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percevalec · 7 months ago

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THIS WONT STAY IN VEGAS {part 1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You went clubbing with your friend, celebrating her moving to Vegas. You got drunk and don't remember anything. The next morning you find yourself in bed with a stranger and a ring around your finger

Words: 3.4K

Warnings: Alcohol, Mentions of hooking up, Memory loss, (I have no idea how any of this works !) not proof read.

do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

The night was wild to say the least. You danced to all your favorite songs, drank drinks you can't even remember the name of, and apparently went back to someones hotel room.

You woke up and furrowed your eyebrows as the morning light hit your eyes through the window. Your head was killing you.

"What the hell...." You mumbled as you sat up and looked to your left, you saw a brown haired guy laying down next to you. Whatever you shamelessly thought to yourself, this wouldn't be the first time you’ve hooked up with someone after going to the club. Everything was normal, right? Everything except the pounding headache and the memory loss you have from last night. A part of you felt bad for the guy, you couldn't even remember his name. But his name wasn't your biggest problem right now. You needed to go back to your hotel room and get to your friend so she could help you remember how you ended up here.

You also didn't fail to notice that your clothes were scattered all over the room. You quietly got up from the bed, collecting your clothes so you could get dressed. As you were putting on your dress you noticed something that you certainly don't remember owning. A cold shiny metal ring on your finger.

There's no way what you're thinking about could actually be reality, your friends would never let you marry a stranger in vegas.

Before you can think of any other explanation as to why you have a random ring on your finger, the man next to you rolls around and grunts as he slowly wakes up, “Ah... my head..." you hear him mumble as his half closed eyes slowly widen as he sees you next to him. You stare at each other, neither of you knowing what to say. It was obvious that he was also confused about the situation. He slowly pushed himself up, sitting up on the bed. You watched as he opened his mouth then quickly closed it again as if he's not sure on what to actually say.

"Uhm... what's your name." He asked awkwardly, almost embarrassed. It was obvious now that he also did not remember last night's events. “Y/N” you reply awkwardly. You didn't expect this to even be a conversation, usually you never stayed in anyone's room after a hookup, you slipped away in the middle of the night or the morning before the other person woke up. But now here you are in a very awkward situation. Not knowing what to say next you decide to ask the same question back, you were also curious to know the stranger's name. “I'm Charles” he replied to your question, looking down at the bed sheet avoiding eye contact with you. The fact that he was naked under the covers wasn't lost on him either. Especially since he was struggling to remember anything about you.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” you spoke after a second of silence. He slowly shook his head. He tried to recall anything from last night but his memories were fuzzy at best, a blur of lights and sounds that he couldn't decipher. "Not really," He admitted, his voice low. "Do you?" no. You say in a low whisper. Another moment of awkward silence goes by, neither of you daring to actually look at each other. Suddenly you notice a ring on his finger. “You have it too” you say in shock, looking at his ring noticing it matched perfectly with yours.

He looked confused as you mention the ring. i don’t remember owning a ring Charles thinks to himself.

He finally looks up at you, his eyes widening as he sees the matching ring on your finger. His face goes from confused to complete terror in a heartbeat. "What?!" He mumbled as he quickly looked down at his own ring. His jaw dropped as he saw the gold band around his finger. No way, no goddamn way.

———————————————————————————

“Something, you have to remember something from last night” you say anxiously as you pace around the room, not wanting to accept the situation you could possibly be in.

You lost all hope in getting any answers about the events of last night as you looked over at charles. He shook his head quickly, his panic and confusion written all over his face as he tried to remember literally anything from the night before "I don't know. All I remember is drinking a lot of alcohol, and well I think we hooked up" he says looking down at the floor.

“But there's no way we actually got married right? it's obviously a joke, we probably just found rings and decided to put them on” you say nervously laughing. He forced a nervous chuckle at your joke. He wished it was a joke, but the matching rings on your fingers made it pretty obvious that maybe it was something serious. Charles was already dreading his family finding out about this. His manager would never let him hear the end of it.

"Yeah we were probably just messing around" He tried to reassure both you and himself. “Just get dressed and help me find my phone, I was out with a friend so she must remember what happened” He quickly nodded at your statement, thankful that there was a witness to all of this. He threw off the bed sheet and stood up, looking around the room for his clothes. "Alright. You look for your phone, and I'll get dressed." He mumbled as he found his crumpled up button up shirt and pants on the ground. He quickly put them on. Once he finished getting dressed, Charles began helping you search for your phone. He looked through the various things on the floor around the bed, and the bedside table. But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find it.

He looked over at you, he was still avoiding eye contact as much as possible as he sheepishly spoke. "Did you find it yet?"

“Yeah, it was on the bathroom counter” you say as you quickly call your friend hoping she will explain what's going on. He nodded as he sat back on the bed, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep sigh as he tried to come to terms with whatever was happening. This was an absolute disaster. He was married to a woman he didn't even know. All he could do was sit there and hope that you somehow found a way out of this whole thing. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and listening to you talk to your friend.

———————————————————————————

“Riley?” you say over the phone “Y/N, i've been texting you all morning, where are you” you hear your friend say over the phone

“I'm not sure.., just tell me you remember what happened last night” you said realizing that you were clueless as to where you woke up.

“How could you possibly not remember what happened! There's no way anyone would forget a night like that” Riley says over the phone, you can practically hear the smile she has on her face.

“This isn't funny Ry” You say in a serious tone. “I'm with the guy from last night, neither of us remember what happened”

“Look just tell me where you're at, I'll come and explain everything”

Perfect you think to yourself, it's only a matter of time before you get the clarity on the situation you managed to get yourself in. You look over at Charles “What's the address” you ask, still on the phone with your friend. He raised his head looking over at you with a puzzled expression on his face. Charles hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of why you needed his address. "Why do you need that?" He asked in a hushed tone, his voice still heavy with a mix of exhaustion and confusion. “My friend is coming over to explain everything”

He let out another sigh, his mind still racing with questions. He glanced at the clock, which showed it was almost 12pm already. He gave you a short nod, accepting his fate. There was no point in hiding his address, he was already married to you after all. He told you his address, his voice quiet and almost defeated sounding.

You give the address to Riley. “Okay, i'll see you in ten minutes” She responds as she hangs up the call. You sit back down on the bed next to Charles. The reality of the situation was slowly sinking in.

———————————————————————————

The awkward silence was filled only by the sound of breathing as he you sat next each other. Charles couldn't look at you directly, but he was acutely aware of your presence next to him. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration and nervousness.

“She's only ten minutes away” you say, breaking the silence. He nodded slowly in acknowledgment, his eyes trained on the floor. Ten minutes. That seemed like both an eternity and no time at all. You swallowed hard, trying to come up with something to say, anything to distract yourself from the anxiety gnawing at the pit of your stomach. When you finally spoke, your voice was low. "So… Where are you from?" Charles glanced over at you for a swift second before looking back at the floor. He was a bit surprised by the question, it was obvious from the slight raise of his eyebrows. After a brief pause he answered.

"Monaco." He said quietly. Charles was a bit curious as to why you were asking. But he was honestly just glad to have something else to think about besides the rings on your fingers. “I've only ever been once, it was beautiful” you say remembering your time in Monaco. “I'm from New York” you follow up, responding to your own question. His eyes looked up to yours, as he nodded. It was a bit strange to suddenly be having a relatively normal conversation considering the bizarre situation.

"I've been to New York, it's a nice city" He said casually. A beat of silence passed as he continued to stare at the floor. Charles usual confidence and charisma were noticeably absent. His mind was too occupied by the strange circumstances to really relax and be himself, not to mention the pounding headache he had. He let out a sigh, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he tried to think of something else to talk about. He didn't want to sit in this awkward silence anymore. The only issue was he was at a loss for words.

"So what do you do for a living? Besides drunkenly marrying strangers" Charles says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. You laugh at his joke “I write for a fashion and beauty magazine” you respond feeling a bit more comfortable in his presence. Charles couldn't help but smile hearing you laugh, he was glad he was able to lighten the mood even for a moment. It was the most normal he had felt since he woke up.

"Fashion and beauty magazine?” You nod as he repeated your words. “That must be interesting”. He said, his eyes flicking to you for a moment before looking back down at his hands. Part of him still felt anxious and awkward, but at least he didn't feel as uncomfortable as before. “My mother owns the company, I grew up around it so I naturally became interested in it. I remember stealing my moms makeup when i was younger and trying my best to recreate her look” you say laughing at the memory “She would get me in trouble and wipe off the terrible make up on my face while she told me how to do it properly. Now I write makeup advice for hundreds of people” you say turning over to look at Charles. You're not sure why you randomly decided to let him know that. Charles interrupts your thoughts as he speaks up “Well then i'm sure your wedding makeup looked good" You laugh at his joke nudging him on the shoulder, he smiles at the action. You were about to speak when suddenly you heard a knock coming from the front door.

Charles straightened his back at the sound of the knock. His heart skipped a beat, his eyes darting past the bedroom door.

“That must be your friend”. He swallowed down the sudden anxiety he felt as he stood up and headed for the door. You follow him out the bedroom, walking towards the door.

He opens the door, greeting your friend with a welcoming smile. “Come in,” he says.

Riley walked past Charles and up to you, She greets you with a hug “i'm glad you’re okay” she says pulling away from the hug. Charles sits on the couch, Riley and you mirroring his movements.

“Well I would be better if you could tell me what happened last night” You say reaching for her hand.

——————————————————————————

“Well someone has his eye on you” Riley says as she sips her drink looking over at the guy staring at you. “At least he looks cute” you say laughing with your friend. He leaned against the bar, his eyes flickering back over to the two of you every few moments. It wasn't subtle, he wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was watching you. He was wearing a gray button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even from a distance it was easy to tell he wasn't like the other guys that walked into a place like this, he was definitely wealthy.

You've had about 10 drinks at this point. You desperately needed some fun. You turn to look at him again, this time he's not only staring, he's also walking up to you.

“I'm Charles” he yells over the loud music “I'm Y/N this is Riley” you say turning to look over at your friend. “You look stunning” Charles says, eyes wandering all over your body. Almost as if you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You blush at the compliment “i know” the alcohol making you overly confident “LET'S DANCE!” you yell, grabbing Charles hand and dragging him to the dance floor.

He chuckled as you took his hand. Despite the surprise and your current intoxication he was quite amused at your eagerness. Once you made it onto the dance floor he spun you around and pulled you close to him, his body pressing against yours as the music blasted.

After what seemed like hours of dancing and drinking you notice Charles leaning over to whisper something in your ear. “My friend owns a club near here, want to go? I'm sure we can get free drinks" your eyes widen at the statement, Drinking has never really been something you do often. That's not what convinced you to go, It was him. You've had countless encounters with possible suitors flirting with you, but there was something about him that was different. You nod your head agreeing to follow him wherever he wants to take you.

As you reach the new club you notice there's a small building called “little white chapel” next to it. The neon lights and the amount of people walking out of it is what made it catches your attention. You point it out to Charles not knowing you would regret this decision the next morning.

He quickly glances at it smiling before pulling you into the club.

His friend really did own the club, and it was way nicer than the place you had just left. This place was booming, there were lights and music and people everywhere. Charles led you to the bar and told the bartender his name, suddenly you had as many free drinks as you needed. He was clearly enjoying his time with you, and he definitely wasn't being shy about it. He was standing close to you, his arm around you as you both drank the night away. You lost count of the amount of drinks you've taken.

You can barely make out the words of the music.

You didn't notice Charles was talking to you until he grabbed your waist making you face him. “What?” you reply confused, not sure as to what he was telling you. “Marry me!” he shouts

No one that knows you would ever describe you as an impulsive person, so you're not quite sure what made you say yes.

You shout it out “YES! I'll marry you, but I need to call my friend, i always said she would be my bridesmaid” Charles looked at you in admiration. He laughed, clearly surprised at how quickly and enthusiastically you agreed to his proposal. He was expecting at least some hesitation. “Just send her the location once we get there” Charles said, taking your hand making his way towards the exit.

You agreed. after all, the small chapel was right across the bar.

Once you reach the chapel you send Riley a pin of your location and a quick text “meet me here”

She arrived a little too late, Both you and Charles saying “i do” is the only thing she saw once she arrived. The alcohol made you move extremely fast.

“Y/N? You can seriously be doing this, How much have you drank” she said as both of you walked up to her.

T’s fine Riley i like him, hes nice” you drunkenly say. She has had a few drinks as well so she wasn't quite sure what to tell you.

“Don’t worry, you have my location. i'm gonna go have my honeymoon now” you say, winking at her, before rushing out and leaving with Charles to go to his hotel room.

———————————————————————————

After what felt like an eternity of Riley explaining the situation, You and Charles turned to look at each other. He had been quiet the whole time, just listening as Riley described the events of the night.

