#I DIDN'T EVEN PICK THEM OUT!!! This was the only spare frame they had that fit the lens 😳!!!!

[maddymoreau]

So the frames to my glasses broke.

Luckily, my optometrist and eye care place are SUPER cool. They have an entire section in their building dedicated just to repairing glasses. However, if your glasses are too damaged they also have a box full of discontinued frames available.

They gave me a pair and popped my current lenses into them. Since there wasn't any available appointments until August and-

THEY’RE MR. HOUSE'S COLORS!!!!

[my-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

Mirage x Reader

(Hurt/Comfort)

It's a billion degrees here so thinking is hard and I've been imagining cold... This fic of Mirage keeper reader warm after a snowy rescue was born. As the last fic proves, I just love writing Mirage cuddles, and can you blame me?

Look at him. Absolute cuddlebug. Has to be.

---

Everything was cold and aching when you came to, but considering you'd expected not to wake up at all, you could tentatively call that a win. Too exhausted and pained to shiver, you cracked your eyes open as sounds finally drifted into focus. A blue figure moved through the darkness with curses of frantic frustration, their inhumanly large frame bent over a pile of damp wood they were having no luck lighting. Recognizing their familiar shade of blue in the brief flashes of light from their attempted fire, you perked up despite your exhaustion.

"Mirage?"

The mech snapped his helm around, optics wider than you'd ever seen them as he looked at you in total disbelief.

"Hey, you're not dead!" he gushed as he crawled across the cave, looking so overjoyed he must not have believed you'd ever speak again. Too worn out and stiff to chuckle, you managed to crack a smile as the mech leaned over you, seemingly drinking in your presence as if he hadn't seen you in ages. Not having the slightest clue how you'd gotten here, you found your head free of worry despite your injuries, and you couldn't resist the urge to crack a joke.

"Should I be?"

"No, definitely not! Don't you go getting any ideas!" Mirage replied, his tone a solid mix of playful admonishment and serious warning. Adjusting a small emergency blanket that you'd been loosely swaddled in, he fretted long enough for you to pick up on his worry despite the continued jokes. "I've busted my aft keeping you alive this long, you don't get to put all my hard work to waste."

"What happened?" you asked as you tried to hug the blanket closer, numb fingers making it nearly impossible. Confused but able to recall a blurry series of events, the lack of other Autobots stuck out to you, especially when you remembered the whole group had been together in battle the last time you'd seen them. Not seeing a single other being in the cave activated your worry. "Where's-?"

"Shhh, questions take stamina you can't spare. I'll do the talking for both of us." Mirage interrupted gently, still teasing but sounding much softer as he encouraged you to lie back. The warmth of his servo and the comfort of his much larger frame beside yours allowed you to relax and listen, but as you did so It became apparent you were still quite exhausted, and you had to fight the urge to sleep. A fascinating narrative made consciousness stick around despite your heavy eyelids. "It took some expert tracking, but Bee was able to find two sets of tracks; a big ugly bot and the human he was tearing after. Unfortunately enough for him, we found him first."

Now you could remember how you'd gotten into this mess; running from a Decepticon and trying to lose them in the dense, frozen forest... The last thing you'd seen of Mirage had been the main battle, and you couldn't even begin to recall how long you'd been out in the cold, but it was good to know everything had more or less worked out. If only you weren't so terribly cold...

"I don't know how you outran him, but you were sorta... asleep and awake when we found you, so cold you weren't even shivering. We called Noah, and he's arranging to meet Optimus somewhere "clandestine" and escort a medic this way. They're gonna look you over and then pretend they didn't see us." Mirage continued. Nodding in incomplete understanding, you tried to keep your eyes open, and would have yawned if you'd had the strength. You knew what was being said meant a lot to you, and that a doctor was very much in order, but it all felt so far away. Aching body going increasingly numb, you barely found the strength to reply.

"Thank you..." you croaked, so terribly tired you couldn't convince yourself that staying awake was worth it. Mirage reacted swiftly, cupping his hand behind your head and looking into your eyes. The fear in his optics made you yearn for the energy to comfort him, but as it was you couldn't even understand why he was so upset.

"Don't thank me, just stay awake, yeah?" he encouraged, positive facade crumbling as he scooped you up in a panic. Feeling his chest, which radiated a reduced but still appreciable amount of warmth, you sighed and leaned into his embrace. The speedster held you tightly against him, digits patting your cheek as he tried to get you to focus on him. "Talk to me, Y/N, tell me what I can do."

"Cold..." was all you could say, exhaustion all but dragging you down into unconsciousness. Only your desire not to upset him kept you awake, but you knew there was precious little fight left in you. Mirage frantically reached back to the damp wood he'd been attempting to dry and ignite with his blaster.

"Okay, okay... I can... Scrap, I can't get this to light!" he cried in briefly hopeless frustration, his servo transforming back into a limb so he could hold you close to share what little warmth he had to spare. The pain in his expression compelled you to comfort him, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but lay your hand on the glowing center of his chest. You only wanted him to know it was alright, but the mech took much more from the gesture, his optics widening before his brows furrowed in determination. "Plan B then; come here."

Snapping open his chest panels and revealing the beautiful yet surprisingly soft glow of his spark, he pulled you close, allowing you to practically snuggle against the heat generating essence of his being.

"Sorry if this is weird... but it's warm, right?" he said quickly, aware of the awkward intimacy even if the situation was desperate. Being held so close allowed you to finally thaw after hours of exposure, and the feeling of life returning to your limbs was soothing enough to compel you to sigh. Cradling you tightly against his spark, Mirage sat back against the cave wall and relaxed at your increasingly less pallid complexion, returning to a more playful tone filled with affection. "My spark always runs hot, part of being an Outlier. I'll keep you close until the doc gets here. Least I can do for my little space heater."

Smiling back at the joke, you sighed once more and touched your hand to his spark, able to feel the soft hum soothing your aching body. As much as you still yearned for sleep, being so close gave you the strength to stay awake a little longer, the growing ease in his frame compelling you to keep going for both your sakes. A tender cupping of your face helped make you all the more certain that everything was going to be alright.

Mirage continued to encourage you, the devotion in his spark more than warm enough to keep the dark, frigid cold of the cave at bay. "You just keep getting nice and toasty. I've got you..."

[chiefdirector]

I'm feeling kinda sappy.

Could I ask for a story where Gibbs gets married to the reader and she moves into his house. Gibbs is away on a case and maybe she starts going through boxes in the basement and digs up pictures of his mom, dad, Kelly and Shannon. She hangs up a bunch of their pictures on a wall. Gibbs comes home sees it. He stares at it and is very quiet. The reader is nervous but then Gibbs tells her it's perfect and no one he's ever been married to wanted to honor them like this.

we keep this love in a photograph... | Jethro Gibbs | NCIS

I know it isn't exactly how you asked, but i took a few liberties, hope you don't mind

-

(Y/N) knew she shouldn't have been snooping around, it could break the trust that she worked so hard to earn, but she couldn't resist. Jethro had recently asked her to move in with him, a big step considering the nature of their relationship. They had to work together and trust that their lives would be safe in the other's hands, but living together meant not only trusting your life with someone, but opening it up to them too.

She knew that Jethro had a past filled with too much sorrow for one man to carry alone. He had tried to bury it in failed marriage after failed marriage, eventually resigning himself to the bachelor lifestyle. He had tried to continue his ways when he met her, but she was something new, something unexpected.

Vance had given (Y/N) the day off to move her stuff in and get settled fully. She had spent countless nights and weeks here with her lover but had never really left anything here except a toothbrush and a spare set of clothes. She never really needed anything more. It was easy enough to part ways with most of her belongings, sofas and dinings chairs never meant all to much anyways. Managing to fit most of her stuff her a pick-up truck, she had set off to her new home.

It was only when she opened the old hallway cupboard to store her now empty suitcases did she find the box. It wasn't labeled, but the creases and fingermarks on the cardboard showed that it had been opened and shut rigorously over the years. The rest of Jethro house was meticulously organised, there wasn't anything that didnt have its own place. Nothing was stored where it wasn't meant to. Especially old boxes.

Slowly, she opened the box and peered inside, being greeted by several picture frames. Most of them were empty, or cracked. There was no reason to keep any of them. Still she flicked through the frames. Lifting the last, she made eye contact with a young redhead holding a small infant. Even though (Y/N) didn't recognise the faces, she knew who they belonged to; Shannon and Kelly.

Quickly, she put the box back, but left the final frame out. She placed it on the sofa before trekking down to the basement, her mind focussed on one thing only.

----

Jethro got home hours after the sunset.

The house was quiet and still, he had expected as much. After toeing off his shoes, made his was through the house, intending to set the coffee maker ready for the morning. One less thing to think about in the far too early hours of the day. He stopped before he made it to the kitchen.

Jethro wasn't a man that hesitated, but the sight of his smiling wife and daughter handing on the wall made him freeze. Her bright eyes and red hair was the last thing he had expected to see, but after the day he had, he couldn't be more thankful.

He took a moment, turning to his left to find (Y/N) laying on the couch, nails and hammer strewn messily on the coffee table. Her engagement ring shone in the moonlight. Gently, he shook her shoulder to wake her.

(Y/N) hummed tiredly. "You're home?"

"Thank you." Jethro said, ignoring her question.

She shot up at the memory of what she had done. Making eye contact with him, then the photograph. "You don't mind. I didn't overstep, did I?"

"Not at all." Jethro sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her onto his chest. "Not at all."

Tags:

@innercreationflower

[dilftaroooo]

wait, I can ask anon right? If so c-could you please do aoi todou with confession? 🥺 m-maybe y/n is short(with a big ass tho, cause we know that be happening), like shorter than nobara cause she's 5'3. y/n is so worried about meeting todous physical preferences that she doesn't even realize that he fawn's over her?/??? it would soooo cute

tags: fluff :3 + aoi thinkin bout ur ass + no sex tho :3 + me writing this at 5’8

You knew about Aoi's type; tall girls with a fat ass. At least you checked off one of the boxes, right? Ooh, but you still aren't suuure! You've seen the celebrities him and Yuuji sought for and all of them were tall, gorgeous women with long legs and a nice, pert ass to top it off. There's no way he would be with you. You're small, teetering over the edge of five foot-two but five foot-four in your tallest pair of heels. That's not enough! But...you never know unless you ask, so why don't you go ahead and give it a shot.

You wait until he's no longer around his friends, too shy to confess to him in front of them (also, to spare you from the humiliation you might get once he disregards your confession). He's so tall, you can only reach the bottom of his muscular pecs!

You'd give an awkward cough to catch his attention. He'd be lying if he said that you didn't catch him by surprise, not expecting to see your timid frame in front of him.

"H-hey Aoi," Your words are as meek as your stance, hands crossed over your torso holding your shoulders as though you're concealing your body from him with your head looking down to watching your feet, sneakers digging into the dirt as you try to muster up the courage to continue what you came to him for. You feel his gaze on and you almost want to cry.

Aoi takes a minute to quietly observe you; you're wearing a white, knitted sweater with bootcut leggings that fitted your petite figure. He especially notices the leggings you decided to wear--it was loose around the calves for the 'bootcut' effect but trailing his eyes further up, he mentally thanks whatever brand leggings you were wearing because it worked wonders around the thickness of your thighs and the fat of your ass which would slightly jiggle whenever you leaned your weight over to another leg.

A faint hue of crimson decorates his cheeks once he realize how perverted his thoughts were towards you. This was gross--he was gross. How can he think of a lovely lady in such a way? 'Snap out of it, Aoi!'

"What's up, (Y/n)-chan! Haven't spoken to you today yet." He tries to play it off but deep inside his stomach is running laps. You just looked so stunning today. Always. Your lips were always moist with your favorite lipgloss, your scent was always in the heavenly of fragrances, your hair was always moisturized and well taken care of. You were always stunning to him. He adored you so much that when you managed to spit out your feelings for him through those hesitant, glossy lips, he almost lost consciousness and fainted on the spot.

You? Like him? It can't be. You were way out of his league and he told you this, which had you even more surprised. You couldn't believe it! He thinks you're too pretty for...him? Your heart skips a beat and you grin a million grins before giving him a large hug, reminding him how much he means to you. It only takes a second for him to give you a wide smile before effortlessly picking you up and exchanging the hug (you can barely wrap your legs around his broad torso while doing so).

[cece693]

I've Moved On (Bella Swan x Male Reader)

This is how I envision New Moon to end cause I know for a fact I wouldn't have easily forgiven Edward for his stunt. Bella went easy on his ass, I swear.

Summary: After the whole Volterra incident, Edward believes everything can go back to normal, but what if Bella had moved on like he insisted? What if now it's her who breaks things off?

This conversation was long overdue, Bella thought, watching as Edward once again tried to hold her hand over the car's shift stick but retreated when she pulled her hand further onto her lap. His gold eyes stared worriedly at her, yet Bella only looked out the Volvo's window, not wanting to say anything until they arrived at the safety of her home.

Charlie was, thankfully, still at work, so the house was void of any additional ears. Edward had insisted they go to the Cullen's house, but in all honesty, Bella didn't want to reunite with the people who had so easily left her. With Edward's absence, Bella understood that the Cullens only accepted her due to her relationship with Edward, not because they genuinely liked her. If they did, why didn't any of them try to reach out, even Alice, who called herself her best friend, had ignored the multitude of emails she'd sent.

"Edward, we need to talk." Bella finally voiced after what felt like an eternity spent in silence. They would reach her house shortly, so now would be a good time to begin this conversation.

"Of course," Edward replied, a reassuring smile on his face, yet it didn't alleviate any of Bella's anxiousness. Even if she was breaking up with Edward, she wanted to spare his feelings. From what she'd gathered, this was, like her, his first relationship. "Would it make you more comfortable if we did this inside?" he sought, after the Volvo parked in the driveway. Nodding, Bella was about to open her own door, when Edward beat her to it.

"Thanks."

Opening the front door, the hinges creaked open, revealing the familiar yet transformed interior. In those few seconds, Edward couldn't help but notice the subtle changes. Where there once were only photos of a young Bella, now included photos of the Swan family standing beside a young male.

"Who's he?" Edward sought, gently taking hold of a picture frame when Bella came into view. At first glance, he could have been mistaken for a family friend, but something in the image suggested more. Edward's keen eyes caught the hand around Bella's waist and the broad smile she wore, a smile that was oh-so-familiar to him.

"That's m/n." Bella whispered, "my boyfriend."

Edward, taken aback by the revelation, involuntarily dropped the frame. It hit the floor with a crash, the sound of breaking glass punctuating the weighty silence. His eyes met Bella's, a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a hint of hurt evident in his expression. "Why didn't you tell me?" Edward asked, his voice tinged with a sense of betrayal.

"I didn't know how to." Bella admitted, "And with everything that happened in Volterra, I couldn't."

"Okay." Edward whispered, bending down to pick up the photograph. "So when are you breaking up with him? I know it won't be easy—"

"Who says I'm breaking up with m/n?" Bella voiced, her tone firm. "Edward, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

Edward's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Bella, you can't mean that. After everything that happened between us, you're telling me we're through? I know I left, and you don't know how much I regret that day, but we can work it out. I still love you." Desperate, Edward came closer to Bella and held her hand. "Please give me another chance."

"No." Bella whispered, retracting her arm, her expression unyielding. "Edward, you left. Don't you see the hypocrisy in that? I moved on like you told me to, but now that I'm moving on with life, ask me to give us another chance? No. I won't leave m/n for you."

"But—" Edward tried again, but Bella shook her head.

"Please...just leave and forget I ever existed."

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Promptober: Day Thirty One

Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson 2263 words.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN👻

It was fun to rile Steve up. That’s why you were dressed in nothing but Eddie’s clothes. 

Not that you were wearing many of them. You’d spent the afternoon with your boys, lazy and cosy with the two of them in Steve’s house. There had been rain on the windows all day, nothing to do other than stay inside and ride out the late October storm with your two favourite people. 

