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thewinchestah · 6 months ago

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"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it.

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form.

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion.

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old.

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance.

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory.

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made. A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you.

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?”

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done.

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred.

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least.

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized.

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far.

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination.

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table. Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many.

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you.

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information.

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia.

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move.

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work.

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless.

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now?

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power.

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm.

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality.

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely.

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes.

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care?

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter.

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face.

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret.

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip.

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face.

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it”

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist.

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved”

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed. Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands.

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen.

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building.

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out.

Mutual destruction assured.

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?”

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words.

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve.

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out.

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too.

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love.

And now he is here.

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you.

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises.

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you. You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble.

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory.

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter.

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks.

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now.

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved.

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do”

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words.

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover.

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld.

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

“Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt.

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.” his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him.

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side.

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you, inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming.

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice.

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand.

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness.

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials.

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through.

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage.

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it.

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make”

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him”

a wrong type of static pricks your lips

“This won’t hurt”

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it.

Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain.

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison.

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal.

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing.

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him.

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought.

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him.

And then he stops.

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret”

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast?

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.”

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance, playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word.

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him.

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you.

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you.

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears.

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

But their machinations are all meaningless.

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

#HEY BUNNY ANON THIS ONE IS FOR YOU I NEVER FORGET A REQUEST I TAKE 5 MONTHS BUT I DONT FORGET IT #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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sun-undone · 2 months ago

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okay so i'm rereading the poppy war for the sole purpose of trying to squeeze all the chaltan content i can get out of it and my god is it delivering already

this first one is something that i completely breezed past in my first reading cause i didn't even know who tf chaghan was yet but on a reread????? GAY (pg. 226):

you're telling me that chaghan and altan just happened to be together when chaghan felt tyr's death? in the middle of the night??? mmhmm yup for sure

now as willing as i am to fully chalk this up to a late night chaltan tryst, i will be fair and admit that i'm not super clear on how exactly chaghan got the tyr info here. it kinda seems like he's doing his monthly meeting with the hexagram goddess (in the dialogue he literally says "there has been a hexagram" and then he interprets 3 things from it), but first off, it seems too coincidental for him to just happen to be doing that at the very moment that tyr dies, and also why tf is he doing it in the middle of the night?? is he just being extra dramatic and making up some "we have to do it at midnight" bullshit to see what he can get away with (a la the infamous kitay horse piss incident) or is there an in universe explanation for that that i've completely forgotten?

OR is it a secret, gayer third option: altan and chaghan were already together when he felt tyr's death, which then prompted him to convene with the goddess and get the hexagram. and we just don't see the full process or really get much of a proper explanation cause we're in altan's pov and it's all mysterious and shit at this point in the book. that's the one i'm going with and i cannot believe that this is their first scene together. the intimacy is already so palpable and we don't even know chaghan's name at this point in the book.

and then of course there's THIS (pg. 227):

absolutely fucking bonkers i'm spinning on my head

is anyone else this gentle with altan ever????? i'm genuinely asking. who else in the cike would even THINK about pulling a move like this? also the added layer of chaghan originally being next in line for commander before altan took him out to the fucking valley for THREE WHOLE DAYS and then THIS is his reaction to altan officially inheriting said title??? we know from a later conversation that chaghan has with rin (pg. 337) that he's very aware of how unprepared altan was to assume leadership over the cike, which just makes this gesture from him even more meaningful and tender. "we are yours to command. i am yours."

this next one just made me giggle and idk if it's just my brain being broken from scouring source material for gay crumbs or if it's actually intentional but (pg. 285):

i mean. i mean. if anyone knows the extent of chaltan, it's most definitely qara, and a lot of these crumbs involve her so i'm taking it as more evidence and no one can stop me

speaking of qara being an icon (pg. 317):

i actually forgot how much she's in this book i am so sorry queen

so unegen also has a strong reaction to ramsa's dialogue, but if i may be incredibly nitpicky about it, i'd argue that qara snorting implies a sense of "yeah right now that's funny", while unegen spitting out his wine implies more pure shock than anything else. i'm sure the cike have some idea about chaghan and altan's relationship going deeper than meets the eye (if it's this obvious from the crumbs we get over the span of a handful of scenes i can only imagine how sick and tired they must be after an entire year of it), but once again, qara is likely the only one who really KNOWS. for obvious reasons.

then we have the iconic dramatic entrance where chaghan is officially introduced, and even before zooming into a specific piece of it to prove my chaltan agenda, just the very existence of this scene is so fucking insane to me. rebecca could've chosen any way to properly introduce us to chaghan, and this is what she decided on. you could argue that it sets up chaghan's dramatic and obnoxiously proud personality, and that him being hurt is so we can see how it affects qara (and also just to up the tension and stakes) BUT how coincidental that on top of achieving all that character and narrative stuff, it also succeeds in showing us a completely different side to altan. one that is specifically brought about by chaghan.

would altan rush out into a sea of federation soldiers to help any other member of the cike? yes. but rebecca chose to show him helping THIS member of the cike. in THIS dramatic of a fashion (and it's literally on a horse like that is so fractured fairytale romance of her actually). and it's also the aftermath that really clues us into something deeper between him and chaghan in particular (pg. 373):

along with qara, who is SOUL BONDED TO CHAGHAN BY THE WAY, altan is screaming at him for being reckless and how he could've gotten himself killed. intentionally or not, rebecca is clearly aligning altan and qara here, and i LOVE how it's shown in the way their dialogue is formatted. you don't even know who is saying which fragment. they are one in the same when it comes to the level in which they care about chaghan's wellbeing. and also when it comes to yelling at him for being an idiot! and if that's not love then idk what is

#more to come #i'm so obsessed with these two it's such an issue #sorry for the bad photos too i tried my best but i have horrible lighting everywhere #the poppy war #altan trengsin #chaghan suren #qara suren #chaltan

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night-dazai · 10 months ago

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Hi !! i got this idea while looking at a picture of dazai, i suggest you a pm dazai x reader x ada dazai smut 👀👀 i'm hungry for dazai 😭 please can you write me one? 🙏🙏🙏

Hey all I am sorry that I have not been posting for a week, college is too rough on me I have nothing done I am sorry😭😭😭 I will update all requests soon and the box is always open for more spice!

Tags: threesome, ass and pussy fucking, female reader, slapping, nipple play, rough sex, creampies .not proofread

SLAP! Your ass throbbed with pain and pleasure as both of them riled into your cunt and mouth “Bella ~~” one moaned out while the other grabbed your breasts harshly while calling you a whore. It has been hours you were sure but not one of them had any intentions of stopping “pls.. I cannot “ you whined when one took his dick out of your mouth only to get another harsh slap across your ass and a mean hard thrust “ shut it “ one said while the other kissed your passionately “ one more love ~”. His smooth voice wanted you to do more for him but the other made sure you did more for him little did you know they were opposites but one thing they had in common was that not one of them was stopping anytime soon “ Dazai ~~” your moan was horse and rough due to your overused vocals “ yes love/slut” both answers moving their hair from their face.