The facts were now all laid out on the table, you've gotten married. In Vegas. While being drunk.

“Okay we made a mistake, but so have many people! Vegas is known for having impulsive weddings” you say laughing nervously “We can just get a divorce tomorrow” you suggest as you look over at Charles.

Charles lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours as you suggested a divorce. He didn't even know your name this morning, and now he was suddenly contemplating a divorce. The whole thing felt surreal.He nodded slowly at your suggestion, his jaw set and his eyes flicking between you and your friend as he responded. "Yeah, we'll just get a divorce tomorrow. Easy."

“Easy for you to say” Riley says laughing “Thanks to the amount of impulsive marriages taking place here, it's required to have been married for at least 4 weeks before filing for divorce”

Both of your faces drop as you hear the words coming from your friends mouth. Charles's face went pale as he heard Riley say that. Four weeks. They had to be married for four weeks. That was a whole month.

He didn’t say anything at first, still trying to process what he had heard.

“Let's just forget this, i'll take your number and we can meet back here in 4 weeks” Charles took a deep breath, his eyes flicking between you and your friend. He nodded slowly, reluctantly agreeing to your suggestion. It wasn't like he had any other choice. The thought of having to be accidentally married to a stranger for one months was daunting, but what other choice did he really have?

“I don't think you're going to be able to just put this aside for the time being,” Riley says nervously as she hands you her phone. Your eyes widen at the text in front of you.

“Charles Leclerc and secret girlfriend spotted getting married in Vegas”

To make matters worse a picture of the incident was below the headline.

“What the fuck, Who even are you” you yell standing up tossing the phone to Charles so he can see how this problem got even worse

Charles eyes widen as he catches the phone and looks down at the screen. He’s floored when he sees the headline and the accompanying photo. They were already in a messy situation, and now the photo is all over the internet.

He looked back up at you, dumbfounded. His mind was reeling. How the hell would he explain this to his family? And his manager. And the entire world, apparently.

Part 2

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed this! If you would like to be tagged in part 2, Comment below and I will add you to this story's tag list !

#part 1 #charles leclerc #cl16 imagine #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 #y/n #female!reader #fluff #smau #angst #charles leclerc fluff #smut

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withleeknow · 9 months ago

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somewhere only we know.

pairing: ot8 x reader (ot8 in the sense that there's no name mentioned so you can imagine whoever you want) genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting??) fluff, half a second of angst if you squint; this is pretty self-indulgent and also i just randomly wanted to write it this way. kinda similar to this but not really word count: 0.6k note: again, imagine whoever you want! mimo is on the cover just for illustrative purposes and also he's my guy so what did you expect from me lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

the waterfront on the tail end of a sunset walk. your hand tightly intertwined with his. sharing strawberry tanghulu and tasting the fruity sweetness on each other's lips. neighborhood children rushing by in a hurry to make it home for dinner. 7:12pm, his jacket around your shoulders to keep you warm as dark blue begins its descent for the evening. the wind and her gentle kisses upon your hair. you stop to take a picture of the sunset but he stops to take a picture of you. a rose-colored blush when he tells you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. love, love, love. him, the stars shining in his eyes before they have to come out and paint the sky. mismatched footsteps and twin smiles.

the middle of your apartment's entryway, not even making it into the living room. your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist and in your hair. a long trip coming to a stop, a big suitcase abandoned by the door. the scent of his familiar cologne that you've yearned to touch for weeks now. 1:19am, wide awake. somewhere in the world, iris by goo goo dolls is playing on repeat. i missed you's and i love you's and fresh tears. feeling like you could hold him like this for hours until the darkness outside falls away. no more facetiming with seas of distance between you. chests pressed tightly together, no space, all love. sweet nothings whispered right next to your ear. home is where the heart is, and your heart is home.

the park five minutes away from his parents' house. your head on his chest, both of you on a large picnic blanket laid out on green, green grass. his heartbeat under your palm, your mind somewhere up there among the clouds. sleepy and lax under the influence of the sun. 3:29pm, an iced matcha latte and a slice of lemon cheesecake sound absolutely divine right about now. there's an urge to voice that thought, but you know neither of you can be bothered to move. his lips pressed against your forehead, then a tender "i could stay like this forever."

the convenience store just around the corner. a spontaneous snack run in the middle of the night because you were craving sweets. empty streets but your hearts are full. the cashier's ringtone is a song that you both hate. 12:22am, no worries in your head. tomorrow is still the weekend. banana milks and chocolate ice cream. he falls for you all over again when you aren't looking, and tells you "nothing," with a coy smile when you ask why he's staring. time works differently at night, almost like it doesn't seem to pass at all. there's no logical explanation to why you feel like you're on top of the world at midnight in sweatpants; maybe it's just being with him, maybe it's just being in love.

your favorite bar on a rainy evening. the argument was stupid, but it was heated enough for you to storm out. only red on your mind; forgotten weather forecasts and forgotten umbrellas. stubborn and angry and alone. the fight was your fault anyway. 8:18pm, a bottle of soju for company. ignoring his calls and texts when your phone lights up with his name. heavy raindrops loud enough to hear from inside your shelter, heavier heart. the way his face fell when you said what you didn't mean. why did you say that? forty five minutes and the bottle is almost empty. far too tipsy to pay attention to the chime of the bell by the door, but sober enough to recognize his presence when he sits down next to you. his rain-dampened hair and your fragile, wounded pride. the apologies are quiet, uttered into the space between the two of you, only for his ears. forgiveness in the form of gentle fingers holding your own. "it's getting cold," he says. "let's go home."

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

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hughesybear · 3 months ago

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thinking about them (extensive Petey & Quinn thoughts below cut)

so! Hughes and Pettersson, Quinn and Elias, Huggy and Petey. the natural and the savant. the “odd couple” holding out for contracts together in Michigan. named alternate captains at the same time; when Petey was asked about Quinn being named captain, he said “Quinn is the captain and we’re happy.” the two most talented players on the team.

they are so similar in so many ways. quieter personalities, lead-by-example types, relentless drives to improve. people who care deeply about their communities. a perfect fit for the leadership dynamic alongside each other.

Quinn on Petey: “I think our skill sets are complimentary.”

Petey on Quinn: “We think the game very similarly.”

leading up to his draft, Petey broke his shot down into twelve component parts and mastered each one because he knew it was viewed as a weakness; leading up to his Norris-winning season, Quinn improved his shot to the extent that it became a legitimate weapon, and it’s gotten even better this year. the day after he got drafted, Petey came back to the Canucks’ draft table for the later rounds to learn about their process and the players they were picking after him; the offseason after playing the Predators in the playoffs, Quinn consulted with Allvin to sign Sherwood, who has been an amazing fit with the Canucks so far this season. they both see exactly what the team requires from them in order to improve, and they don’t stop at anything to get better, whether it’s their own game, working with their teammates, or any other aspect of the team.

Petey was at Quinn’s captaincy press conference, and Quinn was at Petey’s contract extension press conference. both so skilled, so cerebral, so creative, and yet so different in how people perceive them, but their similarities on the ice unify them nonetheless.

Petey on rooming with Quinn:

What are the best and worst parts about rooming with Huggy Bear on the road?

He is the messiest guy I know! He’s going to say I’m throwing him under the bus, but it’s time for a change!

Is he one of those guys that lives out of his suitcase?

Oh, gosh, that’s the perfect explanation. He steps into the hotel room, I’m trying to be neat, put my bag where it’s not taking up space. Then he comes in, throws the bag in the middle of the room, open it up, takes out his suits, puts it over the chair. Lays in bed, kicks off his shoes. Then his socks off, just kicks them too. He’s very messy. On the good side, he doesn’t talk that much! No, but we put on movies. Netflix. We have similar taste, similar interest in what movies we like. It’s fun.

Quinn on rooming with Petey:

Petey called you a messy guy, what was Elias Pettersson like as a roommate last year?

I read the thing, he’s just so dramatic. Let’s just leave it at that […] Me and Petey are really tight so I loved it. We had a lot of fun together. We don’t have roommates this year in the hotels but I think me and him both miss each other and would want to roommate […] But yeah, we had a lot of fun, he’s one of my best friends so we had some good times too.

they’ve come a long way from rooming together five years ago, and now they find themselves in a position they’ve been in from the moment Petey scored his first goal on his first shot in his first NHL game - bearing the burden of the franchise together. enjoy the future, folks, here it is right now! except it isn’t, not all of it, because three of the six Canucks that were with the team five years ago are currently out of the lineup.

so what do Hughes and Pettersson do? they step up. they lead in tandem. roommates, franchise cornerstones, brunch pals - some of those things are in the past, but they still share what they have in common on the ice, and so many things off the ice as well.

they bleed for this team in the same way, in the same places, for the same cause.

Which teammate would you choose to make a playlist, if those were the only songs you would be able to listen to for the rest of your life?

Quinn Hughes: “Petey.”

#quinn hughes #elias pettersson #vancouver canucks #nhl #auriel:text #auriel:media #they are just so interesting to me #the peteyquinn primer that I’ll make someday is going to require so much digging #and it should really be a brockpeteyquinn primer #project for future me!

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allwaswell16 · 2 months ago

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A fic rec of One Direction fics that follow the "Five Times" format as requested in this ask. You can find an explanation of this format here. You can find my other fic recs here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🪩 yeah, he's a looker (but i really think it's guts that matter most) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 40k, Oli pov) Five times Oli was asked to do something that was outside of his job description, and the one time he didn't have to be asked.

🪩 You can't blame gravity (for falling in love) by star_k / @perfectdagger

(E, 28k, friends to lovers) five times Marcel fell, and one time Louis did it (plus an extra one).

🪩 Longing like a Searchlight by Cyantific / @beyondxmeasure

(E, 27k, friends to lovers) The Five times Louis almost gets caught during a salacious moment of self care and the one time he did...a roommates to lovers fic with lots of feels.

🪩 Something Deep Inside by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(M, 17k, canon) the five times Louis had to hold back his feelings, and the one time he didn't.

🪩 The Future Is Now by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 16k, magic) the five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

🪩 See Clearly Now by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(M, 11k, roommates) a five-times fic where two guys, one college dorm room and a faulty door lead to a few embarrassing situations and finding out more about themselves and each other than they ever bargained for.

🪩 love put us two together (but we don't know how to stay) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 10k, dreams) Harry is Louis' best friend. But in his dreams, they are more. Or: four dreams in which Harry and Louis figure it out, and the one time Louis decides to make his dreams come true.

🪩 Go Out for Adventure, Come Home for Love by myownspark / @myownsparknow

(M, 9k, canon) Four years of iconic moments that inspire tattoos and promises. Fic inspired by the song "Spaces" which includes the lyric "forgetting every single promise we ever made." Five promises, plus one extra just for fun

🪩 It doesn't matter if you love me, I'm gonna love you anyway by iittaliia

(M, 7k, canon) Five times when Harry had wanted to kiss Louis since meeting him in the toilets, and one time he did it.

🪩 Completely unaware (you make me smile) by deblond

(T, 6k, high school) Five times everyone thinks that Harry and Louis are dating (and the one time they are).

🪩 Don’t Get Me Wrong by @kingsofeverything

(G, 5k, school reunion) Four times Louis’ art hurts Harry’s feelings, and one time it doesn’t.

🪩 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, omegaverse) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🪩 There's a Piece of You in How I Dress by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(G, 5k, friends to lovers) Five times Louis wore Harry’s clothes and the one time Harry finally wore Louis’.

🪩 to love you in word and deed by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(G, 4k, roommates) Louis loves everything about living with Harry. Except for Harry's effusive proposals. Because the problem is, it's getting harder and harder for Louis to keep reacting like they're jokes.

🪩 There's Fur Everywhere by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 4k, werewolf) Five times Harry finds someone sleeping in his car. One time he makes them sleep in his house.

🪩 Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better) by @haztobegood

(M, 3k, established relationship) Five times it's raining and one time it stops.

🪩 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🪩 Gucci Down To My Drawers by @beanno28

(E, 2k, photoshoot) The five times Louis is innocently caught in a compromising position and the one time it's not so innocent.

- Rare Pairs -

🪩 bad luck to talk on these rides by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(G, 10k, Liam & Louis) Liam just started dating Zayn and is desperate to make a good impression on Louis, his best friend. But things are off to an awkward start.

