#if they could have been in a mixed boarding school so they were all together that would have been perf

[shecriestotheclickingoftime]

Um ok guys I wrote something to post??? I’m scared bc this kinda sucks but I’ve been writing a lot of random stuff for Patrick and I finally feel ok enough about this fic to publish it i guess 😭😭 this is not really proofread or edited much, so yeah 😭😭

Patrick Zweig x Reader, 1.4k words (Art is also mentioned), and they’re all around college age.

Childhood best friends, mutual pining, fluff, first kiss/admission of feelings, and all of the things.

TW for drinking/alcohol use

Patrick had been one of your closest friends since kindergarten, and ever since you two had met, you were attached at the hip. Even after Patrick had gone off to Mark Rebelatto’s Tennis Academy, even though you didn’t see each other as much, he always made sure to text and surprise you whenever he was home. As you both grew up, you watched Patrick change- he went from the goofy kid with big ears to a tall, and honestly hot guy. And he was well aware of it. Everywhere you went, you saw how he acted- he was so sure of himself, so cocky, and he acted brash and loud. But you knew him better than that.

When it was just the two of you, Patrick was gentle and sweet. He had always been touchy, somehow always managing to go from across the couch to having his arm around you on your movie nights. He was just like that with his friends, totally.

Throughout your friendship, he was always there to protect you; he always kept you close during your parent’s parties, knowing that you didn’t like events and social gatherings the way he did. He always guided you everywhere and took over conversations when he could tell that you didn’t feel like talking. His hand on your waist, he would guide you through the crowds, always making sure you were close to him. He could see right through you, and somehow in these times he understood exactly what you needed. Ever so often, he would slip his hand into yours and give it a tight squeeze to comfort you. This was just your routine, and you knew that Patrick was the only reason why you still agreed to go to these events.

Patrick had always been there for you. He came home from boarding school just for the weekend to take you to your senior prom, he came over and helped you pack for college, and he never forgot to call. Your relationship with him was so perfect… But there was just one problem.

You were in love with your best friend. And you watched him go on dates, sleep with girls, and you knew that he just didn’t want you like that. Every time he would pull you close, hold your hand, or cuddle you on the couch, you just had to remember that this was just his personality. He could get any girl he wanted, and you two were just meant to be friends.

You were good at holding your feelings in, terrified of disturbing the perfect relationship you had with Patrick- you couldn’t risk losing it all over a crush.

—--

Tonight was just like any other night with Patrick and Art- you were all hanging out in Patrick’s living room, drinking random cocktails Pat had mixed up for you, and watching a movie. The three of you were apart most of the year- you in college on the east coast, Art at Stanford, and Patrick just traveling around playing pro tennis. So every summer, you made sure to hang out at least a couple times all together, usually just getting drunk and talking about everything and nothing.

The three of you were lounging in the living room watching some stupid horror movie that none of you really cared about. You and Patrick were on opposite sides of the couch, and Art was comfy on the armchair next to you guys. As the movie progressed, the three of you got drunker, and you started to feel more hazy- so when Patrick pulled you into his arms, holding you as you two watched the movie, you couldn’t help but nuzzle closer into him, melting into his touch. While you two cuddling was nothing new, this was different: it felt a little more sweet and intimate than normal.

You whispered to him, “Hey, I missed you while I was at college”, closing your eyes, tired from the drinking.

Patrick’s face turned red when you whispered that, and he looked away. It wasn’t fair of you to be sweet like that when he was trying so hard to not lean in and kiss you. You understood Patrick in a way that no one else did, and you were the only person he could be completely vulnerable with. He was different with you than with everyone else, and he loved to care for you. Since late in high school, he had been desperate to tell you that he wanted you, but he couldn’t lose you. The commitment was terrifying, and also, Patrick wasn’t even sure if you wanted him that way. So, he had carried that with him for years- but he still couldn’t help himself from needing you close, and he couldn’t stop himself when he cupped your face with his hand, and tilted your head up at him.

“I missed you too”, he whispered. It was already hard for him to not confess to you while he was sober, but now that he was tipsy, it felt almost impossible to keep his words from spilling out. You two locked eyes for a moment, and the way he looked at you felt almost unreal. He looked at you like you were some sort of angel, his eyes filled with an adoration and sweetness that was so unlike the Patrick Zweig you were familiar with.

After a moment, he looked away, his face turning slightly red. Feeling bold, you nuzzled your face back into the crook of his neck, just wanting to be closer. You knew that you would regret being this obvious in the morning- he was just drunk, he probably didn’t actually love you- but you couldn’t help yourself. He held you tighter in his arms as the movie played, and the night got later.

At this point, Art had fallen asleep on the armchair- and as soon as he opened his eyes, he smiled and announced that he was going to bed- this movie sucked anyways. He looked at you and Patrick curled into each other, and he didn’t even seem surprised- he knew how much Patrick liked you, even if Patrick tried to hide it. So, he went upstairs, leaving the two of you on the couch. You both were silent for a couple minutes, unsure if you should say anything. Patrick pretended to be into the movie, but all he could think about was you in his arms.

He whispered your name, looking into your eyes as you glanced up at him. You saw him glance down at your lips and then staring back up at you, and he looked more nervous than you had ever seen him. His hand cupped your face gently, as he whispered, “is this ok?”. You nodded, holding back a small smile as he leaned in and kissed you.

The kiss felt natural for the two of you- like it was something you had done a million times before. Patrick couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, barely believing that he was actually, finally kissing you. Patrick had been dreaming of this moment for years, even though he would never admit it.

He pulled away from your lips gently, pressing small, sweet kisses all over your jaw. You laugh softly as he moves his hands from your face and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You closed your eyes, the lateness of the night sinking in. You felt so relaxed and content as Patrick continued to press soft kisses down your neck.

You both eventually laid down on the couch, Patrick’s arm slung across your waist as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. Your drunkenness took over and the world spun around you, but Patrick’s strong arms around you made you feel held in place. You drifted off to sleep, trying to avoid thinking about what things would be like in the morning- because for now, you were happy.

Patrick’s hand rubbed lazy circles into your back as he held you close to him, and felt his stomach twisting with anxiety and happiness, his heart beating faster as he pulled you tighter. He heard your breathing slow down as you fell asleep against him, and he wished to himself for this moment to never end.

Patrick eventually fell asleep against you, and he held you tight for the rest of the night.

[allthetropes]

some of you folks were NOT listening to the Baroness Schneider when she was talking to Captain Von Trapp and it shows

[luvjunie]

— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

[lukesvangelista]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍ᵃᶠ¹⁹

in which adam’s deepest regret is loving you too deeply.

warnings; argument between a couple, angry adam, allusion to the events that happened about a month ago

Adam Fantilli had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. The two of you had met in New Hampshire, when Adam had decided to follow Luca to boarding school to play hockey. The two of you had hit it off immediately, meeting in history class his first year there. Within a few months, Adam had asked you to be his girlfriend.

Over sophomore year, he had decide to take some advanced classes, graduating a year early before heading off to Chicago with Luca. You stayed behind in New Hampshire, finishing out your junior and senior year at the academy. Adam ended up playing with the Steel for two seasons, and despite the distance, the two of you remained strong. You'd come visit him over long weekends and holiday breaks, even visiting his family in Nobleton a few times.

Everything was perfect, and continued to be when he signed at Michigan.

You didn't follow him to Michigan, choosing to go to college in Chicago after falling in love with the city. And as much as it sucked, the two of you were used to the distance by then, so it didn't affect much. FaceTimes and phone calls were constant, and some of the boys would even tease Adam about how whipped he was. As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't deny it.

He finished the year out at Michigan, declaring for the NHL draft after just one season. You were extremely proud of him - winning the Hobey Baker award as a freshman was no easy feat and he deserved nothing more than to play in the NHL. When he was drafted to Columbus, he finally asked you to follow and move in with him.

So you did. As much as you loved Chicago, you would drop everything for him. Instead of transferring, you talked to your advisor and decided to go virtual for the remainder of your time at college. And as you settled into Adam's apartment in Columbus, everything was perfect.

But now, the apartment was suffocating with tension, the air thick with words unspoken and emotions bubbling too close to the surface. You stood near the kitchen counter, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to shield yourself from the storm that was building between you and Adam. You'd been through a lot together - much more than most couples your age - but tonight, things felt different. It wasn't about the little things you guys usually bantered about, like leaving clothes on the floor or who was supposed to take out the trash. Tonight's argument ran deeper.

You knew he was having a hard time with the start of the season, especially with what had transpired over the past few weeks. The air inside and outside of the locker room was different, and not in a good way. It was understandably taking its toll on Adam. You tried to be there for him, you really did. But he had shut you out, the distance between the two of you increasing even though you were standing right there in front of him. You guys weren't 15 hours away from each other anymore. Hell, you weren't even four hours away from each other anymore. But right now, it sure felt like you were.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Adam muttered, his back turned to you as he stared out of the window, watching the rain patter against the glass.

You stared at him in utter disbelief, "I make things difficult?" you echoed, your voice a little higher than you intended, "You're the one who's been avoiding me for days! I just want to know what's going on with you, Adam. Why won't you talk to me?"

Adam turned around, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion, "Because I'm tired, Y/N! I'm tired of always being the one holding everything together. I can't do this all the time!"

Your heart sank at his words, "You think I don't feel the same way? You think it's easy for me?" your voice cracked, and you bit your lip to keep the tears from falling. "I get it, Adam, I do. You're under a lot of pressure with hockey, and I know you're grieving. But that doesn't mean you get to shut me out! All I want is to help you."

His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides, "I'm not shutting you out."

"Yes, you are!" you snapped back. "You haven't said more than ten words to me all week unless it's about something trivial!"

"Maybe I don't have the energy to talk about the heavy stuff right now!" Adam's voice rose, echoing through the apartment. His eyes, usually soft when they looked at you, were now filled with a fire that matched your own. "Maybe I just need some space without you always breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fall apart.

You felt like you had been slapped. The weight of his words hit you square in the chest, making it hard to breathe, "So that's what you think of me? That I'm just... waiting for you to mess up?"

Adam groaned, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration, "That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?" your voice was softer now, trembling slightly. You were tired of this, tired of the fight, tired of feeling like the two of you were on the verge of breaking.

Adam looked at you, his expression torn between anger and regret. His chest heaved as he tried to find the right words, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn't stop himself.

"I wish I loved you less!"

The words hung in the air like a weight neither of you could lift. Time seemed to stop, and the silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, your heart shattering into a million pieces as his words echoed in your mind on repeat.

"You... what?" your voice was barely a whisper, but the hurt in it was unmistakable.

Adam's eyes widened, as if he hadn't fully realized what he's said until it was too late, "Y/N/N, I-"

"Don't Y/N/N me," you whispered, your voice dripping with pain as you shook your head, taking a step back from him. "No. Don't you dare. You don't get to take that back."

He tried to reach for you, but you pulled away from him, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean, Adam?" your voice broke, the tears finally spilling over. "Because it sure sounded like you meant every word."

Adam's heart sank as he watched you crumble in front of him. He wished he could take it back, but the damage was done. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your crying, "I'm so sorry."

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, but the tears wouldn't stop. "Do you even hear yourself? You just said that you wish you didn't love me as much as you do. What am I supposed to do with that?"

He stepped closer, desperation lacing his voice. "I didn't mean it that way. I just... God, Y/N, I love you so much it hurts sometimes! And when things get hard like this... I don't know how to handle it. I feel like I'm failing you."

Your breath hitched at his words, but you still couldn't look at him. "You don't have to be perfect all the time, Adam. I don't need you to have all the answers. I just need you to be honest with me."

He nodded, his heart aching as he reached out and gently touched your arm. You winced, pulling away slowly. The hurt in his eyes mirrored your own, and he continued, "I am being honest. That's the problem. Loving you is everything to me, but it scares me too. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. That's why I said what I said. I wish it didn't feel so... all-consuming."

You finally looked at him, your eyes red and filled with pain. "You don't get to say you wished you loved me less, Adam. If this is too much for you, then maybe-"

"No," Adam interrupted, panic flashing in his eyes, "Don't say that. Please. I don't want that."

You sighed, shaking your head at his words. "I don't want that either, Adam. That's the last thing I want. But I can't be here right now."

His face twisted in heartbreak, but he let you continue. "I'm going to call Odette and see if I can stay with her and Zach for a bit. Call me when you figure it out."

With that, you left to go to your guys' shared bedroom. Adam whispered your name over and over again in protest, but you ignored him. As much as you wanted to turn around and hug him, you couldn't be around him with that he just said.

You slipped into the shared bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you, your back resting against the cool wood as you took a shaky breath. The silence in the room felt suffocating, and stark contrast to the muffled sounds of Adam moving around in the living room. Everything between the two of you felt frayed, like a thread pulled too tightly, on the verge of snapping. You can’t bear to look at the room you’ve shared for so long — every inch of it filled with memories, good ones, but also the ones that now haunted you.

Your hands trembled as you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your contacts, hovering over Odette's name. You hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on your chest. Should you really leave? Could you even explain what happened to someone else when you barely understood it yourself?

But you needed space - space to think, to breath, to not have Adam's face constantly reminding you of everything you guys were struggling through. So, with a deep, unsteady breath, you tapped Odette's name and listened as the phone rang.

"Hey!" Odette's cheerful voice came through the line after a few rings. The brightness in her tone felt like a stark contrast to the dark cloud hanging over you.

For a second, you almost lost your nerve. How could you drag someone else into this mess? But you forced yourself to speak, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Hey, Odette. I, um... I need to ask you something."

Immediately, her tone shifted. "What's going on?" her voice was gentle now, concerned. "Are you okay?"

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in your throat. "I... I was wondering if I could stay with you and Zach for a few days. Just until I figure things out."

There's a pause, a heavy silence that filled the space between the two of you, and you worried for a moment that you've overstepped, that you asked for too much. But Odette finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Of course you can, love. But what's going on? Why do you need to leave?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, a tear slipping down your cheek as you wrapped your arms around yourself, curling in on the bed like you could hold yourself together. "It's Adam," you admitted, your voice breaking. "We had this fight... I don't even know how it started, but it just kept spiraling. It feels like everything's been spiraling, and I just... I can't stay here right now. I need space, and I don't know how to get it when he's here, constantly reminding me of what's wrong between us."

Odette's sigh was audible through the phone, and when she spoke again, her voice was laced with empathy, "Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry. I know how much you care about him."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that was clawing at your throat. "It's so hard, Odette. It feels like I'm drowning, and I don't even know how to make it stop. I love him so much, it hurts. But I don't know who I am when we're constantly fighting."