FEW HOURS BEFORE :

“This is a fucking time travel machine !!!” you shouted to your boyfriend, you both were supposed to find the criminal who stole the machine, arrest him and destroy the machine. “Not use it to go to the past !” you shouted while your lover was too excited looking at his surroundings “It sure is the past !” he exclaimed clapping his hands together like a happy kid. You wanted to punch the life out of this man but you could not plus just 24 hours after that you guys will automatically go back to the future or your present.

For one hour both of you walked the streets of Yokohama seeing your past “That shop “ you said pointing at a candy shop. Dazai giggled “Yeah, after each mission, I would go there right ? Why not get some candy now ?” he asked. Both of you entered the tiny box-like shop but stopped dead in your tracks seeing a brown-haired in a black coat biting his nails instead of the food . “thaa…” you stammered while Dazai smiled but it was a sad one, before any one of you could act you already made eye contact with him “Port mafia executive Osamu Dazai “ you mumbled holding your lover's hands tightly.

You did not know if it was excitement or what “Hi!” your lover said walking towards the confused-looking younger Dazai. He looked at Dazai for one second turned his head towards you and kept staring “That's rude “ you said smiling. “Marry me “ was all the younger Dazai said making your lover laugh “Yeah only after a few years, still I am yet to go there but we can get there, “ he said.

Everyone in the shop was curious as to the twin-looking people but the executive seemed to be a bit too calm “Explanation? Ability?” he asked calmly. Dazai explained the whole situation but left out important parts like how he no longer was a pm member. You thought he would think you guys were lying but for some reason, the Dazai and Dazai had some weird way of communicating.

After listening to your lover he rubbed his chin processing the information going through his head “So, you are the future me, this girl is our lover and she is an ordinary citizen (which is a lie your lover told him for safety “). And now you are stuck here for 24 hours ?” “More like 22 or 21 hours “ you corrected putting your tea cup down “Wanna spend time together ?” you asked.

You knew Dazai from his mafia days, you were following him ( you were a detective in ADA ) but little did you expect to fall for him and seeing his younger self made you want to know him as a person and not some living person you read from a file.

The Executive gave you one more weird look “ wanna go to my house ?” he asked. Dazai went quiet for one moment and then agreed, you had just decided to follow them both for the day and that's how you ended up in his house, stuck between both of them as you guys watched “TV “.

Both of them squeezed you as you sat with tense muscles when you felt a hand on each of your thighs, confused you looked at both trying to remove it but they didn't budge “ Dazai …???” “Why not have some fun with me ?” the executive asked smirk plastered on his face “Well you can never be as good as me, “ Dazai said squeezing you and making you shut and open your eyes “Then Why not find out “ the younger Dazai felt challenged and you could feel the cold air but you seemed to have no say plus both are your lover right ?? (you were confused ).

That's how you ended up on the large queen size bed of the mafia executive while your lover lay on it calling you to lie on his chest “I am removing them “ the executive said pulling your jeans in one pull and dragging your panties halfway done while the other kissed you making you look at him.

“This is something new for you right ..so wet “ he said licking your juices. That's when reality hit you “What were you doing ?!!! Your lover is okay with this ??” but you could not think or talk as a whimper escaped your mouth feeling the executive move his tongue in your cunt while your lover had your top naked making you completely naked.

“Bella~~~” he moaned pinching and twisting your nipples leaving hot wet kisses down your neck and back. Shivering you held the hair of the executive “Slow” you said as his to slow his mean pace of tongue.

Not did you unknowingly encourage him to go faster he had you cumming 4 mins after you said that and it was a strong orgasm. Your lover laid you down on the bed and switched positions with his past self, positing at your wet throbbing cunt “In love “ voice dripping with lust he moved his entire length in.

Breathing hard and whimpering you moved to his thrust when you felt a hand on your jaw “Put this to use love “ the mafia said shoving it and making you choke. It was hard and rough the way both of them handled you but also felt similar and … good….

Your jaw hurts and you have cum 3 or 4 times your hazy did not know “Come on the move “ your lover hissed slapping your thighs as you stopped shaking your hips to match his rough, up shots “Can… can't” you thought crying tears which mixed with your drool and cum dripping from your jaw as the mafia executive kept abusing your poor mouth.

“ You can and will “ the executive said one last time holding your jaw tighter and shooting in your mouth for the nth time. As he pulled out your lover pulled out of your cunt, both holes leaked white cum of his and yours mixed cum and drool and juices.

It was nasty and wet but satisfying “Switch?” the mafia Dazai asked as your lover agreed and then again you were on all fours as they did the same after cleaning their cum from both holes. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head when you suddenly noticed the mirror next to you. You could see yourself getting fucked at both ends, embarrassment flooded your mind and your body reacted “Don't tighten suddenly you slut “The mafia Dazai slapped your ass making you jerk from the reaction.

The look in his eyes is animal-looking and soo predatorial, unlike your sweet lover. Noticing the path of your eyes was not to the liking of your lover who pulled his dick out of your mouth “Eyes on me Bella “ his voice was firm and stern but still warm unlike the person fucking your cunt.

He suddenly kissed you, it was rougher than before and more harsh grip on your chin. ADA Dazai stared at PM Dazai “Oh… I see “ the executive said giving more mean thrusts making you jerk up and fall off your hands landing on your lover's lap crying and holding his thighs “ suck me off “ he ordered eyes not on you but the man fucking you.

It felt hot, your sweet lover who had a rough fucking style was always still warm to you but suddenly became 100 times hotter as you got fucked by his past self. You eagerly sucked his tip massaging his balls while he put his head back “Yeah deeper “ he ordered pushing you a little deeper.

Time flew like a second and you had cum thrice on both their cocks while they still seemed to have enough energy to ravishingly enjoy you two more times “Please…..no more” you begged but they were having none of that. Both were focused on giving you pleasure more than the other when suddenly one of them would make you look into the mirror and spread your pussy opening it with his fingers as his cock was in “See… see how this slutty hole is sucking me in “.

As you turned your head to stop looking from the view your lover would have your mouth used again and again as he played with your nipples like they were a toy.

Suddenly your lover pulled you up your back in his chest as he positioned his dick at your asshole while the other Dazai got in front of your cunt “I heard this feels too good” he said and both entered you at the same time forcing you to see your fucked out messy face in the mirror asking you “ who is better ?”

HOURS LATER :

Kunikada sat with the most worried expression on his face you sat down panting while your lover just sat next to you smiling “Are you alright ?” he asked rubbing your back you would flinch making the blonde look at you more worried but he removed his hand.