Steve and Eddie had stuck on movie after movie, bickering gently about each choice, rarely agreeing but watching the other wanted anyway and you’d eased in and out of the room, leaving them half dressed and splayed out in Steve’s big bed. Every now and then you’d return with cookies, a new can of soda for them, a book you’d chosen to read for a while and each time you received a kiss from both. 

You’d been gone a while this time, smirking at yourself in the mirror in one of the Harrington’s many spare bedrooms. You’d picked up Eddie’s clothes from Steve’s desk chair without either boy even noticing, too busy arguing over if Eddie would be able to rock a hat like Indiana Jones. 

“You don’t have the hair for it,” Steve had commented mildly and Eddie had pinched him. 

But their bickering allowed you to strip off, down to your black underwear, bra long forgotten and somewhere on Steve’s bedroom floor but it didn't matter ‘cause you were pulling on Eddie’s hellfire shirt, the hem hitting the tops of your thighs, his leather jacket sitting a little lower. 

The zips were cold against your bare skin, the jacket heavier than you’d thought it would've been and you were cursing yourself for not grabbing his denim vest when you had the chance. 

But you fluffed up your hair, wished you had some fishnets and heels to really finish off the look but you were already sneaking back down the hall, calling out to the boys as you neared. 

“Hey, guys?” You were already grinning. “I think I’ve found my Halloween costume.”

Both boys fell silent as you appeared in the doorway, hip popped and leaning against the frame, eyes bright, playful. 

“This is favouritism,” Steve said, at the same time Eddie moaned and sighed:

“That’s fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.”

Steve couldn’t deny that, he wouldn’t dare. You looked as hot as Eddie did in the leather jacket, hotter, he’d even say. But there was something that flared in the pit of his stomach that felt a little like jealousy and the only way he knew how to make it better, was to get his hands on you. 

Immediately. 

So he abandoned the movie, let the remote fall to the side and he moved to the edge of the bed, beckoned you forward with one hand and a dirty smile. 

“C’mere, baby.”

You grinned, playing coy as you took each step too slow, sauntering into the room with more attitude than you could afford to have ‘cause Steve looked like he wanted to fuck it out of you. 

You stopped just before Steve, hands clasped behind your back, twisting to and fro. 

Eddie snorted, lay spread out on the bed behind Steve, bare chested and smirking. “Oh she’s feeling brave, huh?”

Steve grinned and tilted his head, levelling you with a gaze that made your knees a little weak. He reached out and caught the edge of the shirt, pulling you in gently. You didn’t resist, tiptoeing over to stand between Steve’s spread knees. 

“This is nice,” Steve murmured, running his finger and thumb over the leather. “You good, baby.”

Eddie moved in, curling around Steve as he hooked his chin over the other boy's shoulder, biting down on his bottom lip as he hummed in agreement, eyes hot and heavy on you. 

“She does, doesn’t she?” Eddie grinned. “Too bad you’re makin’ poor Stevie feel left out.”

“Mmm,” Steve sighed, trying to sound sadder than he looked. Both boys were still grinning. “So left out.”

Steve ran his hands from the outside of your thighs up and up and up until his fingertips were ghosting over the black lace of your underwear. His heart spiked at the feel of bare skin against his palms. Steve has been graced with the sight of you in his clothes many times over, in fact, he’d lost a good portion of his wardrobe to you, t-shirts and hoodies taking up most of your sleepwear drawer. 

But still, he was still greedy for it. 

Eddie didn’t mind, you knew that, Steve knew that. It had been like that since the beginning, since that night at the party and you loved both boy’s in a way that you couldn’t explain but everyone knew there was something with Steve. 

Something a little more. Something a little different.  

It worked though, this dynamic. ‘Cause sometimes Eddie liked to watch, liked to sweet up situations with teasing words and a taunt here and there, sitting back to reap the rewards - a hand cupping himself as he watched you and Steve, both pairs of eyes on him. 

“My shirt, my jacket, our pretty girl,” Eddie cooed, “why don’t you let Steve give you something, huh, sweetheart?”

You breath hitched. You knew what Eddie was suggesting, you knew what he wanted Steve to give you. 

The jacket was pushed from your shoulders and you weren’t even sure by who. The leather hit the floor, a glitter of silver zips and buckles. Steve pulled you into his lap, smiling all sweet as he draped your bare legs across his. Eddie leaned in, kissed your cheek over Steve’s shoulder, littered your jaw until he found your lips and pressed his to them. 

It was a kiss that was dirty and deep, all tongue and teeth and it made you too warm, feeling Eddie sigh into your mouth, knowing that Steve was so close, watching. 

Eddie pulled back, pecking at your lips, your nose. He nudged yours with his own, pushed at your cheek until you were turning back to Steve. You let the other boy mouth at your jaw, eliciting sweet, little sighs from you until you were wriggling impatiently in his lap and Eddie was cooing with false sympathy. 

“Oh, pretty baby,” he whispered as Steve sucked a soft lilac bruise onto your neck. “S’wrong?”

You felt Steve smile against you, a little wicked and he grabbed handfuls of your ass, dragging you further onto him, cunt pressed up against the hard outline of his dick through his sweatpants. 

He wasn’t wearing underwear, you could tell. Tell by the way the length of him sprung up and bobbed needily beneath the cotton, just as eager as you were. You tried to duck your head, tried to tilt your face to Steve’s so you could chase his lips with yours, nerdy and desperate for a proper kiss, like the one Eddie had given you. 

“Want a kiss,” you whispered, already gone on your boys, eyes glassy, body flushed, one hand gripping Steve’s shirt, the other wound in Eddie’s curls. “Please.”

Steve smiled, sticky sweet, bumping his nose softly against your own. He made a soft noise, coaxing you towards him, letting you push your lips to his. It was the same kind of kiss that you’d shared with Eddie, slow and hot, tongues pressing over each other’s, your hand fisting at Steve’s shirt ‘cause you knew he’d pull away before you wanted him to. 

He did. You whined. 

“For someone who came in here looking to tease me, you don’t like it yourself, do you?” Steve murmured and Eddie snickered. “So impatient.”

“Didn’t wanna tease,” you huffed, a little more breathless than before ‘cause Steve was easing a hand behind your thighs as Eddie was mouthing at your neck, sucking another bruise beside the one Steve had left. 

“No?” Steve raised his eyebrows, doubtful. “What did you want?”

Eddie moved to sit in front of you both, kneeling on the floor so he could run his hand over your knee, the other holding onto Steve’s. Both boys were too close, overwhelming, noses brushing against your cheek, your jaw, lips ghosting over different parts of you. 

You gasped, Steve’s finger pulling at the lace of your underwear, hitching it to the side so he could run two fingers through your folds, gathering all the slick there. You keened, pushing your forehead to his cheek as you ducked your head and tried to hide, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Nuhuh, princess, c’mon,” Eddie muttered, pulling gently at one of your legs. It dropped from where it lay across Steve’s thighs, leaving you open for both boys to see. “Be good.”

You clenched around nothing, whimpering at Eddie’s words and Steve kissed at your cheek, at the corner of your mouth as your lips parted. 

“Did you want me to touch you while you wore Eddie’s shirt, huh?” Steve whispered, staring down at the way the other boy was kissing a line over your knee, up the inside of your thigh. 

Eddie grinned as you shivered, letting him ease you open a little further, Steve’s fingers working a slow circle over your entrance, working one finger, two fingers inside of you in a stretch that made you feel full. You cried out, panting. 

“Looking all pretty for us? Yeah?” Steve pumped his fingers in and out of you in a slow drag, peppering your jaw with tiny kisses as he spoke, grinning when you threw your head back onto his shoulders, arching against him. “Such a tease, babe, comin’ in dressed like that.”

 “She knew exactly what she was doing,” Eddie agreed, voice all nonchalant as the two boys spoke as if you weren’t there. “Dirty, little thing.”

Your eyes flew open when another finger joined Steve’s, cold with silver rings, long and calloused where Steve’s were wide. Eddie brushed a finger over your clit, a gentle touch over and over and over as Steve kept fucking you with his digits. 

It was maddening, the touch of two of them at once, something you never got used to and Eddie was moving into the space between your spread legs, motioning for Steve to hold you open as he leaned in. Steve huffed out a laugh as you whined, realising what was happening seconds before it did. 

“Oh, fu-uck,” you gasped as Eddie curls brushed the insides of your thighs. He took over holding your underwear to the side, nose bumping the swell of your clit before he closed his lips around it. 

You reached back to curl one hand into Steve’s hair, holding him to you, his cheek pushed to yours as he hooked his chin over your shoulder to look down and watch Eddie lick over you. You other hand grabbed Eddie’s curls, tugging as he suckled at you. 

All three of you groaned when he licked a stripe up your cunt, tongue licking over Steve’s fingers at the same time. He reached up to push at his shirt you wore, exposing the soft of your stomach, the curve of your tits. 

“Gonna come?” Steve muttered, voice all sweet for you. He nipped at your jaw, pulled your thigh out further for Eddie and curled his fingers into you a little deeper. “Gonna come for us, baby? Gonna be a good girl, yeah?”

You gasped, eyes watering, jaw slack as you arched further into Eddie’s mouth, chasing the feeling of his tongue sliding hotly over you. Steve was still running his mouth, cooing softly, pressing kisses to your neck in between dirty words. 

“That’s it, oh fuck, babe,” Steve moaned, pace faltering as you wiggled back against him, cock twitching under your ass. “That’s it, there you go, I can feel it, gettin’ tighter for us.”

Eddie doubled down on his efforts at Steve’s words, gasping against you as you tugged his hair a little meanly. He dragged the flat of his tongue against you, pressed it down onto your clit and wrapped his lips around you, sucking soft but consistently. 

You were gone, held down by Steve’s wide hand, back pressed to his chest as he slid his fingers in and out of you at a quick pace, wet, slick sounds filling the room. 

He made a dirty sound, a low, wanting moan as he gazed down at you, thighs shiny, Eddie lips slick with you. Your cheeks were damp, flushed, lips rosy from biting down on them, Eddie’s hellfire shirt tangled around your waist. 

“Prettiest girl,” Steve told you, kissing your mouth, bottom lip first, top lip after.  “Our pretty, pretty girl.”

You fell apart at his sweet words, Eddie groaning into you as he kept licking over your clit until you were squirming, Steve cursing at how you clenched down tight around his fingers. They helped you ride it out, touches becoming softer and more gentle the more sensitive you became and you were gasping, chest heaving as you sagged against Steve. 

Eddie pulled away, kissed a path up your thighs, your tummy until he reached your mouth kissing you so you could taste yourself, turning to Steve to give him the same treatment too.

You didn’t say anything as you came back to reality, the room buzzing with a static you were sure only you could hear, bones feeling heavy. The boys kissed you sweet, lips pushed to different parts of your neck, your face, ghosting over your lips in turn. 

And then, Eddie:

“If you go put on that yellow sweater of Steve’s I like so much, we’ll fuck you real good, princess.”

[rising-volteccers]

So this is just a self indulgent piece exploring a silly idea I had, where Friede latches on to the closest warm object when he's out of it. Thanks to @gem-in-the-horizon for giving me the idea to write up a sort of 5+1 piece and for inspiration on some of the scenes written here! I decided to fully embrace the self indulgence by framing some parts from the perspective of polycule Volt Tacklers (a ship between Friede, Orla, Mollie and Murdock) + a bit of Friede being a dad towards Roy haha!

Oh and Amethio gets to suffer a little too. Anyway, hopefully it's an enjoyable read! Spoilers for HZ033-HZ034.

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Ludlow, Orla, Mollie, Murdock, Roy and Amethio

---

Ludlow was no stranger to how unpredictable the seas could be. Seeing a smattering of gray clouds in the distance, he knew it was time to leave. While it was a shame to cut their fishing trip short, Ludlow preferred to be on land when the storm inevitably hits.

“Huh? We're heading back already, Gramps?” Friede questioned once he stored away his fishing rod.

“Mmhmm. The weather's changing. No sailor wants to be out on stormy seas if they could help it,” Ludlow explained, shuffling his way past Friede towards the helm.

“It's going to storm? Doesn't look like it.”

“Hohoho. You best not underestimate nature.” Ludlow’s hands were on the wheel. He lifted his head, peering at the clouds slowly encroaching. After a beat of silence, he opted to release his trusty Quagsire.

“We might need your help soon, my friend,” Ludlow spoke to his Quagsire. The amphibious Pokemon waddled past Friede who joined Ludlow by the helm. 

“Is it really going to get that bad?” Ludlow caught the undercurrent of worry in his voice. He turned to look over his shoulder, his thick mustache lifting alongside the smile he flashed towards Friede.

“Don't worry. I'll make sure we get back to shore safely.”

True to Ludlow's claim earlier, they were met with rough, choppy waves once the storm fully rolled in. He masterfully steered the Asagi–with Quagsire’s aid in guiding through larger waves–back to Porto Marinada. 

Once he docked the Asagi by the main port, only then did Ludlow release his hands from the steering wheel. Shoulders slumped alongside his soft sigh, it took several seconds for him to recall Friede's presence.

Looking behind him, Ludlow spotted his young charge huddled by the corner, knees drawn to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. It didn't take much for Ludlow to realize that this was possibly a terrifying experience for him. They were never out on the seas with anything less than perfect weather before this after all. 

Feeling his heart twinge with concern, Ludlow shuffled his way towards Friede. He gently placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Friede… it’s alright. We're back–ough!?” Ludlow's eyes briefly flew open when Friede's arms suddenly wound up around his small frame. Pulled against his chest, Ludlow didn't even think about struggling once he noticed the light trembles.

Ludlow relaxed his body to make it a bit more comfortable for himself. He raised a hand to gently pat Friede's back, offering quiet assurances for however long it took for him to calm down.

–

When Orla poked her head into the meeting room, her gaze softened upon spotting Friede fast asleep on the spare couch. From the scattered pieces of paper all over the ground, it seemed that he really was studying hard to earn his pilot license.

On the days where Orla worked on turning a fool’s dream into reality, Friede busied himself in Rustboro’s flight school, clocking in his flight hours and doing tests every other week. He returned periodically, both to see her progress and let her know of his own, all beaming smiles and wild hand gestures that never failed to draw out Orla’s own smile. His excitement was infectious, while his genuine awe and gratitude at her handiwork caused warmth to blossom in her chest. 

Quietly closing the door behind her, Orla got to work in picking up the papers, stacking them on the table so she didn't accidentally step on it. After that, she grabbed a spare blanket from the pile of boxes tucked at a corner before making her way back to the couch.

Looking down at his slumbering form, she couldn't help but find him rather cute like this. Messy bangs covered one side of his face, lips parted slightly from the soft snores slipping out–she just about resisted the urge to reach out and brush back his bangs.

Orla briefly shook her head, then began the process of carefully draping the blanket over him.

When Friede shifted underneath it, she froze, hands still on the blanket. Orla looked at his face to see golden eyes slowly opening, blinking a couple of times before they flickered to her.

“Orla?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey Friede, sorry for waking you up,” she began in a whispered voice. “I was just–”

Orla didn't get to finish her sentence. Faster than she could react, arms suddenly shot up from underneath the blanket, wrapping themselves around her back before pulling her down. 

She let out an undignified yelp, just about throwing her hands out to prevent a collision with Friede's chest. Orla’s heart rate picked up when she realized the position she was in; half sprawled over Friede, her cheek pressed against his torso. 

“F-Friede! What are you–!?” she squeaked, feeling her cheeks warm up. Orla tried to push herself up but Friede's arms trapped her in place. 

“Mmm… warm…” came his confusing response before his breaths evened out, falling back into slumber. 

Orla took a few deep breaths to calm down. Right, so it seemed that in his half awakened state, Friede decided to latch onto the closest warm object. She knew of his sensitivity to the cold, craving warmth even if he was struck by a simple breeze. That was why she wanted to cover him with the blanket, knowing full well that he'd whine about it later.

She knew that the best course of action was to pry herself loose from his arms. Orla still had a lot of work to do if she wanted to finish the airship on schedule.