"You don't have to explain it all right now," Odette assured you, "Just pack a bag and come over. You're welcome here for as long as you need. I'll be here, and we can talk whenever you're ready, okay?"

You nodded, even though Odette couldn't see you, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice shaking, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do this alone, Y/N," Odette said softly. "We'll figure it out together, okay? Zach and I will be here. Just come over whenever you're ready."

The call ended, and you stared at the phone in your hand, the silence in the room feeling even heavier now. Your eyes drifted to the framed photo on the nightstand - you and Adam, arms wrapped around each other, smiling like you didn't have a care in the world. It felt like a lifetime ago, like you were different people back then. Maybe you were.

With a shaky breath, you rose from the bed and started packing a bag, each item a reminder of the life you're stepping away from, even if just for a little while. Every drawer you opened, every glance at the room you shared, made your heart ache. But you couldn't stay. Not like this.

As you zipped up the bag, you paused for a moment, glancing toward the door. You know Adam is just outside, probably sitting on the couch as he pretended that everything was fine, that the two of you hadn't been drifting apart for weeks. Part of you wanted to go to him, to tell him everything you're feeling, to fix it. But the other part - the part that'd been breaking under the weight of the unresolved tension, the part that Adam said he wishes he loved less, knew that you needed to leave. You needed to find yourself again before you lost everything, including your own sense of who you were.

With one last glance at the room, you grabbed your bag and quietly opened the door, slipping out before the weight of it all pulled you back in. "I'm going, Adam. Call me when you're ready to have a civil conversation."

Adam just stared at you as you left. There seemed to be no reconciling what he had said.

He sat on the couch, his leg bouncing restlessly as the reality of what just happened hit him. He could still hear the hurt in your voice echoing in his head. He'd said things he didn't mean, and the look in your eyes before you walked away... that's something he would never forget.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the knot of panic tightening in his chest. His first instinct was to call Luca, but as he thought more about it, he realized he couldn't do that. Luca was too much like him - impulsive, emotional. He'd tell his younger brother to stand his ground, but Adam knew that this wasn't the time for that. He needed someone who'd be calmer, more rational. Someone who could actually help.

There was only one person he could think of.

Without overthinking it, Adam scrolled through his contacts and tapped on Kent's name. It was late, and for a moment, he wondered if he should even be calling him right now. But the phone rang, and Kent picked up, his voice groggy on the other end.

"Adam? What's up, man? You okay?"

Adam swallowed hard, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He felt like the air in the room was pressing in on him. "I screwed up, Kent. Big time."

Kent was quiet for a second, but Adam could almost hear him sitting up, fully awake now. "What happened?"

Adam took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut like it might make the guilt a little easier to bear. "Y/N and I had this fight. I don't even know how it started, but it just... got worse and worse, and I... god, I said some things I shouldn't have. And now she's talking about leaving. Like, actually packing a bag and going."

He expected Kent to immediately start calming him down, to say something reassuring, but instead, there's just silence on the other end of the line. The longer Kent said nothing, the worse it made him feel.

"You're telling me she's leaving?" Kent finally said, his voice more serious than Adam was used to hearing. "Like, leaving for good?"

"I don't know," Adam admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "She called Odette to stay with her and Zach for a few days. I didn't mean for it to get this bad, Kent. I didn't think it would ever come to this."

"Well, what'd you say during the fight that could've made her leave?"

Adam paused, not wanting to repeat the words that caused so much damage.

"I said that I wish I loved her less."

Kent exhaled sharply, and when he spoke again, Adam could hear the disappointment and anger laced in his tone, "What made you think that that was ever okay? Adam, man, you fucked up. Big time."

Adam's heart dropped into his stomach, and he leaned against the couch, letting KJ's words hit him full force. He expected it, but hearing it out loud still stung.

"I know," he muttered, running a hand over his face. "But what do I do now? I don't want to lose her."

Kent paused again, clearly thinking through his words carefully before speaking. "If she's walking out like this, and understandably so, may I add, you can't just sit there. You need to do something. Sooner rather than later."

Adam's throat tightened as the weight of Kent's words settled in. He knew that Kent was right. You were not just upset. You were on the edge of something bigger, something that could end everything between you two. And if he didn't act now, he might lose you for good.

"But what if..." Adam trailed off, staring blankly at the floor, his voice barely audible. "What if it's already too late?"

Kent's voice softened, but it was still firm. "It's not too late if you don't let it be. You've got a window, but it's closing fast, dude. You need to talk to her - really talk to her. No more fights, no more letting things spiral, no more saying stupid fucking shit. If you love her as much as you truly do, you have to prove it, Adam. Right now."

Adam nodded, though he knew Kent couldn't see him. He knew what he had to do, but the thought of facing you right now, of admitting how badly he'd messed up, terrified him. The hurt in your eyes was burned into his memory, and the guilt felt like it was choking him. But if KJ's right—and he knew he was—then waiting isn’t an option.

“Thanks, Kent,” Adam said, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ll fix this. I have to.”

“Yeah, you do,” Kent replied, his voice softening again. “Just don’t wait too long, okay? You can’t afford to.”

With that, Adam hung up. His heart raced as he stood up, his feet feeling heavier than they've ever felt as he walked toward the bedroom door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, and for a split second, he wonders if he should give you more time. But Kent's voice echoed in his head - "you can't afford to wait."

His heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to walk inside your room. The weight of your fight, of everything he'd said in the heat of the moment, felt like it was too much to face right now. You had gone to Odette's anyway, and he knew that you needed time.

With a heavy sigh, Adam pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, the blank text message to you glaring up at him. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. He wanted to fix it, but he'd never been great with words when it came to you. Maybe giving you the night, letting you breathe, was the only thing he could do right now.

i'm sorry. i know you need space, and i'm giving it to you. i don't want to make this worse. but when you're ready, i'm here. i'm ready to talk in the morning. i need to fix this. i love you.

He stared at the message, reading it over a dozen times, wondering if it was enough. He didn't want to sound desperate, but he also didn't want you to think he’s not willing to fight for you. With a shaky breath, he hit send.

As the message went through, Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. The silence was deafening, and the absence of your presence was suffocating. He couldn't help but wonder if this is what it would feel like if you left for good.

All he could do now was wait for the morning, for you to text him back, for the two of you to finally talk civilly and try to fix the cracks that had been growing between you. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but the thought of losing you was more painful than any fight he'd ever had.

To his surprise, you texted back almost immediately.

i'll meet you at the apartment tomorrow night. don't screw this up, fantilli.

The next day, Adam waited impatiently for you to come back home. He knew you weren't going to be happy to see him, as Kent had repeatedly reminded him at morning practice. He could tell he fucked up badly when Zach glared at him through almost the entire practice, too.

But now, Adam's back was against the window as rain pattered against the glass, his eyes staring firmly at the door, waiting for you to walk through. It was as if you read his mind. Not even a minute later, you walked through the door, hair messy and dressed in a Blue Jackets hoodie.

He smiled softly at you, but you didn't return it. Instead, you took a seat at the kitchen counter, your eyes focusing on him as he slowly made his way over to sit down next to you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I am so fucking sorry for everything," he started immediately, emotion lacing his voice, "I don't want to break up. I don't want you to go."

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn't want to go either, but the truth of the matter was that he had hurt you. His words had cut through you like a knife, stabbing you right in the heart. It felt like five years had been flushed down the drain.

"Then what do you want? Because I can't keep doing this if you're going to push me away every time things get tough."

Adam took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he finally let down the walls he’d been holding up for so long. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Y/N. I just… I’m scared. I don’t know how to balance everything.”

Your face softened slightly, though the hurt was still there. “Then let me help you. We’ve been together for so long, Adam. Don’t shut me out now.”

He stepped forward, pulling you into his arms. You resisted at first, but eventually melted into his embrace, your face buried in his chest. “I’m sorry,” Adam whispered again, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded against him, your arms wrapping around his waist. “I’m scared too, you know,” you admitted quietly. “But I’m here, Adam. I’m not going anywhere. But you cannot do this again. I deserve to be treated better than that."

Adam nodded profusely, "It won't happen again, I promise. Kent drilled that into my head all of last night and today. I fucked up, and I realize that. I love you so, so, so much, Y/N. More than you will ever know."

You nodded, and he rubbed his hand along your back, trying to make sure you were really there in front of him.

"I love you too, Adamo."

For a while, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the rain continued to fall outside. The fight wasn’t over - you still had plenty of things that needed to be talked about - but for now, you were okay. You had each other, and in the end, that was what mattered most.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Secret. Steve Harrington x plus size fem! reader. *Angst/Fluff*

Summary: Steve and his girlfriend have a secret relationship. She wants that to change, but she fears he cares more about his reputation.

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Allusion to car sex, mentions of body shaming, Steve caring too much about his reputation and being clueless, a bit of cheese.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You okay, honey?” Steve nudges his nose against hers softly, his body laying on top of hers in the backseat of his car. His hairy chest presses up against her bare chest. 

The air in the car was heavy, the smell of her perfume and his cologne mixed with the scent of sex. 

“Yeah, I’m good Stevie.” She smiles, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Just trying to come back to life a little bit.” 

“You did so good, baby.” Steve kisses her lips sweetly, his hand holding her round cheek lovingly. “Always do.” He smiles before kissing her again. 

Steve and her had been seeing each other for 6 months, but nobody at school knew about it other than her sister and her best friend Robin. 

They both thought it was for the best that they keep their relationship quiet because of Steve’s friends and how cruel they could be. 

She was brainy, beyond pretty, and super sweet to everyone. 

Steve’s biggest worry was that his friends would make fun of her appearance. 

She was one of the more curvaceous girls at school, and people already made snarky comments about her body, and somehow the comments always got back to her. She never let the comments bother her, she felt confident in her looks. 

She wasn’t his normal type physically, but he loved and cared about her more than he had anyone else in his dating history. He always did little things to show her how much she meant to him: telling her how beautiful she was, spending his weekends with her whether it was at his house or hers, giving her a necklace with a heart charm. 

At first she was all on board with the secret relationship, only giving each other small glances in the cafeteria and friendly smiles in the hallway. She appreciated the fact that Steve wanted to keep her away from the offensive remarks of his shitty friends. 

Within the last few months, she started to regret their arrangement. She wanted to walk the halls with Steve holding hands while they go to class together, sit with him at lunch while he stole kisses from her, to go on dates in town and not in the next town over to avoid someone from school seeing them. 

She couldn't help but feel like maybe he was embarrassed of her. 

Prom was two weeks away, and she really wanted to go with Steve. There was multiple girls around school who were brave enough to ask Steve to go with them, but he turned them down, saying prom was lame and wasn’t his scene. 

She pulls back from the kiss first, regretfully so. “I gotta be home in 20 minutes, Steve.” 

Steve looks at the watch on his wrist. “Shit, lost track of time.” He kisses her forehead before sitting back up and rummaging through the discarded clothes in the front seat, handing her the stuff that belonged to her. 

“Stevie… can I ask you something?” She breaks the silence as she tries to slip her skirt on. 

“Of course babe. What’s on your mind?” He asks, throwing his shirt on. 

She chews on the inside of her cheek, trying to figure out the best way of going about her question. “Do you ever think about, you know… maybe changing our arrangement?” 

Steve raises his eyebrow, his mind already running through the possible scenarios she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I mean us being a secret. Do you ever think about us not being a secret couple anymore?” 

Steve leans back in the back seat, looking at his girlfriend and the quizzical look on her face. “I have, yeah. I just…” He sighs, his voice trailing at the end of the sentence.  

“Just what?” The pit in her stomach growing harder. “Steve, I can’t be a secret anymore.” 

“I know baby, I know. I’m just afraid of wh-,”

“You’re just afraid of what your stupid friends are going to say.” She interrupts. “Are you ashamed of what I look like?” 

“What? Honey, no, no. I love the way you look, you know that.” He slides closer to her, softly taking her cheek and turning her to look at him. “I think you’re so beautiful, baby. I just don’t want my friends to say something about you and it hurt your feelings.” 

“Wouldn’t you stick up for me? Tell them to leave me alone?” 

“O-of course I would.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

She pulls back from his hand, a knot in her throat forming. “You hesitated.” 

“I didn’t mean to! Baby, please can we talk about this?” 

She shakes her head, sighing to herself. “I gotta get home, Steve. My dad will flip if I’m late again.” She grabs her shoes from the floor, avoiding eye contact with him. 

Steve sighs, getting out of the back of the car and heading to the driver's side to take her home. He watches her in the rear view mirror as she gets redressed and waits for her to join him up front, hoping to continue the conversation. 

She slides back in the backseat, grabbing the seatbelt and fastening it across her chest, her gaze looking out the window. 

He sighs again, turning the key and driving out of the empty lot. 

*** 

The entire ride back to her house was silent, Steve was too distracted to even put the radio on. 

He felt like the worst boyfriend, if she even wanted to consider him that anymore. 

Of course he would have defended her against anyone at school who dared said anything negative about her, he was too hung up on what his friends would say to him. 

He knew it was low and it was shallow and that it made him a piece of shit, but his image meant a lot to him, but so did she. He felt guilty even admitting in his head that. 

The car rolls into her driveway, getting her home 5 minutes early. 

Steve parks the car and turns to the backseat, hoping to talk more with his girlfriend before she went in for the night. 

He watched her grab her bag and jacket, not once looking up at him nor speaking to him, and shove the door open. “Honey, just wait a second.” 

Steve opens his door, following her up to her front door. “Can you give me just 30 seconds?” 

She looks up at him for the first time since their conversation in the backseat, her eyes glossy and slightly puffy from tears that she had wiped away silently on the ride home. “Just give me some space, Steve.” She shakes her head as she turns away from him to unlock her door and walk in, slamming the door in his face. 

“Fuck.” Steve sighs, a pit in his stomach forming. He wanted to ring the doorbell and beg her to answer the door, but he knew she hated his guts right now. 

Steve hated his own guts. 

*** 

The weekend came and went, Steve had called all weekend wanting to talk to her but she gave her sister the job of telling him to stop calling- which he didn’t do. 

She pulls into the parking lot of school, the parking lot always busier than normal on Mondays. She finds an empty spot in the middle of the busy parking lot and pulls in. 

“Are you going to talk to hair boy?” Her sister, Lyla asks as she collects her bag from the backseat. 

She shoots her sister a disapproving look, rolling her eyes. “Don’t call him that. And probably not. We never talk at school anyway so.” She shrugs her shoulders. 

