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builtbybrokenbells · 5 months ago

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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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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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Helping Hand 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“It won’t do to have you so far from me,” Jonathan rebukes as he angles you through a new doorway. The vague scent of sandalwood tinges the are, “so I should have you close.”

He sets you on the bed, larger than your previous one, as you groan and reach to the strap of your sling. Your shoulder is at battle with your hip as to which can cause more agony. On that front, this man wins all. He has sparked in you a pain much deeper than the physical.

“Dear,” he brushes his fingertips over your forehead, “you are due for more painkillers. Perhaps tea and something to eat. You won’t do well to keep taking the pills on an empty stomach.”

You whimper as you try to shift yourself, your back at an awkward angle against the single pillow. He’s quick to bend over you once more, dragging over another pillow and adjusting you just so. You stop your squirming and relent to his control. You turn your face away as tears glisten along the rims of your eyes.

“You will be better, darling, but you need to relax. Let me take care of you,” he caresses your cheek, “did you ever have a man to do so?”

You bite back a retort. You wouldn’t need him if he hadn’t sabotaged you. You didn’t need any man before him, you’d shed the dead weight of your ex-husband happily. It’s only now, trapped with another, that you realise what a relief that had been.

“I understand, the pain overwhelms you,” he leans in to kiss your forehead, “let me fetch you your medicine.”

He struts away. You peek at his departure, seeing his lithe steps and well-forged shoulders strut away. He’s a finely built man, handsome, but something sinister makes him hideous. You knew from the moment you met him, he was too good to be true. As anything ever is.

You turn your head left then right. You take in the strange space. The decor is just as precise and refined as the rest of the house. You prefer the simplicity of your apartment. That morsel of security you’d built there. All the pretty things in the world couldn’t make this bearable.

A light catches your eye, the subtle buzz of vibration. You see your phone case, magenta with a plum trim, on the sleek white dresser. Your lip trembles as you tense. You pause and listen to the house through the open door.

You’re not entirely helpless. You won’t surrender this easily. You take several breaths, bracing yourself for the effort of rolling onto your side. You use the momentum to get your feet to the floor and lean on the nightstand to gain your balance.

Your leg buckles but you don’t fall. You grip your side and hobble a single step, swaying, collecting yourself before the next. Your heart beats faster and faster as your progress across the room is slow and faltering. You don’t have much time.

You nearly collapse against the dresser. You barely keep it from clattering against the wall loudly, the jewellery tray and lamp wobbling but not turning over. You pick up your phone and swipe up the screen. The lock’s been removed. Shit.

The notification is a system reminder to put unused apps to sleep. You swipe it away and tap onto your contacts. Andy’s number is gone and every message he spammed in the hours before your desolation. Good riddance.

Your mom’s number scrolls under your thumb. You haven’t seen her since the family Christmas before your divorce. She wasn’t happy about it. Somehow she took the dissolution of your marriage personally.

You don’t need friends, you just need the police. You bring up the keypad and a red icon blinks back at you. No sim. Your pulse thrums in your throat and temples. You’re fucked.

Your legs fold and you slip onto the floor. You’re once more helpless on your back, like a turtle in its shell. You clutch the gutted phone in your hand and stare at the ceiling. You hear his approach, the soft rattle of porcelain and pills.

“Oh, my,” Jonathan enters and there’s a clink as he sets down the tray in his hands.

You watch him numbly as he comes to you. First, he takes the phone and places it back on the dresser. Then he scoops you up and brings you back to the bed. He’s careful to pull the covers to your waist this time. He lingers to run his hands over your hair and straighten the shirt on your shoulders.

“I’ve made certain you won’t be disturbed in your recovery. Myself as well. I’ve spoken with the store manager and he will keep me updated with any urgent issues.” He parts and retrieves the tray, coming back to rest it on the nightstand. “You will have my undivided care.”

You cringe and let your vision blur. He takes the bowl from the tray and cradles it over his lap, stirring with the spoon.

“Soup, it should be light on your stomach,” he explains, “you do need to eat. You wouldn’t want to add to your troubles.”

You blink and say nothing. He sighs but doesn’t reproach you. That noise is reprimand enough. He raises the spoon before your lips and you open your mouth. You look above you, avoiding a glance in his direction. You let him feed you, wanting it to just be over.

There’s a dribble along your lip. He tuts and sets the spoon back in the bowl. He brings his thumb up to wipe away the soup from your lower lip, his touch creeping up as he dips inside your mouth. Your eyes widen and meet his as he delves further in, turning his hand to push your mouth snug around him.

“I know you’re not used to someone taking care of you. That you never had anyone who wanted to,” he says as he drags his finger back out, curling his fingers to brush his knuckles along your cheek, “it’s what you’ve always wanted. What you need.”

He retracts his hand and scoops up more of the soup, “it’d be easier if you just admitted it. Darling,” he brings the spoon to your mouth again, “if only you knew all the things I would do for you.”

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #helping hand #the night manager #au #drabble #series #bookstore au

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crowleywowley · 1 year ago

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Hey hey I just finished rdr1 and I am distraught despite the game being 13 years old and knowing what was gonna happen. So to cope here’s some modern au Marston family headcanons unda da cut😈😈😈

-First of all blanket statement John and Abi are the cool young parents who have sick tats/piercings and love their kids (remember in my modern universe everyone is alive muahahah) so fiercely

-John listens to so much shitty divorced dad rock despite being happily married

He has wept to Photograph by Nickelback more than once

-Abigail secretly loves those corny signs that are like

Gather

-John has never let either of his children win at a video game ever

-this family goes insane for Halloween and all the kids in the neighborhood love it!!

They get the big candy bars for SUREEE

They have cool decorations all over the yard and one of their neighbors complains about it every year (they do not care)

-one year on Christmas Eve John and Abi were setting up the Santa gifts and John slipped on a toy car and hurt himself, Abigail had to cry laugh into a pillow so she didn’t wake the kids up

-The other pta moms judged Abigail bc she’s young and cool but she earned their respect when she made the best damn brownies they’d ever seen

On the same note I see Abigail actually being very involved with her kids’ school bc she wants the best for them, but she’s not into the cliquey stuff

-John and Abigail are both fiends for gently embarrassing their kids

Yelling stuff like “have a good day at school my little schnookums!! Mommy loves you!” While Jack is beet red and telling them to just drive away

-John tried to teach Jack to drive but he was gripping the little car roof handle thing the entire time like “brakes. BRAKES. BRAKES!!!!!!” So Abigail took over and taught both kids to drive

-Jack went through a wannabe emo phase. Argue with the wall

If anyone wants me to keep going y’all KNOW my goofy ass will. I love doing these so much hehehehe

Edit- just had to edit the sentence about Abi and the pta bc I accidentally said she would be into the cliques 😭 I meant NOT!!!!!! Abigail is a cool mom who doesn’t have time for that shite

#plz ignore all these tags i’m sorry #rdr2 modern au #Marston family #john marston #abigail marston #abigail roberts #jack marston #unnamed Marston daughter

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virtie333 · 11 months ago

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Day 24 - Life Day Damerey Celebration

Prompt: Decorations

Summary: Poe shows Rey how to decorate a Christmas tree

Warnings: Depends. This one kind of made me cry. We haven't had a tree up since 2021, my mom's last Christmas, and she didn't see much of it as she was sick and then in the hospital during the actual holiday. So, writing this one was bittersweet.

AO3

Poe set the box of decorations down on the floor with a smile, watching as Rey continued to mess with the string of lights. They weren’t too tangled, but she was still having trouble with them. Lack of experience, he supposed. He looked up at the currently bare tree, excitement filling him as he realized he and Rey were about to start a new tradition. Granted, they weren’t in their own place, yet, but to have Rey enjoy her first time decorating a Christmas tree in the house he grew up in was pretty special.

Poe’s father had decided to go on vacation for Christmas this year. He and a couple of friends that he had worked with for the last decade, all either divorced or widowed men in their 50s, had decided to spend the holiday in the Caribbean. He had asked Poe to housesit for him and told him that Rey was welcome to stay, too, if she desired. Since they were both living in tiny apartments of their own but had been talking about getting a larger one together, Poe thought it would be a great time get used to living together. Not that he was unsure of his feelings on the subject; he was ready to start sharing his life with her. But Rey was still nervous about the idea.

Today, Christmas Eve, Poe decided it was time to put up his father’s old fake tree and decorate it.

“It’s a little late, isn’t it?” Rey asked when Poe told her the plan.

He shrugged. “Traditional Catholics tend to wait until now,” he told her. “Christmas doesn’t start until tonight in the Church, and it lasts until Epiphany.” Poe had been raised Catholic, and while he didn’t consider himself devout, he did still love practicing the traditions he grew up with. They reminded him of his mother.

Rey finally got the lights untangled enough to satisfy her, and Poe directed her on how to wrap them around the tree. Having grown up an orphan, Rey had mixed memories about Christmas, some good, some bad, but she had never actually been able to decorate a tree.

Once the lights were in place, Poe plugged them in. “It’s more fun doing the rest of the decorating with them on," he told her. The garland came next, both blue and gold in color. It was old, Poe thought as he unwound it from the cardboard holder. It was still shiny and pretty, but it was starting to fall apart. He made a mental note to get some new stuff for his father for next year.

Next came the decorations. Poe moved aside the newspaper that had separated the garland from the individual ornaments and felt his breath catch.

“What’s wrong?” Rey asked, always attuned to his emotions.

“So many memories in this box,” Poe told her softly. He reached in and pulled out a small ceramic dog, painted in fading watercolors. “I made this in 3rd grade,” he told her. “I was so proud of it. Mom was, too.”

Rey was smiling softly at the ornament. “It looks like Bee,” she said. The owner of that name lifted his head from where he had been laying next to the fireplace and swished his tail.

Poe chuckled. “I guess I’ve always had a thing for yellow Labs.” He reached into the box and pulled out a package of shiny glass balls in red and gold. “Why don’t you put these on the tree,” he told her. “I’ll do the ‘special’ ornaments and tell you about them if I remember anything.”

She took the package and smiled her brilliant smile. “I’d like that.”

And so, they took their time decorating the tree, Poe telling her about each individual ornament as he pulled them out. If he couldn’t remember anything about one in particular, he still had a cute or funny or touching story about past Christmases to tell. “Mom bought this at the Angel Bizarre at church,” about the pretty beaded star. “I asked dad for this one the year after mom died because she always collected the annual ornament from this store,” he said about the snowman. Sometimes, he worried that he was boring Rey, but whenever he got quiet, she would start to question him, encouraging more stories out of him. Her eyes were bright and her laugh free.

