeness of his body. He might be young, but he's strong and for the first time in a long time you feel safe. His hand drifts up and down your back, finally settling on your hip, pulling you tight against him. His mouth finds yours again and your tongues dance against each other passionately.

You know you should stop him. You're married. But you don't. Instead, you let him reach behind you to the zipper on your dress.

"I'm going to take this off now, unless you say no." You're a little surprised at his confidence, but it's obvious he can tell how vulnerable you are. You nod yes and he slowly pulls the zipper down. Then, he sits up and uses both hands to pull your dress forward and down off of your body. He pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes, lying back down at your side. He rolls his hips into you and you feel his erection pressing against you. His hand slides up your body to your breast and he squeezes it lightly as he kisses your neck. You reach back and unclasp your bra, letting him pull it forward off of you. His mouth immediately goes to one of your nipples and he kisses and nibbles your chest affectionately. He slides his hand under your panties and teases your clit with his finger. Before too long, he slips a long finger into you and begins to pump it in and out. He adds a second finger and kisses your mouth again.

"Does that feel good, darlin'?" You moan softly and nod.

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Good. I just want to make you feel good, baby." He uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit and you whimper with pleasure.

"Oh, you like that?"

"Yes, don't stop!" He slows his fingers down and focuses instead on stimulating your sensitive bud. He drags his thumb over the top of it and moves faster and faster. He watches your body for cues and follows them to bring you the most pleasure. Your breathing picks up as you feel your climax approaching. He rubs a consistent pattern and your orgasm rushes toward you.

"Oh, God, Elvis, yes! Yes!" You cry out as you come hard on his hand. While you ride your body high, he goes back to pumping his fingers, crashing against your g-spot, and you come again, your release splashing out of you. Your legs shake as he pulls his hand away. He pulls your panties down and off and then stands up to remove his pants. They hit the floor and you're shocked to find that he isn't wearing underwear. His cock bounces free and the size of it takes your breath away. He climbs on top of you and aligns himself with your entrance, massaging your sensitive clit with his tip.

"Are you ready?" You look at him hovering above you and you can't believe this is your life. He's so beautiful and so kind. If you're not careful, you'll be in love with him. Finally, you whisper.

"Yes."

He nods and pushes into you, slowly sliding his cock inside. You moan softly as he fills you fully and you stretch around him.

"Oh fuck." He sighs and closes his eyes. You laugh a little at his reaction and he smiles, kissing your shoulder. Then, he picks up a steady pace of fucking into you.

"Is that good, honey?" He whispers in your ear as he pounds you.

"God, yes." You wrap your legs around his waist and he groans. He kisses your mouth with heavy tongue and slows his pace to long, deep strokes.

"Mmm, you feel so good, baby. I could do this forever." A big part of you wishes he would. "But I'm gonna come soon, darlin'. Where should I-?"

"You don't have to stop. I'm not... there won't be a baby." He stops momentarily and looks down into your face. You look away from him and he cups your chin and turns you back to look at him. He kisses your mouth, your cheek, and then your forehead.

"Okay, honey." You never thought you'd find a silver lining to your situation, but here it is. He rolls you on your side to face him with your leg over his hip and begins to pump in and out of you again slowly. Something changes slightly in the way he fucks you. He was gentle and deliberate from the beginning, but now he's even more affectionate, sweetly peppering you with kisses and running his hand over you gingerly. It dawns on you that you've gone from having sex to making love.

He moves his hand down to your hip and holds you tightly as he increases speed.

"Mmm. Baby. It's so good." He rolls his hips into you over and over as his climax approaches. His cock slides in and out quickly and he kisses your mouth one last time before he slams into you and shudders, filling you with warmth. He presses his forehead to yours and breathes heavily. "That was amazing."

You nod and kiss him softly on the lips. He rolls onto his back and rearranges you to lay on his chest. For a young man, he has no problem taking charge and you feel more and more comfortable in his arms. You spend the next few hours in this position, talking about anything and everything. When the sun starts to get low in the sky, he looks out the window.

"Do I need to leave?"

"It's up to you. George won't be home until Monday evening." You feel a lump form in your throat at the thought of spending the next few days alone.

"Then I'm staying. I have to leave on Monday to play a couple of shows, but I'll be back. I'll stay with you until I leave."

"Your parents won't worry about you?"

"I'm an adult. I'll call my mother and tell her I'm staying with a friend for a bit."

And he does. You spend the next two days together, laughing and talking and playing house. You've never been happier in your life. Neither of you thinks about what the future might hold for you. Instead, you revel in the time you have right now with each other. For the moment, you're happy, and no one can take that away from you.

******

Thoughts?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley smut #Spotify

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builtbybrokenbells · 6 months ago

Text

Melodic Memories | Track 1: Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, divorce, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, best friend fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Here we go!! I’m so excited to share this. this story is very near and dear to my heart as all of these songs are very special to me in one way or another. I will warn this is a bit of a slowburn, and there’s a lot of flashbacks/memories in the chapters to showcase the extent of the relationship between the characters. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 I can’t wait to hear what you guys think

I usually have a listen while reading section, and it’s mostly a suggestion, but it’s imperative that you listen to the song stated in the title at least before reading, as every chapter is directly related to each one. If that’s not your thing, at least give the lyrics a quick read over! Much love 🫶🏻

SIX YEARS LATER

“Holy fuck, you have a lot of stuff.” Your best friend let out a dramatic huff as she dropped an overflowing box to the ground. You looked back at her over your shoulder, letting out a small chuckle as she pushed her long hair away from her forehead. She was tired, that much was obvious, and so were you. Still, despite your aching bodies and worn down minds, the two of you persevered with faith that the end goal would be worth all of the suffering.

“So do you.” You reminded her, folding a t-shirt and setting it neatly atop a pile of clothes you had been focused on. “Don’t hear me complaining about it.”

“Yeah, as if.” She scoffed. You could hear the roll of her eyes in her tone, striking a small smile on your face as she took a step towards you. “All you do is complain.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it pisses you off.” You grinned, grabbing an old pair of jeans from the mound of clothes you pulled from your closet. You looked over the tired material, your lips turning down into a frown as you tossed them into a pile on the ground, knowing there was no sense in keeping them when they looked one wear away from disintegrating.

“I’m kidding, you know that.” She assured you, making it clear that she wasn’t truly as upset as her words seemed. She began moving another box from your bed to the hallway, huffing as she bargained with the weight of the item. She was stacking them outside your door to allow for some more space inside the already tiny room.

Despite the smallness and the outdated decor, it felt nice to be back, sleeping on the same comfortable mattress you’d grown so used to when you lived at home. In truth, the lack of space was mostly credited to your oversized bed; you had begged your mom for a king size, asking for it for every Christmas and birthday from the ages of ten to sixteen until she finally cracked and made the purchase. Turns out, it was a great purchase, because six years and a graduate degree later, you and your best friend were sharing it while you prepared to move into your own apartment a few towns over.

You had traveled to Mel’s hometown almost a month prior, tearing apart her childhood bedroom just the same as you were doing to your own. You packed boxes full of her belongings, spending some quality time with her parents while learning and laughing about the funniest of all her childhood stories. Just like her, her parents were fun, free spirited and more accepting than even you could comprehend. They took you in with open arms, extending their gratitude for loving their daughter so dearly while she was so far away from home.

In truth, the pleasure was all yours, because in your six years at university, you felt as though Mel was the reason that you not only survived, but flourished. The two of you clicked instantly when you met, finding each other during your first week of freshman year in an intro to classic literature class. You bonded over your mutual dislike for your monotone professor who had to make an effort to be so disinterested in her own syllabus, and from there, the rest was history.

“You know, I actually liked Jane Eyre before I took this class.” You muttered under your breath, casting a sideways glance at the girl sitting next to you.

Her dirty blonde hair hung over her face, her eyes focused on a piece of empty paper in an unused notebook as she clutched a black pen in her hand. Every time the professor would switch slides on her PowerPoint, she would jump to write something down, but stop once she realized that once again, the gray haired woman was spewing nothing of significance.