“Are you guys going to break up?” 

She sighs, looking out the windshield. “I don’t know, Lyla. I love him a lot, but I also want to be able to love him in public, not in secret anymore.” 

“If my opinion means anything, I think you deserve to be shown off by the person you love.  Definitely not hidden.” 

She looks over at her sister, giving her a warm smile. “Look at us having grown up conversations. Thanks Lyla.” 

As she heads into the building, she looks around the halls for Steve, wondering if he would show up to school today. 

She stops at her locker to grab a book she needed for her English class. From behind her she could hear the unmistakable goose like honk come from Tommy as he laughed about something funny. 

She looks at the mirror that hung on the inside of her locker door, seeing all of Steve’s friends over by Carol’s locker talking and laughing. Her eyes land on Steve, meeting his eyes in the reflection. 

He stared at her from afar, wanting to walk up to her and hug her, tell her how sorry he was for being a dickhead. Steve also wanted to tell her that she looked pretty in the baby blue skirt she was wearing, he loved the color blue on her. 

“Steve!” Becca snaps in his face to wake him from his daydream. 

He blinks quickly, looking down and glaring at Becca. “What?” He quips at her. 

“I asked if you were skipping first period. The bell just rang.” 

“Oh, uh… no. I gotta get going.” He pushes past Tommy and Carol, hoping to meet his girlfriend at her locker as he passed by, but as he looked down the hall he could see the back of her head halfway to her class. 

***

The morning flew by and the cafeteria was loud and buzzing. 

Her friend Robin waved her down from the corner of the cafeteria with a big smile on her face. 

She moves through the room of people over to their usual lunch table, putting the plastic tray down next to Robin’s. “Hey.” She smiles at her, sitting next to her. 

“Hey. So remember how I told you my mom was going on a baking frenzy this weekend? I told her how big a fan you are of her brownies and I brought you some.” She slides a bag over to her. 

“Thanks Robin. I actually really needed something to make me smile today.” 

“Uh-oh. Something happen with Mr. Perfect this weekend?” 

She gives Robin a flat face, nodding her head. 

“Does that mean I’m coming over after school for hot chocolate and girl talk?” 

She can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Hot chocolate? Robin, it’s May.” 

“But girl talk always has hot chocolate.” The tone of her voice sounding offended that she was denying her of hot chocolate. 

Before she can banter back with Robin the chair across from them screeches as it gets pulled back and someone sits down in it. 

“Ladies.” Steve smiles his best “million dollar smile” at them, his gaze lingering on hers. 

A few of the other people sitting at the table look at Steve with raised brows and confused faces. 

Was he lost? 

“What are you doing?” She asks, furrowing her eyebrows at him. 

“I want to talk to you. I’m hoping you want to talk to me too.” 

She chews on the inside of her bottom lip, looking down at her lunch tray. 

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But at least hear me out?” 

Her eyes flick up to stare at him, motioning at him with her hand for him to speak. 

“I’m a jerk, I know that and I need to work on that. But I want you to know more importantly, I love you so much, I love everything about you and I hope you can forgive me for what happened on Friday night.” 

“Wow.” Robin pipes up from next to her, shoving a chip in her mouth. “That was good. It took you all weekend to come up with that?”

Steve can’t help but shoot her a confused look. 

“Robs.” She sighs, digging into her backpack to retrieve a crumpled up dollar. “How about you go get yourself a soda and walk back real slow?” 

Robin snatches the money from her friend and stands up. “Okay but I want a word for word conversation break down tonight… with hot chocolate.” She whispers in her ear as she walks away. 

She shakes her head at her friend before focusing back on Steve. 

His face looked hopeful as he stared at her, waiting for her to speak to him. 

“Steve, my problem was never you not loving me. My problem is I asked if you wanted to change our arrangement and you showing me off as your girlfriend. My problem is I feel like you’re embarrassed to do any of that because of how I look. That’s my problem.” 

Steve sighs, fidgeting with his hands on the table. “I’m not embarrassed. I’ll admit that I was a little nervous of what people would say to me about dating you and I thought people would talk shit. But I realized that I would rather have that, than to not have you.” 

She drops her gaze from him, going silent for a while, racking her brain for the best way to say what was on her mind. 

“Talk to me, honey.” 

“I feel like… I feel like it shouldn’t have taken us getting into it for you to realize that you would rather have me in your life than to deal with people whispering about you and your girlfriend in the halls, Steve.” 

Steve was speechless, this was not how he expected things to go at all. 

“Maybe us dating wasn’t such a good idea after all, Steve. I don’t think you’re ready for a relationship with someone that you aren’t comfortable with being public with.” She grabs her backpack and gets up out of the chair, starting to walk away from the table. 

“Wait! Wait, honey no, don’t walk away please?” He pleads as he flies out of his chair and grabs her hand. 

She stops mid step, getting pulled back toward Steve’s body. 

“I don’t care about my reputation, I don’t care what anyone has to say about our relationship. Yes I should have realized that sooner, but after not talking to you all weekend and not having you by my side, I know that i can’t handle not having you in my corner again. I can’t handle losing you.” He says softly to her. “Please, let me show you I can do all the things you want me to do. Let me prove I’m ready.” 

Tears looked like they could fall from Steve’s big chestnut eyes any second, the palm of his hand felt clammy as he held her. 

“Okay.” She says, barely audible enough for Steve to hear. 

“Yeah?” Steve smiles at her. “Yeah? Okay, just wait right here, right there for two seconds. Don’t move.” He lets go of her hand and walks away and behind her. 

She awkwardly stands in the middle of the cafeteria, earning a few glances from other students who were sitting in the surrounding tables. 

Her eyes catch Robin on the other side of the cafeteria as she scans the room for any sign of Steve. 

“What’s he doing?” She mouths. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. 

For a split second she sees Robin’s attention turn to behind her friend, a small pout forming on her face before a bouquet of flowers comes into her vision. 

She follows the flowers up toward Steve, a warm smile on her face as she takes the bouquet from him. 

Steve clears his throat loudly, lifting his foot up and jumping up onto the top of the table, making a few of the girls there gasp loudly. 

“Excuse me!” Steve bellows, earning looks from more than half the room. “Hey! Shut up.” 

She’s frozen in her spot, her heart beating out of her chest as she watches Steve. 

What was he doing? 

“I wanted to ask my girlfriend, yes my beautiful girlfriend of six months, if she would do me the honor of going to prom with her idiot boyfriend.” 

Quiet whispers scatter throughout, more than likely wondering if Steve really referred to her as his girlfriend, and if he really asked her to prom. 

“Steven!” She says through her teeth, feeling hot in her face at the attention she was getting. 

“What do you say, honey? You want to go to prom together?” 

All eyes were on her, waiting for her to answer. 

“Yeah I’ll go to prom with you. Please get down.” She looks at him with pleading eyes, feeling embarrassed that everyone was looking at them. 

Steve jumps down from the table top, grabbing her cheeks and kissing her lips. 

The normal commotion of the cafeteria goes back after Steve puts his feet on the floor, everyone already losing interest in the new to them, old to her and Steve’s relationship. 

“You’re nuts, Steve.” 

“Yeah, nuts about you.” 

She can’t help but laugh loudly, “Eww you cheeseball.” She fake gags. “All jokes aside, thank you for doing that.” She says as she presses a kiss to his cheek. “No matter how embarrassing that was.” She jokes.

Steve looks over to the table his friends usually sits at, Carol, Tommy, Becca, and Lucas all giving them glaring stares. He sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “You want to officially introduce me to Robin?”

“You don’t know what you’re in for.” She quips. 

[berzatoe]

I Can See You

Warnings: swearing, smoking, smut, fingering, oral (M receiving), p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, spanking, dom!carmy, sub!reader, lots of dirty talk, Carmy is mean.

Pairings: Carmen Berzatto x F!reader

Synopsis: reader is a new hire at the bear set to replace sydney while she goes abroad, and she and carmen do not get along. On a particularly stressful night, they find a great way to sort out their differences.

Authors note: okay I was listening to Taylor’s song “I can see you” and this came to mind so here. There’s not enough Carmy smut out there so I am contributing. ALSO ACCEPTING REQUEST RN SO PLEASE SEND!!!

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

—————————

The clock was ticking. A few minutes to open and so far, everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

When you agreed to fill in as Sous for sydney while she went abroad to study in Copenhagen, you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into.

Night after night, you had anxiety levels in that kitchen similar to those of someone being hunted by wild animals.

That’s why they call it the bear— the thought occurred to you the first rush you worked. Richie and Carmen had almost killed each other, Tina nearly walked out, you were down an oven and the damn fridge was broken. It felt like you were running for your life as you tried to gain control of that kitchen.

“Chef, I said hands.” His firm voice cut through your thoughts.

“Yes, chef.” you followed his voice and took his place mixing as he began chopping vegetables. His biceps flexed with the heavy rhythm of the knife coming down against the board, veins swelling with tension, knuckles growing white.

He was another problem. He was the essence of the bear. You two butted heads like no other. Ever since sydney hired you to take her place for her leave, he’d been at your throat, hungry for your blood.

You were an ingenue of sorts at a prestigious chef school, and went on to work in one of his competing restaurants in New York at a very young age. You had come in with confidence of your abilities, and had different ways of doing things than Carmy. He couldn’t quite accept it, and you knew he didn’t respect you just yet.

But you craved his approval, for some reason. Something about Carmy made you thirst for his praise. You were constantly showing him new dishes you wanted on the menu to only be turned down. You two would easily get in screaming matches over wether to dice or mince, which spices to add, how long to cook, until you were out of breath and both needed a smoke break.

It didn’t help that he was so goddamn handsome. Watching him work, watching him be impassioned by his work, in command of his staff, it set something off in you. Even when he was screaming at you, there would be a glint in his eye, a vein popping in his neck, or a tone he took that would have you clenching your thighs together.

Now, you stood next to him staring at his strong arms and hands cutting vegetables, falling apart because you’re so stressed and all you can think about is those hands around your throat.

“Chef! What the hell!!” carmy shouted

You’d somehow poured the entire stock pot of sauce all over the oven.

You were stood there just staring at it emptily, trying to understand how it had happened.

“What were you thinking?!” Carmy yelled again.

“I can make more! I’ll get right on it, Chef.”

“We are fucking opening in exactly one minute, chef, we needed that sauce. We NEEDED THAT FUCKING SAUCE.”

“It was only half of the batch, the other one is still there.” You pointed toward the other pot, still heating. Then Carmen let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as your eyes widened.

The second timer for it immediately went off, meaning it had reset. The alarm rang through the kitchen like a death siren. The sauce was cooking for twice as long as it was supposed to.

“Yup, looks like you burnt that sauce. Congratu-fucking-lations. We can’t open. Are you incompetent chef? Are you stupid?”

The words hurt. “I was going to take care of that sauce before you called for hands!”

“This is the 5th thing you’ve fucked up this morning. You’re ruining my open.”

“If you ever listened to me, I swear I have a more efficient way to do this where we don’t need to call hands and everybody has a set job—“

“This isn’t your restaurant, chef.” He cut you off with a cold stare to match his words, eyes piercing into your soul.

You huffed and spun around, scared if you stayed everyone would see you cry. You ran to the back, out the door, and sat against the brick wall of the alleyway. You rolled your head into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Richie’s voice rung out. He stood leant up against the fence, smoking.

“Oh god,” you sniffed, looking up and quickly wiping tears away. You didn’t answer, instead, you reached out your hand, silently asking for a smoke.

Richie obliged and continued, “you know, Carmy is really hard on you, huh?”

You stayed quiet, taking a long drag and looking off to the city as you exhaled.

“He has a really hard time with people. He’s not like me. And I think he’s really threatened by you, cuz you’re so good. He had to be a control freak and work for it, but you’re just good.”

You pondered this for a moment, “you really think that?”

“Uh, yeah sweetheart. You’re a natural. He has to at least believe he’s in control or else he’d go apeshit. Also, I think he sort of has a thing for you, so it affects his focus… or whatever…”

You paused. You never thought of the possibility that it could be mutual. That he’d lose focus looking at you the way you so often did with him. But he had just been such an asshole, and you were angry, and god, you wanted to make him pay.

“Richie, I don’t think that could be true. He doesn’t like me. He’s so mean to me.”

Richie just chuckled and then put the cigarette the two of you had been sharing out.

“I know the kid. Get back in there, make him think he’s in charge, and do your thing, little miss sunshine.” Richie smiled and squeezed your shoulders. That was his nickname for you, because of your general sunny disposition. It had changed the place a lot.

The rest of your shift until close, you did what Richie suggested. You made Carmen think he was in charge. You followed orders with a smile and a “yes, chef”, you trailed after him and cleaned up his messes without him noticing, and soon enough the two of you were doing a successful close, allowing the rest of the staff to go home early.

Through the night, you’d also found a way to combat how distracted Carmy could make you. Richie’s intel had allowed you to flip the tables on him. Instead of focusing on how worked up he got you, you started focusing on how worked up you could get him.

You’d always stare at him for just a second too long after saying “yes, chef”, you’d squeeze pass him, intentionally pushing your body close to his. You’d find opportunities to bend over in front of him, stretch out, let your hand linger on his too long when he handed you something. Anything to be close, any chance you got. You were doing your best to see if what Richie had said held any truth to it.

You’d almost given up, you thought for sure something would happen, but the two of you had wrapped things up and were turning down the lights in the restaurant as you got ready to leave.

Carmy had been suspiciously quiet since everyone went home and you were beginning to feel awkward in the silence.

You were standing in front of your locker, grabbing your bag, when Carmy turned around and said, “Wanna tell me what the fuck was up with you tonight?”

You swallowed and turned around to face him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He took a step closer to you, “I think you do.”

He walked the small distance between your lockers until he was flush against you. He leaned forward until you were cheek to cheek, his lips to your ear as he whispered, “you think you could ruin my open, then tease me like a desperate little whore the whole fucking shift, and get away with it?”

His words went straight to your pussy. Your heart was beating faster than it had ever before, here you were; finally caught by the wild beast hunting you down. He’d fallen for your bait. You smirked.

He lifted his head from your neck where he was planting kisses, seeing the grin on your face. He gripped your jaw with a firm hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, you’re proud of yourself, hmm?” His hand trailed down and came to rest at your collar bones. You moaned in response.

He knew what you wanted. His hand closed around your neck and you smiled again.

Carmen closed his lips around yours. It was unexpected, and even though his hand was rough against your neck, the kiss was slow and gentle. It felt almost nervous, hesitant maybe, and that just made you even more desperate for him. You let out a whimper, begging him to give your more, and his tongue licked into your mouth as his other hand came up to squeeze your breast.