God, he loved this woman.

Finally, the tree was covered with a combination of store-bought and homemade decorations, shiny balls and cute little Santas. Poe pulled out the tree topper last. It was a beautiful silver snowflake design, a more recent addition as the star from his childhood had long since stopped lighting up, though he did notice that it still sat at the bottom of the box, as if his dad refused to throw it out. Poe grabbed the footstool and pulled it over to the tree.

He handed the snowflake to Rey. “I’ll let you do the honors,” he told her.

“Oh, so I can be the one to fall and break something, huh?” she teased as she stepped onto the footstool.

Poe moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” He rested his head on the small of her back.

She smiled down at him, then reached out and placed the snowflake on the top of the tree. She plugged it into the already glowing light string and it lit up with brilliant white light.

Rey turned to face Poe without getting down from the stool. His face now even with her abdomen, he looked up at her as she started playing with his curls.

“Next year, when we have our own place and our own tree, we’ll have to buy all our own ornaments,” he told her.

“But it won’t have the history or memories this one does,” Rey said, frowning.

“No, it won’t,” Poe agreed. “But we get to start our own history. Our own memories.”

Rey nodded, smiling again. “I like the sound of that.”

“Merry Christmas, Rey,” Poe whispered, then he nuzzled his face into her belly.

She giggled. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

#fanfiction #damerey #jedipilot #poe x rey #christmas #christmas tree #fluff #modern au

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sardonic-simmerk · 2 years ago

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Hi all!! I wanted to give you guys some background to Phoebe and Collins just in case you were wondering because I just jumped into their life on tumblr (I had been sharing snippets on Twitter before). So here it is!:

Phoebe and Collins’ LP is called:

Chasing Happiness

Originally Phoebe (for me) was just going to try to navigate life coming from the big city and moving to the country (Henford) after her father died. I gave Phoebe the Materialistic and Snob traits for her to “grow out of” (I know you can’t grow out of traits) since she was used to a big life, not a tiny cottage with chickens in her back yard.

Collins is from another family I had been playing with for a very long time and so I got to thinking that maybe I could have Phoebe and Collins get together to keep the generation going because I’ve never done that in the sims. I get bored easily but I feel very determined to see where this goes and I’m going to stay as motivated as possible lol.

Collins comes from a teen mom who did very well in providing for him while still in high school. His father died a few days after he was born unfortunately and it broke his mother’s heart. They were soulmates. But she eventually found love in another man (for a while) and Collins finally had a proper father figure and things were good. They moved into a bigger house, his mom had more kids after getting divorced from his stepdad (he cheated), Collins got addicted to weed and had to go to rehab… twice, him and his girlfriend broke up because they grew apart during his addiction and life seemed to have no real meaning to him anymore. Until he met Phoebe.

He did not like her at first! He immediately saw her snobbiness and was a bit put off during their first interaction. Then they kept running into each other at school even though they were in separate classes and as they interacted more and more, he saw a sweet side to her. Sweet, sometimes a bit anxious although she also exuded confidence, and somewhat of a genius in her own way. He started to grow a true affection towards her and went out of his way a few times just to bump into her to have a conversation. She had him interested after a while.

On the other hand, Collins immediately beguiled Phoebe. Her heart rate always rose when he was around and at some point she knew she had to get him to feel the same. Sure she had just broke up with her ex-boyfriend before moving to Henford, but no other guy had ever made Phoebe feel the way she felt when she first met Collins. So she staged some run ins in the hallways. Always made it seem like it was an accident and always made sure to end up with a conversation. Almost every day for a few weeks until she finally racked up enough courage to ask the dude out. But he surprisingly said yes.

And they had a great date:

Then Collins asked Phoebe (sheepishly) to homecoming. He was so nervous, but she turned out to be ecstatic at his poorly decorated poster board. Homecoming is where they had their first kiss of many and from then on Collins was fully hooked.

They hung out a few more times. He even met her mom one day she invited him over for dinner. He doesn’t think she likes him very much. (She doesn’t)

Collins decided to ask Phoebe to be his girlfriend in a way he knew she would appreciate. He took her to the fanciest restaurant in town and it made him happy to see her smiling so big when he pulled into the parking lot. He knew she was a flashy kind of girl, but he didn’t mind it because she was kind. She said yes to being his girlfriend of course.

They went out almost every week and really enjoyed each other’s company. For Phoebe, he made her day to day life not suck and added a bright side to moving. For Collins, she made him feel whole with her laughter and passion for everything. He soon started seeing her as a girl he’d like to spend the rest of his life with. They even made it to the matching Christmas pjs stage!

And now you’re all caught up! I’ll do my best to keep this story organized and easily recognizable if any body is keeping up with it!

(Yeah I play the sims… you’re telling me YOU don’t??)

Thanks for any comments!! 🫶🏾 let me know what’s up 💭

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joanthelovely · 2 years ago

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Christmas is full of Ghosts

I butchered a Gingerbread house tonight. I guess that feels like a cumulation of how I've been feeling about Christmas this season. A time i usually spend anticipating and throwing myself into baking and candy making and decorating just feels kind of sour this year. It all just feels so full of ghosts.

While digging the ornaments out of the box this year, I came across one that hadn't been there last year. A small angel made of a bead and a coffee filter with my name on it. It's managed to survive 30+ years because it's been gracing my dads tree every year since I was in kindergarten. Last year my new stepmom called me over and said she'd been cleaning out the attic and did I need any of this stuff? I took that and a few other ornaments. Mostly things my dad won't miss. A lot that's not mine.

I guess to go back a ways, my parents divorced before I have any actual memories of them together. What I do have, as far back as I can conceive, is a memory of my dads second wife and all the joy that she brought into my life. Not to take anything away from my mom, as I know it probably hurts her that I take any happiness out of the woman who took my dad from her, but I loved my stepmom. Christmas reminds me of her.

Christmas was split between both parents. Up till Christmas Eve, it was time with my dad and my stepmom, then it was time at my grandmothers with all of my extended family, and then Christmas at home with my mom. Same routine. 30 years. Even when the extended family got too old to come over every year (and by too old I mean cousins who'd rather spend time with other family, or their spouses families), it was still the same routine. Dads. Grandmas. Moms.

I started the Christmas candy making when my stepmom deemed I could hold a spoon and not make a mess, so for many years I"ve made peppermint brickle and bourbon balls every year. I still do. Every damn year. Even though she's gone. I don't know what her own kids took from her, but I got her love of baking. I also got her love of John Denver and her love of Jonathon Livingston Seagull…but back to Christmas.

Christmas really dredges up all the memories. Hard. She died in 2013 from a fall down the stairs. Hit her head and never woke up. My son was staying the night over there that night and he barely remembers her, my daughter even less so since she was about 3 at the time. I want to rail at everyone, how can you forget?! The woman who once made me a teepee and sewed me an Indian outfit one Christmas because i was obsessed with Last of the Mohicans. The woman who made my dad run out on a Christmas eve night because as a child i said I would really like some pretend money to play with. The woman who took me to the same candy store every year to get all the baking supplies for our candy and would let me pick out cookie cutters.

I throw myself into Christmas sometimes because I want those kinds of memories for my kids. I want that same comforting repetition, a thread through their own childhoods. I can only hope I'm building that for them because I feel so alone in all of this. I can't be her and I can't instill that same comfort that she gave me. All the threads of my own childhood have unraveled. Nothing is the same. No one is left. Maybe tomorrow will be better but today I broke a gingerbread house.

#Christmas 2022 #I made myself sad #It'll be better tomorrow

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waningwithoutwaxing · 20 days ago

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I'm not an expert but I'm going to add a bit of info for those who might not be that familiar with EM. I believe they met when Mix was 15 and Earth was 19 (or round about there). Over time they drifted apart and came back together, but there's not a ton of details about what happened in those early years. We do have some stories though. I know they had an early movie date at some point. And there was a time when Earth drank too much, got really sick, and Mix carried him home and took care of him. After that point, Earth said he would not drink again.

When it was time to make A Tale of a Thousand Stars, and they couldn't find a good match for Earth, he suggested Mix. And that's what started them as a GMMTV ship.

I wrote way too much so I'm going to leave the rest of it below the cut. 😆

At one point they actually did live together in a condo. After they got more successful, they bought their own places. Earth bought his home first. They found it inconvenient that they were too far apart to quickly hop over to each other's places. Eventually Mix bought his own place near Earth. I think they're now about a 10 to 15 minute drive apart. So they don't technically live together now (in one place anyway), but I would say they do partially live together. They spend a good amount of time at each other's places (actually staying overnight, sometimes days at a time), but Earth seems to spend more time at Mix's place than the other way around. Sometimes Earth suffers from insomnia, and his favorite place to actually get to sleep is at Mix's house. One year, maybe a couple years ago or so, Earth spent the whole Christmas season at Mix's house. They decorated the tree and spent time with Mix's mom. It looked very romantic and sweet (short TT clip)

In my personal opinion, although they like spending time at home together, I believe they want separate places because having their own homes is a good investment for them individually, it gives them room for all their damn cats 😆 and they both said they enjoy spending time at home alone. Some people might find it more romantic to live together full time, but if you think about it it's smart. They work together, and if they live together full time it would likely lead to more fights or getting sick of each other. Living apart allows them some space.

As for the divorce era, you can google it and you'll find some good information. I know they were filming Moonlight Chicken during this era. Their friends and co-workers were begging them to make up. At one point someone, maybe their manager, put them in a room together and told them to talk it out. Luckily it worked and they made up. When Mix has talked about this time in his life, he has gotten very emotional (here's a clip X). Like OP mentioned, the reaction doesn't seem like something you'd expect from talking about a platonic relationship. You never know though, because some friends are deeply close. It's also true that they were posting things that would point to trouble in a romantic relationship.

Speaking of fights, they have discussed their different styles when arguing. For Mix, he likes time to cool off before trying to discuss the problem, while Earth wants to discuss it immediately. Earth cannot stand for things to be wrong and he wants to fix it right away. Therefore he tries to talk it out with Mix right away and Mix gets even more mad because he wants to be left alone. Mix has said that if Earth calls to talk things out with him, and he doesn't answer the phone, Earth will call him like 50 times in a row. So Mix says he must answer or Earth will lose his mind. Doesn't sound very platonic to me but 🤷‍♀️

Also, if you watch them closely enough you'll see that Earth is very loved and accepted by Mix's family. Of course that could be something that happens with friends or romantic partners, but it's very sweet to see.