Her skin was sunkissed, like she had spent all summer on the beach (or in a tanning bed—who were you to judge?), and her clothes were cute, but comfortable. Her brown eyes flickered to meet yours, her head turning ever so slightly to give you a glimpse of her face through her thick locks of wavy hair. The warmth within them was familiar, like you had seen them before in someone else you loved so dearly. You swallowed hard, forcing the thought out of your head. You were nervous, yet still excited at the thought of making a new friend, wondering if your words held any value to her, or if she would tell you to shut up.

Since moving to town, you hadn’t found one person you clicked with. You met lots of rich boys who threw their money in your face in hopes of convincing you to sleep with them, and plenty of girls who turned their nose up at your jeans with holes in the knees. They all looked like they stepped out of a magazine, and you felt completely out of place as you tried to break free from your small town habits. You dressed the same as you did in senior year, barely understanding how to be a university student and definitely lacking in the fashion department. You wore makeup to parties, but never anywhere else, mostly because in the years prior, you never felt the need to impress anyone.

Your long term relationship in high school left you more than secure with yourself, happy if you were comfortable and confident without any external aids. Now that he wasn’t by your side, you realized just how dearly he loved you, because without a pristine outward appearance, all of the university-goers seemed to turn their heads as you walked by. You had yet to find anyone to make friends with, and definitely no romantic interests as you tried to mend the hole in your heart that formed when you left your boyfriend behind to start anew. You were lonely, and more importantly, desperate to find someone to talk to.

“UPenn, Ivy League with a 7% acceptance rate and an English program better than any of their competitors, if you survive it.” She cracked a small smile, keeping her voice hushed as she joined in on the joke. “Only place in the world you can pay 20k a year for someone to put you to sleep.” You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to swallow back the laugh stuck in your throat. You had sat beside the unnamed girl for your first three classes of the semester, but never found the courage to speak to her until that moment. She was the first person you had met that radiated a bit of life, something unique and alluring in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. More than that, when you looked at her, you felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. You were incredibly appreciative that she reciprocated any of your efforts at all.

“I think she put herself to sleep on Wednesday.” You confessed, recalling her slumped posture as she sat at her desk, waiting too long to engage in the group discussion after assigning an individual comprehension activity.

“Think she’s on her way there now, actually.” The girl nodded towards the front, suppressing a grin as she noticed the professor's drooping eyelids and extended bout of silence. The two of you shared a silent giggle, shaking shoulders and hurting bellies as you used all of your energy to silence yourselves in fear of getting caught. “I’m Mel, by the way.” She said, introducing herself after she calmed herself down.

“Y/N.” You replied, feeling better than you had in days. It felt nice to laugh, especially with someone who seemed to adorn the same sense of humour as your own. “Mel… is that short for Melanie? Or are you just ‘Mel’, cause that would be cool. Mysterious, even.”

“Neither, actually.” She chuckled, shifting in her seat so she was facing you a little better. “It’s short for ‘Mélange’, which is the stupidest fucking name I’ve ever heard.” She gave you a moment to digest the fact before explaining further, noticing your curious eyes as you held back another laugh. “My parents had me young, during their hippy-dippy era when they smoked too much weed and dressed like they were headed to Woodstock. Apparently it means ‘a mixture of dissimilar elements’, because I was made from different parts of them, or whatever. To me, it sounds like a really weird way of saying they had sex, and I really don’t think it meant that much to them back then. Probably just wanted to be the first to name their kid something, then realized how ridiculous it sounded so they had to come up with a story about it.”

“That’s… cool, though.” You stifled another laugh, finding her expression comedic as she rehashed the same story she used to explain her name every time someone asked.

“Yeah, cool unless it’s your own. Try growing up with that name and trying to survive the American public school system.” She shuddered at the thought, but a smile still lingered on her lips, telling you that she truly didn’t care that much anymore. “What about you? Your name short for anything, or are you just cool like that?”

From there, the title of best friends went without question. You did everything together, ranging from schoolwork to trips to the grocery store, hating the thought of being apart even while doing the most mundane tasks. You had made a pact to live together after graduation, unable to digest the idea of being apart when your university days ended, and you took the promise seriously. Since then, you did everything you could to ensure it happened, including travelling to her home state to pack up her shit so long as she promised to help you with yours. You both decided to go in the direction of teaching with your degrees, so you thought that if you lived together, you even had a shot of getting hired at the same school. Though, she seemed more keen on teaching younger students, and you leaned more towards high school.

There was lots still up in the air, especially without a solid job offer in line, but the two of you were determined to make it work, knowing that if you had each other, you could get through anything. Your mom was enough of a saint to house the two of you while you figured your shit out, and that’s what you were doing; packing, reminiscing, applying, and enjoying your life before things got too hectic again.

Despite it being manual labour, you quite enjoyed the experience of packing up your belongings, even though it did feel a bit melancholic at times. With every item you picked up, you were reminded of memories you’d shoved so far down that they were nearly forgotten. Although not all of them were the best, they were still important, and they showed you how far you had come when sometimes it felt like you made no progress at all. Mel was having a fantastic time for a whole different reason, finding your dramatic retelling of stories greatly comedic, and getting her first pick at the clothes you were planning on donating.

Being back at home with your family was different than it was all those years ago. Your mom, who had finally come to terms with the fact you were an adult, drank wine with you both in the evening as she got to know your best friend beyond what the surplus of FaceTime calls allowed over the years. You went on errands with her when you wanted to get away from packing, and enjoyed the things you once took for granted. Some nights, when she found herself a little too tipsy and reminiscent on the years that passed so quickly, she sat before you, weepy-eyed as she professed how proud she was of you. You felt like you were learning a whole new side of her, rather than the strict but loving one you knew all of that time ago. She was a woman who hurt and cried just as much as you did, who always put her kids first and held herself together when she was falling apart, just for the sake of being the rock in the house. You found yourself growing a whole new respect and a whole different kind of love for her, and you were grateful for the opportunity to see it.

Your younger sister, who was also staying at home for the summer, found herself hanging out in your room more often than not. There was much less arguments over who was spending more time in the bathroom, and no more mean words shared between the two of you that once flew so fast. In the early hours of the night, you finally had the chance to have the heart-to-hearts you missed out on when you were angry at each other over nothing important. She had grown up just as much as you had, and it almost pained you to see a woman standing in the shoes of the little girl you best knew her as.

Being in your hometown was different, and you had spent little time there since your studies began. Mostly for a few days during the holidays, and rarely any other time. When Mel pitched the idea of moving out of dorms and into an apartment, the visits grew much less frequent and when they did happen, it wasn’t usually for very long. You didn’t have many friends left in Frankenmuth, if any at all. The town was strange, a former village in which you had built a life that was now completely abandoned. Shops you used to love closed down for good and replaced with something new, old hideaways being changed into modern corporate hellscapes. Every year, there seemed to be new buildings lining the streets and different faces regularly appearing on sidewalks. It was home, for sure, but nowhere near as comfortable as it used to be. When you blundered around the town, you felt like a stranger visiting for the first time, learning everything all over again.

“Hey,” Mel caught your attention, pulling a cork board from your closet that had pictures tacked to the surface and small paper decorations in between. “Ms. Fishers sixth grade graduation!” She exclaimed, pointing to the banner of cardstock paper tacked to the top, the letters outlined with black sharpie and filled in with coloured marker. You laughed at the sight, realizing you hadn’t seen that board in years as you stepped towards her.

“That’s me!” You exclaimed, pointing to you standing in the mini-graduation gown at the very end of the front row. The class picture was sweet, but it made you wonder where everyone else in the class ended up. After all these years, were they nearing twenty five with no clue where they were headed, just like you? Or were they settled down with families, finding full time jobs and building lives with the people they loved?

The thought was saddening to you, making you realize how far away you were from getting to that point. A relationship was laughable, barely mentioning marriage and kids. In your six years of university, you had your fair share of hookups and flings, but never anything serious. You couldn’t seem to find anyone who you connected with further than physical attraction, and certainly nobody you would be willing to spend your life with. So far, the only compatible relationship for living was the girl standing next to you, and you were certain at some point, she would be ready to move on to something different.

“Look at this,” you stepped past her, grinning as you grabbed a cowboy hat from one of the handmade shelves at the top of your closet. Your dad, when he was still a good dad, made it for you so you could have some extra space. You placed the hat on your head, tilting it downwards over your face as you struck a pose. The dollar store gemstones you hot glued to the top glimmered under the light, making the sight even more ridiculous.