After that he went feral. Pushing up against you, clutching onto your throat, licking roughly and desperately into your mouth, grinding his hard cock against your heat.

He came back up for air, staring at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any regret, hesitancy, anything but what he found; which was pure, eager, lust.

He trailed kisses down your neck and chest and latched onto your nipple as he quickly began pushing down your pants. His calloused hands slowly began teasing the soft delicate skin of your thighs, rubbing soft circles so close to your core.

You whined, and in response he let out a light teasing chuckle as he pushed his hand pass your folds, immediately landing his thumb right against your clit.

Your body convulsed at this, and he loved it. He studied your face, looking for every reaction and using them as cues as he began circling his thumb against your clit.

“Yeah?” He breathed, clearly enjoying it too, “is this what you wanted? Hmm? You’re so fucking wet for me. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you wanted me to touch you?”

Any nervousness you had detected in Carmy before was long gone. He was in control. You were letting him be in control, again, and he was about to ravish you for it.

“Answer me.” His thumb stopped and he tightened his grip around your neck.

“I’ve wanted you since-“ he began rubbing your clit again.

“Since- my first shift- I-“ his ring finger poked at your entrance.

“I-I can never stop thinking about you and-“ his finger fully entered you now and you instantly clenched around it.

“And- I always fantasize about you fucking me which is why i can’t do any of my work right!” You spit out quickly as his finger began pushing in and out of you. At this, he curled it up to meet your spongey spot deep within and you let out a yelp.

“Oh poor baby” he said as he slowed his movements, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out at a torturous pace. Your back was still pressed up against the lockers and the sting of the metal carving into your skin heightened all of your sensations.

“Stupid little slut can’t do her job because she wants to fuck her boss so bad, is that it?” He thrusts his finger into you hard.

“Please” you begged.

“Please what? What do you want?”

“Go faster, I’m so close!”

He instantly removed his fingers from your and you felt the emptiness like a hole.

You went to complain before he clamped a hand around your mouth, “Don’t say a thing. You’re lucky I even gave you my fingers after the shit you pulled tonight, baby. You think you can tell me what to do? You think that’s how this is gonna work? I would just let you cum and then give you my cock and make you cum again?” He laughed.

His eyes were dark and full of want, his cock was hard and it was so painfully evident through his pants. It looked so big and you couldn’t get your mind off of it.

He noticed you staring and began undoing his belt. “Get on your knees.”

You gulped and froze.

He put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were kneeling, “I said, get. On. Your. Knees.”

He finished undoing his pants and you were face to face with his long, hard, thick cock.

“Be a good girl and suck it, baby” he said. You started towards him before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you back.

“What do you say when I ask you to do something, darling?” His tone was condescending, but you answered nonetheless.

“Yes, chef.”

He groaned and rolled his head back, “yeah, that’s right, good fuckin’ girl” pushing your head back towards his cock as an invitation. You accepted.

You were brutal with your movements, sucking and licking and pushing him as deep as you could get him. He was anything but shy with letting you know how much he enjoyed it, his grip tightening around your hair and pulling and pushing ever so slightly, his hips unintentionally bucking up, forcing his cock down the back of your throat.

And the sounds he was making, oh, they could only be from your dreams. He was unraveling at the seams and whimpering like a dog when you reached your hand up to cup his balls and lightly massage them, he pushed your head so far down you couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my fucking go-d” he said before pulling you off him with a “pop” and staring at your fucked-out face.

Blown out eyes stared back up at him, saliva coating swollen lips, mascara smudged and running, hair a mess. He was proud of himself, and the sight turned him on to no end. He knew if he let you continue he’d cum. However, you were relentless and as soon as he let up on your hair, you dove back down.

“Okay baby, that’s enough.” He said, tearing you away again.

“Why?” You asked genuinely, and it made his heart flutter.

“Cuz if you don’t stop, you’re gonna make m’cum. Can’t do that yet. Wanna do it deep, deep inside ya’… if that’s okay?” He whispered gently, cupping your face and wiping your cheeks.

“Please, god please.” You cried, nodding your head. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, leading you to his office.

There, carmy turned you around and placed, gentle, sweet kisses along your shoulder before whispering, “are you sure this is okay?”

To which, you nodded desperately. But that wasn’t enough for him.

“I need you to say it, honey. I need you to say that you want this. That you want me to fuck you right here on this desk, and fill you up with my cum.”

“I want you Carmy, I want you so bad.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me on this desk and fill me up with your cum.” You whined, slightly embarrassed, pussy swollen and begging to be fucked.

He pushed you down until you were bending over the desk, chest flush against it. He got a good look at how much you truly wanted him.

“Jesus Christ, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen” he said, roughly spreading you.

“So fucking wet and tight too, could feel you squeezing my fingers earlier.” He spit into his hand and cupped your pussy with it, rubbing the spit down and over your folds.

You felt the tip of his cock tease your hole, slowly making little circles, just barely entering. At this point, you were so ready for him this actually felt mean. You needed relief and he knew it, he saw it, saw your clit throbbing and your legs shaking, body blushing all over. You beginning to make a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before.

He starts to softly comfort you but you know he’s proud of himself, with a smirk on his face as he does it, “ssshhh-sshhh… it’s okay, baby. I know, I know, it’s a lot. I just wanna make sure I don’t hurt you so I’m gonna start real slow, okay? Know you need me. Gonna take good care of you, promise” he slowly starts to inch himself in, and you have to admit, his size surprised you. You were glad for his patience.

When he finally burrows himself all the way within you, you both let out a moan in-sync at the new feeling. Both taking a second to adjust, you tighten and release your walls, making him groan.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” He says between thrusts as he begins, setting a good pace.

Once Carmen is finally fucking you, finally moving within you, taking you raw, you feel free. You let go of all the stress from the restaurant and let him drill it out of you, and you’re sure you’re serving the same purpose for him.

“S’good… so fucking good…” carmen is saying as he fucks you, pace picking up, getting more rough by the second. The praise makes you melt, you squeeze him again and revel in the loud moan you get out of it.

He grabs another fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, making your back arch and the position hit so much deeper. He leans over your body and reaches down to rub your clit with the hand not on your head. It makes you tremble under him.

“Doing s’well for me baby… knew this was all you wanted…. All I could ever think about too… taking you back here… fucking you hard and good just to shut you up… emptying my load deep inside you… leaving you to work the rest of your shift all filled up with me… you’ve been such a little tease every day since you got here… giving me those looks across the kitchen, wearing those little outfits in on your days off, pushing my buttons just to get a rise out of me… I’ve wanted this for so long, pretty baby. You’re so fucking pretty”

You cry out at his drunken confession. It gets you so worked up, you’re almost there, and you can tell he is too.

“Carmy…” you whine, feeling him so deep, hitting that spot every single time without pause, working you up and up and up.

“Yes, baby?”

“Cum inside of me, please. I want it all. Want you to fill me up. M’sclose too. Please please please, fill me up Carmy.” You’re practically in tears and it does something to Carmy. He hears you.

He quickens his pace, getting sloppier, rougher, more sporadic, the two of you making noises like animals, and soon he takes a hand and slaps it down across your ass, causing a loud thwack, as you scream in euphoria. He does it one more time, hard enough to leave a welt, before spilling his seed deep, deep inside of your pussy.

As he pumps his seed into you, again and again, you feel that coil come undone and are seeing stars before you know it, panting and moaning and sweating as Carmy holds you in his arms and snaps his hips back into you occasionally.

He’s collapsed over you on the desk, the two of you exhausted and decompressing. He places a few kisses against your cheek before standing up and pulling himself out, groaning again at the sight. He sees your welted ass, pussy red and swollen, knees shaking, body rising up and down from being out of breath and he instinctively pulls your dead weight into his office chair and runs to get you a water.

You decide that you and Carmy have found an incredible, healthy way to work out your differences in the kitchen.

[sovksluv]

LOVE IN CHAOS - chapter 1 all by yourself, sitting alone

☠︎︎ . pairing - Clarisse La Rue x fem!Nemesis!oc! Alora Blanie

☠︎︎ . summary - twelve years had been wasted -- and Alora knew that her opportunity window of freedom was closing quickly, so she mustered up all her courage, and finally escaped.

☠︎︎ . includes - sobbing/intense crying, nightmares, trouble breathing/unknown asthma attack, running away from home, oc is specified as a mixed black and hispanic girl with a name !!

☠︎︎ . word count - 3147

☠︎︎ . series taglist - @curlymeme

☠︎︎ . pjo taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303 @st4rzl7

☠︎︎ . now playing - Not Allowed by Tv Girl

☠︎︎ . a/n - thank you to @curlymeme for the oc creation ! she gets just as much credit for this as me 💋 ALSO, SO EXCITED FOR THIS BTW, I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT !!!!!

☠︎︎ . series masterlist

on the outside, her house was bright, standing tall, polished clean with rushed ferocity. perfectly placed bundles of flowers littering the yard, redolent with a fragrance typically only found in expensive perfumes. sat by the front door was a generic mat which mockingly read the word ‘Welcome!’ on it, with decorative cursive letters and a big red heart as the dot of the exclamation mark. the inside was supposed to match the outside. identically polished walls and fake plants that mirrored what passersby could notice from a mile away. 

that, however, was not true. things didn't always look the same on the inside as they did on the outside. the almost-too-perfectly held-up front served one purpose and served it well. to deceive. it’s not wrong to assume that a home so perfect was inhabited by a family just as perfect as its residence. so, people find it hard to believe her when the pristine little “rich” girl has something else to say about it. 

she didn’t want to speak against the judgment, having the basic knowledge that living in a comfortable house with two working parents was supposedly considered lucky. it would seem ungrateful to complain. how could she complain when she knew others weren’t as fortunate as her? kids even younger than her constantly wondered when and where their next meal would be, but not her.

her house sat tall, all the way at the top of the hill, towering over the rest of the neighborhood. there was an eerie stillness that was always washed upon the house. it was inescapable, a labyrinth of ear-ringing silence, with the not-so-occasional muffled arguments from behind her parent’s bedroom door. she didn't want to live her life surrounded by the quiet, but the yelling from the two people who were supposed to love each other were sounds she wanted to dispute.

Alora sat idly in her room, not making any noise so she could hear her arguing parents who had moved from their room, travelling through the hallway and quieting as they moved down the stairs. she never understood why they continued to stay together, especially since they argued more than they spoke. most of the time they argued about her. about how she continuously acted out, with no “real” reasons for her rebellions. her stepmother wanted to send her away to some boarding school, attempting to convince Alora’s father that it would fix her.

to be honest, the constant complaining from her stepmother had begun to grow on her father, he was considering sending Alora away to whatever school was the cheapest and the furthest. that’s why Alora had shot up the second she heard their footsteps echo downstairs. she hastily packed one small backpack full of her necessities. it was only a few hours before dark and she had to wait until her parents were far enough that they wouldn’t hear her quick movements. 

Alora knew that eventually her father would give into her stepmother’s endless whining and send her away so she had to take matters into her own hands. she was going to run away tonight. no ideas or plans, just anywhere from her evil stepmother and that unknown school she wanted to send her to. Alora would rather be anywhere than there. she wanted to leave on her terms, not because she was sent away. 

she packed lightly, having no clue where she was going or how long she’d be out. she took a few hair things, basic toiletries, and two outfits, deciding to have a three-switch-outfit routine. her bag also held the money she’d saved over the years, a Polaroid camera, a notebook with pens, and snacks and water that she snuck from the kitchen hours prior when her parents were too busy arguing to hear her. on the outside, it seemed like she was ready, but deep down, she was terrified. she had no idea what she was going to do, or how she was going to do it, but she knew there was nothing else she could’ve done. tonight was her only chance to escape.

uncomfortable silence rang through the house, and Alora paid no mind to it, then paused. it was too quiet. she didn’t hear any yelling, stomping, or door slamming. pausing her packing, she tiptoed to her door, putting her ear up to it, attempting to hear anything at all. it was still quiet for a few moments before she heard angry footsteps up the stairs. panic exploded through her entire body as she rushed to her bag, flinging it under her bed and straightening herself just as her bedroom door fell open. 

it was her father, who had collected himself almost as soon as her door was opened. he calmly walked into her room and closed the door behind him, he sat on the end of her neatly made bed, signaling her next to him. Alora didn’t listen, crossing her arms with a knowing look on her face. “don’t let her send me away, Dad. i’m your daughter!” her father sighed, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. she knew her words wouldn’t change anything. he already made up his mind. he’d always pick his beloved wife over his only daughter, the daughter who didn’t need to be sent away, but rather needed help.

“Lora-” 

Alora scoffed, “no, Dad! you always listen to her, and never listen to me! she hates me! all she wants to do is get rid of me, and she can only do that if she convinces you to do it too.” her father stood up angrily from his spot on her bed, taking a stomped-step towards her, prompting her to take an equal step back. you could see her stepmother standing behind him, leaning on your doorframe with a cocky smirk on her face. she was finally going to get what she wanted. “don’t talk about your mother like that, Alora!” he yelled at her, pointing his finger up at her face.