You'll also see that they are very comfortable with each other in each other's homes. Laying on the couch cuddled up, Earth sleeping in Mix's bed, them being half dressed at each other's places, Mix on Earth's bed in the middle of the night when he comes home from an event (I wish I could find the video to link that clip). Earth would even go to Mix's his house when Mix was busy with school to help out with cleaning up the house and washing the car.

It was only fairly recently that Mix learned how to drive. Before that, Earth would drive him to school and pick him up. 😊

There was a time, on their show EarthMix Space (you can watch it on GMMTV's YouTube channel) where Earth said he realized he needed to be with Mix for the rest of his life. Sorry, I don't remember the specific episode.

Earth has bought Mix very expensive jewelry, and taken him on trips. I think they're planning to go to Europe somewhere next. I don't know when they'll find the time though.

Other people in their lives have made comments insinuating that they are together romantically, like their vocal coach Green. Mix spent more time with Green while he was in his divorce era with Earth, and when they got back together Green would go online and complain about how Mix ignored him because he was then only focused on Earth. That guy spills tea and is hilarious.

No one can say for sure whether they are romantic partners or very close friends, but it is very clear that they are deeply ingrained in each other's lives.

If you really want to deep dive, there's a ton of information out there. I highly suggest watching their show EarthMix Space (ep 1 link). You'll get to see them at home together, out and about together and testing each other's nerves haha.

Here's a great EM source on Twitter, who posts translations and clips regularly:

YILOVEY

Sorry I wrote so much 😭

Hii! I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you mean EarthMix are probably dating? I try to keep up with all the basics of the QL rumor mill, but most of it still passes right by me, so I spend a lot of time in a confused state, honestly. I thought EarthMix were roughly on the same level as a lot of other GMMTV pairs, which is to say: fanservice-y, but probably not a thing. So would you maybe mind explaining that one a little more? 👀🙏

I woke up to three separate asks about this and it was a very sobering realization that while I thought we were all just pretending not to know EarthMix are dating, apparently that was just me??? I don’t actually follow them all that closely though, so someone else feel free to jump in with the actual evidence because I know y’all have it.

Here’s the thing about EarthMix: they were 100% dating prior to their divorce era. There’s plenty of evidence that they were living together (my favorite is here) and the way they each reacted to their “break-up” was not…platonic. Mix was posting moody poems about lost loves on his Instagram for god’s sake.

I waffle about whether they’re back together now but to me, it comes down to proximity. They try to be coy about it, but Mix posts way too many videos of Earth’s cats after midnight to not be living with him. And when actors live together, I’m inclined to believe they’re dating because no one’s going to do that for fanservice.

We know that Khaotung gifted Earth and Mix a copy of Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis—a letter he wrote to his lover from prison while he was jailed for homosexual acts—and we also know that P’Aof, a queer director, favors them. P’Jojo has talked openly on his Twitter about how, if given the choice, he will always cast queer actors because he knows how hard it is to be queer in the BL industry. I would imagine that most queer directors feel the same.

We’ve been talking a lot on my blog about how GMMTV seems to discourage any verbal acknowledgement of queerness, so whereas the other two couples I mentioned—MosBank and DaouOffroad—have been as explicit as they can about the nature of their relationship, I don’t have any evidence of that nature about EarthMix. But like I said, I don’t follow them all that closely. EarthMix stans have my full permission to hijack this post and educate me because this is not my area of expertise and the thin line between “fanservice” and “actually dating” is one of my favorite topics of discussion.

#oh my gosh my fingers just kept typing I'm so sorry #and I never do this #I guess earthmix just has me in a chokehold #earthmix #mix sahaphap #earth pirapat #csat

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libra-stellium · 2 years ago

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Not Being Afraid to Speak Your Truth: Holiday Edition

This Christmas I decided to spend it by myself in my apartment bc last Christmas with my family was such a bad time for me. After last year, I wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit like I usually do (I’m the one who dresses as Mrs Claus every year lol). I didn’t put up any decorations. I didn’t wrap any gifts. Somehow this ended up being a peaceful Christmas and I would do it again!

I got myself some advent calendars and had something to look forward to each day. On Christmas Eve I got the random urge to deep clean my kitchen, cleaned out the fridge and the cabinets. I made myself a nice dinner which I haven’t done in a while and I watched TV. On Christmas Day I woke up almost at 12 bc I went to sleep so late 😭 and I drank coffee and opened my presents from my bestie. Later on I opened presents from my mom and aunt and 🙃 I remembered why they just usually give me money to buy my own presents! Then I made myself another delicious dinner and I played my new switch game. It was such a good weekend!

My weekend wouldn’t have been this peaceful if I hadn’t made it past the arguments and the guilt from telling my fam that I didn’t want to be around them. They were pestering me all week and weekend but 🤷🏾‍♀️ I stood my ground!

Part of the reason why I took this stance this year is because I was feeling lonely at Christmas while with my family. They act so fake the second the holidays start even though they’ve been horrible all year and expect you to do the same 🙄 and I was talking to other people and they all sounded like they had such good times with their families (I know I know comparison is the thief of joy or whatever lol) I wanted that peaceful feeling with or without my family lol come to find outttt everyone was having a shit time??? 🤣 it wasn’t until I was telling everyone my plan for this year that they’re telling me

oh yeah I don’t have fun at Christmas bc I get presents for everyone and make sure they get for each other but no one thinks ahead to make sure I get some

It’s really awkward with my family bc my parents got divorced and they don’t know how to navigate it yet

I’m only going for Christmas bc I have to but I don’t wanna go over there

I asked my mom what she got me and she asked me what I got for myself and that she would just give me the money and I can say it’s from her and put it under the tree

I was honestly shocked hearing all this!! It made me so sad to think that my friends were holding this in. I’m glad I took such a big step bc they’ve also been telling me yeah next year idk what I’m doing but it’s not this. I realize that part of the reason I made my decision is bc the grass looked greener 😂 but I think it worked out in this situation! One of my friends said she’s taking a solo trip out of the country next year and just relaxing from Christmas until the new year I love that!!

All this to say don’t be afraid of making big scary decisions and saying exactly how you feel even if it’s unusual. It’s guaranteed that you’ll get pushback but it’s just as likely you’re giving others around you the opportunity to say how they really feel and to also make big scary decisions bc they’re watching you succeed!

If you read this far, thank you 💕 I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday season!!

#idk what to put in the tags #holidays #boundaries #speak up for yourself #generational trauma #making new traditions #take a leap of faith #angel number 222

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collecting-stories · 2 years ago

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Vampires - Remus Lupin

Summary: You're somewhat mildly embarrassed by your muggle mother's love of Halloween.

A/N: Went to the Harry Potter exhibit this week for the 2nd time and just got in a total I-need-to-write-HP-fanfics mood. I even watched the 3rd movie today (while I was supposed to be working) cause it's my favorite. Also...assuming they graduated in '78, VHS players were invented in '76 so this is historically accurate.

Harry Potter Masterlist <- really just my misc. masterlist

☽☽ ❍ ☾☾

Growing up with a muggle for a mother, and an American one at that, Halloween had been a cause for immense celebration in your home. For the first few years, of which you had little memory, your father was severely against the “silliness of Halloween” but then your parents divorced and the holiday became a thing of legend in your home. Decorations went up at the end of August and stayed until Thanksgiving. Pieces of Halloween lingered through Christmas (ornaments that resembled infamous movie characters) and even off season you had a beloved stuffed animal that had once been a ghost (now it appeared more as an off-white, lumpy, blob). 

When you got your letter in the mail it was as if your mom’s intensity for the holiday grew and suddenly you understood your father’s resistance to the spectacle. 

“BOO!” You jumped, knees hitting the wooden table and the glittery orange greeting card from your mom dropping onto your empty breakfast plate. Hands gripped your shoulders and when someone began laughing in your ear you shoved your elbow back, digging it into their rib cage just enough to get them to back up and release you, “oh come off it, you’re no fun.” Sirius, of course, wedging himself in to the seat beside you. 

It was only then that you realized Remus was sitting across the way, Peter beside him. Leaving James to squeeze in on the other side of you. He took the liberty of snatching up the card you’d received that morning, an atrocity (as far as you were concerned) from your mother wishing you a happy halloween. 

“Ooo what’s this?” He read the letter out loud while you buried your face in your hands, not daring to look up at any of them, least of all Remus. The front of the card was decorated with the faces of the old horror classics, Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, the Wolfman, and the Invisible man. 

“Your mum’s still on her Halloween kick?” Sirius asked, taking the card away from James and looking it over. He held it up to Remus, “uncanny really,” and laughed when the other boy swatted his hand away. 

“My mum’s always on her Halloween kick…it’s embarrassing.” You took the card and shoved it in your bag. “Not worth bothering me about either.” 

“Might be,” Sirius replied, eyeing your bag, “she didn’t happen to send along any candies this year did she?” 

“No,” you lied, shifting awkwardly out of the seat between James and Sirius, trying not to trip off the bench and fall like you had countless times before, “I’ve got to get to class.” 

You were already thinking up a scathing reply to your mother (that would admonish the card while still avoiding the topic of your boyfriend’s lycanthropy…or that you had a boyfriend at all…and the general existence of werewolves). You made it all the way to the fat lady’s portrait when someone jump-scared you for the second time that day, though this was somehow less abrupt. 

“Remus,” you swatted his hands away from your sides as you turned toward him unable to keep the smile off your face. 

“Careful love,” he held your waist, guiding you closer to him on the small landing, “there might be vampires lurking about,” he leaned closer still, ignoring the obvious cough from the fat lady as she scrutinised the both of you (it was her that had told James and Sirius you were dating in fifth year, before you’d even managed to let them in on the news) “or werewolves.” His lips brushed your ear as he whispered the last bit and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up out of your chest. 

“Or ghosts, right?” You questioned, offering a kiss as you parted, Nearly Headless Nick whizzing passed. You raised an eyebrow and Remus grinned. 