Yet when an experimental wiggle prompted Friede to rest his cheek atop her head, mumbling cutely about passing his tests, she didn't have it in her to disturb his slumber.

Orla heaved out a deep, resigned sigh. Despite her feelings on the matter, a smile still curled her lips. Might as well get comfy if she had to play the part of an oversized Teddiursa bear.

(When his steady heartbeat eventually lulled her to sleep, Orla found herself dreaming of her childhood, to a time when they were two small kids with big dreams, where their whole worlds revolved around one another).

–

With a small paper bag tucked underneath her arm, Mollie exited the infirmary with her Chansey toddling behind her. She headed towards the living quarters located on the lower deck, passing by several of the wild Pokemon that opted to join them on their travels. Mollie flashed them a light smile before schooling her features once she spotted Orla standing outside.

“Hey, thanks for keeping watch,” Mollie said in lieu of greeting. “He didn't try to make an escape again, did he?”

“No problem! And nope, think he got the message last time. Or at least he’s finally exhausted himself enough to just stay in bed,” Orla replied, slightly shaking her head. “Honestly, he should have done that in the first place but…”

“You and I both know that he's incapable of staying still for long. Still, he needs plenty of rest if he wants to recover quickly.”

Mollie quickly learnt that Friede, when under the weather, became quite the menace of a patient. She wanted to believe that he wasn't intentionally crossing her orders but she could only take so much of his escape attempts before enough was enough. 

She had a responsibility for the health and safety of this ship's occupants, which included making sure the sick stay in bed even when they really didn't want to. Luckily they were docked for a few days while waiting for Friede to get better, so Mollie employed Orla's aid whenever she had to grab stuff from the infirmary. 

“It's pretty quiet in there so my guess is that he really did fall asleep. Means you'd have to wake him up.”

“Shouldn't be too hard,” Mollie uttered, passing by Orla to give gentle raps on the door. From the lack of a response, she slowly pushed it open and peeked her head inside. 

True to Orla's assumption, Friede was fast asleep on his bed. He had his back to the wall, giving Mollie easy access to his peaceful, dozing expression. 

Momentarily she felt guilty to wake him up but it was necessary that he took the medicine on time. Mollie switched on the light before crossing the short distance to his bed.

Looming over his form, Mollie placed a hand on Friede's shoulder, giving it a few light shakes. 

“Friede, wake up.”

“Mmm…?” It appeared that she roused him from his slumber. Friede raised a clumsy hand to swipe at his face, yawning.

“C’mon, it's time for–”

Mollie would deny that she made any sort of noise when Friede, faster than she could react, reached up to wrap his arms around her. She’d insist that she did not squeak upon realizing the precarious position of being on top of him flushed against this chest. It was just the surprise that increased her heart rate, the close proximity to his fevered skin that made her cheeks warm.

Mollie had little chance to free herself. Friede already had more (defined) muscle mass in the first place. His surprisingly strong grip with his (toned) arms reminded her of an Octillery that caught its prey (not that she'd see herself as one but–)

“Orla help!”

“Mollie? What happened–oh.” Orla had rushed in at the call but paused once she took in the sight. Much to Mollie's rising embarrassment, Orla stifled her giggles behind a gloved hand.

“It's Friede he just–grabbed me like this!”

“Yeah he does that sometimes. When he's out of it, he tends to grab the nearest warm object within arm's length. In this case, I'd say you were unfortunate. Or maybe fortunate…?”

Mollie didn't think it was possible for her cheeks to get any redder. In any case, Orla did eventually help her out (but not before snapping a photo). 

–

“Hey Murdock. Muuuurrdooock…”

Murdock paused in his task of drying off the plates. He mentally counted down from three in his head before looking over his shoulder, expression schooled into a light smile. 

“Yes Friede? What is it this time?”

“Nothing. Just wanna–wanna say you’re preeetttyyy….”

Arceus above please grant him strength. Murdock fought to keep his smile in place even as warmth crept up his cheeks. He nodded once in response, then went back to his task before any more distractions cropped up.

Who would've thought that Friede was such a lightweight? After the success of a rather lucrative mission, the crew decided to celebrate. Murdock had the chance to make some nice cocktails as a rare treat, though nothing too strong as per Mollie's request.

It became apparent after the first glass that Friede didn't hold his drink very well. He became a rather giggly sort of drunk, spouting off whatever that came to mind. So not too different from his usual self. 

Except he lacked even more of a filter, or maybe he was honestly revealing his true thoughts when he waxed tales of how beautiful Orla’s eyes were, how much he loved Mollie's hair and–oh boy, did Friede have some words to share about him.

Murdock tried not to melt underneath the barrage of drunken compliments. It didn't help that Mollie and Orla joined him, being in various degrees of tipsiness themselves. Though not as nearly gone as Friede.

In the end, Murdock convinced his partners to get some rest before they partied too hard. After he made them drink some water first, that left him alone with Friede, who was far too sloshed to make it to his room safely. Murdock wouldn't put it past him to trip and break his leg or something in his drunken stumble.

Hearing him babble about anything and everything was rather endearing, albeit distracting. Especially when Friede felt the need to call for him, just to spout off a compliment about how pretty he was for the umpteenth time. 

It never failed to make Murdock feel a tad embarrassed, not used to such words given to him. He was still finding his place in this relationship, and while he didn't feel like he lacked anything in comparison skill wise, he just didn't think he was as physically attractive as his partners. 

So while Friede was influenced by alcohol in his system, Murdock didn't doubt the sincerity of his words. That was one of the reasons he fell for his captain in the first place after all.

Eventually, Murdock cleaned the kitchen enough to be satisfied. The only thing left to do was to bring Friede back to his room before retiring to his own quarters for the night.

Murdock approached his drunken partner, who by that point had fallen into a light doze. Friede rested his chin atop folded arms, a healthy flush coloring his cheeks. Maybe Murdock could see about having him drink water too later. 

For now, he gently placed a hand on Friede's shoulder, giving it a light shake. That appeared to rouse him, so Murdock got a nice view of Friede blinking sleepily, one hand clumsily swiping at his eyes.

“Hey, how about we get you to–woah!” Contrary to how he looked, Friede's reflexes didn't match his drunken state. Murdock suddenly had to offset the abrupt weight clinging to his front, his arms automatically wrapping themselves around Friede.

“Murdock! Murdooockk missed you!” Friede giggled, and Murdock just about short circuited when he felt the nuzzling against this chest. He didn't think it was possible to get any redder than he did earlier but clearly, he was mistaken.

After he took a few breaths to calm down, Murdock decided that it'd be a waste of effort to try and get Friede to let go. He heard stories of how strong his grip could be, and Murdock just didn't have the energy to deal with that right now.

So what he ended up doing was hooked his arms beneath Friede, pulling him up further so Murdock could carry him. At the shift in position, Friede wound up wrapping his arms around Murdock's neck, resting his cheek against the crook of it, still giggling softly.

“Murdock. Muuuurrdooock. Love you…”

While Friede might not remember this in the morning, Murdock still responded with, “Love you too.”

–

Crossing paths with the Rising Volt Tacklers meant an inevitable clash against their infuriating captain. Amethio wasted no time in issuing his challenge when he came across Friede, who foolishly parted from his crew upon realizing his approach.

“No need to drag anyone else in this. This shouldn't take too long,” came his simple reply, lips set in a challenging smirk.

Amethio’s left eye twitched from that taunt, though he kept himself composed to release Ceruledge. Friede mirrored him by bringing out his Charizard. For a moment, no one issued any commands, both Trainer and Pokemon staring down their respective opponents.

Friede broke the stalemate by ordering a Dragon Claw. Amethio ordered Ceruledge to block it, thus activating its Weak Armor. Now with the speed advantage, he had Ceruledge use Psycho Cut to create some distance.

Predictably, Friede ordered Charizard to pull back in order to dodge the psychic blade. 

“Night Slash!” Amethio took that brief moment by having Ceruledge press its advantage, dashing towards Charizard with its glowing arm blades. 

“Tch–Air Slash! Don't let it get close!” 

Charizard did as such, its wings briefly glowing white before a bevy of air slashes were fired off towards Ceruledge. 

“Now, use Phantom Force!” 

Ceruledge parried one of the air slashes with its blade before jumping back towards the formed portal. Both Charizard and Friede paused, eyes going this way and that to seek out where Ceruledge would pop out. 

“There! Spin tail before using Dragon Claw!” Just as Ceruledge emerged behind Charizard, the dual-type spun around, using its hefty tail to nail Ceruledge. Though before it could follow that up with Dragon Claw, Ceruledge's Weak Armor activated, granting it another speed boost to just barely avoid those glowing claws.

“Psycho Cut! Don't give it any breathing room!”

Ceruledge first jumped back to create distance once again. Then it fired off several blades of psychic energy towards Charizard.

What Amethio didn't take into account was the Pokemon’s distance from Friede. Charizard dodged or parried most of the Psycho Cuts but one did veer dangerously close to Friede. 

Amethio saw how the older Trainer dodged, causing the blade to hit the bush behind him instead. There was a miniature explosion from the impact, though nothing that would stop the pair from their battle. 

That was, until an angry looking Shiinotic popped out from the damaged bush. Amethio found himself calling out a warning instead when the Grass-type puffed up.

Friede turned around just in time to get a face full of glowing spores. Charizard and Ceruledge paused in their battle at the eruption of coughs, and Amethio felt a small chill trail down his spine when moments later, Friede just… collapsed. 

As much as he wanted to beat him, Amethio didn't want Friede to actually get hurt. His steps carried him towards Friede's fallen form while Charizard angrily chased after the Shiinotic, furious at its attack on its Trainer.

Amethio fell to his knees, eyes immediately roving over still body. At least Friede seemed to be breathing based on the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He couldn't tell how badly affected Friede was from the spore so Amethio took off a glove, intending to check for his pulse.

That proved to be a huge mistake on his end. The moment Amethio leaned in and had two fingers to the side of Friede's neck, an arm suddenly shot up to wrap around his waist. Moments later, Amethio collided against Friede's chest when the guy abruptly pulled him close. 

That moment knocked the breath out of Amethio but it didn't take long before he started struggling.

“What are you–let me go!” he snarled, any hints of concern evaporating once he heard the soft snores. This guy was just fast asleep! How dare he grab him like this?

Amethio didn't expect such strength from Friede's lanky arms. No matter how much he struggled, the guy held on like a Grapploct. Even Ceruledge just sort of stood nearby, uncharacteristically hesitant in the face of its Trainer’s desperation.

Briefly Amethio considered ordering Ceruledge to Bitter Blade Friede's butt into next Sunday but his pesky morals kept buzzing at the back of his mind. He released an aggravated sigh, then redoubled his efforts into freeing himself from the Vice Grip. 

At some point, Amethio thought that getting into a different position would give him enough wiggle room to slip out. His plan of rolling on their side backfired horribly when Friede (who remained infuriatingly asleep) lazily rolled half on top of Amethio instead, one leg now pinning both of Amethio's in place.

As if to add insult to injury, Friede lightly nuzzled the top of Amethio's head, messing up his hair.

Only Ceruledge saw how apoplectic with rage he became. If Amethio elbowed the guy in the stomach or kneed him at a spot where the sun didn't shine, well, it was entirely deserved.

Maybe if he got lucky, Amethio could get out of this mess before anyone saw him. 

(He was not lucky. Amethio very nearly considered asking for Spinel’s expertise in erasing a snapped picture that now existed in one of the RVTs Rotom Phones but he wasn't that desperate. Yet).

–

After his talk with Diana, Friede quietly left the observation deck, mind filled with various thoughts. Today had been more action packed than usual, filled with danger that they narrowly avoided.

Had Terapagos not… shifted like it did, Friede wasn't keen on their chances of getting past Rayquaza unscathed. He already had his hands full in keeping Roy back, and after the Legendary became enraged at Amethio's abrupt challenge, he didn't think even Charizard and Cap could stop its rampage. 

Speaking of Roy, he recalled the surge of fear when he saw the shockwave heading towards the boy. Roy might not have gotten badly hurt but Friede didn't want to risk it, his body surging forward to cover Roy in a protective embrace. 

He remembered the growing frustration of his insistence in fighting Rayquaza. Roy did have a one track mind when it came to the Legendary but he didn't realize it was to the extent of not recognising the danger they were in. While Friede typically supported his goal, that wasn't a moment to let Roy do what he wanted. 

Friede promised his grandfather to keep Roy safe after all.

Above all, Friede couldn't shake off the mild concern at Roy's despondent mood throughout dinner time. Sure it wasn't as lively as usual (unsurprising considering the day they had) but seeing Roy eat only two servings as opposed to his usual three was rather surprising. 

Roy waved off Murdock's worried question, citing his exhaustion for the lack of appetite. No one pushed him about it, so dinner ended with everyone choosing to retire early for the night. 

Well, mostly everyone.

Sighing softly, Friede raised his hand to gently scratch Cap underneath his chin.

“Guess we should get some sleep too, eh Cap?”

At the nod, Friede made his way to the lower deck. Just as he rounded the corner towards the living quarters, he paused in his steps.

There, sitting right outside of his room was Roy. He was hugging Fuecoco to his chest, chin resting atop the Fire-type’s head. Even from where he stood, Friede could tell that the boy was fast asleep.

Now the question was why did he come here? 

Friede quietly approached the boy, glancing down at his half slumped form against the door. He crouched down till he was eye level with Roy before placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a few light shakes.

“Hey Roy, wake up. It's more comfy to sleep in your room–huh?”

Friede barely had time to react when one of Roy’s arms suddenly shot up, hooking itself behind Friede's neck, his other one still holding on to Fuecoco. Roy then pulled himself close to Friede, tucking himself against his torso.

On Friede's end, he just about kept his balance from the sudden added weight. He remained crouched, one arm going around Roy’s body to keep him secured, an instinctive gesture for the most part.

“Pika?”

“Ah… guess I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he murmured, eyes flickering to Cap. Then it went to Roy, who remained blissfully unaware of the predicament he placed himself in. 

Briefly Friede considered his options. In the end, he decided that it was easier to just bring him back to his room instead of waking him up. With that plan in mind, Friede hooked one arm underneath Roy’s knees. Using the wall for balance, he slowly rose to his feet, carefully adjusting his grip on Roy until he was standing upright.

Roy merely nuzzled his cheek against Friede's chest. Once he got to Roy’s room, getting the boy to let go had been quite the challenge but he managed it in the end. Just as Friede tucked Roy and Fuecoco in, he just about caught faint mumbles that sounded suspiciously like thank you.

Friede didn't know if Roy was even awake but it sparked something warm within his chest, a feeling that he carried with him all the way back to his own room much later.

[jilixthinker]

embryos

PART 1 PART 2

pairing: felix × jisung

genre: angst, supernatural, smut

summary: "purity. those who possess it can have the access. it's like a key. only the pure souls who die in your world can enter in mine. the only requirement is a body. flesh in exchange for the eternal sun".

word count: 5.8K (in part 2)

content warning: depression, death, mentions of suicide, pain and sufference, parallel universes, smut, jisung and felix are so in love it hurts, eventual happy ending

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

“Jisung”.

Jisung hears a familiar voice calling him. Jisung? Was that the right name? His ears do not react. Another low sounding voice echoes around him.

“Jisung. Once is fine. Twice is too much for anyone”.

Something touches his face and, no, this is definitely déjà vu. In a split second a sequence of speed motion images run through his mind. Morning, coffee, car, crash, hospital, bed, car, house, shower, bathroom, mirror, hand. When he opens his eyes he expects to be looking at that boy with a comforting smile but, instead, he is lying on the couch in his living room, his legs obscenely open, considering that he is still naked. Standing in front of him he can see Chan and Minho, who have a unquestionbly unnatural complexion.

“I hate you, okay? You need to stop killing us every twenty minutes because I don't know how much more my heart will hold up. What the fuck were you doing lying on the bathroom floor? Thank God I have the keys to your house, or I would have had to call the fire department-.