Yosano smiled and patted your head “ wanna rest in the office “ she offered as you nodded weakly and walked up with her help. “ Get lost “You slapped your lover's hand when he offered but he smiled and just watched you walk limping “What happened “ the blonde asked again “Nothing…..she just met me again for the very first time “ he said smiling a bit weird.

“Dazai have you gotten a bit shorter ?” Kunida asked suddenly asking him to look at him for the first time after getting back from the past “No..why ?” Dazai asked but the blonde was gone when his phone rang “How is she ?” the caller asked “A little better but I think we should go easy on her “ the smile still plastered on his face “You should have gone easy on her “You lover shouted hanging up “ well maybe …next time “

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builtbybrokenbells · 7 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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reidslovely · 1 year ago

Text

If Your Love is in Trouble (Part One)

"If you're asking yourself, "How do you know?" Then that's your answer" Lana Del Rey, Margaret

Playlist here.

Authors Note: Yes, I am starting another series. Maybe I'll actually finish this one. This was born after playing Spider-Man 2, and I have no explanation for it, I just really wanted an excuse to write this. I know many people aren't into love triangles and that's cool. I still hope you guys read and enjoy because it will predominantly be Peter/Reader.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader x Harry Osborn

Content Warning: Slight mentions of suicidal ideation, couple swear words, pretty tame for the most part right now. Few mentions of a old hair color reader had.

Please reblog, and throw a comment in if you'd like!

“I can’t believe he’s really gone.” Peter muttered as he sat crisscrossed on the pillows scattered on his bedroom floor turning his best friend's game boy over in his hands. (Y/N) frowned at her friend, her cheeks stained red and swollen from crying, the insides of her cheeks sore from being bitten.

“I know..it’s not fair.”

She rested her head on Peter’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around his torso.

“Norman is fucking evil.” Peter mumbled out, a glance at his open door making sure May didn’t hear the swear fall from his lips. “..and a terrible father, he never deserved to have Harry. But that didn’t mean he had to ship him off. He could have lived here, May and Ben would have taken him in. That’s like their whole thing!”

(Y/N) listened, she knew the hurt Peter was feeling, but she also knew he knew how Harry was feeling. The three of them had been inseparable since they were six, did everything together and went everywhere. But now Harry has gone to some fancy boarding school in the English countryside, not knowing when they’d ever see him again.

“We still have each other.”

Peter laughed sadly, his hand engulfing hers a childlike smile on his face the blue color on his braces catching her eye. “Yeah. And I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Peter wrapped his arm around her neck, pulling her down ruffling her hair. (Y/N) screamed out, thrashing around laughing, trying to fight Peter off.

“Okay you two, okay. Dinner is ready c’mon.” Ben says from Peter’s doorway looking at the middle schoolers. Peter let go of the girl, holding his hand out for her to take helping her up. Ben stood back as the two bursted out of the door, racing one another down the stairs into the warmth of the kitchen. The smell of May’s cooking filling the homey kitchen, a news anchor talking excitedly on the small TV on the counter.

…

Though the kitchen hadn’t changed in those seven years it was no longer warm, it no longer felt like a second home. The same new anchor talked on the TV, his voice no longer excited but now aged and filled with professionalism. (Y/N) looked around the once familiar area, now feeling like a vampire who’d crossed the threshold uninvited. But she had been invited, May stood in front of her two mismatching coffee cups in hand.

“Take off your coat for a while.”

She coaxed, motioning at the spring jacket on her shoulders. (Y/N) smiled at May’s motherly nature, she hadn’t changed a bit since the last time she’d seen her. Her head had a few more grays on it, and she was wearing her reading glasses more but other than physical she was the same old May.

“I’m so glad I caught you walking, I was gonna call and have these sent to you but..I’ve been wanting to see you anyways.”

“I know May, I’ve missed you. Sorry, I just..I've been..so busy.”

May squinted her eyes, her crows feet becoming prominent. It was never an easy task to lie to May, she saw through everything.

“I bet.” But, she always let the lie continue. May sat at the bar stool, the small photo book in hand as she opened it. (Y/N) settled next to her drinking out of the homemade Spider-Man cup, looking at the first set of photos. Three kids smiled in front of a carousel of horses, two boys and a girl standing in the middle. (Y/N) smiled, her mind flashing to the blonde boy in the photo, thinking about the last time they’d talk. Her eyes followed their muscle memory and looked at the scrawny brunette boy in the photo, his head resting on hers as he held up a peace sign.

“Ben and I basically had to drag you three out of that park when that silly little carousel popped up. It was your favorite part.”

“We used to spend hours there. I used to steal money out of my dad’s wallet to get us rides for the whole week.”

May laughed, nodding her head. (Y/N) smiled at the memory of her thumb rubbing over the slightly aged photo, it felt like her heart shook with grief for what they once were.

“Now this..this is my favorite.”

May held up a photo of two ghosts.

One clad in an awkward fitting sports coat and slacks, the other in a deep blue dress and poorly dyed red hair. In Peter’s scratchy handwriting ‘Junior year winter formal’ was written on the back. (Y/N) swallowed harshly, but smiled at the image.

“You two looked so cute. Your red hair really was something.”

“Mhm, I forgot the last time you saw me I was still a redhead!” (Y/N) hummed softly, sliding the photo back into its slot in the photo album. May hummed, putting her hand against her cheek.

“When was the last time?”

“It was ..I dunno, senior year we just got on christmas break, I had come by because I hadn’t heard from Peter in a couple weeks and I was worried. He’d gone upstate with Gwen’s family, and you gave me that knitted scarf and beanie set.”

“Oh that’s right!” May smiled, grabbing onto (Y/N)’s forearm. “Have you two talked at all?”

(Y/N) laughed awkwardly, her hand coming up to push her hair out of her face. She shook her head rapidly. “No, I'm pretty much on the outskirts of his life now. I think we both go out of the way to avoid one another.”

May shook her head, her nephew's behavior never failing to amaze her. “Whatever happened, have you two tried to fix it?”

“I dunno May, we just…grew apart. He had Gwen, photography and science club…and his other extra activities.” (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders, her hand patting May’s that rested on her forearm. “We grew up I guess.”

May looked at her and it felt like she saw right through her, saw her heart and how Peter had smashed it into a million pieces. (Y/N) pulled her arm gently from May grabbing the coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Oh my god! Is this you and Ben?” It was a quick and easy subject change that May would allow.

The front door opened and May turned her head. “Peter, why don’t you come into the kitchen? I have something I want to show you. I finally pulled those photos down from the attic!”

(Y/N) looked around the kitchen like an animal being caged in, she looked for a quick escape but she could never move that quietly. So she settled with tucking her face away behind May’s figure and maybe if she willed enough she’d turn invisible.

Peter's footsteps turned into a quick jog throughout the house. “May why would you..I told you I’d..” Suddenly all sound stopped. Time felt like it’d stopped with it.