“Downright spooky is what it is…all sorts of creatures coming out this Halloween.” He knew how you felt about the holiday and he’d met your mother (once in Flourish and Blotts when you tumbled through an introduction with burning cheeks after she’d nearly caught you kissing behind a bookcase) but he didn’t find any real harm in it. More so, like Sirius, he enjoyed teasing you. And stealing a few candies that your mother sent along. 

“You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t be bothered by her letter aren’t you?” 

“I’m simply saying, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Remus replied, shrugging. He offered the fat lady the password, finally admitting the two of you into the common room. “So she wants to prattle on about Halloween, at least she sends along some splendid chocolate.” 

“It’s all just a bit embarrassing now…I mean really, she bloody talks about me being here as if it’s all some fantasy. As if the only thing important about me is that I’m her own living, breathing, Halloween doll.” You complained, “and the card! Atrocious!” 

“I found it rather funny.” Remus admitted, “and I’m quite curious about these characters.” He’d pulled the card out of your discarded bag, looking at them in interest. 

“We could watch the movies,” you offered, thinking of the films you had at home. “You could come by over winter break? James said you’re staying with him.” 

“I thought Halloween stuff was embarrassing?” He teased. 

“Well not if you want to see it,” you replied hastily. If Remus declared that Halloween was his favorite holiday you were more than certain you’d celebrate with him, it was just that it was your mom and it felt all a bit too manufactured, as if you were a prop to her. 

“If I’m coming by on winter break, does this mean meeting your mum?” He asked, a slow smile working its way to his face. He’d mentioned sometime last year, close to spring, that he wouldn’t mind seeing you over the summer (and meeting your mum). 

“I don’t know why you want to,” you huffed, “she’ll just badger you about magical things.” 

“Conveniently, I’m a wizard,” he joked, “any badgering I’m apt to handle.” 

“Fine, yes, you’ll meet my mum…now can we stop talking about Halloween and go to class?” 

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justabunchofproblems · 3 years ago

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You + me = happy Christmas Eve || Peter Parker x male! reader

why hello there ! i wanted it, so i made it. enjoy !

Andrew Garfield ! Peter Parker x male ! reader (he/him)

warnings : bad parents, parents arguing, mention of divorce, but it’s mostly just fluff. disclaimer : gif is from Pinterest. the story is an original one. maybe something like this has already been made, if so, i don’t know about it. again, english is not my first language ! i’m still learning it so, if u see any mistakes or misspelled sentences, pls tell me nicely in the comments or by private message. enjoy ! :)

(Y/N) heard them screaming, they were arguing in the living room, again. It was the third time today. His parents were on the edge of divorce and he did not understand at all why they were still together when they absolutely couldn’t stand each other more than three hours.

He took a deep breath, just after the entry door made a loud noise by closing. His dad probably just left and his mom was now surely going crazy by herself in the parents’ bedroom. Now it was clear that Christmas eve was cancelled. No family fun on this 24th of December, like so many before. Has it ever been good ? (Y/N) couldn’t even remember one happy family party were everyone was reunited. If by miracle it happened, the end was never good. It was always people screaming and embarrassed relatives around the dinner table.

But if it was only during this period, it would be fine. Of course, it’s all the time, since a while now. The last dinner he had with both his parents smiling and being happy to see each other happened when he just had ten years old, for his birthday night. And it’s only because they were at the restaurant.

Finally, when there were no more noises in the appartement, (Y/N) sent a message to his boyfriend, Peter Parker. Maybe it was too much, he was probably having dinner with his aunt and uncle, sharing a happy Christmas eve but, he needed comfort.

To : Pete <3

"My parents are arguing again. I guess Christmas is cancelled this year. At least for me. How’s yours ?"

From : Pete <3

"Owh, shit. I’m sorry (Y/N/N). Come at mine. Aunt May made food for too much people again. My folks will be happy to have you for dinner !"

To : Pete <3

"Are you sure ? I don’t want to bother them. It’s family reunion after all"

From : Pete <3

"Nah, it’s fine. Plus, I already told them. We’re waiting for you, hurry up !"

After sending at least a hundred thank you messages to Peter, he decided to wear something a bit nicer and went on his way to the Parker’s house.

—

When he arrived, there was some decorations in front of the house. The lights made (Y/N) smiles as he stepped in to the door before pushing the ring button. He heard Peter yelling something and only one second later, he opened the door with a big smile on his face. He pulled the smaller boy in for a hug before he had time to say anything. (Y/N) let himself go in his boyfriend arms, this contact being the exact thing he needed to feel better.

"I’m glad you came, it’s gonna be fun ! Come on, we’re eating in any minute now."

The boys went into the house, and sat at the table. The little group shared a happy dinner, laughing and talking about everything and anything. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt better and if he could, he would relive this moment for ever. He needed something like that after all those years with chaotic family dinners at his own house. The Parker family was like a breath of spring in the middle of a long and cold winter.

After dinner, Peter and his boyfriend helped to clean the table and went into the bedroom. They laid on the bed, listening to music by sharing earbuds, staying in the arms of each other.

"Are you okay ?" Peter asked when he saw the other boy take a deep breath.

"Yup, I’m perfectly fine. I feel… quiet. I only feel like that when I’m with you, away from all the chaos in my appartement."

The spider smiled and tightened his arms around (Y/N), feeling better too. Not long after that, they both fell asleep, without noticing the snow falling outside.

———

so, what did you think ? :)

update : +300 LIKES ??????? you guys are amazing thank u <3

up.update : it’s been a while since i wrote this… I can’t believe people are still reading and liking it, thank u so much 🫶🏻. i corrected some mistakes i had made two years that were making my eyes ball out (bail out ? ball out ? idk lol), now i feel better. i hope you guys still enjoy it. much love !

#peter parker x male reader #andrew garfield x male reader #spiderman x male reader #christmas fanfiction #marvel x male reader #marvel fanfiction #male!reader #andrew garfield spiderman

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its-an-obsession · 3 years ago

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Christmas with Him

Marvel Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Summary: Growing up, the holidays in your family were a big deal. Your parents would spoil you and your sister with gifts or plan extravagant trips where your parents would leave you and Sarina to do your own little thing. After your sophomore year of high school, your parents split up; your father moving to Chicago while you and your older sister lived with your mother in NYC. Now, Christmas isn't such a big deal given the memories behind it. Your best friend - Peter Parker - makes it his responsibility to give you the best Christmas.

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Sarina -> older sister's name

Mentions of divorce/parents splitting up

You know that Peter Parker is Spider-Man

Warnings:

long imagine

kinda sad?

Peter Parker x-reader

White flurries fell from the clouds of Manhattan, New York. The snow hit the window to the right of my bed as I sat there. My head sat against the silk pillow with my eyes focused on the small droplets of snow that were melting from the window. I could see people rushing down the street, making their way towards the nearest store for last minute gifts. My mother hadn't even bothered to decorate the house for Christmas, except the occasional candy cane or string lights around the house.

Sarina had taken extra shifts this week to help our mother pay for gifts. Ever since our parents split a little less than a year ago, our mom had been more quiet and reserved. Luckily, she was still showing up to work; spending longer hours at the hospital as a nurse and not just sitting on her ass. The three of us hadn't heard from our father, last we heard was that he began dating some girl much younger than him.

I hummed to the tune of Sedona by Houndmouth, trailing my finger down the droplet of water as it ran down the window. I pushed my glasses up to the bridge of my nose and sat up from the bed, deciding to get out of my room for the first time this morning. Peter Parker - my best friend - had promised that he'd come bye and help me with homework.

Mr. Longingdale - our Chemistry teacher - had decided that it would be a fabulous idea to assign us a shit town of lab work over winter break. Being the wonderful friend he is, Peter stated that he'd be with me every step of the way. In addition to being besties Peter Benjamin Parker, that also came with the knowledge of his alter ego: Spider-Man. It didn't take long for me to accidently encounter who he was truly hiding behind the mask:

[Third Person View: Three years ago]

Y/N sat on the corner of Peter's bed, bouncing a rubber ball on the ceiling beside her. Her feet were propped up against the wall with her legs extended. She let out a heavy sigh, checking the time on her digital watch for about the hundredth time. Peter and her would usually meet one another at either house to do homework or just talk about random stuff. It was Y/N's favorite part of the day given her growing feelings for the boy.

Of course, falling for Peter Parker wasn't rocket science. If it weren't for people judging him for no apparent reason, all the girls would be over the moon for him. Y/N thought he had the perfect personality as well as his brown hair that she loved to play with whenever they'd have their weekend movie nights; mainly consisting of re-watching the Star Wars or Batman movies.

She adored everything about him: the way his nose crinkled up when he shocked himself with his inventions, the way he'd take pictures of anything that caught his eye (mainly her striking smile), and you can't forget how he took care of Y/N. Peter would go out of his to make sure that his best friend was alright. Y/N swung her legs over so the bottoms of her converse hit the carpet.

"Peter where the hell are you?" she muttered with her Y/E/C eyes wandering over the different variety of posters Peter had decorated his bedroom with. She smiled at the sight of a photo of him and her at their middle school graduation. Peter had his hand on top of Y/N's head while she was flipping him off with a smirk on her face.

The high school girl chuckled, remembering how her mother and father had given her a scolding while her older sister thought it was hilarious. Y/N's attention was pulled away from the picture frame at the sudden sound of Peter's window being opened. She rushed towards her backpack, reaching for her pepper spray in the front pocket of her bag. She whipped around with the weapon ahead of her. Y/N turned her head to the left, making sure the spray didn't get in her own eyes.

Unbeknownst to her, Peter Parker - Spiderman - was the stranger. He let out a horrible scream, luckily Aunt May wasn't home. Y/N dropped the pepper spray and stared at her best friend as he clutched the superhero mask to his bright red face. "Oh my god, oh my god," Y/N repeated, "Peter, I'm-" He stumbled and fell onto the edge of his bed, still using the mask to wipe his face. Y/N ran a hand through her hair and knelt down in front of Peter.

She felt her heart beat quicken at the sight of his red eyes. She cursed underneath her breath. Before hopping up from the ground, she told Peter to hold still for a hot second. Y/N ran to the nearest bathroom and rummaged through the cabinets in hopes to find a small bottle of saline solution. She finally found the container and rushed back to where her crush was.

"Tilt your head back," Y/N directed. She set a hand on top of Peter's head and helped him tilt his head back. Peter set a hand on Y/N's hip, pulling her close. She felt her cheeks rise to a light pink color at the feeling of his hand on her hip. Y/N set the drops into his eyes and stepped back. He winced slightly, causing his grip on Y/N's hip to tighten. Y/N bit her lip subtly. Peter let out a shaky sigh of relief, raising up his arm to pat Y/N on the shoulder. Y/N twisted the cap on and set it on the side table.