“she’s. not. my. mother.”

her father’s face went red with anger as he stomped out of her bedroom, her stepmother having already left, assuming Alora’s defeat. the door slammed behind him, leaving the walls around it shaking. fury bubbled deep in her stomach, leaving a dark pit inside both her heart and her soul. she was angry and her face showed it, but her actions didn’t. assuming she’d be on her way to the boarding school by morning, Alora moved quickly, perfecting every single plan she had for escaping.

sat uncomfortably on her bed, door locked, window open, and leg shaking, Alora waited. she’d be leaving any time now, just waiting for when she knew both her parents would be sleeping, unaware of the plans she was about to pursue. nerves had crept up into her stomach, having no idea what she was getting herself into. it was too late to change her mind since it was either that God forsaken boarding school or life on her own. 

she tried to convince herself that her dad could change. maybe if she begged hard enough he’d give in. maybe she’d have him remembering that that was his daughter he was throwing out, his only daughter, the daughter he was supposed to protect, through and through. nothing could change his mind. he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to her, her effervescent personality withering away over the years as she grew older. she assumed his deep but hushed hatred for her came from the abandonment of her real mother. her birth mother.

the whole reason for Alora running away was because of her father's relentlessness, his refusal to change his mind. though he was silent, he never failed to show in his face and actions the gaping hole of resentment he felt. even if he disliked her mother, he still told Alora about her. she was no stranger to the fact that her mother was a Goddess. the Goddess of justice and revenge; Nemesis. so she was aware of her lineage, which led her to believe that’s where some of her father's disapproval of her came from.

time was nearing midnight. Alora knew she should’ve felt tired, on the brink of sleep, but she was far from it. anticipation of her next moves kept her wide awake and alert. the silence of her house and her unknowing parents let her know it was time to go. she wondered if they’d go looking for her when they found she was gone. probably not, since they were going to send her away anyway. her father would probably want to look, or at least file a missing person’s report, but with her stepmother here, Alora was sure she’d find some way to convince her father otherwise.

it was a few minutes after the stroke of midnight, and Alora was hastily tying up her shoes and slipping on her warmest sweatshirt. it wasn’t winter yet, but the autumn nights tended to be cold either way, which sucked since that’s when she planned on leaving. with her bag slung over both shoulders and her bedroom lights shut off, she climbed out of her window and onto the roof

kept right in front of it, shutting the window behind her. one of her father’s ladders was previously set up right under her window, which she used to get down from the roof. she felt the chilly autumn wind run through her hair, sending chills and nerves down her spine. her hands felt sweaty and clammy as she climbed down, despite the almost-freezing air surrounding her. as soon as her Converse-clad feet touched the ground, Alora was gone, immediately running into the dark, creepy woods that sat behind her house, not once looking back. failing to notice the flick of a bedroom light going on, right where her parents slept.

it was so cold out, and Alora had no idea how long she had been running. she never stopped running. literally. not stopping to walk or jog, just constant running, without any breaks, wanting to get as far from her home as possible, filled to the brim with the fear of getting caught. one thing she knew, though, was that she was out of her home state of New Jersey and past the state line into New York. it wasn’t far, considering she lived right on the edge of New Jersey, but at least it ensured she wouldn’t be found easily. her parents would probably assume she was somewhere in their local town.

light hadn’t begun to shine yet, but she assumed it would soon, so she slowed down, deeming it safe enough to finally take a break. she was panting, desperate to catch her breath. there was a sign she noticed a few miles back, listing the upcoming gas stations and motels, which she planned on finding and staying in. money wasn’t a problem for her, as she had spent the last six years of her life saving all her birthday, Christmas, couch, and even street money. 

up ahead were the bright shining lights of a somewhat nicely-looking motel. staying there all alone made her nervous, but she had to. she had to get away from the prison that was called her home. she entered the motel check-in building with caution, purchasing a room for one night. as soon as she was in her temporary room, the door locked and lights off, with her head comfortably laying on the pillow, the way she quickly fell into a deep sleep was like she blacked out the second she was in bed.

the bright, screeching laughs of a young girl echoed around, bouncing off the dark walls of her mind. flashes of light blinked around her as she stood, slumped in the middle of a strange room. the little girl’s giggles danced delicately with those of another girl as they skipped around her, hand in hand. it was foggy and blurry around the gloomy teenager. the warm haze of the area around her was unfamiliar, it stirred the war deep within your consciousness. 

things seemed off, however, but whatever it was, was so subtle that she had trouble figuring out what it was, figuring out what was right from wrong. her laughs reflecting over the rounded walls of her mind were ethereal, spewing with remnants of the sun’s humid summer heat. Apollo was being generous – the girl thought, casting the warmth of the bright star across the backs of the three girls, despite the shadows lurking deep in the corners of the endless room. the blinding should’ve been enough for her to turn away, shield her untouched eyes from the hurtful rays.

in her isolated state, she felt nothing, hardly able to feel even herself. but, jealousy, surprisingly a common emotion within the girl, bubbled in the deep depths of her soul, and she had her mother to blame for it. i’m sorry! – she called, to no one in particular, no one who cared to listen, not as if there was anyone there anyway. she pleaded to be heard, begging for forgiveness, but it wasn’t truly her. well, it was her. but it wasn’t?

it was the little girl. an almost identical, but younger, shorter copy of the towering girl before her. and suddenly, she was aware – heavily aware, even if it was dangerous. is this a dream? – she asked, it was impossible to tell if her lips had moved, allowing the words to leave her mouth. or if it was a thought that had somehow managed to leave the confines of her mind that was in her mind. It was like a labyrinth. it scared her. no – there was no way this could be a dream, instead, a nightmare. one that she felt she was trapped in, with no doors, no windows, and no way out. 

was it possible to feel trapped in your mind? be trapped in your mind? i mean, that’s what she assumed, that it was her mind she was stuck in, feet firmly stuck to the bottomless pit-like ground. maybe her subconscious had led her into the dreams and nightmares of someone else, probably someone she knew, right? maybe it was the other little girl? that little girl who had been skipping around with – what she assumed – was a younger version of herself. 

the young girls flashed by quickly, almost like a glitch on a computer screen. having already seen her close enough, she was able to both memorize and recognize the smaller version of herself, but she was also able to get a glimpse at her nightmare version’s companion. with her fingers tightly grasping onto her friend’s, the small girl skipped around, beaming with smiles and laughter, living a carefree life. despite her young age, tight, defined curls framed her tan face, cascading down her back, and bouncing with each step of her feet on the hazy unlit ground.

she wondered who the girl was, and how she knew the miniature girl meant to represent herself. in her dream state, nothing, none of anything she’s witnessing, – herself, the other girl, the running around, the laughing. – none of it was familiar. not one noise, color, or movement sparked any form of recognition in her intellect. how could a past version of herself have such a vivid, gut-wrenching sense of familiarity, yet feel so unimaginably unfamiliar deep, deep inside her?

the confusion bouncing between the walls of her mind like a ping pong ball, making her head twist and turn with every new direction, always stranger than the one before it. it felt like long, excruciating hours had gone by, where she was just stuck in the middle of the pitch-black darkness, physically – and mentally – unable to pick up her feet and move, even just the smallest inch. She felt held back, physically tied down to the room surrounding her, hands bound, feet changed, ensuring she had no way of escaping. 

all she could do was watch the two young girls as their laughter faded to sobs, their skipping in joy to running away in fear. how quickly Apollo’s rays of sun turned into Selene’s ethereal glow of the moon. a full moon. she had pulled away from her nightmare confinement, slipping back into the real world with the echo of her past self’s ear-piercing scream, rupturing and spilling deep down to the crack already formed in her soul. oh, and the loose thump of a small child’s body dropping on the ground.

Alora flung herself up, blankets pooled around her feet, which then touched the cold floor as her body stood up, wobbling, warm tears sobbing down her face. her side of her cheap motel bed almost completely drenched in sweat, her body shivering in sync with her sobs. she searched desperately for any ounce of oxygen, though it seemed every atom had been sucked away, her lungs deflated, struggling to bounce back. 

it felt like she was dying. her heart refused to slow, even going as far as to pump more blood, increasing the deafening pounding that she heard in her head, her ears, and all around her. weak, shaky legs giving out, her body made a thud on the ground, leaving her a heaving mess on the hardwood floor. mouth wide open, head going numb from the lack of air altogether. her throat burned dry, tears cascading down her cheeks, her clammy hands clawing at her throat as if claws would appear and slice them open, any way to let air in.

she had no idea what was happening to her, or why it was happening. maybe it was connected to her dream? she didn’t know, only wanting to gain back control of her own body. scrambling to collect herself, the shadow looming outside of her room window went unnoticed as it flowed away, eyes casting a strong gaze upon the poor girl. when her body allowed the stuffy air in, she began to calm down, legs curling up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. she had stopped crying, but was sniffing like crazy, shaking, her mind so unbelievably overwhelmed that she struggled to even think about anything that just happened. she couldn’t fathom the idea of sleeping again, mind traumatized from what she had just been through.

Alora rested her chin between her knees, sat and wrapped in a tight ball. it was only the first night of running away and this is how it turns out? how is she going to survive the rest of her time alone? she was clueless, any plans or ideas she once had were long gone, floating around the dark and cold motel room. her body still shook and shivered, numbness filling herself. she had no clue what was in store for her, but only hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as the first night. oh boy was she as wrong as she was naive. 

© sovksluv 2024, please do not repost or translate my work !

[lilhealthybean]

I'll wait for your love

"Sweetheart, you know pretty well I am not joking”

Tags: haikyuu, suna

Notes: Mix of angst and fluff ig)?, hope you enjoy it :). I updated it and wrote it better, idk why I even published them before I revised them and changed everything lol (Not me posting random ideas I have at 2 am)

"I thought you wouldn't understand", you confessed

He smiled at you with a comprehensible look.

"How could I not even try?" Suna's response was calm, still gazing at you.

His tone was gentle and his handling of the third rejection of the month was surprisingly serene. You were amused by your ability to reject him three times. However, you didn't feel ready to start dating, not since your last relationship which ended in nothing but pain and traumas. Besides, you had a lot on your plate, and having a boyfriend wasn't a priority.

"I deeply apologize for putting you through this situation again..." the volleyball player apologized, gently stroking your hair. "I thought you might be ready for a new relationship, considering it has been three months since your last one. I guess I was mistaken"

Much to your relief, the school bell rang loudly, signalling that classes would begin in 5 minutes.

"I guess that's my cue to leave" Suna said, giving you another small smile

"Can we still return home together Rin?" you asked shyly, as if you were a kid seeking permision from an adult.

He chuckled softly

"How could I refuse you anything sweetheart? You will be at the library, right?" You nodded with a timid smile "Alright, I will pick you up there, I promise" With that, the boy left your classroom to meet the Miya twins in the corridor.

"And...?" the blond twin inquired, lookinf at his friend eagerly.

Rintaro shook his head and with a defeated look. Both twins gave him a sorrow glance.

"Are you going to walk home again with her?" Osamu asked as he finished his onigiri

"Yes"

Atsumu sighed

"I don't know how you do it Suna" the blond twin admitted "I would lose hope afther the first rejection"

"I don't mind waiting a little longer," Rintaro remarked indifferently.

As promised, after volleyball practice, he left the gym and walk to the library where you were studying. As every Friday, you were sitting by the window, trying to focus on the paper in front of you. Suna couldn't help but notice how cute you looked. Silently, he approached you and decided to take the seat in front of you, admiring you.

He lost track of time since he sat down. When you finally noticed his presence, you couldn't help but place a hand on your chest, holding back a scream.

"I've warned you to stop doing that! One day you will give me a heart attack" you complained while gathering your things with his help.

"Come on, hurry up or we will miss the train" Suna urged before you could keep complaining.

By the time both of you reached at the train station, the sunhad set and the cold began to invade into your body. Before you could start shivering, you felt the weight of Suna's jacket on your shoulders.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

You felt guilty for making Suna wait so long for you. He had always been a gentleman since he met you, and all you could offer in return was a grateful smile. Why was it so hard to accept his feelings?

You wanted to be more than just friends with him, but you believed you didn't deserve him in your current state. Despite Suna's reassurances that you weren't a burden, you couldn't shake off that feeling.

Moreover, you had important matters coming up in your life next week, which was another reason why you couldn't reciprocate his feelings.

"Thanks for the jacket Rintaro. Maybe I can forgive you for being such a creep in the library" you teased, and he pretended to get offended by your remark.

"You seemed so focused that I didn't want to bother you, so I chose to admire you" Suna replied, gazing at you and moving closer. "Honestly, I can wait longer"

The train pulled into the station, and both of you boarded, searching for an empty space. You found one agasint the train wall, while Suna stood in front of you, acting as a barrier to protect your personal space.

"How long were you willing to wait?" you asked while you put your hands in the boy's jacket to keep them warm.

Suna drew nearer, his face close to yours, causing your cheeks to flush with heat.

"I'm patient… I could have waited until you felt the same way I do about you" he said softly, that didn't stop your heart from beating faster than usually

"Don't tease me like that!" if your cheeks were hot moments ago, now they were burning. You withdrew your hands from the pockets, attempting to conceal your intense blush from him.

Suna smiled, he loved knowing that he had that effect on you. It made him believe his love could truly be reciprocated.

"Sweetheart, you know pretty well I am not joking" he assured, gently taking one of your hands in his. You kept your gaze fixed on the train floor, feeling embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Suna was elated, having plucked up the courage to hold your hand. He knew it wasn't a grand romantic gesture, but that simple touch was enough for him.

"Rintaro..." your trembling voice brought him back to reality. Puzzled by your concered expression, he raised an eyebrow. "I have been accepted into the Tokyo art academy, starting next Monday"

His ears were buzzing. Did he hear correctly? Today was Friday, and you mentioned that next Monday you would be assisting another academy in Tokyo.

How could that possible? He gazed at the station they had just arrived at. He still had two stations to go before you got off the train.

"That's great. We should celebrate this weekend" Suna said with a monotonous voice, still processing the news you had just share with him

"Suna, you have a match tomorrow, and on Sunday, you need to study for the biology and math exam scheduled for Monday. Besides, you mentioned yesterday that Sunday is your sister's birthday" now it was you staring at him, meanwhile Suna had a distant look, holding your hand tighter than before.

The sound of the train announcing their arrival at the next station made Suna's heart race. He had one station left.

"Well, we can still stay in touch, right?" his voice losing his usual calming tone, a hint of desperation creeping in.

"Of course Suna, we can still text and call each other"

"I will keep waiting for you" Suna confessed, lifting his head and staring directly at you, holding his breath as he awaited for your response.

He felt the crowd startinf to push, implying that they were trying to exit the train. Suna had no stations left. You weretruly going to leave him.

"Rintaro... I don't want you to wait for me. It wouldn't be fair. I'm trully sorry; I got the acceptance letter last week. I had applied for next year, but they resquested me to go there to cover the basic subjects I missed here... I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't find the right moment..." you apologized softly. The boy in front of you didn't deserve this, and you were aware of that.

As the train slowed down, Suna was reclutant to realase your hand. He had received too much information in such a short time, leaving him paralyzed. With a gentle expression and a sweet smile, you let go of his hand and waved goodbye.

"Goodbye Rintaro, take care of yourself, please..."

His eyes followed you until the train started moving again, and he lost you among the crowd.

Due to the love he held for you, he was still determined to wait for you. Long-distance relationships can work, right? Besides, he was willing to visit you every free weekend he had. If both of you wanted, it could happen.

His heart urged him to wait for you. No matter how long it took, he believed the wait was worth it, since you are.

However, a noisy thought lingered in his mind. Even if he thought you were worth it, was it worth waiting for someone who didn't want to be waited for?

[storiesofoblivion]

hello tags! It's been a little while since I've been on here, but I'm ready to dive back into the writing scene and looking for some new writing partners on Discord! ♡ please only interact with me if you are 21 + only, also just a small fyi my activity can be a bit unpredictable depending on life stuff, but I’m always around to chat, plot, and create if I’m not writing!!! 