Chan is as frantic as he’s ever saw him, his breath short and his eyes literally out of his frame. He is clutching his wrist a while Minho, beside him, looks at him wearily.

“I think I slipped while drying my hair”.

Jisung's voice is really a mess. He stutters out that sentence with every syllable and he messily tries to sit up, not without Chan supporting him from the back.

“Fantastic. Now you can't even survive half a day? God, why?”

Chan brings both hands to his face and shakes his head weakly.

“I'm sorry. I really am”.

Minho strokes his boyfriends’s back and barely smiles at Jisung.

“You don't have to feel sorry for us, you have to feel sorry for yourself. You fainted because you had nothing in your stomach, so now do me, you, us, and humanity a favor. Eat”.

From a bag he hadn't even seen, Chan pulls out an aluminum container with bibimbap and one with bulgogi. The food smells delicious and Jisung does not realize how hungry he is until he has two chopsticks in his hand and starts eating. He devours the food within minutes, feeling the gaze of the two friends on him. Chan occasionally massages his shoulder muscles while Minho picks up grains of rice escaping from the chopsticks.

“Jisung, you need to eat regularly“.

“I'm going to buy something at the supermarket tonight”.

Chan crosses his thighs on the sofa and points to three bags full of food at the foot of the sofa.

“We went grocery shopping before we came to you. I don't like the idea of you going out alone”.

“Chan, I am really glad, from the bottom of my heart, but you can't live depending on me”.

Chan is about to answer back and Jisung shakes his hands in front of his face. “No, wait, listen to me. Tonight you and Minho will go out for dinner and then to the movies or, I don't know, whatever you would do if nothing had happened. Take it as a personal favor, okay? I can't stand to see you so distressed”.

Minho on the other side of the couch nods and smiles at Jisung, then winks at him.

“He's been a pain in the ass lately, you know? All he does is talking about you. Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. If I didn't know better I'd think he has a crush on you. But I swear I'll find a way to shut his mouth”.

Jisung chokes on the bulgogi and starts spitting bits of meat all over the couch.

“God, no, please. I don't want to know the details. Spare me”.

Chan tries to fight a smile while Minho, on the other hand, bursts into a silvery laugh. Jisung looks at them and thinks they are adorable, even though sometimes he hates them. But at the end it's always been what works for them.

Two hours and endless recommendations later, Jisung closes the front door and slumps against it. He puts his hand on his chest and feels its heart drumming loudly against his ribs, like a bird in a cage. The smell of bulgogi still hovers in the kitchen and in the living room, and the sky outside the window is gray, clouds swollen with rain. Jisung walks away from the hall, heading to the bathroom. He doesn't even want to go back into that room, he has no idea why his legs are heading there.

Once he enters in the bathroom he notices that the smell of humidity has completely disappeared - Chan opened the window - and the puddles of water on the floor have evaporated.

“Are you still here?”

The words vibrate up his throat and Jisung feels like an immense coward because he is not even looking in the right direction. His eyes are fixed on the tiles.

“I told you before. I have always been here”.

The voice answers his question, soft and gentle.

That is the exact moment Jisung starts to think that he has really gone crazy. So this is what it feels like to hit rock bottom. He turns with a movement that costs him inhuman effort and faces his mirror. There, clear as a spring day, the stranger's face stands vibrant as before. Like a few hours earlier he smiles sweetly, just with his lips. Jisung thinks he must smell like the Sun, even though the Sun has no scent. It is perfect, and all that perfection makes him feel safe instead of intimidating him.

“So why haven't I seen you before?” he asks, his voice is barely a whisper.

The stranger takes a step forward. Jisung doesn’t know where, since he is behind a mirror, but he knows he does it because now his face is closer.

“It's because of the accident. It did reset he rational sphere of your brain".

As he speaks, Jisung can see small white teeth inside the stranger’s mouth. He looks so alive, so close, so real.

“Are you a ghost?”

He shakes his head and blonde hair swing on his head. A strand escapes from behind his ears and slips over his eyes.

“I am a future memory”.

Jisung moves closer to the mirror until his pelvis slams against the sink. The boy in front of him does not move away. He remains motionless, looking at him. He has a face he cannot classify. He has simple, thin, almost ephebic features. Childlike features that could go unnoticed when placed next to millions of other faces. But then he looks at his red plush lips curved into a sweet smile and big eyes that study him with a calmness he does not possess, and Jisung is certain that he would never forget a face like that.

“Are you real?”

“Reality is what you see”.

“Can you only give me enigmatic answers?”

The stranger puffs out a sound which is similar to a laughter, and in Jisung's head it resonates like millions of tiny bells trilling all at once.

“As long as your questions are. You can try asking me something simpler though”.

The boy crosses his arms against his chest, accommodating. His shoulders are tiny. Jisung imagines he could fly away with a breath of wind.

“Do you have a name?”

He nods, slow and graceful. As if he is weighing every word so that nothing is left to chance.

“Felix”.

He has a simple name, he thinks, it must be real. It has to be.

“Jisung”.

“I know”.

Jisung closes his eyes and rests his hands on the edge of the sink to keep himself from slipping on the floor.

“Do you know who I am?"

“No, we have never met. But I know your name”.

“How?”

“That's just something I know. Like the phases of the moon and the name of the oceans. Maybe I've always known it”.

Felix takes another step forward, into the middle of nowhere, and his forehead almost touches the cold, reflective surface. Jisung breathes heavy and slow as he watches the other rest his fingers beside him against the mirror.

“Where did you come from?”

“I don't know if you would believe me”.

“Please” he murmurs heartily “I'm just trying to understand. If there was something I was sure of, it was that I wasn't crazy. Then this morning I walk into my bathroom and behind the mirror I find you. You saying you don't know me but still you know my name, saying you've always been here while I've never seen you. And now I don't know if I'm crazy or not. Maybe I'm talking to myself, maybe I'm dreaming or maybe it's real. The fact is that I had a certainty, and now I have none. The least I can do is trying to find a sense to this”.

Felix’s reflection moves away from the mirror and looks deep into it, as if he was searching for something he had lost, something he knew he can find somewhere in between Jisung’s eyes.

Something important.

“Felix?”

He utters that name and Jisung’s body is invaded by small electric shocks that start from the tips of his toes and radiate down the column of his back, straight to his forehead. Whatever Felix is looking for seems to be a long way from being found.

“Have you ever heard of the alternative reality theory?”

Jisung nods, confused. “Vaguely”.

“An alternative reality is a separate and distinct dimension, which coexists with the earthly one. It can be identified with a space-time continuum. Basically, everything you can perceive around you, every smallest particle of matter, it’s present in equal form and measure in a parallel dimension. The two realities are superimposed on each other, occupying the same space and time. It is a perfect and unstoppable circle”.

The concepts that flow from Felix's lips are distant, intangible, complex. Jisung presses his fingertips against his temples, trying to assimilate as much information as possible.

“Metaphysics managed to explain every single, small, tiny detail. Except for one. It has failed to provide a reason. And it's funny when you think about it, isn't it? It answered all the thorniest questions, all the most difficult complications but not the simplest one”.

Felix lifts his gaze and Jisung feels stripped of any foothold, feels himself floating in the void, adrift.

“A choice. My world offers a second chance to those who could not survive the cruelty of yours. But this world does not test, does not lay snares. This world is the right world. Without pain, anger, envy, rejection. Only love”.

Jisung tries to imagine this world. He doesn't even need to close his eyes to make it palpable. He sees Felix's face reflecting bright sunlight as he rests on a green English lawn, tiny daisies in his hair and a few ladybugs on the fabric of his pants.

“You come from there”.

Felix smiles again. The room regains its brightness.

“I come from there. Or from here. It is relative. Now you are able to perceive the overlap of spaces”.

Jisung reaches out a hand toward the glass but stops a few inches away, as if frightened by what might ensue upon contact. Felix is close, he can outline with his mind the shape of his lips.

“But I see you”.

Felix is a little lost in his smile. Jisung, on the other hand, is lost in his deep gaze.

“I know. It's absurd, I recognize that. But I assure you it's strange even for me”.

“No”. Jisung shakes his head and feels something from the marrow rising to the surface, radiating within his veins like an endless lava flow.

“No”, he continues. “No. I see you. I see you”.

He leans infinitesimally forward and touches with his fingers the spot where Felix, on the other side of the mirror and on the other side of the universe, is resting his clear fingertips. He should feel a calm, safe warmth and waves pouring their foam onto the rocks. Instead he just feels cold.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Jisung does not go back to university. Chan keeps calling him, first with gentleness and compassion, but now he is just tired. Minho is a shadow of his boyfriend, nothing more. The phone keeps ringing, Jisung keeps not answering. Reality begins to get blurrier day by day. Chan persists in leaving lunch in front of Jisung’s door almost every day but the bags remain intact because the door is no longer opened. Then, one day, the bags vanish, just as the phone stops ringing. Jisung doesn’t even notice because he cannot even describe his own face anymore, let alone remember having had friends. Or maybe the memories linger somewhere, buried deep in a remote, hazy corner of his unconscious, but no one goes into it. Thus Jisung's old life is covered by layers and layers of thin, opaque dust. He buries Chan, Minho, his parents, his brother, the accident. It buries Jisung and everything he had before. The only figure that seems to stand out is the thin, sharp figure of Felix, which is practically a paradox because Jisung is not even sure that Felix exists. But whether he exists or not, he is there. He is there, day and night, watching him. He watches him even though Jisung is not in the room. He does not know how he does it, he does not even know if it is really possible. But he knows he does, because he feels his eyes everywhere he goes. They talk for the longest time. Sometimes they use words, sometimes they talk to each other in silence. Jisung thought it was a movie invention, but he realizes how crucial this little snippet of everyday life has become to him. He wonders about the meaning of the thousands of mundane actions he performs every day without even thinking about it.

The fact is that Jisung is opal. He knows it. He knows it as he has always known that he cannot be a star but only a small black dwarf. And he accepts it, because it can only be so. But Felix is a red giant at its best. Felix speaks, and the continuum of all possible worlds stops, leaving room only for a chasm. Felix shines without anything overshadowing him. And maybe that’s Jisung who is a reflection in the mirror, because if there is anything he feels able to swear to without any fear, it is that Felix is indeed, infinitely, diamond.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

“How is the rain like?”

Jisung is sitting with messy legs while holding a cup of lukewarm coffee. Felix, on the other side of the mirror, looks at him waiting for his answer.

“Sad. As if the sky is too tired to continue to shine, then little tears fall down on the Earth”.

Felix laughs with his lean shoulders shaking as his eyes close in two perfect crescents.

“You are being melodramatic”.

Jisung takes a sip of coffee as he carefully follows Felix’s movements in front of him. He watches his shirt curl over his soft hips and lingers on the edge that leaves a few inches of white skin exposed.

“Doesn't it rain there?”

Felix, as is his habit, shakes his head, letting thin strands of long hair fall across his forehead.

“Just sunshine”.

“Always?”.

“Always”.

Seoul has not seen the sun for weeks, but it seems it’s been years. A thick blanket of clouds covers all the blue, turning it into a deep leaden gray.

“You never saw the rain?”

“I have seen it in your world”.

Jisung stops drinking and stares at Felix's tight lips.

“Have you been in my world?”

“I lived there for a long part of my existence”.

“I thought you were born there”.

“No one was born here”.

Jisung pictures a wide-eyed Felix facing a suffering horizon polluted by mankind's cruelty. A tiny hand gripping the air as if to grasp something.

“How?”

Felix bites his mouth and catches the pout between small teeth. Thin fingers reboot his hair.

“Purity. Those who possess it can have the access. It is like a key. Only the pure souls who die in your world can enter in mine. The only requirement is a body. Flesh in exchange for the eternal sun”.

“You have faced death”. Jisung lets the words flow. “You, who are so much closer to life than I have ever been. You died. Why?”

Felix understands and smiles light as a feather.

“I was fragile, Jisung. I could no longer exist in that circle of evil where I had grown up. It was too much, and I was tired”

Jisung rests his forearms on the shelf and cannot understand whether he blames or thanks the other's cruel fate.

“What are you now?”

“I am just Felix. There is a mirror between these worlds, that’s true, but I have not regretted for one second the decision I made. I have never been more alive than this-.

“Don't you ever wish to go back?”

Felix murmurs something that Jisung feels like a gust of wind.

“I have what I want now”.

And Jisung knows that, even though Felix looked away to observe something undefined behind the mirror, he is talking about him.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It’s during a sleepless night when he discovers that Felix also has a diamond voice. Jisung drags himself to the bathroom and curls up in the chair in front of the mirror overlooking the other world. Felix begins to sing softly and slowly, so quietly that at first it almost sounds like he is whispering. It goes on for what must be hours and Jisung rests in silence without taking his eyes off his face. By the time Felix closes his lips it’s already dawn, faint beams of light penetrating through the window.

“Do you think that if I had met you earlier something would change?”

“I believe we were destined to meet exactly like this. I can't imagine anything different from what we have now”.

“But maybe...” Jisung begins with a nostalgic spark in his eyes, “maybe you would make a different decision. I can't help but thinking about how it would be if we met in college. What I would say to you if I met you in a park. What I would think if I walked into a coffee shop one day and saw you there, sitting in front of the window, waiting for your coffee".

Felix smiles and strokes the mirror with his fingertips, following the border of Jisung's face.

“You probably wouldn't even notice me”.

Jisung slides his gaze along the other man's slender figure. He observes the soft blonde hair with the texture of a cloud, the rosebuds of the mouth, the thin, delicate line of the jawline. He observes the small, elegant nose and the dark eyes contoured by long, thick lashes. His voice cracks.

“How could I not?”

“I never belonged to that world, Jisung. It rejected me. I was an inconvenient bacterium, just as you are. And I couldn't give you anything”.

Felix takes a deep breath and Jisung thinks he wants to sink into the absolute purity of his beauty.

“You would give me everything I need. As you do now”.

“I was the shadow of myself”.

“That would have been enough”.

“I'm sorry”.

“I'm the one who is sorry, for not finding you sooner”.

Then Jisung stands up, letting the blanket on his legs slide off and settle on the floor like a puddle.

“Felix”.

Felix looks at him fixedly and loudly, because he understands. He did it from the beginning, and the fact that he does not answer him only means that he knows. Jisung feels something, very close to his heart, expanding and starting to press against his chest to come out.

“I would like to kiss you”.

Then Felix closes his eyes. Jisung moves closer, weighing each step until he reaches the mirror. He caresses it, inwardly, with all the tenderness he is capable of. He imagines the strands of hair in his fingers, the warm, tender skin on his cheeks, imagines the parted lips trembling at his closeness and the small arms tensing as his hands touch them. Felix is beautiful, and he cries a salty tear that remains there, caught between his eyelashes, tiny and invisible. Then Jisung kisses him, ignoring the foreign and cold presence of the glass. He kisses him ignoring the fact that he is not physically with him. He kisses him ignoring all physical and natural laws. He kisses him simply because Felix must know that Jisung does not care who, what, where, or how he is, he kisses him because he feels that he was born for that purpose. Because it is right. Jisung kisses Felix, and Felix knows it. And when after years, centuries, and millennia he opens his eyes, Jisung finds nothing but a wonderful smile that tastes a little bit like the Sun.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

One day Jisung picks up his cell phone and realizes that he has missed more than forty calls from the same number. Chan's name stands out at the top of the message notifications and stands there to remind him of everything he was trying to forget. As he sits on the bed and lives again every moment of the incident, the phone decides to ring. Jisung throws it away and the cell phone gets stuck under his pillow, making him wonder if he can even decide not to answer it. By now Chan hates him, one more call will not change anything.

He finally grabs it and unlocks the screen.

“No”.

Jisung frowns. He hasn't spoken to anyone in weeks, but the other person is addressing him as if to continue an open conversation. Moreover, the voice he hears does not belong to either Chan or Minho, he is quite sure.

"No, what?”