Y/N breathed heavily, still trying to process what the hell just happened. Peter leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees with his hands in his straight brown hair. Y/N looked around the room and found her water bottle sitting beside her backpack. She picked it up and handed it to him, shooting him an apologetic smirk. Peter thanked her and drank the rest of the water.

"Thanks, Y/N/N," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. Y/N replied with a smile and sat down beside him. An awkward silence settled between the two of them, not knowing what to say. "So, you're Spider-Man? That's new," Y/N spoke and looked up at him. Peter chuckled and shook his head.

He crushed up the water bottle, reaching his arm out to throw it into the trash can. He swung an arm around Y/N's shoulder, bringing her close so her head rested on his chest. "Still don't appreciate you pepper spraying me," Peter said. "Yeah, sorry about that," Y/N replied, chuckling nervously. He shook his head and kissed her on the top of her head.

[Y/N's point of View]

I walked down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. Sarina stood behind the counter, waiting for her bag of popcorn to finish. The TV across from our kitchen played the morning news, mainly speaking about what Spider-Man had down as well as the weather for the week. I looked around and took notice that my auburn haired sister had somewhat decorated the house.

She had put up stockings with our names embroidered on the top, mine being the green one, hers the red one and our mother's the white one. A small tree had been set up at the corner of the living room with seven presents circling the trunk all in different sizes. I walked over and admired the colorful ornaments. Many of the little decorations were from when my sister and I were younger including some family photos or Christmas cards from relatives.

I was hoping that my mother would be here that way we could go into town, maybe look for some ingredients to make Christmas dinner but of course she was at work. "Morning sleepyhead," Sarina greeted, walking into the living room with a large bowl of popcorn in hand as well as a glass of water. She ruffled my hair and plopped down on the leather couch.

"Nice decorations," I complimented, pointing to the tinsel that hung from the fireplace and the top of the kitchen cabinets. She smiled and shoved a thing of popcorn into her mouth. I grabbed some popcorn before walking into the clean kitchen. "Thanks," Sarina said, "Went this morning. Saw Ms. Parker, she says hi by the way." I smiled and grabbed a bottle of water and an apple.

My older sister set the bowl on the coffee table that had a bunch of holiday magazine's and a lit pine candle. I had never seen the townhouse this festive. It was a nice change especially since we hadn't done the normal traditions in awhile. "Hey, Peter's coming over later. Don't embarrass me," I spoke and sat beside her. "Since when do I ever embarrass you?" she questioned with a raised brow.

"Hmm, let's see," I said and tapped my chin, "When Peter took me to prom, you took pictures of us nonstop, claiming that we were a great couple. When Peter slept over for the first time, you said no funny business in reference to sex. Oh! And when we celebrated New Years last year, you pulled Peter away from me because you thought he was gonna kiss me."

"He was! You didn't see the way he looked at you, dingus!"

I rolled my eyes and bit the red apple. Sarina turned up the volume of the news, setting the TV remote on the arm rest of the couch. My hand rested on top of my chin as I lazily watched the news.

_____

(Time Skip: 6:30 pm)

Peter sat in front of me with our notebooks scattered about my bed. His back rested against the wall, his arms crossed. He tapped his chin with the eraser of his pencil. I huffed in annoyance and laid back with my arms finding their to the back of my head. "I say we just call it quits. Maybe go to Mr. Longingdale? Bring Spider-Man along, scare the shit out of our teacher," I stated.

My bestfriend whipped his head to me with his brows raised, his pencil away from his face. Peter sent me a look and shook his head in disagreement. "Tough crowd," I said, sitting up from my bed. Peter let out a sigh and closed his notebook. He set it into his backpack then grabbed his phone from the side pocket of his bag. I rummaged through my dresser to find a sweatshirt.

"Bingo," I muttered, finding my favorite black sweatshirt.

"Hey, you wanna go to the tree lighting downtown?" Peter asked, "They've got a bunch of cool food trucks coming. Your favorite grilled cheese place is gonna be there." I shrugged my shoulders and slipped the sweatshirt over my head. I pulled my hair out from underneath the collar.

"Not the answer I was hoping for," Peter said, going back to look at his phone. I pushed the desk chair underneath my desk and took a sip of my water. "Why don't you wanna go? It used to be your favorite thing to do when we were kids," he said. "I just-I don't wanna go, Pete," I said, shrugging. His brown eyes followed my figure as I hopped on my bed with my phone in hand. I ignored his gaze and flipped through Pinterest.

Without warning, Peter reached over and yanked my phone out of my grip. He stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket, jumping off the bed causing the books to fly off. "What the hell! Peter!" I exclaimed. I lunged forward to grab my phone from his pocket, but he was faster. He swiftly took ahold of my wrist and pulled my arm back. "We are going to that tree lighting whether you like it or not," Peter said.

He let go of my arm and slipped his arms through the straps of his green Jansport backpack. "Put something nice on, I'll be waiting downstairs," Peter said as he walked towards the door, "Hurry it up, sunshine." He closed the door from behind him. I groaned and walked towards my closet, opening it up to check what I had to wear. After many outfit changes, I finally decided on a brown sweatshirt, a pair of blue jeans and my favorite pair of white Keds.

I walked downstairs with my black purse hanging from my shoulder. Peter sat on the couch, flipping through some website on his phone. He looked up and smiled at the sight of me. "Well don't you look presentable," Peter said, hopping up from the couch, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his collared jacket. "Oh, shut up," I replied, grabbing my black beanie from the coat rack.

"Can I have my phone back?" I asked.

"Of course, sunshine," he said, handing me my phone.

I set my phone into the pocket of my purse. My best friend made sure that I locked the front door before walking towards the event. Memories upon memories flooded over me as we arrived at the Christmas Tree lighting. I withheld the wash of emotions, not wanting to relive the memories. Peter knew about what happened, but he never knew how hard it hit me.

Coming back here just brought back memories I didn't want to think about. I forced a smile, looking at the people that migrated around different holiday themed food trucks. Peter removed his arm from my shoulder to connect our hands. He brought me over to a hot chocolate stand. "Two hot chocolate's please," he ordered, setting a ten dollar bill onto the counter. The women smiled at him and began creating the drinks.

"Go stand over there, I'll be right over," Peter said, pointing to a seating area. I nodded in response and strolled over to a brick wall that surrounded a couple of thin decorated trees. Goosebumps rose on my skin at the feeling of the cold concrete hitting me. That hot chocolate sounded really good right about now. I sniffled from the cold and set my hands in between my legs, regretting not wearing any winter gloves.

My eyes watched as the little kids had the time of their lives with their parents. A young girl with curly hair ran in front of me, heading towards her father with opened arms. I smiled at the two and turned to look away before my tears from earlier made their appearance. "One hot chocolate madam," Peter said in a posh accent, "With extra, extra marshmallows just how you like it."

I thanked him with a smile and grabbed the warm drink from him. My smile stayed on my face at the feeling of the beverage warming me up. Peter glanced at me, smiling when he noticed me softly grinning (GIF Above). Again, my eyes found their way over to a happy family, swinging their kid back and forth with their hands gripping their little girl. I quickly wiped away a tear with the back of my hand in fear that Peter saw.

Unfortunately for me, he did.

"You okay?" Peter asked. He nudged my shoulder, careful that he wouldn't knock my drink over. I hummed in response and looked at him. "Are you okay?" he repeated. Peter raised a brow when I nodded, he didn't believe me. I turned back and waited till they lit up the tree which would happen in about a minute or so.

"Y/N/N?" Peter questioned.

He waved a hand in front of my face and caught me staring into space. I looked up at him. "Tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me," he said. I wiped away another tear, taking the last sip of my drink. Peter waited till I answered. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the announcer welcoming everyone to the tree lighting.

Everyone around Peter and I began clapping. "Thank you to everyone who came tonight. Lighting the Christmas tree had always been my favorite tradition, and I hope it is yours too," the women said, "If everyone could stand up and count to three with me."

The crowd of family's obeyed her statement. Peter and I stood up from the small brick wall. He gazed at me, expecting me to take my attention away from the announcer to answer his inquiry. "Three, two!" the large friendly group called slowly, "One!" Suddenly, the tall bushy Christmas tree lit up with bright colors cascading from the top of the tree to the bottom.

Everyone cheered and clapped at the beautiful sight. I felt my heart clench, remembering how my father would set me on his shoulders to get a better look at the tree. Peter let out a small sigh as he connected the dots. He grabbed my hand and led me out of the community area. He squeeze my hand in a reassuring manner. Once we were away from the large crowd of people, he threw his arms around me, bringing me close to his chest.

He kissed the top of my head, lingering for a moment before pulling away. I looked up at him with my chin resting on his chest. "I'm sorry, I knew you wanted to be there," I said. Peter tucked a strand of hair behind my hear. He smiled when I leaned my head closer to his palm. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that you're alright," Peter said. I smiled and rested my head against his chest again. He tightened his grip on me, not wanting to let go.

"I love you, Y/N," Peter said.

"Love you too, Peter."

Taglist: @arabellelancastersstuff @transias @kasidy709 @carmellasworld @sh-tposter2021 @midnightstar-90 @ramaalkayyali @nix-rose

#Marvel #mcu universe #Spider-Man #The Amazing Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x-reader #Peter Parker imagines #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew garfield peter parker imagines #peter parker andrew garfield x y/n #Andrew Garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield imagines #y/n #imagines #fluff #merry christmas #happy holidays

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im-in-love-with-pizza-bites · 3 years ago

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Yours, Mine, Ours: Chapter 15

Single-Dad!Chris Evans X Single-Mom!Reader

Series MasterList

List Of OCs For This Series

Series Summary: Your husband Caspian Richardson Senior died while serving in the military, so you move your three sons to Boston, MA. Where you meet an actor and his sweet daughter.

Chapter Summary: Time skip to 2022!

Series Warnings: Death of a spouse/parent, divorce of parents,

Chapter Warnings: Uh none?

A/n: I didn't know how to write holidays withoutt excluding someone so I skipped December. I might write a side chapter for Christmas, and any other holidays you request but if you request anything other than Christmas please be prepared to educate me on the holiday and give some of your family's traditions.