“What is that?” She asked, caught in a fit of laughter as she looked at the poorly decorated hat.

“I got really into spirit days at school.” You shrugged, tossing the hat in the pile of throwaway items.

“Loser.” She muttered, reaching for an old sports jacket suspended on a hanger. “Volleyball?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she read the words embroidered on the back.

“Yeah, tenth grade and never again. Coach was a bitch.” You explained, reaching for it to see if it still fit. As you made a move to slip it over your shoulders, you froze in place, knowing that even if it did fit, you would never wear it again. Instead, you threw it in the pile of clothes you were planning to drop off at the thrift store.

“Oh, cool!” You exclaimed, a shiny trophy catching your eye, hidden in the back corner of the top shelf. You brought it down, flashing it in her direction so she could read the gold panel.

“1st place…. Frankenmuth Middle School Relay?” She asked, unsure of what the award was for.

“Big race we used to do at the end of the year. Think the teachers got sick of lesson planning, so they brought us to the soccer field to do a bunch of activities. I was the fastest in the class that year.” You said, proud of the achievement as you placed it back upon the shelf.

“Is this a diary?” She asked, hauling an old leather bound book from a stack of papers and magazines.

“Yes,” you cackled, snatching it from her hands and flipping it open to a random page. “Let’s see… April 30th, 2010.” You cleared your throat for dramatic effects, beginning to read the entry aloud. “Today, in English class, Liam S. was totally checking me out. He’s definitely not the cutest guy in the class, but he’s funny, and he’s so nice. I hope he asks me to the spring dance, mom got me a new dress and everything!”

“And did Liam S. sweep you off your feet that night?” She asked, pulling her hands to her heart as she let out an airy sigh.

“No, but we did date.” You explained. “For three weeks, until I broke up with him for rating me too low on a hot or not list.”

“What!?” She exploded, her voice shrill as an echoing laugh boomed through the room.

“Yeah, apparently I only had the fourth best ass in the class.” You scoffed, quickly reading a little further into the book. You used to sit in your bedroom for hours at night, pouring your heart out on to the paper just for it to be forgotten in a mess of items in your room. “It’s funny, you know. I used to carry this thing with me everywhere, and I barely even remembered it existed.”

“Yeah, there was lots of stuff that I did the same thing with. Used to be a prized possession, now they just collect dust on a shelf somewhere.” She muttered, pulling out a large box sitting in the back corner. “And for the record, I bet you had the best ass out of anyone at that school.” She clarified, plopping the cardboard down on your mattress.

“No, I definitely didn’t.” You laughed, looking to the door as you heart a small pitter-patter of paws against the linoleum floor. The jingle of the bell around the collar signified your suspicions were correct, and when a fuzzy head peeked around the corner, you greeted him with excitement. “The man himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness!” You exclaimed, watching as the tubby black cat raised his tail and rubbed himself up against the doorframe. He let out a meow in response to your voice, happily trotting over to greet you.

“Don’t call him by his full name unless he does something wrong!” Mel scolded, reaching down to pick him up as he rubbed against her leg. “He won’t take us seriously if we use it all the time.” She plopped him down on the bed, the sound of his purring loud enough to reach both of your ears. He sniffed around the boxes a few times, nudging his face against the corner of the cardboard flaps to investigate the item taking up his place on the mattress.

“I don’t think he ever really takes us seriously, Mel.” You furrowed your brows together, looking from her to the small animal curiously meandering around the bed. “He gets treats and new toys every day, and we kiss him on the head after we scold him because we feel too bad about it.”

“Right, so don’t give away the last bit of power we have left.” She said, fixing the tag on his collar that somehow adorned his entire name in small print.

The cat was spoiled, loved so wholly and deeply by the two of you that sometimes you believed he was in charge. After a particularly rough exam week in your second last year of school, the two of you took a break from studying and took a walk downtown to clear your mind. You stopped at a coffee shop a few blocks away from your apartment building, where you found him, keeping content by playing with empty coffee cups in the nearby alleyway. Being two kindhearted people, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. Within two weeks, he had made himself at home in your apartment, and not long after that, in your hearts, too. He went with you on every adventure; his harness being on more often than not. He tagged along in every road trip, and neither of you ever thought once about leaving him behind as you moved across the country again.

He was a witty and clever little thing, always sneaking into places he shouldn’t be and never allowing himself to go unnoticed. The minute you stepped in a room, he was squeaking at you to pet him, and never did he allow either of you to sit alone on the couch. He took turns sleeping with the both of you, and was happier than ever now that you shared a bed and he didn’t have to pick.

And yes, his full name was The Man Himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Oftentimes, Ozz sufficed.

The cat actually went unnamed for quite some time after you brought him home. Neither of you seemed keen on the names being suggested, so for a while, he went by ‘Mr. Man.’ Or some odd arangement of classic terms of endearment that got stranger by the day. Then, when the two of you found yourselves a little too high off some weed you bought from an upperclassman, the name made its first appearance. You both took turns rambling ridiculous titles for him, until you took a leap of faith and rattled off the first thing you thought of when Crazy Train played from your Bluetooth speaker. The laughing was so intense it brought the both of you to tears, and from there, it seemed to stick.

Now, you couldn’t think of a better name to call him, even if it was a little ridiculous.

Careful not to disturb him, Mel reached forward into the box, lifting a few items from it. Ozz busied himself by chewing on the cardboard flap, not privy to the woman beside him at all. “What’s all this stuff?” She asked, looking over a few sheets of Monopoly money, a cracked mirror from the dollar store, and a deck of playing cards.

“That must be the stuff I cleared out of my locker in senior year.” You said, turning your head downwards and peeking inside. “Yeah, it definitely is.” You confirmed, pulling out a set of string lights with a battery pack attached. “It’s all junk, you can throw it out.” You dismissed it, ready to move on to something new.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking between you and the box with great hesitancy. You casted another sideways glance, your lips pursing together as you wondered if it was worth your time.

Something in your heart told you not to jump so fast, to think about it a moment longer before discarding the memories away so easily. You tried not to be a sentimental person, because you found that sentiments only seemed to hurt you rather than bring you comfort. You used to be that type of person, so many moons ago when life was simple and the most you had to worry about was a surplus of homework and no pocket change to spend. Now, you thought it was ridiculous, and you did everything you could to draw a line between memories and objects. Items could not hurt, just the same as they could not be happy. They were objects, inanimate and unable to mean more than what you made them to be.

But there was something about that fucking box, like it was fate for you to rediscover all the things that awaited you inside.

“Let’s go through it.” You said, changing your mind as your skin prickled with curiosity. The emotion that took hold was unfamiliar, confusing and unsettling when you thought about throwing it away. It washed over you so quickly that you couldn’t even think of anything else, and you wondered if you were the very thing psyching yourself up for nothing, or if there was a reason you felt such a pull to the old items inside.

You sat on the side of your bed, your hands landing on the very corners as you gripped at the soft sheets lining the mattress. As you did so, a twang of hurt filled your chest, passing almost as soon as it came. You blinked hard, your eyes wandering the room as you tried to comprehend the sudden change in yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your mind racing as you looked at the old chestnut dresser that stood next to the door, standing prominently against the crimson paint on the walls. The scene was so familiar, just like the melancholic emotion that came along with it. The hurt in your heart seemed right as you sat on the edge of your bed, but you didn’t know why.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, also noticing the shift in your demeanor. Your head snapped towards her, your eyes glossy with the feeling that plagued you, but you nodded your head and tried your hardest to snap yourself out of it.

“Yeah, just a nasty little bit of deja-vu, I think.” You breathed, your eyes wandering back to the empty door frame. Whatever your brain wanted you to remember was pertinent to you, but you couldn’t seem to put it together yet. You felt like you’d been in the exact position before, but you couldn’t place it.

“I get it,” she empathized, taking a seat next to you and placing the box on the floor in front of her. “It’s a lot seeing all of your old stuff, like a lifetime you’ve completely forgotten about.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, the sound airy and forced. “I haven’t thought about high school in so long that it kind of just seems like a different world, now. I kind of forced myself to stop thinking about it, because it hurt too bad, you know? And I guess after a while, I blocked it out completely.” She knew what you meant, because in the entire time you’d known her, you had been unreasonably stingy with stories from your high school days. Every time she mentioned it, you seemed to go to a different place entirely, like you were using all of your energy to ensure the memories wouldn’t resurface. She respected you enough not to ask, but it was impossible to run away from now that you were standing face to face with the very things you tried so hard to stay away from.