🪩 like air to me by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 5k, Zayn/Louis) Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

#weekly recs #ficrec #1dsquad #1dficvillage #1dficlibrary #hlcreators

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builtbybrokenbells · 8 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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fallen5t4r · 21 days ago

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How I Perceive Remus Lupin + Headcanons

Appearance

ೃ࿔₊• | Crazy amount of freckles that become much more visible after every summer

ೃ࿔₊• | Has a downturned smile <3

ೃ࿔₊• | Showed up one year taller than most of the students and some teachers and when everybody thought he’d peaked in height he just showed up after the next holidays taller than when he left

ೃ࿔₊• | Used to use half a tub of hair gel daily to try and style his hair but he eventually stopped bothering and now it just falls into place

ೃ࿔₊• | Actually has such shit eye sight but refuses to wear glasses so he’ll either wear contacts or will just thug it out without anything

ೃ࿔₊• | Has the prettiest eyelashes and the prettiest eyes ever

Personality

ೃ࿔₊• | Shy but also not really he just doesn’t want to be annoying, once you make it insanely clear that you don’t find him annoying he will not stop talking

ೃ࿔₊• | Loves to argue, he’s doesn’t even do it to be pissy he mainly does it to get a better understanding of other perspectives, he thinks that defending an opinion will get the best reasoning and explanation compared to just regular talking. (he also likes leaving an arguenent under the guise of being the bigger person and feeling like he won)

ೃ࿔₊• | He’s super competitive he doesn’t even need to be actively participating in anything or tell anyone who or what he’s rooting for just knowing that he won is enough for him

ೃ࿔₊• | The above is also why he chooses to not engage in sports, playing or watching (unless it’s james or sirius or marlene playing) because he gets too passionate about winning and gets crushed if he loses. that’s why he acts so indifferent whenever hes asked about sports

ೃ࿔₊• | Insanely forgetful just because his brain is in a million places at once, kinda guy to look you dead in the eyes while you’re talking yet miss every word you said (he feels really bad abt it), surprisingly though, he rarely ever forgets school work

Music Taste

70s

ೃ࿔₊• | The doors - if you asked him to pick a favourite song or album he simply would not be able to

ೃ࿔₊• | Cream - He isn’t usually a fan of the psychedelic rock genre but the album Disresli Gears is one of his favourites

ೃ࿔₊• | Fleetwood Mac - again he can’t pick a favourite album but one of his favourite songs is Dust

Modern

ೃ࿔₊• | Jeff Buckley - loves the entire grace album (why does lost highway relate to him sm in canon.. “i was just a lad nearly 22 neither good nor bad just a kid like you and now im lost too late to pray. holy shit literally him after the 31st of October 1981)

ೃ࿔₊• | Florence + the machine - loves the lungs album his favourite song is i’m not calling you a liar

ೃ࿔₊• | Catfish and the bottleman - The balcony is his favourite album, his favourite songs are coincide, homesick, and hourglass

Style

70s

ೃ࿔₊• | Had one pair of jeans which he rarely wore as he preferred trousers

ೃ࿔₊• | Platform loafers HATE to see him coming - he usually hates things that make him seem taller but these are his exception

ೃ࿔₊• | Always had a camera around his neck and a shit ton of spare film on him at all times

ೃ࿔₊• | Doesn’t have a strict aesthetic, wears whatever is comfiest which is usually clothes he’s had for years that are slightly worn down

Modern

ೃ࿔₊• | You will not catch him without a messenger bag he’s the type of guy to carry half of his possessions in his bag, water he’s got it, first aid kit he’s got it, snacks he’s got it, spare underwear he’s got it, want a book to read he’s got it

ೃ࿔₊• | eclectic grandpa minus the eclectic, he could genuinely pass as somebodies grandfather

ೃ࿔₊• | Hates fast fashion, he gets so emotionally attached to each item of clothing he owns even if it’s literally disintegrating, falling apart, splitting at the seams, he will not get rid of it, you’d have to pry it from his cold dead body

Relationships

Romantic

ೃ࿔₊• | Sirius - a combination of eros and pragma type of love, this love had the initial intense passion which can often be described as ‘love at first sight’ which was then developed into something deeper over time as the individuals grow together and further develop a long lasting love

Platonic

ೃ࿔₊• | Lily - The philia type of love born between two friends who share the same values and respects for each other, it is a love similar to that of siblings in strength and duration.

More Headcanons

ೃ࿔₊• | He’s Welsh and was born and raised in Wales

ೃ࿔₊• | lowkey the nosiest people ever, bc the marauders map are you serious using it for pranks was just a mask for the real reason that Remus was invested in who was where with who and figuring out why

ೃ࿔₊• | Is a sleepy drunk

ೃ࿔₊• | Grew up listening to a bunch of Hopes favourite groups like elton john, cat stevens and simon and garfunkel so he listens to a bit of everything

ೃ࿔₊• | he always carries at least 3 hair ties on his wrist in case any of his friends need one

ೃ࿔₊• | loves music theory and is very musically talented, he also has perfect pitch - def had a music lesson where the teacher just spent the whole time testing his perfect pitch while everyone just sat there

ೃ࿔₊• | Does the wordle everyday

#remus lupin #remus lupin headcanons #soso’s headcanons #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #marauders #peter pettigrew #i wanna be him #lily evans #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon

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cheeseceli · 2 years ago

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If skz wrote a song for their s/o

Pairing: ot8 skz × gn!reader (individually)

Description: Stray Kids write a song for their s/o, inspired by their actual songs and respective lyricists

Genre: Fluff and maybe a little bit of angst (couple fights, low self-esteem and fear of rejection are mentioned)

A/n: Kinda of unexpected of me to post something like that since I only write short scenarios but! i felt like doing something like this, hope you guys can enjoy

Chan - youtiful

You know whenever there is a chance I'll tell you that you are amazing as you are; Cause when you give me a glance I'm sure that I see the universe in your eyes

He knows how hard insecurities can get and he would hate to see you doubting yourself. He wrote this song with you in mind, hoping it would help you to feel more confident and see your worth.

Lee Know - Waiting For Us

Cause I'm right here waiting for us; At times I was afraid; I didn't think you'd ever come again; So I'll tighly hold your hand; No matter what moment comes; I won't let you go

He probably wrote this one after an argument and he is sure he never wants to fight with you ever again. You are the love of his life and he wants to be with you no matter what and no matter when. This would also be his comfort song whenever he was in tour and far away.

Changbin - Sorry, I Love You

I know I’ll regret, so I end this; I know I’ll regret, so I decide to express my feelings; I want to be more than just friends; I like you too much; Sorry that I like you so much, I'm sorry; I tried to hide my feelings but I guess it was too obvious

He wrote this right before he confessed. He was so sure you didn't like him back?? Up to him, he'd never say anything about his feelings 'cause he didn't want to ruin the friendship. But you are too beautiful to be just friends and he needed to tell you everything. Even though the scenario of the song is pessimistic, it encourages him to confess.

Hyunjin - Hoodie Season

Hey baby, I'll make you my lover ey; When you feel the winter wind in autumn; Ooh ah, ooh ah will you hug me warmly; Fallen leaves, like fallen leaves; We gon' fall in love

And they fell in a love in a spring autumn day. Even though this part of the lyrics talks directly to you, this song is not exactly about you, it's about what you make him feel. A hopeless romantic, he was born to love but he also expects to be loved and you make him feel this way. You are like the hoodie that protects him from the cold wind and makes him feel warm.

Han - MIXTAPE: OH

When my hands touch you; We take each other's breath away; At each other's gaze the feeling we've never felt before; This has no explanation; I know it's nothing ordinary; Makes me want more

This one would be written before you guys got into a relationship and he would be so confused. Did you want the same as him? That was just attraction or perhaps something more? This song was basically a brainstorming, trying to figure out the whole situation as it was something new to him.

Felix - WOW

You who's different, curious of you; Your vibe which has changed, curious of you; My feelings that I cannot name, mysterious of you; your gaze when you're staring at me; Let me say wow

He wrote this one in his delulu era i'm 100% sure. You would look at him for a second and he would be speechless. He would spend the whole day thinking about you and wondering if you felt the same, trying to read all the possible signs, even writing about it.

Seungmin - my universe

So close yet so far, your and my world; I will always find you till the end always; Even if I fall behind, I will follow you; My universe

He knows the idol life is hard to keep up with, but still you were there for him in all those hard moments and he is so, so grateful for that! If he believes in afterlife, he is sure he will find you in his next life. That's how it is: you guys are meant to be.

I.N - #LoveSTAY

I will never make you lonely; you'll always be beside me; Someday I'll get exhausted and cry; Fall down and feel pain again; it doesn't matter once again; I can endure it by looking at you; Cause I love you

Yes, it is about Stay. But I.N can't help but think about you in some verses. He considers himself so so lucky to have you: you were there in his worst moments and you made ordinary days become the best moments of his life. You are his medicine and he hopes he can be the same to you

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months ago

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The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: eventual descriptions of grief and sex.

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

"I was just an only child of the universe ... and then I found you."

“So what’s the deal with this Bruce Wayne guy?” X asked him, hopping from crunchy leaf to crunchy leaf as Jason kicked a pebble on the ground beside her. He shrugged, still unsure what to make of the situation.

“I dunno,” he replied honestly. “He’s kind of weird. But he seems nice!”

He turned to face her, his green eyes wide with excitement as he thought about the man who’d formally adopted him and taken him in. “He has this huge house with all these books and he lets me read any of them! Oh! And he also has this guy, Alfred, who’ll cook me anything I want! It’s pretty great.”

He nodded knowingly, as if he’d suddenly become decades wiser than his mere eight years of age. X paused to consider his words, trying to imagine an enormous house with an endless room filled to the ceiling with books. She’d been left at the orphanage when she’d been too young to remember and would sneak away on occasion to roam the streets, begging for spare change with her wide, almond eyes and her helpless little pout. She always managed to draw the attention of passers-by with her cute and innocent demeanour and Jason had taken advantage of the distraction she provided to pick the pockets of some of the people who’d stop by to help her. She’d caught him immediately after the first time, racing after him and grabbing the back of his shirt before he could run away from her. She’d demanded that he split some of his earnings with her - since she’d technically contributed to his success - and ever since then, they’d been inseparable.

“Wow,” she finally replied, her voice soft with awe. “Even chicken?”

“The good kind,” Jason agreed, causing X’s jaw to drop even further. He snickered at the stunned expression on her face and reached for her hand, easily slipping his fingers between hers. “You should come over! Alfred’s going to be making a roast tonight!”

“Like the kind those rich people always have on TV?” X asked, swinging their hands together. Jason nodded vigorously and the two of them began making their way back to his new house.

“You are the sun and I am just the planets, spinning around you.”

The two of them sat next to each other in the batcave, puzzling over X's new vigilante name. Jason had convinced Bruce to adopt his best friend a while back and the both of them had quickly begun their training to become the next protectors of Gotham.

“What about ‘Batgirl'?” Jason suggested, keeping in line with Bruce's chosen theme. X twisted her lips in disagreement.

“I want a bird name,” she argued, turning to Jason with wide eyes. “Like you! Then we can match!”

Jason shook his head as a smile tugged on his lips, but he shuffled a little close to her anyway. “Hmm … What about ‘Dove’? They're small and cute! Just like you!”

X's frown deepened. “But I don't want to be small and cute! I want to be scary! People will be scared of you because they already know Dick!”

Bruce's other adopted son always took good care of them when he came over from Bludhaven. He wasn't as bossy or serious as Bruce and he could do so many cool gymnastics tricks! Jason and X had quickly decided that they liked him and were always following him around in awe whenever he dropped by Bruce's place to visit.

“And it's too short, too!” X continued, rocking back and forth as she mentally listed all the problems with the name. “People probably won't even hear it the first time. ‘Look out, it's Dove!’ ‘Love?’ ‘No! Dove!’ Who's going to be scared of that?”

She turned to Jason in question and he had to agree that she made a good point. They sat in silence for a moment longer,the both of them thinking. Then finally, X spoke up. “What about ‘Nightingale’?”

It had been a year ago, when X was still living in the orphanage, that Jason had been abandoned at home alone by his mother again. The two of them had been playing outside when the sky had begun to darken, signalling an incoming storm. X had gone home with Jason, whose house had been just nearby, but when they'd gotten back, they'd found it devoid of any adults. The two children had huddled quietly under a thin blanket, trying to block out the raging fury of the storm outside. But it had banged on Jason's windows so viciously that their little hearts had pounded with the fear that it would burst through the already fragile panes of glass. Finally, X had broken the tension with a melodious tune, her voice so soft at first that the thunder had easily overpowered it.

‘I can't sleep tonight, wide awake and so confused.’ Jason had curled his arms even tighter around her as she sang, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and X had raised her voice in response. ‘Can you be my nightingale? Sing to me, I know you're there. You could be my sanity, bring me peace, sing me to sleep. Say you'll be my nightingale …’

Finally, the storm had slowed, as if soothed by X's reassuring words, and Jason, too, had relaxed his grip on her.

‘Can you be my nightingale, X?’ he'd asked, his words muffled by where his mouth remained pressed against the side of her neck.

‘Of course, Jay Jay,’ X had promised him, patting his back reassuringly. ‘I'll always protect you when the storm comes.’