I’d love to brainstorm some MUMUs (small town, big big city, holiday resort, band, reality tv show, open for the options), but also happy to keep it small with a singular plot! i just want to get into musings, making some fun pinterest boards, playlists etc! i want all the angst, fluff, pain and smut. 

a few plots and tropes which I am begging for and some fcs are below, but i'm open to anything and everything!!! if you're interested, give this a like and i'll reach out or message me! ♡

yearning plot, I just watched the Industry and it gave me the need for a pair who love each other, they completely yearn for each other but they can't be together. if you want your heart to break, listen to the last goodbye by the kills. I have quite a few different thoughts for this, they meet when they're young and they yearn for each other, but life gets in the way and ultimately they don't end up together, they love each other but one of them choses the path which is right for them. We can have them go through the break up and then meet again years across the line where it’s a mix of vulnerability and guardedness as both muses confront their past, knowing that the connection they once had slipped through their fingers. There could be moments of warmth and nostalgia mixed with painful realisations about how much has changed. I just need the angst!!!!

the affair, they’re both trapped in unhappy relationships, finding solace in each other’s arms. But as the passion between them grows, so does the guilt and the looming sense that their affair will only lead to heartbreak—for everyone involved.

trapped in a marriage of convenience, they were never supposed to fall in love. Bound by a loveless marriage for political or financial reasons, one of them has secretly harboured feelings all along. Now, as tension rises and secrets unravel, those buried emotions threaten to tear them both apart.

divorced couple, they are always in each others lives, their is fighting, they can't escape, let's add kids to the mix for the coparenting 

the one who got away, this is slightly different to yearning because this couple aren't the same vibe it's a different font okay. They were madly in love in their early 20s, but life and ambition pulled them in different directions. Years later, they reconnect—both scarred from past relationships. There’s undeniable chemistry, but the fear of repeating history keeps them at a distance. Can they let go of their past mistakes and take a risk on love again, or are they doomed to drift apart once more?

the cost of fame, he’s an up-and-coming actor/musician etc, skyrocketing to fame, while she’s still living an ordinary life. They were high school sweethearts, but as his career takes off, the pressure of his public image and constant media attention start to tear their relationship apart. Will their love survive the world of flashing cameras and false rumours, or will fame turn him into someone she no longer recognises??? where will the angst take us??

fighter plot, after re-watching the creed I need a boxer plot so maybe something like in creed where is fighting his way to the top, but his girl can’t handle the fear of losing him to the sport etc 

a coffee shop meet-cute, or any meet-cute where it can be something like she's the regular at his coffee shop, always rushing in with a complicated order and a smile that lights up the place. He’s the barista who secretly gives her an extra shot of espresso to brighten her day. After months of shy glances and friendly small talk, a chance encounter outside of the café leads to a series of adorable, awkward dates full of laughs, misunderstandings, and the beginning of something real.

a classic holiday fake dating, one of them desperately needs a date for the family’s holiday reunion to avoid endless questions about their love life, so they convinces their co-worker (or best friend) to pretend to be their partner for the week. Cue romantic holiday moments, cute banter, and the unexpected realisation that maybe they’re not just pretending after all.

I just need anything that is enemies to lovers, anything that is friends to lovers, anything that is forbidden lovers, anything that is exes to lovers to exes again, give me the slowburn, just any of these tropes on repeat

i also do have a wanted plots tag which is here - this has not been updated in a while but i will always want these plots! 

some fcs i’ve been wanting to play or have has opposites are below, i'm not limited to them and open to any other options too!!! 

drew starkey

oliver jackson cohen 

paul mescal

harris dickinson 

milo ventimiglia

tom hardy

fabien frankel 

theo james

callum turner

dev patel 

josh o'connor

alexander skarsgard

boyd holbrook 

grace van patten

hannah dodd

phoebe dynevor

adria arjona

bruna marquezine 

aslihan malbora 

alisha boe

pinar deniz

taylor russell

greta onieogou 

lucy boynton

[cementarybf]

The woods brothers.

" A duet never played ."

(A series of my headcanons for both the brothers except its not in order AT ALL)

• I was originally just gonna copy and paste my docs of them for this I'm ngl..

• Between the two jeff is the youngest, being three years apart from the older.

• Jeff's a bastard child within the woods family, as his mother committed infidelity making him a foreign mixed child in his home environment (his mother being Chinese, his biological father being Hispanic)

• Liu had been more than excited to be a big brother, even if his mother was less than excited. He would cuddle up with her, mostly to whisper to her belly about how excited he was to be a big brother and that he loved his little sibling already.

• jeff is actually trans his dead name being (junjíe俊傑 meaning elite,high standing) a name he actually prided himself on, but when they moved to Ohio (WHICH ACTUALLY IS CANON?? WHY IS HE IN OHIO) he wanted to be more..Americanized, mainly due to the bullying he suffered for keeping a foreign name- teachers struggling to pronounce it made him disgusted so he chose a simpler name one that they couldn't make fun of.

• jeff was never deemed as "normal", growing up he struggled to behave like other children- diagnosed at an early age with [ narcissistic personality disorder ] and [ early stage child apathy ] which stemmed from a series of neglect given from his parents along with the strict religious household.

• due to this liu had taken up the role of raising his younger brother without much issue, due to taking up the parental role his own view on his parents had easily soured over time when he had gotten into multiple arguments with them.

• liu and jeff were pratically attatched at the hip mostly due to jeff seemingly mimicking his brothers behavior as to appear more friendly to his peers which in the end worked, as he was quite liked in his schools.

• liu had originally been the only one in the family to play piano but jeff followed suit easily only for a moment before he took up learning violin instead as he found it be more suiting. A perfect duet they had made.

• they originally had lived in shenzen before moving to Ohio due to their father getting a job relocation out there (hence jeffs sudden urge to fit ih)

• jeff never actually told his parents he was transitioning due to his mother's heavy religious belief, he'd rather let her believe he was being a "tomboy" then tell her.

• jeff and liu had done multiple recitals together once jeff finally got to understand how to perfectly play the piano. However they never did get to finish their duet that they written themselves.

• liu was the only person he told, along with the one he had asked to cut his hair. He hasn't cut his hair nor let anyone else cut his hair since that night due to the fact he doesn't know how to and is more afraid he'd mess it up (we gotta go bald moment).

• liu was NOT sent to a jail when he took the blame for jeff but instead a boarding school for troubled youth where he may or may have not discovered he may have been bisexual.

• after dying and being revived by a mortician [SUSAN] who was all too curious about death, he met [BALAAM (SULLY)] who had used his jiangshi state against him and encouraged him to eat the woman so she could have her soul.

• after trading a part of his soul and entering a contract with [BALAAM(SULLY] his memory is EXTREMELY bad, similar to a goldfish he's constantly forgetting things and doesn't actually remember how he died outside of the autopsy report. He doesn't remember jeff but he knows he had a brother and that he needs to find him. Even in death he still needs to take the role of worrying for him.

• jeff cannot stand hearing classical music or anything with piano, due to it reminding him of liu and how guilty he is.

• jeff once tried to play violin again but due to his nerves being so badly damaged and the face he was missing his finger on one hand he couldn't play it perfectly, it caused him to have a melt down and he in rage he smashed it to pieces.

[thesixenthusiast]

ruby – eddie roundtree

part one (part two, part three, part four)

pairing: eddie rountree x fem!oc (may change to x reader) warnings: drinking/drugs (billy/daisy's addictions) word count: 1.6k author's note: please bear with me in this, if there's a few time mix ups just with the order of things, please do let me know but i'm trying to find an equal balance between the book and show and it's a little difficult lol

On October 4, 1977, Daisy Jones & The Six performed to a sold out crowd at Soldier Field in Chicago, Illinois. They were one of the biggest bands in the world at the time, fresh off their award-winning, multi-platinum selling album “Aurora.” It would be their final performance. 

In the 20 years since, members of the band and their inner circle have refused to speak on the record about what happened… Until now.

–

THE RISE OF THE SIX (1966-1972)

The Six started out as a blues-rock band called the Dunne Brothers in the mid-sixties out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Billy and Graham Dunne were raised by single mother, Marlene Dunne, after their father, William Dunne Sr., left in 1954.

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): I always dreamed of something different than the typical laid out career paths. When Graham first got the idea to start a band, I assumed it was just to win back his girlfriend. He was, what fourteen? The kid thought his life was over. [Laughs] I guess in retrospect, maybe it was a good idea. 

WARREN ROJAS (drummer, The Six): He was definitely trying to get his girlfriend back.

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): We were solid, fine for a while. When Chuck quit, we were out a bassist, which isn’t really something you can do without in a band. Billy originally wanted Eddie to switch to bass, but he wasn’t too keen on that. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE (rhythmic guitar, The Six): I was so sick of Billy trying to run the band, it wasn’t his band, or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be. 

WARREN ROJAS: There was this girl in my math class, her uncle owned a music store downtown, and she used to give lessons to kids on weekends, it was mostly just some scheme by her uncle to get people to buy guitars. 

BILLY DUNNE: She was a sophomore, a young sophomore at that, she wasn’t even 16 by the time she joined, I was a year out of high school and the rest of the boys are creeping on 17 and 18, she just didn’t fit. Warren gets all the boys on board before bringing the idea up to me so I look like the asshole if I say no, I wanted to say no too, but she was good and I didn’t have another option. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: She didn’t even show an interest in being in the band, she wasn’t begging us to give her a chance, we were near-stalking her at the music store, waiting for the perfect opportunity to hear her play and casually bring up that we happened to need a bassist.

JULIET OPAL (bassist/singer, The Six): They weren’t nearly as sly as they thought they were. I originally thought it was some attempt at stealing records or 8-tracks, y’know waiting until I wasn’t looking, but they kept coming back, seemingly just waiting for me to do something, what it was I didn’t know, but something. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: [Sighs] They decided I would be the one to talk to her. 

The shop’s bell rang, signaling the door had been opened, which swung Juliet’s attention away from the magazine she was skimming and up to the front of the store, peering through the aisles to see who entered. A boy, one she recognized from the creeping on her from the previous weeks, made himself visible and she was immediately on high alert. He approached the counter, swallowing nerves as he did, and cleared his throat. 

“Hi,” his voice was hoarse, she took the awkward silence as a moment to study him, he wore a striped shirt, loose jeans, and brown shoes, his hair could use a comb through. He extended his hand, “I’m Eddie, I think we go to school together.”

“Juliet,” she met his hand, “is that why you’re here, to tell me that we might go to school together? Or is there an ulterior motive, one that may explain why you and your friends have been spying on me the past week,” any speck of confidence Eddie had going into this was entirely gone. 

“I’m in a band with some friends and our bassist bailed on us pretty recently. My friend, Warren, he’s a junior like me, I think he’s in your math class, said he saw you play bass and that you were good. We just wanted to see you play before we formally asked.”

“Formally asked what?” She leaned up from her elbows that she had been propped on.

“Oh, to, uh, like,” he stopped himself, licking his lips and sighing, “would you want to maybe play bass for us?” His eyes instantly went to his shoes and he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. 

“Can I have a little more info maybe? It’s not personal, I just don’t know you, like at all and you could be the worst players for all I know.”

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: That one hurt, something about a younger kid who you have a solid five inches on insinuating that she’s better than you are, especially when you’re practically on your knees begging for her to help you out can feel like salt being rubbed into a fresh wound. 

JULIET OPAL: What else was I supposed to do? [Laughs] Just blindly follow the older boy who had been spying on me for a week to the alleged garage that he practices in with his alleged band and hope for the best? I paid attention in the stranger-danger assemblies, I knew better. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I invited her back to Billy and Graham’s but she said she had to close up for her uncle. Once we were out in L.A. she told me she actually just didn’t wanna leave with me and in hindsight, I can’t say I blame her.

The following morning Juliet and the Dunne Brothers skipped their first period and met in the Dunne’s garage. Juliet studied the wads of scribbled sheet music Billy had handed to her without looking her in the eye and she didn’t miss the way Eddie rolled his eyes at his hostility, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her upper lip curled into a smile as she saw his reaction. 

After rifling through the stack of papers, she picked out one at random, and set it down on the table in front of her, leaning over to scan in a few times before pulling the strap of her guitar over her head. She looked over to the group of boys, standing huddled together with Billy noticeably further away and Warren nodded fervently at her with a grin overtaking her face. 

After she played through the song, Billy made her play another, and another, and two more after that ‘for safety.’ Once he had run out of excuses for her to keep playing, he asked her to step out of the garage so they could confer with each other. After seven minutes and two overheard “c’mon man”s from Warren, Juliet was invited back into the garage and to serve as a temporary bass for the band, just until Billy could come to his final decision. 

JULIET OPAL: He was stubborn even then, I’m honestly surprised he let me in.

BILLY DUNNE: I didn’t want to let her in the band. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I wanted her in the band, I made sure Billy knew that.

JULIET OPAL: A week after I joined, we were playing a gig with​​ the Winters. 

The group stood backstage, listening to the music that was permeating into every corner of the room. Juliet stood sandwiched between Warren and Camila, listening to the band. They had a keyboardist, she caught Juliet’s eye once they had got backstage, when they finished playing and she got offstage, Juliet made a beeline for her, introducing herself. 

“I’m Karen,” she introduced herself, “you play with these guys?”

“Mhm, I’m on bass right now, but in an ideal world I’d steal Eddie over there’s job,” she pointed to him and he smiled back, nodding his head up at her, unknowingly, “I won’t though, kinda like him, at least more than I do Billy,” Karen nodded, opening her mouth to excuse herself from the conversation, “y’know I’ve been saying we need a keyboardist.”

“Have you now?” That piqued her interest she stopped in her tracks and smirked over her shoulder. 

“No,” she admitted, “but I’ve been thinking it.” Billy hollered her name, gesturing her over to the group, who were making their way onstage. She pulled a receipt with a phone number scribbled across it in black ink and handed it to Karen, “If you ever get sick of them, give me a call, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Do you always carry around drug store receipts with your phone number on them?”

“You never know who you might meet,” she shrugged and started sprinting towards the stage before calling out over her shoulder, “worked out this time. Wish me luck!”

KAREN SIRKO (keyboardist, The Six): She was so.. vivacious, so full of life. She apoke about a million miles a minute, if I wasn’t fully interested in what she was saying, I don’t think I would’ve caught a word of it. You have this young girl talking your ear off, she seems entirely sure of herself, but also still feels a need to prove to you that she deserves to be there.