January 1st, 2022. You groaned stretching. You regret drinking last night. You looked around the room, your husband's childhood bedroom. You kids were settled in a room decorated just for them down the hall. For winter break you brought your kids down here.

You checked your phone, seeing a text from Chris. The two of you have gone on a two more dates since Thanksgiving. You two have also been talking more. Chris' text said:

"Good morning sunshine🌞." You smiled texting him back.

"Good morning."

You yawned before leaving the bedroom. You peak unto the bedroom that was formally a guest room but your in-laws put in a bunk bed with a trundle and called it your sons room, after you had Connor. They turned your husband's room into a guest room right after that. All three boys were fast asleep. You made your way downstairs.

"Good morning." Benji, your brother in law said with a smile from the counter in the kitchen

"Hey." You yawned before going to grab your favorite morning drink.

"Happy new year."

"Happy new year." You said before looking at your phone when it dinged, you smiled seeing it was Chris. And he was texting:

"Happy new year."

You responded before you noticed Benjamin looking at you. You have him a confused look.

"Whos got you smiling like that?" He asked.

"No one." You said simply, you're afraid he'd react badly about you starting to move forward with your life.

"Okay so who is this no one?" He asked you.

"You don't know him." You rolled your eyes taking a sip of your drink.

"Your dating someone?"

"Yes, I've been on 5 dates with him." You finally conceded.

"Oh. Isn't a little soon to be dating? Your moving on pretty quickly." The younger man scoffed. You sighed. "How did the boys react to you replacing my brother."

"The reacted fine. Caspian handled it maturely.

"Good morning mom." Caspian said yawning as he walked into the kitchen. "Good morning Uncle Benji."

"Morning kid." He said taking a sip of coffee. "So have you met the man your mom is dating?" Benji asked clearly wanting to cause trouble.

"Yeah. He's our neighbor. He's chill." Caspian shrugged grabbing the cereal from the cabinet.

"Oh, well Y/n next time I'm in town I'll have to meet him.

"Junior are you all packed? We fly home today."

"Yeah."

———

It was 7 PM when you landed. You didn't want to leave your car at the airport for a few weeks so you took a taxi there. So you're taking one home.

You got home around 8 PM and your were exhausted. You paid the taxi driver and sent your boys inside with their bags. You followed leaving your bag in the entry way before going over to Chris' house. You had asked him to pick up your mail. It was probably only bills but that's besides the point. You had already asked if you could pick it up today or if you had to wait for tomorrow.

You knocked on the door and Chris opened it quite quickly. He was holding June on his back and you could hear talking from inside.

"Hey there." Chris smiled, "come inside! Where are the boys?"

"They went straight inside to get ready for bed."

"Oh well I'll get your mail... You can wait here or follow. I left them in the kitchen." Chris explained.

"I'll follow you." You said as you admired the inside of his home. It was beautiful. You could tell from the outside that it would be bigger than your home but this was bigger then you thought. Chris led you to the kitchen where Scott and another man were waiting.

"Hey y/n!" Scott smiled. "This is my boyfriend, Steve."

"Hey Scott. Nice to meet you." You smiled reaching your hand out to shake with Steve. He smiled accepting your hand shake.

"Nice to meet you! June there was telling me about you."

"Oh."

"Here's your mail." Chris smiled. "Hey Lovebug can you get off my back for a second so I can talk to miss Y/n?" Chris asked June

"I guess." She said as her dad knelt down letting her jump off and join her uncle and his boyfriend. Before you and Chris walked to the door.

"How was your trip." Chris asked smiling softly. He's eyes held an amount of caring and softness you hadn't seen in years.

"It was great. It's the first time I've gotten up there since Senior passed so it was nice. I showed the boys where I met their dad and told them the story. They loved it." You said.

"That's amazing. So I wanted to ask if you wanted to come to dinner with me next Saturday?"

"Sure that should work I'll let you know."

"Okay good night." He smiled kissing your cheek noticing your face heat up and your smile grow.

"Good night Chris."

You stepped out of the house and started looking through your mail. Bill, bill, bill, junk, ad, coupons score, Christmas/holiday cards from old friends, a letter from Butler, and a letter from A lieutenant colonel, Rob Hucklebuckle. You hadn't heard from him in over a year, why would he be checking in now? And with a letter he has your number.

Taglist: @anacrcarvalho @traceyaudette @deputy-videogamer @stillthatbetch @queenofthepouges @dontbescaredtosingalong @hauntedmuffinpersonarascal @food8me @cedricdiggorysimpp @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @selluequestrian @killerqueenfan @lharrietg @liecastillo @denisemarieangelina @wisepeanutlady @unicornblueberry @stitchattacks @milacolibri @spooky-stoner @marvelmenwhore @saahmi @boldlypessimistic @freakyevanss @asuni921 @srhxpci @supriseeshawtyy @nova10711 @nik2write @blueeyeddemon1016 @happinessinthebeing @winterberryfox @sunwardsss @ellerosie2332 @the-photo-hoe @scarletmeii @janaev4ns @tanyaherondale

A/n: If I wasn't able to tag you I took your name off of the taglist. I started doing it, then wanted to not do it but then I lost the original taglist because my notes app messed up so I kinda had to do it at that point opps.

Yes I stole Hucklebuckle from the Santa paws movie don't judge me.

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brockadoodles · 4 years ago

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sydämellinen (warm) - m. rantanen

AN: SURPRISE BITCHES HERE’S A CHRISTMAS FIC. I wrote this little thing specifically for @hockeyboysiguess. So Merry Christmas in November, my dear. I hope you love it. It might be some of the softest content I’ve ever written, for a boy I don’t even go here for. So let me know what you think.

*Also if any of the Finnish is wrong, I apologize, I don’t speak Finnish rip.

Word Count: 2362

Warnings: None

Christmas traditions were something that you never quite understood until you weren’t at home anymore to have them. Growing up, you had never considered the things that your family did around the holidays as monumental or special traditions, oftentimes you felt boring and inadequate when asked about them. Your mom, your dad, and you, that was all you had, and the holidays seamlessly came and went each year. Sure, a tree would get decorated, there would be some sort of family dinner, but nothing felt magical or special like the holidays were always made out to be. Everything in your world felt stagnant until you met him.

Mikko Rantanen adored everything about the holidays, it was part of growing up for him. Christmas in Finland was no debatably the largest celebration in the country all year, every year. He found extravagant light displays enticing, and the warm smell of Christmas ham comforting. To him, there was nothing more memorable than his childhood memories of Christmas with his family, the traditions held strong each year, traditions that he packed up and took with him when he moved away for his career. His Christmases changed from large family gatherings to small close-knit nights with the few teammates and friends who also didn’t go back home for the holidays, attempting at recreating that fleeting feeling of home that he desperately missed. A feeling that he hadn’t felt since he was young until he met you.

Mikko knew you never cared for the holidays, he realized this on your first date, a cold, snowy evening in November. He watched as you sat there in the soft candlelight, face twisting slightly at the mention of what both of you were doing for Christmas that year. When Mikko lit up at the mention of the holidays and started telling you about his traditions from home, you tried to hide your distaste. You tried to hide the sinking feeling in your stomach, the one that was pulling you down into a self-deprecating mess sitting at a far too nice restaurant with a far too expensive-looking meal in front of you, waiting for this person as wonderful as Mikko to realize that you weren’t worth sharing his traditions with. Mikko noticed though because Mikko noticed everything about you, even the things you hopelessly tried to protect him from. He noticed it all because that’s what happens when you love someone as much as Mikko fell in love with you.

The first Christmas, you had a reasonable excuse for not seeing him. Your parents had insisted on a Christmas spent in Aspen, a three and a half-hour drive from Denver that acted as your barrier from Mikko and his Christmas traditions, something that was overwhelming so early on in your relationship. You simply packed up a bag, driving your old car through the mountains, and spent Christmas sitting in front of a fire in a far too expensive resort town, no Christmas tree in sight and nothing but an unread text from your boyfriend to keep you company.

The second Christmas together, his schedule is what kept you apart, with the Avalanche getting the unlucky Christmas Eve game out in New York. A schedule that would have him sitting wide awake on a redeye flight after a 6-0 shutout loss back to his condo alone in Denver with a heavy and longing heart, knowing that he needed to give you space during Christmas but also desperately wanting to share his favorite holiday with his favorite person. Instead, he spent the holiday alone on his couch, his texts to you left on read and a cold cup of miso soup on his coffee table as he wished for the day to pass.

By your third Christmas with Mikko, you knew it was time to actually spend the holiday together, to swallow your feelings and make an effort to learn the traditions of the man you had come to love over the last two years. A diamond ring sat nestled on your left hand, unfinished wedding plans for the following Summer in Finland, and a hole between you when it came to the holidays that you were finally ready to fill.

“Mikko?” You murmured into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft and slow kisses down his skin, your legs tangled with his own, a warmth nestled between you that made your stomach fill with butterflies, even after all this time together.

“Mhm, kultaseni?” The Finnish pet name running from his lips effortlessly, a term of endearment that made you blush every time. You kissed his shoulder once more, letting your fingers dance along the bare skin of his arm as you breathed a sigh that you didn’t know you were holding.

“Will you share your Christmas traditions with me?”

Mikko had to take a moment to make sure he heard you correctly, to make sure that the mechanisms of his brain that were translating English into Finnish as you spoke were working as they should. When he looked down at you, he saw something in your eyes that he didn’t recognize in all the years that you had been together. He saw, for the first time, a fleck of excitement about the holidays, and he wasn’t going to be the one passing that up for anything.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a soft trail of kisses down your temple and lingering there for a moment, before he slowly adjusted his arm, rolling his body to hover over yours as he properly kissed you for the millionth time, but the first of that morning. The two of you stayed like that for a while, comfort nestling into your heart with each kiss that he gave, and each touch you felt. You were hopelessly, and entirely in love with Mikko Rantanen, and for the first time in your life, the idea of a Christmas tradition didn’t seem so bad.

Mikko knew he had to start slow with the traditions, he didn’t want to give you too much and have you pull yourself back from the idea. He wanted this to be a good experience for you, and if it took giving you one minuscule detail at a time for you to re-wire the part of your brain that associated Christmas with your parents that were somehow still together, yet should have been divorced, and a lack of lights and warmth into a special time for you and him, he would. Mikko Rantanen would have made the snowmelt in Denver for you if he could, because he loved you, as much as someone is capable of loving another person. And all he wanted for Christmas was to give you one new tradition that you loved, one that could be shared with just the two of you until hopefully one day there were toddlers running around the tree.