Jason took her hands in his, his little face set into a serious expression. “I like it.”

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talenlee · 2 months ago

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Decemberween 2024 — Youtube Academia

Hey, I’m in academia, here are some people I look to for ‘how to communicate and make a point in academia and what you can use it to do.’

First up, hand over heart, this is going to have a real sampling bias. I’m going to point to three diferent academics who make stuff in spaces I can participate in and all three of them are dudes, and white enough that my dad would mostly consider them white. He’d probably be on the fence about Daniel Immerwahr. This is a problem in academia in general and it’s a problem with me in the specific: The stuff that I’ve gotten attention to, even the stuff that is explicitly about broadening my access to and understanding of nonwhite cultures and the nonwhite parts of the world is coming to me through white guys from academia. I’m not wild about it but it’s better in my mind to acknowledge it and present the sources then pretend this isn’t where I’m coming from.

Anyway, hey, here’s an essay titled Why Hip-Hop is the Most Important Artistic Movement In Human History.

Why Hip-Hop is the Most Important Artistic Movement in Human History: A Professor Skye Video Essay

Watch this video on YouTube

I think this is a good starting point for Professor Skye’s work.

Professor Skye presents three kinds of work. One is album reviews, where he breaks down and analyses components in how albums work and what they present in their messages, in a way that explicitly is not seeking to centre his interpretation but rather academically recognise a useful generalised language bridge for people like me who use the term ‘generalised language bridge.’

Second to that there are kind of larger, high-concept comparisons, where he provides a meaningful explanation to people outside of hiphop interest as to what’s going on. This led to him going extremely viral thanks to explaining the Kendrick/Drake beef this year which, god that was a thing, wasn’t it. The third thing that Professor Skye does is historical and academic contextualisation of music media. That can be things like ‘here’s iconic stuff from the 1980s,’ and it can be ‘behold as I use Proust to discuss this album.’

In each case I think there’s a sort of meaningful value to ‘doing the readings.’ Listening to the albums he talks about or the songs he talks about as and when he starts to talk about them means that each video is a sort of expository piece to accompany the text. I watch media analysis all the time of stuff I have not and never will watch, like Victorious, but in that case, the analysis is explicitly trying to present the text so you don’t need it. That’s not what Professor Skye is doing. This is not a channel trying to convince you to enjoy a thing or to enjoy the thing without the thing. It is a textual engagement with the album, and that is a really cool thing to do. You might not even have the mental muscles practiced for that at this point.

I'm What the Culture Feeling

Watch this video on YouTube

By the way, if you listen to Skye and go ‘oh hey, this is interesting and I’d like to know more,’ here’s a video essay from FD Signifier which is long, yes, but also extraordinarily good, about the same kind of topic and coming from inside the culture. If Skye makes you think ‘hey, I could be interested in this,’ then you should probably then check out FD Signifier.

Your Grammar Is Basic Compared to Black English

Watch this video on YouTube

But hey while I’m talking about language bridges (I was, honest), what about a language expert to talk about distinct grammatical differences between English (as I am used to calling it) and Black English. Language Jones is an interesting guy with a specific skillset, which is expertise in linguistics at an academic level, specifically the way your brain picks up and relates to linguistics. When you do that, you stop having to focus on formal and proper structures and instead get a lot more inclined to seeing the way language slops into the grooves in human brains and social spaces. Sometimes that means explaining to you and me what a wug is, and that’s interesting, but I find it much more interesting when he does dives like this one.

In this video, what Jones is doing is picking apart Black English into the toolkit I have in my head for understanding proper English, with terms like subjunctive and participle, and then demonstrate that the way Black English works is entirely a coherent grammatical structure, it’s not vibes or habits or attenuating with a specific person, it’s a whole other form of English and it’s really fucking nuanced. There’s a degree of fineness in Black English that is simple absent from Proper, Formal English. Formal English that I was taught is structured such that there are a host of unintuitive, hard to maintain stiff forms for completely correct conveyance of intent (“can I” vs “may I”), while Black English instead has a coherent grammatical structure that gives more fine control for intention, tense and position and the listener is there to interpret it rather than to enforce it.

This is not totally surprising, and if you talk to uh, any Black people, you probably already know this. What this gave me is a useful toolkit for reconstructing the grammar form. Really interesting stuff!

Daniel Immerwahr How to Hide an Empire

Watch this video on YouTube

Look, I’m sure I’ve talked about Daniel Immerwahr’s work in the past. I share this video from him every time I want to get people to think about American colonialism in the ways that make them uncomfortable. It’s a good talk, it uses its time well, and it also highlights a topic and the relationship of ourselves to the way things communicate their identity through their names and symbols of themselves.

Oh and if you don’t like that, check out Daniel Immerwarh’s podcast talking about the real world histories of Dune. Talks during the pandemic were restricted, but dang some of them were on wonderfully untypical topics.

There’s more. There’s always more. Dr Kipp Davis shows up when I look for academics I follow, but his interest is in Biblical studies. He’s part of the Diablocritics, which means Dr Jennifer Bird is on there, and it’s a way I can check out her work in a way that I find very accessible and interesting, and the other members of the Diablocritics are there, too.

Still, sometimes something academic is just something interesting. I don’t think Josh Worth is a doctor or professor or something. I think technically, he’s just a designer, as in a User Experience designer, that kind of specific discipline of having a clear, meaningful purpose for a visual expression. I share to you this graph Josh Worth made of the solar system if the moon, our moon, was a single pixel.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Academia #Media

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alwaysmoncheri · 7 months ago

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, panic attack, 2.5k

Later that day, Nancy, Jonathan and I make our way into a supply store, ready to gather tools for our plan of destroying the monster. Splitting up, we wander throughout the store, searching for the items we need. As I take a careful look around, I notice a crowbar that resembles mine, the same one I lost going through the tree last night.

Together, we all approach the counter and put our items on it, which includes, nails, hammers, bear trap, lighter fluid, and my crowbar. The man at the counter looks at us like we're crazy. We might be.

"And I'll have four boxes of the .38's." Jonathan says to the man who goes back to grab the boxes.

I anxiously drum my fingers across the counter, silently humming to a song. The man comes back with the four boxes, still giving us a confused look.

"What you kids doin' with all this?" The man asks finally.

There's a pause as the three of us glance at each other.

"Monster hunting." I offer with a shrug.

"Huh." The man scoffs before ringing us up.

Nancy, Jonathan, and I walk out of the store hands full of bags and boxes as we approach Jonathan's car.

"Monster hunting?" Jonathan laughs at my previous explanation to the man in the shop.

Amused, we all laugh, as Jonathan opens the trunk of his car, carefully placing the boxes and bags inside.

"You know, last week I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like. It took me and Barb all weekend." Nancy laughs at the memory, "It seemed like life or death, you know? And... and now—"

"You're shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers." Jonathan concludes the girl's thought with a little chuckle as he closes his trunk.

"And (Y/n) Henderson," I pipe in with a wide grin.

"Yeah." Nancy concludes, with a soft smile.

"What's the weirdest part?" Jonathan asks with his own little grin, "Us or the bear trap?"

"You guys." Nancy replies sarcastically still with a smile plastered on her face.

"Definitely us." I add before we all laugh lightly.

Suddenly, breaking our bonding moment, a car comes rolling down the street with a couple honks.

"Hey Nance," A douchebag from school, Reed, calls out, "Can't wait to see your movie." He comments before laughing and driving away with his friend.

"What the hell was that?" Jonathan asks as we look at each other in confusion.

"I don't know," Nancy replies looking quizzically down the street.

Then it dawns on me.

I turn around at the same time as Nancy and we glance at each other, thinking the same thing.

"What?" Jonathan asks as we turn.

Nancy and I take off, walking quickly down the sidewalk and towards the local movie theater.

"What?" Jonathan asks again as we walk away, "Hey, where are you guys going?"

Nancy and I catch glimpse of the red paint on the board above the theater, before we start running.

"Nancy, (Y/n)! Wait!" Jonathan calls out from not far behind us, "Guys!"

With a look of horrified dismay on her face, Nancy leads us across the street, finally arriving at the movie theater. When we see the signboard it reads, "All The Right Moves, Starring Nancy THE SLUT Wheeler", in big red, easily recognizable hand writing.

Steve. What the hell did you do.

Nancy seems to be stunned into silence as Jonathan comes up behind us.

"Jesus," He whispers, noticing the board too.

Suddenly I hear the loud sounds of spray cans and Tommy's familiar laughter, in the nearby alley. With a scowl on my face, I force myself to walk quickly towards the noise, my feet pounding on the pavement. Reaching the sources of the racket, I find Steve, standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching Tommy as he spray paints the wall. To my annoyance, Carol is obviously right by Tommy's side and even Nichole, the girl who ratted Jonathan out about the whole pictures thing, had joined then.

With a scowl still clearly plastered on my face, I walk up to Steve and quickly shove his chest, making him stumble backward with a surprised grunt.

"What the hell did you do?" I hiss lowly at Steve, attempting to shove him again, only for him to grab my wrists and hold them tightly.

"I didn't do anything, freak." He hisses back with narrowed eyes before letting go of my wrists.

"Ooh, she's feisty today," Tommy comments with a chuckle, causing both Carol and Nichole to let out giggles.

"Shut up, Tommy," I snap whipping my head towards the boy I've always hated.

I take a few steps towards Tommy, my knuckles clenched in a tight fist, ready to throw a punch at him. But before I can do so, Steve grabs my wrist, bringing it back down. As I start to back away, Tommy suddenly whips his arm out and slaps my cheek with brute force, probably leaving behind a red print on my skin. Grabbing my cheek, I stare at Tommy in disbelief, unable to comprehend what just happened.

"Tommy." Steve hisses at his friend, a warning and look of disapproval in his eyes. He then pulls me by the waist, placing me by his side and puts his own hand on my cheek to check for any signs of hurt. I immediately swat his hand away with a look of anger, taking a few steps back to create some distance between us. As Steve sees my reaction, he looks at me with an expression filled with regret.

Before Steve can utter an apology out, Nancy comes strutting down the alleyway. She wears a furious expression on her face which seems to grab everyone's attention.

"Aw, hey there princess." Carol teases, turning towards the fuming girl.

"Uh oh, she looks upset." Tommy says with a tooth-eating grin.

Nancy walks right up to Steve, her eyes fixed on him with hurt and teary eyes. Without a second thought, she slaps him hard across his cheek, just as I had been by Tommy moments ago. The shock of her action causes Steve to bring his hand up to his cheek.

A loud "ooh" rings out, everyone just as surprised at the strength and intensity of the slap they'd just witnessed.

"What is wrong with you?" Nancy spits in Steve's face.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? I was worried about you." Steve shoots back immediately, "I can't believe that I was actually worried about you." He scoffs.

"What are you talking about?" She replies, still angrily but now confused.

"I wouldn't lie if I were you." Carol comments as Jonathan comes up from behind Nancy, "You don't want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?" She finishes with a smile.

"Speak of the devil," Tommy says, noticing Jonathan, "Hi." He says after jumping down from his original spot.

"You came by last night?" Nancy concludes, looking at Steve who has his eyes locked on Jonathan.

"Ding ding ding," Carol says in a sing-song voice, "Does she get a prize?" She questions teasingly as Tommy wraps his arm around her.

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't like that." Nancy tells Steve desperately, taking a couple steps forward.

"What, you just let him into your room to... study?" Steve says, finally glancing away from Jonathan.

"Or for another pervy photo session?" Tommy says with a laugh.

"We were just—" Nancy starts.

"You were just what?" Steve asks instantaneously, "Finish the sentence. Finish... the sentence." He dares his girlfriend who stand in front of him, breathing heavily.

"Go to hell Nancy." Steve whispers finally.

"Come on guys, lets just leave." I say quietly, walking forward to grab Nancy and Jonathan's arms.

"Where are you going, (Y/n)? Carol asks with a smirk, "We all know you're just Steve's little bitch. All you do is follow him around like a little puppy dog." She pouts slightly, and Tommy makes whining noises.

I turn, rage bubbling inside me, ready to unleash my anger on something. Before I can act on my impulse, Jonathan grabs my arm and tugs me away from the group.

"You know what Byers? I'm actually kind of impressed." Steve says, refusing to let the argument go, "I always took you for a queer, but I guess you're just a little screw-up like your father. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups."

With an overwhelming surge of emotion, my body instinctively moves towards Steve and my fist swings upward to connect with his nose, exactly like he taught me.

"Steve... Do we have to do this?" I sigh, following behind the boy to his backyard.

"Yep. We're doing this." Steve says looking back at me, "You need to be prepared for bad situations, (Y/n). I'm just trying to protect you."

"Fine..." I say, before Steve grabs my hands getting them into a solid starting position.

"So you just..." Steve explains, showing me his uppercut.