“We don’t have to go through this, if you don’t want to.” She assured you, watching your face as your eyes fluttered towards the box.

“I do and I don’t.” You tried your best to explain how you felt, hesitant to reach out and explore the items before you, but gutted at the prospect of throwing it in the trash. “I feel like I’ve grown so much and I’m so different, and I don’t need to see any of this stuff again, but there’s something telling me I have to look through it all, that if I don’t, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.” She bargained with your words before she responded, carefully considering all you had to say.

“Seems like you’re looking for something, but you don’t know what it is.” She offered the idea with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, finally harnessing enough courage to reach forward and sort through the mess of items.

Underneath a pile of loose papers, you found your old graduation cap. You held it in your hands, your fingers drifting over the silky, light blue fabric. You let your hand drift downward, running through the red threads of the tassel that dangled from the top. You placed it to the side, finding little comfort in the item at all. Below that lay a tattered AP Biology textbook, the front cover frayed and littered with marks from the students who used it before (and remembered to return it). There was an old pencil case stuffed to the brim with writing utensils and erasers. When you pulled it open, you found a folded up note from a fellow friend that was much too faded to read.

The more you pulled out, the stronger the tugging in your heart felt. Photographs of you and your old friends, bent and torn, floated loosely around the box. You took the time to study every one of them, saddened at how estranged you’d become from them. You didn’t talk to anyone from your hometown, and although you thought cutting contact was for the best, it only seemed to hurt as you recalled the sleepovers and adventures you engaged in with people who didn’t know you any longer. It all hurt.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, boxes packed and the lingering scent of your mother’s favourite lavender candle hanging thick in the air. The chestnut boards of the dresser that once stored your entire wardrobe, the tile underneath your feet, impossibly cold despite the summer heat radiating through the panel windows by your bedside. Reruns of Dr. Phil on the television downstairs, the hum of a song stuck in your head despite no tune playing at all.

You’ve been here, in this exact position, hurting over something with the same fervor as you felt in the moment. It was so far away. Why couldn’t you remember?

For once, six years after leaving the town, you were aching to remember the memories and the love that was contained within the walls of the home, but you couldn’t. You pushed it so far away that the life you once led in Michigan no longer felt like your own. It was hazy, fuzzy around the corners every time you tried to recollect a scene. The voices were warbled, echoing somewhere deep behind your eyes and not quite loud enough to reach your ears.

Why did you try so hard to forget? Why did you force it away so desperately?

Then, the world stopped.

No person beside you, no curious cat nudging your hand. Dr. Phil had gone silent, and the air wasn’t even filled with the sweet notes of vanilla laced in unison with lavender. The creaks and groans of the old house ceased to exist, and the mattress below you disintegrated to nothing. You were stuck, frozen in time, floating amidst a cloud of smoke that wouldn’t clear. Your lungs burned for air, your heart threatening to explode under the weight of emotion. Your mind was repeating the same thing over and over again, incessantly reminding you, forcing you to remember everything you had hidden away in hopes of closure.

Instead of your voice, it was his, saying the same words that were written in silver sharpie on the lid of the tiny, black shoebox.

So let’s make it last.

“Oh, god.” You wheezed out the words, feeling like you were suffocating from the plethora of pain encasing your body. In an instant, six years spent dedicated to forgetting suddenly dissolved into one, terrifying storm of reminiscing.

The box.

That’s why you couldn’t throw it away.

“What is wrong, Y/N?” Mel asked, urgent as if she’d already asked a hundred times.

Little to your knowledge, she had, but you were too busy listening to the sweet sound of Jake Kiszka’s voice, stored so pristinely in the deepest depths of your mind.

“The shoebox.” You squeaked, raising a shaky finger to point her attention towards the poorly painted over Vans logo.

“So, what? What is it?”

What is it? It was everything.

It was a box full of love, sealed so long ago and hidden away for safekeeping when you couldn’t part from the physical reminders of the boy who forever had your heart. It was years worth of memories, years worth of emotion you hadn’t let yourself feel since you locked it away.

“That should be everything, my love.” Your mom crooned, placing the last movie ticket stub inside the box and sending a sorrowful look your way. Your tear stained cheeks were too much for her to bear, but she loved you enough to stand witness to the biggest heartbreak of your life. She loved you enough to put her own hurt aside, just to ease yours, to alleviate you from being the one to close the book on the chapter that hurt you the most. “What do you want to do with it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” You drew in a shaky breath, holding in a wail that was begging to escape you.

It had been 110 days since you had broken up with Jake, since you left him with sad eyes and a heart that bled only for you standing in your driveway, the ghost of his last ‘I love you’ still on his lips. It had been 110 days of the most gut wrenching, exhausting, and excruciating pain you had ever felt.

The snow stuck to the ground, the frost nipping at your nose when you stepped outside, and the Christmas tree standing tall in your living room told you that the season had passed and the world was still turning, but you felt stuck in that sticky summer day in August, tears on your cheeks and love on the tip of your tongue as you spent your last night with him. It was the first time you’d been home since then, the first time stepping foot in your bedroom after creating your most haunting memory within it.

You knew you needed to get over him, but you did not know how.

How do you move on from someone who loved you so completely and wholly? How do you stop lamenting about better days that have since passed and will never return? How do you keep going, knowing you would never hold his hand again, feel his touch, or appreciate the sweetness of his kiss? How could you move on when you did not hate him? When his memory still existed in your mind and he was still that perfect person?

The memory of him lived within the walls of your house still, his shampoo still lingering on your pillowcase and his love still in the air. The reminders of your relationship existed in every corner of your bedroom, on the walls, in picture frames, and in the threads of your sheets and blankets. Even now, with the pictures and love notes and dried flowers contained in a single box, you had no idea how to get him out of your head.

“Wait,” you sniffled, watching your mom begin to close the top of the box. You couldn’t stand to do it yourself. You tumbled down the stairs, a mess of tears on your face and a pain in your heart growing larger by the second, begging her to help you gut the last remaining proof of your relationship from the walls. “There’s one more thing.” You confessed, reaching down into your book bag.

For 110 days, you kept it so close, carrying it with you wherever you went and playing it through the disc drive in your laptop every night to fall asleep. Now, you knew that you would never be able to move on, especially not if you continued to hold on to the memory so tightly.

With an unsteady hand and a heaving chest, you handed her the plastic CD case. Her eyes traveled over the faded writing on the disk itself, and her heart ached for you. Slowly, she placed it underneath the rest of the items, hiding it from sight to make it easier on you.

“I’m gonna keep this, and I’ll put it somewhere safe, lovebug.” She said, finally closing the top to the shoebox and sealing the memories inside forevermore. “Why don’t you go take a nice bath? I’ve got a bottle of wine downstairs with your name on it, but only this time.” She offered, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out and do something, all three of us. That sound good?”

Of course she understood; five years ago, she sat in her bedroom, hurting just the same over a man who left her without a second thought. Who left all of you without a second thought. The only true healer was time, and right now, time was not your friend. You could lean on her, ask her for help, hold her hand, because she knew how you felt, and she’d felt that way many times before you even knew what it meant.

“That sounds good.” You breathed, closing your eyes and squeezing out the last of the tears brimming the lids.

“I’ll change your sheets for you, too.” She said, standing with the box clutched tightly in her hand. “It hurts right now, my love, but it won’t feel this way forever. I promise.”

It won’t feel this way forever.

Oh how wrong she was, even if the truth didn’t come in the way she meant it.

It did hurt forever, but it was not constant.

Four years it’s been since his name crossed your mind, four years of sleeping soundly and four years free of regret that plagued you so viciously. You were so tired of hurting that you forced yourself to forget; you erased every memory of him from your brain with the help of alcohol and meaningless hookups. You went home with a new guy every night, promising yourself that with new hands on you, you would forget the feeling of his. You buried yourself in school, studying so intently and for so long that your eyes crossed and you had a constant migraine. You deleted him and his family off every social platform, because despite going no contact that first ever week at university, you still stayed up at night, torturing yourself as you scrolled through Instagram and Facebook. You deleted every picture you ever took of him, knowing that if the temptation was there, you would submit to it. Worst of all, you vowed to never speak his name again, just so you could forget how good it felt rolling off your tongue.