Peter had grown a couple inches since the last time they’d seen one another, she thought he’d looked taller in his birthday post on instagram but maybe she’d just started forgetting what he looked like. He’d finally cut his hair, and started dressing in more fitting clothes. He had become a full adult in the time they’d been apart, it felt like just yesterday they were eighteen year olds hanging out at the skatepark.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, shock in his voice.

“I caught her walking home- thought she’d like a trip down memory lane.”

“Hey Pete.” (Y/N) spoke finally, her eyes following him as he walked to the fridge grabbing out the creamer and making his own cup of coffee. May had opened her mouth to speak before being cut off by the house phone. May grabbed (Y/N)’s shoulder as she stood.

“I’ll be right back.”

Silence, that was once comfortable and knowing, filled the room awkwardly. (Y/N)’s eyes locked to Peter’s back watching his movements.

“Happy belated birthday.”

Peter turned to look at her after the words left his mouth. She could laugh, at least he remembered one thing.

“Yeah, yeah you too. We’re twenty, pretty odd huh?’

“Yeah..I feel like I’ve lived six times that.”

(Y/N) nodded awkwardly, dropping her eyes from him and looking at the winter formal photo in her hands. Her phone vibrating from the counter, both of their eyes immediately looking at it.

‘Harry - Hey, sorry we got cut short last night’

‘Harry - I’m actually grabbing a flight right now, I should be there tomorrow afternoon.’

She clicked the power button flipping it over. “How’s huh Gwen?”

Peter nodded and leaned on the counter, his finger tapping a couple of the scattered photos. “Uh..well. Good, I think. We..broke up.” He spoke quickly, rolling his hand in a circle motion as he spoke. He looked up at her, for what felt like the first time in forever. She nodded, a frown on her lips.

“I’m..really sorry to hear that Pete. I thought for sure you guys would..be together forever.”

“Yeah me too..” He slumped his shoulders and shook his head. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, it came out more bitter than she intended. Peter nodded, his lips pulling down at the notion. Maybe he knew he owed her a slew of apologies, maybe he was oblivious. She’d rather he be the latter. Clearing her throat she slipped out of the bar stool, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair.

“I should go. I have an assignment due at six I should get started on.”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Peter sniffled, his thumb rubbing against his nose. He pressed his fists into the countertop, his fingers popping as he did so. “Let me walk you home.” He offered up, rushing to get his coat from the living room. (Y/N) panicked, her mind moving at a million miles a second. Her brain refuses to process any type of response other than a small yes that she doesn’t even think he heard.

Taking the couple seconds alone she had she messaged Harry back: ‘So excited to see you! Miss your face :)’

“Ready?” Peter asked, he returned with a denim jacket on his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. (Y/N) pocketed her phone nodding at him, Peter reached around her holding the back door open for her as they stepped out into the slight chill of the spring weather. The two rounded the side of the house heading down the block. Peter fell into his previous routine, he always took the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, keeping (Y/N) on his inside. She smiled at him, dropping her gaze to her feet.

“I’ve been a terrible friend.”

It wasn’t what she expected to fill the silence. Her mouth fell open, before closing again quickly trying to think of a response.

“I like..totally left you hanging and I just..I’m really sorry that was so fucked up. There was just.” Peters fumbling through his words, it’s not an apology, but she’ll take it.

“Hey Pete, it’s all good. We were kids, and hey what can you do it happened. I played a part in it too. We had a lot going on.”

“You were always trying to excuse my bad behavior, I was a bad friend. I can admit that now, I should have admitted that two years ago.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, a laugh falling out of her lips, her hand coming up to wave it off.

“We were hormonal teenagers Peter, and that got in the way. I’m not mad, I missed you a lot. But maybe it was what we needed to grow.”

“I know but I should have said something. I left you on a fucking rooftop, I..”

“I love you Peter, and I just need to know if you love me.” She screamed over the flow of the traffic below them. Sirens sounding off in the background felt like she was being laughed at by everyone. Peter’s face was numb, filled with shock as he held his mask in one hand, his bruised eyes searching her face. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t..I don’t know. I dunno, either.”

He shook his head, the sound of the city around him felt like an icepick being stabbed into the back of skull. (Y/N) took a step back, wind blowing against her face whipping the dyed red hair around across her face. She turned and looked over the edge, before looking at him. Jumping from the 20th something floor felt like a better option than hearing whatever Peter had to say.

“I just..is there a chance or is this all for..nothing? Am I holding out for nothing?”

The sirens got louder, and Peter looked between the red head and the flashing sirens below them.

“I’m sorry, we can talk later!” Peter swore as he slid the mask on his face, in a flash he’d thrown

himself over the side of the building a flash of red swinging off into the sky.

The memory crawled into the forefront of her mind and for once it didn’t make her want to claw herself out of her skin. Peter’s hand had creeped out of his jacket pocket and into hers, his hand interlocking with hers. (Y/N)’s lips pulled down in a bittersweet smile, her thumb rubbing across his. For a moment she’s convinced herself nothing changed, for a moment she’s in school sneaking kisses with Peter in the darkroom of the photography club. Waiting for him by his locker ready to trade lunches for the day with silly notes written on the inside.

“It hasn’t changed a bit.”

Peter laughed as they reached the front stoop of her home, his hand still in hers. It was comforting, both having a sneaking feeling of home that they hadn’t felt in almost two years. However, the moment died quickly. Peter let go of her hand, stepping in front of her slightly as he looked around. (Y/N) furrowed her brow as she opened her mouth to talk, the scrapping of a chair drew her attention to the corner of the porch, a figure standing up.

“Mhm that’s what I said. I gotta say though I don’t remember the glass in the window being pink”

The deep voice drew the friend's head towards the sound, (Y/N)’s jaw dropping as she grabbed a tense Peter’s shoulder.

“Harry!”

They both yelled. The sandy blond started down the steps, (Y/N) took off meeting him half way engulfing him in a hug. Peter stood back in shock, looking at his lost friend as if a ghost had just crawled out of its grave in front of him. A small vibration of alert hanging in the back of his skull as the two embrace.