I hesitantly throw a punch into the air, sending Steve a confused glance. Clearly unsure with what I'm doing.

"Yeah, just like that." Steve says, "You're a natural." He finishes with a smile.

"You think?" I ask, searching his face for approval.

"Of course, why would I ever lie to you?"

The memory of the past fades from my mind as I find myself face-to-face with Steve once more. With an expression of hurt and shock, the same Steve from the memory, my Steve, stands before me, mouth hanging open as blood drips front his nose, slowly trickling down to his lips. Anger clouds my judgment as our eyes meet, his still filled with pain and confusion while mine are clouded with anger and resentment. Neither of us say anything as we stare at each other, the past coming to haunt us.

Before I can stop it, Steve pushes me out of the way with such force, I'm knocked to the ground. Nancy immediately rushes over to help me up, while Steve starts shoving Jonathan as we walk away.

"You know, I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family." Steve continues and Jonathan pauses as we're walking out of the alleyway, "I mean, your mom, I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother.

"Steve, shut up!" I yell as Nancy tries to pull Jonathan away.

“I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers, their family it's a disgrace to the entire—"

Steve's sentence is cut off by a strong punch from Jonathan, he falls backward, landing painfully against a nearby pole. With rage and determination in his eyes, he grabs Jonathan and quickly talked him to the ground, their bodies hitting the ground with a loud thump. The two boys tangle together, as they roll and thrash on the ground. They punch and kick at each other to as their only service to feed their anger and hatred for each other.

"Stop, Steve!" Nancy yells at her boyfriend, but she just stands still and so do it.

"Knock it off, you guys!" Carol says, worriedly, "Get off of him, seriously!"

"Kick his ass, man!" Tommy yells, encouraging the fight.

As Jonathan pummels Steve with more punches, the fight continues, the two boys throwing vicious blows at one another. Jonathan seems to last most of the heavy strikes, causing a cut to start to form near Steve's eye, which will no doubt swell. Tommy tries to intervene and stop the fight, but Steve simply brushes him aside and continues his fight with Jonathan as it becomes more and more violent.

"Jonathan stop it you're going to hurt him!" Nancy yells as Jonathan successfully pins Steve to the ground, raining a series of punches onto his face.

"Jonathan, stop!" I yell, my eyes tearing up slightly at both of my friends being hurt.

In the midst of the fight, the loud sound of police sirens round the corner, causing everyone to stop dead in their tracks, except Jonathan, who remains focused on Steve. We all turn with wide eyes, seeing police enter the alley.

"Cops!" Tommy yells, worried.

"Jonathan, get off of him!" I shout at my friend, who doesn't stop his attack.

"Stop it!" Nancy yells, leaning forward towards the boy.

"Cops, come on!" Tommy yells again, grabbing all of his friends.

"You have to stop it!" Nancy shouts again.

"Just go, Carol!" I hear Tommy yell at his girlfriend before she runs off.

"He's had enough man," Tommy says angrily to Jonathan, trying to pull him away from Steve, but Jonathan just pushes him away, "I said he's had enough!"

The combination of yelling and police sirens is too much for my mind to handle, and I feel like I'm drowning in a vortex of swirling sensations. Sensing my overwhelming panic, I bring my hands up to cup my ears, trying to muffle the sounds that seem to be everywhere. With my eyes squeezed shut, I try to think about happy thoughts, but they don't come like they usually do. I am left with a sense of utter helplessness as I struggle to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

"(Y/n)?" I hear a faint voice say, "What's wrong with her?"

"She's having a panic attack," I hear another voice choke out, wincing in the process.

Steve.

"Jonathan, let me go!" I hear him again, "Let me see her! Hey!"

"Move!"

I feel a pair of unusually rough hands grasp my wrists, gently lowering my hands from my ears. I open my eyes, only to find myself face-to-face with the bloodied and bruised Steve. With my heart pounding in my chest, a sense of anger and worry washes over me at the sight of my injured best friend. With Jonathan being held back and handcuffed by the police and Tommy looking at me in shock and concern for helping his friend for escape, the situation feels hard to process.

"Hey, I'm right here." Steve's voice breaks through my anxious thoughts, and his presence brings me back to reality. He takes my hand and places it gently over his heart, its rapid pounding reminds me of the pain and suffering he had just caused. Despite the emotional hurt, his touch somehow still manages to calm me down, the knowledge that he's there, with me.

In the blink of an eye, Steve is separated from me, as Tommy grabs his arm, pulling him out of the alley and away from the chaos. Steve leans on his friend for support, as the duo makes their escape.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go," Tommy users.

The cop, who's attempting to catch them, stands absolutely no chance. So, they get away.

And I'm left there standing alone.

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

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alocon · 1 year ago

Text

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [6] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko

Summary: After a lot of rumours on twitter, all is revealed in an episode of your podcast

Before you read: Use of Y/N (sorry!!), angst (kind of), THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE CONTENT. LIST BELOW, PLEASE BE WARNED THAT IT WILL CONTAIN CHAPTER SPOILERS. Look after yourself

WARNINGS: Discussion of pregnancy, loss of a child, and other difficult subjects such as mental health and cheating

NOTE: There is social media at the end which is important to the story but I can summarise at the start of the next chapter so don't worry if you can't read this, you will get a summary next chapter x

fc: Blanca Soler

[Previous Part Here][The Masterlist]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [Part Six] - MV¹

youruser

liked by maxverstappen1 and others

youruser: Hi all! I know that recently there have been a lot of rumours about the end of the 2018 season and my break up with Max, as well as allegations of me cheating on him. I have already discussed these rumours and clearly stated that it is not true, as has Max. However, I feel that you still haven't been given enough of an explanation on the situation as a whole and I am finally in a situation where I am able to talk about it. I am making this post for a fair warning that this episode of my podcast will contain themes which may be sensitive to some individuals. The warning list is written below...see more

view all comments

maxverstappen1: Proud of you for being able to discuss that

youruser: Thank you Max

user1: Any guests or just you?

youruser: Me, Max, Charles, Seb and Kimi

user2: Not her trying to make money out of this situation

youruser: As has been stated since I started my podcast in 2018, all money goes straight to charity. Earnings from this week's episode goes to The Pregnancy Association of Europe, a charity that looks into why pregnancy goes wrong, if there is a way to prevent it and gets help for those who suffer loss during pregnancy. (A/N: MADE UP CHARITY FOR THE STORY X)

charles_leclerc: Might've cried a little bit whilst filming this, but I think we all did.

maxverstappen1: I did

----

Pole Position Podcast - Episode 75: Let’s Talk Babies w. KR7, SV5, CL16 and MV33

Y: YOU, M: MAX, C: CHARLES, S: SEB, K: KIMI

The podcast started off with Seb sitting in the middle of the sofa. There were two people sitting beside him: Charles and Max. Then, on one of the mini seats to one side of the sofa was Kimi and to the other was an empty seat for you, you were behind the camera.

Y: This is a very different episode of the podcast. Right, can we check our audio syncs up before we start?

You placed your headphones on, counting down for everyone to clap. They did and the audio synced up perfectly from each mic. You returned to your seat. The table, which was usually bare apart from the notes from the episode, including questions and other things, had no paper, instead having a variety of foods. You looked at the camera.

Y: Alright, hello everyone. Welcome to the Pole Position podcast. Hope you’re all doing well. This is episode 75 and I am here with four lovely people, rather than one or two like I usually do. So, one by one would you guys like to introduce yourselves? Char maybe it’s best if you start because you’ve done this many times before?

C: *he nodded* Hello everyone, I’m Charles Leclerc. I am a Formula One driver who drives for Scuderia Ferrari. I’ve been on this podcast a lot. I’m basically the co-host at this point.

You chuckled

M: Hi, I’m Max Verstappen, I am a Formula One driver who drives for Red Bull, and a 3 time world champion.

S: I’m Sebastian Vettel, a retired Formula One driver who has driven for BMW Sauber, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, Ferrari and Aston Martin. I am a 4 time world champion.

K: And I’m Kimi Raikkonen, also a retired Formula One driver who has driven for McLaren, Ferrari (twice), Lotus and Alfa Romeo… Did I miss one?

Y: Sauber, right? When they were sponsored by Red Bull and Petronas?

K: How did you remember that and I didn’t? You’re basically a child.

Y: How am I the child here, both of those two are younger than me.

C: Wait, we are?

M: Yes??? She’s August 23rd, I’m September 30th, you’re October 16th.

C: 1997? *He looked at you, still confused*

Y: Yes, how did you not know that? We’ve known each other since we were 3, Charles.

C: I thought you were ‘98 for some reason.

K: Come on, even I knew that.

You clapped your hands, getting everyone’s attention.

Y: Right, back on track. Today’s episode is a more emotional one. As you know, when I started my podcast, I didn't really properly explain why I started it. I kind of summarised it, I think I said that it was something recommended by my therapist to talk about life. But I’ve never really used it to talk about the deep stuff. So today we’re going to talk about why I actually started this podcast and what happened in late 2018.

Y: I know people will be wondering why I need 4 other people to explain this with me. After the end of 2018, my brain kind of suppressed most of the more minor details and stuff so some of it I don’t remember much of, which is why these 4 are here, to kind of put all of the pieces together. So… Where do we start? With the breakup or the tests?

C: What one happened first?

M: You told me that the tests happened on Thursday evening so maybe the breakup.

Y: Alright. Max, do you want to take the lead on this one?

He nodded.

M: Alright so I broke up with Y/N on the Thursday morning before the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2018, aka Media Day. In hindsight, that was a really shitty thing to do. Everyone was really surprised by it because I absolutely was a dickhead when we split up. However, what I should’ve done is been completely honest and discussed my reasoning. I broke up with Y/N because my dad threatened me with an inappropriate sexual photo of her which he had somehow got his hands on. Likely egged on by Christian. I didn’t know how he got his hands on it, I don’t know what happened, but he had threatened to have it leaked if I didn’t break up with her, so I deemed it for the best and I did it. But the real issue was that I didn’t tell her why. I didn’t keep her in my life, I completely pushed her away. Again, a beyond stupid mistake, possibly the worst of my life.

Y: Yeah, so that happened, it impacted me pretty badly.

S: I think that’s an understatement there, no?

K: Just a bit. I remember her completely breaking down to me over it straight after it happened because she didn’t want to worry you two and she didn’t want to ruin Max’s friendship with Charles.

Seb, Charles and Max all looked at you. This was new information for the three of them.

M: I’m still, genuinely really sorry about that. I feel so bad about the way I did it.

Y: Max I’ve already forgiven you for it.

M: And yet I will apologise until the day we die if you let me.

C: ANYWAYS, so then in the evening I get a text from her basically saying “Hey, can you come over, it’s kind of important.” And I know this woman’s tendency to underreact in situations so when she said kind of, I took it as “likely very important” and headed straight there.

Y: Do I underreact or do you overreact?

M: Both

K: Both

S: Both

Y: Great.

You reached for a tortilla chip that was in a bowl on the table and took a bite after dipping it in salsa.

Y: So Charles comes over, asks what's wrong without hesitating. I didn’t even get a hi out, just opened the door and boom. Question. So I explained to him how I had been feeling kind of weird and I’d been feeling sick and tired all the time but it had been happening for a couple weeks and I knew it wasn’t sickness. That’s as far as I remember before the tests.

C: So I was like “oh, that’s weird. Have you had your period recently?” You said no but it didn’t usually anyway, I don’t know how it works.

Y: Basically, a side effect of the contraceptive pill that I take is that it stops my period. So either way I wouldn’t know just from that sign.

M: You still take it?

Y: Yeah, I do.

M: Are you actually getting laid?

Y:... Anyways, moving on.

Max laughed at that as Charles continued talking.

C: So, because it would probably cause some media attention if she went to buy tests or I went, we asked Hanna to and she was more than happy to. So she and Seb came over with pregnancy tests and dinner and like a LOT of ice cream just in case because we decided that we can risk our trainers yelling at us to cheer her up. I was not aware that her and Max had broken up by this point. I don’t think any of us except those two were.

K: And me.

C: And Kimi.

S: So anyways, me and Hanna come over and we sit on the bed and talk whilst Y/N is downing water like there is no tomorrow, you know, so she could take the tests. And then she did the tests and we spent the next 5 minutes talking whilst we ate some of our food and then she checked the test and she was pregnant. We were all happy for her because, and correct me if I’m wrong here, guys, weren’t you two like kind of casually trying at this point?

Max looked at you and you smiled, indicating that he could answer.

M: Kind of. We were to the point where we wouldn’t complain about being parents so it was a kind of situation of “if it happens, it happens but if not, so what”.

C: So then she got a little upset and we were like “why are you sad, weren’t you guys okay if this happened?” and that’s when she told us that they had split up earlier that day. So, really, like god awful timing.