You purged him from your life entirely, and it worked so well that he hadn’t been a passing thought in your mind in years. It was not because you hated him, not because you wanted to forget him. You did it out of necessity, knowing that every time you reminisced on the beautiful memories you made with him, it took a little more of your soul. For nearly two years, Jake Kiszka plagued every thought you ever had. You abstained from relationships and romance as a whole, because you knew nobody would ever be able to replace him. You needed to forget him, or else it would have killed you. You loved Jake so utterly and completely, even two years after you broke up, even after never speaking his name again, that it forced you to drown his memory. Every time you thought of him, you forced yourself to think of something else. Every time his face was pictured, perfect in your mind, you made yourself look at something else.

After so long, it became a habit, and now, it was a way of life.

But, even so, as you stared down at the silver writing, you knew deep in your heart that no matter how much forgetting you did, you never stopped loving.

“—earth to Y/N!” A hand waved in front of your face, breaking your staring contest with the Vans box decorated in silver sharpie. You could remember writing it, the sobs that shook your shoulders and the aching of your heart. The shakiness of the letters retold the story as clear as day.

After six years, you were still hopelessly in love with Jake, and one fear you always had remained true; nobody in the entire world could compare to him, and nobody else ever loved you in the same way he did.

Not that you let them, and not that they tried.

So let’s make it last.

How, after so long of refusing to think of the man, did he still have such a drastic effect on you? How were you still so caught up on someone you fell for when you were fifteen?

Out of all the questions, that one seemed the easiest to answer; you were still pining for him, because every version of you after fifteen loved him more than the last.

“Christ, you’re scaring me.” Mel tried again, her hand landing on your shoulder in a desperate attempt to pull your attention back to her. Your head finally snapped in her direction, your lungs searing from the lack of oxygen as you drew in a long overdue breath. “Are you okay?” She was panicked, her eyes wide and her expression coated with her fear. Never once had she seen you in such a state, and she was clueless as to why you were taken from her so quickly.

“I…” you trailed off, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. It felt like a million memories were washing over you at once, stuck in an endless stream of thoughts that you forced yourself to ignore for so long. “That box.” You finally huffed out, your eyes shining with the same heartbreak you felt all of those years ago. Time did not change the intensity in which you hurt over losing him, even if you convinced yourself that it did.

“What about that box?” She asked, trying to pry it out of you. It was a rough subject, not only because it was hurting you so badly, but because aside from your mother, you had never spoken a word about Jake to anyone.

She was your best friend, your partner in crime and everything good in the world, but this was a heartache she had not touched, yet. It was one you stored so deep down that not even you touched it anymore, and in order to answer the question, you would have to tell her everything.

“What isn’t in that box?” Your rhetoric was full of refrain, like the words fought a daunting battle to even pass through your mouth. Your heartbeat was so strong that you could feel it surging through your entire body, under your skin and behind your eyes, all the way to the very tips of your toes. Your face was burning, your throat dry and your eyes sad as you finally reached forward. Your fingers grazed over the surface, collecting a layer of dust as they traced the words. “My whole life is in this box, Mel. The very reason my heart beats.” You whispered, picking it up and placing it in your lap.

“I don’t like it when you get poetic.” She let out a nervous laugh, looking between your face and the item in your hands as she awaited further explanation.

“I don’t know if I can explain it without showing you.” You admitted, your finger gently running over the lip of the cardboard where the cover sat flush with the rest.

“If it’s so important, how did you forget about it? And more importantly, why have I never heard of it?” She asked, trying to make sense of it all. You couldn’t blame her for being so confused—in all of the time you’ve known her, this was the only thing you had ever kept from her.

“You know when something hurts so much that it feels impossible to survive? Like if you don’t stop thinking about it, it will be the only thing you ever think about?” You began, your eyes fluttering closed as a sad smile crossed your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” She replied, her tone softening as she realized the seriousness of the situation.

“This is one of those things. It was the most beautiful part of my whole life, but now that it’s gone, it’s horrible to remember. It took me two years to get over it, and even then, I never really did. I just got better at bottling it up and ignoring it, and eventually, it became a habit. This hurt so bad that I had to forget about it, because if I didn’t, I would have spent the rest of my life stuck in it, rather than making something new for myself.”

“Ooookayy.” She drew the word out for dramatic effect, her humorous tone usually uplifting you in times of crisis, but not even this time could it begin to ease the feeling of hurt in your heart.

With a breath of courage you did not have, you flipped open the lid. You did not look inside straight away, instead finding yourself staring at the empty section of wall between your door and your dresser, remembering the sight that was there so long ago. Jake, teary-eyed with flowers from his backyard and a CD he’d worked so hard to make, clad in a sweater that he wore only because you bought it for him. You wondered what he looked like now, if he’d recognize you if he stood before you again. You smiled gently to yourself as you recollected the softness of his features, the warmth in his dark eyes, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Where was he, now? Was he halfway across the world, living his dream and playing guitar on stage every night? He used to talk about it so often that you thought it would be a shame if he let that passion go to waste. Was Josh alongside him, still annoying him beyond belief and loving him in a way only a twin brother could? Was his hair long, flowing past his shoulders and cascading down his back, just like he told you he wanted it to? Was his smile the same, toothy and goofy enough to make you fall in love at the first glance?

There were so many things you wanted to know, gutted that Jake existed in the world somewhere and you were not a witness to the light he added to it. You were in agony knowing that there wasn’t just one, but so many versions of him you never got to know, just the same as he never got to experience the many different versions of you. You hated yourself for never reaching out, for locking up that part of your heart and throwing it away, but you had to. It was necessary for survival, and you didn’t want to lose yourself to a stranger who might not even be the boy you once loved so desperately.

Then again, a small part of you knew that no matter how strange Jake would be to you now, he would still be just as lovable and just as beautiful.

Your heart ached at the thought of him being grown, now, likely wrapped up in someone else’s arms who could love him more than you could at the time. Back then, you thought that letting him go was the best way to show how much you loved him, but six years later, you understood he was the type of person you never should have let slip through your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought of you, or if he went through the same turmoil that caused you to shut out his memory completely. You swallowed down the lump in your throat when you realized he likely didn’t, because Jake was always much too grand to be caught up on someone as mediocre as you.

Forcing yourself out of the maddening thoughts, your eyes trailed down to the items inside the box. Carefully, you picked out a pile of movie tickets, sifting through them and trying not to get stuck in every memory of every theater date the two of you had.

“In high school, I met a boy who turned my whole world upside down.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as you passed the tickets to Mel. “He was everything anyone could ever want. He was the type of person that made it impossible not to love him.” You explained, feeling the scratch of tears in your throat as you grabbed a ziplock bag full of dried wildflowers and petals from bouquets. “He was a real romantic, always buying flowers and writing love notes. He walked with me to school before he got his license, and drove me as soon as he did. He was my best friend, and unfortunately, probably the best love of my entire life.”

“What was his name, love?” Mel asked, taking the bag of flowers from your hand so you could continue the walk down memory lane.

“Jacob,” the name felt like gold on your tongue, the taste sweet and the warmth otherworldly. “I called him Jake.” You pulled out a torn journal page, folded neatly and begging to be read. Carefully, you opened it up, letting your eyes drift over the familiar scrawl of his messy handwriting. “We dated for three years. Liam S. had nothing on him, and I met Jake not long after the hot or not debacle.” You laughed quietly, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you realized how happy you were that Liam turned out to be an asshole. Because of his childish behavior, the best years of your life happened. “I’ve never been so thankful to have my heart broken by someone, because if I stayed with Liam, I never would have met Jake. I was skipping class one day because I couldn’t stand the thought of being near Liam after that god awful list, and I ran into Jake, skipping because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in History class. Was fate, I guess. We were inseparable after that.”

You took a moment, swallowing back the pain and blinking away tears as you pulled note after note from the box, each one more painful than the last. There were doodles, stick figures of the two of you holding hands, and hearts dancing around your heads. Jake always had a special way of expressing his love, and he did it in every way he could. It was always lighthearted, never too serious but always fully expressing the tellings of his heart. He wrote you love notes because he wasn’t good at saying it aloud, and he drew terrible pictures when words failed him. At the end of the day, he was a teenage boy, but he was so much better than the rest of them.