Taglist: @moonyslove78 @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @tarzinnia @a-lumos-in-the-nox @adhdhufflepuff @messymissy @hollandweather @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @eevylynn @ateliefloresdaprimavera @someblessedmonster

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maimingaffairs · 2 years ago

Note

hello!! hope ur having a great day! i read ur recent piece and was completely bewitched by your writing 🫶🏽

i saw ur reqs were open and wanted to request the following!

darkling x reader, where the reader misinterprets his relationship with alina, and pulls away from him (maybe they were friends / acquaintances before?) but they don’t know that the darkling secretly has his eyes set them only. so one night at a ball, when the reader is flirting / dancing with a grisha, they’re confused as to why the darkling snatches up to his quarters? and a confession entails 🫶🏽 could it be some smut if u wish?

thank u !! <3

my lovely anon, I apologise for the quality of this imagine </3 I stayed up far too late to finish it.

as always I am begging for more requests. pls send them in

warnings: smut, a little bit of angst. please only read if 18+

word count: 6.5k

Yours

(Aleksander morozova x AFAB!reader)

The first day you realized that something had changed was a mere day after the Sun Summoner arrived at the Little Palace. You sat at a table with Aleksander and David early in the morning and you stirred honey into your cup of steaming tea and your eyes traveled back and forth between David’s distracted eyes and Aleksander’s very focused ones. The intensity upon which Aleksander stared off with was not uncommon, in fact, you’d learned that it was actually quite normal for him. The two of you had become friends when he had found you, a skilled Heartrender, working on the frontlines with his army and had eventually relocated you to the Little Palace. He gave an excuse saying that you were more useful here than out close to the war, but you eventually came to suspect that he worried about you just enough to put you somewhere safer. Ever since being moved to Os Alta, the two of you had only become closer, spending almost every moment with one another. You considered him to be your closest friend and you were grateful to be considered his in return.

You decided to break the comfortable silence by clearing your throat and flashing an excited smile at Aleksander, “Are you still taking me riding today?” you asked expectantly, excited to finally see your best friend after weeks of him being away.

He tore his dark eyes away from the wall he had been so fixed on and he reached across the table and patted your hand affectionately and his face softened apologetically, “I am terribly sorry, darling. I have to take care of a few things with Miss Starkov. Can I take you tomorrow instead? Just after breakfast, I promise.”

Your eyes raked his face and you blinked a couple of times. You let out an understanding hum and then nodded, “Yeah, that's fine. I know you're busy. Just don’t ditch me again, or you’ll be sorry.” you threatened with a wink and pointed at him with the spoon you were just stirring your tea with.

“Ditch you? I could never.”

But he did. He did ditch you. Quite literally, too. You had hurried through breakfast excitedly and hardly wasted any time going out to the stables, to find that he wasn’t there yet. You waited for nearly half an hour, first messing with your horse’s mane and then moving into the stall adjacent to greet Aleksander’s horse. When it reached an hour and he still hadn’t come, you let out a low huff and you dragged your hand through your hair moodily. He had never stood you up before. Ever. If there was one person who was always true to their word, it was Aleksander. You decided to cut your losses and walked out of the stables, a slight worry growing in your stomach. Perhaps something had happened, that was the only explanation as to why he would have simply not come. Your face twisted worriedly and you hurried inside to check on him. You made your way to his chambers as fast as you could and you swung the door open to reveal an empty room. You stood in the doorway confusedly and you reached up with one hand to rub your face with your palm and you let out a long sigh. Where on earth could he be? You wondered, taking a step back out of his room. You felt your back collide with someone and you spun around to see Zoya’s bitter face, though, right now it looked particularly like she’d bitten into an especially sour rhubarb, all scrunched up and angry.

“Oh, my apologies, Zoya. I didn’t see you.” You said, keeping your tone as light as you could, not wanting to set the feisty girl off.

She simply nodded once at you and you grabbed onto her arm gently. Despite her fiery personality and overall unpleasantness, you never had any qualms with the talented Squaller, so you gave her a sympathetic look and gently brushed your thumb across her arm where you held it, “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

The contempt in the girl’s eyes didn't lessen upon your question, in fact, it just got worse, “I’m so sick of seeing that stupid girl getting paraded around on Kirigan’s arm. All morning she’s been stuck to his side while he’s been introducing her to just about everyone under the sun,” Zoya let out a sound that resembled a scoff and a grunt mixed together and you let go of her arm, “and furthermore, it doesn’t help that he looks at her like she’s going to personally hang each and every star in his sky.”

You looked at her curiously, your jaw dropping, “He… He’s been doing that this morning?” you asked, clearly shocked. The Squaller nodded once and then she pointed down the hall towards the banquet room and you blinked a few times, your chest filling with something between fury and disappointment, and without another word, you trudged down the hall and stood in the doorway to indeed find Aleksander with his hand on Alina’s back as he was introducing her to a few of his friends. You stood there unmoving for a while before his eyes shifted and fell upon you, and you watched the polite smile melt off of his lips and turn into instant regret when he saw you. You could tell he was readying himself to walk to you, but you only scoffed and spun on your heel, leaving his sights immediately.

The week following, you had successfully avoided Aleksander, though you were almost sure that he hadn’t been looking for you all too urgently. It was nearly midnight and you sat in the library with Genya, a habit the two of you had formed together when you couldn’t sleep. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a long time before she cleared her throat.

“The General was looking for you today.” she remarked casually as possible, not bothering to look up from her book.

You didn’t dare look up from your own, wanting to avoid the emotion that would betray your face if you looked up into her kind eyes, “Well, he knows where to find me, so I doubt it was all too pressing.” you replied.

The only sound in the room for a few moments afterwards was the turning of pages and the crackling of the fireplace. You felt your nose begin to sting a bit and you almost laughed in spite of yourself. There was no way you were tearing up over this.

“Why don’t you just talk to him if you are upset about the Sun Summoner situation?” she asked, her voice flat, and you could tell she was half distracted by her book.

“Alina Starkov is not upsetting me.” you sputtered, your cheeks flushing.

Genya flicked her eyes up at you and then back at her book and she shrugged, “You seemed pretty bothered by her and him the other night at dinner. I’ve not seen you ever sit with Zoya before and she, too, is having her own conflicts with Alina.” Genya pointed out and you simply shook your head and buried your nose back into your book, but Genya wasn’t done yet, “I invited him to join us in the library tonight.” she added and then looked back into her own book.

You closed your own book so hard that the smack echoed in the warm room and you stood up from the chair, “Well, tell him I went to bed early.” you muttered

“Or you can bid me goodnight before you leave.”

You froze in your place and looked over at the door to see Aleksander standing there in the dim light. He wasn’t wearing his kefta and his hair looked a bit out of place and he had a soft smile on his lips. Everything about the man looked so inviting and sweet in that moment, and you had to swallow the feeling that bubbled up from your stomach into your chest and up through your throat that screamed at you to run into his arms. You impressed even yourself when you stayed rooted to the ground and you shrugged once, setting your book down on the table next to the armchair you sat in.

“Would you even care to hear it if it wasn’t in Alina’s voice?” you snapped, your hands sliding into the pockets of your fluffy bed robe. You stared at him defiantly and he cocked an eyebrow upwards at your words.

“Don’t be childish.” he chided and then took a few steps into the room, closing the double doors behind him gently. Genya took this as a good opportunity to get up from her chair and scuttle out of the library like a retreating animal, leaving you alone with Aleksander.

His words infuriated you and you shook your head and looked down.