The voice continues to speak, and now it is Minho's. Jisung closes his eyes and runs his hand over his forehead as if to gather all his frustration. He is about to respond. He opens his mouth, catches his breath, and

“Minho?”

The voice comes out strange, as if he said the name twice in overlapping. Jisung clears his throat and rubs his arms, starting to feel a strange sensation on his skin.

“No, your majesty the queen. I won't take a no as an answer from anyone, especially not from you”.

Minho is friendly joking, as if nothing had happened. Jisung immediately loses all the strength in his legs and collapses on the bed. This call happened already, he thinks. But he hopes it's a bad joke and he is about to yell at Minho to get over with all of this, because it's anything but funny.

But then he hears it. A plaintive snort, a little bit drawling and with a hint of sarcasm, familiar. He heard it a thousand times and would recognize it among billions of voices.

Because it belongs to him.

But Jisung didn’t open his mouth. He has stayed silent since the beginning of the call, and maybe he didn’t even called Minho’s name before. Then, he understands. He needs only a few more seconds of background noise and the snap of a kiss to be horribly sure of it.

“Jisung? Sorry, that animal took my phone from my hands while you were answering me”.

The phone slips from Jisung’s hand and falls to the floor. The screen probably breaks, but it doesn't matter. Jisung stands motionless for minutes as he realizes that he heard himself talking to Minho in a reality from weeks earlier.

A reality that no longer exists.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

“Are you happy?”

Felix curls his fingers against the mirror. Their hands are resting against each other. It’s something they do often since it’s the only expedient they have to feel close. And so they talk for hours with their fingers in contact, separated only by a thin layer of glass.

“Since you've been there, yes. I am happy”.

Jisung lifts the corners of his mouth in a small smile and wedges his lips where Felix's neck should be.

“Your world”, he resumes in a warm voice “It should be everything you want, shouldn't it? You should have been happy anyway. It's your second chance, the right one”.

“That’s true, everything here is love. But I am only offered a chance, not a certainty. As if I had a royal flush in poker but my hand was shaking too much to win”.

Jisung turns away from the reflected skin and runs the back of his hand along Felis’s soft profile.

“What are you missing?”

“A companion. I need my half to be complete. Someone to share my choice that brought me here. Someone who had my same bad luck and who watched me exist. Someone who lives for me. This is what I lack, and until I find it I will be forced to be the reflection of myself”.

Jisung reads an ancient melancholy in Felix's eyes, breaking against his irises like clear foam in the sea.

“I cannot imagine anyone not wanting to love you till the end of time”.

Felix rubs his nose against the mirror, where Jisung’s cheek is placed, and heat seems to expand through the material. Jisung brushes the warm skin with his fingertips.

“I cannot find a mate, Jisung. I already have you”.

And he says it with such extreme simplicity that it sounds like a concept already tried and known, as if read in an encyclopedia. Felix looks at him but does not wait for an answer. He knows it has been that way for Jisung from the first moment he saw him, or perhaps even before, when he was unaware of his existence and living as a shadow of himself.

“I would die for you”.

Jisung wonders if Felix can hear the sound of his heart falling in love with him.

You are already here. You just have to figure it out.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

One day Jisung wakes up and realizes that his body has different needs from his brain. He sits on the floor, crosses his legs, and begins to think about when was the last time he stepped outside of the house, the last time he bought something to eat, and wait, how long has it been since I've eaten? Without questioning Felix and, as if propelled by an alien force, he runs to the closet. When he slips the first leg of his pants on, his first thought is that someone has entered his room and replaced all his garments with larger ones. He looks at the label, checks the seams and pockets and, inside the back pocket, finds his lighter. In that moment he looks at his thighs and realizes how, by now, they have reached the circumference of what used to be his arms. Perhaps it has been more than two weeks since he has eaten. For a moment he is tempted to go back into the bathroom, look for Felix and stay together with him, as always. He sniffs the air and he’s almost sure he no longer remembers its smell. I need to breathe, Jisung thinks, I need to breathe and fast. He picks up a random jacket and throws it over his shoulders. Underneath he has a short-sleeved T-shirt that is surely too thin for the temperature outside, but Jisung pays it no mind.

When he closes the front door behind him he feels as if he is somehow betraying himself and also Felix, who stays behind the mirror in his bathroom waiting patiently for him. He shakes his head and it almost feels as a part of himself quickly detaching from his body, that part that Jisung has been consecrating to Felix for the longest time now.

He takes the stairs quickly, feverishly, almost as if an invisible shadow was following him. When he tightens his fingers around the handle of the armored exit door, he stops for a second. You can still go back, you can go upstairs and back to your happy place. He looks at his fingers, skeletal and gnarled, attached to his hand only by a miracle. Jisung laughs when he goes outside, and it's a hollow laugh. It is still raining outside. His steps are slow and without rhythm, his legs barely able to give him direction as he walks with his head down, the thin, annoying rain tapping the back of his head.

He is not lonely, Jisung. Loneliness is a familiar feeling for him, almost intimate and comforting, and it would only confirm his normality. But Jisung feels alienated, out of touch with the world as never before, and he almost regrets the calm and peaceful feeling of voluntary isolation with which he has learned to live and settle.

He smiles to himself as he whispers against the wet sidewalk. “I have nothing left, not even my contempt”.

He thinks about Felix's words, his stories and justifications so enigmatic and elusive that he doubts he could even have uttered them, and he is surprised at himself for simply accepting them as an irrefutable truth, without even considering the possibility that they might be a lie. But then again, why would Felix lie to him? Felix is pure, he is innocent, and he is a virgin diamond; he has given up the burden of life that rejected him as dross. Jisung, on the other hand, could be a liar, with his identity he hates more than it’s human to hate and the rejection and disgust he feels for his petty image.

“Maybe I am the one lying to Felix. Maybe I am the one not existing”.

This probability invests Jisung in the exact moment his words leave his mouth, and the possibility shakes him until he loses his bearings. Is it so? Is it the truth? Jisung tries to think about when Felix came into his life, how much time has passed since their first meeting, but he cannot remember whether it is days, weeks, or even months that separate him from that moment. The only thing he is sure of is that he was able to sense his presence only after the incident. Felix's explanation rings crystal clear in his memory: it's the accident's fault. It reset the rational sphere of your brain. Suddenly Jisung is shaken by a laugh so violent that it almost sounds like a retch of vomit. He arches his back and abandons his arms along his sides as his whole body shakes from the vibrations.

“Did it reset the rational sphere of your brain? It's you that it reset, Jisung. Oh, for fuck's sake”.

His joints stop working for a second, and Jisung finds himself on his knees, his body still shot through with inconstant shudders. And it’s borderline comical that he is laughing so hard that he is even crying, with tears misting his eyes and mingling with the rain on his cheeks, because what keeps him from stopping is the awareness of the terror that will assail him as soon as he comes to his senses, when what is making him laugh now will leave room only for his thoughts. Unexpectedly, everything suddenly makes sense: the incident, the mirror, Chan's phone call, everything. Jisung raises his face to the sky and drops of water angrily hit his eyes, without shame or qualms.

“I am dead, and this is my purgatory”

And now there should be silence. In books, the discovery of truth is always followed by a silence that is unforgiving and leaves no hope.

Jisung turns around, and finds himself completely alone in one of the busiest streets of Seoul. No cars bottled up in traffic sounding any horns, no buses stopping at any traffic lights, no pedestrians looking around before crossing the street. The rain now falls fiercely on the bare, cold asphalt, and Jisung realizes he did everything wrong.

Death would have been his redemption, but he never died. Jisung is alive at the expense of another person, like a parasite. And, above all, this is not his purgatory. A purgatory is promised to those with a hope of atonement. Jisung, on the other hand, is an opal, and as every opal he continually forgets his nature, always seeking a chance that life has denied him from birth, on principle. This thought flares up within him, but its light is dim and soon gives way to a stubborn, rumbling sound of footsteps.

When Jisung looks for the strength to get back up, he realizes that he is further away than ever from the truth, since the silence around him no longer exists, and the noise is only the last drop in the jar filled to the brim.

And that is when he sees it. First he is far away, and he does not understand how it is possible for the sound to reach him, but then the stomping of the sidewalk becomes familiar and also alien, and his puzzle of possibilities explodes like a giant red

or a diamond

and Jisung instead implodes like a black dwarf

or an opal

as his eyes are completely dry from tears, and the rain continues to fall as always, because everything has always happened that way, and he has never learned how to play this game. In fact, Jisung's mouth remains open, and perhaps if he believed in a God now he would pray. But the sky is heavy and spits out its indifference to him.

He doesn't even realize when the blood begins to run from his nose and the taste of iron wets his lips, because the footsteps are now only a few feet away from him and the bitter laughter comes rumbling back into his throat, making him cough.

It could be a hallucination or a dream, but the noise is real, as are the bony legs advancing in his direction. The white sweater clinging to an anemic body is also real, and so are blonde hair covering black eyes. And the most real thing of all is a face Jisung knows as florid and full, but which is only emaciated and wispy under a blanket of clouds that seem immensely wrong above him.

Jisung bleeds and laughs. Blood covers his teeth, and his lament remains dry inside his chest as he watches a Felix, not his Felix, but one he doesn’t know, walking past him without noticing him, in the real world.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

©️ jilixthinker, 2023. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[iconocon]

consequences of monaco | leclerc | 2

summary: can we even be fixed?

warnings: cheating, swearing, alcohol, those weird monaco rumors

part 1 part 3 part 4

word count: 2.1 k (i am in pain btw) | ⚔︎ ANGST

→

running out of that motorhome in a full sprint the last thing on your mind was the other people passing by in the paddock. knowing exactly what you looked like to them and also knowing exactly how bad it looked for charles yet you didn’t stop your feet instead you only picked up against the asphalt. you knew the media were gonna have a field day at the sight of the mascara pouring down in waves as you made your break for the parking lot. if you thought hard enough you could imagine the scandalous headlines now.

"longtime bff of scuderia driver in tears after p4 finish" or maybe even

"heartbreak in monaco? did leclerc finally cut her off?”

the media was not known for being sympathetic to your cause. they thrived in any way to initiate a witch hunt against you if even a toe stepped out of a PR-perfected box of the doting best friend. it seemed that even in your purest intentions you were still left with mountains of hate by people who didn't even know you or want to know you for that matter. the videos of you weaving between reporters giving driver interviews would create the start of a twitter speculation firestorm of what could have gone down in the short span of ten minutes to cause charles walking into the home to you sprinting out.

you had to pull yourself together, you had to breathe, and most importantly you had to get the fuck out of monaco. there weren't many places you could escape from the world at, but you did know where a certain french driver kept his spare keys so in the mess of your mind you knew the only obvious option was waiting for you in milan.

-

as you sat on a plane wallowing in your own self pity, licking your wounds, watching as the clouds raced by charles himself did not look much better. the room felt so much smaller and maybe even weirdly colder without your energy. his face staying hidden in his hands as he sat on the very same couch as you did earlier waiting for him to come back from his ruined race.

he couldn’t explain why he said those hurtful words or why he pushed you away like he did. coming to terms with your distancing relationship was as hard for him as it was for you, but it was easier to distract himself in other ways, other projects. even when he held all the power in the duo he wasn’t quite sure how to make it all easier. he would be completely stupid if he didn’t realize the way you looked at him. but he would also be completely stupid if he acted upon the irrational thoughts in his brain. which he had had often when it came to you. what if he loved you? he didn’t know if he loved you as you did him but he did know he couldn’t live without you in his life. the only aspect of his very public life that he was entirely too selfish with was you. he knew deep down that if you asked him to give up on whatever the two of you shared so you could move on to someone else, someone who deserved to love you, he couldn’t do it. he needed to be the shining pillar in your life there was no sharing option in his jealous-filled eyes but one thought took up every inch of his mind as he stared at the white-knuckled balled-up fist in his lap.

can we even be fixed?

⏤

milan - 6 hrs later

getting into pierre’s house was a little too easy. you would think that someone that made the amount of money he made that he would invest in some type of security other than a building that didnt even check your ID. in fact you didn’t even have to even go as far as to look for the key he kept under an eiffel tower floor matt that sat in front of his bachelor pad. as soon as you walked into the building the receptionist even looked at you strangely eyes scanning your frame also probably wondering how you managed to get in here, but thankfully she didn’t exactly ask that question because you weren’t sure if you could even tell her.

“do you need help?” it was almost ironic because yes, you needed a lot of it, switching from one foot to another to show your hesitation you nodded. “I’m a friend of pierre gasly’s?”

“gasly’s? one second”

where she went behind her posh little desk in the middle of the glass building you had no clue, all you knew is that it felt like it took forever for her to come back and when she did she was carrying a key.

“sorry for the wait he's kind hard guy to get ahold of” at the mention of the driver it was almost like clockwork for your phone to go off, speak of the french devil and he shall answer you suppose. the text sound blaring as you swap possession of the keys before getting a chance to even look at it.

don’t do anything i wouldn’t do ma colobmbe

if you weren’t so numb to your emotions you probably would’ve laughed at the dumb nickname he has called you since you were kids. the memory of you hitting a bird in your bright pink kart came rushing back pairing itself in the form of a smile as you knew you could always count on him to make you feel better.

walking into his flat, the smell of pierre's cologne almost made you audibly sigh but they also came along with thoughts that maybe you should’ve waited for him and asked him to run away with you. you knew if anyone would hold you and let you cry it out it was him. he wouldn’t even have to ask questions he would just know how to make it all stop hurting, but instead, you were alone in his empty apartment sitting now on his cloud-like gray-clad couch. the same one you helped him pick out when he got this apartment. once again you couldn’t help your wandering brain at the newfound comfort. some part of you wondered what charles was doing right now. was he sorry? was he out celebrating that he was finally free from you? did he mean everything that was said? eventually, the thoughts felt like they were eating you alive almost to the point where you knew you had to find out about his whereabouts. finding yourself instinctively clicking the blue app on your phone you were sucked into the whirlwind of rumors that was the world of formula 1.

“mexican driver cheats on his wife on party boat??”

“ricciardo married with a lil ricciardo on the way? read all about the wedding HERE”

“ferrari drivers single after fight in monaco club”

now that one caught your attention, automatically hovering over the expand button you found your eyes skimming over the different translations of the night. your name showing up often as you continued to scroll through the night. i mean it was no surprise after your temper tantrum earlier in the afternoon to be the topic of the thread. it read about how charles broke up with his girlfriend after she asked why you were crying in a very, heavily packed night club. next it read how carlos’ girlfriend joined in and it just turned into a big mess of conspiracies after that as respective fans put their two cents in. none of it really made any sense.

why would he fight with her about you? he showed all too well how much he didn’t give a fuck about what happened to you when he made you leave. out of pure frustration, you found yourself throwing that very same device you were hypnotized by flung into the nearby wall body sinking into the couch as the satisfying sound of it bouncing against the drywall was the last sound in the apartment for the night.

buZz brrrr

buZZZ brrr

the next sound in the dark italian apartment was this brutal buzzing sound waking you out of slumber.

god, your head was pounding.

BUZZ BRRRR

the sound only got louder as you stood up finally seeing the bright slightly shattered screen on the hard tiled floor from your spot in front of the couch. now you knew you shouldn’t answer. you saw perfectly well who was calling. you knew the karting photo like the back of your own hand but now in the eerie darkness, it was almost mocking you as you raised it to your ear.

“ROSE” the slur that came out above the blasting club music made you scrunch your nose in disgust at how drunk he sounded.

“talk and talk fast perceval”

“come onnnnn why can’t you just come bac-" the most unattractive hiccup broke up his sentence as he continued with his rant. "please come home I mis- im sorrrrry okay"

“I’m hanging up rig-“

“I love you rose” oof- there went the gut punch again. when did he get so good at knocking all the air out of your lungs? did he have some weird pain kink when it came to you, was he enjoying this? the desperation in his drunk voice was begging you to forgive him but once again you found yourself beating up your own mental psyche over your next steps. instead of making you sentimental and giddy, his words made you furious. this wasn't how you treated someone you loved, someone you cared about, the next words came out white-hot and like a faucet as they oozed out of your mouth.