“We did everything together. So many days spent at the lake, and so many nights spent talking in this bed. We used to sneak out on the roof and look at the stars every night, because there’s a ledge on the attic window that makes it easy to get up there. He listened and never made me feel stupid, and he loved me so much that I never had to question it. He used to drive my sister to her basketball practices when mom was at work, and he’d sit with me the whole time, happy to do it. He was quiet, but everything he said was worth listening to. He was funny, and so kind. The biggest heart I’ve ever seen on anyone.” You felt yourself choke up, the surplus of emotion becoming too much for you to hold back.

“What happened?”

“Life did.” You responded, simple enough as you continued to sort through the box. There were tickets to school sports games, tokens from the local arcade, and all of the guitar picks that fell from his pocket into your bed. There were unopened ring pops, because he’d buy you one at the corner store every time you stopped, forever promising that it would be a real ring someday. Your entire relationship was in the box, staring you in the face with a ferocious grin as you recounted the mistakes you made. “Him and I were always different. He had a dream of being in a band. He hated school and everything that came along with it. He played soccer, he loved to have fun, and he smoked cigarettes. He wouldn’t listen no matter how many times I told him it was bad for him. I loved school, I was good at it, and I wanted to go to the best university I could get into. I didn’t drink all that much, and I stayed in more often than not. For three years, it never phased us, and we loved each other no matter how different we were. It still seemed right.”

“Until it wasn’t?”

“Not even then.” You chuckled, pulling out an old Polaroid picture.

As your eyes landed on the two of you, laying in the long grass in the field at the old park, you felt the knife twist in your stomach. He was smiling, the grin lighting up his whole face as he held you in his arms. You were between his legs, your back against his chest and your arms atop his, wrapped around you. You were in his clothes, your hair falling over your face that was nearly washed out from the flash of the camera. You could remember the feeling like he was behind you now, the rattle of his chest as he laughed and the warmth of his body against yours. The deep amber of his cologne lingered in your nose, and the sweetness of his kiss still remained on your lips.

In that moment, you thanked God that Josh was there to take the picture. Even now, even after all the hurt, the memory was so precious to you and you wished so badly to be there one more time, just for a minute.

“We talked about it for a long time, what would happen when I left for school. I knew I was going far away, and he knew he was going to stay here. Maybe if I went to school closer, the outcome would have been different.” You shrugged, acting nonchalantly about one of the thoughts that often plagued your entire life. “We decided long distance wasn’t right for us. I didn’t want to hold him down, and he didn’t want to hold me back. We loved each other so much that we let each other go, believing it was for the best. I can’t speak for him, but for me, it was far from the best. It was the worst, actually.” You explained, looking at a few other Polaroids in the box. “We broke up the night before I went to school. Or the morning of, I guess.” You corrected yourself, your fingers going in search of the only thing you truly wanted to see.

“And that was it? You never talked to him again.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Never again ‘cept for a few days after I got there.” Your fingertips found the hard plastic case, pulling it out from the very bottom of the box. Origami flowers went flying, the ones you made for him but never had the chance to give him, and a few guitar picks fluttered to the floor. “That night, he gave me this.” You flashed it in her direction. She reached out, taking it from your hands so she could read the words written on the disk. “I remember exactly what he said, and it fucking killed me, Mel.”

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

You recounted the memory aloud, the quiver of sadness in your tone too loud to ignore. “For three months, I listened to this every night to go to sleep. I carried the CD with me everywhere I went, until I came home for Christmas and mom and I decided it was best that I put all of this stuff away. I was torturing myself, loving someone I couldn’t have. That’s why when I met you, I never wanted to leave your side. I was recovering from this, and I had nobody.”

“So he’s the reason you listened to that Pearl Jam song on repeat all of the time?” She asked, thinking back on the state you constantly found yourself in.

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding as a tear rolled down your cheek. “Black. That was the song.”

“Right, how could I forget?” She chuckled, humming the tune to herself. “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s…” she sang to herself, trailing off as she realized why the words spoke so loudly to you.

“Sky.” You finished, unable to leave it hanging. “But why can’t it be mine, right?” You forced a smile on your face, trying to joke, but both of you knew it was not funny to you.

“Why did you never tell me about him?” She asked, looking at you with sadness in her own eyes. She was grieving the love with you, like a true best friend would.

“Lots of reasons, I suppose.” You sniffled back another wave of tears, your voice now infiltrated with the sadness that once only ravished your heart. It was taking over again, like it did so long ago when you vowed to shut it out. “Guess I didn’t want to scare you away, and I didn’t really want to bring that memory to school with me. The dorm and the apartment walls, all of the buildings…. That sadness never touched that, you know? He was never there, his memory didn’t live in the place like it does here. I thought if I never talked about it, it would never hurt as bad there as it did here, that night.”

“But it did anyway.”

“It did.” You agreed, clearing your throat slightly. “For a really long time. I spent two years thinking of him, dreaming of him. I wanted him so bad, and it never went away with time like all of the Reddit forums said it would.” You laughed at your own stupidity, shaking your head at all the time you spent reading breakup advice from faceless strangers on the internet. “One day, I had to stop. I was my own worst enemy, listening to all the music we used to listen to together, living in the memories at night when I was alone in bed, picturing him beside me, holding my hand. I deleted him off all my social media, and his family, too. I erased all the pictures, and I drank and partied so much that I couldn’t think about anything, let alone him. I studied so much that I dreamt about Shakespeare, and every time I thought of his name, I shoved it so far to the back of my mind that I couldn’t possibly find it again. I forced myself to forget it all, to pretend it never happened so one day, I could believe it.”

“I told myself new memories would replace the old ones, and after a while they did. Christ, when we came here he wasn’t even a passing thought in my head, but I could feel this lingering sadness in the air, looming over my head all of the time. I didn’t get it until now, when I saw the box, and it all came back at once. I shoved it so far down that I tricked my brain into blocking it out, but when it’s in your face like that… it’s hard to keep it out.” You finished, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “That’s why you lost me for a while, I guess.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with this guy? Like, at all? You don’t know what he looks like, where he lives…?”

“Nothing.” You assured her. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s ignoring a problem so much that it ceases to exist.”

“But it does exist, and it still hurts.” She explained. “You don’t date, you don’t try to meet guys, you hate the idea of love, and this is why, Y/N. If it’s been six years and you still feel that way, maybe you should reach out.” She offered, looking over the CD once again.

“As if,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea. “He wouldn’t even remember me, Mel. It’s been so long, I’m sure he’s long moved past us. He’s the type of guy everyone loves, so I’m sure he’s found someone who treats him really well. He deserves that, not the girl from high school who broke his and her own heart.”

“Maybe we should just look at his instagram, just to see what he looks like?” She asked, pulling out her phone.

“No.” You said, reaching out and holding her phone down. “I don’t want to, Mel. I stopped keeping up with him for a reason. All it does is hurt me more.”

“Okay.” She conceded, placing her phone back on the bed. “Since we’re already sad, why don’t we listen to the music? Why don’t you tell me about the songs?”

“Nosy.” You snipped, but shot a playful smile her way.

“Obviously.” She huffed. “My best friend just told me about a boyfriend I’ve never heard of before, who is apparently the greatest love of her life. I want to know everything that I didn’t know I was missing.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, eyeing the messy handwriting on the surface of the disk. “I’d just be reopening old wounds. I don’t know if that’s what I should be doing while I’m trying to start my life.”

“Seems like they’re already open, Y/N.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Just one song?” You watched her face for a moment, your heart racing at the thought of playing that first track. At the same time, an overwhelming sense of calm washed over you at the idea, like an addict finally in reach of a fix. It had been so long since you let yourself enjoy the music that spoke his love for you, and the thought of hearing it again made your heart soar. It had been so long since you felt such an abundance of love like that, and you understood that it couldn’t hurt more than it already was.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed, carefully placing all the items back in the box. You sat it beside you on the bed, slowly standing to your feet. You grabbed the disk from her hand, navigating through the mess on the floor and plopping down in the computer chair nestled in the corner of your room. You hunched over; searching through the drawers of your desk until you exactly found what you were looking for. “A-ha.” You muttered to yourself, pulling out the old CD player and the speakers you had to go with it. The cords were tangled, wrapping around all of them and knitting together to make the task even more daunting for you. “I haven’t used this in years.” You said, your fingers carefully unraveling the tangled mess of the cords.