The first thing you did together was get a tree. It was a small tree, its branches were short and stubby and it couldn’t have been more than 2 feet tall even in the pot that it was nestled in. It wasn’t the tree that Mikko would have chosen, but when he saw your eyes brighten at the ceramic pot it was planted in, the 6 feet Douglass Fir’s lining the tree farm suddenly disappeared from his line of sight.

“Are you sure this one’s okay, Mik? I don’t want to mess with the tradition.” You quietly asked, your arm wrapped tightly around his as he pushed the tree in the cart toward the car. You didn’t want to change the things that he was trying to show you, but deep down you were finding yourself longing for this to be something you created with him, memories and traditions to have together. It may have seen silly to outsiders, putting so much thought into something that should have been simple, but you were trying to let him show you the magic of Christmas that he had spent years keeping from you at your own request, and part of that process was trying to redesign the idea about Christmas that you had built in your head.

“I love it, it’s perfect for us.” He smiled at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, the black pom on your hat ticking his nose slightly as he stood back up.

The tree sat undecorated on a table by the window for nearly a week. With Mikko being gone on a road trip, you had just pushed it to the outskirts of your mind, figuring it would get done eventually. On the fifth morning that you woke up alone, you leaned over the counter as your coffee brewed, the tree sitting there on the table directly in front of you, Mikko’s good morning text replaying in your mind. You looked out the window, admiring the snow falling over the city, the grey clouds casting a shadow into your already grey and modern home. You sighed, and before you realized what you were doing, you found yourself wandering into the storage closet and pulling out a bin that you had never once touched or even looked at.

You set your coffee down on the floor next to the tree and slowly opened the plastic container, the contents carefully wrapped in protective tissue, ornaments you knew he had collected over the years since moving to Denver. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes slowly, an image of Mikko dancing through your mind. You opened your eyes and grabbed an ornament, a small antique looking Santa, a chip on his leg from wear and tear and a black ink smudge on the bottom, 2002, presumably the year that it was bought. You carefully hung it on the tree, leaning back to admire it for a moment before reaching your hand back into the bin to grab another. This one, 1999. You took each ornament one by one, taking almost an hour to decorate this two-foot-tall tree sitting on a table against your high rise condo window, each ornament having a year written somewhere on them, leaving you to begin to wonder all of the circumstances that had led to Mikko having that specific ornament.

When all was done, the tree had ornaments but no lights, a pot instead of a tree skirt, and there was nothing sitting on top of it that resembled a star. Instead, you placed a photo of you and Mikko carefully next to the pot, one that was taken just shortly after you told him you loved him for the first time, one that to you, symbolized a new shift to your relationship, one that you were hopefully emulating by decorating this tree.

When Mikko came home late that night, tired and ready to crawl into bed next to you after almost a week apart, he stopped in the living room when he saw the light still on. In his foggy state of mind, he didn’t even notice the tree until he was reaching to turn off the small lamp sitting next to it, pausing in a state of shock when he realized what exactly he was looking at. It wasn’t how he would have decorated it, the ornaments were in the completely wrong places, some too densely placed, and the lack of lights was a design choice that he wasn’t sure was intentional or not. But, Mikko felt his heart grow looking at it. A tree that a year ago you would have never said yes to buying, let alone decorating that you had spent time on doing yourself. Mikko turned off the light, walking into the bedroom to find you peacefully asleep on your side of the bed. He wrapped himself around you, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss into your neck, murmuring his love for you before drifting to sleep.

The next morning you woke up in a familiar trance, soft and needy kisses shared between you as his hands guided your hips and their movements on top of him, heavy breaths filling the space as you held each other close, making up for the lost time of that week. When you slid off of him, he pulled your face down to his one last time, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, “Minä rakastan sinua,” melting from his lips, “I love you,” in Finnish.

“I love you, too, Mikko.” You said back, your heart full and your cheeks flushed.

By the time Mikko emerged from the shower, you had already made coffee and were sitting on the couch reading. He came up next to you, setting a small box in front of you as he sat down. You set your book down, eyeing him curiously as he began to speak.

“I noticed you decorated the tree, and I have something for you, for us that we could put on it together.” He carefully unwrapped the box, a silver ornament resting neatly in it. You carefully pulled the ornament from the box, the shiny material feeling smooth in your hands until you noticed something scratchy on the sides. You turned the ornament, your eyes welling with tears when you saw what was engraved on the side. A date, the date that you said the famous three words for the first time, the same magnetic pull coming from the ornament he had made that you felt from the photograph.

“I thought having a special ornament each year for just us could be a tradition we start together. It’s sort of like our first Christmas together, but it’s not the first that I’ve felt love for you.” He smiled. Mikko reached up and wiped your cheek tenderly, drying the tears that had fallen as he pulled you up and toward the tree. You hung the ornament on the small, imperfect tree with no lights, and as you looked out at Denver in the background, with Mikko curled around you, you felt that warmth he had always told you he felt about Christmas for the first time, a feeling that you hoped to carry with you for the rest of your life together.

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen fic #mikko rantanen imagine #mikko rantanen x reader #avs fic #avs imagine #avs story #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years ago

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Some People Wrap Their Lies Around a Cocktail Glass | Damian Wayne

And You Sit Wondering Where You’re Going to Turn

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.3k

✦ fake dating AU

✦ summary — you need to cover up the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you a week before your step-father’s Christmas party, and Damian needs a date for his father’s New Year’s ball. Both of you are experts at pretending, what could go wrong?

✦ warnings — some angst, mentions of food, Damian and reader are neighbors, a little bit of awkwardness, sprinkles of fluff.

✦ mini series masterlist

════════════════════════

Every time your phone buzzed, you hoped it was him. Such a naive and sick logic, one of a teenager waiting for her crush to text back, was nothing compared with the sobering truth.

Your ex-boyfriend was your ex for a reason. And you would have to face the music on your own.

Your mother was going to be disappointed. Not more than you were. Travis had been a good boyfriend, goofy and nice. He hadn’t been the gentlest person in the world, but you learned to accept that he wasn’t perfect.

You could have fallen for him if he had given you enough time.

Your cellphone rang and the fact that it hadn’t buzzed startled you. A handful of people called you instead of texting you, yet you didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

That was your luck. What a horrible week. And it was only Monday noon.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself and swiped your finger against the screen to take the call. “How is everything going?” you softly greeted your mother.

She sighed. “I will be relieved when the planning is over.” She changed the subject, “Did your boyfriend clear his schedule?”

You breathed out a small laugh. “He did,” you lied. Not even sure if Travis had truly wanted to attend, you lied some more, “He’s excited to meet you.”

“We are excited too. Your uncle said he won’t believe it until he sees it.”

You and him both. As she told you about every guest she was skeptical about showing up, you mentally went through your list of feeble romantic relationships.

Jordan was in town, you had heard about them a few days ago. But asking them to be your date out of nowhere would be embarrassing when the last thing they knew about you was that you were happy in a new relationship.

Liam’s bright blue eyes came to your mind, and you almost had the answer. You hooked up a couple of times after breaking up, and you were friendly enough for you to feel comfortable telling him the truth. The problem was that your mother hated Liam.

The list continued getting shorter and shorter, your anxiety levels higher and higher. You shouldn’t have lied to your mother, but pride was a marvelous and twisted thing and you shared such a stupid little thing with her.

“Have you spoken to your father?” she asked, unbeknownst to her only adding to the pile of regrets and worries.

“Brianna said he’s out of town.”

Your mother grunted. It was clear that both of you knew Brianna had lied. “Well, you’ll see him for New Year’s.”

“I suppose, yes.”

She said your name sternly. “He’s your father.”

He didn’t act like he was. “He hasn’t called in weeks,” you explained. “I am not sure he wants to see me.”

”Your father is a busy man,” she told you. It was like a reflex to her, excusing him even though she had divorced him when you were eight.

Adults and their busy lives, wrapped in their lies and inane promises. You had really tried to be different, but caving in was too easy. What a mess.

“I have to leave you,” she lamented. You could hear that she meant it by the emotion that seeped into her voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Have a nice day,” you wished her, voice trembling as anxiety fully kicked in.

The moment the line clicked, you dropped your cellphone onto the sofa. Sniffing, you walked into your bedroom in search of a hair tie.

You needed to keep your hands busy so you could come up with something to say. Or somebody to date.

════════════════════════

Damian’s scrutinizing gaze greeted you as he opened the door. You analyzed his stance and attire, trying to assess whether you had interrupted anything or not.

He stepped back without taking his eyes off you, hand still on the door handle. His hair was damp, and he looked extremely comfortable, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

He would also have looked approachable if his eyes weren’t so sharp.

“Are you coming in or not?”

You reacted, extending your arms to offer a container to him. “I made cookies earlier.”

He looked down at the container in your grasp, then back up at your face. “Get inside.”

You stepped into Damian’s apartment, used to the minimalistic style that you secretly wished you had chosen for your own place.

At the same time, you liked your apartment. Your mother helped you decorate, and she had impeccable taste.

He placed the cookies onto the coffee table, motioning for you to sit.

Sitting down, you watched him do the same just in front of you. His gaze was still sharp, but he waited for you to speak.

When you didn’t, he said, “I know you bake when you’re stressed.”

“It calms me.”

“You baked a pie two days ago. In the middle of the night.”

“And it was good,” you said immediately. “Right?”

He nodded. “Delicious,” he assured you. “Yet I can’t help but worry.”

You gripped your hair, exhaling harshly. “Holiday stuff.”

“Did you finally come to terms with the fact that all those ornaments look awful?”

“They do not,” you said, quite offended. You had spent an entire weekend decorating the living room. Sighing at the memory of choosing Christmas decorations and ornaments with your now ex-boyfriend, you explained your problem, “Travis broke up with me this past Saturday, and I don’t know how to tell my mother.”

Confusion was clear in Damian’s features. You had expected a comment about how you could find someone better, but not this.

“He was going to attend Leonard’s Christmas party with me.”

Leonard was your step-father. Your mother married him when you were a pre-teen and since then you had never skipped one of his parties or events.

He was the only reason why your mother and you were rich, and your biological father hated you for choosing him.

Money hadn’t been the reason why you took a liking to Leonard, although having everything you wanted and needed was nice, but your father wouldn’t have understood even if he tried.