Y: The rest of that evening was just kind of like them cheering me up. I tried to contact Max but he had blocked me, which I didn’t really understand at that point.

M: It was so I could not call or text because I didn’t want the photo to be leaked.

You nodded.

Y: So I think it was me, Charles, Seb, Hanna, Kimi, Minttu, Lew, and Val, except Lewis and Valtteri didn’t actually know. The others did though. I think, before this podcast gets released, the only people who know are the people here, Christian Horner, Fred Vasseur, Hanna, Minttu, my mother…

M: Christian knew?

Y: Yeah, we’ll get into that later, though. And Fred knew because I had to call him to be like “I have to go to the hospital about this tomorrow, I can’t race this weekend. And he’s family to me. So rather than racing, I went to the hospital. Hanna and Minttu came with me. Turns out I was 8 weeks along. I was like “shit, if I have this baby I’m going to miss so much racing” but apparently I was safe to drive after the 20 week mark until like the start of the 8th month as long as I was more careful than usual and got check ups after every race. SO overall I would’ve missed maybe like 6 races, so I was like, right. I should tell Christian, you know? Warn him. So I told Christian and he instantly started complaining, being like “What if this what if that? This is why we should’ve hired a man to drive”, that kind of stuff. But I think that was the heat of the moment. But then he doesn’t change and he tells my mother for some reason because he knows her and she kicks off and basically disowns me and tells me that I am not making a good choice and that I’m crazy and stuff. Fun. Anyways, going into December, I was really really overwhelmed. I don’t know what it was like from an outside perspective but it was shit from mine.

K: Terrifying.

You all turned to look at Kimi. The entire 20 minutes of the podcast so far, he hadn’t had much to say, which you got because he’s Kimi Raikkonen.

K: From an outsider perspective it was terrifying. From my perspective, at least. Seeing the way you were so stressed and you wouldn’t eat as much. You were no longer happy, you were constantly anxious, even about how you looked, if people could tell, if you weren’t looking as nice even though you looked fine. It was really scary seeing you go down such a path, especially after everything your mother said to you.

You sniffled slightly, getting emotional as you never really publicly opened up about this stuff. Charles and Seb agreed at this point.

Y: So then, a couple weeks into December, I can’t remember the exact date.

C: December 11th.

Y: December 11th, I was feeling strange. I had really bad stomach pain. Like awful. I just figured, for some reason, that it was because of the fact I hadn’t eaten much yet that day so I decided to sleep it off, see if I felt better in the morning. And, before we get into this, this may be slightly graphic and it’s a lot more graphic than I described to Max and Seb and Kimi so please be warned. I wake up in the morning, about 3am. And I sat up in my bed and I felt something wet on my lower body. So I was like “What the fuck” and I turn on the light and, uhm.

You paused, taking a deep breath in an attempt not to cry. You felt a hand slip into yours and squeeze. You looked to see Max looking at you with those soft, beautiful eyes. He was looking at you in the most gentle of ways. You felt yourself tipping over the edge slightly, voice cracking as you began to speak again.

Y: I turned on my light and I just saw red. Like, my bedsheets, which were usually white, were just red. Everything was red. I don’t remember too much after that, other than just feeling numb. Charles had been staying with me at that point. Max had just moved out and Charles’ apartment had flooded so I invited him to stay in my house until the apartment was sorted. I don’t really remember much, I don’t know if you do, Char.

C: I do. May I?

You nodded.

C: So I wake up because I hear a scream. Like not a happy one. Just a shocked sounding scream. So of course I went straight into her room to see if she was okay and the lower half of her bed was covered in blood, her shorts, her legs were all just covered in blood. It was, excuse the explanation, like something out of a horror movie. And she just… kind of sat there. Frozen. It was like she couldn’t move or speak, she just sat there. Kind of void of all emotion on her face other than her crying. I remember taking her phone and calling her baby doctor person, because she gave her phone for emergencies. And she answered and I apologised for calling so late and explained the situation because of the amount of blood just… Didn’t look normal. And she said to take her to the hospital if I was concerned. So I did and we went to the hospital and they sorted everything out. I don’t remember exactly what it was but either way we went home and we spent the next week or so just camping in, eating junk food, trying to relax and at least attempting to be calmer. I think it wasn’t until the new year that you told Christian.

Y: Yeah, I started therapy like a week after the miscarriage. And then, on the 29th of December was when you two, Han and Mina found out, I think?

S: Yeah, I remember Hanna sitting down when we got there.

K: You being late, as usual

S: Yeah, yeah. So Hanna asked how you and nugget were, which is what we had nicknamed the baby and you just kind of cracked. You started crying and they asked what was wrong and that’s when you told us that you had miscarried. So we went out and tried to make sure you had the best day of your life.

Y: That’s where the photo came from as well. The photo of me and the “mystery guy” whose face was blanked out was just a photo of me and Charles hugging because I got a little upset. I will post the photo here and if you’re listening on Spotify or Apple music, the screenshot of the story with the date attached is on my Instagram story highlights.

Y: So then I told Christian and he told my mother once again and also then proceeded to use it against me. BUT that’s all we have time for today. If anyone wants, we can do an episode purely based on my RBR treatment. Just let us know. Have a lovely day, I’ve been your host Y/N and we will see you next time.

Max, Kimi, Seb and Charles all said goodbye before the episode ended.

-Word Count: 2.6k-

Hi all!! Here's part 6, more drama unfolding. This story will continue to slander Christian Horner btw. In this story he is an awful person because it made the plot better x Anyways hope you enjoyed Max going on a podcast (well, two) because she asked him to so it was worth going on. Have a good day x Alocon

Taglist: @c-losur3 @itsjustkhaos @reidsworld @d3kstar

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ultfreakme · 1 year ago

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Honestly Geto and Gojo having the same death anniversary which happens to be the most romantic day in Japan, with a character in-story stating how romantic it is should be enough evidence to convince anybody that SatoSugu are supposed to be a romance.

On top of that, we hear that JJK0 is about Yuuta and Rika's love but it's also about Geto and Gojo's relationship.

Then Gege Akutami specifically assigning break-up songs to Geto and Gojo.

AND THEN; they each get canon songs made in each other's POV speaking about their feelings specifically for one another. Where Gojo's song contains lyrics like "Even though I’ve come to know the scent of you being different from mine" and "Any prayer, any word Could bring us closer, but they couldn’t reach you Just like a silent love, In the summery colors along my cheeks". And Geto's song has lyrics like "Even trivial conversations are fine. Show me your blushing face once more" and "It exists only here. I want to touch you" and "Though I understand a wounded heart. Why do I end up hurting and leaving the same scars?"

The animation team going out of their way to give these two more soft moments hanging, creating visual parallels through the Betta Fishes, the flowers, the entire OP for Hideen Inventory but especially the part where we are seeing Gojo's vision being filled with Geto looking amazing while he rides Geto's rainbow dragon.

I saw someone say we're just projecting western views of romance onto satosugu but like, LOOK AT ALL THIS. I cannot stress enough the insanity of their death dates. It's like two people dying one after the other on Valentine's Day. This is some Romeo & Juliet bullshit. JJK in general has next to no romance, no one's pining after each other, the few times there are implications, it's very short. The most obvious one is Mechamaru and Miwa. Now imagine if Mechamaru and Miwa were the ones who got Ao No Sumika and Akari. Imagine they got 5 episodes dedicated to their story and Mechamaru dies on December 24th and Miwa's the one forced to put him out of his misery for betraying them to Mahito and Kenjaku.

Okay do you fucking see how ridiculous denying SatoSugu is? If Mechamaru and Miwa got all that even WITHOUT saying an 'I love you' no one would question their romance.

I know people keep making fun of shonen animes for having a stronger 'romance' between the two guy leads than with any other love interest but I've seen that stuff and even there it isn't nearly as deliberately romantic as SatoSugu. I can tell that Kuroko & Kagami, Gon & Killua or Levi & Erwin are supposed to be friends, the shipping thing is based on the established friendship stuff but SatoSugu are so blatant it's hard to think of another explanation.

I saw a point about how people are projecting western perspectives of romance on platonic friendship expression in a different culture, which I do get, I think it's a valid point. Idk much about how people express friendship in Japan but I have heard there's a lot more skinship and openness as compared to western cultures.

But w/ SatoSugu there isn't anything that can be read as purely platonic, there's always an ambiguity or it's directly romantic.

#satosugu #tired of dudebros freaking out over how on the nose satosugu is #'oh they're brothers' buddy maybe I could still believe that for narusasu because the author mentioned basing it on his brothers #but satosugu in-text are aligned with lots of romance #THEY'RE VISUALLY CONTRASTING BUT COMPATIBLE TOO #i know i know amatonormativity #I GET THAT #but you can't deny these two are romantically involved when the OST that played over their final scene together was called-#;This is pure love'#genuinely how can you explain it as anything else?

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miss-bushido · 4 months ago

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When I think of you, I see what we might do

*Rating: M (cursing, fake injuries) *Characters/Relationships: Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, Argyle, Jonathan Byers; Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington, Argyle/Jonathan Byers *Tags: Paramedic Steve Harrington, Paramedic Robin Buckley, Bartender Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Eddie Munson Are Best Friends, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Robin Buckley & Eddie Munson Are Roommates, Meet-Cute, Inspired by an Instagram reel, Pretend Injuries, Title from a Humbird Song

*Notes:

I saw a reel on Instagram where a guy was saying how he hadn't understood why women went for big burly guys like firefighters and other guys like that, until he was helping a friend with their final para-rescue exam. After hearing his explanation, I knew it had to be something I wrote for a Steddie fic. The reel in question is here.

Any and all medical information/terminology in here I have gleaned from Google searches and retained memories of watching 'M*A*S*H' and 'Scrubs' as a teenager. So, that means that any and all mistakes are mine, including specific information about the paramedics/para-rescue exams.

Title from the song 'Seven Veils' by Humbird.

Also here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59286868

---

Eddie sat on the ground as he leaned against the brick wall inside the empty building. His clothes were covered in blood, and he had a sucking chest wound. His left leg was gone below the knee, and he hoped someone would come along soon.

He was really starting to get hungry.

When Robin had asked him earlier in the week if he could help her with her final paramedics exam on Friday afternoon, he had readily agreed. It meant he didn’t have to work at the bar on Friday night, and she agreed to treat him to dinner afterwards. It was a win-win for both of them.

“I really appreciate it,” she’d said over beers the night before. “Thank you again for agreeing.”

“Hey, no problem,” Eddie said, clinking his beer bottle against hers. “If I was in your place, I would have asked, too. And I know you would’ve also said yes. Especially since I’m your favorite roommate, and all.”

Robin laughed. “You’re my only roommate!”

“The sentiment still stands,” he pointed out. The doorbell rang with their delivery order, and he stood up to get it. “Get the first movie put on and let’s have a good night.” They’d spent the rest of the night watching movies: ‘Rashomon’ (Robin’s pick), and ‘Scanners’ (Eddie’s pick) and eating Thai food. They had picked off one another’s plates and grossed each other out over some of the more gruesome scenes in ‘Scanners’, opting to let the plates soak overnight in the sink rather than run the dishwasher before they both passed out in their respective rooms around 11:30.

The next day, Eddie made sure he was early to meet up with Robin at the site for the exam, and was met with the din of seemingly everyone from Robin’s class. They were milling around, along with the other volunteers, and some of the firefighters and para-rescue crew, handing cards and what looked like dirty clothes to people. As Eddie came closer to Robin, he saw that the clothes looked like they had blood on them.

“Oh! You’re just in time!” Robin exclaimed as he came over to her. She handed him a casualty card and a set of clothes: a big blue shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. “There should be an empty locker for you to change into these.”

“What the hell is all over these?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Corn syrup,” Robin answered. “It has to look like blood, and obviously we wouldn’t use real blood because that’s disgusting and it would make the clothes reek, plus it would be weird to keep requesting blood from the butcher’s all the time-”

Eddie held up a hand. “I got it, thanks.” He flipped his casualty card over and read his triage notes. “A ‘sucking chest wound and a missing left leg’? Sounds gross but cool.”

Robin smirked and shook her head. “Remind me to tell you some stories, Eddie.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Go change. We’re leaving to go across the street in about twenty minutes. You all have to be in your positions at least thirty minutes before the test starts.”

Eddie did as he was told, swapping his tight black jeans and Slayer T-shirt for the shirt and sweatpants she’d given him. “Robbie,” he said, grimacing as he walked out, holding his casualty card in his right hand. “These are so sticky.” His left hand had touched some of the “blood” on the left leg of the pants.

“You’re not supposed to touch the fake blood,” she pointed out, but handed him a warm rag for him to wipe his hand off on. “Come on, let’s get you into position.”

She walked him over to the empty building across the street, past numerous other volunteers who had varied injuries. Two guys had “bloody” bandages wrapped around their head, or around an arm. A girl he passed had a soft cast on her left arm and bandages wrapped around her stomach.