“I really wished I believed you charles. I wish I could believe what comes out of your drunk mouth. you don’t know what love is and I’m sorry for trying to make you be something you aren’t just so I could keep you for even a second longer. I’ll never forgive myself for loving you”

“rose wait-“

the line disconnected as once again you found yourself crying sobbing mess because of your best friend breaking your heart off into its final piece. fingers moving fast against the keyboard you sent one final message before this time taking the time to turn off the device knowing you couldn't withstand the flurry of calls or text that would come next.

“please come home”

⏤

the arms around you were so warm, even familiar, that you sunk right into them, your face automatically finding the soft part of the stranger's neck. firm fingers wrapped around your thighs and back squeezing you tight against a chest as you wiggled in your sleep drunk state. those same arms left you as quick as they came as you were placed into a soft bed, instead of letting them go though, you cling harder to the warm body.

“ma colobmbe let go”

knowing only one person in the world who would dare call you that stupid nickname you suddenly realize why the stranger wasn’t such a stranger. the ocean blue eyes and messy hair were such a sight for sore eyes as somehow you cling even harder around the neck of your friend fingers digging into his tanned skin.

“tell me what to do, i’ll do anything to make it better”

without even thinking about the consequences of your own actions you surprised even yourself as your lips crashed into matching ones. you didn’t expect him to even kiss you back, actually, you don’t even think you expected anything at all from him. you definitely however did not expect him to kiss you back harder. the pair became heated quickly as both of you understood you needed anything but soft at that moment. teeth clashed together, bite marks lingered on freshly bruised flesh, and groans filled up silent air. as he finally gave up his pursuit and started attacking down your neck in an aggressive open-mouthed manner it left your mouth open to moan his name in his own ear.

“pierre- we should-“

“don’t ruin this for me” the tone in his thick french accent was anything but playful as his hand reached down between the two of your intertwined bodies snaking its way in between the waistband of your pants and the bright red ferrari shirt you picked out of your dresser just that morning. his actions did their job of shutting you up finding yourself now relaxing while his sweet nothings lured you into pure pleasure. you weren’t sure what the next day would bring but at that moment you decided it was your turn to be selfish. it was your turn to be taken care of.

⏤

ma colombe - my dove/pigeon in french I THINK

slightly happy ending?? slutty pierre strikes again thanks for all the love on curse of monaco i appreciate all the kind messages!

[k0kichiimagines]

[look at her. i would die for her, i would kill for her. either way... what bliss.]

ray

Oh, he'd promised to visit you in the afternoon. Early enough for the day to still hold hours left of sunlight, but late enough that by the ending of your time together he could walk you back to your room in the evening sunset, let you be covered with the orange and red hues of the sky itself. But he couldn't resist, not when he had time spare - and you'd told him it was fine for him to visit any time, hadn't you? So... you would find this okay, right?

He watches your sleeping frame, the steady rise and fall of your chest under the soft silk pijamas he'd picked out specially for you, the lace suited you perfectly in his eyes. He leaned down to pull the floral bed sheets higher up on you, tucking you comfortably under them to ensure your warmth. He paused there, his hand slowly making it's way up to your cheek and brushing against your soft skin. For a second he regretted wearing gloves, his heart aching to feel your skin more clearly under his fingers. His head lowered to a breath away from your face.

"I would do anything for you, my prince/ss." And he would- truly anything. He'd never made such a declaration from his own choice, even he had to admit the Saviour had enforced his loyalty. But you didn't. You never did. You only treated him with soft kindness, never expecting a word in reply, loving him for the sake of loving him - and what sweet bliss it was to be so treasured by the one you treasure the most. And how dangerous it was, the idea that you held almost total control over him, a word from you and he'd obey without question - yet he never feared your innocent requests the way he did Ri- the saviours.

He allowed himself the soft satisfaction of pressing a kiss against your face, brushing your hair out of the way beforehand and holding his lips there for a second longer then he intended to. He drew back to catch your subconscious smile at his movements, and he felt himself smile in return without meaning to.

He should go. Rest for an hour and finish his work before your meeting. he should pull himself away from your peaceful expression and his mind filled with thoughts of you. But... it was Valentine's day, she'd understand if he stayed with you a little longer, wouldn't she?

[juminies]

talk to him

post secret ending. jumin doesn't mourn (except he does).

angst, referenced character death, implied alcoholism, secret ending spoilers

AN: I originally had this idea a couple of months ago with the intention of it being a letter from Jumin, accompanied by art in a sort of comic style. I have come to realise it's somewhat unrealistic that I'll ever actually finish that hahaha. I still didn't want the idea to go unseen forever, though, so on a whim I fleshed it out for it to make sense as a fic :-)

☁︎

“You’re not normal,” Zen mumbles, clearly irritated that he isn’t getting through. Jumin has been listening but has little to say – the alcohol has his brain too clouded and he’s too focused on the fact that Zen’s glare feels as though it could kill him if he’s not careful. Jumin hates it; hates that he’s being interrogated in his own home; hates the way he feels trapped; hates the familiarity of being seen as abnormal.

He tries to suppress the brewing unsettling feeling that some sort of Medusa is standing in front of him. The RFA does not need to lose another member in a matter of months, and while Jumin thinks himself more logical than to believe that Zen could possibly petrify him, there’s something in the back of his mind that whispers the chance of danger.

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Jumin says, if not just to break up his own thoughts. Zen continues to hover near the doorway of the penthouse. He hasn’t moved since he arrived eight minutes and twenty-four seconds ago, and has essentially repeated himself five times, though it still isn’t making sense.

“I told you. I– Saeyoung and Yoosung are worried about you.”

“Then why aren’t Saeyoung or Yoosung here rather than you?”

Zen huffs and clenches his fists. “Stop being so aggravating and just– Everyone is worried!”

“Then tell them not to be. My emotions are none of your concern, and to be frank I’d much rather remain a pillar for you all in situations like this.” He swirls the amber liquid in the glass he’s holding. “I am used to enduring. I have been enduring for months already and I will continue to endure. Now, if we have nothing else to discuss and you aren’t in need of my assistance, feel free to leave.”

Jumin feels Zen’s eyes leave him, finally, and he uses the opportunity to look up. He takes a victory sip of whiskey when he finds that Zen’s hair has not turned into snakes.

There’s a long, haunting silence. Zen wanders a few steps across the room to a bookcase and picks up a photograph lying face down on a shelf. It had been placed face down on purpose, but the actor takes the opportunity to stand it back up.

A much younger, happier Jihyun stares at Jumin from within the frame. His once loving gaze now feels even sharper than Zen’s.

“Maybe you should try talking to him,” Zen finally suggests. He spares a glance to the almost empty glass of liquor as he notices Jumin put it down on the side table. “Or writing, or something other than sitting around drinking your feelings away like an idiot.”

“To whom, exactly?” Jumin asks, though he knows, and he can already feel Zen's patience withering away.

“V.”

Jumin subconsciously digs his nails into where they rest on his thigh, hard enough that it’s certain to leave little half-moons in his flesh – even through the thick material of his trousers.

“I said what I needed to at his funeral.”

As if he hadn’t tried calling V’s phone tens of times since he passed, hoping for one more chance. He had only gotten to hear his voice through the answerphone message twice before the battery died along with its owner.

“Listen, trustf–” Zen starts, a little too angry. He takes a deep breath. “We all know you’re not coping as well as you’re pretending to. He was your best friend! You’re allowed to be upset. You should be, even!”

“Again, it’s none of your concern.”

Zen lets out a sigh, or a grumble. Jumin can’t tell.

“Whatever. I’ll get going.”

Jumin hums, displeased, and looks at the clock as the younger man turns to exit. Eleven minutes and eight seconds of Jumin’s time, wasted.

Then Zen pauses, turning back to where the director is seated, one leg crossed over the other, nails still pressed harshly into dark grey wool. Jumin doesn’t look away, even for the still lingering fear of being turned to stone. He continues to count the seconds that build up.

“Just think about it.”

—

Jumin has barely slept in days. Sometimes the wine – whiskey on worse nights – puts him to sleep, but tonight he’s angry. Too angry to sleep, though he won’t admit it to anyone but himself. The others might assume things; place wild bets on whether or not he cares, but they don’t know unless he tells them. And he won’t.

It’s almost 4am when he finally moves from his position on the couch. Surely he may as well try to get some sleep. An hour and a half is better than none.

As he stands and turns toward the direction of the master bedroom however, the picture Zen had repositioned on the shelf hours before catches his eye. And he does not go to bed. He places the frame face down again and makes his way to the old desk in his barely-used home office.

He sits with nothing but the word Jihyun written in front of him for twenty minutes, unable to form words on the page, then tries to give up. He leaves the room, the light flicking off behind him bathing him in darkness once again.

He walks back past the bookcase. Backtracks; stands the photo up again. He loiters in front of it for a few seconds, unable to pull himself away until he suddenly feels compelled to apologise (though for what he's not sure).

He goes back into the office. He doesn’t bother switching the light back on, instead opting for a dingy reading lamp he’s had since he moved in. He’s half surprised to find the bulb still works.

His pen scratches as he begins to write, on the verge of running out of ink.

Jihyun.

When we were young, and you asked me, “Which one of us do you think will marry first?” I was certain it would be you. It just made sense, did it not? You were always warmer than I was. You were more approachable. For better or for worse, you were more willing to give up everything for someone you loved. So when you told me that you were to marry Rika, my congratulations were promptly followed by an “I told you so.” I thought it was entertaining that you weren’t sure what I was referring to, but my memory always was better than yours, wasn’t it? You couldn't even recall once I told you the story; explained what you had asked while you were feeling somewhat existential about our futures one evening shortly before I left the country for college.

Of course, when Rika left us I was heartbroken – for you more so than I. Congratulations had quickly become condolences. Did I ever tell you, though, that I always thought you handled her death extraordinarily, despite the distance it put between us? Because I did. At the time, I did. It was only as she stood silently across from me in the churchyard three months ago that I came to understand why you seemed to take it so well.

When we were young and you asked me, “Which one of us do you think will marry first?” I was certain it would be you. But considering it now, you always were so stubborn. Too self-sacrificing.

I can’t help but feel a little regretful for telling you that I will never forgive you for leaving on your own, though it’s true. Don’t you know you had so much ahead of you? So much you could still have ahead of you? Had you just talked to me; had I just been more persistent. I think you’ve left me with more questions than I started with.

I also have one more answer, however. It seems it will be me.

[house-of-slayterr]

Journalistic Science

You rolled over in your bed, groaning as your alarm went off for the third time this morning. You'd been up all night drinking, thanks to a certain someone. Your head was killing you, and your body felt sluggish. Twelve shots were certainly your maximum, no need to restest the hypothesis. You slapped the off button on your alarm clocks and slunk out of bed. As you walked passed the mirror, you stopped, you looked like shit.

You groaned, making your way over to the shower, seems like you'd be missing breakfast this morning. You didn't have time for both. After the shower, you there your hair up in a messy bun, you searched the cabinet for your contacts but were confused when you couldn't find any.

"Oh come on! Don't be out you irresponsible little shit! How did you forget to pick up more?"

You ran two your dresser, pulling out your spare glasses. They were thick, yellow-rimmed, hexegon-shaped frames. They made your eyes look huge with how strong your prescription was. But without them, you'd be useless. You pulled on your favourite sweater, intending to take it off when you got to work. You grabbed an energy drink on your way out and sped off to the Stark compound. As you made your way in, you realised you forgot your badge.

"Shit!" You swore.

A light chuckle was heard from behind you.

"Forget your badge again L/N?" Pepper's voice came from directly behind you.

You nearly jumped, caught off guard by her presence. You let out a heavy sigh, you knew her testing was playful, but you weren't in the mood today.

"Spare me the lecture please, it's been a long day." "It's only five am." She chuckled.

"Precisely."

"J.A.R.V.I.S, allow miss L/N Int the building without her badge from now on, just use the facial I.D. scanner." She instructed.

"Thank you!" you called out to her, as you rushed to the lab.

She never once looked up from her tablet, a bad habit she got into when in work mode. But she did raise a hand at you in acknowledgement. You made your way down the familiar path, keeping your head down You groaned loudly when you heard the sound of Black Sabbath blaring through the walls. You always wondered why Stark never turned on the soundproofing in the room, perhaps it was on purpose to annoy you.

"You're late." He said, also not looking up from his project.

"And you're the worst boss." You joked.

"It's not my fault, you can't handle your liquor. Company party requires your pretty face to show up."

You rolled your eyes at his comment. This man would sleep with anyone, and he practically had. You wondered if he even notices poor Pepper Potts was pining over him. She devoted herself fully to the company, as a way to distract herself from her boss. It was found upon to date at work, especially with that sort of power dynamic. But you routed for your friend anyway. She was probably the only person that talked to you besides Tony.

"Nice sweater by the way." He snickered.

You'd forgotten to take it off in your haste. It had a picture of a cat wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, drinking a latte on it. You quickly pulled it off over your head, accidentally knocking your glasses off in the process. You groaned when you heard a cark when they hit the hard lab floor. Tony paused what he was doing and came to your aid, picking up your glasses off the floor. You there your sweater on your chair and squinted at him.

"Which of the gods did I piss off today?" You asked jokingly.

He chuckled, gently grabbing your face and putting your glasses back on. It made you blush slightly, you were sure any person would in your position. It was odd how kind he was with you, you'd been how the billionaire treated other people.

"Take an extra long lunch today and go see the company optometrist, I'll have them fast-track a new pair of glasses for you. Or we could always just design you a pair that has an anti-gravity mechanism."

You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the lightheartedness was appreciated. He always knew how to make you less stressed. You pulled away, laughing awkwardly.

"Yeah, well make it the next big Stark invention, it will be so useful for the masses." You said sarcastically.

You quickly rushed over to your desk, resuming the project you were working on. Today you were probably focused on coding something that Mr Stark was working on as a side project. he was a genius, and he could just code something to code it for him, but he liked your work better. You rarely made errors, and always paid attention to details. It was one of the things he liked about you when he picked you over all the other scientists who applied for the job.

You majored in computer science, biochemistry, physics and aeronautical engineering. You were also finishing your linguistic and psychology degrees just for fun. You felt out of place if you weren't in a classroom, it made you feel incomplete. Tony always asked why you didn't just become a professor, you were more than qualified. But your response was always "And miss out on working in this dank lab with your awful music taste?" He nearly fired you the first time you said you didn't like ACDC, but Pepper convinced him he was overreacting. One of their songs came on your uber ride home that evening and you swore Tony had hacked the car's radio.

After about an hour into work, Tony scooted over to your desk, lurking behind you.

"Do you mind, boss man?" You jeered.

"Just checking in on my favourite girl."

"Weird, I didn't notice Pepper enter the lab."

You smiled when you noticed the man pause, his brain malfunctioning at the mention of the gorgeous woman. Sometimes you were jealous of her, she always had men pining over her, but never gave them the time of day. But you admired her commitment to being a powerful woman in America.

"How's the coding going?"

"What, wanna check my work?"

"Somebodies Fiesty today, remind me to make company time for naps.

You rolled my eyes. He went back over to whatever the fuck he was working on, on the other side of the room. He was always tinkering with something, but wouldn't tell me what it was. The swoosh of the lab doors sounded, but I didn't bother to look up, I knew who it was. Dr Banner, the man with 7 PHD's, god you wish you could be him. But your master's degrees weren't nearly as impressive. He didn't greet either of us, going straight to his desk and getting to work. You didn't realize you were staring up until Tony popped up by your desk again, startling me into spilling my energy drink.

You pushed back your chair, looking at the damage.

"What the fuck Tony?" You squealed.

This seemed to have caught Bruce's attention because the sound of his marker on the whiteboard stopped. Tony was doubled over, holding his stomach and laughing.

"Real Subtle L/N."

You glared at him.

"Tony, what did you do now?" Bruce said with a high.