“I have every right to be a little childish right now. You stood me up. You’ve never done that to me before.” you said indignantly and looked up at him again. You wore a stone expression on your face, but as you met his eyes, your own eyes burned with hot tears. You tried to keep them from falling over your bottom lashes, but your chin wobbled and you instantly lowered your face into your hands and hid it from him. You didn’t have to look up to know that he was approaching you, and when he reached you, he gently grabbed your arms and pulled your hands away from your face. You were sure the look on your face was pathetic, because you watched his ever-serious eyes soften greatly, and he reached up to wipe your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Oh, y/n. Don’t cry, please. I'll make it up to you. I swear it. I know I’ve been distant as of late and I am terribly sorry. I didn’t know it hurt you like this.” he said with a sincerity you seldom heard from him. You felt weak and desperate at the same time and you leaned forward and planted your face against his chest. This certainly was not the first time that Aleksander has seen you cry, and it wouldn’t be the last, but you couldn’t help but feel ashamed this time. His arms found their way around you and he gently pet your hair as if you were a kitten in distress.

“Let me take you riding tomorrow afternoon, sweetheart. I promise I’ll show up this time. Why don’t you meet me in the courtyard around noon? Yeah? And we can spend the afternoon together before my meetings.” he offered, his tone velvety and soothing, making you feel much more at ease, bit by bit.

You nodded once and stayed against him for a few more minutes before you pulled back and looked up into his eyes. He looked down at you in return with a certain serenity you’d not seen in his eyes before and for the first time in the last three years of knowing Aleksander, you wanted him to kiss you right there and then. The thought surprised you deeply and this must have been evident on your face because his own face twisted in curiosity and he cocked his head to the side.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked gently and you didn’t respond. Not outwardly, at least. You wanted to know where the sudden urge to kiss your best friend came from, and why. You knew for absolute certain that, for one, Aleksander did not see you as anything other than his closest friend, and that was evident in many ways but mainly because you knew he had been actively sleeping with Zoya as recently as a month ago. For another, you knew that if this was a path you let your mind go down, you would eventually have to say something to him, and by doing so, you would jeopardize your entire friendship. But then that also begged the question: did he value your friendship? The past week had you questioning this much more than you were willing to admit to yourself for comfortability reasons, because despite your best efforts to hide from him, if he wanted to find you, he simply would have. And of course, there was the matter of Alina too. His Sun Summoner. His Equal. The current recipient of his attention and the topic of his every thought. You were ashamed to admit even just to yourself that you were jealous of the sun girl for taking away your closest friend, but the truth of the matter is: you were. You were angry and you were hurt, and the multitude of realizations and emotions that had come to you in the last five minutes filled you with dread. The kind of dread that filled you slowly, as slow and quiet as one of Aleksander’s shadows. Your stomach twisted painfully as your mind raced and you began to feel rather anxious. You’d almost forgotten that you were in Aleksander’s arms until he shook you a little bit and looked down at you with concern.

“Y/n. You look ill.” he commented and you wiggled yourself free of his arms and you shook your head.

You let out a puff of air and you rubbed your eyes. She was important to him, he seemed content, and you were just the best friend that wanted him to kiss you. The panic of it all consumed you and you gently pushed him away from you and you shook your head, “No. I don’t wanna go riding with you tomorrow,” you breathed. You wanted to get away from him, you wanted to stop feeling so overwhelmed. You had to push him away before he picked Alina over you or before you could say something stupid and ruin it all anyway, “I want you to leave me alone, Aleksander. Go back to your Sun Summoner or whatever. Just leave me be.” you said pathetically and you shielded him from seeing your face with your hand and you brushed past him and darted towards the door and slipped out of the library, holding a sob in until you reached your room.

Aleksander hadn’t sought you out in almost three weeks now. Of course you’d seen him in passing in the halls and such, but you hadn’t stopped to say hello. Rumors were now swirling around the Little Palace about him and Alina being a little bit more than just… friendly. In fact, the day that he asked to take you riding, he’d instead gone with her, and one of the servants for Alina told someone who told someone else who told Zoya, who inevitably told you, that he’d even tried to get her to start wearing black. His color. Of course this tore your insides up, but by the third week of ignoring Aleksander, the rumors stopped surprising you, and the sadnesses and pains were reduced to a dull ache that only bothered you when you dwelled on it. Which you tried to make as infrequent as possible.

You were awoken today by a loud knock on your door and when you finally mustered up the will to rise and answer the knock, you were pushed back into your room while Genya pushed her way in. She laid a thin, white box down on a small table you had in the middle of your room and she sighed, pointing at it.

“This was just finished this morning. I had them change it. I didn’t think you’d like the initial… design.” she explained and you eyed the box curiously.

You finally walked up to the table and opened up the box and pulled out an intricate, long red dress with silver embroidery over the sides of it and you looked up at Genya, confused, “What do I need a dress for?” you asked, but then remembered as soon as the words left your mouth. The Queen’s birthday party was that evening, and you had promised Aleksander you’d go with him. You stuffed the dress back in the box and closed the lid, shaking your head.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be insolent. Come with me if you’re going to be that petty. But this dress took forever and you’re gonna look so nice in it. You’ll have fun, you always do.”

Yeah because I always go with Aleksander, you thought and then looked up at Genya for a long time, contemplating. She stared you down in return and you were determined not to buckle under the intensity of the redhead’s stare, but you did nonetheless and you sighed dramatically.

“I'll go. But I’m not staying all night and you cannot do another set up. I mean it. I don’t want to be around him.” You stated and she agreed, pointing to the box.

“Then get yourself ready please. You’ve slept late enough as it is.”

The walk to the grand ballroom was made with your arm linked with Genya’s, and many bystanders that were standing outside of the party rather than within, all cleared out of your way when the two of you walked past. You supposed it was either due to the fact that you two were so clearly Grisha or perhaps it was the dreary look you wore on your face. Either way, you didn’t mind it. Once inside of the ballroom, Genya finally released your arm and she caught a server and grabbed two glasses of wine and passed one to you.

“You do look nice, you know.” she said kindly and you glanced down at your dress. It was true, she had done a lovely job at fixing you up so that you were presentable for the party- she’d even put some intricate little braids in your hair.

“Thank you, Genya.” you said softly and she gave you an affirming nod before she squeezed your arm gently. You took a sip of your wine and went to say something else to your friend, but instead your attention was pulled elsewhere. Up close to the King and Queen, Aleksander stood with a pleasant smile on his face. He was dressed in all black, looking much more regal than usual. As you would have expected, Alina stood next to him in a simple yellow gown, and he had his hand resting against the middle of her back. You turned away, but not before Aleksander could catch a glimpse of you. You pushed down the ache that you so often found yourself suppressing and you turned your attention to Genya now, who was talking to a Inferni boy now, and when you inserted yourself into their conversation, she eagerly introduced you to the boy who simply went by Eli.

Eli was kind and he was friendly, and even when Genya walked away to greet David, you had no problem staying back and chatting with the boy. After what seemed like hours of talking to him, he offered you his hand and gave you a bashful smile, which you returned.