“Used it? Y/N, I haven’t even seen one since middle school.” You chuckled, plugging the player into the outlet on the wall beside you.

“I only ever used it to listen to this.” You clarified, wiping the dust from the surface with the bottom of your already dirty t-shirt. You popped the top open, carefully taking the disc from its holder and placing it inside. You shut it, trying to read the faded white print on the black surface to find the play button. Eventually, you hit start, and the air filled with a static silence, the whirring of the machine the only thing filling your ears.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes as you braced yourself for the impact of that first note. Your palms were clammy, your chest tight and your stomach swirling with nausea. Even as horrible as you felt, knowing what was to come, the feeling was comforting, familiar even. You felt it so many times, huddled in that exact chair with your knees pulled to your chest. You felt it in your dorm room, tears clouding your vision as you tried to hide yourself under the covers and disappear from the world. You knew this feeling better than anything else, and you had every scratch and pause on the track memorized so well that you could recite it in your sleep.

Even so, it didn’t seem to stop the wave of grief that washed over you when the first strum of the acoustic guitar filled the air.

You nearly doubled over in your seat, struck with an invisible force that was stronger than anything else. Your bones ached and your body felt heavy, your eyes aching as you squeezed them shut so tightly it made you see stars. The music that filled the room was quiet, but it felt like it was screaming at you, beating you down and berating you for being so foolish.

“Childhood living,

Is easy to do

The things you wanted

I bought them for you.”

Four years old, Barbie doll in hand and chocolate stains visible on your neon green shirt as you stood at the entryway of the kitchen. Your hair was wild, messy from a full day of playing outside. The summer air was sweeter than it had ever been, the color of the grass so prominent in your mind. Dandelion yellow stained your knees from kneeling on the abundant petals in the backyard. The clouds in the sky looked like cotton candy, and you pleaded with your mother to let you stay outside for just a moment longer.

Of course, she picked you up by the arms, scolding you with a smile as she told you that you wouldn’t be able to play if you were hungry. Dinner was waiting for you on the table, your favorite meal to top off the wondrous day of being completely carefree. For dessert, you split an ice cream sundae with your dad, doused in chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles. As your mom did the dishes, you watched a cartoon on the couch. When the sound of the water stopped and giggles filled the air, you couldn’t help but investigate, dreading missing out on a moment of fun.

When you peeked into the room, the kitchen table concealing you as you stood at perfect height, you did not see your mom hovering over the sink. Instead, you heard the static hum of the radio, the familiar song playing quietly. Your mother was in the middle of the room, dish towel still in her hand and a blinding smile on her face. Your father stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck. A smile that matched hers rested on his own lips as they swayed slowly, and he was singing her the lyrics as they passed through the speaker.

Although it was out of tune, off time, and nowhere near as good as Mick Jagger had sounded, it was perfect. To you and your mother, it was the best sound in the whole world, because when your dad sang it, it was full of love.

“Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can’t let you

Slide through my hands.”

Eight years old with your little sister by your side, the words passed through your fathers lips, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. He was tired, withdrawn, singing the song with refrain in his eyes as he watched the hand your mother was holding. The love has lessened, the tune a habit rather than a gift. Things were different, and you chalked it up to age. One day you were certain your father would sing it again, with the very same love in his eyes he used to have.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

The familiar song played through the closed door of your parents bedroom, but it was not framing a sweet moment. It had been on repeat for a day, now, and your father had left late the night before. Something deep in your soul told you he was not in there, nor was he singing it to her. Sometimes, when the music lulled, you could hear a muffled cry pass through the hollow door, cementing the notion in your head for good.

“I watched you suffer

A dull, aching pain

Now you’ve decided

To show me the same.”

At thirteen, you stood at the door of your parents bedroom, a lump in your throat as you watched your mother sleep away another afternoon. Your sister continued asking when your dad would be home, but the longer you stared at the half-empty room, the more you understood that the answer was something she couldn't quite understand. The longer you watched, the more you understood you’d never hear him sing that song again.

“No sweeping exits

Or offstage lines

Could make me feel bitter

Or treat you unkind.”

“Oh, God. Jake, please turn that off.” You pleaded, the melodic sound filling your stomach with dread. He looked back at you, nestled in his bed and safe under his blankets. He turned around in his desk chair, his head cocked to the side as he abandoned his math homework.

“What, you don’t like The Stones?” There was a careful kindness in his tone, wondering where your sudden discomfort came from but nervous to cross a line by asking.

“No, I do, just not this song.” You clarified, your heart racing in your chest as the hum of Jagger’s voice began to fill your ears. You tried so hard to stay calm, not to retaliate and cover your ears so you did not look like a child throwing a tantrum. Instantly, he reached over and lifted the needle from the spinning vinyl, placing it back on the holder. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t listen to it.” You breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the song came to an abrupt stop.

“S’okay, sunshine. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He promised, wheeling over to you as he noticed the discomfort in your eyes. He reached out, brushing your bangs from your eyes in an attempt to comfort you. “Why not?”

“Long story.” You whispered, your head sinking further down into his pillow.

“I always have time to listen to you.” He assured you, his thumb drifting over your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, the sight immediately calming your mind. You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch ever so slightly.

“My dad… he used to sing this to my mom. It was the best song in the whole world to us for so long.” You explained, fighting the distaste begging to leech into your tone. “They used to slow dance to it in the kitchen, and he’d sing it to us too, when we were sad. Then he fucking left, and mom listened to it over and over again, like it would bring him back. Guess it didn’t work out as well as she hoped it would.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I had no idea.” He hummed, his fingernails gently scratching over your scalp in hopes of soothing you.

“S’okay,” your eyes fluttered closed in bliss at the feeling. “Just sucks, ‘cause I used to love the song so much, and now it makes me sick.”

You didn’t understand back then, but now you knew why your mother played it so often. She was hoping it would bring him back, or hoping that it would make her feel close to him again. She was torturing herself in the same way that you tortured yourself with the exact CD you were listening to, then.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

“I have something to show you, sunshine.” Jake's hand in yours felt right, just as it always did. His voice rang through your ears as you walked up the stairs to his bedroom. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but you knew if he had anything to do with it, it would be nothing short of fantastic.

“I know I dreamed you

A sin and a lie

I have my freedom

But I don’t have much time

Faith has been broken

Tears must be cried

Let’s do some living

After we die.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, running like waterfalls down your cheeks as Jake softly strummed at his dads old acoustic. The rasp in his voice paired with the quiver of nervousness made his singing all the more beautiful, and the sentiment behind his actions made your heart swell with joy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on, and you couldn’t believe he loved you so dearly.

His playing slowed to a stop, his anxious eyes flickering up to your face. As he noticed the trails of mascara streaked down your cheeks, his stomach dropped, fearful that he hurt you more than helped. You wanted to speak, to commend him for his gracious gesture, but words were failing you. You had never been so full of love in your life, not for anyone or anything, but he continued to amaze you with every day that passed.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I never wanted to make you cry.” He stood, propping the guitar against his desk as he stepped towards you. His hands reached out, gently swiping away any lingering sadness on your face.

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, still choked up at the sweetness of the moment. “It was beautiful. So, so beautiful.” A small smile crossed his lips, and he crouched down to eye level, dreading overlooking a single moment of time with you. “Nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me.”

“I just… you said you loved the song, but you couldn’t listen to it anymore because it hurt too bad. I wanted to make the song good again, to make it hurt less.” He whispered, his brown eyes seemingly staring into your soul. “I don’t know if it worked, but I’d do anything for you, sunshine. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

“You do, Jake. You always do.” You felt tears falling from your eyes, but they were for a whole different reason than they were all of the times you heard the song before. He did exactly as he intended, and the song took on a whole different meaning. The bad hurt less, and the memory of Jake singing to you would be something you would never forget. He was everything, and you were so incredibly lucky to have him.