JULIET OPAL: I liked Karen, how could I not? And based on the way events would play out, clearly I wasn’t the only one. 

WARREN ROJAS: It was a great gig, Julie did great, not that we weren’t expecting her to, we were just worried about her, she had never done anything in front of a crowd before, but she did everything that actually counted right. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: On the drive home she sat next to me and she told me I played well, then she leaned in and kinda whispered and she thanked me. She thanked me for being the one to ask her to join because she would’ve said no to anyone else. [Smiles]

[shy-urban-hobbit]

@elmonstro

Lambert finds out something about Aiden's past when the Cat accidentally gets triggered.

C/W past dub con/ non con but not between Aiden and Lambert. You have been warned.

The change in Aiden's mood was so swift it almost had Lambert choking. The scent of arousal moving to pure terror the minute Lambert pinned his wrists above his head, the Cats entire body going stiff as a board underneath him.

"Aiden?" He asked trying to catch the others eye, no easy task considering how they were rapidly darting around the room, looking at anything but him.

Looking for an escape Lambert realised.

"Please let me up." Aiden's voice sounded so small and meek and totally unlike the Cat who would yell dirty limericks at the top of his lungs, not caring who heard him. Lambert was off in an instant, barely moving away fast enough to avoid bumping heads with Aiden as he sat up, breathing deeply and absent mindedly rubbing his wrists, bringing his knees to his chest. Something had triggered him. Badly.

"Aiden?"

"Sorry, sorry. I just need a minute. I....it's fine. I'm fine."

"The fuck you are." Lambert went to put a hand on Aiden's shoulder in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture, trying not to let his hurt show when the Cat flinched away. This wasn't about him.

"Ok. I won't touch you, hands are staying right here. But will you please talk to me, what did I do that scared you?"

Aiden held up a finger and Lambert nodded in understanding before falling silent, wanting desperately to comfort the other but unsure how to until Aiden was ready to speak.

After several long minutes, the stink of Aiden's fear began to ebb away and be replaced with a nauseating mix of embarrassment and misery.

"I don't like being pinned down. I can't be pinned down, alright?" He gave a derisive laugh, still avoiding looking at Lambert, "I already know what you're going to say. You pin me like that all the time when we're training or wrestling but that's different it's not...sexual."

Lambert felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly at the implication, "Someone hurt you."

Aiden nodded, "More than I realised at first. I hadn't been on the path very long and...it was hard. I was lonely and miserable and then this person swooped in, they might have been the first one who wasn't afraid of me. They treated me like a person and weren't ashamed to be seen with me whenever I was able to visit them and I took it as a compliment how they only ever seemed to smell of lust when we were together and what they wanted in return seemed such a small thing in comparison...how could I say no when they endured so much shit just for being seen with me? It was a couple of years before some of my schoolmates found out and helped me realise exactly how fucked up this relationship actually was."

Lambert was fighting a losing battle to keep his anger in check as Aiden finally looked at him. All he could think to say was, "Are they still alive?"

Aiden shook his head, "A couple of my older brothers found me one season and told me they'd 'taken care' of it. They still refuse to elaborate on what exactly they did, but you've heard the stories about my school."

Damn. Lambert had already been making plans to present Aiden this bastards head on a platter. Oh well.

"And what do you need from me right now? Do you want me to stay or leave?"

"Will you stay?" He asked, looking at Lambert as if he was genuinely afraid the Wolf would refuse.

"Of course I will. You want me up here with you or on the floor?"

"I want to be held." The words left Aiden in a rush, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can...not now, but can you still just hold me. Please?"

Lambert shifted so he was lying on his side, "Nothing to apologise for Kitten, and for what it's worth, I want nothing more than to hold you right now. C'mere."

Aiden practically dove into Lambert's open arms, allowing himself to be enveloped as he snuggled as close as he could get without crawling into the others skin, "Thanks, Lam."

Lambert hummed in response, listening as Aiden's heartbeat slowed even more in sleep as the emotional toil caught up with him and totally unaware that his Wolf planned on keeping vigil the entire night to guard him from any nightmares which may be dragged into being by such unpleasant memories.

[setting-ink]

Finding Home

My first (very late) contribution to @sketchbookweek 2024!

This fic combines prompts from Day 1 & Day 2, both because it took me two days to write, and because it managed to wind up fitting Day 1: Home and Day 2: Past/Future well enough for me to justify it.

Read on AO3

Home was Tofoten, first. The house with her Aunt, the peaceful hills, and the half-remembered trauma. Johanna can remember now, the years with her parents, and the pain of losing them. But Tofoten stopped feeling like home a long time ago now. Being sent off to Trolberg was a mixed blessing. It soured her relationship with Astrid, but it was the place she came into herself. Joining the Sparrow Scouts, finding her love for art in boarding school. Trolberg came to feel more like home than it did an escape.

It was also where she met Anders. Anders admittedly never quite felt like home, which felt cruel to think, but she also had a feeling he’d agree. What they had was nice, for a time, and neither would ever regret it, given what it had brought them, but it was better now, with the understanding that they wanted different things out of life. Hilda had been the greatest gift she could have asked for, but with her birth came the desire for change. She wanted to give her daughter the chance to grow up away from the hustle and bustle. Somewhere peaceful, like Tofoten had been for her. But also as far away from Tofoten as she could get. Her grandfather’s cabin had been perfect for that, away from it all, with the peace to work, and for Hilda to grow. Hilda grew, she thrived. She met Twig, and he saved her, and became a welcome addition to their little family.

And so for a time, that was home. The Cabin, and Hilda. She loved them both dearly, but her daughter would always be the most important part of it all. So long as they were together, that would be enough. She hadn’t quite expected that to be put to the test so abruptly as it was, but the actions of giants are hard to plan for. And that meant moving back to Trolberg. It would be good for Hilda, she knew. Her own time there had done her wonders, and she’d been sent there at around the same age. She missed it, if she was honest with herself. Sure, Hilda would take time to adjust, but it would all be for the best. Johanna hadn’t quite expected there to be quite so much for her to adjust to. Alfur was strange, to begin with, but soon became a welcome presence, as another voice of reason in Hilda’s life. Well, an attempted voice of reason at least. Tontu had been a more difficult shift, her own biases making for an awkward start, to say the least. But soon it was difficult to imagine home without them. It was nice, to have more people in her life. Not that she had been lonely before. She had Hilda, and that was enough.

Johanna very pointedly did not think about what she’d do when Hilda would be old enough to move out. To explore the world, as she almost certainly would want to do. She could barely picture home without Hilda there. But that was years off still, and she wasn’t quite as alone anymore.

Losing Hilda had destroyed her. Yes, they found each other again, and Johanna understood why Trylla had done it. A mother’s love was a powerful thing, and she would do anything for Hilda. But it put things into perspective for her. So when Astrid invited them to visit, she accepted. Astrid had been home once, and once there, she found she had missed her quite a bit more than she’d thought. So to almost lose Hilda again to the Fairy Mound, the thing that had haunted her for years? It hurt. So back to Trolberg it was.

Anders visiting again was interesting, to say the least. She would never begrudge him time with Hilda, but she was disappointed on her behalf when he vanished again. He had never been perfect, but she’d thought him good enough to say goodbye, at least. So learning he’d been taken to the Fairy Country, and that Hilda had gone in to save him? She wished she could say she was surprised, but she knew her daughter better than to expect anything less. Going in after her was all she could do.

Home had been her parents once. She could barely process how much she had missed them, once she remembered them again. And surely, Fairy Country could be home for them, couldn’t it? Her, her parents, and Hilda, together, and free to fly. To catch up, to be together, after so long. It could be home. It could. For her, at least. But Hilda? Hilda had a life outside of her family, she had friends, great friends, and a whole world to explore. She couldn’t leave that behind. And Johanna would never forgive herself if she made her. Saying goodbye to her parents hurt. Losing Astrid hurt. Getting her back was unexpected, but she knew now that she was going to cherish every moment she got to spend with the people she cared about.

It was somewhat mortifying to realize that outside of Astrid, the people she cared about had all entered her life through Hilda. It’s one thing for your daughter to claim that you have no friends, and another entirely to realize that she was correct. It had been so easy for Johanna to imagine leaving her entire life in Trolberg behind, because who would she miss, really? Alfur and Tontu, certainly, and Twig, yes, but who then? Stilted conversation with David and Frida’s parents, the occasional chat with Gerda? Maybe it was time for her to find her people, like Hilda had done so well.

Spending time with the Librarian had been accidental, at first. She had gone to the library intent on finding a book, and was met with a very interesting looking woman, who was nice enough to not react visibly when asked where she could find a self-help book. She had simply pointed her in the right direction, and left it at that. She only spoke up when Johanna brought her selections to the checkout desk, informing her, oh no, not that one. Trite, reductive, you’ll feel worse about yourself after reading it. The other one’s fine though. Johanna had blinked, laughed, and then thanked her, as the Librarian set the apparently offending tome aside to be reshelved later. And the other book was in fact more than fine, and she resolved to take its advice to heart, reaffirming the relationships she actively enjoyed, and seeking out things that brought her joy. This meant making chats with Gerda a weekly thing, because the other woman could be quite the conversationalist, and moreover, was wholly non-judgemental about how long it had been since Johanna had proper friends. It meant spending a day out with Hilda and Anders, because if he was going to be living in Trolberg now, they may as well get used to each other again. It meant letting Tontu and Alfur know how much she appreciated what they did for her, and giving Twig an extra scratch near his antlers now and then. It meant talking with Raven Leader about volunteering for Sparrow Scout events, because she missed the sense of community that organization had brought about. It meant calling Astrid a bit more often, just to say hello.

It also meant that when she went to return the better-than-fine self-help book, she asked the Librarian if she had any recommendations. It was her turn to blink now, but she recovered quickly, giving Johanna a once-over before directing her to a marvelous work of dramatic fiction from an author she’d never heard of before. When it came time to return that, she was surprised when the Librarian had barely seen her come in before she smiled, and pointed her towards another equally enthralling book.

Johanna was a little upset with herself that it took until her fourth visit to realize she didn’t know the Librarian’s name, and had in fact just been thinking of her as ‘the Librarian’ with a capital L. But Kaisa was nice about it, saying if she wanted everyone to know, she’d wear a nametag. It felt nice, for some reason, the knowledge that she had apparently earned the right to know, somehow. And from there, it had felt easy to go from book recommendations to other topics, what she thought of Trolberg, what she thought of Trolls. (Kaisa didn’t seem the type to still be biased against them, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Johanna was glad to learn she had nothing to worry about there.) What she did outside of work, things like that. It was a bit surprising to learn that Kaisa apparently tutored Frida occasionally, but privately she was glad to hear it. Frida had made it very clear by now that she would go through hell and back for Hilda, so if she seemed to like Kaisa, all the better. Johanna tried not to think about why she cared about what her daughter and her friends would think of Kaisa.

Learning that Kaisa had already met, and was in fact quite familiar with her daughter, had only been slightly surprising. Hilda seemed to know everyone nowadays, and she’d certainly spent enough time at the library for it to make sense. Frankly, Kaisa had seemed more surprised about it than she was, although she was unsure if that was because she had never mentioned a daughter, or because, admittedly, Hilda was a good deal more outgoing than Johanna had ever been. But knowing that Hilda liked Kaisa? And that Kaisa seemed to like Hilda as well? (Provided, of course, she wasn't causing trouble?) It was heartwarming. For no particular reason, of course.

Kaisa being a witch was a bit more of a shock, but again, all the pieces fit looking back, and so when the two of them met up for coffee, she found herself asking some of the questions she could never quite bring herself to ask Frida. Things like just what Hilda being a familiar entailed, if there was anything she could be doing to keep her daughter safe. Whether or not Hilda being part Fairy would have any impact. It was her turn to shock Kaisa now, apparently, because then she was the one with questions. How much is part, on which side of the family, could you tell me a bit about Fairy Country? It had been a bit embarrassing to have to tell her that she didn’t actually know all that much, but she did pass on Astrid’s number, in the hopes her Aunt could help Kaisa out a bit.

The phone call she received afterwards from Astrid, asking just who this witch was that Johanna was spending so much time with, telling so much to, was more than just a bit embarrassing. Because she was spending a good bit of time with her nowadays, more than just at the library, and perhaps it was time to be honest with herself about the why. Kaisa was interesting, and not just for the obvious reasons. She was witty, she was fun. Johanna felt comfortable with her, and she seemed to enjoy Johanna’s company. Johanna liked her. And perhaps that was too simple a sentiment, but it was true. She enjoyed the time she spent with Kaisa. And she wanted to keep enjoying it.

Because Kaisa was starting to feel like home.

[loxare]

This is niche. This is niche as hell. But Dead Boy Detectives/The World Ends With You crossover. I don't have plot, only an opener and v i b e s

Post Nico-being-alive, actually-reveal, or whatever's going on with her. Because Nico's cousins, Beat and Rhyme, are getting shipped off to London so Nico can be a good influence on them

(Neither of them need a good influence, they're both good kids. But the Bito parents don't seem to agree with me. Also Rhyme probably gets into hacking crimes, by which I mean she's been hacking away student debt or stealing CEO money or something)

(Yes, Nico, who basically dropped out of boarding school, """faked""" her death and moved to London to solve ghost crimes with ghosts is a good influence. The Bito parents are mean/delusional)

Nico is so sad because while her cousins are here, she won't be able to solve ghost crimes with her ghost friends. Happy to see her cousins, of course, it's been a few years, but. ghost crimes.

And then Beat walks in and, after giving Nico a big hug and complimenting her hair, is just "who's these dudes? 'Sup?"

(he learned English from hip hop and skater vids so yeah he still talks like that, it's great)

and Rhyme is all "oh are there dead people here?"

and Nico is all "yay! I can still solve ghost crimes with my ghost friends!"

and Edwin is all "I apologize, what? How can he see us?"