Damian lifted an eyebrow. You could tell he wished you were joking.

“Too soon, I know.”

“I’m just shocked you planned to take him from all people to such event.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You met him on a dating app and your first date was at a bar,” he reminded you as though that explained everything. Your semblance must’ve shown skepticism because he added, “You are not supposed to take somebody like him to your family’s house unless you hate your family.”

“A lot of people do that and their relationships succeed.”

Damian inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Does Travis even own a suit?”

“I was going to buy him appropriate clothes, a matching tie, get him a haircut... He hates formal attire.”

“I thought you liked your step-father.”

“I do. That’s why I was finally going to take somebody with me so people wouldn’t ask him why I’m always single and make him uncomfortable.”

He hummed, nodding slowly. “So you wanted him to try and explain why his step-daughter was dating a bad boy caricature. Very reasonable.”

“First of all, some bad guys are attractive. Have you seen The Phantom of The Opera?”

“You didn’t just insult Erik’s skills like that,” he said, offended.

“I’m not comparing him to Travis. It was an example.”

“A poor one at that unless Travis smells as bad as Erik.”

You shook your head. Damian was exaggerating when he said Travis was a bad boy caricature — apart from the fact that he loved wearing leather and sometimes took part in street races, he was a normal guy.

“Besides,” he continued, always eager to be right, “a bad boy and a bad guy aren’t the same thing. I thought you were literate in media.”

It seemed like he would never let go of the fact that you had switched careers when film school got unbearable.

“The point is,” you tried to go back to the topic at hand, “that it could have worked.”

“If you say so,” he said sarcastically. “You didn’t tell me what is it that Leonard usually says when people ask about your love life.”

“That I’m focused on my career or that I like to keep my private life separate from big events.”

Leonard had always been nice to you. He never planned to have children of his own, yet he never complained about you. From the day you met, he tried to befriend you, and eventually, he started to treat you as a daughter. He never made you call him dad unlike your father’s third wife who cried when you refused to call her mom — he never forced you to do anything.

Damian offered you a cookie, but you shook your head and he motioned for you to continue speaking as he took a cookie for himself.

“I lied to my mother earlier and I don’t know what I’m going to do or say, but I would rather eat my own foot than tell her my boyfriend chose to break up with me a week before the day he was supposed to meet her.”

Damian bit into the cookie, and you waited for a comment about how good or bad it was. He stared at you, brow twitching, before he once again made a movement with his hand so you would continue talking.

He knew you too well for your own good. And he also seemed to know that leaving you alone with your mind wasn’t such a good idea when you were in distress.

“I considered calling up an escort and have them pretend to be my partner, but I’m nervous,” you admitted, dropping your hands onto your lap for a second before moving them to rest on the couch, one at each of your sides. “What if that ruins it even more? Such a waste of money. And the embarrassment…”

He silently chewed, eyes focused on you. As he swallowed, he pinched his nose with his free hand. “I’ll do it.”

“You want to pay for the escort?”

Unamused, he clarified, “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“I can’t ask that from you, Damian. You have your own events to attend! You said you would spend the holidays at your father’s house.”

He stayed silent, not taking his eyes off you. He then licked his bottom lip and said, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll be your sweet and loving boyfriend in front of your family and Leonard’s acquaintances, and you’ll be my mysterious and charming girlfriend in front of my family and my father’s acquaintances.”

His offer was reasonable. Pretending was easy for you, meaningless. Leonard and your mother were always clear when they asked you to dress in certain ways or attend boring events — they weren’t expecting you to change, just to fool other people into thinking you were different.

They did the same, and that was enough for you.

Leonard’s smile was fake and tight in public when the only thing you could think about the smiles he gave you around the house was how warm they were.

Your mother was the opposite. You had seen her the happiest with Leonard, but she had always been rather cold as a person. In public, she was a lovely woman, always smiling and laughing.

“We can’t be in two places at once.”

“Father doesn’t celebrate Christmas publicly,” he explained blandly. “You just need to buy a new gown and cancel your plans for New Year’s.”

“For your father’s annual ball?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that,” you assured him. Or yourself.

That night, as you stepped back into your apartment, you couldn’t help but make a face of disgust.

The ornaments were truly awful. You had gone overboard with everything — at the moment it had felt so good, laughing and drinking with Travis as you filled the living room with colors.

But that wasn’t your style. You didn’t even like colored Christmas lights.

════════════════════════

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t keep yourself from being nervous. The last time you took somebody to one of Leonard’s big parties had been awkward and uncomfortable, a high school boyfriend who was too eager to impress your family.

Everybody understood because teen relationships usually are awkward and over-the-top. Now you wouldn’t have an excuse, you were an adult with a job and so-called social skills.

The first one was spot on. You had a job, you loved your job — and you didn’t need a job so you never felt pressured.

Your social skills, however, worried you. It was the anxiety playing tricks with your confidence, you knew, yet you couldn’t do anything but indulge it.

A part of you wondered if you would be this nervous if Travis was the one accompanying you. Perhaps you would be in a worse estate, or perhaps he wouldn’t have allowed you to worry.

But you didn’t have time to think about the what if’s. The party would take place the next day.

Time had flown by, you had been busy buying gifts and attempting to wrap them while balancing work and your friends’ own Christmas celebrations.

As though he knew you were a ball of nerves, curled up on the couch with a blanket over your shoulders and hands around your fourth —or was it the fifth?— cup of coffee that evening, Damian knocked upon your door.

You weren’t surprised to see him. He had said you would need to go through a few details before Leonard’s party.

You had barely interacted with Damian throughout the week, but he had assured you he was ready. He even sent you a picture of the tie he bought for the party, wanting to make sure the color was the right one.

His eyes scanned the living room as he made himself comfortable. He didn’t make a comment about the new ornamentation, but the fact that he hadn’t scowled was a good sign.

“I assumed you would be baking in preparation.”

“I’m not that stressed.” You folded the blanket and rested it onto the arm of the couch. “Can I offer you something to drink? Water, coffee, tea, alcohol...”

He shook his head. “Thank you. So, you don’t bake for your family?”

“Oh! I do, but on other occasions. Birthdays, anniversaries...” You sighed, shrugging. “Private things.”

A few times your mother had encouraged you to bake your father a birthday cake, but he rarely spent his birthday in town so that was even rarer.

“Have you already made our story up?”

“I suppose we should stick to the truth for the most part. Neighbors, then friends, and then...”

“Are you going to awkwardly tell your mother you’re dating me or are you just messing with me?”

”it’s hard for me to lie to my mother,” you explained, abashed. “It’s even worse if I have her in front of me.”

Damian stood up and opened an arm. “Come here.”

“I don’t need you to comfort me.”

He scoffed. “I’m not trying to comfort you. Come.”

You stood in front of him, looking down at his hand. “You want me to take it?”

“No. Well, perhaps...” He pensively looked at your form. “We have never been close physically.”

It had escaped you that you would need to touch him in order for your relationship to be believable. “So we’re going to practice.”

He hummed. “I’ll have my arm around you for most of the night,” he emphasized.

You stood beside him, expecting him to rest his arm behind your neck. Damian placed his palm on your upper back first, tentative.

His hand slowly slid up, tracing your shoulder blade. As he wrapped his arm around both your shoulders, he grunted.

Turning to look at him, you asked, “What?”

“It’s rather awkward to walk around in this position.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. “So?”

He slanted his head to face you. “Waist or hip?”

You considered the question, thinking about the way your dress would fall down your body. “Which one do you think would look better?”

“I have no clue.”

At least he was honest. Moving his hand off your shoulder, you lightly took it in your grasp. “Let’s stand in front of the mirror.”

Damian didn’t withdraw his hand from yours as you guided him into your bedroom. He curiously stared at the walls, quickly glancing at everything his eyes could fall onto.

He knew so much yet so little about you... you were friends, yes, and he trusted you with things he had never even imagined he would say out loud. At the same time, he was still getting used to his new life.

It wasn’t drastically different, but it was freeing in ways he never expected. With his new life came you, and he was astonished over the fact that you hadn’t met before when you had been forced to frequent the same places. Your presence was refreshing — welcomed from the very beginning.

Damian blinked rapidly. Getting reflective over being at a friend’s bedroom for the first time was new, too.

Standing in front of the mirror, you let go of his hand. Damian surrounded your body with his arm, delicately resting his hand on your waist.

“Is that okay?” he asked, watching you through the mirror as you shifted.

“Yeah. You can lower your hand if you want.”

He did so, pressing his palm against your hip.

“I think,” you mumbled, “your hand on my hip accentuates my stomach a little too much.”

He slowly trailed his hand upward, stopping at your waist once again. “Like that?” he asked in a whisper.

“Like that,” you agreed.

The two of you stood there for a long moment, facing your reflections. You moved first, and regretted it as the temperature changed over your form.

You hadn’t realized Damian’s body was that warm.

Sitting down on your bed, you followed his movements with your eyes as he sat on your vanity’s chair.

“Speak your mind,” he commanded.

“What if Leonard doesn’t believe... us?”

“I believe he has attended a few of my father’s celebrations.” He was stiff as he spoke. “But,” he added, “I have never crossed paths with him.”

“At least he doesn’t hate you.”

“Has he hated people you’ve taken to his parties?”

“Mmmmh...” You tilted your head as you made yourself comfortable by crisscrossing your legs. “Not to one of his parties per se, but he hated the boyfriend I had in college. They had met before.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot up. “You only had one boyfriend in college?”

“No,” you laughed as you confessed, “but my family only met one.”

“I’m more worried about your mother.” He tried to be nonchalant as he said it, but it sounded like a confession too.

But you weren’t. Damian was easy to like. You would have worried if he had to meet your father — he always seemed to think the opposite your mother did. Your father would have told you not to date somebody more attractive than you, or mocked you for supposedly dating a rich guy too.

“Don’t mention her age and everything will go smoothly.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

You shrugged. “Just to be safe, assume I am not.”

He huffed a laugh, mouth twinging before he sighed.

As he stood up, you did too. Damian looked at the time just to be sure that he had to leave already and said, “I should let you get some sleep and get some rest of my own.”

Agreeing, you silently walked him towards the door. You wanted to thank him for doing this, ask if he was sure he was willing to not only do this for you but trust you with returning the favor.

Words didn’t come out of you. They did from him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yeah, you would see him in the morning for what would probably be one of the longest days of your life.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

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