“It’s like a warzone here, huh?” he asked as they passed a group of three guys laying on stretchers. One of them, dressed in garish yellow clothes and with the longest hair he’d ever seen on a guy, glanced up at him and pointed to his casualty card. “Sucking chest wound and missing left leg.”

“Ohhhh, sick, brochacho,” came the response as the guy grinned up at him. “I got a broken neck.”

“So maybe you should lie still, Argyle,” Robin scolded him.

“Sorry Robin,” the pale lanky guy next to him said. “Hey, babe,” he started, reaching for his boyfriend’s hand as Eddie followed Robin to his place. It was in the far back of the building, almost out of sight of everyone else, though he could faintly hear Argyle talking with the other guy.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said as Eddie sat down against the wall once they got to his designated area.

“Sure,” he groaned as he stretched his long legs out, setting the casualty card on his lap. “Concrete is the most comfortable surface known to man.”

“And don’t talk,” she said, ignoring his remark. “You’re supposed to be critically injured, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, waving her away. “I’m going to my enjoy dinner later!” he called as she continued walking. He saw her shake her head and then compose herself as she went to join the rest of her class.

That was about thirty five minutes ago now, and Eddie was hoping this would be over soon. In addition to being hungry, his ass was starting to go numb from sitting still for so long. How long could this exam actually go on for?

Suddenly, the doors at the other end burst open as about twelve members of the para-rescue group charged in. As they moved through towards the back of the building, they peeled off from the main cluster to assess the damage to the other casualties on the floor. By the time any of them got to Eddie, there were only three guys left.

The guy in front: a tall, muscular guy with floppy brown hair and the most beautiful face Eddie had ever seen on a person, looked to the right where Eddie was sitting, and zeroed in on him. He came over, and knelt down, his face flushed prettily with exertion. He grabbed Eddie’s casualty card and scanned it briefly, licking his lips as he read, before his eyes flicked up to meet Eddie’s.

Eddie felt his heart hammer in his chest when he locked onto those beautiful hazel eyes as they stared into his own brown ones. Eddie felt as though his brain had shut down, breath completely gone. He had enough wherewithal to glance down at the name badge clipped to his button down: Steve Harrington.

‘Holy shit this guy is hot,’ Eddie thought, face reddening the longer he looked at him, He could have kicked Robin for not mentioning that she shared a class with an Adonis. Not even an invite over to the apartment for a movie and pizza night!

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Steve spoke, bringing Eddie back to the situation at hand. He blinked dumbly at him. “Don’t you worry,” Steve added, giving him a big smile, and a wink. Eddie felt his eyes widen at the wink, sure that his face was the color of a fire engine by this point.

Robin came over then, her clipboard in hand. She tossed Eddie a look before she turned her attention to Steve. “What’s the triage situation?”

“Open pneumothorax, and amputation of the left leg below the knee,” Steve answered, quick, professional, controlled. Eddie was glad he was wearing sweatpants because just the hint of authority he heard gave him the beginnings of a semi.

“Is he stable enough to be moved?” Robin asked, writing quickly as Steve spoke.

Steve checked the casualty card briefly before he made the decision. “Given the severed leg, we should prioritize getting him somewhere so we can put on a tourniquet and then see to the chest.”

Robin nodded in agreement. “There’s no stretcher-”

“I can carry him,” Steve interrupted. No sooner had he said this than he put his arms around Eddie’s body and under his legs, using leverage to lift him up, holding him close to his chest.

Eddie felt as though he was going to swoon. “Fuck,” he murmured quietly, hoping he hadn’t been heard. Steve’s lips quirked just enough to let him know that he had in fact heard him.

“I’ll see you back in there, Robbie,” Steve said. He adjusted his hold on Eddie, shifting him up momentarily. Eddie used this opportunity to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, and then they were off to the triage area.

Eddie was struggling to come up with anything to say. Normally he couldn’t shut up to save his life, but in the arms of Steve Harrington? He felt like he’d swallowed his tongue. He searched his brain for something to say and finally landed on, “I had no idea you were so strong.”

He was lucky Steve was a paramedic because he thought he might die of embarrassment.

Steve grinned. “It helps when you do a lot of heavy lifting daily. You have to be strong to lug around the heavy equipment, or to pick someone up bodily because they lost a leg.” As they reached the triage area, Steve turned serious for a moment as the instructors milled around, before they moved to a spot farther away.

He deposited Eddie gently on a gurney and grabbed some bandages from the cloth bag on the side, leaning over Eddie to grab them. Eddie inhaled the smell of Steve’s cologne, and his deodorant, and a musky smell underneath that he attributed to Steve’s natural scent and some sweat.

He wanted to lick it all off of him.

‘Get it together, Munson,’ he scolded himself, watching as Steve took his left leg in hand and wound the bandage around his knee, securing it and then gently setting his leg back down on the gurney. He leaned over Eddie again to grab something else from the bag, his bangs falling in front of his eyes.

“Are you usually this flushed?” Steve asked as he ripped three strips of medical tape off of the roll and draped the ends on the metal bars of the gurney. He took another bandage and folded it carefully, placing it in the middle of Eddie’s chest. He grabbed the tape and began placing each strip along three sides of the bandage, as he would have done had Eddie actually had a sucking chest wound.

“Oh, no,” Eddie said, unable to take his eyes off of Steve as he worked. Some of his confidence came back and he said, “It’s just been awhile since I had the attention of such a gorgeous guy.”

Steve smirked, his cheeks and ears going red at the compliment. “Robin warned me you would be a flirt, Eddie,” he said. He bit his lip and then looked back at Eddie, eyes darkening. “I’m glad she was right.”

“She talked about me? To you?” Eddie asked incredulously. This was the first he had ever heard of this.

Steve nodded. “She did. I saw a picture on her phone of the two of you at a birthday party, and asked her who you were. When she told me you said you’d help her with her exam, I was pretty giddy.”

“Wait, wait a second,” Eddie said, placing a hand on Steve’s arm. “You asked Robin about me because-”

“Because I thought you were really hot and I wanted to see about spending some time with you to see if we might click,” Steve interrupted, giving Eddie a big smile.

“Well, shit, what are you doing after this?” Eddie asked, eyes bright. His stomach was doing flip flops. “Oh wait. Fuck. Robin told me she would treat me to dinner as a thank you…” he trailed off as Steve’s grin turned sly. “Oh…was that-”

Steve nodded. “In case we didn’t hit it off, she was still going to take you out as a thank you.”

Eddie started to push himself up as he asked, “Do you think we hit it off?”

Steve stopped him, hand on his chest, heavy gaze fixed on him. “Oh, I think we did, Eddie.” He let his eyes roam appreciatively over Eddie’s body, his gaze burning a trail as he made his way back up to his face. “Do you like sushi?”

“I love sushi,” Eddie affirmed, letting his own eyes roam over Steve’s chest and shoulders in appreciation. “What time did you say?”

Steve checked his watch. “It’s almost 6:30 now, so the exam should be just about done. How about we plan to meet at 7:15 outside, and we can go from there.” He looked again at Eddie’s clothes. “It’ll give us both time to get changed into non-grody clothing.”

“It’s a date,” Eddie affirmed, giving Steve’s arm a squeeze before he laid back down on the gurney. Steve gave him a wink before he turned around to go back to the front, giving Eddie a perfect view of his incredible ass.

“Well, fuck me,” he murmured, placing his hand over his eyes.

“Maybe I will,” Steve answered back, turning his head to give Eddie a meaningful stare before he walked away.

7:15 could not come soon enough.

#fanfiction #my fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Stranger Things

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fxtalitygod · 1 year ago

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「 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙲𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 」

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (or Afab!Reader)

Synopsis: You preferred your coffee to be black, at least you used to– Gojo Satoru changed that.

Genre: Fluff to Angst

Warnings: Fluff to Angst (Heavy angst), language, Light JJK chapter 236 SPOILERS, character death, vague imagery of mutilation (nothing overly descriptive), reader has a nightmare, depictions of a dead body/corpse, mentions of pregnancy, themes of grief, (only at the end)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/n: I wrote this mainly as a fem reader, but it can also be read as afab since the reader's pronouns are never specified.

P.S. I know it looks like someone needs to stop me from thinking of ways to write angst for Gojo after reading chapter 236...but that's only because someone needs to stop me from thinking of ways to write angst for Gojo after reading chapter 236!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Black."

"Black?!"

"Yes, what is that unusual?"

"No, it's just...how can you drink that?"

"I put it to my lips, and I ju-"

"I understand how the function of drinking works. I mean, how can you drink something so...bitter."

Satoru's question was more of a statement than a question, as he cringed at the thought of consuming such a bitter beverage. You and Gojo had been dating for a few months and were still getting to know each other, exploring your interests, preferences, likes and dislikes...tastes in coffee.

"Alright, how should I be drinking it?" you questioned, smiling as you watched him think before perking up as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head.

"You wanna go on a coffee date?" Gojo asked, smirking as he did so.

"Don't you think that's a little cliché?" you responded, quirking a brow at him.

"Nothing can be cliché if it's with you, my dear."

You could only laugh at his witty comment, glancing over to see him wiggling his brows as he awaited your answer.

"Alright, fine! But for future reference, try to come up with better pick-up lines than that, or I can't see this relationship lasting long." You joked as you stood from the bleachers you had been seated on.

You watched as your boyfriend clutched his chest in faux hurt, letting a theatrical gasp as he gave you a pained look. You could only laugh at his dramatic behavior, shaking your head as you stepped towards him, bending down to kiss him on the cheek. Gojo sat there accepting your offer of affection but wasn't entirely satisfied. Before you could walk away, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down to give him a proper kiss before pulling away slightly.

"I'll meet up with you after class?" the second-year mumbled on your lips.

"If you even survive because I'm pretty sure you're late, and Yaga isn't going to be too keen on the explanation that your tardiness was due to you swapping spit with your girlfriend." you teased.

"We didn't even make out though."

"Try explaining that to Yaga," you knowingly stated.

Gojo knew you were right, sighing and cursing under his breath before standing, giving one last peck to your lips before running off, mumbling to himself as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse for his late arrival, something that would be somewhat justifiable to his instructor. You felt a warmth rise in your chest as you watched him make one last turn towards you, waving as he continued to make his way to his classroom. How did you manage to pull a guy like him? That question would forever remain a secret, but you wouldn't dwell on it– you would focus on whatever remaining time you had left with him.

"My head still hurts," Gojo murmured as he rubbed the tender spot on his scalp from where Yaga had bonked him.

"I told you," you teased in a sing-song tone, leaning towards him with a smug smile plastered on your face.

Your partner only shoved you away lightly as he tried to control the amused smile that began to grace his features before pausing. You hadn't noticed that Satoru had stopped until you turned to see he wasn't by your side anymore. You looked behind you to notice that he was staring at a display window. You couldn't see what was inside due to your current distance, but you could tell your boyfriend was definitely drawn to it.

"Is everything alright over there?" you called, tilting your head in curiosity as you stood in your current spot.

"How do you feel about going on that coffee date?" Satoru called back, looking over at you.

"Now?"

"Right now."

You hesitated for a moment, not feeling entirely comfortable going on a date in your uniform, but reasoned that it would be ridiculous to postpone a simple date based on your apparel– Satoru was still in his uniform, so why did it matter? With that internal debate out of mind, you walked toward your partner, taking his outstretched hand and walking into the coffee shop.

"You sit over there."

"Huh?" you were confused by your boyfriend's instruction, giving him a puzzled look.

"I'll go order the coffee and a few treats, don't worry, go sit over there and relax," Gojo explained, an overly enthusiastic smile plastered on his face for a guy who was going to simply put in an order for 'coffee and a few treats.'

You gave the fellow shaman a look of suspicion before walking over to a clean table, taking a seat, and watching the tall individual walk toward the counter. You couldn't hear what he had ordered due to his almost hushed tone as he spoke to the barista behind the counter. You waited a short while before being presented with your companion and all the items he had purchased.

Before you could say anything, Gojo slid one of the cups toward you, presenting it as your coffee before pulling back and staring at you. Your eyes flitted from the cup back to him a few times, feeling apprehensive as he persisted in staring at you. His awaiting gaze was a little unsettling at this point.

"What did you do to it?" you asked, pushing the beverage away.

"Nothing, just take a sip," the eager-looking individual insisted as he slid the cup back to you.

"You didn't do anything weird to this, did you? Didn't poison it or anything? I don't want to be the victim of a crime of passion case."

"No, I didn't do anything weird to it. Also, if I were to kill you, I wouldn't poison you– that would be boring," Your boyfriend answered.

"How reassuring," you stated, taking a deep breath before looking at the cup sitting idly, "Here goes nothing."