You could hear the edge in his voice, he was stressed about something today, more so than usual. He made his way over, looking at the chaos that ensued. There was liquid on my computer, but it was Stark tech, so it wouldn't be hard to fix. But Your white t-shirt was completely soaked through, exposing your bra. You didn't notice Bruce's eyes on my chest, something you grew to expect from Tony.

"Shirt, now, I'm not putting my sweater back on." You glared at your boss.

Anyone else would probably be fired for talking to their higher-up like that, but Tony liked the sass. He hired Bruce, who you learned quickly was almost always sarcastic. Bruce was quick to take off his lab coat, wrapping it around your frame. The fabric completely covered you, being far bigger than you were.

"Thanks." You stuttered out.

He too sent a glare Tony's way, until the billionaire stopped laughing.

"Alright, alright, I'll be right back. You two kids don't have too much fun while I'm gone. Or use the lock on the door." He winked.

You scoffed. This cheeky Bastard.

"I'm sorry about him," you said, once Tony was out of earshot.

"You act like I expect anything more from him." Bruce brushed off, immediately going back to work. You sighed, I'd have to clean my keyboard and laptop or they would get sticky. But perhaps you deserved a short break. You bit your lip before my mouth spoke before my brain could catch up.

"Need any help with that?"

It was a shot in the dark, Dr Banner preferred to work alone most times. You've watched him overwork himself for months when he could have just asked for help.

"No, thank you."

"I'm not totally useless Dr Banner, I may not have 7 PHDs but you've been staring at that bored in frustration since you got in. Another set of eyes couldn't hurt."

Damn your mouth, always getting ahead of you. You didn't mean to come off as rude. Mostly because you never wanted to hurt him, but also because triggering the Hulk out, would be the worst end to your already shitty day. You heard him groan lowly, and were prepared to get reamed to hell in the back. Perhaps you deserved it.

"You wouldn't work her if you weren't incredibly smart Miss, L/N. You don't need a PHD to be a valued scientist."

His voice was softer than you were expecting, and it made me blush.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put that on you, it wasn't fair of me to assume-"

He nodded his head toward the board, a silent invention for me to join him. You remained quiet for a moment, as you read over what he already had done. This didn't look like a project Mr Stark wanted to be done. But it wasn't rare for you to work on personal stuff when we weren't busy. You scrunched my brows together, he was working on a serum of some sort. You sighed, turning your attention to him.

"You're trying to get rid of him, aren't you?" You asked softly.

"I didn't invite you over here to pass judgment." You gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not judging you, Dr Banner, I couldn't imagine how it must feel- I'm just concerned is all. I'm not sure you're doing this with the right intentions."

"And what would be the right intentions?"

"It's not my place to say, you invited me over here to help, it was inappropriate of me to give my opinion which you didn't ask for. And you can't figure out the formula, because you're using the wrong equation. You flipped the derivatives, simple mistake."

You grabbed the marker and erased the equation, fixing it.

"Thanks." He said.

"Did you sleep last night? It's not like you to make mistake like that?"

He sighed, shaking his head.

"Did you?"

"Touche... You do know you can always come to talk to me, about anything right? I'd like to think of you as a friend Dr Banner, and I always help my friends."

You made your way back over to my desk, leaving your proposition open. You didn't want to push, but his recent behaviour was worrying you. You heard the lab door open and close again, you expected to hear the grating voice of Tony, but there was just silence. The lab was now empty, perhaps you overstepped. You slammed your face down onto your desk, letting out a huff. Which is the brilliant moment Tony decided to reappear.

"I gave you the lab all to yourselves, and you didn't even utilise it." He joked.

"Not the time, Tony. I think I royally fucked that up, so if you want to gloat, get it over with. Not only am I the worst scientist on your team, but I'm also completely useless at human interaction."

He handed you a blouse he must have grabbed from Pepper's collection, she sometimes kept clothes at work, for when she spent the night. It was a bit more girly than you were used to. You remembered to take off your cracked glasses first this time and ripped off your ruined shit.

"Woah!" Tony said.

"Relax, you act like you've never seen tits, before, mine aren't much to look at"

You could have sworn you saw him squint at them, before turning his back. A gesture you were surprised, yet grateful Tony would afford you. You looked down at your outfit.

"I look like a mess."

"You look fine." He corrected.

Bruce came back into the room, but you avoided his gaze. You had placed his lab coat back on his desk, neatly folded. What you weren’t expecting was for him to B-line over to your station. He set down a cup.

"Two creams and a teaspoon of honey, right? Pepper said that's what you liked."

You smiled at the kind gesture, taking a sip of the coffee, and letting the warmth of it slide down your throat.

"It's perfect, thank you. What do I owe you?" You asked, reaching in your backpack for your wallet.

He held up his hand, "a coffee for an equation" was all he said, before going back to work.

Tony sent you a thumbs up when Bruce had his back turned, and you rolled your eyes. The rest of the day went out without a hitch thankfully. You met Pepper upstairs, and for once she didn't have her face in her work.

"Is that my shirt?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Of course, he didn't ask you! Tony made me spill energy drink all over myself, it was this, an ugly cat sweater, or walking around with my chest out. Which seems to be frowned upon when women do it."

"I didn't think your sweater was ugly, it was cute." She joked.

"You're worse than Tony! At least I can tell when he's lying to me."

She chuckled lgihtly.

"So, are you ready for the public briefing?"

Oh shit! That was tonight?

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"The world hates me! Why do I have to go?"

"Because you helped Tony invent the damn thing. You're not calling in sick. And you're not wearing my blouse."

She grabbed your hand, leading you to the elevators. You went up to the common room floor, and she took you to a huge walk-in closet, you looked around bewildered.

"Tony keeps extra clothes for the women he toats around in front of the press."

"Why am I not surprised? What do you see in him again?"

"I ask myself that every day."

You smiled at her. She helped you for nearly half an hour, pick out an outfit. You finally settled on a suit. You weren’t comfortable in dresses.

"How do I look?" You gave her a little spin.

"Take your hair down!"

"I dont see how that will help..." "Trust me!"

So you did as she asked, taking your hair down, and brushing it back with your hand.

"You look perfect. Nobody will be able to take their eyes off you."

"Thanks, but I thought the point was for people to listen to me."

"You're presenting to a room full of sharks my love, they don't care what a woman has to say, not saying it's right, but I won't send you in their bleeding."

"I hate men."

"Dont we all? Now go, you can't also be late, or they'll call you diva."

You were nervous, giving your speech. You hated talking in front of people. And Pepper was right, you could feel the men looking at you like you were some hunk of meat. It was disgusting. But you had Bruce and Tony by your side, which helped. Tony made jokes to the crowd to break the tension and helped you answer the journalist's rapid-fire questions. And Bruce stood with his hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles, which you were grateful for. He normally wasn't quick to physical contact, so it meant more to you than he would ever know.

As it came to a close, you were more than ready to leave. You hated wearing heels. You bid farewell to your coworkers, who were getting swamped by reporters. But you were stopped by your own reporter on the way out.

"I must say, darling, your speech was rousing, but I think the people would rather know where you got that pretty outfit from." He slurred out.

He was clearly drunk, you rolled your eyes, attempting to push past him. He, however, didn't like your response and grabbed your wrist. You paused, unsure of what to do, you didn't want to cause a scene and wanted to handle this like a rational adult. But you hated being touched, let alone without your consent, anyone would.

"Please, let go of me." You said softly.

You supposed maybe he didn't hear you, foolishly giving this man the benefit of the doubt.

"I said, let go!" You said louder.

This gained the attention of a few people close by. But none of them did anything but stare, except for one man.

"I think she asked you to let go, buddy, are you deaf, or just stupid?" The man asked.

He looked mildly familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint him from anywhere.

"Stay out of this Brock." The man spat.

Apparently, that was the wrong answer because this guy stepped up to him.

"I won't ask you again, to let the pretty lady go..."

You cursed yourself for blushing at a time like this, but he was rather attractive. And he was standing up for you, what's not to like? You tried to squirm away while he was distracted, but he tightened his grip, causing you to whimper. This set Mr Brock off. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a punch was thrown, and the man was being lifted into the air by his collar.

"If you ever put your hands on a woman like that again, I will cut them off!" He said, throwing the man down on the floor.

You stood bewildered, he didn't look that strong yet he picked up a man twice his size. A crowd was drawn now, and you grew self-conscious under everyone's gaze. You rubbed at your now sore wrist and kept your gaze on the floor, the man was quick to approach you and block your body from the countless journalist trying to take photos of what just happened.

"Are you alright Miss L/N?"

"You- you know my name?" You asked, surprised.

"I am at your Biochemistry demonstration, am I not?"

You blushed madly, forgetting that most of the people in the room were actually there for you. Technically for "Stark's Apprentice" You didn't expect anyone to learn your name, let alone remember it.

"I'm ok," You said quickly, "It doesnt hurt that bad."

"I swear I should eat him." You thought you heard him mumble.

"What was that?"

"I said I should have beat him, more... nobody deserves to be handled like you were. He'll be lucky if he still has a job by the morning after I'm done slandering him." He offered, trying to lighten the mood.

"You dont have to do that Mr-" "Call me Eddie, Eddie Brock."

Tony quickly caught onto the commotion, making his way through the crowd over to you. He forgot to announce himself before placing a hand on your back, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, Eddie was quick to react, but you were faster, cutting him off.

"Relax, it's just my boss."

"What happened over here?"

"This idiot thought he could put his hands on her and get away with it." Eddie pointed to the man who was still writhing on the ground with a broken nose.

Tony glared at the young reporter.

"My employer can speak for herself, pretty boy." He said, going into overprotective mode.

You said, annoyed at the macho energy that was crowding your space.

"If the both of you dont shut up, I'm punching each of you in the dick."

Eddie laughed, not realising you were being serious. Once he caught your gaze though, he raised his hand in surrender.

"I didn't mean to insinuate you could defend yourself, but I've been looking for a reason to punch that idiot for years now." He laughed.

"Want me to file a case against him?" Tony asked.

"Naw." You said.

You moved passed both men, crouching down to the ground in front of the whip who tried to hurt you. You lifted his chin, making him look at you.

"I believe in second chances, but you won't be getting a third. Go home, sobber up, and think about how much of a failure you are. I'm sure you're mothers very disappointed." You scolded.

Before he could respond, you took your other hand, and straightened his broken nose, he let out a scream. You slapped his cheek for emphasis, before going back to your boss and new protector.

"I can have Happy drive you home," Tony suggested.

"I don't think I want to go home right now." You sighed.

"Care for some dinner?" Eddie suggested.

You thought it over. You had a crush on Bruce, but you didn't think you'd ever be good enough for him. Maybe you could give the handsome reporter a chance. He was kind and hilarious, you felt bad using him as an emotional rebound. But it didn't seem like he was expecting anything out of this offer.

"I would love some dinner, Mr Brock." You smiled at him.

Tony gave you his signature look, and you once again found yourself rolling your eyes for what felt like the thousandth tie that day. Perhaps your day was looking up. You managed to get a date with Eddie Brock, what else could you do?

AN: Nobody asked, but I haven't written like anything marvel, so ignore the self-indulgence here. I just wanted to write this for myself. I'm busy at work this weekend, but I'll get to requests soon, I promise. Love you all!

[mint-yooxgi]

Can you do yandere hybrid Haechan pls

Everything has to be perfect. Not a single thing out of place for when you arrive any minute now.

Despite having only met you a few months ago, Haechan knows that you're the only one for him. Asking you to move in with him was both the easiest yet most nerve wracking thing in his life. You couldn't say no. He wouldn't let you. Not that you did, anyways. At least he didn't have to resort to desperate measures.

He spent weeks preparing the place, even before he broached the subject with you, leaving little trinkets he knows you like around his apartment whenever you would come over to make the place more inviting. Always, he wanted you to think of his place as your place, a place where you would both live together for a very, very long time. Now, that will become reality, and he couldn't be happier.

Straightening his shirt once more, he picks an invisible piece of fluff off of the material, scanning the area around him and triple checking nothing is out of place. Not a single speck of dust is to be found in his apartment.

Only when he hears the knock sound at his door does he catch the slightly crooked picture frame hanging from the wall right by the door. Is it crooked or is he just being paranoid? Either way, he still adjusts it before answering the door, straightening his shirt again in the process.

Opening the door to your smiling face is one of the greatest sights Haechan could ever behold, and the fact that you're smiling at him, for him, makes his heart race in his chest.

"You could have just came in," he grins, leaning against the frame as he sees you leaning against the handle to one of what is sure to be many suitcases you've brought with you. "After all, this is your place, too, now."

"Our place," you grin right back, a nod to your head.

Haechan's heart nearly flies out of his chest at your words, a literal coo escaping his throat, of which he clears in the next moment to cover it up. Your responding giggle is like music to his now burning ears.

That is, until he hears the voice from down the hall as you walk past him with your suitcase in tow. "Hey, where did you want me to put these boxes?"

"Jeno," Haechan's smile is nothing short of tight as he watches the male simply wants into his apartment right on your heel, "what are you doing here?"

Letting out a small grunt as he puts the box down in the front hallway, Jeno spares a glance at Haechan, "I can to help my best friend move in with their boyfriend because they asked."

Just as he finishes peaking, you pop back around the corner having had put your suitcase in your now shared room with Haechan, "and I appreciate it! Just keep bringing in the boxes, there's not too many anyways. I'll bring them where they're supposed to go."

With a nod from Jeno, he's heading back out the door to grab more of your things.

Turning towards you, Haechan crosses his arms. "I thought we were going to do this together."

"Oh, don't start," you tut, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"I said I would help you with all your stuff," he continues, frown on his face.

"And you will," you nod, taking a step towards him in order to grab his hand. He watches you with a smug fondness as you link your one hand with his. "Besides, I figured the more hands on deck, the quicker we can get this done, the more time we can have to ourselves later."

The quirk of your lips upwards, combined with the wink you send him nearly sends Haechan to his knees. He bites his lip.

"Fine," he sighs, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

You chuckle, shaking your head, "oh, stop it, you."

With his gaze following you out the door, Haechan puffs out his chest. Running a hand through his hair, he tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing as he watches Jeno bring another box in, placing it right on top of the first one.

Oh, he'll have you to himself later, alright. If he doesn't chase Jeno off first. Besides, he needs to remind you just who you've promised yourself to, and when he's done with you, with only his name on your lips, you'll never think of another male again.

[crispy-bonnie]

Stay Down - SOKOL X READER

i came up with something angsty when i heard one of sokol's voice lines , so have some tear fuel for ya because i like writing angst i also had to write the lines by memory because i couldn't find the specific lines for when you're being helped up , so these mines are most likely not in the game , or are loosely based off of them this is a seemingly rushed one ? idk i just wanted to get my idea down before i explode lmao

2 medic bags.

4 charges.

12 times you can get back up before it's over for you.

At this point however, you didn't want to get back up. With every time they would jab that life-saving needle into you, it became even more rigorous as their words stung you like alcohol on a fresh wound. The guilt of knowing the resources they were wasting just to make sure you stayed in the fight was starting to take a toll, more so than the bullets that kept you to your knees in the first place.

"Man, you're really giving me a fuckin' headache!"

"Please don't do that again."

"C'mon, get your shit together, [H/N]!"

At first, you didn't think anything of it, but after a while, you couldn't help but think you were a burden on their backs. It still didn't stop you...except for when you heard his words.

He always managed to make your heart flutter, no matter how harsh he was. The way his words rolled off his tongue, the way his slicked back hair framed his face, the way he could take so many beatings but still stay standing. He was just perfect. You couldn't help yourself.

Those words that he said to you. It made your heart shatter. Did he find you to be that much of an annoyance? Was all the time you spent with him for nothing? Maybe it was.

"Listen, next time you get downed, do us a favor and stay down!"

Your vision had gone blurry, your head was fuzzy but not because of the massive amounts of noise around you. No. The only thing that you had echoing into your ears was his request. You've never felt so...disgusting.