You reached toward, pausing the track before it could finish. Your chest was aching, your shoulders shaking with your tears as you felt Mel’s hands on your shoulders in support. She slid them downwards, and your hands raised in search of hers. Your head fell back, resting on her stomach as you tried to calm yourself down. It hurt the same every time; no matter how many years stood between the initial heartbreak, the thought of losing Jake had always been the worst one ever.

“Tell me about the song.” She whispered, pulling you out of your own head in hopes you’d share the sorrow with her, just to make it a little easier to digest.

With a shaky breath, you recounted the memories that you’d kept locked up for so long, finally allowing someone to help you carry the weight of them. She listened intently to every word you had to say, hanging on to the stories and keeping them as safe as you had the whole time. There was no one in the world you trusted quite like her, knowing that you could confess anything and she’d still extend a helping hand. You were lucky to have her, grateful to call her your best friend, but you knew that even she could not begin to ease the pain from this.

“I just… I wish things were different for us, you know? Like, I always knew we should have been more, that we shouldn’t have ended like that.” You let out a ragged sigh, finishing your retelling with the sentiment that haunted you for so long. “He tried to stay friends, and he tried so hard, but I had to stop. A few days after I got to school, I had to stop talking to him, because I loved him too much. Friends was torture back then, but now I feel stupid for cutting him off. Now I know that having him around would have been better than this.”

“Y/N, you have to reach out to him.” She urged, combing her fingers through your hair. “If it’s been this long and you still feel that way about him, you can’t let it go.” She tied your hair back in a ponytail, keeping it away from your face until you calmed down. Your cheeks were crimson, burning with heat as the sadness ran its course. Your eyes were swollen, your head aching, and you wished it could be that easy.

“After six years, Mel?” You didn’t mean to sound so condescending, but the tone slipped out without a second thought. “We’re totally different people now. I bet he doesn’t even think about me anymore.”

“You don’t know that, though.” She argued her point, squeezing your shoulders ever so slightly. “He could be sitting in his room, talking to his best friend like this. He might still be hurting, too, and maybe he’s scared to reach out because he thinks you forgot about him.” She let the thought hang in the air for a moment, not pressing any further until you responded. You blinked hard, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. The coolness of your skin felt nice against your face, bringing you back to earth for a moment. When the silence became too much for her, she spoke again. “You never know unless you try, Y/N. You can’t live the rest of your life wondering. Just reach out, say hi and ask how he’s doing. Even if he’s moved on, at least you’ll know for sure. Once that door is closed, you can move on too. Right now, you’ll be stuck thinking about him and wondering ‘what if’ forever.”

You didn’t want to tell her she was right, mostly because you were too afraid he would be moved on, in love with someone else and happier without you. You wanted it for him, because he deserved it, but you wanted to be the one that made him happy. The thought of someone else loving him made you sick, because you doubted that anyone could ever love him as much as you did. Actually, you doubted that anyone could love anyone as much as you loved Jake.

“I doubt he has the same number, anyway. I just have the one he had in high school.” You shook your head, finding yourself too hopeful already. You needed to shut it down before your heart broke even further.

“Try, Y/N.” Mel urged, unable to drop the topic. She wanted it for you, to see you happy and in love. She always wondered why romance never seemed to move you, and now she knew it’s always been because you were waiting for him. Instead of responding, you hit the rewind button on the player and pressed play again, already yearning to live in the memory of him singing it to you again. A sad smile crossed Mel’s lips, but she gave a curt nod, turning around and continuing to pack and move boxes of already sorted items.

You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop of them as you listened to the familiar melody. You wondered if maybe his number was the same, and if you reached out, he’d still have your contact saved in his phone. You wanted to know where he ended up, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. You wanted to know him, to hear his voice and have him say your name again. The need was pressing, and it grew harder to ignore the longer the song played.

Could he still feel the same? After this long, did he still think of you from time to time with hurt in his heart and regret in his mind? Was it possible that he was still hung up on you, or were you just an idiot who couldn’t comprehend letting go?

You had so many questions, the same ones that plagued you since the day you left. You didn’t know the answer, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to.

However, Mel was right.

You would never know unless you tried, and for him, you would do anything. As much as it would kill you to hear how happy he was without you, it would still be better than never talking to him at all. You needed to know the man he grew into, even if it was for a fleeting moment in time. You wanted to know if his hair grew out, if he still played guitar, and if his laugh was still just as sweet as it was back then. You wanted to tell him you graduated, that you finally did it after so long spent talking about it.

You couldn’t waste the rest of your life hung up on a man who loved you when you were young. You couldn’t be eighty years old and still thinking of Jake Kiszka when you tried to sleep at night. More than that, you couldn’t open yourself up to love if you were still so in love with him.

“I’m going to grab something to eat.” Mel said, hovering in the doorway of your room. When you didn’t so much as look her way, she turned towards the stairs and walked out of sight.

You needed to reach out. You needed to try, just like she said. Even if the conversation sealed shut the door you always wished to open again, it would give you closure, and you might finally be able to move on. Right now, moving on was laughable, and it was something you never believed you could do.

Mel was right, and so right that it was impossible to ignore her.

Even if his number changed, or if you were blocked, you would finally know for sure. You took a large gulp of breath as you stood to your feet, Wild Horses still playing softly in the background as you stepped towards your bed. You grabbed your phone from the mattress, unlocking the screen and clicking on your contacts. You gulped down the ball of anxiety stuck in your throat as you selected the name you never thought you’d speak again. There was still a red heart beside his name, something you couldn’t bear to change. You opened a new text thread, the empty screen sending a shiver down your spine as you recounted the endless ‘I love you’s’ once held inside the chat.

Your finger hovered over the keypad, your mind blank as you thought of what to say. There were so many things you always wanted to confess to him, that you were sorry and you missed him, or that you were wrong and never should have left. You wanted to be angry that he let you leave, and to be happy for all the love he gave you that carried you through until that very moment. You wanted to say everything and anything, but it wasn’t right. You couldn’t break the radio silence after so long with something so powerful, but you never knew how to keep it simple when it came to Jake. His name alone caught you in a storm of emotion, and the picture of his face in your mind nearly brought you to your knees.

You began to type, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. It wasn’t right. What were you supposed to start with? How could you rekindle conversation with the only man you’d ever loved, after so long of loving him silently?

You started again, letting out a sigh as the words seemed to come out wrong yet again. You felt like an idiot, but you still stood in place, staring at the screen. Somehow, no matter how stupid you felt, putting the phone down felt wrong. You needed to do it, but you just didn’t know how.

You typed and re-typed the message so many times that your eyes crossed and your head began to spin. Your heart was thudding against your chest so intensely that it began to hurt, and you hadn’t even hit send yet.

“Come on, coward. You can do it.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as you hyped yourself up. “Stop overthinking it.”

And you did; when you stopped thinking, it seemed all the more easy.

You - 4:53pm

Hey, Jake. It’s Y/N. I know it’s been a while, and I’m not sure if this is even your number anymore, but I’m back in Michigan again, for good I think. When I’m in Michigan it always reminds me of you. I hope you’re doing okay, and I hope that this isn’t too weird. It’s strange being home, and I guess I was just thinking of you and wanted you to know that after all this time, you’re still on my mind.

With little hope and a lot of courage, you attached a song from Spotify to the text. You hit send, watching the blue line at the top of the screen slowly begin to slide across, signifying it was much too late to change your mind. It was slower than usual, making you believe he truly may have changed his number, or blocked you at the very least. If he did, you couldn’t blame him, because you’d been tempted to do the same.

Before you could spiral too far, the small chirp let you know that the text was delivered, and the words underneath the bubble read as such. Your heart drummed even faster, and you expected a wave of regret to take over, but it never came. Instead, your mind was calm, a strange peacefulness washing over you at the sight of his name in your phone again. Soon after, the song delivered too, the link turning into a shortcut. The album cover showed in a small square, and next to it showed the name of the song and the artist underneath. On the very opposite side, a small little play circle appeared, letting him preview a snippet before he opened the app.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday

Wild horses

couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday.”

You listened to the song playing over your speakers, your cheeks flushed and your lips upturned into a small smile. You wondered if it was too much, or if he would think you were weird for sending him the song, but deep down you believed that even if he did, some semblance of the man you used to love so dearly continued to remain. Even after all this time, the song would still be important to him, and just the same as back then, even after all this time, not even wild horses could drag you away from him.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf

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