“Can I dance with you? Or rather, will you dance with me?” he asked clumsily and you let out a giggle and graciously accepted the offer, not aware of The General’s bottomless eyes boring into your back and staring daggers at your dance partner. His jaw tightened and he had begun to phase in and out of the conversation he held with Alina, The King, and the prince Vasily.

The Darkling’s hand shook around the glass he held and he didn’t dare tear his eyes off of the dancing pair, worried that if he did, they’d disappear together.

You danced with Eli with elation and you let out a content sigh, “You’re pretty good at dancing, you know.” you pointed out, and the boy blushed brightly.

“I learned when I was fairly young. Just something my parents insisted on.” he said humbly and you simply let out a little laugh and continued to dance with him.

Aleksander watched you laugh from his spot across the room and felt a certain patience inside of him snap. He set his glass of wine down on a table near them and he excused himself gruffly as he walked through the crowd of partygoers to reach you and your dance partner.

When he finally did, you didn’t notice until Eli had frozen in place and stared off over your shoulder. You looked up at the boy concernedly, but he simply bowed his head slightly and you turned your head back over your shoulder to see Aleksander standing there, his face cold and furious.

“May I steal your dance partner from you for a moment or two?” he asked icily and Eli nodded, clearly nervous to be in the presence of the Black General. The boy dropped your hands and stepped away from you before Aleksander grabbed your wrist and yanked you towards the door. You tried to stand your ground and not allow him to drag you, but that lasted for all of two seconds when he completely overpowered you, tugging you out of the ballroom and out into the courtyard.

Once you were outside, you tried to pull away from his iron grasp again, but he simply yanked you up closer to him and glared down at you with an anger that burned like fire in his eyes, and he spat one word in a tone that chilled you to the bone: “Don’t.”

You looked up at him, clearly frightened now, and he continued to drag you the rest of the way across the courtyard and to the Little Palace. Once you two had arrived inside, he grasped the back of your neck and steered you to his chambers. Though silent, you could practically hear the rage in his breath, and you could certainly feel it radiating off of his skin. Why he was so mad, you couldn’t figure out, but you assumed you were just about to find out why.

He gave you a little shove into his bedroom and he slammed the door behind you two and locked it, finally letting go of your neck.

You spun around to face him, but the second you did, he grabbed your wrists and pushed you back against the wall.

“Who do you think you are?” he asked furiously, his grip tightening around your wrists enough to make you yelp.

“Excuse me?” you squeaked, taken aback by the sudden physicality and anger he was displaying, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scare you.

His lip twitched upwards in disgust and he shook his head rigorously, “Oh, don’t play dumb.” he warned and you looked up at his face that was consumed with rage and you shrunk back a bit. You wanted to fight back, but he’d never ever been this way with you, let alone raised his voice to you.

You opened your mouth to speak but he held up a hand and effectively silenced you, “You ignore me for almost a month now and then go and blatantly parade yourself around with another man in front of me, in a dress completely different than the one I had made for you. If you’re trying to enrage me, y/n, let me begin with how well it happens to be working.” he seethed and leaned closer to your face.

You gaped up at Aleksander and opened your mouth to speak again, but words seemed to have escaped you. The wrathful fury on his face twisted his soft features into something you didn’t recognize, and you suddenly knew why his enemies were so fearful of him. You’d only seen him angry once, and it was during a battle. This ferocity that he displayed reminded you vividly of that, and suddenly you couldn’t take it anymore. Your bottom lip wobbled a few times before a sob escaped your lips, and by then, the softening of Aleksander’s features was pointless. You buried your face in your hands and you shied away from him as much as you could. He very slowly moved his face away from yours and he felt his stomach drop as you sunk down to the floor, instantly pulling your knees up to your chest as you cried into them.

Aleksander often prided himself on his patience and even temper, his ability to control himself at all times. He felt white hot shame brand his insides and he dropped to his knees in front of you and he took your hands in his own, to which you promptly pulled away.

“y/n…” he began and you shook your head a few times.

“No! No, Aleksander! You don’t get to make this better now!” you cried and he watched you with an ache in his chest that wouldn’t let up.

“My love, let me make this right, I should not have ye-”

“I said no!” you exclaimed, hurt and sadness swirling around in your chest, “nothing you can ever say will make this right! You have been unfair to me ever since Alina came here! You have not been a good friend, and I wanted to just forgive you so badly, but you never even bothered to apologize properly, and it doesn’t help that you go and display her on your arm every day. She’s your little saint, your miracle, whatever else, I get it, but I can’t just stand here and watch anymore while I have to sit on the sidelines and just be in love with you silently as she gets all of your time and attention!” you blurted and then you placed your hand over your mouth and looked up at him with wide eyes.

The room was silent. There was no trace of malice on his face, it was as if it had never even been there in the first place. Your eyes watered even more in embarrassment and you moved to stand up, but Aleksander delicately caught your arm and pulled you close to him.

“I didn’t mean any of that, I just-”

But he cut you off by tugging you down by your arm and shut you up entirely with a kiss that would have brought you to your knees if you were standing. He could taste the salt from your tears on the corners of your lips and you could taste the strong red wine he’d been drinking at the party on his, and you blushed darkly when he parted his lips and bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it backwards some before he released it and broke the kiss. His forehead met yours and you closed your eyes tightly, your brain trying to comprehend what had just happened.

He let out a short breath that tickled your face and he stared into your eyes, and at this close proximity, his looked like two pits of pure blackness, “My dearest friend, I will never be able to apologize enough for the way I have behaved tonight with you, for the way I have failed to see your pain, for all of it. But you must listen to me and know my words ring true when I say that there is nothing going on between Alina and I. Do you want to take a guess as to why, Little Angel?” he asked and you closed your eyes and shook your head once. He was quiet for a long time before he let go of your arms and took you into his entirely, cradling you against his chest, “Because, my love, I have only wanted you. I am so terribly and adamantly in love with you and you alone.” he insisted, and you would be more inclined not to believe him if it weren’t for the tone of desperation that was clear in his voice.

You pulled your head back to look up at him and you blinked back more tears, which he must have noticed, because he brushed away the wetness from your under eyes with his thumbs. You studied his face for any trace of falsity, but found none, and you didn’t know what else to say, so you said nothing at all and instead, moved in to let your lips touch his for the second time that night. The kiss was tentative and experimental at first, but he quickly changed that as he swept a hand up into your hair and pressed your lips closer to his, and you let him take the lead. Of course you’d been kissed before, it wasn’t as if you didn’t know what you were doing, but nothing had ever felt like this before. It was as if each kiss was an expression of emotion all of its own. You felt his happiness, his desperation, and his affections for you all in that one kiss, and it had you crumbling under his touch. He pulled back only when air became necessary and he stared into your eyes for a long time before his lips crashed into yours once again. This time, the kiss was much hungrier, much more intense than the last two, and Aleksander grabbed onto your jaw, holding you in place. You let out a soft whine into his mouth and he broke away instantly, his bewildered eyes searching yours.