As you watched the rest of the crew rush off to collect loot, you just stood there, dumbfounded. Even the cops nearby you were confused by your idle standing, so much to the point where they even stopped firing at you. You were just staring, watching as he ran into what seemed to be a vault that was miles away even though it was only a few meters away.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a heavy boot come into harsh contact with you and knock you flat on your face. As the beatings of the cop adorned in black started to numb your body, you felt tears starting to stream down your cheeks as a wretched ringing noise started to fill your ears and drowing out the noise of your teammates calling out your name.

"[H/N!] C'mon stay with me-!"

You recognized that all too familiar Russian accent, but you still couldn't stop thinking about what he had said before. With that being the one thing on your mind, you could barely mutter a response as your eyelids started to drop whilst you succumbed to the pain.

--

"Sokol. Please follow." Jacket communicated with the clicks of his tape recorder, but Sokol just shot him a glare, a much fiercer one compared to the ones he would usually shoot at people.

"нет! I CANNOT LOSE [H/N]!" Sokol barked before he returned his attention to you, his gaze now soft as he whispered to you. "[H/N], listen to voice. Останься со мной, stay with me."

There was so much gunfire, he could barely hear you with the chaos around him, but he still managed to pick up the weak sound of your voice as he leaned closer to your drained form.

"Просто иди, Сокол." ["Just go, Sokol."]

Sokol could feel the waterworks starting as he processed what you had said. Not only because you were trying to tell him to leave you behind, but the fact that you had said it in Russian. He didn't know you could speak his language, but how? And of all the moments, why now? Eventually, he snapped out of his thoughts when you spoke again:

"Пощадите себя и ресурсы. Иди, любовь моя." ["Spare yourself and the resources. Go, my love."]

He could barely think now. There was so much going through Sokol's head, so much to the point where everything started to blur before him. Not even his own screams to try whilst he thrashed against the grip of his two fellow heisters could he hear, the sight of what seemed to be a lifeless you now starting to fade as he continued getting further away.

Every heist, all the times he had bled out and desperately called for help. Now he wishes that he just would have stayed down.

[kennyfightme]

Pink in the Night

CW- Severe depression, Gaslighting, Not fully edited I'm so tired guys, Clyde

Words- 1.1k

Theo laid on his back, staring up at the shadow covered ceiling. His curtains blocked all of the sun out. In his brain, he knew he should push them to the side to let at least some sunlight in but…He couldn't force himself to. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't move.

South Park AM played quietly in the background. God…Would they just shut up already? This episode was going on too long, he couldn't take it. Evertime Kenny spoke, Theo wanted to scream. A pit of anger sat deep in his stomach. Everything had been making him angry lately. Silence, Noise, harmless jokes that would have made him burst out laughing before made him get defensive and angry. Maybe that was why his body shut down. Knowing he was going to, that he already had, hurt his friends made him realize what he had to do. Shut himself in. It was the only safe option, for everyone. Besides, weren't they sick of hearing his voice? His stupid comments, his unfunny jokes. He was sick of hearing them.

Theo turned his head, trying to focus his eyes on his phone but the absence of light didn't really do much to help. The phone was facing down, but there was a soft glow under it. It was buzzing like crazy… Suddenly his ringer went off. A deep and raspy groan escaped his chapped, untaken care of lips.

“Shut up…” After what Theo perceived as forever, the phone finally went silent. A wave of relief flowed through the small boys body. Finally. However, that didn't last long. His doorbell went off. Only once at first, and then five or so minutes of silence. After those five minutes were up, whoever was at his door started to spam it. Aggressively. Theo laid with his face shoved into his pillow. It wasn't going to stop. The smaller boy did his best to roll off the bed, ending up laying on the floor. Thank god he didn't have a bed frame. Theo sat up slowly, and used the floor to push himself up off the bed. The doorbell kept going. Leaving his room, Theo shouted “Im coming!! Jesus fucking christ!!”

Before he even got to the door, it swung open. His eyes widened and anger filled his body, hands shaking. “What are you doing here…”

Clyde stood in the doorframe, grinning. “I had to find your spare key, why didn't you let me in…Oh you look like trash!” Theo grit his teeth, balling his hands into his fists. It was taking everything in him to not immediately scream at Clyde. He tore Theos' life apart. Ripped his heart into shreds, and then has the audacity to just show up like nothing happened? “Oh well, anyway. Sit down with me!! I gotta talk to you about something.” Clyde shoved his way into the house, and plopped down onto his friend's couch, Theo gently sat, already wanting Clyde to leave. The younger boy picked at his pants, looking down. “So…We need to talk about something.” Theo stayed silent, refusing to speak. He couldn't speak, knowing if he did it wouldn't turn out well.

“You’re acting so weird…Uhm..Anyway. I have plans with Y/N soon. I wanna know some of the stuff she likes so I can make our date super super special!!” Oh. Theos breath caught in his throat, staying stuck there. Clyde…Came by to ask that? After everything. Theo ghosted Clyde, refusing to speak to him and he just showed up without warning? To ask about a date with his boss? “Theooo. Are you just gonna stare at the floor and not say anything?”

“What's wrong with you…” Tears filled in Theos eyes, dropping onto the pants he had been wearing for the past few days.

“What? What's your problem man?” Clyde looked over to Theo and groaned. The waterworks again. He couldn't handle it. Every time he had been around his “best friend” it seemed like the younger boy ended up crying.

“What's my problem? Clyde I poured my heart out to you. Clyde, you kissed me. You were my first kiss. You were my first everything, and now you’re pretending like you don't remember? What's wrong with you?” Theo quickly stood up, pointing to the front door. “Please leave. Please get out of my house, I can't handle being around you right now.” Clyde shot up, anger fogging in his eyes.

“Theo, I'm telling you that didn't happen! And what are you talking about? You’re being so weird dude.”

“Holy shit, Clyde I'm in love with you! Are you fucking stupid? Im so hopelessly in love with you and I fucking hate it! Do you know how it feels to see the person you've been in love with since highschool fall in love with someone else? And you…You gave me what I've been wanting for years and then just ripped it away from me!” Theo spoke through tears, trying his best to push everything down. But he couldn't anymore. It forced, clawed, its way out of him.

“I just. I wish I could have that night again. I love you so much Clyde. I just want one more night like that. You made me feel so loved and so whole and I’ve never had that before. I want you Clyde. I only want you.” A sigh escaped Theos lips, and he shook his head. “Whatever. Go ask someone else about Y/n. I can't do this anymore.” The tall male stepped closer to the shorter one, watching him immediately step to move away from him. Why did Clyde feel guilty? He didn't do anything wrong. Theo knew he was in love with y/n, why did he care so much? He couldn't handle it, the guilt.

“Theo I…I want you too.” Theo let out a choked laugh.

“No you don't Clyde, you’ve made that obvious.”

“No I do!! I really do…I was. I lied about forgetting it because I felt guilty! I do want you Theo, I wouldn't lie about that.” Clyde's words were hesitant, and stuttered. Almost like he was attempting to come up with a lie on the spot. Theo furrowed his brows.

“Clyde, please dont lie to me about this. I don't want some fake relationship, I want the real you.” Once again, Clyde stepped closer to Theo. This time though, he didn't step away. Grabbing the smaller man's hands, Clyde looked into his eyes.

“It won't be fake. I love you, I do. I just…Please don't tell anyone. I don't want everyone to know I like men, I'm not ready. And I have to keep going after Y/n, okay? Everyone will get suspicious if I don't..” Theo nodded, feeling his heart swell. As much as it hurt that he would just drop the Y/n stuff, he mostly understood where Clyde was coming from.

“Are we…like gonna be together?”

“I would like that.”

“Clyde?”

“Hmm?”

“Please kiss me.”

[rigelswrittingsquare]

part 6 of many!!!

wordcount: 1799

warnings: FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS. me changing canon like a cool guy, things are finally picking up!!! slow burn, time skip at the beginning, sibling bickering, use of y/n (I'm so SORRY), start to the break in of the diner

next parts will have mentions of harm to user and minor character death ik it's a big jump but you'll see

A Spark

The past few weeks were filled with some anticipation, it seemed like time was slowing down as you had waited. Throughout the weeks, Jeff stopped by for some small talk, and the two of you eventually traded phone numbers the day before. Now, today was Saturday. You had woken up, trying to chase the sleep out of your eyes by rubbing the back of your hand against them. Stretching, you get up from your bed, still in your sleepwear as you make your way into your kitchen.

With one knee on a kitchen chair, you find yourself reaching up to grab some cereal. Why did you place it so high up?? You suppose it was because you didn't eat cereal that often. Grabbing the box, you shut the cabinet door, and climb off the chair, and prepare your breakfast.

The morning just consists of your usual routine, eating breakfast in your sleepwear, washing up your dirty dishes, getting dressed, and relaxing on the couch. However, you couldn't help but keep an ear out for the phone, after all, today was the day that Jeff would take you out to the Pizzeria with his friends.

Jeff was up preparing for their "job", going to his garage and grabbing some spare bats he swiped from yard sales and just some he found around town that were discarded. Scooping 3 different bats up into his arms, he bends over, attempting to open the trunk before kicking it open awkwardly with his foot. He dumped the bats into the back of the trunk, before shutting it again and heading back into the house, however Max stood in the doorway.

"Last time I checked we had four people coming along.."

Great.. It was only a matter of time until he told her that you were coming along, and he stood in the garage, a sigh escaping his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Well uh. I invited someone else, okay?"

"You invited someone else..?" Max frowned, leaning against the door frame. Her arms were crossed, and she rubbed the outside of her arm. "Jeff I don't think Jane would like that.. you told her-"

"I know what I said, she doesn't have to know! Jane's not coming with us, so she shouldn't know."

"I still don't think it's a good idea.."

"Max, we said we'd do it. Remember the money? We don't come by that often." Huffing, he looks back to the trunk before looking over at her, adding on to his statement. "Here.. Do you want to stay in the car? That way we can say you were there, since we have someone else joining us."

"Id... Like that, yeah, Jane said they have cameras and... If that's true, I don't want to be on it."

"It'll probably be dark anyways, the cameras may not even pick you up." He tried to reason with Maxine, but he saw she still wasn't entirely on board. So instead, he sighed, digging his hands into his pocket while he looked back at the car, then back to his sister.

"I'll tell you what, you stay in the car, and we'll get it done. I'm sure Carl and Hank would have more fun just trashing shit anyhow." He reasoned, before walking up to where she was standing and brushing past her. Max only sighed, staring at the car. She had a terrible feeling about this, not only was she betraying the trust of someone she cared for, she was putting Abby into a terrible situation. With a heavy heart, she turned away to slip on a cardigan, passing by Jeff who was dialing numbers on the phone's keypad. Picking up the receiver, he pressed it to his cheek, listening to see if you pick up.

"Hello?"

Jeff perks up, hearing your voice, and he leans forward, intertwining the cord in his fingers. "Hey (y/n), it's me Jeff, I was just wondering if you were still game?"

"Yeah, I'm still game. I haven't been able to think of anything else lately." He hears you giggle on the other end of the line, and he smiles, letting go of the cord and cupping the receiving end of the phone with his hand, his other hand propped up on the handle of it.

"Great, that's good to hear. My sister's tagging along, but she's staying in the car, and my friends Hank and Carl are tagging along with us, is that ok?"

"Yeah that's fine! I can't wait to actually be IN it. You know, like physically being there."

"Yeah... Uh... One more thing, I forgot to mention," He paused, picking out the proper words to use to try and somehow find a way to make it seem like what they are doing is even remotely justified. "So, you know how that place is worn down, y'know?"

"Yeah...?"

"And y'know how that place is closed off for good, like. No customers or anything?"

"Mmhhmm..?"

"Well, we were thinking about bringing some bats along for...well, you know..." He trailed off, hoping you'd finish his sentence.

"...wh...OH. Oh yeah, that sounds awesome! I probably will just be looking around, though, so you guys can have your fun."

It took everything for Jeff not to sigh, from relief of course. He nodded behind the phone, looking out the window. "Okay, great, that's great. I'll be there to pick you up in..." Jeff paused, staring at the clock before turning back. "An hour? At least, that is." He knew full well Hank and Carl may not be there in time, but he usually tells them to come earlier than he intends on leaving due to their tendency of being late.

"That's great! I'm going to get something warmer on, just in case. I'll be waiting!"

He hears the phone click, and he sets the phone back on the receiver, heading back into the garage. He scans the dusty room, before finding what he was looking for. Unhooking his crowbar from the cork board it was hung up on, he opens the trunk again, tossing it inside before shutting the trunk once more.

Max watched as he walked back inside, cupping her cheek into her hand as he went back to the phone, calling Hank and Carl again to make sure they weren't dicking around or forgot. Sighing, she went to look out the living room window, watching the street with a vast, lost glare. She had a gut wrenching feeling that something was wrong, but knew she couldn't back down now, after all, Jeff did say that he was doing this for her, at least, she thought that was somewhat true.

It took a long while for Carl and Hank to show up, but Max stood idly by as Hank climbed into the front passenger seat, and Carl sat on the right side in the back, leaving the left seat for Max. With a sigh, she got in her seat, before Jeff opened up the garage, and got inside his car, heading to Sparky's Diner, where you two agreed to meet up last week for this little 'adventure.'

You were sitting on a parking block in the Sparky's Diner parking lot, elbows resting on your knees as you held your face. You came about five minutes earlier than you thought, which was alright, but the anticipation was killing you. You've always wondered what that place looked like, and it wasn't like it was hurting anyone being there, right?

Your gaze shifted to the sound of a car approaching, and you perked up, watching as the vehicle turned into the parking lot. Standing up, you wait until the car comes to a complete stop, and Jeff winds his window down to motion you in. "Hop in, we got one seat left!" He called out, and you eagerly obliged, climbing past Carl to sit in the middle.

Max stared at you, then back up at Jeff through the rear view mirror, stunned. She should have known it would have been you. She wasn't upset at you, more upset with Jeff that he'd mix you up in their shortcomings like this. However she just turned to look out the window, leaving you feeling a little awkward.

The car ride there was loud, Carl, Jeff, and Hank all loudly talking over the radio, which played rock hits from the 90's constantly. It was the very early 2000's, so rock was just starting to die out.

It didn't take long for the car to reach its destination, and you were practically teeming with excitement. Carl was the first one to fly out the door, and you carefully stepped out, looking at the pizzeria up close. It was almost eerie, being so close, but god.. You've been waiting for this moment for so long.

Jeff hopped out, and motioned for Hank and Carl over, quietly discussing the plan just out of earshot with you. You didn't mind entirely though, you were busy taking in the sight of the restaurant.

Popping open the trunk, Jeff tossed two of the baseball bats, one going to Carl, and one going to Hank, and Jeff grabbed the crowbar from the back. He stared at the baseball bat, before taking it as well, just in case you happen to change your mind.

You decide to go talk with Max, while waiting for Jeff and the others to open the side garage-styled door. "Are you coming?" You ask her, crossing your arms and resting them on the open window.

"I'm going to stay here.. I figured I'd just.. Tag along for the ride."

"Ah.. yeah, that's understandable, there's probably all sorts of cobwebs and junk.." You try to lighten up her somber mood, but in the end you two just end up awkwardly chuckling. "But... If I do come back with a spider on my back, will you kill it for me?"

"...Yeah, I will." She smiled a little, but there was something about her eyes that made it seem less genuine. You don't mind though, she seems like she has a lot going on, and you aren't one to judge.

The sound of the door sliding open and Jeff's holler stole your attention away from Max, and you smiled, excusing yourself. "I'll be right back!" With that, you quickly ran your way over to Jeff, and he tossed the crowbar up slightly from his hand, only to catch it again.

Max watched as the four of you disappeared into the darkness of the Pizzeria, her stomach in knots. "Be safe.." She muttered, crossing her arms over her abdomen and resting her face against the car door. She still couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, but like Jeff said, this was for her. Even if it didn't entirely feel like it.

NEXT PART SOON!!