After collecting all your courage, you lifted the cup so that the rim rested on your lips, taking one last look at Satoru before taking a sip. The sweetness and thickness of the drink hit you unexpectedly, causing you to choke suddenly. You pulled the cup away from your mouth, grabbing a napkin to cough into as you registered what had happened.

"Are you okay?" Satoru spoke, trying to hide his laughter– he was failing miserably at that.

"Yeah," you sputtered, "What the hell did you put in that coffee?"

"Technically, I didn't put anything in that coffee; the barista did," your companion corrected.

"Alright, smart aleck, what did you tell the barista to put in that?" you responded, grabbing another napkin to wipe at your mouth, slowly catching your breath from the initial shock.

"Relax, I just asked her to add creamer and a few packs of sugar."

"How much do you consider is a few?"

"Uhhhh... so how was it?" Gojo redirected, deciding not to answer that question.

"It was definitely a shock," you sarcastically answered as you glared at your boyfriend.

"It couldn't have been that bad. Come on, just give it one more try, pretty please," Satoru pleaded, looking at you through his snowy eyelashes, batting them innocently.

You sighed, giving in to him begrudgingly as you brought the beverage back to your lips, pushing your hesitance to the side as you took a sip. You let the flavors rest on your tongue, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and brew combined with the thickness of the creamer that also enhanced the sweetness. The drink wasn't your preference, but you couldn't admit it was entirely dissatisfactory. If you had been the one who controlled how much sugar and creamer was added, it may have been more to your liking.

"Soooo?" your partner drew, waiting for an answer he would be satisfied with.

"It's alright, a little sweet for my liking, but it isn't god awful," you admitted, "next time, I would balance out the sugar and creamer ratio."

"So you're saying there is a next time?" Satoru teased, raising a smug brow.

You had the urge to punch the cockiness off of that ever-so-handsome face of his but decided against it as you leaned over the table and pecked his lips, catching him by surprise.

"Yeah, there is a next time."

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/n."

You hung up the phone, setting the device down on the nearby table as you stood in place, looking out the window, repeating the apologetic statement in your mind. What was the point of apologizing for such a loss– it won't bring anyone back; it won't mend your broken heart; it won't resolve the fact that you're standing here rubbing at your stomach, knowing that you were about to conceive a child without a father figure present, which you only figured both out recently.

You fiddled with the silver band around your ring finger before slowly sliding it off and placing it on the table next to your discarded phone. Your legs felt weak as you only stood there, staring at the window, not even looking at the lovely scenery beyond the pane– you only stared at the glass barrier that separated you from the outside world. There was a slight quiver in your breath as the events of your life played in your head. All the firsts you had with the man, all the important events you shared with him, all the tender moments. From the day you met to the day you eloped with him.

This was another day to add to your memory.

The day you created a life and the day you lost a life.

You stood there unmoving and noiseless until someone came and escorted you to your room, saying you should rest. Laying in your bed felt like torture that night, and every night after that– it was a constant reminder that you were now a widow, that you had lost your lover. When you would dream, you would dream of him, but those dreams quickly turned into nightmares. The images were vivid, as you imagined your lover's mangled body, surrounded by his own blood that had turned cold with time. Your heart would hammer against your ribs, and your breathing would grow heavy as if someone was sitting on your chest. A ringing sound could be heard the longer you looked at his corpse, crescendoing as your gaze took in every detail of the horrific sight before you.

And then you'd wake up to the sound of your own alarm.

You gasped as you sat up, waking up in a cold sweat, goosebumps littering your skin. You looked at your phone, seeing it was past the original time set, meaning you had slept through the initial alarm. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you sat there, looking at the empty side of your bed blankly; however, before you could dwell on the situation, your phone went off. You quickly reached over and looked at the caller ID, seeing Shoko's name illuminating on the screen.

"Hello," you groggily asked, not having the energy for your usual friendly greeting.

"Hey, are you sure you want to do this?"

You were puzzled by her question, but when you pulled your phone away in confusion, you noticed the date and what that meant.

"Yeah," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright, see you soon then..." a pause as you were about to hang up, your finger hovering over the red button, "Hey, Y/n, if I had the power to bring him back, I would...even if he was an idiot. I just wish I had that kind of power."

"Hey Shoko, it's alright. I need to get ready, but I'll see you soon," you reassured her, knowing that your husband's death was just as painful for her as it was for you.

"Right, see you soon."

With that, you used what little energy you had to press the red button and stand, heading to your bathroom to freshen up. Walking up to the mirror, you could see how disheveled you were– it was frankly ridiculous– seeing your messy hair and your sloppy choice of clothing. You scoffed as you looked at yourself, disappointed in how you let yourself go because you knew Satoru wouldn't have wanted this for you, especially in your circumstances.

You took a deep breath before exhaling, trying to push your emotions aside so you would be able to accomplish the basic necessity of taking care of yourself. This was the daily morning routine currently, waking up a sweaty mess from your night terrors before cleaning yourself to look as tidy as possible. If somebody were to ask someone close to you how you were doing, they would say you were handling it well, complimenting you on how strong you were being. Although, those people only saw you in broad daylight. When you were left in the solitude of your bedroom, you would let go of the strong composure, permitting yourself to slouch and remove the concealer from your undereye to reveal your eye bags, allowing yourself to remove the neutral expression from your face to reveal the cold, stoic one beneath it, which wasn't very flattering.

After a few hours, you stood on the border of Tokyo's Jujutsu High. It took every part of you to step past the barrier, but you managed to do it after shutting down every impulse to turn around and break for it. You walked the grounds, feeling unfamiliar with the surroundings, although you had walked through these halls more times than you could count. The atmosphere just wasn't the same.

"Over here," you heard a voice exclaim, turning to see it was Shoko, "I thought it would be best to meet up out here first."

You only nodded as you stood in front of her. The air was thick with tension as you both stood in silence. You distracted yourself by messing with the chain around your neck.

"You could always back out if you want to..." Shoko broke the silence, although in a hushed tone as if she were trying to preserve the stillness.

"I need to do this, Shoko."

The brunette looked at you hesitantly before nodding, gesturing for you to follow her. You walked through the cold hallway for about a minute before stopping in front of a door. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you stared down the hunk of metal, not knowing what to expect.

"He's already in there," Shoko spoke once more, placing a hand on your shoulder, "Look, you can leave whenever you are ready; you don't have to stay in there, and if you need me there at any point, do not hesitate to ask."

You only gave your friend a curt nod before walking through the door, letting the heavy metal shut behind you as you scanned the features of the lifeless room. It was nothing special, but if you happened to get locked in this room, you would probably go insane. Before you could distract yourself with ridiculous scenarios, you were struck with the reality of the situation as your eyes landed on the oddly shaped white cloth draped over the examination table.

Without even thinking, you approached the table, pausing just short of it as you examined the shape of the cloth. You sucked in a breath, holding it as you grabbed the corner of the fabric. There was a moment of hesitance as you gripped the material before pulling it back to reveal the lifeless face of Gojo Satoru, your beloved husband.

You didn't know what to do or say at the moment– I mean, what could you do or say when being met with your lover's cold body? However, you did have to breathe. You hadn't noticed, but when you began to feel the tightening in your chest, you remembered to allow breath into your lungs. Your dreams were nowhere accurate to the state of his current corpse, and you didn't know if you should have been disturbed or grateful for that. He wasn't horrifically mangled, but his lower half was no longer attached to his upper torso.

You looked into his cold, lifeless, blue eyes, the same eyes that used to gleam with mischief and pride. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was positively demolished at this stage. You brought your hand to hover just above his eyes before letting them touch his skin, moving them to force his eyes closed. Your hand rested there for a moment before moving to swipe away at the stray hairs that sat on his forehead.

Standing there, unmoving, you took a moment to look at your significant other, seeing his peaceful-looking expression, one you recognized from the mornings when he had successfully gotten a satisfying night of rest– now he's resting eternally; hopefully a peaceful one as your lover had always struggled with sleep. God, you wished he was just sleeping, that he would wake up and tell you it was all a sick joke, but you knew better– Satoru would never let you suffer like that. As you were about to back away and leave the room, starting to move your hands from the table, you felt something brush over your knuckles, causing you to lightly gasp.

You moved your gaze to look at what you unintentionally touched, revealing something that managed to cause your shattered heart to drop.

The sight of the ring on your lover's hand, the cold metal idly sitting on his unmoving finger.

You choked back a sob, a suppressed sound emitting from your throat as you took Satoru's limp hand, gripping it tight as your other hand found its way to his forehead, pushing back more strands of hair. You suppressed your cries as you bent down, closing your eyes, not having the heart to look at him like this anymore, as your quivering lips kissed his forehead. Your body silently shook as you continued to contain your sobs, tears escaping your eyes as you slipped the ring off his finger, placing it in your pocket.

You were in that position for some time before finally pulling away and walking out of the room before you could look at his dull state and linger any longer. Upon stepping out of the room, you were greeted by Shoko's gaze of pity– it sickened you. The last thing you wanted was to be pitied, but in predicaments such as these, you had no choice but to be pitied. So, if you were to be pitied anyway, what was the point of hiding the underlying issue?

"I'm pregnant," you blurted, watching Shoko's face drop.

"Y/n, I didn't even know, I would have never-"

You cut off Shoko as she attempted an apology for something out of her control, "How could you have known? I for sure as hell didn't until a few minutes before I got the call that my husband was dead," you weakly smiled, "At least I'll always have a part of him with me, right?" your voice shook as you sarcastically asked that question, allowing more tears to spill.

"Y/n, I-"

"Please don't apologize, Shoko. It isn't your fault that things ended up so shitty," you reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Look, I'm getting too tired considering that it's still early in the day, so I'm gonna grab a coffee, you could join me if you'd like," you offered, shrugging your shoulders as you wiped at your tears.

"Y/n, I wish I could, but I have to..." Shoko trailed as she chose her words carefully, "I need to work with him."

You gave the doctor an understanding nod, waving goodbye as you made your leave from the school. Leaving the isolated school to the city was almost refreshing as there were plenty of things to distract you from the reality of your predicament. To some, the walk may have been boisterous and annoying, but for you, it was calming and relaxing to be fixated on mundane things that didn't affect you.

That didn't last long.

Your feet stopped moving due to muscle memory of your route to your current location. You looked up to see the usual coffee joint you visited– the same one where Satoru had taken you for your first coffee date. You smiled for a moment due to the nostalgia; however, it faded quickly, remembering you weren't visiting with your usual partner. Despite the upsetting realization, you managed to hold your composure, fiddling with the chain around your neck before pulling it out from beneath your shirt, watching your wedding ring dangle from the delicate item. You took in a shuddering breath as you pulled your spouse's ring from your pocket, taking your time in slipping the metal band onto the chain to dangle next to yours before placing the necklace back around your neck, tucking it underneath your shirt once more.

"Y/n, is that you? It's been quite a bit. For a moment, I thought you found a new spot to lounge at," one of the familiar baristas chuckled before halting her laughter to look at the area around you, "Satoru isn't with you today?"

You sucked in a breath before plastering a smile onto your face and replying simply, "No."

"I see. I'll get you your usual then?" the barista asked, ready to turn away and prepare your drink before you stopped her.

"No, today I'd like it black, a plain dark roast," you replied.

A bitter drink for a bitter situation.

"Oh, alright then."

You could hear the hesitance linger in the barista's voice as she walked to the machine. It only took a couple minutes for the girl to prepare your simple order before handing it to you. Thanking the young woman, you bent down to pull some cash from your purse, coming up to see a stunned expression as she looked at your chest. Without thinking, you quickly looked down to be met with the sight of your necklace and the two rings dangling from it. Before the worker could speak, you placed the money on the counter and walked over to an isolated table– conveniently enough, it was the same table you and your husband would sit at, the one you always sat at since your first visit to this cafe.

"Yuck, how do you drink this Mommy?"

"Well, it's simple dear, you just bring the cups to your lips and-"

"I know how to drink, Mommy, but how can you drink something so icky?"

The mother lightly chuckled.

"Well, how would you have made it?"

"Hmmm...Here! Try my hot cocoa, Mommy! It is much better than that yucky drink."

"Oh, I bet it is, Sweetie."

You could hear them smiling as the mother-daughter pair giggled, enjoying their shared time, reminding you of a similar moment you shared with your lover– you were happy for them, nevertheless. Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a whiff of the dark brew, letting the scent linger for a while before taking a sip. The rich taste was almost foreign but satisfying nonetheless, at least that is what you told yourself as you slumped in your chair.

The room went eerily quiet as eyes were drawn to your form, watching as you cried into your beverage. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed breathily, putting the cup onto the table to cover your mouth to muffle your soft cries, your other hand placed gently on your stomach. You knew that they were looking at you, that you were causing a scene– it was embarrassing, but you didn't care. You had the right to grieve because god...

That coffee was so fucking bitter.

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