“Let me show you that I am yours.” he whispered and you looked up at him almost hazily. You gave him a little nod and he leaned back in to place a wet string of kisses against your exposed neck, biting down every now and then to leave a little mark against your skin. You reached up and tangled your fingers within his neatly done hair and you gave it a little tug, earning you a groan from him. He pulled back briefly only to grab at the neckline of your dress and he nodded towards you.

“Are you okay with this? All of it?” he asked and you needed only give him a nod before he was yanking the gauzy dress up over your head and you lifted your arms to help him rid you of the clothing. You gasped softly at the cool air of his room when it touched your bare chest and Aleksander stood up, pulling you with him as if you were weightless, and he brought you to his bed and laid you back against it. By now, the anticipation of what was to come was beginning to set in and you bit down on your bottom lip as you stared up at him. He unfastened his kefta and shrugged it off before he leaned back over you and attached his lips to your neck again, his hands both finding their way down to your thighs.

No words needed to be exchanged, he simply looked at you with one eyebrow cocked up questioningly and you nodded once before he nudged your legs open and he brought one hand up to trace one finger over your clothed clit. Your mouth opened slightly and you wiggled your hips down toward his touch just a bit. He laid one hand on your hip to keep you from moving and he glanced up at your face and shook his head, “Calm down. I’m going to take care of you, Angel. Have patience.” he said, his voice as smooth as the black silk sheets that adorned his bed. He dragged his finger up and down your covered folds and he let out a little sigh before he carefully ridded you of your underwear. He tossed the garment aside and he outstretched his fingers to collect a bit of your growing wetness on the tips of his fingers and you looked down at him with a frown.

“Aleksander, please.” you pleaded, needing him to do anything at this point.

He seemed to finally understand your need for his touch and he carefully slid one of his fingers inside of you, brushing the pad of his finger against your walls. You let out a little whimper and he began to slowly pump his finger in and out of you. You closed your eyes and willed yourself to be patient while he seemingly toyed with you, and just when you were about to beg for something more, he dipped his head downwards and covered your clit with his lips, taking the sensitive bundle into his mouth and he sucked at it gently. You tossed your head backwards and gasped his name, and he took this as an opportunity to add another finger inside of you and he curled them upwards, his fingertips pressing a spot that had you gasping for air. Noticing this, he repeated the motion a few times before he moved his fingers in and out of you faster now. He flicked your clit with his tongue a few times and you reached down with one hand to grasp at his hair. He moved his mouth away from you and reached up with his hand that held your hips down to lazily rub at your clit with his thumb.

“You sound so pretty for me, you know.” he cooed and you looked down at him, your lip trembling a bit.

“Aleksander, please.” you whispered and he raised his eyebrows.

“Please, what?” he asked, a devilish glint flashing across his eyes.

You struggled to find words as his fingers continue to hit that one spot and you moaned, your head falling to the side a bit, “Please, I need you to fuck me.” you whimpered and he looked up at your face and he let out a little hum.

“You need me to fuck you?” he asked playfully and you nodded a few times, closing your thighs around his hand. He thought about it for an agonizing moment before he nodded and pulled his fingers out of you. He brought them to his lips and licked them a few times before he brought them to your lips instead and nodded once.

“Open your mouth.” he commanded, and you did so without argument, allowing him to slide his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his long, slender fingers and looked up into his eyes and he turned his head and cursed quietly under his breath before he pulled his fingers from your mouth. He sat up on his knees and ridded himself of his clothes and stood to get his pants off, which had become tighter in the moments that had passed. He let out a sigh of relief when he freed his cock from his pants and he crawled back over you and settled himself between your thighs.

“Look me in the eyes.” he commanded and you obeyed immediately, “I am yours. Wholly. Say it.” he ordered and you blushed softly.

“You’re mine.” you whispered, and he gave you a nod.

“And you’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours.” you whispered, and a proud little smile made your lips curl upwards.

“Good. Such a good little Angel.” he murmured and reached down to position his cock at your entrance. He slid into you very slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a moan, shuddering just slightly when he had finally fit his entire length inside of you. He waited just like that for a moment until you whined and rolled your hips against his, and he took this as a signal to move. He drew his hips back and moved them forward into you once again and you reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, saints, Aleksander.” you moaned and he reached up to grab your chin.

“Keep your eyes on mine. Don't look away.” he breathed and you nodded, your eyes staying glued to his as he began to rock his hips against yours steadily. He never sped up too much, but instead kept the same medium pace, allowing you to feel every single inch of him, and he leaned down to kiss your lips a few times, “So good, darling. You feel so good.” he praised and you reached down to grab one of his hands. You grabbed onto it and dragged it down between your thighs and you pressed it down against your clit. He took your not so subtle hint and he pressed his thumb back down against your clit firmly and began to rub it in circles in time with his thrusts, which gradually became harder.

He hit a spot within you that rendered you entirely breathless and he took advantage of this, making sure to hit that spot every time. He had you seeing stars in the edges of your vision and you felt tension building rapidly in your stomach. Aleksander could feel you tighten around him and he moved his thumb against your clit a bit faster now, determined to get you to your climax, which he could tell you were steadily approaching. He drove his cock into you with a bit more speed now and you arched your back off of the mattress and whimpered his name, causing a proud smile to form on his lips. His name, of which was kept a secret to nearly all of the world, was now falling from your lips in ecstasy, and it filled him with a sense of pride, and he fucked you harder, still moving his thumb against your clit. He could tell you were close by the way you squeezed his cock and he gave you a soft nod, his eyes meeting yours, “Eyes on mine, darling. Tell me who you belong to.” he prompted, making sure to hit that spot deep inside of you each time he drove his hips forward.

“Y-yours. I’m yours, Aleksander.” you stammered and kept your eyes on his. All it took was one perfect thrust more, and you were cumming around him, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. He intently watched the way your face went dazed as you came and your release triggered his own, and he came nearly right after you, still fucking you through both of your orgasms. He finally slowed when the two of you came down from your highs and he moved his thumb away from your clit and went to sit up, but you tugged him back down.

“No. Stay like this for a little longer. For me.” you requested in just a whisper, and Aleksander nodded once, keeping himself inside of you, his head settling against your chest. The two of you laid there in the soft candlelit afterglow and he placed a few lazy kisses to your chest.

“I love you, you know. I am deeply ashamed of my outburst earlier.” he said softly.

You simply hummed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I love you too. You’re mine.” you said sweetly, a wave of exhaustion overtaking you. Your eyes fluttered shut and the last thing you remember hearing before you drifted off was the soft voice of your lover, whispering back what you now already knew.

“I’m yours.”

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