(Beat can see them because he did the Game twice, once while he was alive. Rhyme still can't see dead people because she doesn't remember anything of her time in the first Game, and didn't play the second. But probably something happens and Rhyme, already primed to see ghosts and things because of the Game, can now see ghosts and things)

Beat and Rhyme help Crystal figure out how she can be true to herself, regardless of her parents' expectations of her. They have lots of practice at that by this point

Beat being all blushy about his boyfriend back home helps to normalize gay relationships for Edwin, who could use a gay role model (Cat King doesn't count)

Rhyme takes down the school Charles and Edwin went to by forwarding a list of all the kids who have died there (and were covered up by old money hush money) to the local papers and governments

and then Beat and Charles burn it down with molotovs

Nico gets to come out of her shell even more as she shows her cousins around London

I have a very strong image of the kids facing down a huge supernatural threat and they're out of weapons and Charles' bag is on the other side of the room or something and Beat is just "hey, can you lend me one of your pins?" and then Charles is like "???" but gives him one of his ska pins and then Beat summons a huge fuckin soundwave that disintigrates the thing

Rhyme learns some magic from Edwin and uses it back home to fuck with the Games even more. If her brother goes missing again, so help her, she will find and torch Joshua's whole house

I just need Beat and Charles to be wholesome, angry but very very kind punks together. Charles learns to skateboard. Beat learns how to make a molotov and swing a baseball bat to devastating effect. They swap mixed cds

[hexpea]

Ch. 19 - Execution

The four of you sat quietly, awkwardly, on the bullet train ride home. Gojo happily munched on his kikufuku with his legs stretched and feet crossed in what was almost your entire foot space across from him. You held your arms tight to your chest and stared out the window as Megumi sat next to you. The boy, you learned was Itadori Yuji, was still unconscious in the seat next to Gojo. He would remain so for your safety where Ieiri could take a better look at him. The light on the train was bright and uncomfortable against the dark sky, the air back to being stale and almost bringing back your churning stomach. You wedged your feet beneath your seat as you tried to keep your thoughts clear. 

You hadn't noticed it while looking outside that Megumi had a thoughtful expression, having barely taken his eyes off of you since you boarded the train. It had been two whole years since the 'divorce' and this mission forced what looked to be an uncomfortable reunion between you and his teacher. 

Megumi cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled and causing your attention to snap in his direction. "It's kinda' awkward, isn't it?" He finally said, his voice laced with his usual stoicism. 

Your eyes shot a sidelong glance at Gojo, whose nonchalant expression hadn't wavered. Though, you could tell that he was staring at you from behind his blindfold. It was, honestly, off-putting. He then licked his lips that were coated in powder from the kikufuku and gave you a small, sly smile. "That's an understatement," you muttered under your breath.

Megumi continued, "I mean, I knew this mission might be a little tense, but I didn't expect the two of you to show up together. Especially after...everything."

You sighed softly, now avoiding eye contact with either of them. "Yeah, well, life's full of surprises, isn't it?" You grumbled and stared back out the window. 

Gojo shifted in his seat, making himself even more comfortable at your expense. It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing, trying to get under your skin on purpose.  "C'mon, Megumi, it's just a little family reunion, right?" He grinned, seemingly unbothered by the situation. 

Megumi's expression remained serious. "You guys have a strange definition of 'family reunion.'"

Gojo's grin faltered for a moment before he chuckled, not quite meeting Megumi's lazy gaze. "Well, we can't always choose our family, right?" He clearly teased, a bit of tension in the air. 

As you listened to their exchange, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. It was true that you'd gone your separate ways after the 'divorce.' You expected to see neither of them again, but the circumstances had brought you together and then some, though Megumi didn't know about your dirty, little secret. 

"Just remember, Satoru," you turned to your ex-husband, gaze piercing his blindfold, "this is a serious mission. We're dealing with a curse that could become a real problem if we don't handle it correctly." You made sure to glance at Megumi, whose choice it was to spare Itadori's life. While you understood where Megumi was coming from, little things like letting your emotions get the best of you was dangerous in this line of work. Itadori had to be executed, even as much as it displeased you.

Gojo nodded, his playful attitude giving way to seriousness. "Right, right. We'll do what we have to do." He tone seemed like some kind of indicator. He had quite a pattern of getting his way around the higher-ups. If only that had happened with your arranged marriage.

The train sped along the tracks, taking you all back to Tokyo. It was an unexpected turn of events, but you were a professional, and you had to put aside differences for the sake of the mission. The past may have shaped your relationships, but the present required your full attention and cooperation. 

When you arrived back at the school, Satoru took Itadori to the infirmary where he could be babysat by Ieiri. She wanted to do a full look over to see if there were any abnormal physical changes after consuming such a powerful object. Megumi went about his own business, likely slinking back to his dorm room to do whatever it was Megumi did those days. Though you were close during your marriage, it was clear Megumi was left feeling a little hurt regarding the divorce. You felt bad for having to put him through that strife, suddenly being absent in his life and left to deal with his immature teacher.

Meanwhile, you had an execution room to prepare. The higher-ups hadn't approved of Itadori's stay of execution, the boy set to be killed later that evening as soon as you finished preparing the talismans that would help you amplify your technique to seal the room. 

Satoru sat backward on one of the wooden chairs in the room, resting his chin on his forearms across the back of it. He watched as you pasted your handwritten talismans on the wall. The room was dimly lit from the lanterns you had scattered about on the floor. 

Your heart felt heavy. Death was never an easy thing, let alone the death of someone who had to be taken so young. It immediately brought you back to the thought of what, of who, was growing within you and the potential future you faced. You swallowed hard at the thought, closing your eyes and hesitating with the current talisman you were hanging. The secrets you kept were taking quite a toll on your mind.

You continued to paste the talismans on the wall, your thoughts a jumbled mess as you prepared for the somber task ahead. As you focused on your work, you failed to notice Satoru's blindfolded, contemplative gaze on you. 

After a while, he finally spoke, his voice low and gentle. "You seem troubled, Y/N." He was referencing your pause just a moment ago when you were briefly lost in thought.

You turned to look at him. You had hoped you were putting on a successful facade, but instead you had to feign innocence. "Well, Satoru, it's not every day you prepare for an execution, is it?"

His gaze up at you through his blindfold was unwavering, and he leaned forward on the chair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "That's true, but there's something else, isn't there? Something that's been bothering you more than the other current events."

You bit your lip and decided to play it cool. You hated how right he was. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

His eyes bore into yours despite the fabric separating his direct gaze. You were still intimidated despite not seeing his full expression. "I think you know exactly what I mean. I went into the bathroom this morning when you went to eat, I found what made you panic."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the color drain from your face. There was no use denying it any longer. "What...are you talking about?" You continued pasting talismans, your hands now visibly shaking as you did so.

Satoru's expression remained calm, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that you couldn't see. "The pregnancy test, Y/N."

Your stomach churned with anxiety as you fumbled with the stack of talismans you held, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him and almost dropping them to the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He sighed, his tone still gentle but tinged with a trace of sorrow. "Y/N, you don't have to hide it. It's Seiko's kid, isn't it?"

You finally met his gaze, your brow furrowed when you realized he didn't get the full picture. You held your pause for a few seconds, feeling a knot form in your throat. Your voice trembled, squeaking out of you, as you admitted the truth. "It's not Seiko's child, Satoru. It couldn't be..."

He sat up a bit straighter and you noticed his own brow furrowed from beneath his blindfold. Curiosity, confusion, and concern were etched across his features. "Then whose child is it?"

You stared at him for a moment, holding your expression but thinking to yourself 'Whose else could it be?!' You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you held your worried expression. "Yours." 

Your heart beat in your chest relentlessly as fear washed over your body and mind. You were terrified of his reaction, watching his expression shift like a deer in headlights. You breathed heavily, steadily to keep yourself in the moment. Satoru's eyes widened behind his blindfold in shock as your words hung in the air, the room seemingly growing still. Then, his initial surprise transformed into a mix of emotions. He grinned with a hint of his usual cockiness and a touch of genuine warmth. "Well, I must say, that's quite the surprise Y/N."

His nonchalant response caught you off guard. You blinked in disbelief, stuttering slightly. "You're...not...angry?"

Satoru chuckled, standing up from his chair and approaching you. He placed his hands gently on your waist, the distance between you a bit more intimate than it should be. Your hands rested delicately on his chest as you looked up at him. 

"Angry? No, not at all," he breathed out and pulled down his blindfold so you could properly see his facial expression, a genuine smile on his lips. His brow was upturned with a bit of sympathy when his soft, affectionate gaze locked onto yours. "In fact, I'm...thrilled, I think." He gave a light chuckle. "Y/N, we're going to have a baby."

You stared at him closely, your mind swirling with many different thoughts and emotions. The reaction was not what you were expecting and you were almost instantly charmed. His words sent shivers down your spine, not only from the news but from the way that he said it back to you. It was, as if, in that moment, he was expressing the feelings that he had kept hidden for so long. You found yourself drawn to him, your lips inching closer to his only to halt when you caught wind of your unconscious movement.

"I was so scared to tell you, Satoru," you felt a knot forming in your throat, your voice a hushed tone as your breath mingled with his. "I didn't know how you'd react...considering the circumstances."

He tilted his head, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze better. "Y/N, no matter what's happened between us, we'll face this together." His voice was softer, and he moved even closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. "I promise I'll be there for you, and our child, every step of the way. I may be childish, but I'm not a child." 

With that, he closed the remaining distance, sealing his promise with a tender, passionate kiss that left no doubt in your mind regarding your feelings for him. In that intimate moment, it became clear that your feelings had never truly faded, despite the years that had passed. Your secret had brought you back together, and now, you had only one secret left to tell...to Seiko.

As the two of you parted, deeply looking into one another's eyes, a knock on the steel door startled you. Without being addressed, Ieiri walked in with Itadori trailing, staying just outside the door to watch with a look of curious wonder at all of the slips of paper you had pasted to the wall.

"Hey," she twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, "sorry if I'm...interrupting something," she noted the proximity between you both which caused you to quickly take a step back from Gojo, his hands quickly letting go of your waist. "Kid's awake, time to do your duty, Satoru," she used her head to motion toward Itadori.

You looked up at Gojo with a worried expression as if to signal to make sure he did the right thing. You followed Ieiri out. Gojo quickly followed behind and tapped two fingers to Itadori's forehead and he quickly passed out into Gojo's arms. Gojo smoothly placed Itadori in one of the two chairs in the room, his body slinking down into the seat. 

"Can't be too safe," Gojo winked at you while pulling up his blindfold with one hand as you watched with an appalled look on your face.

You shook your head at him as he turned to tie Itadori's hands. Ieiri shut the door to the execution chamber and you began to recite the enchantment as she walked away. 

You held your right hand up perpendicular to your body, fingers spread wide. You began to speak, "contain from chaos, bound by stillness, imprison that which seeks to devour," as you spoke, your left hand came up to make a circular motion around your right, as if drawing a barrier around it. This enchantment, your technique...only your power had the ability to contain curses in such a way. The curtains that other sorcerers cast were a simple maneuver that your family was able to teach others through each era; it became a standard in the present practices.

As you spoke, the talismans on the outside of the door began to glow a malevolent red. Gojo and Itadori were sealed alone in the room and it was up to Gojo to decide Itadori's fate. You had no idea what you'd open the door to once all was said and done.

[fuzzkaizer]

Montreal Assembly - Worng Side Of Uranus

"If you’re a regular Cabinet peruser, you’ve joined me as I waxed nostalgic for time periods I’ve never lived in, you’ve noticed me orating some company and component history, and you’ve almost certainly seen me talk about the best effects in their respective classes. And while there are plenty of classes and there is certainly enough love to go around, today I present you with my favorite pedal of all time: the Montreal Assembly Wrong Side of Uranus.

While many of you know Scott Monk and his amazing company for the Count to 5, he’s been in business for much longer than you think, and he’s made more things than most people know about. I first found out about him in 2009 while chasing wares by one of pedal history’s most sought-after builders, Etienne Blythe of Sonic Crayon.

If you were as into pedals as I was in the late-aughts… well, there’s a chance you still may never have heard of Sonic Crayon. However, at one time, Sonic Crayon’s wares were in extreme demand, with resellers ransacking the limited inventory and flipping the pedals for four times the price. His most famous may have been the Hollow Earth. His most unobtainable may have been the Anti-Nautilus. The one I wanted was the Moth.

The Moth was Sonic Crayon’s bitcrusher, and back in 2008 and 2009, that wasn’t an effect you could get just anywhere. However, Sonic Crayon had an old-school way of doing things: When he felt like making a batch, he did. Then he put 10 or so up for sale on his blog, and by word of mouth they’d sell out in minutes. One time, when checking his blog for a potential drop, I saw a new post where he said that if you’re tired of waiting for a Moth, there’s another Canadian guy making bitcrushers and that his were admittedly better. Who am I to argue? Let’s go.

That company was Montreal Assembly. At that time, Scott had only released two pedals, the Uranus and another insane device called Probability of a Fax Machine. When I heard the crude “basement demos,” I was sold. The problem: the sales tactics were exactly the same as Sonic Crayon—made and sold whenever. I never caught one. But my friend did.

My friend had gone off to college and left a present for me. I took a train and met their dad at a station in the suburbs, retrieved the box and opened it right there on the train. The Uranus was inside. When I got home I plugged everything I could into it. I messaged its creator, Scott, on Gmail Chat and geeked out when he answered.

I asked him if it was possible to add a mix circuit to the Uranus and Scott took time out of studying for signal processing exams to draw me up a somewhat complicated add-on schematic. Being somewhat intermediate with prototyping board, I hadn’t done a whole lot of my own stripboard layouts. Be that as it may, I cobbled it together. It worked. Now, I could blend the clean signal in with the bitcrushed one.

Despite being housed in a spray painted computer project box and featuring a barren aesthetic landscape, the Uranus is an impeccably engineered piece of sonic kit. Like most bitcrushers, there are knobs for bit rate and sample rate reduction. The third is volume. However, the bit rate knob is a pushbutton rotary encoder; as you turn it, it displays the bitrate in the seven-segment display. When the pedal is in bypass, the display flashes “bypass,” one letter at a time. Pressing down on the rotary encoder cycles through a slew of modes—ten to be exact—called things like “Dialup,” “Hostile” and more, including an incredible bitcrushed trem called “Blipo'' and a modulated sample rate mode called “Plunger.” It’s total labor-of-love stuff and I am here for it.

Mine is labeled 2010 and is one of a handful known to exist, and the only one with this mix knob. You may have seen one in a promotional photo that Strymon posted of its El Capistan being used in the studio by Godspeed! You Black Emperor, with the Uranus riding sidesaddle. Many, many people have never heard of it, and some of you may have never heard of Montreal Assembly before now. I urge you to change that.

At NAMM 2020, I actually saw Scott walking by our booth and I recognized him from some old demos. I ran down the aisle and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked right at me, then read my name badge, looked back up and said “Heyyy, Kula, how’s that bitcrusher treating you?” What a legend."

cred: catalinbread.com/blogs/kulas-cabinet/montreal-assembly-wrong-side-of-uranus